The Nurse Will Feel You Now

"Yes, Nurse Kimberly," she replies. She sounds better. She sounds... almost relaxed? I put two and two together quickly.

"Were you feeling empty?" I ask. "Do you feel better now that something is inside of you again?"

I feel her move around up top. I'm not sure if she's shaking her head, or nodding.

"Hold still," I admonish her immediately. "Use your words."

"It's cold -- well, cool," she says. "I... like it."

I raise my eyebrows. I'll have to add that to her chart.

"Thank you for telling me, Clarissa," I reply. "I'm glad you're being open and honest with me, and I'm glad you're not as embarrassed about feeling good during our exams. I'm well aware of your condition; I know you're especially sensitive -- and you know what? There'd be nothing to be ashamed of even if you weren't."

"I know," she says, entirely unconvincingly, "this is just... new."

"Oh?" I ask. "'This?' 'New?' Do you mean anal and rectal stimulation? Ah, ever since your girlfriend made it explicitly sexual. I see. So, before, during your rectals, temps, enemas, and whatnot, you weren't experiencing these sensations?"

"Well..." she says, trailing off.

I sigh loudly, making sure she hears my disapproval. For the moment, though, I don't press her. I slowly slide the thermometer out and check the reading. I stand up, walk to the tray, deposit it, and then return to the pillow. Used instruments shouldn't be strewn about.

I begin thoroughly lubing my gloved hand. "Time for your rectal," I say. "I'll be checking your sphincter muscles first, so once my finger is inside, get ready to squeeze for me."

Clarissa nods again, still not using her words. It's fine, I suppose. The large glass tube isn't in her anymore, so it's not as dangerous for her to move around. I place my finger at her entrance. It hardly twitches at all this time. I apply pressure, and my finger slides in easily. I hear a faint moan.

"Okay," I say. "Squeeze once, hard, and hold it for a three count."

I feel her ring tighten around my finger. It's difficult to gauge, but I think the muscles are slightly stronger than they were a few days ago. She relaxes, and I wiggle my finger around. That gets Clarissa squirming for real.

"Try your best to hold still," I say gently. "I'm just checking her inner sphincter. It won't take long.

"In the meantime, though," I say, "let's circle back. You were telling me what's changed since our last visit. Anal and rectal stimulation 'feel different,' now, which I assume means that they feel more explicitly sexual?"

Clarissa stays quiet. I withdraw my finger. I think I hear a little whimper of disappointment. I can't help but smile. Nevertheless, I'm not going to play sex games with my patient. I demand honesty, separate and apart from any incidental stimulation my examinations provide.

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

"Clarissa," I say sternly, "I thought we were past this. I'm your nurse. I thought you trusted me. Is your girlfriend pressuring you to do things you don't want to do? Are you having a negative reaction to recreational anal and rectal stimulation?"

"I asked her to!" Clarissa blurts out. If I could see her face, I'm sure I'd be looking at a shade of purple past crimson.

"Asked her to what?" I press.

"I asked her to start playing with my butt!" she whines. "I got the idea from you! The thermometer... the nozzle..."

I feel my pussy heating up. I feel powerful. My special patient is expanding her horizons because of me. She's feeling new pleasure because of me. She's making these ever-so-professional exams sexual all on her own. I don't need to be inappropriate to turn her on, or to tease her. I don't need to give up any of my credibility to have my fun.

I certainly don't let any of those thoughts or feelings affect my demeanor. The less interested I sound, the more Clarissa feels like a naughty, kinky, horny slut.

"I see," I say simply. "Okay, Clarissa, I'm sorry I was short with you. Thank you for being honest."

She'll never see my smug, satisfied smile.

I add some more lube to my gloved hand, and place two fingers at my patient's vulnerable rear hole. "You'll feel some pressure, now, Clarissa," I say gently. "You may experience some discomfort. If it's too much, speak up."

She whimpers. I apply pressure. I feel her anal ring's resistance, but it doesn't last long. My two fingers slide inside her warm channel. I ease them in until her stretched hole rests against my bent palm.

