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Subject: {ASSM} Fonda and Cat [18,19/23] {John A and Virago Blue} MF,MFF,FF, Rom, anal
Date: Mon,  9 Oct 2000 04:10:04 -0400
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This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real 
persons is unintentional and strictly coincidental.  If you are below 
the age of 18, or 21 depending on your locality, stop reading right 
now. If your government prohibits erotic literature, stop reading 
now and delete this. If you choose to continue, that is your decision 
-- and your responsibility -- not mine.

This is intended solely for adults, and any other rebroadcast, 
retransmission, and account of this game is strictly prohibited by the 
National Hockey League. Wait -- The NHL doesn't care -- we care. Any 
unauthorized redistribution of this is in violation of copyright. We 
authorize the reader to make one copy for reading purposes only. We
expressly prohibit posting of this work on anyone's website, including 
but not limited to pay-sites, sites with advertising, and any type of 
site where a fee is charged. Any distribution without the authors' 
permission is strictly prohibited.

DO NOT REPOST

"Fonda and Cat" 
Copyright (C) 2000 by John3365A@aol.com (John A) 
and VBwrites@aol.com (Virago Blue)
All rights reserved.
---------------------------


Fonda and Cat
by John A and Virago Blue



Chapter 18


"Yes, the news is good, Trina." Trina hopped on both feet,
chewing her fingernails at Stavros' news coming from the cell
phone. She had a difficult time hearing over the din of
excitement bustling outside the dressing room and pressed the
phone tightly to her ear.

"He's awake?" she shrieked and a couple of the dancers nearby
cast sideways glances at her. Trina instinctively dropped her
head and lowered her shoulders, as if that could somehow take
back the sound of her squeal. She couldn't even begin to restrain
her excitement, not that she wanted to. After five days with no
change in Fonda's condition, any new news was welcome, and this
news was the best of all possible worlds.

"Yes, he is out of the coma and beginning to speak to us,"
Stavros replied in a stilted tone.

Trina jumped at the knock on the door. She glanced in the mirror
and touched the tip of her little finger to the fake eyelash --
part of her stage makeup -- before excitedly continuing. "Okay,
that is so great! I need to get going in five minutes for curtain
call, Stav. Can I talk to him real quick?"

"Uh . . . I'm sorry, Trina. Maybe another time. He . . . uh . . .
he looks to be asleep again."

"Oh," Trina said dejectedly, "I'll just call back after the show.
Maybe he'll be awake again then."

"That sounds good, Trina. Dad says to break an arm . . . I
think he means leg. Good luck."

Trina disconnected the call, tucking the phone into her backpack.
She wasn't going to be disappointed. How could she? Fonda was out
of the coma. Besides, she wouldn't have had enough time to talk
to him anyway. She hurried out the dressing room door, bursting
with joy, to take her place with the other dancers. Only sixteen
more days and she'd be back home.

Stavros hung up the phone and turned to his brother. "She is
eager to speak with you. How long are you going to put her off?"

Fonda peered up at his younger brother, only shaking his head. 

"She'll understand," Stavros continued. "Trina is a bright and
sweet woman."

"No," Fonda uttered hoarsely -- it was obvious to everyone that
even that small utterance was painful for him. He fumbled with
his speech, trying to say more but gave up, punching the mattress
in frustration.

Stavros calmed his brother with a hand to his arm. "It's all
right. I'll help you. We will wait and see. Maybe by next week
things will have changed. I'll make excuses until then."

Fonda nodded and smiled weakly, squeezing the hand Stavros had on
his elbow. 

The curtain had been raised and lowered three times after the
ballet performance. The assemblage seemed especially pleased with
the presentation of Bizet's Symphony No. 1 in C major. The
dancers milled around backstage, awash in the afterglow of their
skillful execution, sharing in the camaraderie of their success.

