Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Trainee Nurse

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   Chapter 1 - An unusual request

   Today had been a particularly difficult shift, but now it was almost
over, thank goodness.  As she delivers her handover report to the Sister
relieving her, Cathy finds it difficult to concentrate on what she is
saying.  She *really* needs to get back to her room...

   "I beg your pardon?" The Sister has interrupted her, and Cathy realises
with a start that her mind had drifted, and she'd lost her place in her
notes.

   "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm a little tired.  Err...  Mr Gillespie.  He's had his
four pm medication, and a fresh saline.  Ms Frederics has been complaining
she's uncomfortable, and I've turned her and given a massage.  Mr Phillips
was asleep most of the afternoon, till his monitor alarmed at 3.15.  But it
was just that bad lead connection again.  He's settled down again now after
the excitement.  Then Ward Sister asked me to give Mr Bryan another sponge
bath, after he spilled some drink from afternoon tea.  That, uh...  he... "

   She stutters to a halt, aware of her returning deep blush, and that the
Sister is also aware of it.  The older woman regards her, patiently, with a
most expertly neutral expression of professional attentiveness.  Cathy for
a moment is quite lost for words, recalling that latest incident.  Mr Bryan
- a robust young fellow in his mid twenties, recuperating after a nasty
motorcycle accident.  He'd been here at the Mount St Joseph Sanatoria for
nearly four weeks now, and wouldn't be having the casts off for several
more.  Compound fractures of both arms, a clavicle, scapula, three ribs and
a neck vertebra.  He was a lucky man - the truck had gone past him, not
over him, and he'd be back on his bike again eventually, plus some
permanent metal pins and screws in his bones.

   In the meantime from chest to chin and both arms, he's encased in
plaster.  From the chest down, he isn't, and Cathy wishes her nursing
superiors wouldn't take so many opportunities to have her perform Mr
Bryan's routines.  By rights those should be rostered in rotation to the
various nurses on duty, and with her shifts she would only expect to deal
with Mr Bryan once a week or so.  But nearly every shift, she finds herself
bathing him, helping him with a bedpan, or something.  He's a pleasant
enough fellow, polite and well educated, easy to chat with as she goes
about her work.  Most of the patients recuperating at the sanatoria are
elderly, and give her few problems.  At least, few of the kind Mr Bryan
presents her when she bustles into his private room and begins her task. 
Soon after he'd been settled in on the ward, the doctors had specified that
his bedclothes should be tented to avoid pressure sores.  He'd indicated he
was accustommed to sleep naked, and with the doctor's agreement it had been
decided to dispense with the effort of dressing and undressing his lower
body repeatedly.  So whenever Cathy rolls back the bedcovers frame, there
is all of Mr Bryan.  The very well endowed Mr Bryan.  The first time she'd
bathed him a day after his arrival, he'd still been on painkillers, quite
drowsy, and she'd had only the routine of washing a male body, albeit one
with a soft penis considerably more hefty than those of the elderly
patients to which she was accustomed.  She'd wondered for a moment if
handling him might trigger her, but got through that without any problem.

   A week later she'd had the duty again, and that time...  He'd been wide
awake and chatting casually as she worked, which made the sudden erection
of his penis as she'd begun sponging between his legs all the more
surprising to her.  Of course she'd seen erections before, but only of more
elderly gentlemen, and nothing like this.  He was uncircumcised, and now
suddenly here was a fat purple glans popping out as his foreskin pulled
back, due to being stretched along at least eight inches of thickly rigid
shaft, pointing up nearly vertically from his crotch.  Where her hands were
frozen, one holding up his scrotum as the other wiped the damp sponge
beneath it.

   He'd been talking, telling her about an overseas trip of his, and
possibly didn't hear her sharp intake of breath.  It seemed bizarre to her,
that he just kept talking perfectly normally, as if he hadn't noticed his
own erection, even though she had completely stopped moving, her eyes
captive to the sight.  Her next thought was an 'oh no...' as she felt a
sudden stirring of her own 'problem'.  But that she was used to - it just
meant an interval of distracting discomfort, to be borne as usual.  His
penis though...  she hadn't washed it yet!  Doesn't he realise?  she
wondered.  She could feel herself blushing.  He was still talking, but when
she tore her eyes away from his now totally rigid member and looked upward
to meet his eyes, she found ...  amusement.  He finally stopped his
narative, and smiled at her, chuckling.  "I bet you have that effect on all
the guys, eh?  Can't be helped I'm afraid.  You may as well carry on.  Oh,
and that's a very charming blush Cathy.  Will you blush for me every time
you wash me?"

   She hadn't answered.  Couldn't, since she was too stunned, too lost in
her own reactions to it all.  Somehow his casual, unconcerned forwardness
and teasing combined with the visual impact of his erection was setting her
problem off dramaticly, and she was busy coping with the tide of sensations
centered between her legs.  She closed her eyes for a moment, as a shiver
ran through her body.  When she opened them again he was still looking at
her closely, one eybrow raised, curious and a little mocking.

   "You look about to run out of the room screaming 'rape!  But as you can
see, I'm kinda glued in place here.  When they cut me out of these plasters
in a few months you might be wise to run, but in the meantime...  that's
probably going to become a bit of a fixture.  By the way, apparently it's
recommended to wash under the foreskin regularly.  Easier like this, don't
you think?"

