Bad Candy Striper

I spun around, fearing Mr. Wheeler hadn't covered his stiff dick. To my relief, his penis was nowhere to be seen, but the edge of the tray was sticking out.

"Get that tray off his bed, please! You're supposed to keep things tidy!" She walked in and held out her hand for me to pass it to her.

I hadn't been paying that much attention to Mr. Wheeler's jerking progress, since I was bent over and happily displaying my winking asshole to him, so I had no way of knowing whether or not he had sprayed semen all over the turquoise plastic.

Ready to act shocked and disgusted at the sight of reproductive fluid, my pulse pounded as I slid the tray out from under the sheet - it was thankfully dry and Luanne exited the room, but left the door ajar. I breathed a sigh of relief, but we had nowhere for his imminent ejaculation.

Mr. Wheeler grabbed his pine board and began to tap quickly. "SUCK ME IT HURTS"

I looked at the doorway as I reassembled my clothes. No one would really see, but there was no early warning either if anyone walked in. Actually touching his genitals was something I hadn't planned on.

"I can't do that!" I said in a half-whisper, pulling my hose and panties up. "That wasn't part of our deal." I spied the paper cups next to the sink, small, but they would work. "How about a cup?"

"BETER SWALLW CUNT OR IT GOING AL OVER," he tapped out on the board angrily - I don't recall the exact misspellings. "IL BUZZ & TELL THEM YOU HELPD" Mr. Wheeler held his arm stump over the buzzer attached to the side of his bed that alerted the nurse's station as he resumed frantically pumping his cock. His hips began to lift off the mattress as he kept jerking. I couldn't believe he was double crossing me.

"Go ahead!" I called his bluff.

The mean old bastard actually pressed the call button! I heard the tone faintly down the hall at the nurses' station.Shit!I had maybe thirty seconds before someone would discover me next to a sperm-splattered patient claiming I had jerked him off. I grasped, his hairy, wrinkled, liver-spotted stroking arm but he was too strong for me. Mr. Wheeler then pushed me away with a hard jab from his bony wrist stump into my tit and kept yanking on his meat.

"Fuck, I'll probably get arrested for this,"I thought as my face and open jaw descended and enveloped his cock."It will be added to the trespassing charge I almost faced when wandering into the garage of the people that found me passed out."I tightened my lips around his reddish shaft, drew in my cheeks and raised up."Luckily they were nice about it but my mom made me write them a mortifying thank you note."Inexplicably, these were my thoughts as my head jolted rapidly up and down to orally satisfy this damned seventy-two year old man. Luckily I had already developed a talent for vacuuming semen out of an ejaculating erection. While I loved dick in my mouth - even at my tender age - I strangely found this was not as thrilling as exposing myself had been. As his hips jolted I invited the salty fluid inward as ardently but silently as I could. I had swallowed nearly every warm drop, covered his dick, and was back to holding the book by the time a nursing assistant's footsteps echoed near the threshold.

"SORRY" He typed on his board, holding it up for the new arrival. "HIT BY MISTAK," he waved the wrist of his amputated arm around down by the buzzer and shrugged.

Even if the old fart had showered himself with sperm and the staff believed me that Mr. Wheeler had jacked off on his own accord, my mom would not. She would have certainly heard about it and would have assumed her sexually obsessed daughter encouraged him somehow. I had barely covered my tracks that night.

All week I wondered what do to about the old guy. I only had a month or so until my sentence at the hospital was up. If I stayed out of his room, I would be in the clear. I was perturbed because he blackmailed me, more or less, into swallowing his semen - not that the thought hadn't crossed my mind - but I wanted to do it as a surprise, if the opportunity ever even arose. The next Saturday night, my avoidance only lasted a few hours. I peeked in on him, and he was asleep. He looked so innocent and peaceful. I stepped in and pulled up his blanket, then turned to walk out. I felt a hand on my dress, holding me there. I stood motionless for a moment, arms crossed refusing to turn around. He let go, but I heard him knocking on his board, trying to get my attention.