"Trina, darling, wonderful performance tonight. You shined like
the star you are destined to become, my dear." Trina glowed under
Madame Renault's compliment, words she rarely gave out to anyone. 

"Thank you, Madame," Trina gushed before hurrying off to the
dressing room, still reeling from the glare of the footlights and
the applause of the audience. Trina smiled at herself in the
mirror, mentally pinching herself to see if this was something
she was simply imagining. Her thumb dialed the number to Fonda's
room into the cell phone, the other hand peeling off the heavy
eyelashes.

"Hello? Stavros?"

"Yes?" Stavros sleepily asked. "Ah Trina. I'm sorry I must have
dozed off. What time is it?"

"It's about eleven or so, is Fonda awake?"

Stavros yawned. "It's late, Trina. Fonda's exhausted and has been
sleeping soundly."

"You're sure he didn't go back into the coma?" Trina asked
quietly.

Stavros laughed. "No, Trina. He'll be fine. He's just sleeping
right now. He said to tell you that he wishes you well on stage
and can't wait to see you."

"Thanks. So when will I get to talk to him?"

"As I understand it, he will be needing a lot of extra rest as
his body continues to heal. Nothing to worry about."

"Oh. Okay," Trina sighed and her shoulders drooped. "Well, if he
wakes up, he can call me any time, if he wants to."

"I'll be sure to tell him. Goodnight, Trina."

"Goodnight."

Trina looked up as Mindy came in to their shared dressing room,
peeling her costume from her athletic body. Dancers weren't
modest and they rarely had the chance to hide their bodies when
it came to performances. Many times Trina had to change costumes
backstage, sometimes among the lighting engineers and other
employees of the theater. Seeing Mindy walk into the room half
naked didn't affect her much -- other than to notice her blonde
bush covering her pussy. Mindy smiled and Trina caught herself
staring and turned her head away.

"Hey! Great show tonight, huh?" Mindy said, rubbing a towel over
her damp chest and neck.

"Yeah, it felt good tonight. Heather even managed to meet her
mark on time tonight." Both women giggled. Trina stripped her
pale leotard off, followed by matching tights. Neither woman wore
underwear under their costumes, it was not allowed during
performances. They continued to make small talk as Trina waited
for the shower to warm. 

"So? Did you hear anything on your boyfriend?" Mindy asked,
falling back into a chair. Trina peeked but quickly looked away
from Mindy and her open legs. 

"Um, yeah. Good news," Trina replied loudly as she stepped under
the steaming shower. "He's out of the coma and starts physical
therapy tomorrow. I'm so excited." Trina squeezed her eyes
closed, rubbing soap into her skin. Stage makeup was difficult to
remove, she rationalized, and she didn't want to turn around and
see Mindy watching her with that look in her eyes.

"That is so great. I'm happy for you." 

Trina started, rinsing the soap from her eyes. Mindy's voice came
from behind her instead of a distance. 

"I hope you don't mind. I'm so sweaty and this shower looked too
good to wait," Mindy said, smiling broadly, her straight, white
teeth sparkling. She took the soap from Trina's hand. "Here, let
me help you," Mindy laughed, "You still have gobs of mascara
under your eyes." 

Trina stood still and looked up as Mindy carefully dabbed at the
makeup under her eyes. Mindy stepped a little closer, looming
only slightly taller than Trina. Their breasts, wet and soapy,
touched. Trina jumped at the contact, looking down at Mindy's
chest. Mindy's nipples had contracted to erect points, either
from the water or the contact with Trina, she wasn't sure. Mindy
continued to soap her skin, watching Trina, an uncertain smile
barely gracing her lips. She reached out, rubbing lather into
Trina's neck, down her chest, until her hands skimmed beneath
Trina's breasts, pushing them together slightly.

Mindy held her breath as she looked into Trina's eyes for some
signal -- anything that would give her the green light to
proceed. She was incredibly attracted to Trina, but nervous at
what she was starting. Their friendship was budding on the tour
and she would have hated to jeopardize that, but she was just so
drawn to Trina that she couldn't help herself. She looked
intently into Trina's eyes, not moving her hands from where they
were on Trina's breasts.

