6 comments/ 123811 views/ 17 favorites Confessions of a Nurse Ch. 01 By: Pussyrider Confessions of a Nurse Ch. 01: Willy I was a naive little 18-year old when I started working as a nurse in England in 1967. I was a virgin -- most good 18-year old girls were in those days -- and I had had very few boyfriends. I'd seen naked male bodies during my nursing training, of course, but apart from some kissing and the occasional teenage fumbling hand inside my bra I'd never had any real sexual experiences. That was soon to change. I worked mainly with three other women on my ward -- Hyacinth, a smiling, roly-poly West Indian nurse in her thirties, who rather mothered me; Diana Curtis, a cynical upper-class bitch of about 25 who didn't really want to be there; and our supervisor, Sister Tanner. She was an Irish woman of 40 with a fearsome reputation, but she was always very kind to me. She frequently snapped Diana's head off, but she spoke gently to me, laughing off my silly mistakes, unfussily showing me the right way to do things, and giving me warm smiles and encouraging words whenever we ran into each other. Diana once told me, laughing rather nastily, "You want to watch yourself with that old dyke Tanner, darling. She's got her eyes on you." Innocent as I was, I didn't know what the term 'dyke' meant. I asked my big sister and, when she'd finished pissing herself laughing at me she told me in very crude terms exactly what it meant. Hyacinth was very helpful to me as well, but Diana really was a lazy cow. She would frequently wheedle Hyacinth into massaging her feet towards the end of a shift, and, to Hyacinth's disgust, she made no secret of her ambitions. "I've got no intention of spending the next 30 years in this mausoleum around the sick and dying. As soon as I've got my hooks into some nice rich surgeon, and fucked the bugger into marrying me, you won't see me for dust." One day, as we were sitting taking a rare break, Diana, lounging in an old armchair with a cigarette hanging from her mouth, gave me one of her smiles that meant she wanted something. "Sally darling, it's time for old Willy Martin's bed bath. You wouldn't be an angel and do it for me would you? I think I've done something to my back and I can't really bend." I knew that if I agreed I would be lumbered with the task for good. Reflecting that Diana's relaxed position in the soft chair would do nothing for her supposedly bad back I grudgingly said that I would. When I checked the patient list on the wall I saw he was listed as George Martin, and asked Diana why she had called him Willy. Hyacinth hissed in irritation, and Diana gave a barking laugh. Speaking around the fag clamped between her lips, she muttered "You'll find out dear." As I left the room I heard Hyacinth scold, in an outraged tone, "Diana, really, what you think you do to that child?" It was not uncommon for patients to be given bed baths. Strictly speaking it should have been a male orderly who did it, but for some reason we didn't have one, so I got my equipment together and sought out Mr Martin. He was in a private room off the main ward, which I knew must have cost a pretty penny. When I entered the room it was in semi-darkness, and I saw an old, gaunt man lying on his side in bed, reading a newspaper by the light of a small torch. He was actually in his mid-60s, but to an 18-year old he seemed ancient. When he saw me he said "Hello dear, you're new, what's happened to catty Curtis?" Ignoring his cheeky reference to Diana I moved towards the curtains and asked if he wanted me to open them. "No thanks doll, the bright light hurts me eyes." I didn't know what was wrong with Mr Martin, but he certainly didn't look well. He had wispy grey hair, sunken cheeks and a very pale complexion. He was tall and lean, although it was clear that he'd been in pretty good physical condition at one time, with the residue of well defined muscles in his arms and across his chest. He had a warm smile and twinkling blue eyes, surrounded by deep laughter lines. He told me with a chuckle, "Dishy Diana normally starts on my back -- saving the best till last", and rolled onto his belly. I helped him out of his striped pyjama jacket and washed his upper body while he made little comments about news stories he'd been reading. Then I pulled his pyjama bottoms down, which wasn't easy as his legs were quite weak. As I wiped a damp flannel between the cheeks of his bum he sighed and murmured, "Ooh that's nice love, you've got a much lighter touch than Diana." I asked the old boy to turn over and he said, "You'll have to help me -- it takes ages on my own." He put his arm around my neck and I helped him turn. It was an awkward position, and for a few seconds his face pressed deep into my bust through my uniform apron and dress -- accidentally, I assumed at the time. While regaining my breath -- he was a dead weight and I'm only five-feet-two -- I stood back to assess the task in hand, and gave an involuntary gasp. Standing out from a mesh of grey pubic hair was a long, thick, very erect penis. I'd seen very few outside anatomical text books, but this looked an absolute monster. (To this day, decades later, it still ranks as about the biggest I ever saw.) Now I understood why Diana nicknamed Mr Martin 'willy'. He glanced down at his cock, looked at my shocked face and gave me a big grin. "Sorry about that dear. Don't worry, it won't bite you." All the while I washed his neck and chest, covered in a thick mat of silver grey hair, I was aware of that thing rearing up at me. Mr Martin just kept grinning, apparently amused by my discomfort. Finally unable to put it off any longer, I delicately placed a thumb and forefinger on his cock, taking my flannel in my other hand. Before I could react Mr Martin placed his hand over mine and pressed my fingers around his shaft. It felt burning hot against my fingers, the skin soft and silky yet with a rock-hard firmness beneath the surface. I snatched my hand away -- but not quickly enough to prevent a knowing glint from appearing in Mr Martin's eye. Leering at me, he said "Your first, is it sweetheart? Well, how did it feel?" In my inexperience I didn't want to be rude to a patient so, hoping that he couldn't see in the dim light how red my face was, I smiled and told him in a quavering voice that he was a naughty old man. He chuckled and said "You don't know the half of it sweetheart." I washed his cock quickly and firmly with the soapy flannel. As I cupped it around his big balls he groaned and the prick jumped like a thing possessed. I left the room in a daze, and it must have shown on my face. Hyacinth bustled me into a chair and said "You just sit there dear, I'll make you a nice cuppa tea." That night in bed I had my first really erotic dream. The details were quite vague, but Mr Martin featured strongly in it, standing towering over me with a prick the size of a train sticking out from his groin. When I awoke, my hand and fingers felt hot, as if they were still wrapped around his tool. All the following day I was nervous and clumsy at work, thinking about going back into that room. When I finally did, Mr Martin greeted me cheerily, and again he had a big erection when I turned him over. I told myself I was just being silly -- I was a nurse, I had to get used to this sort of thing, and there was nothing rude or embarrassing about the human body. Determined to show I wasn't intimidated I took the initiative, wrapping my hand firmly around his prick. I had meant to do so for only a second, but it was as if the thing cast a spell on me. I just sat and stared at my small pale hand wrapped around it. Mr Martin had gone very quiet, his chest rising and falling quite rapidly, and after a few moments his hand closed over mine again. Our eyes locked, and I felt him start to shuffle my hand up and down