"No impactions in the rectum itself," I say loudly. "I wasn't expecting any with the negative abdominal, but it's always worth checking."

I begin a rhythmic 'come hither' motion with my two fingers. If this were a male patient, I'd be attacking one of their weak spots directly. Clarissa doesn't have a prostate, but let's call her 'unusually receptive.'

"Okay, Clarissa, I need to test your muscles again," I say, "this time against a motile source. Three short, sharp squeezes in a row, and then one long one for a three count."

I feel her obey, and that obedience sends a surge of energy through my body. My panties are undeniably damp. They're not suppressing the smell of my own arousal anymore. It mixes with Clarissa's; this close to her vulva, I hardly smell the antiseptic. It's girl and girl -- nurse and patient.

When the three count is up, I don't withdraw. I keep massaging.

"I'm not upset," I tell my special patient. "It's never my aim to sexual arouse you, but with your condition, I'm not surprised it happens -- not even back here. I don't mean to make light, Clarissa, but I hope you'll appreciate the silver lining. Many women -- men, too, actually -- would be very happy if they found anal and rectal stimulation sexually arousing and satisfying. Many of them are interested in theory, but discover they're just not wired that way."

I place my free hand on Clarissa's inner thigh. It's a perfectly professional distance away from her vulva and clitoral hood. The second rhythm I establish upon it isn't sexual at all. It's reassuring. It's comforting.

Trust me, I'm a nurse.

Clarissa's hips start moving. I feel her shift around, out of my line of sight. I smile. I suspect her hands have found her breasts -- her nipples. Her condition is quite serious. Sometimes she just can't help herself.

"You never have to feel ashamed or embarrassed here," I reassure her. "If you get aroused, that's fine. If you climax, that's fine. In fact, I do feel a little guilty that I don't help you to... well, let's say, to relieve your tension and anxiety. But that would be unprofessional.

"Push me out, Clarissa," I suddenly command. "Let's feel the reverse kegel."

Clarissa moans out her frustration. She wasn't close, necessarily, but she was feeling good. Still, she obeys. I apply a slight outward force with my arm and let her do the rest. She pushes my two fingers out. I remove my other hand from her inner thigh.

"Good girl," I say. "Your anus and rectum seem no worse for the wear. It's too soon to tell, really, but I think your new activities might even be strengthening some of your muscles down here. Call it another silver lining."

"I do my exercises every day, like you told me to," Clarissa says meekly. She's fishing for more praise. I'm tempted to withhold it -- I'm still feeling powerful -- but she really is a good girl.

"That's wonderful to hear, Clarissa," I say. "Trust your nurse, and good things happen."

I get up, leaving Clarissa breathing heavily and squirming. She's given up on trying to get more stimulation; her hands have drifted off her breasts and back to her sides. She knows I won't just let her masturbate all willy-nilly. She needs permission. She's moving around just to release some pent-up energy. There's a lot of it, and it has to go somewhere.

I snap off the glove and throw it in the trash.

"Okay then," I say, "you're not scheduled for another enema until Friday, so all that's left is the pelvic."

I turn around, and see Clarissa staring at me. This look has become a tradition. Her condition is threatening to overtake her. She knows I'm not going to try to make her cum. She knows I'm going to be very professional. She wants more. She needs more. She wants me to fuck her pussy with my fingers -- my fist, even. She's silently begging for it. She's still embarrassed -- maybe even humiliated -- but desperation is winning out.

I try to radiate sympathy. I'm not sure I succeed. "I know, Clarissa," I say. "I know. I really shouldn't let you, but if you have to, you can."

She nods eagerly. Her face doesn't relax, though. She knows that once the exam begins, she'll be on the clock. It'll be a race against her nurse. Can she give herself enough clitoral stimulation to push herself over the edge while those strong, capable, professional fingers are still inside of her? Can she get the intense orgasm she craves?

Well, there's no sense in waiting. Nurse Kimberly's exam is almost over. As desperate as Clarissa is, her girlfriend's getting impatient too. She wants her adorable, mousy little bookworm to get back home so they can give her condition the treatment it really needs.