A small sigh escaped Trina's lips. Mindy decided to take a
chance.

"You have beautiful tits," Mindy murmured, rubbing her thumb over
one hard nipple. 

The reaction was instantaneous. Trina closed her eyes and moaned
at Mindy's touch. Mindy lowered her head to Trina's breast,
sucking in a nipple while pinching her other one. Trina leaned
back against the shower wall.

Margie had been the only woman Trina had ever been with up to
this point and Trina marveled at the differences in their body
types. Where Margie was smaller and curvier, Mindy's body type
was much like her own, tall and lean with small, perky breasts.

Mindy glanced up at Trina to gauge her reaction. All she saw was
the half-lidded look of lust in her eyes, and traced her tongue
up Trina's chest, licking her neck.

"Mmmm" Trina moaned through her nose as she ran her hands over
Mindy's wet and soapy back. Trina lowered her head and looked
Mindy in the eye, she could feel herself getting wet. They
giggled slightly, as if they were sneaking into somewhere they
shouldn't dare, before joining their lips in a tender kiss.

Mindy was the first to venture her tongue into the breech,
hesitatingly moving forward, seeking out Trina's own tongue.
Trina embraced the tongue, tentatively at first, then with more
aggression, wrapping her own around the pink muscle. The two
thrashed under the cover of lips, increasing their arousal with
each flick.             

Their hands aggressively explored each other's body. Trina cupped
Mindy's small breasts while Mindy inserted a finger into Trina's
moist vagina. Trina groaned her pleasure into Mindy's mouth as
she tried to buck against her friend's hand.

Mindy removed the finger from Trina's pussy and brought it up to
their lips. The two women licked eagerly at it, dancing their
tongues over it and intertwining them around the slick digit. 

Mindy broke the kiss and continued her oral ministrations lower,
nibbling on Trina's nipples before trailing her tongue lower,
circling Trina's navel and lowering it to Trina's moist entrance
until she reached Trina's shaven mound. She pushed Trina's leg up
over her shoulder and looked up at her friend. 

Mindy swiped once at Trina's clit, sending electric jolts through
her body. Trina was confused. She desperately wanted to make love
with Mindy, but her feelings about Fonda were rapping a constant
and ever increasing tattoo on her conscience door.

"Wait," Trina said, smiling apologetically down at Mindy, lifting
her leg from the girl's shoulder. "I just can't do this right
now." 

Mindy sat back on her heels and looked down. "I'm sorry . . . I
mean, I thought that . . . "

"No. It's not you. It's . . . me."

Mindy stood and smiled at Trina, exiting the shower and grabbing
a towel.  "I guess I thought we might have felt the same way,
nothing serious, just a little fun."

"I'm sorry. I know what you mean, Mindy. And maybe so under
different circumstances. It's just . . . well . . . I've never
been in love before and I think I just figured it out. Believe
me, I desperately want you now . . . but I can't. I wouldn't feel
right about it. Does that make any sense?"

Trina turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around her. "I
don't want to hurt you or anything Mindy. I want to be your
friend. I really like you and you're, like, gorgeous. I mean, I
was totally turned on but I just can't betray Fonda for anybody
right now. I hope you understand."

Mindy took the towel Trina held out for her. "I got it. You love
the guy and want to be faithful to him. That's cool. That's
really cool." Mindy leaned forward and gave Trina a quick hug.
"He must be some guy."

"And a half." Trina smiled broadly.

"I'm happy for you. Really. . . . I'm just a little worked up
now, thanks to you," she stuck her tongue out playfully at Trina.

"I was definitely tempted, that's for sure."

"Hey," Mindy changed the subject. "How about a light late night
dinner at that deli down on Park Street? I'm starving."

