Hand Job Slut Ch. 11

Chapter 11: The Solution

Nancy has been taken to the hospital in an ambulance, suffering from a terrible, debilitating fit. We now rejoin our story, already in progress...

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The next day, Saturday, Curt and Brandi visited Nancy in her hospital room. She had an IV drip in her arm, and a blood pressure clip on her finger. There was a machine tracking her heart rhythm next to her bed. She looked pathetic.

"How do you feel, Nancy?" Curt wanted to know. His face showed his deep concern.

"Okay, I guess," Nancy said, in a groggy, distant voice. She was still pretty doped up and woozy from her battery of tests. "They don't know what's wrong with me. But they don't seem too worried."

Curt was worried. So was Brandi. Nancy was usually so healthy and robust.

A doctor poked his head in the door. "How's our patient doing today?" he asked cheerfully.

"Okay, I guess," Nancy said again. Curt and Brandi looked at each other. Curt took the doctor out into the hall. He looked at the doctor's nametag.

"Look, Dr. Chopra," he said. "I'm really worried about Nancy. Can you tell me what is wrong with her?"

"That depends," said the doctor. "Are you her husband? Or her boyfriend? We can't give out information to just anyone, you know."

"No, I'm just a friend. Nancy doesn't have a husband, or a boyfriend. But I'm very worried about her. What can you tell me?"

"Well," said the doctor, "I really shouldn't be talking outside of family members, but nobody else has come for her. There is nothing physically wrong with her. She is exhausted, and stressed, and needs to rest. I've given her some muscle relaxants, and some mild anti-depressants, but she really shouldn't be needing even those. She can go home any time. Are you sure you aren't her boyfriend?"

"Trust me; I'm sure," said Curt, wistfully.

"That's too bad. Because, off the record, and don't quote me on this, but I believe that she is suffering from what we used to call in med school, 'Lakanookie' disease."

"What's that?" asked Curt, horrified, his hands in front of his mouth. He was getting worried all over again at this grim sounding diagnosis.

"It means that she needs to get laid," said the doctor. "If you are her friend, I'd suggest you do your best to get her some sex. It would do her a world of good." Then he turned and strode off down the hall, his white coat flapping behind him.

Curt, although he was a machinist, not a physician, completely agreed with the doctor's diagnosis. He had told Nancy many times that she needed some sex; but she steadfastly refused. She didn't like boys, and she didn't like sex. But he was her friend, and that put him in a strait spot. Should he respect her wishes? Or should he try to coerce her into what he knew would be good for her? It was a dilemma.

Brandi came out into the hall. "What's the story?" she asked.

"The doctor said she can go home any time," Curt told her. "I think I'd better take her back to my place where she can get some rest and be taken care of."

Curt and Brandi helped Nancy into her clothes, and took her downstairs to check out. Curt drove her to his apartment in his truck. He fixed up his own bedroom as a sick room, moving his own blanket and alarm clock out to the sofa in the living room.

"Nancy, you are just going to stay here and rest for a few days," he told her. "The doctor said you need peace and quiet and lots of rest, and you'll get better in a few days. Okay?"

"Okay, I guess," said Nancy listlessly. She was still pretty doped up. But Curt knew that he could look after her. He could, and he would, dammit.

But Nancy did not get better in a few days. Over the next several days, as the dope from the hospital wore off, she got worse. She continued to suffer bouts of debilitating pain, and often curled up into a fetal position, moaning and crying out and clenching her fists and her teeth and her knees as the emptiness and hollowness in her gut made her miserable. It broke Curt's heart to look at her, her eyes rolled up in her head and her swollen tongue hanging out in pain. He took a few days off work so that he could stay with her and watch over her, and make her toast and weak tea to nibble and sip on. He spent his nights sleeping shallowly on the sofa, ready to leap up at a moment's notice if she should need anything.

One afternoon, Brandi came to visit. Nancy was sitting up on the sofa, her knees up under her chin, her arms around her shins, her face haggard.

"How are you doing, Nance?" asked Brandi, cheerfully. "You look great!" she lied.

"Okay, I guess," said Nancy. "How is the business doing?"

"Oh, Nancy, don't worry about that now," said Brandi. "You just concentrate on getting better, okay?"

"No, I need to know," insisted Nancy. "Give me a full report."

