The Nice Nurse

"Wait, I have a surprise for you."

She took out a strap-on dildo from a drawer and she fastened it around her hips, barely covering her vulva. She lay on top of me and she put it in my vagina. Being it so artificial, I felt it very big, hard and cold, but the sway that the lady did in me made me accept it with much pleasure, and she then began to pump it into me forcefully. I went from one orgasm to the other easily, and then, I told her:

"Please stop. Now it's my turn."

She unstrapped it quickly and happily, she adjusted it on me, and then, she went to bed in the same missionary position in which I was lying, and I proceeded to penetrate her. My vaginal juices made it easier that I thought and I was smitten by her frenzy being I the "man" on her. She also had to stop my thrusts when she was satiated with orgasms. This way, we got over the first days of absence of our beloved Mickey, my Mickey, her Mickey.

She exerted some influence so I could work in hospices and I wouldn't waste my talent with the patients, and she even protected me from lawsuits and accusations, after all, my clients craved my special touch. I asked her:

"Don't you feel jealous for I am a whore posing as a nurse?"

"No, Nancy, I would feel jealous if you don't do this for our patients."

And she also "worked" with some of them, the older ones, but sometimes, she fancied some younger ones. And I was glad for her.

My "boss" became an advocate of our very particular way of giving "quality of life," and for some time, we opened a hospice for the elderly and other patients with injuries or degenerative conditions. Aside from care, food and medications, we provided physical rehabilitation, crafts and intellectual activities. She was getting more pressure on the part of the community for our life style and we didn't achieve enough clientele. Although Lucy fought courageously for our dream, this remained unfulfilled and she died suddenly, and I could not even aid her or help her to pass on with a little pleasure, either with me or with a patient. She was buried next to her beloved son and I felt that I died with her, and now, there would be no one to hold me at the burial. Upon arriving to the house, I tied her dildo to a pillow and I straddled it, and although I got my climax, I felt guilty and lonely.

One day, her lawyer called me and told me that, when we engaged in the special partnership to operate that hospice, I became her only heiress. I did not expect this. But while working again with my patients, I once again understood the purpose of my existence, the give a kind of comfort to suffering people that the institutions are not willing to give.

Outcome:

The years passed, and I continued doing what I know how to do: being the extra-pleasing nurse, and although my attractiveness and vigor decreased, I stayed busy in my causes while I had strength for them. In the long run, I aged so much that I ended up in a nursing home, since I remained alone, even my biological family disowned me when I went through my first scandals in hospitals. The money that I had was spent in medical care and medications, and I even had to sell the house in order to pay my expenses, besides, I could no longer be in charge of such an imposing piece of real estate. I left a clause in my living will in order to obtain the same care that I lavished upon my patients, but the caretakers considered it aberrant and they yanked the page out of my file and threw it into the garbage.

I grew weaker and I lost all hope of having anybody taking care of my special needs. The nurses bathed me according to the text book, avoiding at all costs exciting my libido, and much less, allowing me an orgasm. I grew tired of masturbating, because I didn't have the opportunity in the bathroom, and when I did it on my bed, the orderlies saw my sheets with true loathing when they changed them the next day.

A night, a janitor arrived stealthily, so that the personnel wouldn't see him coming to where I was. He asked me:

"Excuse me, are you Mrs. Nancy?"

"Yes, who are you?"

"My name is Mark. I work in the cleaning of this hospice."

I vaguely remembered that a janitor surprised me in one of the hospitals and began to blackmail me, making me suckle his penis or allowing him to sodomize me. Those times, I didn't enjoy much. I demanded him:

"What do you want?"

"Please, forgive my boldness, but I received a letter from you."

"Letter? What letter? I don't remember having written any."

"But I have it here."

And he showed it to me. It was my special petition to receive sex during my stay in the nursing home. It was old, stained and rotten, but at least, it didn't go through a shredder. In fact, it was a photocopy. He explained to me:

"Please, don't be angry. The original letter was so ruined, but before, I was able to copy it. This one is less than a year old."

He made a pause, very nervous and ashamed, and he asked me:

"Do you still want somebody to do this to you?"

At first, I was offended by his suggestion, since I had lost my good humor, with which I protected my psyche when I got caught playing my mischiefs. But then, I understood that I didn't have any option, and that I was also yearning for good sex in order to live again. I answered him, with a feeling very similar to love:

"With all my heart!"

Then, he carried his cart with the cleaning equipment inside and he took out condoms and a cream. I told him that, at my age, the condom would no longer be necessary, and I missed the feeling of semen directly in me. He pulled his pants and underwear down and he daubed his penis. Then, he pulled my nightgown up and licked my nipples. Although my teats sagged too much, they were as sensitive as when I was still a teenager. Later, he removed my panties and he licked my clitoris and I had my first orgasm in a long time. Finally, he took my pillow from my head, he got on my bed, placed it under my buttocks and penetrated me firmly but carefully. He began with a slow sway, but I told him to quicken his pace, to finish before someone could discover us. When he did so, I had another orgasm, a little stronger than the first, and I indicated to him:

"Raise my buttocks and go for my anus."

When he took out his penis, he put on some more cream so he could get inside my rectum. I squeezed his penis with all my strength and I achieved another very intense orgasm while he squirted all of his semen, which spilled on the cover. He stepped down and he washed the whole area the best that he could, at least, he disinfected and perfumed it so nobody would smell the scent that our adventure left. He set my pillow back under my head, and I considered it a very valuable trophy, because on it, I unleashed all the passion of which I was always capable, and I slept placidly.

In the long run, my body became too frail for vaginal or anal penetration, but I asked the janitor to let me to suckle his manhood, so at least, I could reminisce about the good old times. He even had to learn when to pull his penis out upon ejaculating, as in the porno movies, because I might choke with his semen and suffocate to death. He limited himself to rub his penis against my lips, cheeks or breasts, and it was easier to wash the evidence. But everything came to an end, with him, being transferred, and I, dying of a respiratory failure during my sleep. The good thing was that I could join Mickey and Lucy in the afterlife, my adoptive family. At least, I lived like a nice pleasing nurse and I died like a nicely pleased patient.