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| Part 3 by Castgimp |
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| And then, faced with the prospect of actually spending time with this man, Iwas nervous. What the hell would we talk about? I was in love with him-atleast in love with the idea of him and his leg in a cast. We were bothskiers. Beyond that, did we have anything in common? I needn't have worried. Rus-he wanted me to call him Rus-was relaxed andcheerful and chatty. I helped him up into the front seat of my jeep, and westashed his crutches behind the seat. With the passenger seat rolled allthe way back he just fit with his cast, his naked toes wedged all the way upunder the dash. I had been afraid that given the snow on the ground hemight have decided to put a sock over the end of his toes. It would havebeen reasonable, because it was cold, but he hadn't, and I was relieved. Itwas a private little peeve of mine. I hated to see a sock covering the toesat the end of a cast. Part of the beauty of the whole thing for me was theway the toes stuck out of the hard plaster or fiber cast. The sock on theend of the cast looked dorky, and ruined the sexiness of the whole scene forme. But my man Rus was braving the elements with naked toes. That seemedto me somehow to be a good sign. He was wearing a pair of loose greenhospital pants that hung down over his cast, so only the foot and heelportion of the cast and those lovely naked toes were visible, but the cottonof the hospital pants was thin enough that the outline of his entire castwas clearly visible beneath the green material. I could even see where thecast ended up near the top of his thigh, and the cotton suddenly folded in,closer to the flesh and muscle of his ass. His ass, I might add, throughthose thin cotton pants, was a vision-muscled and curved and hard. Nowthat, I thought to myself, is a ski bum to die for, and I had to repress asmile. He had a heavy ski sweater on-an expensive blue and white woolsweater that looked Norwegian or Swedish-with silver buttons on the neck.There was a small v-neck cut in the front, which revealed a white T-shirtbeneath. His blond hair, which had hung loose and a bit scraggly when wewere in the hotel, was brushed carefully back and pulled smoothly into atight little ponytail in the back. He'd shaved. I wondered if he'd manageda shower. I wondered if his friend Werner had helped him clean himself up,or if he'd managed it on his own. The overall effect was very successful-helooked a picture of athletic health and modern American malevirility-confident and cool and comfortable in a ponytail and an expensivesweater, just as he had been conformable in athletic shorts and a worn andsoiled sweatshirt the day before. So we talked, and I drove. We fell easily into comfortable banter with one another. He was clearlydelighted to be out of his hotel room, and was grateful for the interruptionto his convalescent routine. We drove and drove, kind of aimlessly,enjoying being on the road and in the mountains. He talked about his folks,and school, and sports. I was happy to listen to him talk, his long whitehard cast all the while sitting next to me in the front seat of my jeep. Iwould look over at him and there it was. I wanted nothing more than toreach over and touch it. I wanted to rest my hand on his thigh-on the softgreen cotton covering the hard fiber cast. I tried to keep my eyes on theroad, but even so, just knowing that this man with a broken ankle wassitting in the jeep next to me with a cast on his leg made me so horny Ithought I would explode. It was all I could do to keep from humping thesteering wheel while I drove. We had no particular destination in mind, and apparently didn't need one.Eventually we ended up all the way down in Vail. I was starting to feelhungry and we both had to take a leak, so I suggested that we stop at arestaurant with microbrewery that was a favorite of mine. The idea of lunchand a couple of beers together appealed to both of us. I walked behind himas we walked from the parking lot into the restaurant, watching him crutchconfidently, holding his cast so that his toes swung through without grazingthe snow and ice on the pavement. We ordered lunch and one beer led to twobeers as our banter became more giddy, and I began to experience thedelirious heady rush of the almost electric connection that exists betweentwo guys when they are falling in love. It was the rush of a second-graderdiscovering that he has acquired a best friend-a rush that never changes