Chapter 164: Egg Sandwich Hold the Drama Please.

When I got to the parking lot, about two hours later, Gwen hurried out after me. "What the hell was that all about with the social worker?' she asked.

"To be honest I'm not sure. She may really be concerned about Cheryl, or she might just be trying to stake out her turf. Either way, she and Cheryl need to decide what they want to do." I said seriously.

"I know, we can't have that woman making noises," Gwen said. "Maybe it's time to cool it with Cheryl."

"If I cooled it any more, there would be frostbite issues," I said with a laugh. "The problem is Cheryl want's in on our little venture. If it all goes south, we could all go down, not just me. She might get her parole revoked, That would be a terrible thing. I don't know, if I could live with myself, if that happened." I said.

"You know, that might be what the social worker is counting on. If it is purely personal, she might be playing you." Gwen said.

"Yes, but can I take the chance?" I asked myself as much as I asked Gwen.

"I don't know. That is a decision only you can make." she said.

"Right, well at the moment all I want is to go home and take a bath," I said. Gwen followed me home. Since she pulled into the parking lot before I reached the entrance gate, I was sure that she made it safely home before I went inside my apartment.

Once inside I ran a tub of hot water. I had discovered that the small plastic stool purchased at WalMart's toy section made and excellent leg rest while in the tub. I could manage to get all of me except the one leg in the bath water and soak the dirt off me. That leg I had to carefully wash, but even so being up in the air made it much easier.

I had lost a good chunk of muscle from the calf and likely it would never be the same again. I worked the muscle almost every minute of every day. Mostly it was tensing and then relaxing the muscle, but I tried to stay at it until it became too painful. With the lightweight aluminum cane and the constant exercise, I had come a long way, mobility wise, in a very short time. So far though it was purely mind over matter. The real muscle rebuild would take much longer.

Moving from the crutches to the cane had been more mental than physical. I felt that the cane make me more mobile, so the cane in fact did make me more mobile. I was sure that there was no real physical improvement.

After the bath, I dried myself carefully, then sat on the toilet to replace the dressing. I used a generous amount of Triple Antibiotic Cream on the wound. The site of the incision was still red, but not inflamed looking. That part of my calf muscle was not rounded like the other parts. It was almost sunken. I could imagine when the swelling went down it would no longer be flat it would be sunken for sure.

When I had the bandage taped into place, I slipped into my gray sweat shirt with the USAF logo on it and white cotton bikini panties. Then went to checked my email. I found an email from Lucas. It contained the names and addresses of more people with whom I needed do follow ups. I had one email from a person unknown. I almost deleted it, but decided to check it out first. Hell, I might have won some sweepstakes, I thought with a laugh.

'Hello there, just a hi from the Irishman.' The first line read. I smiled even though I didn't want to. I have a present for you in the mail. Enjoy and I'm keeping an eye on you."

"I'm glad someone is," I said to the empty room. Well Gwen would be monitoring it or if not monitoring would be checking it in the morning. I stayed up roaming around chat rooms, mostly ignoring the others. I was waiting to see, if Cheryl would be storming into my place cursing me and Lindsay Graham. Poor Cheryl, let her kill just two people and no one would ever let her forget it. I had to laugh at that image.

At midnight I decided that Lindsay was going to let me tell Cheryl and suffer her wrath. That being the case, I should at least get a good night's sleep first. I knew Gwen would either be watching or would view the tape in the morning, so I lay on top of the covers while I masturbated. I pinched and pulled the nipples of my small but flabby boobs. Then I let my hand slip to my clit. I rubbed it in circles knowing that Gwen would be watching. No I didn't want to have sex with Gwen, I just wanted to torment her.

After several minutes I began to feel my muscles tighten involuntarily. It seemed the right time to slip a finger inside my pussy. Yes that's how I thought of it at the time. I worked my finger in and out as my hips rose and fell rhythmically. My mind drifted to Martin, the Irishman, and the time he and kate had invaded my apartment. It was nasty and magical, as I remembered it that night. I felt the tension reach an unbearable level, then explode and it all drained away like water from a pulsating shower head. Pulses of orgasm that seemed to go on and on for hours. Of course it was only seconds but there were a lot of them.

After my muscles finally stopped their spasms, I hobbled and staggered to the bathroom. I was shaking disoriented and the pain in my leg was becoming a nuisance. I peed then took a long drink of tap water. I did it just to get the stale taste from my mouth. No it didn't taste like cum, if it had, I would have begun looking for that shrink at preacher's rehab clinic. It just tasted like stale pizza and cheap beer.

When I awoke the next morning, I felt sore, but mentally clear. Masturbation does that even better than most of the sex I have had. If men or even women realized, they would probably spend more time playing and less time pumping.