Be happy for me 

This is a new story called “Be happy for me” let’s begin….. I don’t know if I consider myself lucky, or unlucky. Like most, perhaps a bit of both. But looking back now, I’d have to say the day I broke my arm, along with my opposite wrist and a broken leg as well, turned out to be one of the luckiest moments of my entire life.

We had just graduated from high school and a bunch of us seniors had planned on a senior camping trip. (The girls were all supposed to come up the following day and at least spend the day with us). After setting up camp my friends and I decided to go for a hike, climb a few hills (looking for make-out spots where there would be some privacy) and generally fool around. Well…I wasn’t watching what I was doing as well as I should have.

The next thing I knew, I’d lost my footing and fell about fifteen feet over the side of a small ledge. Luckily? I landed in a bunch of tall bushes. Unluckily, I broke my arm and wrist in the fall and though I didn’t know it at the time, until I’d actually reached the hospital, I found I had a small fracture in my leg along with both of those.

Needless to say I was pissed, disappointed in myself and frustrated as hell winding up in the hospital instead of camping with my friends over the next few days. Not to mention not getting to spend any hopefully intimate time with my new girlfriend, especially as she’d hinted at the possibility of that. So much for my plans.

A day later I was laying in bed at home. Mom had taken a week off to look out after me as I was having a hell of a time doing things for myself. Once again luckily, I had just enough movement and use of one hand to take care of more personal intimate problems. But that was about the extent of it. Getting in and out of bed was bad enough, so for the first two days I just laid there watching TV, growing more and more bored by the minute.

Not to mention horny as hell. It had now been at least a week since I’d even jerked off. By now…I was crawling the walls so to speak, and unable to do much of anything about it. I had made the attempt in fact one night late after my parents had gone to bed. The reality was, the only hand I had in order to accomplish that was my left hand. And for those who don’t understand, or know…when you get used to jerking off a certain way with one particular hand, it’s actually more difficult and awkward to switch off and do it with the other one.

Added to that, that left hand being the one with the broken wrist, so I also had limited movement with it as it was. Eventually I gave up trying to get myself off, which left me even more frustrated and angry than I had ever been.

And mom of course noticed the change in my normally good natured mood. Even after the accident I’d managed to laugh about it. But three days later I wasn’t laughing any more. Getting hard on something I couldn’t do anything about was becoming annoying for one. Mom’s coming in to give me a sponge bath was another.

In the first place, it was a bit embarrassing, not to mention even though she was my mom, and not half bad looking either. She was still my mom. In the second place, the fact I’d even gotten aroused when she’d given me that first sponge bath was totally unexpected…for both of us.

When she got to the part where it was time to wash the part…she’d told me she’d do that beneath the sheet, so I wouldn’t see her looking at it, and she wouldn’t be looking at it while she did it. It wasn’t much, but it was the best plan I could agree to accept at the time. So, there I was laying back, embarrassed to tears as mom rung out the wash cloth, and then lifted the sheet slipping her hand down between my legs where she proceeded to give me a thorough washing.

Almost immediately several things happened with that.

The first thing that happened was I started to grow a little. Not rock-hard horny, but enough that I was now embarrassed about that. Mom’s hand on my dick (though she was actually washing it) and it growing…some anyway. And then to make matters worse, she told me that she needed to wash under and around the foreskin a bit,

so that I didn’t get stinky down there. Ok…can you imagine anything worse than having your own mother tell you that she didn’t want you to have a stinky dick? So now she’s playing blind man’s bluff with my cock, feeling around, looking for cooties or some such with her fingers. And all that’s doing…is pleasuring the head of my dick, and yeah…so it’s suddenly growing again, a bit bigger now. And the way she’s holding it in one hand,

washing the tip, and pulling up the foreskin to wash that, well…it’s feeling good, and I’m more embarrassed than ever. And her hand is now securely wrapped around the quickly thickening shaft. And then of course she announces that we also need to “gingerly” wash my balls too.

Fuck. I wanted to die. Actually, I wanted to find a way to come first…and then die. Neither one of which happened of course.

And then things went downhill from there. Though a short time later, they suddenly got a whole lot better too!


Thankfully…I was saved by the bell, or rather the phone as it began ringing downstairs. Mom immediately stood dropping the cloth into the now lukewarm pan of water she’d been using and took it with her.

“I’ll fix you some lunch and bring it up in a bit,” she told me quickly disappearing through the door heading downstairs to catch the phone. I lifted the sheet. Ok, so it wasn’t one hundred percent erect…but was still bad enough. I mean it stood by itself without any help. Maybe it wasn’t all angry and swollen looking, but she wouldn’t have seen that under the sheet anyway. The fact was however…it was standing tall, and that she had held in her hand as she washed it.

My next immediate problem was…I needed to pee. BIG TIME. I refused to use a bedpan. So that meant getting out of bed, which even then wasn’t easy. I’d been given a wheelchair to use at least in order to move about the second floor of the house. Crutches weren’t an option, not with a broken arm, and a wrist that couldn’t support much weight either, let alone anything else. So I was at least grateful for the chair. I slid out of bed, into the chair and then managed (slowly) to work my way over to the door, and then down the hall towards the bathroom.

As I slowly made my way, I could hear mom down in the living room below talking to my aunt on the phone. Now I knew at least who’d called. No real surprise there either. With mom being home taking care of me, my Aunt Sophia had called at least three times a day ever since checking up to see how I was doing.

I really did like my Aunt, five years younger than mom was, we’d always seemed to share a more personal, almost intimate closeness with one another. I’d even shared, and confided in her shortly after I’d lost my virginity. So we did have that shared kind of a connection with one another, whereby I felt like I could tell her just about anything. Unfortunately as I was about to find out…so did mom.

I was just about to wheel myself into the bathroom when I heard mom suddenly lower her voice. A sure sign when she did that she was about to share something with her sister she didn’t want overheard. The problem was, since I’d rolled out into the hallway, I did.

“God Kath, you should have seen it…I mean I’ve admittedly wondered, you know…I guess parents sometimes do wonder about things like that, but I never expected…” She paused listening.

“No, no…I didn’t actually look, look…I was washing it under the sheet, but he was growing, getting thicker and stiffer every second. Yes, yes…he was a little embarrassed I suppose, but not enough to keep himself from getting erect.”

She was listening again, just as I was, rolling a bit further down the hallway towards the stairs.

“Yes, admittedly…I was getting that way too,” she giggled, “And then you called, so thank god for that, I was honestly tempted to keep washing and holding it. As silly as this may sound Kath, I am sure the poor boy is going crazy in a way. You know how men are…I’m sure he hasn’t had an orgasm since the accident, he can’t exactly do much of anything about that, so I’m not surprised he was getting stiff when I was cleaning him up.”

Fuck...getting a stiffy, she’s telling my Aunt!” I sat telling myself. “And what did she mean by getting that way too?”

“I’m sure he’ll be excited to see you sis,” mom stated. “Yes, yes…I’m going to fix him a bite to eat now, and then I’ll tell him you’re coming over this evening, am sure he’ll be excited to hear that.” She giggled again. “I didn’t mean to be that kind of excited,” she laughed even harder though quickly lowering her voice once again. “Ok sis…I’ll do that, yes, yes…we’ll see you later on this evening then.”

And with that she hung up. I spun in my chair heading immediately into the bathroom where I sat on the toilet trying desperately to pee. The problem was…I was as hard as a rock again.


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