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The Nice Nurse

By: brunorivera



My name is Nancy and I am a nurse. I specialize in the care of the elderly and handicapped, but at the beginning of my career, I had to deal with everything: emergencies, trauma, surgeries, etc. In one way or another, the yearning to save lives drives us, or at least, to make the difference, even for one patient. Making my rounds, I see many patients whose conditions will never improve: paraplegics, cancer or AIDS patients, diabetics, old men and women; you know, the hopeless ones. This is the reason for my story.

My shifts have tended to be late in the evenings, nights and just before dawn. That makes me very requested in emergency rooms, but there are days, or really nights, where I only have to bathe or observe terminal patients or those with long-term hospitalization. I suppose that the worst are the victims of severe burns, because for them, there is neither day nor night, since their pains don't allow them to sleep, and to them, unlike cancer patients, we could not give them morphine. The patients that have left an impression on me are usually very young or particularly attractive, in their majority, men, but some women do shock me with their predicaments.

At nursing school, they teach us how to avoid the arousal of the patients' genitals organs when bathing them or examining them. The doctrine is that too much excitement could exacerbate whatever they might be suffering, but I know that the real reason is to avoid legal action against the hospital for sexual abuse.

Once, I no longer remember when, I did have an "accident" while bathing an old man, and I just washed his "thing" a little more to make the "evidence" disappear. The patient didn't have much strength to moan during the incident, but he stayed calm, even happy. I was no longer a newcomer when that happened, so I wasn't very concerned. I took a mental note to be more careful with those of old age, so that they don't suffer a heart attack. But with the most physically capable, as much as their condition allows, I became bolder.

The time that I found a young man, who had suffered a motorcycle accident, I was truly concerned about how mutilated his life would be if he lost his sensation there below, so I made some moves and I got him assigned to my care at certain hours. I approached him to administer some medications to him and I lifted his bed sheet without him noticing. Sometimes, I feel them while they sleep, but there comes a moment in which I need them awake and alert, this is easier while bathing them than when they are in their beds. I manipulate him, in fact, I masturbate him, and when he woke up, I feigned writing down something about his reflexes in his chart. This one had already lost sensation and this troubled me, and I went running toward the lounge so I could cry there. At least, nobody found out. I soon gave up on him, although I would offer him the required attention, but only from time to time. From then on, I rarely "experiment" on patients with spinal cord injuries.

There was another patient with burns, to whom, miraculously, the flames didn't reach his penis. He complained a lot about pain and begged for sedatives, but we insisted on not giving them to him, and much less, any time that he fancied them. When it was his time for a bath, I made him this proposition:

"If you behave like a real man, I will treat you as such."

"What do you mean, 'like a real man?' Besides, I hurt all over."

It was obvious that even some portions of his flesh dangled. But I tolerated the disgust and horror and I explained to him with a tone as even as I could muster:

"In fact, that is why you need to stay calm, so that the skin grafts heal completely."

I washed carefully so the new skin would not fall off, and I kept my gaze fixed on his genital organ, since it was the least unpleasant feature of his body that was in my view. He noticed that I looked at it there and I then admitted to him:

"You have a very nice member. I bet upon leaving here, your girlfriend will feel pleased by this."

I might not be a master in the art of subtlety, but he only replied:

"Thank you."

Then I made my move. I caressed his phallus with much tenderness, careful of not hurting the surrounding skin, and I wrapped it with a hand towel. I pumped smoothly, up and down and back, contrary to how they teach in college, where they say to stroke only in one direction, and very briefly. But I felt hypnotized and I wanted to see semen spurting. I asked him to stay quiet, but now, his wailing was from pleasure and not from soreness or cold. Finally, I dropped the towel and I lathered it directly with my hand, and he rewarded me with a warm and sticky sensation. I showered him a little more with lukewarm water in order to rinse it, and I washed it again. I washed my hands while he recovered his breath and helped him dress and got him to his bed. He murmured:

"Thank you. How should I reward you?"

"Only comply with doctor's orders and be brave."

Soon he fell asleep, and little by little, he stoically tolerated his treatment more, although he got greedy with my "therapies" but I rationed them to him. He tried to blackmail me with telling others about me, but I told him that if they discharged me, I would not be around to please him anymore.

One day, another patient arrived with multiple fractures, another car accident, and I was on emergency room duty that night, covering for an absent nurse. After stabilizing him and assigning him a room, I took care myself of splinting and plastering his limbs. He was sedated for enough time so that his bones would heal again. When a leg set enough, the orthopedist put it in traction to return its size and shape, so the patient would not limp upon walking again.

