Coma

by HAL

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Humor, .

Desc: Sex Story: A motorcyclist wakes up in a coma after a crash. This is his story of the road to recovery with the help of five lovely and generous women

“SO sad, he had his whole life ahead of him.”

These were the words that first greeted me when I came out of the black swirling mist I’d been unconsciously languishing in. At first I wished to go back. All I had done was gain consciousness in a body that was entirely unresponsive. Not a muscle twitched, my breathing and heart continued autonomically but I had no control over the least part of my body, not even an eyelid. I was staring at the ceiling and unable even to look to the side.

Inside I screamed. I’d been going too fast, I knew that. I was way over the speed limit, I was way faster than where I had control and it was a wonderful, exhilarating feeling as I roared down the road on the Ducati. It took the gentle left curve like it was born to be stuck to the tarmac; and even then a voice was saying ‘too fast, the bike is driving you, you haven’t the experience or skill’. I should have listened.

A car, driven by some old git who probably couldn’t see further than a hundred yards, pulled slowly out of the side turn. If he’d pulled out smartly I could have swerved round him, but he pulled the whole length of the car out before swinging left. I was heading towards a wall of car; started to swerve to the opposite side of the road and there was the white van from hell. If it had been a Transit it would have been good night Vienna. Higher see? Splat. But it was a smaller white delivery van and I hit it at 110! I know because I looked at the speedo. Why? Why not? I was going to die, nothing I could do. Except I didn’t. I hit it and arced gracefully into the air and landed in a heap of broken bits of body. And entered the black mist.

Every now and then I’d come up enough to realise I was in the black mist, then I’d drown back in again. It was all too dazing to be scary. I had no sense of time or reality. Once I thought ‘I’m dead and this is Hell’ but it was a fleeting thought that evaporated. Later I learnt that for 6 months they knitted bits together: legs, arm, pelvis. All the time there was an unspoken question, was it worth it? If I was in a coma for ever why not let this body go where the soul had already started to head for. But Mam wouldn’t give up hope, Dad was the weaker I suppose; he just wept and wept. When I became more conscious I heard him. He was a broken man. I was the only son and now I was a wreck. Mam argued, cajoled, persuaded. There was a chance, and all the while there was a chance they should keep fixing me up.

Those first words I heard were Aunty Joan, Mam’s sister. She was right, but then she didn’t need to say it. It set Dad off quietly weeping again. I love him for that. He’s got feelings and he shows them. The whole family took it in turns to visit; though after six months there had been a dropping off of enthusiasm. This afternoon my cousin was due, she didn’t want to come I know, but she was the start of what followed.

Sorry, very rude of me, let me introduce myself. Rob, surname doesn’t matter, you can find it in the newspapers anyway, Rob the Twat I call myself. If I could have said it was a momentary lapse of concentration that brought on the crash well that would have been unfortunate, but I was an idiot. Sometimes idiots are lucky, sometimes not. I wasn’t. I mean yes, the old git was driving badly and taking up the whole of my side of the road and should have seen me coming, and yes the white van was stuck out in his carriageway far too far. But they are small mistakes that every biker should be aware of all the time. I was the stupid fucking dickhead brainless speedfreak moron who didn’t read the road. Let’s be honest, no point in blaming others. I love bikes ... loved bikes ... no I still love bikes, just not riding them now. I started with a Honda Love. I know right? But Mam said she’d buy it for me and I wasn’t turning it down. I got a lot of stick for riding that to college, but it was actually the most reliable bike I ever owned. Next bike was the Honda 250, then the choice of the heart rather than the head – Triumph Bonneville 1976 version. It looked great, it ran brilliantly, when it ran. I spent a lot of time rebuilding it. Which was good for me actually. I rode it until I needed a reliable machine again for work, and the Duke just shouted at me across a road from the showroom. “Heh! Handsome, come and ride me, I’ll give you an erection for ever”, very persuasive these Italian bikes I find. I couldn’t afford it of course. It meant I had to stay living at home as I couldn’t afford the repayments and rent on a flat. But the noise it made was enough to be a waking man’s wet dream. And it killed me, nearly. Okay, okay I killed the bike (Mam sold it to Dave’s Bike Shop for spares, Dad wanted to just dump it; Mam is practical, the £100 quid she got went into my account. Then the insurance company got involved and said that technically it was theirs since they’d paid off the loan. But they were very decent about it, an assessor came round, looked at the bike in Dave’s and valued it at £10, so that’s what Mam had to pay), and nearly killed me. I’m 6 foot 2inches long, weigh a respectable 13 stone and sported a beard until a nurse said “you’ll feel better after a nice shave”. I was fuming! I’d grown that beard at college. Oh, and I’m twenty five years old. Or at least I was twenty five years old when this all started. I think I’ve had a birthday. Like I said, Janice started it.

