The Three Signs - Book 2 - Lori
Chapter 1 - Nurse Ward
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Romantic, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, BDSM, Light Bond, Spanking, Polygamy/Polyamory, Interracial, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Water Sports, Slow,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Nurse Ward - The second book in the series; follow Will as he learns about love. Will Lori be his soulmate?
Monday Afternoon, June 21, 1976
Gradually, I felt my senses start to return. I could hear voices, but not quite make out what they were saying. Then there was light; I could see shapes, and the shapes became faces peering down at me. For an instant, I thought I saw Janelle leaning over me; no, it wasn’t Janelle, it looked like her older sister. No, that’s crazy, I told myself, she doesn’t have any sisters, and she’s an only child ... Beth, her mother, that’s who it must be. But why is she leaning over me?
I tried to push myself up, but there was a stabbing pain in my shoulder. The person that had to be Beth held me down.
“Don’t move, there’s an ambulance coming, if anything’s broken, you don’t want to move,” she said.
I tried to remember what had happened to me; I recall getting Cathy’s letter, then walking down to the music shop, and listening to a new record. Then I was going to the newsagent. I must have been hit by a car, trying to cross the laneway. My knee and shoulder were really painful, and I had a splitting headache. I was also wet and cold; I was lying in a large pothole, filled with rainwater. But I didn’t want to move, in case I had a broken bone.
Soon there were two ambulance officers with me; I could see people move the car back a bit further; the paramedics strapped a brace around my neck and knee, and then slid me onto a board. Moving me that little bit caused shooting pains in my knee, head and shoulder. I was placed on a stretcher, put in the back of the ambulance, and we were off to the hospital.
“Can you tell me your name and address, Mate,” one of the ambulance officers asked.
I gave him the details, and he asked me where it hurt, whether I could move my toes and fingers, did I have any double vision. He jotted things down on his notepad, and by then we had pulled up at the hospital entrance. I was wheeled out of the ambulance towards a throng of medical staff. Somehow I heard Beth talking to them, saying how I appeared out of nowhere, and she couldn’t stop before hitting me.
Once in one of the ER rooms, a doctor introduced himself to me, told me that I had been hit by a car, and it appeared my knee and shoulder had been damaged.
“We’ll get you to x-ray soon, to see if there’s a break,” Doctor Spence said, “but the immediate concern is the bash on your head. You must have hit it on something when you fell.”
I described what I could remember of the incident; the explosion of red light in my head, and then passing out. His concern was that the impact might have caused internal bleeding in my brain.
“If that happens, it can put pressure on the brain cells, which is what we call ‘a bad thing’.” I liked his bedside manner. “That can cause damage to the brain, which could lead to all sorts of problems, neurological deficits, even death.”
“Neurological deficits, what does that mean?” I asked. “Does that mean I could turn into a drooling imbecile?”
He laughed. “That’s probably it in layman’s term, but basically you are right. There’s no real way to see if there is anything bleeding in there, not without major surgery, which can cause its own problems. So we need to keep you under observation, ask you what seem to be silly questions, get you to do physical tasks, to make sure the noggin is still working properly.
“Okay, first question; what is your name?”
“Will, William Turney Morris,” I replied. I felt that giving the full name would show that I could remember that.”
“And what is today’s date?”
“Monday, the twenty-first of June, 1976.”
“And where are you?”
“Mona Vale hospital, I assume.”
“That’s all good. Now squeeze my finger with your right hand, as hard as you can.” I complied. “Now do the same with your left hand.” He moved to the foot of the bed, and put his hands on the soles of my feet. “Now push against my hands with your feet, again, as hard as you can. Just flex your ankle down, as if you are using the accelerator in your car.
“That all seems good; now we’re going to get these wet clothes off you, and try to clean your head up a bit. That’s probably going to hurt, but we need to inspect the wound, make sure there’s no dirt or anything that can cause an infection.”
He called two of the nurses over, and they managed to get my jacket and shirt off, then my shoes, socks and jeans. Pulling my jeans down caused more shooting pain from my knee; so they had to cut around the knee area, so they could remove the leg of the jeans without putting too much pressure on my knee. Then they helped me up into a sitting position.
“We will have to clip some of your hair away from the wound,” the Doctor said. “We can’t really stitch it, because the skin is so thin over the skull. Instead, we will use some special surgical staples. Now, this will probably hurt as we clean stuff out.”
I gritted my teeth; I heard the sounds of them snipping the hair away, then pain as they cleaned around whatever the wound on the back of my head was. After a minute or two they had finished, and I saw them put some blood-soaked cloths in the waste bin. After that, it was up to the x-ray department, where they took several images of my knee and shoulder, then back to the ER room.
Beth was there waiting for me; looking worried.
“Oh Will, I’m so sorry,” she said, hugging me. “Are you feeling alright? When I saw it was you that I hit, I felt sick to my stomach. Janelle would never forgive me if I had killed you, or left you disabled.”
She looked at my head, then the shoulder and felt my knee.
“I don’t think anything’s broken, but the x-ray will confirm that,” she said. “The bash to your head is the big worry; do you have any pain there?”