   Somehow she still hadn't been able to think of anything to say in reply.
Usually when her problem flared up on the job she'd be able to mostly put
it aside in her mind, almost ignoring the frustrating ache as she worked.
But this time, it seemed to be immune to her attempts to disregard it. 
With most of her mind otherwise occupied, she couldn't think of anything to
do other than continue his sponge bath as he'd suggested.  She'd already
done his legs, and so next...  she wiped over his large hairy balls, then
uncertain of how to proceed, gripped the base of his shaft tentatively
between two fingers to steady it while she wiped the damp cloth over it
with the other.  The skin rolled out from between her fingers, and the
shaft waggled stiffly in the air for a moment.  He laughed.

   "It's not going to bite you Cathy.  You should take a firm grip!  It's
not delicate.  As a nurse, you should know that."

   She glanced up at his face again, and found him still grinning
mischieviously at her, amused at her embarassment and entirely
unselfconscious.  Her blush hadn't gone away, she could tell.  This time
she grips him more firmly, wrapping her fingers around the thick shaft half
way up, and beginning to wipe around the head and behind the glans.  He's
right - there's a little buildup there - must be the first time it's been
washed since his accident.  As she's wiping she feels his body quiver, and
looks up to his gaze again as she keeps rubbing the sponge around the thick
purple heard, as if she's pollishing a doorknob.  Something in her was
hoping to gain a small victory over his confidence, by seeing him react to
what she knows is a very sensitive spot.  To her surprise, he's still
regarding her with a wry smile, calmly, and muses thoughtfully.

   "It's going to be quite interesting actually.  Come to think of it, I
don't believe I've ever gone without an orgasm for longer than a couple of
days.  Not since my early teens.  I've heard that prolonged abstinence
results in some pronounced changes in male responsiveness and sensations,
and I guess being stuck here like this for many weeks I'm going to have my
own personal tour of orgasm denial.  In a way, I'm quite looking forward to
the experience.  I wonder if eventually I'll be so wound up that I'll
embarress you terribly by humping your hand uncontrollably, every time you
hold my erection?"

   He laughs, casually, still looking her in the eyes.

   "Ha ha ha!  Can you imagine it?  There you'll be in a few weeks, trying
to wash my penis, and any time you touch it my hips will do this..."

   Suddenly his hips are bucking upwards, jerking his shaft back and forth
in her grip around the shaft.  After a very few thrusts, he stops as
suddenly as he started, still holding her gaze, but with a brief grimace.

   "Owww...  huh, forgot about the broken bones.  But I suppose they'll be
knitted by the time my balls are really turning blue.  Uh, you know Cathy,
when a patient takes advantage of you like that, you probably should let
go. I think it's washed now anyway.  As nicely as you are doing it."

   With a start she realised that she had indeed been still twisting the
sponge tightly around his head, even after his surprise thrusts!  Shocked
now far beyond words, nearly overwhelmed with the lustfull heat in her own
body, she abruptly pulled away from his organ, leaving it wobbling stiffly
in air.  Wordlessly, she quickly completed washing the rest of his exposed
body, then rolled the bedclothes tent back over his naked, erected form,
and fled the room, still blushing deeply.

   After that incident she'd had another two hours of shift to go.  For the
entire time, and for a long while after she got back to her room, she'd
been unable to concentrate on anything much due to her problem.  Worse,
while she went about her work she could feel that she was still flushed,
and though no one said anything, she could sense the other staff and some
of the patients knew something was up with her.

   Although she didn't know why, from that day onwards she'd found herself
being allocated much more frequently to look after Mr Bryan.  Sure enough,
as he'd suggested it would his erection developed into a 'fixture' - as the
days passed she more and more often found it already standing rigid as she
wheeled back the bedclothes tent.  She thought this remarkable, since
imobilised on his back, arms in half-bent plasters fixed rigidly to his
body and suspended above him, and with the tent frame holding the blankets
well above his body, there was no possibility of anything frictioning
against his organ.  Even with it standing stiffly upright.  From her own
problems she knew all about the effects of clothing friction when the body
was feeling lustfully aroused.  Yet here he was having an erection
completely spontaneously, and apparently becoming near-permanent, so far as
she knew.  She couldn't tell him this, but she was feeling strongly
sympathetic due to the similarlity of their conditions.  Even though seeing
and handling him like that was making her own problem much more persistent
and distracting - which since she usually had to bathe him early in her
shifts, meant she spent a large proportion of her working hours in
something of a daze.

   She found herself fascinated too, by the way he continued to joke
teasingly about his situation, as weeks passed and his body became ever
more sexually charged.  From her nursing studies she understood the
physiology underlying his increasing tension - the steady buildup of semen
in his prostate and seminal vessicles, and the snowballing effects of that
pressure on his erectile reflex and general sensitivity of his organ.  Yes,
she really did sympathise, after all her own suffering was quite similar,
though she didn't have problems like 'semen buildup' to deal with.  She
couldn't help laughing with him when he kidded her about the way her
sponging strokes made his body spasm, and the iron-hard shaft jerk
reflexively.  When he'd started leaking a clear, thick liquid from the eye
of his penis as she washed it, he'd joked that her delicious blushes were
making him drool, and warned her that the more she blushed, the more of it
there'd be.  Silly though it was, he'd been right - her blushes had
increased with his discharge each day and she found herself having to clean
more of it off his shaft and stomach before, during and after every wash.
She didn't like to talk to the other nurses about Mr Bryan's condition, and
anyway, from the winks some would give her as she left his room flushed
bright pink, she knew they'd had to deal with it themselves.

