Adventures in Home Health Care

by Rajah Dodger {rdodger@hotmail.com} (c) 2004, 2009

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons
Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License (by-nc-sa). In
jurisdictions where the Creative Commons license is not recognized, United
States copyright and Berne Convention provisions apply; all rights reserved to
Rajah Dodger except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights are
explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission
note must remain attached.

Abstract: Kevin's wife has an accident and needs to recuperate at home, but the
nurse who tends her has bigger plans

Some marriages get stronger as the years go on.

Mine wasn't one of them.

It's not that I didn't love my wife, but she has her personality and rough
edges, and I've got mine. Over the years, instead of wearing each other smooth
to mesh better, they left each of us with raw spots. So, here we were with our
separate careers, living in separate bedrooms in an upscale two-story in the
classy part of town. I suppose we could have gotten divorced, but that would
have required more effort than either of us wanted to put in.

Which is not an excuse for my behavior... but I'm getting ahead of myself.

My wife took a bad fall at her office, and when the doctors finished dealing
with her she was looking at three months of recovery at home including physical
therapy. I wasn't in a position to take off from my job to tend to her, and I
wouldn't have been able to handle the therapy tasks anyway, so we called a
medical service and arranged for a full-time nurse.

Her name was Martha, and she was almost a complete opposite to my wife. Where
my wife was tall, Martha was only five-foot-two. Janet was a demure redhead,
but Martha was a flashy blonde. Janet came from Boston and sounded it; Martha
was apparently from somewhere in the South. Janet's wardrobe ran to business
suits; Martha showed up in a set of nurse's whites featuring a skirt that dared
both gravity and common sense yet didn't quite show anything over her white
stockings.

Still, the younger nurse managed to handle her larger patient with cool
efficiency, handling the washing chores since my wife couldn't use the shower,
helping her in and out of bed, preparing meals for her. I was more and more
impressed by what I saw of her.

One evening, after my wife had been put up to bed, Martha joined me in the
study for a drink. I knew little about her other than her Southern origin and
that she took her job very seriously. As I sipped my Wild Turkey and she held
her bourbon and soda, she asked me out of the blue, "Kevin, just how long is it
since you and Janet had sex?"

When I finished sputtering and had applied a napkin to the whiskey spots, I
managed to put together a polite reply. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," she continued, "outside of her recent injury she's in good physical
shape -- her legs are good, or will be after they finish healing. Her figure's
certainly good, not many women have D-cups at her age without major stretch or
sag marks. She could stand to lose a few pounds, but who couldn't. But I've
been posted in a lot of married couple's homes, and she must have the most ...
interesting collection of vibrators and dildos that I've seen in years. I can
only assume that for some reason the two of you aren't intimate, and haven't
been for a while."

My mouth fell open, half from the offhand way in which this stranger was
discussing my wife's body and intimate habits and half from the way she crossed
her legs, which for the first time gave me more than the briefest glimpse of
the tops of her white stockings.

I was embarrassed that for the last year and a half I hadn't given any thought
to what Janet did for sex since she wasn't interested in me any more. The
pictures that came to my mind now of my wife playing a vibrator over her
breasts or shoving a dildo in and out of her vagina combined to make me both
horny and uncomfortable around Martha. Her provocative posture didn't help. I
stuttered something about different careers and different schedules, but there
was a look in her eyes that said she knew better than that. "Of course," she
said dismissively, and sipped thoughtfully at her glass.

A few moments passed without comment from either of us, and then she broke the
silence with "So, is it you?"

I shook my head in disbelief. "I beg your pardon -- is what me?"

"Are you the reason she doesn't have sex with you any more? I know that she's
physically up to it..."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, much less the nerve of this girl. "Now
look here, Martha, I think you're way out of line here! I'm perfectly..." I was
going to say something more, but she chose that moment to uncross and recross
her legs. The transition made it apparent that she wasn't wearing panties under
her skirt. She took my moment of confusion to get up, pluck my drink from my
nerveless hand, and put both of our glasses on the sidebar. When she returned,
she patted my legs together and sat down astride them, facing me.