"IM SORRY" he tapped. "CLAIRE YOU ARE SO PRETTY"

Flattery will get one everywhere, at least it did with me back then. After more flirtation and dirty dialogue, I continued my burgeoning propensity to sexually reward those who mistreat me. I returned to 217 later, during one of the assistant's smoke breaks outside. Mr. Wheeler shot all over a tray as my saliva-coated, stiffened nipple - at that time possibly surrounded by a slight triangular tan line - was happily compressed between his uneven, yellowed incisors. His short but prickly white beard unexpectedly reddened my breast flesh. The following night as a surprise, I spat into my palm and coated his middle finger then slipped it under my skirt and into my panties. I dragged it and its flat, nicotine stained, jagged nail between my labia, then let him insert it a bit, maybe to his second knuckle. After savoring the scent and tasting the finger, Mr. Wheeler jerked off spastically and quickly. I made sure to wipe his hand down afterwards, realizing the anomaly of vaginal scent on his middle digit might reveal my treachery.

In the meantime, I had noticed a pattern among my latest coworkers. One went on a long cigarette break at a prescribed interval, then the other left to go home, leaving only Luanne, the suspicious nurse, and me on the floor.

The next weekend a perfect opportunity arose due to Luanne's vacation and the early departure of a coworker with sick brats at home. As a result I was busier than usual and hadn't been in to check in on my special friend. Later that night, I was to be the only one on the floor for about twenty minutes. I knew it was then or never. I had been recently without sex, boycotted by the plumber, and was in a generally nasty, penis-craving mood anyway. I decided I was going to go suck the hell out of Mr. Wheeler's dick.

I practically hopped into room two-seventeen and walked right up to the bed. It was nearly pitch black, but also later than my usual visits. I threw the covers back andtwostartled, petite hands grabbed at my arm. I realized this was not Mr. Wheeler, and not even a man. Luckily the elderly woman didn't scream. I tucked her in and managed to say 'sweet dreams.' I left the room, nearly in tears, fearing he had died.

Here I was, the queen of not-giving-a-shit-about-anybody, upset by the absence of a mute, crippled old man I was using for my own amusement and gratification. Sure, I wasn't getting off there in his room, but my masturbatory orgasms and those with Jimmy the plumber - when he bothered to attend to my clitoris - were often fueled by recollections of my perverted, teasing, sperm-play adventures in 217. Since no one was around, I checked the computer terminal - candy stripers technically were not to touch them - at the nurse's station. Mr. Wheeler was alive; he had tripped and broken his ankle, and had been moved to an ambulatory rehab unit across the hospital. Oh well. I started to go visit him, but thought I would wait. Instead, the next afternoon, I redirected a vase of fresh flowers bound for another patient and sent them to Mr. Wheeler's new room- which he shared with two other men. I fabricated a new card and wrote'Hope you are upright soon - C.'Sadly, I knew his stint in rehab would outlast the two weekends I had remaining at the hospital, and I wouldn't sign on for more. Pending graduation meant the end of my restriction, and it was nearly summer, glorious, bikini-cavorting summer. The divorced plumber awaited, along with his pool, boat and obnoxious but body cavity-filling dick - hopefully lots of it.

I decided on celebrating the cessation of my punishment for being a naughty daughter by doing what else - something naughty. The Monday evening after my last official Sunday as a weekend 'striper', I dressed in my uniform after dinner and drove to the hospital. My mom would be busy at the other end of the building on her second shift, and under the assumption I was home studying for finals. Soon I was pushing an empty wheelchair into Mr. Wheeler's room. I intentionally hadn't visited him since his move, so no one knew me in this wing. I glanced at him only long enough to see his eyes light up when he saw me. There were two other old men with leg injuries in the room, all watching the evening news.

"Charles Wheeler?" I looked around, pretending not to know him. He played along and raised his abbreviated arm. "They need a couple more X-rays, sir." He slid out of bed and hopped to the chair, and soon we were rolling out into the hall.

"What's this?" A nurse's aide asked me moments later.

"They need him in radiology, left calcareous and cuboid, whatever that is."

"Radiology is still there?"

My heart pounded in my ears. "They're really behind," I shrugged. "They just sent me over here when I got back from dinner."

The assistant signed into her boxy beige terminal to check my story. I was barely able to hide my nervousness.

"Well, okay," she said, waving to my patient as we headed for an elevator. Luckily, under my phantom log on, I had copied the previous order for his X-rays and reentered it with a new date.

