Nurturing the broken

scene 1: my broken hand

I wake up and it is still in plaster, wrapped tightly like a glove,

I was going to draw and create all of this uni break,

writing hand, my drawing hand, my crafting hand,

shattered in four pieces,

I sit and look at in despair, how will I get anything done?

I get out of bed, put a shirt over my head, careful with my bulky hand through the arm hole,

sit down at the desk, looking at a blank sheet of paper,

cradling my bulky plaster hand, feeling the texture grazing my palm and fingertips,

I pick up a pen and let the ink seep into the paper, I move up and down the page,

getting a feel for the pen in my hand, seeing how steady my lines are,

a little shaky but I like the style, the innocent uneducated hand I have,

It feels like teaching a child to ride a bike,

And that is when the pen breaks,

I didn’t realize how hard I was grasping the pen, shatters,

plastic spikes penetrate my hand and pinky finger,

I feel the pain, but only stare in shock as ink and blood mix on the page.

scene 2: the waiting room

I was sitting in the waiting room of the doctors office, to get my hands stiched up. I had walked here with one hand in a plastic bag the other in plaster.

You saw me and my sad face and laughed. Then apologised. “sorry that both your hands are injuired it just made me giggle. What is your name?”

I told her my name and she was very chatty, it was a good change compared to just dealing with my own thoughts. She said she was waiting for a friend, but are just getting a check up nothing serious.

My name was called and I stand up. I say I enjoyed this chat. And she said “ okay i’ll tell you what. When you get out I’ll walk you home, make it up to for laughing. I’m Chelsea by the way.”

I smiled and headed on in.

In the doctors office, he looked bemused. I was in here less then a week ago, to have my cast on. What did I tell you about taking it easy? He said.

My pen broke. I said cradeling the bloody plastic bag that held my hand. Blood had pooled and dried at the bottom.  Removing the bag, the doctor cleaned and stiched up my hand. All the dried blood, it is asmazing how much we bleed when just left to drip, like a sack of water with a hole in the bottom.

When I was ready to go, I saw Chelsea with another lady, no doubt here friend chatting away. They looked at me giggling, holding hands, and then the other said okay I’ll let you go. Have fun.

I walk on over and smile.

scene 3: walk me home

Chelsea looks at my arm and touches it lightly. Running her fingers across the cast. I was given some meds for the pain so I am a little of in lala land.  We walk home slowly, Chelsea asking many questions, most of which I don’t have the  answers to. With a skip in her step, her dress ripples as she moves. It is bright blue, sun kissed shoulders that say she has been wearing dresses all summer.

We walked and talked the whole way to my house, and I stopped at the door. My front door and said that this is where I live. Chelsea asks where my keys are, I say in my pocket. Chelsea reaches in each pocket and feels around for my keyes. I can feel her warm hands touching my thigh. And out her hand comes holding the keys. Trying each key she finds the right one that fits the lock. And swings open my front door. I walk in, and she closes the door behind us. I try and take of my shoes but see that they are still tied up tightly for the day before. Chelsea notices that and moves me to the neares chair and makes me sit down. She unties my shoes and I am looking at thee top of her head, her shoulders, the straps of her dress. Each shoe comes of and she looks at me, I like her kind nutring nature.

Do you like me  – she says. I nod my head and say I like how kind an nurturing you are. She smiles, leans in and kisses my knee. I can feel her wet lips on my knee. I stand up, and Chelsea looks up at me. Do you like me like this, looking up at you – Chelsea says. I smile and say, yes I do. She puts a finger to her lips, and then puts her hans under my teeshirt. And pushes me back down onto the couch. I like the feel of her warm soft hands on my belly. I can see her feeling around for the button to my shorts, I feel it unhook and my fly released. She pulls down my pants and underwear. I can’t beleave that this has gone this way so quickly – I say. Do you like me on my knees – Chelsea says. I nod my head. Relax poor boy, let me take care of you – Chelsea says. Her hand on my cock as she strokes it. I can feel the warmth of her hand as she moves it up and down. The warmth of her body so close to mine, her eyes on me, that smile. She feels my thighs and moves in closer. Brushing her hair behind her ears. She takes me in her mouth. I can feel her warm lips and tongue. As her head bobs up and down on my cock. Her shoulders, she is at least  15 years older than me, but without knowing this is what I wanted an older lady to appreciate me.

She takes me again and again in her mouth in between deep breaths, her checks glowing a rosie red.

She stops to look up at me with her lips damp, her hand holding my cock that is now sticky and warm with her spit. And smiles, do you like that? Do you like me? Do you want to cum in my mouth?- Chelsea asks slowly in a voice in a slightly higher pitch. Warm and loving. I say that I do, and I want to. She smiles. And licks and sucks again. I can feel myself getting close, my breathing gets deeper. Her hands gripping my waist, bracing for impact. I can feel cum shoot out of me. As her head of hair goes still. And then a gental suck, as she cleans all the cum of my cock. And smiles up at me. I breath. With my pants around my ankles I sit there in amazement.

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