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| Part 4 by Castgimp |
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| I pulled back, and sat down on my knees, pushing my full length back inside his warm belly. I cupped my hand to my mouth and filled it with spit and reached for his cock, slathering it with my saliva. I stroked his slick cock as I slowly humped him. As I pushed myself up inside, burying my cock from view, I fisted his cock firmly and slowly from top to bottom, and then as I withdrew, gradually, almost all the way, so that just my cockhead rested on the other side of his sphincter wall, I drew my hand back up over the length of his cock and cupped just the head in my palm. I tried to mirror for him each sensation I was experiencing inside him. As I sped up my thrusting action, I pumped his cock faster; as I slowed, to gather steam and put off the inevitable climax as long as I could, I paused with his cock in my hand as well, leading him to the edge of an orgasm and them making him wait with me. He had begun a litany of words that flowed now like the river of spit and precum we had created together. "Oh shit oh yes oh bob yes oh god that feels good oh yes oh fuck oh fuck yes oh yeah that's good oh fuck oh god oh bob fuck yes fuck me oh man oh bob fucking fuck oh jesus yes that feels good oh shit I'm close I'm gonna come no don't stop oh fuck don't stop no bob please don't stop oh yes oh I'm going to explode oh bob yes yes yes oh sweet jesus yes." The words were low and quiet and emanated more from his chest that his mouth. I was close myself, and had almost come several times, but had managed to hold back. Now I couldn't stop myself. I became a sex machine, consumed with lust. I could no longer stop myself. I thrust harder and harder into John, fucking him, pushing my hips into his ass, driving my cock deeper into his guts. With my right hand I stroked his hard cock harder and faster, drooling more spit from my mouth down onto his cock to make it more slick. John's body was on fire. He writhed beneath me, screaming, pushing me away from him with his hands and arms at the same time that he drew me closer into him with his legs and feet. "Jesus Bob! Oh Bob! Fuck! Oh yes. Christ. Bob. AGHHH! Ohhh. Yes Bob. Oh fuck." I lunged forward with my head and chest to reach his nipple with my mouth. I grabbed it with my teeth, biting down hard and pulling it back. His litany of words dissolved into an inhuman sound that seemed to be part pleasure and part pain, and then he began coming in my hand, great forceful gobs of cum splashing up and onto his chest as I pumped him and humped him and ground my body against his. He shook and he screamed and I ground harder inside him, driving my cock in and up and around and lifting him off the bed with the force of my thrusts and finally, unbearably, I exploded in the most excruciating and exquisite orgasm of my life. It began in my feet. I curled my toes up tight and forced them down into the mattress and pushed off against the tingle in my feet as I drove harder and harder into John's raw insides. My hips shook and quivered and pushed forward, my ass muscles forcing me further and further into ecstasy, and then as if blackness suddenly became sheer white light my guts and scrotum and soul burst up and out through my cock as I shattered against John's beaten body. I threw my full weight against him again and again and again as I burst white heat uncontrollably. I was screaming now, louder than John and pulling at his spent cock and still I kept exploding again and again into his poor body. I came longer and harder than I had ever come before, and I have never come that violently since then. I collapsed, finally, on top of him, sobbing uncontrollably, tears pouring out of my eyes, emotionally destroyed, unable to control myself. The raw emotion wrenched itself from my chest as I heaved and ached. I couldn't breathe. I gasped, choking on spit and tears. Battered, beneath me, John reached up with his hand and wiped my face. "You're going to be OK Bob. Take it easy. You're going to be OK." We fell asleep in a tangled heap on the bed, and I woke up, many hours later, in the same tangled position, with bright sunlight streaming through the window at the other end of the apartment. I was crusty and sticky and sore, and my left foot was asleep under the weight of John's leg. I couldn't tell if John was still asleep or not, but I didn't want to move, for fear of waking him. I was enjoying the warmth and smell of his body against mine in bed, and imagined that once he woke up that would end. My sense was that John was going to have a serious case of morning-after regret and guilt and anger, despite his