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From: M1KEHUNT@aol.com
Subject: [April#5 Celeste RP] Maria In Maine-by MIKE HUNT

If you're not of legal age, stop reading this.
I would appreciate it if you would grow up and get to be 18 already.
I'm getting tired of sending you away.
Shoo! Scram! Beat it!  Uh, maybe that was a poor choice of words.


Maria In Maine - by MIKE HUNT


June and I had been married for five years when we took our driving vacation.
Usually we climbed on an airplane and went to some city or another, but
this year we had decided to take the car and just drive. We didn't even
have a plan, we'd just make it up as we went along.

It was a fabulous vacation. We started in Niagara Falls, went to a little
artist community called Niagara on the Lake, through the Adirondack
Mountains,
through Montreal, up to Quebec, and back to the states. Each day we would
drive 3 or 4 hours, until we got tired, and then decide where to stay.
The only thing I didn't want to do was drive 7 hours out of our way to
let my wife visit her old college roommate Maria in upstate Maine.

In some old pictures I saw Maria was about 40 pounds overweight, had bad
hair,
and didn't shave her underarms. June even told me Maria had a real shithead
boyfriend. Great. Still, my wife had roomed with her for two years at Penn
State, and they got along super. So, fine, I would waste hours driving there
and back, and a day while they told stupid college stories. Fine.

We pulled up to the farmhouse where Maria lived. It was already late in
the day when we first saw the tiny house. It couldn't have had 6 rooms
altogether, and was in a general state of disrepair. Maria came running
out at the sound of our car. The farm was so deserted, our car was probably
the only thing making noise for miles.

She screamed at the sight of June, and as I got out of the car, came around
and gave me a hug, saying she had heard so much about me. During that quick
hug I realized Maria had lost weight. A lot. She now had a slim profile,
with small breasts and small butt. Her hair looked nice as well. Her
complexion wasn't exactly cover girl smooth, but was just fine. Obviously
the last ten years had been good to her.

We went into the house. Maria was so proud of it, because she "owned"
it. Well actually the bank owned it, but she had a mortgage, and therefore
it was "hers." I had been right, the house was tiny, with a living room
that barely fit a couch, chair, and TV, a kitchen where two people couldn't
work at the same time, and a dining room with 4 chairs and little more
than a card table for eating.

We went into the living room. June and Maria talked. And talked. And talked.
It was all stuff that was great memories to them, and completely meaningless
to me. But they were having a good time, so I just sat and listened. After
an hour or two Maria began to prepare dinner. June went into the kitchen,
I stayed in the living room and flipped on the TV. June brought me a beer.

The girls talked all through dinner, and then we went out on the front porch.
Like most farmhouses, it had a porch that wrapped around nearly the entire
front of the house, and a porch swing suspended from the rafters above. It
was the only place to sit, and the three of us squeezed into it. I was on
the left end, then June, and Maria was at the other end. After another 30
minutes of conversation, Maria got up and went in to reload our beers.

When she returned, she stood in front of us for a while, then said to
June "I feel bad. Here we are reminiscing and telling sorority stories
and Mike is totally bored. Let's try to include him, OK?"

Now June really didn't care, because there were plenty of times when my
buddies would come over to the house for cards or to watch a game on our
big-screen TV and she wasn't included. But she said "OK," just to be polite.

Maria motioned for me to slide down, and she sat next to me. I now had a
woman on both sides. Surprisingly enough, we immediately hit it off -- the
three of us, I mean -- and talked about everything from politics to religion
to movies to my own college days. Now I saw why June liked Maria so much.
She was so easy to talk to, and there was just a soothing vibe about her.

As we talked it got later and later, until it was past midnight. As we
sat there I occasionally put my arms along the back of the bench. I could
feel Maria's hair brush against my forearm from time to time, and I would
give June a hug every now and then. I finally nudged June and told her
we had to go and get a motel room somewhere.

Maria said "Don't be ridiculous. You'll stay here. It's late, you're out in
the middle of Maine, which is to say nowhere, and if you're lucky enough to
find a place you'll have to spend money to do it. You'll stay in the bedroom,
and I'll sleep downstairs on the couch." She didn't have to say that it was
the only bedroom. Her logic was impeccable, though, and June and I agreed,
although we felt guilty about kicking her out of her bedroom for the night.

I went to the car and dragged our suitcase up to the second floor. The
house's
only bathroom was up there, as was the small bedroom and an uninsulated
attic. Maria had converted an even smaller second bedroom to her clothes and
junk closet. The bedroom had a really big mattress, but because the room was
so small, it took up nearly all the space. There was just about a two foot
aisle down one side, with another two foot aisle at the foot of the bed. A
dresser filled the remaining space at that end of the room.

I went back downstairs and took my position between the two women on the
swing. Maybe because of the number of beers we had all had, or maybe because
it was so calm and peaceful, we all just sat quietly. Before I knew it,
both June and Maria had drifted off, their heads resting against my
shoulders while they dozed. I felt totally at peace, myself.

But as I felt myself drifting off, I gently shook them. I didn't know how
cold it got at night in Maine, even in summer, and I didn't want the three
of us sleeping there all night. We went in to the house to prepare for bed.

As we walked inside, Maria said "Now I see why June is so in love with
you. You're so mellow. You're so, well, comfortable."

"Thanks," I said. "I could say the same about you. She's talked about
you ever since we've been married. I've wanted to meet you all this time."
It was a lie, and now I felt guilty about it.

We went upstairs, Maria came with us and grabbed a nightgown to take back
down with her. June and I somehow managed to undress in the cramped space,
and then climbed under the single sheet that covered the bed. Maria had
folded a blanket on the floor in case we got cold. June wore a T-shirt
and some pajama panties, I usually slept in the buff, but because we were
in someone's house, I left on my boxer shorts.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," June said.

Maria's face peeked around the corner. She asked "You guys need anything?
You OK?"

