Evening Call

For the next two weeks, we hardly see each other. You call in to my room occasionally, when it is your duty to do so, examine me calmly, make a few notes on my record, and leave. I have nothing but the slightest half-smile around the corners of your mouth to give me encouragement. Still, I have my slow, steady road to recovery well underway, and tomorrow is the day of my discharge. I have the strength and energy to get up and move around a little, and to take short walks around the hospital grounds. I pass my days reading, planning as to how I am going to rebuild my health and my previously active life, and of course thinking of you. You are never far away from my thoughts. I can't help but feel disappointed that you haven't been to see me again. We shared such a moment of beautiful intimacy. Maybe you have simply been too busy, or had to be careful. Maybe you make a habit of such visits with other patients.

My final evening then, and tomorrow back to my cold, empty, ground floor flat. I want to be out of here, I'm frustrated, tired and lonely. I want to be out of here. I am woken from my sleep, gently, persistently, by a soft finger caressing my cheek. I arouse from my slumbers with a start as hope and expectation suddenly take hope of me with rising force. Yes indeed, it is you! I am suddenly wide awake, unable to suppress a broad smile of relief.

I pause for a moment as I am greeted by that cool, gentle smile that has filled so many of my waking thoughts. You pause for a moment, and then pass me a glass of water. I take it and drink thirstily. You are sitting beside me, leaning slightly forward, legs crossed, as I guess you have been for a little while, just gazing at me.

'How have you been?' you ask quietly.

How do you answer a question like that? I feel the urgent need to act, to seize the moment.

'Missing you. A lot,' I reply. Before I can lose confidence I reach out to take your hand in my own. You do not withdraw it, instead you knead my hot, anxious fingers between your own, still gazing at me, apparently unsure of what to say.

After a short moment, you make a decisive gesture of your own. You lean back in the plastic hospital chair, kicking back the chair slightly so that I have a better view of you from my position in bed. You are sufficiently close so that I can see every detail of your dress, despite the dim glow of the lighting, but a little beyond touching distance. With the slightest shudder of anxiety you move your hands to your breasts, pushing them upwards in gentle caressing manipulations. For the first time I am able to perceive your name badge: Holly Lynch. How much could that name come to mean for me. Our eyes are once again riveted on each other. You understand full well how great are my need and longing for you. Slowly, methodically, you unfasten the buttons down the front of your pale blue blouse. There is complete silence in the stillness of our room but for the slightest rustle of fingers on cotton. Having undone your blouse to the waist, you pull it open with a bold, decisive gesture. I am treated to my first view of your wonderful breasts, proud and prominent under your white bra. God they are lovely, slightly below average in size, but of a pleasing firmness and rounded form. I take in with my whole being the wonderful white flesh of your breasts, stomach and belly. A little lock of long dark hair plays down across your ear and pale neck. You play with it for a moment, measuring me, distractedly teasing, before sweeping it back into place behind your ear.

Continuing to lean back, you spread your legs on either side of the chair, a gesture forcing your skirt to rise up to mid thigh. Your legs are lovely, firm, well rounded, and toned after several years of the intense physical labour of hospital work. The black stockings you are wearing are functional but for me only accentuate the beauty of your firm rounded thighs. With a gentle movement of your right hand, your reach up and begin to caress yourself through your functional cotton bra. I can perceive your nipples becoming hardened and aroused under the restraining cotton. Carefully, you ease each breast out of the bra. I am already quite hard now, and my throat is dry once again in the artificial heat of the room. I can sense how pleasing to you are the feel of your cool fingers against your hot breasts, as you carefully measure the weight and arousal of each one in your cupped palm. For a moment, you are lost in your own sensual desires. Remembering me, you give me a slightly coy gaze, filled with teasing curiosity, as you play the thin, supple fingers of each hand across the surface of each hardening nipple. I understand that you are implicitly inviting me to join you in your arousal, there is the slightest approval on your lips as my fingers reach down to my anxious member and I begin to caress myself through my boxers.

