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Message-ID: <45782asstr$1071051009@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Russell Hoisington" <hoisingr@hushmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Wynter 3: Mother's Helper 02/03 {Hoisington} (Mg rom ped inc cons oral slow)
Date: Wed, 10 Dec 2003 05:10:09 -0500
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                         WYNTER KING 3:
                     MOTHER'S LITTLE HELPER
                     by Russell Hoisington

---------------------------------------------------------------------


This is an erotic fantasy.  The characters and the situation are
purely imaginary, and this story is *NOT* intended to be a guide for
actual behavior.  Any similarities between this story and actual
people or actual events you should be ashamed of are purely
coincidental.  If it is illegal in your part of the world to access
and read erotic fiction, or if you are underage, or if you don't like
underage sex stories, then you should stop now.

This story is copyright 2003 by Russell Hoisington.  Please do not
remove the author information or make any changes to this story.  You
may post freely to non-commercial (free) sites, or in the "free" area
of commercial sites.  That does *not* mean that these stories are in
the public domain, nor does it mean that I give permission for you to
use them in spam advertising.  I reserve the right to determine what
is "spam advertising" by *my* definition, not yours or anyone else's.

Thank you for your consideration.

---------------------------------------------------------------------


                          Three of Eight

     Richard shook his head.  "You two are a mess."

     Ellen and Wynter looked at each other's red eyes and
tear-stained clothing.  "I guess we are," Ellen admitted.  A lot of
tears and mucus had flowed for almost two hours.  "Would you like for
us to call in the other nurse?"

     "WHAT other nurse?"

     She looked down as Dragon brushed past her legs.  "Here he is."

     Richard laughed.  "I don't think he can hold the urinal
steady."

     Mother Hen worry appeared on Wynter's face and she sprang into
action, retrieving the container from its storage place under the
foot of the bed.  Then she hesitated and offered it to Ellen, who
shook her head.

     "You can handle it," she said.  Richard laughed again, and she
realized what she had just said.  She rolled her eyes.  "Jesus.  I
mean, it's your job.  You do it for him."  This time both Richard and
Wynter laughed.  "Oh, to hell with it!  I'm going to clean up."  She
turned and headed down the hall to her room.

     Wynter looked at him with twin blue-green pools in a sea of red
beneath a brow furrowed in concern.  "Do I have time to raise the bed
the rest of the way?"

     "No," he said, shaking his head, "but I do have time for a
quick kiss."  He hummed contentedly as she gave him a kiss on the end
of his nose and a quick daughter-like kiss on the lips.  "That's
better," he sighed as she pulled down the sheet and raised his
hospital gown.  "So do you and Ellen have things worked out now?"

     "I guess," she said as she began working the flat pillow under
his buttocks.  "She said she was sorry and, Daddy, I think she really
meant it."

     "She did, honey.  She was surprised and reacted before she had
time to sit down and think.  I gave her time to do that."

     Wynter paused to glance at his face before resuming her task. 
"I think you did more than just let her sit and think."

     Richard grinned.  She was burning with curiosity.  Obviously
Ellen hadn't told her everything, but she wasn't about to pry.  She
was giving him the opportunity to volunteer information.  It was one
of the devices her mother used.  "Well, sometimes people need a
gentle nudge in the right direction when they aren't sure what they
should think about.  And speaking of gentle, that was the first time
my leg didn't hurt when you put the pillow under me."

     She broke into a wide, happy grin that warmed his heart. 
"Maybe you're finally healing."

     "Or maybe you're getting to be an even better nurse."

     The smile faded, and she ducked her head before threading the
head of his dick into the urinal.  He saw a faint tinge of red spread
across her face, one that he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been
watching for it.  She had regressed back into the little girl who
didn't know how to handle a compliment.  So much progress these past
two days and now a setback.  He'd spent enough time in hospitals and
home sick beds to know that setbacks were temporary.  Still, it
almost broke his heart to see his daughter slipping back into the
little girl who, just one day earlier, he had wanted her to remain. 
Ellen's next task would be to explain to Wynter how a lady accepts a
compliment from a gentleman.  He wasn't going to wait until Angie
returned to begin teaching Wynter how to interact with other people,
one of many things she'd know by now if he and Angie hadn't insisted
on this isolated lifestyle without giving thought to their daughter's
needs.

     "Finished?"

     Her question brought him back to the real world.  "What,
honey?"

     "I asked if you were finished.  You stopped almost a minute
ago."

     <A minute?>  Yes, the pressure in his bladder was gone.  "I'm
sorry, honey.  Yes, I'm done.  I guess my mind went on a trip and
left my body behind."

