All literary themes, it has been said, can be divided into a few simple categories. One of these, the "coming-of-age" story, forms the basis for this new novel by Dan Webster. For this is truly a story of a young woman's growth to maturity. And because some of the problems connected with this growth process are common to all persons who face the dawn of their maturity, this book becomes an important one which should be read by parents and educators alike.
In Lenore Benson, the young nurse about whom the story revolves, we see a young attractive woman, just a few years past her adolescence. Like many young people, Lenore's problems are based on her lack of information concerning the needs, functions, and urges of her body. And as the plot develops, we learn that this ignorance was the result of her mother's stubborn and unreasonable refusal to discuss with her daughter the important philosophical facts of life.
Here, the author embellishes his point dramatically through the use of literary irony. As a nurse, Lenore has received many hours of training in the scientific, medical, and biological aspects of human sexuality. She has studied and learned the medical names and descriptions of each anatomical part involved in the human reproductive process. But because she has been trained, by her mother's attitude, to avoid thinking about sex as it relates to her as an individual, she is as ignorant and naive as a child concerning its ethical and moral elements.
The consequences are disastrous and nearly result in the complete destruction of both her career and her life. Her fear of sex leads her to a frustration which weakens her resolve and makes her an easy mark for the mad rapist who inhabits an isolation cubicle in Ward D of the psychiatric service. And her encounter with him leaves her in an emotionally weakened condition which leads her to a deliberate and flagrant breach of ethics while bathing one of the hospital's male patients.
With no place else to turn, she runs to her nursing supervisor for help and advice. Nearly hysterical with horror at her blatant and uncontrolled sexuality, she throws herself into the head-nurse's arms. Here again, the author uses irony to deliver his message. For although Sandy Taylor, the supervisor, turns out to be a homosexual, we find that she does a far better job of mothering the confused young nurse than her natural mother succeeded in doing.
Sandy's method of helping the young disturbed nurse is rather unorthodox, and for a time the reader wonders whether it is helping Lenore or leading her deeper into the dark abyss of unbridled and uncontrolled sexuality. She goes straight from Sandy's arms to those of a private patient, and it begins to look as though she has been launched on a path which must lead irreversibly to her destruction.
But in novels, as in life, endings are not always those which protagonists expect. And Lenore, as well as the reader, faces a series of shocking revelations in the final pages of the book. While it would be a foolish generalization to say that the end always justifies the means, it is equally foolish to generalize the converse--the end never justifies the means. And although the book's ending makes it an amusing example of the juxtaposition of end and means in justifying each other, the author's main point is clear.
None of Lenore's problems would have existed if her mother had acted more rationally and less hysterically in the first place. And therein lies the moral: running from unpleasant truths makes them no less true. It only makes them harder to deal with! We hope that the reader will come away from this book with a clearer understanding of that principle, and that he can thus avoid the pitfalls into which Lenore Benson came close to falling.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
As Lenore Benson strode briskly down the long, wide hospital corridor, her firm round tits pressed voluptuously against the crisp white material of her nurse's uniform. She looked around self-consciously, certain that all eyes in the hospital were fixed on her bouncing bosom. Her oversized tits had always been a source of embarrassment to her. Wherever she went, men stared at them, their faces wearing undisguised expression of lust. They bumped into her when she rose on buses, and crowded against her in elevators, seeking any excuse to paw and maul her soft, creamy mounds with their roving hands and exploring elbows.
It had been happening to her ever since she was twelve and her body began assuming the curving lines of womanhood. Her softly rounded hips, her full fleshy buttocks, and her prominently uplifted breasts made her a center of attention at the junior high school which she attended in San Diego, California. But instead of turning her into the most popular girl in the school, Lenore's prematurely developed figure made her withdraw from the other students, feeling like some kind of freak.
The boys pointed and leered at her whenever she walked by. And the girls giggled and nudged each other with their elbows. Most of them were flat-chested with boyish figures that gave evidence of their tender years. It was widely rumored among them that their voluptuous classmate's soft round boobies were made of rubber--"falsies" worn to make her look older. Their attention embarrassed Lenore, making her feel dirty and scandalous. She tried to hide her breasts inside tight brassieres and loose-fitting boy-cut shirts, but nothing could camouflage their ripe fullness.
One day, after phys-ed class, she returned to the locker room to find a group of her classmates clustered together in a tight little circle, their baggy green gym-suits hanging loosely on their smooth curveless bodies. They were whispering animatedly, but fell silent as soon as Lenore entered the room. As she walked to her locker, ready to change into her clothes, she felt all eyes focus on the well-filled front of her gym uniform.
"Hey," she asked. "What's going on around here?"
For a moment the girls were silent. But, at last, Rosie Allen, a skinny redhead with freckles and buck teeth, spoke up. "Linda and I made a bet," she said. The other girls began to giggle nervously. "Linda says you're wearing falsies and I say that those big titties are all yours.
We've got fifty cents riding on it. So hurry up and change your clothes. We're all waiting to see who's going to win."
Lenore was mortified. Until then, her embarrassment had been a private matter--something that she shared with no one; a feeling that existed only in the innermost recesses of her most secret thoughts. But now it had been dragged out into the open and laid on the table for the world to examine. The cluster of girls who stood waiting expectantly for her to undress made her feel like the main attraction at some circus sideshow. She wanted to run from them; to hide somewhere far away from their open looks of curiosity.
Frantically she searched her mind for something to say to them--anything that might turn them from their little game and relieve her of the oppressive burden of their waiting stares. Her eyes filled with salty tears of shame and humiliation, but she bit her lip to stanch their flow. Fumbling idly with the combination lock on her scarred metal locker, she stalled in hopes that her classmates would forget their lewd wager and turn away. But nothing could distract their fascinated attention.
Lenore knew that the bell would be ringing any minute to signal the end of the class hour. If she was late for her next class she would lose credit on her final grade. And she wasn't a good enough student to be able to afford that. She began toying with the buttons at the front of her green gym suit, realizing in a sudden burst of horror that she was wearing the "exercise bra" that her mother had bought her a few weeks ago.
The brassieres which she ordinarily wore, in a vain attempt to hide her oversized tits, were tight and constricting. Because they made participation in the school's phys-ed activities difficult and uncomfortable, she had been changing--just before each gym class--into a softer, looser-fitting undergarment which permitted her greater freedom of motion. But now she would have to change back into her regular bra before putting on her clothes. And that meant that while she was changing, her tits would be completely naked and totally exposed to the open stares of the girls who by now had regathered into a circle around her.
They were openly examining her body now, their overt glances defiling her, making her feel dirty and ashamed. She wanted to turn and run, screaming for help, but knew that she would be too embarrassed to discuss it with her teacher. "Come on, girls," she implored, her voice a controlled whine. "Can't someone have a little privacy around here?" She wanted to beg for their understanding, plead for their mercy; but she knew that it would only amuse them. She bit her lip.
"Privacy?" Rosie echoed, laughing. "We always change in front of each other in here. Don't we?" Her voice said that she didn't understand her big breasted classmate's hesitation.
Lenore choked back a sob. "But that's different," she said. "Nobody really pays any attention then. Now you're all staring at me." Her face and neck flushed a bright crimson, and Rosie found herself wondering whether her swelling tits were blushing too.
"Come on," said the redhead, her breathing becoming labored. "If you don't hurry up and change, you'll make us all late. Do you need any help?" She reached out and fingered a button at the front of Lenore's gym suit, but Lenore stepped back quickly to avoid contact.
"You keep your hands off me, Rosie Allen," she said. She realized that there was nothing for her to do but give them their perverted show. She would try to do it quickly aloofly, ending the charade as swiftly as possible so that she could leave the locker room and get away from them. Holding her head high and trying to still the trembling of her chin, she speedily unbuttoned her one-piece gym suit. The soft cotton garment fell open, revealing the goosefleshed white skin of the front of her body.
The girls could see her shadowy triangle of curling pubic hair darkening the crotch of her panties. And the twin prominences of her puckering nipples poked juttingly against the cups of her bra, leaving no question in anyone's mind about who was the winner of the fifty-cent bet. But none of them could tear their eyes from the lewd spectacle. Looking at the ceiling to avoid meeting their intent stares, Lenore pulled her arms from the sleeves of the gym suit and stepped carefully out of its elastic thigh bands. Hanging it on a hook inside her locker, she reached behind her for the clasp of her loose-fitting exercise bra.
The large locker room was dead silent, the wide-eyed audience of budding pre-adolescents holding its collective breath as it waited for the lascivious unveiling. Lenore shrugged the wispy undergarment from her shoulders, freeing her soft, round, pendulous tits. The huge rosy discs which capped her creamy mounds were the size of fifty-cent pieces and puckered to semi-erect turgidity. Not even Rosie Allen had imagined anything so full, so well-formed, so beautiful.
She drew her breath in sharply in a sibilant gasp of envy. "I win the bet," she said softly. Then, as though speaking to herself, she added, "I wish I had boobs like that."
But Lenore turned from them in shame and humiliation, bitter tears of embarrassment running freely down her cheeks. Reaching into her locker for her clothes, she dressed quickly, not turning again to face the other girls until she was finished. Then, without a word to anyone, she strode from the locker room.
Lenore never told anyone about the incident, not even her mother. Mother didn't like to discuss such things. She said they were "dirty" and "sinful." Several times, when Lenore's precociously developing body had raised clouds of confusion in the teen-ager's adolescent mind, she brought her questions to her mother. But Mother's answer was always the same. "It's a woman's lot," she would exclaim, as if her answer explained everything from the ache in her daughter's pendulous breasts to the monthly flow of blood from her downy vagina.
"Step aside, please," called a voice behind her, bringing the young nurse back to consciousness of the world around her. "Stretcher coming through." Lenore moved quickly out of the way to make room for two blue-jacketed orderlies who were wheeling a patient down the corridor. The patient was in traction, his legs and neck bound by harnesses which stretched his body tautly between the opposite ends of the bed. One of the orderlies, a tall, dark-haired South American named Carlos, licked his lips elaborately and flashed her an obscene wink as he went by.
"You see that, Mister Drake?" he said hoarsely to the patient whose unbound eyes were moving freely over Lenore's curvaceous body. "With a foxy little number like that on the orthopedic service, it almost pays to have a slipped disc. Maybe you can get her to come in later and rub your back." The patient joined the two orderlies in laughing raucously at Carlos' lewd innuendo. Lenore felt her face reddening with embarrassment and hot anger. She waited until they had rounded the corner before she continued walking.
"Don't let those wiseacres bother you, Lenore," said a soft voice beside her. Lenore recognized it as that of Sandy Taylor, the head nurse on her floor. "They only do it because they know it upsets you." Lenore liked her supervisor. She was kind and decent--the sort of person that Lenore could really relate to. Most of the other nurses at the Hartford Institute of Modern Medicine seemed to be on the perpetual make, hoping to catch themselves an eligible young doctor and thereby retire permanently from the hospital's labor force. But Sandy was different. She was completely devoted to her profession, genuinely interested in the welfare of her patients and of the nurses assigned to her service.
The head nurse was extremely attractive, her petite figure and gamin face giving her a girlish appearance which would have made her the darling of the medical staff if she gave the glib young doctors half a chance. But she rejected all their advances swiftly, discouraging their attentions and making it clear that she was not available for their egotistical games. Not even Tom Carter--the handsome young psychiatric resident who was generally considered to be the most desirable catch in the hospital--could get to first base with her.
Lenore had seen him hanging around Sandy's station, flirting with the head nurse and offering repeatedly to take her to dinner. But, although his attentions made Sandy the envy of all other nurses, she always sent him packing with a friendly but firm refusal. "If I ever want to get my head shrunk," she would say, "I'll be sure and call you."
"I wish I could learn to be as confident and poised as you are," Lenore said, falling into step beside her supervisor as they continued walking down the corridor. "But I always get so flustered and embarrassed."
"I'll teach you my secret, one of these days," Sandy said with a friendly chuckle.
"How about right now?" Lenore asked. "I'm on my way to the cafeteria. I'll buy you a cup of coffee."
"Thanks," said the older nurse. "I'd love to, but I can't. Have to pick up some films in radiology. In fact this is my stop. See you." She stepped into an open doorway under a sign that said "X-Ray" and tossed Lenore a friendly wave.
Lenore returned the wave and continued on her way to the staff cafeteria. She admired the casual and friendly manner in which Sandy related to the people around her. People seemed to like her automatically. Even her disappointed suitors whom she always managed to reject without resorting to harsh words. Lenore would have liked to acquire Sandy's talent, but feared that she never would. She was too insecure, too afraid. She was too nervous to be casual, especially about her relations with the opposite sex. She couldn't help remembering the nightmarish incident which had blackened her teens--couldn't help thinking of it in spite of her mother's exhortation to wipe it out of her mind.
She had been sixteen, a striking young woman of slender waist and ample proportions. Her breasts had already grown large enough to fill the cups of the size thirty-eight D bras which she wore. Wherever she went, boys stared at her in open admiration and men strove to get next to her. She was five feet six inches tall and weighed one hundred thirty-five pounds, her body slim where it ought to be slim and full where it ought to be full. Her hair was long and silky, its natural color that of finely spun gold. Though only a high-school sophomore, she was already receiving all manner of invitations from boys--everything from polite requests for her company at the junior prom to indecent proposals that involved spending the whole night and doing a lot more than dancing. But she refused all the offers, making it clear that she had little interest in boys. She had decided that she wanted to be a nurse and knew that she would have to keep her grades up if she wanted to get into a decent nursing school.
But when David Montgomery, her school's star quarterback and the dream-lover of all the girls in the senior class, asked her to attend a school choir recital one night, she wavered. His dark flashing eyes and handsome clean-cut face were hard to resist. Finally, convinced by his polite manner and soft-spoken promise to have her home before ten-thirty, she accepted.
When David came to her house to pick her up for their date, he was quiet and well-mannered. He addressed her mother politely, calling her ma'am and he shook her father's hand sincerely. But when they were in his car, a shiny, late-model convertible, his manner changed abruptly. He suddenly became more aggressive, and less reserved.
Throwing his arm casually around her shoulders as he started the engine, he said, "Hey, I've got a great idea. It's such a beautiful night. Why don't we skip the recital and take a drive to the beach?"
"I... I don't know," Lenore stammered. "I told Mom that we were just going to the school auditorium. I wouldn't feel right."
"You mean your mom would have objected if you told her you were going to the beach?" he asked incredulously. "What could possibly be wrong with going to the beach?" The innocence of his question and the logic of his argument convinced her.
Nothing can happen at the beach, she thought. It's certainly public enough. "All right," she said hesitantly. "I guess it's all right."
David smiled and gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze before pulling the car away from the curb. This is going to be easy, he thought. He drove quickly towards La Jolla and a secluded stretch of beach that he knew about. Twenty minutes later they were walking across the sand, feeling it soft and cushiony under their bare feet. Lenore carried her shoes in her hands as she walked. The sea breeze swirled the hem of her flared skirt around her shapely legs, giving David an arousing moonlit view of her shapely calves and thighs. The bright white moon was directly overhead, softening the shadows and bathing the silver sand and blue surf in surrealistic illumination.
"Wait a minute," Lenore said, stopping to catch her breath. "Where are we going?"
"I know a great spot," David said. "It's just beyond those rocks over there." He pointed towards a dark looming shape about two hundred feet away. "Come on," he said, "I'll race you." Turning suddenly, he trotted across the sand towards the rocks.
Lenore couldn't help laughing as she ran to catch up with him. That's what I get, she thought, for going out with a football player. When at last they reached their secluded destination, she was panting so hard that her laughter had become a series of gasping efforts at catching her breath. Putting his arm around her waist playfully, David pulled her down onto the sand beside him.
"Isn't it beautiful here?" he said. "Listen to the surf." Lenore pulled and tugged at the hem of her skirt which had risen halfway up her thighs revealing their creamy white surfaces. She felt the cool beach sand caressing her bare legs and struggled to cover herself properly. But, suddenly, David's hands were on her shoulders pushing her back, pressing her down against the sand.
"No," she gasped, but her voice was muffled as David's lips pressed roughly and insistently against her own. She turned her head from side to side, trying to break from his grasp, but he held her shoulders firmly to prevent her from escaping.
"Don't fight it," he whispered. "I won't hurt you." His powerful hands were digging into her soft skin, causing her to sob in pain. "Why are you crying?" he asked. "All I want to do is make love to you. It can't be the first time." At least not for a girl with tits like those, he thought.
His words filled Lenore with icy terror. "No," she wailed. "I don't want to. Leave me alone. I'll scream." But before she could carry out her threat, the young football player's lips were pressing urgently against hers again. She felt one of his hands moving freely over her body, stroking and petting the swollen mounds of her tits. Her nipples puckered as his fingers explored their pouting prominence through the thin material at her blouse. She tried to object, but he held her pinned to the ground, stifling her scream with his nibbling lips. "Mmmmmnnnnnnn," she moaned, in muffled protest.
David mistook the cry for a sound of surrender, and freed her lips to begin nibbling at her throat. "Aaaaaaaaaaah," she screamed, at the top of her lungs. "Help!" But her voice was drowned by the crashing of the surf. "Still fighting it?" David asked, lifting his head to look into her tear-filled blue eyes. "Don't waste your breath. There's nobody around to hear you." He had met cock-teasers before: girls who looked and dressed like they were willing, but tried to back down at the last minute. Everyone knows my reputation, he thought. If she didn't want to fuck, she shouldn't have gone out with me. Especially not to the beach. Ignoring her cries of protest, he returned his lips to her graceful white neck and began kissing his way down toward the curving swell of her breasts.
Lenore was crying silently, unable to believe that any of this was really happening. David seemed like such a nice boy, such a fine boy. Why was he treating her this way ? Could she have led him on somehow, without realizing it? Could she have given him the impression that she was "loose," "easy"? She felt one of his hands exploring the smooth surface of her inner thigh, and snapped her legs tightly together in a vain attempt to prevent his further progress. But her efforts didn't even slow him down. Separating her thighs with the forward thrust of his hand, he found the crotch of her moistening panties with his probing fingers.
She could feel them moving roughly over the puckered lips of her tender vagina, stroking them through the material of her lacy underwear. His touch was making her tingle, and she could feel the sensitive slash moistening with the flowing juices of her excitement. But her mind recoiled at the ugly realization of what was happening to her.
"No," she protested desperately. "Please! Don't!" She kicked and wriggled beneath him, trying to impede his obscene progress. But David handled her as though she were a rag doll, her feeble attempts at resistance like the fruitless and pathetic struggling of a fish in a net. Pushing the elastic crotchband out of the way with his fingers, he began petting the naked lips of her virgin pussy.
Her cunt felt soft and slimy under his touch, and he was certain that his would not be the first stiff cock to bury its throbbing hardness in the drooling slash. Stiffening his middle finger, he drove it forward, sinking it slowly in the cloying warmth of her cuntal slit. "Aaaaaaagh," she groaned in horrified response to the obscene intrusion. But the free-flowing wetness of her vaginal channel convinced him that she wanted him in spite of her vocal protests.
His cock strained at the front of his pants and he longed to free it from the tightly restricting confinement of his clothing. But, first, he had to make his target ready. Grasping the flimsy crotchband of her panties between his thumb and forefinger, he twisted and pulled until he felt the material rip. Then, ignoring Lenore's helpless sobs of dismay, he enlarged the tiny opening with his fingers.
Moving his hand swiftly to the front of his bulging trousers, he opened his zipper, freeing his stiff cock from its prison. Pulling Lenore's skirt up around her waist, he rolled atop her, pinning her tightly to the ground with the weight of his body. She could feel the rubbery head of his penile spear jabbing relentlessly at the silky smoothness of her thighs, just below the hair-fringed gash of her pussy. She rolled and bucked below him, trying to throw him off her so that she could run screaming from the beach. But she was no match for the muscular football player. And his lips, which were pressing roughly against hers, stifled even her frustrated groans of helplessness.
Reaching between them with his hand, he grasped his cock by its throbbing shaft and aimed its head carefully at the drooling pink slit which nestled snugly in the cushiony mat of her curling pubic hair. She could feel his bulbous knob rubbing methodically across her pouting cuntlips, covering her with his oozing moisture. In spite of her revulsion, the hair-covered flanges separated accommodatingly for his entry, and his pulsating hardon eased its way between them.
When his prick's throbbing head was buried comfortably in the downy softness of her inner vulva, David began rotating his hips in a tight little circle. Her cunt was tight and he prepared to screw himself in. But when he had moved forward a little further, he felt a taut membrane of elastic resiliency barring his cock's path. Can it be? he thought. Can this sexy little piece of ass really be cherry? The possibility seemed incredible to him.
As the school's leading athletic hero, David Montgomery usually had his pick of willing female partners. The ease with which they permitted him access to the secret sanctity of the most intimate parts of their young bodies had led him to think of virginity as a mythical virtue possessed only by the artificially constructed heroines of Jane Austen novels. That a girl as stacked and as good looking as Lenore Benson could have kept her cherry for sixteen full years startled and amazed him. And it made his swollen cock jump with aroused excitement.
The girl felt his driving member swelling inside her and she tried to press her ass down into the sand to escape the force of his penetrating thrust. The head of his cock pressed painfully against her hymen, stretching and tearing it. She wanted to scream her agony to the heavens, but his nibbling lips and exploring tongue were robbing her mouth of its ability to make any sound other than the gurgling moan which had ripped steadily from her throat since the first instant of his penetration.
Humping his hips forward, David buried his cock to the hilt in her tightly clasping cuntal wetness. He felt the barrier of her maidenhead stretching in a last painful effort to keep him out. Then, in a sudden burst of searing agony, it rent completely, allowing his throbbing penis to bask in the swampy heat of her inner cunt.
He pulled his mouth from hers to fill his burning lungs with air, and she shattered the silence of the moonlit night with an ear-shattering shriek of pain. She wailed like a wounded coyote as David pumped and rolled above her, his cock driving to the hilt and then nearly withdrawing completely before beginning the lewd cycle again. The pain soon passed as her tight pussy adapted to the unaccustomed intrusion, but she continued to sob and weep--now mourning the irretrievable loss of her precious virginity.
Ignoring her shouts, David continued sawing his palpitating hardon in and out of her virgin cunt. He could feel a hot blast of jism building in his swinging nuts and knew that his climax was just a stroke away. For the moment, he gave no thought to the irrevocable change that he had wrought in the body and soul of the big-titted coed who squirmed agonizingly beneath him. As the first hot burst shot from the end of his driving prick, he began a rhythmic grunting that drowned out her sobbing wail. "Unh. Unh. Unh. Unh," he cried as spurt after bubbling spurt of boiling cum pumped from his cock to fill the tight stretched pussy of his weeping victim.
At last, heaving a long, sibilant sigh of satisfaction, David rolled off and stretched out in the sand beside her quivering body. Lenore was crying softly now, and David lay quiet for a long moment, listening to her sobs. Finally, rising on one elbow, he looked down into her tear-stained face. Composing himself to make his voice sound gentle and sincere as it had earlier that evening, he said softly, "I'm sorry, Lenore. I didn't know you were a virgin. It's just that you're so beautiful. I guess I got carried away. I hope it didn't hurt too much."
But the girl was hysterical, too far gone to be comforted by the softness of his voice or the gentleness of his words. "Leave me alone," she sobbed. "I don't ever want to see you again."
"I don't blame you," he said apologetically. "But I want you to know that I won't ever tell anybody, if that's any consolation. Now, I hope you'll at least let me drive you home."
They rode in silence, Lenore sobbing quietly to herself as she gazed unseeingly out the window. When David pulled up in front of her house, he tried to speak again. "Lenore," he said. "I... I... But she ran from the car slamming the door behind her. David waited a minute and then sped away, hoping that she wouldn't say anything to her parents.
Lenore stood inside the door of her house for a minute, trying to compose herself. She knew that she had to tell her mother about what had just happened--that if she didn't she would be tacitly acquiescing to the brutal rape and callous defloration of her tender young body. But she didn't know where or how to begin. She was glad that her father was away--off on another business trip. His presence would have made it impossible. As she tried to get the words straight in her head, she heard her mother calling her. "Lenore, is that you? I'm in here. In the living room. Come on in and tell me all about your first date."
But when Mrs. Benson saw her daughter, disheveled, tear-stained, and covered with sand, the smile froze to her face. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Didn't you go to the choir recital at the school auditorium?" Lenore shook her head numbly. "Well," demanded her mother. "Where did you go? And why are you all dirty? What happened?"
"Oh, Mother," Lenore began, her voice trembling in a vain attempt to control the sobs that were still rising in her throat. "It was terrible. We went to the beach. And he pushed me down beside him. He tore my clothes. And he climbed on top of me. And... " Now that she had begun, the words gushed from her like water from a broken main. But before she could go any further, her mother interrupted.
"No!" she barked, nearly hysterical herself. "Don't say anymore. It isn't the first time a football hero got fresh with a pretty girl. Let's just forget it."
"But, Mother," Lenore wailed, "he didn't only get fresh, he... he raped me."
"What?" her mother demanded, accusingly. "How can you even say such a disgusting thing? It's filthy. It's perverted. I'm ashamed of you."
"But, Mother," she protested. "I didn't do anything wrong. It was him. He... " But her mother interrupted her again.
"Now you stop that," she shrieked, her voice rising to an even more frenzied pitch than that of her daughter. She had to cut her off, had to stop her before she said too much and before it was too late. "It was nothing," she said. "And I want you to forget it." The woman's voice was trembling now, almost out of control.
"But, Mother," Lenore wailed, her eyes brimming with tears, "don't you understand what I'm trying to tell you. I'm not a virgin anymore."
"Shut up." Mrs. Benson screamed, slapping her daughter sharply across the face with a swift swing of her arm. Lenore stopped crying at once, the shock of the stinging blow clearing her head instantly. Her mother was shouting at her now, her lips trembling with rage and her face purple with fury. "I don't ever want to hear you say such a terrible thing again," she commanded. "It isn't true, and you know it! Now I want you to go up to your room and go to sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, you'll see that I'm right. It will be nothing more than a bad dream. You've got to wipe it out of your mind. Wipe it clean." Her voice was calmer now that she was finished shouting away the problem. Her eyes glinted in cold determination, as she added threateningly, "Do you understand?"
Lenore was suddenly startled out of her reverie by a chiming bell and a voice which announced over the hospital public address system, "An intern to admitting. An intern to admitting." She looked up to see the gleaming glass doors of the staff cafeteria looming just in front of her. Two more steps and she would have walked smack into them.