the length of his cock. When he removed his hand, to my amazement my own kept up the rhythm, slowly masturbating him as he lay back on his pillow and sighed happily. Instinctively I began to increase the pace of my rubbing, and after a minute or two a hot stream of spunk rose like a fountain and splattered onto my arm. Mr Martin closed his hand over mine again. "Thanks dearie -- I needed that." I quickly finished the bed bath and staggered out of the room. That night my dreams were far clearer. I lay beneath Mr Martin while he pushed his prick deep inside me, chuckling "Is this your first dear? How does it feel?" I awoke with a start. Reaching a hand between my legs I found I was sopping wet, my virgin pussy a furnace. Without really meaning to I left my hand there -- the same hand that had wanked Mr Martin a few hours earlier -- and dipped a finger inside myself, stirring it slowly around. The following morning, to my deep embarrassment, as I was dressing my sister groaned from her bed across the room, "For Christ's sake Sal, if you have to frig yourself during the night could you at least try and do it quietly?" After that first time a regular pattern developed with Mr Martin. He would lay and talk about his life -- his long career in the merchant navy, all the ports he'd visited, all his sexual exploits...he was clearly a good looker with a lot of charm in his younger days, and his storied were often funny, sometimes moving, frequently fascinating. He also talked at some length about his wife of 35 years, who had died a couple of years previously, and who he had obviously loved deeply despite all the casual relationships he'd had around the world. And while he talked I bathed him, massaged the occasional aching muscle, and stroked and caressed him to a daily orgasm. I actually managed to kid myself that it was simply an extension of my duties as a nurse, to do my utmost to ensure the physical and mental wellbeing of my patient. Deep inside, of course, I knew that was complete bullshit; but it really was as if, with his sparkling eyes and his soft, rhythmic voice, he had cast some kind of spell over me. Besides, I was a young girl involved in my first serious sexual experimentation, and I just couldn't help myself. I kind of saw it as a sort of game. In fact, I used to tease him: push a flannel-covered finger deep into his backside, and ream it around while he squirmed with pleasure; tickle his leathery scrotum from behind, which made him groan; that kind of thing. And I really did enjoy the feel of my fingers clutching that thick, warm, smooth cock, pumping it in different ways and in different rhythms to make him come. It honestly never occurred to me that things would go any further -- but then one day Mr Martin pulled a fast one on me. As I wrapped my hand around his organ, he said "You know, I've been worried about that black spot on the tip of my dick -- you don't think it's cancerous do you?" I couldn't see any black spot, and I told him so. He shook his head. "Oh, it's quite small, but it's very obvious if you look closely." It didn't occur to me at the time how difficult it would have been for this old man to bend his head close to his cock to look but, sighing slightly, I leant my head down to see if I could see anything. Quick as a flash the old devil placed a hand on my head behind my nurse's cap and pressed it gently but firmly downwards. I gasped in surprise and, in a trice, he pushed his huge prick into my mouth. I tried to struggle, but he was surprisingly strong and held me in position, wrapping his large hand around my skull and pumping my mouth up and down on him, as he had done with my hand. The first time the tip of his cock hit the back of my throat and I gagged, but after that the feeling and taste of it was actually quite nice, and not seeing a way out, other than sinking my teeth into the poor old devil, I accepted the position. I wrapped my lips around his dick and actually licked my tongue along its length. The weight of his hand lessened, so that he was just resting it on my head, and it was now me, not him, who was moving my mouth up and down his shaft. Experimentally I licked my tongue around the tip and he groaned and the cock jerked wildly. I suddenly became aware of a hand under my dress, above my stocking tops, then it slipped inside my pants and he cupped his palm around one of my bum cheeks. He just let it rest there as I continued to suck him and caress his prick with my tongue. After a couple of minutes he gave a huge groan and his hips bucked as I felt an eruption of warm, salty, slimy liquid against the back of my throat. Instinctively I swallowed, and felt it trickle down my throat. Feeling breathless I released the cock from my mouth and rested my head for a moment on his belly. Lolling back on the bed he murmured "God Sal, you're the best little cocksucker I've met in years." After that I finished washing him in record time and went straight to the nurses' room, which was thankfully deserted. I drank five cups of water, one after the other, but I couldn't get the taste of his spunk out of my mouth, not for the rest of the day. That evening, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, I thought deeply about what had happened. I couldn't deny to myself that, after the initial shock, I had actually enjoyed the sensation of having Mr Martin's prick in my mouth. Nevertheless, I knew I -- we -- had gone way too far now, and I was scared of what might happen the next day. So when I get to work the following day I told Diana that I was fed up of giving Mr Martin his bed baths, and that she'd have to go back to doing them. She tried to bully me but I suggested we ask Sister Tanner who she thought should do it. We both knew Tanner would take my side, and Diana instantly, and furiously, backed down. Over the next few days I passed Mr Martin's room several times in the course of my work, and every time I lingered outside, trying to pluck up the courage to go in and say hello to him, but realising deep down how foolish that would be. However, one afternoon just as I was preparing to go home for the day, Diana cornered me and said, "Old Willy's been asking after you. Apparently he's being discharged tomorrow, and he asked me to ask if you'd go and say goodbye to him. He said he really appreciated all the care and attention you gave him; cheeky old sod, as if I haven't been doing anything for him!" In the locker room a short time later I slipped out of my uniform and into a sleeveless green and white polka dot dress, with big white buttons down the front, as far as a thick white plastic belt at my waist. As it was a hot summer day I decided to remove my stockings and suspenders and go home bare-legged. I still hadn't made up my mind about Mr Martin's request, and I lingered outside his door for fully two minutes wondering what to do. Finally I told myself I was being silly -- it was only fair to go and see him one last time, and it wasn't as if I'd be making myself vulnerable, giving him a bed bath or anything. I wouldn't even be touching him, except perhaps to shake his hand. I crept into the dim room, hoping that perhaps he would be asleep. I thought for a moment that he was, then I heard his soft voice: "Hello Sally, thanks for coming. I wanted to thank you properly for everything you've done for me." He reached out a hand to me, inviting me to come closer to him. Instantly I knew I'd made a terrible mistake entering the room. His voice had a mesmeric effect on me. My mind screamed at me to get out of there, right away, but my body refused to obey. Numbly I felt my legs moving, and within moments I was sitting on the edge of the bed, obediently holding Mr Martin's hand. He appeared to be naked under the bedclothes. He gave me his warm, crinkly smile, and I felt my heart melt. He half-whispered, "You