The Accident

by mattwatt

Copyright© 2013 by mattwatt

Romantic Sex Story: Cathy Wilford spent time with Mom and Dad as they faded into old age. They'd taken her in as an orphan and made her a part of the family and almost an "Aunt" to their son Clay. But the accident shattered everything; that moment of unthinking joy riding. She was left with a spinal injury and the prospect of not walking again. But Clay had specialized, through the service, in physical growth and rehab. He took her on as a patient, then as a lover and finally as his wife.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Romantic   Oral Sex   .


It had taken what felt like a long time, but Clay Whorley was finally settling into what he wanted for his life. It made him smile, as he looked back on the path that had led him to where he was.

He had bought a home for himself, and Baggins, his 'mutt'. It was bigger than the two of them ever needed but for Clay it was, in addition to being just home, a sign of the fact that he'd come a long way to get here.

Clay Whorley, at the age of 27, was a grand, grand physical specimen, most of the women who knew him agreed about that. He was an ex marine; was 6'1" tall and weighed a neat and trim 195 lbs. He kept himself fit by his workouts and his life style. That's one thing that he'd learned, especially from the Corps, staying fit was one of the keys to a better future all around.

He'd had a reputation, especially in high school for being wild but he knew himself well enough to also know that apart from sewing some of his 'wild oats', as the old phrase went, it was nothing very serious. Sure, his parents fretted but, where Clay was concerned, they were always kept calm by his lovely, lovely Aunt Catherine, 'Cathy' to Clay.

Catherine Wilford,, she always kept her own name, had been an orphan, whom his Mom and Dad had taken in. He always called her 'aunt' because it seemed appropriate to the two of them, after all, she was 12 years older than he. So, it had always been Aunt Catherine for Clay.

She was his grandest advocate and, for many years, confidant, a role that she fulfilled rather well.

It was, after all, Cathy that he spoke to, when he wanted to think over his plans for the future. By that point, his Dad had already died of a stroke and his Mom was not handling it well. He told Cathy that he would stay home with them but Cathy was adamant about his keeping on with his life's plans, a fact for which he was ever grateful to her.

She became, in those latter years, a companion for his Mom, though the time between the death of his Dad and his Mom's finally succumbing, was not all that long.

Cathy and Mom had ended up, by mutual agreement, reached by Cathy and Clay and his Mom, in a nice two bedroom apartment. They didn't want a big house to take care of any more.

All of this transpired as Clay was away and getting himself settled.

When he came out of the Corps, he had a path for his life and went after what he wanted right away. He dearly loved the life of physical activity that the Corps had provided and decided to capitalize on that. He spent a few years getting credentials and specializing in various methods of physical development.

Meanwhile, the money that he'd been left by his Mom and Dad, that money had indeed been shared between him and Cathy, though she'd disagreed at the time, he was adamant about the sharing, allowed him, along with a friend from the Corps to invest in their own kind of gym. They made it a specialty place for physical development, and Clay was one of their first and premier personal trainers. The gym itself was fairly small but the specialization allowed it to do rather well.

One of the pluses was that it was located only about an hour and a half away from where Cathy and his Mom had been living.

The death of his Mom had been really hard on Cathy. She and Clay were together for the funeral, and making the decisions. It was then that the decision about splitting the money that his Mom had left was taken by the two of them.

Cathy always remembered that conversation and how loving Clay had been.

"I won't hear of any other idea about this," he'd said to her.

"But, Clay," she came back at him, "It's your money; she was your Mom and it's not fair for me to walk off with what you're talking about."

"Absurd!" he'd answered. "Don't tell me that you weren't as much a daughter, as I was a son for those lovely people."

She got a wistful look on her face then: "Yes," she said, as her mind played back over all those former years, "They were so good to me, when I needed someplace and someone!"

She turned to him then and said: "And you have been the best and greatest brother that anyone could ever have or want!"

She threw her arms around him then and hugged him.