A tall, white-coated figure appeared out of nowhere and opened one of the doors for her. "I was waiting to see if you would wake up before or after hitting the doors," he said, smiling. "That must have been some dream you were having."
Lenore laughed. "Nothing," she said. "I was just thinking."
"Oh, don't try to tell me that," he answered jokingly. "I'm a psychiatrist. I know better."
Dr. Tom Carter's manner was pleasant and casual, putting Lenore at her ease immediately. Grateful for the interruption of her unpleasant recollections, Lenore followed him into the long table-filled room. It smelled good, like fresh coffee and sizzling bacon. The staff cafeteria always bustled with activity, and the noise of chatting voices and tinkling silverware quickly helped the young nurse to forget her depressing reminiscence.
"How about letting me buy you a cup of coffee?" Dr. Carter asked pleasantly. "Place is so crowded, we'll probably end up sitting at the same table anyway."
"All right," Lenore answered. "You get the coffee and I'll try to get a table." She knew of Tom Carter's reputation as a ladies' man, but agreed to sit with him anyway because he had always been a perfect gentleman with her. Like many of the other nurses at the understaffed hospital, Lenore took her weekly turn in the psychiatric service, working regularly under the handsome young psychiatrist. Although she had seen him flirting with other nurses, his arm draped casually over their shoulders or around their waists as he spoke to them, her relationship with him had always been strictly professional. In a way, she almost envied the other nurses. Tom Carter was so charming and handsome that she would have liked to know him better. But over-formality was certainly better than overfamiliarity.
When he joined her a moment later, he sat opposite her and placed a tray of coffee and donuts down on the table between them. "I only have a minute," he said. "Actually, I'm supposed to be on duty."
"Shame on you," she kidded, smiling pleasantly at him.
"Well, it's you that's to blame," he said. "I sneaked off just to see you. Sandy Taylor told me I'd find you here."
"To see me?" Lenore asked, a note of worry coming to her voice. "Is anything wrong?"
"Not at all," he answered. "Not unless you refuse me, that is. I just wanted to ask if you'd come with me tonight to the party at Judy Fuller's house."
The young nurse was a little taken aback by his invitation. She knew that half the nurses in the hospital were chasing after Dr. Carter in hopes of catching him in their nets. And yet she had never even spoken to him except in the line of duty. She couldn't understand why he picked her over all the others. She was flattered by the request, of course, but her first reaction was to turn him down. She hadn't gone out on a real date with a man since that horrible night six years ago on the beach at La Jolla.
Yet, as she looked into Dr. Carter's friendly brown eyes, she felt herself softening. She was twenty-two years old now--not an adolescent kid anymore. Maybe it was time she followed her mother's advice and wiped the horrid memory out of her mind. After all, Judy Fuller was a nurse permanently assigned to the psychiatric service of the Hartford Institute. The guests at the party will probably all be members of the hospital staff, Lenore thought. Nothing out of the way could possibly happen there.
"All right," she said. "But I'll have to be home early. I'm assigned to your service tomorrow, and I can't be late. Heard that the psychiatric resident is a real grouch."
"Midnight at the latest," said Dr. Carter with a smile. Rising from his seat, he added, "I've gotta run now. I'll pick you up around eight."
"Wait a minute," she called. "Don't you want my address?"
"Already know it," he answered, moving quickly toward the cafeteria's double doors.
CHAPTER TWO
Tom Carter whistled merrily as he walked down the hall toward the hospital elevators. Things were going well and he was feeling good. Lenore Benson was one of the best looking girls in the hospital, and he had been keeping his eye on her for some time now. She was different from the rest of the nurses--not pushy or aggressive. And she didn't seem to give a damn about catching herself a doctor husband.
Tom had begun to wonder about her standoffishness, thinking that she might be engaged or otherwise committed to someone on the outside. But Judy Fuller's parties were notorious among the Institute staff--usually turning into chaotic sex orgies before the night was out. And since Lenore must have heard about them, she obviously would not have accepted his invitation unless she was ready and willing to join in the fun.
He closed his eyes for a brief instant, imagining what her full voluptuous body would look like when at last she lay naked and submissive before him at the party. Her soft round tits would be capped by rosy peaks of turgid desire, and her golden-fleeced pussy would glisten with dewy moisture. The young psychiatrist felt his cock stiffening against the crisp white fabric of his uniform trousers and looked furtively around him to see whether anyone had noticed his indiscretion. Seeing that the coast was clear, he approached the elevators and pressed the UP button.
"Hi, Tom," called a friendly feminine voice behind him. Turning quickly, he looked into Sandy Taylor's smiling face. Her arms were filled with charts and X-rays, and for a moment it looked like she was about to drop them all into the polished tile floor.
"Here," he said, relieving her of a few of the bulky folders, "let me give you a hand with that. Which way are you going?"
"Up," she answered, restacking the remaining films and papers so that she could carry them more easily.
"Good," said Tom. "I'll ride with you."
Sandy giggled. "Just as I planned," she said. "I knew that if I looked helpless enough, some handsome young doctor would rush to my assistance. By the way, did you find Lenore?"
"Yep," he answered. "In the cafeteria, just like you said."
"Well," said Sandy. "Maybe it's none of my business, but Lenore's a nice kid. And I think she's got some problems. So go easy on her. Will you?"
"Always the mother hen," Dr. Carter snorted, holding the elevator door open for the pretty head nurse. "What would Sandy Taylor's girls do without her?"
"I'm serious, Tom," Sandy said. Her voice was soft and sincere, making the young psychiatrist pause. He had been very interested in the attractive nursing supervisor at one time, and had learned a great deal about her in the course of his fruitless courtship. Some of it he would rather forget. But one thing was certain: she had an unerring talent for understanding the people with whom she worked. And if she said that a particular nurse had "problems," it was very likely to be true.
When the elevator doors opened onto floor number three, Dr. Carter placed the folders which he was holding neatly on top of the pile in Sandy Taylor's arms. "Third floor," he called, holding the doors open for her. "Geriatrics, Obstetrics, Ladies underwear." Then, as the petite nurse stepped from the elevator, he added in a gentler voice, "Don't worry, Sandy. I'll try not to fracture Lenore's psyche." As the doors closed behind her, he thought, Sure is a shame about Sandy Taylor. I really could have gone for her.
Things had always come easily to Tom Carter, almost from the day he was born. The only child of a wealthy Los Angeles family, he had been the recipient of boundless love and expensive presents for as long as he could remember. His father, Calvin Carter, was a prominent lawyer, as his grandfather had been; but ever since Tom wrapped a bandage around the broken leg of a neighbor's doll at the age of seven, he was expected to follow a career in medicine.
For his tenth birthday, he received an expensive microscope, a gift from his father who believed in setting his son on the right track as early in life as possible. To his father's delight, young Tom fell in love with the instrument, using it to examine everything from a fly's wing to cells scraped from the inside of his own mouth. Calvin, who was overjoyed, told everyone about his brilliant son. And the time Tom made his first appearance at the Country Club, a lean and handsome youth of fourteen, he had already acquired the nickname "Doc."
"Doc" Carter was an unusually intelligent boy, his high school average placing him in the top tenth of his class. But he was less interested in his studies than he was in tennis--a passion which consumed a great deal of his time. Calvin was pleased that his son's good grades came with such little effort. And he strongly favored his son's regular appearance on the club's tennis courts. The elder Carter believed strongly in the need of a "well-rounded" education for every professional man. He considered athletics and social life to be two important aspects in the training of a well rounded man.
For Tom, these two aspects were inexorably woven together. His only friends were the fellows he met on the tennis court, and the bulk of his contact with the opposite sex consisted of brief handshakes after jumping over the net. But Calvin never worried about his son's sexual relationships. He knew that Tom's handsome face and athletic body would soon attract girls to him, like bees to a blossom.
By the time he was sixteen years old, Tom Carter was built like a man. He stood just over six feet tall and his body consisted of one hundred eighty pounds of rippling muscle. His skin was the color of polished copper--the result of hours spent daily playing tennis under the warm Beverly Hills sun. His modishly long dark hair and piercing brown eyes gave him an exotic appearance that drew admiring feminine glances from young girls and older women alike. And, when he stepped out onto the courts, more than one middle-aged mother was heard to remark, "Now, there's the kind of boy you should go after," as she pointed him out to her daughter.
One day, after a particularly grueling match had left his muscular torso glistening with perspiration, one of the wealthy ladies of leisure who frequented the club stopped him on his way to the locker room. "Tom," she called walking swiftly towards him, "Tom Carter."
"Yes, ma'am," he answered, searching his mind for her name. Hesitantly, he said, "It's Mrs. Maynard, isn't it?"
"Yes," she bubbled. "How nice of you to remember. Have you got a minute? There's somebody I'd like you to meet." She led him toward a table, shaded by an aluminum umbrella which rose from its center and tilted in the direction of the sun. Seated at the round metal table, an empty glass in front of her, was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. Her long red hair was pulled back into a loosely tied ponytail, and her skin was even darker than his. She wore a skimpy yellow bikini that revealed every curve and valley of her luscious young body. She looked seventeen or so, but something in her eyes made her appear even older--a look of wisdom, of experience.
"This," said Mrs. Maynard, "is my daughter, Carla. She has been away in Europe, visiting her father. Carla, this is Mister Tom Carter. They call him "Doc" because he's going to be a brilliant doctor some day." Her words embarrassed the sixteen-year-old tennis player and he looked humbly at his feet.
But Carla Maynard flashed him a seductive smile which showed all of her shiny white teeth, and said, "Pleased to meet you, Tom." She extended her hand and he held it warmly in his own. "I hope you won't mind," she said, "if I don't call you Doc. I don't think it suits you half so well as your real name. Tom. Tom." She rolled the monosyllable around on her tongue like a sip of vintage wine. "It's such a strong name," she said. Her voice was soft and husky.
"Thank you," he said, his confidence returning. "I'm very happy to know you, Carla."
"I wonder if you would do me a favor, Tom, darling," said Mrs. Maynard, her voice high pitched and grating. "Carla wants to leave and I want to stay. And Carla doesn't have a California drivers' license. Do you think you might drop her off for me? I'd consider it a personal favor."
"Not at all," Tom said politely. "The pleasure's all mine. Just give me a few minutes to shower and change, and I'll meet you right back here."
"Oh, thank you so much," gushed Mrs. Maynard. But Tom hardly heard her. The warm squeeze that Carla gave his hand as he bounded off to the showers made it impossible for him to think of anything else. When he disappeared inside the locker room door, Mrs. Maynard turned to her attractive daughter. "Didn't I tell you," she cooed. "Just leave everything to Mother. I won't let my little darling get lonesome."
"Thank you, Mother," Carla said automatically. Her eyes were glazed with desire and she licked her dry lips slowly with an elaborate gesture of her tongue. He looks so young and fresh, she thought. She was looking forward to the pleasure of conquest.
When Tom steered his red sports car into her driveway about three-quarters of an hour later, the afternoon sun was at its hottest. "Thank you, Tom," Carla said softly. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your going out of your way to take me home. If you can spare a few minutes, I'd love to have you in for a cold drink." She still wore her yellow bikini, but had thrown a terrycloth beach jacket over her shoulders before getting into Tom's car.
Tom looked into her smiling face, but his eyes could not help straying to the curving swell of her voluminous breasts. "All right," he responded. "I guess I could stand a cold drink."
"Wonderful," Carla said, her voice soft and seductive. "If you'll just show me how to get out of this sardine can, I'll lead the way."
Laughing, Tom reached across her for a little plastic knob that served as a door handle. He couldn't be sure that it was done on purpose, but just as his fingers found the handle, she leaned forward, pressing the softness of her firm tits against his muscular arm. "Hmmmm," she sighed as the door swung open. "I like the way that works."
"Yeah, me too," said Tom, uncertain of her meaning and a little unnerved by her innuendo. He followed close behind her as she walked to the house, his eyes glued to her softly rounded buttocks swaying sensuously from side to side inside the tight yellow wisp of her bikini bottom. She opened the door for him and led him into the living room.
Turning to face him, she unbuttoned the front of her beach jacket, letting it gape open invitingly. The young tennis player could see the full ripe swell of her breasts pushing insistently at the front of her almost nonexistent yellow bra. He was almost certain that he could make out the prominent outline of her puckered nipples against the light nylon material.
"Are you sure that a cold drink is all you'd like?" she asked suggestively. "I can offer you something a lot better."
Tom was confused. "Like what?" he said.
"Like this," she answered. Her voice was husky with desire. Taking a step towards him, she pressed the front of her body against his, moving her shoulders from side to side to massage his chest with the nylon-covered mountains of her tits. Taking his hands, she placed them on her hips. Then, putting her arms around his neck, she pulled his face down to hers, fusing her lips to his in a passionately lingering kiss.
Tom felt a warm rush of dizziness sweep over him and, for a moment, he feared that he might lose his balance. He steadied himself by returning the pressure of her lips and wrapping his arms tightly around her. His burgeoning cock was stiff and throbbing with lustful need. He was embarrassed by its insistent pressure against her bare belly and tried in vain to squirm away from her. But the gyrations of his hips only served to rub the pulsing staff against her erotically. She could feel it tracing a curving line across the silky surface of her naked skin.
Darting her pointy tongue out between her teeth to graze excitingly at his lips and gums, she pressed forward, trapping his hardon tenderly between their clinging bodies. Moving her lips to his ear, she whispered, "Why don't you carry me to the bedroom so that we can be more comfortable."
Lifting her like a feather in his arms, Tom followed the directions which she gave him and brought her to a frilly pink room with a huge canopied bed standing against one wall. "Put me down," she murmured when he stood in the center of the room. He lowered her carefully, setting her feet gently down on the carpet.
She immediately removed her terrycloth beach robe and tossed it to the floor in a corner of the room. Then, before Tom had a chance to think about what was happening, she reached behind her and unsnapped the bra of her brief yellow bikini. With a dramatic shrug of her shoulders, she tossed the tiny wisp from her body, posing before him completely naked except for the little yellow triangle of fabric which covered her furry crotch.
Tom held his breath for a long aching minute, afraid to do anything which might shatter the erotic bubble of wonderful illusion. The entire room seemed to be spinning around him and he felt like he might fall over any minute. "Relax, Tom," whispered Carla, as though reading his mind. "I'm real. And I'm not going anywhere. Wouldn't you like to touch me?" She cupped her large pendulous breasts with her hands, offering them up for the teen-ager's examination.
Allowing the rosy nipples to poke out through circles made by her thumbs and forefingers, she squeezed gently to embellish their turgid erection. She looked pointedly at the bulging front of Tom's trousers and said, "Why don't you get comfortable, too?" But Tom stood perfectly still, transfixed by the obscene loveliness of her nude body. Then, taking a tentative step forward, he placed his hands over hers on the swelling prominence of her creamy tits. He could feel the puckered nipples stabbing at his palms, singeing them with the heat of her passion.
Carla's hands slipped out from under his, leaving him in exclusive possession of her hard-nippled boobies, and began working at the ties which held her brief bikini bottom together. Pulling deftly on the ends of the looped ribbons, she undid the bows and allowed the wispy garment to slip from her body. Then, she moved her hands to the front of his pants, opening the snap which fastened the waistband and tugging anxiously at his zipper. Seconds later, Tom felt the cool air of the room wash over the naked length of his throbbing hardon.
He drew his breath in sharply as her fingers closed gently around its throbbing girth. She held his cock loosely in her hand and stroked it slowly up and down, her nipples hardening to painful erection at his involuntary groan of pleasured surprise. She felt him struggling to remove his shirt while she jerked him off. Then his naked body was pressed erotically against her once more, the turgid nipples of her tits drilling into his muscular chest.
Clasping her arms about his neck, she lifted herself up onto his body, her legs wrapped sensuously around his muscular thighs. He could feel the bobbing head of his rubbery cock brushing against her buttocks as she lowered herself above it. Rolling her hips and setting the lower part of her body in motion, she guided her pouting pussy into position directly over the swollen head of his erect young cock.
Tom could feel the damp membranes of her flowering vulva grazing across the palpitating surface of his bulbous cockhead. He had never imagined that anything could feel so soft or so smooth. For a moment, he wanted to throw her back onto the bed and stare fascinated into the drooling red slash. But, as his cock began to find its way between the slimy lips, he closed his eyes and abandoned himself completely to tactile stimulation.
Slowly and skillfully, Carla moved her curvaceous young body, bathing his throbbing dick in the sweet-flowing warmth of her clinging vaginal depths. He could feel the cloying softness of the convoluting rolls of cuntflesh parting before the relentless onslaught of his blood-engorged probe. Then, suddenly and without warning, Carla let her legs go limp, dropping heavily down onto the base of his erect cock.
She felt the hairy mat which upholstered his loins scouring at the softly swelling mound of her quivering clit, and she knew that she had hit rock bottom, his dick plowing as far as it could go. He had a long, muscular cock, this teen-aged athlete. It was as thick as the handle of a tennis racket and even harder. Lifting herself up with a rolling motion that rubbed the shank of his prick erotically, she resolved to ride the youthful tool until it withered like a dead flower, and shriveled to the size of a peanut.
But her work was laid out for her. For Tom, who was learning quickly, had already taken control of the situation. Cupping her firm ass cheeks in the palms of his hands, he used them like handles to manipulate her writhing body. He raised and lowered her ass methodically, stroking his swollen cock with her pussy. He could feel the tension building in his scrotum--a tension which had taken sixteen years to come into being but which he already knew would be discharged within a matter of minutes. He could feel her tits squashing against the sweat-moistened surface of his chest as she rolled her body against him.
Carla felt her naked ass being lifted and lowered like a leaf fluttering in a storm--the muscular young tennis player handling her easily, as if she were filled with air. His thick pole of meat skewered into her pussy, stretching out all its wrinkles and impaling it cruelly on his glistening shaft. She could feel her cuntal membranes stretching elastically around him as his cock drove deep inside her. Then, as he lifted her body, his dick withdrew slowly and tantalizingly from her pussy, leaving nothing but the rubbery purple knob remaining within the warm, honeyed slash.
She felt the waves of her orgasm building in her cunt, gathering intensity like a rolling snowball until she thought that her whole body would explode. His cock was reaming her cunt mercilessly, drilling in and out of the pouting gash like a speeding piston in a powerful steam engine. Each plunging thrust brought the hot load of cum that bloated his swaying scrotum a few millimeters closer to the dilating hole at the end of his dick.
"Ooooooooooh," she moaned, the first crashing wave of climax breaking over her and threatening to drown her in the all-encompassing bliss of orgasmic fulfillment. "Ooooooh, don't stop pumping. Oh, fill me! Thrill me! Ooooooh, Tom. Ooooh, FUCK ME. YES, FUCK ME. FUCK ME. FUCK ME." The air was filled with her uncontrollable pleas for cock as her mind reeled in the rolling throes of glorious orgasm.
Her obscene commands and her lewd supplications carried the teen-ager over the brink, a long whirling spurt of semen shooting powerfully from the end of his driving cock and greasing the contracting walls of her tight young pussy with its slimy moisture. "Aaaaaaaagh," he moaned as the pumping jets of bliss carried all the tension away from his body, filling her with his lewd juices until her brimming pussy overflowed and thick rivulets of creamy white moisture flowed unchecked down his straining legs and over his swinging sac of nuts.
Their erotic duet of grunts and groans filled the room with disharmonious sounds of lust and desire as their strong young bodies bucked and rolled in the throes of climactic fulfillment. Even after his balls had been milked dry, Tom continued to raise and lower her smooth white ass, raking at the softening shank of his hardon with the still-clinging lips of her well-filled twat. When at last his cock was completely deflated, it plopped from her cunt with an obscene slurping sound.
Fatigued and a little winded, Tom duck-walked toward Carla's frilly pink bed, her legs still wrapped around his thighs. Together they fell across it, their chests heaving with the panting effort at catching their breath. Tom didn't get home that night until long after supper, Mrs.
Maynard calling conveniently to advise her daughter that she would be staying late at the club. She knew that Carla would do the same for her.
After his initiation in Carla's fancy bedroom, Tom had no trouble finding girls who were willing to help him continue his education. And it wasn't long before he was teaching them a few tricks of his own. All through college, and even, to some extent, in medical school, Tom's quick mind and absorbent memory enabled him to spend far less time at the books than his fellow students. And he filled his surplus hours with sports--the indoor kind having replaced tennis as his favorite.
His good looks, his charming personality, his easy, confident manner, and the wealth of his family all combined to make him desirable to members of the opposite sex. And he had the good sense to capitalize on his assets by making himself available for pleasure at all times, until he began his internship two years ago and a tight schedule put a serious crimp in his leisure activities.
But he soon found that the hospital was a fertile field for cunt-hunting and learned to take advantage of every possible opportunity to sink his dick into the willing bodies of any woman who made themselves available to him. Many of the hospital nurses were so anxious to establish contact with an eligible young doctor that coffee-break fucks in crowded broom closets became daily events in his routine as an intern.
Now that he had earned the title of "resident," however, he was more in control of his own schedule and had been able to go back to more leisurely forms of sexual enjoyment. At the age of twenty-six, he was considered young for a psychiatrist. And, since a resident was generally considered to be a much better catch than an intern, he found himself with an even bigger selection of women to choose from. All in all, it was a pretty good life.
When the doors of the elevator opened onto the sixth floor, Tom stepped briskly out into the corridor, headed for his office in the psychiatric service. When he sneaked away, just fifteen minutes before, everything was calm and in order. But he knew that conditions on the sixth floor were always subject to violent and unexpected change. So when Judy Fuller, the nurse-in-charge, ran toward him, a frightened look in her eyes, he was not the least surprised.
"Oh, Doctor Carter," she said, using the formal address which hospital rules required of all staff members in the psychiatric service, "am I glad to see you."
"Yes, Nurse?" he said, addressing her formally but winking familiarly at her. "What's the problem?" Judy was a hot little number whom he had screwed a number of times in the past couple of years. When he thought about her sexy antics between the sheets, the look of worry that clouded her pretty face seemed quite out of character.
"It's Johnson," she said. "One of the candy stripers went into Ward D alone, and he's holding her prisoner. Says he won't let her go until he sees you personally."
"Has he hurt her?" Carter asked anxiously.
"No," answered the nurse. "Not yet, anyway. But she's crying hysterically and, if we don't do something fast, I think she might end up as a patient herself."
"Balls," he muttered angrily. "Why don't those fucking volunteers stick to pediatrics or O.B.S. Nobody belongs in this service unless he's received special training. But those damn candy stripers are everywhere." In a falsetto imitation of woman's speech, he mockingly said, "Would you like some magazines, some books, some candy?" Then, dropping his voice to its normal level, he punctuated the impersonation with murmured, "Shit!"
Most of the inpatients in the psychiatric service were perfectly harmless--suffering, like the other patients in the hospital, from a variety of treatable diseases. But those confined to Ward D were in a special category. Because of the unpredictable nature of their illnesses, they had to be kept under some form of physical restraint to prevent them from menacing themselves and the people around them. A strict rule of the floor prohibited anyone from entering Ward D alone. And another required all non-medical and non-nursing personnel to obtain special permission before going into the ward, even if accompanied by another person. There was simply no excuse for the crisis that had been precipitated by the thoughtless act of the hospital volunteer.
And the worst part of all was that Johnson, the patient into whose clutches she had fallen, was probably the most dangerous person in the hospital. He suffered from a form of schizophrenia which left him vacillating between periods of catatonic stupor and periods of irrational activity. During his catatonic phase, Johnson would stare sightlessly at the wall in front of him, drooling uncontrollably. He would neither move nor speak, not eating for days at a time, and not responding to any external stimuli. When he was in this condition, he was no more dangerous that a chair.
But, during his active phases, he was totally unpredictable, and capable of acts of extreme violence and brutality. The psychiatric staff had been completely unable to progress in the treatment of his illness, and, for the most part, the hospital attempted to do little more than restrain him and keep him comfortable, quieting his violent moments with large doses of tranquilizing drugs.
"Are there any orderlies around?" Tom asked, ever-mindful of the rule which prohibited entering the ward alone.
"No," answered the nurse. "I guess it'll have to be me."
"All right," said the doctor reluctantly. "There's no time to lose. But remember, stay far enough back so that he can't get his hands on you. And have a hypo full of thorazine ready to shoot into him the minute it becomes necessary."
"Yes, sir," said Judy Fuller, running to get the syringe he had ordered. A moment later they were walking together into Ward D, peering carefully through the barred windows of the little cubicles into which the patients were separated.
At last they came to the one containing Johnson. The big man was weeping bitterly, his powerful hands clutched tightly at the wrists of a gray-haired woman who wore the candy-striped uniform of a hospital volunteer.
"Johnson," called the doctor. "It's me, Doctor Carter. Now how about letting the nice lady go and telling me what you've got on your mind?"
When he heard the sound of his doctor's voice, the weeping patient looked up, letting go of the candy striper's wrists. She moved cautiously toward the door and stepped quickly through it when Dr. Carter yanked it open. "Now, what's the problem, Johnson?" he asked.
"My orange juice," wailed the patient. "The nurse promised that I could have orange juice. And then she never brought it." As he spoke, his voice shook with pathetic sobs of disappointment.
"Johnson," Dr. Carter said softly, "that was five days ago. And when she brought you the orange juice you were catatonic. Don't you remember?"
"I want my orange juice," moaned Johnson, his mind closed to reason.
"All right," said the doctor. "I'll see that you get it. Now I want you to hold out your arm for your medicine." Taking the hypodermic from Judy Fuller, the young psychiatrist stepped quickly into the room and jabbed it into his patient's extended arm. Locking the door behind him as he left the little room, he said to the nurse in a voice loud enough for Johnson to hear, "Have a couple of orderlies bring him some orange juice." Under his breath he added. "And they say an elephant never forgets."
By this time all of Ward D had come alive and the isolated patients began screaming and howling like a cage full of zoo animals at feeding time. The candy striper cringed in terror, but the doctor and the nurse ignored the racket. It was fairly commonplace on the sixth floor, and the staff members grew accustomed to it like a jet pilot to the sound of his engine. Turning angrily to the hospital volunteer, Dr. Carter snapped, in a voice loud enough to be heard over the patient's anguished cacophony, "I should have left you there with him. Don't you realize that you risked your life, mine, the patient's, and that of the nurse-in-charge just because you couldn't follow a simple set of rules?"
"I'm sorry, Doctor," the gray-haired woman said, her voice barely audible against the background of terrified shouts and unreasoning screams issuing from behind the locked door of Ward D.
"All right," said Carter, softening his tone. "I don't have time to scold you anymore. The natives are getting restless."
