Broken Hands

Blast Off

[This is one of my longest stories. I wrote it for the buildup and the foreplay and the ridiculous fantasy. If you’re looking for a quick fix, this might not be it. But if you have time for some edging and exposition, enjoy.]

Dalton was thrilled. He had the entire summer to himself.

He was 18 and had just graduated high school and was planning on taking a year off before deciding on which college to give way too much money to.

His parents were taking their long-awaited cruise around the world, which they’d been talking about doing for years. This meant he had the whole place to himself to sleep in and do whatever the hell he wanted.

Not a bad gig for a a very popular 18-year-old with zero responsibilities.

They knew he was probably gonna throw a party or two. They just asked him to be smart, not do any hard drugs, and avoid being arrested. It was great to have cool parents. They were partiers in their day too after all. They weren’t naive.

He was three days into this marvelous freedom when he’d received a text from his buddy Shane that a group of his friends were going to be meeting at the park across the street from his house that stoned and eat Chipotle and hang out. It was 11 AM and Dalton was still in bed.

He opened his laptop and had a quick jack-off session like he did every morning, and then went to jump in the shower.

Around 12 he was strolling out the front door wearing shorts, a baseball t-shirt, and flip-flops. The sunshine and the possibilities felt glorious on his quickly developing summer tan.

On his way out the door he spotted his next-door neighbor Mrs. Holloway walking with her one-year-old daughter, London. Her first name was Adrienne, if he remembered correctly. And he probably should remember, he’d gawked at Mrs. Holloway’s obvious hotness from the moment they’d moved into the house some three years prior.

She was a young widow, after her husband had died a few years back from a rare genetic disease. It was a shock to everyone that knew them. They’d been such a lovely, powerhouse couple. She was only 27, and well off from the money he’d left her. She didn’t really need to work, but she ran a weekend bakery in town, just to be around people and find something to distract herself with. She dated occasionally but was mostly bored with the options she encountered in town. They’d left the big city because they were ready for the comfortable, family portion of their life. And now she was on her own again. Just her and London, hanging in there, trying to find purpose in a mid-size suburb—feeling at times, a little lost.

Dalton had jacked off plenty of times thinking about this young MILF of a neighbor. Particularly on those days where he saw her tanning in their backyard from his upstairs window. She had these tiny bathing suits and on occasion would go sans top, not knowing that he was often in his room, spanking his monkey to the surprise display of supple nudity. His bedroom was the only one in the house with a good view of the neighbor’s pool due to the height of their cherrywood fence, and he thanked his lucky stars for such an arrangement.

She had brownish-blond hair with natural curls. It was always messy and attractive. It was always as it needed to be. Sexy. Fun. Funky. She basically looked hot in every thematic situation.

Today she was wearing a very short jumper and tank-top with slip-on sandals and a hemp leg bracelet. Her hair was thrown up in a simple pony and she was wearing a large pair of rose gold sunglasses. She just looked effortlessly cute.

Her daughter London was now walking everywhere, in that brave waddle of first worldly explorations, and she was constantly chasing the giggly little girl around the street and nearby cul-de-sac.

“Hey, Dalton!” She waved kindly as she always did. She truly was a stellar neighbor. Everyone in the community loved her, besides the wives who had to scold their husbands when her juicy ass walked by and they invariably drooled, but even most of the wives wouldn’t have minded getting a taste of her booty. She was that kind of hot. She actually looked a lot like Giada de Laurentiis, Dalton thought, after seeing the gorgeous celebrity chef on one of her Mom’s favorite cooking shows. She had a similar sort of sexy pep to her. She was also only 5’2, which is why she often wore heels, which only further accentuated that lovely ass that she worked to keep so fit. She ran and did hundreds of resistance band squats and all sorts of Yoga.

“Hey Mrs. Holloway,” he responded back. Always feeling slightly nervous around the attractive woman.

“How are the parents?” She asked, as she corralled London to her exposed thigh to hold the child close.

“Oh, they’re amazing! They’re on their cruise right now,” he told her, trying not to stare at her breasts poking out from the top of her loose tank top.

“Oh that’s right, your Mom mentioned that. So…you get to have the whole house to yourself, eh? That sounds like güvenilir bahis a pretty sweet setup for…what are you, 17 now?” She asked, mostly distracted by her daughter running through her legs over and over again as she played.