“Just a headache, that’s all,” I replied. “I’m so sorry; I wasn’t looking properly when I ran out to cross the street.”
The doctor returned with the x-ray pictures; he put them up on a light box, and looked at them. Beth studied them with him.
“Well, nothing’s broken, Will,” he said. “There’s just some bruising and probably a sprain; we’ll put a compression bandage on it. You will be on crutches for a week or so, but there won’t be any lasting problems. The shoulder’s just bruised and scraped as well, we’ll get a dressing on that. Sister Ward, do you think you can dress that shoulder wound properly?”
Beth took great care, cleaning the cuts on my shoulder, washing the area with antiseptic, and then putting a dressing on it. She smiled at me as she was working; I felt confident that she was attending to me. Once that was done, a police officer wanted to interview me about what had happened. I told him how it was raining heavily, and I tried to run across the laneway, from one covered area to the other, without looking properly. He told me that the accident was completely my fault; but they weren’t going to charge me with anything.
“I reckon the pain you’re feeling is probably sufficient punishment,” he said. “Just remember in the future, look both ways, you may not be so lucky next time.”
I felt suitably chastened; not only had I caused the injuries to myself, but also given Beth a big scare. All because I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, my mind was occupied by thoughts about Cathy.
The doctor did a few more tests to make sure there were no problems with my brain. He asked me where I lived, and who was home. When I told him my parents were away for the week, he was reluctant to release me.
“You really need someone keeping an eye on you for the next few days,” he said. “If you start to have problems with coordination or memory, that could mean there’s bleeding in your brain somewhere, and we need to take action quickly before it causes serious problems.”
Beth suggested that I could go home with her, since she had the next few days rostered off, and would be able to change my dressings and make sure there were no neurological problems.
“I’m good friends with his parents, I’ll call them this evening to make sure everything’s okay,” she said.
I thought it would be a good idea; the possibility of the ‘neurological deficits’ worried me, so having someone who understood what to look for keeping an eye on me was reassuring. I was fitted with a pair of crutches, and Beth and I left the hospital.
“We should get some clean clothes for you,” she said. “Also, what if you get your guitar; if you play stuff for me, we can see how your coordination and memory is. I’m sure you’re sick of questions about your name and the date.”
We stopped off at my place; I struggled with the crutches to get up the back steps. I grabbed some clean clothes, my toilet bag and guitar. Beth helped carry stuff back to the car, and we drove to her place. She had to help me up the stairs; it was going to take some practice with the crutches before I was able to get around easily. By now it was approaching dinner time; Beth suggested I call my parents and let them know what had happened.
I called them at my Uncle’s place, they said all of my grandmother’s stuff had been moved in, but she had, in my mother’s words, ‘taken a turn’, and was up in the hospital under observation. The doctor suspected it was just angina, bought on by the stress of moving, but they wanted to make sure she was okay. I told them about my day, first about Cathy, and then being hit by the car. That worried them; so I put Beth on to give them all the medical details. They seemed happy that she was keeping an eye on me, and my father finished the call with ‘running across a street without looking is what I would call doing something stupid’.
For dinner, Beth heated up some beef vegetable soup; almost thick enough to be a stew. The perfect meal for a cold, wet winter’s night. After dinner, she checked my dressings, and then got me to do some coordination exercises. Touching my nose with a finger, reaching out to grab a pencil, stuff like that.
“Now, how about you play and sing,” she said. “I don’t want you to treat it like a performance; just do stuff as if you are practicing at home. We can see how your coordination and memory is going.”
I pulled the guitar from the case, checked the tuning, and tried to think of some suitable songs to play. I started with the usual set of fingering exercises that I ran through most days. I didn’t seem to have any problems with them, except for some stiffness in my shoulder. I couldn’t tap my left foot to keep time, either, but that was because of my knee preventing me from really moving my ankle.
Once I had run through most of my exercises, I played a couple of folk songs; singing softly as I played. I had no problems remembering either the music or the words; I even played one of the more challenging pieces, my merging of ‘Waltzing Matilda’ and ‘Road to Gundagai’.
“I seem to be able to play and sing without any difficulties,” I said. “I can put it away, if you want to watch the TV.”
“No, keep playing, I like it,” Beth said. “Why don’t you play more, there’s one you play that I really like, that ‘Summer Song’ one.”
“I’d prefer not play that one at the moment,” I said, and told Beth about the situation with Cathy. “That song reminds me of what she and I had earlier.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Will,” she said. “Don’t play that, then, not if it has some sad memories associated with it.”
I played a few other songs, plus some of the blue numbers; after an hour of playing I felt that I had pretty well tested out my brain. Beth suggested that I should have a shower, and she would check all the dressings, and an early night would be a good idea. She helped me to the bathroom, and supported me as I undressed. She found a plastic shower cap, and fitted that over my head, to keep the water off the wound to my scalp.
“Tomorrow afternoon we can give your hair a good wash,” she said.
She turned on the water, adjusted the temperature, and when it was right, she took off her clothes, and helped me into the shower. I was taken aback when she stripped off and joined me in the shower. I wasn’t worried about being naked in front of her; I mean, how else could I have a shower? But to have her naked, in the shower with me; I was unsure where to put my hands, I didn’t want to hold her, so I braced them against the side of the shower to keep myself steady.
