Spreading Her Legs

She came to my private hospital room, in mid-afternoon, as it turned out, to commiserate with me.

Yes, it really was a commiseration. The doctors said I was now as fit as a fiddle but they insisted that I stay in hospital for what might be quite a long time to make absolutely sure that there would be no relapse.

So I was a prisoner in a hospital room - and I never felt better. All my vital organs - without exception - were working perfectly. One of them began predictably to stir immediately she came through the door.

It was just after I'd been told I must stay longer in hospital that she came to visit me.

She was divine.

She was dressed in cream - that a cat would have loved to lick - with a splash of colour here and there, mainly pink. She wore a short skirt, not too short, just above the knees, that showed off her "to-die-for" lovely legs. Her top was discreet but she had lovely full, firm breasts and the blouse was just revealing enough to suggest that the nipples were saying a fond little hello to me.

She was wearing the cutest little hat - cream, of course - from which her lovely hair - light brown, verging on blonde - a shade that I loved - flounced out cheekily.

Her shoes - if you had a fetish for shoes, you would have gone crazy for hers. Again, cream and they sort of hugged her neat-and-tidy little feet. They completed and emphasised the beauty of every part of her beautiful body, but with a ladylike discretion that her breathtaking loveliness enabled her easily to afford.

She was wearing - again cream - stockings. I was, from the start, prepared to bet that they were stockings and not pantyhose, with probably little pink garters at the top of her thighs.

Yes, she was divine. She was "class" - upper class - but that warm and friendly class that, when you find it, is the ultimate in feminine loveliness.

She gave me a peck on the cheek when she came in and sat, crossing her legs very properly, on the visitor's chair beside my bed.

I told her the good news first: that I was so fit that the doctor said I was "dangerous."

"Oh, that's wonderful news, Jimmy."

That's what she nearly always called me: Jimmy. Sometimes she said "darling" but I think I preferred the music of her "Jimmy" and the way her lips pursed as she said it, as though it were a prelude to a kiss. When she was really, truly affectionate to me or talking about me, she called me "Yimmy."

That's just what she did now. She uncrossed her legs and leant over to kiss me.

That same vital organ that had already begun to stir now did so much more robustly.

Then I told her the bad news: that I had to stay longer in hospital.

"Oh no, Yimmy, oh no, no!" she cried.

She stood this time, leaned over me and kissed me again, in a way that brought on a feverish response in my only vital organ that now at all mattered.

She must have noticed. She could always read my mind like a simple book written with a vocabulary of less than a hundred words. But she didn't even need to read my mind this time. A bulge in the single thin hospital bedsheet that covered me said it all.

"Oh, Yimmy, Yimmy, Yimmy, that's terrible news. I so much wanted you to come home right away."

She reached over and took my hand in both of hers. She looked lovingly into my eyes.

"We must do something to cheer you up - to cheer us up. What can we do?"

Then she thought of something.

When she had sat back on her chair, she had not crossed her legs.

Now slowly and seductively she began to move her knees apart.

"Yimmy, darling Yimmy..." she breathed and blew me a kiss.

No one can really imagine the desire that I felt in those moments. As she moved her legs more widely apart, I could see her lovely thighs and, yes, I was right: she was wearing stockings with little pink garters at the top. Between the top of her stockings and the cutest little panties you have ever seen, was a strip of bare flesh.

It drove me wild - as no doubt, she knew it would.

The panties were thongs - cream of course - with just a triangle in front to cover her pubic hair. They had little pink bows on either side and I could see just a few strands of the hair I loved peeking out saucily from behind the bows.

I looked up and she was watching me, smiling, her lively, blue-grey eyes sparkling.

She did not need to ask how I felt. My appreciation was written in capital letters all over my face.

And elsewhere....

Now she took the crotch of her cute little panties in her left hand and drew the triangle aside.

"My God!" I thought, "I can't stand it. I'm going to burst."

My vital organ was stiff as a ramrod and as big, it seemed, as a barge pole. There was only one place I wanted to put it and that was....

Just looking at her, I was about to explode whether I did anything about it or not.

Now she was gently sliding a delicate finger between the lips of her adorable honeypot. The lips were pink too, against the creamy whiteness of her upper thighs.

I was going mad with desire as I looked up at her.

She was smiling. "Nice?" her lips formed the word in a sensuous whisper.

"She'll be there waiting for her Yimmy when he comes out," she promised. "So please come out quickly."

I looked up at her pleadingly - the ultimate plea of the male who is utterly entranced and enslaved by the woman he adores.

"Please... please...let me have her now. I must - I can't wait - I must have her now..."

I did not really say a word. My eyes said it all and she read every syllable they uttered.

With her legs still apart and with her left hand holding the crotch of her panties, she reached with her right hand under my bedsheet, towards the tent where my vital organ lay - or, now, I should say, where he stood erect with such urgency.

She took him in her hand and, gently, oh so gently, fondled him. She tweaked and teased and rubbed the tender tip between her slender forefinger and thumb and watched with eager anticipation to see how much I liked it.

"Ooohhhh...darling" I began to moan.

She looked into my eyes, spread her knees jusy a little more saucily and whispered, "Imagine he is going in..in her...right in there, between her lips...pushing in....right in and then coming out...then in again.....do you feel her...do you, my darling Yimmy...."

I couldn't help it. I began to scream. "Ooooooooooohhhhhhaaaaa...."

Suddenly the door burst open.

It was my nurse, a lovely girl, almost as superbly beautiful as the girl who was visiting me.

"Is everything all right?" she asked. "I thought I heard....."

Then she stopped, embarrassed.

