Is he picturing himself, big and bronze on a deserted beach at twilight with a sinuous blond, picturing the sensuous grace of her body as her head bobs up and down and her firm young breasts bounce ever so slightly, her long legs straddling his? Suddenly the beach fantasy becomes my own, I see his naked hairy body not on satin sheets but on sand, the firm texture of his body glowing in the oblique evening light, his chest rising and falling as the waves rush in and out. His face, yes, dark, swarthy, eyebrows that match his pubic hair, full, round lips that want to eat my pussy, and my pussy hurts for it. It hurts so much I want to take one hand away from him and get to the slick, tingly surface where scarcely more than a touch would send me into exploding ecstasies.
But I go on, up and down, back to the satin sheets for diversion, soul music coming from the hi-fi, the faint aroma of rum we'd been drinking. I'm the maid sucking off the lord of the manor, and I'd better do it fast now for his wife will be home and calling for me, but it's me he loves really, this gem of a man loves me… and so I suck, suck, suck.
He's getting closer. Don't ask me how I can tell. Somewhere in his body, something is beginning to give way. The shaft is harder, my mouth strains with fullness. Oh, God, in a moment it will all be over, and I'd wanted it to last and last, with me here, forever a worshiper at the shrine of life, the eternal phallus: a sudden surge from within tells me to accelerate my motion, to suck harder, faster. And now the throbbing has begun and he thrusts his mighty sword into my mouth. The warm liquid spurts out. My communion, my reward. I hold it for a few instants without swallowing, tasting its deliciousness and sucking till I'm sure I have it all, while he squirms relentlessly beneath me, the pulsations diminishing now. My mouth runneth over. And at last I take it into my throat.
My pussy aches for release, yet I am content for the moment in his contentment. I hold his spent masculinity against my face, relishing this brief moment of utter tranquility, but knowing that sooner or later my pussy will demand release, too.
And soon I have to leave, making the rounds of the other patients, exchanging a shy glance with Dr. Chard in, wondering if he'll ever get around to asking me out. He must know what a good nurse I am, from the way I keep my patients serene and happy.
Most of the doctors know what goes on here. After all these patients are young studs, soldiers, some fresh from the Southeast Asian whorehouses and some who haven't had a woman in months, but all of them so horny, you catch them pulling their hands out from under the sheets all the time with that little-boy guilty expression: Mommy, you know I wouldn't do anything bad. Even with some of the pretty sick ones, you're apt to see the sudden rising of a mountain peak in the middle of the sheet when you're just there doing your duty.
Some hospitals are squeamish, I know. At the place where I did my training, they took a guy to the psycho ward just for jacking off! Rather, for getting caught jacking off. My God, didn't they know that was a sign of health, not mental illness?
So I was a little surprised at the way things are handled here. Don't get me wrong. It's not that all this is fully endorsed and approved by the staff, it's just that people are hip.
Shortly after I was hired, one of the guys bared a hard cock for me to see and pointed at it smiling. I shook my head politely, fixed his pillow faster than usual and ran down the hall. I demanded to see the doctor on the ward, and, when he finally had time to speak with me, I told him.
"I think the patient wanted me to perform a sex act… fellatio, perhaps," I said.
He nodded gravely. "You're new, aren't you?"
"Yes," I said.
"The needs of these young men are great. The chances of anyone's becoming violent are rather slim. We screen patients carefully, although sometimes mental disturbances do occur in a hospital setting. Don't worry about being hurt."
He hesitated a moment before going on. "We don't ask that our nurses be prostitutes. You're not demanded anything beyond your assigned duties. But some of the girls here feel such great sympathy for their patients that they go beyond the call of duty, if you know what I mean. Usually it's quite discreet: one doesn't speak of it to, say, the head of nursing. One closes one's eyes. Now forget that I have told you any of this. You're old enough to have figured it out for yourself."
I guess that was when I started to respect doctors again. I'd hated them, refused even to go out with interns when I was in training, because they treated us like slaves. I resented it all the more because I'd wanted to be a doctor myself once, and I had had all the qualifications except a rich Anglo father and a prick. A rich Anglo father will pay for medical school, and being male will get you a scholarship.
Well, I lucked out: instead of Doctor Verdugo, I'm Maria Verdugo, R.N., a hospital whore. I don't make as much money as a doctor or a high-class whore, which I'm sure I could be, but I have fun and respectability. Who could ask for more? But now and then my bitterness shows.
I don't suck everybody's cock, of course. Some of the other girls do it, some know about it and don't, and a few don't know about it. The problem is keeping it a secret from the nurses who don't know about it and wouldn't understand. Number Eight, with the bandages on his face, is a guy I dug right from the first time I gave him a bath and saw the glorious architecture of his body. Little did I know that while his face was all bandaged up he'd develop a code to ask for it. Number Fourteen is nice, too, a bright college kid who got zapped by the draft when his grades dropped. We have kind of a good thing going, in spite of his being about four years younger than me.
Most of the guys flirt and really work hard to get something going. Now, Number Fourteen just asked me one day if he could talk dirty.
"Sure," I said. "I won't tell."
"If you weren't a nurse, I'd fuck you," he said.
"What you mean," I returned, "is that if your right leg weren't in traction you'd fuck me. Right?"
"Come to think of it, I'd have a pretty hard time, wouldn't I?" He surveyed the gear that held his leg pointed upward. "But I'd really like to. I wouldn't just fuck you, I'd make love to you. Would you believe I lie here thinking about it, thinking about you and what you'd be like?"
I smiled. "Do you talk to all the nurses that way?"
"You bet your life I don't. Some of them would slap me in the face, me a sick man, returned from serving my country…"
There's sort of an unspoken rule that a guy doesn't get it from more than one nurse, because there aren't nearly enough nurses to go around… and, of course, we have our jealousies, too. Some nurses get romantic and stick to one guy, which is rather selfish of them. But we all pretend that the guy we're with is the only one getting our favors – in fact, the only guy in the hospital getting such favors – hoping they won't compare notes and create a scandal once they get out.
Well, to make a long story short, while Number Fourteen was telling me I was beautiful and intelligent and everything, I got closer and closer to the bulging monument beneath the sheet.
I looked at him and suddenly his face was agonized with desire. "Would you? Could you? I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have asked…"
"Shut up and get sucked off," I said.
He laughed. "You're something, all right."
"Wait and see what you think when I'm finished," I told him.