   What mystified her, was that although she as a female supposedly didn't
have the 'buildup' problem, and she'd been dealing well enough with her own
difficulty all her life, for some reason her duties with Mr Bryan seemed to
be exacerbating her troubles.  After only the second week of his stay,
she'd had a number of incidents where her attention had wandered while she
was on duty on the ward.  Luckily with no harmful consequences, but she'd
realised that her distraction level was growing serious and frequent enough
that she'd have to do daily what she normally only needed to do for a few
days each month just before her period came.  At those times she'd be
particularly sensitive down there, and the friction of her underwear
against her tended to set her off, and worse, once she was popped out the
continual friction would turn her whole day into a torment.  So despite the
risks due to the shortness of the nurse's one-piece uniform, she'd
typically go without underwear on days when she knew her problem was likely
to occur.  It meant she had to be careful not to bend over, or reach for
high things while anyone might notice, but that was a small price to pay
for calm during her work day.  Fortunately although the hospital-provided
uniforms were tailored for a form-hugging fit and made of a stretchy thin
material, they are a dark blue-grey and thus quite opaque.  So she didn't
think anyone would have noticed her lack of underwear for the last few
weeks.

   Not that skipping her underwear had helped much, beyond the first few
days.  A few patients had left, and some more had arrived with their
different routines, and somehow the ward roster had settled down for a
lengthy interval of her working day shifts.  With her usually slated to
give Mr Bryan his daily bathe in the early mornings, soon after she came
on. By now the result was invariable - as if his condition was somehow
contagious, and she'd caught it.  The mornings she didn't wake already
aching and uncomfortable, she'd soon happen to think of her coming shift
and its morning routine.  Her body would immediately do it's worst, leaving
her to get herself ready for another long, long day of trying to ignore the
throbbing ache of her own unique burden.  She'd never experienced such an
interval of persistence of her body's awkward tendencies before, and was
finding it increasingly difficult to manage.  Even with her special
sleeping apparel, the length of time she'd lie awake each night waiting for
her symptoms to fade was lengthening - till recently she was starting to
feel quite tired overall.

   Which didn't help her self control one bit.  She wished she could wear
her special things during the day too - it might help.  But it wasn't
possible - the dress regulations clearly stated that the uniform consisted
of only the provided items, and nothing non-regulation was to be worn,
under threat of dismissal.  She was fortunate it didn't happen to specify
that items like underwear were mandatory.  True, she'd often wished that
the bras supplied were of a firmer construction.  The gauzy fronts and the
stretchy uniforms were far too revealing when her nipples stiffened.  But
compared to being discovered wearing her unusual and impossible to explain
special underwear, clothing that failed to hide the state of her nipples
was nothing.  Even being discovered going bare under her dress could be
explainable - not the end of the world.  She could say she had dirtied
them, and hadn't yet been able to go back to her room to get a fresh pair.
Anything would be better than being caught breaking the strict prohibition
against 'embellishment' of the uniform.

   The most disconcerting aspect of the situation, was a kind of
uncontrolled recklessness she'd noticed in herself lately.  She'd catch
herself doing quite outrageous things that she'd never normally have done.
Almost as if some part of her mind was being influenced by the exaggerated
sexual attributes of her physical body, and was actually _trying_ to get
her into trouble.  There'd be times when she was struggling to concentrate
on her duties, and suddenly realise that for some time she'd been
completely forgetting to be mindful of her panty-less state.  Thinking
back, she'd realise that there'd been things dropped and picked up,
curtains reached to pull, beds bent over while straightening sheets, even
stools stood upon to reach high items - and she had absolutely no idea who
might have been nearby.  Despite being well aware of how very visible her
condition was, should someone have happened to be looking the right way at
the wrong moment.  Hopefully, no one had noticed.  At least, no one had
shown any sign of noticing anything.

   Not even Mr Bryan - which considering how her forgetfullness seemed
worst around him, was very fortunate.  He was such an outspoken fellow, she
was sure if he'd caught her doing something like that he'd have made a joke
of it right away.  Fortunately when he wasn't actually chatting to her he
seemed to like to lie half dozing, his eyes and ears hidden behind some
kind of headset connected to his laptop.  So she'd been lucky - at least
three times she'd realized some minutes after that she'd been bending over
picking up something in a way that should have given him a clear view of
her...  of up her short skirt, and her most definitely visible secret. 
There were other times that she'd be in his room, and afterwards not be
able to remember the details of what had happened at all - she was so
distracted and flustered by the effect he had on her.

   This morning had been like that.  The whole day really.  She'd given him
the usual morning bathe, with his penis as rigid and vertical as the posts
of the bed, and the thick clear fluid oozing from the eye of the firm,
purpled head in rivulets tracing down the veiny sides of the shaft.  Today
he'd been particularly forward, describing to her in detail how intense the
sensations of desire were becoming.  From anyone else she'd have been
offended, and assumed they were hinting to her that she should perform some
kind of sexual act!  But he was so abstract about it - treating the whole
thing as if it was some kind of interesting experiment.  He'd actually
remarked to her in an amused tone that she'd better stop that, he really
did want to see if he could hold out his whole stay.  Startled, she
realising that she'd been holding his shaft quite tightly as she wiped the
dripping fluids, and her gripping hand had somehow begun a slight up and
down motion.

   That had left her totally flustered, scarcely able to think through the
waves of throbbing discomfort emanating from her own crotch.  She didn't
recall much more from that time in his room, other than realising just as
she was walking out the door that her skirt had ridden dangerously high up
her hips again.  The stretchy material was prone to doing that, clinging
tightly enough to her wide hips that it didn't naturally fall back down. 
She'd felt it rather than seen how high it was, and had reflexively
smoothed her hemline back down without looking, hoping that no one in the
general ward would notice her quick clothing adjustment.  Hopefully it
wasn't too high anyway.