She hated that name, when we were young I’d make fun of her ‘Janey, Janey, not very brainy’ until she’d cry and then I’d get told off. Then I’d whisper it. Yeah, yeah, not a nice kid; what can you do? Show me a boy who hasn’t teased girls. She came in to the little side ward (Littlebrow Ward, room 6, my new home) and said hello to me (I didn’t reply of course) and Mam. Then Mam went home. That was the idea, give Mam time away, otherwise she’d sit there for ever and ever in the hope that I’d suddenly wake. Janice settled down, and, give her her due, she talked to me. That was what everybody was supposed to do. She talked and talked about boys and school and teachers. Once we were alone she could be really scandalous “We’re all sure that Mr Boken” her head teacher “is poking his secretary, she’s in there far more than she needs to be. And she wears sexy underwear.” Like Janice knows, at 17, what the duties of a school secretary comprise; and how the hell does she know what knickers the secretary wears? Mind you, I’ve seen her, she’s not bad looking. “And Jerry Larkin” ‘that’s Mr Larkin to you’ I thought in my head, we were never, ever allowed to call him Jerry, but then me and my friends didn’t have sexy legs and unfeasibly short skirts and tight shirts and big cow eyes. “Jerry Larkin is gay! He is! Cindy saw him coming out of the Blue Ferret, you know, the Gay Pub on Clarence Street and she said he was definitely looking gay” What the fuck! What did that mean? And considering that he let her call him Jerry because she sometimes flashed her knickers he probably had some good red, heterosexual blood in those 50 year-old veins. Look, we might share some genes – a quarter? No an eighth I think. I get to think a lot these days – but she is nothing like me. I’m liberal, easy going and cool (well, I was. Well I thought I was), she is conservative, intolerant and really can be quite spiteful. She is also thoroughly perfect looking; typical small seventeen year old tits which are lifted and expanded to the max, narrow waist, small nearly boyish hips, tight arse, and lovely legs. Her face is pretty good too, but I suspect her willingness to spread her legs (from what I’d heard) was the main attraction. Then she dropped the bombshell “Look I can’t stay much longer, I’ve got a date”

I was being short changed. I lie in this bloody bed and expect to be talked to/at by people and here she was clearing off! Yes, of course I feel sorry for myself. She explained that she’d get changed and go and she hoped I didn’t mind. My silent mouth screamed at her “Of course I fucking mind!” but then why would a seventeen year old want to sit with a motionless lump of flesh when she could be out dancing, drinking and fucking? You got to be realistic haven’t you? So she assumed, like everybody else, that I don’t see anything, the doctors said I could hear but not see. My head had been laid sideways so I could ‘look at’ people but really it was so people felt more comfortable talking to the cabbage in the bed. She assumes I can’t see her pull her skirt out of her bag, and then her spangle top. She assumes I don’t see her pull out a bra designed to lift and pad out her smallish tits. She assumes I don’t see her pull off her jeans and tee-shirt and stand in her knickers and bra and then take off her bra facing me. Facing ME! I mean girls always turn away when they do that, even if they are sleeping with the boy, if they are just getting changed they turn away. Only if they want to get him hard do they stand there and show off their boobs. She did now because she assumes I don’t see her little cupcakes with the cherries on top. She assumes I don’t think of sucking the cherries. And then she goes “Oh, My, God!” I’d learnt that even if I couldn’t move my eyes, I could focus on different parts of the peripheral vision to get a better idea of what was round the edges. Where she was looking, where my eyes could just see, there was a tent pole in the bed! I had a boner watching my tasty little cousin strip off. She was so surprised that she did nothing to cover up at first. Then she realised what was causing my old-fashioned but very appreciative reaction. She put on her sexy bra, pointy stayed up! She put on her spangley top, and pulled on her miniscule skirt. I wished she had been planning to change her panties too, which kept me rock hard for another few minutes before it lapsed back. The catheter, I mused, was designed to cope with wee, it probably wouldn’t cope with a bunch of spunk. But I was getting ahead of myself. There was no evidence that anything more was possible. She leant in and said “We’ll keep this a secret for a little while longer, I’ll come back soon, I promise” and she kissed me. I knew she kissed me because I felt a slight muzzy effect (and she’d leant in real close and made those ‘mmmmyya’ noises), but it was enough. Old faithful came up to half mast again. “Rob! Put that down!” she laughed and left.

