My Secretary Ch. 01

A few moments later the pressure on my left arm was abruptly released, and I felt a new, sudden blinding pain as blood began to flow freely into my arm. I was absolutely certain that I wasn't going to make it. I remembered my older brother pulling me in a wagon when I was four. I vividly recalled petting a puppy which died when I was a little boy. I lost control of my bladder and warm urine soaked my underpants and ran down between my thighs. The incredible pain in my arm completely overwhelmed me and I screamed and everything went black. The last thing I heard was Karen calling to me, "Bill? Are you okay? Bill! Bill! . . . "

I was aware of motion. I heard voices, but I didn't understand what they were saying. Then I felt warmth and wetness inside my bowel. I thought I heard someone complaining about . . . something? . . . I drifted off again. I heard yelling, but I couldn't open my eyes.

I awoke in a hospital bed. I was dizzy and the room was twisting and turning. My wife Lori was sitting beside the bed. She got up and kissed me as I opened my eyes. She was leaning over me and I was staring directly down her dress at her beautiful breasts. "Welcome back!" She said. We kissed again. I felt my penis tenting the sheet over my crotch. She noticed and grinned. "Later! You've got to rest!" She patted me gently on the cheek. The room began to spin really fast and I closed my eyes and groaned as I spiraled into darkness again.

The heavy sedation wore off and I awoke with a sudden, terrible thought. Karen! Was she okay? I sat up and felt dull aches all over my body. There was a cast on my left arm and I felt a sharp ache, just above the wrist. My neck was stiff, but I could move it. There was an IV needle on the back of my right hand. I pulled off the sheet and gown and saw several large bandages on my right leg. My penis, crotch, and thighs were a funny red color and they were smeared with something shiny and greasy. There was a catheter in my penis. I located the call button for the nurse and pushed it several times. I had several dull aches in different places, but no sharp pain, other than in my wrist. I knew I was mildly drugged, but I felt strangely alert in my panic. Please, God! Let Karen be okay!

A cute, perky, young nurse came in, professional and efficient. She re-draped the hospital gown over my exposed penis, and proceeded, over my angry protests, curses, and questions, to take my temperature. I could see that my blood pressure and pulse were being monitored by a machine near the bed. When she was finally satisfied, I asked, "What about my secretary. What about Karen? Is she okay? I want to see her!"

The nurse smiled at me and nodded. "She's fine! I'll be right back!" She returned with a wheelchair. "Let me disconnect the BP monitor and hang your IV on the chair, and I'll take you to visit her. You aren't supposed to be walking around quite yet! But I think I can safely move you in this chair. Now that you're conscious, I can also remove your catheter." I was only mildly embarrassed to have this pretty young nurse touching my penis. I was thinking about Karen's touching me, and that caused me to become fully erect. The nurse thought it was because of her touching me, and she blushed.

A few minutes later she wheeled me down the hall a few doors, and when she turned the chair and rolled me into a room, there was Karen, sitting up in bed. In spite of the nurse's protestations, I go up out of the chair. Although limited by the IV line and the cast on my left arm, I managed to lean down and give Karen a hug and a kiss. It turned into quite a production, complete with tongue-groping and heavy breathing. When we broke apart, I could see Karen's arousal coloring her face. In all the years I had known and worked with her, I had never noticed what wonderful lips she had!

I sat down in my wheelchair next to her bed, and I held her hand. "I thought we were both going to die!" I said. "Then I woke up and I didn't know where you were. After all that time trapped together, I was afraid . . . " Tears began to stream down my face, and I started to sob. Karen leaned forward and pulled my head against her chest. I stopped crying and my penis shot straight up. I could feel her braless breasts through her gown, pressing against my face! And I had once thought she was flat-chested!

I pulled away and looked at her as I wiped my eyes with my good, non-cast- covered hand. Karen's face was streaked with tears, too. "I know!" She said. "I made a scene, so they wheeled me down to your room and I got to see you. But you were still unconscious! You were pale and looked awful! But at least I knew you were still alive!"

