Bitches for Sisters, a short story by KiwiDreamer. Date added: 2012-08-02. Times viewed: 4448.
- Please SEND FEEDBACK - Writers love hearing from you. You can view the Authors profile here
- Intro: Cheated by his sisters, hit by a car and suffering two broken shoulders, a hip laceration and a bruised penis, life was not being kind to Silas.
Life had not been kind to Silas Hampstead: the 25-year-old with that terrible name was orphaned at twelve, hated by his two elder sisters, his tally of sexual experiences was three out of three interrupted insertions of which two interruptions were by hostile husbands and one by police for which the Judge sentenced him to 100 hours community work for carrying out the act on the town’s main street, his face was scarred and…
Oh, why go on; suffice to say he was rather unlucky.
Silas’s sisters lived in his parents’ house, which had been left to Silas but only the sisters had attend the reading of the will and they omitted to inform Silas about the bequest. He had been in jail at the time for attempting to rob a bank but fortunately the judge accepted Silas’s story he arrived to deposit a small check just as the bank shut its doors for the day and Silas kicked the door in frustration, forgetting he was wearing steel-capped boots. Silas was sentence for 10 days in a light security institution for wilful damage and for refusing to contribute toward the cost of replacing the cracked security glass invoiced at £3,797.
The solicitor’s letter of confirmation of the bequest arrived but by a stroke of bad luck fell from one of the sister’s hand into the open fire.
She said, “Oh dear”, and the sisters cackled.
The sisters graciously allowed their brother to live in the garden shed and charged him rent, taking half the amount he earned by stacking shelves at the supermarket five nights a week from 10 pm to 5 am.
The sisters had generously organized that job for him, figuring he’d sleep for most of the day so they’d not catch a sight of him.
If this were a fairly story, the Queen of the Fairies would arrive and clean up Silas’s act, banish the wicked sisters to the nearest brothel and turn Silas into a charming, handsome man who’d be widely lauded as Bachelor of the Year and pursued accordingly by suitable heiress virgins of the optimum age for marriage which some say is twenty-four.
Instead, one day Silas was walking to work and was run over by Mrs Wilma Forbes-Bacon who was pissed as a newt after being to her hairdresser’s baby’s first birthday. He suffered two dislocated shoulders, a deep laceration to his hip, a bruised scrotum and a punctured lung. He’d been walking home on the footpath which Mrs Forbes-Bacon had mistaken for the highway that she realized too late had become unusually narrow.
An ambulance was called and Mrs Forbes-Bacon arrived at the hospital after tailgating the ambulance and she went to the accident and emergency unit.
“How are you my poor man?” she asked, leaning over Silas and anaesthetizing him with her breath of umpteen vodka martinis and heavily garlicky finger food.
“Very well thank you, considering, but I’ll be late for work.”
“Don’t worry, young man,” she laughed hysterically. “You will never need to work again once your legal team target me.”
She then collapsed on to the floor.
Medical help arrived and Mrs Forbes-Bacon was driven home, pronounced to be suffering shock, and a hospital orderly followed driving her car.
This unbelievable sequence of events continued next day. Silas awoke in hospital unable to remember why he was there and had to be told why he couldn’t move his arms and why his hip and penis were sore.
The police team were annoyed by this memory blip and brought in Mrs Forbes-Bacon in handcuffs as she’d been arrested for driving dangerously but the evidence was thin because there were no other witnesses. She’d denied the charge, claiming it was an accident as she served to avoid a cyclist who’d appeared from nowhere in front of her.
Listening to this Silas’ memory returned. He recalled being smacked by the car and being flung right over it.
“Mr Hampstead,” said the police sergeant. “Can you identify this woman?”
“Miss Perkins, my old schoolteacher who took me for art?” Silas answered, winking at the detainee.
“The accident you were involved in last night, remember?” continued the sergeant. “This woman was there and she talked to you.”
“Oh yes, I remember now,” Silas said, watching Mrs Forbes-Bacon’s face fall. “She was the ambulance driver. I think they called her Miss Brown.”
