Chapter 2: Ch.2
I have to concentrate hard on the road, and swerve back into my lane when her lips surround the head of my penis, and my pleasure increases tenfold. How can my imagination feel so good? I can actually feel her saliva dripping down my shaft, and getting massaged into my balls. Her technique is flawless. My legs keep twitching as she does something around the sensitive rim, and it's taking all of my effort to stay on the road.
This is just a dream, I tell myself, feeling doubt creep in at the assertion. None of this is real. I don't care how fantastic this is, it has to be an illusion.
I grunt loudly as I start to shoot off into what feels like a very warm wet vacuum, but know that it really has to be the inside of my underwear.
I hear screeching tires, and a horn honking, right before my poor car slams into something hard.
My head slamming into the steering wheel knocks me out.
* * *
A really annoying, steady beep wakes me up, and I look around. I immediately recognize the look of a hospital room, and groan as a wash of pain nearly overwhelms me.
Well, I try to groan. A tube shoved down my throat rather hinders the attempt. How bad was that accident? I try to lift my head, but again, the pain is intolerable, and I quit trying.
"Good to see you're finally awake," a gentle voice says, and I feel myself calming down. Swiveling my eyes towards the feminine voice, I see a rather attractive nurse holding a notebook and smiling at me. Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a pony tail, and her blue eyes are sparkling as she looks over my broken body. Her lips are a deep red, and look very kissable. . . . Not that I'm in any position to do that right now.
"Mmf, mhmmm, guruhh?" I ask, which translates loosely as, "What happened to me?"
Apparently the nurse speaks mumble-ese. "You were in a nasty accident. You have a few broken bones, including your ribs, which punctured one of your lungs. You're lucky to be alive. Apparently there was a young woman on the scene that pulled you out of your car and provided first aid until the paramedics arrived."
An image of my hallucination girl flashes through my mind, but it's blurry, and all I can really remember is her blue hair.
"Now, I know you just woke up, but I want to see how well your thinker's thinking." She smiles again, and I swear the lights brightened some. "According to the documents in your car and wallet, they say that your name is Lyden Snow, correct?"
"Hrmf," I reply positively.
"It's okay. You don't need to talk. Just blink once for yes, twice for no," she tells me cheerily.
I blink once.
"Good! I like that name. It sounds strong. Now then. . ." she trails off as she consults her notebook. "We couldn't seem to find any next of kin. It looks like your parents died some years ago by drowning in a lake. I'm truly sorry about that." The way she talks, I have no doubt that she truly is saddened by my parent's death. "No siblings and no extended relations we could find. Is that correct?"
One blink.
"It would seem that you're slightly accident prone, also. Our records indicate that another young woman found you by the lake almost two days after your parents drowned. You'd been presumed dead until the girl found you." Her blue eyes seem to bore into me with her questions. "How did you survive two hole days by that lake?"
I blink three times, not really able to answer her. The truth is that I really don't know. I'd only been a kid at the time, and barely remember any of it. Brooke had found me on the beach, and I'd been in foster care till I was sixteen, when I'd struck out on my own. Brooke has always kept tabs on me, though, and even lives in the same apartment complex that I do now.
"Do you have a girlfriend or significant other we can contact?"
Two blinks. If only I had the courage to ask Brooke out. Many times I've been tempted to ask her on a date, but I've always been too intimidated by her beauty.
"Were you alone in the car at the time of the accident?"
I pause as I consider how to answer, and she notices my hesitation, one of her delicate eyebrows arching at my delay. I blink once.
"Hmm, are you sure? Your pants were undone, and there was evidence that there may have been. . . um. . . some sort of sexual situation that caused the accident."
I try not to blink at all, not really knowing how to answer. I don't even want to look her in the eyes, embarrassed by the thought of getting my dick sucked by a fantasy. After a few seconds she nods to herself and comes over to look at the medical equipment. Her name tag says Angela, and somehow I can make out the soft scent of vanilla and flowers. She jots a few things down on her clipboard and then heads for the door. She stops in the doorway and turns back to me, with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I told you I was real, and now I know you can hear me."
Despite the shock I feel at her words, and the pain my body is still in, her voice somehow makes my cock grow hard instantly.
* * *
Over the next month, as I go through physical therapy, and my body knits itself back together, I don't see Angela again. There are a few times I suspect that I see her, but it's always out of the corner of my eyes, and by the time I turn, the image is gone.
Well, I should say that I don't see her when I'm awake. When I'm asleep and dreaming, she seems to be all I see. We never talk in my dreams, but always have sex. Sometimes she comes to me in the punk form I saw at work, and sometimes she comes to me in her nurse alter ego. Every night, I cum, and every morning I wake up and have to clean out my underwear from the night's wet dream. With all the privacy afforded to me in the hospital, this doesn't go unnoticed.
The rate at which I'm healing and recovering doesn't go unnoticed either.
"Do you think it's all the testosterone in his system?" I happen to hear one nurse say, then clam up as she notices I'm close by. By the flush that spreads across her cheeks, there is no doubt she's talking about me.
The day I'm finally released to my own care is dark and overcast, as rain threatens to break at any moment from the dark clouds above.
"Your ride should be here at any moment," the large male nurse intones as he wheels me out of the front lobby. The wheelchair isn't necessary for me to move, but apparently it's hospital policy that every patient has to be wheeled out.
"And you say my hospital bill is already taken care of?" I still don't know who would have paid it, but I don't complain either.
"Lyden!" I hear in relief as I stand up from the wheelchair. I turn in time to see the passenger door to the Orange Bubble swing open. I stare in shock, as there doesn't seem to be a scratch on her, and even looks shinier than I've ever seen the car before. I can't even see the dent in the front fender where a shopping cart had hit it almost a year ago. "Hop in! We have a lot to talk about."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone