Misc. Erotica Mother’s Helping Hands

My stepmom blamed herself for the accident, no matter what the officers told her. She was driving me to baseball practice, and we’d just crossed Main street when a car shot out of the cross street, running the red light at full speed. All I remember was the screech of steel and impact of the dashboard, as the front of the car crumpled in to smash my arms.

I woke in the hospital groggy from pain killers and both arms in casts up past my elbow. Looking down, I felt my stomach churn in revulsion at my swollen, bruised fingers. The index and middle fingers of both hands were in the cast, leaving me only thumb, ring, and pinky fingers free. My stepmom was there in the hospital, sleeping in a big chair in the corner, a hospital blanket covering her trophy wife figure. Looking around, I was disappointed but not surprised to find my dad not there.

My birth mother passed away when I was young, and my father remarried soon after. Lisa was much younger than him, and I think he only married her for her looks and for someone to help raise me. Shortly after their marriage, he lost himself in his work as an investment banker. When I was ten or so, he began to manage his own fund, and that's when he disappeared from our lives almost entirely. He bought a large house in upstate and filled it with every comfort he could think of, then rented an apartment in Manhattan for himself. He would visit on holidays, rarely spending the night.

All I'd ever known were the streets of Brooklyn, where I had dozens of friends and a beautiful life. Suddenly in my freshman year of high school, we were living in a tiny town of mostly investment bankers, tucked into a small valley. The average household income of our neighborhood was in the millions, and the kids were spoiled enough to prove it.

I made friends and joined a few sports teams, but I was never thrilled since we moved. My stepmom Lisa I believe, was the same. She made the best of it, like me. She was a social butterfly and was always entertaining wives of other partners at the firm where my dad worked. Most of the senior bankers lived in our neighborhood, and their wives were a lonely group. Their kids, for the most part, were spoiled rich little shits, having grown up in extreme wealth their entire lives.

Lisa had taken to motherhood like a fish to water. I think that's the only reason she didn't leave my father years ago. Each night there was a home-cooked meal waiting for me when I got home from practice, and a packed lunch every morning. She would keep up with my classes and makes sure I did each assignment, even hiring a professor friend of hers from the city to tutor me in physics when I had struggled for a short time in the subject my junior year.

She was the perfect stepmom, and our relationship should have been a great one. There was only one thing that got in the way of me being completely comfortable around her, and that was her beauty. It's shameful to admit, but the first time I saw Lisa when my dad brought her home, I fell in love and lust with her. She had been the centerpiece of my fantasies most of my teenage life and only through jacking off four to five times a day, was I able to be around her with any measure of normalcy, and not stare or ogle her every other minute.

Lisa had been a model when she was younger, but the slim and slender body of her teenage years developed into a woman with hips and breasts. So, she had moved into fashion, working for a design company when my father met her. She is 5'7'' with massive breasts, I checked her bra one time, they are a size E cups. She has a slim waist and narrow hips with a big firm butt. Her hair is thick and lustrous dark brown with highlights that she has touched up weekly. She is breathtakingly beautiful like I said, and the number of creepshots of her ass and tits in my phone would attest that I am a bit obsessed.

She has always insisted on being there for all of my practices, games, and functions. That's why she was driving me to practice, even though it was my senior year, and I'd had my license since I was sixteen. That's also why I wasn't surprised to find her the one person who had stayed by my bedside while I was unconscious.

As I turned my head to look at her sleeping angelic face, the blanket molded to her sensual body, I was relieved to see she wasn't injured. Nothing more than a few bruises and scratches, at least. A nurse came bustling in to check the machines hooked up to me. Mom's eyes popped open at the nurse's noise, and she caught my eyes.

"You're awake!" she cried as she jumped to her feet and came to the bedside, "Oh, thank god, your father will be so relieved too." Reaching out to hold my hand, hers froze when she saw mine in the thick cast, fingers bruised purple. Then with a concerned look, she turned to look at me, one gentle hand pushing the hair out of my face, "How do you feel, Jack?"