inits power or the surprise of its sheer force. Two men coming together,whether in love or lust or simple honest friendship, is always a powerfuland seductive force, and there we were in this microbrewery in Vail, in themidst of falling in love over our crab cakes and porter. I felt myselfgiggling unabashedly at his jokes. Beneath the table our knees knocked andtouched, and from time to time I could feel his hard cast against my leg.He seemed unconcerned by our touching, but at the same time I wasn'tconvinced that it was deliberate. There was, after all, only so much roomunder the table for our legs and his cast. Still, when our legs restedagainst one another, he didn't pull away. And the touching made my cockthicken again, the pressure in my pants growing the longer we talked. We certainly didn't need a third beer for lunch, but when the waitress askedus if we wanted one more, we both nodded in agreement. By the time lunchwas over we weren't exactly drunk, but we were, as we used to say incollege, pretty buzzed. Coming out of the restaurant I noticed that he wasmore tentative with his crutches. I stayed half a step behind him, watchinghis ass cheeks move in his hospital pants, ready to catch him should he slipwith his crutches and falter. I would be there with my arms around himbefore he hit the snow. On our more deliberate drive back to Beaver Creek, our conversation felloff, and the inside of the jeep became almost uncomfortably quiet. I beganto worry that our touching under the table at lunch had been too much, thatmy pushing gently back against his leg had finally unsettled him. Anunreasonable panic took over when I concluded that once he was out of thecar I would never see him again. My mind raced. I didn't want to let go ofthis guy, or his cast. I wanted them with me always. I briefly consideredmy options for kidnapping him and chaining him to a bed in some remote motelin the winter Rockies. I didn't think the odds were very good that I wouldget away with it. Besides, even laid up with a broken ankle it was likelythat he could beat the shit out of me. So my panic gave way, as it almostalways does, to despair and deep black brooding. I would always be alone,jerking off to the memories of men I had known ever so briefly-littleprivate dark lust memories carrying me forward into my solitary old age-adirty old man jerking off over hobbled young athletes gimping along oncrutches. I was convinced once again that I was a pathetic specimen. My dark revelries were interrupted by the unexpected sound of a quiet moanfrom the seat next to me. I couldn't tell if it was a moan of pleasure orpain or simple boredom. When I looked over at Rus he was staring out thewindow at the mountains in the distance, with something like a scowl on hisface. Gone was the laughing smile from our morning drive. "You OK Rus?" I really didn't know. "Yeah, it's just...I guess maybe I overdid it...I haven't been up and aroundon my ankle this much...it's really starting to throb...I think I need tolay down and put it up for a while. It swells up when I don't have itelevated, and then it really starts to ache." In my jeep I didn't even havea backseat I could offer him to stretch out in. "We're not that far. It's maybe twenty minutes to the hotel." I wasconcerned about him, but I couldn't think of another plan besides gettinghim back to the hotel as soon as I could. Maybe this whole excursion hadbeen a mistake. "That far, huh?" He was starting to squirm in his seat. "The thing is, Imean besides my ankle, I really gotta pee." He was clearly embarrassed, andhis face reddened visibly. "It's those three beers. I have such a smallbladder. This always happens to me man." So his ankle hurt, and he had topee. Maybe that accounted for his silence. Maybe I hadn't embarrassedmyself playing with his knees underneath the table. It occurred to me thatmaybe the romance wasn't over yet. And my condo was actually closer thanthe hotel. "We're like ten minutes from my place, if you can wait. Or if it's a realemergency I can pull over on the side of the road here." There wasn't muchcover along the snow-banked side of the highway, but I thought he mightreally be desperate. "I can wait. I think I can wait till we get to your house." I tried topicture him standing on the side of the road and balancing on his crutchesand trying to pee, and I decided we had better try to make it to my house.I didn't want him to be embarrassed. "Don't worry man. We'll get you there. Try to think about something elsedude." I could see him pinching