     She stripped the remaining piss from the Beast in two pulls
that would have it hardening if it weren't exhausted from the number
of times she'd brought him to orgasm the past two days.  "Did it go
visit a nice place?"

     "I'm, not sure where it went."  He glanced at the snow melting
in the spring sunshine outside the window.  "Maybe it went looking
for some spring flowers because it was tired of all the snow."

     She gave him an odd look and frowned for an instant.  "What
kind of flowers?

     "Probably columbines," he said, watching her grin spread when
he mentioned her favorite blossom.  "Maybe some other flowers, too,
like in that glade down by the pond."

     "Maybe you'll see some soon," she said.  "I'll go empty this
and be right back for the pillow."

     "Would Nurse King do her patient a favor when she returns?"

     "Sure.  What?"

     Richard wiggled his newly-freed fingers.  "Could you bring back
a washcloth and some soap?  My fingers feel like they've been in a
mine sump for a month."

     "Sure!"

     Richard smiled as she hurried as fast as she dared into the
bathroom.  Nothing like a little occupational therapy, especially
when it benefitted the patient as well as the nurse.  He
wanted--needed--to talk to her about their relationship and the guilt
he knew she had placed on herself, but she wasn't emotionally ready.

Plenty of time for that after she had slept on it.  One thing he had
learned after hours, days, weeks at a time in hospital beds was
patience, even if he didn't like it.

                              -----

     Richard pressed the channel selector again and found himself
back where he'd started.  "Damn," he muttered, then selected a news
program for background noise.

     Wynter had placed the remote control on top of three large,
thick books and adjusted the suspension of his right cast until he
could reach the channel, volume, and on/off switches.  She then
cornered Ellen in the hall, spoke with her in whispers for a moment,
and then disappeared into her room to clean up.  She hadn't emerged
or even opened the door after the shower stopped.  Now Ellen was in
the kitchen preparing supper.

     For the first time, Richard felt lonely in his room.  He didn't
realize how much he'd grown accustomed to Wynter's constant presence.

He didn't mind solitude.  He occasionally welcomed it.  The unceasing
presence of someone else, even his wife, occasionally wore on his
nerves, but that wasn't the case with Wynter.  Her invariable
worrying every time he hiccuped or sneezed might become a minor
irritation, but not her presence.  Even a visit from Dragon would be
welcome, but the black Lab would never leave the room with Wynter in
it unless he had to.  Richard sighed and tried to become interested
in the latest Middle East flare-up.

     "Richard, do you need anything before we eat?"

     He hadn't heard Ellen's approach.  Maybe he'd dozed off.  "No,
I'm fine."

     She nodded and knocked on Wynter's door.  There was a pause
before Wynter invited her in.  Richard wondered if his daughter had
been practicing "solitary sexual techniques," or some similar
adult-sounding term.  He found himself wishing he could have been
there to watch.

     "I'm almost finished," Wynter said.  Ellen's body blocked his
view of her desk, but he suspected there was nothing to see on it.

     "Ten more minutes?"

     "Okay."  When Ellen turned to leave, Wynter smiled at him from
her doorway.  "I love you, Daddy."

     That cheered him up.  "I love you too, honey."

     Her door closed.  Five minutes later it opened.  She flashed
him a bright smile, all coral lips and teeth as sparkling white as
her pullover blouse, low-rise socks and tennis shoes. She blew him a
kiss before disappearing toward the main part of the house with her
four-legged shadow in tow.  When she reappeared she was carrying one
of his metal rulers, a razor knife, and something else in the pocket
of her pink jersey shorts.  She blew him another kiss before closing
the door.

     Most un-Wynter-like.  She was obviously up to something, but
what?  He amused himself by trying to guess.

                              -----

     Wynter was smoothing down the last piece of tape when Nurse
Carter knocked on the door again.  "Wynter, it's time to eat."

     "I just finished.  I'll be right there."

     She heard Nurse Carter say something to her father, but didn't
hear his reply.  She stood back and looked at her work.  "I dunno,
Dragon.  What do you think?" she asked picking it up and showing it
to him.  He sniffed it and looked up with his head cocked to one side
and his ears alert.  She called it his "curious pose".

     "I supposed it will have to do," she said, holding her blonde
ponytail with her left hand at shoulder level and pinching her lower
lip with her right, "but I wish I could have done better for Daddy. 
Maybe if I wrap it, he might like it better.  What do you think?"  He
perked his ears, and she assumed that meant, "Yes."

     Nurse Carter was placing the tray on the rollaway table when
Wynter opened the door.  "If you and Wynter don't mind, I'd like to
bring mine in here and eat with you tonight."

     Both Wynter and her father said they'd love to have her join
them.  Nurse Carter was about to return to the kitchen when she saw
the flat, wrapped packet in Wynter's hand.  "Do I get to stay for the
unveiling, or would you rather be alone with your father?" she asked
with a smile.

