Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00353 515 73 20
It was the summer of my Sophomore year at college and I came home to spend three months hanging out at the community pool and not studying. That lasted about forty-five minutes…
I was coming home to share an apartment with Brad. Brad and I hung out all the time in college. Nothing ever happened between us and I never expected it to but he ran out of money and had to drop out after the first year anyway. Since my parents live on the other side of the country and Brad’s roommate just moved out it was kismet.
I’d come stay and veg out for the summer while Brad earned enough money to come back to college. It sucked he had to move THREE hours away from college but it was the nearest major city and it made sense for him to be somewhere he could find easy work. So I had made the long drive from college and was greeted by a great big hug by Brad as soon as I pulled up. We spent almost an hour unpacking the car, mostly wondering why I had so much stuff, and brought everything inside.
“Oh hey can you grab the mail while you shut the trunk!” Brad shouted.
“Sure!” I said facing the front door.
I began to jog backwards towards the mail box but as I turned to see where I was going I tripped over a garden gnome. My hands flailed out in front of me to stop the fall but the concrete was not forgiving. Apparently the best thing you can do when falling is to roll. This is the advice the doctor was giving me as he was putting both my hands into casts. They even cut off my favorite shirt! I knew light-weight long sleeve shirts in summer were a bad idea. I got to go home with a paper hospital gown covering my bra.
I was now to spend the whole summer with these things on! It wouldn’t be so bad, I can scroll Instagram with a broken wrist but I tore something in my hands that required the casts to go all the way up to my fingers. Siri was going to get a workout this summer. After a good cry in the car we arrived back at home. Brad got the mail since…ya know…I didn’t and we went inside.
The house is a Bi-level. Both bedrooms and a full bath upstairs; the kitchen, living room, and office downstairs. I decided that Binge-ing The Office was the only cure to this and headed downstairs. Did you know that most people grab the railing on the stairs to balance themselves? Who knew? My cast slid right off the railing and I bounced down the steps feet first. Back at the hospital Brad asked the doctor if he could get his frequent visitor card punched, hoping to get a free sandwich by the end of the month. Now my right foot and both hands are in a cast. Adding more insult to this injury they had to cut off one of my favorite pairs of jeans leaving me in a bra and panties under a paper gown. Wonderful.
So now I finally arrive home 10 hours after I had gotten home the first time. Brad guided me upstairs and to my bedroom. I don’t know if he could tell I was tired or just trying to make sure I didn’t injure myself. I didn’t even try to get comfortable, just collapsed on the bed and let Brad cover me with a blanket. He said goodnight and closed the door. I was tired but the rustling of my paper gown made me bonkers. I kept tossing and turning, which isn’t easy with only 3 working appendages. Eventually I caved.
“What’s up Steph?”
“Can you take this gown? It’s driving me nuts!”
I held up the blanket the best I could while he casino şirketleri grabbed the collar and pulled it out from under the blanket. He crumbled it up and tossed it in the trash.
“Ok, Good night”
I slept well. Painkillers made sure of that. Shortly after I woke up Brad came up to see how I was doing
“You want to come down for some breakfast?”
“Sure, I …”
As I began to stand up our eyes met and we both realized I was under the blanket in my underwear, the gown was destroyed and there were no clothes I could wear over two broken wrists and an ankle. I retreated back under the covers and we both became silent. Brad thought for a minute. “Ah!” he shouted as he dashed away.
I heard him come up from the downstairs closet with his big orange bag. It’s his “Swag Bag”, the bag full of crap vendors give out at all those trade shows he has worked over the years. From the bag Brad pulled out two XXXXL shirts. The smile on his face was a mile wide as he showed off his genius. Genius being the opposite of the vendors stocking XXXXL shirts let alone giving them to a man who is 180lbs max. He slipped one of the shirts over my head and I wriggled into it the best I could. The huge arm holes and long body were perfect to cover me.
