Special Care

Let me tell you about the last time I was in hospital. I had been in a minor car accident in which I had been knocked unconscious and was being kept in for observation. I was sharing a large room with three other patients, each of us having one corner of the room to ourselves which could be separated off by curtains. My story relates to the special care I received from one particular nurse whose duty it was to sponge bath me the first evening I was in.

I had been brought in by ambulance while still unconscious, and I think she had been the one to process me and set me up on the ward. In any event, clearly, she had taken a shine to me because when I came to she was cradling my head against her bosom and gently stroking my hair. The curtains around my bed had been drawn closed and there was no-one else around. I regained consciousness to these most pleasant of sensations, the smell of sweet, vanilla-laced perfume, and to the image a beautiful petit brunette hovering over me and gazing down with large green eyes beneath long dark lashes. 'Hello handsome,' she smiled as I adjusted my vision to the late afternoon light streaming in through the window, 'I hoped we wouldn't lose you altogether.' She hopped neatly off the bed and patted me gently on the chest. 'Just checking to make sure my favourite patient was ok.' She laughed lightly and winked at me, 'I like the quiet ones. They give me least trouble,' she laughed, and with that slinked out of the room, pausing deliberately as she drew the curtains open to give me a full view of her fine figure. As she left she looked back just once over her shoulder, to make absolutely sure I caught her eye, before exiting the door.

Indeed, my nurse did cut a fine figure. Small but voluptuous, she had large generous breasts and a firm ripe derrière. She looked stunning in her short-sleeved, knee length sky blue uniform, unbuttoned down to the chest to show off the delicate white skin of her neck and her more than ample cleavage. The dress was tight and well fit, gripping her hips and backside snuggly, beneath which she wore either buff-coloured tights or stockings. Her lips were a dark rich pink, and her hair a deep, shiny auburn, cut shoulder length and pinned up in a subtle but faintly extravagant style atop her head. A couple of strands strayed loosely here and there about her face, which she kept having to brush aside from her vision, and she topped the whole look off with a little white nurse's cap. Her finger and toe nails were painted the same deep pink as her full lips, and she wore two slight, open-toed black shoes, not excessively heeled, but not flat-soled either.

I was impatient for dinner time --I felt ravenous -- for after that, I had gleaned from the other nurses, Rebecca (that was her name) would be back to give me a sponge bath come the evening. As you can understand, I could hardly wait. I wolfed down my dinner and sat impatiently flicking through channels on the tv, and turning the pages of glossy magazines without reading a word. The evening seemed to drag on forever, with no sign of my nurse, and even the ward lights had been dimmed and most people tucked up in their beds before I again caught site of her.

At first I only I heard her, clicking down the linoleum hallway purposefully, the cheeky tinkle of her laugh as she shared a joke with another patient or fellow nurse. She came in to my room quietly, not once looking me in the eye, despite the way my own vision eagerly sought hers out, and slowly but deliberately passed around the room, checking the other patients, tucking in their bedclothes and pulling their curtains to. As she bent over the guy in the bed next to mine she dropped a pen from her breast pocket. She looked at me directly, and then, with her legs slightly crossed but held almost straight, bent down in front of me to pick it up. As she stood up again, she wriggled her dress back down the tops of her legs with her hands where it had ridden up slightly. They were definitely stockings.

Finally, she finished passing round the room and turned to tend to me. She drew the curtains, put a finger to her lips signalling me to be quiet as the others were going to sleep, and said, 'Right Mr Thatcher, I'm just going to get the things for your sponge bath, don't disturb the others,' and then she left. As the curtain flapped shut, I could just make out the guy next to me through the flap looking barbarously jealous.

When she returned she had with her a couple of fluffy white towels, a large water basin full of steaming warm water and a flannel. She told me to undo my hospital robe, put a towel on the bed and lie down comfortably. I obeyed her commands and presently she was gently but diligently soaping me down and mopping me up with the flannel and warm water. She started with my face and neck, taking her time and carefully cleaning behind my ears, and then moved down to my chest and stomach. As she bent over to reach the other side of my head or shoulders, her firm breasts rubbed against my face through the uniform and I got another whiff of her sweet and intoxicating perfume. She worked away at me slowly and methodically, turning me over on my back when she had done my front, and spending an age cleaning my lower back and buttocks and the tops of the backs of my thighs. Finally, when I almost couldn't stand it anymore and was practically about to pop up like a self-raising tent, she asked me to rollover on my front again, 'So I can wash your penis.'

