There was pain, and then there was pain like breaking both your wrists.
Oliver blacked out somewhere between rolling onto his back on the basketball court pavement and being carried to the nurse's office.
Later he woke up in hospital with sharp pains jumping up and down both arms like he'd submerged his hands in electric eel tanks. The bright hospital lights mixed with a dizzying concoction of adrenaline and morphine and he blacked out again.
He woke up in a recovery room, both hands suspended in front of him, wrapped in casts that reached from his knuckles to his elbows. He tried to wiggle a finger and regretted it.
His parents took him home later that morning and the next two days were occupied with naps and light snacks, lots of water, and one very awkward visit to the bathroom where his mom had to help him get his pants back up.
By Thursday Olly felt pretty normal, other than a few aches and pains when the meds wore off, and he was almost getting bored enough to want to go back to school. But the doctor's orders were to take at least two weeks off and then deal with school work remotely - no carrying heavy backpacks or going to gym class for at least two months.
Olly's room was the basement suite his parents had originally built to rent out, but when the market turned around on his dad's business they didn't need the extra income and it became an eighteenth birthday gift for their only son. He'd spent the last two years making it his own: installing soundproof padding, a surround sound system centred on his bed, a network of back lights and LED strips all connected to an app. With just his phone, Olly could shift the whole mood of his space from respectable middle-class teen's bedroom to a movie theatre to a rock concert to a rave party porn theatre.
He'd even hooked up a cheap sensor at the door of the stairs so the whole thing could go quiet if he wanted a warning.
Now, stuck at home with both hands out of commission, Olly was never more thankful for his automations. Siri became his butler, turning on and off the lights and TV, playing movies and music, and even ordering dinner when his parents had to work late and told him he could.
It was pretty much the best situation possible, given the circumstances, and he would have been fine with it if he didn't have a constant, throbbing, erection.
Olly tapped at the bulge in his sweatpants with the hard shell of his right cast. Since his hands were little more than hooks that could pull things up or down, he'd taken to wearing just sweatpants; no underwear, no socks, no shirts. He stared down over his smooth bare stomach at the bulge and it twitched, taunting him.
He wasn't the champion fuckboy that some of his friends seemed to be, but Olly had fooled around a bit in a bathroom during a drunken house part with one girl, and another time at another party in a closet playing seven minutes in heaven with a different girl. Neither had wanted to make it a reoccurring thing. Technically there was that camping trip in boy scouts when he and his friend Chris had jerked each other off in their sleeping bags, but something about it had made him nervous and he'd refused Chris's offers for a repeat.
So the only recurring relationship Olly had was with his right hand.
He pressed the cast up against the throbbing bulge again and was met with minor shooting pains in his wrist.
Fuck, if it was this bad after a couple of days, what was going to happen in a month?
The idea of having wet dreams again when his mom had taken over changing his bedsheets was a nightmare.
Olly rolled over on his side to face his phone, which rested on a stand next to his pillow so he could use it without holding it. He pecked at it with one finger to distract himself with some doom scrolling, but the first thing in his browser was frequently visited PornHub links.
"Fuck!" he shouted as he returned to staring at the ceiling.
"You ok, man?" came Chris's voice from the stairs.
Olly started at the voice, but relaxed as Chris stuck his head through the curtain at the bottom of the stairs.
"Intruder alert," said Olly.
Chris grinned and stepped into the room. He was a basketball player like Olly, but unlike Olly he was good and actually made the school's team. Practice must have just finished as Chris was wearing the team's black and teal tank top and silky shorts. He had a backpack over one shoulder and looked a bit sweaty, but his short blonde hair looking fresh.
Out of habit, Chris stuck out a hand to slap wrists. Olly just raised an eyebrow and held up his imprisoned arms.
"Sorry man, that sucks. But hey, I've got something to make you feel better!" Chris dropped his bag beside Olly's bed and rummaged through it.
"Is it a time machine?"
Chris glanced up with a smirk. The loose tank top revealed his bare chest and just the sight of skin made Olly's bulge throb again. He tried to casually hide behind his casts as he sat up against the headboard.
"Ta da!" Chris said as he tossed something through the air.
Olly tried to catch it but the soft rubbery tube bounced off the cast and fell in his lap. He stared down at the translucent white plastic and tried to make sense of it.
"What is it?"
"It's a pocket pussy, dude."
Olly looked again and recognized the pussy shape on one end revealing textured bumps inside.
"And I got this too," Chris pulled out a soda can-sized pump dispenser of lube and crawled up on the bed beside Olly to reach across and place it on the bedside table. The close proximity and smell of teen sweat caused another throb.
Chris sat back beside Olly, their bare shoulders bumping. He plucked the toy up from Olly's crotch and held it in front of them.
"Looks like I'm not a moment too soon," he said pointing at the obvious bulge.
Olly scoffed and pulled his knees up to hide his hardon.
"Remember when I broke my right arm in middle school? I learned the hard way that I was not ambidextrous and went crazy humping pillows and shit. First thing I thought of when I heard what happened to you."
"You heard I broke my wrists and the first thing you thought of was humping pillows?" Chris elbowed him in the side and he protested, "Hey there, gentle! I'm an invalid."
