Damn Those Killer Dimples Chapter Twelve
This story is completely fictitious. If you are in a locality where reading this stuff is illegal--LEAVE NOW. If you are offended by actions between two or more guys--LEAVE NOW. If you're ok with it--READ ON. This story starts off slow, and remains that way through several chapters. It's a love story--hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it. This will be a long story. Hope you hang on--Have fun. I do enjoy receiving e-mails!
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Damn Those Killer Dimples Chapter Twelve
Matt had awoken, but only for a moment--his eyes--his blue eyes searched me, but only for a moment--his dimples--God I love his dimples. I knew he was on his way to recovery. I kept massaging his upper torso with all the love I could muster. I got hard as I was doing it, but I couldn't help myself--he was mine--he was hurting--I needed to help him. As I continued to massage his hairless body, I kept talking to him, as if he fully understood me. I didn't think he could, but I was hanging on for hope--hope that my voice--my touch--would bring him back.
It had been an hour since he had looked at me--still nothing. Then, he groaned and tried to move his body in the bed--he couldn't--he moaned in agony as his muscles tried to move him. It was a good thing I wasn't anywhere near the abandoned shack near Rye, or they would have gotten a good dose of revenge. I continued to massage him and spoke as lovingly as I could. Hours passed, as I lay beside my agonizing man. Finally, he opened his eyes once again--I basked in the love they held--this time he held my eyes as if saying how much he loved and cared for me. He couldn't talk--I asked if he needed something to drink--he nodded so very slightly in the affirmative, as he grimaced in pain--my hunk couldn't move a finger without it hurting. I jumped out of bed and quickly put on some shorts. I practically ran toward the kitchen--I walked briskly back. He couldn't even hold his head up to take a swallow--I had to help him--he was so weak. The doctor came, once we had called him. Matt was thoroughly examined, but still couldn't talk--I became really worried.
After the doctor finished his initial examination, he left the room and motioned for me to follow. Once out of Matt's ability to hear, he told me that Matt would need physical therapy for at least several months--maybe up to a year. He would be as helpless as a baby for at least several weeks, and may not ever walk again. My jaw dropped helplessly, as I look at the doctor in shock--my knees weakened, as I collapsed aimlessly on the floor. Evan quickly came and helped me to the nearest chair. The doctor explained that Matt needed to undergo extensive x-rays be more thoroughly examined before he would know full extent of his injuries--that he was really just guessing at the prognoses. He tried calming me before he continued. He thought Matt may never talk again--he had no saliva in his mouth and apparently had nothing to drink during his incarceration. His larynx was severely dehydrated and injured. I told him I'd tell Matt of the extent of his injuries and thanked him, as he wrote several prescriptions. After he left, I asked Evan if he would handle getting the prescriptions--he readily agreed and took off immediately.
Once Evan had gone, I went to tell Matt--I didn't know how he would take it--he took it bad--very badly--I crawled into bed with him and massaged him as he tried to cry. He cried tearlessly--his bodily liquids had been severely depleted. I cried for him, as he looked longingly in my eyes. God I wanted to make his pain mine--I would have gladly exchanged places with him, but I couldn't--all I could do was to comfort him. The following days would be extremely important, as I would take him for more extensive examinations. My captive audience was going to pay, and pay dearly. Once I had Matt calmed down, and Evan had returned from the pharmacy, I told Matthew that Evan would take care of him for a few hours.
Once I reached Rye, I set out with vengeance, both of these guys were hairy--grotesquely so. Once inside the shack, I grabbed handfuls of chest hair and began tearing it from their bodies. They both were a bloody mess when I left--I still gave them no food or water--I wanted the bastards to die. On the way back to Scottsdale, I stopped at a specialty store and bought some extreme hot sauce--you have no idea how hot this stuff was--the clerk said that it was made by extracting the heat out habanero peppers--the process would continue on--always extracting the heat from the extract--on and on the process would go until they had the ultimate. It would be used the following day--I was inwardly smiling as I thought about it.
I returned home and found that Evan had begun administering the prescribed medications--with the exception of the medicated spray for his larynx. Matt couldn't even open his mouth without help--I assisted him, as he didn't have the energy to do it himself--my God, my Matt was weak. He groaned in pain as I sprayed it into his throat--it had to be done though--he was too weak to fight back.
The following day, I wheeled Matt into the hospital for his x-rays--I had made a makeshift neck brace so he could keep his head upright. The hospital visit took several hours longer than I had anticipated--we would know more about his injuries the following day, once the specialists had seen the x-rays. Since Matt couldn't yet talk, I asked him if he wanted to go back home and relax--he nodded slightly, as if to say a weakened no. Since Matthew couldn't even sit up without slumping over, I had to tie him into the reclining seat. If I had to brake suddenly, his limp body would have shot forward.