At that time, at that moment, Clay Whorley, simply pushed aside the thoughts that were racing through his mind about how great it felt to be holding his 'Aunt Cathy' in his arms, feeling her pressed against him, even innocently as it was.

He put his head back to look down on her smiling face, her eyes shining with tears: "So, it's settled!" he said. "We'll make this division of everything that we know is here."

"Yes," she said simply, "Thank you, honey! Clay, you're the grandest and most generous person that I know!"

He grinned at her and said: "Look who's talking now; the way that you've taken care of them, while I've been running around!"

"Running around my foot!" she said, "I wont' hear of that from you! You served in the Marine Corps and since then you've been studying and preparing and working toward your goal, and now that's in sight and how grand is that?"

He grinned at her: "What a great Aunt you are!"

She grinned back at him.

"Gonna kiss the Aunt now for being so nice and saying such great things," he said.

"Don't you dare, Clay Whorley!" she said, blushing for all she was worth.

It made him laugh and made him, also, more determined to plant a big kiss on her lips.

The kiss was quick and perfunctory but made him tingle and certainly had the same effect of Cathy, though neither of them acknowledged it at the time.

That's the way that it was finally settled between them, and the money distribution was taken care of. It gave Cathy a nice nest egg, as she went back to her nursing career full time. She'd taken some time off to tend to 'Mom', while Clay was busy with his own training and development.

Catherine Wilford settled down, after that, to a very pleasant lifestyle. She admitted, to herself and to Clay, when they talked, which they did frequently, that she missed the companionship of Mom especially.

It maybe should be said that at the age of 39, Cathy Wilford was a treat. She had auburn hair, that she kept fairly short. She wasn't a workout devotee like Clay but she did keep herself in shape, especially since, once she went back to work as an ER nurse, she was running a great deal of the time. She allowed time in front of the mirror to assess herself and was fairly pleased with what she saw. She was also critical about what she saw. She thought that she was running to much to fat. Of course, she was wrong. She had large and nicely formed breasts with very responsive nipples, and her rounded butt was anything but too fat. She just didn't really believe the truth about herself.

She'd never taken much time for romance. She was, she felt, romantic in her soul but her care for her erstwhile Mom and Dad, and her training left her precious little time to deal with the intricacies of dating and romance. An occasional fling were all that she allowed herself, and she tended to keep those at a minimum.

"Those two people were such a comfort and blessing in my life!" Cathy said to him on the phone one night.

"They were that grand!" he said.

"I just miss them so much, especially Mom," she continued, "It was as though we were more like girlfriends than Mom and daughter."

"That was special," he said softly.

"Yes, honey," she said, "It was!"

"How are your plans coming?" she asked then.

"Fabulously!" he said. "The gym is doing great; our approach to physical training and individual training is really paying off. I think that I'm going to go and buy a big house for me and Baggins, somewhere that we can ramble around in, like peas in a pod."

"What a grand idea!" she said enthusiastically, "For myself, this apartment is just the right size."

"Well," he answered, "When we get it arranged and settled, please come and visit me and Baggins."

"Will do, love!" she said, "Just keep me up to date on your plans."

They did discuss the plans for his new home frequently. She was the pal that he always wanted to share things with. It was that great a relationship for the two of them.

Once the house was bought and he and Baggins had settled into it and made it a home and comfortable, he spoke to her and she made plans to visit him there.

The plans were all made and the date was set for her to make her visit.


She never made the visit at that time. After work one day, at an intersection, three teens, with the family car of one of them, were joy riding. They ran a red light through an intersection with shouts and whoops and hit Cathy's car broad side.

Cathy's car was an older, tough Jeep that had been her 'Dad's and absorbed the impact well. At least she wasn't killed. Two of the teens in the other car where indeed killed, thrown from the car by the accident and killed when they landed.

Cathy had, however, sustained back injuries and ended in a hospital, where for the next 36 hours, she knew fairly nothing.

Clay was there, when she woke. He was also there to hold her hand, when the doctors told her about her spinal injuries, and that the only hope for her walking would be some radical spinal surgery.

