Aunt MJ's Farm - Day 3 – A Careless Injury - Sex Stories

Aunt MJ's Farm - Day 3 – A Careless Injury

... professional concern and palpable relief at the indication that his functionality wasn't compromised. However, she noticed it hadn't reached full hardness—a sign that there was still discomfort suppressing his body's natural response.

“Seems like everything is mostly working as it should,” MJ said calmly, though her observation was laced with a clinical scrutiny. “But you're not getting completely hard—which could just be due to the pain.”

With one last thorough inspection ensuring she hadn’t missed any potential injuries, MJ finally drew back, giving Taylor some much-needed space.

“I don't think there’s serious damage,” she concluded, wiping her hands on a nearby towel before meeting his eyes directly. “But we need to keep an eye on this.”

She prescribed him rest for the remainder of the day while also advising him to use ice and heat intermittently to manage swelling and aid recovery. “And,” she added in no uncertain terms, “come see me tonight for a follow-up inspection—just to make sure everything is progressing properly.”

Taylor nodded silently grateful for Aunt MJ’s care yet mortified at how their familial bond had stretched into such private territory under medical necessity.

With MJ's instruction ringing in his ears, Taylor retreated to the sanctuary of his own room. The day's work was forgotten as he focused on tending to his injury—a bruise to both body and ego.

He alternated between ice packs and warm compresses, each application a stark ...

... reminder of the morning’s misadventure. The discomfort was persistent, an unwelcome companion that pulsed with each heartbeat. He lay there in bed mostly naked, left only with his thoughts which kept straying back to the intimate examination—how Aunt MJ's hands felt on him, carefully professional yet unavoidably personal.

Taylor tried not to think about it too much, but occasionally his mind would betray him—a flash of arousal amidst the pain reminding him that he was still very much an eighteen-year-old man despite the less-than-ideal circumstances.

Dinner came and went; Taylor excused himself early, citing the need for rest whilst inwardly dreading yet longing for the upcoming examination promised at nightfall, when the house quieted down. Finally, the time came for Taylor to make his way back towards his aunt’s room for the mandated follow-up appointment.

Taylor stepped into MJ's room, the air held a charged stillness—the kind that precedes a storm or follows a confession. His aunt sat on her bed, waiting for him, her demeanor a blend of maternal concern and clinical detachment.

“How are you feeling now?” she asked first and foremost, her voice marked with sincere concern.

“I'm okay,” Taylor replied, though 'okay' was not entirely truthful. “Still hurts but… it's manageable.”

MJ nodded understandingly, indicating for him to proceed as before. “We need to check your progress,” she said evenly. “Please undress and lay down and let’s take a look.”

With ...