Double Take
Chapter 5
“It is a form of grace to become nothing but a task”
—Kim Stanley Robinson, Icehenge
MONDAY MORNING, my home nurse showed up promptly at seven. Dad had already gotten me out of bed and helped me with morning toilet before he left for work. I was glad to be up and mobile in my chair but it was going to suck getting up before Dad went to work every morning. Still, Em was out the door to school at about the same time so I figured I’d better get used to it. Pey’s school didn’t start till nine. I guess that meant Em would get home earlier, too.
Molly was a big Irish redhead and I was in love from the moment I saw her. She was in her mid-fifties, I guess, and built like a brick. She was big but you’d never confuse her for fat. The first time she lifted me up to put the bedpan under my butt convinced me of that. She was strong as an ox. But her hair was still red and the spray of freckles across her nose just begged to be kissed. Damn it! V1 gets off on an old lady and V3 gets a hard-on. V2 is going ‘Oh, yuck!’ Except he was dead, so that didn’t count. She efficiently finished cleaning me up and gave my cock a pat before she fastened the diaper.
“That should provide you with some motivation to get healed,” she said. “You need to get your arms out of those casts so you can take care of little Jacob. You know, it’s the national pastime for boys of your age.”
After that, I was hard and red. I wondered if I could convince her to give me a helping hand, so to speak. Or mouth. She had full lips and a mouthful of white teeth that I was sure were her own. I could just imagine what it would feel like when she slipped those lips over my cock and started stroking me with her tongue.
“Ow!”
“Yes, you’ve lost some mobility in your shoulders. We’ll have to work on extending them more every day. When you get out of those casts, it’s not just your flute you’ll want to finger. You’ll want to reach up over your head. Maybe even throw a ball. And you’re tight as a fiddle string. We need to do some torso stretches.”
My physical therapy with Molly took most of the morning. I was exhausted and wanted to nap after lunch.
“Why don’t you nap here on the sofa while I watch a soap?” she said.
“How am I going to get on the sofa?”
“How do you think?” She scooped me out of my chair with ease and laid me back on the sofa in a position where I could also see the TV if I so desired. I didn’t but it was nice to be with her while I napped. Finger my flute? Yeah.
It was two o’clock when Em got home from school. Molly had me back in my chair and was holding her purse when Em walked through the door.
“Well, I’m off then. See you for another round of torture in the morning, lad,” Molly said. She was out the door a minute after Em walked in.
“Who was that?” Em asked.
“Nurse Molly, my daily torturer,” I laughed. “She’s really a sweetheart and took good care of me today, but she’s on the clock.”
“You need anything before I change clothes?”
“Naw. I’m fine for a few. I’m happy to see you, though.”
“Keep that thought because I left school without pissing and I’m about to burst.” She hurried down the hall and I heard the bathroom door close. I was still pretty wrung out from half a day of PT and an hour of studying, but it really was nice to see Em in her school clothes. She was wearing a blue blouse and sweater that matched with skin tight jeans that did everything to accent her cute shape. I berated myself for the kinds of thoughts I had about my sister. I reminded myself that she was V3’s sister and not some common girl I’d see on the street. And besides, I was sixty-three years older than her and had no business lusting after a seventeen-year-old. Damn it! If I kept that attitude, I’d never be able to date when I got out of this contraption.
“Hey,” she said coming back into the room. She was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of cut-off sweats. Her legs were… luscious.
“Hey, yerself. Good day at school?”
“What are you, my mom? It was frustrating.”
“I thought you were good in school.”
“Oh, it’s not that. It’s… um… I was thinking that I’d burn off some… uh… fuck! I usually go to my room and jill off when I get home from school. You need some relief?”
“After the torturer was done with me today? I’d love some. Do you mean… Are you willing to do me? I don’t want to cut into your private time, I mean. I can… you know… wait… if you want.”
“In about five minutes, I’m going to have my panties around my ankles and three fingers buried in my twat. That leaves my other hand free if you want to join me. But Pey gets home in forty minutes. We need to do it now.”
“Yeah. Please.”
“Let’s do it in your room.”
I followed her down the hall, maneuvered my chair past the door and backed it into my room. By the time I got there, Em had her sweats off and was mauling her breasts with one hand while she stroked her slit with the other.
“Get over here close to the bed. We have to work out a position since you aren’t in bed.” I backed my chair up next to the bed in the position she directed me to. She quickly got the velcro closure of my little skirt open and unfastened the diaper. Just seeing her come in from school had me chubbing but seeing her with no pants on brought it to full attention. “I think I know how to do this and not be too stressful,” she said. With that, she sat on the bed, scooted down toward me, and put her right leg on my left shoulder. This close, she could still use her right hand on my cock and her left in her pussy. She squirted some lotion on her hand and started stroking as she lay back on her bed and got her other hand busy in a very wet pussy.
I could tell it was very wet. It was only about a foot in front of my face. I kept leaning forward to see if I could smell her. The sounds were great and the visual of her wide-open pussy was beyond belief. If it wasn’t for that visual, I might not have come. Sitting up with one leg stretched out in front of me isn’t the best jack-off position. But Em’s hand and the sight of her pussy as she got herself off were enough. She squealed and came again when my first shot hit her in the right buttock.