"We're fine," I answered. "But I do have a question. Why do you have such
a huge mattress in such a small room? And just for yourself. I don't get it."

She walked into the doorway. She was dressed in a thick cotton nightgown
that hung to her ankles, covering every square inch below her neck. Except
that you could see where her tits pushed it out, it was totally unsexy.
Well, maybe a little. Her tits bounced as she moved. "Oh that's left over
from Jeff," she answered. "Jeff lived with me until about three months ago.
We split up. He already had the mattress, and brought it with him when
he moved in. When he moved out he just took his clothes and stuff and left
it. It really does take over the room, doesn't it?"

"So that explains it," June said. "We thought maybe you held parties up
here. Or rented it out as a trampoline to gymnastic groups, or something."
We all laughed.

I patted the corner of the bed. "Sit down," I said. She did.

We started talking, and by god another 40 minutes shot by. We were just,
as the Gumpster would say, like peas and carrots, we got along so well.
Finally Maria said "I really have to sleep, now. I'm going down."

It was June who surprised me. She said, "I really feel bad about kicking
you out of your own bed. And by the way, how long have you had that couch?
It's as lumpy as hell. Why don't you stay up here with us. It's a huge
mattress, after all."

"Oh no, I couldn't," she said. "The couch will be fine. It's only for
one night."

"No really," I interjected. "You can stay here, there's really plenty
of room. Come on."

"Well...." she said. "Well...."

"Aw come on," June said. "We always used to talk about how we slept with
the same guys. We just never did it at the same time." They both cracked
up. "Anyway, this time we'll actually be sleeping! You know, instead of,
ah, sleeping." They laughed again.

Maria gave in. June and I moved over to the side, and Maria lifted one side
of the sheet. Again I had a woman on each side of me. It was delicious, but
I hardly expected anything sexual to happen. It just didn't feel that way.

Both women cuddled to me as we lay there. June intertwined her arm with
mine. Across the mattress Maria turned on her side to face both June and
me. We talked some more. At one point June said, "So here we are Maria.
A threesome, in bed with my husband."

Maria replied, "I know. This is one variation I don't think we ever talked
about, you know?"

"Yeah, my husband sleeping with another woman. And I'm in the room too!"
she responded. The talk began to take a sexual edge to it, and June asked
Maria "Have you ever, you know, actually been in a three way?"

Maria shrieked. "Heavens, no." She wrinkled her forehead. "Have you, you
know, ever been with another man and woman?" June shook her head. Technically
that was accurate. She ignored the session we had at the O'Stikkit Inn
a couple years earlier. I guess because it involved two guys, it didn't
count or something. I didn't challenge her on it. If she didn't want to
mention it, it was OK with me. Maria turned to me and said "Have you ever
slept with two women?" I had to say no, because I never had.

But June said "But he's been in a three-way. Another couple and him."
Again she ignored her wild weekend at the Inn. "Go on, Mike, tell her about
it." Wasn't that nice? She wouldn't own up to her own indiscretion, but
I had to talk about mine. Fine.

"Well it was a while ago, I was out of college about four years, and
a friend asked me to take some pictures of his wife, Krystal. I really
just used to take nature pictures, but my friend Bob insisted that I take
some of her. Before the evening ended, we were all three, uh, involved
in the kitchen."

"Oooo," Maria giggled. "Tell me. Tell me everything. I want to hear the
details, everything."

Oh. I went back and started the story from the beginning. From time to
time Maria would ask a question, or June would correct part of the story
(I had told it to her many times,) but mostly I was giving a narrative
of the experience. I was well into the story when I realized I was about
to get an erection. Now I thought that would not be cool, so I tried to
hold back. I tried playing mental baseball. Too many phallic bats and too
many balls. I thought about my job. I remembered Mrs Milmot, my ugly
3rd grade teacher. But I was telling this sexy story, and I couldn't help
but feel a sexual tingle.

I thought of rolling on my side, but who would I face? Would I stick my
boner toward Maria? She might get the wrong idea. If I rolled the other
way, I would be turning my back to her while I told the story to June.
That didn't seem to make sense. So I just lay there.

My cock grew, but my shorts helped restrain it. Still, since I was wearing
boxers, the sheet began to form a little tent about halfway down my body.
There was no doubt what was causing it, but nobody said anything. I wished
I was wearing jockey shorts which would have done a much better job of
holding my dick down.

As the story progressed, my penis continued to grow, until it could no
longer be ignored. I noticed that Maria kept glancing down at the slowly
growing tent. June seemed oblivious; she was lying on her back with her
eyes closed, occasionally opening them to stare at the ceiling.

I interrupted my storytelling to look at Maria and say "I'm sorry. Just
a natural reaction. Ignore it and it will go away."

"What are you talking about?" June said, opening her eyes and sweeping the
room. In the moonlight it was obvious that the highest elevation in the
sheet was coming from my hardening cock. I was now about at half-staff. When
she saw it she laughed out loud. "Oh I should have expected..." she left the
thought unfinished. "He's always horny. And that, uh, condition happens to
him a lot. In the most unexpected places at the most unexpected times."

I started to blush. "Yeah, well, it just happens to guys. You know, it's
totally unfair. If you girls are sitting around somewhere and start to
feel sexual, you don't show it. At least not the same way. It's just a
lot more obvious on a guy."

"Yeah, it's obvious, all right," June said. Maria laughed.

Then she said, "So go on. Don't stop. I'm enjoying the story."

There was silence in the room; it lasted a full 10 seconds.

"Go ahead," June said.

I started where I had left off. At about the point where I explained how I
was shooting pictures up Krystal's skirt, my dick began to inflate again. Each

little bounce as my heart pumped blood into my tool caused a ripple on the
sheet. Maria kept looking at the sheet, then up at me. What could I do?

