High Velocity PSA Pt. 03

It didn't take long for me to cum again. Bill carried me to the bed as Guy removed his clothes.

"No, please. I'm married, no." I caught sight of Guy's erect penis. I had held it in my hands before, I had squeezed it, I had rubbed it. But I had never seen it, touched it like this.

"I'm going to put it in you now. I'm going to make you cum like you never have before."

"Please, no. I thought we were friends. I'm married."

"I'm going to explode if I don't get some relief. Never in all my years running this club, have I had someone as hot as you."

"Not inside me. I'll relieve you." Guy looked deep into my eyes, nodded and sighed. I spat on my hand and began to stroke him, to squeeze him. Soon I was kissing the tip of his penis, soon I was licking it, soon I was taking it in my mouth. Soon he was spurting hot jets down my throat, and I was savoring every drop. I was disappointed when he pulled out, but then spotted Bill's blue balls. I fondled them, I kissed his penis, I swallowed it as best I could, I swallowed his endless juices as he came and came and came in my mouth.

Bill wet a towel with warm water, and wiped me down, taking particular care with my vagina. I started to breath heavily and he immediately put his tongue to me.

Guy had dressed, counted out the money and finished writing the check by the time I surfaced from yet another orgasm. He showed me the check for eighty-thousand dollars, and put the four thousand cash in an envelope. Bill cleaned me off once again, and I put on the bottoms of my scrubs.

"One more picture!" Guy came around his desk, grabbed me again, squeezing my bare chest against him. I finished dressing and stood to go, but my legs felt like rubber. I sat down.

"Dancing like that is hard work, especially when you follow it up with lots of oral sex. How about if Bill drives you home in your car?"

Bill gave him a questioning look. "No Bill, don't go inside her home. Don't fuck her tonight. Call a taxi to bring you back here. Is that okay, Barbie?"

I was too tired to argue, so I nodded agreement. Half an hour later we were sitting in my garage, door open. Bill was waiting for his taxi, his finger inside me. The cab came before I did. I shut the garage door and went into the house. I passed the door to my husband's study where he worked so intensly, where he worked so cleverly to support us. What have I done to our family? What have I done to our future? My legs were once again rubber, and I fell to the floor, where I cried myself to sleep.

December 5

I was surprised to wake up in bed at eleven in the morning. I must have somehow crawled there overnight. Or was the whole thing a bad dream? I walked towards the garage, spotted my purse on the floor and opened it. There was an envelope full of cash and a check to Saint Andrews Hospital Foundation for eighty-thousand dollars. No, it was no dream.

And it wouldn't have even been a bad dream; at least not that bad. My pussy wasn't sore, because I hadn't fucked anyone. I wasn't hung over because I only had one drink. What was so terrible?

What was so terrible was that I had exposed myself completely to a bunch of strange men, let them grope me, cum on me, eat me to climax. What was so terrible was that I had betrayed my husband, my family, my sense of right and wrong. I had met my challenges, and in doing so had abandoned my self-respect.

What was I to do with four thousand dollars in cash? I couldn't deposit it in any bank account. I could not buy things that we had previously determined were beyond our budget, such as new outfits or appliances. It would raise too many questions. But we were going to Florida for winter break and we had to do some shopping. I would bring the kids to Target instead of Walmart for their vacation outfits. Get us all a little extra.

December 12

The scream by itself would not have grabbed everyone's attention. It was a hospital, and sometimes patients screamed in pain. This was not that kind of scream though, and there were rarely any patients in the executive offices.

There was also the crashing noise, the sound of a chair toppling over. That was followed by another scream, this time from a man. The President of Saint Andrew's Hospital rushed in, along with the Chief of Medicine and two secretaries. The Director of Fundraising lay on his back, tangled in his leather armchair, blood leaking out of his nose. I stood above him, my fists clenched.

"Keep your hands off me, you miserable piece of shit! How dare you?"

Everyone was too stunned to speak. I was considered a rising star at the hospital, and it wasn't just because of my looks. My husband says I have a stunning body, eyes that could melt a heart, and a smile that could levitate a freight train. I had used those to earn the hospital a lot of money last week. I was also a pretty good nurse.

