In which, after some startling revelations, our Mr. Smith receives an unexpected bedtime story of love and kind offerings, and reciprocates accordingly.
* * * *
I couldn't come to grips with what was obviously staring me in the face, and in a big way. Literally. Sarah was sitting next to me on a sofa, talking softly as I worked to pay attention, looking deep into my eyes only to have my own wander distractedly down her neck to settle somewhere near the middle of the bulging area below the opened top button on her scrubs.
"Mr. Smith?" I heard her say from somewhere remote, "can you please pay more attention?"
I glanced up again to the pools of her dark, Asian eyes. "Um, yeah, coma response and reactions, something like that. Sure."
"Exactly so." She looked at me intently. "The comatose mind has many irregularities that can affect perceptions and often times reality and fantasy can, well, mesh and seem like..." She looked at me closely. "Dreams can seem real and be very confusing."
"Umm. Hmm." I said, dubiously. I realized I had gone back to staring at her boobs again.
"Mr. Smith, do you have any specific, ah, memories of when you were in the coma?" She seemed a little earnest.
How could I answer that? She had the same fantastic rack and cute chin I remember from my dreams, but was I really going to tell this lovely woman I had dreamed she deep throated me for cum? I had obviously placed her in some sordid subconscious hardcore fantasy after, I don't know, maybe seeing her through the haze of coma-lidded eyes or something. Would she take that as a compliment?
"Sarah, can I ask you, well, maybe this will help me understand."
"Sure, anything," she said, eyes shining.
"Well, while you were, ahem, nursing me, did you ever have to, well, clean up after I, um, what I mean is, was there ever any, well, you know, night..."
A door slammed and we both jumped.
"What the...Sarah!" Meredith said, walking into the room, dressed again in her red skirt and top, hair wrapped in a towel.
"Oh hey, I just came by..."
"Did you call the office? Are you looking for him?" Given the lack of any other males in the vicinity, I had to assume she was talking about me.
"What? No, Em, I was coming by to tell you about something sorta crazy that happened last night and, well, we need to talk about it..."
"Listen, I know I should have gotten Mr. Smith here to Eastside, we just stopped by here for a minute." She looked a little pale.
Sarah looked at me briefly, then back up at...Em???
"Your name is Em?" I stuttered, barely able to speak.
"Meredith, my friends call me Mary, sometimes 'M' for short, yeah."
My eyelids were fluttering as I slowly passed out and fell face first off the sofa. My last thoughts were of the impossible combination of Em hovering above me, rubbing her tits into my face as I lay in a hospital bed, while I simultaneously bent her over a table and jammed my hard cock again and again into her eager asshole. But how could I do that? I'm not two people.
* * * *
"Yeah, we just finished!" More whispered sounds coming thru a mile of fabric. I could just make out the words, spoken softly from somewhere up in heaven above me.
"In the ass, from that cock? Wow, Em, I am impressed!"
"I know right, it was painful, but all that cum after, holy shit!"
"This guy really does have a magic touch. It's remarkable!"
I felt a tapping on my chest, moaned, then rolled over slightly. I was on the floor, a pillow propped under my head, looking sideways at two bare feet poking my chest, connected somehow to four very fine legs. They disappeared up in the sky above the sofa.
"Real?" I mumbled.
"Oh, back with us again Mr. Smith? Of course we're real! No need to worry, there's a nurse here to keep an eye on you!"
"And a social worker!" They both giggled.
* * * *
The car drove up to the front of a non-descript tilt-up building on the outskirts of an aging office park, a dated concrete and stone faΓ§ade and disintegrating paving in the parking lots. Weeds grew up weakly thru some of the spalling concrete. And here I was - this low rent office park was going to be my new home for a few weeks.
This place was what the gals referred to as 'the locker', a halfway house where recuperating patients of all types were given a room with a bed, dresser and desk, and rehabilitated back into society. I had heard enough to know the reason I was there was there was no record of who I was before the coma, and so of course no insurance dollars to pay for something a more liveable.
We had left Em's place shortly after they brought me back to the living with their toe poking. Based on what wasn't discussed, I figured they still didn't know what I knew, that they had used my little Mr. Smith rather selfishly when I was in the hospital 'comatose'. I had asked Em directly if she had ever been to the ward while I was there and her reply was a brief and simple 'No'. She was lying of course, but for what reason besides she was guilty of showing up and titfucking the daylights out of me?
I had a definite feeling that the earlier detour to my social worker's house, even without having plowed her ass and shooting cum all over her tits, was highly unorthodox and that they were trying to keep a low profile about it to protect their own skins. Add to that the abuse in the hospital I had suffered at their hands (and their mouths, and their tits) all added up to making me highly suspect of their actions towards me. But they were both just so damned cute.
Why I had passed out in the first place Sarah had quickly and dismissively attributed to overexertion on my first day out, not the wicked bout of anal sex and cum bath I had given her friend just minutes before that. Well, at least I'm pretty sure I had really rammed my dick up Em's crack, it was too real and impressive a memory to be a figment of my imagination. Reaching up to scratch my chin, my fingers smelled like - antiseptic hand wash?
I lapsed back into doubt. Is all this crazy shit really happening or not? It's hard to believe that Sarah had a monster cock lodged in her mouth, banging her head against a wall like a gong until she didn't know which way was up. Makes for a great fantasy, but what kind of deviant would dream that shit up?
We all piled out of the car. "Before you go in," Sarah smiled, holding my hand, "just remember you've always got us as friends." She squeezed my hand gently and gave me a hug. "Close friends." Her rack pushed into my chest, pushing out any reasonable thoughts. I started to get a boner.
"Uh huh," Em piped in, "just call us for anything you need. You know, anything." She reached out and squeezed my other hand gently, then took her finger and poked it into my palm, wiggling it suggestively. Oh Em, you are such a slut.
"Oh, Em, you are such a slut," I heard myself say. What the fuck? "Um, oops, sorry about that, just came out!"