The Accident: Pt. 01

Not only did Katie have an athletic form, she also was very graceful. He watched her dive, swim the length of the pool and pop up right in front of him. She turned around and repeated this process several times. On the fourth attempt, she didn't pop up in her usual spot several feet in front of him.

His legs were splayed open in a very relaxed posture. He could see her feminine form heading straight for him underwater. She was getting closer every second. Peter was hoping she was able to see where she was going. Peter almost flinched as she glided silently right toward his body.

Katie popped up right between his legs. With her hair slicked back from emerging out of the water, the freckles of her sun-kissed face were in full bloom. It made her look really cute, he thought to himself.

"Hey," she said, cheerily.

"Hey you," Peter retorted back, just as cheerily with a genuine smile. He liked having her this close. She floated on her stomach for a minute, stabilizing and propping her head up by putting both her elbows on his knees. Peter noticed their gaze was locked again. They were silent, but it wasn't a weird silence, but rather one of tranquility.

Without warning, she put her knee right between his crotch on the second step and lifted her upper torso out of the water. She put her hand on Peter's chest.

"Where'd you get this," she said quizzically, as she pointed at the scar on his left pectoral.

"Funny that, last year in a different biking accident," Peter informed her. "Perhaps, I should stay away from bicycles," he added, with a laugh.

"How come you didn't tell me?"

"Wasn't not trying to tell you. I guess I just knew you were really busy with work."

As she studied his scar, she left her hand on his chest. He liked her delicate touch. He also couldn't help but notice how well she filled out her bikini top. How had he never noticed how beautiful of a form she had. The softness and all the curves. If she felt bad about missing out on subtleties of his body, he also felt bad that he missed out on never noticing hers.

"Peter Arnold, are you checking me out?" she said, suddenly in a mocking tone.

He knew he was busted when she used his middle name. And so much for the glasses hiding where he was looking. I guess it's pretty obvious when someone is that close.

She dropped her hands high up on his thighs and brought her body closer to his.

With her right hand she lifted up his glasses. She was now inches from face. He stared deep into her sparkling pale blue eyes. The water made her eyelashes naturally curl. He also never thought her freckles over the bridge of her nose looked cuter than in that very moment. Her soft supple lips were pinkish red with her lower lip slightly more pouty than her upper.

"I said, are you checking me out?"

"I heard you fine, it's my wrists that are broken, not my ears," he said, smiling and trying to avoid answering the question.

She looked at him just a little bit longer. "I'll let it slide this one time," and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She let his glasses just fall landing further down the bridge of his nose. Using both hands she pushed off his chest into a backward dive and floated away. Peter pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose awkwardly with his forearm.

She just floated on her back in the shallow end for the next minute or so, her lower back arched, which put both her breasts and pubic mound on full display. Her nipples were erect and sat centered on the twin floating islands. The fabric of her bikini bottoms must have been thin, for he could also tell she has some pubic hair just behind the veil.

She then started doing underwater handstands facing away from Peter. The water only covered her from her head to her lower back. With her ass and legs fully exposed and her head underwater, Peter could stare all he wanted without worry of being caught. He loved the way her hips flared out from her body and became one with her very firm ass. She did two more handstands with her ass fully on display for him, only a few feet away.

Peter was content with this; however, on her next handstand, she rotated around one-hundred-eighty degrees, so that her crotch was facing Peter. To his further surprise, in a feat of acrobatics, she then split her legs apart and then brought them back together. The expansion and contraction of the fabric in wet bikini bottoms was the perfect storm for fabric to get bunched up in certain discrete areas. This is exactly what happened. What previously was left up to the imagination, was then laid plain as contours on a three-dimensional relief map. Peter could see all the subtleties and outlines of her womanhood. Peter could clearly see distinct and separate folds.

"Was she doing this on purpose? Am I reading too much into this?" he wondered.

_____

As the days went on, and the constant pain subsided, Peter began to really look forward to each evening, to the quiet of the house, to their dinner conversations, to sleeping in the same bed as her. They had gotten into a rhythm and routine. Peter liked all the small moments they shared--long glances, silent pauses, and warm smiles.

