Coma Patient Wakes Up and Catches Female Nurse Stroking His Cock

C

Vaughn is great. He’s stable, he’s kind; he never cheats on me or forgets an important date. And I am bored out of my mind. I bury myself in novels full of burning romance and unquenchable desire, when reality I am lucky if we have plain, uninspiring vanilla sex more than once a week, lights out, over within five minutes. I’ve tried talking about it – I suggest maybe we do something a little different. He thinks this means that I want to be on top for a change. After a while I just gave up trying. What with that and a job which has me running around the hospital changing bed sheets and being yelled at by grumpy old men, my life is about as dull as it can be.

It’s not surprising that I felt the first thrill of excitement when a patient with no identity was brought in. He was almost criminally handsome, with soft brown hair and a tall, muscular form, obviously a powerful man in terms of his physique. The problem was – he was in a coma. Nobody knew his name, or if he was ever going to wake up. I was intrigued by this mystery, like something straight out of a romance novel, and I immediately began fantasizing that he would wake up and fall madly in love with me, turn out to be a billionaire and take me around the world in his private jet.

But of course that’s silly. He was put into one of the beds I was assigned to, and I was to take care of him, check up on him, and that was that.

But.

Part of caring for him was giving him a sponge bath every so often. And during that time, I allowed my mind to wander.

The first time I removed his gown to give him his bath, my eyes actually widened as they fastened on his cock. It was soft, of course, and couldn’t be responsive in a coma state, but even without being erect it was, well, enormous. I had never seen a man so large before, and I couldn’t help staring. What might it feel like, to hold that heated, hardened length in my hand, to wrap my lips around it, dripping and straining… to have it thrusting inside me, stretching my sensitive walls with its rock hard thickness? I shook my head, dislodging the improper thoughts I was having. Tearing my eyes away from his penis, I took in the rest of his body – a lightly tanned, perfectly muscled chest with just the right amount of hair; broad shoulders and powerful arms. It was a beautiful body – but my eyes were drawn guiltily back to his gorgeous cock.

I dipped the sponge into the warm, soapy water and dragged it down the centre of his chest, enjoying the sight of his skin gleaming and slicked with water, imagining that we were on the beach and we’d just been for a dip in the water. We’d lie together until the sun was just setting, and he’d take me right there on the sand as the water lapped around us, perhaps as the last few visitors were still making their way home, the roughness of the sand and the coolness of the waves contrasting with his hot, slick length sliding inside me, caressing my eager channel…

I moved down to his strongly muscled stomach, running my fingers through the slightly coarse trail of dark hair which thickened as it tangled downwards. I marvelled at how warm his skin was, and I imagined him aroused at my touch, swelling to complete hardness, ready to flip me over and fuck me through the mattress with his magnificent penis at any moment.

Finally, I reached the place I had been aching to touch. I lathered my fingers with soap, slick and lubricated, and took that incredible length in my hands. It fit perfectly as I crooked my fingers around the soft flesh, dragging them from the top of his manhood down into the tangle of dark hair. I made sure to reach every contour of his balls, feeling them curved and warm in my cupped palms, spending perhaps a little more time than necessary familiarizing myself with every inch of him.

It was almost the end of my shift by the time I reluctantly redressed him.

That night I initiated sex with Vaughn, left aroused and wanting from my experience that day. It was a bad idea – I was left even more frustrated and dissatisfied than before, unable to climax at the absent-minded touch of my lover, whose own average penis and few short thrusts were worlds away from the things I was imagining.

As Vaughn turned over and started snoring, I reached guiltily down between the sheets and began touching myself, imagining that it was the mystery stranger in the hospital bed who was parting my slickened folds, stroking his broad fingers along my heated pussy and demanding access, pushing his way in as far as he could, scissoring his fingers and hooking them into my oversensitive walls until I was trembling and gasping. I imagined that it was he who was stimulating my eager clitoris with his tongue, pushing and teasing and tugging gently with his teeth on the swollen, needy mound until I came in a burst of hot pleasure, the sensation spreading through me like a shot of strong liquor.

I was left feeling guilty and confused – was it ok for me to be thinking about a patient like this? But the orgasm had left me relaxed and sleepy, and I closed my eyes to dreams about what color his eyes might be.

The routine went on for weeks – I’d look forward to the time I spent with the mystery man, bathing his body, touching his soft but still impressive cock, and when I lay inert under my boyfriend, I’d think about that broad, muscular body working over me, that iron hard cock ramming into my pussy and bringing me to explosive climax instead of the disappointing reality.

One evening at the hospital, it was almost the end of my shift and I had saved the sponge bath until the very end, when there were fewest people around, when I could relax a little and look a little less professional. I let my long chestnut waves fall loose to frame my face, took off the black-rimmed glasses I used to read the charts, and even went so far as to unbutton the top few buttons of my uniform, allowing a little of my cleavage to peek out. I admit; I got a thrill of illicit pleasure from looking a little sexier whilst ministering to my favorite patient.

