Crash-n-Burn Ch. 05

Note: This is the fifth of a six-part series. As always, I welcome constructive criticism.

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STUDYING

Estelle had been staying with us in Hamilton for nearly two years now. Mom insisted that Estelle complete high school, and she had not complained too much -- though she was still not happy about not having a bedroom door. Estelle wasn't the best student, but she got acceptable grades, mostly Bs and Cs. Having run away in the middle of Grade 11 and then spending all summer and fall caring for me, she had needed to repeat the grade and would be graduating a year late. Like me, she was not planning an extra year to get her OACs -- Ontario Academic Credits. If either of us were going to university, we would have needed OAC courses for entry.

In her first year with us, I had asked Mom a couple times whether Estelle might be moving back in with her parents, but I was told to worry about it. They visited over Christmas in 1997, but her father had been posted to the east coast early in 1998, so they were unable to come to Hamilton for the holidays. Instead, we had taken Estelle to Angus just after Christmas, allowing her to spend a week with her parents before they moved. She never really talked about why she didn't like the town, but I gathered it had something to do with why she had run away from home. In any case, she didn't bring up her family, and I didn't press her. Mom and I had an unexpectedly stressful break, which required some time for me to recover. And, with me starting college in January, things were a bit busy for us at the start of the year.

Estelle insisted on taking Mom with us for our Valentine's dinner. I was a bit surprised when she suggested it, but I had found that it was easier to let her do what she wanted in most situations. Since reservations on the fourteenth would be nearly impossible, we went out the night before Valentine's. It was a Friday night, so none of us had to be up early the next day.

It was nothing super expensive, just an Italian restaurant that Estelle chose. We had a nice evening, talking and laughing about a bunch of stuff. I noticed that a lot of it was stories Mom told of my childhood, many of them more than a little embarrassing. I don't know why these had never come up before, but I was glad to see Estelle and Mom interacting so easily with each other. After what had happened with Mom and I on the camping trip, I had been worried that there might have been tension between them. Estelle didn't know all of the details, but it was really Mom that I had been worried about.

We didn't stay out too late, as it had been a long week for my mother, but it was almost nine by the time she pulled into the drive. As she was unlocking the front door, Mom said that she was going to bed and reminded us both to do our homework. I didn't argue, even though I didn't really have any. I was studying auto mechanics at Mohawk, and my few papers and assignments for the first half of the semester had either been handed in or required completion of practical work that was planned for later in February. Exams would not start until mid-April, and I knew that a bit of studying now would not help much.

I had noticed one significant lasting effect of the accident three years ago -- my short- to mid-term memory was shit. If I studied something repeatedly I could eventually memorize it, and I could usually recall things I had read up on within a couple hours. But otherwise, it was useless. I had failed most of my first-term Grade Twelve classes before I came to grips with that, though numerous absences for physiotherapy and medical appointments had not helped. Luckily, my neurologist referred me to a learning specialist, who gave me some tips on how to support an impaired memory.

As I had been advised to do early in my recovery, I now took notes for everything. I had gotten into the habit of carrying a notebook with me everywhere and wrote down anything that I thought I would need to remember, reviewing the book each night. I never even tried to memorize appointments any more, writing them down religiously. When attending lectures, I got into the habit of making audio recordings, which I listened to later while making notes. And I had determined that the most effective way for me to study was to set apart a large block of time to focus on schoolwork, at least a couple hours when I was not tired. Grabbing a few minutes here or there didn't really help much, nor did trying to study when I was fatigued, distracted or stressed. Luckily for me, my courses contained more hands-on training than lectures. I had noticed that practical skills were no more difficult for me to remember than before the accident, though I needed to write down specific instructions for things like torque settings, fluid specifications and volumes, or other details. But anything to do with motor skills I picked up quite quickly.

But about stress -- when things got too crazy, I completely lost the ability to concentrate. I'd had a pretty severe stress attack during our winter camping trip. It was like there was a pressure switch in my brain now. When the stress level got to a certain point, the switch turned off my ability to do all but the simplest of tasks. Memory seemed to shut down completely, and even simple conversation became difficult. I couldn't drive in that condition, though I eventually found that I could still ride a bike. Cycling had become so ingrained as muscle memory that it was almost an automatic function. I could no longer compete, but I found that taking a bike ride was a good way to destress -- as long as I avoided heavy traffic and didn't exert myself too strenuously.

