My Stairwell

I hardly ever take the elevator, for several reasons... including my urge to molest any attractive woman who finds herself alone in the elevator with me. So I take the stairs. And it is faster, and better for me. The stairwell I usually use is not very well traveled, because of its location. It is cement, and smells like damp cement. It is rarely cleaned, although occasionally I will clean the railing and door handles myself, just to prove I am compulsive I guess. My job at the hospital involves frequent visits to the basement from my 3rd floor office, and I can make the 4 flights of stairs in less than a minute, if I hurry.

But my story is about a day I did not hurry. As I started down the stairs, I could tell someone else was in the stairwell... which was unusual. It didn't take long to realize it was someone coming up, and I recognized a beautiful nurse when I got closer. She was in her white uniform with white stockings and a fairly short skirt. She wasn't walking up very fast, and I wondered why she would take the stairs if she was doing it for exercise. She stopped on the landing between 1 and 2, and was leaning on the handrail where it was at right angles to the stairs themselves. For a moment I wondered if maybe she was contemplating suicide... but decided that was silly, there were much higher places to jump from in this hospital. I had pointed out several to the safety committee I served on; just as I pointed out numerous other "dangers"... which probably explained how my 1 year term on the committee became one month!

Her head was hung forward, so as I came down the stairs to the landing, I asked, "Are you OK?" But she didn't answer. Instead, she slumped against the railing, and sort of slid to the floor. I didn't reach her in time to keep her head from hitting the cement fairly hard as she slumped backward. I straightened her out a little, as her legs were twisted under her. Then I put my hand under her head and leaned forward to try to determine if she was breathing. She smelled SO good. And as I got closer to her face, which was beautiful, I could smell the booze on her breath!! She must have been drinking on the job, and passed out.. that would explain why she was in the stairwell? looking for some place to sleep it off?

But looking a little too late. Her breathing was regular and deep, so I didn't worry that she had a heart attack or something... plus she couldn't be over 30. Her skirt had slid up as she fell, and her black bush was faintly visible through the silky panties she was wearing.

I tried to rouse her, but she didn't respond. So I slid my hand down between her legs, to see if THAT would rouse her. And under the leg edge of her panties. I found her pussy was drenched, and realized that she had either been masturbating, or had just been fucked!

The idea was fairly arousing, and I was stiff by the time I had brought my hand to my nose to smell her pussy...and licked my fingers dry...her juices were delightful! and no smell of semen that I could tell.

Well, the stairwell landing is not particularly romantic; and there was a small chance that someone might discover us there... but ... honestly, how could any red-blooded American male resist a beautiful young nurse with a sopping wet pussy, especially when a whiff of her pussy would make any man or dog excited enough to fight anyone.

I quickly dropped my pants, and fell on her, burying my cock in her hot wet pussy and stroking a few times till I dumped my load in her. My pants were up and I was on my way, thinking that there was little chance she would figure out what had happened, much less be able to figure out who did it. Even then, I could claim she agreed! And I would still be taking the stairs and enjoying my remembrances of that stairwell today... except for the sad fact that she was NOT drunk. She was diabetic and out of control. The smell I thought was alcohol was some kind of metabolic problem from the diabetes. And the sugar probably explained how sweet her pussy juices tasted! When someone found her and took her to the ER, a doc was clever enough to notice semen, which they tested for DNA. And when she awoke and explained that she had not had sex for more than a year, they realized she had been raped... in "my" stairwell. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out who was in that stairwell everyday... and they got my DNA from saliva on a soda can in my wastebasket.

So I don't take the stairs in the hospital anymore. But maybe I will get my job back in 20 years when I get out of here...

(My other story is The Premarital Agreement)

-prevacker