himself through his hospital pants, tryingto staunch the flow. I hated that feeling. So I stepped on it, pushing the jeep around the mountain curves faster thanI should have for someone who had just had three beers for lunch. Rus wasquiet as he concentrated on not peeing. I was quiet as I concentrated onkeeping the jeep on the road. And we seemed to make it in time, pullinginto the parking lot of my condo development before he wet his pants. I helped him out of the jeep, got his crutches out of the back, and ran upthe steps to my door to get it unlocked for him. He crutched quickly anddeterminedly up the shoveled path to my place, careful to avoid the icyspots even in his haste. By this time I too had to use the bathroom withsomething like urgency, but I led him to the bathroom first, closing thedoor behind him with real relief that we had avoided an unnecessarilyembarrassing situation for him. Nothing like pissing your pants on yourfirst date to take the starch out of your pecker I thought, giggling tomyself at my own silliness. And that's when I heard him. I heard something shift in the bathroom, almost like he had fallen againstthe wall, and then he let loose with a series of expletives. "Shit! Shit!Shit! Fuck!" "You OK Rus?" I yelled in after him. "Yes. No. Shit! Goddamn-it!" "Do you need help?" "No man. Shit. I'm just...I mean...oh shit." By this time I was standingright outside the bathroom door. I lowered my voice. "Did you fall man? Are you OK? Are you hurt?" "I didn't fucking fall. I fucking pissed my pants!" "No way." I wished I hadn't said it as soon as it was out of my mouth. "Yes fucking way. I was trying to balance on my crutches on one foot anduntie these goddamn hospital pants and I had to go like a motherfucker and Islipped and I fucking pissed my pants. Shit." "Rus. Relax man. It's no big deal. Don't worry about it." "My pants are fucking soaked. I even pissed on your floor. Goddamn-it!" "Rus. Really. It's no big deal. We'll get things cleaned up. Relax man." "Shit." "Rus. Can I come in?" "No." "Rus. Don't be embarrassed man. I'll help you get cleaned up. I'll giveyou something to wear. You can lie down and put your ankle up and I'll washyour clothes and everything will be fine. Let me come in Rus." "No man. I don't want you to see me like this." "Rus. Now I gotta piss. You going to make me piss my pants too?" "No dude." I could hear him laughing, finally. "Come in man." Gingerly Ipushed the door open. He was leaning heavily on his crutches, standing withhis back to the tub, in front of the toilet. His green cotton pants werewet from his crotch down to his thighs. The sharp line of the top of hiscast stood out even more through the wet cotton. He was holding his pantsup, the drawstring loose and untied. There was piss on the toilet seat, andon the floor around the toilet. His face was beet red. "I'm really sorryMike. I feel like such a dork. Such a fucking geek." "It's not your fault man. Here. Let me tie that for you so you can get outof the bathroom." I reached over and took the wet cotton drawstring fromhis pants in my hand and loosely tied the ends together to hold up hispants. I was surprised that he let me help him without a protest. "Now howabout if you step outside while I piss and then we'll get you out of thosewet clothes." "OK." He was meek now, his anger and embarrassment spent. He pushed thedoor shut behind him on his way out, and I pissed long and hard into thetoilet. When I was done, I took a big wad of toilet paper in my hand andwiped the toilet seat and the floor, cleaning up Rus' piss. It didn't grossme out. In fact somehow it felt natural and even intimate. I knew I'd haveto come through again and give the floor a more thorough cleaning, but thiswould do for now. I flushed, and rinsed my hands under the tap. And there he was standing in the hallway, sullen and wet and handsome tobeat the band. I led him into my bedroom and sat him on the end of the bedand pulled off his boot. The warm rich smell of his foot and sock filled mynostrils, and I could feel my cock stirring in my drawers. The heel of hiscast rested on the floor next to his stocking foot. That was the easy part,I thought to myself. He leaned back on his elbows on the mattress, hiscrutches on the bed next to him, with something like an impish grindeveloping on his face. I tried to adopt a clinical approach. It was theonly way I thought I could get through it. I stood up and moved between hisslightly parted legs, and pulled on the wet loosely tied drawstring of hispants. I reached