I picked up a paper from the desk and handed it to the President. "Here's an eighty-thousand-dollar donation to Saint Andrews from Guy's Gentlemen's Club. At the request of this scumbag, I solicited the money from a patient we released recently. Just because I got the donation doesn't mean he can touch me. It doesn't entitle him to proposition me."

"What did you do to get the donation?"

"None of your damned business. I was friendly to Guy, made him feel important." I pointed to the man struggling to rise from the floor. "If he still has a job here tomorrow, I'm going to the Board, and if they don't satisfy me, I'm going to a lawyer. My husband is friends with some real pit-bulls."

"If you go to the Board this hospital will be sold to a big corporation, and a lot of people will lose their jobs."

"Not the people who actually care for patients; just the leaches in administration who pretend they run a non-profit hospital for the sake of the poor." I turned to the Chief of Medicine. "Tell me the truth. Would patient care improve or decline if the hospital was taken over by a for-profit corporation?"

"Miss Abbot, I'm—"

"Mrs. Abbot. I am very happily married, which this human garbage knows full well."

"Mrs. Abbot. I am not getting involved in your conflict with Fundraising. I have made my position clear many times about our meager stock of essential supplies and medications. I've seen your memos on broken thermometers, blood pressure gauges, and so on. You do what you have to regarding the administration and the Board."

The Director of Fundraising was back on his feet. "I was just thanking Nurse Abbot for her work to get such a large donation. I was trying to express the hospital's appreciation."

"By offering to take me to a hotel for a few hours?"

"Just for a nice lunch..."

The President turned to him. "Given the situation, I think it would be best for all concerned if you were to take your personal belongings and leave the building until this is resolved. Mrs. Abbot, on behalf of the hospital administration, I apologize. I hope this is satisfactory."

I grimaced. "He treated me like I'm working for the hospital as a slut, rather than as a nurse. I resent that."

"Mrs. Abbot, I'm sorry. I heard of Guy's, and picturing you there I just got carried away. I shouldn't have asked you to solicit a donation from such a disreputable place. I shouldn't have propositioned you now." The Director of Fundraising turned to the President. "I'll go find a box and pack up my personal belongings." He left the room.

The President sighed. "That's not the behavior we expect from our employees. Although you're incredibly gorgeous, and half the men in the building drool about your body, that doesn't give anyone the right to treat you with disrespect. Again, my apologies."

Yeah, he was really sorry. That's why he was talking about my body, and how men lusted after me. He didn't say "me included" about the droolers, but it was implied.

I knew about the drooling. When I started working here five years ago I bought a few uniforms that were a little tight around the chest, with above-the-knee skirts. I quickly gave those up for baggy scrubs. I didn't want to encourage anybody to consider me anything other than a highly skilled registered nurse. Easier said than done, it seems.

December 15

Ethan had started working with his door closed. That was unusual; he usually left it somewhat ajar. He explained that he had signed a confidentiality agreement for his current project, and couldn't have me even glimpse his desk while he was working. He put everything away each evening when he was done. "I'm your wife, not a business" I argued, but to no avail. This had never happened before. Was he shutting me out because he knew something?

January 16

Allison was waiting for me at the hospital when I arrived to start my shift. Guy had sent her to see if I would be interested in performing again at the club. He had another special party and was willing to guarantee me a minimum of fifteen hundred dollars. I explained that I was never going to dance there again, that I had only gone for the sake of the hospital, and that in retrospect it was a mistake.

"It was no mistake," she replied. "You were a natural. People were talking about it for weeks."

The thought of people talking about my nude dance turned my face beet red. Allison upped the guaranteed minimum to twenty-five hundred dollars, but I just shook my head. "Never."

March 1

I brought in the newspaper to read with my morning coffee, and realized that Ethan hadn't shut the door on me because of suspicion. He had closed the door to his office these last few months because he was part of a team working on the sale of Saint Andrews Hospital to United States Health Corporation, a private health-care conglomerate. I read in the article that Saint Andrews had been in financial trouble for a long time, but a fund-raising scandal in December had caused the Board of Directors to finally act.

As long as no one knew what the fund-raising scandal was about, I was okay.

March 20

Allison was back waiting for me at the hospital. Another policeman was retiring, and they insisted on only me. She tried the twenty-five hundred guarantee and I refused. When she raised that to four thousand dollars for a few hours work, I had to think about it. I could tell Ethan that I had to do a double shift because the hospital was short-staffed, and that way stay out late enough to perform. But what if he called me at work as he sometimes does, to report on the kids, to tell me he loves me?