After that, Clay held her, while she cried. He had taken time off from the gym and stayed with her for a number of days.

It was in the near future that arrangements were made for the surgery that she needed. Clay was there for that too, sill holding her hand.

The surgery was successful. They had an appointment with the doctor and she told them that Cathy was now ready for some serious rehabilitation. She recommended a local rehab facility for that, where Cathy would become a patient and get some in house care for a bit, before having to find her way into her future.

They agreed, Cathy and Clay, that she should have the immediate in house care at the rehab facility and she went there. There was a period of ten days for her to start her basic movement and getting around. A good deal of the 'therapy' that was done was aimed at giving her the skills to live from a wheel chair, and still take care of herself.

It was during this time that Clay made his decision about Cathy's care. This was precisely an area of personal care and training in which he'd been doing a lot of his own work and concentration. He was determined to take Cathy on as his patient.

Their conversation about that possibility happened in the rehab facility, one night after dinner.

"I have to talk to you, Cathy," Clay said.

She looked at him, and it pained him that the look on her pretty face these days was always so grim and down. He was determined to change that and see her through the time ahead. He was also determined to be her personal trainer and get her rehab truly underway, and not limit it to what she could do for herself from her wheel chair.

"Yes, sweetie," she said in her soft voice.

"It's what I want to do," he said, plunging on.

She just watched him now.

"You've come out of the surgery well," he began. She nodded to acknowledge it.

"They also have said that you might be able to get on your feet after a bit," he went on.

"And they said that my best bet would be a wheel chair!" she interrupted him; there was real pain in her voice, as she said it and the tears began to run down her face.

He went to her then and leaned down to put his arms around her. The old association, the old closeness, the almost 'brother and sister' thing that had been at work with the two of them for so long reasserted itself right away. She clung to him and let herself weep.

When her crying subsided, he looked at her and he smiled; it brought a smile to her face also, and, in a moment, when he let himself get lost in a way that he hadn't really consciously thought of before, he kissed the tears away. She blinked and said a very soft and very heartfelt 'thank you.'

But he wasn't finished with his declaration, his plan. Before he could begin again, however, she asked plaintively: "What am I going to do?"

"That's what I'm trying to say to you," he said softly.

She gazed at him and gave him all her attention.

"I've been working in this kind of situation and similar ones for years now," he went on, "Both in the Corps and afterward. I've done a lot of concentrating on the role of a simple physical advisor, a physical trainer but my special stuff, that I've worked hard on, is a kind of rehabilitation specialty."

He took a breath then, for here it was coming, and he hoped ... Hoped she let him do this.

"What we're going to do is simple," he said, "You're going to come and live with me and Baggins. I have a setup in the house that will let us begin to work on you and we will get you up out of a chair and walking. I'll have you exercising and eventually running again. I promise! I guarantee! And to you I would never lie!"

She broke down totally then, lost it completely. During her crying at that point, she simply clung to Clay and he let her weep, not really knowing at that point if it were more of her grimness coming out or if these were tears of a new joy.

"Can we, Clay?" she asked, her smile bright despite the tears. "Can we really do that? Will you do that for me?"

"We can and I will!" he said, sitting now on the edge of her bed. "I know what I'm talking about; I've specialized in situations like this. Being a personal trainer might pay the bills but this is and has been a special interest of mine for a long time."

"I think he's right," said a voice from the doorway.

Clay stood up and both he and Cathy saw that the doctor, Dr Helen Foote, was standing in the doorway.

"Ms. Wilford," Dr Foote went on, "What Mr Whorley is saying is absolutely true. Your injuries have you in a state just now where moving around is painful and almost not possible. But you can be trained, with the right help, to overcome that. It's a slow process; it's at times a painful process but one that does lead to some real possibilities for you."

She smiled then at the positive look that was on Cathy's face right then.