Peter also looked forward to each evening being in the same room as she undressed. He couldn't tell, but it seemed like she lingered a little longer than she needed to, each evening when taking her clothes off. As he watched her undress, she paused after she took off her shorts and tank top. She just stood there for a moment in her bra and panties.

"Peter?" she asked, softly.

"Yeah?" he replied, trying to pretend he was sleeping more than he was watching.

"Would it bother you if I slept without a t-shirt tonight?" Before he could answer, she quickly added, "It's really hot tonight and I usually sleep in just my underwear like you."

"Sure, sure." Peter tried to play it off as cool as he could, hoping his real excitement didn't come through in his voice.

This time, she didn't even try to turn around from him. She reached behind her back, undid her bra clasp, and then gently tugged at the center of her bra. Peter watched with more anticipation than he knew possible. As the bra straps quietly descended her silky-smooth arms, Peter felt such an intense flush of excitement in the pit of his stomach, he thought for a moment he was going to be sick.

She didn't linger once the bra was off, but kind of quickly dove for the bed. In that short time, however, Peter for the first time saw the beauty of her breasts, as part of her beautiful form, fully exposed in the dimly lit room. She had the most delicate slope of skin that fell away from her body. At the end of that arc, laid slightly darker areolas and nipples, protruding up and out in midair.

Peter was breathless. He was also very aroused by the entire scene. He had accepted that he wanted to see her as female, and relished the fact that this only added to his understanding of her in that way.

She didn't say anything for a while. Peter worried his watching her had freaked her out.

"I'm sorry if I made things weird," she finally said.

"What!?" Peter exclaimed genuinely surprised, as he thought he'd made things weird and not the other way around, "not at all."

"Okay, phew, yeah this is just so much more comfortable and I sleep way better," she noted.

"To be honest, I thought I made things weird, as I didn't look away."

"I don't mind if you look," she said quickly, but very gently.

Her words hit Peter so hard, he would have been knocked over except for the fact he was already lying down. "Was this direct permission to look at her as more than a friend, as someone attractive, as a sexual being?" he thought to himself, in large powerful crescendo bursts.

"I like that you don't mind," he responded back, with equal sweetness.

She had turned on her side and her hand wandered over to his upper arm and rested gently on his bicep. Her touch was soft and warm, his muscle was slightly flexed and taut. It was the picture-perfect intersection of the masculine and the feminine. Peter had never felt so close to someone as they both drifted to sleep.

_____

He watched her as she washed the dishes. Still wearing the apron from dinner and tied in the back with the quintessential bow, that tie worked its magic to accentuate the curves of her form. He noticed her rhythmic heaving in her chest, as she hummed some tune he couldn't quite place, the curves of her hips escaping the drawstring at the waist, the curves of her breasts defying the desired form of the fabric.

They had spent dinner reminiscing and laughing over chicken fettuccine Alfredo and pinot grigio. Katie had remembered that in the middle school play, Peter, who was a bit of a klutz while growing into his current six-foot-one-inch frame, had tripped over the lamppost prop on stage, which then fell into the tree, which then fell into the faux house. It was quite the scene, but Katie was able to play it off in the moment, as some notion of a gust of wind as part of the show.

It seemed like she had always been taking care of him. She was so giving, so kind, and so beautiful. He wanted to walk up to her, wrap his arms around her and melt into her being. These urges shocked him. It could have just been the effects of a couple glasses of wine, but he suspected it was more than that. He was so lucky to have a friend like Kate. Perhaps it was more than that, he wondered.

"Kate?"

"Mmhmm?" she said, turning to him, wiping her cheek with a balled up hand to not get soap on her face.

He never wanted to tell another human being he loved them more, than just in that moment. But he was scared, confused, and worried it would freak her out. He wasn't even sure, himself, of what he was feeling. So instead, he just said, "Thanks," in a very quiet and gentle sort of way.

"For what?" she asked.

"For everything, for all of this."

They stared at each other for a few seconds. God, she was incredibly beautiful, he thought. Why am I thinking this?

A smile appeared on her face.

"You bet, Peter," she reflected back, just as quietly and gently as he did.

It was his turn to grin, but he broke the stare with her out of embarrassment.

