Fire!

Literotic asexstories – Fire! by regularguy13,regularguy13 FYI. This is an incest story

^^^Thursday, July 9th^^^

“Fire!”

Luke shouted the word and jumped out of bed. A coughing fit had awakened him. The eighteen-year-old saw thick black smoke and heard the unmistakable crackling sound of a fire.

“Fire! Fire!” he hollered as clad in his underwear, he ran out of his room and went to the bedroom of the home’s only other occupant, his mother, Jane.

He opened the door and saw his mother getting out of bed. She was braless in a simple cotton sleeping shirt. Her large, dark areolas were visible through the thin fabric. She coughed, looked confused, and asked, “What’s happening?”

“We have to get out of here. The house is on fire!”

He grabbed his mother and escorted her toward the exits.

They lived in a single-story, two-bedroom house. It only had three other rooms: a kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom. There was a front door off the living room and a back door off the kitchen.

They came to the junction of the hall and the living room. If they turned to the right, they had a clear route out of the house through the front door.

To their left was the kitchen and the fire.

Oil and grease in a frying pan sitting on a burner of the electric stove was on fire. It produced dense black smoke.

“Come on, Ma,” Luke said. “Let’s get out of here.” He had an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the front door.

“No,” she said. She twisted her body and broke free of him.

His hand accidentally touched a boob. He was mortified and pulled his hand to his chest.

The thirty-eight-year-old woman didn’t react to his touch. She was focused on the fire. She entered the kitchen and said, “This house isn’t much, but it’s all we have. It’s just the frying pan that’s on fire.”

She grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher, pulled out the pin, and pointed the nozzle at the pan. Nothing happened.

“Damn piece of crap,” she shouted as she threw it on the floor. “Open the back door,” she commanded. “I’ll carry the pan outside.”

Luke opened the door while his mother slid her right hand into an oven mitten. She lifted the cast iron pan and was carrying it outside when the heavy pan tilted. The liquid sloshed, and the fire appeared to be about to spill out of the pan onto the floor.

Jane tightened her grip and over-corrected. The fire and the pan tilted in her direction.

“Ahh!” she shrieked and stepped back.

Some of the fiery liquid spilled out of the pan and onto her gown. The cotton fabric caught fire.

Jane was shocked, scared, and froze.

Luke moved quickly. He used both hands to snatch the frying pan from his mother. He carried it to the doorway and tossed it onto their dirt backyard. He returned to his mother and gently brought her to the floor. He pressed on the burning cloth.

He extinguished the flames and saved her from being severely hurt. In the process, her gown was destroyed. Large sections were missing, exposing her flesh.

“Ma, are you okay?” he asked as he knelt beside her. His eyes scanned her body for injuries. He saw redness on her stomach and thighs. He also saw sections of her body that a son normally doesn’t see.

His eyes were drawn to her breasts, her erect nipples, and her large reddish-brown areolas. He forced himself to look away and found himself staring at the black curly pubic hair covering her pussy.

The traumatic incident had put the woman into a mild form of shock. She wasn’t aware that she was mostly nude.

She babbled and said, “I think I’m okay. The pan was too heavy for me to carry with one hand. My gown caught on fire. Thank God you reacted the way you did.”

Her breathing was rapid and shallow; her pupils were dilated. She sat up, and her teardrop-shaped breasts slid down her chest. The movement of her soft heavy breasts drew her son’s attention.

She didn’t notice that Luke staring at her boobs. She said, “Where’s the frying pan?”

Luke pointed to the backdoor and said, “It’s in the backyard.”

“Is the fire out?” she asked.

Luke went outside. There were some flames in the pan and the dirt where the oil had splashed. He picked up a stick, beat the flames, kicked dirt on them, and smothered the fire.

He returned to the kitchen and said, “The fire is out.”

Her eyes focused on him. She cried out, “Your hands! Your hands are burned.”

They both examined his hands. They were red, swollen, and blisters were forming.

“That has to hurt!” she said.

Luke looked at his hands. Maybe his adrenaline level had dropped, or it was because he was seeing the damage done to his hands, he felt pain.

“Ow! They hurt.”

“Come to the sink and let’s run some cold water on them,” his mother said.

She turned on the faucet. Her sleeping shirt hung loosely around her shoulders with a gaping hole in the front, exposing her breasts and stomach.

Normally the hem landed mid-thigh. It still did on her right side. However, because of the damaged, her left thigh, hip, and buttock were exposed.