I glanced from Karen's eyes to her breasts, and I could see her erect nipples pressing against the front of her gown. My tears had made her gown damp, and the gown was now clingy and almost transparent in just the right places. Karen glanced down, then blushed. She made no attempt to cover herself. She noticed the tent in my gown, and giggled. I glanced down, and I giggled with her. We held hands and stared into each other's eyes, wondering what was going to happen to us now. Karen's eyes sparkled and glowed with lust, mirroring my own. We were acting just like two kids discovering the power of sexual attraction for the first time!

Our continual finger sex had brought out incredibly intense sexual sensations which were at least ten times more powerful than any lust I'd ever felt. The best sex with Lori had been great - until Karen and I got buried - but now that earlier sex seemed pale, thin, and dull. Now I realized what the real power of sexual attraction was, and the desire to mate with Karen was overwhelming me. I felt a building heat in my groin and as I stared into Karen's eyes I could see my arousal mirrored on her face. The intensity of my lust was building, and I was only a few seconds away from climbing onto Karen's bed and mounting her. My balls were pulled up tight and my penis was throbbing. Karen let out a little sigh and spread her legs under her gown. The look in her eyes was clear, and we both knew that we would be having sex in a matter of seconds.

The nurse had been using the phone while we reunited, but we had ignored her. Whom she had been calling became obvious when a doctor entered the room and cleared his throat, interrupting our silent, passionate, eye-to-eye conversation. He introduced himself, but I didn't catch his name. I wasn't really paying attention because I kept glancing at Karen's nipples as I fought to keep my throbbing penis from causing me to completely lose control. Apparently he was in charge of both of our cases. He asked the nurse to leave the room, and he closed the door behind her and sat down. He let out a heavy sigh. So did I.

He again cleared his throat. "I was on duty when you both were brought in Tuesday around 6:30 p.m. I talked to the rescue personnel, and I have a pretty clear idea of what you two were doing while you waited for them to rescue you. I hope you understand that it's completely normal and not something to be ashamed of." He looked at both of us. I blushed, and I'm sure Karen did too. For a moment I felt like I was having a discussion about sex with one of my parents right after the time they had caught me naked with my half-undressed girlfriend!

"The closeness of death often brings out the . . . desire to . . . create life. Your sexual sensations were magnified, and you became capable of acts which would otherwise be impossible for you to contemplate. We did not - and will not - tell your spouses! And there is no mention of your, er, sexual actions in your medical records. However the, er, fluids you left on your bodies provided a fertile ground for a variety of unpleasant and persistent organisms to grow. Both of you are being treated for stubborn fungus and yeast infections. You should be fine in a couple of weeks, but you'll probably be itchy and uncomfortable for several more days."

He smiled at us. "Welcome back to the world of the living! I hope you can adjust to your new reality without serious problems!" He looked back and forth between us. "Bill, you received a concussion, but there doesn't appear to be any lingering problem. You'll probably have some headaches. You each have suffered fractures, but they have been set and I foresee no problems there. Your other scrapes and bruises are healing nicely, too. We, er, corrected your constipation, and your blood chemistry appears to be nearly normal. You are certainly in much better shape than we expected after more than three days without food. Had either of you gone into shock, well . . ."

I knew about my own broken arm, but what had happened to Karen? She realized I was puzzled. She grinned and pulled her gown up, exposing her right leg. She had a cast on it, running most of the way from her toes to mid-thigh. It must have hurt terribly during our ordeal, but she had never mentioned it. My admiration and affection for her grew even more. I also caught a flash of her thick, dark pubic hair before she covered herself again. My throbbing balls almost spilled their seed!

"What problems to you anticipate, doctor?" I asked, my voice sounding strange in my ears. I was vividly recalling how it had felt to rub my fingers through Karen's wet pubic hair. That incredibly sharp memory had obviously been triggered by what I had just seen between her legs.

He frowned. "I don't know if you two were having an affair before this incident or not. But you were certainly sexually intimate while trapped together. It's obviously a significant part of the nearly life-ending experience you shared together. It probably saved your lives by distracting you from your situation. I don't know how your spouses will react if you tell them, and I don't know how you will react if you keep it bottled up and don't tell them. That's a tough call. However, we have an excellent psychiatrist on staff and I'd like you both to talk to her." He leaned forward and gave us each a card with her name. "But right now I think it's best if we get you back to your room, Bill. You've received quite enough stimulation for one day!" He winked at me.