     "You can stay.  If it's okay with Daddy, I mean."  When her
father agreed, Wynter handed the flat package, wrapped in silvery
foil paper and sporting a big yellow bow, to Nurse Carter.  "You can
unwrap it for him," she said.

     Nurse Carter held the present where he could see the bow and
the wrapping paper.  Wynter always kept a roll or two of wrapping
paper and some bows in her room for presents that she gave to her
parents and sometimes to special visitors like Doctor Taylor.  She
had placed her father's present face-down against a piece of
cardboard to protect it.  Nurse Carter held the present so that her
father could see it first and slid the cardboard away at his nod.

     She watched her father for his reaction, her fingers crossed
and a worried frown on her face.  He stared at it for a moment and
tears began collecting in his eyes.  "Oh, my god," he whispered so
softly she almost didn't hear it, and then he shook his head.

     <Drat!>  She just KNEW it wasn't good enough and that he
wouldn't like it, and she was right!  She should have taken more time
with it, but she wanted to give it to him right away.  And now,
instead of making him happy, she had made him sad.  She had been a
CHILD again.

                              -----

     Richard understood the gesture.  Allowing Ellen Carter to
unwrap his present for him was Wynter's way of saying that all was
right between the two of them.  He admired the way the present was
wrapped.  His very best efforts rarely equaled Little Miss
Perfection's worst efforts, which were usually when she was wrapping
something for Aunt Diane, who was Angie's older sister, or Diana's
husband, Uncle Bob.

     Ellen held the piece of cardboard before him and asked,
"Ready?"

     "Go," he said, and she slid the cardboard away.

     Wynter had used woodgrain-patterned posterboard to make a frame
around an eight-by-ten, intricately detailed, colored-pencil drawing
of the pond, looking down from the northside hill.  The field of
wildflowers lay to the west, but in the foreground she'd added a
patch of columbines.  The scene was breathtaking.  Angie had
accidentally seen a sketch of Dragon in front of a waterfall in a
notebook that Wynter had left open, and she had told Richard that
Wynter had shown talent, but he had no idea that his daughter was
THIS talented.  He felt tears puddle on his lower eyelids.

     "Oh, my god," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief and
continuing to study the detail.  He tried to look at Ellen but
couldn't.  "Ellen, this is incredible."

     Ellen Carter turned the picture slightly and leaned sideways to
look.  "Jesus!" she whispered in a voice as awe-struck as his own
must have sounded.

     "Honey, how long have you been working on this?"

     "I started after I got out of the shower.  I'm sorry it's not
any better."

     The tremble in her voice caused him to drag his eyes away from
the drawing for the first time.  "Sorry for what?  You did all of
this, in this much detail, in just a couple of hours?"

     She sniffed.  "I can do it over.  I'll take my time 'n' do it
better for you.  I was in a big hurry to give you some flowers to
look at, 'n' didn't have time to do a really good drawing."

     "Didn't...."  He glanced up at the nurse, who hadn't moved. 
"Give us some room, please?"

     Ellen straightened and moved aside without shifting her eyes. 
"Jesus!" she whispered again.

     "Kiss?"

     Head down, Wynter moved beside him and gave him a quick kiss on
the lips.

     "Honey, if you tell me you can do a better version of that
drawing, then I believe you, but I really, honestly, truly don't see
HOW you could improve it."

     She sniffed again and kept her eyes down.  "I could put more
detail in the background trees 'n' the mountains 'n stuff, 'n' the
water in the pond's not quite right."  Before he could interrupt her
she added, "'n' I could put Mother in the picture for you."

     "Jesus!"

     Richard gaped at his daughter.  "You can draw people, too?"

     "Uh huh," she said in a small voice.  "They take longer to make
them look right, though.  They're harder than Dragon."

     "Jesus!"

     "Ellen, you sound like a revival meeting."

     Ellen Carter looked at him for a second and then focused on
Wynter.  "Did you overlap the frame pieces before you cut the miters
for the corners?"

     Wynter turned to face Ellen, her thin blonde brows pulling
together.  "You can do that?"

     Ellen shook her head.  "Yeah, I thought so.  Here.  Look at
these," she said, turning the picture toward Richard and pointing at
the corners.  "Freehand!  Wynter, I know only two surgeons who can
make cuts that precise.  You make the rest of them look like amateur
butchers."

     Wynter flushed a bright red, lowered her head, and stared at
the floor.

     Ellen glanced at Richard, who mouthed, "We need to talk about
that," and indicated Wynter with his head.  She nodded.

     "Let's put it where I can see it.  We'll figure out where while
we eat.  And thank you very much for my flowers and for loving me
enough to draw them for me."

