3 comments/ 10388 views/ 6 favorites The Odd Tale of Nightingale Synge Ch. 01 By: kalodin Author's note: This is the first part of a story that is open ended right now. There's no intercourse in this first Chapter; still I hope you'll read it and send me a note if you'd like to read more about Nurse Synge, Captain Wilson and the origins of the Nightingale Sisterhood. The Odd Tale of Nightingale Synge—Pioneer Sexual Therapist Chapter One Some years ago I was doing research for my graduate thesis. I was looking through the university library card catalog for material about the Irish playwright John Millington Synge. Following the last card for "Synge, John Millington," the next card was for a manuscript. It was a biographical piece about a woman named Nightingale Synge (not related to the playwright). I had not thought about Nightingale Synge for many years until recently I came across that note while I culled some of my old papers for discard. That was what put me in mind of her story once more and led me to write this. Here are my notes taken from the card: "Synge, Nightingale Emma. (1865-1946). Pioneer Sexual Therapist ." Carmody-Bellisario, Maxine K. Unpublished Manuscript . 1972. 378 typed double-spaced pages., Synge founded a quasi-religious group of unconventional caregivers, The Nightingale Sisterhood, self-described practitioners of "Restorative Genito-Urologic Therapy." It piqued my curiosity so I read the manuscript. I had to read it at the library since it was not in circulation. I found it quirky but fascinating. Regrettably I did not make a copy of it. Now I could kick myself. But I've pulled together what I can recall. You'll have to forgive me for the gaps and some fragmentary bits. She had been a professional registered nurse; her father a doctor and her mother taken by consumption when Gale was 14. An only child, she grew up quickly. She helped her father in his practice and despite her youth, she ran his household, aided by a longtime retainer; an elderly housekeeper who was completely devoted to the doctor. Dr. Synge taught Nightingale medicine and gave her clinical exposure and he helped her get a student nursing position. In two years she sat for examination and received a registered nursing credential. Old Dr. Synge wanted his daughter to be physician like himself; that at a time when few women could achieve admission to medical school. But Gale's nature led her to take up nursing. Three traits dominated her character. In combination these compelled her to take a path that placed her in more direct and personal contact with her patients than the role of physician. First, she was very devout and religiously minded. Second, she was a deeply compassionate person. She viewed her role as a nurse not as an occupation but rather as a vocation to which the Lord had called her. At the same time, and this was her third dominant trait; Nightingale Synge was suffused with an exceptionally ardent libido. Being of resolute mind Miss Synge was able to balance these qualities, both intellectually and emotionally. Prayer, the Bible and church with its rituals and activities gave sustenance to her faith and devotion. Patient care and attendance, aiding and comforting those broken and crippled or afflicted with disease or illness satisfied her powerful impulse to care for others. Her religious fervor and her heartfelt compassion for others filled her cup to the brim. She never married. Ironically she had no time to devote to build an intimate relationship with another. Although she was possessed of womanly endowments that could quicken a man's desire she was neither voluptuous nor more than comely; far from stunningly attractive. The unfortunate upshot of Gale's life was that her religious convictions and her deep compassion for her patients , wrapped in a professional clinical veneer. left no place for her to commit to a significant other, man or woman. Apart from the usual adolescent mutual anatomical explorations she remained a virgin to the extent that no man (or woman) had penetrated her vagina. She acknowledged in a frank and practical way, learned under her father's instruction, to confront her frequent need for sexual release; often acute and urgent. Old Dr. Synge never imposed himself in any taboo way upon his daughter. But the human organism was his life's work. He unabashedly and with pedantic logic instructed his daughter that sexuality is a natural , fundamental and pervasive element of the human condition. When Nightingale asked him about the feelings that arose in her young body he responded with gentle and straightforward explanation. He also made sure she knew that she could gratify herself as her needs dictated and do so in the knowledge that orgasmic pleasure is as natural as eating and breathing. There was no moral element, her father taught, but there was much misguided and ignorant reaction. Dr. Synge also taught that pleasuring oneself is a private matter and sexual activity in the presence of others not participating might cause embarrassment or misguided indignation so it should be practiced with discretion and consideration. She gratified herself at work by a combination of discreet physical contact with both the men and women who came under her warm and tender care. In the privacy of her bath, or alone on ward duty at night, or yet again in bed Miss Synge brought herself off with exquisite, smashing orgasms, writhing about, gasps, shudders, thrusts and jerks seized her as she came again and again; her nipples tingling from the twisting and pinching she gave them . Sweat flowed down her cleavage and made a wet sop in her armpits. She kept toweling and a rubber pad on hand to put under her bottom so that the ooze of her sex would not stain or puddle on the furniture or the bed as it leaked from the furnace of soft flesh between her thighs. She knew she was addicted to masturbation but neither could or would stop; any notion of compulsive behavior never crossed her mind. Miss Nightingale tended her patients with tenderness but with a façade of clinical detachment and efficiency. Her ministrations were about them, not about her was a constant she reminded herself every day. She bathed them and assisted with bedpans, wiping and such; all of the many ways a caregiver has physical contact with the patient. There was always a perfunctory caress, a touch, a pat of understanding, a dalliance of fingers upon this place, a drawing of fingers across that part, a bit of touching quite incidental to laving the genitalia; keen attendance to the scrotum and penis; drawing back of foreskin to carefully clean away the deposits that might otherwise gather behind the glans and lead to inflammation. She did not discriminate for sex or age and gave the same warm care to all of her charges. If a male patient experienced tumescence while she soaped and richly lathered his scrotum and penis and obviously took sexual pleasure from her ministrations that was natural physiology and there was nothing more to it. Similarly if a female patient welcomed the pleasurable diversion and release that matched that boiling but hidden behind Gale's devoted nurse persona then it was simply fulfillment of a patient's needs, not so different than assisting with urination or defecation. And if her warm and tender care left Miss Synge's own sex oozing coital fluids with swollen labia and distended lips; with clitoris engorged and distended, that too was natural and inevitable physiological response; that there was intense pleasure associated with it was to be viewed as a blessing rather than an impediment to virtue; simply an ancillary byproduct of intense devotion to care of afflicted bodies. Her heart went out to every patient she tended, man or woman, of all ages and conditions. She prayed with them and she prayed earnestly for them. She often sat with one or another for a bit as duty allowed and read from the bible or some religious tract. Ms Nightingale was just "Gale" in daily conversation, or "Nurse Gale" or "Sister" on duty and only used the unusual given name if circumstances called for it. Her mother had named her, not after the nurse of the Crimean War, but after the bird; however apt her allusive given name turned out to be considering her chosen life's work. Time passed until Nightingale, in 1915, at the age of 50, took a position, when he practically demanded that she do so, in the practice of Dr. H. Martin Wold-Fletcher, of long professional acquaintance, and considerable reputation, who had established what was for the time a relatively new and narrowly focused specialty, limiting his practice to genito-urological medicine and surgery. In this way she came to meet the patient who would prove pivotal in her life; the unfortunate young man whose affliction set her on the path of what she would come to understand was meant to be her true calling in life. All that had gone before was prelude. Nightingale would experience an epiphany that came to her while she comforted the afflicted young Mr. Wilson; her heart overflowing with compassion and great concern about his very personal and private dilemma. She would do more than comfort him. Gregory Wilson was a casualty of the Great War. He was not merely a casualty but also something of a medical miracle. He had been severely wounded by an exploding shell. Somehow fate intervened so that he was not relegated to a place among those so badly wounded they were left to die untreated. More than once as he lay abed, full of stitches, drain tubing, and intravenous