Family Secrets, I Know All Ch. 12

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I'd like to thank Steven for giving me the inspiration to write this story.

Susan assumes her matriarchal role as the Dominatrix of her entire adopted family.

*

With Brett sleeping on his side and facing away from her, Susan couldn't tell if he was sleeping or pretending to be asleep. Unable to tell if he was breathing, he looked dead. Fearing he had a concussion and died in his sleep from his injuries, just as she was about to walk over to him to shake him awake, instead of answering her, he startled her when he suddenly moved.

"Brett, you startled me. I thought you were dead for a minute," she said.

As if he was a zombie coming back from the dead and returning to life, he scared her with his slow albeit sudden movement. As if he was a vampire ready to bite her neck and suck out her blood before stripping her naked and having sex with her, she was frightened. As if he was a dead body at the morgue rolling from his side, he rolled over on his back and kicked down his sheet to expose his naked body to her. She needed to stop watching scary movies before she went to bed at night.

Knowing that exposing himself to her was what he wanted to do in his feeble attempt to control her by flashing her his cock, she played along with him by staring at his prick before making eye contact with him. Something he no doubt only sexually fantasized of doing and would never dare do before, because of frigging Erin, he routinely exposed himself to her now. He was always flashing her his cock. Moreover, he was always trying to peep on her too. Erin had changed her brother from a nice 18-year-old boy to a pig of a man. If he was so perversely perverted now, she couldn't imagine what he'd be when he was 30-years-old and 40-years-old.

Yet, this time, there was something amiss. This time there was something wrong and something not right. Missing from the scene, something that's always present in the room of an 18-year-old young man, the obvious elephant in the room wasn't there. Normally, before being injured on the football field, with him a typical, horny, 18-year-old teenager, he always has an erection, especially at this hour of the morning. This time, however, he didn't have his giant, hardwood log of morning wood. After he suffered a serious injury to his groin area in football practice, she didn't have to be a doctor to suspect and to diagnose that Brett not having an erection was not only odd but also wasn't a good thing.

All men, young and old have morning wood. All young men always have an erection. Unless they were out drinking and partying the night before and having sexy fun with women, seemingly, the morning was the horniest time for men. The morning is when the sexual fantasies that had during the night encouraged them to masturbate themselves. Especially with him flashing her his flaccid prick, she would have thought that he'd be sexually aroused with her staring at his prick in the way she knew he wanted her to stare at his prick. Even if he didn't have an erection before, with her staring at his flaccid cock, he should have an erection now. Yet, instead of staring at his limp cock as a sexual object, with him so badly bruised and obviously injured, she stared at his bruised thighs and his naked cock and testicles with concern for his health before looking up at his face.

"I'm awake Susan. I'm awake," he said yawning and stretching before wiping the sleep from his eyes with his hands.

She suspected that the act of stretching would cause him to have an erection. Any bodily movement of an 18-year-old, testosterone filled, naked, young man was cause for an erection, especially when there was a tall, beautiful, busty, blue-eyed blonde in the room staring at his cock. The fact that he didn't have an erection was a serious clue that there was something physically and terribly wrong with him. The fact that Brett didn't have an erection worried her.

After accustomed to having sex with men her age, men who don't take care of themselves physically, and men who have pot bellies from eating and drinking too much, Susan felt herself getting wet between her thighs from seeing Brett's young, beautiful, hard, muscular, naked body. Even if his cock wasn't big, hard, and fully erect, as if she was a painter and he was her model with both of them ready to paint a nude scene, he was so beautiful to look at and to ogle. He wasn't the only sexual and horny one in the room. With her at the height of her sexuality, she was just as sexual and horny now at 42-years-old as any 18-year-old man of a boy would be at this early hour of the morning. Besides, Susan loved cock. She loved stroking pricks as much as she loved sucking and fucking pricks.