We had breakfast and I enjoyed a few episodes of The Office. By 1pm we were deciding what to eat for lunch when I had a terrible realization…I had to pee. I held off as long as I could but eventually I told Brad and he helped me up the stairs, into the bathroom and got me turned around so I could sit on the toilet.
As he began to shut the door he said, “I’ll be outside. Let me know when you’re done so I can help you back out of the bathroom.”
I hiked up the shirt and then stopped, “Um Brad…” I muttered pointing to the waistband of my underwear and how my fingers couldn’t manipulate it.
Brad came over and bent down in front of me. He turned his head so as to not see anything and slid down my underwear. He got up and closed the door behind him. It was a little weird knowing he was standing out there but I was able to go. The saving grace here is that last year Brad invested in a super fancy bidet attachment for the toilet. Full wash and air dry, Hallelujah! I called out that I was done and he came back in. While I was still seated he began to raise my underwear back up but the band caught on the cast on my foot. RRRRRRRRIP. We looked at each other in awe.
Brad went into my room and grabbed another pair of underwear from my drawer, an invasion of privacy in any other situation, and came back into the bathroom. He slipped them over my feet and RRRRRRRRIP.
“Take 3,” he laughed.
“Ya know what?” Brad exclaimed. “You’re a big girl, you can just not wear underwear today.”
“Yea lets not try that again. If even my stretchy workout underwear doesn’t fit over the cast I don’t want to ruin any more.”
He helped me to my feet and back downstairs to eat. The awkwardness faded quickly but having Brad know I’m not wearing underwear felt a little weird.
We watched more Office and I went to sleep pretty early, changing into the other shirt before bed. When I woke Brad came into my room with a sigh on his face.
“I hate to say this…” He paused, “You’ve been home for three days now. You stink and…” sighing, “need a shower.”
I casino firmaları hung my head acknowledging that he was in fact right. I smelled RIPE and while it was going to suck we should get it over with. We headed to the bathroom. Brad started the shower and kept checking to make sure it was warm. While it got hot he grabbed three grocery bags and duct taped them around my casts.
The water was finally warm and he looked at me with a bit of a sad face. He lifted the shirt up above my neatly trimmed pubes, past my waist and up over my arms. I turned to face the shower. Brad unclasped my bra and helped me toss it to the side. I was happy I chose to wear a bra on the drive home. My B cups hang nicely on their own but I wanted a little support for all the potholes our state has. Brad helped guide me into the shower and began to get my hair wet. He lathered shampoo into my hair (and eyes) and then rinsed it out revealing the long shiny auburn that had been hiding under all that buildup.
As he grabbed the loofah he chuckled, “Ok it’s bubble time just like when you were little. Do you want a rubber ducky to play with?”
“I would actually prefer to NOT pretend this is like when I was little…I wouldn’t say no to the rubber duck though”
We both laughed and Brad began to soap my back. It felt nice to be getting clean but holding my hands up like a DJ and trying to keep one foot out of the water kind of took away any possible enjoyment I might have. Next he washed my arms and in a rush skipped down to my legs. Realizing that it’s not a shower if you aren’t going to get clean he moved back up and began washing my ass. Probably not as good as he should have but at least it was clean.
Knowing he was done with my back I sighed and turned. Brad gave an awkward smile and tried to continue as pleasantly as possible. He cleaned my arms and my tummy, again rushing down to my legs before coming back up to wash the inevitable. The loofah tickled a bit as he encircled my nipples. I guess it’s a different feeling when someone else does it. Finally he ran the soap up my thighs and around my mound. I’m so glad his high school gave a proper Sex Ed class and taught the men not to get soap in there. Once fully soaped Brad grabbed the shower head and rinsed me down.
He handed me a towel to dry off but as with this whole situation, paused realizing I couldn’t do it, and dried me off. Brad grabbed the huge shirt he had washed and dried last night placing it over me as I handed him the towel. Now covered I hobbled my way back into the bedroom but as I passed through the doorway the shirt caught on the door knob and I fell to the ground. RRRRRRRIP.