fluids, swathed in bandages, the pain made him wish he had been left in the "waiting to die" group. The field surgeons and medical staff that undertook to repair him, perhaps guided by an unseen hand, performed heroically and the handsome young man recovered; although he walked with a limp, his legs no longer being of equal length. Most regrettably Captain Wilson's wounds extended to his genitalia and shrapnel fragments had lacerated his groin. As a dreadful outcome of these wounds, at the age of 23, Gregory was left impotent but with an otherwise intact penis (only a few small scars where bits of shrapnel had been removed) and one testicle, the other buried somewhere in the soil of the Meuse Argonne in France. The cruelty of his inability to achieve an erection was that his male parts continued to make testosterone. His remaining testicle continued to produce sperm and the remaining part of his prostate gland and other male bits continued to make the fluids that mixed to produce seminal ejaculate at orgasm. Bitterly he remained impotent but virile and desperately hopeful that somehow he might regain sufficient tumescence to plumb the depths of a hot, wet and receptive vagina. Although he was a captain, a decorated hero, and an effective and stalwart leader of troops in the most gruesome combat, Gregory Wilson was still a virgin. His regiment had been called up when he was just a few days past his 20th birthday and before that he had been in school, then training. There had simply been no good opportunity; a circumstance not improved by the stalwart Captain's innate shyness. Gregory first came under the care of Dr. Wold-Fletcher when the latter was a part-time adjunct staff member caring for urological patients at the War Veterans Hospital. But Gregory came from a well-to-do family and continued to consult Dr. Wold-Fletcher in his private practice. Despite his admirable and widely acknowledged skill as a physician and surgeon the good doctor was unable to assist Gregory in regaining potency; the confounded appendage could not be aroused from its somnambulant repose. As time passed, at each visit Nightingale could see Gregory pass from anxious optimism to anger and frustration and, at his latest visit, he began to show alarming signs of sinking into despair and even despondency. Nightingale's heart swelled with compassion for Gregory. She became worried about him and distracted in her work . An idea had begun to form in her mind; an idea that somehow she might be able to help the young man by drawing upon her many years of nursing practice and in a way that was therapeutic rather than medical, as such. It would be a way that was outside the scope of any paradigm of care and rehabilitation about which the skilled and well meaning Dr. Wold-Fletcher might conceive. She prayed for guidance and courage. If she was to help Gregory she would be taking a large step into the unknown and could very well set both of them on a path to calamity. It was a thought that gave rise to more than a little anxiety. But against her misgivings there weighed the very real possibility that she could be saving a life. The next day at the office while others were occupied out of earshot, Nightingale rang up the Wilson residence and asked for Captain Wilson. "Yes, this is Captain Wilson," the young man's voice was flat and without spirit. "Captain, this is Nurse Synge calling from Dr. Wold-Fletcher's office. The doctor wishes to know if you could come by this evening at seven o'clock. He has something to discuss with you that he believes you will want to hear. I regret that I have no details and the doctor is quite caught up with patients this morning. He sends his regrets that he cannot phone you himself just now." It was a white lie of course. But she was anxious lest he dismiss her if she told him It was she that wanted to speak with him privately. "Well, I don't know. I mean I don't see that there's much point anymore. Nothing seems to help my condition." "Captain Wilson, Gregory, I want, that is the Doctor is very anxious to see you. It is important for you to keep this appointment. Do say that you will won't you?" "Seven in the evening you say? That's odd isn't it? The doctor seeing patients at that hour?" "The doctor is staying late this evening in order to see you and not be rushed." Nightingale actually shook a bit after she rang off. She glowed with dew of anxiety perspiration. It was not in her to be untruthful. She said a silent prayer asking forgiveness for her subterfuge. At 7 p.m., sharp Captain Wilson arrived and Nightingale invited his to sit. "I have a confession to make, Captain. May I call you Gregory, Captain?" "Yes, of course, Nurse." "Gregory, it is I who wish to speak with you. The doctor has departed for his evening rounds at the hospital. I was anxious that you would not agree to see me so I am ashamed now to say that I was untruthful. I hope you will forgive me." "Well, this is all a bit irregular now isn't it, Nurse? What is it that you misled me to come and hear?" There was mixture of pique, curiosity with a dollop of humor in his voice. "It's true that my action is irregular and the Doctor does not know that I'm seeing you. Whatever you may think in response to what I want to say to you please know that the Doctor is in no way a part of this. I have undertaken this quite solely on my own initiative." "Hmm, I see. Well, I'm here so I'll hear what you have to say." "Before I speak of substance, may I have your word that you will not reveal our discussions here this evening; that his will go no further whatever decision you make?" "Yes, well alright. As long as you're not going to confess to some heinous crime." "Really Gregory." She chided him with her eyes before she went on. "Dr. Wold-Fletcher is a wonderful doctor who has helped many patients. I know that he greatly regrets not being able to help you with the condition in which you now find yourself as a result of your trauma. Doctors work within the framework of medical science and their ethical standards and our culture and our society's mores. In my many years as a nurse I've come to strongly believe there is therapy untried for those who suffer from penile dysfunction; therapy that lies outside the realm of medicine as it is presently practiced in these matters. My belief is a grounded in both my nursing experience and observations, and in my woman's intuition, silly as that may sound to you. I don't know if I can help you but if you will agree I would like to try. There is a serious negative side to this and you must understand that clearly. If we cannot restore your male vigor there is the risk that you will sink into even greater despondency than I think you are presently feeling. But if I am able to help you achieve potency once more it will be a wonderful achievement for you . For my part, I shall take humbly take satisfaction in knowing that through me the Lord has restored your procreative ability. Captain Wilson flushed. " My, my appendage does not function. It is flaccid and useless and it will not be upstanding. Yet against the best of medical science your proposal is that somehow you can reverse my predicament with your therapy. Just what is this therapy? What do you have in mind?" "I said we could try and can't give any assurance that we will succeed. What I have in mind Captain, Gregory, is manipulation and stimulation. By manipulation I mean direct exercise of your penis, your genital organs in a variety of ways seeking to reawaken nerve tissue that may yet remain although shocked and dormant. By stimulation I mean using your senses of sight, hearing, smell and touch to bring about male ardor. My hope is that by working together, through trial and error, and very like only gradually we might over time bring you to a fulsome erection capable of penetration, orgasm and ejaculation." Nightingale found herself perspiring as she concluded her recitation. Moreover her crotch had warmed and grown damp despite her resolve to remain clinical and detached. "Do you propose to instruct me in these manipulations and stimulations? Would I then go off and practice these and report back to you? Or do you mean to suggest you would actually observe me and evaluate? " "Yes to both and more," Nightingale replied. "The therapy I propose must be intense if we are to restore your manhood. I believe it will be most effective, in fact vital, that I manipulate you and that I also provide stimulation as well. Let me add that I seek nothing for myself in making this proposal, neither corporal nor pecuniary. I will be your therapist and you will be my patient. There will of necessity be intimacy but it must perforce be impersonal." Captain Wilson looked discomfited now as he reflected on the full prospect of Nightingale's proposed Therapy. Despite her age and matronly appearance, it excited him to think of this sincere and caring woman touching his cock and maybe his remaining testicle. He could feel the heat in his cheeks and knew his face must be quite red. Were he not impotent his cock would have been hard and bulging a tent in his pants. "I, um, this, you," he began. "Ah, damnation! I can lead men up out of trenches into the teeth of enemy mortars and machine guns but I can't talk about this without being completely embarrassed. You asked for my confidence about our conversation. Now I ask for yours. The truth is I've never been with a woman, I'm still a virgin. Oh, I've played with myself in the past and felt a bosom or two but not bare flesh." "Gregory, I