As I progressed with the story, June rolled on her side and faced me.
Maria was already in the mirror position on my other side. As June snuggled
against me, I felt her tits surround my arm, one above and one below. Then
I felt her hand graze my thigh, and begin to softly stroke my leg. At one
point when I paused to collect my thoughts, she said "Maria, did you notice
what nice legs he has?" Her hand continued stroking my thigh. My dick got
harder still.

"Yes, I couldn't help but notice," she said. Now Maria's hand came up
and rested on my other thigh. She began to twirl a few of my leg hairs
between her fingers. I felt June's hand slide up toward my boner. I was
now at full erection. Well not full, since the boxers were still in the
way, but nearly full. She began tugging softly at the material.

"Go on, Mike. Tell the story," she said.

I continued. I got to the part of the story where Krystal was sucking
on Bob's dick while I took pictures. June's hand slipped into the front
of my boxer shorts and found that piece of flesh that minutes ago was soft
and now was not. Maria continued stroking my thigh as she pressed herself
closer to me all along her body. June knowingly twisted my erect member
as she let it out of the flap in the front of the shorts. The tent in the
sheet nearly doubled in size. It looked like a circus tent, with one huge
pole holding up the entire middle. I was the pole.

June said softly "And he's got a nice dick, too."

Maria said "I thought so." June's hand released me, but that didn't make
the tent go down. With my hardness I could have supported a cinder block.
It was only a few seconds before I felt a hand back on my engorged cock.
This hand was smaller and cooler. Then I felt June's hand return, slipping
up one of the pant legs to hold my balls. She gently massaged them as I
continued with the story.

"And then I took my dick out of my pants, kind of like right now...heh
heh...and walked up behind her." Maria's gentle stroking and June's gentle
squeezing continued.  Maria took her other hand and took the corner of
the sheet and lifted. From my vantage point I could see her staring at
my dick, and at the women's hands that were servicing it. She ducked her
head under the sheet. I knew where her lips were headed.

"Do you mind?" Maria said.

"Are you kidding?" I replied. "This is fabulous!"

"I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to your wife."

"Oh, sorry."

June looked into my eyes and said softly, "I don't mind at all."

I gazed with love back at her and kissed her forehead. "Thank you," I said.

Maria moved her head further down, until it was lying on my stomach. She
just stayed there for several moments, staring at my erect penis and at
her hand which continued stroking it. Then she moved further down and gave
me a tentative lick. She licked again. Then she kissed it. I turned my
head and kissed my wife. It was a more passionate kiss that June and I
had had for some time, and was only interrupted when we heard Maria say,
"So go on with the story."

I started again. "So there I was cupping her tits in my hands while she
blew Bob. Then I took a step forward, and I think shocked the shit out
of her. She wasn't expecting me to have my dick out, but she was facing
away from me and didn't know I'd dropped my zipper. As my dick made contact
with her cunt, I could feel an almost electric spark jump between us. Then
I found the entrance, and just pushed my way in."

"Yeah, just push your way in," Maria mumbled. She took me deeper. Now
I had one hand on the back of Maria's head, guiding her movements. I slid
the other between my wife's thighs, feeling the wetness of her cunt. She
parted her legs to allow me easier access.

"So I fucked her and fucked her and finally came at just the same time
Bob did. We filled her up from both ends. She came, too. I could feel her
orgasm resonate all through my dick. It was awesome. Then we lay there,
and then got cleaned up."

I finished the story, and as I did I felt myself starting to build. Now
I'm a nice guy, and while I've done my share of "Don't worry, I won't cum
in your mouth" and then did anyway, I couldn't do that to Maria. I already
liked her so much, I had to warn her. "I'm getting there. I'm going to
cum," I said.

She withdrew her mouth and apologized. "I just can't take it in my mouth.
It makes me gag if I try to swallow it." June has no such problem; some
women are just like that, you know?

Anyway, the effect of Maria taking her lips away from my dick cooled my
ardor, at least temporarily. I was still hard as a rock, I still had Maria's
fist around me, but I wasn't on the glide slope anymore.

June said to Maria, "You don't have to swallow. I used to have a hard
time with that at the beginning. But now I really like it. In fact, I read
an article that says it's kind of good for you. Protein, and all. But I
understand, it can feel gross if you're not accustomed to it." She went
on. "But if you really want to please a guy...you have to let him cum in
your mouth. It's just ecstasy for them. And you get used to it. I actually
like it now. It's the ultimate sexual turn on. Here..."

She rolled away from me and kneeled. She took Maria's head and positioned
it over my dick. "Now take him in your mouth..." Maria did. "That's good.
Now make sure you're exactly straight up over him. And when he cums, keep
your lips glued to him, but don't swallow. Then, when he's finished, just
open your lips and let it all dribble down the sides of his dick. I
guarantee, it's the best."

Maria mumbled "I don't know...." But it was obvious from her motions,
sliding up and down my penis that she was going to try. She stopped for
a moment and looked up at me and said "Thank you for being my experiment."
We all laughed.

June was into it. It was like she was a teacher, or something. Maria
continued to suck on me, her fist increasing its rhythmic pounding. Within
a couple minutes I was back at the beginning of that orgasmic climb. If she
didn't stop within about five seconds, I would explode. I said so.

"OK, I'm getting ready," I warned. Her tempo increased. She continued
to suck. June reached down and cupped my balls. She knows that sets me
off. It did. I felt the simultaneous tingle in my dick and in my head that
could only mean one thing. "Oh, I'm cumming," I cried. "I'm cumming.
Oh, oh, oh, oh." I went over the edge, feeling my dick pulse with fluid
as I shot gob after gob, right into Maria's waiting mouth. After 20 or 30
seconds, or maybe it was a year, I was spent. And just as June had
instructed, Maria opened the "O" of her lips which had held me prisoner
and let my spunk drool down all over my dick and her hand.

It was a delicious feeling, and after a few seconds Maria said "Would
you be offended if I got something to drink?"

