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Danny and Jenny chapter six

Tags: incest
I'm not dead am I?

"He's stirring, look."

I'd have recognised that voice anywhere, it was the one I'd been hearing in my sleep, singing to me, talking to me, even threatening me!

It wasn't her though, she'd died after the crash, I knew that, I'd been there at the funeral, along with our parents.

It began as a gradual lightening of the darkness in my head, an awareness of sounds and feelings, there was something warm in my hand, someone was breathing on my cheek.

"Why won't the light come on?"

My eyes just wouldn't open, they couldn't open, the darkness itself was keeping them closed. The thing in my hand moved, it seemed to be squeezing my hand, not unpleasantly, no it was comforting somehow, I wanted to see it, but I couldn't.

"Danny." the voice again.

"Danny, wake up darling, come back to me, please Danny, don't leave me like this."

If I could just open my eyes, I could put a name to the voice, it sounded nice, nice and soft and gentle, I wanted to meet the owner of that voice.

"Danny you bastard, if you die, I'll--, I'll bloody well kill you."

The wetness dripped onto my face, Christ I was thirsty! If only someone would turn the bloody lights on, I could ask them for a drink of water.

They must have heard me, but it wasn't the light that needed to be turned on, it was a dimmer switch that must have been on low, it took a long time to come on though and when it did finally come on fully I saw her, it was her tears that were dripping on my cheek.

Oh fuck no, it's just another dream, it's not her at all, she's dead, I know she's fucking dead, I saw her in the coffin.

"DANNY." she screamed out loud, a nurse dropped a tray of surgical instruments, another one dropped a bedpan and everyone in the ward turned to look at me.

"HE'S AWAKE!"

It was her hand that I'd felt in my dream, her breath on my face, it had been her talking to me, but that's bloody ridiculous, she's dead.

She felt real though, she even wore that perfume I'd bought her, the one she said she liked, but the dick head didn't.

Wait a minute though, mum and dad had been at her funeral and that didn't make any kind of sense at all, they'd been dead for over four years!

A little Asian chap was leaning over me placing a stethoscope on my chest.

"Danny, how do you feel?"

"I'm not dead am I?"

He laughed and shook his head.

"No Danny, you're not dead."

"You're not dead either, are you sweet Jen?"

"No bruv." the tears were falling like bloody rain now, "No Danny I'm not even nearly dead."

"Shit and I got all dressed up for the funeral."

"Oh Danny."

It was another two weeks before Dr Warzi (the little Asian guy with the cold stethoscope) adjudged me fit enough to go home, although with two broken legs, it was easier said than done.

Jenny had practically lived at the hospital for the whole five weeks I was in the coma. Every day she'd held my hand and talked to me, kissed me and played my favourite Willie Nelson CD's to me.

Her own injuries thankfully hadn't been life threatening, although she'd lost a lot of blood when the seat mountings had torn loose from the floor and she'd smashed her head into the dashboard, she'd sustained a fractured wrist as well, but by the time I decided to wake up, the only evidence of any injuries was a little crooked scar above her left eyebrow.

I had to be different though, both legs broken and one knee cap smashed, not to mention a small section of one of the indicator switches breaking off and piercing my skull.

I'd had two major operations on my head to remove the offending piece of plastic and half a dozen more on my legs, but I was alive and more importantly, my Lady was alive.

After I'd woken up, she was allowed to wash and bathe me, which embarrassed me more than just a bit, because the nurses would come and draw the curtains around my bed, then leave us alone for about half an hour.

Every day her warm wet mouth would engulf me and suckle gently on my penis until I ejaculated, it never took very long, I didn't have anything else to do during the long sleepless nights except think about her and imagine what it was going to be like when I recovered enough to actually make love to her.

Apparently the police had arrested the driver of the lorry for being over the drink drive limit, having no working tacograph in his cab, dangerous driving and having an insecure load.

I could have burst with pride when she told me that she'd engaged a solicitor (a girl she knew at school) on a no win, no fee basis to sue for compensation. The transport company in Germany on hearing about the extent of my injuries had sent a cheque from their insurers to Karen (the solicitor) for fifteen thousand pounds, to be deducted from any compensation mutually agreed out of court, or if we failed to agree a settlement, out of any award the court might make in our favour!

That sort of thing was almost unheard of, but Karen was newly qualified and not part of the old boys network that pervades the very soul of the British legal system. She'd obtained statements from four independent witnesses who'd all seen the truck driver coming round the corner on the wrong side of the road, flown to Germany, (at our expense of course) and demanded an interview with the owner of the company!

After reading the sworn testaments of the witnesses and hearing of how much we were struggling financially, he promised to dismiss the driver, the moment he was convicted and wrote the cheque there and then!

I thanked personally all of the nurses as Jenny wheeled me out of the hospital and even Dr Warzi came in on his day off to wish me luck. The nurses had clubbed together to buy me a toy hearse in a typically perverse reference to my initial insistence that Jenny had died, but it was the card that made me smile more than the gift, it read, "With a wife like you've got Danny, you'll never go wrong."

"Wife?"

I looked up at her without speaking.

"Nothing to do with me bruv!" And away we went.

After a total of almost seven weeks in hospital, there were two things I'd have killed for, one was to get pleasantly and slowly pissed and the other was to feel the wet clinging warmth of my sister's pussy surrounding my penis.

It was when, a rickety old estate car (station wagon) rattled to a halt outside the cottage and Pete, the landlord of the local pub, the Jolly Roger, walked in unbidden that I began to wonder if this was it!

"Jenny said just to come in Danny." he said by way of explanation, "She said something about you hurting your foot or something."

Then Jenny came downstairs in a long black evening gown, cut almost indecently low and clinging seductively to those curves that I'd been only able to dream about for the last six weeks and suddenly I knew that all my Christmases had arrived at once.

"Sorry about the mode of transport bruv." she whispered, "But with two legs in plaster, well you know."

I pulled her down to me and kissed her beautifully pouting mouth.

"Listen sweet Jen, if it gets me to where I can bathe in lager, I don't care if I have to give Pete a blow job."

Her tongue flickered teasingly into my mouth as she leaned forwards deliberately to show me her bra less breasts threatening to spill out of the dress.

"Before you get too pissed Danny, just remember that this sexy tart is twice as frustrated as you are and I need a jolly rogering of my own when we get home.

"Just get me to the pub." I growled and patted her luscious bottom, "And I promise you won't sit down for a week."

The ride to the pub was absolute agony, Pete seemed to go out of his way to find every bump and every rut that he could, he succeeded too! I really wanted to kill him or at least maim him for life but as we creaked to a halt outside the pub, all was forgiven. There were only three hundred and forty two residents in the village, but everyone of them must have been there and the ridiculously large banner announced that "The Jolly Roger welcomes careful drivers”.

Sick or what?

"You?" I turned to my sister and saw the tears in her eyes.

"Yes."

"Why are you crying, I think it's great?"

"I'm a woman." she said and dabbed a hankie to her eyes.

"No." I squeezed her hand, "You're not a woman, not just any woman."

"No?"

"No, you're my woman!"

 

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