In his defense of disrespecting her by flashing her and by continuing to flash her, with her seeing him naked when helping him shower last night, obviously he just assumed that it was okay to flash her his naked body this morning. When helping him shower last night, they were both naked and standing facing one another in the small shower stall. With them so close to one another, she wasn't getting the view of his naked body in the way she was getting now with him lying on his back beneath the bright, bedroom light. Yet, more than just seeing him naked, with his overhead, bedroom light better illuminating his injuries, she could more clearly see the seriousness of his wounds from playing football on the practice field. She gave one, last, long look at his cock and bruised thighs before turning to leave his room.

"Get dressed Brett," she said. "Your mother just called me. She wanted to remind me that she made a doctor's appointment yesterday for you today. She wants to make sure you're okay. Get a move on. Get dressed," said Susan looking at her watch. "We have to be health center by ten."

Brett sat up in bed, yawned, stretched and wiped the sleep from his eyes again. As if he was an elderly man with arthritis instead of a young and otherwise healthy 18-year-old, he slowly moved his legs from the bed to put his feet on the floor. Seemingly old before his time, with him the quarterback of a losing high school, football team that lacked a solid defense to protect him, as if he had a bullseye on his chest, he was a fair game target. Hit, sacked, hurried, and rushed more than his defensive line blocked their opponents, already having suffered sprains, broken bones, and concussions, this injury was from his own teammate during practice. This injury, as debilitating as it seemed to be, could prematurely end his football career. There goes his hope for a college, football scholarship to a top, ten school.

"Geez, I'm so stiff. I'm so sore," he said trying to bend and flex his leg. "I felt better last night when taking a hot shower with you, Susan." Brett gave Susan a leer that was no doubt influenced by seeing Erin naked before having sex with his sexy sister. Undressing her with his eyes, he looked at Susan as if she was still naked. "That was the best shower of my life," he said with a dirty laugh.

Slowly standing, he erected his 6'3" frame while leaning on furniture to help him walk to the bathroom. As if he was a toddler who had just learned to walk, he took one slow and steady step at a time. A good looking kid with bright, blue eyes, and an engaging smile, he had blonde, Robert Redford, thick hair that was two shades darker than his sister's blonde hair. He looked like the typical, poster boy image of what a high school or college quarterback should look like.

"Let me help you, Brett," said Susan.

She rushed to his side.

"No, I'm good," said Brett waving her off with his hand. "I can do it. Gees, I don't need you to help me go to the bathroom," he said with embarrassment, with attitude, and with an edge to his voice.

Only, just as it was obvious that he was hurting, it was obvious that he needed her help. It was obvious that he was in pain. She watched him gingerly walk as if he was 78-year-old man near the end of his life instead of an 18-years-old teenager at the start of his life.

The pounding his young body had already taken a physical and emotional toll on him. With his defensive line unable to hold the line to protect him, it was time he quit football. He may not have a choice in the matter. The doctor may take that decision out of his hands by not approving him medically and fit enough to return to get hit, battered, and bruised again.

With this hit his last hit, if he tried to return to football, the next hit could be his last hit. With all of the concussions he had already suffered, the next blow to the head could be a fatal blow. After receiving this debilitating injury, he may never play competitive football again anyway. His brief football career that already spanned 10-years from playing Pop Warner football to playing football in junior high and now starting first string, high school varsity football is over. Only, try telling him that, the star quarterback who hoped to win a football scholarship to play at a top ten, college.

He was so competitive. He was always so hard on himself. A hard worker, he'd never quit. He'd never admit defeat. He worked harder than any member on the team. Arriving early and leaving late, he never missed a practice. Only, if he was this battered and bruised now, he'd never survive four years of playing college level football, never mind playing even more competitive, professional football. Just as it was one thing to go from high school football to college football, it was quite another thing to go from college football to professional football.

"Go slow Brett. One step at a time," said Susan. "I'll get the door for you," she said opening his bathroom door for him.

Never thinking that Tiffany needed a house that had five bedrooms and five and a half bathrooms, Susan was glad now that each bedroom had its own attached bathroom. She was glad that Brett didn't have to walk out in the hall to use the guest bathroom or, when downstairs, climb the stairs to use the upstairs bathroom when there were two bathrooms downstairs.