"Look, Mr. Spencer," she began, then clucked her tongue and reached forward to
unbutton my collar button. "Or maybe Kevin would be better, don't you think?
I'm in charge of getting your wife back into full health, and in case you've
decided to join the Catholic Church, that includes sexually. Now the way I see
it, I have two choices. I can get you to fill me in on what's going on here, or
I can get your wife to tell me."

She leaned forward, and the front of her uniform shifted fluidly against her
curves. Her scent was cinnamon and vanilla, and she whispered into my ear: "We
get *very* close in physical therapy, Kevin... she won't keep any secrets from
me!"

With that, she hopped up lightly from my lap and headed for the study doorway.
"Well, you think about it and let me know who I need to talk to. I think I'm
going to call it a night. Pleasant dreams!" She gave what had to be a
deliberate wiggle of her bottom as she sauntered out and upstairs.

I poured another couple of shots of Wild Turkey and tossed them down fast and
straight. It didn't help. My mind was still awash with images of my wife, naked
on the bed, breasts sweaty and bouncing as she pumped a thick dildo in and out
of her red-fringed pussy. I could almost smell her musk on my lips again, even
after three years. But the aroma in my nose wasn't her musk. It was cinnamon
and vanilla, and the face on the woman in my vision wasn't Janet's, it was
Martha's.

I left the study, brushed my teeth, and masturbated to a fast, furious and
unsatisfying orgasm before going to bed. I'm not sure what my dreams were, but
I didn't wake up refreshed.

*** *** ***

The next night I had to work late and didn't get home until after dinner. When
I got home, my dinner was waiting on the table, and Martha was there stirring
her iced tea. "How's Janet?" I asked. Martha stared lazily at me, still
stirring her glass as she responded. "Oh, we had a very difficult day; lots of
hard work, poor Janet was quite exhausted by dinner time. Poor thing, she was
so out of it I had to undress her for bath and bed." I grunted, trying to set
aside the picture of small Martha man-handling my wife's body (or more likely
woman-handling) as I chewed my food.

"So," she continued after a pause, "have you thought about last night?" I
stopped chewing and looked at her suspiciously, but she maintained the same
bland expression as she continued, "about telling me why you and Janet aren't
fucking any more?"

That stopped me in my tracks. I wanted to slap her face. I wanted to wash her
mouth out with soap. I had a pulsing erection and wanted to bury it in her
mouth. My face must have been an open book to her, because she started to
laugh, not a high giggle like one associates with blondes, but a low masculine
chuckle. "Poor Kevin," she smiled, "he's so horny he can't think straight...
did I upset you with my language? Would you rather I ask about you and your
wife being intimate? But I watched her with that big dildo this morning, and
she wasn't being intimate, she was seriously fucking herself."

Somewhere in this lewd recital I swallowed the last of my food, but I still
couldn't figure out how to respond. All I could do was shake my head in a
negative expression. That didn't stop her. "It's true, you know -- you don't
want to hear it from me but you knew Janet couldn't go completely without sex
for that long, didn't you?" She got up from her seat and walked around the
table to me, her words burning their way into my ears. She stood behind me, her
strong fingers massaging my shoulders and her voice oozing like honey. "Would
you like to see the evidence, Kevin? Do you want to see how your wife has been
amusing herself while you've been down the hall?

I didn't know whether I was angry at Martha or at Janet, I just suddenly wanted
this whole bizarre episode to be over. "Yes," I blurted out, "You'll have to
show me, because Janet would never be... would never do that."