   Shortly after lunch, she'd been the one required to answer his
assistance bell, to find he needed to urinate.  This was another proceedure
that disturbed her much more in his case than with more elderly patients.
Because of course he'd be rigid as usual, and that made the whole thing far
more awkward, in every sense of the word.  He couldn't even turn onto his
side.  So she had to place the urine bottle on his stomach, and bend the
stiff organ towards and into the horizontal bottle opening.  Then wait the
sometimes lengthy interval while he willed his bladder to release, in a
condition it wasn't meant to.  All the while attempting to minimise the
contact and movement of her fingers on his stiff organ, and avoid
frictioning the head against the inside walls of the bottle, since he'd
pointed out to her that in his condition, all such sensations were sexual
and more likely to make him orgasm than help him relax and pee.  So she'd
stand there motionless, sometimes for several minutes, holding his thick,
rigid penis bent into the bottle, feeling it twitch and jerk in her
fingers, then finally the flow would rush through the urethra right under
her fingertips.  Finally he'd finish, after which she'd have to sponge wash
his still rigid organ again, due to the inevitable trickles of urine down
the shaft.

   Normally, patients who were having any kind of problems with urination
would be catheterised.  She'd wondered why the doctors didn't order that
done for Mr Bryan, since she was sure they knew of his 'condition'.  She'd
once tried to ask one of the doctors about it, making several flushed and
stuttering false starts before she was able to make herself say outright
that Mr Bryan's erections were making his toilet sessions quite
timeconsuming.  The doctor had not been making it easy for her - through
all her stammering he simply listened silently, carefully expressionless.
Then he'd casually dismissed her suggestion, saying that Mr Bryan was a
healthy young man, and certainly didn't need any such intrusive measures,
especially given the length of his stay.  He'd winked at her, remarked that
he was sure "nature would take it's course, and he had full confidence in
Cathy's professionalism", and walked off on his rounds.

   Today Mr Bryan made the whole thing into a dizzying nightmare for her,
by casually asking her if she'd ever peed while lying on her back, and did
she think _she_ could do it while someone held a bottle pressed against her
pussy.  Somehow that image sank into her mind and set fires that she didn't
know how to put out.  She was still bothered from his morning bathe, and
now her heat redoubled in a flare of tense aching, and the return of her
most spectacular grade of blush.  He'd been watching her, and chuckled -
"Apparently you're not sure you could huh.  Would it be easier to imagine
you were completely helpless, unable to move, and the only way you were
going to pee was to have someone do it for you?  Of course, you'd be
entirely naked and utterly dependent on their honour.  So the longer your
body refused to let go for whatever reason, like say you were terribly
embarrased, or suppose...  you were already extremely aroused and just
_couldn't_ let go despite being really full, the longer your handsome young
male nurse would be standing there, thinking about what they could do to
you...  torn by temptations, aroused despite themselves..."

   He'd paused a moment, gazing at her.  She'd been so lost for words, so
overwhelmed by the waves of heat his imagery had caused in her, that she
turned her head away to hide that she had to close her eyes, her breath
coming in deep panting gulps.  The feel of his shaft in her hand, the
velvety skin sliding easily over the inner hardness, her awareness of his
semen held inside for so long, how it would spurt out into the long neck of
the stainless steel bottle and she'd feel him pulsing in her hand but no
one would know....

   His voice broke into her dazed dream.  "Cathy!  Hey!  Stop that!  I told
you, I don't want you to give me an orgasm, and if you keep doing that, you
will!  Damn, now it's going to take ages to pee." She'd shaken her head,
and looked at her own hand - clenched around the middle of his shaft
tightly, stroking it in short downward jerks.  Her other hand had pulled
the bottle nearly entirely off his organ, with the fat purple head barely
into the opening.  In her heated semi-trance she'd stared at her hand as it
continued the motions - jerk...  jerk...  jerk.  Did he seriously want her
to stop?  His hips jerked upwards to her hand now...  surely he must want
this?  She did...  she did...  she wanted relief from the way he was
tormenting her, making her days a constant haze of the needing ache, so
strong her normally superior will was failing...  If he would...  have his
orgasm, she'd...  she'd be able to have peace again...  oh...  dear god...
it aches...

   "CATHY!  STOP!  I'm going to press the buzzer if you don't stop right
now...  "

   She'd looked up at his hand, disbelieving, desperate, and seen his thumb
hovering over the call button taped to his palm.  He can't...  he...  she
realises her own hips are thrusting against the side of the bed,
compulsively, grinding her sensitive ache against the cool metal since
somehow her dress has ridden up her hips.  Oh god!  What has she...? 
Pulling away, she let go of him, still holding the bottle in her other
hand, gripping her hem and pulling it back down.  Her ache is blinding her,
pulsing excruciatingly with each rapid thump of her heart.

   "Thats better.  Hey, no sweat, just so long as you stopped.  Course, I
still need to pee, once you get yourself under control...  That's OK, take
a minute if you need it.  I think I do too.  Wow, you know, that was really
intense.  You should hear the way my balls are yelling now - they think
it's the end of the world.  So excitable when they are overfull!  Lucky
you've no idea how to do it right, or you might have totally ruined my pet
project.

   He'd chattered on in similarly blush-deepening manner all the time she'd
waited, trying to calm her pounding heart.  After a few minutes they'd
tried the peeing exercise again, and although at one point his hips had
jerked convulsively as he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, not quite
able to fully suppress an urge to thrust his organ in her hand, eventually
the stainless bottle grew warm in her touch with his urine.  When she'd
finished wiping him carefully, she'd fled the room as usual, and only
realised some meters out in the ward that she was still holding his full
urine bottle.  So she had to go back into his room to empty it in the sink,
wash it, and replace it by his bed.  He'd joked that for a moment there
he'd thought she was planning on making off with his precious bodily
fluids, and so when she stepped out into the ward a second time she was
flushing an even deeper shade than usual.

