Life on the Edge of Orgasm

Instead she spoke, "Now you know what Martha said about that. If I tell her what you said, we stop bothering you at night, is that what you want?"

"No of course not. C'mon, Rosie..."

"Okay," she interrupted me, "If you don't want me to tell Martha, you have to accept the consequences." Rosie was turning the tables on me.

With trepidation, I nodded my consent. She pulled a reflex hammer out of her pocket, one of those little instruments with a metal handle and triangular rubber head, and started tapping my balls, not as hard as she could, but rapidly, like 2 or 3 times a second, alternating, half a dozen or so on the right side, then the left. I howled. Not at the top of my lungs, but pretty loud. We both knew it wouldn't attract attention, because it was not uncommon for patients in that wing to cry out randomly from time to time. She kept it up for a good half a minute or so. By the time she stopped, I was breathing hard, and my cock was even harder, if that was possible, despite the intense pain in my testicles. Believe me, I never suggested anything after that; I just took whatever they had to offer, without complaint.

I did occasionally have visitors during the day. Some of my school friends stopped by, but we didn't have much to talk about. They updated me on events I should have known about but didn't remember. There were "inside jokes" that I was no longer in on. Our best discussions were about video games. They talked about going to college, but I'd be repeating my senior year, having missed too much class time, not to mention final exams. They talked incessantly about my hot sisters, how our plans to see them naked always failed, and why I never set them up with any of my friends. They even talked about how Virginia always dressed so sexy whenever they came over. They were convinced that she was cock teasing them, trying to get them hard so she could look at their bulges. While I found that to be of interest, I felt I should protest the way they talked about my mother. But it seemed so much like normal every day trash talk, I just let it pass. Interestingly, after Lydia's disastrous visit, no girls came to see me.

Something unexpected happened one day during my sponge bath. It started just like all the others - I got an erection as soon as Amy appeared. She washed my upper body and back before exposing my genitals. I was ready to pop just like every other day, because of the attention I was getting at night. All that teasing, edged over and over, wanting so badly to cum but unable to make it happen. Even though Amy's behavior was always professional, she did have a tendency to stare at my dick, which just made things worse.

I'm not sure what she did differently on this occasion; her hand lingered on just the right spot, or applied a bit more pressure, or maybe she was just looking prettier that day. Whatever it was, I started spurting with no warning. It totally caught me by surprise. What a rush! I'd been maintaining a constantly increasing level of arousal for days, when suddenly this orgasm hit me like a freight train! Stream after stream after thick stream. In addition to copious quantities on my chest, face, and pillow, the floor and wall behind me caught a few drops. I was so surprised that I cried out, and Amy squealed.

After a short awkward silence, I spoke first, doing my best to seem sincere and embarrassed, "Oh my god, Amy, I'm so sorry, I didn't even feel that coming on, I didn't mean to, please don't be mad." She took a minute, regained her composure, and calmly started cleaning up.

Amy exhibited a professional, clinical demeanor, saying, "don't be embarrassed, it happens sometimes, I know it was involuntary on your part, you have nothing to be ashamed of." I knew she was just quoting the training manual. But then her face softened and she became more sympathetic. "I'm so sorry I embarrassed you. It's never happened to me before," she said, "but we covered this in training. I've been very careful, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. Please, don't feel bad about it."

I was worried that if she felt badly, she might try to get out of washing me every day, which to me would have been disastrous. I also wanted to make it okay to bust a nut every now and then.

Thinking fast, I said "Amy, I hope you don't feel bad about what happened." I explained about feeling comfortable with her, and the anxiety of starting over with a new person. "I'm afraid that if it happens again, you'll think I'm some kind of pervert or something," I told her, "But I really didn't mean to. I'm sure I can keep it under control." It was such a rush, discussing sex with such a pretty girl, in a clinical setting, while she was cleaning my own cum off my face.

"It's ok, really, I believe you," Amy replied, "look, it might happen again and if it does, let's just agree to go about our business as if were completely normal." Then she added, "Which of course it is. And I won't think any worse of you." She kind of squinted and looked at me sideways and added, "Unless it happens too often."