"Not at all," I said.

As she jumped from the bed she said "But you're right, June. That wasn't
bad at all. I mean, I still have some in my mouth, but it's not the taste
I mind, it's the texture. And since I don't have so much, it's OK. Whew.
You learn something every day." I heard the water run as she filled a glass.
We could hear her gulp down some of the fluid.

She returned to the room. "Got any other tricks to teach me?" she said
to both of us.

We laughed. And actually we did. The rest of the night was spent with
the two girls making out. With me using Maria's vibrator on both of them.
With one of them sitting on my face while the other fucked me.

We slept like spoons, the three of us, until I awoke in the darkness, my dick
back at full attention, poking into the space between Maria's legs. She had
long since lost the nightgown and my hardened penis found her pussy and
produced her lubrication before she even awoke.  As I slowly thrust my dick
harder and harder into her cunt she opened her eyes and mumbled "Oh, I was
having the most wicked dream. I dreamt I was getting fucked again tonight,
this time from behind. With a nice slick dick that feels so good and hard."

It was no dream. I fucked her again, this time from behind while June
caressed
her tits and toyed with my asshole. I felt June prodding my anus with one
finger while tickling my balls from behind with her other hand as I exploded.
I remember that orgasm being the most powerful of the night, at least for me.

The three of us even showered together in Maria's tiny bath tub the next
morning, and the two girls took turns jerking me off with their soapy hands
until I finally, and almost painfully came. I returned the favor, putting a
finger in two cunts at the same time, and working them mightily for what
seemed
hours. But those are all other stories; maybe I'll tell them some other time.

June and I left later that morning after one of the wildest times in my
entire
life. Little college roommate Maria from Maine. I'd never complain about
visiting her again!


* * * *


I'm cranking out these stories as fast as I can. The Almost All True Stories
of MIKE HUNT are available by e-mail, all in one piece. If you'd like to get
them by e-mail, send me your address and I'll add you to the list. Otherwise
I have to post them in pieces in the newsgroups because of aol's %*&&@#^
posting software. Send the request to Bannerboy1@aol.com. Tell me that
you're over 18, and prove it. Send me your driver's license, credit cards,
and any negotiable securities you have lying around. I'll get them back to
you, uh, right away.

Cheers and jeers to M1KE HUNT@aol.com. By the way, please note that for
e-mail porpoises, the second character in M1KE is a "one" (1), not an "eye"
(I).
The spelling is not a fluke. It's not the sole spelling, either. On Dejanews
fish around with the regular spelling of MIKE. Tanks.

In case you're curious, your e-mail address goes into my little AOL address
book and nowhere else. I'm not affiliated with any of those fucking spammers
who ruin the newsgroups. The way you get on spam lists is that the cable
TV company reverses the cable and spies on you when you're at the computer
and writes down your address and sells it to the spam assholes. Really! I
read
an article a guy in Montana wrote about it. I wish I could remember the URL,
because I know you'd be fascinated. He even coined a new term: spassholes!

Copyright 1997 M1KE HUNT. You can distribute this electronically as long as
you give it away for free. If you want to make money, go into biomedicine or
something.

I prefer to get new requests at the Bannerboy1 address and regular
correspondence at the M1KE HUNT address, but you don't care. You're just
some horny fuck who reads dirty stories in the newsgroups. I'll bet you
even have your dick in your hand right now. Yuk.

-- 
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From: M1KEHUNT@aol.com
Subject: [April#12 Celeste RP] The Skier-by MIKE HUNT

If you've sent an e-mail to me and haven't started getting MIKE HUNT
stories yet, one of two things has happened. 

1) You didn't certify that you are over 18. By "certify" I mean
   tell me some interesting fact that proves you were born before the
   80's. Like "I have a white leisure suit in the attic" would do it.
   I'll know. They stopped making that shit in '77. Garment industry
   in Minnesota collapsed. Or, 

2) I fucked up. 

If the reason is #2, I apologize. It's been hectic around here,
and it's tough to keep up with the correspondence, maintain the list,
and churn out these filthy stories. But I'm trying. 

Luckily, the MIKE HUNT offices are expanding. We just hired a secretary,
in fact. Not a woman, of course. Couldn't find one who'd even stop by
for an interview. But we found a good guy, by coincidence also named Mike.
Mike Lit. He started Monday. It's nice having Mike Lit working along
with MIKE HUNT, don't you think? 

Actually we only had one other applicant, a Mr. Richard Almy from
Hartford. Ivy League guy. Insisted we call him by his nickname. Weird. 
But when I went to the lobby to meet him I stuck out my arm for a 
handshake. "So," I heard myself say, "You're Dickie. MIKE HUNT." 
I knew right then it wouldn't work. 

We're not giving little Mike an e-mail address, just yet. I'm afraid
he'll spend the whole day reading dirty messages from people. Maybe
even from guys! I'm afraid he might be a fag. I watched him read two of
my stories, and I didn't see him get a boner. Of course I couldn't
watch him too closely, you know. I don't want him to think I'm a fag. 


We had a whole bunch of disclaimers here somewhere, 
if I could remember where I put them. I thought I left them
by the copier. Maybe they're out by the front door. Damn.
Well, if you're under 18, go away until I find them. 


Mike! Have you seen the disclaimer file? 


The Skier - by MIKE HUNT 


I was a senior at Bradford. A bunch of my college buddies and I
decided to skip school and go to Great Slopes, a ski area in
New Hampshire. We cut Friday classes and pooled enough money to
rent a chalet for a night. We figured we'd have some fun, maybe
get drunk, possibly even get laid. You know, big college man plans. 

The nine of us drove the hour or so in two cars. Some had
their own skis, but most of us planned on renting once we got to the
resort. I did; I was a novice and didn't have any of my own gear. 