   The rest of the afternoon had been a haze.  She'd been kept busy for
most of it in a further part of the ward, caring for several elderly
patients recuperating from joint repair operations.  Fortunately there
wasn't anything complex required, for she'd been almost completely unable
to concentrate.  Apart from the mini-drama with Mr Phillips' heart monitor,
she'd mostly been adjusting bedclothes and pillows and picking up stuff
patients had dropped accidentally.  Then the ward sister had asked her to
give Mr Bryan another sponge bath and sheet change, after some mishap with
a cup of juice.

   She'd entered his room and found him engrossed with something on his
laptop.  She'd often thought he must be quite well off - not only did he
have a private room, but also a rather expensive looking laptop.  Only a
few days after he'd arrived, it had turned up complete with a custom frame
that attached it to the bed, a special wireless thumbwheel and one-handed
keyboard that could be fastened to his cast allowing him to control the
machine, and the funny headset he sometimes wore.  She didn't know much
about such things, but apparently it also had internet access, and she'd
heard him reciting to it, so she assumed he could dictate letters and such.

   Today he was reading silently as she came in, but immediately looked up
and smiled cheerfully at her.  "Oh hi Cathy.  My, you are getting your fill
of me today, aren't you?  Sorry about this - I pulled a bit too hard on the
drinker tube, and it popped right out of the bottle.  Whoops.  Sticky juice
everywhere.  Pretty funny actually, don't you think?  After you nearly made
me spurt earlier, I get to lie here helplessly watching a drink bottle
spurting jets of cordial over me.  The container was nearly full too. 
Missed the laptop fortunately, but went just about everywhere else. 
Anyway, if you could put the laptop as it is over there on the shelf, I'm
all yours.  Sticky and even harder than usual, after your assault on my
virtue at lunchtime."

   She'd dismounted the laptop and placed it on the vacant space low down
in the wall shelves parallel to the bed, starting to close it.  "No no...
Cathy, don't close it, I want to keep an eye on something.  Just turn it a
bit more so I can see...  and tilt the screen back a little..  bit more..
thanks, perfect."

   After she'd drawn the privacy curtain across the room, wheeling back the
bed tent had then revealed that he was correct - very sticky, and very
hard. Most of the drink had run onto his stomach, and pooled in the sheet
depression where he lay, sitting on the waterproof undersheet.  Not much
had got on his plasters.  As usual the sight of his erection caused a
flareup of her own constantly aching condition, making her catch her breath
and freeze for a moment, mesmerised.  He'd chuckled, addressing her
hesitation.  "Today for show and tell, class, I've brought an erection. 
This prime specimen is fully loaded and long overdue for firing, so must be
handled with extreme care to avoid a messy accident.  Now now Cathy, no
need to stare, I'll be passing it around later.  But first I'll talk about
what erections are for."

   He pauses a moment, gazing at her quizically.  She's still standing,
staring at the thick vertical pole of his cock, a dazed flush on her face,
her breath coming in deep long draws.  "Er...  shouldn't you be... 
cleaning and stuff?  Never mind me, I'm just teasing you - you know how
much I enjoy your delightful blush.  Besides, you love it - don't try to
pretend this doesn't excite you.  Which is fine by me, just so long as you
don't try to jack me off again like you did this afternoon.  Not without my
permission, anyway." He winks at her, which destroys the otherwise serious
tone of his last few words.

   Now she's confused on top of her heated daze.  She looks at his face as
she shakes loose from her frozen trance, wondering if she wants his
permission, if she would...  as the image of her hand gripped around his
shaft and jerking up and down replays in her mind.  First she takes a
sponge and mops up the pool of drink still lying around his body, leaning
over him to do the other side.  As she's about done there she feels a tug
at her uniform on her upper back - his arm plasters fix his hands above his
chest, and she's close enough to one that he can touch her.  He puts on a
schoolboyish tone "Excuse me Miss...  I think you missed a bit.  Excuse
me...  there Miss..." He tugs her uniform again as she straightens, unsure
whether to laugh or be offended when she sees where he's pointing.  At his
erection.  "It's still dribbling Miss, aren't you going to wipe there too,
Miss?" In the end she laughs, shaking her head in amusement as she reaches
up high for the lifting straps.  Mostly her flustered shyness prevents her
from replying to his teases, but this time, as she slips the straps
underneath his body, she feels somehow more open.  "Well that's because you
are making me blush.  You said so yourself."

   He smiles, pleased she's decided to play.  "I said your blushes make my
penis drool.  I didn't say I make you blush.  Your blushes are very sexy,
they make my erection think it's party time, but it does seem...  curious
that a nurse blushes at the sight of an erection, or a little kidding
around.  I _like_ your blush, but how can I _make_ you blush?  Now for
instance - here I am in a cast and hanging from the ceiling in straps so
you can change my sheets - I'm hardly in a position to *make* you do
anything.  Fortunately for you!  If I was...." He leaves the sentence
hanging, putting on an exaggerated lechers leer.  Despite herself, she
giggles, and his 'leer' dissolves into a grin as he laughs too.  "Oh _now_
you may laugh, but you wouldn't be laughing if I could get my hands on your
delightful body!  You just wait till I'm free!  You'd better run!  Or you
might find out how _you_ like straps like these.  Bwahahahaheh heh!" His
theatrical villain laugh is spoilt by ending in a chuckle.