I head back to the pillow and lube up my hand. I run it gently over Clarissa's vulva, caressing it with both sides of my bare fingers. I just barely avoid touching her clitoris. To her credit, she holds out a little while longer. One of her hands is already back at her breasts. The other, though, is still at her side. She's fighting to keep it there. I smile to myself. I move in close, even if technically I don't need to. I inhale deeply.

I start with two fingers. They slide in easily. Clarissa is soaked. I let the rippling wave of her muscles draw me in deeper. I feel their power, and feel powerful in turn. I begin applying pressure -- up, down, side-to-side. I gauge my patient's reactions. I very-professionally review all of her sensitive spots. I withdraw, and savor her frustrated whine. I add more lube, and insert three fingers. I go deep. I apply more pressure in every direction.

Clarissa can't fight it anymore. She moves her left hand to her clitoris; incidentally, her chart says she's right-handed. It's the internet age, don't you know.

I withdraw again. She immediately misses my fingers, but she's too focused on her throbbing little button to whine. I lube up again. I press in with four. Clarissa releases a loud, long, genuinely conflicted moan. Once they're inside, her tune changes. She's getting what she needs. I move in even closer. I place my left hand on her thigh, bracing myself.

I'll still insist there's nothing sexual about this pelvic exam. I'm testing muscles. I'm feeling for irregularities. I'm attentive to any indication of sharp pain or unusual discomfort. I'll go this far, and no farther: my exam is extremely thorough. Of course it's going to elicit a response.

Clarissa's been my patient for about two months, now. She's learned a lot about sex, and about herself. She still hasn't fully come to terms with her condition, but she's getting there. Her foray into anal pleasure -- and the fact that she took the initiative and asked her girlfriend to start training her - is a very encouraging sign.

All of that is to say, Clarissa's gotten very good at winning these races against her nurse. I can't say I mind. The poor girl isn't well. She has one of the worst cases of Chronic Horniness I've ever seen. It's a very serious condition, and I'm simply appalled that the mainstream medical community doesn't do more to address it. Her one saving grace is that she seems receptive to all manner of fetishes and kinks. That means she can benefit from a much wider array of at-home treatments.

Clarissa cums, crushing my fingers with her inner muscles. I push up, towards her navel, hard. I press the thumb of my other hand into her inner thigh, less than an inch away from the action. She bucks and thrashes as much as she can in the stirrups. I imagine she's pushing her breast up towards her mouth on instinct; more's the pity she can't reach her own nipple with her mouth. I'm sure her girlfriend will help her out later tonight.

I let her ride my fingers. I let her gasp, huff, and come down from the peak. I resist the temptation to kiss her, or to 'examine' her anus and rectum one last time.

I withdraw slowly. I stand up, and walk around to my tray so I can see my patient's face. She's flushed, and a little sweaty. I smile down at her.

"Everything felt just fine in there," I tell her. "I'm very pleased with all of your results today. Please, take all the time you need to recover. There's water over there. You know where the bathroom is. I'll wait until you're on your way home before I lock up for the night."

"Thank you, Nurse Kimberly," Clarissa says. It's a drunken whisper. "I'm sorry. I trust you. I'll try to be less shy."

"Oh, dear," I sigh. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You're a very good patient."

She smiles a little. She's too relaxed and exhausted to grin or beam.

I head to the bathroom myself, and close the door behind me. I see the specimen cup and smile. It's half full, properly sealed, and sitting on top of the toilet tank.

I take off my white lab coat, then lose my underwear in a flash. My panties are so wet that they hit the floor with a damp thud. I use the toilet, freshen up, and wash my hands. It takes all of my willpower just to go through the motions. I'm fucking horny. I have a condition, you see.

I open the bathroom door and stride out into my bedroom. Clarissa's barely moved. That suits me just fine. I get up onto the bed and quickly crawl over to her, and then, simply, over her.

"Hey," she says gently, lovingly. I don't give a fuck. I mount my mousy little girlfriend's face. Her eyes widen in surprise, then narrow again -- not with suspicion, but with submission. She's mine, and she knows it. She's one orgasm ahead of me, and she knows it. She breathes in deeply, drowning herself in my scent before I drown her in my juices.