His cell phone buzzed. It was his good friend, Jake, sending him a text.

"Pete"

"Bro"

"I hate to be the one to tell this to you"

"but I thought you had to know"

"Julie hooked up with some dude we met here last night"

"I told her she needed to tell you"

"but she said it was none of my or your biz"

"But I say fuck her"

"Sorry man"

"This is so shitty"

"Have to run"

"I will try and call you later"

"But thought you should know asap"

Peter stared in disbelief.

Katie saw his face. "What's up? Who's that?"

Peter read her the message, as she sat down in the chair next to him.

"I'm so sorry, Peter. Jake's right, that is really shitty."

She put her hand on his shoulder. Their breathing was the only sound for some time.

"You want some space?" she asked, caringly.

"No. I think more than ever, I'd like to have someone here and close by."

_____

He lay in bed that evening and she climbed in, they lay there silent. After a while, she shifted on her side towards him. He could sense her hand reaching out toward him. He felt the warmth of her fingers on the side of his face, gentle, softly she began to stroke his hair.

He had never felt the power of healing touch in a way like this. He felt as though all was going to be okay.

Peter sighed a complex sigh. It was both one of relief, confusion, and frustration.

"I'm so frustrated right now," Peter said, without prompting. "I can't feed myself, I can't open doors, I can't put clothes on. I can't even get myself a glass of water," he said, exasperated. "Thank goodness my mom really wanted that bidet put in, I think I'd die if you had to wipe my butt." His litany continued on, "And the part that sucks the most is the person who I thought cared about me more than anyone else in the world, obviously doesn't give two shits about me and is out there fucking random dudes, while I'm here incapacitated."

The frustration and emotion welled up in him and a tear rolled down his cheek. Katie's fingers streaked the tear across his cheek as she stroked his hair.

Katie, who had said nothing during all his venting of pent-up frustration, lifted herself up and leaned toward Peter. She held back the locks of his mopped hair further and placed a kiss on the side of his right eye where another tear was forming. The touch of her warm lips was moistened by his tear.

He realized in that moment, that not only did Julie not love him anymore, but he also then knew--she never really did. She was never capable of caring for someone other than herself. He realized he had experienced and learned what love really was, this last week or so, from Kate. All that emotion opened the floodgates, as he turned and buried his head in the nape of her neck, torrents of tears burst forth from him. Katie just held him until he fell asleep.

_____

It was the sun that woke him up the next morning. He turned his head to the side to see that he was up before her. The sun had been up for a while it seemed, as the room was fairly well lit. He studied her face as she breathed rhythmically. She seemed angelic and so peaceful.

Their whole lives, they had been so busy doing activities that he was never this still, this close to her, to allow himself time to take her in. But in the quiet of the early morning, he allowed himself to just admire her in the moment. He spent a minute just watching her breathe and study her further. How cool is it that he gets to just watch her in this state? How stupid as he that it had taken him twenty-three years to do so.

These last few days, he had come to love those freckles on her forehead and the bridge of her nose. He loved the sight of her disheveled hair in the morning. He loved all this time they were getting to spend together. Perhaps, he had just always taken her for granted and imagined she would be around. Since having been off to college and away from her for a couple years, he realized that time was precious and so was his time with her.

He felt himself really wanting to reach out and caress her face and hair. It seemed like the most natural response to how he felt about his best friend. But he wondered, is that too intimate, were her thoughts the same as his? Besides, his casts would probably have the opposite effect of 'tender', he thought, as he laughed at himself.

Katie's eyes fluttered open. The sweetness of the moment was abruptly shattered with her first words of the day to him.

"So yeaaaah, you stink," she said bluntly, and then added, "we need to wash you, today."

Peter went to protest, but Katie cut him off.

"No arguing with me on this, we need to just get this over with."

This was the day he had been dreading. At least when going to the bathroom he had been able to remain mostly hidden. To get washed by someone was about the most exposed you could be. More than exposed, it would be a hands-on experience.