Trina smiled. "Yeah, that sounds good. Just as long as those
dorky guys who were trying to flirt with us yesterday aren't
there. I could go for something other than a salad."




Chapter 19


Did Fonda dream about Trina or was it an injury-induced
hallucination? Stavros and his parents had told Fonda of her
concern, but he wondered if they were simply trying to ease him
through his recovery.

Still, Fonda thought, her confession seemed so real. He even
thought he felt her warm breath near his ear when she spoke --
revealed -- how she loved him. He reached up with his good hand
and touched his face, feeling of the remaining stiff stitches.
Maybe she just felt sorry for him, or maybe it was merely his
imagination working overtime.

"Here you go, Mr. Daskalakis, safe and sound in your room,"
Fonda's thoughts were interrupted by the harsh and husky voice of
Gertrude MacIver, a nurse he had become all too familiar with
during his stay. Or, rather, a nurse that had tried to become
familiar with him. He shuddered at the thought.

"And look here, Dr. Kaplan is waiting to see you." Nurse MacIver
cooed, her lumbering, hulking form helping Fonda into bed none
too gently. "Is there anything I can get for you, Mr.
Daskalakis?"

Fonda shook his head, uttering a quiet no.

"What's that?" MacIver cackled. "Now, you know you need to speak
up more; it's good for your speech therapy regimen."

Fonda took a deep breath, clenching his good hand, "No, Nurse
MacIver. I don't need anything now," Fonda said slowly, forcing a
smile through clenched teeth. His parents entered the room just
as she gifted Fonda with a nicotine-stained grin.

"That's much better, Mr. Daskalakis. Much better."

"That will be all, nurse," Dr. Kaplan said, ignoring Nurse
MacIver's retreating backside as best he could -- the woman
should have been outfitted with back-up lights and a loud beep
like a four ton truck -- before turning his attention to Fonda.
"How would you like to be released, Mr. Daskalakis? You're making
great progress in your recovery and I see no reason we need to
keep you here. Of course, you'll still need physical and speech
therapy for a while but we can arrange for a home health agency
to assign a physical therapist to do that in your own home.
Reports are encouraging enough from the physical therapy
department for me to feel comfortable releasing you." Dr. Kaplan
paused and looked back at Fonda, removing his glasses. 

"Home would be good," Fonda said, smiling broadly.

"I do need to see you in a week in my office for a follow-up."

Fonda nodded and smiled slightly. He felt like a caged animal in
the hospital and was only too eager to leave, secure in the
knowledge that -- even though he might not heal any faster at
home -- he would no longer have to deal with the likes of Nurse
MacIver.


***

"I'll get it," Mrs. Daskalakis said as she bustled to the front
door of their home. "It should be the physical therapist lady."

Fonda glanced up as his mother opened the door, more than a
little apprehensive; the physical therapist he had at the
hospital was a sadistic little man named Bray -- what kind of
name is Bray, anyway? -- who seemed to take delight in Fonda's
agony. His fears vanished as soon as his mother guided the bouncy
young girl into the living room.

"Fonda," Alcina said in her thick Greek accent. "This is your
physical therapist. Kimberly . . . I'm sorry, my dear. I'm
terrible with last names."

Kimberly smiled at Fonda's mother before turning toward him and
extending her hand. "Hi. I'm Kimberly VanHousen. Nice to meet you
Fonda. I'm going to be your physical therapist for the next
month, at least. . . . Duh. Like you didn't know I was your
therapist," she rolled her eyes comically, smiling down at Fonda. 

Fonda gripped Kimberly's hand in a firm handshake and tried to
stand, but the pain was too great for him and he collapsed back
into the chair and grimaced. "Nice to meet you Ms. VanHousen."

"No, just Kimberly, please," she said, smiling warmly,
understanding his pain. "We'll have you jumping out of that chair
in no time.

Fonda nodded, relieved that Kimberly was pleasant, and her eyes
sparkled at his smile.