enthusiastic lovemaking the night before. I had been through this too many times before with allegedly straight men. I didn't know if I had the energy to deal with it again. I found myself withdrawing emotionally even as I lay in bed with John, bracing myself for his self-recrimination. And we still had his ankle to contend with. One way or another, we were going to have to deal with that problem today. John suddenly startled me out of my self-defeating revelry by moving his arm from across my chest and down to my balls, which he gently cupped with his hand. Then he turned his head slightly toward me and without even opening his eyes, kissed my rough cheek. "Morning," he mumbled. "Morning," I replied, unbelieving, moving my arms over his chest and stomach. "How do you feel?" "O.K., I guess, if I don't move. My asshole feels like it's been rubbed raw with sandpaper, and every time I move my ankle feels like it's on fire. But I'm here in bed next to you, and that feels pretty good, so I guess on balance I'm OK." "We better take a look at your ankle." I said as I gently untangled myself from his warm naked body, and pulled the covers back, revealing his bandaged foot. His long naked toes poked out through the end of the elastic bandage. I moved to the end of the bed so I could unwrap his ankle and get a look at it. "I'll be gentle, I promise. I won't hurt you." I very slowly and very gently unwrapped his ankle, trying to touch and move it as little as possible. As soon as I had undone the bandage it was clear that his ankle was really very seriously injured. There was deep purple bruising on his foot and ankle, and the whole joint was swollen, more so than it had been the night before when I first wrapped it. All of the chiseled and finely wrought features of his foot and ankle had disappeared. He hadn't cried out as I had unwrapped his foot, though I knew it hurt him. He had been stoic. "I think we need to get you to a doctor. I'm not sure this looks like it is going to get better on its own." "I know. I know. I was afraid of that. I think I'm hurt pretty bad. What should we do?" "I don't know. First, I think we should get you cleaned up, and then I guess we need to go to the emergency room. I don't think we should take you over there looking like this." I smiled at him, trying to make light of the situation. "You're covered with almond oil and dried cum crust and you haven't showered since we wrestled yesterday afternoon. Do you think you can stand to take a shower, if I help you?" "I don't know. We can try. I guess I really can't go looking like this." He smiled. "Here, sit up. I'll help you." As he sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed, he moaned with the pain of the effort. I helped him to stand on his one good foot, and slung my shoulder under his armpit to support him. He held his injured foot gingerly and exaggeratedly up off the ground. "Oh shit Bob I don't know if I can do this." Despite his pain, I noticed that John was not exactly flaccid. His cock was semi-tumescent in front of him. I reached over and gently stroked his penis, and it moved and grew under my touch. "I think we need to take your mind off your ankle," I grinned. He smiled, and sighed, and ran his hands through my hair. "I think we need to go to the emergency room first. We can save this for after. Physical therapy for my long convalescence." "I guess you're right. But we've still got to figure out a way to get you cleaned up, at least a little bit, and we've got to figure out how we're going to get you to the hospital. And we've got to figure out what we're going to say happened to you. We should agree on a story to explain how you got hurt." "We can just say I fell down the stairs." "I'm not sure that will be very convincing." "Sure it will. It happens all the time. I've heard of people who've just stepped off of the curb funny and they wind up in a cast up to their knee. We'll just say I was drinking a few beers with you and watching TV and when I went to leave instead of waiting for the elevator I ran down the stairs and slipped and fell and you let me spend the night on your couch and when we woke up this morning we realized how bad my ankle was and we came straight over to the emergency room. I don't think anybody will question it. Coach will just be happy that we've finally bonded." "Bonded, eh? If only he knew." "I bet secretly he hoped all along that we'd fall in love." I couldn't believe he was using the "L" word. I knew now for sure that the pain was making him delusional. "Well I'm not sure a doctor is going to believe that this injury is a result of falling down the stairs, but I guess anything is possible. We can give it a try. But he's certainly