It’s odd how things happen. She didn’t come back for a couple of days. But in those days another event happened. One night, late it was, there was a movement at the door and two medics slipped in. I’d seen them before, they were on duty that night for all the losers and lost causes like me. In the dim I could see where he had his hand, he was doing a thorough breast examination, very commendable to make sure she had no lumps. She was concerned to examine his balls for cancer it seemed and knelt down for a close inspection. It wasn’t an examination technique I’d heard of, but he seemed to appreciate it. “Are you sure he can’t hear or see?” the female medic asked

“Yes, but even if he can, it’ll give him a thrill. He can’t tell anyone” He got that right, on both counts. If it had been light they couldn’t have failed to see the tenting bed clothes, but it was dark. I could see it, and told myself I could feel it, but also told myself I was imagining that. I was watching a live sex show! After a bit of head moving in and out over his penis and a lot of “ooohhh, oh yeah! I really want you!” and “ummmm, ammmm, immmm” this second was her since she had her mouth full. Then he pulled her up, pulled down her panties and sat her on the edge of the bed. I couldn’t see! I couldn’t see that far round and I couldn’t move. I could hear though; he was making slurping noises, he was licking her enthusiastically and it was her turn to be the “ooh, that’s ohh yes, mmmm, more like that. Ahhhhhhh!” and she came, seemed he had kept himself back for the finale. Now she had come he stood and pulled her to her feet, turning her round they kind of rotated up the bed a bit, back into my view. Again, how could they miss the massive prick holding up the sheets? And, humility aside, it is a massive prick when it’s fully erect. She was bent over forward across my bed and I saw him lift her skirt and feel his way in. Once he’d connected he just rammed home, she groaned like that was the best thing ever. I reckon she was wishing it was all over but after all she’d come so it was his turn. Thing is, is there an equivalence between a bit of cunnilingus and a good meaty fuck from behind? No, I didn’t think so either. Still she wasn’t going to object was she? What could she say? “Whilst we were on duty Dr – gave my cunt a good licking and I came and then he insisted on turning me round and fucking me like a piece of meat, and it’s not fair!” No, not one that most hearings would listen to with a whole lot of sympathy. Unless he was in a position of power over her of course, and I don’t think he was. He came with enough noise to wake me up! That would have been funny. ‘Man wakes up from coma because of frantic sex on his bed’. But then the two of them would have turned it round and said they were experimenting with a new treatment. Doctors always win. Anyway he oohed and aaahed and then used some of the wipes (for wiping my drool) to wipe his cock off. He left her to wipe her own crack. A real gentleman this one. They dressed and left and I’m left and thinking about what I’m missing. I’d seen her tits when his hands weren’t all over them. I’d seen his cock – boring, not into cock. I’d seen his hand up her skirt and then his dick going the same way. Never saw her cunt, that stayed out of eyeline or under the skirt. But still, all very, very enticing and teasing. Like being tied down and made to watch! Still, maybe like a porn movie, it was still quite pleasurable; and actually quite nice knowing a secret like this, even if I couldn’t tell anyone.

