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The offensive player ran towards the goal and the goalie lunged out of the crease to meet him. The stick whipped the ball at the net just as the attacker was crushed between the goalie and a defensive player closing from the other side. The ball pinged off the crossbar and bounced towards the out of bounds line. The crowd became deathly silent after their collective "OH!" The slim offensive lacrosse player had slumped to the turf and the two huge defenders who had literally crushed him between them and their sticks ran after the ball. The whistle blew as the downed player remained motionless.
I remember running down, onto to the field and watching them carefully lift the lacrosse player onto a stretcher and into the waiting ambulance. I climbed in after the paramedic and looked down at my adopted son's mud-stained face. He smiled up at me, weakly.
"Sorry you had to see that."
I smiled back, "I'm sorry I had to see it, too. We'll be at the hospital, soon. Just rest."
It was still early and the emergency room was empty. They wheeled Matt into a cubicle as I filled out the forms and waited. And thought back.
Being divorced, now, for over three years, I was still enjoying being a single parent but missed even the limited support of Matt's adoptive father at a time like this. My ex, Allen, had adopted Matt with his previous wife, whom he divorced soon after he discovered that she'd had a longstanding affair with another man. She ran off with him after his discovery, leaving Allen to raising Matt alone. So when I met and subsequently married Allen, I had to be accepted by Matt too. But despite his early trepidations, he came around to liking me. Allen was was now living in California, and only saw Matt for a few weeks in the summer because of his alcohol abuse problem he refused to deal with. There's much more horrible things about him that Matt & I had to live through that ended up giving me custody. So, it was just me. Me and Matt.
He was in his junior year of high school, and had just turned 17. Afraid of "mothering" him too much, I bit my tongue earlier in the year when he told me he was going to try-out for his small prep school's championship varsity lacrosse team in his junior year. All that Fall and Winter I watched him run and work out with weights. I marvelled at his commitment and hard work and it paid off -- he was the last player who made the team. Being the one of two junior on the team, he was the brunt of the tricks and practical jokes played by the older players, but Matt hung in there. I became his number one fan, never missing a game and rooting the team on; but always afraid that something like this would happen.
Finally, a doctor approached.
"Mrs. Lawrence? I'm Doctor Fox, sports medicine clinic."
"Yes. How is Matt?"
"Oh, he'll be fine. He must have really taken a shot out there. His collarbone is broken on the right side, and the four fingers on his left hand are broken. I'm assuming he lost his glove in the collision and his hand got stepped on or caught between two sticks after the hit. Other than that and a few assorted bruises, he's fine."
"That doesn't sound fine to me, doctor."
"I played lacrosse, too, Mrs. Lawrence, and I can assure you that with that strong, young, healthy body, he's already begun the mending process. The worst part about all of this will be the inconvenience. Either injury, the broken collarbone, dislocated shoulder, or the broken fingers, alone, would be difficult. Together, Matt's soon going to find out that there are a lot of things hewon't be able to do for himself, for a while. He'll need a lot of help. You might even want to consider hiring help." He went on, explaining theprescriptions and the casts until Matt emerged from the room, pale, but walking.
I retrieved his torn jersey and we left the Emergency Room. My car was still at the school's field, so we took a cab home from the hospital. Matt had been given a pain-killer that was making him drowsy, so I followed him into his bedroom.
"I'm okay, I think. I can manage."
I smiled and shook my head, "And just how do you think you'll manage? One arm is in a sling, and the other is in a sling AND a cast. Are you THAT good with your toes?"
We both laughed and I gently sat him down on his deskchair. I removed his muddy shoes and socks and shorts. He was falling asleep as I worked, and I helped him into his bed, still dirty and sweaty from the game. He was already asleep as I removed his rib-protector pads and his jock strap. I showered, cancelled my date with Richard for that evening, made myself an herbal tea and returned to Matt's room, worried about him being able to sleep. I didn't need to worry.
"Hey. Yo! Time to get up!"
I had fallen asleep in the chair and my body ached with stiffness as I tried to move. "I sure hope you slept better than I did, Matt."
"I must have been really doped up because I barely remember riding in the cab."
I stood up and walked to the bed. As I did, I noticed the covers tented up over Matt's penis. He saw me looking and blushed a deep red.
"Oh, Matt, don't be embarrassed. I know what it is. It's a morning erection and every teenage guy has them. If you woke up a morning without one, you would probably be dead!
