Chapter 3: Ella
As a teenage nurse, nearly 40 years ago, both of my first two sexual experiences were linked to the hospital where I worked. The first was with a male patient, old enough to be my granddad, who relieved me of my virginity. The second was when I was seduced -- quite willingly -- by a ward sister who had been my supervisor. Sylvia was the first great love of my life. Within a week of spending my first night in her bed I had moved in with her. I told my mum that it was a flat-share so I could be nearer to my work. My older sister saw right through me though, and called me a "cunt-sucking little dyke slag". Nice.
Sylvia and I lived together for eight years, until she had to return to her native Belfast to look after her dying mother. Of course, I missed her terribly after so many years; but if I'm being honest the relationship had started to go a bit stale anyway, so it had probably run its natural course. Towards the end we were really going through the motions to an extent. It didn't help that Sylvia was more than 20 years older than me. In the early days I was completely under her spell, but as I got older and more experienced I started to become more headstrong and self-willed, and a bit of tension had begun to develop. In the years following my break-up with Sylvia I had several lovers, male and female, but I made sure that I always kept my private life completely separate from my working life from then on. Until I saw Ella, that was.
I was a staff nurse by then, in charge of a maternity unit. I took my responsibilities very seriously, and I liked to get to know all of the ladies under my care, as well as the nurses who were responsible to me. It was as I was doing my rounds of the patients that I saw Ella. She was 23 years old -- nearly ten years my junior -- and a few days from giving birth to her first child. Because it had been a difficult pregnancy her district nurse had decided to play safe and admit her to hospital well before the delivery was due. The first time I set eyes on her I literally did a double-take -- she had one of the sexiest faces I had ever seen. Her lush black hair was cut into a pageboy bob, and she had olive skin, a heart-shaped face, huge dark eyes, full, sensual lips and a dimpled chin. Despite her Mediterranean looks -- and the fact that she was married to a guy from the Middle East -- she was as English as I am.
As I walked through the ward Ella was being visited by her husband. To be honest I didn't like the look of him much. He was at least 20 years older than her, swarthy with a big moustache, and an arrogant cast to his face. Don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against Arab guys -- I've shagged a couple over the years, and enjoyed every moment of it. But I didn't like this bloke's attitude as he stood, rather than sat, beside his pregnant wife, talking at her with a bored expression on his face. She was days from making him a father, yet at least twice in the couple of minutes I saw him he glanced at his watch, as if he had somewhere much more important to be. Instead of looking like a blooming mum-to-be, the girl looked slightly intimidated by him, and nodded doe-eyed as he spoke down to her, in both senses. I decided that once he had gone I was going to go back and introduce myself properly to Ella, because I liked my charges to know who I was. Of course I had an ulterior motive: the moment I saw her I thought how nice it would be to nestle my face between her plump little thighs! It never occurred to me at the time that it was any more than fantasy on my part, just the sort of thing that might flash across anyone's mind as they're walking along the street and a drop-dead gorgeous stunner passes them. And probably nothing would have happened at all, and I would have maintained my self-imposed embargo on hospital-based relationships, if it hadn't been for the fact that I hadn't had a fuck for a couple of months, and I was feeling as randy as hell.
As it was, I strolled back to Ella's bed about half an hour later and we started chatting. It was a scorching summer, and thanks to her heavy pregnancy her lovely face was covered in a sheen of sweat, her fringe sticking to her forehead. Watching her little pink tongue dart out to lick her dry lips, I could feel my nipples tingling just sitting there talking to her. Naturally enough, we got onto the subject of her condition, and how she was coping with the last stages of her confinement. Ella cast her eyes down and bit her lip then, looking at me with those big liquid eyes, she half-whispered, "There is one problem I've found. It's a bit embarrassing really. The thing is, I'm already lactating quite heavily, and my nipples get quite painful. The district nurse told me I should expel the milk, but I don't seem to be very good at it." I heard a buzzing in my head as I wrestled with my conscience for, ooh, a good half-second, before I innocently told her I could show her how to do it if she liked. She gave me a big beam and said "Would you? That would be so kind." As it was the middle of the afternoon I told her I'd come back in the evening, when it was cooler, and we'd work through it together. As I walked away from her bed my own nips weren't tingling anymore -- they were aching, they were so stiff inside my bra!