CHAPTER THREE
Judy Fuller's dark eyes flashed as she looked anxiously around her smoke-filled living room. It had all the makings of a good party. Most of the fun people from the Institute were there, but the one for whom she had put on her tightest black pants and her sexiest white sweater had not yet arrived. Although Judy's unabashed quest for a doctor-husband had led her into the beds of most of the members of the hospitals medical staff, the one doctor who interested her most was Dr. Tom Carter.
Tom Carter was certainly the best-looking resident in the hospital. His full sensuous lips and strong masculine arms had thrilled Judy on more than one occasion. But he had more than good looks: his family was said to be rolling in money. Even as an intern, all his white hospital uniforms had been custom-made. Besides, everyone said he was brilliant. It probably wouldn't be long before he had built a busy and prosperous practice, charging patients one hundred dollars an hour to listen to their imaginary troubles. The thought of being Mrs. Wealthy Psychiatrist thrilled Judy even more than the recollection of Dr. Carter's thick, muscular cock.
She remembered the first time that he made love to her. She was slinging bedpans in the Geriatric service and he had just begun working as an intern. When their duties brought them together at a patient's bed, Tom's elbow accidentally brushed across Judy's mountainous bosom. Her nipples puckered instantly to throbbing rigidity in response to the innocent contact. And, within an hour, she managed to lure him into the third floor maintenance closet where, without a word of introductory formality, she stepped out of her panties and lifted her skirt.
He had already driven his cock deep into the warmth of her clasping pussy when they finally got around to telling each other their names. You might say it was lust at first sight, she thought sardonically. But Judy's introduction to the young Dr. Carter was, in fact, no less formal than her first feelings with most of the other members of the hospital's medical staff.
In fact, it was joked around the Institute that Judy Fuller greeted all new interns with her pussy even before Dr. Hartford, the chief administrator, welcomed them with his dead-fish handshake and tepid message of congratulations. She enjoyed the reputation, going out of her way to make herself the foxiest and most attractive woman in the hospital. She always dieted strictly, knowing that she had a tendency to run to fat. This was evidenced by her tits which were full, round, and the size of melons, in spite of the fact that her limited intake of calories made the rest of her body petite.
Standing just under five feet and weighing less than one hundred pounds, she was able to buy most of her pants and skirts in stores that catered to the early teen and Junior Miss set. As a result, her clothing was always styled youthfully, highlighting her soft and curvaceous body erotically. Her long black hair, which she always wore loose when not on duty, hung nearly to her waist. Its raven sheen contrasted sharply with the sensuous whiteness of her skin.
Hearing the doorbell, Judy zigzagged her way through the chattering throng of doctors and nurses who were sipping cocktails in her smoky living room. She moved her body with a practiced wiggle, brushing her softly rounded tits against the arms and bodies of her male guests whenever possible as she crossed the room. She hoped that it was Tom Carter at the door. And she hoped that he was alone.
"Hi," she sang huskily, throwing the door open. But the welcoming smile froze to her face when she saw that Dr. Carter had brought a date. It was Lenore Benson, one of the rotating nurses who worked beside Judy in the psych service once a week. Never even saw her look twice at him, she thought. But, as she regained her composure, she returned the mask of cordiality to her face and said, "Hi, folks. Glad you could make it. Come on in and grab a drink."
She kissed Tom Carter lightly on the cheek and slipped her arm through the crook of his elbow. Lenore, for a reason which she did not fully comprehend, felt her cheeks reddening with jealous anger at Judy's familiarity with Tom Carter. She had only been with him for a short time, but he was affecting her as no one ever had before. And she found that she suddenly feared losing him to Judy Fuller for the evening.
Some of Lenore's confidence returned, however, when Tom disengaged himself from Judy's clutching grasp and said, "Lenore, you know Judy Fuller, don't you? Judy, Lenore Benson."
"Hi," Lenore said, trying her best to cover her annoyance. "Sure we know each other. I work under Judy every week in your service."
"Not under me,"-Judy said smiling. "With me." Although she wasn't ready to give up completely on Tom Carter, Judy wanted to be sure that she wouldn't spend the rest of the night alone. As she spoke, her eyes swept the room in search of any unescorted doctor. Spotting Al Baker standing alone at the other end of the room, she said, "Why don't you guys get yourselves a couple of drinks. I'll see you in a few minutes."
When she left them, Lenore and Tom began moving slowly through the crowd, saying hello to their acquaintances from the hospital. Tom knew everyone, greeting the men with a warm handshake and the women with a quick peck on the cheek. But Lenore found that, although most of the faces were familiar, she didn't really know anybody there. So she just tagged along after Tom, smiling automatically whenever anyone appeared to recognize her. She didn't usually socialize and was feeling a little awkward.
She had been walking on a nervous cloud ever since Tom met her in the staff cafeteria to ask her out. As soon as she finished her shift, she rushed home to hurry through her shower and into her clothes. Her apartment was small--just a one-room studio. And if she wasn't ready when Tom arrived, she would have to keep him waiting out in the hall. So she barely took time to fix her hair, brushing it quickly and letting it hang loose behind her. And when he knocked at her door, promptly at eight o'clock, she had already been waiting fifteen minutes.
When she heard his knock, she threw open the door and stepped quickly out into the hall. "Hi," she said, her voice cheerful as she shut the lights and closed the door behind her.
"Wow!" said Dr. Carter. "I've never known that to happen before. Don't you know that a lady is supposed to keep a gentleman waiting?"
Lenore laughed. "No," she said, "you've got it backwards. It's a gentleman who's not supposed to keep a lady waiting." Then, pausing, she wrinkled her brow and added, "I think."
Tom grinned. There was something about her that he found quaint and charming: an innocent quality which was lacking in most of the girls he knew. The way she had rushed from her apartment and slammed the door behind her was positively old-fashioned--as though she feared that letting him see the inside of her room would compromise her and spell the loss of her reputation. He was intrigued. Her naivete just didn't go with her seductive blue eyes and her softly inviting body. But it aroused and excited him in a strange new way.
But then, as he remembered Judy Fuller's last party, he thought, I hope she isn't too old-fashioned. Before it had ended, half the women present had stripped and were dancing naked in the dim light. And groups of two or three couples at a time were flocking to the bedroom, making use of whatever empty space they could find. Tom's cock began to stir as he pictured Lenore against such a background. But that would come later. First he had to overcome her nervous reserve.
"Listen," he said. "If I know anything about Judy's parties, were going to be quite early. So why don't we stop off somewhere for a drink. It'll give us a chance to get better acquainted."
"Sounds like a wonderful idea," Lenore said. She was still nervous. After all, it was practically her first date. But something about Tom Carter's friendly manner and confident, casual tone of voice was gradually putting her at her ease.
They drove to a small, dimly lit cocktail lounge where a red-jacketed bartender greeted Tom with a cheery, "Hiya, Doc."
"Evening, Fred," Tom answered. "We'll sit here, if you don't mind." He led Lenore to a secluded table in a corner, pulling out her chair and then moving around to sit opposite her. They ordered, and, a moment later, the bartender placed their drinks before them and left them alone.
They chatted quietly while they sipped their drinks, Tom signaling for another round as soon as their glasses were empty. Lenore did most of the talking, telling Tom about the path her career had taken since she came to the Hartford Institute directly from nursing school two years ago. She found him a willing listener and rambled on as though she had known him for years.
Tom found her verbosity refreshing. Most of the nurses he went out with wanted him to do all the talking. They pumped him with innocent sounding questions while they mentally calculated his present and potential wealth. But Lenore Benson seemed to be motivated by nothing more than a sincere desire for friendly communication--that and an insecurity common to many people.
He listened while she talked, his psychiatrist's mind finding significance where another person might have thought none existed. He viewed her chatter as an obvious device, a self-protection mechanism by which she attempted to hide her fears from the world's prying eyes.
What the hell, he thought. Everybody's a little insecure. It's not half as bad as the games some people play. But he couldn't help remembering Sandy Taylor's warning. A girl with problems, she said. Catching the bartender's attention, he signaled for two more drinks.
When the bartender placed a new glass in front of Lenore, she looked at it in alarm. "Oh, I don't think I should," she said. "I've already had two and I'm not really much of a drinker."
"Can't have him pour it back into the bottle," said Tom. "Wouldn't be sanitary. I ought to know. I'm a doctor." Lenore laughed, his confident voice putting her, once more, at her ease. "Come on," he said. "Just this one, and then we'll be on our way. Don't want to miss all the action." As if to set an example, he raised his own glass to his lips and drained the amber liquid in one long swallow, looking quickly at his watch as he put the empty glass down. Lenore, not wanting to keep him waiting, did the same.
As the fiery liquid went down her throat, she felt a sudden rush of dizziness passing across her. She tightened her grip around the glass, as if it were a banister and she was trying to steady herself against it. But, as the liquor's creeping warmth spread through her body, the sensation of vertigo left her and she found herself suffused with a poised feeling of confidence. "Ready whenever you are," she said, giggling without knowing the reason why.
Now, as she watched Tom take a bottle from the long table in Judy's living room, Lenore felt like she was floating on air. Her head was spinning wildly, and the sounds of chatter which filled the room came to her ears in disjointed snatches, making them appear meaningless and comical. She giggled as she took the glass that Tom handed her, raising it to her lips for a long, thirsty sip. It didn't burn anymore on the way down. Lenore felt a wave of numbness lulling her into a comfortable state of relaxation.
She was beginning to look around her in amused interest when Judy Fuller suddenly appeared beside them. She hugged Tom tightly, pressing the softly rounded swell of her magnificent boobs against his chest. Then, stepping back demurely, she asked, "Did you find everything you wanted?"
"Just about," Dr. Carter answered, amused more than excited by her overtly seductive antics.
"Good," she said, licking her lips suggestively. "If you think of anything else you want, just ask." Then, before she slipped away to mingle with her other guests, she added, "We'll be showing some movies in the other room in a little while, if you're interested."
Tom laughed, turning to Lenore as Judy faded into the crowd. "She's too much," he said, taking another sip from his glass.
"I'll say," Lenore answered softly. She had never seen anyone act as bold or as forward as Judy Fuller. The dark-haired nurse's suggestive intent was obvious, yet her dark, exotic beauty kept her from appearing cheap or tawdry. In a way, Lenore envied her. Unlike herself, Judy was not insecure or shy. And she was clearly not nervous about meeting and associating with other people--especially men. "What sort of movies was she talking about?" Lenore asked naively.
"Oh, you never know," Tom answered, his voice noncommittal. "Judy's liable to come up with anything. She's had everything. From Mickey Mouse cartoons to a training film on tri-fetal Caesarian section." They laughed together. "Would you like to have a look?"
"Sure," answered Lenore. "Why not?" The drinks were making her feel loose, and movies sounded like fun. Maybe there would be something humorous. Laughing with Tom Carter was giving her a warm feeling of comfort and security.
"Think you'd better have another drink first," he warned. "Who knows. We might need it." He picked up the bottle and refilled their glasses. As they stood at the refreshment table, Lenore noticed that the number of people in the living room had diminished, most of those who remained sitting around drinking and chatting quietly. A stereo was playing softly in the background and two couples were dancing, their bodies swaying sensuously to a slow but rhythmic ballad.
"Hey," Tom said, also looking at the thinning crowd. "We'd better get in there or there won't be any seats left." He had a pretty good idea of what kind of movies Judy would be showing. She had run Mickey Mouse cartoons and surgical training films, all right. But only as a gag, slipping them in between her regular fare of motion picture entertainment. One of her friends was in the "stag film" business, and Judy delighted in screening his product at her parties. It was a foolproof icebreaker, guaranteed to set any group of people in motion.
Taking Lenore's hand, Tom led her across the living room and through a doorway leading to Judy's bedroom. He knew the way well, having been over the course many times. The bedroom was crowded with people, most of whom were sitting cross-legged on the floor, lounging across Judy's king-sized bed, or leaning against the walls. A white sheet, tacked up on one wall, served as a movie screen.
Judy was bent over a projector which was balanced precariously on one of her night tables. She was threading the film carefully through its gears and sprockets, a look of intense concentration on her attractive face. Finished at last, she glanced up, reaching for the switch on the wall behind her. "I think you're going to like this one," she said. "Here we go." Flipping the switch, she plunged the room into darkness.
A moment later, the projector cast a broad beam of bright white light at the improvised screen. Tom took advantage of the sudden illumination to guide Lenore carefully to a vacant corner of Judy's bed. Sitting down, she moved her bottom all the way over, making room for him to sit next to her. "Crowded theater," she whispered, nudging Tom gently with her elbow and laughing. She felt giddy, lightheaded, from the combination of alcohol and Tom's company. She looked up at the screen as a title passed slowly across it. "THE HAPPY HOUSEWIFE," it read.
The film was in color and each letter of the title was a different hue. When they faded from the screen, the scene opened on a kitchen. First the camera focused on the stove, the sink, and the refrigerator, moving slowly from one to the other. Then it zoomed back for a shot of a woman standing next to a bucket of soapy water with a mop in her hands. She moved it slowly across the floor, obviously not enjoying her work.
The woman was clad only in her underwear, lacy panties of pale blue and a matching bra which was brief enough to reveal the soft contours of her creamy breasts. Her hair was long and red, hanging loosely about her bare shoulders and highlighting the freckled softness of her silky skin.
Lenore giggled again, nudging Tom. "Wonder if it's rated R," she whispered. One of the other people sitting on the bed heard her and laughed.
"X, more likely," he said. Some of the others in the room tittered.
The woman on the screen was waving her hips sensuously as she swung the mop. Her back was to the camera now, and Lenore could see her firm buttocks wiggle erotically under the taut blue material of her panties.
Must be a burlesque comedy, she thought. I hope it isn't too racy. The suggestive motions that the mopping woman was making with her nearly naked body were embarrassing her. But not wanting Tom to think her unsophisticated, she said nothing and continued looking at the screen.
The woman seemed to be moving the mop handle against her now, deliberately rubbing its blunt end across the front of her panties. Lenore blinked hard, unable to believe what she was seeing. Then the scene changed abruptly to depict a briefcase carrying man wearing a business suit and striding up a front walk. As soon as he knocked on a door, the camera returned to the nearly naked woman. She was straddling the mop handle now, and moving it sensuously across the pouting prominence of her sex. Lenore was aghast.
Everyone laughed as a title flashed quickly across the screen. "Coming," it said. Lenore looked around in confusion, unable to see why everyone found it funny. Her attention was attracted to the screen once more when the scene again shifted. This time, a uniformed man was seen approaching what was obviously a back door. His visored cap had the word DAIRY printed across its front and he carried two bottles of milk in his hand. He too knocked on the door.
The woman with the mop reappeared again, an exasperated look on her face. She dropped the mop and raised her arms in confusion. "I CAN'T ANSWER THEM BOTH," read the title. It was followed by another which read "COME IN. DOOR'S OPEN." A moment later the two men entered her kitchen through doors at opposite sides of the screen. They stopped, looked at her, and then looked at each other.
The one in the suit held up his briefcase and spoke. "WANNA BUY SOME INSURANCE?" read the title. The woman looked at him, licking her lips slowly and elaborately. Behind her, the milkman was staring at her curving buttocks and rubbing a bulge at the front of his trousers.
Lenore couldn't believe her eyes. Although she had heard about movies like this, she never would have imagined that the well-educated and supposedly well-bred doctors and nurses who worked at Hartford would gather to look at them. She was shocked, her first impulse being to rise to her feet and run quickly from the room. Yet something about the obscene film fascinated her. She found herself staring at the screen, her throat suddenly parched and dry. She sipped at her tepid drink, but the amber liquid failed to quench her thirst.
By now the milkman had put down his bottles and was beginning to work at the clasp of the woman's bra with his fingers. She was similarly occupied with the insurance salesman's fly. An audible gasp swept across the room as her pale blue undergarment fell away from her body, revealing the naked softness of her pink-nippled tits. A moment later the salesman's cock popped out of the open front of his pants. It was long and thick, and throbbed a deep crimson.
Lenore moaned involuntarily at the sight of it. This whole thing was going further than she anticipated. She simply couldn't stay in this room another minute. But she didn't say a word, her eyes glued to the screen as the milkman slowly peeled the brief blue panties from the obscene woman's loins. Her thickly curling patch of flaming red pubic hair filled the screen for a moment as the camera zoomed in for a shot of her fragrant slash. Lenore could see its pouting red lips, moist and ragged, through a chink in the downy fleece.
Turning to face the salesman, the woman bent forward at the waist, bringing her mouth within inches of his throbbing erection. She looked up at the camera and winked, wetting her lips with a f tantalizingly erotic movement of her long pink I tongue. Behind her, the milkman had unbuckled and removed his pants. His own throbbing erection was jutting stiff and strong from the front of his body.
Lenore was horrified. Something deep inside her continued to hope for a punch line that would turn this whole lewd spectacle into a vulgar but harmless dirty joke. But she knew that it was not so. Although she had never seen one before, she recognized the film for what it was: a pornographic movie designed to arouse and inflame the passions, to excite the unwary, and to endanger the weak. She knew that if she continued to watch it, she too would be in danger of falling into its trap.
But still she could not tear her eyes from the screen. The redheaded housewife opened her mouth wide, bringing it closer and closer to the salesman's swollen cock. It looked almost as though she was getting ready to take the rigid member into her mouth. Lenore's eyes opened wide in astonishment. It can't be, she thought. It just can't be. But it was.
The film heroine moved closer to her palpitating objective until, finally, her lips made faint, grazing contact with its bulbous head. One glistening drop of pearly lubricant oozed from the tight little cum-hole at its tip, and the camera zoomed in for a quick shot of the viscous goo. Then, as it moved back for another long shot, the milkman could be seen moving toward the bent-over housewife. He held his thickly throbbing penis in his hand, approaching her slowly. Then he guided his cock deftly into the sucking woman's cunt, entering through the back door.
Lenore's body was moving involuntarily, writhing slowly in an effort to still the tingling itch which was beginning to spread throughout her entire pelvic plane. It began at the center of her moist hot pussy and radiated, like light from the sun, to her belly and thighs. She wanted to rub her pubic mound with her hands in an effort to control the discomforting irritation, but she was afraid that Tom might see her. She felt her breathing get heavier as she watched the naked milkman straining to work his burgeoning prick into the soft wetness of the woman's pussy.
"Tom," she said suddenly, tearing her eyes from the screen with a mighty effort of her will. At the sound of her voice, Dr. Carter turned to face her. "I want to leave," she said. Her lips were trembling in spite of all her efforts to remain steady.
"Certainly," he said, rising from the bed and helping her to her feet. Careful not to step on any of the people who were sitting on the floor around them, he led her to the door and into the relatively bright light of Judy's living room. Lenore stopped for a minute, blinking her eyes and trying to adjust to the sudden change in illumination.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I just couldn't look at any more of that. I hope you'll understand."
"Of course," he said. "Would you like to sit in here and have another drink?"
Lenore looked around at the people in the living room. Two of them, a nurse she recognized and a man she had never seen before, were sprawled across the couch, their arms entangled around each other. The man's hand was inside the woman's blouse. She was moaning softly and rubbing her body against his. Lenore was certain that she could see the movements of the man's fingers, rolling and tweaking her nipples under her clothing.
Averting her gaze, Lenore looked to the other side of the room where a couple, whom she recognized but did not know, were leaning against a wall kissing. Lenore could see the bulging outline of the man's erect penis against the front of his trousers as he moved his lips around in a circle, stroking the woman's belly with it. His hands were moving freely across the curving melons of her buttocks, pinching and squeezing their ripe firmness as she rolled her body against his.
The liquor which Lenore had drunk was making her dizzy, and the room was spinning around her. Ever since she sat down on the bed in the other room, the world around her had become some kind of hazy pornographic movie. She wasn't really sure that any of it was really happening, and she was beginning to fear that she might be losing her mind.
Tears rolling down her cheeks, she looked at her date and sobbed, "I'm sorry, Tom. I want to go home."
"Of course," he said. "Did you have a coat?"
She shook her head woodenly, her chin trembling and her throat choked with sobs. "Then let's go." Taking her elbow, he propelled her towards the door, not even bothering to say good-bye to the people in the room. Outside, he stopped for a minute and took her chin in his mind. "Just relax and take a deep breath," he said. His authoritative tone, the result of three years as a hospital physician, helped her to regain control of herself and she stopped sobbing. "There," he said. "That's better. You don't even have to talk about it if you don't want to."
He led her to his car and opened the door for her. Sliding in next to her on the driver's side, he put the key in the ignition and started the engine. "I guess I should apologize," he said. "I thought everybody knew about Judy's parties."
"That's all right," Lenore said softly. She didn't want to discuss it any further. She stared out the window, riding in silence through the quiet streets of San Diego. Judy Fuller lived several miles from the hospital, while Lenore's apartment was only a few blocks away. It took about fifteen minutes for Tom to cover the distance. When he turned into Lenore's block, he slowed, clearing his throat to speak.
"I think that I misunderstood you until tonight," he said, his voice soft and sincere. "I just sort of assumed that you were like all the other nurses I've ever known. But after spending the evening with you, and after what happened at the party, I see that I was wrong. And I'm glad. I like you, Lenore. And I hope you'll go out with me again, soon. I promise I won't make the same mistake twice."
"I don't know," she said, her voice quavering. I'm a little confused right now." Tom pulled the car up against the curb in front of her apartment building and cut the engine. "No," she said. "Please don't walk me in. It isn't late." Opening her door, she stepped out of the car and rushed into the building, climbing the stairs quickly. As soon as she disappeared inside, Tom Carter drove off.
When Lenore shut her apartment door behind her, she was shaking like a leaf. She stood with her back against it for a long unsteady moment, as though fearing that the world would come crashing in on her if she dropped her guard. Finally, walking to her battered convertible sofa, she sank heavily down into its cushions. She felt terrible about the way the evening had ended. She liked Tom Carter. He didn't act like other men, pawing and grabbing at her every time they got the chance. He was cultured and genteel. She had enjoyed his company, finding him witty and intelligent.
But his attitudes confused and confounded her. His response to the lascivious pornographic display in Judy Fuller's bedroom had been casual, almost unconcerned. And, although he said he was sorry, his tone of voice upon leaving the party was more forgiving than apologetic. She didn't understand him--didn't understand him at all. But she knew that she liked him. And she was sure that she wanted to see more of him.
Only she didn't know if she'd ever have the courage to face him again after making him take her home early and then running from him out in the street without even saying good night.
CHAPTER FOUR
After Tom Carter had dropped Lenore at her apartment building, he drove around aimlessly for a while, not really knowing which way to go. It was too early to go home. He wasn't tired, and the scene at Judy's had left him with a restless feeling. His balls ached naggingly, and the semierection of his penis was pulsatingly persistent. His strike-out with Lenore was a frustrating finish to what had started out as a highly promising evening. For a while there, he had been sure that he would soon be adding Lenore Benson's name to his burgeoning list of romantic conquests. But her violently negative reaction to the stag film came as a complete surprise.
She looked interested enough at first, sipping her drink nervously while gazing wide-eyed at the erotic plot unfolding on the makeshift screen. The way she kept wiggling her ass around on the bed convinced him that she was becoming aroused. When she told him that she wanted to leave, he misunderstood her, taking it as a sign that she was ready for action and asking him to take her someplace where they could be alone.
But her tearful shock at the sight of the harmless petting going on in the living room told him that something powerful and ugly was hiding deep inside her, tormenting her and making her life a hell on earth. He realized that unless she could learn to deal with whatever it was, to face it squarely and come to grips with herself over it, there would always be a barrier between them.
He resolved to do whatever he could to help save her from the gremlin of psychic trauma that haunted her consciousness. But his throbbing cock diverted his attention from her problem. He had some of his own. And right now he faced the more pressing one of saving himself from the gremlin of sexual frustration. Stopping for a traffic light, he glanced quickly at his watch. It was almost eleven--too late to line up another date. His mind drifted back to the party and to the way Judy Fuller had thrown herself at him whenever they spoke.
His cock burgeoned as he remembered the softness of her breasts under her sweater. "If you think of anything you want," she said, "just ask." Suddenly Tom knew exactly what he wanted. And Judy Fuller was carrying it around in the crotch of her skintight pants. Tom's swollen cock jerked at the thought of her cunt's glistening red softness. The moment the traffic light changed to green, he floored the accelerator, his destination clear in his mind. He hoped that Judy hadn't already been snagged by one of the other doctors at the party.
He covered the distance to Judy's house in half the time it had taken to drive Lenore home. When he got there, he parked the car quickly and headed for Judy's apartment at a rapid pace. She lived on the ground floor of a "singles only" garden apartment complex. He listened at her door for a minute, but all was quiet inside. Stabbing at the white plastic button with his finger, he rang the doorbell.
Judy Fuller was lying comfortably on the living room couch, her head pillowed in Al Baker's lap. Al, a muscular giant who had, in his senior year at college, chosen medicine over professional football, was one of the Hartford Institute's senior interns. His hands were moving freely over Judy's body, his fingers tracing a tingling zigzag path across the full, fleshy mounds of her tits. She moaned softly as he roughly kneaded their firm softness, her nipples hardening to full, demanding erection.
She was disappointed when she saw Tom Carter leaving the party about half an hour earlier. Although he came with a date, Judy knew that there was always hope as long as he was around. But, once he had gone, she returned to the hunt in search of more available, if less desirable, game. She finally ended up with Al Baker, by that time the only man left without a partner for the evening.
She had been out with Al a few times. And, while she never would have chosen him as the prize catch of the year, she found him pleasant in a crude sort of way. His lovemaking technique was just brutal enough to be exciting. And his cock was the biggest she had ever seen. As she lay with her head in his lap, she could feel it poking stiff and hard against the material of his pants. With a slow, deliberate movement, she caressed it slowly with the back of her head.
Al's hand found its way inside her tight white sweater, cupping one braless tit and rolling the turgid pink nipple in his fingers. With his other hand, he began to unbutton the garment, not caring that the room was full of people. He finished with the buttons and Judy's white sweater fell open, exposing her creamy tits to the smoky air of the room. Her puckered nipples were twin prominences of quivering erection. Al tweaked them lovingly, his thumbs and forefingers rolling tenderly across their diamond-hard surfaces.
When the doorbell rang, he cursed softly. His cock was so stiff that it hurt, and he was in no mood for interruptions. "Maybe if you ignore it," he said, "it'll go away." But Judy was already rising from the couch, her huge pink-capped boobies swaying sensuously from side to side as she gained her feet. She pulled the front of her sweater closed, fastening only one button--the third from the top--to cover the naked swell of her tits. Her shadowy cleavage showed clearly above the closed button and her smooth white belly peeked out suggestively below it. Going to the door, she made no other effort to cover her seminudity. The chances were that anyone knocking on her door at eleven at night would not be seeing her bare skin for the first time.