“No, I turned 18 at the beginning of the year,” he said proudly, trying his best to keep his eyes off her legs and ass and breasts and lips and everything else she had going on.

“Ah, that’s right,” she said, but it was clear her daughter was becoming impatient to continue on to the park. The sun was out and fun was waiting. “Well, it was nice talking to you…we have a date with a playground to get to…talk to ya later!” She said, and they were off.

“Bye Mrs. Holloway!” He said, and she looked back over her shoulder and smiled, even as her goegeous booty sashayed away.

“You can call me Adrienne. ‘Mrs. Holloway’ makes me feel old,” she gave him a friendly wave and he repeated the gesture.

Dalton cut across the street which emptied directly into a sprawling, tree-lined park that was at the very center of the upper-middle income neighborhood he’d grown up in. It really was a great place to grow up. Little League baseball and soccer took place right across the street. There were four baseball diamonds, daytime and nighttime tennis courts, tons of fields and some area of rolling grass hills where playgrounds, a dog park, and bocce ball courts all collided together in a spiderweb of outdoor activity. The park even had a lovely lake at its center where people fed ducks bread even though the signs said not to.

Dalton headed over to the large area of sloping grass hills which dotted the top of the park. When he got there he saw five of his friends spread out on a hodgepodge of blankets and towels, with various drinks in hand. There was a portable speaker and some opened bags of cookies and potato chips.

“Sup, losers!” He said, to the two girls and three guys hanging in a loose circle, enjoying the midday sunshine.

It was a lazy Tuesday on the first week of summer. Some kids would be starting college in the fall, some would be traveling, and others would simply be taking the year off, like Dalton was, to do some wandering. Such was the inherent privilege some were born into. Dalton tried to keep this in mind when it came to the way he carried himself. He was a good kid. So were his friends.

But they were also 18-year-olds, so. . .

“We’re doing all the weed and drinking all the alcohols!” A girl named Keona said in a humorous voice. He’d taken her to Prom the year before. They were long-time, platonic friends.

“Ah yes, the devil’s lettuce and whatever shitty beer you guys were able to steal from Brooster’s brother’s garage,” Dalton joked as as they laughed in agreement. They clearly had already gotten a head start.

“What…you think Keystone Light is shitty beer??” Brooster said in mock indignation. He opened a bottle and handed it to Dalton. His name was Bruce, but he hated it because he said it made him sound like a 48-year-old life insurance salesman. And he wasn’t wrong.

Kelsey and Bennet and Shane rounded out the group. Dalton said ‘whassup’ to everyone with various fist bumps and quirks, and an afternoon of drinking and smoking and not worrying about anything at all, soon commenced. What a time to be alive.

It was some hours later and Dalton was a little sun-burnt and a little cross-faded. He decided to head home and order himself a pizza.

He polished off his beer and tossed it into a nearby can with that effortless confidence of youth.

“Kobe doin’ work!” Brooster hyped, as Dalton strolled away chuckling, after saying goodbye to his friends. The late afternoon air felt relaxing on his skin. He was only wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

As he headed back to the house on the main path he came across the smaller of the parks three playgrounds.

He noticed the familiar frame and sexy hair of Mrs. Holloway, perched at a nearby playground speaking with what was clearly a very interested Dad. London was, as usual, the most energetic bumblebee in the hive; climbing this way and that on the nearby equipment. She was already incredibly adept at the various slides and ladders for not even being two.

This was probably their second visit to the park that day. Mrs. Holloway usually made numerous trips when London was feeling particularly bored.

Dalton noticed that she was doing her best to be polite and shed his advances, but he’d probably been BBQ day-drinking, as so many of the fathers in the neighborhood were known to do if they were home during the day.

Suburbia was a nightly fucking rerun, that was for sure, Dalton thought to himself.

And then, as he got closer to Mrs. Holloway, he caught her eye for a moment and she almost seemed to smile, as if this might give her an out.

“Oh, hey Dalton! How are the parents?” She asked, making up a reason for a conversation. The Dad already looked irritated as he turned around to see türkçe bahis the popular neighborhood teen approaching.