Your nipples are lovely, quite large and visibly darkening into a dark pink with your arousal as you allow your fingers to gently pull at and tease them. The centre of each is a hardened, prominent point of desire. There is a serene calmness about you, a new aura of power and control as you raise your skirt a little further. I now have a full, uninterrupted view of your thighs, and, at their centre, your beautiful white pantied gusset, clearly outlined against the dark curvature formed by your stockings. I increase a little the intensity of my rubbing, God I'm really starting to need you. The strength and intensity of my arousal are just for you. You lift up both hands and place them on the back of your head, shamelessly offering me the beauty of your exposed breasts and thighs. Your eyes carry the relentless intensity of complete sexual control. I lick my lips slightly with desire, starting to feel a little light-headed with lust. Our eyes hold each other, a complex tango of sexual need, desire and control.

You stretch out your left leg a little and place your foot on the bedside table. Your uniform skirt is now fully raised around your waist, and I have a full and clear view of just how beautifully your white cotton panties are moulded against the supremely beautiful smoothness of your cunny. God, you are lovely, and you really don't know just how much you are turning me on. You sit almost motionless for a short moment, your dark brown eyes gazing right into me, searching, challenging, seeking an ever deeper connection, your hands still raised above your head in that wonderful challenging yet submissive gesture. At last you speak, 'Are you beginning to understand now Tom? How much I want you, how much you've been turning me on, the effort I've had to make to keep a grip on myself? I don't know what it is about you...something so passionate, so controlled, and yet so vulnerable...you need to understand, I wouldn't do this for just anybody. I do this because I want to, and because you turn me on.'

I gaze at you silently for a moment. I really don't know what to say.

You continue, 'So, this will be your special leaving treat. I'm going to show you just how turned on a girl can get when she really wants you, I'm going to show you just how girls come...'

As you speak, your slender fingers stray down to your mound, unable to hold yourself back any longer. You apply the lightest caresses to your upper thighs, and then back and forth across your mound. Your caresses become a little more urgent, as you press three firm fingers against your cleft. This sense of urgency continues as you suddenly reach behind you and skilfully and carefully slide down your stockings down your thighs, tossing them aside with an effortless gesture.

Your resume your masturbation, leaning back a little further in the same seated position, both to make yourself more comfortable, your leg again resting against the bedside table, and to afford me the best view possible. Greedily, your fingers slide up and down your cleft, which is now clearly outlined against the contour of the white cotton as a result of your rhythmic caresses. Still your eyes are fixed on me as you begin to employ a wider range of well-practised masturbatory movements. As well as caressing your cleft up and down, you start to make harder, more urgent circular movements around your clitty. She must certainly be erect and aroused by now. As you continue to caress yourself, I can perceive the faintest darker damp area of your arousal right in the centre of your gusset. I myself am becoming seriously turned on now, quite light-headed with erotic tension, unable to prevent myself from steadily and rhythmically rubbing my fully erect shaft.

With the fingers of both hands you stretch the cotton of your panties as tightly across your aroused cunny lips on either side of your slit as you can , your dampness over your poor hot clitty is now readily apparent. You continue the teasing, probing, firm movements of your fingertips against your aching clit and outer labia as you softly explain, 'I haven't changed these panties in two days Tom. I've slept in them, I've worked in them, I've wanked in them. They are full of my scent, my musk, all my moisture from my hot hole. Maybe you would like to enjoy them later ...something to remember me by?'

Your facial expression is now more broadly humorous, taunting and challenging, you are much more sure of yourself, what you are doing and your hold over me. Wonderful, sweet dimples appear in your cheeks as you smile broadly. Leaning back, you raise both your long, shapely legs in the air, close together, as you ease off your damp white panties and toss them to the floor. You assume a new position , sitting up rather more, your legs again spread on either side of the chair, as you return to fondling your breasts for a short while with both hands, your eyes closed and head thrown back, increasingly lost in your arousal. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, it does.