Nancy had appointed Brandi as General Manager of Super Sluts. Brandi's job was to supervise the three site managers, the hostesses, Andi, Candi, and Sandi. Each site manager had three girls giving hand jobs under her direction. Brandi made her rounds, much like Nancy had done before, and made sure that each site was working out each night. Brandi told Nancy how each team was doing; which ones did the best business, which girls got the most repeat customers, which locations pulled in the most customers, etc. Nancy listened attentively. Sick as she was, she was at her best when thinking about her business interests.

"Are the receipts increasing or decreasing each night?" Nancy asked. And "How are the girls doing? Are they happy?" And "What is the repeat customer ratio?" Brandi did her best to answer Nancy's questions. But mostly, she realized that she needed to collect better data for her next report! She just didn't think in the same terms of business metrics that Nancy thought in. Even sick to death, Nancy was always analyzing and thinking in terms of business, volume, and profit.

Brandi reported all that she knew. Nancy knew that Brandi was doing the best that she could, but still Nancy wasn't satisfied. She looked hard at Brandi.

"Brandi, I want you to do two things for me. First, I want you to start rotating the teams. So far, we have three teams, each alternating between two different locations. That's good, but we can do better. I want you to have the teams switch locations with the other teams every two weeks. That will give the customers three times the variety, at no extra cost to us; it's just good business. Second, I want you to collect more data for me to analyze; customers per hour and revenues per night, stuff like that. I'll make up a data sheet for you to fill out each night. I'll get it to you in a few days. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Nancy. I'll take care of it right away." Brandi knew that Nancy was a wiz at business, but she also knew that Nancy was a bit delirious these days. She was ready to agree to anything.

"Thank you, Brandi. You're a good friend," said Nancy, starting to nod off. "If you don't mind, I think I'm ready for a nap."

"Of course, Nancy. You rest now."

Brandi spoke with Curt on her way out. "She's still focused on business, Curt," Brandi said. "But she is not herself. You really need to keep an eye on her."

"I'm doing all that I can," Curt promised her. "Trust me, nobody wants Nancy to get better more than I do." Brandi looked hard at him. She knew how much Curt cared for Nancy. She believed him.

Later that night, Nancy was sleeping fitfully in the bedroom. Her body, as usual, was wracked with pain; with the loneliness, the emptiness, the hollowness, the horniness, deep in her being. Her knees were curled up to her chest; her eyes were screwed up with the pain. The emptiness, the hollowness, the horniness, in her gut, was killing her. After all these years, it still made her curl up in misery.

"Curt?" Nancy called weakly from the bedroom, her voice pathetic, her head swimming in delirium.

"Yes, darling?" said Curt, running in frantically from the living room sofa to see if she was all right.

"I'm cold, Curt. I'm so cold. Would you curl up with me?" Nancy looked pitifully up at him, tears welling in her eyes.

"Of course, darling," Curt said. He lay down beside her on the bed, spooning her, his strong arms around her soft waist, his hips pressed up against her ample buttocks. He kissed the back of her head and stroked her hair. Nancy fell into a troubled sleep in his arms. Curt stayed awake for a long time, watching her chest rise and fall with her breath, feeling her heart beating within her rib cage. Then he, too, finally, fell asleep.

Nancy drifted into a troubled dream state. In her dream, she floated, disembodied, in an alien environment on a strange, distant planet. Purple trees, angry rivers, and orange clouds dominated the outlandish alien landscape. Nothing was as it should be. The blades of grass, like razor blades, cut her feet as she ran, barefoot, through a blue and pink field. The pain in her gut, the empty, hollow feeling, was worse than it had ever been. She clutched tightly at her abdomen, and felt her hands sink deep into her body, through her skin, penetrating her gut and her internal organs like so much soft cookie dough. The world stretched and lurched sideways and diagonally, and the strange gravity pulled her body in a dozen different directions at once.

In her dream, Nancy was horny, miserable, and knew that she needed her trusty hairbrush. She needed to fuck herself with the handle of her favorite plastic hairbrush. The hairbrush had never failed to send the empty, hollow, horny feeling to sleep. It would work, she trusted, even in this strange alien landscape, this distant planet of her distorted dreams. But she couldn't find it! The hairbrush was missing! Where was it? She looked under rocks, inside hollow trees, beneath angry babbling brooks, but she couldn't find it anywhere. She groped around, flailing her arms and her grasping hands in all directions, but to no avail. Meanwhile, her body was turning inside out, her organs floating away in the breeze toward the distant orange clouds. She wept with the pain and the misery and the loneliness and wondered what would become of her in this strange, cruel, alien world as her body dissipated and ceased to exist!