"Hi, Judy," said Tom Carter, grinning as she opened the door to look out at him. "Do I have to buy another ticket to get in again?" He smiled broadly, giving her an elaborate wink.
"What's the matter?" she asked. "Didn't the pretty Miss Benson want to play ball?"
"Never even swung my bat," he answered cheerfully. "Hope nobody beat me to the door prize." He reached for the single closed button at the front of her sweater, undoing it with a deft twist of his fingers. Her bare tits leapt magnificently into view as thee blouse gaped open.
"Listen," she said with a look of mock anger, "if you're going to get fresh, I think you'd better come inside."
"All right," he said. "You talked me into it."
As he stepped forward, Judy's face fell. She suddenly remembered Al Baker, waiting for her on the couch with a pair of hot hands and a throbbing erection. "On second thought," she said, "I think I can use a little air." Fastening three of the buttons at the front of her sweater, she closed the door quietly behind her and stepped out into the yard.
"Where shall we go?" asked Tom. "A stroll around the swimming pool?' He slipped his arm around her narrow waist as she fell into step beside him. Resting his hand on the soft roundness of her hip, he pulled her gently to him until he felt the warmth of her mountainous breast grazing erotically against the side of his body.
"I've got a better idea," she said. "The laundry room. Nobody's supposed to use the machines after ten o'clock. We'll have the place to ourselves."
"Sounds romantic," teased Tom. He had a pretty good idea of why she came out instead of inviting him in. He must have interrupted something. Something nice, from the looks of her clothing. "Who's the unlucky guy?" he asked.
"What guy?" she said.
"The guy you left behind to come out walking with this humble psychiatrist," he answered. "Poor dude must have a bad case of blue balls by now."
"Don't worry," Judy said. "He'll know what to do. He's a doctor. And anyway, I'll find some way to make it up to him. Later." Pulling at a heavy metal door handle, she said, "Here's the laundry room. I hope it isn't locked." When the door opened, she sighed with relief. "Come on," she said. "Hurry, before somebody sees us." They ducked quickly into the small, windowless room, closing the door behind them. "Look," she said. "It has a lock. I'll have to remember to come here more often." She flipped a little brass handle, securing the door.
She knew that Tom couldn't possibly have made it with Lenore in the short time that had passed since they left the party. And the fact that they left in the middle of the movie probably meant that she was giving him a hard time about the kind of places he brought her to. "Why did you come back?" she asked softly, turning to face him.
Tom let his eyes travel slowly over the hills and valleys of her petite but voluptuous body. He licked his lips elaborately with a slow and suggestive gesture of his tongue before answering her. Then he said, "I came back to fuck you." He knew from experience that Judy liked that kind of candor; that it turned her on.
She drew her breath in sharply at the lewd honesty of his answer. The juices of her body were already beginning to flow, filling her pussy with slimy moisture and wetting the lips of her cunt with a glistening sheen that dampened the crotchband of her brief bikini panties. "Then what the hell are you waiting for?" she asked. Her fingers already fumbling with the buttons at the front of her sweater, opening them for the third time in ten minutes.
When her huge spongy tits sprang into view, their rosy nipples rigid and hard, Tom felt his cock jump. She shrugged out of the sweater, posing for him naked from the waist up. He began working feverishly at his belt buckle, anxious to free his quivering hardon from the constricting prison of his trousers. He let them drop to his ankles, stepping free as he pushed at the elastic waistband of his white jockey-type undershorts.
Judy was folding her sweater neatly, laying it carefully on the top of a washing machine. She opened the zipper of her skintight black pants, tugging anxiously at the snap which held them closed at the waist. Moments later, they too were folded neatly and laid on top of the gleaming white machine. Completely naked now, except for the tight strip of red material which barely covered the hairy mound of her pussy, she ran her hands gingerly over her body.
Cupping her tits and stroking their erect nipples with a tender grazing motion of her fingertips, she held them out to him, proffering them suggestively. She hefted the two meaty packages in her hands, emphasizing their solid weight and ripe fullness. Tom stood watching her, his erect penis thick, hard, and pulsing erotically. It was long and stiff, its gnarled shank curving slightly so that its throbbing purple head pointed up at her face.
Judy looked directly at the hair-covered cudgel, smiling seductively as she stroked her own silky breasts. Lifting the dual globes in her hands, she turned them so that the puckering pink nipples which capped their creamy firmness were aimed at the ceiling. Then, craning her neck, she bowed her head until her lips were less than an inch from one of the rosy buds. Puffing a blast of hot breath across its goosefleshed surface, she watched the rubbery nubbin harden to full erectness, the center of her pebbly aureole drawing up to form a long cylindrical nozzle of pink meat. Extending her tongue as far as it would go between her lips, she jabbed at the turgid nipple with its pointy pink tip.
Tom's cock bobbed up and down like the trunk of a crazed bull elephant as he watched Judy's obscene act of lingual self-stimulation. He had never seen a woman do such a thing before, and found himself wondering if it was something that she did even when alone or whether she just saved it as a surprise for certain special boyfriends. Not that he really cared. The only thing on his mind now was his burning need to bury the swollen and aching head of his pulsating prick in the satiny softness of her sweet vaginal depths.
Judy continued licking and sucking at her own turgid nipple until it was covered with a glistening sheen of warm saliva. Then, letting it slip from between her nibbling lips, she moved to the other one and began caressing it in the same way. Her pussy felt like it was on fire, searing tongues of passionate flame licking at its soft wet lips and singeing its convoluting interior. She began to moan as she stroked and petted her sensitive boobs. "Oooooh," she murmured, the husky sound of her voice making Tom's balls churn with desire.
He could see a darkening stain of creamy moisture spreading slowly across the taut strip of flimsy fabric which covered the pouting flanges of her furry slash. The panties were so brief that a one-inch stripe of fleecy hair was visible above the horizontal line scribed by their elastic waistband. The lacy red material was so thin that he could practically see through it, able to discern the swelling prominence of her aroused clitoral mound at the top of her cuntal slit.
Wrapping his fingers around the girth of his own thick hardon, he stroked it gently up and down, bringing a pearly drop of prostatic lubricant from the slit at its glistening purple head. "I want to fuck you," he repeated, his voice hoarse and heavy with lust. "Take off the panties."
"I thought you'd never ask," she said, hooking her thumbs into the elastic top of the lacy red wisp and peeling it swiftly from her furry loins with an abrupt movement of her wrists. She placed the damp and fragrant strip of cloth atop the pile formed by her pants and sweater, turning to face him again. "Mmmmmmmmmm," she moaned softly, the cool air of the tiny concrete room laving at the inner membranes of her pussy through the gaping opening between her flowering cuntlips. "Come and get it."
Taking two steps forward, Tom put his arms around her, crushing her against him. He could feel the spongy softness of her creamy tits squashing the hairy plane of his muscular chest. His hands moved erotically across the silky smoothness of her naked back, exploring her every nook and cranny, from the roundness of her shoulders to the deep, dark, sweat-moistened crack between her firm and resilient ass cheeks.
Cupping the fleshy melons, he lifted her off the ground, raising her lips to his own and kissing her passionately. She felt light and airy, like a feather in his hands, as he maneuvered her body to scour at his belly and loins with the hairy prominence of her well-furred mount of venus. A long steady moan of ecstatic delight was tearing from her lips as she felt the rippling muscles of his naked body massaging and titillating her.
"Oooooooh, Tom," she said softly. "Don't make me wait anymore. Fuck me now." Her lewd command brought his cock to super-erection, making it jerk violently and forcing its burgeoning head against the alabaster columns of her thighs. Lifting her carefully, he sat her down gently on the gleaming white top of one of the washing machines. The metal felt cold against Judy's bare bottom. When Tom's hands left her for a moment, she shuddered deliciously.
Returning her hands to her own tits, she rolled the nipples around with her fingers, spreading her slim shapely legs as far apart as they would go. Tom could see the beefy redness of her inner cuntal tissues shining wet and inviting against the stark white background of the washing machine's finish. He stood on tiptoe, bringing his throbbing cock to a level with the gaping slash.
Shuffling forward on his toes, he approached her slowly, his stiff cock waving and bobbing like a living breathing creature with a mind and will of its own. Finally he stood immediately in front of her, the trembling underside of his mammoth organ grazing the surface of the machine on which she sat. Its bulbous and rubbery head, fully distended and shaped like a fireman's helmet, was within a hair's breadth of the glistening crimson slit which opened to all the secret pleasures of her body.
She reached down, holding the member gingerly by its throbbing head. Pressing gently, she forced its silky length against the cool metal, giggling at his gasp of surprised discomfort. Then, pulling him toward her by tugging on the blue-veined shank, she guided his cock to her tender, hair-fringed opening. Her flowering cuntlips parted to receive him, turning almost inside out in their effort to open wide for the lascivious intruder.
Their positions left them both with a completely open and unobstructed view of the agonizingly slow penetration of her moist-lipped pussy. Together they watched as, inch by inch, the heavy bludgeon disappeared into her elastically accommodating twat.
"Uuh," she grunted, as the first quivering third of his cock drove past the rubbery barrier of her cuntal opening. She could feel her petite body adjusting to his tremendous size, the walls of her cunt stretching to accept his penile spear. Tensing the muscles of her groin, she captured his plunging prick, holding it fast within her and milking it by means of a carefully controlled series of practiced pelvic spasms.
Fucking was Judy's greatest pleasure in life; the activity which, besides sleeping and working, occupied the greatest amount of her time. She had spent hundreds of hours practicing her sexual technique, learning to exercise specific control over each of the separate muscles that her body used in intercourse. Sometimes, when she was alone, she masturbated in front of a mirror, observing her cuntal reactions and increasing her knowledge of her body and its vital functions.
Sucking her own nipples, as she had learned in her ceaseless quest for the utmost in sexual pleasure: a quest which prompted her to seek novel forms of stimulation both for herself and her partner. And the tall, dark-haired psychiatrist, whose erect penis was sawing rhythmically in and out of her hair-lined cunt, was the one man in the world whom she would most like to please. In addition to being the most handsome and eligible doctor at the hospital, there was something about his sexy self-confidence which aroused her tremendously.
In a sudden fleeting moment of weakness, it occurred to her that if she could call Tom Carter her own, she might even be content to reserve the erotic pleasures of her attractive body to him and him alone. The thought of permanent monogamy frightened her a little. She didn't really believe it possible that any one man could satisfy her for life, but with Tom Carter she would be willing to give it a try. "Tom," she said brightly. "Why don't you ask me to marry you?"
"Shut up and fuck!" he commanded, grinning and humping forward to drive another quivering inch of stiff dick into her wide-splayed pussy.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah," she moaned softly. "That feels sooooooooo good." Rolling her buttocks, she threw her pussy up at him in a vain effort to force the rest of his pistoning prick into her slimy cuntal canal. But Tom moved with her, maintaining the status quo. He was in no hurry. And besides, he liked to remain in control when he was making love. Nothing pleased him more than bringing an anguished cry of frustration from a woman's lips and then making her follow it with a satisfied groan of pleasure.
He backed up slowly, withdrawing his thickly palpitating hardon from the swampy depths of her steaming pussy. Judy bit her lip and gurgled deep in her throat--a sound that was a combination of whine and whimper. "Oooh, Oooh, Oooooh, Ooooooooh, don't go," she wailed. But Dr. Carter continued his tortuous backward motion until nothing but the bulbous head of his driving prick remained imprisoned between her hungry cunt lips. But still he pulled backwards, watching as the pouting red flanges puckered open in silent supplication for another driving thrust. At last, even the shiny purple cockhead threatened to slip from her vaginal grasp. "Oooooh, noooooo," she moaned. "Pleeeeeeeaaaaaassse."
"Please what?" Tom teased. "Tell me what you want. Tell me."
"I want your cock," she sobbed. "I want it so bad I'm going to explode."
"Not convincing enough," he said, preparing to pull away from her completely.
"Wait," she implored. "I beg you. I plead with you. I kiss the nethermost hem of your garment. Please. Please Pleeeeease fuck me."
"Can't hear you," he teased.
"Fuck me," she prayed, raising her pleading voice a few decibels. "Fuck me! Fuck me! FUCK ME ! FUUUUUUUCK MEEEEEEEEEEE!" She was shouting now, probably loud enough to be heard by some of the other tenants of the apartment complex. But she didn't care. She could think of nothing but the tingling, craving itch that tormented her burning pussy. "Fuck me," she shouted. "FUCK ME OR I'LL DIE!"
"Here," said Tom. "You earned this." Humping forward with a vicious thrust of his athletic hips, he buried his cock to the hilt in her roiling vaginal depths.
"Ooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiyyyyyy," she shrieked as she felt his bloated member tearing relentlessly at the contracting walls of her roiling pussy. "Oooooooooooooh, Tom. It hurts so gooooooooood." He bucked and rolled before her, humping like a bull on a heifer.
"Take that," he said, driving against her so hard that he felt his rubbery cockhead nudging painfully at the swollen knob of her quivering cervix. "And that! And that!" The words tore from his lips in rhythm to the bobbing and bouncing of his pistoning cock. Each time he drove forward, battering her far cuntal wall with his punishing instrument, he grunted into her ear in pleasured agony. Then, on the long, tortuous outstroke, he muttered, "And that."
He worked faster and harder now, burying the steel hardness of his throbbing erection deep in her body in a series of painful thrusts which brought the cum in his scrotum to a violently rolling boil. "Unh!" he grunted. "Take that. Unh! And that. Unh! And that!"
Judy's ass rolled hard against the gleaming white surface of the washing machine on which she sat. The metal was no longer cold, the searing heat of her passion having warmed it comfortably. The porcelainized steel glistened with her puddling vaginal secretions. Looking down, she saw the frothy liquid of her sexual excitement buttering Tom's pistoning prick with a thick coat of creamy white foam which ran down his hairy legs and pooled on the metal between her silky thighs.
She could feel her orgasm building, threatening to blow her apart with the power of its mounting burst of kinetic energy. "Yeeessssss," she hissed. "Fuck me hard. Harder. Hard." Her grunting words filled the room, tearing tormentedly from her throat every time she felt Tom's stone penis reaming into her taut and furry pussy. "Aaaaagh, I love it. Yesssssssssss. Do it! Do it! Oooooooooh. Fuck my cunt."
A steady stream of obscene invectives bubbled from her lips, burning Tom's ears with the fire of her lustful desire and stirring the hot load in his balls until the bloating sac jumped crazily, swinging and swaying and slapping resoundingly against the front of the washer with a rhythmic bonging sound. He felt his impending climax beginning to dredge the roiling load of bubbling gism from the slimy depths of his swaying sac of nuts, conveying it up through the curving, coiling tubes in his erect penis.
"Ooooooooooooohhhhh, baby," he gurgled. "I'm going to cum. I'm going to pump my hot load into your waiting pussy. Oooooooh, baby. I'm going to fill you up like never before. Ohhhhhhhhhh, yes. Heeeeeeeere it cuuuuuuuuuuuums."
Judy felt his cock swelling inside her, filling with thick viscous liquid and preparing to spray her belly with its bubbling load. Then, as the first jetting spurt of fiery juice shot from the fleshy nozzle of his pumping firehose, her own beautiful and naked body began to bob on the churning wave of orgasmic fulfillment. "Uuuuuuuunnmm," she sobbed. "Meeeeeeee tooooooooooo. Iiiiiiiiii'mm cuuuuuumminnnnng wiiiiith yoooooouuuuuuuuuu. Ooooooooooooooohhhhhhhh, yeeeeessssss. Meeeeee toooooooooooo."
They sobbed and moaned in discordant unison, their tormented voices blending to become a passionate choir of exquisite agony. Together they scaled the sheer palisade of orgasmic fulfillment, each rotating thrust of Tom's pelvis buoying them and lifting them further from the earth and closer to the shimmering plane of blissful ecstasy.
Then, when their passion had reached its peak, they coasted together down the long swirling slide of anticlimax, Judy whimpering softly in joyous delirium. Tom's voice had faded to a low plaintive growl which gurgled mellowly in the back of his throat before tearing from his lips. He felt his cock deflating, shriveling to a softly wrinkled peanut which floundered helplessly in the soft moisture of her outer vulva before slipping free, at last, to plop obscenely against the wrinkled and vacant bag of stones which still swung below it.
"Ooooooooh," she murmured. "That was good, Tom. The best yet. A man like you could really make an honest woman out of me."
Tom kissed her lightly on the puckered end of one swollen breast, looking up to smile warmly at her. "Judy," he said tactfully. "You'll always be something special to me. And there will always be a great big soft spot in my heart for the prettiest nurse that ever worked a nut-ward. But, for the time being, I'm married to my profession. Medicine is my bride, and the Hippocratic oath my marriage vow."
Judy snorted in mock contempt. "Bullshit," she said. "Sounds like a lot of fancy words to me." Then, hopping down from the top of the washing machine and reaching for her neatly folded clothing, she added, "But you're not the only doctor in the ocean, you know."
"Right," said Tom. Suddenly remembering the disarray in which he had found her upon knocking at her door a few short minutes ago, he laughed. "And I'll bet that one of them, at least, is thinking about you right now. Probably damning your eyes while he jerks off and wonders what became of you."
Judy, who had pulled on her panties and sweater and was stepping carefully into her tight black pants, joined in his laughter. "Oh, my God," she giggled. "Poor Al Baker. He was just getting started when you came along and rang my chimes." A wistful look of expectant arousal came to her eyes and she said, as though talking to herself, "I wonder if there's still time."
"That's my girl," said Tom, laughing and slapping her playfully across her firm ass. "I'm sure you'll find a way." He hustled quickly into his clothes and slipped his arm around her spidery waist. "And as long as you've got your work cut out for you," he added, "I think I'll be on my way. Wouldn't want ol' A1 Baker to find out it was me stole you away from him. And anyway," added, kissing her warmly on the lips, "I got what I came for.' "Fuck you," she said, opening the door and stepping out into the warm Southern California night. When she turned up the walk that led to her apartment, Tom kept walking, heading for his car.
Judy waited until he was out of sight before opening the door to rejoin her guests. There goes one hell of a man, she thought. I sure wish I could win him. Then, shrugging her shoulders, she began composing her alibi. She began by unbuttoning the front of her sweater so that Dr. Baker would find it more difficult to concentrate on the credibility of her story.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lenore yawned as she looked up at the clock on the wall near the sixth floor nurses' station. There were only forty minutes to go before her shift ended. It had been a relatively quiet day in the psychiatric service and Lenore had spent most of it doing paper work. Ordinarily, the inaction would have bored her stiff, but an extremely restless night had left her with something less than her usual reserve of boundless energy.
She lay sleepless for most of the night, tossing and turning in her bed as she rehashed the events of her evening with Tom Carter. Right from the start, she had found herself liking him. His charming personality and easy manner made him a person whose company she thoroughly enjoyed. But his casual indifference in the face of the shocking display of licentiousness which had taken place at the party shocked and frightened her a little.
Dr. Carter exuded sophistication and, according to hospital scuttlebutt, he came from a fine old California family. Yet the halfhearted apology which he tendered just before dropping her at her apartment made Lenore certain that he had known, all along, about the kind of entertainment that would be provided for the guests at Judy Fuller's party. Until now, it was utterly inconceivable to her that anyone other than the lowest of harlots or the most depraved of perverts would deliberately set out to see a film like the one shown in Judy's bedroom. Yet the room had been filled with doctors and nurses, all respected members of the staff at Hartford Institute.
Lenore shuddered as she thought about her own reactions to the film's overt lewdness. The tingling warmth with which her entire body had been suffused when she looked at the figures performing obscenely on the makeshift screen had been a completely new sensation to her. Never before had the responses of her body so overwhelmed the inhibitions of her mind. Never before had her pussy throbbed in a way which made her forget all the sordid realities of the situation unfolding around her.
Yet, as uncomfortable as the movie had made her, none of the others present seemed to mind it at all. And, because she know them all to be responsible members of the medical and nursing professions, her own trembling discomfort upset and frightened her. The others had been interested, all right. During the screening of the pornographic movie, she had heard no sound other than the rhythmic rasping of their collective heavy breathing. But their interest had been casual, almost amused. Lenore, on the other hand, had been fascinated. And that was what scared her most.
Throughout the night, her sleep was disturbed and interrupted by recurring visions of the troilistic sexual antics of the housewife, the insurance salesman, and the milkman. She lay awake for hours, trying unsuccessfully to analyze and understand the almost hypnotic spell in which the film had held her. But as she followed her thoughts down the long winding passageway of consciousness, she found the way barred, again and again, by a haunting vision of the housewife's naked tits swaying from side to side as she bent over to lick, suck, and kiss the salesman's penis. And each time she attempted to apply vaguely remembered principles of fundamental psychology in an attempt to better understand herself and the problems caused by her inhibitions, she was confronted by a distracting memory of the milkman's cock--long, hard, and throbbing a deep intense purple--as he worked it slowly into the housewife's vagina.
Lenore was baffled by her own obsession with the filmed nudity. After all, she was a nurse. During an average week at Hartford, she saw dozens--maybe hundreds--of naked bodies. Some belonged to old women with wrinkled breasts and flabby, floppy buttocks; and some belonged to firm-bosomed, flat-bellied young girls. Some belonged to graying, middle-aged men with paunches and double chins; and some belonged to muscular youths with hairy chests and sinewy limbs. But, until now, Lenore had viewed them all as diseased machines, in need of her professional ministrations but not having any real existence outside of her daily routine. It was certain that neither the milkman, the insurance salesman, nor the "happy housewife" had displayed any anatomical part which Lenore had not already seen many times in the line of her work.
If, then, it was not their nudity which obsessed and fascinated her, it must have been their actions. But this, too, confused the young nurse. For, although their antics were obscene, Lenore was neither ignorant nor naive about matters sexual. As a nurse, she had spent many hours studying the physiology and function of the human body. She knew that the sex drive motivated people to do many things which sometimes seemed disgusting and obscene, and she knew that troilism and oral intercourse were among them.
Yet, when the lascivious performance flashed across the screen in Judy Fuller's bedroom, Lenore was unable to tear her eyes from it. When finally she succeeded in conquering her emotion and dragging herself from the room, she was at the brink of hysterical tears. The sight of two couples petting openly in the living room had been all that was required to push her into the abyss of shame and humiliation.
Alone in her bed, she pondered and mused for hours, trying to comprehend the occurrences of the previous evening. After a fitful and restless night, she found herself fully awake before the sun rose. Showering and dressing quickly in a crisp white uniform, she lingered for more than an hour over a series of bitter-tasting but eye-opening cups of instant coffee. Although confusion about her reactions had disturbed her sleep the night before, morning faced her with a problem of greater immediacy.
For her assignment for the day was to the psychiatric service. And that meant that she would be working under the direct supervision of Dr. Tom Carter. She would have to face him, speak to him, assist him as he went about his duties on the sixth floor. How would she cover her shame and her embarrassment? What could she say to hide the humiliation which she felt whenever she thought about the party and the curt good-bye which she had given him in the street in front of her apartment.
Fortunately, Dr. Carter wasn't there when she arrived at her station. Judy Fuller, the psychiatric nurse-in-charge, greeted her cheerfully. "Good morning, Lenore," she said, her voice bubbly and vivacious. "I was afraid you might not show up today. When I saw you and Tom leaving early, I thought you might be sick or something."
"No," Lenore answered noncommittally. "It was nothing that a good night's sleep couldn't fix." She was careful to avoid any further mention of the events of the night before. By the time Dr. Carter arrived, both nurses were immersed in their work. Judy was carefully inventorying nursing supplies and Lenore was busy entering EEG results on a patient's chart when Dr. Carter approached their desk jauntily. "Good morning, ladies," he said. "Ready for a bright new day?"
"Good morning, Doctor," Lenore said, trying not to look up at him as she spoke. But Judy Fuller's greeting was warmer and a lot less formal.
"Hi, foxy-doxy," she said, licking her full red lips with the darting point of her tiny pink tongue and winking at him. "Did you get a good night's sleep after all that action?" Something about the suggestiveness of her words and the intimacy of her manner made Lenore uncomfortable and suspicious. Although she was not completely sure about her own feelings for the handsome young doctor, she found herself thinking of Judy as her rival.
She waited anxiously for Tom's response, half-expecting to see him rush into the petite young nurse's arms. She heaved a silent sigh of relief when he answered, "Sure did." His voice was casual and relaxed. "Slept like a baby." Then, flashing a warm and friendly smile at each of them in turn, he asked, "How about you gals? All rested and refreshed?"
Before Lenore could answer, Judy rose from her seat, stretching languidly and raising her arms high above her head. The movement thrust her full ripe breasts out at him. "Ready for anything," she answered, her tone seductive and her throaty voice husky with undisguised lust. "What did you have in mind?"
Lenore's cheeks reddened at Judy's obviously suggestive question. Judy Fuller was the most brazen woman that Lenore had ever encountered. And it was obvious that the petite, dark-haired nurse's sights were set on the young psychiatric resident. She was going out of her way to make her intentions clear to both Tom and Lenore. Although Lenore found Judy's open sexuality obnoxious and offensive, she feared that its directness might appeal to the handsome doctor's sense of honesty. There just didn't seem to be any way that Lenore could hope to compete with her--at least not without compromising her principles and abandoning all that she believed about right and wrong.
Fortunately, however, Dr. Carter remained businesslike and impassive in his relationships with both women as they assisted him in the performance of his professional duties. Having proudly taken the oath of Hippocrates, his first concern was always for the welfare of his patients. And he knew that any display of human emotion by members of the hospital staff might hinder their progress. This was especially true on the sixth floor because psychiatric patients, more than any others, have a tendency to deify the white-uniformed personnel who doctor and nurse them, elevating them to a position just below that occupied by Neptune and Apollo in the minds of the ancient Greeks.
So, by mid-afternoon, Lenore had completely forgotten her uncertainty and embarrassment, falling comfortably into the familiar pattern of daily hospital routine. When Dr. Carter announced, two hours before her shift was to end, that he was stealing away to attend a seminar in the lecture hall, she was neither relieved nor disappointed. The patients were quiet and there was no reason why she and Judy could not hold the fort for a while. They could always have him paged if he was needed. As for her personal problems, they would have to be worked out on her own time. She continued pushing her pen resolutely across the pages of the sixth floor hospital records, doing little more than biding time and waiting until her shift ended. When no more than thirty minutes remained, Judy Fuller rose from her seat at the other side of the desk. "I'm going to have to stay late," she said, straightening the wrinkled front of her uniform. "Think I'll get some reinforcement. Mind if I sneak off for a cup of coffee?"