I thought, "all right, now I just have to figure out how much is 'too often.'" I needn't have worried. For the rest of my stay, Amy made me cum at least three days a week. I was pretty sure it was intentional, but she was very subtle about it; of course it didn't take much, and she knew just where to touch. She always gave me the sweetest smile afterward, but as we agreed, neither of us said anything about it. I think she might have enjoyed it. Probably not as much as me, but certainly more than the person who had to clean the wall and mop the floor.

It occurred to me that, since Amy didn't know I was getting teased and denied every single night, she probably thought I would be lousy in bed, because I had such a hair trigger. I didn't really like to have her believing that, but I didn't want to ruin a good thing, so I kept quiet about it. I didn't think I'd have a chance with her anyway.

Eventually, I realized she had a "tell," like a poker player who gives unconscious clues about his hand. On days when she was going to make me cum, she had a certain look in her eye, and she twirled her hair briefly as she entered the room. After that discovery, I knew when to hold back, and when to just relax and let it happen. From that point on, my hospital stay became sort like my own version of "sex camp," with the Cock Teasing Crew setting it up, and Amy bringing it on home. Of course it wasn't all fun and games, but I did enjoy that part of it.

Chapter 7

One night a cute little Asian nurse took Martha's shift. I wasn't all that disappointed, thinking I could use a break from the teasing; but Rosie managed to find extra time for me, so the blue balls continued. I wondered about Martha's absence, until the next morning right after breakfast, when she walked into my room.

"I'm here to take you down to x-ray," she announced.

"I thought that was this afternoon."

"Well, I guess they want you early," she replied. Unlikely as it seemed, I had the distinct impression that Martha had traded shifts just so she could take me to x-ray. I figured she resented being blackmailed, so I was just a little bit suspicious. I didn't think she was psycho, but if she was, she could really put the hurt on me.

Usually they just wheeled the bed down to x-ray, but Martha had brought in a wheelchair. First she put both my arms into slings, which in itself was strange. Then without any help, she managed to get me situated in the wheelchair. Because of the hip, my right leg was supported on some kind of attachment, sticking out to the right. The cast on my left leg pushed that knee out awkwardly, forcing my legs apart. Martha smoothed my gown out across my lap, and we started out into the hallway.

By the time we got to the elevator, I had begun to notice something peculiar. Nearly every time we passed a woman, she would follow me with her eyes. Some turned their heads completely to watch me pass. But I wasn't getting any eye contact, nor did I sense any sympathy in the way they looked at me. I pondered it on the ride down to the imaging department.

Except, Martha hadn't pushed the button for the right floor. Something strange was indeed going on. I started getting nervous, but was afraid to speak up for fear of making it worse.

We exited the elevator on the first floor, and turned down toward the administrative offices. There were a lot more women in these hallways, and I immediately noticed the same strange behavior. Men were not reacting to me at all, only women. Not every woman looked my way, but all of those who did reacted in an unusual way; some were very subtle, others quite obvious. I saw a group of four ladies standing in the hallway, engaged in conversation.

Upon noticing me, one of them opened her eyes wide and said, "Oh my God would you look at that." Not loud enough for me to hear but it was easy enough to read her lips.

Her colleagues turned, took one look at me and burst out laughing. They caught the attention of others nearby, who also turned to look; some looked away immediately, but most watched me pass with amused expressions.

"How insensitive!" was my first thought. But what exactly were they looking at? Not my face, not my hands, nor even my legs; they were focusing between my legs. I checked my gown and saw that Martha had only pulled it down to my knees; I was completely exposed to everyone! I felt a sense of panic, and reflexively reached to adjust my gown, but my hands wouldn't move - Martha had immobilized them with the slings - my hands were essentially bound against my chest, and I was completely helpless.

I needed to hide the fact that I knew I was exposed, so I did the only thing I could think of - I leaned my head back against the headrest, eyes half-closed, as though asleep or dazed on medication. When I did that, the attention intensified, as women who would have been ashamed to be caught looking felt free to gawk all they wanted.

