In Care Ch. 01

It's late. Though in this medical rehab center, 9 pm is considered late. I'm in my mid-40s and I just might be the youngest guest here.

I'm horny. I've been in the medical system for several weeks. And I haven't come once during that whole time. My wife doesn't think it's appropriate for us to fool around when she visits, and with both arms in casts I can't get myself off. It's frustrating, for sure.

The 10 pm news is over. The TV is playing a rerun of some sitcom that never seemed worthy of syndication. Though it does have that one young actress with the generous mouth and spectacular breasts who plays the foul-mouthed waitress. I've stroked it more than once while looking at her leaked nude selfies and dreaming about how good it would feel to have those soft lips and DD tits wrapped around my stiff cock. I'm dreaming about it now, wishing for release.

I use my voice-activated system to turn off the television and call for assistance. A few minutes later there's a knock on my door. It's Tracy, one of the younger nursing assistants. A brunette with long hair, she reminds me a bit of the actress who plays that waitress. Her curves - her best assets, which help to detract from the somewhat mean look that her face usually sports - definitely fill out that greenish blue outfit that all of the assistants wear.

"What do you need, Steve?" Did I mention she's an expert in customer service?

"I'm sorry to bother you. It's just...I need to urinate."

"Ugh! They should just stick you with a catheter or something."

"Fuck no! They're not sticking anything up my dickhole!"

"Nice language there," she says, reaching for a pair of vinyl gloves and sliding them on, then picking up the plastic urinal from my wheeled table.

"I'm sorry; I think of you as sort of a friend. I was trying to be funny," I say, trying to sound sincere.

"I'm just busting your stones," she says with a smirk. "Besides, I can't blame you. With a little dick like yours that seems like it would be really painful."

"Touché," I reply as she begins to pull the sheet off of me.

Her eyes widen as she folds the sheet over my leg and views the small tent in my pajama bottoms. "God damn it, you're just another old pervert! God, I hate this job!"

"Shhhh! Calm down, calm down." My brain scrambles to find the right words. "We men can't help it; you're a beautiful, sexy woman."

"Well obviously, duh!"

"Do you still think it's small? Maybe you can examine it up close?"

"Ew! No way! You know I have a boyfriend."

"Well, what can I say? He's a lucky guy, for sure."

"Thanks. That's nice of you to say. Now stop perving on me. What would your wife think?"

"Here's what I think. She's not here. And your boyfriend isn't here. And I have a problem that I could use your help with."

"I'll say you have a problem. You're some kind of sex maniac," she says with a throaty chuckle.

"And you can help me with that. I haven't come in weeks. And you get me so horny. But I can't...you know...help myself with both of my arms out of commission."

"So you just expect me to 'help' you out? No way. That's not in my job description."

"I know it isn't." I pause. "But let's be honest. You have to do some pretty gross things in your job. Cleaning up adult diapers. Wiping asses. Bathing wrinkly old people who have one foot in the grave. And that's on a good day."

"Gosh. You really know how to make a girl feel proud," she says. "I know it's a shitty job. But it sort of pays the bills." She sits down on my bed and looks at me, some sadness evident on her face.

"I can help you a bit with your bills. If you'll help me out." I stare at her challengingly, wondering if my assumption that she probably has a lot more experience than the typical woman in her early twenties is true, hoping that she isn't averse to doing things for money.

"What are you proposing?" she asks, her left hand sliding up my thigh.

"I'll give you...$100." Her face lights up for a moment. "For a blowjob."

"No way," she says, her gloved left hand slapping at my length through my pajamas. "I'm not one of those cheap North Avenue whores."

"Well, that's all the cash that I have." Smart people don't bring any cash or valuables to these places; the staff, visitors and even other patients are known to steal just about anything that isn't tied down. "But I also know that you don't even make that much money per shift."

"That's true," she replies, her left hand briefly touching my balls before stroking my length from root to tip. Even through the cotton-polyester blend and the vinyl, it feels amazing. A small sigh escapes my lips. "But that still isn't enough for these sweet lips. I saved like a thousand bucks on my car by blowing the sales guy, you know." She blushes at the memory and then looks down in embarrassment.

"Shit. I wish I could write you a check or something," I say, holding up my helpless hands. "Do you take credit cards?"

She smirks. "Nope. Cash only. Up front."

"Okay. How about $100 to...get me off with your hand?" Her brow furrows. "And you can even keep the gloves on." Her eyes opened wider.

"Deal. Where's the cash?"

"Top drawer, inside my toiletry bag," I reply, turning my head toward the bedside table. "Inside my wallet."

She stands up, bends down to open the drawer. I raise my left arm to cop a feel of her breast, clumsily rub the cast against one. Ah, the plump firmness of youth! She swats my arm away. "No way. That'll cost more money than you have," she comments, opening my wallet. She briefly rifles through it, removing the bills and pocketing them before walking to the door.