Luke leered at the naked half of her plump bottom before going and standing beside her. He placed his hand in the flowing water and groaned, “Ahhhh.”

“Poor baby,” she consoled him. “We’ve got to get you to the doctor.”

He turned his head, looked at her face, and asked, “How are you?”

She stepped back and glanced down where her tee shirt had caught fire. They both looked. There were red marks on her stomach and thighs. She touched her tummy and said, “It hurts like a bad sunburn. I’m not burned as badly as you.”

As she spoke their eyes wandered. Luke studied her pussy and tits. Jane became aware that her private parts were no longer private. She turned away, blushed, and said, “I need to put some clothes on. You too.”

She departed. It was difficult for him to turn off the water. He managed and went to his room.

Jane dressed quickly and called out, “Are you ready?”

“No. I can’t dress myself.”

She went into his bedroom and found her son sitting on his bed in his underwear.

He held up his damaged hands and said, “These don’t work.”

She opened his drawers, got some clothes, and dressed him.

^^^

Their town was too small to have a hospital. The gal at the front desk of the medical clinic saw Luke’s swollen red hands and immediately sent them to an exam room and notified the nurse on duty of their injuries.

An ancient crone, known as Nurse Betty, came into the room and said, “I understand the both of you are burn victims.”

“It’s all my fault,” Luke said. “I fried some chicken last night after you went to bed. I didn’t clean up afterward. I planned on using the oil and chicken fat to fry hash browns for our breakfast.

“I thought I turned the burner off. Sorry, Ma,”

“It’s not your fault. It’s that dang old electric stove. It doesn’t always shut down when you turn it off.”

“Luke,” Betty asked, “is it just your hands that are injured?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She peered at his hands and had him move his thumbs and fingers.

“The oil and grease in the frying pan caught fire,” Luke explained. “Ma was carrying it outside when she spilled some of the burning oil on her nightgown. I grabbed the pan and threw it outside. ”

“Jane, can you show me your burns?” Nurse Betty asked.

Jane unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them down to her knees. She lifted her shirt and showed the nurse the burns above and below her cotton panties.

As Betty examined her burns, Luke stared at his mother’s underwear. Her black pubes formed a dark shadow under the white fabric.

“You two are lucky,” the nurse said. “Neither of you are seriously injured. Jane, you have first-degree burns on your abdomen. It’s a surface burn that should heal in three-four days.

“Soaking in cool water will ease the pain. Take aspirin or Advil if you need it. Aloe vera, honey, or an ointment like Neosporin, will speed up the repair of the damaged skin.”

“Thank you,” she said. “What about my son?”

“His situation is worse,” Betty said and frowned. “He has second-degree burns on his hands.

“A first-degree burn is the mildest type. It means you damaged the outer layer of skin. Second-degree burns are more serious. The epidermis is not just damaged. It is gone. Destroyed.”

“Oh, no!” Jane wailed.

“Toughen up, Buttercup!” Nurse Betty barked. “His hands will heal. It will take longer. Two weeks at most. He lost the outer layer of skin, but he didn’t damage any of the important things underneath it, like nerves or sweat glands.

“His chances of having an excellent recovery are good. He’s young and fit. Luke, have you been working out? Your muscles are well developed. What are you, six foot three and two hundred twenty pounds?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’ve been running and lifting weights to get ready for football. Do you think I’ll be healed by the end of August?”

“Today is the ninth of July. I expect you’ll be healed by the end of the month if you follow my instructions, and you can resume your football workouts.”

“Great. I’ll do whatever you say,” Luke responded.

“Jane, are you available to help your son?” the nurse asked. “You’ll have to be his hands. He’ll need help eating, dressing, going to the bathroom, and someone to change his bandages.”

“Whatever it takes,” Jane said. “I’m a waitress at Barney’s Diner. I can work around Luke’s needs.

The old woman looked at Luke and said, “I’ll give you an antibiotic to stave off infections.”

Her head swiveled, and she said, “Jane, every day you’ll need to clean your son’s hands, remove the dead skin, and apply Neosporin.

“I’ll do it now, watch, and learn. Do this twice a day for the first week. Come back in seven days, I’ll evaluate Luke’s progress.”

Nurse Betty tended to Luke’s hands and explained to his mother what she needed to do. She wrapped his hands in sterile gauze. She discussed pain management and techniques to make Luke comfortable.

Jane and Luke left the clinic. They stopped at the drugstore, loaded up on supplies, and returned home.