“Thank you Mr Hampstead,” sighed the sergeant. “That is all sir, you can go.”
“He cannot go anywhere,” said the ward manager. “Mr Hampstead is in our care.”
“Of course,” said the sergeant, removing the handcuffs from Mrs Forbes-Bacon.
“It is pointless us pursuing this, ma’am. Without this young man’s evidence to the contrary, your version of what happened cannot be contested.”
“Thank you officer and please have one of your men drive me home. Goodbye Mr Hampstead.”
That evening Mrs Forbes-Brown’s 26-year-old daughter Angela arrived home on a fortnight’s leave. She was a senior trauma nurse working in a serious burns medical unit. Her mother told Angela about her stupid behaviour leading to a most unfortunate accident, but fortunately she’d only been driving at 10 mph because she knew she was drunk.
When told that the poor young man was down on his luck, Angela said, “He’ll need on-going care for at least six weeks mom. With both shoulders broken his arms will be in a double harness and he won’t be able to feed himself or wipe his bum. You caused his discomfort and as you said, he saved you from going to jail. Bring him home and nurse him here. I’ll teach you how to care for him.”
Angela swung into action and hired equipment and at the end of the third day of hospital care Silas was discharged into Mrs Forbes-Brown’s care. He was no longer on oxygen and the medical team concluded his small pneumothorax would heal naturally.
The ambulance crew placed Silas into the hired tilting bed and left. With her mom out presiding over the Floral Art Council, Angela picked up the copy of Silas’s medical notes and stood over him.
“Mr Hampstead, I need to change your dressing and inspect your bruising.”
“Go ahead nurse, but call me Silas.”
“You may call me Angela.”
“You’re cute Angela.”
“Why thank you, but could we tightened up a bit because in this role I need to work professionally and earn your respect and cooperation.”
“Of course Angela. How could it be any other way?”
She asked was he experiencing any problem breathing after his lung injury he said no, but the area still felt uncomfortable.
Exposing the hip wound and heavy surrounding bruising, Angela said, “Oh, this was a nasty laceration but it’s coming along fine. Mom really is an awful driver. But how was she able to hit you when crawling along at 10 miles an hour?”
“I saw her coming but couldn’t believe what I was seeing as one doesn’t normally see a car drive down the footpath. She saw me clearly and was blinking furiously. I thought she would stop, but she didn’t. She actually accelerated, possibly hitting the accelerator pedal instead of the brake. I took the initial impact on my hip but at that stage was leaping forward and upwards to avoid being flattened, and that momentum and the car accelerating from under me allowed me to land clear of the vehicle and on my hands instead of my head.”
“Oh my goodness. She could have killed you. Never mind you’re safe here. I’m going to inspect your penis now. I’ll put a towel over your eyes if you wish.”
“What, are you going to excite it?”
Angela giggled. “No silly boy I mean to cover your eyes to lessen your embarrassment.”
“No thank you. I want to study your reaction as you handle it.”
Angela said. “My, it’s not very big, is it? It’s difficult to assess the bruising in this flaccid mode.”
“You’ll have to stroke it up.”
“Very well, I’ll get gloves.”
“Do you wear gloves when playing with a dick when you go on a date?”
“Of course not, but this is different.”
“How is it different?”
“You are my patient.”
“Then your patient instructs you to treat him like any man you go with on a date.”
“If you wish. Does it have a name?”
Silas said no but she could give it one.
“I’d have to be aware of its personality to do that.”
“Well start now; how many days do you have here?”
“That should be enough time.”
Angela blushed and frowned, “Don’t be naughty Silas.”
She played with his dick, stroking it very gently and it rose to the occasion.
“Oh you poor darling, she cooed. “My mummy’s bruised you. I will rub on ointment to make you all better.”
“It likes you talking to it.”
“It needs a name.”
Silas licked his lips. “Could you speak to it like an adult and smother it with kisses?”
“Don’t be disgusting Silas.”