Dalton was about to save her and respond when his eyes scanned over to the big kid swingset where a darting London was waddling directly across the path of the incoming swingers.

The kid in the first seat was a high-schooler messing around with his friends. They were doing cherry bombs and flips and other varieties of never-grow-up revelry. The kid was big and stocky.

Adrienne followed his worried expression to see what he had seen. She gasped.

Dalton felt a burst of adrenaline and did the only thing he could. He sprinted past Mrs. Holloway and the divorcee and dove down to his knees on the playground wood chips, pushing London forward and out of the way, just in the nanosecond of time.

She flew an extra foot and fell on her face, just between the diving bombs of childhood kinetic energy swooping from on high.

The next thing that happened was the most painful thing that had ever happened in Dalton’s fairly charmed life up until that point.

He was smashed into where London had just been standing.

The kid on the swing had been wearing a pair of hard-nosed shoes, and he hadn’t seen them coming because he’d been hanging his head back and enjoying the rush of the late-afternoon breeze in his hair. School was out, after all.

There couldn’t have been a more unlucky connection of his feet against Dalton’s wrists and arms.

His inside arm was hit first, and was broken. His outside hand got a direct force of toe, which broke his wrist.

Dalton collapsed over in a wheeze of shocking pain, as he felt his breath catch in his chest.

“Owwwwfffuuuuuggggggg!” He moaned, as his whole body tensed and the proper alarms were raised.

Adrienne screamed and ran over to the scene, checking on them both.

“Dalton?!” She yelled for him, even as she swooped up London and held her tightly to her. The little girl was crying. Her face had a small scratch. Numerous adults had come over to check on them, including the mortified group of teens. The boy who had smashed into him seemed shaken, but otherwise unscathed.

Dalton was in much worse shape.

It was very clear to everyone who had seen it happen. He’d very possibly saved that toddler from what could’ve been a very bad injury.

Mrs. Holloway helped Dalton to slowly sit up, even as he gritted and wanted to cry, unable to put any weight on his arms.

“Hey honey, talk to me…tell me what hurts,” Mrs. Holloway was so concerned for this young man that had heroically dived in to save her daughter. She urgently attended to him using what she knew.

“Fuck…I’m sorry…fuck…my wrist, oh mmmffffgghh…and my arm,” he was trying to hold them up, as they both had shooting pains that racked his body with an intense throb of pain.

“Okay,” she said, lightly holding his arms and feeling for his reactions to her touch. “I think you might have some broken bones. I’ve got some nursing experience. Do you want me to call you an ambulance? Or would you rather I just drive you to a hospital?” She asked him, speaking calmly and holding his attention. She knew he needed him to focus on her and not the trauma of the breaks.

The man she’d been talking to was holding his phone up with 911 pulled up, waiting for the decision.

Dalton tried to tough it out for a second. Maybe they were just sprained? Maybe this was just an overreaction?

He stretched his arm and wrist again and was unable to move them like he usually would. The pain was unbearable. But he also didn’t want to call an ambulance. He wondered what that might cost his parents, and the last thing he needed was for them to know he was suddenly in trouble at the start of his amazing staycation; with the house all to himself.

“Ummm,” he pondered it a moment longer, trying to stem the pain so he could think. It was no use. He would need to go. “Can you drive me?” He asked her, somewhat embarrassed at the request.

“Of course, come on…let’s go,” they helped him up and London was already done crying. She was a tough kid. She actually seemed more fascinated at her mother’s quick-moving actions.

They headed home from the park and Dalton followed Mrs. Holloway into her large garage, which she opened from a code panel on the outside.

She fastened London into her carseat and grabbed her a fruit snack hidden in a side handle, and then she helped Dalton gingerly climb into the taller, SUV passenger seat.

He was not in good shape, but even with his broken bones, he couldn’t help loving the feel of Mrs. Holloway’s hand on his side and hips as she helped him in and then buckled his seatbelt. She was just way too much of a crush for him to ignore the closeness. Dalton wondered if he might be in shock. Or maybe his brain was just overloaded.

She drove as safely fast as she could, though perhaps cheated a few yellow lights, and soon they had arrived at güvenilir bahis siteleri the hospital a mile down the road. It was a medium-sized emergency room which Dalton had been in before for his Dad’s Christmas nail gun incident.