Jane carried everything inside. Luke made himself useful by standing in front of the screen door, holding it open for his mother.

“Want a drink?” she asked him after she’d stored the medical supplies.

“Sure. A Coke would be nice.”

Jane poured him a glass, set it on the kitchen table in front of him, and poured some over ice for herself. She sat, took a sip, and said, “Silly me. You can’t lift your glass and drink.”

She picked his glass up, put it down, and said, “I don’t have to help you drink. We have straws somewhere.”

She got up, rifled through some drawers, and pulled out a box of plastic straws. She put one in his drink. Luke sipped the soda through his straw.

“Ma, are we going to be able to do this? I can’t feed myself or go to the bathroom.”

She laughed and said, “I’ll be like old times. When you were a baby, I did everything for you, including wiping your bum!”

“Yes, but I’m no longer an infant. I haven’t been naked in front of you for many, many years. You’re going…” He looked horrified and couldn’t finish the sentence.

She gave him a quizzical look.

His face turned red, and he said, “You’re going to see my penis.”

“Yes. So?”

“Yesterday, if you’d told me my mother was going to see my penis, I would have said I’d rather die. The embarrassment would be too much.”

Jane laughed. She saw the look of pain and uneasiness on her son’s face and stifled it.

He wasn’t done thinking about his situation. He cried out, “What if I get an erection?”

Her brow furled. She thought for a moment and said, “We’ll grin and bear it!” She changed the spelling of the last word. “B…A…R…E.”

She laughed; he didn’t.

She tried again to reassure her son. She said, “It’s not the end of the world. We’re talking about fourteen days, and it’s not like we have another choice.”

She grasped his shoulders, looked him in the eyes, and said, “Keep calm and carry on.”

He didn’t respond. He looked shell-shocked.

She smiled, and said, “We will get through this as best we can. If you get an erection, I won’t be offended, disgusted, or angry. I won’t think you’re a terrible son. Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

Jane got up. Luke followed her to the hall bathroom and stood in front of the toilet. She unzipped his pants, reached in, and grabbed his balls.

“Sorry. My equipment is different.” She snickered and added, “And the process is different. I remove my clothes, plop on the toilet, and go.”

She rooted around in his pants and caused his penis to become erect. She grasped his smooth thick hard shaft and tried unsuccessfully to get it through the opening in his boxers and out the hole in his jeans.

“How do you get this thing out?” she asked, frustrated.

Her red-faced boy said, “Usually I don’t have an erection, and I can whip it out.”

Jane pulled her hand out, unbuckled his pants, and pulled his jeans and boxers down. His dick got caught in the fabric and was pushed down. When it was free, it sprung up suddenly.

They both looked at his bouncing member. It was smooth, straight, and had a slight upward tilt. He had an abundant amount of black curly pubes.

“My little boy is no longer a little boy,” his mother thought.

“Ma, do I have a small dick?”

“No. You have a beautiful cock with a good length and thickness. Why would you think it’s small? Did some girl tell you that?”

“No. No girl has seen my penis. I’ve seen porn videos, and the guys have much bigger penises.”

“Porn isn’t real. How many women in town look like the big-breasted bimbos on Pornhub?”

“None. You watch porn?”

Jane blushed and said, “I’ve seen it. The point I was making is that a lot of women in porn have fake tits. Normal natural women don’t have giant ta-tas attached to their chests.

“The men aren’t real either. They use tricks and special camera angles to make their dicks look bigger and they select men with unusually large penises for the videos.

“Do you think you’re short because you’ve seen men seven feet tall playing in the NBA? You know guys that tall are not the norm. It’s the same thing with dudes in porn videos.

“You have a perfectly fine penis. It’s a good length and thickness. It’ll please a woman.

“Take my word for it, a ten-inch-long dick, or one as thick as a beer can, is scary. I wouldn’t let it anywhere near my vagina!”

She grasped his cock and squeezed it, and said, “This is fine. Normal is good. Now how are we going to do this?” She pushed his penis down, pointing it at the toilet bowl.

“Ow.”

“Sorry dear, did I hurt you?” Jane asked. She let go of his penis.

“A little. My dick doesn’t easily move in that direction when it’s hard. It would be better if we wait for it to go down. Otherwise, I’m likely to pee on the ceiling.”

That broke the tension, and they shared a laugh.

She knelt to pull up his clothes and blushed as she found herself at eye level with his cock. “Stop it,” she chastised herself. “Stop staring at his cock!” she forced herself to look away.

“Ahh. Ma, I have an idea,” Luke said.