The new owners of Saint Andrews were a lot more efficient with work schedules than the previous not-for-profit administrators. The nurses used to get an overtime shift at time and a half pay at least once a week, sometimes twice. I hadn't had one since the takeover, and from the looks of the new schedule, they would be rare indeed. I had liked that extra money.

Did I want to do this? I knew I was gorgeous, and though I found the constant leers and comments demeaning, I did get a kick out of men admiring my looks. As long as they kept it to admiring from afar. I felt like my earlier performance at Guy's had been done by some intruder who didn't mind letting all those strange men touch her, who enjoyed touching those strange men.

United States Health owned hospitals and clinics throughout the metropolitan area. I decided to tell Ethan that one of their clinics was desperately short-staffed, and I had agreed to help out, doing a double shift with overtime pay rates on Friday evening. I told Allison that I would not have intercourse with anyone at the Club: the patrons, Guy, Bill, or anyone else; I would maintain my dignity. "Of course," she replied.

March 21

Lindsey Vorman was doing her first shift on our floor. She asked me to stay with her while she examined a new patient. "I'm doing a prostate exam. It's best for a woman not to be alone with a patient for that, to avoid any charges of misconduct, or in case the patient gets too excited."

The patient was a good-looking middle-aged man with rugged features. Dr. Vorman wore rubber gloves, put lubricant on her finger and shoved it up his ass while he leaned over, hands on his bed. "Palpate his testicles," she instructed me. "Make sure there are no lumps." There were none. "Have you ever done a prostate exam? Would you like to try?"

"No and yes."

The patient immediately consented. His excitement showed though he tried to keep it down. I continued to play with his balls as I shoved my finger up his asshole. Dr. Vorman told me what I should be feeling for, how to tell an enlarged, perhaps cancerous prostate. This gave me an idea for my performance on Friday. I made sure to take a box of rubber gloves with me when I left work that day. So much for dignity.

March 22

I knocked on Ethan's office door. He gave me a broad grin. Since the hospital sale closed at the beginning of the month, his schedule had been a little lax. "You busy?"

"I always make time for the love of my life. What's up?"

"They need me to work a double shift Friday evening through Saturday morning. Fifty percent overtime premium for the second shift."

"One of the reasons I gave in favor of the takeover of Saint Andrews was to have a more efficient administration. I am truly pissed that they are still scrambling like this. You'll be too tired Saturday to do anything as a family. The kids will be disappointed."

"Actually, it's not Saint Andrews that needs me. It's one of United States Health's urgent care clinics. I'm not sure where it is yet."

Ethan sighed. "I suppose you already agreed..."

"Yeah."

"Oh well. Another Friday night alone, beating my meat and thinking of the taste of my luscious wife's body. How's our supply of tissues?"

"Ethan, you get plenty of your wife's luscious body."

"When it's not otherwise occupied."

March 23

I left the house at my usual two-thirty, wearing my baggiest scrubs. I drove to the mall, parking at the far end of the huge lot. I didn't do much shopping, but managed to waste four hours. I then went to try a new Italian restaurant, Francesco's, that had opened not far from the hospital. Their food was supposed to be very light, but nonetheless very Italian. If you wanted to load up on the carbs with heavy pastas and sauces, you could do that too.

I didn't want that. With the activities I had planned for that evening, a full stomach was the last thing I needed. A barfing stripper wouldn't be well received.

The police party was scheduled for ten. Allison was shocked at my appearance when I walked into Guy's at nine-thirty. "Are you coming straight from work?"

"No, I'm coming to work." I stressed the word "to."

"Uh, okay. I'll tell Bill to open the changing room for you."

"No, that's okay. I'm dressed. Is Guy in his office?"

"Yes, I'll let him know you're here."

Guy looked equally dismayed at my appearance. He didn't even get up from his desk. "You're a liar," I said to him.

"What are you talking about?"

"When I discharged you from the hospital, you told me how hot I looked in scrubs. Now that I'm here in that hot outfit, you look pretty damned disappointed.

"Well, you know, scrubs are not what a party of horny cops are expecting. I guaranteed you four thousand dollars tonight, but you have to try. That outfit isn't even trying."