   She finds herself laughing too, as she pulls the sodden sheet out from
under his now suspended body.  But then his words coalesce in her mind into
an image of herself hanging, naked and helpless in straps just like he is,
and her breath catches.  How obvious her own problem would be to anyone who
saw her like that!  In it's way, it would be far ruder than Mr Bryans
erections, since...  since...  what people would think.  Ohhh...  She has
bent over the bed again, giving the plastic protector sheet a last sponge
down under his suspended body.  His body is now too high to lean over, so
she is reaching under him as she works downwards along the bed.  For a
moment she'd closed her eyes as the day-long discomfort in her loins flares
suddenly into a pulse-throbbing ache at that image of herself.  A shiver
runs through her body, as beyond her control her mind elaborates that
scene. She just knows that there would be many people examining her. 
They'd see her condition and have her bound legs swung widely apart to
completely expose her shame.  Ohhhh....  Then they'd....  they'd....  she
can feel how her legs would be wide apart, so helplessly exposed...  her
sex one awful pounding thob...  she feels herself going faint, drawing huge
breaths, open mouthed.  She vagely remembers she should be cleanging the
bed, but she just needs to breathe a moment...  She lets herself lean
forward, elbows resting on the bed, the image of herself and Mr Bryans
erection blending in her overheating imagination.  Somehow she imagines
herself putting her mouth over that purple head - she can feel the
sensation of the warm firmness sliding into her mouth with incredible
realism.  Would she like to do that?  What would the doctors do to...  to
her exposed sex?  She can imagine herself closing her mouth on his penis,
and pushing her head down onto it, feeling it's stiffness thusting into the
back of her mouth.  Passionfruit mango flavour...  The doctors would
experiment with her, testing her reactions...  she'd be unable to stop
them...  They'd do things to her...

   "Cathy!  CATHY!  Snap out of it!  CATHY!  STOP THAT!"

   Her mental imagery scatters into pieces.  Wha...?  She can hear Mr Bryan
calling her, and he sounds quite stern.  She tries to shake her head to
clear the fog, but there's some sort of problem, as if her head is stuck to
something.  Something in her mouth.  The fog isn't clearing up very well,
the something in her mouth is really distracting.  She remembers her eyes
are closed, and opens them.

   For a moment she can't make any sense of what she's seeing.  It's all
out of focus for one thing, and odd pastels and dark blurs for another. 
Then her eyes focus.  She still can't figure out how...?  She seems to have
an expanse of skin a few inches from her face.  With curly hair.  She tries
to swallow, and becomes aware that there really is something quite large in
her mouth.  She tries to push it out, but it seems to be stuck somehow. 
Rather than going out as she pushes with her tongue, it actually pushes
back, going deeper into the back of her throat.  It's warm and soft, yet
rigid too, and her mouth is telling her that it really likes being wrapped
around whatever it is.  Actually...  she forgets what she was trying to
think of, and concentrates on the sensations in her mouth.  So nice...  she
sucks on it, pushing down onto it further, closing her eyes again.  Never
mind that problem, too hard...  If only her body wasn't being so
distracting, she'd...  mmmmmm....  the thing in her mouth gives a kind of
jerk, draws back, then thrusts again.  Her mind is curling up around that
feeling, forgetting, wanting more, wanting like she's never known...

   "CATHY!  SERIOUSLY CATHY!  Come on, you have to stop now!"

   Why would anyone tell her to stop something so nice?  She pushes the
thought away, shaking her head 'no'.  The feelings in her mouth as she does
that wash over her like a wave of pleasure, and she does it again. 
Mmmmm....  she tries a different movement of her head - up and down, and
likes that even more.  It's so wonderful, feeling that firmness sliding in
her mouth.  Again...  and...

   "HEY!  Wake up Cathy!  Open your eyes.  On your feet, nurse!  NOW!"

   Nurse?  What?...  Oh yeah...  But...

   "Cathy, I'll count to three and if you haven't stopped, I'll press the
buzzer.  You won't enjoy that.  Now...  One..."

   Buzzer?  Why will that..?  Grudgingly, more from a sense of befuddled
curiosity at why someone wants her to stop something so nice, she opens her
eyes.  Oddly, as her head continues to slide up and down the nice thing in
her mouth, the blury surface in front of her recedes and approaches.  She
tilts her head to the side, letting the object slip into her cheek for a
moment.  She focuses on Mr Bryan, who is looking at her with a very odd
expression.  Looking along his torso.  His tors...  Oh.

   In an instant of crashing clarity, she realises what she is doing.  She
has Mr Bryans erection in her mouth.  Utterly frozen in shock, she just
stares sideways at him, her mouth still holding at least half his length.
Fragments of panicked thoughts flit through her head.  'Perhaps he hasn't
really noticed?  No, I think he has.  Why did he want me to stop?  I
thought men liked this?  Doesn't he want to...  Oh shit, I'm really in
trouble now...  Dear God, what have I done?  Dear God, I think I am going
to go mad!' On top of her dawning panic, the feelings in her own body have
made themselves known again very, very forcefully.  She can barely think
through the blazing, pounding, aching NEED.  Her whole body is burning, but
her belly is churning with the worst she has ever felt.  Her nipples feel
like rocks, and as for between her legs...  it feels like something is
going to fracture from the tension down there.

   "Two..."

   She straightens up, letting his organ slip from her lips.  Her mouth
feel so empty, and she stops, face just a few inches from his shaft,
staring at it.  'Those veins...  I could feel them with my tongue...' The
whole thing is wet and shiny with her saliva.  The head is even more
hypnotic close up, swollen more than she's seen it before, a darker purple.
The whole thing twitches, setting it swaying stiffly.

