The Nurse

Please note that the names of the people in this story have been changed and no identification with actual people should be inferred.

The "The Nurse" - a young nurse's encounter with a young, hung man.

My name is Erik, and you may have read my other stories - "German Lake Adventure," "Annual Checkup with Dr. Cody," and "The New Suit." I would appreciate any comments regarding these adventures and the one that follows below.

You can read more in detail about me personally in the other stories.

The events that follow date back to when I attended a local university on the East Coast on a one-semester study abroad program - I was twenty-two years old at the time. It all started when I was talking to a friend who had just finished his own semester abroad, and being adventuress myself, it was an easy decision for me to sign up for a similar program.

So, in the late summer of 2006, I was on my way for my own one semester stint at a university on the East Coast - about fifty minutes outside of New York.

I had two choices when it came to housing - live on campus or seek my own accommodation locally somewhere. Having a relatively independent frame of mind, and not particularly fond of sharing a room with someone, I decided to look for something off-campus, something that gave me a little more freedom. Before arriving in the US, I had already started to scout out some lodging options and had narrowed it down to three available choices. Two of them were apartments and the third was renting a room in a house. I eventually settled for the less expensive option of renting a private room in a big colonial home, about a fifteen-minute bike ride from the university.

For the owner, Yvonne Brooks, who had lived alone since her husband passed away about twelve years earlier, the house was clearly too big. For this reason, she would selectively rent out rooms for various "charitable" purposes - such as for exchange students. Although she did not need the money, having someone around to help with various chores around the house when needed was certainly an added bonus. The low rent, a sign of her generosity and merely symbolic, was just high enough to keep "freeloaders" out.

Her house was set in a typical New Jersey town - well diversified, with colonial homes built shortly after the turn of the century. This particular house was three stories high and had a huge wrap-around porch. The yard was not particularly groomed, and it was obvious that there was no one to take care of things around the house - only parts of the house had been selectively renovated since the house was originally built.

There were only two rooms for rent at any one time, both of which were on the third floor, and as luck would have it, during my time there, I was the only tenant.

Yvonne Brooks, a woman in her late seventies, was struggling with various handicapping ailments which required her to use a four-foot cane. Additionally, a few years back, she had a stairlift installed so that she could easily get from the first to the second floor where her bedroom was located.

Highly religious, and very traditional in nature, she preferred to be called Mrs. Brooks - a wish I respectfully adhered to.

There was public transportation that ran up and down the town and ended up within a few minutes' walk from the university campus. Although I had pre-arranged to avail myself of a bicycle, Mrs. Brooks was generous enough to let me borrow her car in case of an emergency or if the weather was not cooperating.

This particular event took place following an unfortunate bicycle accident I had coming back from the university.

I was about three weeks into the semester and had just left my Thursday afternoon class, riding my bike on my way back home. About halfway there, I was riding through one of the side streets on a road that had a pretty steep incline. As I was biking downward, a car did not see ran the stop sign on the cross street I was going down - and it was too late to brake in time and the hood went passed the stop sign just enough that my bicycle got caught on the front fender - and I toppled over the handlebars and had to catch myself with both hands as I fell on the pavement.

Silly enough I was not wearing a helmet, but luckily, I did not hit my head or any other vital body part.

Being young and fairly athletic, I didn't seem to get too hurt, and after brushing myself off, checking for anything broken, I stood up just fine - only with some minor pain in both my wrists from catching myself as I tumbled forward.

The person driving the car - a man in his early fifties, came out of the car and apologized profusely.

The front tire on my bicycle had bent just a little, and he offered to drive me to my house - having my damaged bike partially hanging out the back of his trunk. After dropping me off, he gave me his contact information and said that if there is anything he could do, please give him a call.

That night, as I tried to sleep, the pain in my right wrist got worse, and the following morning, I decided to go to a local medical emergency center to have it checked out.

Mrs. Brooks' generous offer of borrowing her car came in handy and there was a center about a ten-minute drive downtown. My Friday class did not start until two in the afternoon, so I decided to have my wrist checked out.