"Mr Whorley is certified," she said, "That much I know. He says he has the experience. In these fields, the services provide some of the best care that is anywhere available, and best training. I think that we should take his offer and make it the prescription for your future, especially since he's your brother and more than willing."

"He's a love, is what he is!" Cathy said, with a prescience that neither she nor Clay recognized at the time.

"When will we begin?" Cathy asked, directing the question to both Dr Foote and to Clay.

"Well, Baggins and I want you as soon as we can get our skeevy hands on you!" he said with a grin.

"Oh dear," Cathy said, with a rare show of outright humor, "Sounds like I'm in so much trouble."

"We will keep you another day or so," Dr Foote said, "To make sure of your recovery from the surgery but that is both on track and a little ahead of what we might have wanted, so there's no problem there."

"Thank you, Doctor!" Cathy said, and the doctor nodded and left.

Cathy turned all her attention to Clay then: "You're the best brother in the world! To do this for me!"

He looked at her and kissed her cheek, it made her involuntarily tingle: "Of course I'll do it for you, you're my Cathy!"

He left for a bit after that, and, after inquiring, found Dr Foote. She was having a cup of coffee.

"Thank you for that," he said to her.

"Mr Whorley," she began. He interrupted her with "Clay!"

"Clay!" she went on, "I know who you are and what you can do. You are simply a tonic for that lovely woman's ills. She might not admit it but she has all the potential and I think that a long range success is in the cards for her with your care."

"Thank you," he said. "If you don't mind, I'm going to write out the procedure that I intend to use with her and show it to you."

"I'd like that," the doctor said. "But there is one other thing."

"Yes," he asked,

"Don't forget that you're dealing with the emotions here of a lovely young woman. I know that Ms. Wilford doesn't feel that way right now but that part of her will reassert itself soon enough. Be careful with her please."

He took in what she was saying and realized that it was accurate.

"Yes, I agree," he said. "We've been so close for so long that I don't think there will be a problem."

(In fact there was not a 'problem' but not for the reason, the family closeness, that he was projecting at the moment in his conversation with the doctor. But that was for the future to show.)


When his conversation with the doctor was finished, Clay went back to Cathy's room. It was late afternoon by then and soon enough they brought her dinner. He had ordered one for himself also. He had decided that he wasn't about to leave her side during these final days of her hospitalization.

She greeted him more brightly than he had seen her be in the immediate past with all that had happened to her. She seemed to be infused with a new kind of light and more hope than he'd seen in her for a while.

"Hey," she said, as he came back from talking to Dr Foote.

"I wanted to run a few things past Dr Foote about the treatment that I have in mind for you're physical training," he said.

She looked at him and just smiled, waiting for him to go on. She harbored a kind of hope within her about her future at least. At that point she wasn't including Clay in that future but her hopes were alive.

He explained to her then what he'd talked to the doctor about. It involved her coming to live with him in his big house. He was going to convert a room on the first floor to be the room where they'd do rehab. He also indicated that he would be hiring a nurse/technician to help with the first week or ten days. During that time period, the nurse/technician would help Cathy to get situated, and learn how to transfer herself from her wheel chair to the toilet. He also would make sure that secure rails were put on the toilet to aid her in making that transfer.

She was certainly smiling, by the time that he was finished telling her this but there were also tears in her eyes.

"This is all so nice," she said.

He smiled at her. "I'll take care of you," he said, "It's what we've done forever, since we were kids. It's what we'll do now."

"Oh, thank you," she said.

He made the arrangements that he spoke of. The nurse/technician was named Mrs. Wheeler. She agreed to work there for a week to ten days time period.

The transfer of Cathy to Clay's house went smoothly. By then, he had it all well planned and made sure that it was done with her comfort in mind. She simply smiled her way through the entire process, and was finally installed in a bedroom that was only a door down the hall from his large bedroom.

Almost as soon as she was there, she had a friend, if not lover, in Baggins. He was a grand, grand dog and fell in love with Cathy right from the beginning.

"Got a friend there," Clay had quipped.