behind him to pull the waist of his pants down, and heraised his hips up off the bed to help me. I pulled underwear and hospitalpants down nearly to his knees with one stroke. The top of his cast wasbeautiful, encasing his broad thigh nearly to his crotch. I stepped back,pulling the wet clothes down over the rest of his cast and over his foot,leaving him naked on the bed but for his sweater, his cast, and one sock. Iballed up the wet clothes and turned to go, to do what I didn't know. Findhim some dry clothes-shorts at least, and maybe a washcloth and a dry towel.Put his clothes in the wash. I was on auto-pilot. I knew I could not betrusted to keep my hands off this nearly naked man with a cast on his leg.I didn't want to further embarrass him, or myself. So I started to walkaway. "Where you going?" he called from behind me. "I'm just...to get you some..." I turned to face him. I was flustered.His parted legs framed one of the most beautiful cocks I had ever seen, andat this particular moment, I noticed with some relief, it was not entirelysoft. His cock lay semi-erect against his cast. "Come here," he said, reaching one hand out toward me. My heart was racing.This couldn't be happening. I took a step toward him, and his hand found mywaist. When he touched me it was as if an electric shock passed between us.I found myself unable to breathe as he pulled me down on top of him. Ourbodies met there on that mattress in my bedroom in Colorado on that Tuesdayafternoon in March, and there was no turning back for either one of us. Ouropen mouths locked together. I could feel his hard cast beneath my legs.We squirmed and pulled and tugged and his sweater came off and my clothesdropped away and my hand was on his cock and between his legs and hisfingers were in my mouth and touching my ass and pulling on my balls and histoes were in my mouth and my tongue was in his ass and my fingers weredigging in against the soft flesh at the top of his cast and his crutcheswere falling to the floor with a crash and my cock was lodged deep in theback of his throat and the dip in the small of his back pooled sweat as Ilicked the sole of his foot and his long exposed leg and the cheeks of hisass and he squirmed and moaned as I fingered his hole and sucked on his cockand chewed on his tits and he tongued my ears and licked my neck and triedto swallow my balls as I leaned against the hard length of his long fiberleg cast. And we came again and again that afternoon, shooting on eachother's chests and backs and ass-cheeks. And we fell asleep tangled in dampcum-stained sheets. And we were in heaven. And I woke up with a long leanman in a long leg cast sleeping next to me in bed and I thought it must be adream but it wasn't. And that, as they say, is pretty much that. I quit my job at the hotelrestaurant the end of that week and drove him back to California so hewouldn't have to sit on an airplane with that broken ankle of his. For thenext two months I lived with him in his tiny campus studio apartment,through his final exams and graduation. His cast came off the end of May,and as happy as we were that he had healed and his bones had knit, we wereboth very sorry to see the cast go. I convinced him to hold on to hiscrutches-we both knew that one way or another, chances were that he wouldend up back in a cast again some day. In June we moved to Pennsylvaniawhere I would start vet school in the fall and he found a job coaching at alocal private high school. We acquired two cats and a dog and we fuckedmost mornings and every night and skied together every opportunity we couldfind, in New England or Colorado, or when we were desperate, even up in theshort rolling hills of the Poconos. At heart each of us continued to be aski-bum, preferring racing down a snow-covered mountain on skis over almostanything except having sex with each other. And years later, after sleepinglate together on a Saturday morning, I would still wake up with that pictureof Rus in my mind as he was that first time I saw him in Colorado-stridinginto the dining room of the Swiss Chalet in Beaver Creek-this great handsomelanky blond boy, wearing a big grey sweatshirt that said "Santa Cruz" on thefront of it and a pair of red nylon athletic shorts with a "UCSC" logo onthe leg, pulling himself along on a pair of crutches, the entire length ofhis left leg encased in a brand new white cast. That was the moment when Ifirst laid eyes on the ski bum of my dreams-it had been love at first sight. |
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