Well, turns out, after some x-rays, there was a small fracture in my right wrist and a sprained left wrist.

The doctor decided it was best to put the right wrist in a cast to wear for a few weeks and wrap the left one tightly with some gauze. As part of standard procedure, I was told not to drive, but Mrs. Brooks' car was an automatic, and I chose to ignore this part of the doctor's orders.

As coincidence would have it, that very week, my landlady had her niece, Jasmine visiting from New York. Jasmine, the middle daughter of Mrs. Brook's younger sister, was a nurse working at a major hospital on Long Island.

As I returned from my doctor's visit, and entered the house and walked into the kitchen, Mrs. Brooks and Jasmine were sitting conversing at the kitchen table.

"O boy! What happened to you" - Mrs. Brooks asked with her eyes wide open.

"Just a small accident on my bicycle. Nothing major, but I do have a fracture in my right hand and strained my left just slightly. I'll be just fine." - I say, a little embarrassed from the event.

"OK, let me know if there is anything I can do, and feel to use my car again when you need it, as long as you are OK to drive it." - she followed with.

"I want to introduce you to my favorite niece - Jasmine!" - she says with a sense of pride in her voice.

"Jasmine - this is Erik. He's an exchange student on a one semester program at the university. He'll be staying here with us until the Fall semester is over."

"Hello Jasmine!" - I say, with an effort of politeness.

"Hi Erik" - she says with a big smile on her face - a smile that drooped immediately, as she with a sense of compassion, looks at the cast on my right wrist and the wrapped brown gauze on my left.

"You poor thing - yes, let me know if there is anything I can help with also." - she immediately followed with.

After some small talk, I hobbled up the stairs to my room and got changed as my shirt had been scuffed in various places when I fell. As I struggled to take off my shirt and pants, I noticed a few more scrapes on my arms and legs - something I hadn't noticed at the time of the accident. Nothing major, just a few strawberry bruises.

After struggling to get another set of clothes on, I decided to go down to the kitchen for a late lunch, where Jasmine and Mrs. Brooks were still sitting having afternoon coffee as I entered it from the hallway.

From the little causal conversation I heard, I could tell that they were very close, and that Jasmine was probably more like a daughter than a niece to Mrs. Brooks. It turns out, as I later found out, that she visited Mrs. Brooks on a regular basis - to help out with various tasks around the house and at the same time satisfy a yearning to come back to her old neighborhood where she grew up. She later confessed that, from time to time, she felt a little homesick from staying out on Long Island.

I would describe Jasmine as "plain Jane" - and not very attractive. Not ugly, just not attractive, partially due to the fact that she did not seem to care very much about her appearance. A little chubby, about five foot two with dark brown hair - cut short with square bangs outlining her face - a simple haircut as her appearance was obviously not a priority. Her nose was slightly too large to properly balance out her face and her two front teeth were just ever so slightly separated. From what I could gather from our later conversations, she was in her early thirties. At first, I thought she was gay, but I think rather from her lack of interest in making herself look good.

That very evening, I was sitting in a nook just outside my bedroom on the third floor - a space that had been made into a small study with books dating back to as far as Mr. and Mrs. Brooks entire lives - however a perfect spot to sit a do some studying without any distractions. I had a small class assignment to do and had to read a few chapters in a sociology book.

About thirty minutes into my reading, I heard a few squeaks coming from the stairs below - stairs that were original since the house was built - and every third or so made a squeaking sound when stepped on.

I turned around, and saw that it was Jasmine - she stopped about halfway up an says;

"We're having some tea in the kitchen. I know you are busy, but I could bring you a cup if you wish" - she says.

"That would be nice!" - I exclaimed, with a sense of appreciation as it made me feel like being home again and someone taking care of me.

"Great, how do you take it?"

"Just some milk - English Breakfast if you have it" - I said, realizing quickly that my words were a little demanding as soon as I said it.

"Aye Aye Captain!" - she responded with her hand lifted up to her brow" as she broke out in a slight chuckle.

I like her!

A short while later, Jasmine slowly walked up the stairs with a small tray - the cup still steaming, a tiny carafe of milk and a few cookies on a small plate. And put it next to me on the table I was sitting at.