"Listen, Matt, you heard what Doctor Fox said. He warned us about how tough these next few weeks are going to be. I promise to respect your privacy as much as possible, but I think modesty can pretty much go out the window for a little while. It's just the two of us, Matt. Let's try it, and if you're too uncomfortable, I'll see if I can maybe hire someone to take care of you. Besides, I'm one who's changed many a dirty diaper. Plus, you don't have many secrets from me, Matt. Let's just try to relax and get through this, okay?"
"Sure, but you don't have to hire anybody. I'm just a little embarrassed. I'd probably feel worse if it was a stranger."
"I understand, Matt. Really I do."
I helped him gingerly get out of bed and walk into the bathroom.
"Do you have to go to the bathroom, Matt?"
"Umm, I can't until this goes down, or I go in the shower."
"Men," I thought, "can and will go anywhere!"
I put a plastic bag over the cast on his left hand and then Matt stepped into the showerstall and I reached around him to turn the water on.
"UGH!!" Matt bumped his shoulder into the wall and moaned with the pain.
"I think we better move into my room. Your showerstall is just too small, and I don't want to hurt you." He had paled with the pain and merely nodded. The bath in the Master suite was large and had an oversize tub and shower.
He was still very much erect, so he immediately stepped into the shower. I turned the water on and stepped back. It took me a second to realize that Matt was just as helpless here, and that I was going to have to wash him. I grabbed the soap and tried to wash off the sweat and dirt with the gentlest of touches. His legs were the easiest because I didn't have to be so careful.
My white cotton t-shirt was soaking wet from the shower and splashes, and clung to my breasts and thighs and stomach like a nearly transparent second skin. Everything I had was on display and I could feel my adopted son's eyes on me. I was going to have to find something else to wear for Matt's next shower!
I had worked my way up Matt's thighs, and the only part of him left to wash was his genital area. I soaped my hands and looked up at him, "Just relax, now. Okay?"
He gave me a tight little nod and I soaped his testicles and then his erect penis. With a loud, sudden exhale of breath, Matt ejaculated forcefully, spraying my neck and wet chest with his semen. After my initial surprised flinch, I gently stroked him several more times with my soapy hands until he stopped oozing his cum. It was a reflex-action, I guess.
I couldn't believe the sheer force of his cum hitting my skin, I even felt the warm sticky splatters striking my tits through the fabric of my t-shirt. It was an surprisingly large amount, too. I glanced down quickly, noticing three large ropes of his cum streaked across the top of both my breasts atop the wet fabric. I couldn't see it, but yet felt a large glob of it clinging to my neck. I wondered if all teenaged boys came like that, and whether Matt had cum so much because of my appearance, but quickly put the thought out of my head.
He broke the seemingly long awkward silence, saying, "Oh Goddammit! I'm so sorry! Dammit! I'm sorry that happened! I couldn't help it!"
"It's alright. Please calm down and relax. I understand. Really. Besides, I was a teenager once. I remember those hormones raging."
He rinsed himself under the warm stream and I turned off the water. I grabbed a towel and began to gently dry him. As I patted him dry, I realized that he really had a wonderful body. Still smooth and nearly hairless, he was tan and firm. Already far taller than me, he was just under six feet tall, his newly-developed muscles were impressive and his wide shoulders tapered down into a narrow waist. And the girls were going to just love his firm ass! Not to mention the impressively-sized cock he was carrying, which was very tough not to notice at this point - obviously.
By the time he was dry, he was semi-rigid again, and I shook my head in wonderment at a teenage boy's "recuperative" powers. I then took the towel to clean off his cum from my chest and neck, amazed again by the volume clinging to me.
"I guess I'll have to shower myself after we get you fixed up." We both laughed nervously.
We laughed again as we figured out how to put his soft cast on for his collarbone. It was a strange, padded strap that fit around his arms like a figure-8, or a detective's holster, and it had to be worn at all times, other than in the shower. I tightened the strap in the back, until Matt sucked in air, wincing with the pain. He also had to wear a sling on his right arm to protect him from jiggling the shoulder. The sling on his left arm was to keep the cast and broken fingers elevated. It was a pretty pathetic situation for a 17-year-old boy.
It was Saturday, so we decided pajama bottoms and a robe would be alright. Then he went downstairs and I peeled off the wet cotton t-shirt, soaked with the mixture of water and Matt's wads of cum. I shook off the weird mixture of feelings from what had transpired as just a part of our unique situation. I then showered and dressed in jeans and sweatshirt, trying not to over-analyze what had happened.
Matt tried, but I had to help him eat his breakfast by feeding him. Drinks were no problem in a glass with a straw. I was just finishing the dishes when the doorbell rang and the coach and a few guys from the lacrosse team showed up. I retreated into the kitchen as they discussed the game and Matt's injury.