Martha laughed abruptly, a harsh barking sound in the stillness of the dining
room. "You don't think... well why don't you come upstairs and see for yourself
then? She turned and headed for the staircase, and I followed her perforce. We
kept bumping into each other all the way up the stairs, and I started to hush
her when we reached the landing so that we didn't wake Janet. She brushed me
off sharply. "You couldn't get her up with a cattle prod; now quit being such
an idiot."

Upon entering my wife's bedroom, I was immediately struck by the overwhelming
pungent smell of sex. Janet had kicked off the covers and was lying sprawled
atop the bed, her body sweaty and one hand tucked between her thighs. She had
definitely put on weight since the accident, but still made an erotic sight
nude. A cock-shaped vibrator was lying between her outspread legs, showing the
moist signs of recent use. I stood there in shock, taking the scene in, while
Martha's hand started sliding along my bottom, dipping occasionally between my
legs. "Look at her, Kevin, she's a healthy middle-aged woman and her body's
screaming for sex, just not for yours." Martha's voice was soft but
penetrating, and she continued relentlessly stoking the fire building inside
me. "It makes you hard looking at her, doesn't it? I know it must, it makes me
get all hot and wet and want to finger myself to a good hot cum. Go ahead,
Kevin, take out that cock of yours, make yourself hard for your wife."

I was squirming and grinding my hips, and wanted nothing more than to show my
superiority over that fake phallus on the bed. I quickly unfastened my belt and
unzipped my pants, shoving them down along with my briefs. My cock, released,
snapped up against my stomach, and Martha's hand slid between my legs to stroke
my balls, urging me forward until my legs were pressed against the bed. "Go
ahead," she whispered, "she's lying there for you Kevin, you don't have to jack
off into the toilet tonight, give it to her right now, give your wife all that
hot, thick cum!"

It all made a weird kind of sense, not that I was really thinking coherently.
All I knew was this: there was my wife asleep having gotten herself off, and
here was I with swollen needy balls, Martha's fingers playing with my bottom
and her voice cooing in the background. I started stroking my cock, not even
bothering to spit for lubrication, feeling the lust wash over me. My breath
came in pants and my vision was blurred, and it seemed only moments until my
balls clenched and my legs went taut. Too soon, Janet would have said had she
been awake, but she wasn't and I was coming hard and fast, sending thick sticky
white streamers from her legs up her wide belly to her full breasts. "Yeahhhh,"
hissed Martha, her tongue dancing against my ear, "that's right, spray your cum
all over her big fat tits, look how she loves it even in her sleep!"

And that was obviously true. Janet was half-stirring, her eyes still closed,
but her fingers had begun slowly stroking her slit. I had half a thought that I
should get out before she woke up, but I was still in the middle of cumming. My
last spurts trailed from the side of her right breast over her right arm.
Panting, my heart pounding, I surveyed my wife in this new light, watching her
cum-splattered body shift from side to side as she frigged herself in her
sleep.

A sudden burst of self-loathing finally pulled me from my daze -- what was I
doing, taking advantage of my sleeping wife by jerking off on her? I spun
around, and promptly tripped over the briefs which were still around my ankles.
When I managed to get dressed and up off the floor, Martha was standing in my
place beside the bed, rubbing my cum into Janet's breasts and crooning into her
ear. I gaped as Janet's hand sped up between her legs, her hips rose six inches
into the air, and her whole body stiffened and shook for a space of three or
four seconds. Then she collapsed onto the bed, completely limp.

Martha stood up, absently sucking on one wet finger, and looked at me with an
attitude of surprise. "What, are you still here? Go to bed, Kevin, the show's
over." She waved a dismissive hand in my direction and turned back toward
Janet's bed. The look she gave my wife just then was oddly proprietary, but I
was too awash in a combination of shame, anger, and post-orgasm lassitude to
examine the moment. I left the room, half-running to the safety of my own bed.
"Tomorrow," I thought before falling into a dreamless stupor, "Tomorrow I've
got to put a stop to this!"