"Well, I see that you two need to get busy here. I have some
errands to run. But I'll be back with lunch in about an hour.
Will you be staying for lunch, Kimberly?" Mrs. Daskalakis asked,
casting a quick glare in Fonda's direction. 

"No ma'am, I can't today. Maybe some other time, though. Thank
you."

"Mother, you don't need to bother yourself with all this cooking . . ."

"Nonsense. You need to regain your strength. Trina gets back soon
and, well, you do remember what we talked about, don't you? I
haven't seen the ballet in years."

"Yes, I remember. I already have the tickets." 

Mrs. Daskalakis beamed. "Good. Kimberly, very nice to meet you.
Take care of my boy, eh?" 

Mrs. Daskalakis turned and strode from the room, casting Fonda a
cautious glance behind Kimberly's back.

"Yes ma'am, Mrs. Daskalakis," Kimberly replied, turning back to
Fonda. 

"So, Fonda, first things first. We need to get you up out of that
chair and walking around a little bit," Kimberly began, looking
him over. Brown curls spilled over her shoulder as she tilted her
head, examining Fonda's large frame. "I reviewed your file last
night. Don't think for a minute that your size intimidates me in
the least. I might be small but I've got a hell of a kick."
Kimberly giggled at Fonda's shocked expression. "Oh, not like
that! I mean, lean on me all you want. I can handle men twice
your size." Kimberly winked as she approached Fonda and then her
face turned a deep crimson as she realized the double meaning of
her words.

Fonda took a deep breath. This girl was going to be fun, he
thought; at least a lot more entertaining than Bray, who
obviously had received his medical training from Dr. Mengele.
"Yes, ma'am. I wouldn't want to get on your bad side. I think
you'd take pleasure in hurting me," Fonda grinned.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," Kimberly smiled coyly as she
approached, biting down on her plump lower lip.

Fonda groaned inwardly. He felt a stirring in his groin and knew
without a doubt that Kimberly was beginning to have an effect on
him. He cursed himself and his body for betraying his feelings
for Trina. How could he possibly get excited with another woman?
Why was he even flirting with her? Sure, she was pretty and was
flitring with him, but that was no excuse; he was in love with
Trina. Surely he could wait another couple of weeks to see her.
It had been so long, though, since he was last with Trina, that
his hormones were more like those of an out of control teenager's
than a grown man's, he tried to rationalize. That had to be it --
at least, he hoped that was it. And because of his broken wrist,
he hadn't been able to seek his own pleasure since the accident
and his sexual frustration level was at an all time high.

Kimberly giggled, shaking Fonda from his thoughts. "That's right,
mister. You better do as I say or I'll really put you through the
paces." 

Fonda gazed up at the tiny woman, pixie-ish and cheerful, and
couldn't help but grin up into her blue eyes. "Do you remember
how to do this?" she asked.

Fonda arched a dark brow and grinned. "I would hope so."

Kimberly giggled again, batting the air near Fonda. "You flirt.
You know what I'm talking about. I'm going to bend over, you're
going to put your hands on my shoulders and we'll lift together
to get you out of that chair. Just be careful of your wrist."

Fonda nodded as Kimberly leaned over. Her loose scrub shirt fell
away from her chest as she bent towards him. Fonda couldn't help
but stare. Gazing at women's cleavages is very much like looking
at an eclipse -- you know you shouldn't do it, but you just can't
help yourself. 

Kimberly was wearing a sheer, white push up bra -- simple, but
elegant. Her breasts, fairly large for a woman her size, strained
out of the confines of the tight bra and Fonda clearly saw enough
to see to two tiny erect nipples, straining to break through the
thin fabric. He quickly looked away. 

"That's right, just like that, Fonda," Kimberly breathed in a
slightly husky tone near his ear. "Put your hand right there and
grab on. Don't worry about hurting me."