know, you're such a sweet little girl Sally." His free hand began to stroke my hair. I shuddered and involuntarily closed me eyes. "Such a sweet, sexy, little girl. I'll bet your hair's really beautiful when you haven't got it up in a bun like that." I felt his fingers removing hair grips, and a moment later my long light brown tresses hung about my shoulders. I shook my head to settle them. Our eyes locked for what seemed an age, then Mr Martin's hand stroked down my hair onto my neck, onto the collar of my dress, then onto the first button, just above my bust. He began to undo my buttons, slowly, confidently, one by one. As he did, his eyes on the bare white flesh which was gradually revealed, he spoke in a quite matter-of-fact tone. ""I really enjoyed what you did for me, what we did together. Especially that last time. You're going to make some lucky bloke a very skilful lover one day." Undoing the last button his hand rested for a moment on the thick white plastic belt of my dress. I watched, frozen, as one-handed he unbuckled the belt and pulled it open. Releasing my hand which he'd been holding, he placed his hands on the collars of the dress at my shoulders and eased it down my arms and off. Then, as casually as if it was a mundane task he did every day, he reached around my slim back and unclipped my black bra, easing the straps of that down my arms. I'd been in the room only a couple of minutes and her I was, sitting naked from the waist up on the bed of a man old enough to be my granddad. Strangely I felt no fear or alarm; only a strange inner peace, and a slight curiosity as to what would happen next. My boobs were small but nicely rounded with little pink nipples, and Mr Martin stared at them greedily. He murmured "You've got really beautiful tits Sally." He put his arms around me, and I felt his bony fingers press into my back and his warm mouth close over one of my boobies, his tongue flicking the nipple, which instantly swelled to hardness, causing me to tremble. He eased me back on the bed and, slipping off my shoes, I lifted my legs, lying beside the old man. By now I knew exactly what was going to happen -- I was about to experience the first fuck of my life. He moved his hands from behind me and one closed around the boob he wasn't sucking. The other slid up my leg and started to tug at my panties. I didn't even hesitate, I just lifted my bum off the bed to allow him to pull the sodden knickers down my legs, kicked them to the floor, and eased my thighs apart as I felt his hand press between them. He slipped a finger along the length of my slit, then two fingers entered me. It hurt at first and I gave a small cry; then my pussy seemed to accommodate itself to the invasion and I started to enjoy the stretching feeling, and the warm sensations passing through my loins and into my chest as Mr Martin swished his fingers around inside me. I reached under the covers and wrapped my fingers once again around his huge cock -- the first one I'd touched, the first one I'd sucked, and now about to be the first one I would take inside my cunt, a word I had never used before. I could feel my body heating up, and I suddenly wanted very badly to feel that prick inside me. I sat up and kicked my dress off, leaving me lying, completely relaxed, before my first lover. He propped himself on an elbow and stared down at me. "Jesus Christ Sally, you are such a beautiful woman. You're going to have to help me with the next bit sweetheart." He must have seen a slight look of puzzlement on my face because he said, "My weak legs -- remember?" With that he laid on his back and pulled me gently on top of him, then eased me down his body until my slit was rubbing against his cock. Placing his hands on my hips he deftly lifted me, then eased me down. I groaned as his enormous prick entered my pussy, inch by inch, feeling as if it was stretching me to the limit. As I sat on him, the cock buried to the hilt inside me, it felt as if it reached halfway into my body. Mr Martin started to lift my hips and lower them again but, as I had with my hand, and with my mouth, I quickly picked up the rhythm and began pumping my hips up and down, plunging my tight little pussy fiercely down onto the monster on which I was impaled. My fingers curled in his steely chest hair while he gripped my hips. After a short time he let out a roar and I felt him shoot his load inside me. I carried on for several more stokes then a series of white hot flashes passed through my body and I heard a female wailing somewhere in the distance, then realised it was me. Fully spent, I finally collapsed on top of Mr Martin, stars exploding in front of my eyes. Confessions of a Nurse Ch. 01 We lay like that for a few minutes, he stroking my hair and my back and whispering affectionate words to me. After some time I tidied myself up and pushed my soaking panties into my handbag. Then, kissing him gently on the forehead, I wished Mr Martin all the best and, feeling tears prickling in my eyes, slipped out of the room -- only to see Diana standing at the end of the corridor watching me, grinning like a Cheshire cat. I never saw Mr Martin again, but I will never forget him. Some people might say he was a dirty old man who took advantage of a young innocent, but I've never felt that. He taught me that I am a sexual being, he had a truly magnificent cock, he gave me the first great ecstasy of my life, and I will always be grateful to him. Confessions of a Nurse Ch. 02 Chapter 2: Sylvia When I was 18, just starting out on my career in nursing and still wet behind the ears, I lost my virginity to an elderly patient in my care. It was only the next day that I started worrying that he may have made me pregnant. We were much more naïve about that sort of thing in 1967and it had never occurred to me to ask him to use a condom (which we called rubber johnnies back then). I was scared stiff for a few days. I could have sought advice from my supervisor on my ward, Sister Tanner, but I thought I would get into terrible trouble. Instead I stupidly blurted out my fears to a fellow nurse, Diana Curtis. She had seen me come out of Mr Martin's room -- he was the patient -- and suspected something had gone on anyway; besides, she was from a posh family and had gone to a private school so I thought she was terribly sophisticated, even though she was only a few years older than me. Unfortunately she was also a lazy, callous bitch just working in the hospital until she could ensnare a rich husband. She laughed harshly when I told her how worried I was, and quipped "I wouldn't worry dear, old Willy (her nickname for the well-endowed Mr Martin) probably has a sperm count so low it'd make the record books." I was never more relieved in my life than when, a few days later, my period started on time. In the meantime, however, Diana got a great laugh at my expense telling all and sundry, behind my back, how "that silly little tart Sally lost her cherry to old wicked Willy." Naturally it got back to Sister Tanner, and I reported for work one day to find that, with no prior warning, I had been transferred to a different ward. I didn't entirely lose contact with my old ward. Although Sister Tanner and I were on overlapping shifts our tea breaks seemed to coincide, and she would often come and sit with me in the canteen. Although she had a reputation as a bit of a dragon, Sister had always been very kind and encouraging to me. She was a 40-year old from Belfast, and Diana had told me she was a dyke who wanted to get into my knickers, but I dismissed that as malicious gossip -- at first. Every day as we sipped our tea and nibbled our biscuits I expected Tanner to tell me how stupid I'd been to have it away with a patient, and how lucky was to keep my job, but she never mentioned it. Instead we'd chat about how