"Yes," she said with a smile that was broad. "He certainly has welcomed me, like you have into this lovely home."

Baggins made it his business to be where Cathy was. He even would lie down on the floor of the bathroom, when she was having her bath. That bathroom, the master, was large and had a place for the dog to lie and keep his eye on his new favorite.

Mrs. Wheeler was as good as Clay was hoping that she would be. She was efficient; she knew what she was doing and had handled patients like Cathy before. During her time there, Mrs Wheeler went through the process of helping Cathy to become oriented to how to move from her wheel chair to the seat of the toilet. She also helped Cathy with her baths every day; they were a form of relaxation for Cathy and she enjoyed them immensely. She always, as usual had Baggins in attendance, when she was bathing.

Those first days were busy ones and Cathy was absorbed in learning the basics about getting around as a wheel chair bound person, with Mrs Wheeler's help. Clay, at the same time, was busy getting the rehabilitation room all set up for her exercises, which they planned would begin during the second week that Cathy was there.


Of course, having them, the two of them, living in such close proximity was bound to cause a crisis of some kind. It was almost inevitable, and the situation did indeed provide a kind of crisis for them soon enough.

It was a Tuesday evening. Cathy was having a late bath, and, as was her custom, was luxuriating in the bath, and planning on Mrs Wheeler helping her to get out of the bath in a little bit. Clay was in his library.

A knock on the door roused him from the reading that he was doing.

"Come in!" he said.

Mrs Wheeler entered the room; she was red faced and obviously in distress of some kind.

"Mr. Whorley," she said. "There's been an accident at my home; one of the children has fallen down the stairs. I'm afraid that I have to go home now. Ms Cathy is in the bath and I don't..."

Clay held up his hand and said: "Mrs Wheeler, Cathy and I will be able to take care of the situation. You just go! Call me tomorrow if there is any problem with you being here."

"I will, sir," she said, relieved. "And thank you!"

"You just go and take care of your family; we're fine here," he assured her.

Cathy was in the bath. The water was hot and up to her neck. She was sitting and simply thinking. It's what she liked to do, while in the bath. Her thoughts strayed to Clay more and more, and her reactions to what was happening and how wonderful he was being. She was in the middle of just such a reverie, when there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" she said.

"Bath attendant!" Clay said.

She giggled and said: "Well, come in then, bath attendant."

Clay stepped in and, seeing her, began to simply stammer his message. She smiled at him. When she heard what he had to tell her about Mrs Wheeler's child, she was concerned.

"Please call her later, would you?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. "Now I need to help you get out of the bath."

"Yes," she said, giggling, "I'll be pruny other wise."

He joined her laugh.

He went over to where she was in the bath and bent over. He'd put a large, white bath sheet on a chair near by. He simply took her by grasping her under her arms, and by means of upper body strength, lifted her from the bath.

He immediately had an involuntary intake of breath, when he saw her nakedness, and the loveliness of her.

"Oh, my!" he said.

She grinned at him, trying to retain her own composure. "Never saw a naked woman before, Clay?" she asked, softly.

"Never saw a naked you before, Cathy!" he said still staring.

Then he came to himself again and began to dry her with the towel, after setting her down on a chair there.

"Oh this feels nice!" she said, as he rubbed her with the big bath sheet, as he got her up to help him with the drying.

He proceeded very carefully. He made sure that his hands were always on the towel, as he rubbed her body and dried her. At one point, she, making her own decision, leaned back against him. He began to pull away, realizing that he was already getting an erection and he was afraid that it was poking her butt.

It was.

She felt it.

"Sorry!" he said quickly.

"No," she said, "That's probably the nicest compliment that I've had for years and years; don't you be saying that you're sorry!"

Finally, he was finished drying her.

"What do you need for bed?" he asked.

"I think just panties will be fine," she said, giving him an almost secret smile. She was certainly enjoying herself and seeing his reactions to her was enjoying that so much more.