Before I got started on bathing him, I put on a coating of my dark red lipstick, the one that made my plump lips look moist and attractive, desirable. I liked to feel desirable, indulge my fantasies a little as I ran my soapy hands over his warm, smooth flesh. I liked to wear my naughtiest red underwear under my uniform and let the scenes run wild in my head as I gently massaged the muscles beneath my fingers.

My mind was engaged in a particularly satisfying fantasy as I applied my fingers to his long, thick cock, gently massaging his balls as I thought about him giving me pleasure with his tongue, the slick muscle flexible and talented against my aching clitoris, bringing me trembling and gasping to a dizzying completion.

I was so occupied with my fantasy that I didn’t notice his eyes fluttering open. He must have been watching me, playing with his penis with my soap-lubricated hands, my top revealing, my hair tumbling provocatively over his shoulders. After weeks of coma, waking up to such a situation has to be disorienting to say the least. Waking up to somebody massaging your long-deprived cock, though, can only really evoke one reaction, and I was shocked to find myself suddenly holding his rock-hard manhood, straining proudly at an impressive full mast. My hands froze and I looked wide-eyed up at his face – he was awake!

I barely had time to register that his eyes were a beautiful stormy gray before I noticed how darkened they were with lust, the pupils dilated and the irises clouded with a haze of desire. I wondered if he knew what was going on, where he was, or if he was half-dreaming. I knew I ought to say something, to explain, but the intensity of the look in his eyes and the not insignificant distraction of holding his very erect penis were both mortifying and arousing me in equal measure. I quickly took my hand away and tried to find my tongue – but before I could speak a small gasp of surprise had slipped through my lips. Knocking the sponge out of my hands, the man grasped me around my waist and pulled me on top of him, bruising my lips with his as he crashed our mouths together.

My heart was beating like a drum and I didn’t know whether to scream – no matter how many times I had fantasized about such a thing happening, having strong arms pulling me close to a hard and unyielding body and having my mouth engulfed in a hungry embrace was so much more than the fantasy. His heart was thumping against mine, his skin was warm, his mouth tasted salty and tangy, and I wondered if his chapped lips and demanding kiss had broken the skin. Pulling away slightly to assess the damage, I was shocked by his reaction. With a territorial growl he grabbed a handful of my chestnut waves and pulled my lips back onto his, biting down ferociously on my lower lip until I was sure that, if there had not been blood before, there was now. The throbbing of my lower lip added to the intensity of the kiss, and I found myself yielding to his brute strength, allowing him to ruthlessly plunder my mouth, lapping up the drops of ruby liquid beading on my torn, bruised lip and forcing his tongue against mine. Despite the roughness of the kiss, I found myself craving the ruthless treatment, the demanding, overbearing nature of the attention kindling my desire and sending a thrill of excitement running through me.

Before I could decide whether I was more terrified or aroused by what was happening, he was tearing urgently at my clothing, popping the buttons of my blouse and scattering them all over the bed. As his palms roughly squeezed and palmed my breasts, I let myself groan, finally giving in entirely to the attentions I was receiving. His movements were so forceful that there was no way I could stop him if I wanted to. As it was, I arched my back into the sensation, revelling in the pain which accompanied the rough treatment of my breasts as he squeezed the aroused flesh, digging his blunt nails into the curve of my waist, sharply pulling the turgid buds of my nipples until they were dark and distended, but still aching for the ruthless friction they were receiving.

With astonishing strength and coordination, the patient yanked out his IV impatiently and hooked my legs up around his bare waist, getting off the small hospital cot and slamming me against the wall with enough force to knock the breath straight out of me. Dipping his head, he began feasting on my already sore and swollen breasts, pulling as much of the soft, curved flesh as possible into his mouth and sucking hard, a small whirlpool of pain instantly soothed by the rough, slick attentions of his tongue. He grazed his teeth against the delicate skin, nipping it frantically before taking a bruised nipple between his teeth and biting down hard, enough to make me cry out. If I wasn’t already so aroused it would have been unpleasantly painful, but the need pulsing through my body made the sensation erotic, and if I had been able to find my voice, I would have been begging him to do it again.

Switching his attention to the other breast, as abused and as wanting as the first, one fumbling hand roughly yanked at my underwear, tearing straight through the red lace as if it were tissue paper and tossing the useless garment aside. Shoving my skirt up over my thighs, my mystery lover found my dripping, aching pussy. Not bothering to tease or arouse, I found myself crying out again as I had three broad fingers thrust into my slick channel, stretching me so wide that I thought I was going to split in two. The sensation was so exquisitely painful; every inch of my flexible walls stretched around his fingers and moulded to them, so that every rough thrust and jab he made simply bathed me in burning arousal, the sensitive flesh singing as it was abused over and over by the greedy fingers, seemingly bent on coating themselves in every drop of my juices which I had to offer.