"Not at all," Lenore answered. "There's nothing much happening. Nobody'll even know you're gone." When Judy had gone, she sat alone busying herself with notations on the charts. Although she was tired, the prospect of going home to an empty apartment bothered her. She suffered from a restless feeling--a need that could not be filled, an itch that could not be scratched. Glancing at the clock for the fourth time in as many minutes, she yawned again. Suddenly the pacific calm was shattered by an agonized scream from the far end of the corridor.
"Ooooooooooooooh, it huuuuuuuuuurts," wailed the voice of an unseen patient. Like a sound-activated alarm mechanism, Lenore sprang to her feet, instantly alert. She looked at her call board, but none of the lights were flashing. That probably meant that the patient in distress had not been able to reach a call button and was relying on his voice to summon assistance. She moved quickly away from her desk, her ears attentive, listening for another sound. A moment later it came.
"Ooooooooooooooooh. Heeeeeeeeeeeelp meeeee," wailed the voice. It sounded like it was coming from the wards. She began moving quickly down the hall, her crepe-soled white shoes scuffing sibilantly against the tile floor. "Aaaaaaaaiiiiiyyyyy. Ooooooooooh. Gaaaaawd heeeeeeelp meeeeeeee."
Lenore was running at full trot now as the screams of pain and horror reverberated resoundingly against the sterile walls of the long white hallway. The poor devil was wailing like a wounded animal, and she had to get to him--right away! Whatever instinct it was that had brought her to nursing took complete possession of her mind, propelling her like a finely tuned machine toward the suffering human being who was crying out for her care. "I'm coming," she shouted.
But the screaming patient didn't hear her. "Ooooooooooow, it huuuuuuuuuurts," he groaned. His tormented cries of agony were disturbing the other patients and some of them were also beginning to call out now, the sounds of their ward brother's suffering wakening their own insecurities. But over their mushrooming moans and burgeoning groans could be heard the steady wail which was drawing her like a magnet to the far end of the corridor. "Heeeeeeeeeeelp meeeeeeee."
Two doors loomed suddenly before her. Both were painted white and bore caution signs which read, "WARD D. NO UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY." But to Lenore, they were inanimate barriers blocking the path between her and the sick. In her haste, her eyes disregarded the warning which she had already read a thousand times. In her instinctive hurry to serve, her mind disregarded the safety rule which she had long ago committed to memory. Throwing open the doors, she ran forward toward the source of the heartrending moans of agony.
"It huuuuuuuuuurts." The sounds were coming from one of the cubicles on her right. She moved towards the door. On it was a white card with the name JOHNSON printed carefully across its face. She looked quickly in through the barred window, but saw no one. Yet the sounds were definitely coming from this room. Reaching for the key which hung on her belt, she unlocked the door and opened it, stepping quickly inside. When the door sprang shut behind her, she turned quickly around.
Standing against the wall beside it was Johnson, a patient on whom all hospital psychiatrists except Dr. Carter had given up. His dark hair was standing straight out from his head, wild and wiry, as though he had just received a powerful electric shock. His chin was covered with a coarse growth of bristly black stubble, filthy and matted in spots with the residue of his own drool. His eyes were wild, rimmed with crimson and looking like he hadn't slept in a month. He stared through them at her, cold and unblinking.
He was completely naked, his strong sinewy body pale and white as the result of his long confinement. His penis was erect, its round bulbous head throbbing a deep purple as he manipulated it roughly with his hands. All of his fingers were wrapped tightly around the shaft of his pulsating erection. And as he jerked it up and down he moaned, in a voice which drowned the rising tide of screams emanating from the rest of the ward, "Ooooooooooowww," he hollered. "It huuuuuurts."
Suddenly Lenore remembered the rule about entering Ward D alone and realized her peril. This patient was dangerous: a catatonic schizophrenic who vacillated between complete inactivity and violent unpredictability. Trying to move slowly so as not to disturb him, she inched cautiously toward the door. But Johnson's face suddenly took on an expression of intelligent cunning. He sprang in front of the door, blocking her way.
Letting go of his cock, he grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. "It hurts," he moaned. His voice was softer now--barely louder than a whisper. Above it, Lenore could hear the mounting shouts of the other Ward D patients. She was certain that the rest of the psyche patients would soon be joining in the mournful chorus if they had not done so already. There would be no point in calling for help. Even if Judy was back from the cafeteria, Lenore's voice would never be heard over the cries of the other patients. Noise was far from uncommon in the psychiatric service.
"Mister Johnson," she said, trying to remain calm, "I'm Nurse Benson. Can I get you something?" Perhaps he would respond to a completely professional attitude. Perhaps he would remember where he was. But Johnson did not even appear to hear her. His fingers dug mercilessly into the softness of her shoulders as he dragged her towards his dirty and rumpled bed.
"It hurts," he mumbled, pushing her down onto the mattress. "It hurts." He clawed at her shoulders, pulling at the white material of her dress and exposing the upper part of her body. She could feel his hot breath on the swelling tops of her softly rounded breasts as he leaned forward, pressing his bristly face against her bra-covered bosom. Then, with a bestial grunt, he hooked his fingers into the front of her crisp white brassiere, tearing it from her body and baring her pink nippled tits to his lascivious gaze.
"No," she screamed, struggling to free herself from his persistent grasp. "No, you can't. You mustn't." She scissored her legs back and forth violently in a vain effort to gain her feet. But he held her pinned to the bed with the weight of his naked and perspiring body. The futile movements of her legs sent the hem of her skirt riding high up the silky length of her shapely legs, bunching the material tightly around her waist. Knowing that her body was almost completely exposed, she redoubled her efforts to escape.
But Johnson was too strong for her. He pinned her arms to her sides with an effortless movement of his hands, pushing her down against the bed and drawing his head back for a look at her. He didn't know who she was or why she was here, but he knew what he needed. He was so horny that his cock ached painfully. He had been pulling and rubbing it for hours until it was a pulpy mass of quivering red meat, but no amount of masturbation could satisfy his need for a woman's flesh.
And here it was, struggling helplessly before him. He could see the cushiony mound of her hair-covered pubis swelling against the front of her pale pink panties, knowing that the diaphanous material veiled the soft-lipped opening into her body. He hoped that, by burying the raging heat of his swollen erection in the moist depths of her free-flowing pussy, he might quench the flames which threatened to consume him.
Lenore writhed and wriggled on the bed beneath him, trying desperately to break away from the vise-like grip in which he held her. She sobbed hysterically, tears flowing copiously from her eyes, as she realized the complete helplessness of her position. Outside the tiny isolation cubicle, other patients could be heard screaming and proclaiming their unspeakable agonies to the world. And here she was, deep in the snake pit, about to be ravished by a lust-crazed man with whom she could not even communicate.
"Help," she screamed. "Heeeeeeeeelp meeeeee." Then, as she felt him tearing at her panties, pulling them from her gyrating loins, her words slurred into a long hopeless wail of terrified hysteria. "Oooooooooooooooww," she cried. But Johnson ignored her screams and her struggles, holding her down with one hand while with the other he stripped the tattered drawers from her body. He pulled and twisted her legs, positioning her effortlessly like a child's plaything.
Separating her thighs, he exposed the ragged slash of her cunt. He saw its lips, red and shiny, pouting puffily as he forced her legs apart. Then, throwing himself across her, he humped furiously with his hips, trying to find her pussy with his unguided, jabbing hardon.
"Ooooooooooh, nooooooooooo," she wailed. The bulbous purple knob at the end of his bludgeoning cock butted relentlessly against her inner thighs and battered aimlessly at the sensitive flanges of her twat. Rolling her hips in a vain attempt to get away from him, she pressed her naked buttocks against the mattress below her. Johnson chose that very moment to move forward, his oozing cockhead easily finding the gaping red slit between her cuntlips.
She could feel the monstrous tool prizing experimentally at her vulva. A gurgle of horror rolled from her throat as she realized in a final moment of hysterical panic that all hope was lost. With an urgent forward thrust of his hips, Johnson drove his throbbing cock between her pouting cuntlips and into the swampy depths of her desperately contracting vaginal chasm. "No!' she shrieked. "No! No! No! No! No!"
But the lust-crazed mental patient was oblivious to her pleas of pathetic desperation. His cock had found a home. The warm slit which stretched tautly around its throbbing circumference was soft and slimy. And as he ground his hips down into it, burying another penetrating inch of rigid dick, he felt the clasping walls of her rubbery twat pressing against the meat of his pistoning hardon. Her vaginal muscles contracted wildly in a hopeless attempt to bar his entrance. But instead of repelling and excluding him, the hysterical spasms were stimulating him, milking his cock and drawing it deeper inside her.
With a driving roll of his hips, he plowed forward, slamming against her fur-covered clitoral mound with the hairy prominence of his rigid pubic bone. Lenore howled in pain. She was completely impaled on the spear of his cock now, and she could feel it thick and hard inside her, buried to the hilt in her protesting vaginal depths. Then, as he began moving slowly backwards, tantalizingly withdrawing his pulsing member from the clasping warmth of her pussy, she found her body reacting in a strange new way. The pain which she felt at the abruptness of his penile intrusion was changing somehow; fading subtly into something which wasn't pain at all. When he reversed direction, shoving his cock down into her again, she arched her back, lifting her loins to meet his thrust. This time, when he rammed forward, bruising her pubis with his own pelvic mound, her grunt rang with desire.
As Johnson began his backstroke, the young nurse wrapped her legs tightly around his thighs, welding her body to his and trapping his long erect cock in the velvet prison of her cunt. "Mmmmmmmmm," she murmured, her lips nibbling hungrily at the taut-muscled skin of his straining neck. But the man was as oblivious to her pleasure as he had been to her agony. He worked his body forward and back mechanically, rubbing his cock against the soft tissue of her inner pussy and using her as a soft-bodied instrument of his masturbation.
He could feel a flood of semen building in his scrotum, filling the wrinkled bag until it bloated painfully. As he rocked forward, fucking deep into her rippling pussy, he felt the swinging sac slap softly at the upturned crack of her ass. The blonde woman was writhing erotically now, levering her hairy loins against him as he pumped his cock into her slimy slash.
"MMMMMMMMMNNNNNNNN," she moaned. "OOOOOOOOOOOHHHH." Her proclamations of pleasure were audible even against the mounting background of shrieks and howls with which the other patients were filling the air. But Lenore heard none of it. She was cognizant of nothing other than the pounding rush of blood which crashed in her temples as each forward thrust of the madman's swollen penis brought another paroxysm of sensuous ecstasy to her writhing body. She could feel his cock swelling even bigger, pressing simultaneously against all the clasping walls of her juicy cunt as he reamed its rubbery interior.
Her body trembled in the throes of a tingling rush of ecstasy which spread quickly from the well-stuffed slash of her cunt to the downy mound of her pelvic plane. Her soft white ass cheeks clenched together spasmodically as she lifted the twin mounds of flesh high off the surface of the mattress in a straining effort to capture yet another inch of pulsating cock in the cloying tunnel of her sweet-flowing pussy. She could feel the first tremulous wave of climactic release beginning to build in her cunt as his thick cock reared back, preparing to spurt its gooey load.
The deranged patient's body was moving like a well-oiled machine, his huge stiff cock pistoning rhythmically in and out of the writhing nurse's hot box; his breath was coming in labored gasps. The blonde woman's body was glued to his, and each grinding movement of his hips brought a tortured moan of animal pleasure from her lips. He could feel the bubbling juices of her pussy washing and bathing his cock.
"Oooooooooh, noooooo," she wailed, her orgasm already beginning. Somehow, the sounds of her passion managed to penetrate the shell of psychotic isolation which shielded Johnson's diseased mind from the traumas of life. The erotic sound of her ultimate submission touched off a flashing explosion of static electricity which crackled across his swinging, swaying sac of nuts like a bolt of prairie lightning. With a bestial grunt of relief, he pumped the first swirling jet of spicy cum into her writhing cuntal passage.
Lenore could feel the slimy moisture of his orgasm splashing hotly against the far wall of her cunt. Because her own climax was still on the rise, she was numb to its significance. Instead of pondering the rape of her pussy, she allowed the penetrating warmth of his orgasmic heat to fan the flames of her lust. She bucked and rolled beneath him like a practiced wanton, lost in the glory of her first orgasm and mindlessly insensitive to her own degradation.
She timed her movements to coincide with her demented lover's, completely overcome by the ecstatic waves of rippling energy which possessed her mind and inflamed her body. "Unh! Unh! Unh!" She grunted rhythmically each time his bluntly pointed prick burrowed deep into the tunnel of her snatch. Her pussy was filling rapidly with a swirling combination of thickly congealing semen and the fragrant juices of her own ecstasy. She could feel the slimy liquid oozing out from between her hair-lined cuntlips to puddle and stain on the mattress beneath her bobbing ass.
The madman's stiff cock began softening inside her, shrinking in length and girth until it was no bigger than a cocktail wiener. With a guttural sigh of relief, Johnson rolled off her, panting and puffing on the mattress as he stared sightlessly up at the ceiling. He was gone again--retreated within the cocoon of self and totally absent from the outer world.
Lenore dragged herself from his rumpled bed, whimpering softly in shame and degradation. The shattering enormity of what just occurred hit her suddenly with the full force of a major earthquake, rocking her sanity and shaking her reason. She had just been raped--brutally and bestially for the second time in her life. Only this time, instead of kicking and fighting for her honor, her body had reacted like that of a shameless harlot. She shuddered with horror at the thought, and the shame to which it had led her. All memory of the pleasure which had thrilled and overpowered her was temporarily forgotten in a wave of self-condemnation. She had to get out of there. Fast! She had to get away before Johnson decided to help himself to a second portion.
Dabbing at the thick stains of drying white semen which spotted her leg with a corner of Johnson's blanket, she tugged demurely at the hem of her dress. Although the white uniform was badly creased and wrinkled, it was still more or less intact. The top had not fared as well as the skirt, but, fortunately, most of the damage had been to the buttons. Three of them had come off completely under the madman's rough handling. Stooping to recover the tattered fragments of her ripped bra, Lenore pulled the bodice of her uniform closed around her, turning for one final look at the crazed patient.
But when she saw the vacant look in his eyes and the rivulet of saliva which was trickling from a corner of his mouth, she realized that he had reverted to the catatonic state. He would probably have no recollection of the incident. Certainly it would do no good to make note of it on his records or to mention it to anyone else. The best thing she could do would be to forget the whole thing: to wipe it from her mind, like a horrible nightmare which seemed very real but which was over at last.
Holding her torn uniform together with one hand, she rushed from the ward and headed for the nurses' station. She had left a sweater in one of the desk drawers, and was sure that if she could slip into it before Judy Fuller got a look at her torn dress, no one would have to know about what had just happened in Ward D.
When she returned to her desk, nobody else was around. She opened a drawer quickly, removing her white sweater and pulling it on over her head. Just moments later, Judy Fuller appeared beside her, smiling slyly. "I've been back for twenty minutes," she said, "and you were nowhere in sight. I thought you might have decided to leave early."
Lenore smoothed her sweater carefully, hoping that the bralessness of her full round titties wasn't too obvious. "No," she answered nervously. "I was just checking on some of the patients at the other end of the hall." Then, not wanting to answer questions about specifics, she added, "But now that you mention it, I would like to get going a little early. I'm awful tired. Would you mind?"
"Not at all," Judy answered. "I've got to stay anyway. And you've only got ten minutes to go before your shift ends. Thanks for covering me on my unscheduled coffee break."
But Lenore didn't hear her. She was already rushing toward the elevator, certain that if she didn't get home fast and into a hot tub of soothing, cleansing water, she would go completely out of her mind.
CHAPTER SIX
Lenore stepped into the elevator, hardly aware of the stretcher which almost knocked her down on its way out. "Hey, it's time to wake up," said one of the orderlies who was wheeling it. "You nearly got run over by a tonsillectomy."
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, pushing a button to close the elevator doors. She had been moving through a fog for days now, struggling desperately to bring her thoughts under control following her humiliating rape by a Ward D patient. She knew that she should wipe the incident out of her mind, forbid herself to think about it, and wait for its memory to fade. But she sometimes found it impossible to think of anything else.
She was puzzled and horrified by the way her body betrayed her, turning her to a submissive mass of sensuality which writhed and twisted mindlessly in the hands of the lust-mad schizophrenic. And she hated herself for it. Yet she couldn't help remembering the tingling rush of ecstatic warmth which flooded her being as the sex-crazed psychopath drove his mammoth cock into the tender passage of her cunt. Or the tension which built unchecked inside her, tightening all the fibers of her nervous system until she thought she would explode. Or the glorious burst of atomic energy that lit her first orgasm with the power of a celestial super-nova.
Whenever she permitted her mind to linger on the blissfully remembered glories of that long irreversible moment, her skin tingled and her pussy began to moisten. Then, though she tried to ignore them, she found herself obsessed with the salacious recollections. They haunted and tormented her, rendering her totally incapable of putting them out of her mind. She feared, during those terrifying episodes, that her sanity was deteriorating and her intelligence abandoning her completely to the lustful demands of her body.
So she fought to control her emotions and toiled heroically to banish the shamefully distracting thoughts from her memory. Using her profession as a form of palliative therapy, she immersed herself deeply in her work, trying to think of nothing but patients and their needs. She volunteered for overtime whenever it was available and begged Sandy Taylor, her supervisor, to place her on extra duty even during her regular hours.
This puzzled the head nurse at first, but when Lenore added a request that her name be kept off the sixth-floor duty roster for a while, Sandy sensed that her young colleague was grappling with an emotional problem. Reaching for the stack of assignment sheets which cluttered her desk, she riffled through them looking for the one marked LENORE BENSON. "I'd better act fast," she said, "before you come to your senses. We're so understaffed that I'll take your offer of extra duty seriously, even if you meant it as a joke."
"I'm not joking," Lenore answered, glancing at the notations which the dark-haired supervisor was rapidly entering on her sheet. "I appreciate it."
Sandy looked up and smiled at the shapely young blonde whose lips were trembling in a vain attempt to hide her emotion. "Is there anything else I can do?" she asked. "You're obviously troubled. Would you like to talk about it?"
Lenore was grateful for her supervisor's understanding. But she shook her head slowly from side to side. "No," she said. "I've got to work this out for myself."
"I just want you to know," said Sandy, speaking softly, "That I'm here whenever you need me."
"Thank you," said Lenore. She looked quickly into the older woman's eyes before turning to leave the room.
Since then, Sandy had been crowding her schedule with extra assignments that kept her hopping from service to service most of the day. And, although she could not blot out the horrible memories entirely, her heavy work load did succeed in taking her mind off them for most of the day. When the elevator door opened, she stepped out into the busy hospital corridor. Suddenly a hand reached out for her from alongside the nurse's station and a male voice said, "Gotcha."
Lenore spun around to face him, her eyes flashing with terror. Before her, his lips drawn back into what he intended as a friendly grin, stood Tom Carter. But when he saw the expression of fear which flitted across her face, the smile froze and then faded. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you. But I've been looking all over the hospital for you. I get the feeling that you've been avoiding me. Have you?"
"No, of course not," Lenore answered. "It's just that I've been very busy. Extra duty and all." She knew deep down, though, that he was right; that Dr. Carter occupied her thoughts almost as much as Johnson, his pathetically deranged patient. And she knew, even as she denied it, that one of her reasons for asking for extra duty had been the hope that a busy schedule would keep her from bumping into the handsome young resident during an idle moment. For she was certain that her shameful reactions to the madman's mauling of her body had been tied somehow to the emotions which came to light on her date with Tom Carter the night before. And she feared that another encounter with the attractive young psychiatrist would unhinge her completely.
"Well then I'll just have to settle for your off-duty hours," he said. "How about dinner tonight?"
The look of fear stayed in Lenore's pale blue eyes as she shook her head from side to side. "I'm sorry," she said. "But I won't be having very many off-duty hours for the next few weeks. I've taken a private duty assignment and it starts tonight."
Tom Carter was startled. "You don't mean that you're leaving the hospital," he said, a note of concern in his voice.
"No," Lenore said. "You might say I'm moonlighting. One of the patients in orthopedics is due to be discharged today and he'll need nursing care at home for the next two weeks. I've agreed to take the assignment in my off-hours. It's only six hours a day. And I can use the extra money."
"Extra money, hell!" he snorted in mock offense. "Now I'm sure you're trying to avoid me. Who is this guy that's stealing you away from me?"
"Ronald Drake," she answered. "Do you know him?"
"Who doesn't?" Tom asked. "He's the guy in the body hammock, isn't he? Everybody's friend?"
"That's the one," answered Lenore.
Ronald Drake was a charming and successful bachelor who had the ability to make friends wherever he went. A flashy-dressing, glib-talking salesman with a winning personality and a cordial smile, he learned to apply door-to-door selling techniques to big business and used them to become--at the age of forty-three--the vice president of a nationwide cosmetic company. When standing, he was just under six feet tall, broad of shoulder and trim of waist. But one afternoon, a month ago, the herniation of a spinal disc had bent him double with crippling pain. And, since that time, he had been doing very little standing.
A team of spine-specialists had contrived a traction harness for him which they called a "body-hammock," and which they promised would restore the normal condition of his spine while eliminating the need for dangerous and possibly paralyzing surgery. The innovative treatment made him a hospital celebrity and brought interns and residents to his bedside from all over the hospital, asking him questions and examining the straps and pulleys which bound him to his bed. Tom Carter had been one of them, not yet allowing his psychiatric specialty to cut off his interest in other fields of medicine.
Drake bore his public immobilization with remarkable charm and unusual good spirits. For the past month, his infectious laugh was heard ringing through the hospital corridors at all times of day and night as he joked amicably with any members of the hospital staff who came his way, from the white-haired and dignified chief of orthopedics to the pot-smoking orderly who mopped the corridor floor each morning at three o'clock.
"I don't know if I like the idea of losing you to a mere patient," Dr. Carter said, trying to maintain his jovial manner. "I should have thought at least a senior intern."
But Lenore's face remained sober. "Seriously, Tom," she said. "I like you and I think that I would like to go out with you again. But right now I've got some problems and I need time to work them out."
"All right," Tom replied. "I'll be patient. For as long as I can." Then, breaking into a smile, he asked, "Where are you headed now? At least I can walk by your side for a moment."
"Sorry," Lenore said again, laughing this time. "You miss out again. I'm only going across the hall to Mister Drake's room. Sandy's been assigning him to me as often as possible so we can get to know each other." Glancing at her watch, she added, "And I'd really better step on it. I'm late already."
"I'll let you go, then," Tom said. "But I want the top spot on your list when you get back into circulation."
"I haven't got a list," she answered. "But if I did, you'd be on it." Turning, she walked quickly across the hall and into Ronald Drake's private room.
"Hi," he said, smiling up at her from his traction harness. "Have you come to set me free?"
"No such luck," she answered, walking to the foot of his bed.
"What do I get?" he asked. "A pill or an injection?"
"Neither," she answered, looking quickly at his chart. "Says here you get a bed-bath."
"Sounds great," said Drake, smiling to show his smooth, shiny, white teeth. A dignified streak of silver ran through his jet-black hair at each of his temples. But, strapped to his bed, weighted cables stretching his body slowly back into shape, he looked like an inquisitional prisoner on the rack. His legs were fastened to a Y-shaped cable which rounded a pulley at the foot of his bed, holding him tautly in position on the crisp white surface of the thick hospital mattress. His head and shoulders were similarly bound to pulleys at the other end of the bed, leaving him as trussed and helpless as a dressed chicken.
Lenore filled a chromium basin with warm, soapy water and pulled a rolling stool up alongside his bed. Perching on the stool and balancing the basin on her lap, she pulled back his cover and lifted his white hospital gown, exposing his naked body from throat to harnessed ankles. Hardly glancing at the thick rope of his hairy penis which lay coiled like a snake in the furry jungle of his pubis, she began cleansing his neck and upper arms. She scrubbed carefully, moving the soapy washcloth gently and methodically across his skin and into the shadowy caves of his hairy armpits.
"I'll bet you're dying to get out of this rig," she said, laving the sweat-moistened skin of his hair-covered chest.
"You'd better believe it," he said. "That's the best part of going home. I get to take it off every night for eight hours. Er, that is you get to take it off for me. I don't even think Houdini could get out of this straitjacket without help. My secretary will hook me up in the morning. But if you're not there to let me out at night, I'll go nuts."
"Don't worry about that," the young nurse answered. "You can count on me." She finished washing his chest and upper torso, and rose to change the water in the basin. When she returned, she began working on his calves and ankles. She washed slowly up the length of his legs, scrubbing at his knees and sliding the soapy cloth gently over the muscular and hairy columns of his thighs. The traction harness held his legs in a slightly splayed position, and she slipped her hand between them to cleanse the bed-roughened surfaces of his inner thighs.
As she worked, her knuckles grazed gingerly at the wrinkled skin of his heavy scrotum. At first the contact was purely accidental, brought about by the cramped quarters in which she had to work. But her own response was immediate and undeniable. She felt a warm flood of thickly flowing moisture filling her cunt and dampening the tight elastic crotchband of her brief bikini panties. She knew that she should pull her hand away as quickly as possible, but she couldn't resist the temptation of moving up for another fleeting swipe.
But when she noticed his cock beginning to stir, uncoiling slowly and rising to stiffening erection, she realized that her impulse had created a weighty problem. She looked quickly away, anxious now to ignore the naked man's sexual arousal. Now that she had gotten him started, she didn't know how to turn him off. She had encountered the "stiff prick" reaction in other patients and she had trained herself not to let it throw her off balance. She recognized it as a purely involuntary response which was often a source of great embarrassment to the patient. But in this instance, she had brought it on herself. And in a manner which could almost be classified as deliberate.
Although she knew that the best procedure now would be to end the bed-bath right then and there, her hands continued working--as though they had a mind of their own--scrubbing at his muscular thighs and washing the hair-covered skin of his pubic region. Each movement of her hands brought them into further contact with his bloated sac of nuts. Each caressing brush of her fingers against his sensitively tingling pubis made his cock grow longer, stiffer, and harder.
She could not keep her eyes from glancing furtively at his throbbing organ, fascinated by its rigid growth. Her pussy was beginning to pulsate hotly, thick, honeyed juices flowing copiously within her to fill her vaginal depths with slick and slimy moisture. Motivated by a lust which she could not control, she cupped the hairy purse of his scrotum in the palm of her hand while she dabbed and laved gently at it with the soft, soapy washcloth.
