Thelma and Me Summer of 65 part 2
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The Kick Part 2 - As A Sophomore free porn video
The Kick Part 2 - As a Sophomore
(Drew switches from Track and Cross Country to Soccer, is injured during
a match, and begins to live with the consequences of his injury.)
For my sophomore year I wanted to try a different sport. Like, Track and
Cross Country were fun but, for Cross Country especially, they were more
individual sports than team sports and I missed being part of a team
where everyone depended upon everyone else if the team was to succeed.
Jeff was on the soccer team and he kept bragging to me about what a
great sport it was, so anyway, in the fall of my sophomore year I tried
out for the Soccer team. I was a little nervous because, unlike some of
the other boys, I hadn't gained much weight or height during my Freshman
year and quite a few of the other boys trying out for the team were
bigger and heavier than I was, but I was still fast - in fact, faster
than most of the other boys - and I guess that's what got me on the
team. Because of my speed, the coach usually had me play the Defender
position because I was able to maneuver so rapidly to prevent the
players on the other team from getting set up for a score. I did take my
share of bumps and bruises, but that's part of the game.
So anyway, we were playing West Side High one day and they were reputed
to be a pretty tough team - and one that wasn't shy about physical
contact. But the coach told us that we just had to "give as well as we
got" so we weren't being shy about "mixing it up" with West Side. So one
of their Forwards was getting ready for a shot at our goal and I moved
in to block him. I don't know whether it was an accident or whether he
did it on purpose but he kicked me - square in the crotch - and as hard
as he could. All I remember is seeing the cleats on the bottom of his
shoe heading for my crotch and then a tremendous burst of pain and then
everything faded out as I passed out.
I think it was the siren on the ambulance that brought me back to
consciousness. And then the pain washed over me again and I screamed in
agony. One of the EMTs injected something into my IV and then several
seconds later the pain went away and I fell asleep.
They told me that I was kept sedated for several days at the hospital as
the doctors assessed my injuries, did some minor surgery to close a
couple of small wounds, and began treatment to reduce the swelling in my
crotch. I remember drifting in and out of consciousness before I finally
woke up enough to recognize Mom sitting by my bed. I was still pretty
groggy from the painkillers they were giving me - it was kind of strange
- I really hurt "down there" but it was like I didn't care that it hurt.
I noticed that there was a sort of "tent thing" over the middle of my
body that supported the sheet and blanket. And there were a couple of
tubes coming out from under the tent and emptying into plastic bags on
the side of the bed. I moved around a little and felt something tugging
on my crotch. "Don't move around too much", the nurse said, "You don't
want to put too much stress on the drainage tube or the catheter." Then
she did something to my IV and I drifted off to sleep.
Guess it was several days after that when I had a conference with a
doctor, the urologist, who was overseeing my case. He started out by
telling me that he was surprised by the amount of damage that a single
kick had caused. (I was too ashamed to admit to him that I didn't like
the feeling of the protective cup we were supposed to wear in our
jockstraps and hadn't put one on that morning.) The good news was that
while it was too early to tell, although my penis and testicles had
sustained some damage it was likely that they would heal normally - but
that I was going to have to deal with a considerable amount of swelling
in the near term. "Considerable? What does that mean", I asked him.
"You haven't looked at the damaged area yet", he asked as he drew back
the covers over the "tent thing" that covered my crotch. I raised my
head and looked at my crotch and wasn't sure what I was seeing. The
whole area was black and blue - more black than blue - and to say that
there was considerable swelling was an understatement. My whole crotch
was covered by this huge pulpy swelling that looked like a large,
misshapen water balloon. Coming out of the upper part of the swollen
area was a tube that was draining yellow liquid into one of the plastic
bags. "My dick. Where's my dick", I asked.
He chuckled and said, "Don't worry Drew. It's still there. It's just
that the swollen area has covered it up. But when the swelling goes down
your 'friend' will still be there."
"So, when will the swelling go down?"
"It's going to take at least several weeks", he answered, "Possibly
longer. But we'll get the drainage tube out this afternoon and then fit
you with a small sack that straps to your leg for the catheter to drain
into so that you can get out of bed and walk around."
So by mid-morning the next day I got out of the hospital bed and took my
first steps. Other than the large swollen area which made walking a
little difficult - if I didn't take very tiny steps the pain in my groin
was really bad - I was able to walk pretty well and it felt really good
not to just have to lie flat on my back in the bed so I was enjoying my
walk - at least at first. The nurse was okay but Mom laughed a little as
I was slowly walking down the hallway. "Thanks a lot", I said to her,
"You'd walk like an old man if you got kicked where I got kicked."