"Hey, what the fuck?" Is she ripping me off? I'll report her in a second.

"Shhhh! I'll just be a moment," she says with a slight scowl as she exits my room.

"Hey Marie," I hear as she calls out to the overnight nurse. "Steve made a bit of a mess in his bed, so I'll be in there for a while." There's a brief pause. "Yeah, I know. Poor guy can't do much for himself in his condition, can he?"

A minute later she returns to my room with a change of bedding in her arms, closes the door behind her, drops the sheets on the chair near the bed. Smart. "Okay - let's get down to business. We don't have a ton of time." She sits down on the bed again and reaches into the gap fly of my pajamas, wraps her left hand around my half-hard cock and begins to stroke it back to its full length.

"Shit, Tracy. That feels so fucking good. So, so good." She replies with the first genuine smile I've ever seen from her, making her appear prettier than I ever thought she could as the hardness in her face briefly melts away. I lean back, close my eyes to lock this sweet vision into my brain, enjoying the sweet sensations she is stirring up in me.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me," she chides.

"I wouldn't dream of it, doll. Wouldn't dream of it."

"Your cock got bigger than I would've guessed," she says with a grin.

"Yeah. I guess I'm a 'grower,' not a 'shower,' as they say." She laughs.

After several minutes of steady stroking Tracy pauses. I feel her gently pinch my cock head between her thumb and finger, almost milking it. Her thumb then rubs my abundant pre-cum into my head. "Somebody's excited," she coos as electricity courses through my body while she massages my slippery fluid into the bundle of nerves at my tip.

"I am," I sigh. "I really am."

"Well hurry it up, then. Marie or someone could come in here any minute now."

"I'm sorry. This feels amazing. Maybe I need some additional inspiration?"

"I told you, I'm not going to blow you."

"Show me your tits, then?"

Her stroking actions slow for a moment. "Well, if somebody busts through the door we're already in a compromising position, I suppose. Here goes nothing." She lifts her top, shows off a surprisingly impractical-looking lacey black bra that gives her magnificent cleavage and showcases her puffy areolas and nipples through the lace.

The surprised look on my face is clearly telling. "What? Sometimes Allan wants to fuck the minute I get home, so I like to wear something sexy. Anyway, I'm keeping the bra on; it takes too long to put back on. Now, this better have the intended effect." She pulls her top over her head, drops it near the foot of the narrow bed and leans into her work as I lick my lips, wishing I could suckle her beautiful orbs.

"Maybe you can fondle my balls a bit, too?"

"Sure, if it means you'll come already." As with a lot of the doctors I'd seen since the skiing accident, her bedside manner is clearly lacking.

She lifts her hips, stands, kneels into the side of the bed, places her right hand on my shaft while her left envelopes my scrotum, gently massaging my testicles. Her breasts bounce wonderfully within the confines of her brassiere as she jerks me off with her strong hands.

"Come on come on come on," she intones as her right hand speeds up.

"Fuck yes fuck yes fuck yes oh shit," I say as my sack tightens in her hand. Her mouth suddenly, surprisingly, covers my head as she switches to slow, powerful strokes. "Holy fuck!" I exclaim as my load shoots onto her tongue. Her eyes bulge as she struggles to swallow all of my spunk, finally removing her mouth and squeezing the final few drops onto her gloved hand. She wipes her fingers on her hips.

"You taste surprisingly good," she comments as she reaches for her top, pulls it back over her head. I shake my head. "And there was so much! You weren't kidding about how long it's been for you, were you?"

"Nope. I have a strong sex drive, so this has been killing me. I need to come at least once a day."

"Really? Not bad for an old guy."

"Hey, I'm not that old."

"Well, not by the standards of this place, I suppose," she comments as she lifts herself from the bed, removes the gloves, drops them into the waste basket. "Do I look okay? I'm not all flushed like you, am I?"

"Nah. You look great. Sexy, even."

"Thanks," she says, looking at herself in the mirrored chrome of the glove dispenser near the door. "God damn it, why didn't you tell me about this?" she scowls as she wipes a bit of my cum from her lower lip.

"I thought it looked hot," I reply with a smirk. She turns back toward me, picks up the sheets from the chair, shakes them to make them look like they've been used and stripped from my bed.

"Ew," she replies. "Not when it came from your wrinkly old balls." She points at my crotch, at my sticky, shrinking cock and balls poking through the gap in my pajamas. "I should leave you like that for the morning nurse to find," she laughs. "But I'm not *that* mean," she says as she tucks me away and turns to leave.

"Good night, Steve." She blows me a kiss and winks cartoonishly. "Sweet dreams."