assure you I will be gentle and respect your sensibilities if we go forward. I know this is a good deal to think about, for both of us. Will you consider what I've said and give me your answer soon?"Captain Wilson agreed. "Are you a man of prayer, Gregory?" Nightingale asked. "I said many prayers in the trenches, Nurse." "Then let us pray together before you leave. " She folded her hands and they bowed their heads, "Heavenly Father look down on Thy servants who come to you to ask Thy blessing upon us. Make us instruments of Thy will. If it be Thy will that I assist this brave young man to restore in him Thy gift of manly vigor; if that be Thy will then give him peace and resolve to say yes. Help us both to be chaste and undertake this not for carnal pleasure in itself but as the giving and receiving of a work of mercy; I Thy servant, Nightingale, giving comfort and restorative therapy to Gregory, also Thy servant in his affliction, in Jesus name, amen." The Odd Tale of Nightingale Synge Ch. 01 They parted without Gregory's commitment but he agreed to give his answer by week's end. At home Nightingale drew a bath. She lowered herself into the pool of heat and sighed away the tension from the meeting. In the privacy of her home, in her bath, she need no longer maintain the professional demeanor and detachment of Nurse Synge. She thought of what lay ahead should Gregory agree. Thinking this way and about Gregory she found herself seeing him not as a patient but as a man and more than that, as a lover. The heat spreading in her groin now came from within rather than only through the hot bath water. Her fingers found her vulva and set about fondling and fingering herself with increasing intensity, her legs thrown over the sides of the tub. She scooted so far down in the tub that her face was nearly submerged. An image of Gregory's flaccid member loomed in her imagination. As she stroked and fondled him, then bent, in her mind's eye, to kiss and lick his genitals she realized wonderingly that his cock was slowly coming to life and it grew erect as she watched. Oh, Gregory, look at your beautiful penis. That's so wonderful. Yes, dear, that's it. Oh, doesn't that feel so good? Oh, Lord, let me hel... unnh, let me ahhhhhh ,"diddling her swollen clitoris vigorously and breathlessly gasping, "let me help return his ma... maaanhood to him!" She came then, grunting and groaning, making animal sounds, thrusting against her fingers as orgasmic spasms wracked her so she flopped about in the tub, water slopping unto the floor. To be continued... The Odd Tale of Nightingale Synge Ch. 02 Chapter Two Author's Note: If you are in a hurry for a hot stroke story you will find other excellent authors here on LIT who will fill your needs better than this tale. There is some sex herein but towards the end of the chapter. If you do choose to read on, you may get more satisfaction out of this story if you've read Chapter One first. In my note preceding Chapter One I failed to mention that the persona , remembering something read many years ago, has taken the liberty of writing some narrative and dialogue to hopefully heighten your enjoyment. And just a word about medical content. This is fiction. I have done some brief research about impotence to add to the narrative but I have not tried to remain historically accurate about medical practices and knowledge of the period in which this is set. PART I The potential for calamity Nightingale foresaw very quickly became a reality. She herself brought it about. The previous evening she had put her proposal to Captain Gregory Wilson. But she had gained his ear through a subterfuge played out without her employer, Dr. H. Martin Wold-Fletcher, having knowledge of either the meeting or what Nightingale proposed to undertake. Dr. Wold-Fletcher was Captain Wilson's urologist. Nightingale was uneasy in the morning when she arose. Having gone behind Dr. Wold-Fletcher's back she felt strongly that she had rashly and unethically exposed the doctor to the possibility of lurid scandal. With chagrin she realized her compassion had led her to expose Dr. Wold-Fletcher's reputation to injury or worse (God forbid!) to ruin, should the therapy she hoped to provide Captain Wilson become publicly revealed. It would surely be seen as under Dr. Wold-Fletcher's auspices. A cold realization struck her about sensational jackals of yellow journalism turning the intimate therapy she proposed into a titillating scandal. They would paint her as an aging whore masquerading as a benevolent nurse and Dr. Wold-Fletcher as her procurer rather than the dedicated healer he was. She had also failed to maintain professional detachment by indulging in a masturbation fantasy about Captain Wilson. Now in her 50th year, Nightingale masturbated frequently as she had from her youth. But until Captain Wilson she had always maintained a personally imposed stricture against fantasizing about specific patients. She resolved should they continue, to regain her professional detachment. At the same time she now well understood the formidable challenge she had taken upon herself by proposing the intimate therapy she sketched out for the young veteran Gregory Wilson, captain of infantry. He had been grievously wounded and against all prognosis, miraculously survived but left both lame and impotent. As to the former there was nothing to be done for it. As to the latter medical science of the period could not aid him. So Nurse Nightingale offered and the desperate young war hero accepted. She went about her morning routine quite preoccupied,unable to stop turning over in her mind her relationship with both Dr. Wold-Fletcher and with Captain Wilson and the events of the previous day. She had no appetite for breakfast but ate a piece of toast, then dressed. It normally pleased Nightingale to put on her nurse's attire. It was emotionally satisfying, as though she reaffirmed her vocation each time she dressed in these garments. It set her apart. She felt empowered by this manifest symbol of her profession; her vocation of compassion for and dedication to the care of others. Then too there was the tingle in her sex in the feel of her alabaster silk stockings as she pulled them up and fastened her garters. Pulling up her crotch-less girdle (she had gratefully abandoned corsets for this newly fashionable foundation garment) made her feel as if she was donning armor that would keep her most intimate bits securely hidden away and protected (and under some control one may add) in addition to shaping and firming her. While dressing, she rarely failed to indulgently fondle her nipples, stroke her plump pudenda and pat the little man in the boat, thereby sending a small frisson of pleasure radiating through her groin. But this morning her brain was otherwise occupied. There was no room for that cognitive maestro to coordinate and conduct even one or two bars of prelude to a sexual symphony. Not a small woman, her large bones, somewhat thickened waist , broadened buttocks and full bosom made her an imposing figure in her starched white dress, stockings, and shoes . Completing this ensemble, Nightingale's cap with two black stripes identified her rank as a senior registered nurse. The long skirt, reaching just above her shins concealed two well turned legs, and sturdy thighs. When it was chilly, as it was this day, she drew on her soft deep blue woolen cape. She knew and took pleasure knowing there was a highly feminine and even provoking aura that surrounded a nurse in her professional attire. It could be seen in the lusty glances of men and not a few women as she rode the tram to Dr. Wold-Fletcher's offices. Nightingale always prayed and read scriptures briefly as part of her well established morning routine. This morning she prayed in particular for guidance and courage to do what she had made up her mind that she must so as not to compromise Dr. Wold-Fletcher. And she prayed for strength to keep her physical needs and emotions in check as she set out on the journey to an uncertain destination; one that she yet hoped Gregory would agree to undertake with her. When she opened her Holy Bible randomly she was startled as the words of Isaiah 41:10 seemed to leap off the page. "Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness." She read the passage several times. Each time her excitement grew. Had Nightingale been struck by a bolt of lightning she could not have received a more emphatic and definitive signal from the Almighty. If one door was to close behind her very well then, Thy will be done. Her dread receded to a manageable anxiety considering the events she expected would take place this day. Clearly another door was about to open. The Lord had unmistakably reassured her. She was to step forward and pass through to a new phase of her life; to her true vocation. As the door to her flat clicked shut she uttered a small prayer of thanks and set off for what was to be her last day in Dr. Wold-Fletcher's employ. Late in the afternoon she met privately with Dr. Wold-Fletcher. Nightingale candidly outlined her transgression and her proposal to Captain Wilson. She also offered her profound apology and handed Dr. Wold-Fletcher her resignation, written out earlier in the day. She hoped he would not sack her but if he did she hoped it would not be a bitter confrontation. But Dr. Wold-Fletcher listened with a flush of color climbing up his neck thence into his cheeks while dismay, anger and frosty resolution passed across his face. "Yes, well, I am