I rolled over, trying to stop myself from moaning in anticipation, and immediately my member stood up in firm attention. It was throbbing practically to bursting. 'Goodness! Mr Thatcher!' She exclaimed, just loud enough to be sure that my neighbour could hear, 'I'll have to do something about that you dirty boy!' Then she started soaping up my cock with her painted fingers, lingering delicately as she did so and pulling back my foreskin all the way with finger and thumb, gently giving it a good clean. Next she carefully wrapped the warm wet flannel around the whole of my penis and moved idly down to the end of the bed, trailing a manicured finger down my leg as she did so. 'Now then,' she murmured, almost to herself, 'Let's see what we can do with this...' With that she slowly unwrapped the flannel from around my cock, dropped it pointedly to the floor, and climbed with feline grace on all fours leisurely onto the bed. Now I was looking right down the front of her top, and with the tops of her arms squashing her big round tits together the sight of her cleavage was nothing short of magnificent. She followed my gaze down her chest with her own, and then back up to my eyes, grinning indulgently. Again she put a finger to her lips.

Next she bent down ever so slowly, the stray strands of her hair tickling the tops of my thighs and stomach, and lowered her hot open mouth over my cock. As she did so she cupped both balls in her hand and gave them a good firm squeeze. I couldn't help but let out a slight murmur of appreciation (I was sure I could hear the man in the next bed masturbating furiously). She looked at me reproachfully, but didn't stop sucking on my penis with expert strokes of her tongue and bobs of her head. She kept at it for about five minutes, squeezing my balls periodically while I clenched and unclenched the sheets with my fists, trying desperately not to let out little moans of delight. With each pulse of my cock against her hot wet tongue, and each clutch of my balls by her well-tended fingers, I felt as though I would literally explode in her mouth. Sensing my exhilaration, however, she all of a sudden pulled up and climbed backwards off the bed in the same feline manner she had mounted it. She sidled back round to my side, and then, fixing me with an hypnotic stare, slowly slid her hands down her sides and began hitching down her panties under her dress. She let them fall first about her knees, and then down to her ankles, before pouting innocently at me and mouthing, 'Oh dear, now look what you made me do.'

She stepped out of the frilly knickers with two dainty steps and then bent to pick them up. They were black and silken, bikini cut with lace trim and side-tie ribbons. She moved towards me, balling them playfully between her two hands as she did so. Gently, she opened my mouth with her fingers and stuffed the panties in there. Again she signalled me to be silent. Then she pulled her dress up about her waste, so that I could see the tops of her stockings and suspender straps, but not quite her naked pussy, and climbed back on the bed. She straddled me and straightened her back, removing her cap and releasing her hair which she decadently tossed about. She pressed her breasts together with two cupped hands, evidently delighting in the bouncy pertness of their feel. Ever so slowly, she lowered herself down onto me.

Well, by this point I was so excited it was all I could do to stop myself erupting then and there inside of her. But she put her hands flat on my chest as if to restrain me and slowly started bucking backward and forward, arching her back a bit and rocking her hips up and down, up and down. She undid another button of her uniform and her breasts all but burst forth from their constraints, miraculously just about holding fast. As she rocked back and forth I was absolutely desperate for her big boobs to pop out altogether, to take one of those delicious-looking nipples in my mouth -- they were now so hard they were jutting out through her uniform -- but to my everlasting regret they somehow remained within their sheaves. All I could see was the magnificent billowing of her cleavage as it swayed back and forth, back and forth, along with the rhythm of her pussy muscles as they clenched and unclenched my penis expertly. When I came, she sat up straight on top of me and rifled her hand through her hair, sucking her fingers and closing her eyes in exaggerated pleasure. She gripped my body tightly with her thighs and nestled down onto my crotch, as if squeezing every last drop from me up into her pussy.

I don't know if she came herself, but just as quickly as she got on she dismounted, removed her panties from my mouth and put them smoothly back on. Then she re-organised her dress, fastened the button she'd undone and put her cap back on her head. She gave me a quick but kindly wipe with the flannel, licked her fingers alluringly, and handed me back my robe, saying, 'You can get dressed now Mr Thatcher.'

Before she left she came over and took my temperature with the palm of her hand across my forehead, shaking her head and murmuring, 'You're a bit hot, Mr Thatcher, you may have to stay in another night.' Then she smiled, turned her delightful tail, drew back the curtains a bit and sauntered out. She didn't look back.

Unfortunately, the next morning I was released by the doctor and told I could go home. I tried to feign that I was still a little shaky but they told me I should just go home and get some rest, and that they needed the bed. I didn't see nurse Rebecca again on my way out, but if ever I am injured again I hope to God I'm near this hospital. Now what was the name of that ward?