As the metal door of the otherwise unoccupied elevator closed, I reached down and put a hand on the side of his surgery-scarred neck, and caressed his almost leathery, thin-feeling skin. He grabbed my wrist and pulled it down inside his bathrobe and plunged it beyond his waistband. A prolific nest of pubic hair surrounded my fingers, which automatically grasped his swelling cock as the slow moving elevator ascended.

I hummed a laugh and spoke softly into the short tuft of hair in his wrinkled ear. "You gonna let mesuckon this?" He reached up and patted my cheek. I got in a few tugs on his growing meat before I straightened back up to greet the opening doors.

Once no one was in the hallway, I rolled my kidnap victim backwards into my fortress - the storage room. I had the only remaining key - besides maybe the day-shift-only maintenance staff - in my skirt pocket. The other keys, from the nearby nurse's stations of all three floors, had mysteriously disappeared over the past weekend as I began to execute my devious plan to make Mr. Wheeler - or rather his dick - my personal oral plaything for a half hour or so.

I internally reveled in a smug, self-congratulatory mood. I had achieved my devious goal, having moved him to the room without detection. The smugness would soon be lost. My pulse raced as I stepped past his chair and faced away from him to latch the door, a feature this former administrative office possessed that differed from the normal storage closets. I flipped off the light switch, leaving us only in the dim green glow of the computer terminal - the strip of light visible under the door of what was supposed to be an unoccupied room would attract attention from someone in the hallway - "turn the light out when you leave the room" was the hospital's battle cry.

We were no sooner in the dark than I felt his hand under my skirt, bound for the waistband of the pantyhose. In the midst of formulating my grandiose plans just to get him into the room, I hadn't considered that he may have had his own agenda. I felt air on my pelvis as the hose and my panties traveled down my thighs, which failed to resist. Easily flattered and despite the fact it had been satisfactorily pummeled a few nights prior, I felt the warmth of my needy vagina begin to rise.

Suddenly there was a strong arm around my waist as I was propelled backwards, the hose and panties - now stretched across my knees - hampering my balance. I fell into his lap - and onto his hand - with a clumsy thud. The momentum pivoted the wheelchair sideways slightly and my hand fell onto the adjacent keyboard - the room was cramped - which yielded a soft beep. '> COMMAND UNRECOGNIZED' the screen flashed.

The old style terminal allowed any text to be typed onto the screen, but would accept only to a few specific login commands, otherwise beeping and repeating the erroneous string. As Mr. Wheeler held his abbreviated but strong arm fast around my waist, pinning me to him, his other arm withdrew from beneath my ass, and he began quickly tapping away on the terminal. I was confused until I watched him pecking out a message for me, realizing this had replaced his alphabet board he had both complimented and insulted me with. I was both intrigued and scared at what he might say. I turned to the side and behind me to see what he was typing.

"NO MORE SCHOOLGIRL BULLSHIT CLAIRE I AM GOING TO FUCK YOU LIKE A REAL WOMAN GETS FUCKED THINK YOU CAN HANDLE IT LITTLE SLUT? IF NOT TAKE ME BACK"

My pulse raced even faster with anticipation and, yes, fear. I was excited by his aggression and his words, my pussy moistening. "Yes sir Mister Wheel- er," I replied with melodic sarcasm. I had to find out what this crippled old man would do to me that was so terrible that he had to issue a warning. I would get my answer a minute later, and it would redefine sex and awaken certain sensations for me forever; epiphany, a word I would later assign to the moment.

The slap echoed across the dark room. The enameled concrete block walls enhanced the acoustics, despite the many cardboard boxes surrounding me. Strangely, the sound - at first - registered in my senses more strongly than the pain from my throbbing right cheek.

Perhaps the sane, 'normal' part of my brain was in denial that someone had dared strike fabulous Claire, who sometimes considered herself a genius and thought she had her world under control.

I had never been struck on the face - or anywhere else besides mildly on the ass - before in a sexual context, and during the fractional second before it occurred, but realized it was coming, the 'abnormal' part of my brain - the portion that consistently took up my pussy's cause when arguing with the normal segment - was thrilled beyond any level I had experienced before. Was I one ofthosewomen? The ones I had seen on my older brother's abandoned VHS tapes - I had been watching them since adolescence - that seemingly enjoyed being exposed, tied up and whipped?

I was on my back, completely naked on the cool metal desk, legs spread in the air per Mr. Wheeler's direction, trembling with adrenaline even before my right cheek stung in pain.