She came back, Janice that is. The doctors came in and out a few times doing all their doctory things and I found myself trying to work out the relationships, who looked up to whom professionally, sexually, gender-wise, all that. It passed the time. Janice, though, she was cleverer than she seemed. She picked a time when she knew things were quiet. Mam was glad of the time off and went away and Janice was left looking at me; and I was left looking blankly into space and wondering madly what she had in mind. Then I found out, she reached under the bed clothes and grasped my cock and started to rub it. At first I knew she was doing it, I could see she was, but I felt nothing. But slowly the feeling grew in my head that I had feeling in my cock. It grew erect! I was a coma patient with the ability to get the massive hardon. I thought about trying to communicate by one stick semaphore. No that wouldn’t work. I was starting to enjoy it, I didn’t know how it would end. Then “What the hell do you think you are doiiinnnggg” the nurse’s voice tailed off. At first she thought Janice was some kind of weird, sex freak; then she saw the rigid prick and added “Oh. My. God” Not sure if that was just because it was up or because she was impressed by the size. I like to think it was partly the latter. “We have to tell Dr. Gallows, no, no, wait! No. I don’t know”

All this time Janice, in a low cut tee-shirt that shows a lot of her small bust when she is leaning over like this, is still rubbing up and down.

“Wait, umm, let me take out the catheter” The nurse pulled back the sheets and pulled it out and then said “Are you his girlfriend?” Janice made a sensible noncommittal answer, not sure how the NHS regards cousins jacking each other off in hospitals. Janice carried on rubbing and the nurse turns the lock in the door “I’ll say you were upset and I was giving you privacy if I’m asked”. And then I came! With a vengeance. Nothing better to do so maybe I made more semen than usual? No, probably not. Anyway it had been a while, and I’d never seen me come quite like this before. When I was on my own it would either be under the sheets or in the shower. Here it was a fucking public firework display. Her hand was covered in white globules of spunk as the white fountain spirted up. I wanted to groan in pleasure but nothing came. Pity, again that would be one for The Sun “Cousin brings back boy with a handjob”. The monitors were happy to be doing more than beeping at a slow steady rate. The heart rate monitor was in overdrive. I wonder how they explained that. Six months, six months! A month awake (kind of) even, well there was a lot to wait for. I loved it. I loved Janice at that moment. The doctors didn’t see a prick sticking up when it nearly stabbed them, but Janice had seen and taken action. The nurse, Nurse Chataway, she patted Janice on the shoulder and then kissed me on the forehead! “Well done, what’s your name?”

“Janice”

“Well done Janice, well done for realising it was possible. It’s a first I think, no-one in a coma has ever had sex...” she stopped, it wasn’t full sex of course, but I could see how her mind was working. Was I going to get to fuck Janice? “You aren’t really his girlfriend are you?” I never learned how she realised, probably because of the intermittent visiting.

“No, I’m his cousin”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t tell Doctor Gallows yet” She pronounced doctor like it couldn’t be abbreviated to Dr. “He is very impressive”

“I think he can hear you”

“Oh, yes, well, you’re very impressive Rob. I wish my old boyfriend had had a co-” she suddenly realised that the girl still on her knees beside my bed was scarcely legal, she stopped telling her and me her secrets; but we’d got the idea. “The thing is, Rob, for you to ejaculate” she started being a little starchy and NHS rather than raunchy and Carry On film “you must have felt something, I don’t think men can come just by thinking about sex. Unlike women, we can” Janice looked at her, her eyes said ‘really? I’ll have to practice’ “So that means you have some nerves working. The question is, are they recovering or were they always there?”

I realised that this nurse’s thirst for medical knowledge might well bring compensations. “Does he have a girlfriend?”

Janice can be right mean when she wants to be, she replied “No, he’s probably a virgin”

“I doubt that, but as long as he hasn’t a girlfriend than we won’t be betraying anyone”

They arranged to meet up and have another go, which I wasn’t sorry to hear. And three days later we found ourselves in the same position. I held on for as long as possible this time and Janice started getting tired, Rebecca (she had introduced herself to Janice, I figured that with what we were doing – or they were doing to me – I could call her Rebecca too) took over and I happily coated her hand with creamy-white, sticky goo. Inside I was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Whatever else it was doing, it was giving me some more interest in life; it was time to apply some experimentation of my own. The next time I studiously avoided getting a full erection. It started up and then I made it droop, then half up again. After a while they stopped and talked “Is he losing interest?

