Susan went to the hospital to ask her aunt a sex question. But when she got there, she found that her aunt was busy:
Just beyond an empty bed by the door, her aunt sat talking in low tones to a patient whose bed was screened off from the rest of the ward by curtains hanging from a curved rail projecting from the wall.
She was perched on the foot of the bed, her dark hair neatly coifed under the spreading Sister’s cap, her full, high breasts thrusting out the starched white apron she wore over her blue tunic, the light from the wall lamp gleaming dully on the black nylon sheathing her crossed legs.
Beside her there was a chromed trolley on rubber-tired wheels laden with basins and glass funnels and coils of plastic tubing. But Marian Templar was evidently not concerned with the tools of her trade just now; her steady gray eyes were fixed earnestly on the pleading face of the man who lay in the bed with both his heavily bandaged arms lying immobilized in splints.
” … and you know perfectly well that I can’t do any such thing!” she was murmuring as Susan opened the doors. Her tone was quietly reproving, but there was a hint of jest somewhere at the back of her voice and her eyes were twinkling.
Something told the watching teenager that she mustn’t on any account reveal her presence. Some obscure air of tension surrounding the two people on the bed, some indefinable atmosphere of mutual complicity, warned her that she was eavesdropping on a scene that was both private and secret as clearly as if there had been a “Keep Out!” notice posted there. Silently, she eased the swing door shut … and then at the last moment she stayed it so that there was still the merest crack through which she could see the bed.
“Aw, come on, Sister!” the man on the bed begged. He was a big guy of about forty with a lined face and laughing eyes. “Be a sport! Do it for me just this once!”
“I can’t. You know I can’t, Sergeant. Surely you must-”
“Just this once!” the patient interrupted pleadingly. “Hell–it’s not as though I could do anything about it myself, is it?” He raised his stiff bandaged hands together and allowed them to drop back uselessly on the covers.
“You’re not to talk like that!” Marian Templar admonished. But she was smiling.
“Buy you a nice dinner at the American Club as soon as I’m discharged!” the Sergeant coaxed.
“What kind of a girl d’you think I am!” Susan’s aunt was trying hard to sound shocked.
“That’s just what I want to find out sweetie!” the man in the bed exclaimed triumphantly. Licking his lips, he stared up at her from under his eyebrows.
Marian Templar shook her head in mock helplessness and shrugged. “You’re impossible!” she sighed.
“Then you will?”
“Just this once.” She rose abruptly to her feet and turned towards the door.
Oh God! Susan thought wildly. Whatever it is she’s going to do, she’s coming out here to do it! She’ll find me here and she’ll think I’m spying! She’ll never forgive me! Unable to move, she remained frozen to the spot, her eye staring compulsively through the narrow crack in the door.
But the voluptuous woman in her crisply starched uniform only went as far as the trolley. Picking up a surgical glove, she thrust the fingers of her right hand hard down into it. Susan could hear the dry squeak of the rubber as she eased it over her skin. She could hear something else too; the man on the bed was suddenly breathing fast and heavily. A glazed look had come over his eyes.
Marian Templar turned back to the bed. Reaching forward, she pulled the covers down between the patient’s arms and then folded them aside.
Susan almost gasped aloud. Spearing up through the fly of his pajama pants, the man’s massively erect penis throbbed in all its rigidness above the striped material covering his belly!
Above the iron-hard, veined stiffness of the shaft, the circumcised glans, smooth as the head of a giant mushroom, quivered imperceptibly in the diffuse light.
“My!” Aunt Marian said chidingly. “We are in a state, aren’t we!”
The breathing of the man in the bed had become more ragged still. “Go on!” he whispered hoarsely. “Do it to me! Do it to me now! Please!”
Lowering herself gently to the side of the bed, she reached across with her rubber gloved hand and grasped the pulsating shaft of his cock, moving the tip of the thumb caressingly over the plum-colored head to smear the seminal fluid seeping wetly from the slit at the top.
The Sergeant jerked convulsively at her touch and arched his loins slightly off the bed. “Ooooooooah!” he groaned “That’s so gooooooooood! Go on! Go on! Oh, you darling! Aaaaaaaah!”
Slowly she increased the movement of her thumb, spreading the viscous fluid over the acorned head, past the taut ridge of flesh separating it from the shaft, and then down the throbbing stiffness of the shaft itself.
He grunted, biting his lip and staring up into the light directly over his head. “Harder!” he gasped. “Hold me harder! Ohhhhhhhh!”
When the entire rigid length of his penis was gleaming greasily, Marian altered the position of her hand so that the head was nuzzling into her palm and her fingers and thumb were wrapped around the shaft like a close fitting sheath. Gently at first and then with increasing speed and force she began to milk his eagerly throbbing cock, pulling his loose skin up over the quivering head and then dragging it hard down until the whole pulsating penis was as stretched and tight as an over-fed balloon, the glistening skin almost transparent under the pressure of her hand.
Over a whisper of music from the earphones at the far end of the big room, Susan heard the harsh panting of the Sergeant’s breath and the lewd sucking squelch of her aunt’s rubber covered hand sliding rhythmically up and down the lustfully expanding staff of his penis. Behind her, the rain drummed incessantly against the windows of the empty office.
“There!” Marian whispered huskily to the wildly excited man. “That makes us feel better, doesn’t it? That’s what we needed, isn’t it? … It feels so gooood … to have Sister’s hand … giving us just a little bit of massage … in the right place …!”
“Christ!” the Sergeant whispered tremulously. “Oh, Christ!”
From an old stroke book by Omar Victorine. The title is Violated (Rampant Action Series 1405).
