Chapter One The noise startled me and I jumped to one side, in time to avoid being run down by an wayward bicycle. It wasn't uncontrolled long, as it slammed into the barbed wire of the pasture fence and a sturdy post. The rider was thrown along the fence for a short ways and ended up tangled in the broken wire. I was on my way to the house from the creek where I had been successful in catching a few trout for supper. My mountain farm home is rather remote and seldom is there a visitor. Then, they are some curious relatives who tend to come in pairs or small groups. The road is private and marked that way with large obvious signs. Here in the mountains of Vermont, privacy is strictly enforced and honored by most people. Curious about the intruder, I hurried to his side. He was not moving, but I could see that he still breathed. Barbed wire is nasty stuff, as he was well aware. Groaning, he attempted to move, but was held by the broken strands of wire. With my folding multipurpose tool, I cut the wire that was holding him down. Then I helped him stand, I was able to untangle the wire from his waist, but there was a piece stuck in his leg that was not going to be easy to remove. His hands were both torn badly when he evidently tried to keep the wire from cutting up his body. They were bleeding profusely. His meager clothing was in shreds. The close fitting, elastic clothing left little to the imagination as it was, but now everything was revealed. The wire in his leg just barely missed making him castrated. All that remained was the two bands around his lower thighs and part of the band about his waist. The rest hung on what was left of the wire fence. His shirt front was also missing. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "I'm doing the Trans. Or at least I thought I was. This road was to be a short cut. I didn't know it was private. Sorry." "We'll speak of that later. Now you need to be tended to." I took pieces of his clothing and bandaged his hands enough to stop the bleeding. "What's your name?" "Steve. What's yours?" "I'm Sven. Some people call me Mister Sven, but you can call me just Sven." "It's good I'm not bashful," Steve joked while looking at his disheveled state. We both laughed, easing the tension. With my support (I was nearly carrying him), we hopped and hobbled up to the house and I sat him down in a lounge chair on the large front porch that overlooked the lake in the distance. He looked like he was going into shock, so I lowered the back so he'd lay flat and propped up his 'good' leg with a pillow. "Please, call my partner at 555-1234. He will come and help me. What is the name of this place?" "I call it my 'hill place.' There is no phone for miles, but I do have a radio. The problem is, it will be awhile until the next scheduled contact. I can try to contact the forest ranger station, but he is seldom nearby to answer. These mountains make communication difficult at best. See those storm clouds over toward the lake? They will be here and pouring down on us in about a half hour." As I spoke, the winds picked up as if to add an emphasis to my statement. "Oh, Shit! What have I got myself into? Fred is going to be livid, just a few days ago I wrecked his car. Oh, my leg, it hurts like hell. MMMMmmm MMn," he groaned as he tried to move to be more comfortable. "Try to stay still. You are only making things worse by moving. I'm going into the house and get my first aid kit. Just stay still!" Grabbing the kit from the front hall closet, I hurried back outside. His face was starting to get a little color back. Maybe things will not be too bad after all. Taking the scissors from the open kit, I cut away all that was left of his shorts, leaving him nude. Then, I took a heavy forceps and tried to remove the piece of wire embedded in his upper thigh. It did not budge. It was a long single strand that had slid just under the skin. "I'll need to cut a little to remove this, OK?" He just nodded. With a new scalpel I made a quick short incision that allowed me to pull the wire out. The wound bled slowly. After a short while, I placed a pressure bandage on it. Work like this reminded me of my Army days as a combat medic. "Hold this while I clean up some of these other scratches." It was a long while before I had most of the wounds covered or treated. He resembled a patchwork quilt with legs! His hands looked as though he was wearing mittens. The last step was a careful replacement of the pressure bandage with a more permanent one. When that was done, we moved to the bathroom where I sat him on the edge of the tub. Warm water from my solar water heater flowed over his feet and he wriggled his toes. "That feels great. I'm so sore all over, I wish I could just slide right down in there and soak for a week.." With a warm wet wash cloth, I began washing his feet. Slowly working my way up his scratched up legs. Occasionally, he would jump and let out a cry or cuss word whenever I came close to his sore spots. As I approached his crotch, I could not help but notice he was getting an erection. I did not comment on it. Moving tenderly, I took his scrotum in hand to wash away the blood and dirt. "Oh that is nice, but please take it easy. They are really sore." "I'll be careful. Do you want your penis washed?" "Yes, if you do not mind. I can scarcely move without a lot of pain. I wonder if I hurt my back? I'll really be sore tomorrow." Slowly, with long deliberate strokes, I washed his erect penis. He was circumcised and fairly well endowed (about 8 inches). He groaned a different tone as I 'washed' it. In a moment, I dropped the wash cloth and just used my hands and plenty of soap to massage the 'pain' from his erect member. His hips moved perceptibly as I continued my administrations. Shortly, he began ejaculating a copious amount of cum. I quickly grabbed the wash cloth and caught the most of it, wiping up what was missed. "Oh! That was good" he sighed when he was finished, and had a huge smile on his face. I continued washing him all over, then wrapped him in my bathrobe. I made a bed for him on the hide-a-bed in the parlor. Soon after I laid him down, he was asleep. Quietly, I moved into the den and tried to call out on the radio. The storm was disrupting everything and besides it was even foolish to try. The bicyclist had no really serious cuts or injuries, so there was no real emergency. I'll give it another try in the morning. I hope the storm will have passed over by then. To be continued...