She was violating all the ethical principles of her profession. And she knew it. There was no reason to touch a patient with anything but the washcloth when giving him a bed-bath. And her deliberate handling of Ronald Drake's genitalia was an indiscretion which was unforgivable, even in the greenest student nurse or the most ignorant volunteer. A patient, whose illness and hospital confinement prevented him from living as he normally would, might suffer unnecessarily as a result of such frustrating stimulation. And, in some cases, it might even cause a setback or relapse. A good nurse would never be guilty of such conduct. Never!
Drake's cock was throbbing now, and at full rigid erection. Lenore stared directly at it, no longer attempting to maintain her facade of professional indifference. Her cunt felt as though it were on fire, the searing flames of passion spreading across her body and melting the waxy gray material of her brain. She continued caressing his testicles with the washcloth while her other hand strayed, like an alien creature with a will of its own, to the pulsating rigidity of his blue-veined fuck-pole.
To Drake's complete surprise, her fingers wrapped gently around the blood-engorged shank of his stiff and trembling hardon. She stroked it slowly up and down, her pussy doing all her thinking now. It trembled and quivered with passion, filling her body with a lusty craving which threatened to overcome her completely. If she couldn't find a way to quiet the thunderous rumbling in her loins immediately it would surely destroy her, robbing her of all reason and turning her into a drooling, mindless, automaton. With a grinding, spiraling motion of her hips, she ground her pussy down against the metal surface of the white enameled hospital stool. But her excitement continued to mount, possessing her like a demon of lust.
She encircled her patient's swollen dick with her long tapered fingers, pulling it gently and caressing its vibrating length with the warm, wet washcloth. "Mmmmmmmmmm," moaned Drake, sailing on a cloud of delight. He had been given bed-baths before, but never like this. The passionate sound of his shimmering arousal jarred Lenore swiftly back to reality. With an involuntary gasp of horror, she realized that she was playing shamelessly with his palpitating cock and that the routine bed-bath had somehow deteriorated into a lewd act of erotic stimulation.
Biting her lip to keep from crying out in shame and humiliation, she pulled her hands from his erect cock, swabbing quickly across his pelvis with the cloth and patting him dry with a brisk and efficient swipe of a thickly absorbent hospital towel. Pulling his gown over the bulging prominence of his rigid penis, she re-covered him with the blanket and rose abruptly to leave.
"Hey, wait a minute," called Drake as she headed for the door. "Don't run away. That was the best ba... ".
But, before he could finish his sentence, Lenore rushed from the room. Stopping for a moment in the corridor outside his door, she looked fearfully around her, trying vainly to catch her breath. She felt like she had just run a mile with lead weights strapped to her back and legs. The thought of what she had just allowed to happen shocked and terrified her, making her knees tremble and her hands shake. She had lost every last vestige of professional reserve, abandoning herself completely to the lustful demands of her sex-starved body.
Being raped by that madman last week must have done something to my mind, she thought in horror. I've turned into some kind of insatiable sex fiend. She remembered the way that her body had betrayed her a week ago when she was cornered and assaulted by the hopeless schizophrenic in Ward D. To a lesser degree, the same thing had just happened in Ronald Drake's private room. In spite of the warnings of a mind which knew better, her flesh had surrendered completely to the urgent demands of her lust-crazed body. Only this time, no force was required to induce her to forget everything she had ever learned about right and wrong and about the ethical practice of her noble profession.
She knew that if she had been a man and the patient a woman, her lapse of discretion would probably have resulted in the loss of her license to practice nursing as well as her job at Hartford. Patients, who placed their bodies in the hands of hospital personnel for medical and nursing care, had an unqualified right to expect those occasionally intimate services to be rendered dispassionately, with no thought for personal lusts or immoral desires, no matter how potent they were. In allowing herself to respond sexually to her patient's arousal, Lenore had violated her professional trust. She held herself in utter contempt, condemning herself far more harshly than any hospital grievance committee would have done.
Suddenly feeling the need to confide in another human being, Lenore remembered Sandy Taylor's parting words. "I'm here whenever you need me," the pretty nursing supervisor had assured her. She thought about the kindness in the head nurse's eyes and the understanding in her voice. Then, not knowing where else to turn, she ran down the hall toward Sandy Taylor's office, hot tears of shame and self-accusation streaming down her cheeks. She had no idea of what she would say to her supervisor, but she found herself hoping desperately that Sandy had not yet gone out for lunch. When she threw open the door marked NURSING SUPERVISOR and flew hysterically into the tiny office, she was weeping uncontrollably, no longer able to choke back the sobs which clogged her throat.
Sandy, who realized that Lenore had been walking on the brink of disaster for the past week, rose from her swivel chair and went to the sobbing young nurse. Pressing a clean handkerchief into the blonde girl's hand, she threw her arm affectionately across her underling's shoulders. "It's all right, Lenore," she crooned softly. "It's all right."
Lenore allowed the warm protection of her supervisor's embrace to comfort and envelop her in a soft cloud of safety and security. Losing all control over the pitiful sobs which racked and shook her voluptuous body, she bawled openly, dabbing at her eyes with the balled-up handkerchief which Sandy had given her.
The nursing supervisor waited until the weeping girl's sobs had subsided before speaking again. "I was just about to go home for a sandwich," she said. "Even a head nurse has to eat once in a while. Why don't you come home with me? I only live across the street."
"Oh, no," Lenore sobbed. "I wouldn't want to impose. It's just that I... " Overcome once more by tearful emotion, she stopped abruptly in midsentence. She raised both hands to her face, covering it with them as her shoulders shook violently in shame and humiliation.
"It's no imposition," Sandy said tenderly. "I'll fix you a cup of instant coffee and you can tell me all about it. If you want to, that is."
"Well," Lenore stammered, her sobs quieting a little. "I... I... I don't know."
"Why not wait and see," Sandy suggested, her voice still cheerful and bright. "If you don't feel like talking, you don't have to. At least it'll do you good to get away from here for a little while." With a gentle pressure of the arm with which she continued to encircle the younger girl's trembling shoulders, Sandy led her towards the door. "We'll take the service elevator," she whispered. "And you won't have to see a soul." Lenore followed her blindly, allowing herself to be led like a sheep, and knowing that without the older woman's guiding hand she would be completely lost--a bobbing cork in a sea of churning hysteria.
Sandy's promise about not seeing a soul in the service elevator turned out to be a slight exaggeration. The tiny car was crowded with orderlies, nurses' aides, and porters, all rushing from one floor to another. But, fortunately, none of them noticed the two nurses who got on together and stood silently in a back corner of the elevator. When the descending chamber reached the main floor, Sandy and Lenore rushed from it and out of the hospital. They crossed the busily trafficked street, heading for the small, white house which contained the head nurse's apartment.
CHAPTER SEVEN
By the time they climbed the stairs which led to Sandy Taylor's third-floor apartment, Lenore had managed to bring her sobbing under control and to hold back the flood of tears which welled up in her burning eyes. She felt weak and tired, her body's fatigue the direct result of her mind's disorientation. She stared unseeingly around her as her companion unlocked and opened the door. Then she followed the petite nursing supervisor inside, her steps mechanical and her movements automatic.
"Make yourself comfortable," said Sandy, closing the door behind her. "I'll fix the coffee. Would you like a sandwich?" Lenore shook her head dumbly from side to side. A moment later she heard the clattering of pots and dishes coming from Sandy's kitchen. She stood in the middle of the room, looking woodenly about her.
Sandy's furnishings were tasteful but inexpensive. There was a long red couch trimmed in white, and two matching club chairs. In front of the couch was an oval, marble-topped coffee table. And on the wall behind it hung a large, unframed painting--an abstraction with red, yellow, and blue the predominating colors.
Lenore walked slowly to the couch and sat uneasily on its edge. Her mind reeled as she reviewed the events which had led up to her emotional breakdown. It all started a week ago with the showing of an obscene movie. And it culminated today in her shamefully erotic performance during Mr. Drake's bed-bath. She searched frantically in her memory for the causes of her destruction, weighing each incident carefully, balancing it against each of the others. She could not ignore the importance of the role played by her rape at the hands of Johnson in Ward D last week. But neither could she ignore the importance of her first sexual encounter--her night with David Montgomery on the beach at La Jolla more than six years, ago. She had been trying, ever since it happened, to wipe all memory of the sordid incident out of her mind as her mother demanded, But she never really succeeded in doing it. For, although not everything is remembered, nothing is forgotten.
A dizzying parade of lewd images flitted erotically across the field of her consciousness, bringing new tears of shame and horror from her eyes. She began to sob again, her breasts and shoulders heaving spasmodically.
Sandy, hearing her strangled cry of anguish, quickened her movements, spooning crystals of instant coffee into two heavy porcelain mugs and filling them with boiling water. Carrying the steaming vessels carefully, she returned to the living room. Placing the cups on the edge of the marble-topped coffee table, she sat next to Lenore on the edge of the red, crushed-velvet couch.
She encircled the weeping girl's quivering body with her arm and drew it towards her. Lenore allowed herself to be cuddled against her supervisor's petite body, pillowing her head on the older woman's more than ample bosom. She sobbed uncontrollably, as Sandy stroked her soft blonde hair with a tender movement of her hand. The petite brunette was crooning softly, "There, there, Lenore. Cry all you want to. But don't try to face your problem all alone. Why don't you try to talk about it? Maybe I can help."
"Oooooh, Sandy," Lenore wailed. She wanted, more than anything, to confide in the older woman ; to place herself in Sandy's gentle and capable hands. But she just didn't know where to begin.
"Come on, now," Sandy coaxed. "Tell me all about it. Let it all hang out. Maybe I'll even cry with you."
Lenore took a deep breath, trying to bring her convulsing throat and quivering lips under control. Gradually, she regained a partial state of calm. Her voice halting and uncertain, she began telling the attractive nursing supervisor her sordid tale of shame and degradation.
At first, words were hard to find. Thoughts and feelings which had been locked inside for too long were reluctant to expose themselves to criticism or judgment. But, gradually, as she struggled to speak of the things which troubled and tormented her, communication became easier and less unpleasant. For the first time in her life, she was with someone who sincerely wanted to listen without interrupting to scold her for her shameful thoughts. And, although she didn't know why, she was certain that Sandy would understand the secret thoughts and private feelings which disturbed her. Even though she didn't understand them herself.
The river of words, which began as a slow and tiny trickle, swelled quickly to a gushing torrent. The weeping blonde told the whole painful story from her rape by a high school football hero on a moonlit beach six years in the past to her shameless manipulation of Ronald Drake's penis in a Hartford Institute bed less than an hour ago. The more she spoke, the less difficult it became. She left nothing out, from her mother's refusal to discuss the violent defloration of her adolescent vagina, to her own taciturnity following the incident in Johnson's cubicle last week. She even mentioned the party at Judy Fuller's house and the fact that she had been scrupulously avoiding Tom Carter ever since.
When she was finished, Sandy Taylor whistled softly. "You poor kid," she said sympathetically, "what a heavy load to carry around with you all these years."
"Years?" Lenore echoed quizzically. "Most of it happened this week."
"No," Sandy said, her voice soft and controlled.
"Your trouble started years ago. When you were just a confused teen-ager with questions that you didn't have the courage to ask and a mother who probably didn't have the answers. By refusing to talk frankly and intelligently to you about sex, your mother taught you that it was something dirty and unspeakable. By scolding you and commanding you to put that first sexual experience out of your mind, she let you know that she held you to blame for it. And as a result you felt guilty about all things sexual--about your own emotions and the normal functions of your body.
"And now you're so uptight about sex that when you go out with a decent man--like Tom Carter--you can't think of anything else. And it scares the heck out of you. So you stay home alone. And since you're probably too inhibited to masturbate, you end up so frustrated that it only takes a little nudge to set your juices flowing. A fiend like Johnson or a lecher like Drake can have a field day, just by catching you off guard."
Lenore was no longer crying now. Instead, she was listening intently. Sandy's words were making sense to her--more than anything ever had before. And the logical analysis of her emotions was making them seem more legitimate somehow, more natural.
"You've got to learn to be relaxed about sex," Sandy continued. "You've got to accept desire the same way you accept hunger and thirst." She moved closer to Lenore, holding her tightly in her arms and stroking her hair tenderly. "And just like hunger and thirst, you've got to satisfy it. That's what you're supposed, to do with a physical craving. That's why it's there. Its perfectly natural. It even feels good. Why don't you let me show you?"
Lenore looked up at her in astonishment. "Show me?" she said. "What do you mean?" She didn't understand her supervisor's words or the strange look in her eyes. But she was acutely aware of the woman's hands moving slowly and gently across her back and shoulders, petting her tenderly.
"Relax," whispered Sandy softly. "Trust me. I promise I won't do anything to hurt you." She continued stroking the young blonde, pushing her gently backwards until she was lying face up on the long red couch. Then her hand moved to the buttons at the front of Lenore's white uniform. So deft were the movements of her fingers that three buttons had already been opened before the girl realized what was happening.
"No!" she snapped, her voice ringing with alarm as she struggled to return to a sitting position. "Sandy, what are you doing?"
"Relax," Sand repeated, her skillful fingers still working at the buttons. "It will feel good. I promise. And I'll stop whenever you tell me to." Lenore's head was spinning disorientedly. She didn't understand what Sandy was trying to do. But before she knew it, both of the woman's hands were inside her uniform, petting her body and caressing her swollen breasts through the material of her taut white bra.
She drew a deep sibilant breath as two of Sandy's long supple fingers slipped inside the well-stuffed bra-cups to stroke lasciviously at the softly curving flesh of her powdery tits. She never dreamed that such a thing could happen to her. It was wrong. It was perverted. She wanted to fling the feminine hands from her body and run from the apartment. But the rippling thrill of erotic sensuality which crackled across her pink-nippled globes kept her pinned helplessly to the couch.
Her nipples hardened to fully rigid erection when the tips of the older nurse's fingers played tantalizingly across their goosepimpled surface. Sandy toyed lovingly with each of the puckering aureoles, her manipulations drawing them up into twin points of heated excitement. Continuing to stroke and pet the quivering orbs with one hand, she used the other to lift Lenore's body and slip the girl's arms from the sleeves of her uniform.
Lenore cooperated numbly as Sandy stripped her crisp white dress from her body. The brunette's talented hands were petting her boobies skillfully, with the tender understanding which only another woman could have, fanning the flames of her desire and stilling the protests of her disjointed consciousness. It felt better than anything ever had before. She knew--deep within her--that if she didn't call an immediate halt to the shocking chain of events, it would soon be too late. But the skillful manner in which the nursing supervisor was stimulating and arousing her was robbing her of all volition and leading her gradually down the curving path of submissive surrender.
When she felt Sandy fumbling behind her for the catch of her brassiere, she lifted her body to permit easier access. She could feel deft fingers working at the clasp, twisting it open and releasing her from the clinging grasp of the constricting undergarment. Sandy worked the straps down over the young nurse's creamy shoulders and pulled the bra from her. Lenore's soft, round tits swung free, fully exposed to the older woman's aroused gaze. With a muffled groan of passion, the petite brunette threw herself forward, gluing her lips lustfully to one of the turgid pink paps.
Lenore moaned as she felt Sandy's tongue laving slowly over the puckered prominence of her rosy nubbin. She moved her hips in an involuntary spiral which screwed her ass down tight against the red sofa cushion, gasping when Sandy's lips closed gently over the pink diamond of flesh and began sucking hungrily at it. "Oooooh," sighed the blonde, her shapely body responding excitedly to the woman's lingual ministrations.
She was completely naked now, except for her panties, a yellow polka-dotted strip of cloth which barely covered her pouting pussy and softly rounded buttocks. While she moved her lips from one nipple to the other, Sandy hooked her fingers into the tight elastic waistband of Lenore's briefs. She tugged gently at the wispy garment, peeling it from the furry blonde cushion of her loins and dragging it silkily down over the length of her creamy thighs. Then, cupping one mountainous breast in each hand, she tore her sucking lips from the rosy turgidity of Lenore's puckered nipples.
Craning her neck, she drew back for a long lustful look at the young nurse's naked body. The sight of her downy golden patch of curling pubic hair made Sandy's pussy tingle and filled her vaginal chasm with thick viscous liquid.
"Lenore," she said. "You have a beautiful body. Let me help you enjoy it."
Lenore's eyes blinked open. She looked into Sandy's face, an expression of fear clouding her own. "Oh, Sandy," she said, "I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think."
"Does it feel good?" Sandy asked, her voice soft and husky.
"Oh, yes," Lenore answered. "It feels wonderful."
"Then don't think anything," said the breathless head nurse. "Just relax and enjoy it." Sandy rolled the young girl's pink nipples between her thumbs and forefingers until Lenore gasped with unbridled pleasure. Still tweaking and pinching the rosy pebbles of flesh with the fingers of one hand, the petite head nurse used the other to fumble at her own clothing, twisting buttons and undoing clasps until, at last, she too was naked.
Lenore looked up at the swelling roundness of the brunette woman's huge, magnificent tits and found that she had an irrepressible urge to touch one of them. The thought of doing so frightened and embarrassed her almost as much as it excited her. Closing her eyes to avoid meeting Sandy's gaze, and turning her face demurely away, she reached up with one hand, groping blindly for the silken contours of the dark-haired woman's breasts. Sandy, sensing Lenore's embarrassed desire, moved forward, shoving one tit into the outstretched hand.
When Lenore felt the gem-like erection of Sandy's nipple raking at her fingers, she realized that her hand had found its objective. Gingerly, as though afraid that it would break, she petted and kneaded the firm, spongy mound. Its erotic resiliency thrilled and excited her. She could feel her cuntlips pouting with desire, drawing back to expose the beefy redness of her inner pussy to the cool air of the apartment.
Sandy drew her breath in sharply when she felt the younger girl's hand on her throbbing breast. She sensed the inexperience of Lenore's fumbling fingers as they explored the surface of her breast in search of her rubbery pink nipples. The rosy nubbin puckered and hardened as the girl's hand raked erotically across its turgid surface. Sandy could see Lenore's cunt, its lips flowering open like the petals of a rose following a summer rain. Tiny drops of dewy sexual secretion dotted its glistening red surface, making the dark-haired woman's mouth water with desire.
Lenore was writhing uncontrollably now, her hips waving from side to side like a flag in a breeze. She moaned and grunted softly as Sandy's fingers played lovingly over her silky white body, cupping her tits, stroking her belly, tangling in her pubic hair, and kneading the flesh of her thighs. What the young girl lacked in experience, she made up for in enthusiasm. Her hands were everywhere, touching, petting, and exploring her supervisor's body. Each quivering caress heightened her excitement and compounded her arousal.
"Mmmmmmm," she moaned, as Sandy's fingers sailed across her flat white belly. "Oooooooooooh, feeeeeeeeelllls soooo gooooooooooood." The sounds of her pleasure gave Sandy encouragement, and she let her hands stray lower and lower. Lenore gasped in surprise when one of the older woman's palms brushed gingerly across the pouting red lips lining the fragrant wet slash of her tender pussy.
She could hardly believe that her supervisor was touching her there, at the most private part of her body. She knew that she should command the woman to stop; that she should spring from the sofa and run screaming from the apartment. But she could not bring herself to interrupt the rising waves of burgeoning excitement which flashed electrically across her hairy twat.
Sandy trailed her fingers along the moist, glistening furrow which separated the flowering flanges of flesh. Dipping into the slimy fluids which coated their inner surfaces, she carried a viscous drop to the quivering knob which nestled in a tiny hood of pink membrane at the top of her slit. "Aaaaaaagh," grunted Lenore when she felt the grazing contact. Her clit throbbed to full erection, Sandy's expert ministrations bringing it poking erotically from the tent of cuntflesh which protected it.
Lenore had never felt anything so good before in her life. Her eyes were wide open now, watching as the naked nursing supervisor stroked and titillated her body. She cupped both of Sandy's tits in her hands, rolling them about with youthful and inexperienced exuberance. The mammoth boobs were like two giant marshmallows, capped in cherry fluff and as smooth as whipped cream. She longed to taste their forbidden sweetness, to roll the erect nubbins of turgid pink meat between her teeth and lips and to wash them delicately with the broad, flat blade of her tongue.
But she could not muster the courage to aggress on her own. So she just lay there, wriggling and writhing on the couch as the more experienced woman played her body like a singing violin. Sandy was bending forward now, her face just a few inches from Lenore's blonde and furry cunt. She inhaled deeply, savoring the spicy aroma of the younger girl's sexual secretions. She could see the lips of Lenore's twat parted in an obscene toothless grin, exposing the glistening folds of her inner pussy to her lascivious gaze.
Breathing a blast of hot, moist air across the quivering pink membranes, Sandy moaned softly. She was so aroused that she could wait no longer. Dipping her head abruptly, she pressed her lips to the flowing gash of Lenore's sweet cunt. She opened her mouth wide, sucking gently until she had drawn a thick mouthful of slimy membrane between her teeth. She nibbled gently at the sensitive tissue, licking at the downy flanges with her tongue.
Lenore's voice increased in volume as she wailed in mounting excitement. "Aaaaaaaiiiiyyyyy," she howled, Sandy's tongue stimulating her slavering slash to a fever pitch. One of the nursing supervisor's hands stroked and petted the girl's firm, heaving tits while the other framed the hairy triangle of her pubic mound. Her gently probing fingers spread Lenore's cuntlips further apart, allowing her to push almost half of her face inside.
The moistly glistening folds of roiling flesh closed around Sandy's nose and plunging tongue, lapping at her face with an obscene slurping sound audible to Lenore even over the sucking noises which Sandy was making with her mouth and tongue. The brunette moved into a more convenient position, her knees straddling the young nurse's blonde head. Lenore could see her damp and tawny twat bobbing and weaving above her as the petite lesbian rolled and bucked in an attempt to bury her face still deeper in the roiling depths of her inexperienced underling's pussy.
Motivated by the overwhelming combination of lust and desire, Lenore stretched her neck, lifting her head high off the mattress. Her mouth and nose were so close to the nursing supervisor's pussy that she could feel its coarse bristly hairs tickling her lips. The fragrant musty aroma of Sandy's excitement filled her nostrils and heightened her excitement. Snaking her tongue out between her lips, she stabbed gingerly with it at the older woman's slavering slash, hardly aware of her own actions.
Her mouth filled with the tantalizing flavor of the other woman's sex. Its taste was sweet and spicy, sour, bitter, and salty, all at the same time. She rolled her tongue over the folds of membranous flesh, probing and exploring each swirling convolution and pressing her mouth tight against the free flowing orifice. She moved her head back to bury her cock-like tongue deep inside the slimy gash, nudging clumsily with the tip of her nose at the deep shadowy crack which separated the straddling woman's ass cheeks.
She could feel her own cunt opening wide to accept Sandy's slaving face. The top of the brunette woman's tongue played lovingly over the quavering nubbin of her swollen clitoris, stimulating her body to thrashing animation. "Mrf, mrf, mrf, mrf," she grunted, the sounds of her passion muffled by the clinging folds of Sandy's drooling cunt.
The harder Lenore licked, the juicier the bucking woman's pussy became. Its syrupy flavor was thrilling and exciting the girl, bringing her own fluids to a rolling boil. Sandy's ass was waving around in a spiraling circle which alternately pressed her dripping cunt hard against Lenore's sucking mouth and raised it high into the air, pulling it almost out of reach of her desperately extended tongue.
Lenore's struggles to maintain contact with the throbbing gash excited the head nurse in a way that mere physical stimulation never could. She knew that the young blonde was a sexual neophyte, her only previous experiences having been a pair of violent and forcible rapes. And she knew also that this was her first sexual encounter of any kind with a woman. But Lenore's swift adjustment and total immersion in the pleasures of sapphic love gave proof that she was a girl of passionate lusts and sensitive desires.
Sandy could feel the inexperienced tongue probing deep within the pulsing cavity of her overstimulated vulva, plowing experimentally through her swirling juices and lapping delicately at the soft, silky smoothness of her oiled cuntal membranes. The brunette moaned long and low, the guttural sound of passionate self-expression setting up a vibration in her mouth and nose which tickled and titillated Lenore's sensitive cunt.
Lenore responded by bridging her back up off the cushion and pushing her dripping loins insistently against Sandy's sucking mouth. The movement welded their torsos together, and the petite but big-breasted head nurse felt her soft tits flatten against the rocking plane of the younger girl's pelvis. Her turgid pink nipples were a pair of glowing embers which burned deep into Lenore's creamy skin.
The young nurse was grunting and groaning in rhythmic excitement as her supervisor's waggling tongue churned the milk of her pussy to thick and .creamy butter. Her body was aglow with a kind of erotic radioactivity which warmed the air around her and filled the room with crackling energy. Her buttocks bobbed up and down, a full six inches above the red-cushioned surface of the long comfortable sofa. Her arms wrapped tightly around Sandy Taylor's hips as she clung to the older woman's body as if her life depended on it.
Her face was pressed tightly against the furry mound of Sandy's pubic region, her waving tongue buried deep within the pink-lipped fount of free flowing pleasure. She could taste and smell a subtle change taking place in the other woman's secretions. They were becoming spicier and less sweet. The creamy moisture coated her cheeks and filled her sucking mouth until she was forced to swallow repeatedly to keep from gagging. She could feel the thick, slimy fluid rolling down her throat and filling her belly with its syrupy warmth. Each contraction of her larynx sent a thundering shock wave crashing across her own richly secreting cunt.
Suddenly Sandy's tempo began to change. The slow rotating spiral which characterized the choreography of her pelvis crumbled to a jerking series of spasmotic jumps and twitches. The lips of her pussy splayed wide to mask and cover Lenore's sucking face. Over the slurping noises made by her own tongue as it whipped through the slime of the older woman's cunt, Lenore heard Sandy moaning, "Ooooooooooooooooh, yesssssssss, Suuuuuuuuck myyyyyyyyy cuuuuuuuuunt." Then, bucking like a pony, she wailed, "Oooooooh, yeees, I'm cuuuuummmm-iiiiiinnnnnnngg. Ooooooooooh, Lenoooooooore. I'm cuuuuuummmiiiiiinnngg."
The churning activity of Sandy's rocking pelvis moved her pussy from side to side and smeared thick honeyed juices all over Lenore's cheeks and chin. The erotic fragrance of her cunt filled Lenore's nostrils, and triggered her own sexual response. With a plaintive moan of agonizing tension, she raised her curvaceous legs and wrapped them around Sandy's head, jamming the brunette's face down hard against her snatch. "Aaaannngg," she screamed, the first trembling wave of orgasm inflaming her cunt with burgeoning fury.