Fonda nodded, laying his injured hand across her shoulder. He
felt her hands grip him under his arms. She maneuvered closer to
him, bent legs straddling his knees. His cock jerked in his
loose-fitting sweatpants, now noticeably tenting the fabric. He
tried to shift in the seat to make it less obvious but wasn't
nearly as successful as he hoped. His face was rapidly turning
red and he hoped that she didn't notice the reason for his
embarrassment.

"One . . . two . . . three . . . " Kimberly lifted at the same
time Fonda pushed off from the chair. He winced in pain as he
struggled to his feet, amazed at her strength as she easily
accepted his weight against her. One of his thighs made contact
with her crotch, but Kimberly didn't flinch, professionally
ignoring it as an byproduct of the task she was performing.
"Good. Now, hold steady and I'm going to step back slightly."

Fonda glanced down in embarrassment, hoping Kimberly didn't
notice his arousal. Her brow was furrowed slightly and her
muscles strained as she was concentrating on the task at hand,
ignoreing the source of Fonda's shame. All the better, he
thought. If she had noticed it, the poor girl would probably have
run screaming from his home, never again risking entry to take a
good paying job in the privacy of a man's home. 

Hands that were once gripping under his arms now smoothed down
the side of his torso and held firm. Fonda felt her hard nipples
digging into his chest, their contact not helping reduce his
arousal at all. She didn't pull back right away, and he wasn't
sure if supporting him was the only reason. Instead, she pressed
her chest into him a little harder before breaking contact and
sliding. Kimberly stepped back, looking up at him. Her hands slid
lower to his waist and continued to hold firm. "How does that
feel?"

Fonda cleared his throat before responding. "Good." He broke
Kimberly's ice blue gaze and focused on a light across the room.
He began to recite the Gettysburg Address in his mind,
concentrating on anything he could in hopes of deflating his
quickly growing cock. He cursed himself for his arousal, still
not knowing what he would say if she noticed it.

It was no use. In his mind's eye he saw the petite therapist
standing before him, heavy-lidded, lips parted, as she stripped
off her uniform. Underneath the baggy scrubs was a magnificent
body: tight, tiny, with generous curves and overflowing breasts.
She reached behind her to unclasp her bra, letting the
undergarment fall from her breasts. Her breasts were large and
round and tipped with tiny brown nipples, and he pictured his
mouth covering them, nibbling on their tips with his teeth. 

She bent over, her eyes never leaving his, and slipped from her
sheer white panties. She was trimmed, the way he liked a woman's
bush, but not bare, very much in the Brazilian style. The tiny
woman quickly stripped the sweatpants from Fonda's body, taking
his briefs down with them, before gently pushing him back to the
sofa. In a second she had him straddled, guiding his huge cock
into her wet hole, groaning as she enveloped the veiny shaft. She
threw her head back and cried out as his penis delved deeper
within her tight, wet walls. She rode him fiercely, grinding into
him with a passion, and thrust her breasts into his face. Fonda
pictured Kimberly's lithe frame riding his cock up and down, up
and down, her breasts heaving and bouncing with each stroke as he
tried to corral them in his mouth. "Yes . . . yes . . . oh, Fonda
. . . fuck. . . fuck . . . me! Oh Fonda . . . oh Fonda . . .
Fonda . . ." Kimberly cried out loudly as she continued to pump
all that she could out of him. He grabbed her jiggling breasts as
she began to shudder, sucking one of the tiny buds deep into his
mouth. She was warm and hot and . . .

"Fonda . . . Fonda?" Kimberly asked, "Are you okay? You seem
miles away."

Fonda started and looked back at Kimberly. He couldn't respond
right away and instead turned around and hobbled in the opposite
direction slowly, surreptitiously trying to adjust his now
raging erection. "I'm . . . fine," he said over his shoulder,
"just eager to get to work."