They just kept coming. The initial rush of panic did not let up; my breathing was shallow, my face damp with perspiration, ears ringing, and my heart was pounding. This was far more exposure than I was accustomed to; it felt like I was naked on a street corner. With extreme effort, I think I managed to conceal my anxiety, keeping my eyes half closed and my head reclined.

I tried to extract my arms, first one then the other, but they were held fast. I had no idea where we were, or where we were headed. I just knew that unless I made a big scene, I was completely at Martha's mercy. She was in no hurry, making our way down the hall at a leisurely pace as one woman after another got an eyeful of my dick.

We rounded a corner and found ourselves face to face with an old lady in a wheel chair, it was a near-collision, but we both stopped in time. The woman, in her 80's at least, peered at me through thick glasses; her face brightened considerably as she leaned forward for a better view, and a smile broke out on her face.

The lady pushing her, who was evidently not hospital staff, was probably in her 60's. She actually laughed out loud, and gave me a look that said, "I know what you're up to, and I like it." I started to relax, willing myself to enjoy the ride while it lasted. Being medicated and helpless, I knew I couldn't be blamed. I don't know how Martha managed to get away with it; surely this was not a common practice.

My cock started repeatedly rising to about half-mast, then falling. It seemed to be in a constant state of flux, as anxiety gave way to arousal. Pretty soon, I could feel precum running back down the shaft and over my balls, meaning it had lifted beyond the horizontal plane.

"Oh my god," I thought, "I must be leaving a trail of precum along the floor." But Martha had anticipated that problem, and strategically placed a towel on the seat, to catch the precum. If there was any remaining doubt, the towel showed that Martha had carefully planned this trip. Definitely pay-back for the blackmail.

I completely lost track of time, but when we finally arrived at the x-ray department waiting room, I saw that we had been enroute for nearly an hour. I was looking forward to relaxing for a few minutes after that wild ride, but relaxation was not on the agenda. Martha parked me at the end of the middle row of chairs, in a space left empty for wheelchairs, and disappeared without a word. There was a row of seats along the wall across from me, and directly in front of me was the door, looking straight down a long hallway. My ordeal was just beginning.

Women kept coming down the hall, eyes on my prize. Many of them slowed, some even lingered for a moment, staring. A group of six ladies paused for conversation just outside the door, all of them 30-something, perfect hair and makeup; from where I was sitting, they all looked amazingly hot. These were babes who obviously spent time in the gym, and they were all fashionably dressed for business and accessorized like lawyers, or more likely, medical equipment factory reps. Two of them had a direct line of sight to my crotch, and their eyes never wavered.

Although I couldn't hear what was said, I could tell by their actions that the others asked what those two were staring at. Both nodded in my direction, and the rest of the group turned around. When they realized what they were seeing, they started laughing, giggling and pointing. Not very professional, if you ask me. But they did draw the attention of everyone who was walking away from me, who wouldn't have otherwise turned around to get a good look at my goods. By keeping my head back as if I were out of it, I was able to observe them all through half-closed eyes.

The hotties moved on, but the river of females just kept coming. Some came back for another look or two; I started to recognize them on their third or fourth time around. I never got the chance to fully relax; not for one second could I escape their eyes. I felt like a zoo animal on display; I had to continually fight off the reflex to cover myself, even though I couldn't have if I'd wanted to.

It wasn't just the ladies in the hallway; the seats across from me in the waiting room maintained a 100% female occupancy rate. As soon as one was vacated, another woman got up from across the room and moved over to fill in. Some were holding magazines at just the right height to peer at me over the top. You never saw so many women studying Field & Stream and MotorWeek magazine so intently. They kept leaning forward for a better view. It was as if each one, seeing those around her staring without hesitation, felt entitled to a good show, too.