"It's not the way you're walking", she responded, "It's the way the back
of your hospital gown is open and I can see your cute little ass." Man,
if she was trying to cheer me up that didn't do it and I hobbled back to
my room as fast as I could and pulled on a robe that at least covered me
up a little more.
Several days later when I was getting ready to be discharged from the
hospital, the nurse removed the catheter and I immediately wet the bed.
I'm like, embarrassed and blushing but she explained that after relying
on a catheter for over a week that my bladder had gotten "lazy" and it
would be several days before I could control myself. "In the meantime
.....", I started to ask. "Diapers", she responded - handing me a
package of Depend Fitted Briefs to take home with me.
As she was driving me home from the hospital, Mom broke the news to me
that Dad had moved out of the house - and into an apartment with his
much younger "girlfriend." As she explained to me, she and Dad had been
drifting apart for years and she wasn't all that upset by his move.
Plus, now she could "sue his ass for a divorce" - parents!
While I was in the hospital and then after I'd returned home a few of my
friends from school would drop by to see me - most of them were members
of my soccer team. The one person I could count on showing up every day
after school was - you guessed it - Jeff. He really cheered me up with
his goofy sense of humor and brought me my assignments from school and
reviewed what had been covered that day in any classes that we shared.
So even though I wouldn't be able to go back to school for at least a
couple more weeks I was able to keep up with my studies.
The first couple of days that I was home I was pretty tired - just lay
around and watched TV most of the time - and kept wetting myself. But by
the third day I had regained some control and by the end of the week had
almost normal control over my bladder - pulling on a Depends only at
nighttime. The thing that bothered me the most was that I still couldn't
see my dick. The swelling had gone down a little but I was still peeing
out of this small hole near the top of the swollen area. And since I
couldn't really control the direction of the stream, taking a leak while
I was standing up was out of the question - I had to squat down on the
toilet to pee. I did kind of feel around in the swollen area and I
thought that I could kind of feel my dick in there it was just still
covered up by this big swelling. While the swollen area had shrunk down
to about the size of a grapefruit, it was weird to see this big sack-
like thing hanging between my legs. And when I walked it kind of swung
back and forth and rubbed against the inside of my thighs.
I guessed that Mom sensed that I was kind of depressed about what had
happened to my body - like, what guy wants to have to squat down to pee
- because one evening when I was getting ready for bed I found two new
sets of sleepwear in the drawer where I kept my pajamas. The bottoms
were just these really short shorts, that just came down to a little
below the bottom of my crotch. And the tops had straps over the shoulder
to hold them up, and low cut necks that were trimmed with lace. The
tops were short enough that you could see the bottom part of the short
shorts below them. One set was white and one was - get this - PINK! I
looked at the labels and found they were marked "Boyshort Nightie" from
Victoria's Secret. Oh wow, Mom had gotten me some girl's sleepwear? As I
was looking at them I found a small note tucked into the pick set, "I
thought something pretty to wear might cheer you up - Mom." I wasn't
sure that I wanted to wear them, but it was kind of warm in my room that
night and a nightie might be more comfortable than the old heavy cotton
pajamas that I had been wearing, so I put on the white nightie and found
that it fit me pretty well and I liked the feeling of the soft fabric
against my body. After that first night I gave up on my old pajamas and
wore a nightie almost every night.
About a month after I came home from the hospital I started getting
magazines in the mail - I mean that part was okay - any time I get free
stuff that's fine with me. What wasn't okay was that they were all
addressed to "Miss Drew Andrews" and they weren't, like, guy's
magazines, but magazines like "Teen Vogue", and "Seventeen", and "Girl's
Life", and "Cosmo Girl" - you get the idea. "Mom, what's with all these
girl's magazines", I asked.
"Oh, the school was raising funds by selling magazine subscriptions and
I wanted to help them out so I told them to sign you up for five or six
magazines. I didn't know what you liked so I gave the Principal's
Secretary your name and address and told her to pick out something that
she thought you would like. If you don't like her choices then you don't
have to read them", she answered. Oh man, that explained it, Miss
Williams must be, like, 70 years old and she's half deaf and didn't know
me from a hole in the wall. When Mom gave her the name 'Drew Andrews'
she must have assumed that I was a girl. I glanced at a couple of the
magazines when they first started coming and then just tossed them in my
closet - unread - after that.