I talked about everything I could so as to keep the conversation away from his condition. His body had already started changing--his muscle tone was somewhat less pronounced from that of a godlike physique--I was amazed it was happening so soon--but I remembered the doctor had told me that the episode had weakened his heart--it wasn't pumping and circulating the fluids as it should. He had mentioned that his muscles would lose their definition rather quickly--I must have blocked it out of my memory. The process had already begun--his pecs weren't as nearly muscled, nor were they as defined. Even though the injuries had taken their toll--I still loved him--I always would.
Since I had planned on going to Rye, I decided to take Matt for the short ride too. I drove past Rye and on to Payson, where I dropped him off at Denny's. I arranged for some friends to keep an eye on him and help whenever possible. I went back to the shack with the extreme heat I had purchased. They were still in the same position as I had left them. I opened the hot sauce and poured about half of it into their ass cracks. I had two pair of clear plastic gloves on my hands, as I made sure I didn't get any on my skin. With my index finger, I forced it into their assess and made sure it was on their prostrate gland. Talk about reactions to the heated intrusion--they were definitely there--they were moaning and groaning through their gagged mouths--their bodies were swaging wildly. I enjoyed every minute of it. I released them from their gags and let them drink some water--of course it was treated with the extract too. With the heat that accumulated in the musty shack, they were dehydrating quite nicely. I inserted a metal butt plug, in each of the bastards--I had them specially made. I disconnected the tens unit and after I had inserted the plugs, I attached one of the leads to each. I had the plugs made so it would be up against their prostrate. I turned it on high and left--their bodies were going wild--they were in agony--they were going to pay ten times ten for what they had done to my Matthew. As I left, I could hear them screaming for help--even through their gags--they were miles away from anyone. I was very happy with my moment of vengeance. "Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord"--I was just helping a little.
I quickly returned to Payson, and picked up Matthew--he seemed to have enjoyed the outing, but we hurried back to Scottsdale. I put him to bed and gave him what I considered a great massage. I started playing with him, but his cock wouldn't respond--I kept it up until I was practically exhausted. I fell on top of him and played with his hair-stubbled chest--the hair was beginning to return to his body. I laid on the crevice of what used to be the most perfect pecs on earth--now they were just mounds of flesh--more muscle tone had been lost--I still loved my man--I always would.
The next day, we again returned to the hospital--itt turned out things were not near as severe as at first thought, once the x-rays had been read, and more examinations had been made. We were both encouraged. The doctor made an appointment with the best physical therapist in Arizona. His office was located in Scottsdale--the appointment was for the next day at nine. We were upbeat. Matt had also begun uttering different sounds--his larynx was getting better--We made an appointment with a speech therapist, as well, he had been highly recommended--he specialized in throat injuries. He said, that with proper throat exercises, Matt could be back to normal within weeks--a month tops. Things were looking good for his full recovery.
After the day filled with appointments, Matt was tired--it had drained what little energy he had--he wanted to go home. I dropped him off and put Evan in charge--he was in good care. I went to Rye. I figured they had had enough. I entered the shack and disconnected the units. I put the equipment in my SUV--I then picked up any and all evidence, which could possibly lead the authorities to me. I cut the leather restraints--they fell hard to the ground. I left them there with no clothes. They could fend for their fucking selves. The next day, and for the following week, there wasn't anything in the news--I felt comfortable with it. My attention was now fully focused on Matt and his recovery. The heart medicine finally began doing it's job--it looked as if Matthew Montgomery was on his way to a quicker recovery.
Over the next several weeks, Matt was doing remarkably better. He could now walk short distances, though he had to use a walker--he was a bit jittery too, and sometimes needed help--his muscle tone was barely beginning to return somewhat--his speech patterns were better too. He began uttering words, sentences--even a few paragraphs. His outlook on life was not as gloomy as it had been--things were looking up.
Since nothing had been reported in the news regarding the two hoodlums I had accosted, I assumed they recovered, but hoped they hadn't. Finally, after two months of no sex, Matt and I had our first sexual encounter--It was grand. I told him that it was all for him--I wanted nothing in return. I sucked on his pecs--they were beckoning me to do my bid--he loved it when I played with his chest. I loved his upper torso, as you should well nigh know. With his exercise regime, his abs were slowly returning to their height of glory--his biceps were almost back too--overall, he looked remarkably well--especially considering all that he had been through. My Matthew was a remarkable man--in more ways than one.
I continued to massage his body as I chewed on his haired pecs. I then began playing with his throbbing tool--it had been a long time since he had shot his wad into me, or even just shot--I longed for it to happen, but I dared not excite him too much--what if he couldn't--I was petrified with the prospect. I didn't want him to mentally regress, as he had a really good feel about his recovery. I felt he would let me know when he was ready to try. As I played with his tool, he got hard and thick. I didn't continue too much longer. I then rolled him over and massaged his neck and back muscles, and his triceps--he was muscled--even his back was a muscle mans dream--possibly even a wet one. I reached under him and tweaked his nipples as I played with him--he was once again a moaning and a groaning. I crawled off of him and spooned him--I gently played with the hair that was growing back on his chest--I loved him more than I ever had dreamed possible. I could tell he was grinning--it then turned to a smile--I just knew it--though I hadn't seen it--damn those killer dimples.
...TBC
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