The next morning was Friday, and I sent the office an email that I'd be in
late. That let me stay home long enough to join Janet for breakfast. It was a
quiet affair; my wife was yawning and Martha, who I was beginning to think of
as "that woman", was quietly professional. You'd never know she had been
rubbing my sperm into her patient's breasts only last night. When Martha
finally left the table to go upstairs and prepare for the morning physical
therapy session, I had my opportunity. I broached my concerns to Janet, of
course not mentioning the activities of the previous evening, but putting my
emphasis on the nurse's insolence and unprofessional appearance and demeanor.

You would have thought I had proposed selling a baby. Janet went into a frantic
tizzy, the thrust of which was that Martha was the only friend and human
contact that she had, and we couldn't possibly find an adequate replacement for
her. I sat there in shock, trying to reconcile this needy, clinging woman at
the table with the self-sufficient, forceful businesswoman I had married. Was
being cooped up in her enforced convalescence having this profound an effect on
her, or had she been sliding off the edge through the months and years of our
estrangement with me none the wiser?

About that time I heard footsteps on the stairs, and the nurse entered the
dining room with a strongly disapproving look. "Please, Mr. Spencer, poor Janet
really mustn't be given any more stress today, she has a lot of work to do with
her therapy." I thought I saw a quickly-suppressed shudder cross my wife's face
at that comment, but I had gone through some painful physical therapy back in
my high school days and attributed the look to dread of the hard work ahead. I
finished my breakfast, kissed my wife on the cheek while Martha stood nearby
with crossed arms, and headed out for work.

One thing was sure; my idea of getting that nurse out of our house was a dead
issue.

*** *** ***

I knocked off work Friday promptly at five, and got home in plenty of time for
dinner. I looked at my wife with a much more critical eye now, picking up on
details that must have escaped my notice before. She looked tired; there were
lines under her eyes and she seemed not quite there. Shortly after dinner, she
announced that she was tired and headed upstairs to bed. I gave her a hug which
she barely acknowledged, and when she went upstairs I headed to the study.

I waited there, somehow knowing that Martha would be back. I thought back on
the previous evening, squirming in the recollection of how my own lusts had
allowed me to treat my sleeping wife as a sex toy with the nurse egging me on.
There would be no repeat of that shameful scene, and I struggled to put those
lewd images out of my mind.

Sure enough, the nurse walked in uninvited and unannounced, walking right by my
chair without so much as a good evening, and pouring herself a bourbon and
soda. I waited until she turned to face me, and then commented that I thought
Janet looked worn down, and perhaps Martha was pushing her too hard.

The younger woman's eyes flashed, steel blue piercing the air aimed at me. "Too
hard?" she challenged, "What do you think physical therapy is, a play session?
Your wife needs a lot of work to make sure those bones knit properly and she
gets her strength back. You should try going through her daily workout and then
see what you look like at dinner time. She'd better be working hard!"

Her tone of voice changed, shifting from righteous indignation to sly innuendo
without a break. "Or would you rather have her weak and needy, like she is now?
You seemed to like her that way last night..." She set her drink down and
sashayed up to me, her self-assurance preceding her like a powerful force. "Is
that it, Kevin, you want to go upstairs and jack off on your wife again?" All
those images which I'd been suppressing at the office came back to me full
force, along with a painfully stiff erection. She looked pointedly at my crotch
as she continued, "Yeah, I can see where your mind is. Tell me, Kevin, did you
get off knowing that Janet couldn't stop you from cumming all over her? What
was the biggest turn-on, jacking off on your wife's big fat tits or seeing her
cunt all puffy and sloppy wet? Did you dream about me cleaning all that cum off
your wife's naked body and wish it was you?"