     Her head came up and she gave him an almost pleading look. 
"You really like them?"

     "Honey, they are the fourth most beautiful thing I've ever
seen.  Honest."  He frowned, twisted and looked down at Dragon,
looked at the picture, and looked back to his daughter.  "Maybe
third."

     She exhaled pent-up breath, then giggled and threw her arms
around his neck, strangling him with a huge hug.  Then she pulled
back enough to give him a big kiss.  He felt the tip of her sweet
tongue on his lips and gently, briefly, caressed it with his own. 
When she pulled back her face glowed with delight.  "Oh, Daddy, I was
SO afraid you wouldn't like it because of the mistakes."

     Richard heard Ellen stifle a laugh, but ignored her.  "Honey,
maybe YOU can see mistakes in it, but I can't.  I can't draw good
enough.  How long have you been able to draw like that?"

     She shrugged.  "I dunno.  Four or five years, I guess."

     "And in all this time you never let Mother or me know?"

     She shrugged again and looked down at her left hand resting,
from habit, on his arm cast.  She slid her hand down to grasp the two
exposed fingers.  "I didn't want to show you until I was good
enough," she said in a low voice.  "You wanted to see some flowers to
make you feel better, so I thought maybe I could help, but I wasn't
sure they'd be good enough for you.  But, it was what you said you
wanted, so I took a chance."

     "Jesus," Ellen murmured again as she examined another area of
the drawing.

     Richard threw her a quick glance.  "Amen."

                              -----

     Ellen Carter sat in one of the padded chairs reading a book. 
Richard half-watched a science program and half-watched Wynter.  She
had scooted down in the overstuffed chair adjacent to the door.  Her
feet rested on the front edge of the seat cushion, and her left hand
pinned a drawing pad to the easel formed by her long, slender legs. 
Her face was screwed into a mask of concentration that occasionally
flickered an eyebrow or mouth corner or eyelid as her hand guided a
number two pencil across the paper.  Sprawled across the floor at her
feet, Dragon began twitching his paws as he chased a rabbit or
perhaps a squirrel.  Or perhaps he raced across the fields with his
little blonde human.  The flower drawing was on the wall over her
head, on the wall opposite the window so that he didn't have to see
the snow while he was looking at the springtime meadow.

     Ellen lowered the book and looked at her watch.  "It's bedtime,
young nurse."

     "Three and a half more minutes," Wynter mumbled.  Ellen raised
her eyebrows at Richard and looked at her watch again.

     Three minutes and twenty seconds later Wynter lowered the
pencil, relaxed, and sighed.  "It's probably not very good 'cause I
did it from memory."

     She couldn't get out of the chair without awakening Dragon,
which was the reason the dog had chosen that spot.  She poked his
ribs with a toe and he jumped to his feet.  While he shook everything
back into place, Wynter rose and showed Richard the drawing of her
mother.

     Richard blinked in surprise.  "Honey, that's incredible.  Show
Ellen."

     "Jesus!  You know, Wynter, if you can't make any money as a
nurse, you could always moonlight as a police sketch artist or a bank
note forger.  She looks like she should speak to me."

     "Well," Wynter said, pointing to a spot, "right here I...."

     Ellen gently pushed the girl's slender arm down.  "Wynter,
maybe YOU see mistakes, but you don't have to point them out to
everyone.  Let other people enjoy what you've done.  I look at that,
and I feel as if your mom is right here in the room with me.  It
helps me forget that she's half of two continents and a whole ocean
away, and I'm sure it helps your father forget that, too."

     "Yes, it does," he agreed, switching off the television.

     "But when you point out your mistakes, it keeps people from
enjoying the feelings you inspired.  You put a LOT of effort into
creating something people can enjoy.  Let us do so, please?  And when
you point out mistakes that only a museum art critic might notice,
you make those of us with no talent, and whose mistakes would
probably include putting both eyes on the same side of her nose, even
more jealous of your talent."

     Ellen smiled to take the sting out of her words.  "Perfection
as a goal is admirable, but it's a goal you can't achieve.  Not
consistently, anyway.  And certainly not in the medical field, where
you will have far too many problems, far too few resources, and far
too little time.  And even with something like this," she indicated
the drawing with a sweep of her hand, "you do the best you can in the
time allocated.  Don't be concerned with the fact that it wasn't
perfect; be concerned that it's better than what you did before
within the same amount of time.  Understand?"

     Wynter was looking at her bare feet.  "I guess so," she
mumbled.

     "You'll find that out when you become a mother, and you'll
realize you've...."  Her mouth worked without sound for a moment, and
then she sighed.  "Well, it's not so much that you did your parents
an injustice as it is that you didn't do them a favor."