The coach and kids were still there when Richard showed up with some videos he had rented for Matt. He had been very understanding the night before when I had cancelled our date and I was happy to see him. We had been dating for a few months and I think we both felt comfortable, if not "in love" with each other. I asked him to drive me to the school so I could pick up my car, and when we were in the car, Richard suggested a "quick detour" to his house, but I declined. I wasn't ready to leave Matt that long, and Richard said he understood.
In the three years since my divorce, Richard was only the second man I had dated to the point of physical intimacy. I had been very careful with the men I had dated, protecting my body and health. I had also protected Matt and had never made love to any of them at my home. Their homes or motels were fine, but I had never wanted to risk Matt seeing me intimate with anyone. I didn't want him thinking about me in that way.
At the deserted school parking lot, Richard and I shared a kiss that quickly grew hotter and hotter, until his hands were under my shirt and bra and caressing my aching breasts. My nipples hardened as he squeezed them and I melted into his embrace.
Feeling like I was back in high school, I looked around at the empty fields and then lowered my head to Richard's lap. I opened his pants and released his erect cock, licking its smooth, pink head. I stroked his hard 8-inch length a few times (reminding myself that Richard's was the SECOND 8 or so inch cock I had held in my hands that day!) and then opened my mouth and sucked his hot flesh into my mouth. Just a few deep plunges into my mouth, and I soon felt him tense in my hand. He came quickly, shooting his warm cum into my mouth and down my throat. I sucked him until there was no more cum and gently replaced his softening penis in his shorts, zipped him back up and kissed him on the cheek.
I then lowered the zipper on my jeans, but as his hand approached my crotch, a gaggle of soccer players ran down the hill to start a practice. I zipped up and opened the car door.
"Well, that was fun while it lasted! Be sure to stay in touch. I'm sure I'll be housebound for a little while, but I want to hear from you. Thanks for the ride, Richard--and everything else!"
He smiled and waved and made the "A-okay" sign as he drove off.
The crowd was gone when I got home, and Matt wasn't on the sofa.
"Hello? I'm glad you're home! I need help!"
Matt was sitting on the toilet and was unable to clean himself.
"How did you get your pajamas down?"
"I used my feet to pull them down, . I didn't have much choice!"
"Oh, Matt! I'm so sorry. How long have you been sitting here?"
"I don't know, but both my legs are asleep!"
We both laughed as I cleaned him and helped him hobble back into the family room and onto the sofa. "I didn't even think about being so helpless when I go to the bathroom. I feel terrible that you have to help me there, too!"
"Now, Matt, I'm only going to say this one more time -- relax! I'm your step-mother, and I love you, and there isn't a thing in the world that I wouldn't do for you. Enjoy it. Dr. Fox says you'll mend quickly, and then you'll lose your own personal care-giver. Okay?"
Matt smiled and nodded, "Okay. But don't ever leave me alone, again, if you can help it. I didn't like it when you were gone. I felt so helpless."
I helped Matt into the TV room, switched on a baseball game and I started my weekend chores. After a late lunch (hand-fed to Matt), the two of us watched a movie on cable. It was a dumb story about some high school kids getting into stupid situations, but I figured its appeal for Matt and every other teenage boy was the appearance of a different bare-breasted, blonde, beach-bunny every ten minutes or so.
As the credits were rolling, Matt said, "What did you mean, today, when you said about being a teenager and raging hormones, ?"
Whoever said "discretion is the better part of valor" was right, because that's the tact I chose to answer Matt's question. I had good reason to be VERY discrete!
In fact, I had been introduced to sex by my Mother's younger brother just after my twelfth birthday (he was 19 or 20), and I progressed from there to being outrageously promiscuous through my last couple of years in grammar school, and all through high school. It was the 70's (SEX, drugs and rock and roll, man!) and I'm sure I must have set some kind of record for the number of boys and men I had.
But now, 35 years old, divorced, a respected career woman, living in the "right" neighborhood, member of the PTA Board, community volunteer, and "SuperParent," I sure wasn't going to go into any of those sordid details! Besides, Matt didn't want to hear THAT about his mother, adoptive or not!
"I just meant that I dated guys in high school and college and I remember a few...ah...consistencies among them. Not that I ever did anything!"
He smiled, but went on, "I was just wondering if you...you know... ever fooled around...before Dad came along."
"Hmm... Matt, I think you should know all there is to know about your parents, and I want to be totally honest with you. I've `fooled around' once in my life, and that was about a year before you were adopted!"
To be continued...
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Posted by ATCFNM at 3:32 PM