Beth put some liquid soap on a washcloth, and proceeded to wash all over my body. When she squirted some soap on my prick, and started rubbing my prick and balls with her hands, I looked at her.
“We have to make sure you are clean there,” she said, winking. “Besides, I think he likes that.”
My prick was now fully erect; responding to her touching and stroking. I would challenge any straight guy not to get an erection under similar circumstances; Beth was an attractive woman, despite being seventeen years older than me. She was in the shower with me, naked, stroking my cock – so why wouldn’t it get hard? I tried to think about the fact that she was Janelle’s mother, the fact that at the start of the year, Janelle and I had made love several times, including in this very shower, and if Janelle knew just what was going on, she would be very upset. Those thoughts were quickly blown out of my mind when Beth rinsed the soap from my prick and bent down to plant a kiss right on the tip of my knob.
“Now, let’s see about those scrapes and grazes on your shoulder, and bandage your knee up,” she said as she turned off the water.
She dried me off; patting the parts of my body that were injured, and then had me sit down on the stool in front of the vanity. She removed the dressing from my shoulder, and made some noises to herself as she checked the wound.
“I’m going to put some more antiseptic on it,” she said.
It stung as she cleaned around the cuts and grazes, and when that was done she put a fresh dressing on it. Then she wound the bandage back on my knee, and helped me up.
“It might be an idea to sleep in my bed tonight,” she suggested. “That way, if anything happens to you, I’ll be right there.”
She helped me across the hallway to her bedroom, pulled back the covers and arranged the pillows. She indicated the side of the bed closest to the door.
“That side will be more convenient if you need to get up for a pee in the night,” she said.
I rested the crutches against the dresser, and sat on the edge of the bed. Beth helped swing my legs up and around, and assisted me to lie back on the pillows.
“Comfortable?” she asked, and I nodded.
She leant over me, held my prick in her hand, and placed her lips around my knob. She sucked gently, taking my knob completely inside her mouth. She swished her tongue around my knob, before sliding her lips down over my shaft, taking my whole prick into her mouth.
Any thoughts that I might have had about this not being a good idea had evaporated completely. All I could think about was her mouth around my cock, how damn good she was at sucking me off. I looked down at where Beth was sucking; I could see her two breasts, large and round; with big, erect dark brown nipples. I had a sudden desire to suck those lovely melons; to take each hard nipple into my mouth in turn.
“You like?” she asked, as she pulled her mouth from my prick with a wet “plop”sound.
“Uh-huh”, I managed to say.
She knelt on the bed, straddling my waist. I could see her pussy; the thick, dark hair already looking wet. Through the hair I could see two plump, wet lips, already starting to open. She placed her hands on her breasts, caressing them and tweaking her nipples.
“Would you like to on suck these?” she asked, as if she was reading my mind.
She didn’t wait for my response; she just leant forward, until her breasts were pressing against my cheeks. All I needed to do was turn my head slightly and there it was; a lovely firm nipple, surrounded by a puckered areola, pressed to my mouth. I opened my lips and drew her lovely firm nipple into my mouth. As I sucked, I took more of her boob into my mouth, and I suckled at her like I was a hungry baby.
I could feel her rubbing her pussy against my prick; she was rocking back and forward, letting her wet labia slide around my shaft. Before I could say anything, she had reached down and pushed my prick up, and with her next move backward I slide inside her. She sat upright, and I could see her smiling broadly as she started rising up and down. She wasn’t as skilled at riding me as Megan was, and I wondered just how Jillian would be to have sex with. Megan claimed she was more experienced than her, and it was Jillian that had suggested some of the great moves and techniques that made making love with Megan so enjoyable.
Beth continued riding me; increasing her speed until she was pounding up and down, causing my prick to slide deeply into her. It did feel great having this sexy older woman fucking me; it had been a while since I had last had sex. Watching Beth as she was fucking me, pleasuring herself on my cock was very erotic. Her full breasts were bouncing up and down, and I imagined just what it would be like to fuck her tits.
She cried out as she came, short little gasps of pleasure each time she thrust down on me. I was also close to coming; she kept riding me, and I pushed up into her matching her downward movements. I groaned loudly as I started spurting inside her; she let herself collapse forward and we kissed.
“How is your head feeling?” Beth asked me. “Has your headache gone?”
Actually, it had gone; there was just a background ache from the gash in my skull, plus the throbbing from my shoulder and knee. Considering what I had been through earlier, I felt pretty good.
“No, there’s no headache at all,” I replied. “Must have been all those endorphins released recently.”
“Sex is a great natural way to deal with pain,” she said. “Now you should try to get some sleep.”
She rolled off me, and lay by my side, her head on my shoulder. I put an arm around her, and she snuggled up to my chest. I closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
Lessons with Beth
June 22 - 24, 1976
I was woken by Beth leaning over my groin, sucking my cock. She quickly had me erect and hard, and mounted me, just like she had done the night before. After we had both come, she stayed sitting astride my waist, with a sly grin on her face.
“Do you like waking up that way?” she asked. “You can’t beat sex for helping you heal, once your knee isn’t so painful, we can try some other positions, too. How about a shower?”