Like a raging cataract that could no longer be stopped, the fluids of the young nurse's climax whirled and rolled within her, flooding the tubes of her reproductive system and filling her pussy to overflowing. Sandy's tongue lapped madly in an effort to savor every precious drop of the coveted moisture, but not even her skillful mouthings were a match for the torrential flow of pent-up viscosity. A steady stream of passionate utterances ripped uncontrollably from the bosomy blonde's throat, the spastic movements of her lips and tongue stimulating Sandy's pussy with incredible vigor. Sandy wrapped her lips around the young nurse's clitoris, sucking gently and bringing more expressions of lustful delight from Lenore's lips.
"Mmmmmmnnnnnnn," she moaned. "Aaaaww, Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh, oooooooooooooohhhhhh. Feeeeeeeeeels soooooo gooooooooooood." Her abandoned response thrilled and excited the older woman, increasing the fury of her rising orgasm and prolonging her long tortuous climb to its towering summit. She had never expected to evoke so violent a response in a girl with Lenore's limited experience. She recognized in her an almost limitless capacity for sexual arousal. As Lenore's climax began, she redoubled her lingual probings of her supervisor's pussy.
Rolling her hips to the left and then to the right, Sandy screwed her cunt down tighter against the sapphic initiate's hungrily sucking mouth. Lenore's tongue was whirling in circles, driving in and out of the rolling slash in rhythm to the waves of delight which were breaking over her own writhing body. The two women chanted in unison, their mutual orgasm carrying them away to a Shangri-la of blissful euphoria.
The cheeks of the young nurse's smooth white ass rocked and bobbed spastically, crashing against the red crushed-velvet upholstery and then rising tremblingly into the air. The shapely blonde was completely incapable of coping with the tumultuous sensations which flooded her ecstatically vibrating body. Her mind sailed the stratosphere on a drifting cloud of phantasmagoric oblivion while her flesh thrashed and writhed under Sandy's sensuous lapping and erotic tonguing of her most private opening. With an agonizing effort, she struggled to achieve the craggy peak of her mountainous orgasm, grasping for breath as paroxysm after paroxysm of ecstatic joy wracked her toiling body.
Then, as though the hot-air balloon which carried her high above the rolling earth had sprung a tiny leak, she found herself swinging lower and less buoyantly with each new wave of erotic I sensation. After seconds which seemed like aeons ; her feet touched the ground once more. And, little by little, her mind followed, returning from its flight of frivolous fancy to the harsh realities of the here and the now.
When she felt Lenore's body stiffen, Sandy sensed her young lover's return from her excursion through the glittering world of sexual euphoria. She knew, from the sounds of reckless abandon which had issued from the blonde's throat, that their erotic encounter had produced one of the most momentous experiences of her young life. And she knew that its effect would either be traumatic or beneficial, depending on what took place within the next few minutes.
If Lenore could learn to accept her body's passionate response as a purely physical reaction to life's greatest pleasure, the casually homosexual encounter could be an important turning point for her. For it was apparent to Sandy that her young friend's problem stemmed in part from mounting sexual frustration caused by her celibate adulthood. But if, on the other hand, the girl allowed herself to become obsessed with guilt and shame, it would only throw her deeper into the pit of hopeless depression from which she had originally sought escape in Sandy's arms.
The older woman realized that she was faced with a serious responsibility. Lenore's stability hung by a slender thread, and much would depend on the way Sandy handled the situation. Rolling over onto the cushion beside her and turning to cradle the young nurse's head in the crook of her elbow, Sandy stroked her blonde hair comfortingly. "Sweet, sweet Lenore," she crooned.
The naked girl's eyes were tightly shut, unwilling to look upon her seductress until she had a chance to sort out her thoughts. Her body still languished in the warm, enveloping glow of her orgasm's aftermath. But her mind was already beginning to grapple with her new experience, trying to weigh and understand it, to see if it could be fit into the pattern of her life. She was no longer certain about any of the things of which she had previously been sure. Her old concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, normal and perverted, had somehow become less clear-cut and more abstract. Her world, formerly a contrasting field of black and white, now seemed to be colored in an infinite variety of shades of gray. And her head was spinning in confusion.
She had just surrendered to the sexual caresses of a woman, participating in an act which she had always thought of us ugly and depraved. But Sandy Taylor's loving embrace had been far from ugly. It was more tender and more gentle than any she had ever known. And her own body responded with pleasure and satisfaction in a way that she had never imagined possible. Her eyes fluttering open, she looked up to see Sandy Taylor smiling down into her face. "Ooooh, Sandy," she said with a shiver. "I just don't know what to think."
"Did it feel good?" Sandy asked. Her voice was soft and tender as she repeated her question of a few minutes ago.
"Oooooooh, yessssss," whispered the blonde. "I never thought anything could feel that good."
"Then don't think anything," Sandy said. "Just enjoy it every chance you get." Her hands were stroking Lenore idly, touching her face, her hair, her soft creamy breasts.
Lenore lay still for a moment, enjoying the brunette's affectionate caresses. Then, a look of quiet terror on her face, she asked, "But doesn't this mean that I'm a... I mean, aren't women who... " She couldn't bring herself to say the unspeakable words or to finish the question which frightened and upset her.
Sandy was understanding. "Lesbians?" she said softly, helping the young nurse over her embarrassment by filling in the blank. "Is that what you're worried about? That you've gone gay for life?"
"Well... " Lenore began, "isn't... I mean... "
"Listen, honey," the head nurse said, her voice patient and gentle. "You don't have to be a lesbian to respond to another woman's touch. A lesbian is a sick person: a girl who can respond only to other women. That doesn't apply to you, does it?" The naked young girl thought back to the incident in Ward D the previous week, remembering the way she had begged for cock while wrapping her legs shamelessly around Johnson's body. Then her mind flashed ahead to her breach of ethics in the orthopedic wing less than an hour ago. She remembered the way Ronald Drake's stiffening hardon had aroused and inflamed her, causing her to turn a routine bed-bath into a shameless and wanton hand-job. "No, I guess not," she answered, still uncertain about her own mental and moral health.
"Of course not," Sandy echoed reassuringly. "What happened today doesn't make you a lesbian any more than eating chop suey would make you Chinese. It wasn't my body that you were enjoying. It was your own. I was nothing more than a vehicle for your own sexual self-expression. It could just as easily have been a dildo, or a coke bottle, or even your own finger. The fact that I'm a woman is irrelevant. Your body was starved for sex. And a starving person never stops to look at a menu."
Lenore felt the fear and tension which knotted her vitals leave her as the older woman spoke. Sandy's understanding voice and casual manner were fast putting her at her ease. Looking at herself, she realized that she was completely nude, her bare breasts and hairy pubis clearly exposed to her supervisor's view. But, to her surprise, she felt neither shame nor embarrassment. On the contrary, when she noticed the brunette's eyes flitting to her nakedness, she felt her nipples pucker with renewed excitement.
"You're a very sensuous and a very responsive girl," Sandy whispered, one of her hands toying affectionately with Lenore's naked breast. "You could make any man happy." Then, her voice becoming almost inaudible, she added, "You don't know how lucky you are."
Lenore noticed the sadness in Sandy's tone and understood, for the first time, that her supervisor had problems too. "Do you mean," she asked quietly, "that you're a she still could not speak the ugly word.
"A homosexual," said Sandy, her lips smiling but her eyes suddenly serious. "I gave up on men a long time ago. I tried, believe me. Everything from swinging to psychoanalysis. And nothing worked for me. I simply can't achieve satisfaction with a man. Oh, I get turned on, all right, but it always ends in frustration." Her face had saddened, and Lenore thought that she could see the agony of loneliness reflected in the gentle woman's eyes.
Her voice falling to a whisper, Sandy added, her throat choked with emotion, "But, believe me, Lenore, honey. It isn't that way with you. I can tell about these things. They say we have a sixth sense. And you're a man's woman if ever I saw one."
"I... I don't know," Lenore said uncertainly. "With you it was easy. But with a man... " She let her voice trail off into indecisive oblivion.
"Nonsense," Sandy answered brightly. "It's just a matter of technique. Sex is like nursing. You aren't born knowing how to do it. You've got to learn. It takes practice. And you haven't had much of that, have you?"
"No," Lenore answered. The logic of Sandy's argument was affecting her profoundly, assuaging her guilt feelings and inspiring her with a new enthusiasm for life. For if, as Sandy insisted, the pleasures of sexuality were legitimate and natural functions of the body, then there was no reason why she shouldn't enjoy them again and again with people whose company she enjoyed; people like Tom Carter.
Suddenly, a fleeting vision of Judy Fuller looking as she did at the party last week flashed across Lenore's mind. She couldn't help remembering the way Judy's soft, round tits pressed insistently against Tom's body when she reached up to kiss him. Nor could she forget the foxy nurse's suggestive offer. "If you think of anything else you want, just ask." She found herself wondering whether Tom had ever taken her up on it. She pictured the handsome young doctor making love to the bosomy psychiatric nurse, and shuddered in jealous fascination. "I've lost an awful lot of time, haven't I?" she said, certain that the older woman would understand her. "Do you think it's too late?"
"No," Sandy answered, smiling affectionately. "You'd be surprised at how fast a smart girl like you can learn when she sets her mind to it." As she spoke, she rose from the couch and began gathering her clothing from where it lay scattered on the floor.
"I guess what I really need," Lenore said, watching as the petite nursing supervisor stepped into her white cotton panties, "is a crash-course in lovemaking."
Sandy laughed. "Take it wherever you can find it," she answered. Slipping into her white nurse's uniform, she smiled at her still-naked young colleague. "I've got to get back to the hospital," she said reluctantly. "My lunch hour ended a long time ago. But, as your supervisor, I'm giving you the rest of the afternoon off. Stay here and take a nap if you'd like. Just make sure you lock the door behind you when you leave."
"Thanks," Lenore said. "I feel better than I have in weeks. A hundred percent better. It feels like a heavy weight has just been lifted from my shoulders." She yawned suddenly, her mouth opening wide to show her pretty, white teeth. "But I do think I could use a nap."
"I'm sure you could," Sandy answered. "Especially since you're starting that private duty assignment tonight."
"Oh, my God," sputtered Lenore. "I forgot all about that. How can I go through with it? How can I face Mister Drake after what happened this afternoon?" For a moment it looked like she was going to cry. Sandy, who by now was fully dressed, stepped up in front of her, looking her directly in the eye.
"Listen, honey," she said, her voice sterner than it had been all afternoon. "I won't even try to justify what happened in the orthopedic wing this afternoon. There's no excuse for it. You're a nurse. And that means that you've undertaken a serious responsibility. When you're on duty, that responsibility must come first in your thoughts." She stopped for a moment to let her words sink in. When she started speaking again, her voice was softer, more gentle.
"But you're a woman, too," she continued. "With human emotions and human desires which sometimes get out of hand. And I think you'll find that when Lenore Benson the woman learns to deal with her needs, satisfying them rationally and without fear of eternal damnation, they'll stop being a problem for Lenore Benson the nurse."
Slipping into her shoes, she added, "Now, I've really got to go. I'm glad you decided to talk to me about it. And if I've been any help to you, I'm glad of that too."
"You did help me," answered Lenore. "You have no idea how much." Her voice was choked with emotion. "Thank you for everything."
"Don't thank me," Sandy answered, stepping through the open door. "An old dyke like me has to get it any way she can."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lenore yawned and turned her face to the sun, enjoying the warmth of its caress while her patient, Ronald Drake, swam in the clear blue water of the long, tiled swimming pool. It was dinner time for most of the other residents of his fashionable condominium apartment complex, and Drake had the pool to himself. He liked it that way. His muscles weakened by the long period of immobilization, he preferred swimming alone, with no one to witness the sluggishness of his movements.
In the ten days which had passed since his discharge from the Hartford Institute, Drake's progress had been remarkable. His spine responded to the month of continuous traction by gradually resuming its normal curve, and his vertebrae began to fall slowly back into place. Each day, his doctors permitted him to spend a longer period of time out of his traction harness. And five days ago, they started him on a program of daily physical exercises. Swimming, they said, was the most beneficial of these because of the buoyancy of the water which supported his body and relieved the strain on his injured spine.
As he splashed in the pool, Lenore crossed her legs, smoothing the skirt of her white nurse's uniform carefully over her knees. When he first started exercising, Drake suggested that she leave a bathing suit at his apartment so that she could join him in the pool every day. "No reason why you shouldn't enjoy your work," he said. But Lenore was adamant in her refusal, remembering the advice which Sandy Taylor had given her that fateful afternoon in her apartment. While she was on duty, she would allow herself to think of nothing but her patient and her professional responsibility. Her own enjoyment would have to wait for her off-duty hours. And that meant that while he swam, she watched.
Lenore started acting on Sandy's advice the very first day of her assignment. After sleeping for a few hours on the couch in her supervisor's living room, she dressed and rode the bus to Mr. Drake's apartment. Although she still felt nervous about facing him after the humiliating bedbath experience, she resolved to keep a tight rein on her emotions. Her expression was serious and her mind determined when she knocked on the door of his luxurious quarters. The door was opened by a heavily made-up woman in her midforties with an attractive face and the svelte figure of a high fashion model. Her voice was husky and seductive. "Hello," she said, "you must be Nurse Benson."
"That's right," Lenore answered, extending her hand and lighting her face with a smile.
The woman took her hand, but instead of shaking it as Lenore expected, held it in her own for a moment, squeezing gently with her fingers. "I'm Ellen Phillips," she said. "Mister Drake's, ah, secretary. I'll be leaving in a moment. I just stayed around so that you could show me how the harness works. I'll have to hook him up tomorrow." Then, winking as though she and Lenore shared a great secret, she added, "I'm usually the first one to see him in the morning."
"Fine," said Lenore in her most businesslike manner. She felt an immediate dislike for this vulgar painted woman with her lewd winks and her obvious innuendos. But, remembering the responsibility which she had resolved to place above all personal feelings, she softened her tone a little and added, "It's really very simple. I'll be glad to show you."
"Follow me, then," said the woman. "I'll show you to his room." She led Lenore across a huge living room, its sloping cathedral ceiling making it appear even larger than it was. The carpet on the floor was a soothing green color, and so thick that Lenore almost lost sight of her feet in its soft shaggy nap. At the other end of the tremendous room was a long high-ceiling foyer, carpeted like the living room and wide enough to be called a room itself. In the center of its high, sculptured ceiling hung an ornate crystal chandelier, its gemcut baubles breaking the light into a pattern which speckled the walls and ceiling with a myriad of refracted colors.
"Oh, what a beautiful apartment," Lenore murmured, looking appreciatively around her.
"Yes," Ellen Phillips answered. "We like it." She seemed to be going out of her way to place the young nurse on notice of her claim to the swanky apartment and its handsome occupant. That's all right with me, Lenore thought. I'm not a woman, I'm a nurse. She followed the woman through a door which led to a spacious bedroom. Three of its walls were paneled in a rich-looking dark wood and the fourth was painted white. A brightly colored, paint-spattered canvas done by Jackson Pollock hung frameless in the center of the straight-white wall. Lenore was sure that it was an original and surer that it was very expensive.
Against one of the paneled walls lay Ronald Drake, bound to his hospital-type bed by cables, weights, and pulleys, and looking, for all the world, as he had in his room at the Hartford Institute. "Hello, Mister Drake," said Lenore. "How does it feel to be home?"
"Just great," answered the dark-haired sales executive. But his answer was terse and there was something cold and formal about his tone. Lenore detected a note of aloofness which contrasted sharply with the garrulous affability which he had displayed while a patient at the hospital. "Miss Benson," he said, "have you met Miss Phillips, my, ah, secretary?" Something about the way both he and the woman hesitated before saying the word secretary made Lenore curious as to how much further their relationship went. But she put the question out of her mind with a mental shrug of her shoulders. That's no business of mine, she told herself.
"Yes, of course," she answered brightly. "We met at the door. Miss Phillips tells me that she'll be the one hooking you up in the morning and that she needs a few pointers on the care and feeding of traction harnesses." She approached the bed and began demonstrating the operation of the body hammock to the attractive secretary who listened attentively. Drake remained silent during the brief lecture, and Lenore couldn't help wondering whether his unusual coldness was related to her breach of ethics earlier that day.
Setting up and adjusting the device was rather complicated, and took a few minutes to explain. When Lenore finished, she asked the woman to run through it once to see if she remembered it all. She was prepared to repeat the instructions, but was surprised when Miss Phillips succeeded in reciting her words almost verbatim. She just might be a good secretary after all, thought the nurse.
When Ellen was certain that she knew how to work the harness, she turned from Lenore, bending over Drake's bed to kiss him warmly on the mouth. "Maybe I'll see you later, darling," she whispered in a voice deliberately pitched just loud enough for Lenore to hear. Then, standing to face the young nurse again, she said, "Take good care of him, honey. But not too good." Turning to walk from the room, she added, "I'll see myself out."
The moment she was gone, Ronald Drake heaved a long sibilant sigh of relief. His face, which until then had been serious and grim, broke into the toothy charming smile for which he was famous. "You'll have to excuse Ellen," he said. "She gets a little possessive sometimes. But she's basically a good kid." The coldness which had characterized his speech a few minutes ago was completely gone, and he was fast becoming his cheerful and friendly self. It was as though he had suddenly dropped his guard, slipped out of his shoes, and relaxed. Lenore liked him better this way.
"Well, what are we going to do now?" asked, his voice cheerful and affable. "How a! a bed-bath?"
Lenore's cheeks reddened. "Mister Drake," she said, her voice serious, "I won't even try to excuse myself for what happened this morning. First o; all it was inexcusable. And second of all, I'd much rather forget it. I made a mistake, that's all. It's over and done with. And there's no point in dwelling on it any further." Her lips trembled with emotion and her voice was scratchy with nervous determination.
"You hired me as a nurse," she continued, "and I happen to be a good one. I've taken an oath of professional responsibility and I fully intend to keep it. Let me assure you, right here and now, that there will never be a repetition of what happened this morning while I'm on duty." Suddenly realizing that her voice had risen to a near shout, Lenore stopped speaking to fill her lungs with a long deep breath. Now that she had made her statement, she felt relieved--as though a huge, heavy burden had been lifted from her stooped shoulders. She looked self-consciously at Drake and saw that he was smiling.
"Bravo!" he called good-humoredly. "If I wasn't strapped to my bed I'd give you a standing ovation. You've got a lot of spunk, Miss Benson. I admire you for it. And I promise I'll be a good boy from now on."
"Good," Lenore said, anxious to be finished with the embarrassing subject. "Is there anything I can do to make you comfortable?" She glanced at the paper containing his doctor's written instructions and added, "There's nothing on the schedule this evening until ten o'clock, when the harness comes off."
"No," said Drake. "I think I'll sleep a bit. I've had a tiring day. Why don't you just take it easy for a while, Lenore. Make yourself at home. I'll holler if I need anything."
"All right," Lenore said. "I'll leave your door open so I can hear you." She went into the living room and sat down on one of the two leather recliners which faced a large stone fireplace. She had brought along a book to read, but was too preoccupied with her thoughts to open its covers. She felt no guilt or remorse about her experience with Sandy Taylor this afternoon. In fact, she considered it to be one of the most important events in her life. She was sure that the things Sandy had said to her were true, and that if she were ever to become a well-adjusted, mature adult she would have to change her sexual attitudes. And she was also sure that if she were ever to relate to the man of her choice, she would have to learn a few things about the uses to which the human body can be put in its quest for sexual pleasure.
She thought for a long time about Sandy's encouraging words. "You'd be surprised," the nursing supervisor had said, "at how fast a girl can learn when she sets her mind to it." With her eyes closed, Lenore envisioned each step in the learning process, her cunt moistening as the erotic fantasies unfolded in her mind. Although she tried to stop the lurid thoughts from taking control of her brain, she found herself obsessed with them. She tried to imagine how it would feel to share with a man the tenderness and passion which she had experienced in the arms of her attractive supervisor earlier that day.
As her visions became more detailed and her fantasies more explicit, her body became more agitated. Her pussy began to tingle and itch, its cavernous mouth filling slowly with rich and fragrant secretions. Her breasts felt warm and sensitive, their nipples puckering gradually to semi-turgid erection. The hours seemed to fly, and when the time came for her to release her patient from the prison of his orthopedic "body hammock," she was as taut and as tense as a violin string. The gently brushing contact of her dress against her thighs, as she rose from the chair, felt like an erotically stimulating caress.
Drake was half asleep when she entered his room and approached his bed. "Hi," he said groggily. "Have you come to set me free?"
"Yes," she answered, unhooking the straps which fastened weighted cables to his neck and shoulders. She massaged his skin skillfully to restore the circulation of his blood and to help relax his tight and aching muscles. Then, to permit herself access to the thick leather cuffs which bound his legs and ankles, she removed the blanket which covered his body. He was dressed in a gold silk robe which fell open when she pulled back the blanket. He was naked underneath it, and she could see the heavy cudgel of his penis lying idle across the furry mound of his pelvic plane.
She tried to ignore it, concentrating her attention on the buckles of his harness. But, as she worked, she was conscious of its presence beside her. Its thick and bulbous head was so close to her arms that she could almost feel its heat. One by one, she unfastened the buckles, each movement of her body bringing her nearer to the burgeoning organ. She could see it from the corner of her eye, rising slowly to involuntary erection as its veins and capillaries infused with hot pulsing blood.
When she had freed him of the straps, Lenore began rubbing Drake's legs, massaging them as she had done his shoulders. The brushing strokes of her hands kept moving, as though driven by a r separate consciousness of their own, higher and higher up the length of his hairy and muscular thighs straying toward his cock as she rubbed his dry, chapped, bed-sore skin. She stopped for a moment to look at the throbbing pole of stiff pulsing meat which rose proudly above the heavy bag containing his testicles. The thick tuft of curling black hair which ringed the throbbing organ at its meaty base was coarse and shiny with aroused perspiration.
With a sudden, strangled cry of desire, she tangled her fingers in the dark, bristly fur, rubbing his pubis and nudging at the shank of his blue-veined cock with her knuckles. She cupped his scrotum with one hand while, with the other, she began stroking his quivering shaft with a feather-light up-and-down motion.
Surprised for the second time that day, Ronald Drake reached for her, his hands grasping her shoulders and pulling her towards him. Turning her to face him, he pressed his lips to hers in a burning kiss of passionate desire. He let one of his hands stray slowly to her swelling breast, his fingertips trailing tenderly over its firm ripeness. His tongue drove forward into her mouth, penetrating the moist fortress when she parted her lips to gasp with pleasure and desire.
"I thought you said it would never happen again while you're on duty," said Drake, whispering in her ear as his hands roved freely over her curving tits.
"Mmmmmmmm," murmured Lenore. "Look at the clock. It's ten-thirty. I'm not on duty anymore."
"You know that Ellen and I are, ah... " said Drake, his fingers plucking at the twin prominences of her nipples through the crisp white material of her uniform. Her sudden change in attitude baffled him. And he wanted to be sure this time, before he rose for another fall.
"I understand," she said, her breathing labored and her voice husky with excitement. "I like it that way." In an almost inaudible whisper, she added, "I don't want a boyfriend. I want an education. Teach me! Teach me everything I need to know."
Drake's fingers moved quickly to the buttons at the front of her dress, opening them rapidly, one after another, and pulling back the material to expose the creamy whiteness of her flat belly and the twin cushiony mounds of her bra-covered bosom. "Get naked," he whispered.
Her entire being tingling with forbidden excitement, Lenore slipped the dress from her shoulders and tossed it to the floor. She quickly peeled her panties from her body and shrugged out of her brassiere, standing naked before him for a long embarrassed moment before she rejoined him on the bed. Taking her into his arms, Drake pressed her to him, the hair of his chest tickling and arousing the rubbery flesh of her turgid pink nipples.
"Ooooooooooooohhhh," she moaned. "Feeeeeels sooooooooo gooooooooood." She was already panting and heaving, and her body was writhing against him in a frenzy of desire. He knew that she was already too hot for an extended bout of foreplay. And her arousal was having a potently erotic effect on him. His throbbing cock jerked violently against her, its thick rubbery head bruising the skin of her soft white belly.
Weak from his long period of confinement, Drake remained on his back, rolling her naked body onto his. Her eyes were shut tightly in an attempt to hide her embarrassment, but her face wore an expression of raw, bestial sexuality. Her tits were large and pendulous, their pointy, red nipples hanging down to graze his chest as her body rolled and bucked above him, possessed by a desire which it knew not how to satisfy. Rolling his ass down against the mattress, Drake worked his swollen cock into position between her creamy thighs, its rhythmically beating head nosing experimentally at her pouting slash.
Lenore felt more excited than she had ever been in her life. She could feel the mammoth sex-tool prizing at the tight-lipped opening of her body and she knew that, within seconds, it would be driving deep within her love-starved pussy. This time there would be no violence, no hostility, no force. This time she was willingly and voluntarily offering her body for his edification and amusement. And for whatever she could get out of it as well. She felt naughty and wicked, but that only heightened her excitement.
Drake felt her cuntlips parting hungrily for the entrance of his palpitating hardon and he drew a long deep breath in anticipation of the pleasure which he knew was to follow. It was obvious that the young nurse was substantially without sexual experience. Although he doubted that she was a virgin, her cunt was sure to be nice and tight. And, after four weeks of hospital confinement, with nothing but an occasional blowjob by Ellen during visiting hours to break the celibate monotony, his cock was aching for her tight young pussy.
With an upward thrust of his hips, he drove the first swollen inch of cunt-stuffing erection between her pouting pussylips. "Aaaaaaaanngg," grunted Lenore, the abruptness of his bludgeoning intrusion tinting her pleasure with sharp pain. But the elastic walls of her cunt soon adapted to the thickness of his swollen member, and, little by little, they stretched to fit him. He drove upward with a steady advancing thrust, plunging the gnarled shank of his pile-driving prick deep into her cloying vaginal orifice.
When she felt his cock hit bottom in the juicy slash of her pussy, Lenore went wild, her ass rolling about in an obscene circle as she scraped at the walls of her cunt with his beefy column of desire. Her naked body began to undulate, like a flag in a breeze, her pussy coming down quickly against the bristly cushion of his pubic mound and then whipping upwards to poise at the brink of losing its grip on the purple knob of his cockhead.
Then, with a strangled groan of anguish, she threw herself down onto him again. "Oooooohh," she moaned, "I think I'm going to cum." She sobbed and whimpered in passionate abandon as the rollicking waves of sexual release swept across her writhing body. She continued rocking and rolling atop him until the fury of her movements and the exuberance of her vocalizations brought the first swirling gob of white hot gism spewing from the tip of his cock. They bucked and writhed together until the frenzied action had milked both their bodies dry.