"Thank you!" - I said, looking her directly in the eyes with a frown of appreciation in my face.

"You are so welcome!" - she says with a voice that almost appeared that I was doing her a favor rather than the opposite.

It was obvious that she had an insatiable desire to help and accommodate others.

She meandered down the stairs...

...but just as she had disappeared for what only seemed a few moments, she comes back halfway up the stairs.

"Are you OK with taking care of yourself?"

"What?"

"You know - getting dressed....

...washing yourself. You know, the things that you typically would need hands for!" - she followed with, again, a slight chuckle in her voice.

"You know that I am a nurse - and that is something I do for a living?"

What is she proposing...?

Help getting dressed...?

Help getting washed...?

Naked...?

Jasmine was older than me - almost ten years my senior, but young enough for me to look at this situation somewhat awkwardly.

"I think I'm good!" - I instinctively respond, not prepared for the offer, nor having time to contemplate it.

"OK- let me know if you change your mind. I'd be happy to help you." - she says, as she started to meander back down the stairs.

As I sat there, staring straight into the wall, countless thoughts came to mind - some of bewilderment, but also some of excitement and erotic bliss...

...and I suddenly found myself poking my hand against my crotch - an instinctual response to my penis calling out! Only the jeans I was wearing prevented my swelling cock from gaining any meaningful momentum!

The proposal was intriguing, but anxiety causing at the same time.

What if Mrs. Brooks found out...?

Mrs. Brooks was a religious woman, and this particular situation, outside the walls of a hospital, could easily be perceived as highly inappropriate - I am thinking to myself.

Do I ask Mrs. Brooks for permission...?

Nah - that's ridiculous - not going to happen!

Anxiety turned euphoric...

...Jasmine's small chubby hands washing my big Nordic white cock!

My thoughts were interrupted by some increased discomfort in my wrists, and that night, the pain really set in. I realized how important it is to have two working hands as I was struggling with the simplest tasks of taking my clothes off, brushing my teeth, taking a crap...

...masturbation was out of the question!

I had already showered that morning and taking another shower would be too much pain and effort - even though I probably needed it. I eventually decided against it, popped a few over-the-counter pain killers, and went to bed.

The next morning, I struggled even more. The pain was elevated, and the simple task of putting on my socks was excruciating. Eventually, I got dressed - decided on a pair of sweatpants instead of my normal go-to jeans.

It was Friday, but I decided to blow off my class - figuring to give it the weekend to recover and perhaps be back to a functional level come Monday morning.

As I went down to the kitchen to get some breakfast, a nice smell of bacon and eggs met me about halfway down the first set of stairs.

Entered the kitchen...

"Good morning, Erik! We've made breakfast, and some extra for you if you want. We thought perhaps that you could use a hand - no pun intended." - says Mrs. Brooks, with a sympathetic chuckle in her voice.

"In fact, we were just about to sit down and eat - why don't you join us?"

"That would be great!" - I say with an appreciative smile on my face.

"Struggling today? - Jasmine asks, as she looks at me with my hair a mess and my shirt only halfway stuck into my sweatpants.

"Yes - can you tell?" - I utter in response, with some manufactured annoyance in my voice.

As we sit there and enjoy the breakfast, small talk ensues regarding various activities around town, and after about fifteen minutes Mrs. Brooks utters;

"Sorry youngsters, I have a ladies-circle to attend at the church, and I have to get going." - as she slowly gets up, grabs her four-prong cane, and meanders towards the kitchen opening where the stairlift was waiting for her to take her back up to the second floor.

"Will you take care of the cleanup - Jasmine?" - she said, knowing well that her question was merely rhetorical.

With just Jasmine and I left in the kitchen, a few moments of awkward silence ensued while we were sipping the last few drops of our morning coffees.

"I am supposed to be in class today, but I decided to skip it so that I can rest up over the weekend." - I say, trying to break the silence.

"OK! Let me know if I can do anything for you. I don't have anything going on until around four this afternoon. Do you need anything from the store? I could even give you a ride up to the university if you need or...?" - she says, trying her best to be helpful as she possibly could.