She helped me out of bed to the bathroom, where we had another nice shower. Once again, she made sure I was completely clean, including my prick and balls, before drying me, and checking my injuries. She replaced the dressing on my shoulder, pleased with the way it was healing, and put the bandage back around my knee.
“Later this afternoon I’ll give your hair and scalp a good wash,” she said. “The wound should have started to cover up, and there’s probably still some dried blood around there, which I’ll clean up.”
While we were having breakfast my parents called to see how I was doing. I told them I was feeling much better after a good night’s sleep, the various cuts and grazes were healing well, and my knee was feeling a bit better. Beth gave me the standard set of neurological brain tests, to make sure there was no problems with my mental processes, then got a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope, took my blood pressure and pulse rate, and stuck a thermometer under my tongue.
“I should have taken your vital signs last night,” she said. “BP’s 120 over 80, pulse is 60, temperature is 37. All pretty good. How is the shoulder and knee feeling?”
I told her they were still feeling a bit tender, but not aching like they were yesterday.
“We should do some practice with your crutches,” she said. “Get you accustomed to using them, get you up and down the stairs. Stand up, let me check them out.” She looked at how they fitted, felt under my armpits where they were resting. “They seem to be adjusted properly.”
She got me “walking” up and down the length of the hallway; telling me to take smaller steps, and getting into a rhythm of swinging my legs forward to just in front of the crutches, then moving the crutches forward, and so on. After a few minutes I got the hang of it, and then we moved onto a more difficult task – the stairs. We spent the next fifteen minutes going up and down the stairs from her door to the parking area. This was much harder, but again, once I got into the rhythm of moving the crutches, then my legs, it became easier.
We took a break after a while, I was starting to get a bit out of breath, and my hands and arms were getting sore. We sat in the living room, and Beth did more of the neuro tests. By now I was good at touching the tip of my nose with a finger, and all of the other coordination exercises she put me through. I decided to do some guitar practice; no sense in letting that get rusty. There wasn’t really much else to do; every so often I would look out the window; the rain was still pouring down steadily.
After we ate lunch, Beth suggested we do something a little different this afternoon.
“How about you help me trim my pubic hair?” she suggested. “It’s gone a bit wild over winter; I normally keep myself neat and trim in summer, when I would be wearing a bikini. Let’s go to the bedroom, I’ll get the stuff we’ll need.”
She spread a large towel out across the bed, and got a small bowl of warm water, a liquid soap container, some wash cloths, and a razor from the bathroom. She also had a small, battery powered trimmer; the kind a barber would use to trim a man’s beard or sideburns. She stripped her clothes off, and lay on the bed, her backside on the towel.
“Now, you can get between my legs and tidy me up,” she said.
I got undressed, and knelt between her legs. Her pubic hair was thick, dark and plentiful; she certainly had the hairiest pussy that I had seen. Not that I was going to tell her that!
“How do you want it trimmed?” I asked her. “Do you just want a patch at the top?”
Beth explained how she would normally trim her pubes; she would leave just a narrow strip about an inch or so long at the top of her crotch. I started with the trimmer, removing all the hair from the side of her lips, being careful to stretch the skin smooth. I could see her starting to get wet; no doubt from the touch of my fingers and the vibrations from the trimmer. Once I had the sides trimmed, I started on the top patch; trimming it so there was just a narrow strip leading up from where her labia met. I used the trimmer to shorten the hairs that were to stay; I left them at maybe a quarter to half an inch long.
I then used a washcloth to dampen the areas that I had trimmed, and put some of the liquid soap on the skin. Using the razor, I carefully shaved all of the trimmed area, leaving everything smooth and hairless. Finally, I used a fresh damp cloth to wipe away any hair and soap residue. By now she was quite wet and slippery from her own juices; her labia were all swollen and open, and I could see glimpses inside her pink, wet vagina.
“Can you pass me that mirror on my dresser?” Beth asked me. “I want to see your handiwork.”
I gave her the hand mirror, and she used it to inspect her pussy.
“Oh, that looks so much better,” she said. “You did a great job, thank you. It’s much neater than when I try to do it myself.” She spread her labia open with her fingers. “I can see right up inside me now!”
Her pussy did look rather sexy, I thought. Now that it was trimmed, with most of the thick bush removed, I could see all of her. Her inner lips were almost non-existent; just two thin strips of skin, almost tiny ridges parallel and inside her outer lips. The outer lips were thick and fleshy; looking like two ridges running from where they joined just above her clit, down either side of her vagina, and tapering off below that. Those two lips were swollen at the moment, a darker red, and very moist.
Beth put the mirror back on the side table, and lay back. She reached down, and spread her labia open again, and with her other hand, started rubbing a finger around her pussy; up and down her slit, dipping into her cunt, then spreading her juices around her clit. I moved back between her legs, wincing as I put sideways pressure on my knee. I gently moved her hands away from her pussy, and moved in so my face was very close to her. With one hand, I spread her lips open, and I put my mouth to her pussy, licking and sucking her.
Beth gasped with pleasure.
“Oh, that’s so lovely,” she said. “Can you lick ... oh, yes right there, yeah, fuck, on my clit!”