Silas suggested she call it Pussy Tickler and Angela reprimanded him for being naughty and he agreed to her suggestion to call his dick Rupert.
Obviously disliking his name, Rupert collapsed.
“Oh damn, now I’ll have to tease him up.”
Rupert sulked, remaining flaccid.
“Let met work a finger over your anus Angela and that will bring him up at a gallop.”
“Oh god,” Angela groaned. Being a nurse she was too highly trained to vomit at such a suggestion.
Without warning she bent over and began licking the bruised penis and Rupert rose and popped into her mouth.
Horrified, Angela spat him out and apologized to Silas.
“Why apologize, it felt okay to me and Rupert doesn’t feel nearly so sore. Suck him.”
“I really don’t…”
“Come on Angela, you’re a woman as well as a nurse and you know I can’t get a finger up your bum with my hands in these slings.”
“You promise not to tell mum or anyone else?”
Silas made that promise and lay back contentedly for the next thirteen minutes absolutely pain-free although his medication was due and then Angela spluttered and came off him swallowing and cum dripping off the sides of her mouth.
Quite unprofessionally, Nurse Angela Forbes-Brown said to her patient, “You bastard, you didn’t warn me you were about to ejaculate?”
“Sorry I didn’t feel it coming,” Silas lied.
Her look told him she didn’t believe him and Silas asked sympathetically how long had it been since she’d had sex.
“More than two months,” Angela sniffed and tipped two pain-relief tablets from the container for her patient.
“Christ you poor darling,” Silas said. “How can you remain at the peak of healthiness if you’re not having sex?”
Silas, who’d read that comment expressed by a health consultant on TV one evening when he’d been unable to find anything violent screening, noticed how shaken Angela looked. Meanwhile she was wondering how this jerk could possibly know so much about female health.
“You make a good point. Perhaps that justifies in a slight way what I just did to you.”
“Well pull off your panties and sit over my face and I’ll perform tongue only cunnilingus.”
Silas had seen that done, discreetly, in a war film to a marine with his arms blown off when a mine was exploded by the skinny guy walking in front of him.
Angela wondered how the jerk could know such an appropriate and big word like cunnilingus and forgot she hadn’t responded to the suggestion and Silas took that to mean she was thinking about whether to do it.
“There’s not rush, think about the offer,” he smiled.
No fucking way, not with that creep,” Angela thought as she pushed her trolley to the end of the room and went off to gargle and change her top that was wet with cum drips. She’d never met a guy with cum that tasted so… well almost acceptable. She reached for her pussy and found it swollen.
“Oh god,” she groaned, knowing she would be back for more. It was so unprofessional even though she’d not been assigned to Silas as a nurse. Still it was rather more pleasurable for her that wiping his bum and bed-bathing him.
And so Angela got what was coming to her. She performed fellatio on Silas three times a day and three days later he was so relaxed and out of pain that his request to be taken off his pain-relief medication was granted.
On most afternoons Mrs Forbes-Brown sat with Silas and chatted and when she felt she knew him well enough she began telling him about some of her hair-raising sexual adventures.
When Silas suggested if she still thought fondly about sex, shouldn’t she remarry?
“I have no need,” she said. “Men are rather piggish about the house. I have three widowers I call upon when I feel like a bit of a gallop around the course and that works out fine. A couple of times I called on all three on the same day but I’m afraid at that age I found that rather exhausting and my vagina was left feeling like a small bucket for some hours.”
Silas chuckled to relieve his embarrassment. A full laugh, as he knew, would have hurt because of his injuries.
When a visiting doctor as part of the hospital’s early release plan said on her third visit he could sit in a chair, beginning with two hours a day, Silas whispered to Angela, “You can now sit on my lap and fuck me.”
“Um it’s a little too early to even consider that.”
He said to at least think about it and she agreed. She was ever so pleased when he said it felt as if his dick had gained an extra half-inch since she’d began her daily sucks.
Later when Angela arrived to perform fellatio, Silas persuaded her to remove her top and bra.