With this one, I took a little more of a risk, since I could not hide with him in the bathtub. So, at a certain time in which the personnel was scarce, I closed the room, I lifted his sheet, and I proceeded to suckle his penis. It was a little longer than average and his pubic hair, which was shaved during the harshest procedures, grew again and bothered me a little in my lips and my nose. It took little time getting erect, but longer in ejaculating. I wanted to mount him, but he had a pelvic fracture and I had to be very careful.

Soon they established a type of hospice, so these patients could recover without occupying the hospital beds for too long, which are necessary in times of epidemics or more urgent cases, and some of my "clients" were disappearing. I had to be more selective upon choosing my "victims" so their lesions would not be an impediment, because I still yearned to feel a member inside me, being the whole pleasure for them, due to their frailties.

The opportunity came across with a cancer patient, from whom we extirpated a tumor, it doesn't matter where, and he was hopeful for a good prognosis. He looked at me with much interest, and I attributed it to his good spirit, and I decided that he would be the man. I visited him on a quiet night, without my underwear and with a condom. He directed me a knowing look and I began to straddle his hips, and I unfastened my blouse, and he lifted his hands to caress my nipples. He did this to me for a while, and I remembered how my former boyfriend used to hurry along over this, wanting only to penetrate me as quickly as possible, leaving me unsatisfied. Now I was the one moaning, but I bit my lips and I then approached his penis in order to put a "hat" on it. He reached my clitoris and I shivered, and then I rushed to stuff myself. A tremor coursed through both bodies and I twisted while going up and down, no longer with a hand or with a cloth, but with my own vagina, ¡with my whole body! I soon arrived to a pleasant "plateau" or "mesa," but he soon ejaculated and both of us grew impatient because my climax didn't arrive. But suddenly, my body came alive and I was the one who ejaculated, or at least, it looked like I did, because a lot of vaginal juice had flowed. The dizziness was delicious, better than with any drink or drug. It was necessary for me to rest upon his body to regain my balance, and later, I discarded the condom and washed my secretions. It was a dirty job, but it was worthwhile.

With him and with other patients, I tried that and other "acrobatics." While bathing some patients, I also got undressed and sat down on them. So I also tried anal sex, because I was not accustomed to bringing condoms there, and it was easier to get rid of these at night. I lathered their penises much more, and then, I sat down to go through my motions. There was some pain, especially if the penis turned out to be large, and the orgasm took a little longer, but the advantage was that I could retain the semen down there or throw it away upon defecating, which tended to happen sooner than I wished, but the advantage was that I could pass from the bathtub to a toilet and dump the "smoking gun" there.

One night, there was an emergency in which they had to activate to the whole personnel, a key whose color I already forgot, and since I was in full swing, I took me longer to go and help out. The first time, they only reprimanded me without asking questions, but I remained under surveillance. A few days later, the mother of the cancer patient came to pick him up, because he already was in remission, I want to think that it was because of my special care, and any way, she found out, because she reported me to the administration. I tried to deny everything, but they, in order to safeguard the good name of the institution, forced me to resign, my silence in exchange for a good recommendation.

In the other hospital, I tried to control my instincts, but since I was not able to maintain a relationship with a man due to my inconvenient schedule, I soon returned to the "prowl." I felt like a vampire or a predator, choosing with whom and in what moment would a sexual encounter be possible with patients of my wing or of another, in order to cover my tracks. Normally, I chose patients in terminal stages, but with good spirits. To a patient, a victim of violence on the part of her husband, I suckled her vulva, either because of pity or madness on my part. Perhaps, that change in my pattern put me in evidence, and I was dismissed again.

Modesty aside, I am very competent, and I was soon able to get employment, but my bad reputation reached me and soon the hospitals avoided me like the plague. One morning, I applied for a job as a cook in another hospital, and even so, they refused to hire me. I left grief-stricken, and I insulted myself for closing so many doors for me. But one opened up in the most unlikely guise: it was the door of a luxury car that stopped beside the sidewalk where I walked upon leaving the hospital. And I saw that patient's mother coming out. She called me, asking:

"Are you Nancy, the nurse?"

"Well, my name is Nancy, but I am no longer a nurse. Wait a minute! Who are you? You... you got me fired!"

"Yes, I reported you myself to the hospital board. I understand your resentment. But now, I need you. Do you remember my son, Mickey?"

My heart did a somersault, aside from the pleasure that I got out of that boy, I felt much affection for him.

"Yes. Is he all right? The doctors said that he was free from cancer."