When it was over, they lay panting together on the thick hospital-type mattress, trying to catch their breaths. At last, Lenore asked, "What do you think?"
"Not bad," answered Drake, "but you've got an awful lot to learn."
Lenore's eyes fluttered suddenly open as a splash of cool water spattered across her face. She looked up from her pool-side lounge chair to see Ronald Drake standing over her, clad only in his brief red bathing suit. He had just stepped from the pool and his body glistened with droplets of water which dripped chillingly onto Lenore's sunburned face. "Don't tell me I caught the conscientious Miss Benson sleeping on the job," he said jokingly.
But Lenore, whose abrupt return from reverie left her in a slightly groggy and dulled condition, took him seriously at first, and rushed to defend her professional honor. "I wasn't sleeping," she sputtered. Then, realizing that he had been kidding her, she smiled and added, "I was just thinking about something."
"About what?" he asked, drying his body with a thick absorbent beach towel and wrapping himself warmly in its folds.
"Do you remember what you told me after... She hesitated for a moment. "After our first time together?"
"Sure," he said, "and you've still got a lot to learn. But you certainly have come a long way." His cock was stiff and hard and pressed urgently at the front of his brief red trunks, forming an obscenely pointed bulge. "Come on back to the apartment," he said, "and I'll give you another lesson."
"Oh, no, you don't," she responded. "Not until ten-thirty. You're supposed to go back into the harness for a few hours now."
They walked back to his apartment and Drake obediently showered and returned to his bed completely naked. He accepted the vitamin pill which Lenore gave him and moved into position so that she could strap him back into the body hammock. The attractive young nurse busied herself with a written progress report to Drake's doctor while her patient napped. She looked at the clock, mentally calculating the number of minutes remaining before she could free Ronald from his harness and join him in his bed. She was finding Sandy's prediction to be completely true. Now that she had a regular outlet for the lusts and passions of her body, keeping her mind on her work during duty hours was no longer difficult.
She finished the report and began studying her patient's exercise charts, planning his workout for the following day. A consulting physical therapist had outlined the goals of his physical exercise program, leaving many of the specifics to the discretion of the attending nurse. Lenore giggled to herself, wondering what the therapist would think about the extracurricular exercise which she had been giving her patient during her off-duty hours. When she looked at the clock again, it was already ten-thirty.
Her eyes twinkling with impish mischief, she removed all her clothes and piled them neatly on the desk in a corner of the large bedroom. She looked down at her naked body, satisfied with the ripe firmness of her smooth white tits and the shapely curves of her creamy thighs. Moving, nude, to the side of Drake's bed, she pulled back the blanket, exposing his trussed and helpless naked body to her lustful gaze. She reached for his semi-erect cock and stroked it teasingly, dropping it from her grasp like a hot potato the minute it started to harden.
"Oooooooh, you little cock-teasing bitch," Drake complained, snapping awake. He reached for one of her naked tits with his hand, but the harness restrained him. "If you don't get me out of this," he said, "I'm going to report you to the nursing association."
"What'll you give me if I set you free?" Lenore teased coquettishly.
"You'd better start thinking about what I'll give you if you don't," he retorted.
His cock was at full throbbing erection now, and the sight of it made Lenore forget her game.
"All right," she said breathily, "I guess you've had enough." Her fingers made skillful by experience, she quickly undid the buckles and fastenings which imprisoned him in the constricting grip of the orthopedic harness. Within moments, he was free of it. She started rubbing the numbed skin of his legs and ankles, but he suddenly sat bolt upright. Grabbing her tits and using them for handles, he pulled her toward the head of his bed. Then, before she knew what was happening, he sprang to the floor and moved quickly behind her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he pressed forward, bending her at the waist and forcing her mammoth tits against the clean white surface of the mattress.
Her softly rounded ass, its cheeks firm and full like a pair of tasty melons, waved at him obscenely. Her feet were planted firmly on the carpeted floor, about twenty-four inches apart, her legs forming an isosceles triangle with her hairy cunt at its pointy apex. He could see the pouting red slash winking at him from between her fleshy thighs. The sight of it made his mouth water and his cock jerk. But he tore his gaze away and looked to higher goals. Her pussy was not to be his objective tonight. It was time he taught his pupil about some more novel pleasures.
Lenore, who thought that he was getting ready to enter her vagina from behind, pressed her tits down hard against the mattress, raising her backside up even higher. He had fucked her "dog-fashion" before, and she liked it a lot. The lewd position enabled his cock to penetrate even deeper than usual, and she held her breath, waiting for his insertion. When she felt his fingers moving tenderly across the soft-skinned contours of her buttocks, her pussy began to tingle. She knew that he was getting ready to enter her, and she knew that it would feel wonderful.
When the rubbery knob at the end of his quivering hardon began nudging at the tight-lipped opening of her anus, she rolled her pelvis back trying to bring her cunt up into position. But his hands were on her hips, holding her tight and restricting her movements. Pulling her hard back against him, he humped forward, forcing the tapered head of his prick to press insistently against the puckered brown nut of her asshole.
"Ooooooooh, nooooooo," she moaned, her voice trembling in horror. "Not there, Ronald. Please, not there."
"You've been a bad girl," he said, mimicking the voice of an angry parent talking to a three-year-old child. "And now you've got to be punished."
"Nooooo," she wailed again. But he drove forward relentlessly. She felt her anus marshaling its resources in a last-ditch attempt to prevent his penetration. But it was hopeless. His bludgeoning cock popped past the elastic sphincter muscle and basked for a long pregnant moment in the moist rubbery heat of her swampy anal depths.
"You're going to love it," he whispered. "I guarantee it." Her rectum was already beginning to adjust to his cock's unnatural intrusion. The initial pain of his entry was gone and a new kind of deliciously forbidden pleasure was replacing it. Lenore never imagined that anything which seemed so disgusting could feel so good.
"I love it already," she answered, moving her body forward and back with an instinctive pistoning motion. Ronald's cock entered her slowly, allowing her virginal nether passage to adjust and adapt to his burgeoning girth. He could feel the walls of her colon closing stimulatingly around his penis as he drove onward towards the warm chamber of her belly.
One of his hands played slowly back and forth across her creamy buttocks, pinching the resilient flesh and streaking her skin with the marks of his fingernails. With his other hand encircled her waist, his fingers tangling in the moist jungle of her golden patch of pubic fur in search of the membranous head which sheltered her sensitive clitoris. When he found it, she gasped with delight. "Ooooooh, yeeeeessssss," she hissed, "Touch me there."
Ronald's cock began sawing rhythmically in and out of her puckering asshole while his fingers toyed with the quivering nubbin of her sensitive clit. Each time his nails scraped delicately at its tiny pink head, she threw her ass back hard against him, milking his throbbing hardon with her tightly clasping anus.
He let his fingers dip a little lower, wetting them with the thick creamy fluids of Lenore's tender pussy and carrying the glistening moisture to the vibrating prominence of her clitoral mound. Spreading the soft pink lips with his fingers, he knuckled the tiny pleasure button with the back of his hand.
Lenore's moans of pleasure had degenerated to a mindless sobbing gasp which issued rhythmically from her throat as she tried in vain to fill her burning lungs with air. "Ooooooh, Ronald," she gasped. "I can't believe anything can feel this good."
The tightness of her nether opening pulled the rubbery lips of her asshole tautly around his driving shaft of pleasure. Each time he rocked forward, his balls swung heavily, the wrinkled skin of their sac grazing at the flowering pink lips of her backturned pussy. Her clitoris had grown to the size of a peanut, and he rolled it between two of his fingers, bringing the juices in her twat to a violent rolling boil.
He longed to pump a sticky load of bubbling joy juice into her tender belly, and knew that his climax was not far off. He petted and caressed her cunt with both hands now, finger-fucking her with one of them and rubbing her clit with the fingers of the other. His cock sawed in and out of her clasping asshole with the speed and power of a pneumatic jackhammer.
"Ooooooooooh, noooooooooooo," she wailed. "I can't stand anymore. I think I'm going to cuumm." With that, her cunt filled with thick honeyed juices, overflowing the tender passage and trickling out to cover his hands with sticky goo. He rolled his fists against her cunt, spreading the secretions over her body and putting her gonads on overtime production. He felt the juices rising in his scrotum and whispered in her ear, wanting her to know exactly what was about to happen.
"I'm going to fill your ass with gism," he murmured. "I'm going to cum in you until your belly sloshes."
His obscene promise drove the naked nurse over the brink of orgasmic response and she howled and wailed as the first violent shocks of earth-shattering climax overtook her. The sounds of her cries filled the room, orchestrating their lascivious ballet with a surrealistic background of sexual utterances. A second later, the first whirling spurt of thickly congealed semen shot from the end of his pistoning dick, lubricating the walls of her lower bowel and paving the way for a continuous torrent of the lewd cargo. When at last her belly was so full of sperm that it began to back up and ooze out around the base of his buggering prick, Ronald's cock began to soften and his orgasm draw to a close.
Lenore continued twisting and rolling before him, getting the most out of her shimmering orgasm before she slumped forward, her knees hitting the floor. Drake's cum-moistened cock pulled from her asshole with an obscene plop which seemed to echo off the walls of the room. Her anus gaped open for a moment before the tightly stretched sphincter muscle drew it shut again.
Rising from the floor to throw herself headlong across the bed, Lenore struggled to catch her breath. Finally, she asked, "Do I have much more to learn?"
"Quite a bit," said Drake, smiling satisfiedly. "I think you're going to have to stay after class."
CHAPTER NINE
Stepping from the shower, Lenore reached for the fluffy pink bath towel which hung next to her tub. She rubbed herself briskly with it, drying her body and massaging her skin vigorously. The thick blonde hair of her sparkling pussy glistened with clinging droplets of still-warm shower water, and she swiped vigorously at it with a corner of the towel. She felt the lips of her pussy pouting with desire, and thought, for a moment, of slipping one or two of her fingers between the flowering petals.
She had been masturbating quite a bit these last five days. But even though the touch of her cunt-caressing fingers felt good and helped to relieve her tension, auto-eroticism was a poor substitute for the expert ministrations of Ronald Drake, her professor of sexuality. Now that her private duty assignment was over, she had no reason to visit the handsome sales-executive's apartment. Her crash course in lovemaking technique was finished. And she was on her own.
She had already learned which parts of her vulva were most sensitive to touch-stimulation, and spent a good deal of her time stroking and petting them, arousing herself with her fingers and fucking herself to orgasm with her hands. While she dried herself, she allowed her fingers to stray to the swelling prominence of her sensitive clitoral mound.
The tiny pleasure button was tremblingly erect, its glistening scarlet head peeking lewdly from inside its shiny tent of cuntal membrane. She dragged the tip of her middle finger across its pulsating surface, wincing at the hot blast of ecstasy which flooded her body. Dropping the bath towel, she brought both hands to play on the furry mound, stroking and petting the tinglingly sensitive tissues with her palms, knuckles, fingertips, and wrists.
"Oooooooooooooh," she moaned, the passionate cry reverberating off the tiled walls of the tiny bathroom and taking on an "echo chamber" timbre. The sound of her own voice, magnified by the room's acoustics, startled her, and she looked up quickly, catching sight of her pretty face in the steamy bathroom mirror. Oh, my God, she thought. My hair is a mess. And he'll be here any minute.
Tearing her hands reluctantly from the slash of her moistening pussy, she reached for her hairbrush and began working on her soft, golden tresses. While on duty, she usually wore it tied into a single braid at the back of her neck. But tonight she planned to wear it loose, letting it hand silkily around her shoulders and neck. She wanted to look her best, because, for the first time since the incident at Judy Fuller's party, she was spending the evening with Tom Carter.
He had cornered her early this morning, outside the third floor nurses' station. When she stepped off the elevator, just minutes before her shift was to begin, she was surprised to see him waiting for her, a smile lighting his handsome face. "Hi, Tom," she said, genuinely glad to see him. "You're a long way from home. What brings you to the third floor?"
Tom's smiling face became serious for a moment. Then, by an effort of will, he returned the grin to his lips. "I came to see you, if you want to know the truth," he said. "I've been looking for you for days, but I keep missing you by inches. So last night I checked the nursing duty roster to see what your first assignment was for today. And I caught you."
Lenore smiled. "Now that you caught me," she said, "what are you going to do to me?"
"I'm going to ask you to go out with me tonight," he answered. "And don't try giving me that story about private duty. I happen to know that the Drake assignment ended days ago." He looked over his shoulder in a parody of the classic cloak-and-dagger gesture and snarled in a poor imitation of any one of half a dozen movie villains. "We have ways of getting information," he said.
"Well, I guess you got me, then," Lenore answered, chuckling. "Where are you taking me?"
"Don't know yet," answered the young psychiatrist. "Someplace quiet, though. Because there's something I want to talk to you about."
"There is?" Lenore asked, a little taken aback. She couldn't imagine what he had in mind. "Then why don't we start at my apartment?" she suggested. "We can talk and maybe even have a drink. Then we can take it from there."
"Sounds good to me," said Tom. "I'll see you around six."
"OK," she said. Glancing quickly at her watch, she exclaimed, "Oooops. Gotta go."
"Me, too," Tom answered. "See you later." Turning, he headed for the elevator. Tom was feeling quite confused. He remembered the way she had rushed from her door the first time he picked her up at her apartment, and how, later that night, she ran from his car without even waiting for him to walk her inside. Now, however, her whole attitude seemed to be different. She had changed somehow, become more sure of herself and less nervous. And he couldn't help wondering why. But with a shrug of his shoulders, he hurried off to his office on the sixth floor. He had a lot of nuts to crack and his personal problems would just have to wait until his off-duty hours.
When Lenore's shift ended, she hurried home and tidied her apartment, dusting the furniture quickly and straightening her room. Her six o'clock date with Tom Carter didn't leave much time for her to get ready, so she rushed through her housecleaning and hurried into the shower. Working as swiftly as she could, she finished brushing her hair and dusted her body with fragrant powder.
She slipped into a yellow one-piece jumpsuit with full-cut swirling legs which fell together, giving it the appearance of a long skirt. She wore no underwear beneath it, feeling naughty and a little adventurous. When she zipped the front of the soft yellow garment, she shook her shoulders from side to side, looking into the mirror to see whether the bouncing of her ripe, melon-sized tits could be seen through the material. But the pink-nippled globes were so firm that her bralessness was hardly noticeable. Wiping the steam from the bathroom mirror with her towel, Lenore straightened the tiny room quickly and opened the door to let out the steamy air. Looking around the apartment to be sure that everything was in order, she strode to her little kitchen alcove and bent to remove a tray of ice cubes from the pint-sized refrigerator under her sink. She filled a plastic ice bucket with the cubes and carried it on a tray together with glasses, a bottle of Scotch, and one of club soda, to an end table beside her convertible couch.
She was just about to sit down when she heard Tom's knock. She felt her heartbeat quicken as she walked quickly to the door. Stopping for a moment with her hand on the knob, she breathed deeply in an effort to calm her nerves and compose her mind. Finally, she opened the door and smiled broadly. "Hi, Tom," she sang, "come in. Come in."
Tom stepped into the room, handing her a cone shaped, paper-wrapped package. It bore the name of a downtown florist on its wrapper. "I guess flowers are corny," he said, "but I like them anyway."
"They're beautiful, Tom," Lenore said, removing the paper and arranging the flowers in a vase. "Thank you." Then, dropping ice cubes into one of the glasses which she had left on the end table, she asked, "How would you like your Scotch ? Sorry, but it's all I've got."
"Ice and water are fine," he answered. When she finished pouring the drink, he took it from her extended hand. But he waited until she poured her own and joined him on the couch before sipping at it. Then he nursed it slowly, his mind struggling to string his words together cohesively before he spoke them.
After a moment, Lenore broke the silence, asking, "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
Tom took a long swallow from his glass before speaking. Then, his voice serious, he said, "Lenore, there's something I think I should explain to you. I like you. I like you quite a lot. And that makes me want to spend time with you. To go out with you. To get to know you better."
"I like you too, Tom," Lenore responded, surprised at her own outspokenness as much as she was by his confession of affection.
"Do you really?" Tom asked. "I wondered. Because every time I try to get near you, you seem to run the other way. If it's because of what happened at Judy Fuller's that night, I wish you'd say so and bring it out in the open." He stopped for a minute, to give Lenore a chance to answer him.
She shook her head slowly from side to side. "No, Tom," she said softly, "it isn't that. And it doesn't have anything to do with you personally. It's just that I've had some problems. Some problems that needed to be worked out."
"I understand that," said Tom. "Believe me I do. After all, I'm a head shrinker. And I've spent a big fat chunk of my life studying the sexual problems that blow people's minds. And that's what scares me."
"What do you mean?" asked Lenore. He didn't seem to be making any sense.
"I mean I really like you, Lenore. I could get interested in you in a serious way. And I've never felt like that before. Not about anybody." Lenore didn't know what he was getting at, but found his words embarrassing. She looked at the floor, in an effort to avoid his gaze. But when Tom resumed speaking, she glanced up at him again.
"But, Lenore," he continued, "I'm a man and you're a woman. And this is the twentieth century. It isn't safe to gamble on a relationship that hasn't been tested and tried. I think I'm falling in love with you, Lenore. And I can't afford to fall in love with someone I hardly know. And, let's face it, Lenore, the only place a man and woman can really get to know each other is in bed."
He stopped for a moment to sip at his drink again, and then went on. "It's an unfortunate fact of life in psychiatry," he said, "that some people never work out their sexual problems. In a way, those people are permanently crippled--doomed to a life of sexual frustration. And, unfortunately, so are their mates." Tipping his head back, the young doctor drained his glass. Then he added, his voice falling to a near whisper, "And that's why I have to know where I stand before I allow myself to get involved any further."
Lenore realized that he was propositioning her, and felt embarrassed by the directness of his question. In effect, he was asking her whether or not she was willing to allow him to make love to her. She stared into her glass for a long moment before lifting her eyes to gaze intently into his face. Several times, she opened her mouth to speak and thought better of it. Tom was beginning to fear that he had been too blunt; too candid. "Lenore," he began, "I'm sorry if... "
"No," Lenore answered, "I don't blame you. I think you have a right to know." She moved closer to him on the couch, placing her hand familiarly on his thigh. His nerves were so tense that he jumped at her touch. She continued sliding her buttocks across the couch cushion until, at last, they were sitting hip to hip and bottom to bottom. Casually, she moved her hand up his leg, bringing it closer to his crotch.
She could see the tight material of his trousers bulging obscenely as his prick responded to the gentle stimulation of her fingers. She realized that rehearsal time was over and that she was about to make her big debut. To her surprise, she experienced not the slightest bit of stage fright. Instead she was anxious to proceed--champing at the bit like a thoroughbred on Derby morning.
Covering the rising bulge of his stiffening hard-on with her cupped hand, she leaned forward and placed her full red lips next to his ear. Breathing softly across the sensitive orifice, she murmured, "Why don't we find out whether I've made any progress." With a swift expertise which surprised even her, she opened his fly and extracted the long, thick, throbbing pole of his hardon. Looking down at it, she cooed softly. "Oh, Tom," she crooned, "what a beautiful cock."
Then, bending forward abruptly, she brought her lips to within an inch of its quivering purple head. She opened her mouth to puff a soft breeze of heated breath across its rubbery surface, seeing the tightly drawn cum-slit at its tip dilate to allow passage of an oozing drop of pearly lubricant. Snaking out her tongue, she lapped thirstily at it, drawing the sweet-tasting white fluid into her mouth.
Ronald Drake liked nothing better than a good blowjob, and he had spent many hours instructing her patiently in the fine art of cock-sucking. She placed her puckered lips against the glistening fleshy knob, and sucked gently, drawing a tiny pinch of cockflesh between her lips and against her clenched teeth. Tom felt a sharp pins-and-needles sensation sweep across his groin as she hickeyed the purple head of his stiffly swollen cock.
"Mmmmmmnnnnn," he moaned, pleasantly surprised at her ability. He watched with open eyes as she hovered over his cock, her fine blonde hair falling about her head and framing the obscene oralistic spectacle. Working quickly, he unbuckled his pants, pulling the material clear of his pelvis so that he could have a clearer view of her efforts.
Lenore planted a tingling series of nibbling kisses in a straight line which stretched from his hardon's quivering tip to its hair-covered base. The flavor of his cock was sharp and acrid, and she rolled the taste of it around in her mouth as she fellated him passionately. Kissing her way slowly to its head, she ran her tongue out between her lips to lick gently at the silky erectness of his penile shaft.
Tom could hardly believe that this was happening. The incongruity of the situation excited him even more than her softly caressing lips and tongue. Until now, he had thought of her as innocent and naive. In fact, when he came her tonight, he had been about to give up on her because of her apparent asexuality. And here she was just minutes after his arrival, sucking away at his cock as if it was a-fudgcicle and she a nine-year-old kid on roller skates.
Reaching inside his pants with her hand, she cupped the softness of his scrotum in her moist palm. The two heavy stones which bloated his wrinkled sac were bobbing around inside, straining to fill his vesicles with thick and bubbling gism. She juggled them gently in her fingers, tickling his sensitively erogenous skin while she lapped and nibbled at his throbbing cock with her lips and tongue.
Then, opening her mouth as wide as it would go, she allowed the rubbery knob at the end of his penis to enter her membranous oral cavity. She kept her mouth open, avoiding actual contact with his cock but bathing it in the swampy warmth of her breath. Then, drawing back her lips, she brought her teeth together around its thickly pulsing circumference. Biting gently, she held his prick in place, the only point of contact being with her smooth white teeth. With a slow deliberate motion of her tongue, she swabbed the swollen cockhead, dipping the pointy tip of her pink lingual organ into the oozing slit at its pinnacle.
Tom groaned as her gently laving touch caressed the head of his looming sex. Tangling his fingers in her soft blonde hair, he moved her head from side to side, bringing her lapping tongue into moistly grazing contact with each and every part of the swollen purple knob. He felt her lips closing around its tingling shaft, enveloping his prick with their soft, fleshy warmth. Shielding her teeth carefully, she sucked softly at the thick, turgid organ, wagging her tongue back and forth rapidly across its silky surfaces.
Its slimy, salty taste pleased and delighted her tongue. Moving her head rhythmically up and down, she dragged her cloying lips along the surface of the blue-veined shank of his trembling club. Its hard, rubbery head nudged at the back of her throat, but her lips were still more than two inches away from the hairy jungle which furred its base. She marveled at the powerful organ's tremendous size. It was much longer than Ronald's and nearly twice as thick. Wrapping her fingers around the wide band of cock which came between her lips and his belly, she jerked it slowly up and down while she sucked him off voraciously.
She continued stroking and petting his scrotum with her other hand, scratching its hair-covered underside with one of her long, pointed finger. Working her finger up and around behind the nails. Working her finger up and around behind the bloated sac, she searched for the moistly puckered crack of his asshole. Her shameless explorations made the young psychiatrist's cock throb painfully, but the tingling warmth of her sucking mouth immediately soothed and comforted it.
When he felt her fingertip prying at the lips of his anus, he lifted his ass up off the cushion, making room for her to maneuver beneath it. Lenore took advantage of the moment by worming her probing fingertip into his tight, brown slit. Lowering her head at the same time, she swallowed his hardon, stuffing her mouth with its meaty weight and stretching her lips obscenely around its swelling circumference.
Tom watched her cheeks hollow as she sucked at his oozing nozzle. Her finger had worked its way up into his asshole as far as the second knuckle, and she wiggled it around in a tightly spiraling circle which stimulated his nether passage erotically while she continued to lick at his cock. "Oooooooooooooh gooooood," he crooned.
Her head bobbed with a rhythmic up-and-down motion as she fucked him with her mouth, calling a churning load of joyjuice up from the swaying purse of his scrotum. She felt his cock swelling to double its size, filling up with a hot cargo of sperm and preparing to clog her throat with a searing blast of semen. Lenore sucked hungrily, anxious to taste the sticky, life-giving fluid. Her finger fucked in and out of his ass like the piston of a powerful locomotive's drive wheel.
Each time she reamed forward, flattening the palm of her hand against his muscular buttocks, he grunted agonizingly. He could feel the hot quantum of bubbling juice climbing up through the long convolutional tubes of his pulsing dick, coming closer and closer to the wide open cumhole at its purple head. Lenore sucked harder, sensing the approach of his mounting climax.
A moment later, the first powerful spurt of thick, white cream jetted from his cock, spraying her tonsils with its syrupy warmth. Lenore gulped noisily, swallowing the scummy dollop a split instant before it was followed by another. Jet after spurting jet, the sweet-tasting gism filled her mouth and greased her palate. She swallowed convulsively in a vain effort to stay just ahead of the gushing torrent, but she was losing the race. The jetting stream of fluid flooded her mouth to overflowing, bloating her cheeks and oozing obscenely from the corners of her lips.
Tom watched her cheeks hollowing and puffing alternately as she struggled to choke down huge gulps of the obscenely viscous liquid. She felt it rolling down her throat, coating her larynx with clinging goo. But she kept sucking. She looked to Tom like a truly sensuous woman doing what she liked best. He sobbed and sighed as she vacuumed his cock dry, licking its silky surface clean before letting it slip from her mouth. At the same time, she pulled her stiff probing finger from his asshole.
For a long moment, the two people were silent, Tom trying to recover from the fury of his orgasm and Lenore lapping kittenishly at the droplets of cum which spotted her lips and chin. When Tom's breathing had returned to normal, Lenore licked elaborately at her shiny teeth. She ran her tongue slowly and methodically across their smooth, white surfaces while Tom watched, his eyes open wide in astonishment at her metamorphosis from prig to passionflower.
"Whew," he said. "You certainly have come a long way in solving whatever problems you had."
"That's because I worked at it," she answered, "and if we're going to get serious about each other, I think you have a right to know how I did it."
But Tom stopped her with a palm-forward gesture of his open hand. "No," he said. "It doesn't make any difference. The medicine is far less important than the cure. And not even Doctor Freud would claim that psychoanalysis is the only effective way of treating a sex problem. The important thing is that you have worked it out. The method doesn't matter." Taking her in his arms, he embraced her tightly and pressed his lips to hers in a lingering, passionate kiss.
"I love you, Lenore," he murmured softly when, at last, they broke the kiss, "and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy."
"How about starting with dinner," she answered.
"Where would you like to go?" he asked.
"Anyplace you say," she answered, giving his shriveled penis a playful squeeze. "As long as we come back here for dessert."