I pressed my tongue more firmly to her pussy, letting the tip push her clit first one way, then the other. With my lips around her labia, I sucked in her juices, tasting the strong, musky flavour. It was hard to recall just how some of the other women tasted; I think Janelle probably had the strongest taste of all of the other women I had been with, but Beth’s was stronger and muskier than hers. Not that it was unpleasant or nasty, just different.
I could hear Beth moaning; telling me how good it was feeling. She was giving instructions every so often; telling me to lick right where I was, or to press harder, or (quite often) not to stop what I was doing. I was amazed at just how wet she was getting; it was like somehow I had turned on a water supply with my tongue. She was almost as wet as Jenny would be after she had come and squirted; but Beth hadn’t even come yet.
She was close to coming; I could hear her moaning. As my tongue pressed firmly to her clit, she cried out; and I felt her body shaking. Her hips jerked up and down, making it difficult for me to keep my mouth on her pussy. Then, she gave a loud groan, and there was a huge surge of her wetness; all warm and musky. She didn’t squirt like Jenny; it was more a gentle gushing flowing from her cunt.
“That was ... that was something so wonderful,” she panted. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard. Now, what if you slide up, and we can try a good position, getting your prick to rub against my clit as we fuck.”
I slid up her body until my prick was against her pussy; Beth reached down to guide me into her. It was like sliding into a hot vat of melted butter. She got me to slide up a little higher, and she wrapped her legs around my thighs, pulling me into her.
“Now, don’t thrust in an out, like you normally would,” she said. “Just rock back and forward, while I’ll try to push up into you. Can you feel your cock rubbing against my clit? Fuck, that feels so damn good!”
I had to admit I couldn’t feel all that much difference myself; she was far too wet for me to discern any subtle changes. It was difficult not to thrust in and out; the only thing that kept me from doing that was the pain in my sprained knee. Just rocking back and forward wasn’t putting a lot of pressure on my knee. I could feel her breasts moving against my chest, I was tempted to raise myself up, so I could suck them, but I didn’t want to change my position from what Beth had told me to take up.
The rocking movements were causing my prick to rub against her clit; Beth was pushing up at me, and I could feel her wet pussy moving around my knob. Slowly, I was getting closer to coming, as was Beth. She urged me to rock faster, and she pushed up against me with more urgency. Suddenly, she cried out, her body shaking as she came. I could feel her cunt spasm around my cock; and she pushed on my hips moving me a bit lower.
“Now fuck me hard!” she exclaimed. “Pump into me, Will!”
I raised myself up on my hands, and started thrusting in and out. She moaned as my prick pushed deep into her, and I could feel my knob sliding into her, spreading her cunt apart. I closed my eyes, tensed my muscles, and with a final, deep thrust, exploded into her. I held myself still inside her as my cock spurted.
When I had finished, I lowered myself so I was again lying on her chest. She unwrapped her legs around my thighs, put her hands around my shoulders, and kissed my lips, hard. Her tongue pushed between my lips, and stabbed at my own tongue. She moved a hand up to the back of my head, and pressed my face to hers.
After a minute or two, we stopped kissing, and I rolled off her, and lay on my back. I felt exhausted; my knee was aching, and my grazed shoulder was hurting as well. Beth rolled on to her side, and traced her fingers lightly across my chest.
“I guess other women have told you just how fantastic you are at giving oral sex,” she said. “It’s been so long ... I can’t remember exactly the last time a guy went down on me, and even that was just okay. Even then, guys go on as if they are doing you a huge favour, and you are in debt to them big time.”
“Did you and Janelle’s father...” I started to ask her.
“Oh, yes, we did that, and a lot, lot more,” she said. “But after we were forced to split up, and he went into the army, and I started my nursing career, it was years before I started dating again. I really didn’t feel like seeing men, and then when I heard that he had been killed, in Vietnam, I was upset for a while. When you are a single mother, raising a child, you don’t have a lot of spare time. Most men don’t want someone who already has a kid; so it has only been in recent years that I’ve been dating.
“I had to be fairly discrete, too, with Janelle at home, I couldn’t bring guys home, not to stay overnight, I was self-conscious of what she might think about her mother having sex with other men. Besides, there haven’t been all that many that I’ve met who have interested me; not ones who were available, at least. I’m not looking at being some married guys ‘piece on the side’, that’s not what I want.”
I didn’t want to tell her that Janelle would not have had any concerns about her mother having a boyfriend; I’m sure Janelle would want to see her happy that way. It did make me think of how difficult a life Beth must have gone through; forced to give up the young man she was in love with, the loneliness of not having a partner for so long, the heartbreak of discovering her first love’s death. We fell into an uneasy silence; I felt that I had intruded into a personal, private side of Beth’s life.
“I should have a look at to see how the wound on your scalp is healing,” she said, “and give your hair a good wash. Come on, up and into the bathroom.”
She helped me up into the bathroom; as she got off the bed I could see a very large wet spot that had been right underneath her pussy. I could see the wetness glistening on the inside of her thighs. We had a quick shower first; she used the handheld showerhead to wash and rinse around her crotch.
