Carrie on Nursing

I'm not cut out to be a nurse, there's nothing I like about it except the uniform. It was my pal Zoe who talked me into giving it a try. She works for an agency, sleeping in at the homes of frail and elderly patients.

I'm sure she's really good at it, being ever so caring and all. But being caring doesn't stop her enjoying a night out every now and then. No one I know can knock them back faster than Zoe, and she does a brilliant Dancing Queen on the karaoke.

It was a Saturday night some years ago that she came unstuck. She was asked to go on a hen night when she was meant to be working, only her agency couldn't find anyone to stand in for her.

I was her last hope, and she didn't half pile it on..

"Oh, go on, Caz! I've always said you'd make a great nurse! Besides, it's only for one night, and I'll really make it worth your while. Old Mr Wilson's a pussycat, he never gives anyone no bother. Mark my words, he'll be out like a light by ten, and you won't hear a peep from him after that. It'll be a doddle, honest. Oh, PLEASE, Caz! I'll die if I can't go!"

"I dunno Zoe," I mused doubtfully. "I mean, what if he discovers I'm.. well, you know!"

"He won't! I promise you Caz, he's half asleep most of the time, and anyway he's a real gent, and not at all the type to let his paws wander."

I still wasn't sure. What swung it in the end was the promise I could keep the dress. A PROPER nurse's uniform would come in handy. Zoe told me to wear black tights and white court shoes with it, cos that was the agency's dress code. But as it was a warm evening, I wore hold-ups instead of tights.

Mr Wilson lived right across town. It was a long bus journey, but I enjoyed it, lapping up all the appreciative nods and smiles I got from my fellow passengers, who thought I was one of those angels they all so admire.

If only they'd known!

I arrived at Mr Wilson's house nice and early. I rang the bell and waited for ages, till at last a scrawny, ill-shaven old man opened the door in his pyjamas.

"You're not Zoe!" he exclaimed, looking more than a little annoyed.

"Ten out of ten, Mr Wilson," I replied cheerfully, "I'm Carrie - Zoe couldn't make it tonight."

"What's the matter - she ill?"

"I dunno," I lied.

"Well," he grumbled, "I suppose you'll have to do! Come in."

I followed him down a long, dark corridor to his bedroom. It smelt of neglect, in the way old things sometimes do, including old men. The bed was piled high with blankets, and on the bedside cabinet there was a strange-looking medical device with a face mask stuck on one end.

"That's my aspirator, as I'm sure you already know," he explained helpfully. "The fluid needs changing every couple of hours, so if you're planning to kip then you'd best have a bloody good alarm clock."

"But Zoe said you slept all night!" I exclaimed.

"Did she? Well, she's a rum one, that Zoe! I expect she told you I'm good as gold too, eh?"

So saying, he grinned in a lecherous way and, before I knew what was what, had his hand under my skirt. I yelled and jumped and tried to quickly jam my thighs together, but it was all too little too late. His fingers found my boy-bits, and he recoiled instantly in horror.

"Y-y-you're a fucking MAN!" he cried, turning dangerously pale.

"No, I'm a trans woman," I insisted. I was amazingly calm, all things considered. Yet it was an unnatural calmness; my mind was awash with horrible thoughts of what might be in store for Zoe and me.

"I d-don't care what you young 'uns call it," he replied, still white as a sheet, "I want you out of my fucking house!"

"I will go, Mr Wilson," I promised, "But I think you ought to calm down a bit first. You really don't look terribly well.."

"I'll be f-fine!" he insisted, though his rapid, rasping breaths hardly inspired confidence. "My son will be here any moment, and he'll look after me. Now for fuck's sake just go!"

"Very well!" I sighed. I picked up my overnight bag and left the room. After all, what was it to me if the lecherous old bigot popped his clogs? If he'd only kept his hands to himself then we'd have got along just fine. And as for Zoe, well if she lost her job it was her own stupid fault for telling me porkies about the old git being a pussycat!

I was halfway down the corridor when the front door swung open and I found myself face to face with a chisel-jawed man in a business suit..

"Excuse me," I muttered, trying to sidestep him. But he was having none of it. Looking nonplussed, he deftly blocked my passage with his briefcase.

"Not so fast, miss!" he barked. "I presume you're my father's nurse? Because if you're not then I need to know what you're doing here, and if you are then I need to know why you're leaving at the start of your shift?"

"There's been a mistake!" I said sheepishly, "I'm afraid they'll have to send someone else."

"You're damn bleeding right there's been a mistake," cried old Mr Wilson, who'd followed me into the corridor, "And you're it! This ain't no nurse, Kev -- it's a bloke!"

The man's eyes narrowed and he dropped his briefcase. He slowly perused every inch of me, from my hair right down to my shoes and back again. Staring intently into my eyes, his brow furrowed and his cheeks coloured considerably.

"Is this true?" he demanded.

"N-not exactly," I mumbled.

"And just what does that mean?"

"I'm in the process of changing gender," I explained.

"I see! And does the agency know?"

I turned crimson and stared at my shoes. Alas, my silence spoke volumes!

"Well, they soon will!" he declared. He grabbed my arm and marched me down the corridor, to a chorus of approval from old Mr Wilson.

"That's it, Kev -- you call the police! They'll know what to do with the filthy pervert!"

