Jack winced as the doctor tugged at his arm. Although the policemen had told him that he was lucky to walk away from such a horrendous accident, he sure didn't feel lucky. His Dodge Stealth was totaled, his wrist was broken, his chest throbbed with pain, and his head ached worse than that time he'd woken up after an all night chug-a-lug competition with his college buddies a few years back.
Some idiot had blasted through a red light and plowed into the passenger side of Jack's beautiful new black sports car. He hadn't even fully comprehended what had happened until the acrid scent of his airbag being expelled invaded his nostrils, and scratched at his throat. He looked around through the haze of smoke emanating from the steering wheel to see all his windows shattered, and comprehended that his car was facing in the opposite direction he'd been traveling. When he tried to unlock his seatbelt he realized that his right arm felt like it had spent some time with a mad dentist wielding a hypodermic filled with Novocain. By the time the ambulance had shown up, the dull ache in his chest had made itself known, and the numbness in his arm had been replaced by an excruciating pain starting at his middle finger, and sluicing up to his elbow like a directionally challenged downhill skier. Apparently the airbag had saved his head from irreparable harm, but had forced his right arm into his chest, breaking his wrist, and bruising his sternum.
The doctor pulled again, and she and a nurse began wrapping plaster strips around his forearm. "It could be a lot worse," the emerald-eyed, auburn-haired, lady physician explained. "The X-rays show that your wrist is only broken in one place. This cast will be off in no time," she commented with a gracious smile.
Even through the pain in his arm, chest, and head, he couldn't help but notice how attractive both caregivers were. The nurse was a petite, brown-eyed, long-haired, blonde with skin the color of coffee ice cream, and a smile that could light up New York City. She wore a nurse's uniform out of his fantasies -- A short white dress, red piping around the edges, which buttoned all the way up the front, with the top three or four buttons undone, showing a hint of cleavage. She also wore white nylons, and white rubber soled shoes. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail, which exposed her delicate naked earlobes, and accentuated her lovely cheekbones. Her name badge identified her as Cynthia Darling, R.N.
Jack tried not to stare at the nurse, but every time he turned away, he ended up looking at the equally stunning Doctor. Even though she wore green scrubs, and a white lab coat, her beauty could not be contained within the uninviting material. It emanated from her like rain from a cloud. Her green eyes sparkled and her pouty lips parted into a brilliant smile every time she looked into Jack's eyes. Her full head of coppery hair came down past her shoulders and reflected the light in such a way that she wore a luminous halo. Her light, creamy skin showed off the spattering of freckles that danced across her rosy cheeks, and whenever her delicate fingers touched him it sent bolts of electricity shooting through his veins. Her photo ID was clipped to her coat pocket, and identified her as Doctor Valerie Carlisle.
Jack had to admit that if there was a silver lining to the whole ordeal, it was getting tended to by the gorgeous young medical team. He had to keep his thoughts clean though, since he was only wearing one of those ridiculous paper gowns. When he was first told to disrobe, he was scared that he was going to get a full physical from the attractive doctor, and end up with an embarrassing erection, or worse, a nervous shrunken member. Fortunately, after the X-rays they'd started mending his arm, and it appeared as though the occasional butt flash through the paper robe would be the extent of his humiliation.
When they had finished confining his arm in plaster, however, Doctor Carlisle instructed Cynthia to get an EKG and several other tests that sent a sinking feeling into Jack's stomach. She explained the situation to her worried looking patient. "We're going to hook you up to this machine and run some tests. Don't worry, I'm sure it's just a bruised sternum from your fist being forced into your chest by the airbag, but it's better to be safe and let us make sure your chest pain isn't a problem with your heart." After telling the nurse to come get her after the EKG machine had run its course of tests, she squeezed Jack's shoulder, melted his heart with another striking smile, and told him she'd be back shortly.
Per Cynthia's instructions, Jack sat up, and pulled the flimsy covering down to his waist displaying his chiseled chest, and well-toned waist to the nurse. She began to put sticky white squares, with little snaps on them, all over his chest and back. He couldn't be sure that he wasn't imagining things, but it seemed that she'd let her fingers graze his chest and abdomen more than was really necessary. Jack's veins started pumping with excitement. Her soft fingers put another sticky square on his chest and rubbed down his right nipple and flat stomach. As she continued her work, by hooking wires to all the snaps, she also continued her tender caresses of his body, which facilitated a stirring under the paper robe. Jack wondered if the equipment he'd just been plugged into could measure horniness, as well as heart rate and blood pressure.
"OK, you're all hooked up. Lie back down," requested the perky nurse, "and we'll take some readings."
"Is it alright if I just remain sitting?" Jack asked nervously.
Cynthia give him a puzzled look and replied, "Well, you're supposed to be as relaxed as possible, so you really ought to lie down. Why?"
Jack tried to voice his concern, but it just came out as a heavy sigh of resignation, and he tried to relax as his back touched the cushioned examination table. He looked down, and his fear was realized. Although he wasn't fully erect, his penis was creating a noticeable tent in the paper gown. His eyes darted to the nurse to see if she noticed. Her face was blushing, her smile was a stifled laugh, and she was staring right at the source of Jack's discomfort. When her eyes met his, she tried her best to look professional, but couldn't hide the flushed cheeks, and said, "Don't stress out about it, and it'll subside on its own." Then she turned away and busied herself with the equipment she'd hooked up to him.
When Cynthia finished busying herself with adjusting the equipment and filling out paperwork, she turned around and looked first at Jack's still bulging crotch, then into his eyes. He had such lovely blue eyes. She knew she'd gone too far caressing his chest and feeling the ridges of his six pack, but didn't think she'd done enough to cause his arousal. She couldn't help but be aroused herself though. He was quite an attractive man, and of course with him being injured, her mothering instinct was on overload. Her gaze kept darting towards his tented gown, and then to his self-conscious eyes. She could tell he wanted her, and she was aware of no better way to get her own juices flowing then knowing that someone found her sexy. She desperately wanted to rip his gown apart, crawl up onto the table, and fuck him like a rabbit. She knew she couldn't do that without getting caught, and subsequently fired, but she had to do something.
"Jack, I told you to relax," she mock-scolded after another longing look at his tented crotch.
"I'm trying. Sometimes these things just aren't that controllable," Jack commented with an embarrassed grimace.
