Confessions Of A School Nursebysilverslacker62©
The voice is female, a hint of Scots in the accent, husky, amused, confident. This is what it says ...
"So, getting back to when I got started, it was when I got this job in a posh boys' boarding school, in my 20s. I won't tell you the name but you would know it. It was all cold showers and Latin and Combined Cadet Force. You know the kind of thing. A lot of the boys had titles, or were waiting for them, and that included some from the aristocracies of other countries. Some were just sons of the rich. There were a few scholarship boys but not many.
"I was a nurse, still am, and I applied for this job as assistant matron and got it. It was supposed to mean dealing with small injuries and illnesses, making sure the cleaners stuck to the hygiene rules, running the medicine cupboard, that sort of thing. It also turned out to involve being a sort of counsellor - listening to the boys when they had problems they didn't want to talk to the teaching staff about. Obviously there were times they preferred a female ear, and the head understood that. He left it to Matron to decide what she dealt with herself and she left it to me, quite a lot. More than they ever knew, in fact. Matron was in her 40s, divorced, and seeing a local gamekeeper. Once she got to trust me, she would quite often take the evening off and leave me on 'whinge watch', as we called it.
"Mostly, they wanted to talk about missing their mums or being bullied. Sometimes, we would have a word with one of the masters. But mostly, a bit of sympathy was enough. They were supposed to learn to deal with things themselves and we kind of fell in with the school attitude.
"Part of it was talking about the birds and the bees. I don't know if the head ever realised how much of that we had to do. They did get sex lessons, in Biology, but they amounted to a slide show on how frogs do it. That left a lot of turmoil the lads wanted to talk about. Quite often, they wanted to confess to having played around with each other. Nowadays, I suppose, you would have to press an alarm button and call in social services and the police. But a bit of reciprocal wanking was so much a part of the experience in a place like that, we got to think of it as nothing to worry about. And that's what we told them. Just forget it, and one of these days they would meet a nice girl who would make them forget all about it. Mostly, of course, that was true, although there were one or two who were clearly starting on a career of cock worship. We roughly took the view there wasn't much we could do about that either.
"Nobody hung themselves, in the end, and the masters came to look on Matron's Office as the place to send any boys they thought needed a lecture about awkward things. So we got a few referrals for sticky sheets syndrome, as we called it. Matron was good on the subject and I heard her doing The Talk a few times, so I thought I could handle it when I went into the office one night, after she'd slipped out to the pub, and found a 16-year-old waiting there with a brown paper bag in his hand and a note from his housemaster saying he needed 'a bit of a talking to'.
"In the bag,it turned out, was a battered copy of Fiesta, which had been found under his mattress. He looked completely stricken when I asked to see it, so I made a bit of a joke of it as I laid it on my desk and he stood there in front of me with his head bowed. Crikey, I said, I haven't seen one of these since I helped my ma muck out my little brother's room one summer. Is it yours?
"He muttered something about finding it. Oh aye, I said, and gave him a wink. Found it on the top shelf at the newsagent's, maybe?
"So, I said. What was I supposed to do about it?
"Tell me off? he suggested.
"Well I do, I said. You're a very naughty boy. But not half as naughty as these girls in here, it seems to me. Do you mind if I take a look, just to see what they are up to nowadays, to get you all confused?
"He kind of nodded and kind of smiled, but he looked so miserable my heart went out to him, poor little bastard. I went around and gave him a hug and he laid his head on my shoulder and choked a bit.
"Honestly, I said, I don't know why you've been sent here. I know Matron has seen this magazine, or something like it, a hundred times. It's not un-natural, after all, to want to take a peek if ladies are offering to show you their bits for a couple of quid, now is it?
"He took a breath and straightened himself up and I gave his shoulder a pat. He was quite a nicely built young lad - one of the rugby players, I remembered.
"Look, I said, I daresay there's a school rule against having this sort of thing on the premises and I know I'm supposed to warn you that masturbation weakens body and soul, so consider yourself lectured. But it'd be worse for you to lie awake all night worrying that you're some kind of pervert, when you're just a normal teenage boy. So just sit down for a minute and I'll make us a cup of tea and we'll have a talk and that'll be the end of it, eh?
"He relaxed a bit and smiled and I made the tea.
"So tell me, what's it like for a man, I asked. I know when I was your age I was aching down there all the time. Couldn't keep my hands off myself.
"His eyes bulged. He said he didn't know women did it. Innocent days, eh. Oh aye, I said. We drank a bit of tea while he digested that one.
"What I'm saying, I said - You don't have to be ashamed of it. Just be a bit discreet.
"He shrugged. He said there was no privacy. In that place, everything was designed against it. The dormitories were shared. Even the toilets only had half-doors, so masters and prefects could check the position of your feet and peer over the top if they wanted to. Sounds really pervy now, doesn't it?
"I said if he was desperate, he could always come in here and do it. And he said: What, in front of you?
"Now that wasn't what I'd meant. I meant he could use the wash room. But when he said it, a little thrill went through me and I found myself saying Why not? I'm a nurse, after all. I'd be interested to see how you do it. Good for my professional education and all that.