“I don’t know, most men would be fine. But he’s not most men, this is a very strange situation. Perhaps he needs more stimulus”, she looked at Janice, looked at me, and unbuttoned the top of her uniform, then she pulled her bra down to show two large, very sexy breasts. She had massive, huge, red discs round each nipple. I’ve never seen them so large, okay I haven’t seen many. Janice looked open mouthed, said

“Wow, they are lovely” and pulled off her own top. I couldn’t resist any longer and my rubber bone became a woody one. Life was becoming just that little bit better – from a very low point to a low point with compensations. They took it in turns to rub my boner and as they did so their tits wobbled. Rebecca’s moved like they had a life of their own, they wibbled and gyrated; if I could have moved my eyes I would have followed the nipples as the vibrated up and down and left and right as she vigorously stroked my cock. Janice watched and then did similar things to me; her tits, being smaller, vibrated more in time with her own movements. They were nearly conical and very firm. My one (one? There could have been many) disappointment was that I couldn’t grab them, suck them, lick them, nibble them. When we were much younger, when I was 12, she had been five one visit and on a picnic I’d seen her drop her knickers and pee behind a bush. I remembered that. I don’t think I was pervert, I was just a normal boy getting interested in why girls were different. Of course now every 12 year old has probably seen anal sex on the internet, I just got to see a 5 year old having a pee. When she reached the age to be more interesting – say about thirteen – I was 20 and wasting my seed in Lucy Beaker. Lucy was my first real sexual partner, we were together for 3 years and in that time we did everything. I’d had girls before, but only as the occasional blow job or fuck behind the dancehall. Once behind the toilets after school at the end of term. That was the best because of the danger of being caught! But Lucy was up for nearly anything if you bought her enough JagerMeister. I don’t think she really enjoyed it (the sex, not the booze, she enjoyed that right enough). She was just a slut. No, no, not fair. She was fulfilling what she knew boys/men wanted. That makes me the slut; and I was for a while. But she got bored, and boring. She moved on to threesomes with the Ryan twins. Not my thing, at least not two male, one female threesomes. Rebecca and Janice was different, two girls and me I could deal with (though really they were dealing with me).

When I came that time the heart rate monitor was nearly off the chart. I was clearly very excited! Well, I knew I was, but anybody checking the read out would too. A couple of days later I was starting to think of how to get these two lovelies to give me oral too. How do you communicate when you can’t communicate? It turned out to be easier than I thought. As they started to rub me again the female medic walked in. To give her her due, she didn’t shout the place down and get Rebecca sacked. She was shocked, but not, I thought, as shocked as I’d expect a doctor to be who found a patient being masturbated by a nurse and a visitor. She asked, in very unladylike language, what was going on “What the fuck do you two fucking well think you are doing?” Only she said it with a well-educated Oxbridge accent so it sounded more like a comedy sketch than anything. I was glad it was her and not Dr. I-Think-I’m-God’s-Gift-To-Women. I’d decided he was a turd, and a pretty stupid one at that.

“Look, doctor. He has some nervouse responses” She was actually ahead of them, she’d realised that I think.

“Does he respond fully?”

“Sorry?” Janice wasn’t into euphemisms, she didn’t understand. The nurse kept quiet.

“Does he reach a full state of engorgement and satisfaction?”

“What?”

“Does he cum?”

“Oh, yes. But...” but what? I’d cum every time, even if I had persuaded them to show me their tits to help it along.