We got to Great Slopes by about 11AM, parked, bought our lift tickets,
got outfitted and went to stand in the lift line. I made two uneventful
runs down a beginners' slope and moved over to the line for a medium run.
One of my buddies was in line for a more advanced run, and waved
me over. I went. 

As soon as I reached the top, I knew I was in trouble. There were
steep hills and sharp twists and turns, but I did my best to take
it slow and work my way down. Even though I fell down a couple of
times, I was fine...until I was about half-way down. Some jerk
came whizzing by me, knocking me off balance. Before I could get
control back, I was shooting down one of the steepest slopes, off
the edge of the run, and into the trees. 

"Two broken arms, one multiple, one a mild fracture; a cracked collarbone;
and
a fractured leg. Multiple cuts and contusions, abrasions, and possible
internal injuries," I heard the doctor say into the telephone. I guess the
Ski Patrol had done a great job of bringing me down and transporting
me to the hospital. I must have been out of it, because I don't really
remember the ambulance ride at all. 

The doctor was speaking to my mother, who I could hear shrieking
through the ear piece. "Put the phone up here," I said. An orderly
carried the handset over to me and positioned it for me to talk. My
arms were pretty much useless, so he held it. "Ma, ma, it's OK. I'm
all right. Everything's fine. Don't worry." Sure. She told me she'd
be on the next plane. 

She was, and came to the hospital the next day. As I said, I wasn't
in any life threatening danger. I was just in traction, with one
arm suspended above me in some sort of pulley and gear arrangement,
the other in a soft cast, and one of my legs in a hard cast that
ended about mid-thigh. Mom tsk, tsk, tsked her way through two days,
making sure to let the nurses know she was there and insisting on
full attention for her boy. I couldn't wait for her to leave. 

Eventually she did, but I had at least another week, maybe more 
in the hospital before I was released. That was going to be a drag.
With my right arm in traction, I couldn't write, I could barely hold
a book. And because of the mass of ropes and pulleys, I couldn't
even leave the bed. Basically I could watch TV, eat, sort of, and
have somebody stick a bed-pan under me twice a day. What a life. 

Most of the nurses were older, I guessed in their 40's and even 50's.
Most were married, though I wondered how, they were so ugly. And most
of them had a bad attitude, I supposed from having a lot of demanding
shithead patients, like I might well become. I quickly realized how
dependent I was. After all, I was used to pissing when I wanted to,
not when someone had the time to stick a bowl under me. 

But there was one pretty young nurse named Carole Anne. She was on
the evening shift, a result of her lack of seniority, she said. She
liked it because most of the doctors were gone and there was generally
less activity, and fewer people looking over her shoulder and hassling
her. We spent a fair amount of time talking to each other; she told
me I was the only young person on her floor. 

In fact, I was one of the few patients on her floor at all. I was
in a semi-private room, but except for the first day, there wasn't
anyone in the other bed. Or in the room across the hall. I don't
know when a hospital's busy season is, but this wasn't it. 

But I'm getting ahead of my story. Carole Anne had been on her "weekend"
(even though that was Friday and Saturday) when I was admitted. I
had been attended to by Rita on those days; old, cranky, wrinkled
Rita, I called her. Mom flew back home on Sunday afternoon,
confident that I wasn't going to die or something. 

On Sunday about 4PM, I met Carole Anne. She came in to see if I needed
anything, and to tell me that she was going to bathe me after dinner.
Giving a bath to someone in traction is more like quickly wiping them
down with a washcloth. That would have been fine, but I realized that
it also meant she would be my bedpan service for the next 8 hours.
I vowed to hold it in. 

Now Carole Anne was about 5'4" with a short perm that perfectly framed
her cute face. She had only been a nurse for about 6 months, which
I guessed made her maybe a year or two older than me. Early 20's for
sure. She had a very attractive figure, which her starchy little nurse
outfit neither complimented nor hid. Still, she was a cutie,
and in different circumstances I would have been trying to
figure out how to get a date with her. 

Dinner came and went; an aide took to the task of feeding
me and then cleaning me up. I felt like a baby, unable to do even
the simplest job for myself. With the soft cast off, eating with my
left hand and stiff elbow was uncomfortable, at best. A little after
7:00 Carole Anne came in for my "bath." She pulled the circle of
curtains around the bed, an unnecessary action because there was
no one else in the room. I figured it was just SOP. She undid
my hospital gown; simple because it wasn't even tied behind me.
It was a special one that just tied onto my arms and legs and was
draped over me. She folded the gown down, until it was in a small
pile over my crotch. She did the same thing working from the
bottom up. When she was done, I had a pile of neatly folded
hospital gown covering my dick, and not much else. 

She dipped the washcloth in warm water, then squirted some liquid
soap onto it, and began to wash my chest. It felt great, if only because
I was a greasy mess, and it felt good to get clean. The washcloth
scurried about, up and down. As she leaned over me to reach the
far side of my torso, I tried to look between the buttons of her
uniform. Even though the buttons were widely spaced, they rarely gapped,
and I got hardly a flash of her lacy white bra. Still, I could sit
there and stare at her chest as she ministered to me, since she
was preoccupied with her task. 

And stare I did. I had nothing else to do. She washed my shoulders,
and gently brushed at my face, making sure not to get any soap in my
eyes. Then she moved down to my feet, and washed them. One of my legs,
of course, was in a cast, which covered part of the foot to which it
was attached. She washed the toes and the heel, then moved to the
"good leg." 

As she washed my foot, I complained. "That tickles." I kicked my
leg a little. She moved up and wiped off my lower leg, then my thigh.
As she did so I continued looking at her cute face and even cuter
body. I began to have a natural male reaction. I got an erection.
It came on suddenly, springing forth like a newly watered flower.
She saw it and quickly picked up the folded gown from it. My partly
erect dick waved in the air. 