You place each of your hands under your thighs and employ them to raise up your legs, so that your knees are level with your shoulders. Your legs are held wide open, your sex positioned at the edge of the chair, as you offer yourself to me fully. The sight of your cunny is simply glorious, a thick black triangle of coarse, matted black pubic hair. I can perceive that you only trim yourself slightly, around the edges, presumably for beachwear. The thick, coarse hairs of your pussy are simply magnificent. Below them, the dark red folds of your labia, already damp with your arousal, glisten slightly in the dim light. You continue to gaze at me, but your flushed cheeks and the slight tremor in your voice betray you as you say, 'So then Tom, how do you like my cunt? Is she hot and rich and sweet enough for you? Can you imagine just how hot and sweet and slick she is, and all because of you....tell me Tom, I want to know, have you ever had a cunthole like mine offered to you before. Tell me Tom...oh I'm sorry, maybe you haven't understood just how hungry she is for you yet...'

With that, you place your fingers on either side of your labia and draw them open, now offering your fully exposed cunthole to me. I am greeted by the wondrous sight of the exposed, glistening pink intimacy of your vagina. Despite the dim light, I can see quite clearly the outer dark red labia, glistening with moisture, your aroused, erect, pink throbbing clit...

You purr softly, 'This is my vagina, Tom, and now I'm going to show you just what I can do with her when the mood takes me.'

My heart is pounding, and I m close to orgasm myself as I drink in this riveting spectacle. Suddenly your expression becomes a mask of absolute intensity as you stare very hard into my eyes, willing me to take in every millimetre of your beauty.

Placing your head coyly slightly to one side, you place your practised right hand over your mound and begin to rub lightly, covering its entirety, while you continue to hold your left leg open with your left hand. You rub for a little while with steady, slow, circular motions, teasing the coarse, thick hairs between your fingers. You take your time, you want this to be a slow, deliberate, unhurried orgasm. You start to run straying, probing fingers around your labia, lightly grazing their surface, and gently pulling on them from time to time, using your fingertips to spread your juice and make your lips glisten with your arousal still further.

A dirty, wicked smile plays across your lips as you finally insert your index finger into your vagina. The movements of that probing finger are subtle and clearly well practised as you set about exploring and caressing your vaginal walls. In and out slides your finger, which you then draw up to your mouth, drawing off some of your arousal with the lightest, delicate touch of the tip of your tongue. A second finger accompanies the first as you replace it in your hole, soon both are buried up to the knuckle as they ease their way inside of you. Your masturbation becomes more urgent as you respond to your increasing need, your breath starts to come in shallow pants and your eyes, though still fixed on me, are now half-closed with desire.

With a gasp of exhilaration and excitement you murmur, 'This is how I like to work my cunt Tom....where I can and when I can. I generally need to wank off two or three times a week, nearly always at home ... in the bath ....or under the shower. But every so often the urge takes hold of me at work ...and I just have to do something about it, like now.... Ooooohhhh.... It's the long, lonely shifts that are worst ... I'm still easing her up for you, making her nice and open and juicy ....oooooh like that.'

Your tone of voice becomes ever lower, more urgent, as you fight with increasingly more desperate gasps for air. Your supple fingers are vigorously working your cunt now, jamming in and out, turning, twisting and rubbing with ever increasing intensity as a third finger enters your sopping sex.

A low sensuous gasp escapes your lips as you sigh, 'Oooooh come on baby ...that's the one....that's the one ...oh god yes ...come on my love, do it for me, wank with me .... wank with me my love ...show me how your lovely cock wants me, show me how much you want to come for me....eeeeuuuuhhh.'

I am right with you in the urgency of my manipulations. I yank down my shorts, exposing my right hand which is already rigorously rubbing my shaft, the head already smeared with a little escaped semen which I have worked in with my probing fingers. Your half-closed eyes glint in acknowledgement and appreciation. You are, however, now almost completely lost in your own masturbation and desire for release. As you work your sex, blatantly exposed at the edge of your chair, your knees still thrown open at a wickedly explicit angle, your toes leaning lightly against the chair rim for purchase, I am lost in sheer wonder at the skill of your manipulations. It is time for you to add a new level of arousal to your already skilled fingerwork. As the fingers of your right hand continue their urgent probing caresses, alternating between vigorous in and out movements within your vagina, at times losing themselves almost to the hilt, and external rubbing motions around and across your now soaked, tingling mound, you bring the index finger of your left hand down towards your clit.