I should have objected to her language -- hell, I should have walked out before
this whole obscene conversation got started. Any such thoughts, though,
fractured and vanished when Martha started unbuttoning her blouse right in
front of my face. She wore no bra -- a fact previously concealed by the stiff
white uniform material. While her breasts weren't in the same cup range as my
wife's, she had more than a handful and they bounced with emphasis as she
spoke. "Or maybe you really got hot about pulling your cock out with another
woman in front of your wife?" The nurse leaned forward lewdly and swiveled her
shoulders left and right, batting her breasts against my face and surrounding
me with her perfume. "Is your cock hard for Janet or for me now, Kevin? Do you
even know the difference?"

I didn't know -- more to the point, I was so far gone I didn't care. If this
woman had turned around and told me to kiss her ass I would have buried my
tongue inside her like a shot. I was on the edge of coming in my pants, just
from the way her voice and words slithered their way into my ear and crawled
down my chest, teased my stomach, and settled like hot oil into my groin.

Martha stood back, and I almost fell forward trying to follow her breasts. She
regarded me with some amusement, commenting, "Well, I guess we answered half of
*that* question. Tell you what, Kevin, you think I'm overworking your wife,
let's just find out tomorrow." I sat on the chair in hyper-aroused frustration,
trying to follow the direction of her conversation. "If you can outlast Janet
in the same therapy regimen she gets in the morning, well, I'll help you get
your rocks off like you've never done in your life. You'll think you've died
and gone to heaven, or maybe that heaven is cumming to you. Otherwise..." and
at this she held a finger to one corner of her red lips and looked up at the
ceiling as if making a decision, a stance which only emphasized the proud
upthrust of her breasts. "Otherwise, I'll give dear Janet an extra-special
treat for all her hard work -- and you, my horny friend, will just have to sit
there and watch us!"

All of this sounded just great to me; which shows just how far around the bend
I was. Some piece of reality made its way through my lust-fogged brain, though,
and I tried to pin it down. "But Janet, she would never..." Just like the
previous night, Martha cut me off, only this time with lilting amusement. "Oh,
but of course she would, you silly boy. Have you forgotten your little
conversation with her this morning? I'm your wife's best friend -- she'll do
*anything* as long as I'm there with her!" And before I could give any thought
to the implications of that remark, she bent over, extended one well-manicured
hand, and cupped my balls while rolling her thumb across the base of my
cockshaft. That was the last straw for my overheated body, and I felt my face
turn hot with embarrassment as my cock spewed and I came stickily and
thoroughly in my pants.

The bare-breasted nurse smiled at her handiwork, then turned to leave the
study. As she did so, she tossed a parting comment over her shoulder. "Sleep
well, Kevin, you and Janet are going to have a real workout in the morning!"

*** *** ***

Saturday morning dawned overcast. Inside the house, I came to breakfast in tee
shirt, socks and sneakers, gym shorts, and a jock strap it had taken me over an
hour to find. There was nobody there to greet me; a note in the nurse's neat
handwriting said that Janet had taken a light breakfast in her bedroom. I
shrugged and went to fix myself an egg and toast. And coffee, of course. Then I
went to brush my teeth and headed upstairs to the salon outside Janet's
bedroom. The full trappings of a workout room had been set up there –
treadmill, rowing machines, floor mats, medicine ball, stationary bike,
weights, and things that I didn't particularly recognize.

Janet's bedroom door opened, and she came in wearing a sports bra and nylon
running shorts. Martha followed her, looking serious, and addressed us together
like a schoolteacher to a pair of unruly students. "You both know why you're
here, and you know the stakes. Let's get to it."

She started us on jumping jacks, mostly as a warm-up exercise. That certainly
gave Janet's sports bra a workout. Then she put Janet on the treadmill at 3mph
and 5 degrees, ratcheting up on a program to 5/15. I'd have gotten a more
appreciative look at my wife's legs except that my task was pushups. Martha
alternated between checking on Janet and checking my form, slapping my butt
sharply when I raised it too high. After fifteen minutes, my arms were relieved
to hear her call time so I could switch places with Janet. The treadmill was
harder than it looked, but not quite as bad as the one I'd had for my annual
physical. It left my attention free to watch my wife, who was getting frequent
corrections from Martha on proper pushup form. Her legs were already covered
with a light sheen of perspiration from the treadmill, and her running shorts
stuck to her bottom like skin.