not going to believe it if you're sitting there in front of him covered with almond oil and dried cum." "I guess you're right. I guess we have to try the shower." "Maybe I could just clean you up with a wash-cloth and some soapy water." "No. I really need a shower. You'll have to help me." "I will. We'll take it real slow. We'll try to move your ankle as little as possible. I really am sorry about this you know." "Don't worry about it, Bob. If this is what it took to force me to see that I should be here with you, like this, then that's what it took, and I'm not sorry at all." And with that he leaned over and kissed me square on the lips. We managed to make our way across my small apartment and into the bathroom. We moved slowly, taking baby-steps. I tried to carry the bulk of his weight, as much as I could. He really didn't cry out, though he kept sucking in his breath through clenched teeth. All of his muscles were rigid, and he was actually extraordinarily handsome and sexy, as he leaned on me, naked, injured, and brave. I was aroused by his beauty, and the shear physicalness of our endeavor, but fortunately the concentration our trek required, to carry us slowly and smoothly across the room without jostling his ankle, diverted my attention, and saved me from the ravages of an all-out hard-on. The forward bobbing and straining of my engorged pecker, sticking out in front of us, might have been enough to throw us off balance, and cause us to tumble forward. After John had taken a leak, I sat him down on the edge of the tub while I adjusted the water temperature, and then climbed into the shower myself. John swiveled on the rim of the tub, so his legs were in the tub, and I pulled him up and helped him to stand on one foot. He was at the far end of the tub, beyond the reach of the shower spray. With a bear hug around his chest, I moved him the few feet closer to the drain necessary to get him under the water. "Here. You hold onto me for balance and I'll soap you up." We were facing each other in the shower, with my back to the faucet and drain. He had his hands on my shoulders, and was standing on one foot. I grabbed the bar of soap and started lathering his chest and belly. "Mmmm. That feels nice," he gurgled through the running water. I reached down and began to soap up his balls and cock. "Very nice," he gurgled, closing his eyes against the splashing water. His cock grew firm again as I stroked it. The warm soapy water made it smooth and slippery. My own cock was suddenly at rigid attention against my own belly. "Oh man I never showered with another guy like this before. This feels great." He reached over and grabbed my straining rod and pulled it toward him. "I know I said we should save this for later, but it feels pretty good right now. I think the emergency room can wait another little bit." I pulled him close to me, so our chests touched, our hard cocks pressed between us, and moved the bar of soap to his back. "At least let me wash this oil off your back, before we make another mess." I soaped up his shoulders and back, pulling him tight against me in a wet hug, and rubbing myself against him, slowly humping his smooth wet surface. "I think it's working," he grinned, moving his own pelvis in the same slow rhythm against mine. "I think you're taking my mind off my ankle." "Good. Just what the doctor ordered." I moved the bar of soap down his lower back and into the warm crack between his cheeks, and lathered his ass, squeezing his firm ass muscles. As I played and soaped he began to purr again like the night before, a low satisfied hum, that bubbled this time through the water running off his nose and mouth. With one finger I slowly pushed higher and deeper, finding his asshole. Gently, through the warm soapy lather, I pushed my finger in. The muscle wall resisted at first, and then yielded all at once, and my finger slipped in up all the way to my second knuckle. He grunted and exhaled. "Oh man the soap burns. Shit." I could feel his sphincter contract around my finger, trying to expel the intrusion. I started to pull my finger out. "No man, stay." He reached around and grabbed my hand and actually pushed my finger farther up inside him. "I want you inside me man." Our open mouths met in a wet slurping kiss, and I pulled him closer against me still, one hand wedged between his cheeks, my finger probing his insides, and the other hand wrapped around his back, supporting both of us against catastrophe. I had to pull out of the kiss to breathe to avoid choking on the running water. He tried to pull my face back against his open mouth. He licked my face and ears, and slid up and down against me, his hard cock bumping against mine. Soaking wet