“ ... We’ve found that hand rubbing isn’t enough” Dr. Emily Jones had her hand around my cock already, she wanted to test my hardness I think, but now she was raising and lowering her hand. Actually I’d happily cum in that lovely hand. “We found that we had to expose our ti- ... our upper chests to encourage him.” The doctor nodded knowledgeably, of course you’d need to provide fantasy views. She hadn’t clicked that that meant I could see. “Should we, umm, all do that?” Rebecca locked the door, I noticed she was smirking. Slowly, with some considerable hesitation, Emily Jones M.D. embarked on my treatment by undoing her white coat and then her blouse, and then her bra. She was even bigger than the nurse, but her areoles were smaller. Still I’d have sucked on those tits very contentedly! Equally slowly, but with no hesitation, the other two also showed off their breasts. They could have undressed much quicker but they didn’t want to be ahead of their new recruit. Then Janice dropped the bombshell. “We find that he gets to a certain peak of excitement but then to reach full pleasure we have to apply some lip action”. Dr Jones looked at her, but Janice kept a straight face and came over to kiss my face to hide her smile. Rebecca was stroking my legs – even though I couldn’t feel it – she didn’t want Emily to pass the responsibility to one of the other two.

Even more hesitantly the doctor leant forward and started to take in the head of my cock. Rebecca and Janice stood slightly behind and watched with a smile each. I would have smiled hugely. I hadn’t had to do anything to get a blow job, Janice had done it for me. She really was a devious cow! She hadn’t thought it through though, I was determined not to cum anymore for anything less than being sucked off. I wondered how long this would last though. It clearly did raise questions that ought to be answered. Was my cock the only bit of me that had nerves connected up properly still? If so, why? How? But if not, how to find any other parts that could be re-enervated. In one sense the sex organ was the easiest to be manipulated by gentle and pleasant stimulation. Doctors have traditionally stuck pins in patients to test for response. Thank fucking hell that they hadn’t tried that on my todger! Doctor Emily Jones was now fully engaged in sucking me off. Since she had experience in this field, as I knew, she was quite good. She got into the mood and, as I’ve already suggested, I had a good sized tool that allowed a firm hand on the shaft and still plenty of room to get the laughing gear round the rest. The other two women somehow transferred their attention from me to her and were stroking her tits; that did it for me! I couldn’t cope. From there point of view I was this unmoving body with a staring face; only the heart monitor showed that they had any effect (until I came of course, then it was fairly obvious); inside my brain I was exploding with desire and lust. Of course with brain sensors some of this might have been more obvious, but to the medical fraternity I was a cabbage so they hadn’t bothered. Janice engineered to have her hand behind the doctor’s head. I saw her do it, she was stroking her head but putting pressure on as well. When my penis started throbbing and pumping my little fountain out, she made sure Emily stayed wrapped round it and got it full into her mouth. I was starting to like my little bitch of a cousin. The doctor pulled away and looked up, her lips were drooling my spunk and she had a massive grin on her face! “This is a medical miracle! We should tell Doctor Gallows!” She wiped her mouth with her hand and then wiped her hand on her white coat. I definitely liked her now, she wasn’t shocked or disgusted. She liked giving me oral sex! “No, wait. If we tell him, he’ll want to stick pins in Rob’s penis to test reaction; and he’ll want us to demonstrate this, umm, technique; and he’ll want to publish a paper with his name on the top.

I’m pretty sure Rob won’t want the pin test.

I’m damn sure I’m not providing a demonstration to a bunch of salacious” I saw Janice look confused, I wanted to say ‘it means pervy’ “male doctors.

And I’m even more sure that he’s not getting the credit. You two deserve the main credit, if you agree, I’ll write a paper and be the third author” I liked her, she wasn’t aggressively ambitious. I wondered how she’d write a paper describing my unique ability without saying “the patient was given an energetic blow job to suck him off...”

Damn right I didn’t want the pin test. I’d already realised there would be another option too. Electrical stimulation to make me have erections and ejaculations; no more pretty girls doing things to me that I had mostly only dreamt of. Yes, yes, I had dreamt of doing them to Janice when she hit fifteen. I admit it. But I never did, never even tried to see if she was interested; I was too much older and too responsible to drag my cousin down that route. That she was now doing it to me without my express consent was not my fault. I felt I was entitled to enjoy it.