You circle your clit very tenderly and cautiously at first. I can just perceive her, tiny but clearly aroused. As your begin to play with her with light grazing movements around and over her surface, your head moves back, your eyes tightly closed at the exquisite, teasing contact. You bite your lower lip slightly with the tension. Remembering my presence, you manage to speak in a light, whispery tone, 'God I'm getting so hot and wet ...playing just for you ....please just keep wanking for me ...bring yourself off if you want .....I don't mind....eeeeuuuuuuhhh it feels do fucking gooood....fucking good...aaaahhhh....look at me Tom...look at me while I'm frigging myself for you....want....see it all....oh god ...your lovely..... strong shaft...I wan....oooooooeeeeeuuuuhhh.'

Your climax is inexorably approaching. Your left index finger is now pressed firmly to your clit in a rigorous circular rubbing motion, while the three fingers of your right hand, soaked with your arousal, continue to vigorously work your vagina with light sucking sounds each time they exit. Your breath is coming in sharp, violent pants as you valiantly attempt to continue to verbally share your arousal with me. Wondrously generous, shockingly beautiful in its intensity, your orgasm arrives as you whimper, 'Oh nnnoooooooo......I...aaaahhhh ......ahhhhhhhh......AAAAHHH!!!'

Your finger rammed against your clit with urgent, insistent intensity, your head thrown back towards the ceiling in a gesture of ecstatic release, the shudder of violent orgasm visibly grips your whole frame.

'Ooooohhh ....oooohhhh ......ooooohhh,' you gasp as the spasms of your release gradually decline in intensity. Your cheeks are quite flushed, a wisp of your dark hair is stuck to your beautiful forehead with the exertion. Gradually you catch your breath.

Take your time, my love I think to myself. Words are unnecessary, I want nothing to break this incredibly intimate, beautiful moment. I simply gaze and support, patiently watching and waiting, full of tenderness and gratitude for what you have given me.

After several minutes, you raise your head and look at me with an expression at once lascivious, tender, and a little bashful. Your measure my reaction, my wonderment. There is the slightest humorous undertone in this shared intimacy between us. At last you find the strength to rise stiffly to your feet.

'I'm not quite done yet,' you murmur.

Methodically lifting your skirt around your waist, you carefully get on the bed and sit astride me, facing me, so that your exposed vagina is no more than a few inches from my face. This unexpected close-up view of your wonderful pussy is almost more than my light-headed, incredibly aroused state can bear. Your thick, dark matted triangle of black pubic hair, wonderfully full, and many of the lower hairs still stuck together with the juices of your arousal, taunts me in your supremely beautiful femininity. Carefully, you take the fingers of both hands to carefully part your labia for me. I can see everything. The thick, dark red labia, distended with arousal and desire. The little pool of fluid still gathered at the base of your vagina. A little of the shining wet light pink flesh of your vaginal walls, still flexing slightly with your bodily movements and your opening itself, so deep and inviting.

You are so close I can sense the very heat emanating from your vagina. The heady aroma of your arousal, exquisite, delicate, infinitely womanly, penetrates my nostrils. You gaze on my fascination, curious as to where this latest provocation will take me. You raise each of your cunty fingers of your right hand to my mouth and gently force each one between my lips, one by one. We take our time. I luxuriate over each finger, sucking and teasing each one clean with the tip of my tongue. A heavenly, lightly spiced flavour reaches my palate.

Satisfied, you withdraw from me, so that you are one again seated by my side. You ensure that your uniform skirt is still bunched up around your waist, however, and your legs are lightly parted on either side of the chair, in order to allow you to manually stimulate yourself as required as your desire takes hold of you. You reach your right hand down towards my groin, where my member still waits, the glans hardened and purple in anticipation, my shaft still quite firm and prominently veined. You lightly run the fingertips of your right hand across him as you say, slowly and deliberately, 'Well, what have we here then? Looks as though someone's had all play and no fun....I would hate you to think I haven't been attending to my nursing duties properly. I'm so sorry,' you finish matter-of-factly.