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As soon as we hit the back lanes, her arms slipped down from my waist and her hands were in my lap, resting on my, by now rock solid cock. I knew if she carried in like this we were going to wreck so I was racking my brains for somewhere to pull over.I suddenly remembered an old derelict mansion about half a mile up a dirt track just down the lane. I turned off the lane and we bumped our way to the mansion. The bumpy track made her hands judder in my lap and my cock was almost bursting out of my jeans by the time we stopped. "And why have we stopped here, Mike," she said as I lifted her off the bike. I could see by the look on her face that she knew exactly why we'd stopped. "Because Brenda, you've been winding me up since we left the main road and now I'm going to give you the fucking you've been asking for." "And where do you think you're going to do that," she said, pointing at the ground. It'd been raining on and off for the last couple of days and there was no way I could fuck. Did as told, didn't panic or freak, even though she knew your legs were gone as soon as they got you on the stretcher. Helped the EMT with tourniquets. Rode here with you in the medevac chopper despite being scared shitless of heights. Didn't leave until I ordered her to go home and come back tomorrow. Good friend, that one. Keep her. And I'm sorry about George. See you in the A.M." Carrie didn't let loose of her logical switch again until midnight: she waited until Nurse was gone, then let herself go, and was down to mere snuffling when Nurse returned. During that first night, through a mild narcotic haze, she pondered, never allowing herself to go maudlin, being her best analytical self. By three she had her plans outlined -- not in detail, but firm. She was going to beat this thing, whatever the hell that meant! She slept surprisingly well once the analysis and decision were on mental record. Next morning, as promised, Gail was bedside when Carrie awoke. Gail had been briefed by.
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