and glistening and perched on one foot in my shower, John was at that moment just about the most beautiful and sexy creature I had ever laid eyes on. I pushed my cock between his legs, beneath his balls. Just having it wedged in that warm wet tight space was enough to bring me to the very edge. I was as hard as I had ever been. All of my muscles were straining with the weight and effort of holding John up as our bodies moved against each other under the streaming water. I was afraid of slipping and crashing both of us into the bottom of the tub. John was completely verbal in his pleasure. "Oh jesus yes. Oh Bob. Yes. Oh god." I could feel his ass muscles constricting and relaxing around my finger. Our hips were moving against each other, faster and faster, bringing us ever closer to the abyss. John started to hump me harder, more intently, grinding his cock against me as I forced my finger deeper and deeper inside him. "Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, yes, yes, Bob yessss, yesss, oh, oh, oh fuck, fuck me, ohhhhhhhhhhhh shit!" We both came at once, in exploding, thundering orgasms, pounding each other's backs, fiercely holding each other for balance. When we finally stopped moving, it was as if we would never move again. There was nothing we could do to uncouple and untangle. Finally, slowly, I managed to loosen us, and to gently set John down on the edge of the tub. We were both physically and emotionally drained. John's head and shoulders slumped over. "Just call 911," he said under his breath, "and tell them there's been a terrible accident in the bathroom." "This was no accident John." "I know. Fuck." Somehow I managed to get John dried and dressed, and get his ankle re-bandaged, though the whole thing was a slow and painful process. Trying to get pants back on him proved to be excruciating. In the end I had to cut the leg of his jeans just so he could pass his ankle through them without having to bend his foot. We decided on a taxi instead of an ambulance to get us to the hospital. It didn't take us very long at all to get to the other side of campus, and as I was helping John out of the car at the entrance to the emergency room, someone actually came out with a wheelchair to help us get inside. We had to wait a short while once we were there, filling out forms and then simply sitting and waiting, but not nearly as long as I had imagined. They came and wheeled John away after probably not more than half an hour. Then the real waiting began for me. I sat and sat and sat, and nothing happened. Nobody came out to tell me anything. I tried to imagine the doctor examining John's ankle, poking and probing. I tried to picture John coming back down that hallway toward me with crutches and a cast on his ankle. I asked the admitting nurse several times if there was any news, and she reassured me that she would let me know as soon as she knew anything. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the nurse told me that a Doctor Braun wanted to see me in his office. She showed me into the doctor's small office. He was sitting behind his desk, looking at some papers. He did not look up at me. I stood there, uncertain what to do. "Have a seat Mr. Peterson," he said gruffly. He was older, maybe fifty, trim, graying, and actually very handsome in his white lab coat. "Patterson," I corrected him. "Bob Patterson." "Ah yes, Mr. Patterson. You are John's friend? The one who accompanied him to the emergency room this morning?" "Yes I am." "Tell me, Mr. Patterson, what you know of how your friend came to be injured." "Well, we were drinking a little last night, over at my apartment, and watching some TV. When he left he ran down the stairs, I guess, rather than waiting for an elevator, and he fell. I heard him screaming and I found him at the bottom of the stairs, holding his ankle. He was in a lot of pain. I helped him back up to my apartment, and we put ice on his ankle. I wrapped it in an ace bandage for him, the way I learned in my first aid class. It didn't seem like it was broken. He spent the night on my couch, and when we got up this morning, it was so swollen and purple, we decided to come here." "Hmmm," he said grimly, looking over his glasses at me. "That is exactly what John told me. I don't for a moment believe it." "You don't?" "No I don't!" he was angry now, and slammed the desk with his fist. "Do you think I am a fool Mr. Patterson? Your friend has a very serious injury, and it is not the sort of injury one gets from falling down the stairs." "It isn't?" I stammered stupidly, my heart pounding. He thumped his hands on the desk. "Let me show you his x-rays Mr. Patterson." |
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