Based on a true story when my wife was a student nurse and written by a friend.
The ward was quiet at 2:17 a.m., only the soft beeps of monitors and the occasional rustle of sheets breaking the hush. Nurse Jayne, nineteen and still wide-eyed in her first year, moved silently down the corridor in her navy tunic and black tights, the rubber soles of her shoes barely whispering on the linoleum. Her shift had been routine vitals, IV checks, turning patients but every time she passed room 14 her pulse ticked up a notch.
Harvey lay propped slightly in the bed, the crisp white sheet drawn to his waist, one ankle elevated in a padded splint and wrapped in fresh bandaging. At twenty he was already built like the rugby lads she used to watch from the sidelines back home: 6'2, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, arms corded even at rest. The IV line snaked from the cannula in his forearm to the bag hanging above him. He looked bored, restless, scrolling his phone with the screen dimmed.
When his call bell lit up on the station monitor, Jayne was already halfway out of her chair.
She knocked once, softly, then slipped inside and pulled the curtain three-quarters closed behind her enough privacy on paper, enough of a gap for moonlight from the high window to stripe the floor.
“Everything all right, Harvey?”
“Need a piss,” he said, voice low and matter of fact. “Can’t exactly hop out of bed yet.”
She nodded, professional, and retrieved the clear plastic urinal bottle from the trolley outside the door. When she handed it to him their fingers brushed; she felt the warmth of his skin linger on hers a second too long.
“I’ll give you a minute,” she murmured, stepping behind the half-drawn curtain.
She didn’t move far.
Through the narrow slit she watched him shift onto his good side, the sheet sliding down to reveal the dark trail of hair arrowing below his navel. He tugged the waistband of his hospital-issue boxers low enough to free himself. Even soft his cock was heavy thick, veined, the head a blunt plum colour. He angled it toward the bottle’s narrow neck; the girth made it a tight fit, the plastic rim pressing into the shaft as he relaxed and the stream started.
Jayne’s breath caught. She leaned closer without meaning to. The curtain rustled.
Harvey’s eyes flicked up mid-flow. He didn’t stop, didn’t cover up just held her gaze through the gap, one corner of his mouth curling. The stream tapered off. He gave himself a final shake, then called out, casual as anything,
“Finished.”
She stepped through the curtain too quickly, cheeks burning, eyes fixed on the bottle as she reached for it. Only then did she notice he hadn’t tucked himself away. His cock lay thick against his thigh, still glistening at the tip.
He caught her wrist gently before she could retreat. “Thought you might want a better look.”
Jayne swallowed. Her voice came out smaller than she intended. “It’s… certainly impressive.”
Harvey’s hand slid from her wrist to the curve of her hip, then lower, palming one full cheek of her ass through the thin fabric of her tights. The flesh yielded under his fingers, soft and generous; he squeezed once, appreciatively. “You can touch if you like.”
She didn’t hesitate. Her fingers wrapped around him warm, velvety, impossibly heavy even flaccid. She gave an experimental stroke, feeling the shaft thicken and lengthen in her grip almost immediately. By the third slow pump he was half-hard, veins standing out under her palm.
Jayne bent at the waist, tunic pulling tight across her back. She guided the swelling head past her lips, tongue flicking over the slit, tasting clean skin and the faint salt of his earlier release. She swirled around the ridge, then sucked gently, cheeks hollowing as he groaned low in his throat.
Harvey’s free hand found the hem of her tunic and dragged it up her back, bunching it at her waist. He hooked two fingers into the waistband of her tights and yanked them down in one rough motion, exposing the wide, pale globes of her ass. The black thong disappeared between them like it was being swallowed whole. He tugged the thin strip aside; her pussy lips were already puffy, slick, glistening in the low light. Two thick fingers plunged inside her without preamble deep, curling forward, stroking that spongy front wall while his thumb found her clit and rubbed firm circles.
Jayne moaned around his cock, the vibration making him twitch against her tongue. She pulled off with a wet pop, straightened, and kicked her tights the rest of the way off. Then she climbed onto the narrow hospital bed, straddling his hips, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of him.
She gripped the base of his now fully erect cock long, girthy, the head flushed dark and notched it at her entrance. Slowly, deliberately, she sank down.
“Fuck,” she hissed, voice cracking. “That’s so fucking good.”
The stretch was intense her walls parting around him inch by thick inch until her ass settled flush against his thighs. She paused there, breathing hard, letting herself adjust to the deep fullness. Then she started to move.
At first she kept it slow: long, rolling rises and falls, savouring every drag of his cock along her sensitive spots. But the pressure built fast. Her rhythm quickened hips snapping down harder, wet sounds filling the dim room. She tried to stay quiet, biting her lip, but each deep plunge forced little gasps and whimpers out of her.
Her tunic buttons had popped open somewhere in the frenzy; the front gaped wide. Harvey reached up and shoved her bra cups down. Her large 40EE breasts spilled free heavy, pale, nipples already tight and dark. They bounced wildly as she rode him.
Jayne slowed again, changing to a grinding roll, hips circling so her clit rubbed against the coarse hair at his base with every pass. She leaned forward, smothering his face in soft, warm flesh. He latched onto one nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing just enough to make her shudder.
The combination broke her.
Her orgasm hit fast and hard inner walls clamping down in fierce, rhythmic pulses, soaking his cock and the sheets beneath them. She buried her face in his neck to muffle the moans.
Harvey gripped her hips and took over, thrusting up into her from below short, powerful strokes that kept her climax rolling. A dozen more and he followed, burying himself to the hilt and unloading in thick, pulsing spurts deep inside her. She felt every jet, warm and heavy, filling her until it started to leak out around him.
For a long minute they stayed locked together, breathing raggedly. Then Jayne eased off him, wincing slightly at the sudden emptiness. She bent and cleaned his softening cock with slow, thorough licks tasting them both before tucking him back into his boxers with careful fingers.
She re-buttoned her tunic (missing one button entirely), tugged her tights back up, and smoothed her hair as best she could. A thin trail of cum already trickled down the inside of her thigh; she ignored it.
Picking up the urinal bottle, she gave him a small, conspiratorial smile. “Try to get some rest, yeah?”
Harvey grinned, lazy and satisfied. “Come back if I need anything else.”
She slipped out, curtain swaying behind her, and continued her rounds—cheeks still flushed, thighs slick, already counting the minutes until the next call bell |
