Anal Nurse Ch. 01

Harriet Burnside is a luscious black-haired beauty, 35 years old, and recently widowed. Her husband, Ben, had crashed his luxury SUV two years ago and died, along with the three high class hookers that were his passengers. Ben was a very successful heart surgeon, very handsome and not immune to the charms of the many women who find money and power irresistible in a man; many of the staff nurses had been among his conquests. Since he was legally drunk at the time, their insurance company had fought the widow tooth and nail, finally settling for just enough to allow Harriet to pay-off the car Ben had been driving, his funeral expenses, and little else. Unknown to Harriet, Ben was also a degenerate gambler and liked to treat his "lady friends" to the best of everything; this left the young widow in financial straits even though she made $40.00/hr as an RN. Ben's family had never really accepted her, and except for a trust fund for their 5 yr old, Kaley's, college education, they had not felt compelled to help her with the huge outstanding bills their darling son had run-up.

Ben was a few levels above Harriet's "station"; he was a Stanford-educated cardiac surgeon and she, though a college grad, was a lowly RN; that had mattered not a whit to the pampered, highly-sexed son of privilege: what DID matter was her 42DD-28-40 physique. None of those willowy, pinch-faced high-society brats for Ben; he preferred his women with abundant curves, not the "no hips, flat ass" types like Cameron Diaz or Paris Hilton. Harriett was quite striking besides, and it hadn't taken long for the playboy doctor to woo, then bed, then wed the tremendously-stacked young nurse, much to the chagrin of his family.

Harriet had ben taught the kinkier side of sex by the high-ranking son of a multi-millionaire: light bondage, three-ways (Both MMF and MFF), submission, and, of course, anal sex. The last was his favorite. He delighted in reaming his big-butted wife's back-door with his 10" cock-staff, then stuffing it in her mouth for a thorough cleaning. That had ended when he died; Harriett had been so busy working, taking acre of her children, and grieving that she'd had a sexual relationship in 13 months, after her fling with a doctor who worked at the same hospital and since the birth of her youngest daughter.

The rift between Harriett and the high-and-mighty Burnside's had increased ten-fold when Harriett's fling with a married staff cardiologist had resulted in the birth of an out-of-wedlock daughter, Megan. The heart surgeon had sworn that he would leave his wife and marry Harriett, and for a few months assisted the widow with pre-natal expenses; then, one day, Harriett had arrived at work to discover that the bastard had finangled a position in France as Chief of Staff in Paris' most prestigious hospital, leaving Harriett in the lurch. The baby was now 13 months old, and though things were a bit tough, the mother of two was managing to keep her small family's head's above water. She hadn't spoken to her in-laws in months, and her many calls to ask for help had gone unanswered. Her tenuous financial situation had taken a dramatic turn for the worse when her newborn daughter, Megan, had gotten sick six weeks ago and Harriett, battling valiantly to keep the creditors at bay, was reduced to calling her mother-in-law one last time to plead for assistance. Marian Burnside, the haughty matriarch of the wealthy family had told her in the coldest, most un-sympathetic voice possible: "The Burnside's feel no responsibility WHATSOEVER to assist you with the care of your bastard whelp, as you saw fit to dishonor our son's memory with your slatternly behavior. Really, dear; you must have no morals or sense of decency at all if you expect our help after your shabby, common behavior

...yes, we are aware that the father of the child is a MARRIED MAN, who has apparently not seen fit to support the poor innocent...perhaps he has doubts about its paternity?...at any rate, please don't phone again, or I'll be forced to speak to the hospital administrator ...as you know, he is a long-time friend of the family. Good day".

Her prayers had been answered when Donnie, a hospital orderly, had approached her a week before with a plan to make some money with what he'd described as a "fool proof" plan: Harriett, instead of injecting a patient with the prescribed amount of morphine, would retain a cc or two in the syringe, pocket it, and then turn the drug over to Donnie, who would sell the narcotic through his street contacts. Ninety percent of the patients were elderly or unconscious most of the time, and would never know that they hadn't gotten all of their morphine. There would be no discrepancy in the sign-out sheet for the drug cabinet, as the pilferage would come from medicine already PRESCRIBED...fool-proof, right?

Since part of Harriett's duties were to inject anywhere from 20-30 patients per day, saving-back a cc per injection, she was able to turn-over 30 cc of the potent narcotic per day, along with 20 tablets of Demerol. She felt guilty about what she was doing, but justified it by telling herself that she was doing it for her children. She was shaken from her by a page: "Nurse Burnside, please report to the Head Nurse; Nurse Burnside, report to the Head Nurse stat....." Harriett debated whether she should make a pit-stop in the nurse's locker-room to use her breast-pump; her enormous breasts were so heavy with milk that they were beginning to ache. Megan hadn't nursed as much during her illness, and the day had been so hectic that the dark-haired beauty hadn't had time to relieve herself of her live-giving burden. Harriett was reminded of this fact by the nagging ache in her shoulders and back; she'd worn a 42DD bra before the birth of her children; after Kaley, she'd changed to a 44D; Megan's birth required an up-grade to her present 44EE. Though many of her girlfriends envied her massive jugs, they might reconsider if they had to lug such monsters around all day. She was about to detour to the nurse's locker room when the call came over the intercom a second time. She decided to see what the Head Nurse, Irinia Kalenko, wanted before expressing her milk. It shouldn't take that long, anyway...then, blessed relief...

I plan on continuing this story further in future chapters.

This is one of my first efforts at writing, so please take that into consideration. Thanks to Patty Parker for her assistance.