A Melding of Two Minds

The nurse opened the door to the tiny collection room, surprising the young donor in the act, though only in the initial stage. Reflexively, the eighteen year old boy tried to cover himself up. The men's magazine he was gazing at slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor.

A few minutes earlier the nurse had ushered him into the room, handed him a curious looking glass vial with a flared opening at the top, and told him to "take all the time you need." Then she exited the room, shutting the door behind her, leaving the boy to produce his specimen.

The nurse examined the boy with her eyes, lowering them to assess the state of his arousal--semi-erect.

The boy reached down to retrieve the magazine. Once he was upright in his chair again, she purred "Wouldn't you rather look at me?"

Immediately, the nurse's words threw the young donor into a state of shock. She didn't wait for the boy to reply. She slipped further into the tiny room, shutting the door behind her. She sat down on a stool directly facing him. She did not cross her legs. "This will be just between you and me," she said, in an attempt to reassure him. "No one else has to know."

The boy sat quietly in his chair, still holding the magazine in one hand. And his penis in the other. Once he felt brave enough he peered directly at the nurse. He studied her face, devilishly lovely, at the way her breasts pushed out against her white uniform. Feeling more brazen he lowered his eyes to the hem of her skirt. Suddenly, his face revealed a another discovery. From his perspective he could peek the nurse's panties.

A random thought occurred to the boy: if this woman weren't a nurse, she could be mistaken for a sex worker.

His eyes still on the nurse, the young donor began to masturbate again. A strange mix of feelings slowly replaced the shame and embarrassment that had plagued him earlier. A array of feelings that combined to drive him all the way to a full erection.

The feeling of being watched. The nurse, a good number of years older than he, and quite lovely. A woman who freely allowed him to glimpse her white panties.

The young donor continued his act of self-stimulation for another minute. Then another. Although appearing fully aroused he seemed unable to reach the point of no return. The nurse noticed, too.

She realized a hand job would easily cause the boy to finish in seconds. But strict rules of her profession prohibited her from touching a patient in the genital area. And so she dismissed the idea.

Suddenly, the nurse stood up, reached up under the hem of her uniform and tugged down at her panties, raising each leg a bit to step out of them. She lifted them from the floor, then turned the delicate undergarment until it was inside out. She stepped behind the chair on which the boy was sitting, placing the palm of her free hand against the back of his head. "Get ready," she said.

The nurse then pressed her panties, freshly worn, firmly against the boy's face, holding them in place over his nose, forcing him to sample them with his nostrils--earthy, sweet-musky, their woman-sent uniquely hers.

In a matter of seconds, the nurse's actions sent the boy over the edge. With the glass vial pressed tightly against the head of his penis he began to cum immediately, convulsing powerfully in his chair, his spurting accompanied by long, deep, guttural moans of excruciating pleasure, his face screwed tight, reflecting pain. During his lengthy ejaculation the young donor stared deeply and unflinchingly into the nurse's eyes. And she did not look away.

The experience was one of a kind. As soon as it was over the boy collapsed in his chair, every last drop of his youthful energy spent, drawing heavy breaths. Quickly the nurse grabbed the vial from him to keep it from tipping over. "I need to get this to the lab right away," she said.

In those final seconds a very special exchange had taken place between the young donor and the nurse. Without speaking a word, the boy had conveyed to the nurse that during the entire cycle of exercising his sexual function he was thinking of her. Only of her. His silent message was that he wouldn't hesitate to do anything she asked of him.

Conversely, the nurse had, telepathically, revealed to the boy she had been thoroughly entertained by his performance, one that is usually reserved only for private moments; more than amused by his involuntary display of unbridled emotion. "The whole time," she presumed, "you imagined you were fucking me, right?"

"How did you know?" the boy replied, surprised.

"I just knew."

"You may get dressed now. Don't forget to collect your payment at the front desk." And with that the nurse, vial in hand, exited the tiny collection room, shutting the door behind her.