"I pushed the magazine towards him. Show me what gets you going, I said. And I locked the door.
"When he picked up his magazine, it more or less fell open at a picture of a council-house blonde with brown eyes and, I noticed, brown roots. She was pretty though, with small tits and bee-sting nipples. She was pulling down her pants and looking into the camera with her lips parted and she had something in her eyes which would stir anybody. I got up and moved around my patient, to look over his shoulder. I picked up a clean towel on the way and I laid that on the desk in front of him. Stand up, I whispered, and he did, and I reached around in front of him and undid his belt and pushed down his kecks. His cock sprang out in front of him, huge against his skinny stomach. He had a young man's bush of newly-grown brown hair, around the base of it, but otherwise he was white and hairless and kind of virginal looking. Go on, I said. Show me what you do. And he made a hole with his fist and gave himself the first couple of strokes. I reached around and took hold of his prick, which looked even bigger in my small hands. I had a silver ring on the middle finger of my left hand, with a small blue stone, which I never knew the nameof, and I remember thinking it added a touch of class to the picture. I stroked down on his balls with one hand and worked the skin over his shiny knob with the other.
"It wasn't the first time I'd held a cock but in those days, if you touched a lad, that was the foreplay done and he'd be in you as soon as he got his johnny on. It was exciting to run the whole thing by remote control, if you know what I mean, feeling everything through my hands, slacking off and speeding up to take him to the brink and back. Even so, it only took a minute before he was juddering and spurting in my hands. I directed his come onto the towel and stroked out the last of it as he softened, before I let go of him. I kissed him lightly on the back of the neck and said, Is that better, honey? He turned to kiss me and I let him land one on my cheek, then I took the towel and put it in the Iaundry basket and cleared away the cups while he did himself up. Then, wanting to do the right thing, I suppose, he pulled out his wallet and took out a fiver. I'd like to buy you a present, he said, putting the money down on the table.
"To me in those days, a fiver was very handy. And I could tell he was a rich boy. I said, that's very kind of you, sweetheart. And he smiled and went.
"I suppose I wasn't surprised when he came back for another consultation a few days later. This time, he put the money on the table as soon as he was sat down, and looked me as if to say, Deal? And I nodded to say, Fair enough. By that time, I had realised I was skating on thin ice anyway and I thought I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.
"After a while, I got another boy, complaining that his groin ached because he could not find anywhere to give himself relief. He was one of the upper sixth form, older and bolder, with a fatter prick and a wallet to match. He brought a battered photograph, apparently developed in the school darkroom, of a girl who was quite debby-looking except she had her jodphurs open and was using her hands to help her fat puss out through the gap. I whispered into the lad's ear about how I wouldn't mind getting a finger in that sweet thing myself and that put a fiver on the going rate.
"The deputy head prefect was next. And then next and next. He liked very big girls in very small panties, it turned out – glamorous grannies you'd call them now. I was learning while I was earning and it wasn't long before I was earning quite nicely. I was taking one hell of a risk, of course. But it seemed unlikely any of the lads were going to lay a complaint against me. If they did, well I was building up a nice little savings purse and I could be away, trailing clouds of outrage and threatening lawyers, before it ever got to a disciplinary. The boys were all over 16, so it wasn't a crime as far as I knew. In those days, anyway, the police would have just laughed if anybody had suggested it was their business if a few teenage boys were getting their dreams made true.
"And personally, I've got to be honest, I loved it. I learned a lot about what turns guys on and it gave me a thrill too ... the feel of that warm muscle pumping through my hands; the power of knowing a man is desperate to come but you are in charge of when; the smell of hot cock.
"There was one lad in particular who just fitted me nicely, with his ass in my pussy. I always did it that way round, so it still felt a little bit like a medical service rather than prostitution, which I've always drawn the line at. When he came, his shudders went through me and the cock in my hand felt like it was mine. I guess I got a taste for the feeling because I always volunteer to wear the dildo if I'm doing lezzy pix, since.
"Also, to be honest, I liked the pictures they brought me. I dreamt of showing myself that way. And that was my downfall. I took a day to go to a professional photographer in the nearest big town and I had a set of my own done, doing a full striptease and finishing legs open. It made me hot doing it in the studio and later I creamed up more than once giving my special service in Matron's Room, feeling those young cocks pump up as the lads leafed through my pictures and paused at the ones they wanted to fuck. It was a fiver extra for the personalised wank and ten quid for a set of the pictures to take away. In those days, like I say.
"I should never have trusted a bunch of teenage boys to keep their gobs shut and their wanking collections safely hidden, of course. And the time came I was called into the princiipal's study to discuss certain photographs which had come to light. Luckily, he was more embarrassed than I was and was very happy to accept my offer to move on and away, without going into the whys and wherefores. I don't know if the boys ever mentioned their extra-curricular education. A couple of them did track me down a few years later and they only wanted to do it again. I'd moved on by then, but they're still in my supporters club, so to speak. "