our day was going, she'd tell me the occasional funny story about this or that patient, and offer me the odd bit of advice on how to do my job better. I grew to like her company, and I quite enjoyed the attention she gave me. One day when I was doing my rounds on my ward I saw Diana at the door, obviously looking for me. When I approached her I noticed a nasty gleam in her eye, and she told me, "I thought you'd want to know darling, old Willie's kicked the bucket. We got a letter from his daughter. It's on our ward if you want to see it." I was stunned. It had been only a few weeks since Mr Martin was discharged from the hospital -- the day after we had made love -- and I had assumed they were letting him leave because his condition had improved. It had never occurred to me that he'd been sent home to die! I got one of my colleagues on my new ward to cover for me and rushed over to my old workplace. Sure enough, there was the letter, pinned to the notice board. It said the old boy had passed away peacefully in his sleep, and how grateful his daughter was to the hospital staff for the care he had received. It was as I read the next part that I felt my eyes begin to prickle: 'I would particularly like to thank one nurse, Sally Gerrard, for the attention and extra help she gave Dad. He was full of praise for how kind she was and how much she did to cheer him up. I can't tell you how grateful I am to her.' I couldn't read any further, with my eyes swimming with tears. I felt as if someone had scooped my insides out with a rusty shovel. It wasn't just that Mr Martin was the only man who had ever made love to me; in my short career I had never before known a patient who had died, and I just wasn't ready for it. I fled out of the room sobbing and ran straight into Sister Tanner, literally. She was going off-shift and had changed out of her starched navy blue uniform into a low-cut blouse which accentuated her generous cleavage, and tight black slacks which did the same for her big bum. Seeing the state I was in she wordlessly hustled me into her office and hugged me to her, stroking my hair and whispering soothing sounds into my ear. I found my head resting on her large, comforting bust, my nose actually rubbing against the soft, silky skin of one breast. As I began to calm down Sister murmured to me, in her Northern Irish brogue, "You're going to be a good nurse, Sally, you care about your patients. In time you'll develop a harder outer shell, but it'll always hurt when you lose one of the good ones." As she spoke her right arm was cradling me to her, and I became vaguely aware that her fingers were lightly stroking the side of my breast through my uniform. Despite the anguish I still felt, I was aware of a tingling sensation, and my nipple beginning to harden. Sister insisted on making me a cup of tea, and as we sat together she said casually, "You're very sweet you know Sally, I've always been extremely fond of you. I'd like us to become friends as well as colleagues -- I think that's probably easier now we're not working together. Do you think it's possible?" I did like her, a lot, and I was really grateful right then for her kindness to me; I smiled and nodded, and said I'd like that too. With a broad smile she cupped her hand over mine on the desk and said, "Then why don't you come round to my place for coffee sometime? It's only a couple of streets from the hospital, and we could start getting to know each other socially." I said that would be nice, and we agreed on the following evening. As I was leaving Sister said, "Oh, and when we're not at work you must call me Sylvia." Then she hugged me to her and planted a lingering kiss on my forehead. I lay awake in bed that night, my sister gently snoring across the room, as I thought about what had happened in Sylvia Tanner's room. Although I was sexually inexperienced, I'd read enough romantic fiction to feel that her approach to me had been more than that of a friend, more like the flirting of a would-be lover. I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about that. I had never really understood why people felt it was wrong to fall in love with someone, just because they happened to be the same sex as you; nevertheless, I had never really thought about lezzies, as girls at school had called them, and whether I might ever be attracted to one. I did know, though, that I really liked being around Sylvia, and the sensation of her arms around me, and her fingers caressing my boob, had felt good. By the following morning I had made my decision: I was going to Sylvia's place, and whatever happened would happen. I told myself Diana was probably talking rubbish anyway -- Sylvia's interest in me was no doubt entirely innocent, just friendship as she had said. Which didn't really explain why, over breakfast the next morning, I told my Mum a friend had invited me to her birthday party and I might sleep over. I was nervous and clumsy all day at work, wondering what the evening would hold for me. I saw Sylvia only once, briefly, and she trilled "I hope you haven't forgotten our date, poppet?" My heart did a somersault at her use of that word, but I gave her a big smile and said I was looking forward to it, very much. That evening, at the end of my shift, I changed into a green turtle-neck sweater, which contrasted nicely with my long light brown hair, and black skin-tight slacks, then made the shot walk to Sylvia's home. She lived on the 21st floor of one of the new tower blocks the city council were so proud of at the time. All the way up in the lift I nervously played with my hair, my heart thumping like a 21-gun salute. I stood outside Sylvia's door for nearly a minute plucking up the courage to ring the bell. The second I did she opened the door, probably having been watching me through the spy hole set into it. I caught my breath on seeing Sylvia -- she looked stunning. Her glossy black hair, normally worn in a bun at work, played around her bare shoulders, displayed by a low-cut strapless black dress. She never used make-up at work, but now she wore blue eyeshadow, matching her eyes, and deep red lipstick. The dress ended at her knees, and her shapely lightly tanned legs were bare, ending in a pair of shiny black open-toed high-heeled shoes. Her toenails were painted a burgundy colour, but her fingernails were bare. All in all she looked as if she was dressed up for an evening out -- a very sexy one. She placed her hands on my shoulders and, leaning towards me, gave me a sticky kiss on the cheek, saying "Hello sweetheart, I'm so glad you're here." I felt distinctly dowdy beside her, and apologised for my appearance. She laughed lightly. "Don't be silly poppet, you look as lovely as always, really." As I entered the stylishly furnished, low-lit apartment I was drawn magnetically towards the full length sliding glass door, which opened onto a small balcony. Sylvia suggested I have a look while she fixed us a glass of sherry each. As I stood on the balcony in the darkness of night the lights of the city twinkled far below me. The sight was mesmerising. I jumped slightly as I felt Sylvia's arms snake around my waist from behind, her body pressed against mine. Her chin resting on my shoulder, she half-whispered, "Amazing, isn't it -- I sometimes stand here for ages just gazing at it." Her hands slowly slid up my body and, for no more than a second, cupped the undersides of my small breasts. Then, taking my hand, she led me back inside and sat me on a black leather sofa, where she gave me a large glass of sherry. I wasn't used to drinking alcohol, and as the oily brown liquid slipped down my throat I could feel a warm glow rising in my cheeks and my chest. I no longer had any doubts in my mind as to what Sylvia's intentions were towards me. As she laid her arm casually along the back of the