“You managed to get me rather wet and sticky there,” she said with a grin.
Once we were dry, she put a seat in front of the vanity, told me to sit with my back to the sink, and started to run the water. She closely inspected the wound on my scalp, parting my hair so she could see how it was healing. Satisfied, she wetted my hair, and put some liquid shampoo on.
“Good old Johnson’s baby shampoo,” she said. “You’ll want to use it for the next week or so, until the wound is completely healed. You don’t want to get strong shampoo on the open wound.”
She massaged my scalp, washing all the dried blood crust around the edge of the wound away. Once that was done, she rinsed my hair completely with clean, warm water, and patted it dry. Finally, she put some antiseptic liquid on a cotton ball, and applied that to the wound. It stung a bit as she did that, so I gritted my teeth as she finished treating the wound. With my head done, she replaced the dressing on my shoulder, checking to see how that was healing, and did the same with my knee.
“Everything is healing well,” she said. “Now let’s see how your brain is going.”
She asked the usual questions, to see if I could still remember common things. Then there were the coordination tests, touching my nose, squeezing her fingers, all to make sure that my brain and muscle control was still fine.
“Okay, time for us to get dressed, and you to do some more practice on the stairs with the crutches,” she said.
She pushed me harder this afternoon; since the rain had cleared, we went out to the car park, and I went up and down, from the top of the driveway to the back of the property several times. What is the term for ‘hobbling on crutches’; crutching? When the rain started again, we went back inside the stairwell, and she had me going up and down all three flights until my arms were aching. Beth was an unrelenting task master; she wouldn’t let me stop and take a break until I had climbed and descended the stairs at least twelve times.
Finally, we took a break; we sat down in the living room. I picked up my guitar, and decided to practice some blues chord patterns and licks, while Beth prepared dinner. After dinner we watched TV for a little while; after watching the nightly news on Channel 2, we watched “Rush”, then a repeat of a Benny Hill show episode. We decided we had watched enough television, so Beth helped me undress and get into bed. Once we were in bed, she lay next to me, and started to stroke my cock.
“What would be your favourite fucking position?” she asked me. “Do you like having the woman on top, astride you, riding you? Or do you prefer to be on top?”
“I guess it depends on just what sort of mood I’m in” I replied. “Both can be nice, and there are other positions that I enjoy, too.”
“Doggy style?” she suggested. “Most guys seem to like that, and provided they don’t try to fuck too hard or deep, it’s pleasurable for the woman, too. Although there are some who don’t like it; they think the position is a bit degrading or something like that. I’ve always liked that one, but I’ve heard from some women who are short, and whose vaginas aren’t all that long, that some guy really pound into their cervix, which can be painful.”
Now that she had coaxed my prick into an erect state, she swung a leg across my waist, straddling me. She slowly lowered herself onto my cock; guiding my knob between her wet lips, and into her waiting cunt.
“My favourite position would be this one,” she said. “I can control the pace, just how deep you enter me, and I love being able to see your face as we are fucking.”
She rose up and down slowly; letting her cunt slide along the full length of my cock. Her eyes were closed (despite having just said she loved being able to see my face), and her hands were clutched on her breasts. I decided that I really had to give Beth a tit fuck before I went back home; they were fuller than Janelle’s, with big dark brown aureoles. I pictured my cock sliding between them; she would press those mounds against my shaft, and try to lick my knob as I thrust forward between them. Maybe tomorrow we would try that? Right now, I concentrated on Beth riding me, and fucking me.
She increased her pace, and I matched her movements, thrusting up into her as she slid down onto me. I tried not to push too deep into her, but she rammed down hard on my prick, squeezing her muscles tight as she rose back up. Had she not been holding her breasts, they would have been bouncing up and down as she rode me. I reached up with my hands, pushing her own hands out of the way so I could caress and squeeze her breasts. I rubbing my thumbs over her hard nipples, and she moaned with pleasure.
She wasn’t just riding me up and down; rather she moved her hips in a circular pattern. I imagined this was done to rub her clit against the base of my cock, or to make my knob rub a sensitive location inside her. Whatever the reason for her movements were, they were certainly effective; she had already come once, and was well on the way to her second orgasm. I had clenched my muscles; my prick was tensed inside her. I moved my hands down to her hips, guiding her as she rode me, and helping to slide deeper into her.
A few more thrusts and we both came. I held her hips, pulling her tight against me as Beth ground her pussy into my groin. She groaned softly, then whimpered as soon as she had finished, lying down on my chest. I placed my hands around her back, holding her to me. We lay together, with my prick still inside her, for a few minutes until she rolled off me.
“That was a nice way to end the day,” she said. “For some reason, I’m feeling rather tired; it’s been a very exhausting day, I’m not used to all this activity.”
“Same here; you were a slavedriver with all that going up and down the stairs,” I said. “I am going to sleep well.”
She turned over on her side, with her back to me, and I lay curled up against her back, my hand over her side and resting on a breast. Soon she had drifted off to sleep, and I must have done so as well. I woke up sometime in the middle of the night; I could hear the storm outside, the wind howling and the rain beating against the window. I pulled Beth closer to me; she arched her back and rubbed her arse against my prick. She reached around behind her backside, and took my prick in her hand, and guided it between her thighs, rubbing my knob along her wet slit.
