"Are you OK?" he said in a low voice so Martin wouldn't hear.
"Yes, I'm fine," she answered softly. "That feels so good. You have gentle hands."
Walt felt a stirring in his crotch as he continued to gently knead his mother's thigh. He always admired her and he nourished sexual thoughts about her from the time he first woke up with a morning erection. Being able to touch her like this was a thrill and his mind raced with the possibilities.
Peggy seemed to wake up from a trance and she pulled back out of his reach. Throwing a guilty glance over at Martin, who had fallen back asleep in his chair, she raised her hand from her son's shoulder and smiled at him. Patting him on his head, she laid her hand against his cheek for a moment.
"Thanks, son, that felt nice. Now I have some things to do," and bending down she kissed him on the forehead before turning and going into the kitchen.
Walt watched her pad down the hall in her bare feet. Her hips swayed back and force with each step and he tried to visualize what it would look like without the shorts covering it. He knew what he had to do as he wheeled down the hall towards his bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Standing on his good leg, he unbuttoned his shorts and let them drop to the floor before lying down on the bed. He slid his hand under the elastic waistband of his jockey shorts and encircled his now firming erection. Slowly working his fist up and down on his hard on, he thought of his mother and where he would like to kiss her smooth skin.
His mother's words, "Thanks son, that felt nice," came back to him at the moment he ejaculated with several long, ropy streams of semen that covered his hand.
Using his crutches, he went into the bathroom and removed the sock and bandages that covered his stump. The doctors had tried to save his knee but he ended up losing it after three surgeries. It looked strange to him and he still couldn't visualize how it would look when his new leg was there. The leg wouldn't be ready for a few weeks and they needed the hospital bed, so they sent him home to wait for it.
Sitting on the special seat in the tub, he washed under the hand-held shower spray and thought back to the last few months after he was wounded. His mother was always there while he was in Walter Reed. She stayed in one of the rooms for family members and helped nurse him through the worst of it. He knew she was catching flak from Martin but she refused to return home.
His little hometown in Pennsylvania had adopted him and the gifts and cards of encouragement that kept coming from the people there always brought tears to his eyes.
"Even Marines cry?" his mother kidded him when she saw his eyes well up while reading the cards and letters from the local school students and other townspeople.
The Secretary of Defense personally presented him with the Silver Star and a Purple Heart while he was still in the hospital. Peggy stood by his bed during the ceremony and she had the privilege of pinning the medals onto his pajamas.
The latest surgery was the worst one from an emotional standpoint. They took off more of his leg to just above where his knee used to be. Then they taught his mother how to take care of it and sent him home. Martin drove down in a borrowed van and grumbled all the way back on the drive up north.
Leaning against the vanity, he toweled himself dry and dressed in shorts and a tee shirt he balanced on his crutches and walked out into the kitchen.
"Mom, can you help me, please?" he asked indicating his stump.
"Sure honey. I'll get a clean sock and some lotion."
Walt sat on a kitchen chair and holding his stump up he examined the spots where they had removed the stitches. Everything looked all right and he didn't detect any sign of infection from what he could see. His mother would check the ones that he couldn't see on the other side. He rubbed his stump and, even though the skin had very little feeling, there were times when the whole thing ached like hell.
He sometimes experienced phantom pain, as if the lower part of his leg was still there, but he learned to overcome it by concentrating on other things. Hot packs helped and he used them two or three times a day when the cramping in his stump got too painful.