   "That's better.  Don't get me wrong, in other circumstances I'd be
holding onto your hair and going for it.  But right now, I don't think it's
propper.  Someone could walk in you know.  Besides, I have this odd little
project to see how I go abstaining for the duration, and I mean to do so.
I'm strange like that - once I decide to do something, I don't tend to let
others stop me.  You're welcome to hang out with me after I'm out of here.
Heck, I'll even let you suck on it again, if you ask nicely." He's grinning
again, and it sinks into her whirling mind that he's teasing her.  Not
angry, just teasing.  Maybe she isn't doomed.  But she _is_ far too
mortified and confused to answer him.  So she fumbles for the sponge, and
completes her wipe-down of the bed beneath his suspended legs, certain she
is still blushing crimson.  Struggling with the near unbearable heat in her
body, unable to forget the feeling of his organ in her mouth, so ashamed.
He isn't making it easy for her either.  Now he's tensing his legs,
thrusting his hips up and down the few inches possible in the supporting
straps.  His hips, and the vertical pole of his swollen-veined erection,
still glistening with her own saliva.

   "Hmmmmuhhhh...  wow, your mouth sure got the juices moving.  Have to
admit, almost didn't have the will to stop you.  What's it been now, four
weeks in here?  You'd have had a real mouthful!  I had no idea the urge
would get so intense.  Oh man...  I need a fuck so much!  Actually...  it's
quite an enjoyable sensation you know, if you look at it the right way. 
Kind of a shame one can't have this feeling _and_ wild sex every day."

   He's silent for a while, still tensing his erection into the air while
watching her with a speculative look in his eye, as she attempts to ignore
him while spreading the new sheet right under his humping body.  Neither
her blush nor the burn in her body are going away.  Try as she might, she
can't help her eyes being drawn to the sight of his erection, and sticking
there.  She's walking around the bed to tuck in the other side, when he
speaks again.

   "Hum, shouldn't you sponge the juice off me too, before you drop me onto
that nice clean sheet?  Just saying."

   She stops, staring at him from the foot of the bed.  Her head just will
not clear!  She realises he's right, and nods, sheepishly.  Pulls the new
sheet she'd just straightened out back off to one side of the bed, and
begins yet another Mr Bryan sponge bath.  With her mind occupied with the
one part that, that, she...  It seems to take her a long time to clean him
all over, till there remains only one thing left to do.  Neither of them
speak, as she hesitate, then proceeds to wash his crotch and penis.  He is
still extra hard, and the shaft twitches often at her touch.  She is trying
as hard as she can to be strictly professional, but that image keeps
dropping back into her mind - of herself, hung naked in straps like these
but with legs split wide, her most private shame exposed and toyed with,
her body wracked with the torments of her helpless arousal, without escape
or relief, stimulated for their amusement, until her self-control broken,
she...

   "Hey!  Not again!"

   She focusses again with a start, realising that she has his shaft
gripped tightly in both her hands - which are still sliding up and down his
rigid organ.  She gasps, letting go and picking up the sponge from where
she has dropped it on his stomach.

   "I think I'm clean now.  And I _know_ I'm close.  So that's enough. 
Sheet." He points with a finger at the clean sheet still crumpled along one
side of the bed, as if she needed reminding.  Which, she admits dazedly to
herself, she does.  She can barely think at all through the roaring heat in
her body and mind.  She stumbles a little as she re-does the sheet.  She
still can't look away from his penis for long.  It's as if it has some kind
of magical fascination for her, she thinks.  'Magical, magical penis, I
want to...' There's another little voice somewhere in her head, saying
something about morals and God, abstinence and purity, professionalism, but
it isn't making much sense at the moment.  Penis...  hard penis...

   She comes to a halt, the sheet done, still mesmerised by that erection.
His eyes gaze back with amusement, but she's barely aware of that.  "Hey,
Cathy.  Straps next.  It's getting a bit uncomfortable hanging around up
here."

   It's the work of a moment to lower him and move the lifting harness back
out of the way.  She plumps up his pillows, and is about to roll the bed
tent back over him, when he speaks again.

   "Oh, before you do that, I need to pee again soon.  Might as well be
now, if you don't mind." She stares at him, near the limit of her ability
to stand, for the pounding in her belly.  Sighs, picks up the urine bottle
from the bedside stand.  He's still stiff as a steel rod, and the swollen
purple head barely fits down the neck of the container.  She has to press
quite firmly to bend his organ over so the bottle is horizontal over his
stomach.

   There's a longish pause, during which she is fully occupied with her
internal struggle to ignore the flames in her body, and avoid any more
lapses into mishandling him.

   "Cathy, I'm afraid this may take a little while.  You really shouldn't
have put it in your mouth, it's got me all tensed up.  Guess we'll just
have to wait.  But...  I can't tell when it's going to release finally, so
for goodness sake don't let go, hey, or we'll be up for the whole rigmarole
with the bed cleaning all over again.  OK?  You got that?  Don't even move,
please, it's so sensitive now, we'd be here all day if you even change how
you're touching it.  Understand?"

   He looks into her eyes, serious.  She nods, not knowing what else to do.

   A few more silent, motionless moments pass.  She wonders how long this
may take.  Sometimes it can take him several minutes to let go, and that's
without any...  up...  when she hadn't...  Oh God, I sucked his penis in my
mouth!  If anyone finds out, I'll be sacked for sure!  Probably arrested!
Sued for sexually assaulting a patient!  I'll never find work as a nurse
again, dear God...

   He breaks into her internal monologue, with a casual comment, as if
commenting on the weather.  So casually, that for a moment she doesn't
process what he said.

   "I suppose I should mention this at some point.  I know you've been a
bit distracted, understandably, so possibly you didn't notice, eh?  Now,
remember, don't let go or move!  You've been a rather naughty girl this
afternoon, I'm sure you don't want to make an even bigger mess.  But did
you realise that your hemline got a bit...  raised in all that excitement?
Have to admit I quite like the effect, just thought you'd like to know. 
You can fix it after we finish with this little peeing problem."