"Yeah you're an invalid alright. You're probably getting your mommy to wipe your ass." Chris laughed but Olly went red.
"Oh shit, sorry, I didn't think."
"It was just one time. What else could I do? I've got a water squirter thing now."
"Oh shit! You've got an ass shower? Can I try it?"
"What?"
"I've never tried one, always been curious. Is it like when you're in a hot tub and the jet shoots up your ass a bit?"
"Is that what you do in a hot tub?"
Chris blushed a little as he smirked and joked, "Well, if I have a bit of privacy."
"I mean, sure, knock yourself out man." Olly gestured to the bathroom door in the corner.
Chris giggled and opened the door, flipping on the light revealing the counter and sink on the right with the toilet half-hidden behind it. The left side of the room was a large shower and shelf unit with towels. Olly watched with half-concealed curiosity as Chris approached the toilet, the door wide open behind him. He leaned over the toilet to examine the contraption that Olly's dad had installed on the rim under the seat.
"So it's just this? How does it work?" Chris asked as he poked the button on the side. A moment later water smacked him in the face and Olly howled with laughter, then banged his hand down on the bed and winced.
"I figured it out," Chris said as he dried his face with Olly's bath towel. "Well, when in Rome."
Olly tried to keep his eyes in his head as his friend spun around, pulling down his shorts and jock as he did it, flashing Olly his smooth, firm ass. He settled on the toilet seat, shorts around his knees, mostly hidden behind the countertop. He looked on the side and pressed the button again. Immediately Chris's back straightened and his eyebrows went up. He looked over to meet Olly's eyes and said, "Well, that is quite the refreshing experience."
His wrists still aching from banging them on the mattress, Olly chuckled and sunk lower on the bed. He tried to lift up the pocket pussy to think about it instead of Chris's wet ass.
The water spray sound ended and Chris used a wad of toilet paper to dry himself, holding his shorts in front of his crotch with one hand. He flushed the paper and pulled the back of his shorts up as he exited the bathroom and stood at Olly's feet.
"Such treasures you've been given, truly you are the king of the broken arm people."
"Broken wrist people," Olly replied as the pocket pussy slipped out of his fingers. He still wasn't used to being unable to pinch things with his thumb and pointer finger.
"Uh oh, maybe that isn't going to work," Chris said.
"Yeah, I don't know. It's fine though, thanks for the thought. Maybe I'll be able to prop it between some pillows or something."
"I could help if you want," said Chris casually.
Their eyes met and then Olly looked down at the pocket pussy.
"I mean, it's no big deal man," Chris continued, "Just offering."
Olly could feel his cheeks heating up, his heart started racing. It was the same feeling he'd had the morning after the sleeping bag incident, when they'd woken up in their shared tent, still sticky, and Chris had reached across under their blanket and grabbed Olly's morning wood. Olly's heart had pounded, his skin got hot, and he had inelegantly knocked Chris's hand aside and mumbled something about not feeling right about it.
Now in his warm basement, his heart pounded, his skin got hot, and his cock hit its hardon limit. He'd chickened out when he was younger because of what he thought he should be feeling, what he thought was wrong. But that was just stupid society shit. Alone, in his own private space, with his best friend...
The silence had dragged out long enough that Chris zipped up his backpack and started to leave, "Anyway man, no biggie, just let me know if you need anything-"
"Wait!"
Chris turned back from the stair curtain.
"Could you," Olly started, "I mean, I think... yeah."
"Yeah?"
"If you don't mind."
"Fuck, man, I offered, didn't I?"
"Yeah, it's just... I was scared. Before I mean. You know."
"The time at camp?"
"Yeah."
"I know, I didn't want to push you to do anything you didn't want to."
"I wanted to."
"Yeah?"
Olly nodded, swallowed against the dryness of his mouth. He glanced down and pincered the pocket pussy between his club hands and held it up to his friend with a nervous, hopeful look.
Chris smirked and approached the bed, dropped his bag aside, and took the silicone toy from his vulnerable, half-naked friend.
"So you want to keep your eyes shut and keep things professional, or are you up for a little more... multiplayer?" Chris asked.
Olly bit his lip unconsciously and glanced down at Chris's shorts.
"Multiplayer could be good. Would be a little less embarrassing that way."
"I guess you're already topless," said Chris and he reached behind himself to pull his jersey over his head. He tossed it aside by his bag and crawled up on the bed on his knees. His slim waist and flat abs curved and flexed as he settled in a kneeling position next to Olly's thigh, the lightly tanned skin of his bare shoulders contrasting against the dark television behind him.
Down by Chris's hip, peaking over the black waistband of his shorts, Olly could see his dolphin tattoo. It looked like it was diving into the dark water of his shorts, and Olly felt drawn towards it. He reached out, hooked one finger over the band, and tugged the elastic down an inch to reveal the dolphin's tale. Chris's skin was warm and Olly found himself tugging a bit more until he had revealed his friend's trimmed pubes.
He looked up and met Chris's eyes. They both smiled nervously and then Chris reached out and put his hand on Olly's cock.
--
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