She looked completely professional as her fingers encircled my swollen
member; I thought I was in for a wonderful time. I was about to be
surprised. Because instead of stroking it as I expected, she took
her other hand, extended two fingers in a "Brownie-scout" salute,
and whapped the head  of my dick with them. Hard. Really hard. 

"OW!" I shouted. "SHIT, what was that? OH SHIT, THAT HURT," I yelled. "OW." 

She was taken aback, and stepped away from me. As the pain in my
groin subsided slightly I looked at her. She was beet red. 

"I'm sorry," she said. "That's what we were trained to do in nursing
school if a patient got an, I mean, if, well, you know." 

"Well SHIT, that HURT!" I complained."Jesus! That REALLY hurt. Fuck." 
My penis was throbbing. 

She just stood there looking at me. She blushed even more. "I'm sorry...
I'm really sorry. I've never had to do it to anyone before. I didn't
realize.... I mean I'm really sorry. It's just that you were, ah,
and I thought I should, ah, you know take control, and ah," 

"Control? How's this for control?" I hissed. "Get the fuck out of
my room! SHIT. It STILL hurts!" 

She cleaned me up as best she could and replaced my gown. She was
right about one thing. My erection had vanished. She worked quickly
and turned to exit. 

"I really am sorry," she said. "That's just what we were trained
to do..." 

"I know. You already said that," I said testily. "It's crappy training.
You hurt me." 

She left the room. I didn't see her for the rest of the night. 

The next day passed uneventfully. I mean, I watched some soap operas
on TV, I chatted with a few of the old, wrinkled nurses, you know?
A big day. 

Late in the afternoon Carole Anne peeked her head around the door.
"Hi," she said. 

"Oh hi," I responded. "It's the torture monster." I wasn't happy
to see her. 

She stayed outside the room, her head twisted around the doorway.
"I deserve that," she said. "I know I said I'm sorry yesterday, but
I REEAALLY am sorry. That was a terrible thing I did. Please. Accept
my apology." With that she stepped into the doorway and brought a
small bouquet of flowers from behind her back and held it toward me. 

Of course with my arm in a sling I couldn't do much, but I cracked
a little smile. I couldn't help it. "Well...." I said, as though I
were making up my mind. "Well......" 

"Honest, Mike. I'll never do it again. To anyone. I was just as shocked
as you were. In our class they sort of glossed over it, and maybe
I missed something or something, but..." Her voice trailed off. She
started over. "But... hey, I'm trying to apologize, OK?" 

"Well...." I smiled at her. "OK. Apology accepted. But jeez, man,
that hurt." 

"I know," she said softly. She placed the bouquet up on the table
by the head of the bed. It was out of my sight, but if I turned my
head a little I could see it. She left the room. The fragrance
lingered.

At 5:30 sharp the food detail came in and fed me. I didn't see her
again until after 7. 

When she came into the room, it was obvious she was going to give
me a bath. I shuddered at the very idea. She came into the room and
drew the curtain. 

"I know, I know," she said. "Trust me. I learned my lesson." I rolled
my eyes. "No really. It'll be fine." 

She began her routine, but as she bent over me I noticed that one
of the buttons on her uniform had accidentally come apart. It happened
to be the one right at the peak of her tits, and now I had a view
into her blouse. It took me only a moment to size up her skimpy brassiere.
Her globes hung there, restrained in space as she moved the washcloth
up and down my chest, around my neck, and over my shoulders. 

I averted my eyes. As much as I wanted to peek at this gorgeous girl's
tits, I didn't want a repeat of the previous day. I looked at the
ceiling. I thought about the news. I tried the multiplication tables. All
the way up to 9 times 9. I felt a twitch in my dick. 

She moved down to my legs, and took care of the foot with the cast.
Then she began washing the other leg in a repeat of the previous day.
That wasn't all that repeated. As she tenderly washed my thigh, I
felt my dick twitch again. I certainly wasn't as erect as the previous
day, but I knew that my little internal traffic director was
sending a shipment of blood to my penis. 

She softly rinsed my leg and my thigh, and then picked up the gown,
revealing my crotch. She stared at me. Looking me straight in the
eyes, she squirted some soap on her hand, and began to massage it
into my groin. She didn't touch my penis, but she sure was making
this difficult. I felt my dick twitch again. And again. 

I was, by now, more than half-erect. Her hand continued to stroke
and slide around my groin area, applying the soapy lotion everywhere
except my member. Then her hand slipped between and under my legs
and she pushed hard to reach my buttocks. I could feel the soapy solution
cover me there as her hand slid beneath me. My dick grew again. 

She withdrew her fingers, and put another squirt of liquid on them
and on her palm. Now her hand returned to the juncture of my legs,
and she grasped my balls, massaging the cleansing fluid into them. 

BOING! I was at full erection. She continued looking me in the eyes
as her hands continued their professional duties. 

"I'm sorry," I said. "I can't help it. Don't hurt me." 

"I know," she answered. Her hand glided up and encircled my throbbing
cock. I could feel the slickness of the soap as her fingers explored
the length and circumference of my organ. She continued staring into
my eyes as her hand played its knowing game. "I won't. Don't worry."
She paused. "I'm just giving you a bath. A special bath to make
up for yesterday." Her hand was moving up and down like a piston in
motion stroking my dick. 

With my one arm in traction and the other in a soft cast, I hadn't
been able to touch myself for days. And I was used to jerking off
at least every day, maybe more. It was only moments before I
felt myself rushing toward completion. 

Her hand continued its pounding as I exploded. My first spasm shot
several feet straight up into the air. I guess I had built
up the pressure during my days of inactivity. "Whew!" she laughed.
"Wow!" The second spurt was also airborne; even the third managed
to lift off nearly a foot. Then, as she continued pumping me, my
jism flowed out of the end of my man pole and down all over her hand. 