“What’s that?” Jane said. Reflexively she looked up, and her cheek bumped into his hard penis. She gasped and sat quickly on the floor to get away from it.

She laughed.

Luke was surprised by the contact and worried that she’d be angry. He was relieved to see that she was a good sport, and he laughed too.

“What’s your idea?” Jane asked when they stopped laughing.

“It’s hard to pee when I am hard,” Luke said. He grimaced at his choice of words. “I expect I’ll always have an erection if you’re touching my penis.”

She nodded.

“If I didn’t have on pants and underwear, I could do as you do, sit on the toilet and pee when I need to, unassisted. I could wear my robe all day and leave it untied. I can sit and pee when I have to go.

“We’d avoid the awkward situation of you holding my penis. The robe would provide some modesty for me and some protection from unwanted dick sightings for you.”

“Good idea. Let’s do that.”

She got up; they went into his bedroom. She undressed him and helped him put his robe on. She held it up as he carefully slid his bandaged hands through the sleeves.

She pulled the belt out of the three-quarter robe and tossed it aside. She moved, so she was in front of him, smiled, and said, “I think this will work. Your junk will be less obvious when your erection goes away. Can you move the robe out of the way to sit?”

Luke used his arms to push the fabric away from his body, he sat on his bed, and said, “Yes.”

He had his legs open. His dick pointed at his mother. She looked at his hard penis, blushed, and turned away.

“Ah…Ahh,” she stammered and said. “Let’s sit at the kitchen table. I need to make a schedule.”

They sat in the kitchen. Jane got paper and a pencil. She wrote as she spoke.

“We have to pay our bills. I need to work. Instead of working my usual schedule of five lunch and four dinner shifts spread out over seven days, maybe I can pick up some breakfast shifts and only be gone three or four days this week.

“I’ll go in early to handle the morning breakfast rush. You can sleep in, and I’ll see you at nine. I’ll feed you and change your bandages.

“I’ll work a couple of hours mid-day and be back around one-thirty and feed you.

“If I work the dinner shift, I’ll be back around eighty-thirty, fix dinner, feed, bathe, and change your bandages.”

“Woah! You’re going to bathe me?”

“Yes. Until you grow a third hand and can wash yourself, I will wash you. It’ll be awkward for both of us, but it must be done.”

Jane sighed, exasperated.

“You’re right, Ma. I’m sorry for objecting. You’re doing the best you can, and hey, it’ll only be for fourteen days, right?”

He laughed. The tense situation abated.

“Yes. It’s not like I’ll be seeing and handling your penis forever!

They laughed at the gallows humor.

“Ma, let’s not forget you. You’re injured too.”

“Nurse Betty said I’d be fine in three days.”

“If you take care of yourself,” he reminded her. “At least take the rest of today off.”

“Fair enough.”

Jane called her boss and explained the situation.

“Take all the time you need,” Barney said. “Do what you have to do. We can change your schedule. Do you want to work the breakfast shift tomorrow instead of the dinner shift?

“Can I work both? I have medical bills to pay. I could use some extra shifts.

“We’re short-staffed. You can have all the shifts you want.”

“Thanks. Put me down for all three shifts for the next three days, and we’ll see how it goes.”

“You got it.”

“See you tomorrow morning. Bye.”

While his mother was on the phone, Luke went into the bathroom and sat on the toilet. His limp dick dangled in the bowl, and he peed freely. He gave himself time to drip-dry.

He walked up to his mother and said as proud as a three-year-old, “I peed.”

“Good for you,” Jane answered. “That’s one problem solved. I got my work schedule sorted. Let’s take it easy.”

Jane and Luke went into the living room, sat on the sofa, and watched television. His robe gaped. Both were uncomfortable. Jane could see his penis; her son knew his dick was exposed.

He fidgeted.

Jane turned, looked him in the face, and said, “Son, I know you’re upset about me seeing your penis. The robe needs to be open so you can go to the bathroom. If you closed the robe or wore jeans, I’d have to help you go to the bathroom and end up touching your penis. Is that a better solution?

“When I bathe you, I’m going to see and touch it. There’s no getting around it, for the next two weeks you have no privacy. As Nurse Betty would say, ‘Toughen up, Buttercup’.”

His face turned red. He stopped fidgeting and said, “You’re right.”

They sat and watched a show for an hour and a half. Luke got an erection; it faded. They both were aware of the situation. Jane tried not to look. Luke tried not to get embarrassed. They both failed.