Far down the corridor he opened a door and pushed me unceremoniously into a dingy room. It was an office, with several filing cabinets beside a large desk piled high with official-looking documents. As he followed me into the room, the old man was right behind him, and didn't half look annoyed when the door was closed in his face.

"It's alright, Dad! You go back to bed -- I'll take it from here."

Saying which, he turned the key and put it in his breast pocket. Giving me a further ominous glare, he gestured that I sit to one side of the desk, then sat himself at the other.

"This is very serious, you know!" he pontificated, treating me to a further hostile glance.

"I-I was only standing in for a friend.." I began to explain feebly.

"It doesn't matter what your motives were," he interrupted. "I should know, I'm a criminal lawyer. You'll go to prison -- a men's prison -- and what will they do to you there, eh?"

"Oh, please!" I begged, "I was only helping out!"

"As I've already said, that doesn't matter. Impersonating a nurse is a very serious offence - you'll get a year at least. And as for your friend Zoe, who was stupid enough to send you on this fool's errand, whilst she most probably won't go to prison, she'll certainly never nurse again. No, she'll be struck off for life!"

I began to cry. I'd had my first boob job earlier that year, and could imagine all too well just what would happen to me in a men's prison! And for Zoe to lose not just her job but her career? It was all too awful, and I was soon sobbing uncontrollably.

He came around to my side of the desk and, to my surprise, placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"There, there!" he said soothingly, "I know you didn't mean any harm. Perhaps there's a way I could let it go, just this once.."

"There is?" I asked eagerly.

"It's possible," he confirmed, "though such a great favour would naturally require something in return."

"I'll do anything I can," I promised.

"Good girl," he replied. "I was hoping you'd say something like that!"

His comforting hand began to apply a lot of pressure - in a downwardly direction..

"On your knees, please!" he said.

Obediently, I knelt on the floor. He placed his groin before my face, then dropped his trousers, revealing a quivering bulge behind a pair of immaculate white Y-fronts.

Next, he lowered his underpants, revealing a throbbing cock that popped eagerly out like a jack-in-the-box and stood quivering beneath my lips.

"You know what to do!" he whispered, and he was quite right. I ran my carefully manicured fingers up and down the trembling stem, blowing on his bulging cherry, which already glistened with precum.

He leant back against the desk, gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles glowed white. It was the last I would see of him for a little while. I was preoccupied with his manhood, and began exploring the grooves around his balls with my tongue.

I polished them both one lick at a time, then worked my way leisurely up his stem, listening to his low moans grow louder as I gradually progressed. At last I reached his trembling cherry, and lapped up the salty precum before slipping it greedily between my now salivating lips.

Mr Wilson Junior was of average length and modest girth, and I found no difficulty accommodating all of his meat in my eager throat. While he did little but tremble I did the rest, scouring the full length of his solid stem with my greedy lips whilst sucking and blowing in equal measure.

In no time at all I tasted a trickle of salt, and thought my ordeal all but over..

But alas, he had other ideas!

Rather than pump his cum down my throat, he pulled his manhood abruptly from my mouth.

"Stand up!" he ordered, "I want to try something else!"

As I stood he hastily cleared his desk, sending a flurry of papers about the room, then bent me over the desktop. He pushed me this way and that till I found myself spreadeagled, with my cheek pressed into oak and my heels barely able to reach the carpet.

Emitting a satisfied grunt, he lifted my hem..

"Very nice!" he said, fingering my stocking tops. He pulled my silky panties down onto my thighs and ran a finger slowly around my rim. A little pause followed, then I felt cold lube dabbed around my boy-pussy.

And then, a further surprise..

Before entering me, he took a firm hold of my own puny little cock! He stroked it, coaxing it to full size, and kept his hand there as he pounded me. It made for a heady mixture of pleasure and pain, as he pumped in and out of me with great force, stretching my rim whilst simultaneously tickling the tender underside of my tiny stem.

I cried, but didn't know whether they were tears of joy or pain!

He had plenty of stamina..

With his other hand he took hold of the back of my hair and began to slide me jerkily up and down the desktop in harmony with his manhood as it slid in and out of my tight little bumhole. And all the time he stroked my tiny cock furiously, dripping precum onto the carpet as my poor legs flailed wildly with anticipation.

At last came the eruption..

Spurt after spurt of warm cream pumped furiously into my aching bum, filling me up so copiously it began to bubble noisily past his still hard-working manhood. At the very same moment my own, less voluminous cum splashed onto the desk and carpet as spasms of ecstasy caused my knees to finally buckle.

Despite our earlier dispute, the mutual joy of our union gave us for a moment a common bond, and we groaned together with shared pleasure, oblivious to our disagreement.

The lovefest was short-lived, however..

No sooner had Mr Wilson's son pulled up his trousers than he became serious and lawyerly once again.

"Well miss, I hope you've learned your lesson?" he asked solemnly.

"Oh yes, sir!" I said humbly, hastily rearranging my panties. "I'll never do it again, I promise!"

"Well if you do," he continued, "You'll know just what to expect! Same time next week, perhaps?" he added with a little wink.

"I'll think about it!" I replied.

Which I duly did -- and decided that nursing was best left to the likes of Zoe!