shocked and sharply disappointed by this grievous lapse Nurse Synge. I shall obviously have to dismiss you. I cannot have nurses unilaterally indulging in courses of treatment of my patients; treatment that you, Synge, are not qualified to administer. Indeed, altogether presumptuous; you've gone quite out of bounds. Regrettable too. I knew your father. Fine doctor, hmmm. Fortunate that he is not with us to be witness to what you've done." He fell silent. Nightingale fought to keep from weeping. She bowed her head and smoothed her skirt. "I think, yes I'm quite sure, in addition to dismissing you, I must insist that you not go forward with this "therapy" as you call it, with my patient, Captain Wilson. I shall be challenged, I fear, to undo the damage you may have caused. I must have your assurance that you will not see him further." Nightingale's head snapped up. This was a demand that she had not anticipated. She looked directly into Dr. Wold-Fletcher's eyes and saw both anger and righteous determination. But Nightingale's resolution rested on the granite foundation of devout religious conviction; conviction redoubled by direct personal revelation no less than as if she had experienced her own private Pentecost. "Doctor, that is a demand I cannot accept. I have made a commitment to Captain Wilson. More than that, I have sought Divine guidance and I have been affirmed. Should the Captain accept I must go forward. I will go forward for his sake." Now Doctor Wold-Fletcher spoke with ill concealed contempt. "Poppycock! Divine guidance indeed! You have no idea what you are doing and do not have the requisite qualifications. There is nothing more to discuss. I shall not be passive about your obstinacy. Your personal effects will be sent round. I don't want you in here again. You are not the person I had thought you were. Now get out." Shaken and stung by Dr. Wold-Fletcher's harsh words but with her resolution undiminished, Nightingale returned to her flat. But the calamity had not yet played out. Late the following day a messenger brought a communication from the Nursing Board. "I'm instructed to bring back your signed acknowledgement Miss, along with any communication or document you wish to submit." Nightingale read with trembling hands. Dr. Wold-Fletcher, trading on a respected and growing reputation in the local medical arena had clearly moved swiftly to thwart her. The board summoned her to a suspension and revocation hearing for (1) practicing medicine without a license, for (2) violating the trust of her employer and for (3) conducting or proposing to conduct herself in a way so as to bring disgrace on the nursing profession. The Board offered, in fact it urged in the alternative that she could surrender her nursing license to avoid a hearing. That is what she did, with great reluctance and profound regret, resolved in her trust in Divine guidance and swallowing her considerable pride so as to do nothing that would further aggravate Captain Wilson's unhappy state of mind. She was now suddenly and summarily stripped of a profession to which she had dedicated herself for nearly three decades. Nightingale wondered if Dr. Wold-Fletcher was right; that she was not the woman she had thought she was. Would she hear again from Captain Wilson? She had her bequest from her late father to take care of her needs, but not indefinitely. She would have to find other work. But what could she do? Despite her resolve, that evening she cried bitterly. She thought of St. Theresa of Avila, said to have remarked from a muddy ditch where she had been pitched by an overturned cart, that if this was the way God treated his friends she was glad not to be an enemy. The thought made her snicker through her tears and a large bubble of mucous formed on a nostril. She rinsed her face, said her prayers and collapsed into bed. Happily, the next day Captain Wilson rang her flat, having quickly learned that she was no longer in Dr. Wold-Fletcher's employ. "Damned sorry business," Gregory said when he and Nightingale spoke "Dr. Wold-Fletcher, giving you the sack. I don't relish being the cause of your dismissal." She pish-poshed his expression of regret. Nightingale reminded him that what had led to her professional demise was all of her own doing. It was she, Nurse Synge, who needed to apologize for coming between Gregory and his doctor. Having danced through that obligatory minuet of manners, Nightingale put the question. What were they to do; would they go forward? When he accepted she had to tell herself to remain calm and offered a small prayer of thanks. They made arrangements to meet at his residence two mornings hence and begin therapy. PART II Despite his wrath over Nightingale's deceit, Dr. Wold-Fletcher made no further issue of it beyond what he had done already and did nothing to interfere with her so-called "therapy" for the young man. He was irritated when he read Captain Wilson's brief note thanking him for being not merely instrumental but central in his physical recovery. Nevertheless under present circumstances, added Captain Wilson, it would be best if he made other arrangements. Dr. Wold-Fletcher. did nothing because he had been invited to lunch with Harold Julius Corday, M.D., PhD, fellow of this, that and the other college of medical sciences. Gregory's uncle by marriage, Dr. Corday was a prestigious retired physician, former chief of medicine at a large local hospital, former President of the Medical Society (in his 8th four year term); and, for many years to the present day, a most influential and deeply respected member of the Society's executive board. His keel lay far deeper in the deceptively calm seas of the local medical community than did Dr. Wold-Fletcher's. Over lunch Dr. Corday was quite cordial. He commiserated with Dr. Wold-Fletcher, allowing that he had heard of the unfortunate business with the late Dr. Synge's daughter, Nightingale, wasn't it? Yes, yes his nephew Gregory had rung to seek his Uncle, Dr. Corday's advice. Can't imagine what got into Miss Synge; known to be a bit odd though. Excellent nurse, mind you. Fine specimen of a mature woman as well. Very devout, great compassion, perhaps excessive on the sympathy end of patient care. Certainly Dr. Corday understood Dr. Wold-Fletcher had no choice in sacking the woman and Dr. Corday would not think of interfering. No, no, he was not asking that Dr. Wold-Fletcher reconsider at all. No that was, hmmm, what ... mused Dr. Corday? "Let's say as dead an issue as the warm body left behind by a promising young surgeon who, in an inexplicable lapse, cut this when he should have cut that but nevertheless had gone on to become a well regarded physician and surgeon." That allusive analogy brought a pause in the audible conversation and a flush to Dr. Wold-Fletcher's face. Struggling, he retained his neutral expression and swallowed his anger. In the momentary silence Dr. Corday's eyes spoke instead. The point of the cordial luncheon invitation, Dr. Wold-Fletcher, thought, was about to be thrust home. Dr. Corday continued, at the same time he hoped, since Gregory was withdrawing as his patient, Dr. Wold-Fletcher. would agree the interests of all involved would best be served if he took no other steps against Nurse Synge in regard to Gregory. Let him keep an eye on the matter and be assured that he, Dr. Corday would not allow the Synge woman, now a former nurse, to do anything that would compromise Gregory's physical or mental health. After all what could the woman do with whatever notions she had? Certainly nothing more than Dr. Wold-Fletcher, with all of his experience and skill, had done; and he employing the latest and best medical science and healing art in the bargain. Dr. Corday speculated, predicted in fact that both Synge and Gregory would see that her ministrations were futile and they would all move on. Didn't Dr. Wold-Fletcher, agree? Dr. Wold-Fletcher. got the message. This "cordial" luncheon engagement between two professional colleagues was not revealed to Nightingale and Gregory until many years later. During Captain Wilson's long recuperation, when it was clear that he would recover, his parents had built for him a splendid cottage on the grounds of their country home. Thoughtfully they placed it far enough away for privacy but near enough so that Gregory could join them for dinner or otherwise be only a short walk away from the main house if he so chose. And vice versa of course. The cottage included an office, sitting room, bedroom, bath, small kitchen and an exercise room. When she arrived Nightingale had on her white nurse's attire but wore a plain nurses cap without the senior nurse striping as it was a function of her lost licensure. Nightingale thought wearing her nurse's clothing would put the therapy in a clinical context that Gregory had grown accustomed to during his long recovery. At the same time she wondered if her attire would provide visual stimulation as nurse's attire did for many men. If she discovered that it did, although at her age she harbored some misgiving about her matronly body stimulating young Gregory; but if it did then she would record it in her therapy notes. "What will you do now?" Gregory asked. "I mean, what will you do for a livelihood? Of course I'll compensate you for your therapeutic services. But that won't be enough to sustain you by itself, I shouldn't think." Nightingale responded more sharply than she would have if she were not picking her way down this new path with acute sensitivity to her keenly