I don't remember much about the plane ride from Iraq to Germany. I was heavily sedated. In fact, my memories of being in the army hospital there are very blurry as well. I'm not even sure how long I was there. I knew that I still had all of my limbs though, and I was thankful for that. Many of the guys weren't that lucky.
My hands were severely burned from yanking the door open on a burning ATV to pull out one of my fellow soldiers after a roadside bomb went off under them. One side of my face and neck were burned as well, from the secondary explosion.
After I got home, it was embarrassing. I couldn't do anything for myself. My hands were bandaged and useless. The only family I had left was my little sister. She'd just turned nineteen when it happened, and had her own apartment. She didn't hesitate to take me in, insisting to the people at the Veteran's Hospital that she could take care of me. I wanted out of that hospital badly, and she knew it. I loved her for doing that for me.
Her boss was great too. He would let her run home every three hours or so to check on me. It was embarrassing enough when the army nurses had to do certain things for me, but let's be honest, having your little sister do everything for you . . . and I mean "everything", is way off the charts of embarrassing. If you ever doubt that, just ask your sister to wipe your ass for you after you take a dump. The rest of it was nothing compared to that. She fed me, dressed me, bathed me, and did everything else for me that one can't manage without the use of his hands.
The only thing that made it bearable at all was the knowledge that it wouldn't last forever—that I would eventually regain the use of my hands after the bandages were removed, and after a lengthy period of physical therapy.
When you're on that many medications, you don't really realize what they're doing to you—how they alter the way you feel both mentally and physically. But as the days passed, my meds were slowly reduced. My bandages didn't need to be changed as often, and I began feeling like my old self again.
The most obvious evidence of that was when I began getting boners. Tina pretended not to notice. I could tell that she didn't want me to feel awkward about it. But then one morning I had a wet dream. I juiced up my pajama bottoms pretty good hehehe. Hey, it had been a long time. It didn't have time to dry before Tina came in to take me to the bathroom for my morning pee. She noticed. I'm sure of that, but she didn't say anything.
That night was bath night. We only did that once every three nights. The other times, she'd just sponge me off with a washcloth. The most difficult part was my hair. We couldn't take a chance on the water getting under the bandages on my cheek and neck. I'd have to tilt my head just right while she washed it and then rinsed it with a shower extension and a tiny trickle of water. I had a semi-hardon the whole time, but again Tina pretended not to notice.
She shocked the shit out of me the next night though. She'd just given me a very quick sponge bath before helping me into a clean pair of pajama bottoms. During the walk to my bedroom, my dick found the opening in the front and poked out to lead the way. Tina was behind me and couldn't see it, but I knew there was going to be no hiding it when I got into bed.
But even with me lying flat on my back with my erection sticking out of my pajamas, Tina didn't seem to even notice—or if she did, she did a great job of hiding it. But she hadn't pulled the sheet up yet either. She peeked under the bandages on my cheek and neck, "Tomorrow, we're going to take these off and let your wounds get some air. Then they will start to heal quicker."
"And my hands?"
"No, I'm sorry, sweetie. You heard the doctor. He wants to wait another couple of weeks. He's still afraid of infection."
I sighed, "Yeah, I know"
"Bobby, since we cut down on the meds, you're feeling better. I can tell. And sweetie . . . it's okay. Don't worry. I understand."
And with that, she stood up and pulled her nightshirt over her head. I couldn't believe it. Tina is a bit on the chunky side, but she has awesome tits. My semi erect dick sprang to full attention. Seconds later, she began tugging down my pajamas. And then she eased her hands around my hard cock and began slowly stroking it. I was watching in wide-eyed amazement, but she wasn't looking at me. Her attention was focused on the task at hand—in hand, to be more precise. No more than a minute later, I was coating everything in gobs of cum, my chest, my stomach, her hand and wrist. When my cock began to shrink in her hand, she winked at me and said, "My, my, I'd say you were long overdue for that."
I managed a nervous chuckle, "ya think?"
Tina just grinned and released my dick. "I'll get a washcloth". When she returned, she began cleaning me up. While she was pulling my pajamas back up, she looked me right in the eyes and smiled. "You know, sweetie, even when we take the bandages off of your hands, you're going to have to be very careful with them—infection and all—and it's going to take a lot of rehab before you can use them."
I just nodded, so she continued, "I'm guessing it's going to be at least a couple of months before you'll be able to . . . take care of yourself." And then she giggled, removing any doubt about what she meant. "I think once a day should keep the wet dreams away. Don't you?"
Before I could respond, she got up, grabbed her nightshirt from the floor and left. I was laying there in shock. I couldn't believe what had just happened—what she'd just said. My little sister was going to jack me off every day. Holy Shit!
~~~~~~
The next day was Saturday, and Tina was going to take me out to her favorite watering hole that evening. I didn't want to go. How could I? I couldn't hold a glass, and I damn sure couldn't go to the men's room without help. "You go and have a good time. I'll be okay." I protested enough that she finally relented.
She wasn't gone very long—no more than a couple of hours. I was still watching TV when she came home. It's amazing what one can learn to do with their toes. Tina had taped the remote to a board and then taped the board in a standing position to the coffee table with the other end tucked under the edge of the couch. It provided the perfect angle for me to both see it and reach it with my toes. And it wouldn't slide around on me while I was changing channels.
"I'm going to get me a beer, you want one?" she said as she headed into the kitchen.
"Beer through a straw?" I chuckled loud enough for her to hear, "I think I'll pass."
But when she got back, she had two bottles of Coors Lite. "You don't have to use a straw." She said, plopping down beside me on the couch.
After she'd given me a long drink from the bottle, I told her "You're getting pretty good at that."
"Well don't get too used to it. You're going to be back to normal in no time. And believe me, the minute the doctor says you're ready, I'm going to expect you to work very hard to get your hands back in shape. I'm going to tell the physical therapist to work you so hard you'll beg for mercy."
"Sis, I . . ."
"I know, sweetie. This can't be easy on you, but just hang in there. You're going to be back to normal in no time."