“Oh, God! You squirted on my butt!” Then she started laughing. “I forgot to get a washcloth and it’s going to run all the way down my leg by the time I get to the bathroom. Wow! That was a real charge! Be right back.” I could watch her bouncing butt with my come dripping down it all day.
Between school and homework and physical therapy, Em and I didn’t get together the rest of the week. I watched with dismay as she passed my room dressed in a miniskirt and tight top to go out for her Friday night date. I was seriously infatuated with my older sister.
When you can’t walk and your arms don’t move, life can be seriously boring. I loved my time in the power wheelchair because I could move from room to room. I could eat meals with the family in the dining room. I could watch television in the living room. But I couldn’t stand up by myself. You wouldn’t believe how much you depend on your arms when you change from standing to sitting to lying down. If someone, Dad or Nurse Molly, stood me up, I could stay there for a few seconds. But if I got the least bit off balance, I’d go from standing to lying down in a catastrophic manner. I felt confined all the time and I could tell Mom and Dad got tired of having to move me around and tend to my toilet.
The bell Em got me helped me get attention without yelling myself hoarse if I was in a room by myself. Em had carefully written on my cast the circumstances under which I could ring the bell. She had sequences as well. One ring, two rings, non-stop ringing. Each event I rang for had its own sequence. In general, one ring with a second not less than five minutes apart, meant that I’d like someone to talk to or I needed to ask a question. Someone would get to me as soon as they could but if Mom had three things cooking on the stove and was trying to pull something out of the oven, it might take a few minutes before she could make everything safe enough to answer my call. The second instance, five minutes later, would simply remind people that no one had responded yet.
At the other end of the spectrum, Em had written the few things that would merit non-stop ringing. Pain that I can’t stand. My room is on fire. I’ve fallen and I can’t get up. (I think she was being facetious, but it reminded me that in the nursing home we all wore emergency communicators around our necks.) At the bottom of the list she’d written, ‘Nightmare.’
The problem, as I discovered later that night, was that when I had my nightmare, I couldn’t ring the bell.
I was suffocating. It always started that way. I couldn’t tell if I had air in my lungs and couldn’t exhale or if my lungs were empty and I couldn’t inhale. It made no difference. No air was going in or out. I was going to die here in the dark.
That was another thing that told me it was a nightmare. For as long as V2 could remember, he’d slept with a nightlight. He couldn’t stand the dark. But in the nightmare, everything was dark.
I opened my eyes and there was no nightlight. There was no light anywhere. The dark was absolute. It was like a vast silent chasm in space. Silence. I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t make a sound. My mind told me I was screaming, but no sound came out. I couldn’t even hear the beating of my own heart. It was like being in a sensory deprivation tank. The silence pressed in on me. And that was the difference. I could feel the pressure. My body was packed in a case that pressed against every part of me, growing heavier by the second. And this was where I would die. I would die alone in the dark and silence, crushed to death by the weight pressing down on me from every direction.
I begged in my mind for it to end. To die. To stop feeling this ever-increasing weight and silence and darkness. But I lived as it got worse and worse and I couldn’t let anyone know.
“J! J! Wake up. It’s a dream. I have you. I won’t let you go! Not now. Not ever!” The words eventually penetrated my skull. I clawed my way up out of sleep, hearing, seeing light, breathing again. Em had my cheeks held in her hands. She was gently rocking my head back and forth to get me to respond.
“Em!” I gasped. “Em, save me.”
“I’m here, J. It was just a dream. I’m here and you’re okay.”
“Oh,” I moaned. “Oh, God. I just wanted to die.”
“You promised, J. I’m not going to let you die. You promised.”
“I’m sorry, Em. It was… It was… just a dream. Like you said. Just a dream.”
“Christ, you’re all sweaty. Give me a minute and I’ll get a washcloth and towel. Can you do that for me? Okay?”
“I’m… okay, Em. I’ll wait. I’ll do whatever you say.” She kissed my forehead and slipped out of the room.
What the hell happened to V2 that gave him these nightmares? Fucking Christ! No wonder he wanted to kill himself. That one was one of the worst. I wondered how long I’d been dreaming. Of course, knowing the human brain, it might have been a second. It felt like I’d been in that tomb for days. I could feel my heart still racing. I couldn’t close my eyes for more than a blink because I needed to see the light in my room. I needed to hear the hum of the furnace kicking in because the October nights had become chilly. I needed to feel my own skin with my fingertips and scratch at the towel lying under my arms so I could pull it above my fingers. I never wanted to sleep again.
“You doing okay now? Let’s get the sweat mopped off of you and get you comfortable again,” Em said. She’d taken the time she was in the bathroom to change into the sports jersey she slept in. I wondered if she really thought she’d go to Michigan State or if she just wanted to attract a college boy to date her. Well, how would he know unless she was already sleeping with him. It was her nightgown, for God’s sake.