sofa behind me, I felt at the same time terrified yet strangely excited about the new experience I was about to have. With forced casualness Sylvia asked me about my boyfriend, then said, "Oh no, I remember you telling me you don't have a boyfriend. You're not a virgin though, are you?" I felt my cheeks glow again, this time with embarrassment. Sylvia's voice was quiet, teasing, almost hypnotic. As our eyes locked I was like a rabbit frozen in oncoming headlights. She continued "You really shouldn't have told that evil cow Diana about you and the old man. The whole ward knew within a day; that was why I had you transferred, certainly not to put you further away from me. You should have come to me. I'd even have got you help if you'd found you were in the family way. I'd do anything for you, poppet." As Sylvia spoke the hand along the back of the sofa started gently toying with my hair. Her eyes still locked on mine, she put down her sherry glass, took mine from my limp hand, and closed her arm around my shoulders, pulling me towards her. Then I was locked in the deepest kiss I had ever experienced, Sylvia's tongue running along my teeth then circling my own tongue. The feel of her soft lips pressing against mine, and of her soft boobs against me, was quite beautiful. I returned the kiss with amateur enthusiasm then, acting on instinct, my small hand closed around one of her boobs. Immediately encouraged, Sylvia reached for the hem of my jumper and slipped it over my head. We resumed the kiss, I now laying full length beneath her on the sofa, sucking on her tongue as her hand slipped beneath my lacy black bra and cupped one of my small tits. I wanted to feel Sylvia's flesh too. Reaching behind her I found a zip on her dress. It slid down easily and the palm of my hand began to massage the soft, pampered skin just below her bra strap. It all seemed perfectly natural to me, and very nice. Sylvia broke our kiss and nuzzled my neck, gasping "Oh god Sally, I want you. Let's go to bed sweetie." With that she scooped me into her arms -- I'm only five-feet two and she stood a head taller than me -- and carried me into her bedroom, kissing me as she walked. The only illumination in the bedroom came from a small neon light over a dressing table, and in the intimate semi-darkness Sylvia sat me on the bed, reached around me and unclipped my bra. She kissed my tummy and I shuddered, pressing her warm cheek to the soft flesh of my belly. She nuzzled my navel with her tongue as she undid my slacks. I rolled back onto the bed, raising my bum to allow her to slide the slacks and my black nylon briefs, quite damp by now, down my legs. I lay back on a cool cotton sheet and watched Sylvia undress. I would have expected to feel nervous; in fact, I felt as relaxed and at ease as I had in a long time, enjoying the sight of a woman only a few years younger than my mother disrobing in preparation for taking me as her lesbian lover. As she quickly slipped off her dress, push-up bra and silk panties, I marvelled at the differences between Sylvia's body and my own. I was quite skinny with a small bust (though nicely rounded boobies with pert pink nipples), slim hips but prominent hip bones, and a sparse patch of pubic hair which stopped short of my vaginal lips. Sylvia had a classic hourglass figure -- big bust, quite a slim waist, and wide hips. Her big boobs, capped by long, thick brown nipples, hung with slight stretch marks and swayed slightly as she swung onto the bed to join me. I was surprised to see that, between her big fleshy thighs, her pubes were not the luxuriant black of her head but a mousy brown colour. The hair extended between her legs, right up to her bum hole. She put her arms around me and I sighed with pleasure as, for the first time in my life, my naked body pressed full length against that of another. I loved her soft lips massaging my ear lobe and pressing against my throat; the sensual mingling of our breasts; and the soft warmth of her thigh as she pressed it gently between my legs, rubbing it against my wet snatch. I trembled as Sylvia's fingertips ghosted tantalisingly across my tummy. She misinterpreted my reaction, and whispered "Don't be scared baby, I'll take it gently, I promise." She eased me fully onto my back and, as we kissed more deeply still, rested the palm of her hand on my pubes, her fingers lying passively along my slit. My body began to grow impatient and pushed at her hand. Finally, slowly, oh so slowly, she eased a finger inside me and let it rest there. As she started to stir it around in my pussy I groaned and, chuckling into my mouth, she introduced a second finger into me. I clung to her more tightly than ever, and began to knead her big padded buttocks with my fingers. I couldn't reach her pussy but, with a mind of its own, one of my fingers wormed its way into her rectum and began gently probing the tight passage. She gasped "Oh Christ, that's good." The pace of her fingers in my pussy quickened, and I suddenly felt lightning bolts shooting through me as she pressed a thumb and finger to my clitty and began tweaking it. Seconds later a blazing inferno started inside me and, as if from a distance, I heard myself screaming. I wasn't sure at that moment what was happening to me, I just knew I wanted it to carry on happening for ever. I went limp after my huge orgasm, and Sylvia hugged me to her, stroking my hair and shooshing in my ear, kissing away the tears which had streamed down my face. She whispered, "I've dreamt of doing that for you, seeing your pretty face as you come on my fingers." As she held me in her arms my face again nestled against one of those magnificent boobs. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to slip my lips onto it, and chew on that sumptuous big nipple, at the same time flicking it with my tongue. With a hand I stroked the other boob, running my fingers down it until they met at her nipple, which I tweaked. Sylvia's legs wrapped around me and I felt her furry, sopping wet pussy rubbing up and down my thigh. I stiffened my muscles to help her and, after a minute or so, she gasped and her head snapped back, her eyes tightly closed. Collapsing beside me on the bed, she pushed a finger into her slit, then ran the next finger along my slit, making me squirm. Leaning up on one elbow next to me she held both fingers to my mouth and, unhesitatingly, I sucked on them, savouring the bitter sweet taste of our juices. Sylvia smiled lovingly at me and husked, "Oh darling, do you have any idea just how sweet you are?" After a few minutes gentle kissing and stroking, to recover our breath, Sylvia kissed her way down my throat and closed her mouth over one of my breasts. As she licked and sucked me, she mumbled, "Do you want me to go down on you, angel?" I wasn't sure what that meant, but I said yes, happy for her to do anything she thought I'd like. As her tongue slipped past my ribcage and across my pubes I realised what she was going to do, and shuffled my thighs wide apart in anticipation. I knew people did kiss women down there, but I couldn't begin to imagine how it would feel. She blew gently on my pussy and I shuddered, and the moment her tongue pressed against my clit was the most incredible sensation I had known. It wasn't an explosion -- it was more as if I was suddenly floating in the biggest, richest sea of the most wonderful chocolate liqueur ever made, and the sensation just went on and on as she licked my clit, then the length of my slit, then dove deep into me with her tongue. When she started nibbling on my clitty, the fingers of one hand stroking around my pussy lips, those of the other hand plunging in and out of me, that's when the explosions started and, unable to help myself, I began whining like a little dog, my hips bucking with the sheer ecstasy of what Sylvia