     Mother Hen worry settled on her face as her eyes rose to meet
the older nurse's.  "I don't understand."

     "Well, your job as a parent is to raise your child to be an
adult.  The measures of progress are the development of your child's
new skills, her first time to roll over, her first time to sit up,
her first steps for instance, and how her skills improve--first time
to take two steps without falling, then three steps, then four and so
on.  But when you go from having a child who, as far as you know, has
no drawing talent to having one who is Leonardette da Vinci in one
afternoon, you realize you've missed out on watching her improve and
in sharing the joy of her successes with her."  She shrugged.  "I
guess you could say it's rather selfish."

     Out of the corner of her eye she saw Richard wince.  She
understood as much as he did the impact that would have on Wynter,
but it needed to be explained to her in those terms, and neither of
her parents could, or would, do so.  As an "outsider," she could
phrase the situation in the necessary terms.  His silent nod of
thanks assured her that he understood.

     "Now:  recuperating patients, growing girls, and old women need
their rest."  She looked at Dragon.  "And he looks like eighteen
hours of sleep weren't enough."  She hugged Wynter, stood, and said,
"I'll be in my room if you need me, but I won't be the least bit
surprised if you don't, Nurse King.  You give him his bedtime
medications.  Good night, Richard."

     She pulled the door shut on her way out.

---------------------------------------------------------------------


                          Four of Eight

     Richard heard Ellen moving about.  He glanced at the clock. 
She was an early riser and must have been up for at least an hour. 
She was also overdue with his morning pills by about fifteen minutes.

She wouldn't wait much longer.  He suspected that was the reason he
had heard her.

     He nuzzled his chin across the top of the blonde head lying on
his chest.  After the anticipated and drawn-out apologies for being
selfish and not sharing her talent with him, she had asked if she
could sleep in his room.  It was his little girl who had asked, and
there was no "sexual activity" as she would call it.  She had offered
to bring in her sleeping bag, but he knew she needed the physical
contact.  They had both needed it, and he again became her mattress.

     He rubbed her head with his chin again.  "Morning, honey."

     She seemed to take a moment to realize where she was, then
lifted her head and gave him a heartwarming, if still sleepy, smile.

"It's your fault," she said.

     "What's my fault?"

     She yawned.  "I was having nice dreams because I felt safe and
loved.  It's your fault."

     "Good.  How about a kiss?"

     She frowned.  "I have dragon breath."

     "Then I'll keep my eyes open so I'll know it's you and not
him."

     She gave him her ritual kisses, one on the end of his nose and
another on his lips.  "Good thing I kept my eyes open, too," she said
with a grin.

     Dragon shook himself awake, stood by the door, and whimpered. 
Wynter gasped.  "I forgot to let him out before bedtime!"  She pushed
herself up and carefully crawled off the bed.  For a moment Richard
had a flash down her neckline of two tiny pink cones atop soft white
swells, and he felt the Beast twitch.

     "Go let him out first.  He needs to go worse than I do.  I'll
still be here when you return, I promise."

     She made a face at him.  "Smarty pants!"

     He laughed and watched her follow Dragon out the door.

     "Morning, Nurse Carter," echoed down the hallway.

     "Good morning, Nurse King.  Has the patient had his morning
meds yet?"

     "Not yet.  I gotta let Dragon out NOW."

     Ellen was chuckling when she turned the corner into his room. 
They exchanged greetings, and Ellen counted out his pills.  Her voice
turned somber.  "I caused her to regress, didn't I?"

     Richard shrugged.  "Maybe.  But maybe having to BE an adult
pushed her too far forward too fast and she's just returning to
normal."

     "You sound disappointed."

     "I guess.  But not because of the sex.  It's because I was
finally coming to terms with the fact that my little girl won't be
that same little girl forever.  Pain pill instead of the ibuprofen. 
I was her bed last night and there's some increased pain in my arms."

     Ellen gave him a curious smile.  "Medically I should warn you
that that's not a good idea, but you've already discovered that for
yourself.  And I doubt it would do any good."

     "None whatsoever."  He watched her write the medications in his
records.  "Do you regret not having children?"

     The question surprised her.  Richard rarely asked personal
questions.  She hesitated before finishing her notes.  She put the
records down before answering.  "I have many children.  They just
have other parents is all."

     He nodded.  "I didn't mean to pry."

     She poured his water.  "It's okay because I'm going to.  Do you
think you can keep this a secret from Angie?"

     "No.  I'll have to tell her, somehow."

     "Will you tell her I know?"

     "Not unless she specifically asks.  I won't lie to her."

     She started popping pills into his mouth.  "But you'd cheat on
her with your own daughter," she said in a quiet voice.