Katie got up first and threw back the covers on her side of the bed. She was making less and less effort covering her breasts each morning, as she turned to sit up as she swung her feet over the side of the bed. She would grab her shirt off the floor and pull it over her head. Peter tried hard not to stare or make a big deal of it. He enjoyed the casualness of her being topless around him. He would turn his head to look as she turned her back to him. He liked seeing her sitting there in her panties pulling her shirt down, admiring the milky skin of her breasts extending beyond the frame of her torso slightly on either side, as her hair fell to her shoulders.

As she walked around the bed to help him, he admired her in her 'morning look'. As well, the movement of her breasts underneath the t-shirt made her nipples become hard and reveal their form under the cotton.

She went to pull his covers back, but paused.

"Do you have to pee? she asked, looking at him sideways. This joke had become their morning ritual ever since the 'tent' incident.

"Yes, but things are," he paused, "settled."

She helped him up and they walked to the bathroom.

"Wait here," she instructed him, "I have to go really bad."

She shut the door and he could hear her going pee. He felt a bit voyeuristic, as he listened.

He started to have flutters in his stomach. He heard the toilet flush.

"C'mon," she said, as she opened the door.

He reluctantly went in. They did their morning pee ritual where she held him from behind. When he had finished, she had two bags ready to put on his casts and turned on the water.

"I'm nervous" he told her.

"Why?" she asked. "I literally just had it in my hand," gesturing toward his groin.

"I don't know, several reasons, I guess."

"What reasons?" She stood there holding a bar of soap with a 'I don't get it' look on her face with her head cocked to the side.

God, she looked so cute right then.

"Well for one, you will actually have to see it!" he exclaimed.

"Well, that's kind of hard to avoid, if I'm going to wash you. And look, if you are worried about your size," she said candidly, "you are doing just fine."

"Yeah, well that's kinda, just it...size," he stammered.

"What?" she said, looking further confused. "I just said you are fine."

"No, what I mean is," he paused, "I'm worried about it changing size."

She let out a bug laugh. "With me? Hello. Hi, I'm Kate, your boring best friend, have we met!? I'm pretty sure you are not attracted to me in that way."

Trying to not reveal his feelings of the past week, he said, "Well, yeah, you aren't attractive," and quickly realized how horrible that came across by the look on her face. He quickly added, "That's not what I meant. I meant I don't look at you that way." That wasn't much better, he thought. "It sometimes just has a mind of its own, and it's been several days since..." he stopped talking suddenly, realizing what he was about to say. He obviously was just making things worse the more he talked.

Kate had a wry smile on her face. He could tell by the way she was looking at him, that she knew exactly what he meant without him finishing the sentence and actually saying it out loud.

"Several days since what?" she said, with a big grin.

They had talked about a lot over the years, but masturbation was one topic they definitely had never spoken on. He wasn't about to get into that topic right then either, it was way too embarrassing.

"You were saying...several days?" she persisted, still smiling with what seemed like a twinkle in her eye.

"We are wasting water," he responded, as he blushed very bright red. "Water should be warm by now."

"Peter the Perv. Pervy Peter," she said, in sing-song fashion, searching for the right phrase. "No, I have it! Peter's Pervy Peter," she exclaimed, with a diabolical laugh.

"Very funny," he said, as dryly as possible. "I'd bet good money I'm not alone in that activity."

"Well, by definition, you kinda would be," she said, laughing even harder.

"Okay, okay. You've had your fun, can we just get this over with?" Peter badly wanted to change the subject.

"Sounds like you haven't had your fun, though, Mr. Peter Pervy," she said, emphasizing 'your fun' as she carefully began to lift his shirt.

"Pew! Worse than I thought!" she said jokingly, as she pinched her nose with one hand.

"Oh great, so now you'll probably call me Putrid Peter the Perv, or something like that, I imagine?" he joked about himself.

She paused, looking upward for a moment. "I was thinking more along the lines of Stinky Peter Beater," she stepped away and doubled over laughing, putting her hands on her knees. He just stared at her. She laughed for quite a while. Her shirt gaped open at the top, as she was bent over. Peter could see completely down her shirt. It was so erotic for him. The soft skin of her breasts parted and gave way to a laughing, heaving, toned stomach, which gave way to white panties, which gave way to fantastic smooth legs. He could see the darker skin and rise of her areolas, but the shirt still hid her nipples.