While Estelle got her books out and began studying, I headed upstairs for a shower. I stripped down to my underwear and grabbed a towel. Stepping into the hall, I realized that I had not talked with my mother about what had happened in Algonquin Park since we returned home. It was something that I really needed to do, and I figured this was as good a time as any. Before heading into the bathroom, I continued down the hall and knocked softly on Mom's door.

"Come in."

I opened the door, seeing her lying on the bed, sliding a book under the blanket.

"Mom, I was just thinking about Rock Lake. And Mew Lake."

She smiled. "I've thought about that a few times myself. What's on your mind?"

"Well, you said you would need to do a test after a few weeks. Did you, uh, get a result?"

Her smile widened a fraction. "Yes, I did."

"Are you going to tell me?"

She shrugged and pulled her book out from under the blanket. "Just waiting for the right time."

She was reading 'What to Expect When You're Expecting.' My heart did flipping motions in my chest, and I couldn't speak for a minute.

"Did you have any other questions?"

I walked to the bed, sitting down and looking at her. "You're positive?"

She nodded. "I just confirmed with my ob-gyn this week. She's pretty sure I conceived some time around New Year's."

"And, you're still sure this is what you want?"

She pulled me into a tight hug. "Cole, darling, there's nothing I've wanted more. Thank you."

I kissed her softly. "It was my pleasure. But, we'll need to talk to Stelle."

She nodded, still smiling. "You mean, I need to talk to her. Don't worry, I will, soon. I'd like you not to say anything just yet, all right?"

"Sure, Mom." I placed a hand on her belly, but of course, there was nothing to feel yet. "So, this will be my brother or sister."

"Are you going to be all right not claiming your child?"

I thought about it and nodded. "Yes, Mom. I know that this is how it has to be. But, you know I'll do everything I can to spoil him rotten."

"As long as he learns discipline. I don't want a wild child when I'm in my sixties."

I laughed. "Don't worry. Estelle and I will help out."

"I know. Now, you go have your shower and then spend some time with your girlfriend. She needs your attention too, you know."

I kissed her and left, pulling the door closed. I jumped into the shower as soon as the water was warm, quickly shampooing and giving my body a quick scrub. When I was finished, I grabbed my towel from the hanger and dried myself while standing in the tub. I had started doing that when I was first able to walk unassisted after the bike crash. I could lean against the wall for support and didn't have to worry about wet feet sliding on the tile floor. I'd continued the habit when I realized it also avoided getting a chill.

I looked at the scars on my left arm and leg as I stepped out of the tub, recalling the work I had gone through to be able to walk and cycle again. And then, there was the newer, puckered little circle of a scar on my left thigh. That had not required any therapy, but it had been close. An inch to the right would have shattered my femur. Even if it had not caused severe bleeding, getting me out of the park with a broken leg would have been beyond Mom's capability. I still had occasional nightmares about what might have happened.

Moving over to the mirror, I lifted my hair a bit and I could make out the edge of another scar at my right temple. Because of that injury, I'd had no choice but to cut back severely on my cycling. I still went out frequently when the temperature was above freezing, usually with Estelle when she was available. But no more extended sprints or racing up the mountain. And, of course, no more competitive riding. That wasn't to say that I did not exercise. In fact, my physiotherapist had started me onto my current core exercise regimen -- weight lifting. I was not anything like Arnold Schwarzenegger, as I was focusing on functional strength rather than appearance. I wasn't in any way overly bulky, but there was no question that my muscles were larger than average, and quite well-defined. I focused more on high-rep training than maximum weight, so my endurance had built along with strength. That strength had been very beneficial over Christmas. The mirror told me in no uncertain terms that my body was in pretty good shape. I didn't have sharp six-pack abs, but I knew that I would not be willing to submit to the dietary restrictions that would be required to obtain that. Nor was it wise for me to press myself to exercise to the limits of my ability. Besides, I liked drinking Coke too much.