The secret was now known by four of us. The fifth was less satisfying. Two days later Rebecca and Janice were alone with me again. Emily wasn’t able to come in that day. I deliberately let my cock stay floppy as they rubbed and stroked and caressed and spoke nice words. Eventually Rebecca said “I think it’s like silk worms, they will eat cabbage I think, unless and until they get given Mulberry leaves, then they will starve rather than eat anything else ever again. Rob has had oral sex, now a hand job may not be enough” Yeah! Not strictly true that I wouldn’t accept a hand job, but get those rosey lips wrapped round me you lovely sexy bitch. Actually Janice was first to bend over the stiff rod that was my lovely phallus. Then Rebecca, then Janice, then Rebecca again. They took it in turns. Two girls sucking my cock. I’d never had that before. And we were all so thoroughly in the moment that we didn’t notice my Mam walk in. She’d decided to come back early for the evening shift. When I first saw her, her eyes were saucers! And I was just finishing off squirting male juice into my cousin’s lovely lipstick surrounded mouth. She (Mam) was speechless. Janice pulled off and burped, Rebecca leant in and kissed her and shared the spunk. That was like the bonus feature in the game, or it would have been if I hadn’t been engrossed in watching Mam. Of course none of it could be my fault, I was a vegetable.

“How long have you two been misusing my son?!!!!” The two women spun round, literally! The spinning motion caused a fleck of cum to fly from Janice’s lips. I watched as the inevitable comedy sequence seemed to run in slow-motion. The globule flew in an arc and landed on my mother’s cheek! Was that as bad as Something About Mary? Mam may have not noticed, I’m not sure, she left it there. “Well?!!!!”

“It isn’t what it looks like Mrs umm Robertson. The thing is –”

“Isn’t what it looks like? What it looks like is two slutty bitches who are going to Hell and sucking off my paralysed son!” She was starting to raise her voice; not surprisingly she was very shocked, she was also very happy to get extremely annoyed. She had probably needed a release like this for ages. If she reported them, or just complained to the papers that would be the end. And if I was going to be in a coma for a long time, this was certainly one way of making things easier.

“Yes! Okay, so it is on the surface what it looks like. But, no wait!” Mam was about to interrupt; like so many women she would ask a question and then not listen for an answer “The thing is he responds. Okay you shouldn’t have seen, but he responds! He has one part of him not in a coma. Janice, you stay here, Mrs Robertson come and have a cup of tea”

They left and so I never heard the conversation, Janice stroked me in the hope of another session I think, but I doubt she would have fully engaged; she would have been worried about her aunty returning” When they did come back it seemed peace had been retuned. “Keep me informed then. Not the details, but any progress” said Mam and then she came over and kissed me and said “get well soon Robbie” she called me Robbie when she was being sad at seeing her little boy grow up.

“Remember Mrs Robertson, what I told you, there are no guarantees”

She looked at the two women, all attractive, young and sexy. “Janice, I’m not sure what to say to your mother. I think I’ll have to pretend I didn’t know you were here, you are very young”

Not too young to have had the football team from what I’d heard; probably just a rumour. There was this prize in school. If you could bed the whole first team you got a special mention in the year book. Time would tell if she got an entry. It would say something like ‘and especial thanks to ... for supporting the football team so well’. In my last year at the school there had been three girls mentioned for their support. That was a record never yet equalled. Mam left and the games continued. I heard later that Rebecca had explained how they’d discovered the reaction by accident (I don’t think she said it was because my shameless cousin had stripped off in front of me) and that they needed to find out if they could bring back any more feeling or response. At the moment only sex seemed to work. Given the choice of a comatose son and a non-comatose son with a lot of sex under his belt, Mam sensibly chose the latter (so incidentally did I). She did stress that they had no idea if anything would help though.

How long could they keep it a secret? Well it turned out Dr. Jones had another idea anyway.

“Hildebrand Sittart wrote a paper”

“Oh yes?” responded Nurse Chataway, she liked being included in intelligent conversations I could tell. Janice and I stayed silent.

