The music started. I turned around to watch Stephanie walking confidently up the aisle to the sound of The Wedding March. She's always looked fabulous but now, as a bride, she looked even better. Memories of her soft body flooded back, uncalled. The way her small pert breasts felt in my hands and the first time I'd seen her naked, but most vividly I pictured her young body riding my rock hard cock.
I shook my head slightly. Now was not the time to sport the erection such thoughts would surely bring. The vicar started droning on the way they do leaving me to recall how we first met.
1. The Accident
It was a bright summer's morning, not a cloud in the sky or on my own personal horizon. I'd just finished an eighteen-month contract and was walking into town to look for a well-deserved holiday, one of the few things that I preferred not to use the Internet for. Parking in my local city centre is so abysmal that, subject to the weather, I always walk. It was only a few miles and I really needed the exercise. I'm tall, 6'6" to be precise, but at eighteen stone (252 pounds) I was more than a bit overweight. I'm in my mid forties, not too bad looking (at least that's what I'm told) although my hair is thinning slowly and going grey rapidly.
I'd walked no more than a few hundred yards when I heard, coming from behind me, what was obviously a motorcycle. Being a keen rider myself I paused and turned around to see what type of bike it was. I certainly didn't expect what I saw. A smallish bike was approaching me at speed doing a wheelie (the front wheel off the ground). I had a few brief seconds to realise that the rider had lost control before it had veered straight at me. Unable to move in time I'd instinctively put both hands out and waited to be hit.
The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground with my left leg wrapped painfully round the now stationary motorcycle. My hands and wrists both hurt but not as much as my leg. My first thought was that I'd live, the second, so much for a holiday. After a couple of moments of self-pity I'd finally remember the rider. I looked around and saw a small, helmeted, figure rising slowly and gingerly to their feet.
I could tell by the way my leg was unnaturally bent that was broken. Awkwardly I reached into my pocket for my mobile phone and dialled 999. I told the operator where I was and that apart from my leg I didn't feel too bad. I told her that the rider was walking about but obviously was quite dazed.
Fortunately I lived quite near the hospital and the ambulance arrived inside five minutes. By this time the motorcycle's rider had removed their helmet, releasing a stream of long blonde hair, and walked over to check the damage to the bike and me. As the hair indicated, but not guaranteed, the rider turned out to be a young girl who was so apologetic that in other circumstances I would have been laughing. She kept explaining that it was the first time she'd ridden a bike with a clutch and gears and that she'd gotten it all wrong. With as much of a smile as I could muster I told her that I'd noticed that.
She asked to borrow my phone to call her mother. She was still talking when the ambulance arrived. One paramedic came over to me, took one look at my leg and called for the stretcher. After checking that I hadn't passed out at any stage I was carefully disengaged from the bike and put into the ambulance and taken off to hospital.
2. In Hospital
The following morning I woken, totally disorientated. Whether it was from delayed shock or the painkillers I'd had, I don't know, but it was a good five minutes before I realised where I was and why. I was lying in an uncomfortable hospital bed with an even more uncomfortable plaster cast on my leg. To make matters even worse I had a plaster cast on each wrist and hand. On TV when someone comes around like this there's a beautiful nurse waiting by the bed to explain everything. Not here, this was England's NHS. It was two hours before a nurse came to see how I was doing. Being an emergency admission I had no books or papers to pass the time. To say I was pissed off would have been an understatement.
The nurse was a good foot shorter than me yet easily matched me in weight. She condescendingly reminded that I had a compound fracture of the left leg; my right wrist and right thumb were broke as was a bone in my left hand. 'Going to the loo is going to be fun' I thought.
I was asked if there was anyone at home who could look after me and when I said no I was told that I would need to stay in hospital a few days more. They would then get the district nurse to call in once a day. I was also told that a policeman would be in later to ask what had happened. I just nodded.
A few boring hours later the nurse came to check that I was decent, telling me that I had visitors. I assumed that these would be the police, as no one else knew where I was. I was long time divorced and my only son was globe trotting somewhere in the southern hemisphere.
When two women entered, at first I wondered who they could be, they certainly were not the police. My initial attention was on the older woman. Slim, extremely attractive but naturally so, she was certainly appealing. Early thirties I'd guessed. 'Nice. Yes very nice' I thought before looking at her younger companion. It was then that I recognised the bike rider. She too, looked nice and I could see the resemblance between the two, in fact apart from the hair colour they could nearly pass as twins. Obviously mother and daughter which meant I needed to revise my guess at her age.
'Errr! How are you feeling?' asked the daughter.
'I've been better, thanks' I replied.
After a few attempts to apologise, her mother interrupted and introduced herself as Helen and her daughter as Stephanie. She told me that her daughter had told her what had happened and had insisted on coming to see how I was and, of course, to apologise.
I asked Helen if Stephanie was insured to ride the bike and had she talked to the police. Helen told me that, yes, Stephanie was insured and, no, she was due to give a statement later that day, but also she wanted to know why I asked. I told her about the police's impending visit and explained that as she was insured I would tell it how it was except that I saw nothing until I was hit. I suggested that Stephanie say that a dog ran in front of her causing her to swerve.
I could tell by Helen's eyes, that she was suspicious of my motives. I laughed as best I could and explained that I was a biker myself and we all stuck together. I said nothing could change what had happened so why did her daughter need to get into trouble for it. I did make two conditions though. First, that she does not give up riding but secondly that she takes proper training before going on the road again.
Helen took her daughter to one side, just out of earshot. I took the opportunity to assess my visitors. Helen had her back to me. She was wearing lightweight trousers that showed her figure off to perfection. The cheeks of her backside looked firm and good enough to eat. Her hair was dark and straight, worn just below the collar, ideal for running your fingers through. I'd already noticed her small breasts and thought them ideal for her slim figure. I'd spent a lot of time on the mother but the daughter was worth inspection in her own right. She was virtually a younger version of her mother. I wouldn't say no to either of them, although at my age I thought Helen to be the preferable. Not that I expected to find out. Since my divorce, and to be honest even before, I always took every opportunity to admire beautiful women. Never during my marriage and only rarely since had I attempted to follow up my interest.
They both nodded to each other before returning to my bedside. They had agreed, Helen somewhat reluctantly, Stephanie enthusiastically.
Helen then got around to asking how I was and how long I was expected to remain in hospital. When I explained why I needed to stay longer than actually necessary Helen laughed.
'There is no need. Stephanie will come and look after you and keep your house clean' she said with a big grin. I got the impression that Helen felt that Stephanie had come out of this unscathed and was deserving of a little punishment.
'Mum!' Stephanie started with, intending to object. She stopped when she saw her mother's expression and gave in with good grace. 'I suppose, as I'm why he's in need of help I can't really object.'
'No you can't girl.'
Not thinking straight I said, 'You're not worried about your daughter in my house?'
Again Helen laughed. I thought she looked fabulous when she did. 'No I'm not worried at all. In your state I think she'll be safe enough. If anything it's you that should be worried.'
I looked at my leg and hands and accepted she had a point. Even if I did have evil intentions I was in no position to carry them out.
3. Recovery Begins
A week later I'd become accustomed to the new regime. In the mornings I would manage to dress myself, if you can call just a robe dressed, and do my ablutions. With both hands in plaster this was not easy and it would take close to an hour but I did not want anyone else helping. Around midday Stephanie would appear with some lunch, usually sandwiches, check if I needed anything then disappear around one. Three times a week my nurse came, usually between two and three, stopping only long enough to make certain I was ok, or on two occasions giving me an embarrassing but necessary bed bath.
.... There is more of this story ...