tuned moral and professional sensibilities. Perhaps some secondary concern about her honor and dignity crept into the mix as well. After all she contemplated, although all details of what might occur were still to emerge, they would engage in activity she believed essential but that would, if viewed in the harshest and most cynical light, be seen as an exchange of carnal pleasure for remuneration. The young Captain was somewhat taken aback by this stiff reaction. "You will not give me any money or anything of value for my "services" as you call it. "I could never take money for doing this. I am doing this out of Christian charity, a work of mercy as our Lord instructed; at least to assuage your needs and at best to restore your virility. We won't speak of money further. I am not without resources and if I need anything more, well then the Lord will provide." Nightingale's reaction bemused Gregory. He thought her extraordinary; even unique. She could, by no stretch of imagination be thought of as a beauty, this matronly Rubens model of a woman, with graying hair and beginnings of wrinkles, both soft belly and ample bottom shaped and firmed but yet obtruding and promising a banquet awaiting caress beyond her garments; with a fulsome bosom that slowly gave way to gravity. Time was those well nippled spheres did cantilever out high, proud and so firm that a pencil could not be held between breast and chest; with extraordinarily large nipples both in girth and length and keenly sensitive in the bargain. More than once she had reached orgiastic bliss by stimulating her nipples without touching her ample pussy. One could see as well the beginnings of a wattle at her neck. The woman had been a mature woman when Gregory was still filling his diapers. Yet now standing in proximity there was a fetching sensuality to her. If she was not a beauty queen she flashed a wonderful, genuine and confident smile; looked out of kind and often amused brown eyes and spoke in a dulcet female voice. Nightingale carried herself with poise and authority. And she smelled good too, something floral,, he could not have said what. But under it another odor, no other word for it, an odor, a hint of an edgy, musky, visceral scent. Indeed it carried the sort of pheromones that lift a male animal's nostrils to the breeze and stir slumbering phalluses. "Shall we chat for a bit?" Nightingale asked. "I think it will be useful if I describe what we'll do to begin your therapy." "Yes, that's fine. Before you begin I want to say, that is, err, just you are quite fetching in your nurses attire." "Thank you Gregory. That's very kind. A lady enjoys such compliments even when there's a bit of blandishment in them." She smiled demurely, thinking to herself that Gregory was yet another male stimulated by a woman clad in white nurses attire. Inside, against her resolve and against all previous training and experience, she felt a wave of warmth flow through her bowels. "Blandishment your say? Am I that transparent?" Gregory asked with a grin. "I am working on getting over my ridiculous reticence with women so I am practicing with you." "Of course and that is good. It will help with your therapy. Now, focus on this with me. I'm going to be making notes as we go forward. It is important that we establish a baseline of your condition so that we can measure progress. I will take some measurements of your penis, your scrotum and your remaining testicle. Very gently I will also test the sensitivity of your penis and scrotum. I must also palpitate your prostate gland, Gregory. To do that I will need to perform a digital rectal exam. I may need to use an instrument if my finger will not reach. The gland lies at the base of your bladder and surrounds your urethra. The prostate is a major reproductive organ in the male and can provide a great deal of sexual pleasure itself. If it is responsive that will be a very encouraging as I am quite sure it will stimulate your penis and aid in achieving erection. If it does not do so immediately then we shall coax your member to stand firm at some later point as we move further into your course of therapy. Satisfactory so far?" The Odd Tale of Nightingale Synge Ch. 02 "I am not so sure about the messing about with my rectum." "I will be gentle and use a generous amount of lubricant and I will help you relax. We do need to try. However, if you cannot do it and wish me to stop you only need say so." "Alright, I'll let you try." He did not want to admit that the idea actual titillated him. Now just ask a few questions. You must answer candidly Gregory." "Oh,, well, yes of course," he said. "Tell me then, do you masturbate?" "I daresay I haven't had a good wank since I went into the trenches. Must be three years now." Nightingale wrote in her notebook. "Have you fondled yourself or done any self examination to discern any vestigial sensitivity in your penis?" "A bit of that, fondling as you say, yes." More notes. "What did you find?" "Not much doing, I regret to say. But I've found a bit of a tickle in the Sergeant Major's helmet." It was out his mouth before he could restrain himself. Had he put his foot in it? Was she offended by this bit of ribald other ranks humor that had floated up into the officer's mess from the barracks? "The Sergeant Major's helmet? " A smile crept onto Nightingale's face. "Is that your pet name for your penis then Captain Wilson; "Sergeant Major?" Gregory, much relieved, grinned as well. Her reaction emboldened him. "Yes, that's right, nurse. The Sergeant Major is a very important gent he is; much more so than some silly subaltern. He's a proper soldier, is the Sergeant Major. When he's on parade he stands at rigid attention. He loves spit and polish. He takes whatever he's faced with, Nurse, and he stays at it until the job is finished and the poor sod is quite spent. But give him a respite and he'll be up and do his duty again. So it is a particularly sad thing to see him so diminished. But he's still the Sergeant Major." Gregory's explanation made Nightingale laugh. "Captain, such bawdy humor is unseemly in an officer," she teased. "But, in the interests of our goal I'll overlook your impertinence. May I call it, I mean him, Sergeant Major also? He grinned again, "We shall be pleased if you do; the Sergeant Major and I. Maybe he will be more responsive for you than he's been for me." It will not be for lack of effort on my part, Nightingale thought. There was that warm feeling once more in her crotch. Later in her notes Nightingale recorded this little vignette and noted that throughout the balance of her relationship with Gregory, his penis was known between them as the Sergeant Major. This bit of risqué chatter had permitted them to relax somewhat. If the Captain was shy with women she thought that barrier to a one-to-one relationship with her, at least, had been topped. She considered that essential if she was to be effective. "Another question Captain, do you still enjoy the company of women?" "Yes, I do very much. I find your company quite enjoyable. So that's an example, isn't it?" "Yes, of course. " More warmth in her groin. "Do you get satisfaction from looking at us? Well I don't mean me in a personal sense. But I mean us as women in general?" "I do like to look at women." He flushed a bit as he went on. "When I say that I do include you Nurse. You're a lovely lady." It was Nightingale's turn to look down, knowing that the color rose in her chest and neck. She busied herself making notes. "There is one other question I must ask, "Have you had intimate relations with a woman?" Gregory was not surprised by the question; it could be expected in the context that brought them together. But he found it difficult to admit aloud that he was still a virgin. "No Nurse," he flushed and said quietly. "It's not been for lack of wanting to but it seems opportunity has regretfully been crowded out of as I came of age and all that has happened to me." The room was quiet. The revelation of his virginity stimulated her. Nightingale felt an urge to admit her own virginity but she pushed the thought away and busied herself with her clinical notes. "You will bring a special gift to the woman with whom you first make love Captain. There's no shame in being a virgin. You must not let anxiety become your mindset to fester within. It will interfere with success in our endeavor. She tried to resist, but failed to suppress the titillating thought that she would like to be the first to welcome his lovely penis within her where no man had yet penetrated to bring it to orgasm. "Now draw water in the tub," she said crisply. "Make it hot as you feel you can bear then sit down so that your genitals are completely immersed. Wash the Sergeant Major and your scrotum thoroughly. Draw the foreskin back and clean round the shoulder of the corona. And give your anus a good scrub with plenty of soap. Stay in the tub for 20 minutes and keep the water hot. You'll be taking hot baths frequently; at least twice a day. The heat will relax your muscles and promote circulation in your groin. Whilst you do that I will make some preparations ." Gregory removed his clothing as instructed and without compunction. He had spent so many months in hospital with nursing sisters bathing him, helping him excrete and urinate, washing his body including his genitalia and anus, poking and prodding, sticking tubes in his private parts, massaging his limbs, his torso, his feet, his thighs, his bum; so much that, despite his shyness socially with