"Lick," I say firmly. "Suck."

She does, but I'm far too sick to passively accept her ministrations. I'm an active participant in my own treatments. I grind down onto her. I gyrate my hips. I feel my own anal plug bumping against my walls. I clench my hole around it, feeling the ridges on the narrowest part.

I grab my own breasts -- larger than Clarissa's by at least a cup size -- and I pull them up towards my face. I bend my neck to meet them with my lips. I can feel the strain and the burn. I don't care. I find a nipple, and I bite it. Then I suck it into my mouth.

I have to let them go before I can cum, but the aggressive attention gets me there faster. At some point, Clarissa's arms come up and find my ass. They caress it at first. Eventually, they squeeze it with all of their might. Clarissa's face is soaked; she's suffocating beneath my cunt. She's a slave to it, just like I'm a slave to my condition -- just like I'm making her a slave to hers. Outside of the examination room, we're each other's nurses. We're each other's medicine.

I cum. It's wonderful. It's dominant. It's only the beginning.

The first words Clarissa says when she regains her breath are, "I love you, Nurse Kimberly."

"I'm not your nurse, Clarie," I pant, "I'm your girlfriend."

I dismount, collapse beside her, and crawl around until my head is next to hers. She turns to face me, and I kiss her, hard, tasting myself on her lips. I grab her body possessively. She's my sexy little freshman. She's my project. I'm going to show her the world.

Our lips separate. Clarie is smiling. "That means you can fuck me," she says.

"You're goddamn right it does," I growl back. "Now let's get that plug back in you."

She bites her lip. "I think maybe... I'm ready for the next size," she says. There's no more pretending; her hesitations are intentional and coy.

My pussy and asshole both twitch. My eyes flash. I've flipped her switch. She wants more. She's better than a project. She's a partner.

Thanks to Nurse Kimberly, Clarie and I are going to have the night of our lives -- and it'll only be the night of our lives so far. We'll have an entirely different one tomorrow. Nurse Kimberly won't be on duty, but Clarie's holes will barely know the difference. Then it'll be Friday. That's an enema day. Those are my favorite days -- well, my favorite days so far. It won't be long now. My strap-on is waiting. It's going to take Clarie's anal virginity for real -- serious sodomy. Bona fide butt fucking. Anal sex days might end up being even better than enema days. Maybe we'll combine them.

After that, who knows? I don't graduate for another two years. Clarie doesn't for another three. By the time we're ready for another kinky twist, Clarie might be the one to come up with it.

"Did you see the specimen cup?" she asks meekly.

"I did," I answer. "You don't actually have to do that, you know. I don't have the facilities here to run any tests."

Clarie's expression turns serious. She actually convinces me for a second. "Yes, I do," she insists. "I have to do everything Nurse Kimberly tells me to do. She knows what's best for me. I have to be a good patient."

"You know what?" I reply rhetorically. "You're absolutely right. She's the professional, and I simply cannot argue with the results. You're even sexier now than when I first met you, and I'd hardly have believed it possible."

Clarie's face both softens and brightens. We kiss, caress, and cuddle. I lose myself for a while. Clarie has to gently remind me that she needs that new plug. I crawl off the bed to retrieve it from our special drawer. She rolls over and presents herself. I know that I'm the 'hot one' in our relationship, but when I come back to the bed, I can't help but to linger on the sexy, submissive sight. Her body is perfect, because it's mine. Her heart would be perfect regardless, and I'm overjoyed that she's given it to me.

I lube the new plug and hold it at her entrance. She whimpers; she knows it turns me on. I shush her and rub her lower back. I'm in charge of her. I take care of her. I give her her medicine, and I love administering it rectally.

"I love you, Clarie," I say. "Be a good girl for me."

I make sure to push the plug in while she's saying those three little words back to me, morphing it from a loving mewl into an overwhelmed overture of grunting, gasping, and panting. That way, it warms my heart and my pussy at the exact same time.

When it comes to patient play, patience pays -- but sometimes you have to know when to seize the moment.