     He stared at her for a moment and nodded at the water.  Ellen
held the straw for him and added, "I'm not being judgmental, Richard.

Really.  I'm just trying to understand."

     Richard swallowed and released the straw.  "Do you understand
why you screwed both Tom and Tommy?"

     "No.  Oh, I've rationalized it a dozen different ways, but...."

She shook her head.  "No.  I guess I hoped your answer would answer
my own questions for me."

     "We make a hell of a pair, don't we?"

     "Huh!  I'll get the urinal out for Wynter so you don't have to
wait."

     "You're going to pass on the opportunity to handle it
yourself?" he asked in feigned shock.

     She winked.  "She's doing well enough that I think I can take a
night off and handle Dusty's."

     "Must be terrible having to settle for second best."

     She gave him a wry grin.  "Well, I wouldn't know about that. 
I've not had the--pleasure--to make the comparison."

     They were still laughing at bad jokes and double entendres when
Wynter returned.

                              -----

     Ellen paused at the door to give her substitute last minute
instructions, but Wynter had one more question.

     "What are you and Dusty gonna do tonight?"

     Ellen stared at the face grinning up at her.  The previous
questions had come from an eleven-year-old girl.  The voice tone and
facial expression for this one was from a thirty-year-old.  She
wondered if Wynter had any idea of how she changed personalities.

     "Oh, I dunno," she replied.  "Probably the same thing you and
your dad are going to do.  If that's any of your business.  I was
TEASING," she added when she saw the stricken look.  "Wynter, wait to
see if you really have offended someone before you start feeling
guilty.  Boys aren't the only ones who play rough.  If you're going
to survive medical school or nursing school, you have to learn to
play rough, too.  Give them a reason to respect you, and they will. 
Or give them a reason to and they'll run roughshod over you.

     Wynter frowned.  "Why?   That doesn't sound very nice."

     "We'll talk about that when I get back tomorrow.  For now,
let's just say that people respect you if you can stand up for
yourself.  If you show signs of weakness, then they think you might
not be deserving of respect.  Medicine is a tough field.  You have to
be tough to survive.  Maybe they are just weeding out those who can't
make it before they can become a burden to others.  Now:  don't
forget what I said...."

     As she tramped through the melting snow to where she'd left her
car, Ellen couldn't help but feel a little jealous of Wynter.

                              -----

     Wynter looked down at her sleeping father.  He looked so very
uncomfortable suspended that way, but some of his fingers were now
free.  It wasn't much of an improvement, but any was a welcome one. 
She held her blonde ponytail to her shoulder and bent to gently kiss
his forehead.  Then she shooed Dragon ahead of her and retrieved a
notebook and pencil from her room.  While she positioned herself in
the overstuffed chair by the door, Dragon again established a
blocking position at her feet and dozed off.

     When she decided the drawing was to her satisfaction, she stuck
the pencil behind her right ear, snagging it in her drawn-back hair
to keep it in place.  She guessed it was okay, though if she had
another couple of days, it could be a whole lot better.  She used the
back of her right hand to cover a yawn while she again checked the
drawing.  She lowered the notebook...

     ...and looked into her father's sparkling green eyes.  "Daddy! 
How long have you been awake?"  Mother Hen almost stood up on Dragon.

He jumped and shuffled aside to shake, giving her room to rush the
two steps to her father's side.

     "Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes."  He had the most amazing look
on his face, sort of like when he saw her flowers picture.  "I was
just watching you and thinking about how much I love you and how
lucky I am to have such a special daughter."

     Her eyes dropped to his cast and she blushed.  She was furious
with herself because she didn't know why she'd done that.  Doctor
Taylor and Nurse Carter had told her about looking people in the eye,

but here she was acting like a child again.

     Her father knew.   She had regressed that much.  Some of his
little girl he was almost happy to have back, but he would give that
part up if she'd just learn how to handle a compliment and remember
it.

     Then Mother Hen returned.  "Do you need anything?"

     "I certainly do.  I need a kiss."

     She gave him the best nose-and-lips kiss she could manage so
that he would know she loved him with all her heart.

     He smiled at her and made that heart feel too big for her chest
again.  But then he said, "Dragon breath's that bad, huh?"

     For a moment she wondered, and then realized.  "Oh.  I didn't
know if you'd want me to, you know...."  She couldn't stop her voice
from trailing off.  She pushed the words to the tip of her tongue,
but they would go no further.

     He settled back into his pillow.  "Honey, I don't want you to
do anything that will make you uncomfortable.  You know that."

     She tried to think of the words for what she wanted to say. 
She was having trouble with them, and she grew angry with herself for
acting childish.  Her father gave her a look almost of sympathy and
asked, "Can I see the picture, or is it private because it's in one
of your notebooks?"