Lunchtime came and went, during which time the imaging operation shut down. For about an hour the waiting room was nearly empty, while the hallway nearly filled to capacity. I pretended to be asleep or at least heavily drugged, so people wouldn't have to worry about the possibility of being caught staring. Many did stop and stare for a few minutes, mostly women, but there were a few men who were obviously pleased with what they saw. The men did not interest me, but I didn't mind as much as I thought I would.

Finally, middle of the afternoon, after spending a little over five hours on display, and probably losing about half my body weight in pre-cum, a cute little x-ray tech walked up, checked my bracelet, and wheeled me back into the x-ray room. Today they would be taking pictures of my hip. Three young, slender women began helping me up onto the table, and it was a bit of a struggle. The gown kept getting tangled so finally one of them just took it off me and tossed it aside, without even asking! They were being as careful as they could to avoid injuring me, but didn't seem too concerned about where they put their hands. By the time they were done, I was spread eagle flat on my back, and completely erect. This was not my first time in x-ray, but this time was way different from every other time. I guess the morning shift has a little more respect for a person's modesty.

I don't know why it took so long, but I was naked in that room for what must have been over an hour. They kept repositioning me. And these ladies were not bashful about putting their hands on my cock or my balls. In fact, I noticed that every time my erection started to fade, someone would come out to reposition me for another picture, and every time, she managed to get me hard again.

At one point, a pretty blond was positioning me for the next shot when one of her colleagues came in to ask a question. I didn't mind the delay so much, but she casually rested her hand on my cock, as if she hadn't noticed. As she talked she kept shifting slightly, causing her hand to move ever so slightly up and down the shaft. Up and down, just slightly. I was very close to cumming when the conversation ended and she got back to work.

People kept coming into the control room behind the glass wall, and I'm pretty sure all of them were female. Or most of them, at least. I thought I saw a couple or three ladies in business suits in there, but it was hard to tell with the glare. I swear I saw Martha back there for a long time, and began to suspect that she had engineered the whole thing, and enlisted the help of some colleagues as well.

When they had finally shot all the film they needed, they wrestled me back into the chair, with excessive groping I might add, put my arms back in the slings, and started toward the door. But I was still naked!

Just before we reached the door, three young ladies hurried over with my gown, and one of them said to my dick (she was actually talking to me, but her eyes were on my hard cock), "Sorry Mr. Wood," - she kind of laughed and repeated, "Mr. Wood. We forgot your gown. We could get you up and put it on you, or if you don't mind, can we just cover you with it?" They stood there eyeing my hard dick, until I realized they were waiting for an answer. I was so damn horny by that time, my mind was mush.

"Whatever's easiest," I said, "No, wait. I would prefer to wear it." If they were going to make fun of me, I was determined to get all the fun out of it I could. So they managed to lift me up and get the gown on me, with much groping. It was totally awesome, and when it was over, I was covered no more than I had been that morning.

At that point Martha walked up to wheel me back to my room. I noticed that she greeted the x-ray techs by name, and thanked them as we were walking away.

Some of them called after us, "Oh no, thank YOU." The trip back was much quicker than the trip down, since we didn't take the "scenic route" this time.

When Martha came in the next night, I thanked her profusely, and begged her to take me to x-ray again soon. She just smiled as she stroked my cock, right up to the edge one more time.

Chapter 8

Finally, I got word that my last night as an inpatient had arrived; I had discharge orders for the following day. The casts had been off my legs and hands for a couple days; I'd been showering myself, really missing my sessions with Amy. My hip was good enough that I could hobble along. I'd be getting plenty of physical therapy, so I wasn't worried about that. The one thing that did bother me was the weakness in my hands. They were still recovering from the surgeries, and it would take some time to build up strength.

My problem was that I couldn't grip my cock with enough strength to get myself off. I had a special reason for wanting the ability to masturbate, beyond just the normal teenage boy needs; Rosie had begun talking to me during our sessions, telling me how much she was looking forward to watching me jerk myself off before I left. I was actually looking forward to it, too.

My last night in the hospital started just like every other night of my stay, with a long tease & denial session. With my legs out of their casts, Martha and Rosie restrained my legs as well as my hands.