She slowed down her pumping, and I felt my own hot fluid trickling
down the sides of my still hard member. Finally it was over. She wiped
off her hand on the washcloth, then cleaned me up, including a gob
of cum that had hit me in the chest. After checking me thoroughly,
she put my gown back on and tied the various loops that would keep
it from slipping off. 

As she did so, she spoke softly to me. It was almost a whisper. "OK?"
She looked at me. "I said I was sorry. I really am. Still." She paused
a moment. Then she said "Even Steven?" 

I said "Even. But my name's not Steven." 

She giggled. "I know Mike. I know." 

The next morning my doctor told me that I was leaving the hospital
in two days, and that it would be a lot cheaper to get a home-health
nurse to visit me once a day, and anyway my insurance was about used
up. I only had two days. That was really good news. And really bad. 

When Carole Anne appeared the next day, I asked if she did home health
service. She shook her head. She said it didn't pay well, and was
unreliable. "Some weeks you never got a call," she said. "No call,
no pay." It was a doomed idea anyway, since I lived over an hour away. 

We chatted for a few more minutes and I asked her when my bath was.
She squinted at me, and then said, "Mike. I said we were even. Yesterday
was, uh, my way of saying 'I'm sorry'. But I could really
get in trouble if somebody caught me. I could lose my job! I don't
want you to think that's a regular part of nursing protocol." 

"Oh I don't," I quickly countered. "Although wrinkled Rita did
it for me just a couple of hours ago." 

She laughed. I smiled. She left the room. At 5:30 sharp the food
service arrived, and shortly after 7 Carole Anne walked in and drew
the curtain. "OK tiger," she said. "Bath time." 

I couldn't wait. Once again she untied the various ties that kept
my gown on top of me, folding each section neatly down over my groin,
never exposing that part of my body. Even after her little speech,
I wanted a repeat performance. As she began the routine, she wetted
down my chest and shoulders. As she reached for the far shoulder,
she bent over and her breast tips scraped my chest through her uniform.
She was not totally convincing when she said "Oops. Sorry." 

My dick twitched. This time it took maybe 20 seconds for me
to come to full erection. I was holding the folded gown up on the
head of my dick. I could have twirled it like a pizza, if only
I could get the rotation started. 

She looked at me. "Tsk tsk, what are we going to do with you?" she
said, chiding me gently. "You're like some horny teenager. Goodness,"
she smirked. "Boys." She stopped the movements with the washcloth,
and walked away from the bed. She had her back to me as she squirted
some more soap juice on the washcloth. Then she returned to the bedside. 

As she bent over, I could see that she had unbuttoned two buttons
on the top half of her uniform, the ones directly in front of, and
above her tits. As she bent over, the material "pooched" and I had a
beautiful view of her brassiere encased breasts. They were lovely,
and the bra was a wispy thin material that I could easily see through.

She maneuvered herself over onto the side with my good arm, and as
she reached for my cock with her soapy hand, I slid my hand into the
gap on her uniform. I cupped her tit and gently squeezed. Her nipple
popped to attention in my palm, and I felt her heavy breast aching
for release. As best I could I pulled the material of that cup down,
down over her nipple, down over her breast. The bra cup became bunched
up below her tit, which now hung even lower as she bent over me. 

The full weight of her tit was now hanging in my upturned palm. I
massaged it, sliding my hand back and forth to feel the hardness of
the cherry tip in my hand. 

Her hand was busy, also, applying her soapy lotion and slathering
it up and down my boner. She pumped me and pumped me, and in a very
few minutes I was ready for release. She knew it. It must have been
her medical training. 

She said "Countdown to ignition." I guess she was referring to the
previous evening when my spunk had become airborne. She pumped and
pumped my cock. I squeezed and squeezed her breast. Finally I could
take no more and I hoarsely whispered "Blast off." 

I came, pumping my jism out through that tube that was somehow bigger,
and yet tighter than a few minutes earlier. My spunk flew into
the air, although not as high as the previous evening. But even as
my eyes clenched shut from the pleasure, I could see her staring at
my dick as she pumped it. Another wave and then another washed through
me, until I was completely spent. As I awoke from my reverie I realized
I still had her hanging breast in my hand. I slipped my hand out of
her uniform. 

She straightened up, pulled up the bra cup, and buttoned the open
buttons. Then she went about her business in her most professional
manner, cleaning me and finishing my bath. I actually felt my dick
start to twitch again as she washed off my penis, but she would have
none of it. Finally she replaced my gown with a clean one, bent over
and gave me a little kiss on the lips, and departed. 

She came back in the room later, as things quieted down, and we talked
about a lot of stuff. I knew I liked her, and wanted to date her after
I was released. Even though my school was more than an hour away,
I thought I could see her most weekends. Imagine my surprise when
I asked for her home number and she wouldn't give it to me. She said
she was married! 

I was shocked. First, she was so young. Second, she didn't wear
a ring. I asked her about it. "Oh, most of the nurses take off
their rings when they come on shift. You know, chemicals, and
body fluids, and stuff. Or if you accidentally get a shock from
some equipment, the ring will burn a line right around your finger."

I was crestfallen. We talked some more, and she left. I had just
one more day in the hospital. And one more session with Carole Anne.
I hoped. 

The next day blended into the tedium of all the others. Soap operas
on TV. Wrinkled Rita disposing of my bed pan. Life in the ward sure
isn't like ER on TV. At 4:00 sharp Carole Anne poked her head around
the door. 

"Hi," she said. She pulled a small teddy bear from behind her back
and offered it to me. I took it with my improving left arm and felt
the soft white fuzz. "Going away present," she said. I was hoping
for something more. 

We could both hear the call button at the nurses' station ring, and
she said "Duty calls. See you later." She winked. 

Time expanded. The minutes seemed like hours. I must have looked
up at the clock every 30 seconds. Finally it was dinner time. Jello
again. Whoopee. And just as quickly dinner was done. The nurses' assistant
left. I was alone in the room. I counted the minutes until 7:00. There
were 23 of them left. Now 22. I felt like I was singing "99 bottles
of beer on the wall" with an endless supply of bottles. The clock
dragged. 