the opposite sex, getting naked in front of a matron in white garb had ceased to embarrass him. Moreover he knew the Sergeant Major would not humiliate him by semaphoring arousal, because he hung there useless. If anything, he thought, I'm approaching a point where I am now more embarrassed that he won't react. He did wish that Nurse Synge had offered to wash his privates. That thought came to him not incidentally because while he waited for the tub to fill he turned to look through the door into the bedroom. What he saw with admiration was Nightingale's broad bottom as she bent to place and smooth a rubberized pad on Gregory's bed. Wouldn't it be quite pleasant, he mused, if in the course of the therapy there would be a time when she would present herself as now but naked so that he could firmly ensconce Sergeant Major and his satchel in the soft and warm crevasse that lay between those two grand hemispheres of prominent flesh? When he had dried himself he returned to the bed room. The Sergeant Major was rather red from his near scalding. "Lie down on your stomach now on the pad. Good. Now turn your head and face away. In a moment I am going to put my hands on your shoulders, then I shall move them about slowly while you become used to my touch. I shan't be massaging; just passing my hands about lightly. I'll just be a moment. I want to warm my hands before I touch you." He heard the soft swish of clothing being adjusted behind him. Had he not been made to turn his face away he would have seen that she had struggle out of her substantial girdle and he might have caught sight of the damp spot that had spread in the crotch of her underpants. "What's that I hear, Nurse? Are you taking off your clothing?" She answered from the bathroom while running hot water over her hands and washing them thoroughly. "No Captain. Don't be impertinent. If you must know I took off my girdle . It would restrict me when I move about the bed to examine you. He was titillated with the knowledge that she had removed an undergarment there in his bedroom. He longed to see the garment, to hold it and smell her smell upon it. But he could not bring himself to vocalize his desire. She reentered the bedroom. The sight of him lying naked on the bed took her breath away. It was unexpected, this reaction, and surprised Nightingale. It was one thing to look upon a patient, more often than not an overweight middle aged or elderly man, in the clinical setting of an examination room but, she had not realized how different, indeed how stimulating, it was in this moment to look on the sinewy figure of the Adonis stretched out before her in the intimacy of his private chamber. He is gorgeous she thought. He is more muscular than I would have imagined after so long a convalescence. No adipose flesh to be seen, only sinew and muscle and a very fetching bum. Broad shoulders and back sweeping down to a narrow waist. Very lovely skin too, even though disfigured by the surgical and wound scars on his calves and thighs. Yet she found even these disfigurements endearing. Feasting on the lovely sight of Gregory naked, Nightingale's libido ambushed her propriety. Her moral and professional selves battled to keep her burgeoning arousal in check. Should she simply accept her feelings and take full pleasure in pleasuring him.? By a sheer act of will she resolved to ignore how her strong libido thrust itself aggressively forward . Yes in hospital she did enjoy fondling the occasional patient but it was always with an intact veneer of clinical detachment. But here with Gregory, despite here resolve, her nipples responded, thickening and growing hard so that, had Gregory been able to look just then, he would have seen the two delightful bulges push up in the bodice of her dress. Her groin too warmed and her fulsome pussy seeped more coital fluid further enlarging the redolent wet bloom in her knickers. A part of her brain beyond control of moral or ethical foot stamping, insisted on priming her anxious sex . She sat on the bed, hitching up her long skirt so as to draw up one leg and, despite herself, allowed her stocking clad knee touch his side. She leaned forward and put her hands on his shoulders. Her right breast pushed against his back as she bent to reach. For the next five minutes or so she simply let her hands rest on him and moved them down his back, skipped his buttocks and ran them down to his ankles. "Oh Nurse I can't tell you how very warm and pleasant your hands feel. I was ever so often poked and prodded in hospital but never caressed as nicely as you are doing." Nightingale slowly moved her hands until her palms were on the firm cheeks of his arse. "That's very good Gregory. You have lovely skin and a nice firm bum too." She gave it a pat and said, "Now roll over and let me have a look at the Sergeant Major." Gregory rolled onto his back and the flaccid Sergeant Major lolled on his thigh. He displayed a luxurious thatch of brunet public hair. Nightingale took the soft tube of flesh in her hand. It was a lovely penis. The feel and warmth of it provoked further secretion and heat in her own groin. But she could detect no hint of tumescence in it. "How very lovely. Your Sergeant Major is quite a handsome fellow. Can you not feel my hand gripping him?" "I do feel your hand Nurse. It is most delightful. You may hold me so at your leisure if you want." He had opened his legs inviting her to indulge him. "Perhaps a bit more fondling later." She withdrew her hand reluctantly. "I have to focus on some further baseline exam." She reached in her satchel and took out some bristles. I am going to just touch these on different areas of your penis, the Sergeant Major. You must tell me when you feel them and how intense it is. " In this way she examined his forlorn appendage touching about with bristles of various thickness and stiffness. All the while she made notes, drawing a diagram of Gregory's penis and labeling it with the results of her exam. She had him spread his legs wide and pull his knees up so that his feet were flat on the bed. Then she examined his scrotum in a similar fashion but began by stroking it lightly with the tips of her fingers. This produced a sigh of delight from Gregory. "That is a positive sign," she said in a voice thickened by the arousal she continued trying to contain. "I'm just going to draw the Sergeant Major's foreskin back, like that." She was leaning on her right elbow with her fingers near his anus. She held the head of his penis in her left hand. "Now I am going to touch your anus with a finger tip while I squeeze the Sergeant Major's helmet." As she did so his anus contracted. Those nerves seem to be intact she reflected. Gregory gasped with excitement when she touched his anus, with a bare index finger. "You gave me a bit of a start but it was quite nice with your finger touching me just there." "That's very good," she said. "I need to examine the Sergeant Major some more. There are spongy tubes of tissue in him that normally fill with blood when a gentlemen is stimulated and the musculature of the penis then restricts the blood from flowing out easily until after ejaculation. " Once more she took hold of the loafing fellow and palpitated it about its girth and length. Meanwhile it became clear that Gregory was enthusiastic about the examination; measured by the grunts and sighs of pleasure that he began vocalizing. Nightingale was rattled but persevered. She noted no scar tissue or foreign bodies in the Sergeant Major. She listened with a stethoscope to the blood flow and found it too sounding normal and a good pulse in the bargain. She stood and said, "Now Gregory, you must come stand here before me and bend over the bed so that I may feel of your prostate gland. Gregory silently did as she instructed. She put lubricant on her fingers and massaged it on his anus. He twitched and jerked a bit but settled down as the stimulus of his sphincter began to produce pleasant feeling. Nightingale slipped a well lubricated finger into his anus producing a grunt. She found that she could reach the gland and set about massaging it with gentle rubbing. Gregory moaned and began gyrating his hips in rhythm with her finger. She reached between his legs and massaged his remaining testicle very gently. Her hand was coated with lubricant. Then she slipped her hand out and around his waist and gripped the Sergeant Major. Although still quite soft there was a slight but detectable thickening. She drew his foreskin back to caress and rub the glans. This was not part of the exam protocol as she had earlier planned. Nightingale was aroused and, momentarily uncaring, realized she had not adequately foreseen the hot extent of raw lust that Gregory would provoke in her. Despite the Sergeant Major's failure to stand tall when called to tally ho, Captain Wilson was quite enthusiastic about the direction the exam had taken. Whether this was part of it or not, it was fine therapy as far as he was concerned. He had never felt so much pleasure, erection or not, emanating from that part of his body where for so long there had been only pain. In order to service Gregory with both hands Nightingale was now pressed against him with her cheek against his back and her breasts pushing against him. "Please keep doing that," Gregory gasped, "Don't stop examining me for a bit yet. I need it. Ahhh, I love what you're doing. I didn't know I could feel like this. So good, oooohh that's it. Give the Sergeant Major a good wanking. My God that is so gooood." Nightingale