was doing to me. In the end she had to put her hands on my thighs to hold me still enough for her to nibble and lick me to another shattering climax. This time, as I came, she returned a favour I'd done her earlier, thrusting a finger deep into my bum, making stars burst in my head. We kissed again, and this time I had the pleasure of sucking my love nectar off my lover's tongue. As we lay cuddling afterwards I suddenly realised I hadn't eaten for hours before finishing work, and I was ravenously hungry. Sylvia made us both cheese on toast while I, completely unself-consciously, stood naked on the balcony outside the bedroom, taking in the twinkling stars that were my home city down below. We ate our meal in bed, feeding each other, licking crumbs off each other's breasts. Then I asked Sylvia if I could go down on her. She smiled and rested a palm against my cheek. "I'd love you to darling; but don't feel you have to, not straight away." In response I caressed her belly with my lips and slipped a finger inside the furnace of her pussy. As my face neared her lips I gazed at them in fascination. They were fleshy folds of dark skin, peeping through the jungle of hair, glinting wetly in the dull light. I was totally unprepared for the gorgeous exotic aroma of a woman's arousal; I inhaled deeply and felt slightly light-headed as the rich, musky scent entered my nostrils. As I trailed my tongue up and down Sylvia's crack she groaned "Oh Jeeesussss!" and slumped back on the bed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I quickly located her nubby white clitty and sucked on it, playing three fingers inside her and loving the unique taste on my tongue. After several minutes of licking, sucking, chewing and fingering Sylvia, hearing her increasingly loud moans through the cushioning of thighs pressed against my ears, I was rewarded with a sudden heavy surge of liquid onto my tongue, as her moans turned to roars. She subsided for a moment but I carried on, wanting to make her come again. However, she squirmed around beneath me until her head was also between my legs. Now looking at her pussy the other way round I stroked her clit with my fingers and lapped my tongue in her pussy, as she in turn buried her head in my cunt and pleasured me with her mouth, her fingers, even her nose and chin. I thought this was the most wonderful position imaginable, simultaneously giving each other pleasure and receiving the most wonderful servicing. We both came several times, gasping and sobbing until we collapsed together in a sweat-bathed, trembling heap. Confessions of a Nurse Ch. 02 I was totally exhausted, and quickly fell into a deep sleep. Sylvia, behind me, curled her body around mine, nuzzling my neck with her lips, her arms round my waist, her breasts pressing gently into my back, her pubic hair tickling my bum. The next morning I awoke with an aching pussy, a mouth which felt like the Sahara Desert, and the most glorious feelings of joyful love. It was early enough for us to have one further soixante-neuf session before Sylvia headed off to work while I luxuriated in her bed. Looking for a fresh towel to shower with I came across a ten-inch black and gold vibrator. I had heard of these but never seen one, and I couldn't resist experimenting with it. I shivered running it around the rim of my pussy, then pushed it inside, glorying that something which had doubtless been up Sylvia's cunt on countless occasions was now inside mine. I decided that next time we made love it would be me who inserted it into Sylvia, and brought her to a trembling, screaming orgasm. And I did -- many, many times. Confessions of a Nurse Ch. 03 Chapter 3: Ella As a teenage nurse, nearly 40 years ago, both of my first two sexual experiences were linked to the hospital where I worked. The first was with a male patient, old enough to be my granddad, who relieved me of my virginity. The second was when I was seduced -- quite willingly -- by a ward sister who had been my supervisor. Sylvia was the first great love of my life. Within a week of spending my first night in her bed I had moved in with her. I told my mum that it was a flat-share so I could be nearer to my work. My older sister saw right through me though, and called me a "cunt-sucking little dyke slag". Nice. Sylvia and I lived together for eight years, until she had to return to her native Belfast to look after her dying mother. Of course, I missed her terribly after so many years; but if I'm being honest the relationship had started to go a bit stale anyway, so it had probably run its natural course. Towards the end we were really going through the motions to an extent. It didn't help that Sylvia was more than 20 years older than me. In the early days I was completely under her spell, but as I got older and more experienced I started to become more headstrong and self-willed, and a bit of tension had begun to develop. In the years following my break-up with Sylvia I had several lovers, male and female, but I made sure that I always kept my private life completely separate from my working life from then on. Until I saw Ella, that was. I was a staff nurse by then, in charge of a maternity unit. I took my responsibilities very seriously, and I liked to get to know all of the ladies under my care, as well as the nurses who were responsible to me. It was as I was doing my rounds of the patients that I saw Ella. She was 23 years old -- nearly ten years my junior -- and a few days from giving birth to her first child. Because it had been a difficult pregnancy her district nurse had decided to play safe and admit her to hospital well before the delivery was due. The first time I set eyes on her I literally did a double-take -- she had one of the sexiest faces I had ever seen. Her lush black hair was cut into a pageboy bob, and she had olive skin, a heart-shaped face, huge dark eyes, full, sensual lips and a dimpled chin. Despite her Mediterranean looks -- and the fact that she was married to a guy from the Middle East -- she was as English as I am. As I walked through the ward Ella was being visited by her husband. To be honest I didn't like the look of him much. He was at least 20 years older than her, swarthy with a big moustache, and an arrogant cast to his face. Don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against Arab guys -- I've shagged a couple over the years, and enjoyed every moment of it. But I didn't like this bloke's attitude as he stood, rather than sat, beside his pregnant wife, talking at her with a bored expression on his face. She was days from making him a father, yet at least twice in the couple of minutes I saw him he glanced at his watch, as if he had somewhere much more important to be. Instead of looking like a blooming mum-to-be, the girl looked slightly intimidated by him, and nodded doe-eyed as he spoke down to her, in both senses. I decided that once he had gone I was going to go back and introduce myself properly to Ella, because I liked my charges to know who I was. Of course I had an ulterior motive: the moment I saw her I thought how nice it would be to nestle my face between her plump little thighs! It never occurred to me at the time that it was any more than fantasy on my part, just the sort of thing that might flash across anyone's mind as they're walking along the street and a drop-dead gorgeous stunner passes them. And probably nothing would have happened at all, and I would have maintained my self-imposed embargo on hospital-based relationships, if it hadn't been for the fact that I hadn't had a fuck for a couple of months, and I was feeling as randy as hell. As it was, I strolled back to Ella's bed about half an hour later and we started chatting. It was a scorching summer, and thanks to her heavy pregnancy her lovely face was covered in a sheen of sweat, her fringe