Kane

'I can't believe I'm letting you do this!'

'Do what? This?'

I leaned forward and kissed his ear, sticking my tongue in and wiggling it around, annoying him on purpose.

'Stop it! No, you washing and wiping my arse for me after I've had a crap!'

We were in the bathroom and His Grumpiness had just made a donation to the NHS.

'Ha ha! Oh, stop being so precious! Anyways, was either me or Bossy Brenda and her 'God loves ALL sinners' speech again! You had the choice!'

'Yeah, instead you're getting to finger my hole for free! I used to charge old whiteys like you at least £50 for what you're getting!'

I rubbed the side of my hand between up and down his butt crack in response. Had l not been wearing dry latex gloves, he might have enjoyed it!! Then yanking the blue glove off my hand, l snapped ithard against his butt so it would sting and laughed.

'Aren't you going to pull my trakkies up?'

He looked at me with his 'poor little boy' eyes and l did consider melting but the physiotherapist had said he should be left to do as much he could for himself. I sighed.

'Kane, just try! Besides, I'm washing my hands now!'

'But it's hard!'

I gave his dick a quick tug.

'Nope. Definitely soft. If that's hard, you'll have to do waaaaaaaay better if you want to be a top! Jus' sayin'!!!'

He muttered under his breath but apart from the initial 'f', I didn't catch the rest! But at least we'd moved away from 'the little boy whine' as he reluctantly managed to slide the grey trakkies up as far as his arse.

'Stuck now!'

'Shouldn't have such a big ass then, should you? A gorgeous sticky-outy ass, I might add!'

Granted, it was a bit of a tall order, considering the bandages were still on his right hand and the left hadn't got all its grip back yet.

'You can be such a fucker at times Ben, you know that?'

I stood in front of him and kissed him square on the lips.

'Yup! But I'm a fucker who loves ya!'

We stared at each other, silent in the sudden realisation of what I'd just said.

I pulled up his pants the remainder of the way and adjusted them till the waistband was straight, then stood guard arms outstretched as he pivoted around on his left hel and plonked himself back into the wheelchair that I had manoeuvred into place.

'I know it's hard but you want to get out tomorrow, don't you? I shouldn't tease you so much though, I'm sorry.'

His left hand reached back over his shoulder to find mine. He squeezed it a little.

'It's ok, Ben. It's not your fault. You can't help being a fucking cold-hearted bastard of a nurse!'

I stifled a groan as Bossy Brenda swept in, bosom like a battleship and tut-tutting her disapproval. We looked at each other, knowing full well what sermon was next. Thank God Tom's shift was only an hour away!

***

As it happened, it took another two days (and one sermon!) in the private ward before they were finally happy enough to discharge him. I'd videoed the house to prove everything was on the same level, which helped, but l reckon the decider was the sheer size of the main bedroom with its huge ensuite wet-room and its walk-in shower. Tom said he and 'his Kevin might get their femurs broken too just so they could come stay!'

I'd got the wheelchair out from when I'd had my operation and although I'd promised Kane I wouldn't buy any more equipment, I'd had my fingers crossed behind my back at the time so it didn't count! There was a massive hoist type thing with a foot that went under the bed and an arm over it from which a handle hung down so he could pull himself up in bed to get more comfortable. Then there was a bath stool for him to sit on in the walk-in shower and an adjustable table on wheels so he could eat meals in bed although, if I'm honest, every couple of days, we'd break the rule and eat at the dining room table just for him to have a change.

But it was no easy convalescence and His Grumpiness wasn't an easy patient! Maybe I shouldn't have teased him quite so much but despite the considerable pain l knew he was in, l was not going to let him feel sorry for himself or turn me into his bitch! If he really couldn't do something, l did it. If he could manage it, with a struggle maybe, then he did it! Or at least, he had to give it a go.
The one exception was showering. For, surprise, surprise, utterly selfish reasons!! And that proved to be a turning point in our relationship.

Showers had to be planned with almost military precision! Shower creme and shampoo put in the right position on a shelf inside the shower --- washcloth too. I racked up the heating in the bathroom first of all and put plenty of towels to warm on the rail lest he got cold when wet. Then, whilst he was still in bed, both casts had to be encased in what, right from the start, we jokingly called their 'condoms'! Clear plastic bags that we taped up with waterproof tape to prevent the plaster cast becoming wet. The arm one was easy, just whip off his tshirt (if he was wearing one!) and it was on and secured in two minutes flat.

The leg one was more of a palaver! But, a palaver with rewards!! Pretty much as soon as we got home, Kane had dispensed with wearing anything below his waist in bed. Underwear, shorts, trakkies ... all ended 'bunched up' and uncomfortable under him and were deemed 'too much faff!'. Which in turn meant that l 'inevitably' brushed up against his cock and sack repeatedly when taping the leg 'condom' around his thigh! So, as often as not, His Grumpiness had transitioned into His Horniness as he was wheeled into the bathroom sporting a rock-hard erection! And Kane certainly wasn't shy about maintaining it either. I would let him get on with using his left hand to wash those parts of his body he could reach and stood back to enjoy being aroused by the sight of him enjoying the sensual feeling of the water and soap on his beautiful skin. Some parts of his skin more than others!

But then I would angle the shower head against the wall and step in to wash his back and left armpit first, trying not to get myself too soaked in the process. If l wasn't already hard from watching him wanking, the feeling of his muscles under my hands had me bone-ing. Then, before he could get cold, he would stand for his bum and crack to be washed. The first time l tried to do it quickly, in business-like fashion, as I imagined a professional would! But Kane's good arm whipped around, quick as a flash, when I stopped rubbing there and grabbed my hand. He placed it back between his round cheeks and moved it slowly up and down over his hole until I got the idea and prolonged the pleasant stimulation far longer than mere cleanliness required! The moans clearly showed his appreciation!
Then the left hand returned to take hold of my wrist and bring it around to his rod. The feeling of actually holding his erection and slowly moving my fist up and down his shaft, of cupping his balls and rolling them carefully around in my soapy hand before making a ring with thumb and forefinger and recommencing the gentle stimulation was utterly perfect. I varied my stroke as much as possible, watching over his shoulder as his foreskin came up to swallow his mushroom before retreating to expose the head once more as my fist descended. The tension in him was such that when he came the first time we did this, rope upon rope of cum shot up, almost hitting me in the nostril as I peered from over his shoulder! I could feel my own underwear soaked with pre-cum but Kane was exhausted from the effort of his orgasm. He just looked at me and blew me a kiss.

'Time to get you dry, eh?'