"Yes, we left very hopeful, but he didn't stay healthy for long. He started college, but he felt sick again. Now, the doctors tell me that his cancer metastasized. How can this be?"

I leaned on of her car's fender because I was close to fainting. All the bitterness that I felt for that old woman disappeared and I asked her:

"Is there something that I could do?"

"I thought that you would reject me, but please come with me. I will explain it to you at our house."

She opened the passenger's side door and she started the engine to drive me to the house. It was high middle-class, big enough to impress me. She led to me to his room and I greeted him:

"Hello, Mickey."

He answered me with a weak but cheerful tone:

"Hello, Miss Nancy."

"Your mother tells me that you returned to college."

I commented upon seeing a text book on his nightstand. He explained:

"Now... I am on vacation."

"It's all right. Get some rest."

And I left a little quickly. I went to his mother:

"Tell me, Mrs. Lucy, exactly, what do you want from me?"

"I want to hire your services so you may look after my Mickey, our Mickey. Nancy, I know the affection that you feel for my son, it is not merely pity. My child, when he was in pain, the name that he pronounced was yours: Nancy, Nancy! Only you have that special touch."

I didn't want to listen anymore. It was a vile blackmail, into which I began to fall. My crotch became wetter than my cheeks, and I breathed deep, I turned around and I even began to take off my clothes while I went back into the room. Mickey looked at me surprised, but I calmed him, saying:

"Sh, sh, it's all right. I have come to take care of you."

Mickey smiled and his penis tented his nightwear. I took it out and it sprung totally rigid. I was about to straddle him, but something stopped me:

"Doctor, are you forgetting your instruments?"

I turned around and it was Lucy, who offered me a condom already open. I took it quickly but began to put it on Mickey very carefully, and I impaled myself on him. Ohh! That sensation that I had experienced with him then, was there again! I contracted my vaginal walls a little and I began to ride him. It seemed a dream of the sort that I had when I was unemployed, but now, it was true! Up, down, up, down, more and more. Really, I had all of him inside me. I reached for his hands and I took them toward my breasts, and my nipples burned by the contact, that pleasure being reflected in my vulva, pierced by one of the penises that I believed that I would never feel again inside me.

"Oh, oh, aiiee!"

I bounced more quickly, more desperately. I felt his condom filling up and I did too...

"Ahh, aahh, aaaaaahhhhhh...!"

The orgasm that I had felt like an electric jolt. I mewled from happiness and I tried to get off him, but my legs didn't respond. I wept, overcome by so many old and new emotions. Then, the "boss" came in my aid again and took me by my shoulders and she took Mickey's penis out of me. My mood swung to melancholy for suddenly feeling so empty. Lucy took me by my waist and carried me to the bathroom. I recognized the placement, even the plastic chair where the patient must sit. She laid me down to sit, because I was no longer able to do this by myself, she took off a robe, into which she had changed, and she began to soak me and lather me. I no longer felt sexual longing, but I allowed her to pamper me. She began to explain to me:

"As you can see, I could not do those things to my own son, and for that reason, I hated you, at first, for the way in which you took advantage of him. But I understood that only you could give him that love that I know that you have in you. I want you to be his nurse, his friend, his lover, his wife, his mistress, his slut, in short, a hit-lady of love for him. You will give him what I cannot; I will even pay you double of what they paid you in that filthy hospital. Please!"

"All right, all right. I would even do it for free!"

I responded, unable to resist her insistence. Truly, I was willing to collect my wage in semen, as long as it was from Mickey, my Mickey, our Mickey!

She washed me and she even took advantage in order to give me erotic caresses in my breasts and my clitoris, but I no longer need any more pleasure in my own body, so I suggested to her:

"Why don't you let me show to you my talent with the geriatric patients?"

She replied with playful sarcasm:

"You're calling me geriatric?"

And she pushed me off the seat in order to sit herself. I knelt down and lathered her belly, a little plump, and her legs and feet, I then stood behind her and I washed her wrinkled cheeks, on which, many tears should have rolled for her son. I furrowed over her neck, shoulders and back, moving around to knead her sagging teats, those that I envied by having been the first that Mickey has suckled. I knelt again to lather her vulva, not so different from one younger, because there below, almost everyone is the same. I rinsed a little to lick it and suck her clitoris.

"Yes, yes. Oh, baby!"

My employer exclaimed, slamming her back against the back of the chair. I held her by the thighs, and I even raised them in order to better reach her perineum and anus.

"Ooh, ooooooohh!"

