Chapter 4: The Accident

The next thing to hit me was big, literally, it was about a week after the argument.

I started off for Bradford on that Friday morning in a good mood. I had just landed a contract locally to redesign a production line which would give me 2 years work...

I was driving along the A629 towards Keighley when the accident happened. An impatient moron coming towards me pulled out to overtake the queue he was stuck behind. It was so sudden that I didn't even have time to react and we met in a head-on collision. All I can remember is the airbag exploding in my face and excruciating pain in my legs. The next thing I can remember was waking up in a hospital bed with Sarah by my side. I think there was a nurse fussing around as well but my mind was fogged by the drugs and I can't be certain of anything.

It must have been the next day when I awoke properly. It was daytime, my legs hurt but my head was clearer and Sarah was still there. I said "Sarah, which hospital am I in?"

She must have been pretty relieved to hear me talking because she started crying as she told me I was in Bradford Royal Infirmary. She dried her eyes and told me that both my legs had been broken by the impact. I also had numerous cuts and bruises but nothing more serious. The air bags and seat belt had saved me from really serious injuries. She was weeping again as she said, "The last two days have been the longest ever." She wiped her eyes, squeezed my hand and said, "The main thing is you are alive. The doctor says you'll make a full recovery but it'll take time."

Over the next few days Sarah spent as much time with me as the nurses and doctors would allow. I asked about her job and she told me her boss was giving her unpaid leave to look after me. "Otherwise," she said with a wry grin, "you'll have to stay in here until the casts came off. You'll be pretty much helpless and they won't let you out unless they know there's someone at home to take care of you."

Sarah was wheeling me back from X-ray in a special wheel chair that supported my legs when she took me outside again. There were very few people around this time. When we came out earlier there had been lots of patients and visitors sitting around smoking, many looking in a worse state than I was. She pushed me close to a bench and sat down as close as she could get. After a quick glance around, she took my hand and put it under her skirt. I was surprised but I looked around and saw that no one could see us. I found that she had left her knickers off and smiled as I realised what she wanted. I rubbed her clit for only a couple of minutes before she stifled a moan and came on my finger. With a grin on her face she took a tissue from her bag and sorted out my hard-on out with her hand under my gown. As she cleaned me up she said, "God I needed that. I've missed our sex and that was better than nothing." She kissed me passionately, threatening to give me another hard-on, then wheeled me back in.

They let me out of hospital the following week. I would be in plaster for a further eight to ten weeks but at least I would be at home with Sarah. I was amazed that her boss was allowing her so much time off but he did. The only price for being at home was a weekly visit to the hospital to check that my legs were healing properly.

When I got home Derek and Cath were there to meet me and I immediately saw that Derek had been busy. I had been worrying about the stairs and where I was going to sleep. I had assumed I would have a bed in the living room or study and have to use the outside toilet. Derek had put two ramps up on either side of the stairs, made out of scaffold boards. A converted old winch, fixed to the top of the stairs, would easily drag my wheelchair up the boards. He wanted me to try it out but Sarah said it didn't look safe. I knew Derek, it may look 'Heath Robinson', but it would be solid. Anyway, we agreed to do a dry run with two sacks of sand in the wheelchair instead of me. It worked a dream. It was slow but safe and it meant I could sleep in our room.

Authors note: A 'Heath Robinson' machine in English is similar to a Rube Goldberg machine in US parlance.

Sarah was a star and waited on me hand-and-foot since I couldn't move on my own. It's a good job I felt comfortable with her as she had to help with almost everything, including when I needed the toilet. Despite the demands I made on her she didn't complain.

Once I'd got settled I managed to do quite a bit of work on my projects from home, I even had some project meetings at our kitchen table as it wasn't easy for me to travel. Derek or Cath came round every day, mainly to see me but also to relieve Sarah for an hour or two so that she could go out shopping and have a bit of a break, not that she ever said she wanted one. Most of my clients were sympathetic. Fortunately, I am a specialist and there is only one other person in the UK with my experience and he wasn't available for at least six months, so they didn't have a lot of choice. Once they got used to the remote location a few of my customers regarded the visits to Arncliffe as a 'jolly' and stayed at the local pub. One Indian gentleman who worked for the company in Bradford and will remain nameless, regarded the absence of a mobile phone signal as a blessing. He brought a young 'secretary' with him but Alan, the landlord of the local, told me they shared a double room. Anyway she was nice enough, a bit of a bimbo, but they always behaved properly in our presence.

Our adventurous sex-life was somewhat curtailed, we found that a sixty-nine was the only possible way of mutual relief. Sarah couldn't ride me as it would stress my legs and there was no way I could fuck her. One evening I was surfing the net when Sarah came to sit with me and pulled up an on-line sex-shop. I think she was worried that I would be upset by her buying a vibrator but it didn't worry me, I thought it was a great idea. She ordered not one but two vibrators. One was what I would call normal sized but the other was huge, like a baseball bat. I told her that was never going to fit, but she assured me it would be fun trying.