“It’s always the same,” I whispered as she helped me sit up so she could wipe the sweat off my back and dry it with a towel.
“I’m going to put a towel down behind you so you aren’t lying on these damp sheets,” she said. “It’s the middle of the night and it would take me forever to change the sheets with you in the bed.” She washed my sticky pits and my chest, then dried them with another towel.
“Why are you the only one who comes when I have a nightmare?” I asked. “Can’t anyone else hear? Do I make noise?”
“I just got home from my date with Robbie. I always stop to say goodnight, J. You were stiff as a board. Rigid. That’s how I knew. You never make a sound. Why didn’t you ring your bell?”
“Couldn’t. Couldn’t move.”
“I’m going to change your diaper. You might have wet yourself or it might just be sweat. Either way. This will help you calm down and sleep.”
It was a task for Emily to lift my hips to slide a fresh diaper under me, even when I was using my one good leg to help lift. I couldn’t press with my arms. She leaned over me and her breast brushed against the back of my fingers. I tried to turn my hand but, of course, it was encased in plaster and wouldn’t rotate. Even trying still sent a stab of pain up my arm. But I could feel it. I could feel her hard nipple against the backs of my fingers.
“God. You’ve got a boner now. You really like me to change you, don’t you? Will it help you sleep if I get you off?”
“Would you? Please?”
“Yeah. You know how I am after a date. I need to rub one off myself. How about I do you and… I do me. I guess you can’t really help.” She sat next to me on the bed with her knee pulled up so she could reach between her legs. It wasn’t the same as when I’d been sitting up a few days ago and the light was dimmer, but her pussy still opened before my eyes as she stroked my cock.
“You have such a beautiful pussy, Em. I wish I could touch it for you. I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel. That feels so good.”
“Yeah. Well, I sort of imagine that you’re doing me while I’m doing you. Robbie’s pretty good at it. I’ve only let him touch me outside my panties because you know that if he got inside he’d be jabbing his finger into me and then he’d want to fuck. I’m not saying I’m a virgin, you know, but I don’t just give it up on every date. Mmm. I do like jilling myself while I’m stroking you, though. You’re probably going to spurt long before I… Oh… I… shit!”
That was wild. Em came before I did. I was so fascinated by what I was seeing and the hypnotic tone of her voice that I just didn’t connect to my own cock. I was hard as a rock but I hadn’t come.
“Oh yeah. That was good,” she sighed. “You haven’t come yet! Um…” What ever she was going to say was cut off as she turned her head and took my cock in her open mouth. I swear, my heart stopped. V1 had some pretty spectacular blowjobs in his eighty years. Not all from his wife. Em wasn’t technically as proficient as my college girlfriend. She could suck the chrome off a ’57 Cadillac. But this was Em. Em had my fourteen-year-old cock in her mouth. I tried desperately hard to thrust with my hips as I started firing in my sister’s mouth. Over and over and over.
“Oh, God! Em, I love you. I love you!” She reached up her other hand and covered my mouth. I was getting pretty loud. But the hand she used on my mouth was the one that had just been in her pussy and I sucked her fingers in. I bathed them with my tongue as I continued to mutter, “I love you.”
“Fuck, you come a lot. I couldn’t swallow fast enough.” She reached for the now-cool washcloth and wiped me down again, pausing to wipe a little come from her cheek.
“I love you, Em. I’m…”
“Puh-leeze, J. It was just a blowjob. I’m your sister. It’s not like you’re my boyfriend.”
“But…”
“I’m going to have to get some help with this. I can’t have you falling in love with me. You know, it’s not like we’re getting married. I’m just being nice to my brother.”
“Oh.” I was crushed but tried not to show it as she got me tucked back into my diaper. “You are a nice sister. Thank you for being so nice. I… uh didn’t mean… you know… it was just kind of intense.”
“I know, kiddo. But if I get someone else to do this sometimes, you won’t be as tempted to fall in love with me. You know, I still kind of have a crush on the guy who took my cherry. Even though he ended up being a clueless jerk. Not a bad guy, just totally unaware. Anyway. I still dream about him sometimes, always correcting the little mistakes that he made in my dream and making it turn out happily ever after. The cure is to pick yourself up and get back on the horse. A different horse in my case. And that’s what I’m going to do for you. Get you another horse.”
“I’ll control myself,” I pleaded. “I don’t need a different horse.”
“See, that’s a sign right there. Don’t worry, J. I’ll get you a good one.” She kissed my forehead again. “Sleep tight, brother.”
Old men lying in nursing homes dream that one of the cute young nurses or aides will simply take pity on them and give them a blowjob. By young, I mean forty or fifty. None of us are stupid enough to imagine one of the Girl Scouts who come in for community service would do that. How gross.
But here I was, eighty years old, and a beautiful seventeen-year-old had just given my fourteen-year-old body its first blowjob. Of course I was in love. It was stupid, I agreed. Even in this reality there was a stigma if not a law against sibling incest. But what she’d said about still dreaming of her first… I was going to spend many years dreaming about my sister.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