     She breathed a sigh of relief.  "It's private for us," she
said, opening the notebook to the place marked by her finger.  She
almost said, "It's not very good because I didn't have much time,"
but she remembered what Nurse Carter had said.  Instead, she turned
the book so he could see the page.

     They were sitting on the big flat rock by the creek.  Both were
dangling their feet in the water.  They were holding playing cards. 
Dragon was curled beside her and sniffing at a butterfly floating
just above his head.  Dragon was wearing his collar, which was more
than the humans were wearing.  She had captured every one of her
father's scars.  She had debated about whether to include them, but
they were who he was, and she didn't want him to think she was
ashamed of them.

     "That's incredible," he said.  The awe in his voice made her
heart swell up in her chest again.  "It looks like we were playing
strip poker,"

     "Uh huh."

     "And we both lost."

     She lowered the notebook to frown at him.  "No!  We both WON!"

     He smiled suddenly.  "I like that.  We both won.  Can I see it
some more, please?"

     He looked at it for several seconds and made happy sounds while
she waited for him to notice.  "Wait a minute.  If we were playing
strip poker, where are our clothes?"

     She grinned and pointed.  "Right there.  You were wearing that
lei of wild flowers, and I was wearing this one of columbines."

     His smile grew wider, and he winked at her.  "We were walking
around naked?"

     "Nooo," she said, trying to sound like Nurse Carter patiently
explaining things to someone slow.  "You were wearing THAT lei of
flowers, and I was wearing THIS one."

     He made big round eyes and nodded slowly.  "Oh!  I see.  I
thought you were drawing naked pictures of your father."

     She couldn't stop the blush, and she knew that he guessed the
truth from that.

     "Oh," he said, looking embarrassed.  "I didn't mean to pry. 
Your mother and I both agree that whatever you put in your notebooks
is personal, like a diary, and none of our business.  It's not our
place to ask.  I'll forget that I said anything."

     She hesitated, wondering what she should do, and then said,
"It's okay.  I can show you some of them."

     "Wynter," he said, giving her his most serious look that told
her what he was saying was something he really and truly meant, "I
would love to see any of your pictures that you have drawn, but you
don't have to show any of them to me if you don't want to.  Okay,
honey?  I don't want you to think you have to do that just to make me
happy or to keep me from getting mad.  That would be blackmail, and I
love you too much to blackmail you."

     "I know," she said, and she really and truly did know. 

     "Good.  But before I look at them, may I have the urinal
first?"

     She sighed deeply and put her notebook on the nightstand.  "I
guess you'd better.  I'd be awfully upset if you exploded and got the
pages all wet."

---------------------------------------------------------------------


                          Five of Eight

     Richard shook his head in wonder.  "When did you have time to
draw these?"

     "Mostly while you were asleep.  You aren't mad at me, are you?"

     <Amazing,> he thought. <One sentence she sounds like a
thirty-year-old woman, the next she sounds like a six-year-old kid
caught raiding the cookie jar.>

     "Of course I'm not mad at you, honey.  I told you that what you
put in your notebooks was your personal business and wasn't my
concern.  I can't then complain about what you put in there."  He
looked at the current page and added, "Though you might not want your
mother to see these.  Not until I've explained to her."

     She nodded.  "I know," she said in a soft voice.

     He shook his head slowly.  The picture of a naked Wynter
straddling his hips, her head thrown back in orgasm while he himself
was cumming--obviously inside her--was enough to stir the Beast, and
he felt it move under the sheet and his hospital gown.

     "Is that really what I look like when I cum?" he asked.

     She nodded but said nothing, eyes wide like a deer's caught in
headlights.

     "I'm surprised you and your mother let me anywhere near you! 
But your face is exactly how you look.  How did you know how to draw
yourself?

     She gave him the look of patience that women had been using on
men for the past few hundred thousand years.  "Daddy!  There are
mirrors in all the bathrooms, my dresser, that dresser over
there...."

     "You masturbated while watching yourself in the mirror?"

     The adult Wynter returned.  "No, silly!  I wouldn't have seen
anything!  I had to remember what it felt like and then act it out
while peeking through my eyelids."

     "Can I see the one before it again."  In the straddling picture
he'd been in his hospital bed, arms and legs suspended.  She turned
back to the one of them in a field of columbines.  She was on her
knees and he was taking her from behind, doggie style, the way he had
described it to her.  "Is this a wish for when I'm better?" he asked.

Then he realized what he'd said and hastily added, "Of course, you
don't have to answer that.  That's prying.  If you pretend I never
said anything, I'll understand."

     She held the notebook in her right hand and ran her left down
the cast to grasp his two exposed fingers.  "Thank you for not
wanting to pry."