At last she showed up and pulled the curtain around her. I began
to get a hard-on even before she finished folding up my gown.
Tonight she didn't even make the pretense of folding it over
my groin for my own modesty. She took the gown and threw it in a
heap on the floor. My dick stuck straight up. 

"My goodness, aren't we eager tonight?" she said. "You really like
to be clean, don't you?" She smiled at me. She unbuttoned the top
half of her uniform except for the very top button at her neck. She
unbuttoned it to her navel. I reached up and slid my hand inside.
She shook her head and stepped back, then pulled the sides of the
material away. Her tits popped out, and I gave thanks that she wasn't
even wearing a bra tonight. She tucked the white fabric to the side
of each breast, where it stayed. Her globes were fantastic, and I
watched as her nipples puckered, then distended under my gaze.

My hand instinctively went up to hold one. She closed her eyes for
a moment as my hand made contact. I squeezed. Then she spoke. "Have to
give you a 'no-soap bath' tonight, Mikey." 

"Why?" I mumbled. I had gotten used to the slippery feel of her soapy
hand on my dick. I wanted it again. I was about to protest. 

"Because then I couldn't do this," she said. She bent down and kissed
the head of my throbbing penis. As she did, her hanging tits dragged
across my stomach. I could feel the hard points scratching against
my torso as she positioned herself over me. 

"Oh," I said brightly. "That will be OK, nurse Carole Anne." Her
mouth sunk lower down on me. I squeezed her tit, then reached for
the one further away. Now I was cupping the other breast, and using
my forearm to scrape against the closer one. Even though I only had
one good limb, I was feeling both of her breasts with it, and it was
wonderful. 

She bent down further, taking the full length of my cock into her
mouth. She began to make little moaning sounds as the head of my dick
bounced against the back of her throat. She moved her head up and
down, and gently massaged my testicles with her hand. I'd been hoping
for another hand job. I hadn't expected this. 

She moved her head up high enough that she retained just the head
of my penis between her lips. Her hand moved in to encircle me. She
pumped. Her twinkling eyes met mine, and she said "I hope you've found
the medical service here acceptable, sir. And I hope you WON'T tell
any of your friends." 

"I promise," I said. I would have said anything she wanted to hear.
She licked my dick head with her tongue, causing excruciating sensations
of pleasure. Her hand kept pumping me. I kept grabbing at her tits. 

She moved her head away from me, and her body down, until her tits
were hanging directly over my upright shaft. She lessened, rather
than released her grip on me, holding just her index finger and thumb
around me in a circle like a rubber ring. The finger-circle went up
and down. Up and down. But now her gorgeous jugs were hanging around
the sides of my dick, and I could feel the soft tit flesh rubbing
against me with every stroke. As she moved her body around I could
feel the tips of her tits scraping against my upper thighs, then
returning to engulf my dick, then scraping against my groin. It
wasn't long before I was ready. 

"Mission control," I said, weakly. 

"Ready, commander," she cooed. She slipped one of her hands under
my ass, and began to prod my asshole with her finger tip. She pushed
it in up to her first knuckle. I bucked up, trying to give her better
access. I had never felt this before, and it was incredibly pleasurable.
She positioned her breasts directly over my dick, and swung gently
back and forth letting them bounce against my pulsating penis. 

"Oh, I'm coming," I said. "Oh, here I go." 

Her pumping increased, her tits swung freely, slapping against me,
her finger pushed further into me. I shot my first load directly onto
her chest, where it would dribble back down the slopes of her tits.
It wouldn't be alone. The second shot went directly onto her left
tit, and as though I had aimed it, the third spasm found her right. 

With the majority of my spunk out of the way, she moved down and
replaced her mouth around my organ. I was still coming, but with much
less volume. I could feel her sucking the life out of me as her tongue
danced all around and over the tip of my dick. I reached up and squeezed
her tit, ending up with a hand full of my own goo. I didn't care.
It felt like lotion, and I spread it all over her hanging breasts.
She continued to suck me. 

At last I was spent, and I took my hand away from her. She released
me, and removed her finger from my anus. She took the washcloth and
cleaned me up, including my hands, and then washed her own chest off.
She rebuttoned her uniform, and then finished the rest of the job
she had come in to do an hour earlier. She left the room, and I didn't
see her again for some time. I thought about using the nurses' call
button, but I knew I shouldn't push it if there wasn't a real reason.
I planned to use it only if she didn't come back in by 9:00. 

I must have drifted off, because it was nearly midnight when I awoke
to a gentle shaking. "Mike. Mike." It was her. "I'm going off duty,
and I just wanted to say goodbye." 

I reached up and rubbed my bleary eyes. My angel of mercy was leaving.
Tomorrow so would I. 

She said, "I hope you know how sorry I was, now." 

"I do," I said. 

"And I'm going to miss you," she said gently. "I've never had a patient
quite like you." 

"Well, I'm beginning to think this accident was the best thing that
ever happened to me," I said to her. She smiled.

Then she bent down and kissed me gently on the lips. It was a long
kiss, gentle, not passionate. One of her hands came up and caressed
my face as she broke it off. "Goodbye, my horny skier," she said softly. 

I never saw her again. 




MIKE HUNT has more stories than you can, uh, shake a stick at. Each
one is based on a real life experience, though names and places
are changed to protect disgusting adulterers (like this dirty
nurse) and other low-lifes (like me.) If you would like more
stories from MIKE HUNT, e-mail Bannerboy1@aol.com. Fans and
flames to M1KE HUNT@aol.com. Note the 2nd character in M1KE
is a "one" (1) not an "eye" (I). 

If you want fewer stories from MIKE HUNT, just send me an e-mail.
Be polite.  It shows manners.

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