Giving him some privacy, Susan pulled the bathroom door closed behind him once Brett was standing in front of the toilet but, leaving it ajar, she wanted to hear him over the bathroom fan should he need help. She could hear him groaning in pain while trying to pee. Expecting to hear a steady, forceful stream of urine, she heard a low trickle instead. Then, hearing his voice, she didn't know if he was talking to her or to himself.

"Now with the medication no longer masking the pain, I'm afraid there could be something much worse than just bruising," he said talking more to himself than he was to her while staring down at his limp dick and bruised thighs. "Fuck," he said.

Susan walked closer to the bathroom door to better see and hear him.

"Brett? Are you okay? What do you mean you think there could be something much worse than bruising?" Unable to help herself, she stared at his tight, perfect ass.

Suddenly she had a sexual fantasy of him on top of her fucking her while she reached around him to feel and squeeze his beautiful, firm, round ass. She couldn't help herself from thinking about slapping his round ass and spanking his naked ass before kissing his firm ass and licking his hot ass. She'd love to feel and squeeze his perfect ass while he was between her legs with his cock buried deep inside of her.

A long time sexual fantasy coming, she was glad that he was finally of legal age. Only, now, delaying her plans of not just seducing him but also sexually controlling him, Brett was seriously injured and obviously too injured to have sex. Obviously he was already in too much pain for Susan to play her sexy games of discipline, punishment, and domination. Seemingly just when the party was set to start, it was over. With her already having the outfit, the whip, and the sexual toys hidden in her closet, she couldn't wait to dress as a Dominatrix. Unfortunately, all of that sexy fun would have to wait until Brett fully recovered from his injuries.

Still holding his cock over the open toilet, he turned his head to look at her.

"It hurts to pee," he said as if he was about to cry. "It stings. I feel as if there's more pee but it's not coming out," he said with concern. "I'll try again later."

As if she was his mother instead of her mother's best friend, she looked at Brett with fright. Hoping none of his injuries were permanent or debilitating, she worried that his injuries were more serious than just bruising. She wondered if there was internal bleeding or an injury to his liver or to his kidney. Football is too dangerous for someone so young to play when they not even fully developed yet.

"Don't force it Brett. If you're unable to go, I'm sure the doctor will give you something for that," said Susan with motherly concern. "Don't worry. It's nothing that time won't heal."

Turning carefully, Brett turned to leave the bathroom. Taking one, slow, careful step at a time, he walked carefully.

"I hurt all over. This feels bad, really bad Susan. This feels different than any of my other football injuries. As if there's something seriously wrong inside, I'm afraid. I wonder if I fractured my leg, both legs," he said reaching down to gently massage his legs before trying to pee again in the toilet. "I hope that's all it is. I hope that's it and nothing more than a broken or fractured bone."

She watched him standing outside of the bathroom while he stared down at his injured penis.

"Don't worry Brett. It's probably nothing more than a bad sprain," said Susan through the bathroom door. "You'll be alright."

As if trying to read her to see if she was telling the truth of just lying to assure him, he looked at Susan looking at him. Only, every time she saw his prick whether flaccid or hard, she could feel her nipples erecting.

"I don't know. I don't have an erection. I always have an erection, especially the first thing in the morning," he said with sadness.

Attempting to awaken his limp dick, he reached down and wrapped his hand around his sleeping prick. As if he was an elderly man instead of a young, fit man, he let go of his soft cock to walk out of the bathroom while grabbing hold of the wall as he walked. As slowly as he walked to the bathroom, he emerged from the bathroom to get dressed. Then, seemingly concerned more with his penis than he was with Susan, he reached down and started fondling his cock again. He looked up at her with a pained expression. Then, as if inviting her to touch him, stroke him, or even suck him, he stared at her while stroking himself harder and faster. Susan rolled her eyes and sighed.

"If that will make you feel better to masturbate yourself, Brett, don't let me stop you," said Susan. "Go right ahead and jerk yourself off," she said becoming sexually excited while watching him playing with himself.