He went to the bureau where she had her things, and, rummaging around, came up with a pair of pink panties. He went to her and knelt to help put them on her. She was still smiling at him, as he snugged the panties up her legs and helped her into them.

They still were there in the bathroom. He was holding her with her back to him but went silent. She wondered and then looked across the bathroom. His bathroom had two walls of mirrors. One was behind the big tub and was directly opposite where they were standing.

She noticed the look on his face, strange look.

"Clay, what is it?" she asked.

"It's ... it's, uh; not sure I know how to say this," he said.

"Please!" she said, half anxious and half worried.

"It's that, while we were growing up, I tried at every opportunity to spy on you; you know, see what the edge of your panties was like, when you'd bend over. That kind of thing. I remember those yellow shorts that you had at one point. When you wore them, I was perpetually in heat. You could see the lines of your panties through the shorts easily. A couple times were emblazoned on my mind, when you were wearing hip huggers and bent over, showing what they call a 'plumber's crack'. It has all rolled around in my mind forever with you, about you," he paused.

Then he shook his head and said: "I'm not saying this very well!"

"You're saying it just fine!" she said, leaning back against him, giving herself a chance to feel the poke again of his erection against her butt cheeks; the surgeries had at least brought the feel back. For that she was pleased.

"But now, uh, now look at you," he said. "It's almost indescribable; I don't know if I have words, or at least the right words!"

"Please try!" she said.

He smiled and nodded.

"The absolute, downright loveliness of you! Spectacular loveliness! Wearing only those pink panties. The goal of all of my adolescent attempts, it seems, forever. To see you in your panties! Flaring hips! Lovely, big almost heavy breasts! Beautiful big nipples! The impression of your pubic hair against the nylon fabric of the panties! So glad that you don't shave and are hairy!"

She giggled at this point.

But he went on; it was as though he were in a trance now or had to say these things now or never expect the chance to do it, say them again; "Lovely legs! And if I turn you, when I turn you, I know that your ass will be perfection itself," he concluded. "Just perfection itself!"

She put her hand up and grasped the back of his head and drew his head to her. He planted a kiss on the top of her head.

"Ohhhhhh!" she sighed, "No one, but no one has even said such nice things about me! No one ever!"

There were tears in her eyes then, and they soon came rolling down her cheeks. He reached up with his hand and wiped the tears away.

"Don't cry, pretty Cathy!" he said.

"But you make me so happy with your words!" she said. "So happy!"

"Yes," he said, as though he were just then waking from a dream. "I guess we need to think about these things a bit."

"Yes," she agreed.

His face changed then.

"But it's bed time now; Ready?" he said.

"Yes," was her answer.

But he did one thing before he took her to her room. He did indeed turn her around, and he stared at the swell of her butt cheeks against the thin pink fabric of her panties.

"Oh my!" he said and she giggled against his shoulder, taking it all in.

Then he scooped her up, getting a small groan of kind of excitement from her. He simply used his strength to get her and hold her, with one hand under her knees and one hand around her shoulders. She rested her head against his shoulder as he carried her. The thoughts were swirling in her mind: what he'd said, the impression that it made on her, the beauty of his declarations, the nearness of a kind of lifelong desire of hers, where he was concerned, and, at the very edge of those thoughts was the message about futility, about her present condition, with her ability to barely feel him pressing against him. She tried, at all those times, to enjoy the fact that she could at least feel the bit that she did, and she knew that the ability was growing but the frustration of the limitations was there for her right then and it was real.

By the time he put her into bed, and kissed her on the fore head, after she grabbed him for another hug, she was downright morose.

Baggins entered the room then and hopped up on the bed with her. She was pleased. She petted him and gave him a kiss on the head, after Clay had said his 'good night' to her. Then the black mood descended and she could no longer fight the tears. It always seemed to be in the shadows and in the dark that the mood came on her, stalking her and finding her readily enough. She turned her head to the pillow and began to cry.

Clay lay in bed for a few minutes trying to let it all slide into his mind and lodge itself there. He knew that he was close to something major but was still surprised at how overwhelming she was, as they'd stood there and she had leaned against him.