He walked to the door, then abruptly turned. "One more thing." He said. "The press - all kinds - is interested in you two. The hospital won't tell them anything, but you need to decide how you're going to, er, describe what you went through. If they smell a story, well . . . " He made a "Who knows?" gesture with his hands.

He opened the door, and said something I couldn't hear, and within moments the nurse came back in and wheeled me to my own room. When we arrived, she said, "I need to apply some more ointment. And it's almost visiting hours." With that she pulled back my robe and began to smear some white gunk all over my penis, scrotum, crotch and thighs. My penis, which had softened somewhat after leaving Karen's room, sprang again to full, throbbing erection.

She grinned. "At least it works okay, right?" She giggled. "It looks like the patient in 411 left her hand prints on it. She must have really squeezed it hard!" She grinned again, then got up and washed her hands in the sink in my bathroom. I looked under my gown. Yes I could see dark bruises on my penis, clearly forming Karen's hand print. The nurse grinned at me again, then she left. A few minutes later my family came in, and my life began to return to normal.

But how "normal" could it ever be, again? Karen and I had been pinned in the wreckage for more than eighty hours, sustained only by water - and by sexual contact. I got hard whenever I thought of Karen, and that was almost all of the time. I hadn't been this pussy-fixated since I was a young teenager! The "dry" ejaculations in the rubble had been the most powerful sexual experiences of my life. My penis kept bobbing up and down as I remembered them.

I had a joyful reunion with my family. The IV was removed later that day, and I sneaked down to Karen's room that evening after visiting hours were over and my family had departed. I slipped into her room, and I sat next to her bed and watched her sleep for several minutes. She suddenly woke up, grinned at me, and pulled me half onto her bed. We kissed hungrily, and we groped each other through our hospital gowns. Karen suddenly made her little cries of excitement, then exploded into orgasm with a loud cry as I rubbed her erect nipples through the material. As she calmed down, she really looked pretty! It was funny that I had never noticed that before!

I left a few moments later when a nurse entered the room to find out why Karen had cried out. The nurse took one look at Karen, then scolded us, but her eyes were twinkling and sympathetic. She also admonished me for walking around and not riding in a wheelchair. She took my arm and walked me back to my room. It was embarrassing because I had a throbbing hard-on and she was clearly aware of it. Once back in my bed I decided to be strong and not beat off. It kept me up most of the night.

The next morning our telephones were activated, and Karen and I spent hours talking. If anyone overheard us, we probably sounded like two lovesick teenagers. We tried to talk about what had happened to us, but the memories of our intense sexual contact quickly overwhelmed us. More than anything else, what we remembered was intense sexual pleasure almost beyond imagining. We masturbated as we talked, alone, but still connected by the sounds of our voices. We easily got each other off, again and again.

We coordinated our stories so that anything we said to the press would be boring, and we hoped that would be enough. "If what we did ever gets out . . . "Karen began. There was no need for her to finish.

I also watched the late news on TV, and there was coverage of our rescue from the day before. Apparently it was a slow news day, and much of what had earlier been reported was obviously being rebroadcast. I was intrigued by the sight of the collapsed building, with rescuers pointing to the place where Karen and I were trapped. Debris had been piled nearly on top of us, and everyone had been afraid that it would shift and crush us. That's why we had been trapped for so long.

One of our rescuers had been interviewed. I heard him say, "The two survivors managed to communicate with each other, and they managed to, er, distract each other from their extremely painful and unpleasant situation." Fortunately he did not mention the method we had used! There was also no mention of the obvious problem of urination and defecation. Given the media's frequent obsession with gory details, this pleasantly surprised me. But it also gave me hope that Karen and I would be able to keep our secret.

The next morning the psychiatrist met with both of us. I was wheeled into her office and I found Karen already there, sitting in another wheelchair. The cast on her right foot was elevated, but she didn't look very comfortable. I got out of my chair and went to Karen. She reached out for me. We hugged and kissed until the doctor cleared her throat several times.