“Oh come on!” I cried.
The shirt had completely ripped in half leaving me exposed on the bedroom floor. Brad helped me to the bed and wrapped the towel back around me.
“So uh…being the proactive guy I am…The other shirt is in the wash. And since we don’t want it to shrink I have to dry it on low. So…”
“How long am I stuck in a towel?”
“Cold wash, fabric softener, low tumble dry…3 hours. Sorry Steph.”
“Well I guess I’ll be watching TV in a towel for awhile then.”
We ventured downstairs and sat on the couch while I attempted to clutch the edges of the towel with my arm pits. It kept sliding down and down and down. Eventually Brad got up and helped hike it back up. This repeated güvenilir casino every twenty minutes and by hour two I screamed in frustration and flung the towel open exposing my naked body to Brad.
“Stephanie what are you doing!?!”
“I can’t take it anymore! This is so frustrating,” exaggerating to my casts, “I’d rather just sit here naked. You’ve already seen me, I can’t get MORE naked than a shower.”
“I know you are frustrated but…”
I cut him off by turning up the volume. He could tell I was pissed and resigned to keep his eyes locked on the TV. About an hour later the dryer dinged.
Brad could not have jumped up off the couch faster, “Shirt is ready!”
“Don’t bother. I don’t want to rip it in case I have to go back to the hospital again.”
Brad could tell I had given up and decided not to fight me. We were adults. I can sit naked on the couch.
This was pretty much the status quo for a couple of weeks. Brad bathed me every other day and I sat on the couch in the nude watching Netflix. I could tell he looked over a few times but I ignored the looks. I was sure they were harmless.
While I had calmed down after that day of frustration my temper was slowly building. Three weeks without masturbation will drive anyone crazy. I tried humping my pillow but couldn’t get a good rhythm due to my foot. I tried diddling myself but with the casts on my hands it was a waste. Finally one night was able to get my nightstand open and my battery-powered magic wand out and on. Getting it in between my legs wasn’t easy but I managed. As I lay there trying to wriggle into position my mind wandered to the fact that I had been nude for the last 3 weeks. There were times when the rush got to me. Trying to clean wetness stains off the couch wasn’t easy with casts on my hands but I think I hid it well. I just needed an actual release. Of course that wasn’t happening since I couldn’t hold the Magic Wand up to my pussy so it just kept shuttling away from me on the bed. I shifted down and again it slid away from me. I shifted even further; it slid away. I let out a growl of frustration. Perhaps a bit too loud.
As the door flew open Brad shouted, “Are you okay…Oh.”
“Brad!!” I cried as the embarrassment hit me.
Brad turned to face the hallway, “It’s cool. You’re a uh…woman with needs. I’ll let you get back to…it.”
Out of pure desperation I shouted, “Ugh I wish I could! Fucking thing keeps sliding away. I hate these casts!”
Brad’s head hung low in the doorway. I needed his help. He turned back to face me. Quietly and calmly came over to the bed and knelt down at the foot. Turning his head slightly away from me he grasped the base of the toy and slowly brought it up to my pussy. I was so stunned I wasn’t able to get out the word “Stop.” Instead my brain could only think of the pleasure to finally be had. As he gently applied pressure to me my lips spread and the wetness I had been building finally coated the head of the wand. Bracing off the headboard I sunk deeper on to the toy making the vibrations reach my clit.
“Oh..god…” I let out.
Brad turned his head back to see his roommate writhing in pleasure, “It’s Ok baby. I know you need to come. Go ahead. Do it.”
“Ohhhhh…” I moaned as I pushed harder on to the toy. I felt it cresting and looked down to see Brad looking up at me, “Oh oh oh oh…Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Brad pulled the toy away from me, my wetness sticking to it. He turned it off and stood up. As he took a step to the door he stopped and twisted back to me. He kissed me on my forehead.
“Get some rest.”
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00353 515 73 20