The day the parcel arrived she was like a kid at Christmas and I couldn't wait to see her playing with her new toys.

Sarah got me upstairs, undressed me and helped me onto the bed. Then she got undressed and sat beside me with the packet between us. She was giggling as we undid the packet together, and the two toys fell onto her lap. Sarah spent the next ten minutes frantically searching for batteries and eventually found some at the back of the kitchen drawer. She hurried back, fitted the batteries and handed me the smaller of the two toys then lay back with her legs wide open, showing her trimmed black bush.

I rubbed the head of the toy along her wet slit. The vibrator was about the same size as my dick and I started to push into her hole. She was quite tight but when I turned on the vibration her expression changed from a grin to shock. "Yes, hold it there," she gasped. "No, pump it in and out." Since she couldn't decide, I alternated between working it in and out and holding it on her clit. I was sporting a good hard-on; the sight of the toy going in and out of her was turning me on.

Sarah turned round and got onto me in a sixty-nine with the vibrator still in her. I knew she had strong pussy muscles. "Watch this," she said, "and don't touch." Then she forced the toy out of herself. I licked her and she said, "Put it back in. It felt good having something inside me." I decided to try the larger toy. Sarah couldn't see what I was doing as I picked up the big one and started to try and work it up inside her. As soon as I pushed the head in she said "Fucking hell, that's big! Go easy, it's going to split me in two." I worked bit more of it into her but I noticed that Sarah had stopped sucking me. I asked if she was OK, and she said "Not really, I can't take that monster, it just hurts, it doesn't feel good." I pulled it out and kissed the area better, she started to get turned on again, and I worked the smaller one back into her. I found if I pushed it right in I could lick her clit at the same time and this brought her to an orgasm.

She sucked me, brought me off quickly and then turned round to cuddled me. "The smaller one felt good but it's not like the real thing," she said. "That monster hurt like fuck! Cath said she wanted to try it, she's welcome to it! She's had two children, perhaps she can take it comfortably."

Sarah organised a solicitor for me, one recommended by her boss. He confirmed that she could remain on unpaid leave for as long as I needed her to look after me. That would be until I was mobile again. The solicitor was going for a hefty compensation claim against the other driver who, as well as being prosecuted for dangerous driving, also faced a drink driving charge. Apparently he was still over the limit from a heavy drinking session the night before. The claim included Sarah's loss of earnings, as well as mine as I was unable to do any call outs to breakdowns, and although they were erratic I could earn upwards of £150 an hour.

It's always been a tradition that friends and family write on casts, and needless to say, Sarah was first and she wrote, 'Next time you have an accident make sure it's your arms, then you can still fuck me. Get well soon, love Sarah.' Not to be outdone, Cath's response was, 'Stop complaining, he can still use his tongue!' This set the tone for what was to come. When Sarah took me down to the local and Alan saw what they'd done, he suggested charging a pound to sign my casts, with the proceeds going to the hospice. All the regulars signed and, being summer, there were a lot of tourists who signed even though they didn't know me. Nearly every signature had some ribald comment.

The day my casts came off was a red letter day even though I could hardly walk and still faced weeks of physiotherapy. Fortunately for us, the nurse that removed my casts had a good sense of humour and laughed when she read some of the comments that had been made on them. And when we told her how we had raised money for our local hospice she asked if I wanted to keep them and auction them or something to raise a bit more money

We ended up raising £292 for the hospice. The Craven Herald, our local newspaper, got hold of the story and we had our fifteen minutes of fame. At least they left out some of the more salacious details. Alan auctioned the casts in the pub one evening, and his wife ended up bidding £50 for them. They were put on show over the bar.

We had a gentle fuck that night to celebrate. Sarah was very careful and rode me slowly. It was good to feel my dick inside a warm pussy again. As we relaxed afterwards, I told Sarah how grateful I was for the way she had taken care of me and stood by me. I added that, as a thank you and once I was fit enough, I intended taking her away for the holiday of a lifetime. She told me I didn't need to, that she had done it for love.

"I know," I said, "but that doesn't stop me wanting to say thank you. Anyway, you deserve a holiday."

That autumn we both took up cycling. The doctor advised against any high impact activities, including jogging, and the physiotherapist suggested cycling and swimming as a gentler but effective alternative to get fit. So we bought two bikes and started to explore the lanes of upper Wharfedale. Initially we avoided hills, but as my fitness improved we went further and tackled more demanding routes, and we both enjoyed it. Sarah used to visit the gym now and then, but, since moving, she preferred to exercise with me and I think it led to us both being fitter than before the accident. Fortunately, Sarah remained cuddly and curvy, just the way I liked her. She was physically much stronger, I think all the lifting when I was off my feet helped.