     He nodded.

     "It's a wish."  A smile washed across her lips.  "I wish you
could be well and not EVER be hurt again, and that we could be in a
warm field with flowers and naked together, and that we could make
love forever and ever and ever and never get in trouble for it."  A
tear escaped and trickled slowly down her left cheek.  "But if we do
it together again, Mother will hate both of us, won't she?"

     He squeezed her hand with his fingers.  "No, she won't hate us.

But she'll be upset until she understands."

     "I love you.  With all my heart."

     "I love you with all my heart, too, honey."

     She leaned forward and kissed him, her soft coral lips parting
and her warm, pink tongue sliding into his mouth in a lover's kiss. 
The Beast, sufficiently recovered from the workout she'd given it
while they were isolated, roared to life and tented the sheet.

                              -----

     A pillow propped up  Richard's head so he could see on the flat
bed.  Wynter was impaled on the Beast, thrusting herself toward her
third release.  Her first was a new treat for them.  She'd allowed
him to eat her pussy to the point of orgasm and then had moved so
that he could finish her with his fingers of his right hand.  It
hadn't been a fully satisfying cum because Mother Hen had been
worried about hurting him, so she immediately returned to his face,
locked her hands behind his head, and humped that hot, wet, aching
little slit on his tongue and lips until she came violently.

     She laughed and giggled as she came down from the second
orgasmic high, her forehead resting on the wall above the headboard
and that sweet, lightly-haired set of lower lips hovering above his
face where he could watch her spasms trail off to nothing.  After
resting for a minute she slowly moved down until her slit was over
the Beast.  She brushed it lightly with her soft, short, blonde curls
and then slid her sopping slick slit along it.  Richard fought
cumming outside of her.

     She leaned forward.  Twin blue-green pools of intertwined love
and lust looked deep into his eyes.  Her lips crushed his, and her
tongue tasted her own juices on them as it sought his, invited it
into her mouth, and playfully tried to keep it out when it accepted
her invitation.  Her head snapped back as if it were mounted on a
catapult, and her face momentarily contorted as she moaned.  Her eyes
returned to his, and she grinned wickedly.  "I'm gonna make you cum
as big as you made me do it," she announced, and again glued her lips
to his.

     Entry was a little easier this time, though whether it was from
the stretching from her first intercourse or the effect of the juices
flooding her tunnel was anybody's guess.  She was still very tight
around the Beast and it required all his effort to avoid spewing
while sliding into her.  She began slowly, then increased her pace
slightly.  Once she'd mentally established the rhythm and the length
of her strokes she began slipping the head of his cock almost out of
her tight little love tube, hesitating, and then sliding down around
it, allowing him to force her pussy open.  She began inhaling on the
up stroke, holding her breath on the down stroke, and releasing it in
a soft explosive sigh at the bottom.  It was the most erotic thing
Richard had ever heard.

     Her blue-green eyes unfocussed for a few moments.  She returned
to focus and looked deep into his green ones.  She paused to squeeze
the Beast within her tight young twat while at the bottom of a
stroke, then resumed pistoning.  "Does that feel good?"

     "Incredible!  Where did you learn that?"

     "Girls have their secrets."

     He blinked in surprise.  "Ellen told you?"

     "Would you be mad if she did?"  A hint of worry had crept into
the playful tone.

     "Mad?  I'm going to give her a pay raise!"

     Wynter giggled and did it again.

     "Honey, I can't hold it back," he gasped and then released his
load in a wave of indescribable pleasure as she tried to maintain a
pound-and-squeeze rhythm on his bucking hips.  When he finally
relaxed and opened his eyes, she started giggling.  "What?"

     "I think I'm ready to ride the bucking broncos at Frontier Days
now!"

     He tried to force the concern he felt through his dreamy facial
expression, but it wouldn't appear.  "Did I hurt you?"

     "Unh uh," she said shaking her head.  "I was worried about you,
though."

     "Are my arms and legs still attached?"

     She looked.  "Yep."

     "Then I guess I'm okay, too."

     She squeezed his limp dick with her pussy, and it shot out of
her, allowing a little more slimy jism to dribble into the lake of it
she was sitting in.

     "Drat!" she said with a pout.  "I wanted to keep you in me."

     "Well, that happens.  Tell you what," he said with a
conspiratorial grin.  "I'll let you put me back in you later, after I
get a little rest.  Okay?"

     She used her fingertip to cross his heart for him, then dipped
it between her legs and brought it between the small, round, pink-
capped orbs rising from her own slender chest.  "I promise to let
you," she said, tracing an "x" with their mixed juices, "any time you
want to, now and forever."

--
Russell Hoisington
Copyright 2003

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