If he starting cumming, she'd be tempted to put her mouth on his prick. If he was ready to cum, she'd allow him to cum in her mouth. Wanting to offer him her hand and/or her mouth, if he was healthier, she'd offer him her hand before offering him her mouth and before submitting her pussy to him. Knowing him, if he was feeling better, once she started masturbating him, he'd want to make use of her mouth and/or her pussy too. Besides, not wanting to hurt him any more than he was already injured, she'd rather have the doctor examine him first. Besides, instead of offering him sex, she'd rather play her sexy games of discipline, punishment, and domination with him.

"I hope you're right but this feels much worse than just a bad sprain," said Brett.

Susan watched him playing with himself for a few seconds before looking at her watch and scolding him. He was making her hot. He was making her horny. She had better things to do than to watch Brett masturbate himself.

"Brett, there's not time for that now. Masturbate yourself later and in privacy," said Susan with a laugh. "I need to get you to the doctor."

Brett looked up at her with disappointment. No doubt, if Erin was in the room with him, she'd masturbate her brother. She'd probably suck her brother after fucking her brother but he was in no condition to have sex, not even by his own hand. Unable to give himself an erection, he stopped touching himself. As if he was a naked model standing in an artist's studio instead of an injured young man standing in his bedroom, he turned to face Susan. Obviously with him afraid to bend or to move, he looked as if he was posing when instead he was just so stiff and so sore.

"Okay, okay, but I wasn't masturbating," he said. "I was just checking to see if I could masturbate. I was just checking to see if everything is working. I was just trying to see if I could give myself an erection. I'm worried about not having an erection. I always have an erection. I don't understand."

Looking at her defeated as if he had just lost a big football game, he looked from his cock to look at her with a pained expression while still stroking himself.

"Well, what's your prognosis?" Susan looked from him before looking down at his cock and back up at him before asking him her next question. "Do you think you can you masturbate yourself? Do you think if you had the time, you could give yourself an erection?"

He looked at her and shrugged.

"I don't know. I don't think so," he said. "I don't have an erection. I don't even have that sexually horny feeling I get when touching myself. Normally at this hour of the morning, I'd have a huge boner," he said with disappointment and dejection. "He looked up at her with sad eyes. I always have an erection, especially the first thing in the morning," he said again. He looked at her as if was about to cry. "What if my penis is broken?"

Broken? She looked at him ready to laugh before looking at him with horror. His penis can't be broken, can it? Is there such a thing as a broken penis? Even if penises can break and if it is broken, surely, doctors can fix a broken penis. Right? They just stick something in there, a steel rod and put a splint around it or something like that to fix it as good as new. Right? She just hoped that a broken penis wasn't like a broken heart or a damaged brain, the two organs that doctors couldn't fix.

Actually, other than when Lorena Bobbit cut off her husband's penis, she had never heard of a man having a broken penis. There're no bones in there to break, are there? They do call men's erections boners and an erect cock feels as hard as if there is a bone in there, but judging by Brett's limp dick, there was definitely no hard bones in there.

"Don't worry. I'm sure it's temporary," she said trying not to show her fear that he had suffered a serious injury. "The body has a way of going in shock to heal itself and to protect itself from further injury. I'm sure that's all it is. We'll be seeing the doctor today. Okay? Let me help you get dressed," she said.

He looked at her as if he was a rebellious child who no longer needed the help of his mother to dress himself.

"No, I'm good. Jesus, I'm not a baby. I can dress myself, Susan," he said. "God Susan. Thank you, but no."

Susan turned to leave his room.

"Call me if you need my help," she said before closing his bedroom door.

* * * * *

Susan walked down the hall with a troubled look. A broken penis? Could he have a broken penis? Is there such a thing as a broken penis? Obviously he peed but not very much and with great difficulty and discomfort. Moreover, something he always had, he didn't have an erection. She was worried that his injuries may be more severe than first thought.

'Now I wish Tiffany was here,' she thought to herself.

Always putting herself in the middle of things, Erin called out as Susan walked by the kitchen on her way to her bedroom to get dressed.