“She came up with a theory that sometimes what we think of as nerve damage is in fact nerve blockage. Maybe caused by bruising or trauma but then the nerves just stop transmitting. She had this idea when she had a patient with no obvious damage. She, the patient, had been raped and it seemed she had shut down due to the trauma. Professor Sittart suggested that a dramatic assault on the nerves might restart them. She tried a few things, eventually subjecting the woman to a sustained, loving, and very intimate caress with a vibrator. If it had failed she would probably have been struck off, but it worked. The woman reach such a stated of orgasmic excitement that her nerves seem to have rebooted and she suddenly screamed the place down with ecstasy.

I’m paraphrasing of course, the paper described all this in very scientific language”

I could see where this might be going, I wasn’t quite sure. Rebecca was still looking confused. Janice had a grin a mile wide. “You want us to bring him to so many orgasms that he wakes up?”

“Well, the fact that he can have erections and ejaculations” and orgasms I thought, I’m having fun too, it isn’t just physiological “means that at least not all the nerves are damaged. Now how can that be? How can the one set of nerves for sex stay whole whilst everything else gets broken? It doesn’t make sense. And” she continued “I doubt that he’d object to the experiment I have in mind”

“Which is?” the other two (and I, silently) chimed in

“We spend a weekend here, giving him orgasm after orgasm until a normal person could take no more. We see if we can break the logjam”

‘Right on sister’ I thought, it gets my vote. My prick rose to attention which they all laughed at.

“It seems your cousin agrees” said Emily. The planning began.

The bank holiday weekend is always a quiet time on the ward. Not in the A&E of course. Loads of drunk pricks wandering in with stupid injuries – I know, been there, done that; and gardening related injuries always spike then as well. Spike being the operative word for many as people are so stupid they put garden forks through their foot, or cut a finger off with the electric trimmers or a toe whilst mowing the lawn in flip-flops. I’m sure this is nature’s way of trying to weed out the losers, but we patch them up and send them out again. So A&E is busy, but the wards are generally quiet. No-one wants to have their colon removed on a holiday, they want time off work for that. And the doctors want a bit of ‘me time’ too. So the ward would be quiet.

A couple of other women were recruited, there was Sally, another medic with lovely, luscious long blond hair. She always wore it in a bun on ward rounds I know, but this was her free time and so it hung down to the small of her back. I think we’ve already established I’m shallow, I was hooked on the blond hair; the shapely bust, tight skirt round the bum and fuck-me shoes had me completely. She got an erection out of me before we even started. The others were impressed. The other woman was a friend of Janice’s, yes, barely a woman, a girl of seventeen and the same boyish sexy good looks that had me thinking wrong thoughts about my cousin even before all this began. Alice was shyer than Janice but intrigued by what she’d heard. Intrigued enough to be willing to volunteer to give blow jobs to a stranger. I saw myself as the mysterious stranger who they were willing to satisfy. The plan was to start on Saturday morning and each girl had an hour with me – alone. Of course alone. There had been some discussion, but three in the room was a bit crowded, five would have been too much and probably inhibiting for the ‘practitioner’. So each girl got an hour to make me perform, then I had half an hour rest and then the next girl. So a full round would take from 9 until 4:30pm, add a break for lunch and that would be maybe 5pm. They would decide then whether to start again for a night shift or wait until the following day.

The idea was to drive me to ecstatic extremes and blast through whatever blockage there was in the nerve transmissions. I had no faith that it would work, but I was willing to try. They drew straws to start and Sally won. The others left and she approached my uncovered, naked form. You’ll be wondering about that damn catheter. Well it had been removed, it was accepted that I might well pee every now and again; if a girl was in the way it was not my fault. She had locked the door – they had agreed a special knock to ensure no unexpected interruptions but to allow access; then she simply stripped to her bra, took off her tights and shoes. “I don’t want your stains all over me do I?” she explained. She pulled off her bra and my cock shot up. I do like nice tits. Actually I like any tits. I guess I’m a tit-man. Some are legs, or arse, or face. No, for me the tits are the thing. You can look like a gorilla, and be as hairy up your arse crack as one, but if you have good tits then I’ll happily suck on them. No doubt Freud would explain it.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Humor /