Then, against all hope, still in her dream state, she found the hairbrush! Her flailing hands finally landed upon it! It was growing out of the ground, the cold hard ground of this alien planet, in the middle of a wide open field, sticking straight up toward the purple and orange sky! The bristles were buried deep underground, but the long, ridged shaft of the thick plastic handle, which she had ridden so many times before, safe in her bed, was unmistakable, sprouting up toward the alien sky like a fence post. She grabbed it, and tried to pull it to her, uprooting it like a dandelion, but it wouldn't budge. It was too firmly rooted in the alien ground. She pulled and pulled, twisting it, yanking it, but to no avail. It was too firmly rooted in the ground. She howled with pain and frustration. How could she pleasure herself, satisfy her yearning pussy, send the emptiness to sleep, if she couldn't extirpate the hairbrush from the ground?

Finally, having no other option, Nancy, in her dream, knew that she would have to ride the hairbrush in its place in the ground. No problem, she thought, she could do this. She lifted herself off the ground. She straddled the upright handle of the dream hairbrush, one foot on either side, and gradually lowered herself onto it. She sank to her knees, and placed the end of the handle against the wet, swollen lips of her pussy. She slowly lowered herself, inch by tortuous inch, taking the long, stiff handle deep into the secret caverns and delicate folds of her womanhood, as she had done so many times before, back in her own bed on planet Earth. As the rigid shaft entered her, touched her, loved her, penetrated her, she felt her pain, slowly, gradually, beginning to fade. The deeper the loving shaft of the handle of the hairbrush penetrated her, the more her pain, her hollowness, her emptiness, began to dissipate.

Curt, lying in bed next to Nancy, felt her hand on his cock. She was babbling to herself, clearly still asleep but delirious. She tugged and yanked on his cock, rather painfully. He'd had many an excellent hand job from her wonderful, talented, hands, but this was not one of them! He wanted to yelp in pain, but bit his lip instead. He didn't want to awaken her. He wanted to see where this was going.

When she rolled up to her knees, and threw one leg over his hips, and poised her naked pussy above the swollen purple head of his cock, Curt's eyes grew wide. He'd never had his cock inside of Nancy before, as much as he'd always wanted to; as much as he had yearned to! He watched as she put one hand on his chest, and one on the bed, and slowly, gradually, impaled herself onto the engorged, rigid shaft of his cock. Her soft, wet pussy slid down, inch by exquisite inch, onto his turgid manhood. The soft wetness of her delicious pussy was incredible, and it was all that he could do to keep from crying out with the exquisite pleasure as her soft, tender tissues engulfed his raging organ. Curt had never known such pleasure, such ecstasy, such soft, loving, exquisite rapture as the feeling of the inside of Nancy's soft, delicate, under-utilized pussy.

Down she came, deeper and deeper onto Curt's waiting, throbbing cock. Her eyes were still closed, and her breathing still bespoke a deep, troubled sleep. She bounced up and down, ground her hips in a circle, and worked up a rhythm, long practiced from sessions with her beloved hairbrush. Curt closed his eyes and fucked back, thrusting his hips, penetrating deeply into her soft wonderful flesh with every inch of his shaft, stroking and loving her sugar walls with his flaring cock head. He couldn't remember ever experiencing such exquisite pleasure in his life.

Nancy, in a trance, in a dream, fucked his upright cock with all of her will, all of her body, all of her unconscious need. She humped up and down, she rotated her hips, she undulated her pelvis, just as she had done so many times with her hairbrush. She ground the tender walls of her pussy all over Curt's rigid cock, squeezing the shaft with her lips and engulfing the flaring head with her soft, moist, tender pussy walls. She leaned forward, and ground her clit against his pubic bone, stimulating herself both inside and out. As Curt's shaft drubbed against her clit, and his flaring cock head jammed against her G-spot, her body began to experience feelings it had never before know. Feelings as ancient and inevitable as the stars in the sky, as the tides in the ocean. And yet they were new to Nancy, who hadn't had a cock inside her for a long, long time, and never a cock attached to a man who loved her as much as Curt did. The feelings were totally new to her, totally alien, yet totally, and completely, wonderful. As she ground and slid and wound herself on Curt's turgid erection, Nancy's body found a new high that it had never before known. Endorphins were released, nerves were stimulated, higher highs and deeper depths than she had ever before experienced were achieved.