"Tired," I said, my eyelids heavy, "sore." The nurse was injecting something into the IV stuck in my arm. Tears sprang into mom's eyes, and she covered her mouth in one hand.

“You get some more rest. You’ll be home soon.” I nodded at her and felt myself drift off to sleep.

When I woke next, the nurses were bustling about me, removing the tubes, and getting me ready to go home. I was still groggy from pain killers, and my arms ached something fierce. I learned that I'd broken both wrists, and several bones in my hands as well. The doctors didn't think I would be able to play baseball anymore, at least not for a year or two, as I went through physical therapy. I listened to it all stoically, accepting this new reality, while mom was attentive, asking the doctors and nurses questions about what kind of care I would need and making follow up appointments for our return in a day or two

I was grateful when they wheeled the chair in and informed us I could check out. I just wanted to be in my room and have the comfort of home surrounding me. With both arms in casts and my body so bruised, I couldn't manage to sit up on my own. My stepmom came over to help, along with a nurse. They each slid their hands beneath my back and pressing in close, helped lift me on the count of three. It was humiliating enough needing the help, but as I felt my stepmoms, big soft breasts press into my arm, a surge of blood rushed to my crotch.

To my mortal embarrassment, I happened to be looking at the nurse's face when she saw the thin hospital nightgown twitch over my hardening cock, and she got a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she looked up and caught mine. Then her eyes darted to my stepmom as she worried over me, and I saw the smile deepen.

When I was in the chair, and the nurses headed off to their other patients, the nurse who had helped me out of bed, took the handles of the chair and began to walk us out. I remember the ride out as cold and long, but finally, we got to the car, and with both ladies' help, I was able to get into the back seat. The nurse pushed the buckle into place, and she caught my eye, giving me a subtle wink and a small smile before she shut the door and taking my mom around the back of the car, began to speak with her in quiet tones.

My mom got into the car a few minutes later with a small frown on her face. When she looked up in the mirror and saw me, her cheeks colored slightly, and she glanced down as if embarrassed.

"Mom, what is it?" I asked.

"Nothing, Jack, just something the nurse mentioned… about your recovery." She said, starting the car and pulling out of the parking garage. She saw the sad look on my face in the mirror and smiled warmly, "Don't worry, we will make the best of it."

When we got home, it took about ten minutes to maneuver through the house and up to my bedroom. One minute in and both of us were cursing my dad for being absent. He had shown up at the hospital when I was unconscious, but only stayed an hour before heading to the airport. Eventually, we got to my room, and I went to get into bed.

"You can't sleep in the hospital gown," said mom, and she left me sitting on the mattress as she rummaged through my dresser for some clothes. She came back with a pair of boxers and a t-shirt from when I was twelve. Looking at me again sitting there, she laughed nervously, "Don't know what I was thinking! I guess I'd forgotten how much you've grown up."

She went back to the dresser and got my regular clothes, and coming back began to untie the gown awkwardly.

"Just relax," she said, her voice sounding anything but relaxed, "we will have to get used to this, I suppose." She kept her head and eyes averted from me as she pulled the hospital gown away. I was embarrassed as my naked body came into view, but the truth was I was so tired and sore, I just wanted it over with, so I could lay down. She kept her head turned to the side and eyes tightly closed as she slipped the boxers up my legs and let me scoot into them the rest of the way. The whole affair was one of the most awkward of my life.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice husky as she helped me lay back and propped pillows under my arms, "I'll get better at all of this." When I was laying back with a blanket over me, heavy eyelids droopy, I felt her hand on my brow stroking the hair back.

"My sweet boy," she said, voice thick with emotion, "I will take care of you, anything you need. I promise I will take care of you, darling." Sleep took me as her thick lips pressed a kiss to my forehead. The vision of her large breasts hanging down within her blouse filled my sight and sped me off to pleasant if frustrating dreams.​