My clothes had been hastily tossed into a pile onto the office chair, as this still virile senior citizen cursorily but successfully seduced me, standing behind me, caressing and groping my progressively uncovered, subtly tan-lined skin while his strong tongue roved into my ear - always effective - and up and down my neck. His uneven, discolored teeth gnashed at my nipples and left them throbbing and as hard as peaked mounds of buckshot. To my surprise, the sharp stench of his body odor was an additional accelerant to the heated, hungry slit between my legs.

Now leaning over me between my thighs, dressed in his pajama top only, an arm sailed through the green darkness twice more, backhanding and subsequently hitting me with his palm again.

"You asshole!" I growled at him, implicitly asking for more.

The next assault was just as filled with contempt and skillfully applied to my breasts. My damned cunt - its insistence was driving me to insult it by then - was sizzling hot and dripping, pleading for me to do something to have it filled immediately and harshly. I hadn't been so worked up since my first masturbatory forays. His weathered, sagging face reflected the dim green light, looking down at me for a reaction, probably hoping for a sobbing request for mercy from the monster he had become. I could feel his hard cock resting on my pubic mound. He smiled with satisfaction as my next commentary reached his ears.

"At leastfuckme while you beat me, cocksucker!"

Suddenly his wrist stump was shoved painfully into my neck below my larynx and I had no breath. I brought my hands, which had been lying above my head submissively next to the computer monitor, to my throat and grabbed his forearm, covering a faded, clouded tattoo. I dug my nails into his skin to no avail. Unable to move his limb, I raised my hands in the air in surrender, my eyes watering from the pain.

Then I got my wish - the seventy-two year-old but solidified dick was instantly jammed into me, quickly spreading my grateful vaginal walls, which contracted against it in a hero's welcome. I would have gasped with pleasure, had I been able to breathe. After several lusciously satisfying, angry strokes, he withdrew his mangled stub of random metacarpals and scar tissue from my neck but kept fucking me. I tried unsuccessfully to withhold the wheezing and coughing that followed, not wanting to alert passersby in the corridor to our presence.

In the back of my mind as he pumped away, pressing my thighs out and almost flat- damn I was limber then - at the end of the desk I was lying on, a dark realization crept into my thoughts. I hoped he wasn't going to strangle me when he was finished penetrating me - or even before. There was nothing to deter him at his age from committing an 'accidental' murder. Luckily it was hard to concentrate for long on such notions, as he was pounding me so hard I had to grip the edges of the desk top to keep from being pushed across the surface. The metal top had rapidly become slick with my perspiration and the overflow of pussy juice - damn his cock felt good - down my ass crack. Its course was audibly disrupted by the varying collisions of his pendulous testes and my anus.

A round of exhilaratingly harsh and lengthy upward nipple stretches - my shoulder blades were lifted off the desk - and enthusiastic slaps to my cowering tits proceeded his exit from my joyously gurgling pussy. As my breasts throbbed from his attention, I watched his hard dick approach my face, jolting nicely as he hopped, more or less, on his good ankle around the desk.

My mouth opened instinctively and my tongue and palate were quickly hostess to his reeking, coated male flesh. His hand on the back of my head ensured a nose buried in damp gray pubic hair and deep penile penetration beyond my existing fellatio limits. As he dribbled my head like a basketball, the chaotic sounds of the resulting gulps, gags and regurgitated semen and phlegm - splattering onto the metal desk - echoed through the room. Regardless, I found it submissively thrilling to have an erection so deeply filling my throat.

In moments he was using his semi-hard dick like a butter knife, spreading the goo all over my face as I laid there on my side, catching my breath, perpendicular to his standing pelvis. A wished-for reentry brought all my dick sucking skills - I was a 'natural', according to one guy - to bear as I happily readied him for a much-desired continuation. His pubes were matted with the liquid from my face as I felt my cheeks drawn inward tightly against my jaws. While most of my cock sucking had been head-on, this sideways position was somewhat like a wasted-and-half-naked-Claire highway blowjob, except we weren't going seventy-five miles an hour. I began working his slimy shaft with one hand and fondling his loose, hairy balls with the other. Feeling him grow within was wonderful as my head rocked back and forth, but I began to grunt and squirm my hips around as my jealous vagina began demanding its share of the stiffened meat, which was soon gagging me once again.