Suddenly Nancy's eyes fluttered open. The stimulation of Curt's loving cock in her pussy broke through both her sleep and her delirium. She was awake, aware, alive! She glanced around herself, cognizant of her surroundings for the first time in many days. The first thing she saw was Curt's beautiful face, loving and caring and beatific, staring up at her. The next thing she saw was her crotch, completely connected to Curt's, down below her bouncing breasts. But her body was already busy moving, undulating, rotating and wiggling, and, indeed, fucking, hard and fast against Curt's beautiful, loving cock.

Nancy didn't stop to think. Her body didn't give her the option. It needed to fuck and it knew it. Her body was much smarter than she was. It kept up its rotating, wiggling, undulating motion on the spindle of Curt's long, hard, loving cock. Curt provided his own motion, fucking up and around and in and out, doing his best to stimulate all of the nerve endings in Nancy's long-suffering and long-underloved vagina. He looked up into her face, hoping to see her reflect the love that he had long felt for her.

But Nancy's eyes were again closed. Her body had taken over completely; it was moving, gyrating, undulating, rotating, and fucking up and down on Curt's cock. Nancy's mind was out of its element; she had never experienced such rapture, such overwhelming feelings, in her entire life. It was all that she could do to stay conscious for the duration of the wild, exhilarating ride. She bounced, she moved, she squirmed; she felt the long, loving shaft of Curt's manhood penetrating her, loving her, stimulating her, saving her. Saving her from the long, slow, deadly exile of her formerly loveless existence.

As Curt's shaft slid across Nancy's clit, and his cock head stimulated Nancy's G-spot, her body gradually, inexorably, built up to a climax that could not be denied. Nancy felt her skin rise in temperature; she felt her nipples harden and protrude; she felt her fleshy buttocks tighten; she felt her thighs tingle; she felt her jaws clench. And then, finally, she felt a warm, moist, lurching expansion deep in her groin. She felt an explosion deep in her soft, round body. She felt the wave of warm, violent, shuddering ecstasy overtake her entire being. She threw her head back, opened her throat, and screamed out to the skies! Her body was wracked with such intense pleasure that she couldn't tell if it was pain or ecstasy. And she didn't care! She screeched, tensed, arched her back, and froze in time for several seconds as her orgasm rocked her to her very core. And then she fell forward, spent, landing directly on Curt's chest, sobbing and bawling like a baby.

"There, there, darling," Curt was saying, one arm around her waist, and the other stroking the damp blonde sweaty hair on the back of her head. "It's okay, darling. It's okay."

Gradually, Nancy came back to her senses, and raised herself up on her elbows. She looked down at Curt's face beneath her. He was so beautiful that it nearly broke her heart.

"Oh, Curt..." she started to say. But then she choked up and could say no more.

"Hush, darling," Curt told her. "Just lie there, and let me hold you." They held each other, tenderly, for a long time.

Lying there in Curt's arms, Nancy noticed that the emptiness, the hollowness, in her gut, was at bay. As usual, she turned her mind's eye inward, to see if it was really asleep. To her surprise, to her amazement, to her utter shock, it was not merely asleep; it was gone! She looked deeper and deeper within herself, her mind's eye probing deeper and further than it had ever gone before. And it was gone! It wasn't asleep; it wasn't dormant. It was gone, totally gone, dead! She hadn't been free of the hollow, horny feeling for as long as she could remember. But now it was gone. It was difficult for her to believe, but it was true. As hard as it was to believe, she was, finally, totally, free of it!

And then, suddenly, she knew why it was gone. She raised herself back up on her elbows, up above Curt's beautiful, wonderful, loving face. She looked him in the eyes. She knew why it was gone. It was because of Curt, of course.

"Curt," she said. "It's gone!"

"What's gone, darling?"

"The hollow feeling, the emptiness. It hasn't gone away in years. But now it's gone. It's not asleep; it's not dormant, like usual. It's gone, dead, completely. It's amazing. I can barely believe it."

"Of course, darling," said Curt. "I believe it. It makes perfect sense." He knew why, even if Nancy had trouble understanding it.

"Curt," said Nancy, hesitantly. "I have a strange feeling, and a strange idea, but it's hard to believe. I can barely believe it myself. And I don't expect that I can ever get you to believe it."