Australian / British standard English. There is a good chance of: lots of profanity, characters drinking, typos, mistakes, and bad grammar at times.
Proofreading and editing suggestions provided by OhDave1. Any mistakes are still mine.
Comments are appreciated.
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*****
I'd been riding a motorcycle since the first day I could obtain my licence before it happened. Four years without a single incident ended in an instant. I'd always been a careful rider as the chances of being killed on a motorcycle were far higher than when driving a car. And considering the number of ignorant drivers, wrapped up in their own little world that they barely consider other cars, let alone motorcycle riders, that I was thankful I'd lasted as long as I did until my first accident.
I was out with a couple of friends, just cruising around as it was a lovely day. I never rode without a helmet, leathers, gloves and boots. I'd only been in possession of my new bike for a few months. It wasn't new when I bought it, but it didn't have many kilometres on the dial when I handed over a couple of thousand dollars. Sure, it was sleek and fast, and if I wanted to crank it, I'd easily be doing two hundred with ease.
The throttle was only twisted on empty straight pieces of road without any traffic about. If I came off in moments like that, it would be my fault only.
We'd been out for a ride in the morning and were heading to a pub where we'd frequently eat lunch. We never drank while riding considering how dangerous motorcycle riding already could be. It was while cruising around in the afternoon that it happened. Due to the nature of the accident, I don't exactly remember every detail but from the vague memories I do have, and from what my friends told me, I was cruising through an intersection when a car made to turn into a side street.
No chance of stopping in time. I had always been told to be aware of my surroundings, particularly of idiot drivers not taking care of others on the road. Hitting the other car without barely touching the brake, I'd been sent flying off my bike, over the bonnet of the car, and hit the tarmac with a sickening crunch. Despite all the safety gear, particularly my helmet, I was knocked out from the force of the impact, only coming to when I was being attended to by paramedics.
And the pain was immediately overwhelming. One of the paramedics gave me something for it while the other explained what happened. Knocking me out to ease me through the pain, I didn't wake up again until I was in hospital. I opened my eyes to find my parents standing over me, Dad looking at me rather blankly, probably blaming me for the crash in his mind, Mum with wet cheeks from crying. My little sister was doing her best to appear like her usual teenage self, not caring about anything but I met her eyes, and I knew she'd been crying too.
"Mum," I whispered, her eyes immediately meeting mine. She melted immediately, leaning over to cover my face in kisses.
"Oh baby, we were so worried!" she cried softly.
"How'd you know I was here?"
"All your friends called, so did the hospital."
I could see she was desperate to hug me, but I could feel the pain in both my arms and legs. All over my body, to be honest. Pushing the call button for me once I groaned, a nurse arrived rather quickly, noticed I was awake and smiled, stating she'd get the doctor.
He arrived a few minutes later and, after performing a quick examination, explained what happened to me. Two broken wrists as I'd my hands out when I was landing on the ground. Fracture of the right forearm. Broken left elbow. Fractured right shoulder and collarbone. Plenty of scratches and bruises. Thankfully, my legs were fine, just banged up from rolling when I hit the ground.
"What about my bike?" I wondered, "I know it was used but I still spent money on it."
My dad laughed, shaking his head at the fact I cared about that instead of myself. "It's a bit broken, baby," Mum replied, "But your focus should be on getting better."
The doctor then explained I'll have casts on both arms and that my mobility would be restricted for a couple of months, and after that, I'd likely have a few months of therapy. It was only a first assessment, and I'd be in hospital for a few days as I needed a little surgery.
I didn't see my father again, and my little sister only popped in occasionally, but Mum was visiting me twice a day. She'd worried since the day I'd bought my first motorcycle and obtained my learner's licence. I'd always been a safe rider, and the accident hadn't been my fault, but I figured the chance of me getting back on a bike anytime soon would be slim.
The only concern was that although I still lived at home, I'd recently turned twenty years old and lived somewhat independently. The only thing I didn't do for myself at home was cook my own meals, as Mum insisted that my buying groceries and cooking my own meals was silly when I already paid my parents rent. I had been looking at moving out, but considering that rental prices were skyrocketing, and getting a mortgage was almost impossible, Mum insisted I remain at home and just pay them rent, while my father probably wanted me out rather than have me around, but I knew the old man liked having me around, particularly as I took over mowing the lawns and other things around the house.
Mum was happy the day I was finally allowed out of hospital. I was grateful to leave though I knew my life wasn't going to be easy for the next few months. It was bad enough to rely on my mother pretty much having to be my nurse, and it was rather embarrassing at times. Had to have baths instead of showers, and due to restricted mobility, I had to rely on someone to wash me.
To keep my modesty, I did slide on a pair of swimming shorts as I didn't particularly want my mother to see my cock. What didn't help is that I'd been single for a few months, so feeling my mother's soft hands caressing my body whenever she soaped me up didn't help me when it came to the feeling of feeling rather single. Mum would always be happy and smiling, talking casually as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She knew I was a little uncomfortable at times so did all she could to help keep me relaxed.
There was one major problem looming which I knew was going to cause even more awkwardness.
I was a twenty-year-old man. I'd been enjoying sex for a few years by now, either with a girlfriend or I'd happily enjoy casual sex with a couple of girls who were close friends with additional benefits. I rarely went twenty-four hours without enjoying a couple of orgasms, whether of the self-induced variety or with someone else. While I was in hospital, my libido was shot to pieces. But since returning home, I was starting to get more and more frustrated with the fact I couldn't take care of myself at all, and without a girlfriend who might be willing to do it for me...
Mum seemed to sense my increasing frustration with each day. I was stuck at home as going out by myself was impossible. I was missing my friends, as though they did visit occasionally, they were busy with work and their own lives, and they would much prefer going out than hanging with me at home with my parents and sister. All in all, I was feeling isolated, horny and annoyed by everything.
And none of it was my fault, which to be honest, just made me angry at my situation. I tried not to wallow in self-pity, but it's difficult when you've been injured, and it simply isn't your fault.
We were sitting down for dinner as a family one night when I must have snapped more than once. It was embarrassing that I couldn't even cut up my own meal, my mother had to do it for me. She never stopped smiling at me, I think taking joy in looking after her little boy again, but when I snapped once too often, her smile faded as she started to look upset.
And that just made me feel awful, so to escape the situation, I just stood up and walked back to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me as I felt guilty about snapping at the one woman I knew would always happily look after and care for me. And snapping at her just because I was too horny but couldn't do anything made me feel even worse.
There was a light knock at the door within a few minutes, calling whoever it was to open up. Mum appeared through the doorway, closing the door behind her. She was wearing a dress like she always did when at home, as she was working half-days at work to make sure she was around to look after me. Another reason to feel guilty about taking my frustrations out on her.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, her blue eyes looked into mine, pushing the thin black frames of her glasses higher on her nose, brunette hair tied back in a ponytail. Unlike many women in their early forties, she hadn't made the decision to cut off all her hair just yet.
"What's the matter, baby?" she asked, resting a hand on my knee.
"Sorry for snapping, Mum. I'm not even sure what I was going on about."
