It was the second to last game of the football season, of my sophomore year. I was running the ball up the field towards my first ever touch down. A guy jumped at me from my blind spot on my side and plowed me over. I landed on my arm the wrong way and it snapped. The crack was so loud that even some people in stands could hear it. The pain was instant and unbearable.
I woke up in the hospital, after they had knocked me out and reset my arm. It still hurt like hell and was throbbing in the cast they put on me.
"Oh, Jason, Your up." I heard my Mom say. I looked over to see her standing next to my bed with moist eyes. "How do you feel?" She asked on the verge of more tears.
"It's fine Mom. It hurts, but it's nothing to cry about." I gave her a smile. "You shut up; I can cry if I want to."
I looked over at my dad standing on the other side of the bed. He stood there smiling and looking almost proud that I had broken my first bone. "Almost made it to the end zone, champ. That was a good run." He said with a beaming smile.
"I know right, until that Cock Sucker hit me." I stopped myself, and looked at my Mom. "Sorry." I said. My Mom frowned and my dad laughed. "Don't worry Champ. You're drugged up; we'll let that one slide."
We got home later that night and I went straight to bed without showering. I didn't care how dirty I was, I was so tired; I think I fell asleep two seconds before my head hit the pillow.
I woke up late the next morning, and walked down stairs in just my boxers. I found my Dad sitting at the kitchen table in his boxers, also. "How's it feel?" He asked. "Not too bad, actually." I tried to make myself some breakfast but I'm not used to using my left hand. "Where's Mom at?" I asked.
"It's Saturday, She's at work. You need some help?" Dad got up to help me. "Thanks." I said. "Why couldn't it be my left arm."
My dad laughed. "You'll get used to using your left arm, for things." He made me some toast. And I sat at the table and realized for the first time just how badly I stank. I sniffed myself, "damn, I need a shower."
Dad sat back down at the table. "I was thinking about that. We can cut up a trash bag and tape it over your cast."
That's what we did. After breakfast, He wrapped a bag around cast and taped it up. I walked into the bathroom and Dad poked his head in. "If you need help with anything just holler." I said 'Ok', and closed the door. I pulled my boxers off and checked out my three inch uncut cock in the mirror, and for the first time I realized how impossible it was going to be to jerk off. At this point I only did it about three times a day. This sucks.
Our bathroom was huge and had a big shower block about eight foot by four foot that had two shower heads on either side.
I turned the water on pretty hot and let it flow over my aching body. I grabbed the shampoo and realized I didn't have another hand to squirt it in. Shit. I was going to need Dad's help after all. I yelled his name, and he came to the door. "What do you need champ." He asked through the door. "Help." I said.
He opened the door and came in. It was kinda weird because my dad hadn't seen me naked since before I hit puberty. He had never seen me with pubic hair or a dick that would get hard at the drop of a hat. That was a scary thought.
He poked his head in the shower. "What's the trouble?" I held up the shampoo bottle. "I only have one hand, and it's the retarded one." He laughed and said hold on. He glanced at my cock as he stepped back. He pulled down his boxers, and for the first time I realized that he would have to be naked too.
I don't know why that hadn't dawned on me earlier. I mean it's not that big of a deal. I've been showering with other guys in the locker room for a few years now, but they were all my own age and around the same size, if you know what I mean.