"What are your guests expecting?"

"Excitement, a sexy show. They still talk about your last performance."

I walked around his desk, stood behind him, and draped my arms over his shoulders. "Tonight they are going to forget my last performance. They will never forget tonight's."

He took one of my hands, brought it to his mouth, and started sucking my fingers. "Don't get arrested. They're still cops." He stood up and put his tongue against mine. I pulled back. "No, not yet. I have to be in the right mood at the start. Please bring a bowl, a role of paper towels and a small trashcan to the party room. I also need a high table that I can lean forward on."

Guy picked up the phone and passed the instructions on to Allison. She was soon at his office door, announcing the guests' arrival. I pulled my stethoscope from my bag and draped it around my neck. Showtime.

The audience looked confused as I walked in. The guys from Jim's party seemed happy to see me, but all were confused by my professional appearance. Bill went to start the music; I told him to keep the volume down.

"I'm Barbie, your nurse," I told the crowd. "I'm going to be handling your health tonight." I bent over the high table I had asked for, my rear towards the audience. "Let's see if I have all my supplies. Bowl, paper towels, rubber gloves... Yes, it's all here." I turned back towards the audience and touched my crotch. "This is so exciting. I'm going to give you all a prostate exam. Did you know that prostate cancer is the most common cancer for men?" There were a few 'yeahs' but mostly silence. Everyone was trying to figure out what I was up to.

"I'm also going to check you for testicular cancer, by palpating your testicles. Do you know what that means?" Again there were a few 'yeahs' but mostly silence. "Okay, I'm going to have to explain this better." I crooked a finger at the man closest to the stage. He looked around at the others, a nervous smile on his face, then came over to me. I positioned him facing the audience, and leaned back against him. He put his hands on my hips. "What's your name, handsome?"

"Ethan."

I flinched. "Palpate my breasts, Ethan" I said loudly.

He didn't respond.

"Massage my breasts with your fingers. Squeeze the flesh as if your hunting for something inside them, like a lump that doesn't belong. Explore. Don't hurt me, but don't be shy." He put his hands on top of my scrubs and began to rub tentatively.

"No, no, you have to go underneath the cloth." He started to lift up my top.

"I'm not ready to expose my boobs to all these horny guys, Ethan. Reach under, and unhook my bra. Now pull it off." My strapless came away in his hands, and he placed it on the table.

"Do my breasts, Ethan." His fingers worked my skin, squeezing, prodding. I could feel his erection against my ass as I pressed against him.

"The nipples, Ethan. Play with my nipples. Palpate them, tease them. Make sure they're healthy."

At least half the audience was rubbing their pants, not taking their eyes off the hands moving over my hidden breasts. Guy's hand was in his pants. I gently pulled Ethan's fingers out from under my top, turned around, and pressed my body against his. "Palpate my ass." He began to knead the flesh of my bum. "Underneath the cloth." He stuck his hands inside my scrubs, inside my panties, and began to massage, to squeeze. It felt good. I felt the coolness as I realized that he had exposed my skin, that everyone was watching as he worked my ass.

I felt a finger touch my anus. I pulled it away. "Not now, Ethan." It was time to move to the next level. I removed Ethan's hands and straightened my pants. "Did everything feel good?"

"Perfect."

"I'm glad to know I'm in good shape. Thanks, Ethan. Now I'm going to check you. Please remove all your clothes from the waist down." You could hear the collective gasp from his colleagues. Soon Ethan was naked, facing his friends, his hands over his crotch.

"Ethan, don't be shy. I'm a nurse. Show me what you have there." He pulled his hands away. I bent down to examine it, my mouth inches from the tip of his erection. I stood and licked my lips. "Lean forward, resting your arms on the table. I positioned him sideways towards the audience, his bum towards me. I pulled a rubber glove on my right hand, putting some lube on the index finger. I squeezed more lube into the palm of my left hand.

"I'm going to check Ethan's prostate gland. Prostate cancer is about as common among men as breast cancer is among women. You just don't hear about it as much. I am also going to palpate his testicles, to check for lumps. Do understand now what 'palpate' means?" There were yells, cheers in response. "I'm also going to check that his prostate produces enough liquid to transport his semen into some lucky woman's pussy. Do you have a lucky woman, Ethan?"