My name is Nancy and I am a nurse. I specialize in the care of the elderly and handicapped, but at the beginning of my career, I had to deal with everything: emergencies, trauma, surgeries, etc. In one way or another, the yearning to save lives drives us, or at least, to make the difference, even for one patient. Making my rounds, I see many patients whose conditions will never improve: paraplegics, cancer or AIDS patients, diabetics, old men and women; you know, the hopeless ones. This is the reason for my story.
My shifts have tended to be late in the evenings, nights and just before dawn. That makes me very requested in emergency rooms, but there are days, or really nights, where I only have to bathe or observe terminal patients or those with long-term hospitalization. I suppose that the worst are the victims of severe burns, because for them, there is neither day nor night, since their pains don't allow them to sleep, and to them, unlike cancer patients, we could not give them morphine. The patients that have left an impression on me are usually very young or particularly attractive, in their majority, men, but some women do shock me with their predicaments.
At nursing school, they teach us how to avoid the arousal of the patients' genitals organs when bathing them or examining them. The doctrine is that too much excitement could exacerbate whatever they might be suffering, but I know that the real reason is to avoid legal action against the hospital for sexual abuse.
Once, I no longer remember when, I did have an "accident" while bathing an old man, and I just washed his "thing" a little more to make the "evidence" disappear. The patient didn't have much strength to moan during the incident, but he stayed calm, even happy. I was no longer a newcomer when that happened, so I wasn't very concerned. I took a mental note to be more careful with those of old age, so that they don't suffer a heart attack. But with the most physically capable, as much as their condition allows, I became bolder.
The time that I found a young man, who had suffered a motorcycle accident, I was truly concerned about how mutilated his life would be if he lost his sensation there below, so I made some moves and I got him assigned to my care at certain hours. I approached him to administer some medications to him and I lifted his bed sheet without him noticing. Sometimes, I feel them while they sleep, but there comes a moment in which I need them awake and alert, this is easier while bathing them than when they are in their beds. I manipulate him, in fact, I masturbate him, and when he woke up, I feigned writing down something about his reflexes in his chart. This one had already lost sensation and this troubled me, and I went running toward the lounge so I could cry there. At least, nobody found out. I soon gave up on him, although I would offer him the required attention, but only from time to time. From then on, I rarely "experiment" on patients with spinal cord injuries.
There was another patient with burns, to whom, miraculously, the flames didn't reach his penis. He complained a lot about pain and begged for sedatives, but we insisted on not giving them to him, and much less, any time that he fancied them. When it was his time for a bath, I made him this proposition:
"If you behave like a real man, I will treat you as such."
"What do you mean, 'like a real man?' Besides, I hurt all over."
It was obvious that even some portions of his flesh dangled. But I tolerated the disgust and horror and I explained to him with a tone as even as I could muster:
"In fact, that is why you need to stay calm, so that the skin grafts heal completely."
I washed carefully so the new skin would not fall off, and I kept my gaze fixed on his genital organ, since it was the least unpleasant feature of his body that was in my view. He noticed that I looked at it there and I then admitted to him:
"You have a very nice member. I bet upon leaving here, your girlfriend will feel pleased by this."
I might not be a master in the art of subtlety, but he only replied:
"Thank you."
Then I made my move. I caressed his phallus with much tenderness, careful of not hurting the surrounding skin, and I wrapped it with a hand towel. I pumped smoothly, up and down and back, contrary to how they teach in college, where they say to stroke only in one direction, and very briefly. But I felt hypnotized and I wanted to see semen spurting. I asked him to stay quiet, but now, his wailing was from pleasure and not from soreness or cold. Finally, I dropped the towel and I lathered it directly with my hand, and he rewarded me with a warm and sticky sensation. I showered him a little more with lukewarm water in order to rinse it, and I washed it again. I washed my hands while he recovered his breath and helped him dress and got him to his bed. He murmured:
"Thank you. How should I reward you?"
"Only comply with doctor's orders and be brave."
Soon he fell asleep, and little by little, he stoically tolerated his treatment more, although he got greedy with my "therapies" but I rationed them to him. He tried to blackmail me with telling others about me, but I told him that if they discharged me, I would not be around to please him anymore.