It was as though he needed something to push him, push him in the right direction, the direction that he needed. Then he heard her; he heard her crying.

Without a forethought, without having to 'work through this' or 'think about this', he was up out of bed and going to her room, to where she was.

He knocked softly and she told him to 'come in'. Baggins picked his head up immediately, and, seeing Clay, began to thump the bed with his tail. Cathy only stared at him.

"Yes?" she said.

But Clay, at this point, was beyond words. He only knew what needed to be done, what the situation called for. He went to the bed, with her watching his every move with her owl eyes. He pulled the covers back and scooped her up again, getting a giggle from her.

He noticed that her cheeks were wet with the tears and he kissed each cheek and drank in the wetness, while she simply sighed. Then he carried her into his room.

Clay's master bedroom was large and lovely. He had a king sized bed and moved with her in his arms until he deposited her in the middle of the bed. Then he went and put the lights out in the guest room, and returned.

"This is our room," he said in a strangled voice.

"Yes," she said, "Our room."

Just before Clay put the light out and got into bed himself, Baggins appeared and jumped up onto the bed so that he was on the right side of Cathy, while Clay got into bed and snuggled up to her left side.

"Oh!" she said with a soft giggle, "Both of my men here!"

He had his arms around her then. He was wearing pj bottoms but the contact, where flesh was available was simply erotic, highly erotic. She snuggled against him, as well as she could and drifted to sleep easily, followed by him.

The nights often brought for Cathy the scene back again. It was always the same. She was driving. She had errands on her mind; she was thinking about her work schedule at the hospital. Then the loud music intervened, as she pulled out from the light, when it turned green and went into the intersection. Then it was the laughter of the kids and finally that horrible, horrible crash, turning her world land herself upside down. She vaguely heard some screaming, and realized that some of the screaming was her own. The scene played itself out and she was left shaking and crying and panting.

But this time was different. He was there. He was holding her and she turned her wet face into his chest by his shoulder and cried and shook. He held her until the scene was gone, and the only reality for her was not that intersection but this bed and his presence and the pressure of Baggins on the other side of her. It was one of the very last times that the dream invaded her sleep at night. After that time, that point, he was there, always there.

"Thank you, love," she whispered, kissing his shoulder, with both of them realizing the significance of what she'd called him.

He kissed her fore head and then, again, kissed the tears from her cheeks. Finally, finally after all those years of thinking, spying, seeking and pursuing Clay Whorley kissed Cathy Wilford. The kiss was soft, as her lips from her crying but it was a kiss to get lost in. It was short and both of them had their lips slightly open but put off the passion of another kiss until the time came for them. Then they slept.


She woke first in the morning. She barely suppressed a giggle, when she saw that, since he'd kicked the covers off during the night, he was lying on his back and his erection was poking out of his pjs and standing up stiff against his stomach.

She lay there and stared for a few minutes, noting that he wasn't coming around at all. She couldn't move well, she knew that. It was certainly coming but right then she couldn't move and jump on his bones, like she wanted.

"But," she mused to herself, "There's nothing wrong with my hands."

She wanted to feel what that large, lovely -- in its strange masculine way -- cock, she giggled at the thought of the word, as she repeated it to herself --felt like.

She simply reached down and grabbed it. He still didn't wake as she began to play with it, softly stroking it up and down, up and down.

She noticed that his breathing changed and then she stroked him harder and faster.

"What are you doin', woman?" he mumbled.

"You can't tell? You don't know?" she said with a giggle. "Then you have less sense of feel than I do!"

She stroked him harder and faster then, watching intently and giving out a little shriek, when he finally began to cum with a loud groan, spraying his stream everywhere, on her, and on himself.

He looked at her with a smile on his face: "Proud of yourself?"

"Tremendously!" she crowed, grinning at him.

He leaned over and kissed her briefly and went for a cloth to clean them up.