I was almost blind with arousal, every sensitive part of my body being stimulated to the point of insanity, throbbing and screaming with pain and desire, aching for more friction, more bruising force, more rough, intoxicating attention to be lavished upon them. The man was obviously beyond the means of communication though, and I doubt I could have vocalized more than moans and soft screams if I had wanted to.

Just as his ruthless fingers were about to send me tumbling into a sweet abyss of pain and pleasure, I bit back a scream as I was practically thrown across the room, slamming onto my stomach at an awkward angle on the bed, sending the tub of water I had been using to bathe him skidding across the floor, splashing its contents everywhere. I was once again winded, the pain on my ribs and forearms screaming against the throbbing desire in my loins and the stinging pulse of pain and pleasure in my abused breasts. I wondered if that was it – was he finished with me? But as soon as the thought entered my mind his hands were on me again, grabbing my hair and yanking it so that my head slammed into the mattress, causing my body to flatten and my bare ass to stick temptingly towards my lover, my legs lewdly spread apart as if I were inviting him in.

He lost no time in accepting the tantalizing invitation. His entire hand still soaked with my juices, he pushed his index finger into my ass – my eyes widened and I gave a gasp of surprise at the sensation – I had never done anything like this before, never been with a man who could use me and dominate me so completely, take so ruthlessly without asking, ransack my body leaving nothing in return but white-hot desire. Crooking his finger inside my anus, he caught at a sensitive spot I had never known existed – from the delicious friction a wave of pure, trembling pleasure coursed through my entire body, leaving me quivering and gasping for more, begging him to violate me completely. I cried out in ecstasy as he added a second finger, the uncomfortable burning and stretching numbed in comparison to the explosive pleasure as his slicked fingers forced their way deeper into my tight, forbidden passage.

It was too much for me when, in addition to the two fingers creating delicious friction in my ass, I felt his iron length pushing at my soaked folds, impatiently seeking entrance. I reached my hand back to guide him in, only to have it knocked roughly away, his vice-like fingers locking around my wrist and holding my arm at an awkward angle against the bed as he blindly thrust forwards, shoving his way inside me with sheer force, the angle of his entry driving his impossibly thick, hard length along the side of my walls, dragging at the overly sensitized skin, renewing both the painful burn and the orgasmic pleasure which I had been starved of. I had little time to revel in the bliss of his presence before he was withdrawing and ramming in again, harder this time, his enormous cock slamming into me so hard that my entire body rocked and my head bumped against the headboard, smacking into the wood over and over and he pounded me, my dripping pussy taking his rigid and demanding length eagerly, delighting in the painful, delicious friction, the fingers thrusting into my ass just another tone in the wonderful abuse my body was receiving.

I was gasping for release, so close to exploding that I could barely breathe, and with one last bruising thrust of his enormous length, filling me so completely, creating such a delicious friction with its pounding rhythm, I came. It was the hardest I had ever come in my life, my muscles screaming as they clamped down around him, the hot tightness encasing him as he continued his brutal pace. As the waves of pleasure swept through me I was acutely conscious of him, exploiting every orifice and using my body to sate his hunger. The knowledge only made me come harder.

As I was coming down from my high, though, I realized he was not nearly finished. Still not satisfied with abusing my body to the point of crushing orgasm, my cruel lover snatched his fingers from their hot, tight prison and withdrew his dripping and straining cock from my sorely abused pussy. My body sagged and relaxed, entirely spent, the sharp, aching pains and dull throbbing from my breasts, ass, pussy and arms all calling for my attention. It was brutally shoved away, though, as I was penetrated once more, his enormous girth forcing its entrance into my anus, opening me up and stretching my walls impossibly, my muscles spasming around him, my entire passage burning with the sensation, which was nevertheless kindling new sparks of pleasure, the arousal at being invaded in such a manner strangely erotic.

My arousal intensified at the groan of satisfaction he gave as he buried himself in the tight, wet heat, his cock so slicked with my juices that he slid easily in and out of the squeezing space, thrusting just a demandingly, as needily as he had done before. It was not long before I felt my second orgasm impending, the feeling of his thickness in my constricted ass, his wet cock slipping between my buttocks and the sound of his pleasured groans sending me over the edge once more.

It was too much for him too, and I felt the warm pulses of cum shooting into me, the jets of liquid every bit as forceful and erotic as I had come to expect of him. He shuddered and trembled as he released himself inside me, and I had to support him as he flopped boneless onto the bed, rolling his heavy body off me and onto the mattress.

This – this is what I had been missing all this time – the thrill of being completely used and dominated, the exhaustion of being completely spent over and over, and the ache and throb of my pussy, my breasts in the aftermath of ravenous passion. Now that I had tasted it, would I be able to give it up? Would I be able to give him up? Curling my body against his, knowing that soon I would need to move, to clean up, I savored the last moments of the experience, not knowing whether it would be my last.

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George B. J. Martin

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