One Saturday I had slept in, forgetting that Jeff was coming over around
8:00am that day to work with me on my schoolwork a little before his
family left later that morning on a short vacation. When Mom stuck her
head in my room shortly after 8:00am to tell me that Jeff was waiting
downstairs I was still half asleep as I got out of bed and came down the
stairs to the kitchen. Jeff's eyes widened a little as he saw me walk
into the kitchen and all of a sudden I realized that I was dressed only
in my pink nightie. Man was I embarrassed to have Jeff see me dressed
like that, but the damage was done so I just pretended like nothing was
different than usual as Jeff and I sat next to each other at the kitchen
table and went over my schoolwork. In a way it was kind of funny because
I could tell that Jeff was sneaking looks at me in my nightie and he was
squirming around in his chair a little and from the bulge in his jeans I
guessed that he had an erection.
After a couple more weeks recuperating at home I went back to school.
And except for the first day or so when my friends kept coming up to me
to ask how I was feeling and whether I'd be back on the Soccer Team
soon, everything rapidly returned to normal - except that I didn't want
to play soccer anymore - and, of course, I had to use the stalls in the
Boy's Rooms instead of the urinals.
By the beginning of summer, the swelling had continued to shrink - still
no dick, though - and instead of a sack that hung down between my legs
it had turned into this soft rounded mound in my crotch where my dick
and balls had been before the accident. With my new shape "down there"
my panties were more comfortable and a better fit than my Jockey briefs
so I now wore panties all the time. And when I put on a nightie before
going to bed, you could see my soft rounded mound through the thin
fabric of the bottom.
In early July I was beginning to feel a lot better, and I figured that I
should probably start getting some more exercise to get back in shape.
Initially, the easiest thing was to just jump on the exercise bike Mom
kept down in the basement and pedal away, adjusting the resistance to
higher and higher levels as my strength improved. After the first couple
of times I'd ridden the bike, I'd gotten the resistance cranked up to
where I was getting a decent workout and was sweating a lot. So the next
time I rode the bike, instead of my exercise sweats I just pulled on a
pair of shorts and began riding. After a couple of minutes I noticed
that it was beginning to feel kind of good - not good like when you've
been working out really hard for a half hour - but good like "getting
turned on good." I looked down and realized that with the tight shorts I
was wearing, the bulge in the fabric that lay over the swelling in my
crotch was rubbing up and down against the horn of the bicycle seat as I
was pedaling along. I leaned forward a little so as to rub against the
horn of the seat even harder and, wow, that was beginning to feel way,
way better - almost like back when I had been able to hold my dick in my
hand and jerk off. After several more minutes of this I was gasping with
the pleasurable sensations and rubbing my crotch against the seat as
hard as I could and then all of a sudden I came - and not like when I
had masturbated before and came and squirted my cum and it was all over
within a couple of seconds - but this just kept coming and coming and
coming and finally when the sensations subsided in what must have been
almost a minute, I just sat there on the bike, totally spent, and
noticed how the fabric of my shorts over the swelling was sopping wet.
One thing about riding the exercise bike in the basement was that it got
pretty boring - pretty fast - well, except when I masturbated by rubbing
myself against the seat. After a couple of weeks of staring at the piles
of books and other crap that had accumulated in the basement I was,
like, desperate for anything to occupy the time while I was riding the
bike. I finally got so desperate that I started bringing some of those
girl's magazines in my closet down to the basement and reading them as I
pedaled along. The funny thing was that some of the articles, like how
to fix your hair, and what to do for a painful period, or what to do
when your boyfriend dumps you, obviously didn't interest me. But some of
the other features on how to be friends, and the new fashions, and some
of the fitness articles and quizzes were pretty interesting. It even got
to the point where I actually was glad that Miss Williams had screwed up
the order, and most nights when I got in bed I'd grab one of the
magazines and read it for a half hour or so before turning off the light
and going to sleep.