She had seen that my visitor had guiltily withdrawn her hand from under my bedsheet, that I was trying to conceal the tenting that had strangely appeared under that bedsheet and....

She noted too that my visitor was hastily adjusting her skirt, snapping her knees together and crossing her legs. She sat now with her hands clasped together in her lap, looking demure.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't know...."

"Not at all," my visitor said. "I should be going anyway."

She stood.

"What a superbly lovely creature," I thought as she kissed me discreetly on the cheek and said -

"Have a nice night, James. Sleep well."

The nurse held the door open for her to leave.

When she closed the door on the departed visitor, she asked, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

There certainly was but it was something I couldn't ask her to do.

She had come in a moment too soon. A moment later and I would have exploded....

That would have been even more embarassing but at least I would not have been left in a sort of hopeless no-man's-land of desire.

I was unimaginably excited but, so far as I could see, there was nothing I could do about it. I could not make love to my girl and I could not easily relieve myself. To touch myself to climax - it would not have taken much - would be too obvious and embarrassing, especially to my nurse.

She pumped up my pillows, straightened and tucked in my bedsheet.

Her closeness excited me even more. Her body smelt good; she had a female aroma that I always love. I wanted to embrace her - just a little friendly embrace, I told himself; but oh.....

Just to take hold of a woman...almost any woman...

My erection was at full stretch again.

I tried to turn on my side so that she wouldn't see it. But she tucked me in tight and she must have seen it, as I almost poked it inadvertently into her eye as she bent down.

"Again, I'm so sorry that I burst in like that," she said in parting. "I'll look in later to see how you're going."

When she left, I was too disturbed to do or enjoy anything.

Another nurse brought me my evening meal which I tried to eat. Afterwards I tried to read but I couldn't concentrate on anything. Then the lights went out.

Usually I sleep easily and well; but not this night. I turned from side to side. I tried to think of comforting things; I tried too to think of infuriating professional things that would absorb my mind.

Nothing worked.

It must have been nearly midnight when finally - I don't know how or exactly when - I managed to get off to sleep.

I slept deeply for a while but then, even in my sleep, feverish desire returned.

I dreamt that my girl was sitting by my bed. She spread her knees and I saw the patch of bare skin between her stocking-tops and her sweet little panties. She drew the panties aside so that I could see her lovely little honeypot. I was reaching to grab her and pull her into bed with me when suddenly...

I was awake. Someone was standing by the bed. I sat up wonderingly.

It was my nurse. She had not turned on the main light. The room was still dim.

"Didn't want to disturb you," she said. "Just wanted to check that you were all right."

Was she straightening the bedclothes? Or was she...

Through the bedsheet, I could feel her hand on my vital organ.

I had no doubt had a half-erection while I slept and it would have become more robust when I dreamed of my girl spreading her legs.

"I think I know what the trouble is," my nurse was saying.

Our faces were close together. She put her hands behind my head and drew my lips to hers.

"Oooooooohhhhhhh...." I moaned. I was kissing my girl, my beautiful girl. I was going to... I kissed and hugged her to me...

She threw the bedsheet off me, kicked off her shoes and slipped into my bed.

Now she took my naked cock in her hand and, spreading her legs, guided him to where he so desperately wanted to go.

I was making love to my girl. I had taken her cute little knickers off - my nurse had come well prepared; she wore no knickers at all under her uniform - and my cock was slipping between the adorable moist lips into that cosy little nook she had so teasingly shown me that afternoon.

I looked down. The little patch of lovely bare flesh above the stocking-top was now much larger and I could see her pubic hair and her bare stomach...

But, above all, I could see her lovely little cunt, its pink lips seeming to pulsate with pleasure as my cock - yes, oh, glorious sight - as my cock pushed in and out, in and out....

"Oooohhhh.....," I moaned.

Oh, the blessed relief - the intense pleasure. I was in her, up her, taking my pleasure in her body, driving my cock into her as far as it would go and she was moving beneath me, dancing a dance of love with me, moaning softly and murmuring -

"Oh, yes, Yimmy, my YIMMY..... YEEEEESSSSSSS...."

I exploded inside her as she gave her final cry.

Yes, she really was divine and the gift of her body - the gift of her love - was divine too. I flew to the stars and beyond and gently, contentedly floated back again to earth.

"There," my nurse was saying to me matter-of-factly. "You should rest more comfortably now."

She was already out of the bed, using a towel and straightening the bedclothes, when the door opened and another nurse looked into the dimly lit room.

"Did I hear something?" the intruder asked. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, it's fine now. I was just giving him a little something to help him sleep."

A few moments later, she left, saying "Night night, James. Sleep well."

I was glad she did not call me "Yimmy." No one other than my real and true love should ever call me that.

Only my nurse and I knew what had happened - but even she didn't really know the full story - although, I was aware, she may have guessed.

When I had made love to her, I had really made love to my girl - my girl in her cream and pink outfit, with the cute little hat and the "hug-my-feet" shoes, the cream stockings with the little cream and pink garters at the top, the patch of bare skin between stocking-tops and panties, the light-brown pubic hair and, most wonderful of all, the loveliest little honeypot between her legs, with its pink and rather pouting little lips - the loveliest little nook that an urgent lover was ever able to slip a "vital organ" into and say -

"Oh, darling, I love you - so much!"

And I could imagine her saying, as I erupted inside her, "Oh, Yimmy, my own, own Yimmy....I love you too."

There was only one thing that I prayed to God for: and that was that she should never get to know that I had made love to her that night by proxy or, if she ever did, that she would find it in her generous heart to understand and forgive me.