Working on a maternity ward, we of course got occasional requests for that sort of help. Normally, trying to be a good girl, I would ask one of the experienced nurses, who'd had kids herself, to show the woman how to do it. But there was no way I was going to pass up this opportunity. It still never occurred to me that I might get anywhere with Ella -- after all, three days before giving birth isn't the most common time for a married woman to look to start an affair -- but at least I was going to get to grope her jubblies. I felt all hot and bothered for the rest of the afternoon, and I just couldn't wait for the evening to come.
When I went back to keep my appointment with Ella I was more nervous than I had been for a long time. As I pulled the curtain around her bed -- after all, there were six other ladies on the room -- I tried with difficulty to make my voice sound calm and professional as I told her to take off her nightdress. When I turned back to her I had to suppress a gasp of admiration -- her tits were as gorgeous as her face. I've got a nice pair of boobs despite being quite petite; Ella's were simply magnificent. They were perfect orbs, only slightly paler than her upper chest, with big coffee-coloured nipples surrounded by areola which spread halfway across the flesh of her breasts. Trying to keep my hands from trembling, I sat on the edge of the narrow hospital bed and set about my work. Normally nurses would wear surgical gloves to do this but, unaccountably, I'd forgotten mine -- I was going to get every ounce of sensation out of this experience!
As I gently milked one of those stunning boobs into the plastic beaker I had taken with me my mouth went very dry and my nipples swelled against my uniform again. The hot flesh of her tit burned my hand. Ella sat up on her elbows, her head back with her eyes tight shut and her mouth open, her sexy tongue running along the edges of her teeth. It was all I could do not to lean forward and shove my own tongue down her throat. As I continued to knead her breasts I could feel my knickers getting damp. It took a couple of minutes before I realised the treatment was having the same effect on Ella. Her breathing deepened and became more ragged, and in the sweltering summer heat I suddenly became aware of the aroma of her arousal. It required an immense effort of will from me not to climb into bed with the stark naked woman whose tits I was fondling and kiss my way down to the source of that sweet fragrance. After about ten minutes I had finished the task, and I felt as weak and sweaty as if I had just spent the time screwing someone. Ella looked pretty strung out too; she thanked me, and asked if I would mind doing it for her the following day too. Then, before I had even left the room she rolled over, still naked, and appeared to have fallen straight to sleep. I didn't sleep quite so well that night, giving myself a good seeing to with my favourite vibrator and tossing and turning through the stifling night with visions of Ella's amazing face and boobs floating before my eyes.
The next day I passed through the room Ella was in just once, and she gave me a little wave and mouthed "See you later". All afternoon I told myself I was going to be good, and not take advantage of an innocent patient. I don't think I believed it for a moment, but I was certainly going to try. As it was, Ella inadvertently made it easy for me. (She swore later that she really hadn't been flirting with me, but I occasionally wondered.) We were in the same situation as the evening before, with me feeling just as uncomfortable, when, in a gasp, Ella asked, "Nurse, can I ask you something, well, sort of personal?" Given that I was sitting there with her bare tit in my hand, the soaking wet gusset of my knickers sticking to my pussy, I didn't really see how I could refuse! I thought my guardian angel must be somewhere close when I heard her question though: "Is it normal for a woman in the last stages of pregnancy to feel, erm, incredibly randy? I do, all the time."
This was a sort of moment of truth for me. Was I simply going to answer her question as best I could, never having been pregnant myself, and innocently finish helping her expel her unwanted lactose? Was I bugger! I told her I understood it was quite common. Then I stretched out a hand and brushed a strand of hair from her damp forehead. My voice trembling slightly, I added in the sweetest tone I could manage, "We can do something about that too, if you like."