“I didn’t even ask…do you have insurance?” She asked him hopefully. She was so guilt-ridden from what had happened. That much was very clear. Dalton felt bad, but he adored her attention.

“Yeah…this is our hospital. My card is in my wallet,” he groaned as the car was jolted into park at one of the closest spots to the brightly lit entrance. The parking lot was fairly empty.

She got London out and put her in a stroller and then helped Dalton out of the car, and now he was really starting to feel the pain. He hardly noticed Mrs. Holloway’s tight body pressed against his as she helped him hop out of the car. Hardly at all.

They walked delicately inside, and when they got to the counter an older woman with half-moon spectacles asked how she could help. Mrs. Holloway did all the talking and succinctly explained what had transpired at the park.

The desk nurse looked concerned as Dalton was very clearly in pain. She asked for his info if they had it, and Mrs. Holloway looked to him insistently.

“I’m gonna grab your wallet for you, okay?” Immediately realizing he wouldn’t be able to reach back and snag it like this.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he said a little breathlessly. She reached into his pocket and took it out, fishing around for the card and holding back a smirk when she noticed a Trojan condom lodged in a deeper pocket. Even during a pressure-packed moment, Adrienne had a sense of humor. He was an 18-year-old boy, of course he’d be walking around with a condom in his wallet. Although maybe she should’ve dated better guys in high school because they always seemed to be lacking for some odd reason.

After finding it behind his emergency credit card, she handed it over and quickly helped him fill out his paperwork.

The nurse said they could figure out the rest in the room and within five minutes they were ushering them back into the quiet examination area hallways.

They got him into an empty room and had him sit on the wax-papered exam table.

“How are you doing?” Adrienne checked in on him, and Dalton winced a little and braved a grin her way. He wanted ever so badly to be stoic.

“I mean…I guess it could be worse,” he joked.

Adrienne laughed a little. They had to laugh. It was one of those moments in life.

What a fucking day. London was getting a little fussy in her stroller and Adrienne quelled that with a well-placed tablet featuring touch-play games.

The nurse and doctor both arrived in short order and the suspicions that Adrienne had at the park were quickly seconded.

There would be some ordered X-rays to follow that would confirm the diagnosis.

Two solid breaks. Neither requiring surgery. But both would need partial casts. Six-to-seven weeks for both, as far as the healing timeline was concerned.

Dalton was expectedly devastated. He could feel the freedom of his summer getting that gut-punch. Mrs. Holloway felt guilty as hell. He’d been injured saving HER little girl. She was embarrassed about the impending phone called with his parents that she knew she was going to have to make.

When they were back at the car an hour later, it was seven in the evening. She helped him back in and buckled him up, then repeated the move for London and the stroller. They pulled out of the lot and onto the twilight-lit road.

Dalton had his two casts on his hand and arm, and London was fussy and ready for bed.

“Dalton, I don’t know how to thank you for what you did,” she said to him from the driver’s seat, as she clicked on a blinker at a red light.

“It’s okay,” he assured her. The hospital had given him a starter dosage of Vicodin and a prescription for much more. Nothing really hurt now. He was just achy and exhausted from the physical and emotional toll of it all.

“We need to call your parents,” Mrs. Holloway said responsibly, as they pulled out of the driveway. A small panic came over Dalton.

He didn’t wan’t to involve his parents. Especially when it might mean the end of his care-free summer.

“Oh. Please. Don’t.” Dalton begged, as his sexy milf of a neighbor scrolled through her phone, looking for their contact info.

“No?” She said, almost surprised, but also still feeling so grateful to this brave young man for what he had done.

“Look…” he started, trying to think of the best way to make his case, “this is their first vacation in forever and it’s my first chance to just be on my own. If you call them it’ll ruin everything, and they’ll come home early and I’ll feel terrible,” he fervently explained his stance. He was terrified she was going to call anyway. She was an adult after all.

She stared at her 18-year-old neighbor. Her daughter’s hero. Every logical bone in her body told her she needed to make the call and let his parents know about what had happened.

But she couldn’t do it. He had sacrificed himself for her little girl. She would’ve felt like an asshole after hearing what he so desperately wanted.

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