One day, another patient arrived with multiple fractures, another car accident, and I was on emergency room duty that night, covering for an absent nurse. After stabilizing him and assigning him a room, I took care myself of splinting and plastering his limbs. He was sedated for enough time so that his bones would heal again. When a leg set enough, the orthopedist put it in traction to return its size and shape, so the patient would not limp upon walking again.
With this one, I took a little more of a risk, since I could not hide with him in the bathtub. So, at a certain time in which the personnel was scarce, I closed the room, I lifted his sheet, and I proceeded to suckle his penis. It was a little longer than average and his pubic hair, which was shaved during the harshest procedures, grew again and bothered me a little in my lips and my nose. It took little time getting erect, but longer in ejaculating. I wanted to mount him, but he had a pelvic fracture and I had to be very careful.
Soon they established a type of hospice, so these patients could recover without occupying the hospital beds for too long, which are necessary in times of epidemics or more urgent cases, and some of my "clients" were disappearing. I had to be more selective upon choosing my "victims" so their lesions would not be an impediment, because I still yearned to feel a member inside me, being the whole pleasure for them, due to their frailties.
The opportunity came across with a cancer patient, from whom we extirpated a tumor, it doesn't matter where, and he was hopeful for a good prognosis. He looked at me with much interest, and I attributed it to his good spirit, and I decided that he would be the man. I visited him on a quiet night, without my underwear and with a condom. He directed me a knowing look and I began to straddle his hips, and I unfastened my blouse, and he lifted his hands to caress my nipples. He did this to me for a while, and I remembered how my former boyfriend used to hurry along over this, wanting only to penetrate me as quickly as possible, leaving me unsatisfied. Now I was the one moaning, but I bit my lips and I then approached his penis in order to put a "hat" on it. He reached my clitoris and I shivered, and then I rushed to stuff myself. A tremor coursed through both bodies and I twisted while going up and down, no longer with a hand or with a cloth, but with my own vagina, ¡with my whole body! I soon arrived to a pleasant "plateau" or "mesa," but he soon ejaculated and both of us grew impatient because my climax didn't arrive. But suddenly, my body came alive and I was the one who ejaculated, or at least, it looked like I did, because a lot of vaginal juice had flowed. The dizziness was delicious, better than with any drink or drug. It was necessary for me to rest upon his body to regain my balance, and later, I discarded the condom and washed my secretions. It was a dirty job, but it was worthwhile.
With him and with other patients, I tried that and other "acrobatics." While bathing some patients, I also got undressed and sat down on them. So I also tried anal sex, because I was not accustomed to bringing condoms there, and it was easier to get rid of these at night. I lathered their penises much more, and then, I sat down to go through my motions. There was some pain, especially if the penis turned out to be large, and the orgasm took a little longer, but the advantage was that I could retain the semen down there or throw it away upon defecating, which tended to happen sooner than I wished, but the advantage was that I could pass from the bathtub to a toilet and dump the "smoking gun" there.
One night, there was an emergency in which they had to activate to the whole personnel, a key whose color I already forgot, and since I was in full swing, I took me longer to go and help out. The first time, they only reprimanded me without asking questions, but I remained under surveillance. A few days later, the mother of the cancer patient came to pick him up, because he already was in remission, I want to think that it was because of my special care, and any way, she found out, because she reported me to the administration. I tried to deny everything, but they, in order to safeguard the good name of the institution, forced me to resign, my silence in exchange for a good recommendation.
In the other hospital, I tried to control my instincts, but since I was not able to maintain a relationship with a man due to my inconvenient schedule, I soon returned to the "prowl." I felt like a vampire or a predator, choosing with whom and in what moment would a sexual encounter be possible with patients of my wing or of another, in order to cover my tracks. Normally, I chose patients in terminal stages, but with good spirits. To a patient, a victim of violence on the part of her husband, I suckled her vulva, either because of pity or madness on my part. Perhaps, that change in my pattern put me in evidence, and I was dismissed again.
Modesty aside, I am very competent, and I was soon able to get employment, but my bad reputation reached me and soon the hospitals avoided me like the plague. One morning, I applied for a job as a cook in another hospital, and even so, they refused to hire me. I left grief-stricken, and I insulted myself for closing so many doors for me. But one opened up in the most unlikely guise: it was the door of a luxury car that stopped beside the sidewalk where I walked upon leaving the hospital. And I saw that patient's mother coming out. She called me, asking:
"Are you Nancy, the nurse?"