Before long, I was hard, and I changed my position slightly. My knob pushed into her open cunt. She moaned softly as I entered her, and I could feel my knob spreading her inner walls apart. I rocked back and forward, letting my prick plunge in and out. Before long I was spurting inside her, and I held her to me as I drifted back to sleep.
I was woken up by Beth kneeling over me, sucking my cock. I looked down at where her mouth was bobbing up and down; her breasts were hanging down and swinging back and forward. I tried to imagine how it would feel, sliding my prick between them. She quickly had my prick to full size, and was licking around my swollen knob.
“Why don’t you move up here,” I said to her. “I can return the favour.”
She sat up, and grinned, licking her lips. She moved to straddle my face, and lowered her pussy so it was just above my mouth. Her lips were already plump and moist, just starting to spread open. I grabbed her hips, and pulled her pussy to my mouth. I pushed my tongue between her labia, lapping along her slit. I could taste her sweet, musky juices as my tongue moved around; I pushed the tip inside her, placing my lips around her labia and sucking as I licked. I could feel her lovely juices flowing copiously as I licked and sucked; I started to concentrate my licking on and around her clit.
Beth came quickly; moaning and shaking. When she had finished, she moved down to impale her cunt with my prick; she slid down, taking my full length inside her. She then slowly rose up until just the tip of my knob was inside her, and then plunged down quickly. She kept repeating those movements; slowing rising, holding her position with my barely inside her, then quickly down until I was completely inside her.
I was amazed at how quickly and how often Beth was able to reach orgasm; I guessed it had something to do with how infrequently she had sex. She had only been riding me for a minute before she had her second orgasm of the morning; crying out loudly as she did. She kept fucking me though; and I was soon spurting inside her.
“I love waking up and having a wild fuck,” she exclaimed. “It gets me in the right mood for the day.”
She helped me up off the bed, and to the bathroom, where we had a nice, hot shower. It was still cold and raining outside, so after breakfast we sat in the living room, listened to some music and talked about random stuff – how she got into nursing, how her mother prevented the ‘authorities’ from putting Janelle into the foster system as soon as she was born, the challenges of being a single mother when there was little support from the community.
She said how when it was time for Janelle to be born, her mother got sufficient supplies, and helped her give birth at home. They didn’t want to go to the local hospital, because quite often, when a single mother had a child, the doctors and nursing staff at the hospital would not let the mother see her child at all, and would force her to sign adoption papers. Beth and her mother were adamant that would not happen to her.
“My mother said the head doctor from the hospital up there threatened to refuse to register the birth, unless I had the baby delivered in his hospital,” she said. “Then my mother said something like ‘now, I guess the hospital board might be interested to know about the circumstances why one of the top registrars left a big hospital like John Hunter. Maybe that nurse that was sacked after you were discovered in a private room with her might have an interesting story to tell about your bedside manner’. He shut up after that, and there was never a problem with the hospital, or threats to remove Janelle.”
I thought about how much society had changed in the past decade or two; in the past, single mothers weren’t just shunned by society, but their children were taken from them, often against their wishes. Now there were pensions and other support systems to help single parents raise their children.
After lunch, Beth changed the dressing on my wounds, putting some antiseptic on them, including my scalp. Then it was time for more practice on the crutches; up and down the stairs many times. I was getting the hang of using the crutches, and I was able to go up and down the stairs reasonably quickly. It was good exercise, too; this day I wasn’t as exhausted as I was the day before. I didn’t know for how long I would need to use the crutches, but next week when I was working on a vacation project back at Uni, I would have to be able to get around the buildings.
“You know I have to go back to work tomorrow,” she said as we were preparing dinner. “You’ll be alright on your own, at home? Just remember that if you get a bad headache, or have trouble with your coordination or memory, call the hospital immediately, and ask to talk to Doctor Spence, or have me paged if he’s not available.”
“I should be fine, besides, if something in my noggin was going to bleed, it would have started by now, shouldn’t it?” I replied.
“Yeah, but just in case,” she said. “If you’re going to wash your hair, remember to use the Johnson’s Baby shampoo until the wound is completely healed. You know you have to go back on Monday to get those staples removed, and for them to check on how it’s healing.”
There wasn’t anything on the TV that we wanted to watch, so Beth suggested we get to bed early. She wanted to know if there was anything “special” that I would like to do on our last night together.
“Well, there is one thing,” I started to say. “Um, what if I was to slide my cock between your breasts?”
“A tit-fuck?” she replied. “I would love that, provided that when you come, you slide your knob into my mouth, so I can taste your come. I want you to lick me first, what if I straddle your face?”
We undressed, and I lay on the bed. Beth straddled my face, and I could see the wetness already starting to coat her pussy lips. Placing my hands on her hips, I pulled her lower, so my lips and tongue could lick and taste her. She came quickly and told me to keep licking. She came twice more before she rolled off; the inside of her thighs were slick with her juices. Beth lay on her back, with her legs spread, and with her hands covered her breasts with her wetness.
“You should be able to slide easily between them,” she said.