was now thoroughly aroused herself. She was able to rub the Sergeant Major vigorously and he did rouse ever so slightly. Excitedly she felt then, amidst fondling and rubbing, a trickle of predecessor fluid, leaking from the Sergeant Major. "Gregory, I think the Sergeant Major is going to ejaculate. Let him have his way. He's leaking and wants to spew doesn't he? Come for me Gregory. Let it come in my warm hand. Do it for Nurse Nightingale. It will feel so wonderful." She was breathless from the vigorous combination of prostate massage and genital rubbing. "Ah, yes. Oh, yes. I think, I know, I'm going to, I am, here it IS! He thrust and thrust his hips, fucking her hand as she gripped the Sergeant Major while he squirted several generous pulses of hot semen into her hand. It flowed between her fingers. Some dripped to the bed, some to the floor and some coated his pubic hair. Nightingale's libido had taken over her own body leaving her moral sense and her professionalism , for the moment, in a cranial dustbin. Her pussy was on fire. She shuddered and had a fillip of orgasm, excited to climax by Gregory's response. After a brief post-orgasmic stasis she withdrew and made him turn and lie back. She went to the bathroom, rinsed her hands and brought a damp facecloth back with which she wiped away the semen on the Sergeant Major, Gregory's scrotum and in his pubic hair. Then, quite without forethought, (she was completely consternated) she did something that she had never done before. Nightingale leaned over and pulled the foreskin down on the Sergeant Major then licked and kissed the glans; then took it quickly into her mouth. Gregory groaned with delight. Her face at his groin was quite pleasing to see; his flaccid cock ensconced in her warm mouth; her tongue now conducting a lingual examination. Oh, dear sweet Jesus, she thought, I've completely lost my grip. I must be mad. But even as she chastised herself another part of her brain was deciding that come what may she would have the Sergeant Major at stiff attention and that she would be the first one to enjoy the fullness of Captain Wilson's restored virility. Her strong libido now dominated her intellect, her judgment and her moral sense as she happily licked, kissed and sucked the Sergeant Major. She thought it quite remarkable but found she took greedy pleasure in having the Sergeant Major in her mouth. The feel of his cock in her mouth communicated urgently with her drooling pussy. Had he been able to get it up she would have flung herself on him and jammed his cock deep into herself. But faint voices of conscience and professional demeanor came to her from the mental dungeon where they were temporarily ensconced by her powerful libido. She left off sucking him. "Gregory," she said, "I feel quite chagrined that I have lost control of myself in this way. Will you overlook my weakness?" "Dear Nightingale," Gregory said, "I relish the lusty woman you've shown yourself to be. What you did and were just doing give me much needed encouragement. I didn't think I could have an orgasm or that the Sergeant Major could or would feel so good although he cannot stand tall. I hope we will do this frequently. When you rubbed him so vigorously your hand felt wonderful. But I must say that your lips, mouth and tongue are heavenly. I should be most grateful if you would continue that therapy. " "Dearest Lord," she prayed in her mind, "Is it really possible to do your Divine will yet take such pleasure in so doing? Yet I find I cannot hold back. I put my trust in You." Even as she gave over her trust to the Almighty, she returned her mouth to the Sergeant Major. There followed an extended session of lingual and manual therapy; slurping, licking, kissing,, rubbing and digital anal penetration in the nature of an erotic coup-de-grace. Gregory thrilled to watch her eager effort while he slowly built to another orgasm. He rested his hand on her head, loving the feel of her soft hair. The mask of wanton lust that suffused Nightingale's face took him aback. At the same time what he saw communicated itself directly to the keenness of the feeling spreading through him. After some time, Gregory gasped an announcement of his impending climax whereupon Nightingale took his discharge in her mouth. Her pussy responded with an undulating wave of pleasure that rolled through her; nice and very nice but not the blissful transport she needed; that she knew was out there waiting for her. She was surprised but happy to realize she did not mind; more than that, she welcomed his cum in her mouth. As Gregory gradually ceased thrusting, groaning and writhing about Nightingale's pussy communicated an urgent need for relief. "Oh my Gregory, I've quite lost control of myself. Now I need to masturbate and have an orgasm very badly. I can't wait. I'll just step into the bathroom for a bit and take care of myself." The Odd Tale of Nightingale Synge Ch. 02 "I wish you'd stay," Gregory said. "Lie down beside me and let me watch. Won't that be therapy too?" To be continued. The Odd Tale of Nightingale Synge Ch. 03 Note: In Chapters One and Two, Nightingale Synge, 50, sacrificed her nursing career in hopes of restoring virility to young Gregory Wilson wounded in the Great War. A woman of keen sensuality and frequent masturbation, but still a virgin, she has found her objectivity under siege by her strong attraction to the scarred but very handsome young captain. Her techniques are far outside mainstream medicine and increasingly passionate despite her deteriorating resolution to be detached and professional. She is determined to see Gregory's "Sergeant Major" upstanding once more and made up her mind to be the first beneficiary of his restored manhood. In this third chapter we will learn that a conversation with his mother may open a door to Gregory's restoration. ¬___ When Nightingale next visited, a maid was waiting with a note from Gregory's mother. "Nurse Synge, Do me the kindness of joining me for tea today before you attend my son." It was signed, "Lady Constance Wilson." Nightingale agreed and the maid escorted her to a sitting room in the main residence and asked her to please be seated, informing her that Lady Wilson would join her shortly. When the door slid open once more, Gregory's mother entered followed by a maid carrying a tea service. Nightingale rose and awaited the woman's pleasure. Lady Constance Wilson, 57, gazed frankly at Nightingale. "I am Lady Wilson, Gregory's mother. You may call me Constance." She offered her hand, touching Nightingale's briefly and invited her to sit. She turned to the maid, "You may pour, Maureen." After the tea was poured for each, she dismissed the girl. Lady Wilson was not as tall or large boned as Nightingale. She was a comely woman, fashionably attired in a light blue dress that looked as expensive, as it was. Nightingale was uncertain why Lady Wilson wanted to speak with her. It turned out Gregory's mother was candid and direct; not given to small talk or circumspection. "Shall I call you Nurse Synge?" "Please call me Gale, Constance" "Thank you, Gale. I asked you to tea because Gregory has spoken highly of you; highly and candidly. He has told me of your first visit and I found it most interesting. I want to assure you I have no compunction about anything you might do to help Gregory. If I can help you in any way...." Lady Wilson continued, "I am most anxious to see Gregory restored to full virility. I hope one day he will provide an heir to carry on the family name. He told me how wonderful it was to have a splendid release; indeed as he had not previously experienced; that is the intensity of it. I want to thank you for giving him that, although he was not able to gain an erection. And it pleased me as well that his ardor so excited you; he so much enjoyed watching you give yourself pleasure. That is important isn't it that he can arouse and be aroused by a libidinous woman, I should think." Nightingale was taken somewhat aback by Constance Wilson's remarks. She was also intrigued by the frankness of Gregory's revelations to his mother. "Your remarks are most helpful and I see that Gregory enjoys unusual openness in his relationship with you," Nightingale said. "Dear Gregory and I have always been very close, perhaps unusually so. We are quite at ease with one another, I assure you, quite at ease. May I ask how you intend to proceed?" Lady Constance inquired. "Your remarks just now suggest a possible course of action," Nightingale replied. "Tell me are you familiar with the work of Doctor Sigmund Freud?" Constance replied she knew of him but did not know of his work at all. Nightingale explained briefly that a so-called "Oedipal Complex" was central to Freud's theories about human behavior. This complex had to do with erotic feelings about the maternal figure. She mused aloud whether or not Gregory's "ease" of intimate discourse with Constance, might be associated with erotic feelings. Constance smiled more to herself than outwardly, "Gale," she said, "Are you suggesting that Gregory has desire to be intimate with me, with his mother?" "Perhaps, yes," Nightingale said. "With your permission, I would like to frankly pursue this with Gregory in order to observe his response. If he does harbor such feelings and we bring them forward they may stimulate him in a powerful way. We should leave no possibility unexplored." "As I said I support you in any approach that may help Gregory. I am reassured by your openness to exploration of therapeutic