My legs were pretty shaky by the time I finished, and I was glad to lie on the
floor catching my breath as Martha brought us both bottles of water to
rehydrate with. "That was for warm-up," she announced, "now we start keeping
score."

We started with sit-ups. Each of us sat at facing the base of one of the rowing
machines and Martha hooked our feet under the edge as anchors. She called out
count to us, "One ... and down. Two ... and down." It wasn't long before my
stomach muscles were complaining. Janet was looking serious but not as stressed
as I felt. By the time we got to fifty, though, she looked both weary and
determined to beat me. Which she did, as I couldn't make it past 58 and Janet
kept going to 65. Martha went over to tend to Janet first, offering her water,
rubbing her shoulders and murmuring something to her. Then she came to me,
helping me sit up to drink the water while she squatted behind me supporting my
back. Her voice came in my ear, "Gee, Kevin, if you're going to do that poorly
maybe I should just tie your hands behind your back now and let you watch your
wife eat me out for the rest of the morning." I almost choked on my water, but
managed to retain my composure. The jock strap helped – I was glad I'd found
it.

Next came the rowing machines. Martha got each of us properly seated and
adjusted the footbars to suit us. She had an easier time with these; they had
built-in counters, so she only had to set a timer. "Full strokes, you two, or
they don't count. Twenty minutes." Twenty minutes on a rowing machine is *not*
easy; before the time was half over Janet was sweating as much as I was. Martha
kept busy checking each of us, taking our pulse and watching our form. From
time to time she'd whisper in Janet's ear – and Janet would suddenly row
harder. My vision was getting blurry but I wasn't going to let my wife
embarrass me.

Some timeless period later, I heard Martha's voice call "Time" and I slumped
forward panting, my whole body shaking from the after-effects of more physical
effort than I'd put forth in years. "Okay, you two, relax a minute and I'll be
right back," she directed. I looked over at Janet; she seemed as drained as I
was, and there was a worried look on her face. The nurse returned with juice
and sweet buns, and we shared a quiet moment replenishing our energy before she
took the dishes away.

"Okay," Martha announced when she returned, "Kevin took the rowing but the two
of you are still pretty close. It's getting hot in here, and I want to see you
putting all your effort into this, so it's time to strip down." She looked
directly into my eyes as she finished her sentence, "All the way." I looked at
her like she was crazy, but Janet just stood up and calmly pulled off her
sports bra letting her breasts hang free, then turned slightly away from me as
she pushed her shorts and panties down. I stood up shakily, took off my
tee-shirt, then hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts and jock at
the same time, bending over to get them down to my feet before remembering my
socks and sneakers. I could smell my own sweat and musk, but stood up straight
and asked, "now what?"

The answer was treadmill and bicycle. First Janet on the treadmill while I got
the bicycle. She was put on a program to go up to 8 miles per hour and 20
degrees of grade, while I had to get the bike up to 40 mph for as long as I
could. The bike seat was slippery and had a ridge that kept riding up into the
crack of my ass, so this was a lot harder than it looked. Martha was spending a
lot of time standing next to Janet, one hand behind my wife while she said
something I couldn't hear over the noise of the treadmill. I noticed with some
surprise that my wife's nipples were erect. Before I knew it a bell on the bike
sounded warning that my speed had dropped. I gritted my teeth and managed to
get moving again, but not for long. Janet meanwhile had already pulled the stop
cord on the treadmill and was lying on the floor, legs quivering and chest
rising and falling quickly. I looked away quickly but not before my cock jerked
to life, and I got off the bike very carefully before I flopped down on the
floor.