And with that, she shivered, and she collapsed and it was my turn to carry her to her bedroom. We went to bed together, still wet, and I commented to her:

"Do you know what I like more about working here?"

"What?"

"That I don't have to get rid of my mess!"

She imagined that I would say that she could have as much sex as she wanted without having to hide, fearing being fired. So she was surprised enough to find humor in my answer, and finally, she told me:

"Forgive me."

"You are forgiven."

"It's just that I couldn't understand what you gave to my son."

"It's all right, everything will be fine."

I hugged her very tight, and I even felt that I loved her too. We fell asleep, but we were awakened upon hearing Mickey's pained groans. We ran to him, still naked, to see what happened to him. I, on reflex, checked his vital signs, and I suddenly realized where I was. Both of us took each one of his hands and caressed his forehead while he convulsed, and then, I remembered what medication to administer to him. She held her son while I injected him, and after a few minutes, he calmed down. The anxiety of helping a hopeless patient came back, and I saw it on his mother too. We embraced to cry on each other's shoulder, but we forced each other to leave so he wouldn't see our despair. Hugged like that, we collapsed on the lady's bed to try to rest until the effect of the sedative wore off.

Epilogue:

Lucy and I shared the responsibility of looking after Mickey, but there were things that only I could do, such as injecting him or making love to him. The doctors, upon seeing me tagging along with this family, they were surprised or even angry, but my bosses defended me with vehemence, although with much discretion. They even lied for me. While I was able to do so, I sat on him in order to have him through my anus, taking advantage of the fact that there was no hurry by taking his semen out of me. When he became too weak, I only could suck him, since he couldn't get an erection, and sometimes, his limp penis hardly ever ejaculated, which I drank eagerly, in case this might be the last one. His mother, always selfless, waited for whatever love I could spare for her, and now she had to bring me to orgasm, because I could not get that from the boy, in his condition... Even so, he did fulfill me as a woman, more than any boyfriend, no matter how serious he would seem to be.

When the moment that we both feared arrived, he displayed more serenity than ever, since he knew that he left the people that he loved most united forever. We held his hands until he had no more strength left, and then, we both lost our poise. We tried CPR, even knowing that he was already gone, and then, we fell to the floor screaming in despair. Soon we were quiet, but we stayed too depressed to get off the floor. After almost an hour, she got up and called the family doctor and she told me:

"Nancy, get up; I will need your help."

The doctor came and I explained to him what had happened. The completed the death certificate and with Lucy's help, they made the arrangements to take Mickey to the mortuary. The funeral was very emotional, and the mother and I held each other every time one of us fainted. When the coffin was laid into the grave, both wanted to jump inside, but we held back to avoid embarrassment, and we were content with tossing several flowers down there. We walked back embraced because our knees trembled too much and I drove back home. We dropped on the sofa to hallucinate, and then, we took a shower together. Soon sexual arousal awakened in both of us and we kissed and we caressed each other. Upon going from the shower to the bed, I laid myself ready for a 69, but she told me:


The Nice Nurse



"Wait, I have a surprise for you."

She took out a strap-on dildo from a drawer and she fastened it around her hips, barely covering her vulva. She lay on top of me and she put it in my vagina. Being it so artificial, I felt it very big, hard and cold, but the sway that the lady did in me made me accept it with much pleasure, and she then began to pump it into me forcefully. I went from one orgasm to the other easily, and then, I told her:

"Please stop. Now it's my turn."

She unstrapped it quickly and happily, she adjusted it on me, and then, she went to bed in the same missionary position in which I was lying, and I proceeded to penetrate her. My vaginal juices made it easier that I thought and I was smitten by her frenzy being I the "man" on her. She also had to stop my thrusts when she was satiated with orgasms. This way, we got over the first days of absence of our beloved Mickey, my Mickey, her Mickey.

She exerted some influence so I could work in hospices and I wouldn't waste my talent with the patients, and she even protected me from lawsuits and accusations, after all, my clients craved my special touch. I asked her:

"Don't you feel jealous for I am a whore posing as a nurse?"

"No, Nancy, I would feel jealous if you don't do this for our patients."

And she also "worked" with some of them, the older ones, but sometimes, she fancied some younger ones. And I was glad for her.

My "boss" became an advocate of our very particular way of giving "quality of life," and for some time, we opened a hospice for the elderly and other patients with injuries or degenerative conditions. Aside from care, food and medications, we provided physical rehabilitation, crafts and intellectual activities. She was getting more pressure on the part of the community for our life style and we didn't achieve enough clientele. Although Lucy fought courageously for our dream, this remained unfulfilled and she died suddenly, and I could not even aid her or help her to pass on with a little pleasure, either with me or with a patient. She was buried next to her beloved son and I felt that I died with her, and now, there would be no one to hold me at the burial. Upon arriving to the house, I tied her dildo to a pillow and I straddled it, and although I got my climax, I felt guilty and lonely.