He was back in a few minutes and, when he'd done the cleanup, said: "We'll begin today. Long road but we're on it together."

She reached up for him, for a hug, and he held her.

"Thank you so much for last night!" she said, "I mean all of it, the bath, what you said, and especially the night dream. You being there was so wonderful!"

At that point, Baggins was thumping his tail on the floor.

"And, yes, you too, Baggins, my love!" she said, pulling the excited dog's head to herself for a kiss.

"Okay," Clay said happily, "Shower first and then breakfast; after breakfast I want to explain to you how we'll proceed but before we actually start, guess what we're going to do?"

She grinned at him and said: "Haven't a clue!"

"Shop!" he said.

"Shop?" she asked in surprise.

"Yes," he said, "You need some sexy exercise clothes, form fitting, hip and ass hugging!"

"Oh, goodie for me!" she cried out loud but then she squealed because he'd picked her up from the bed, and had her in his arms again, with an arm under he knees and one around her shoulders.

"What?" she said laughing.

"Shower!" he said to her.

"Potty first!" she said, "Please."

He took her to the toilet first and waited for her. She blushed furiously, when he came in, when she was finished and picked her up again.

"Blushing is fine," he said, "But for the time being, this is the way it needs to be."

"Hard to get used to," she said softly.

"I know that, sweetheart," he said earnestly. "But we're going to be in this together."

Then he took her to the shower, and set her on the bench seat in the shower. While she was sitting there, he got the shower ready, the right temperature and all for them. Then he turned to her, as she looked up expectantly at him. He reached down and, putting his hands under her arms, lifted her to her feet. She leaned herself against him then.

"You're so strong!" she said. "It causes me to wonder all the time."

He laughed.

"What?" she asked with a grin.

"Easier to lift you up like this than a huge, hurt Marine!"

She giggled. "Maybe more fun too!"

"Exactly!" he said and lowered his head to kiss her.

She met his attempt at a kiss and, as they were kissing, he waltzed her into the spray of the shower, while they were still kissing. For this kiss, mouths were open and tongues active.

She sighed out loud, when the kiss broke off, as he gazed down at her.

"This is real," he said, "Cathy, this 'you and me' thing is real!"

"Yes," she said softly, "It is! I've wanted it to be so much!"

"Okay, I'm going to wash the beauty's ass now!" he said proudly, and she began to giggle, as he did exactly what he had promised.

"Getting personal!" she said, giggling.

"Full service wash!" he said, "Host of guys at the end of the wash to dry you off!"

She laughed and said: "You be nice or I'll tell Baggins! He'll protect me!"

"Ganging up on me!" he said, as he finished washing her and washed her hair.

"Oh, doesn't that feel nice!" was her comment.

Then he sat her down on the shower bench as he washed himself. She just watched and was struck all over again at what a beautiful man he was, his broad shoulders, the muscles of his shoulders, chest and stomach, the substantial legs and thighs, and in the middle, a morning erection.

She looked up at him and said: "Okay, get over here! There are parts of me that aren't injured at all."

"Are there really?" he asked, moving over to her, and letting her grab his erection in her hand, as she began to lick the head of it with her tongue.

She worked on him then, with him swaying back and forth, as she drew him into her mouth, deeply into her mouth, and pressed her lips against him with every movement of her head and his hips.

"Oh, damn!" he said.

She grinned up at him and said: "Gives you a hint about what the handicapped can do?"

"You are not, by god, handicapped and I'm going to prove it over the next month; so, get back to work, woman!" he said.

"Hmm," she replied, and bit him on the thigh, getting a jump and a yell from him. "Lighten your tone, sailor!" she said with a mischievous grin on her face.

He just shook his head, as she began to work on him again, this time bringing him and taking it all in.

"Wasting water here," he said.

"Got to rinse my face first," she countered and he took the cloth and washed her face.

Then he had her outside of the shower and wrapped in a towel, drying her off. He paid close attention, as he had done before, to every part of her body, getting racks of sighs from her, as he did.

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