If Kimberly had noticed his erection, she politely ignored it.
Then again, he thought, how could she not notice it,
unrestrained, such as it was, beneath the slack cloth of his
sweatpants. Fonda steadied himself against the back of an arm
chair and took a few deep breaths, hoping the growth in his
crotch wasn't as noticeable when he turned around. 

"I take it from what your mother said that you have a goal in
mind? A girlfriend or something?" Kimberly asked, taking Fonda's
mind off his discomfort briefly. 

"Yes, I do. Trina. She's a dancer," Fonda smiled, turning to face
Kimberly again. "She debuts on Broadway in a few weeks. I would
like to surprise her. The last time she saw me I was still in a
coma."

Kimberly frowned, "How sad for the both of you. I bet she's just
as eager to get back home to see you, especially now that you're
recovering so nicely. I like to encourage goals in my patients.
It does seem to make the therapy go by a little quicker, if not a
little easier. As you know, recovering from your kind of injuries
can be frustrating as well as painful."

Fonda chuckled painfully, unsure if she was alluding to his
current frustration. "To be honest with you, Kimberly, I haven't
even talked to her on the phone. I'm afraid that she will have a
hard time understanding the difficulty I am having with my
speech."

Kimberly touched Fonda's elbow, guiding him away from the chair.
"Your speech has improved dramatically since the accident. I
don't think you have anything to worry about on that account.
And, I have to say that I just love your little accent," Kimberly
gushed. 

Fonda smiled. "Thank you. I grew up here, in America, but my
parents always spoke Greek with us and we grew up in a Greek
neighborhood in Astoria; I never quite shook the accent. . . .
Besides, a little accent is great for business." Fonda grinned as
he paced himself, walking carefully next to Kimberly. "My brother
Stavros, on the other hand, has lost his, for the most part."

"Well, don't *you* lose it. It's adorable. You shouldn't have
much longer before your speech patterns are completely back to
normal -- give it a week or so."

 "How do you know? I mean, we've only just met."

"I told you that I have your file. The reports from the speech
therapist have indicated a quick response and recovery, given
your type of head injury. The jumps in progress each day are
remarkable. In fact, right now, I can barely detect any
hesitation," Kimberly replied in a now professional tone. "And,
since you've worked by yourself on some of the exercises the
hospital PT prescribed, you've become much more ambulatory than I
would have expected at this point. Two weeks and you'll be able
to get up with hardly a twinge of pain," she smiled, then
involuntarily looked down at Fonda's crotch before forcing her
head away from his as she burned in embarrassment.

She coughed, then continued with her assessment. "That's my
prediction. You might need a little assistance, maybe with a
cane, but I see this wheelchair going in about a week."

"Really? That's encouraging. And, a cane isn't all that bad. I'm
just so embarrassed to be so helpless."

"Nonsense," Kimberly disagreed. "What happened to you was
terrible. And you're making great progress. You should be pleased
with yourself, not embarrassed."

Certainly not embarrassed by that cock of yours, she thought as
she pictured his large penis, unencumbered by his pants, bobbing
free in the room just awaiting her lips to encircle it. As they
walked across the room, her mind wandered to images of Fonda's
large muscular frame, lifting her easily and bending her over the
chair, thrusting his huge erection into her with frenzied
abandon. She could picture him grabbing a handful of her hair,
yanking her head back and kissing her neck, as he pumped himself
into her forcefully.

"I could even wear my tuxedo on opening night," Fonda said,
interrupting his physical therapist's fantasy.

Kimberly laughed nervously, relieved that he didn't notice her
daydreaming. "That's the spirit. Won't she be surprised? Does she
know you will be there?"

"No, we haven't told her yet. I want to surprise her."

"I think she'll be very happy to see you, Fonda. Now, let's get
to work."


continued in chapter 20 (to be posted in a couple of days)

Like it so far? Let us know! 

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Copyright (C) 2000 
John3365A@aol.com (John A) and 
VBwrites@aol.com (Virago Blue) 
All rights reserved.



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