sticking to her forehead. Watching her little pink tongue dart out to lick her dry lips, I could feel my nipples tingling just sitting there talking to her. Naturally enough, we got onto the subject of her condition, and how she was coping with the last stages of her confinement. Ella cast her eyes down and bit her lip then, looking at me with those big liquid eyes, she half-whispered, "There is one problem I've found. It's a bit embarrassing really. The thing is, I'm already lactating quite heavily, and my nipples get quite painful. The district nurse told me I should expel the milk, but I don't seem to be very good at it." I heard a buzzing in my head as I wrestled with my conscience for, ooh, a good half-second, before I innocently told her I could show her how to do it if she liked. She gave me a big beam and said "Would you? That would be so kind." As it was the middle of the afternoon I told her I'd come back in the evening, when it was cooler, and we'd work through it together. As I walked away from her bed my own nips weren't tingling anymore -- they were aching, they were so stiff inside my bra! Working on a maternity ward, we of course got occasional requests for that sort of help. Normally, trying to be a good girl, I would ask one of the experienced nurses, who'd had kids herself, to show the woman how to do it. But there was no way I was going to pass up this opportunity. It still never occurred to me that I might get anywhere with Ella -- after all, three days before giving birth isn't the most common time for a married woman to look to start an affair -- but at least I was going to get to grope her jubblies. I felt all hot and bothered for the rest of the afternoon, and I just couldn't wait for the evening to come. When I went back to keep my appointment with Ella I was more nervous than I had been for a long time. As I pulled the curtain around her bed -- after all, there were six other ladies on the room -- I tried with difficulty to make my voice sound calm and professional as I told her to take off her nightdress. When I turned back to her I had to suppress a gasp of admiration -- her tits were as gorgeous as her face. I've got a nice pair of boobs despite being quite petite; Ella's were simply magnificent. They were perfect orbs, only slightly paler than her upper chest, with big coffee-coloured nipples surrounded by areola which spread halfway across the flesh of her breasts. Trying to keep my hands from trembling, I sat on the edge of the narrow hospital bed and set about my work. Normally nurses would wear surgical gloves to do this but, unaccountably, I'd forgotten mine -- I was going to get every ounce of sensation out of this experience! As I gently milked one of those stunning boobs into the plastic beaker I had taken with me my mouth went very dry and my nipples swelled against my uniform again. The hot flesh of her tit burned my hand. Ella sat up on her elbows, her head back with her eyes tight shut and her mouth open, her sexy tongue running along the edges of her teeth. It was all I could do not to lean forward and shove my own tongue down her throat. As I continued to knead her breasts I could feel my knickers getting damp. It took a couple of minutes before I realised the treatment was having the same effect on Ella. Her breathing deepened and became more ragged, and in the sweltering summer heat I suddenly became aware of the aroma of her arousal. It required an immense effort of will from me not to climb into bed with the stark naked woman whose tits I was fondling and kiss my way down to the source of that sweet fragrance. After about ten minutes I had finished the task, and I felt as weak and sweaty as if I had just spent the time screwing someone. Ella looked pretty strung out too; she thanked me, and asked if I would mind doing it for her the following day too. Then, before I had even left the room she rolled over, still naked, and appeared to have fallen straight to sleep. I didn't sleep quite so well that night, giving myself a good seeing to with my favourite vibrator and tossing and turning through the stifling night with visions of Ella's amazing face and boobs floating before my eyes. The next day I passed through the room Ella was in just once, and she gave me a little wave and mouthed "See you later". All afternoon I told myself I was going to be good, and not take advantage of an innocent patient. I don't think I believed it for a moment, but I was certainly going to try. As it was, Ella inadvertently made it easy for me. (She swore later that she really hadn't been flirting with me, but I occasionally wondered.) We were in the same situation as the evening before, with me feeling just as uncomfortable, when, in a gasp, Ella asked, "Nurse, can I ask you something, well, sort of personal?" Given that I was sitting there with her bare tit in my hand, the soaking wet gusset of my knickers sticking to my pussy, I didn't really see how I could refuse! I thought my guardian angel must be somewhere close when I heard her question though: "Is it normal for a woman in the last stages of pregnancy to feel, erm, incredibly randy? I do, all the time." This was a sort of moment of truth for me. Was I simply going to answer her question as best I could, never having been pregnant myself, and innocently finish helping her expel her unwanted lactose? Was I bugger! I told her I understood it was quite common. Then I stretched out a hand and brushed a strand of hair from her damp forehead. My voice trembling slightly, I added in the sweetest tone I could manage, "We can do something about that too, if you like." Ella's eyes opened wide and she gave me a slightly bewildered look. Then, a picture of innocence, she looked into my eyes and asked, in a little girl voice, "Can we? But..." I placed a finger over her lips to silence her then, my body moving before my rational mind could catch up with it, I lowered my head and sucked one of Ella's beautiful breasts into my mouth. As I gently nibbled on her nipple, tasting her rich, sweet milk for the first time, I felt her hips buck under the bed and her head fell back as she gasped, "Oh shit!" I just couldn't stop myself, despite the huge risk I was taking. The only other time I had made love with a patient it had been in a private room; now I was in an open ward with six other young mothers dozing yards away, separated from us only by a thin curtain. I guzzled Ella's milk greedily, then switched breasts. As I did she placed a hand on the back of my head, her fingers trailing softly through my short brown hair. Her breath was roaring, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I trailed a hand down Ella's large bump, and rested it beneath the swelling, just above her shaved pubic bone. The only sounds she was able to make at that point were a series of small sighs, but she pressed a hand feebly against my wrist, pushing it downwards. It was all the encouragement I needed. My palm glided down her slick, sweaty Mons Venus, and my middle finger naturally alighted on her prominent clitoris. As I began pressing it, she clamped her forearm to her mouth to stifle the groan which erupted from her. I slipped my finger from her clit and deep inside her pussy, replacing it on her love button with my thumb. Another finger followed the first inside her, and I began slowly fucking her with them, sliding my thumb across her clit in rhythm with my thrusts. Ella's moans were getting louder by the moment and, as much to suppress them as anything else, I pressed my mouth to hers, my tongue roaming her mouth. The position wasn't altogether easy as I had to avoid putting my weight on her unborn child, but within a few seconds her hips started gyrating and I increased my pace, now wanting to take her over the edge as quickly as possible. She screamed into my mouth as she