I looked up and there was Martha with a half-smile on her face. "Not bad," she
purred as she squatted next to me. "Keep that up and you'll get to be the one
showing off when we're finished." Her fingers skimmed over my stomach, making
me suck in my breath as my cock jumped, but she merely pulled her hand away.

Next we traded places, Janet climbing astride the bike while I got onto the
treadmill. I watched Janet's face as the bike seat gave her the same kind of
problems I had experienced. The higher grade was hard on my legs, and it only
got harder when Martha joined me. Her fingers teased my flexing bottom cheeks
apart and played with my anus, making my cock swell as it bounced in time with
my marching rhythm. There were too many distractions here, and I worked hard to
keep my mind on my aching legs. I spared my wife a glance; she was pedaling
hard, her eyes tightly shut. I yanked the stop cord just before my legs gave
out beneath me, and slid gracelessly off the back of the treadmill as it slowed
to a halt.

Another break for water, and the rowing machines awaited us. Martha had
positioned them so that Janet and I were facing each other as we rowed, and she
had attached pads and straps to the footbars so our bare feet wouldn't slip
off. We waited as she snugged the straps around our feet and ankles then reset
the counters on the machines.

"Go!"

My wife and I stared into each other's eyes as we rowed, the challenge a
tangible presence in the room. For a good five minutes the only sounds in the
room were our soft grunts of effort and the squeaks of the machines. Then
Janet's eyes got wide; I couldn't imagine why until I smelled Martha's perfume
and felt her sliding her hands around me from behind. "Keep stroking, Kevin,"
she said as her hands slid down my stomach to grasp my cock and balls. In
moments I was not only pulling back on the rowing bars but trying to lift my
ass off the seat to force my erection into her soft hands. Janet briefly lost
her rhythm, then bit her lip and put her whole body into the task of keeping up
with me. Just when I was ready to explode, the nurse left my cock throbbing in
midair and crossed over to sit behind Janet, whose face quickly shifted from
superiority to dismay. I watched transfixed as Martha's hands slithered around
my wife's waist, dipping between her opened thighs and stroking her
insistently. I could feel the blood pulsing in my cock as I pumped the rowing
bars, watching my wife's eyes glaze over in arousal. Her strokes became less
sure as the nurse continued her teasing until my wife's cunt was visibly
swollen, dark red and dribbling between her thighs. Somehow I managed to keep
part of my mind on my rowing, knowing that I was pulling ahead of Janet in the
competition.

An alarm rang, and Martha quickly rose from behind my wife to record the
numbers from the rowing counters. "Well, well," she said with a smile on her
face, "looks like Kevin's not gone *soft* in his desk job after all!" She
turned to me and looked pointedly at my crotch, where my cock had only lost
part of its stiffness. Then she moved to face Janet, and her voice took on a
decidedly nasty tone. "As for you, Jan-Jan, I'm *terribly* disappointed in your
performance. We both know you can do much better than this!"

When Martha came back to me, I saw that she had fastened Janet's hands to the
rowing bars so my wife was held in an upright position facing me. There was
also something between Janet's legs, I couldn't quite make out what.

Martha stood between us, facing my wife, as she removed her uniform. As in the
past evenings, there was nothing under it but skin. Her ass winked at me as she
leaned over toward Janet and whispered something, then stepped back and slid
her bottom down my chest until her thighs were snugly around my cock. "See
this, Jan-Jan?" The diminutive of my wife's name sounded horridly mocking
coming from the younger woman. "Remember telling me how much you wanted it?
Well, it's mine now. You could have had it all these months. You could have had
it today if you'd worked harder." There was sweat on my wife's forehead, and
her body was quivering in her bindings. Martha took my hands and used them to
cover her own breasts, just the right size to fill my palms. My thumbs stroked
her nipples as she squeezed her thighs around my cockshaft. "See this cock, all
excited and filled with cum?" She opened her legs, pinching the underside of my
cockhead so it flared and pulsed visibly. "Say bye-bye to it, Jan-Jan." And
with that, Martha lifted her hips and slid herself down onto my erection. I
took in a deep breath and gasped; her muscle control was exquisite. I pressed
my feet hard against their anchor as Martha rode me, squirming her ass against
my groin and sucking me inside allowing no resistance. Not that I had any
resistance. I looked at Janet, who was staring at us blankly, and realized she
must be watching my cock move in and out of the nurse's pussy. Martha squeezed
inside, and my eyes crossed. "See that, Jan-Jan? Your hubby's getting ready to
cum inside me... he feels so big – you remember how big he used to feel inside
you, right?" I tweaked the nurse's nipples as I felt my balls lift and
tighten.