I dressed in a snug tee shirt and loose shorts. Then I took my notebook downstairs to review my day. I found Estelle sitting in front of the couch, her books spread in front of her. The television was on, and 'Boy Meets World' was playing. I grabbed a cup of herbal tea and sat down on the couch. As much as I liked Coke, I knew that caffeine after eight would mess up my sleep.

I shook my head at the show. "I can't believe that you're watching that."

"Not really watching it," she mumbled. "It's just background noise while I study functions."

"I can't study with noise in the background." I watched the show for a couple minutes. "Oh, Cory seems to be in big trouble, and Topanga does not look happy. Who's the letter from?"

"I'm not paying attention to it, so I wouldn't know. You could always help me study instead of watching the show."

I laughed. "Yep, that'll work. Did you forget that I'm not so good at school work?"

She looked back at me. "You did fine in math. It's words and stuff you have trouble remembering. Look, how do I solve this formula?"

She pointed at an equation that had several terms on either side:

"Okay. What are you solving for?"

"X."

"Well, all of your terms with an 'x' are squares, which simplifies things a bit. All you need to do is move the 'x's to one side and everything else to the other, then take the square root of both."

"But there's a 'z' and 'x' in brackets there, divided by two."

"Not a problem, that's a simple algebra term. Multiply both by a half and the brackets disappear. Now what do you have?"

She did some scribbling

"Okay, now move all the 'x's to one side and simplify it."

She scribbled some more. "Okay, I end up with 4x2 on the left, so I can divide both sides by 4. Then I take the root of everything, and 'x' equals the square root of all the crap on the right."

I leaned over, taking her pencil and writing out a new version of the equation. "And, if you wanted it to look elegant..."

She looked confused. "How do you figure that? How did you get the six back and where'd the half in front come from?"

"If you made everything on the right divisible by four -- the common denominator -- you can then extract the fraction."

"Oh, right. And that means that I take the square root of one quarter, which is one half." She looked up at me with a smile. "See, your brain still works after all."

I flexed an arm, showing off my biceps. "That's not all that works, honey."

She pushed her books away and leaned back against my legs. "Always good to know. So, any chance you can give me a pearl necklace to go with the earrings?" She began to pull the hairs on my leg.

I grabbed at her hands but couldn't quite reach. "Stop that!"

She kept pulling the hairs, moving down along a scar. "What?"

"Pulling my leg hair. For your information, pearls are not exactly cheap." I had given both my mother and Estelle teardrop pearl earrings. Mom for an early birthday present, and Estelle because it was Valentine's.

She suddenly turned around, looking up at me with her hands on my thighs. I had not realized that she had undone the top few buttons of her blouse, nor that she had slipped out of her bra while I was showering. Her breasts had grown a bit larger since moving to Hamilton, but not a lot. They were not much more than A-cups and it was unlikely that they would get any bigger, but I still thought that they were fantastic.

"There's more than one type of pearl necklace, Cole. And I know that you're able to give me at least one kind tonight if you want."

I took her hands and gently pulled her up to her knees, leaning down to kiss her softly. We broke apart and she looked at me, her eyes burning with desire. She lunged forward, mashing our lips together in a violent kiss that lasted for several minutes. We were both breathless when it finally ended.

"Wow," I whispered.

"There's more where that came from," she said as she undid the next few buttons of her shirt.

I brushed her blonde hair back. "Are you sure that you're ready? You've been holding me off for the past few months."

She smiled, "I'm going to be graduating soon."

My hand continued back, sliding under her hair to cup her neck. "Yes, but you've been legal for years."

Her hands were now roaming over my chest, tracing the contours of my muscles through my shirt. "Aunt Maisie thought that it was a bad idea for me to be distracted from my school work. She agreed that my marks have been good enough that I should have no trouble getting my diploma, so she offered to go to bed early tonight so we could have some private time."

"What? You planned this with Mom? That's just wrong."

She laughed as she kissed me lightly again, her hands now slipping under my tee. "Why? We're both adults, and she knows that I don't want anyone but you. She wants you to be happy, Cole. So, do I."