approaches that conventional medicine I know would not consider," Constance said. Although Gregory and I talk, as you've been made aware, I would very much want to hear the details from you on a regular basis as well." Nightingale understood that Constance last was more than just a request and assured the older woman that she would keep her fully informed. Gregory welcomed Nightingale to his cottage. He was fresh from his hot bath and wearing only a towel at his waist. Once more she found his body so beautiful it made her knees weak. "Did mother have you in for tea?" "Yes, Gregory. We had a very open and I think worthwhile discussion about your relationship. Your mother explained that you have been quite forthcoming about what we did in our first therapy session. I want you to know I don't mind you telling her about what we do together. She is very understanding and encouraging." "You seem to have had a cordial meeting, then," Gregory said. "Oh yes, quite," Nightingale said. "Our discussion has given me some possibly fruitful ideas about how we might proceed. Let me ask, will you answer my questions with complete candor?" "Questions, about?" Gregory asked. Nightingale did not answer directly. "It is time for you to lie down Gregory," she said instead. Gregory stretched out on his bed. "Lift up your hips so I may remove the towel." He did so and she sat on the edge of the bed and took away the towel leaving the young man nude before her. The "Sergeant Major," flaccid, lolled against his scrotum. "I want to ask you about your feelings for your mother." "Oh, well, I love my mother very much," Gregory replied. "Yes," Nightingale said, "That is clear to me. But I wonder how you feel about your mother as a woman?" "She is quite lovely, I think," Gregory said. "Remember Gregory, your progress depends on you being completely honest in your answers." "I understand," he said. "Good. Then tell me have you ever had sexual thoughts about your mother?" Immediately, before Gregory uttered a word, the Sergeant Major answered for the young man, twitching slightly; a subtle movement not lost on Nightingale. "Do you know Gregory; I believe the Sergeant Major has answered for you. Did you feel him move?" "He did?" the young man said with a slight but cunning smile. "Yes, when I asked if you had every thought about your mother in a sexual way. Have you Gregory? Do you desire to make love to your mother?" The Sergeant Major responded once more, jerking visibly. Gregory smiled again, "It seems the Sergeant Major is answering your questions before I am able to put my reply into words." Nightingale looked at Gregory intently and took the Sergeant Major gently in her hand. Gregory sighed with content. "I am going to hold the Sergeant Major now," she said, "and for the next while I want you to think of me as your Mother rather than as Nurse Synge." "Yes, alright," Gregory said very quietly. "Do you like Mother to hold the Sergeant Major?" "Oh quite," he said, "It is ever so pleasant." "Does it feel quite wonderful when Mother rubs it like I am now?" "Oh my, yes, Mother I love the feeling." Nightingale knew her own body was responding to the sensual conversation. She could feel the dampness that gathered in her fanny. "Kiss Mother," she said leaning forward so that her chest compressed against the young man and put her lips on his. They lingered that way for a time, just kissing and brushing their lips against each other; sharing their tongues as well. She continued to fondle the Sergeant Major. "Dearest Gregory, do you want to see Mother's breasts?" Once again the Sergeant Major surged in Nightingale's warm hand. "Yes, please Mother, very much," Gregory replied. Nightingale stood and removed her white dress, then her slip before undoing her bra exposing her breasts. She now wore only her white knickers, suspenders and white silk stockings. She sat again on the bed and took the Sergeant Major in her hand once more. "Do you like seeing Mother's breasts, Gregory?" Again the Sergeant Major responded, this time thickening marginally. Gregory sighed, "Mother I love them; they are beautiful." "Thank you, darling, Mother loves to have you look at her breasts. Would you like to touch them too?" Gregory said nothing but raised his near hand to Nightingale's inviting breast and, gazing passionately he caressed it gently. The Sergeant Major pulsed in her hand. "Oh you dear boy," Nightingale's voice trembled slightly, "Mother loves the feel of your strong hand. The Sergeant Major is becoming frisky." She slowly and softly stroked Gregory's penis. The Sergeant Major, now turgid enough to have lifted slightly off the young man's scrotum, leaked a small trickle of slick, milky fluid. When she rubbed it about the Sergeant Major's head, Gregory groaned and opened his legs wide. "I say, you do like what Mother is doing to the Sergeant Major I think. Does fondling my breasts make you have naughty thoughts about me?" she teased. Nightingale leaned forward so that her breasts rested on Gregory's chest before his face. The touch of his warm bare flesh thrilled her. "You may kiss my breasts too," Nightingale said. "You may suckle me, too." Gregory straightaway lifted one of her inviting breasts and slipped his mouth upon a firm and upstanding nipple causing Nightingale to gasp with pleasure. An interval passed while Gregory vigorously set and his mouth and tongue to the happy task of sucking, gently nipping and licking first one, then Nightingale's other nipple. Meanwhile, role playing as Mother she continued to massage the Sergeant Major. "Tell Mother what naughty thoughts you are having," she said softly. "I want to touch you more," Gregory answered quietly. "Mother would like that," Nightingale murmured. She rose up and guided his extended hand between her legs, opening her thighs until his fingers found her vulva through her damp knickers. She continued to grip the Sergeant Major which organ now trembled and pulsed in her hand. It continued to ooze pre-ejaculate fluid. Gregory was entranced by the warm, damp softness of Nightingale's fanny as he cupped her naughty bits; although it was his mother's pussy in his imagination. He wriggled his fingers about until he felt the edge of her gusset and slipped his fingers beneath the fabric where he delighted to encounter her soft pubic hair. Nightingale's breath caught; she was acutely sensitive to his hand as it explored and tentatively touched her vulva. "Would you like to remove Mother's knickers darling? So you may gaze at my fanny and touch me there freely?" Gregory, completely caught up in the maternal fantasy and thoroughly aroused, had produced somewhat of an erection; quite sufficient to massage but not hard enough for penetration. He grunted and, still fondling Nightingale's breasts, said breathlessly, "Oh, my yes, please Mother." "Wonderful, my dearest boy, Mother shall kneel next to you so that you may remove my knickers." Gregory quickly set about pulling down Nightingale's knickers to reveal her moist and swollen vulva, her full lips drawn apart in anticipatory opening. The young man gazed with raw lust on the mature fanny before him even as he reached out to touch it. His touch shot warm thrills through Nightingale who cried out with joy as Gregory's fingers and warm palm explored her oozing fanny. She moved until Gregory could simply turn his face to put his mouth on her. "Ohhh, Gregory," she groaned. He straightaway found her engorged and protruding clitoris, circling and pressing it with his tongue. She thrust against his face as he slipped two fingers into her. She gasped, "Gregory, Mother needs the Sergeant Major in her mouth." She lay on her side then and, whilst he pulled her groin to his face she found the Sergeant Major and took him orally. Gregory let out a long sigh that became a groan of pleasure. The vibrations of his vocalizing sent thrills radiating out from Nightingale's pussy. With groans and eager thrusts they communed on each other for some minutes until Nightingale sensed through the haze of her own bliss that Gregory was nearing ejaculation. "I must mount you now Gregory," Nightingale said breathlessly. "I want to enfold the Sergeant Major in my fanny lips and feel him when he squirts." She straightaway mounted the young man's thighs and mashed her hot wet pussy down on his semi-hard cock. Gregory moaned and thrust his hips upward to meet Nightingale's descending cunt thereby nestling the Sergeant Major in the hot wet cleft between her swollen lips. Although they did not achieve penetration, both found the press of their sexes together brought each most blissful sensation. They readily discovered that a small movement by either produced cascades of mutual pleasure. "Ooooh," Nightingale exhaled, "The Sergeant Major feels ever so good just there Gregory dear boy, rubbing about Mother's pussy" Gregory at this point was overstimulated and could not hold back, his lust soaked imagination filled with a powerful vision of his Mother mounted on him. Crying out in ecstasy, while the Sergeant Major erupted repeatedly, Gregory shot spurts of hot semen between them where it coated both their bellies. Not to be denied; now gripped by her own passion, Nightingale continued to rub her vulva on the Sergeant Major, until she reached her own staggering orgasm that continued through repeated crescendos until they finally ebbed, leaving her collapsed and twitching on Gregory who embraced and kissed her, gasping over and over again, "Oh Mother, oh Mother, oh Mother." To be continued...