My orgasm came over me like a waterfall, going over the edge in a rush, my
hands clutching her breasts as she squeezed and milked me relentlessly until I
was spent, leaning against her back, panting. She lifted herself up until my
cock popped out of her with an audible liquid sound. She waddled across the
floor to the other machine, where Janet was waiting open-mouthed. "That's
right, Jan-Jan, you can't have his cock but I'll give you a treat. You can have
his cum!" My view of my wife was blocked by Martha's backside as she grabbed
Janet by the head. I saw my wife's feet straining against their anchors and
heard the nurse let out a husky moan; my sticky cock started to rise again as I
imagined Janet's face buried in Martha's cunt, her tongue scooping out my
release.

I watched as Martha's ass muscles suddenly clenched and she ground herself
against my wife's face. She pulled away and I saw my wife, hair disheveled and
face glistening with juices. She hunched forward ineffectually, whining "But
Martha... "

Martha whirled and slapped Janet across the left nipple. The sudden violence
was shocking, the impact site quickly white, then red, but more shocking was my
wife's reaction. She moaned, a noise of undeniably unabashed lust. Martha
slapped her other breast, then alternated one after the other, all the while
lecturing this once-professional woman like a small child. "Don't *smack* you
*smack* take *smack* that *smack* tone *smack* missy! *smack* ... I know how
you think, what you like, what your secrets are... look at you, you're trying
so hard to hump that vibrator between your legs, too bad you can't quite get up
to it." That explained what I'd seen earlier; apparently the fix had been in
for my wife on the rowing machine. "You want that cock?" She pointed to my
recovered erection, still sticky with Martha's juices. "Nooooo, you're a
disobedient girl who's just thinking of her own hungry cunt. A fat *smack*
titted *smack* bad *smack* girl!"

With that last stroke, Janet keened high in her throat and shook from head to
toe, having one of the most amazing orgasms I'd ever seen her have. Her nipples
looked like swollen raisins and her knuckles were white where she gripped the
rowing bars. Martha quickly came over to me and unfastened my footstraps,
tugging me to my feet and across to Janet's machine where she positioned my
bottom against my wife's face. "I did promise you you'd cum like nothing
before," the nurse snickered, "Bet you never imagined anything like this!" With
that Martha kneeled atop my wife's legs and took my entire length into her
mouth, her throat massaging my cockhead. I groaned, then groaned louder as I
felt my wife's tongue press into my ass. I dug my fingers into Martha's
shoulders for balance – my wife had *never* shown the least interest in assplay
– then the two tongues worked me in earnest until I had to shut my eyes in the
explosion that was my own orgasm, the nurse's talented fingers coaxing every
last drop out of my balls.

When I came to, I was curled on the floor in a fetal position, my aching balls
feeling like they'd been turned inside out. Martha had Janet on the floor and
was giving her a sponge bath, all professional now. I got up to my knees, and
the nurse looked up at me dismissively, saying "Hmmph, about time for that. Go
clean yourself up; your wife still has her regular work to do."

As I walked bowlegged to the door, I heard her voice from behind. "And
Kevin..." I turned to face her. She was licking her lips slowly. "We won't have
any more discussions about changing nurses, will we?"

/END/