I had no idea what to say to that, and just watched as she sank down to her knees. Her hands went to my waist, undoing the button and zipper. She only broke eye contact when she started to pull my shorts down. Once she had my cock free, she began to stroke it gently. When I began moaning, she winked and dropped her head between my legs. My breath caught as she sucked my cock into her mouth. She was taking it slow, but I didn't last long. After only a couple minutes, I was warning her that I was about to come. She forced her head down until the tip of my cock was sliding past her tonsils. Somehow, she managed to avoid gagging as I exploded in her throat. This time, she managed to swallow everything. She slurped the last sticky threads of cum off my cock and looked up, smiling.

"You look like the Cheshire Cat."

Her hand returned to my shaft, getting me hard again. "I'm hoping that you're able to go again. It feels like you are. You won't disappoint me, will you, Cole?"

"I will definitely try not to." I pulled her up, kissing her deeply. We traded tongues as she threw her arms around my neck. "What do you need?"

She pulled a little foil square out of the small pocket on her shirt. "I need you to wear this. You know it works?"

I laughed huskily. "Yeah, I've used them before. Before you moved in."

"Yeah, me too -- before I moved in. I think I can remember how to put it on. May I?"

"Hell, yeah!" I whispered.

Estelle ripped open the packet and removed what looked like a latex disc with a rolled-up rim. She placed it on the tip of my glistening cock, stretching and unrolling it over my shaft. I was in absolutely no danger of getting soft. When the condom was in place, she straddled my hips and lowered herself slowly. She paused as the tip pressed against her entrance. Obviously, she was no longer wearing anything under her short skirt.

"Um, I haven't had anything in me for a while. I'll need to take it slow."

I nodded, almost panting with desire. "Yeah. Take all the time you need, baby."

She leaned forward to give me a quick kiss, then straightened again and began to lower herself, forcing her pussy to swallow my thick shaft. She moaned a few times, but I couldn't be sure if it was discomfort or pleasure. Her face was screwed up in concentration, and she didn't give me clear indication of what she was feeling. She finally had me in all the way and let out the breath she was holding. Her pussy was hot and tight around me, pulsing faintly in time with her heartbeat.

"Okay, I need to get used to this for a minute."

"You okay, Estelle?"

"Uh huh. Real good. Just wait a sec."

A few moments later, she began to move. She lifted her hips up, drawing me out of her, circled her hips and pressed back down. Rotating her hips again, she ground against me before pulling up again. As she picked up speed, I started to move with her. She was soon moaning loudly, and I pulled her in for a kiss. She bit my lip, then leaned back and finished unbuttoning her shirt. Still riding my cock, she leaned further away and pulled my head down to her gorgeous breasts.

Her skin was white as alabaster, with faint pink nipples surrounded by small areolae. I sucked her nipples, moving from one breast to the other and raising the pitch of her moaning. When my teeth accidentally brushed across a nipple, she cried with passion. Taking the hint, I gently nipped and pulled her nipples with my teeth, a hand rubbing and rolling the nipple of her free tit. She was soon coming hard, her body arching backward as her legs locked tightly over my thighs. I could feel the contractions squeezing my cock, and that set off my second orgasm of the night. Although I had come twice before, many times, I'd never had orgasms so close together.

As she came down from her high, she leaned forward and put her head against my chest. I was still wearing the tee shirt, and she pushed it up. Taking the hint, I removed the shirt so she could lay against my bare skin. With a sigh, her whole body seemed to relax. Holding her against me, still impaled by my softening cock, I lay down on the couch with her on top of me. If there was a heaven, I hoped it would be just like this.

I woke as Estelle slipped off me. I caught her hand gently, and she turned to kiss me.

"I need to get to my room. Maisie made me promise to sleep in my own room -- alone. Sorry, Cole."

"Don't be." I caressed her cheek. "Do you want to do this again?"

She kissed me again. "Yeah, but I'll need a little while to recover. I'm a bit sore right now."

"The blowjobs are nice too."

She winked and turned toward the stairs. "We'll see. You still owe me a necklace."