came, her hips bucking up and down as my fingers jerked in her squishing pussy. She finally sank back into the bed and, as I released her mouth, she groaned, "Oh God, that was wonderful." In a slightly naughty gesture I slipped my two fingers, soaking with her cum, into her mouth. Without a moment's thought she started sucking on them, so hard it felt as if she wanted to swallow them. Then I kissed her gently on the forehead and pulled the bedclothes up, tucking her in. As I left her bedside and pulled the curtain back, the lady in the next bed gave me an odd look and asked if Ella was okay. I explained she had just had a small irritation, but we'd dealt with it now! I was on leave for the next couple of days so I didn't see Ella, although I thought about her. A lot. When I returned I soon learnt that she'd given birth to a beautiful baby daughter. I went to say hello to her and asked how she felt. She shrugged. "Okay I suppose. Faisal, my husband, is very disappointed it's a girl though. He's been to see me, but only for about five minutes." My blood boiled that the stupid, arrogant cunt could treat this lovely girl so shabbily. I told her I thought he was a little prick. She snorted with laughter and, as she began to recover herself, murmured, "I didn't know you'd seen him starkers too." As she said it her hand slid over mine on the bed, her fingers stroking me, sending sparks of electricity straight up my arm and down to my pussy. I was far from sure that it was wise to continue our liaison, so I tried to move the conversation onto less dangerous ground, saying at least baby would now be taking care of her milk for her. Continuing to stroke my hand, looking up at me through her gorgeous long eyelashes, she half-whispered, "Yes, but I've still got that other little ache. I don't suppose you'd come back and give me another of your special treatments tonight would you?" She was so beautiful I simply felt incapable of refusing. During the course of the day I decided that I was really going to get the most out of this, and see if I couldn't get Ella to give me a little something back in return. After I'd finished my shift I went to the ladies loo and stripped naked, covering myself with my calf-length raincoat. I knew it might look slightly suspicious, given that it hadn't rained for weeks, but what the hell. I also knew I was about to take a stupid risk with my career again -- there were only four other patients in Ella's room at the moment, all at least two beds away from hers, but even so we would have to be bloody careful. When I got to the ward it was in semi-darkness to help the young mothers to sleep. I told the teenage nurse on duty that I was just going to look in on Mrs Al- Shetti. She gave me a slightly curious look and said, "Okay Staff", and I felt her eyes on my back all the way to Ella's bed. The moment I started pulling the curtain around the bed Ella whipped off her nightdress and pushed the covers down to her knees, giving me a view of her wonderful, curvy body. It was her turn to gasp when I shrugged off my coat, and she saw me in all my naked glory. I laid myself on top of her on the small bed and we kissed, our tongues mingling, as I enjoyed the sensation of my small boobs pressing against her substantially larger ones. I knew I would have limited time before the nurse got too suspicious, so I quickly moved a hand to Ella's pussy. In anticipation she raised her knees and thrust her thighs wide apart, giggling nervously. I slipped a finger into her, then another, then a third...I found that, having only given birth the day before, her pussy muscles had yet to recover their elasticity, and I was able to slip the whole of my small hand into her cunt. She gave a loud gasp, then I saw her grab a pillow and press it to her mouth, to stifle her volume. Her eyes, as big as saucers, however, stayed fixed on me. As I fisted her I licked my way around her now flatter tummy and her naked pussy mound. I could hear my hand squishing loudly inside her and, between my various actions, before long her entire belly area, her thighs and my forearm were all soaking. After a few minutes I felt Ella reaching down and grabbing me under the armpits. She pulled me firmly up to her face and smacked her mouth to mine, her tongue deep in my throat. Then one of her hands stroked against my wispy pubic bush and, a moment later, she slipped two fingers inside me. She clearly was a novice at this, but I was already so turned on that it felt great, and I was also very pleased with her for doing it without me having to ask. Her fingers squirmed around inside me while my hand continued to pump into her with increasing speed. When I could tell she was about to cum I rolled us onto our sides and, with my spare hand, stroked her gorgeous plump arse then fired two fingers straight up her rectum, screwing them around inside her. Her eyes opened wide and as before, she released all her pent-up lust into my mouth in a high-pitched scream. As I carefully withdrew my sodden hand from her pussy, I felt Ella's whole body untense. She started to tell me how much she'd enjoyed it, but I was far from finished. I'd already decided that if I was going to get caught doing this, I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. I whispered to her, "I want us to suck each other. Will you?" She stared at me nervously. "I don't know. I mean, yes, I don't mind, but I've never, I mean..." I thought back to my first time, fifteen years or so earlier with Sylvia, and told her not to worry, that once she started it would come naturally. Then, before she had a chance to change her mind, I squirmed around until I was more or less sitting on her face, and her hairless pussy was inches from my lips. I ran my tongue the length of her wet slit and she moaned. A moment later I felt her hands grasp my thighs and I shuddered as she kissed my pussy. I thrust my tongue deep inside her, savouring the taste I hadn't experienced for too long. Then I felt Ella do the same for me, and my already warm cunt started heating rapidly. For the next few minutes we tongued and kissed each other's sexual centres, with me occasionally breaking off to give her little whispered suggestions about what to do with her fingers, where exactly to lick me and so on. For my part I licked every inch of Ella's pussy, her thighs, her bum hole, everything, supplementing my busy tongue with my fingers. We both paused occasionally to moan with arousal, and, probably due to a combination of her already having used some of her ammunition, and the sheer eroticism of the situation, it was me who came first, my juices soaking Ella's face. She wasn't far behind, and when we'd both recovered our breath we shared a sticky kiss, our tongues mingling our nectar in each other's mouths. As I left the ward, slightly unsteady on my feet, the young nurse gave me a cock-eyed grin and trilled, "Night Staff. Sleep well." For the next couple of weeks she and her young friends had a few whispered conversations about me and giggled when they saw me, but thankfully nothing got back to the suits upstairs and it had no effect on my career. (At the Christmas party the young nurse, rather drunk, cornered me in a quiet room and begged me to give her some of what I'd given Mrs Al-Shetti, but that's another story.) Ella was discharged the next day, but our affair continued for two years. Eventually I got tired of being the 'bit on the side', of Ella's paranoia that her shit of a husband might catch us, and of her refusal to leave him, even though she didn't have any warm feelings for him whatsoever. Even now though, so many years on, Ella remains by far the most beautiful woman I've ever had, and the lover I get most turned on just thinking about. Er, excuse me, I feel a sudden urgent need to go and put my little vibrating friend to some use!