One day, her lawyer called me and told me that, when we engaged in the special partnership to operate that hospice, I became her only heiress. I did not expect this. But while working again with my patients, I once again understood the purpose of my existence, the give a kind of comfort to suffering people that the institutions are not willing to give.

Outcome:

The years passed, and I continued doing what I know how to do: being the extra-pleasing nurse, and although my attractiveness and vigor decreased, I stayed busy in my causes while I had strength for them. In the long run, I aged so much that I ended up in a nursing home, since I remained alone, even my biological family disowned me when I went through my first scandals in hospitals. The money that I had was spent in medical care and medications, and I even had to sell the house in order to pay my expenses, besides, I could no longer be in charge of such an imposing piece of real estate. I left a clause in my living will in order to obtain the same care that I lavished upon my patients, but the caretakers considered it aberrant and they yanked the page out of my file and threw it into the garbage.

I grew weaker and I lost all hope of having anybody taking care of my special needs. The nurses bathed me according to the text book, avoiding at all costs exciting my libido, and much less, allowing me an orgasm. I grew tired of masturbating, because I didn't have the opportunity in the bathroom, and when I did it on my bed, the orderlies saw my sheets with true loathing when they changed them the next day.

A night, a janitor arrived stealthily, so that the personnel wouldn't see him coming to where I was. He asked me:

"Excuse me, are you Mrs. Nancy?"

"Yes, who are you?"

"My name is Mark. I work in the cleaning of this hospice."

I vaguely remembered that a janitor surprised me in one of the hospitals and began to blackmail me, making me suckle his penis or allowing him to sodomize me. Those times, I didn't enjoy much. I demanded him:

"What do you want?"

"Please, forgive my boldness, but I received a letter from you."

"Letter? What letter? I don't remember having written any."

"But I have it here."

And he showed it to me. It was my special petition to receive sex during my stay in the nursing home. It was old, stained and rotten, but at least, it didn't go through a shredder. In fact, it was a photocopy. He explained to me:

"Please, don't be angry. The original letter was so ruined, but before, I was able to copy it. This one is less than a year old."

He made a pause, very nervous and ashamed, and he asked me:

"Do you still want somebody to do this to you?"

At first, I was offended by his suggestion, since I had lost my good humor, with which I protected my psyche when I got caught playing my mischiefs. But then, I understood that I didn't have any option, and that I was also yearning for good sex in order to live again. I answered him, with a feeling very similar to love:

"With all my heart!"

Then, he carried his cart with the cleaning equipment inside and he took out condoms and a cream. I told him that, at my age, the condom would no longer be necessary, and I missed the feeling of semen directly in me. He pulled his pants and underwear down and he daubed his penis. Then, he pulled my nightgown up and licked my nipples. Although my teats sagged too much, they were as sensitive as when I was still a teenager. Later, he removed my panties and he licked my clitoris and I had my first orgasm in a long time. Finally, he took my pillow from my head, he got on my bed, placed it under my buttocks and penetrated me firmly but carefully. He began with a slow sway, but I told him to quicken his pace, to finish before someone could discover us. When he did so, I had another orgasm, a little stronger than the first, and I indicated to him:

"Raise my buttocks and go for my anus."

When he took out his penis, he put on some more cream so he could get inside my rectum. I squeezed his penis with all my strength and I achieved another very intense orgasm while he squirted all of his semen, which spilled on the cover. He stepped down and he washed the whole area the best that he could, at least, he disinfected and perfumed it so nobody would smell the scent that our adventure left. He set my pillow back under my head, and I considered it a very valuable trophy, because on it, I unleashed all the passion of which I was always capable, and I slept placidly.

In the long run, my body became too frail for vaginal or anal penetration, but I asked the janitor to let me to suckle his manhood, so at least, I could reminisce about the good old times. He even had to learn when to pull his penis out upon ejaculating, as in the porno movies, because I might choke with his semen and suffocate to death. He limited himself to rub his penis against my lips, cheeks or breasts, and it was easier to wash the evidence. But everything came to an end, with him, being transferred, and I, dying of a respiratory failure during my sleep. The good thing was that I could join Mickey and Lucy in the afterlife, my adoptive family. At least, I lived like a nice pleasing nurse and I died like a nicely pleased patient.