I straddled her waist, positioning my stiff cock between her breasts. She pressed them together, holding my cock tight between them. I started rocking back and forward, watching as I could see my knob slide out from between them. I placed my hands on top of her breasts, rubbing her nipples as I fucked her lovely tits.
“I’ve always wanted someone to do this to me,” she said, moaning as I teased her erect nipples. “Keep rubbing my nips like that ... oh yeah!”
I kept fucking her tits slowly, steadily, closing my eyes to savour the sensations of her soft breasts rubbing along my shaft. I loved how the wetness she had spread between her breasts was now all over my knob. I started fucking her tits faster, feeling my orgasm getting closer.
“I want you to come in my mouth, remember,” Beth said. “When you are about to come, just slide right forward, and I’ll suck your cock as you spurt.”
I was only a few more strokes away; just when I felt I was about to come, I pushed all the way forward, my knob sliding into her mouth. Beth clamped her lips around my cock, sucking and licking. I felt the hot surge of come up my shaft, clenched my muscles and started spurting. Beth swallowed everything, and then licked my cock clean when I was finished.
“That was my dessert,” she said, licking her lips.
She rolled over to face me, and licked my face where her juices had flowed over me while I was licking her pussy.
“All clean now, do you mind if we go to sleep? I’m sure I’ll have a busy day at work tomorrow,” she said.
We curled up together, just like the previous night. I had a hand on one of Beth’s breasts, and her arse was pressed comfortably against my prick. We drifted off to sleep; only for me to wake up a few hours later as Beth was rubbing her arse against my prick. She reached around, and guided me into her. We fucked slowly, I was content to slide in and out rather lazily, only speeding up when I was about to come. Both satisfied, we fell asleep until the alarm woke us at five-thirty.
There wasn’t time for sex when we woke up; Beth went straight to the shower; I joined her and we washed each other. Well, there wasn’t time for sex in her bed, but in the shower, she turned around to face the wall, and stuck her backside towards me. I moved in behind her, and she guided my prick inside her. I fucked her quickly, filling her cunt with my hot spunk. We then finished washing each other.
I went back to the bedroom as Beth finished getting ready; I collected my clothes and pack them in my backpack. While she was getting dressed; I made coffee for the two of us, poured some orange juice, and put toast in the toaster. By the time she was dressed in her hospital uniform, I had breakfast ready on the table for us. She kissed me, thanking me for making breakfast. We sat together and ate, neither quite sure how to break the silence.
“Will, these last few days have been a lot of fun,” she said, looking down at her plate. “I’ve enjoyed having you here, and the sex, and ... But I guess it’s something that we shouldn’t tell anyone else, do you understand? I mean, it’s not that we’ve done anything illegal, or wrong, it’s just...”
“Yeah, I understand,” I replied. “People might think it’s a bit, I don’t know, a bit strange, us sleeping together. I won’t say a word to anyone.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, reaching over to hold my hand. “I don’t regret anything I did with you. It’s been so long since I’ve had a man ... Anyway, I didn’t want you to feel that I was somehow ashamed of us having sex. Did you know, I’ve fantasised about you for years? I would lie in bed some nights, and masturbate, and imagine you were licking me, or fucking me?”
Now it was my turn to be embarrassed; I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to Beth’s revelations. But I agreed; other people wouldn’t quite understand exactly why we did what we did. We finished our breakfast, and then it was time to leave. I grabbed my guitar and backpack, and Beth helped me carry things down to her car. At my place, she drove up the driveway, and helped carry my things inside. We kissed, long and passionately, before she had to leave for work.
I carried my things to my room, sorted out what clothes needed washing. The jeans and shirt that I had been wearing on Monday were beyond saving; at the hospital they had to cut around the knee of my jeans to get them off. The shirt had been soaked with blood from my shoulder; I tossed both of them in the rag bag. I went into the family room, and started to set a fire in the fireplace; with the house shut up for a few days it felt cold and damp. A fire would improve things.
Once I had the fire going, I walked (crutched?) down to the mail box, to see if anything important had arrived. There was what looked like a few bills for my father, a letter from the Musicians’ Union and a letter from Janelle for me. I put the bills on the counter; I would open them when I next spoke to my parents. The letter from the Musicians’ Union was just a circular, reminding members that they offered discounted tax preparation services for members; always useful with tax time approaching. I put the letter from Janelle to one side; I really didn’t feel like reading it right now, not with the memories of having sex with her mother still fresh in my mind.
I wandered into the living room; there was the new telephone answering machine with its red call indicator light blinking. I pressed the “play” button.
“Will, this is Lori. It’s about ten-thirty on Monday morning, can you call me when you get this.”
There was a second message.
“Will, Lori again, it’s just before noon on Monday. Please, give me a call and let me know you are all right.”
Shit, I really should have called her. There were several more recorded messages from her, later that day and into Tuesday. Each time she was sounding more and more worried. I wonder if Cathy had told her about the letter that she had sent to me. She probably did; the three of them kept in regular touch. I should call her, tell her what happened; at least with the car hitting me. I didn’t intend telling Lori – or anyone – what Beth and I had been up to. I dialled her number.
“Hi Lori, Will here,” I said when she answered.