She introduced herself as Dr. Sylvia Patterson. Karen and I sat side-by-side, holding our right hands in her lap, and constantly glancing at each other like a couple of kids. "I'm meeting with the two of you together in order to assess what Dr. Schwartz described concerning your . . . extreme erotic attachment." She said.

At least now I knew our "regular" doctor's name. "Extreme erotic attachment?" I asked. "Dr. Patterson, Karen and I have never had intercourse. We've never engaged in any kind of sexually intimate behavior prior to the collapse of our building. So what the hell are you talking about?"

Before Dr. Patterson could answer, Karen spoke. "Bill and I have always had a purely professional relationship, Doctor. But we . . . touched each other throughout the time we were trapped, and that helped get us through. I don't think . . . I know I couldn't have made it through it without contact with . . . him and his touching me. What are you so concerned about?"

"Dr. Schwartz and I anticipate that both of you will experience difficulties having normal relations with your respective spouses, given the guilt and worry which will almost certainly follow the sexual intimacy you experienced while pinned in the debris. In psychological terms, you two . . ."

"Excuse me, Doctor!" Karen interrupted. "You aren't wearing a wedding ring. Are you married?" Dr. Patterson shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but Karen got her words out first. "I've been married for almost two decades. I love my husband. I've had great sex with him as often as I've wanted it. I've borne two children. I sincerely doubt you have much of a practical knowledge about sexual arousal, let alone being professionally competent to label what we experienced as 'extreme erotic attachment.'"

Dr. Patterson's face flushed red and angry. "Frankly, Karen, I'm exceptionally well-read on this subject. Although your type of situation is not well-represented in the literature, it is certainly easily understood. In fact . . ."

"Frankly, Sylvia, I don't much care about your damned literature." Karen interrupted, deliberately calling the doctor by her first name. "You act so damned condescending and smart, but have you ever had orgasm after orgasm continuously for more than two days? Have you ever felt a man climax in your hand until he no longer ejaculated but still has orgasms? Do you have any idea what we've experienced?"

Doctor Patterson cleared her throat. Her face was getting more and more red. "Karen, I don't need to have experienced the . . . extremely sexual . . . situations you've described to be able to anticipate the resulting psychological complications to your lives. You've got to come to grips with . . ."

Karen jerked her hand out of mine. She reached over, pulled up my gown, and grabbed my exposed erection. She began to give me a hand job. Dr. Patterson stared in obvious shock as Karen's hand moved up and down my shaft. "This is what I had a grip on for two days. And it saved my life. And Bill had his fingers inside me, rubbing me until I exploded in pleasure, over and over. How does that fit with your theories, Sylvia?"

Dr. Patterson's mouth fell open and she stared at Karen's hand going up and down. Karen knew exactly how to stroke my penis for maximum effect, and I quickly began to grunt and moan. The head of my penis got darker and darker and drops of precum began to drip out of it. Dr. Patterson made a strange sound, something between a groan and a gasp, as I got louder and louder and my legs began to tremble. She jerked to her feet and ran rapidly out of the room. Karen stopped stroking but kept hold of my penis and looked into my eyes. "I hope I didn't embarrass you too much, Bill, but that prissy, know-it-all bitch got to me! You and I both know what our problem is, and we don't need her help to get through it. If we weren't both happily married to good people we love . . . "

Karen let go of my throbbing penis and covered it up. We held hands and looked at each other. Yes, we clearly understood our problem. More than anything in the world I wanted to feel my penis inside her, and I knew she felt the same desire. We were just leaning forward to kiss when two nurses came in. We were quickly wheeled back to our respective rooms. As soon as I was alone, I beat off, stifling my grunts into a pillow. It didn't take long, and a huge amount of cum ended up on a towel. Thankfully we never saw Dr. Patterson again. . The following afternoon I was judged fit to leave the hospital. Before my family arrived to pick me up, I sneaked back into Karen's room. She kissed me, then reached under my gown and grabbed my penis. Karen pulled it free of my gown began to beat me off as she stared at it. "I never finished this yesterday!" She giggled.