"Thank you, Jasmine! You are too kind - I think I'm good!" - Her offer from the night before quickly re-emerges in my thoughts as I ponder the possibilities.

"Don't think of it" - she says, with a smile on her face.

After a few more casual conversation pieces, and with some effort, I get up from my chair and walk towards the stairs to get back up to my room.

Just as I am about to leave the kitchen...

"And I mean it, if you need help getting washed and get dressed - I am trained for it." - she says, again with a slight sense of pity as she watches me hobble across the kitchen floor, with my incapacitated hands stiffly to my side.

I halted briefly in the doorway - it was decision time!

This was the moment! The opportunity presented itself again, and chances were that if I declined for a second time, the offer would never be made again - I contemplated.

"Are you sure, it would be no trouble?" - I ask, my head now pounding from the potential situation, as I take that very hard leap of fate by furthering the possibility of accepting her offer.

(Keep in mind, I was only twenty-two at the time, and my ventures into these situations were few in number - and it took every bit of courage to pursue her offer.)

"No, don't be silly, I've been a nurse for a long time - I can't say it's my favorite part of the job, but nevertheless something that has to get done. I have worked mostly in the geriatric section of the hospital and helping my patients with the simplest tasks - such as washing them and getting them dressed is just part of my daily routine" - she says with a professional tone of voice.

"Oh! O-ok! - I stammer, noddingly in favor of approval.

"OK, let me know when - like I said, I have to be out at an event later this afternoon."

Mrs. Brooks was due to head out around eleven, and I thought it would be best to wait until she was gone. All I need is for Mrs. Brooks to find out, and I would be out on the streets faster than I could say - soap me up!

"How about around noon?" - I suggestively proposed.

"That should work - I'll come up then." - she says.

Back in my room, my mind wandered again.

Would this be awkward...?

Could it lead to something more...?

Did she have other intentions in mind...?

Stop it!

She's just trying to help. She's a nurse for crying out loud - she has probably seen hundreds of naked men, and it was just a routine task.

Perhaps, she'll ask me to keep my underwear on anyway! - I think, trying to comfort myself.

Noon rolls around, and sure enough, a familiar sound of footsteps on creaking floors as someone is walking up the stairs. I had left my door partially open so that she wouldn't have to knock.

Nevertheless, a slight knock and her face appears in the door crack...

"You ready?"

I got up from the bed - struggling in pain a little as I had to use my hands to push myself up.

"I have to confess, that yesterday when I said I did not need any help, I was not truthful. When I got dressed this morning - boy did it hurt!"

"No problem, I can help you with all of that." - she says, as she waves her fingers in a follow-me motion as she starts to walk towards my bathroom.

I had correctly assumed that we would use the bathroom on my floor - so that if by chance Mrs. Brooks came home unexpectedly, minimizing the possibility of her finding out.

My bathroom left a lot to be desired as it had not seen any meaningful renovations for at least forty years. Everything was a mismatch of collected stuff over several decades. It had an old freestanding clawfoot bathtub with a single shower curtain partially surrounded by a wraparound curtain rod, a handheld showerhead situated in a makeshift cradle - inside the tub was a small plastic single-level stepstool - I could only guess to be used for her female tenants to elevate their legs for shaving.

The grout in between the small, checkered beige tiles that clad the floor had darkened from lack of proper cleaning or replacement. There was a frameless mirror over a small porcelain sink with really no space or shelves for any toiletries. A few tarnished brass hooks were loosely screwed in on the back of the door on which to hang a limited number of clothing articles or perhaps a few towels.

A pink fluffy bathroom rug laid just next to the bathtub - probably the most modern item in the bathroom, left by a previous tenant no doubt. There was a wire-rack next to the tub on which I had put some toiletries - shower gel, soap, and shampoo. A small, frosted window on the far side prevented direct view from the next-door neighbor, I presumed - you could feel the draft coming from the window as, it too had not been cared for or replaced in several decades. There was a small, three-legged stool just to the left when entering the bathroom.