By midsummer, my nighties were getting a little worn out since I only
had two pairs and was wearing them every night. I guess Mom noticed that
when she was laundering them as she bought me four more nighties - but
lacy baby doll styles this time - and several pairs of bikini panties to
wear with them. Man, they were so comfortable - and I liked the way I
looked in them - I could never go back to wearing those old cotton
pajamas that I had worn for so many years! The only thing about my new
nighties that bothered me was that they had built-in "support" - which I
found out meant that the top had something similar to a bra built into
it. And the "bra thing" made the top of my nightie look all loose and
floppy - which was not the way it was supposed to look. Mom solved that
problem by sewing some fluffy cotton material into the cups of the "bra
thing." Well, that make the nightie look like it was supposed to - but
it also made it look like I had a pair of breasts. That really freaked
me out, walking around the house in a nightie that made me look like I
had breasts, which I obviously didn't, but after a week or so I got used
to it and eventually accepted my "new look" up there.
It was so funny the first time that Jeff saw me wearing one of the
padded baby doll nighties. His parents were going out of town over the
weekend and I'd invited him to stay at our house Friday and Saturday
nights. Jeff slept in the guest room and me in my bedroom so he didn't
see me in my nightie on Friday evening. But when we came down for
breakfast on Saturday morning we both found out something when we looked
at each other. I found out that Jeff slept just in his Jockey briefs.
And Jeff found out that I slept in my baby doll nightie and he was like,
"Drew, you've got breasts?" And just about that time I noticed that Jeff
had this big erection tenting out the front of his Jockey briefs. And
I'm trying to convince him that I really did not have breasts, and he
didn't believe me, so I had to take off the baby doll top and let him
feel my chest to convince him, and Mom is over by the stove, scrambling
eggs and watching us and laughing, and the crotch of my panties was
getting all wet, and - well, you kind of get the idea.
Late that summer, Mom had picked up free tickets to a baseball game so
the two of us went to an evening game. Yeah, I know that the local team
is in an AAA league so it's not all that great. Yeah, and the free seats
are way up high in the stadium where the view isn't all that great. But
on the plus side there was a fireworks show after the game so we were
all looking forward to the game and fireworks. Mom didn't cook supper
that night and we got to the stadium a little early and started chowing
down on tacos, and hot dogs and sodas - at least I did - Mom was having
a beer instead of soda. I tried to talk her into sneaking a beer for me
but she refused - which I expected. So anyway, when the 7-th inning
stretch rolled around my bladder was giving me signals that it needed to
be emptied, I told Mom I was going to the Men's Room and headed off to
the nearest one. Man, was there a line stretching out the door! There
must have been at least 35 guys ahead of me - and those were the ones
that I could see outside the Men's Room. But the line was moving, if
slowly, and there wasn't much else I could do so I slowly inched along
as I kept trying to think about anything but how full my bladder was
feeling. It seemed like hours but it was probably only about fifteen
minutes or so when I got inside the Men's Room and I saw that there were
only about 10 guys ahead of us now - which was good because I now had to
pee really, really bad and kind of had my legs clamped together to help
control myself. Finally a urinal opened up and the guy behind me
motioned to me to take it. "Sorry", I said, "I've got to use a stall."
Guess he hadn't thought about that as he just shrugged and took the
empty urinal as I stood and waited for a stall to open up. Well, the
other reason that I wanted to use a stall instead of a urinal was that I
had put on a pair of my pink girl's panties that day and I certainly
didn't want to reveal those to anyone! There were only two stalls and it
seemed like the guys that were using them were taking forever, and even
though I was holding myself as tight as I could, I felt a little
dampness in my panties and realized that I was leaking a little. Finally
a guy came out of one of the stalls and I ran into it, trying to let as
little as possible additional pee flow out into my panties. As I closed
the stall door I turned to the toilet and realized that the previous guy
had left the seat down and pissed all over it. So I'm standing there,
and more and more pee is beginning to leak out into my panties and I'm
madly grabbing handfuls of toilet paper to dry off the seat and just as
I got the seat dried off, disaster struck. I totally lost control of
myself and a strong stream of pee began to flow out into my panties and
jeans. I dropped my jeans and soaked panties as fast as I could,
squatted down on the seat, and let the rest of the pee squirt down into
the bowl - oh man, did that feel good. Of course, my problem now was
that my panties were soaked and my jeans were all wet in the crotch and
seat. I figured my panties were a goner anyway so I pulled them off and
tossed them in the toilet (a surprise for the next occupant), pulled my
wet jeans back on and walked out of the stall trying to pretend that I
hadn't just pissed my pants - even though there was a large wet stain in
the crotch and seat. As I got back to my seat Mom looked at me, and then
at my wet pants and started to say something but I just whispered,
"Don't even think about saying anything." At least the night was a warm
one so my wet jeans didn't get too cold and even mostly dried out by the
time the fireworks were over.
(to be continued)
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