“I need to see your tits. You’ve locked the door… go on. Show me what you’ve got. She had more than two good handfuls, not that it helped Silas with his hands in slings hanging from the harnesses on both shoulders.
Two days later the nude Angela straddled Silas and staring at him intently, she held his erection and lowered down on to it, steering it in.
“Ah that feels so good,” Silas sighed.
“It’s so fucking good,” groaned Angela, who’d decided a condom wasn’t necessary and she’d like him to fire into her depths.
She told Silas of her decision.
“Will I impregnate you?”
“No silly, I’m protected.”
She’d only got up to speed for three minutes when the sight of her bouncing tits was too much for Silas and he groaned in to an ejaculation.
She scowled but he panted to keep going until she got off because he probably had another shot in the barrel. In fact he had two, much to the delight of sweaty Angela who giggled as she cleaned up and said, “Well that was a rewarding day on the job.”
At Angela’s suggestion they dispensed with the stand-alone fellatios and she humped him twice a day instead.
And then, sadly, it was almost time for her to return to her job at her hospital.
A physiotherapist had arrived to assist Silas to begin walking again and she trained him to maintain good posture while walking with his arms in slings crossed over his chest. It would be six weeks from the time of the accident, and conditional on good x-ray results, before those harnesses would be removed.
Angela was now more than friendly to Silas… well they were acting like lovers. In that final bout of sex on her last day at home, Angela treated Silas to anal sex and they enjoyed that immensely.
“Gee you must bang me up there again when I’m home occasionally on a long weekend’s leave,” she said, kissing Silas.
“I find this difficult to believe,” he said slyly. “You weren’t this nice to me when you first took care of me but that’s not to say you weren’t okay.”
Angela ran from the room crying.
Next morning Silas phoned his solicitor to report his accident and to ask if he could claim any entitlements for being incapacitated.
They discussed the circumstances and Silas explained he had no wish to sue the driver who hospitalized him.
“Yes there will be support money available Silas, I’ll have one of my assistants to look into that for you. I still have some £8000 in trust that cannot be dispersed to your sisters and you until Probate is received. I shall write to you with details of your entitlements.”
“Um I’m not living at home; I’m living elsewhere.”
Mr Peters asked for that address and he inquired were Silas’s sisters still living with him.
As the result of that conversation, Silas found he owned the house and not his sisters.
He decided not to take legal action against his sisters. Instead he asked Mr Peters what a fair monthly rental for that house would be and was given a ‘ball park’ price range.
Silas took the top figure, added £50 and instructed Mr Peters to visit the tenants and tell them what they owed Silas in back rent and they would be required to pay Silas that monthly rental figure by direct credit from that day onwards, plus two month’s rental as a bond.
“If they won’t wear that proceed with an eviction notice, a demand for back-rental and advise them I am contemplating having them charged with false pretences and that I believe the media will have a field day over the cruel deceit of my sisters.”
“Bravo Silas,” Mr Peters said. “And of course you must claim your full legal costs against them in your moves to put this matter right.”
Mrs Forbes-Bacon, who’d made the call for Silas and held the phone to his ear, said what a terrible things for his sisters to have done to him.
“Ah you only know half the story,” he said grimly. “Those bitches have been real witches to me.”
After feeding Silas and giving him tepid tea to drink through a glass straw, Mrs Forbes-Bacon returned to his room nude.
He gasped, “Mrs Forbes-Bacon!”
“Keep calm darling. Angela left me a full schedule of things I have to go for you. It’s time for your morning sex. Oooh it’s not up but I know how to simulate you.”
“Oh Silas, since I’m to become this intimate with you, you must start calling me Wilma.”
She flicked the end of Silas’s flaccid dick with her tongue and he watched fascinated as she dribbled on the shaft and his bruised penis began stiffening.
“Oh good boy Rupert,” she said, rubbing Rupert fondly. “Angela said you weren’t too big to take up the back passage.”
- Use for below to send feedback to author - View the Authors profile here
- The following form will send feedback to the author about this short story, please enter your e-mail if you wish a reply (which is obviously at the authors own discretion)