   For the first time in quite a while, she looks at herself.  And freezes
in shock.  'Hem a bit raised?!' The hem of her tight, stretchy nurses
uniform onepiece tunic is up around her waist.  She isn't wearing panties.
From just below her navel, on down to her nurses flat shoes, she is
absolutely naked!

   "By 'can fix it after', I mean you can't fix it now.  Leave it like
that." His voice has taken on a strength she hadn't heard from him before.
She was just about to drop the urine bottle and cover herself, but somehow
now she can't.  Was that...  a threat?  A command?  She realises she
doesn't know, but it seems best to do as he says.  Unbearably shaming as it
is, since...  he can see...

   "You certainly are a remarkable girl, Cathy, truly remarkable! 
Fascinating!  Do you know that I've never seen such a pronounced clitoris
before?  Ever, not even in porn.  Extraordinary!  Why, it must be what, two
inches long?  Sticking out like that, it looks like a little tiny penis! 
If it wasn't nestling in such lovely neat, puffy dripping wet pussy lips,
I'd wonder if I was gay for finding it so appealing.  Looks hard as a rock
too, is it?"

   There's a long, long silence.  Her mind is simply crashed, unable to
form any coherent thought, her body standing there captainless.  She's
looking down, seeing both her own bare genitals with her private shame on
full display, and her hands holding his rigid erection and the urine
bottle. With startling vividness she hears the faint sounds from outside on
the ward, one closed door and a privacy curtain away.  A muffled
conversation, between two of the staff as they walk along the corridor past
Mr Bryans' room.  They are talking about one of the old duffer patients,
and a risque joke he'd made of one of the nurses last week.  Overheard, it
had become a standing line that everyone teased her with for days.  The
last thing Cathy hears as they fade out of earshot, is one of them
giggling.

   The silence continues.  She lifts her head for a moment, but that
results in her catching his eye.  He's contemplating her with an amused
grin verging on a lear.  He doesn't stop.  She watches as with complete
self confidence, making an act of it even, his gaze deliberately lowers to
her breasts, lingering there.  She doesn't need to look down herself - she
can feel how hard her nipples are, and knows exactly how obviously the thin
bra and uniform reveal them.  She wishes the floor would open and swallow
her up.  An intense sense of humiliation has been growing in her, along
with a hot flush spreading across her entire body.  And something else...
she can't quite identify...  She's still watching his eyes, like a deer in
headlights at night, when he shifts his attention lower down, directly at
her crotch.  He considers the sight silently a while, as her wish to shrink
to nothing and vanish intensifies.  The same as it always did, when...  She
tries to push that memory aside before it can have it's usual effect - but
too late, too late...  anticipation...  the old reflex takes over and her
knees spread wide, feet shuffling apart to allow a wider parting.  At the
same time her pelvis tilts, lifting her pubes forward and up, displaying,
seeking, expecting...  She's near fainting, the thumping of her pulse a
roaring in her ears, a beating ache of need in her sex.  It's utterly
beyond her to will herself to shift back to her normal position.  She is
totally sprung, and she knows...  what happens...

   She shakes her head.  No, this isn't the same.  She manages to drag her
eyes off his face, and looks down again.  She's a nurse, holding a
patient's erect penis.  She's bare from the waist down, with her...  her
clitoris standing out, and her hips thrust forward, legs apart because
that's the way she has to...  when she's caught.  But she has no idea at
all what will happen now.  She knows what her body anticipates, and can't
help the way it reacts, the shuddering of her breath and clenching of her
insides.  But it's wrong!  She musn't do this!  She must...  but she can't
- she has to hold still, he told her to, and, if she doesn't his urine
might spill...  She's massively wedged, afraid to move for fear of making
the disaster even worse somehow, and because she isn't allowed to... 
_wasn't_ allowed to, she reminds herself, not that it seems to help.  What
can he be thinking?  If only her 'present' reflex hadn't...  she could
have, she could have...  what?  She's looking down still, at the scene he's
silently contemplating.  Her freakishly developed clitoris, her 'one in a
million' deformity, about the same size as her own thumb and standing
rigidly out from the apex of her redly swollen, completely bare labia. 
That she can feel, and see, are glistening slickly with her secretions. 
She doesn't know what to do...  so she does nothing.

   It's so quiet in the room, when she manages to control her panting
breath, that she can hear the wall clock ticking.  She wonders what would
happen if she heard footsteps approaching the closed door of this room? 
She doesn't know.  She would only have to let go of him for a moment, to
quickly pull her tunic back down.  She's not sure she could do it.  So many
years of her mother's...

   He sighs, lengthily, shaking his head.  She can't tell if he's
indicating sadness, or disapproval.  "Cathy, Cathy...  What are we to do
with you?  That's quite a state you've got yourself in there.  Don't think
I've ever seen _legs_ blushing before.  What a naughty girl you are!  I'd
ask you if it's holding an erection, or the 'helpless guy in your clutches'
thing that's turning you on so, but it seems you are not in a question
answering mood at the moment.  You're definitely not going to tell me
exactly how hard it is, huh?  Well that's a shame, since I'd quite like to
know.  For obvious reasons, I'm not going to reach over and feel for
myself. You're _definitely_ down in my schedule book for a spanking though,
you can count on it.  After that we'll see what else you'll be needing. 
Nice stance by the way, I like it.  That's called something like 'please
punish me for being a bad girl, then fuck me senseless - foo', right?"

   He pauses another long moment, as she stands silent, head lowered. 
"Hmm. Well, I'll consider the request.  Let you know later, in about a
month.  For now, got to visit men's room.  Not going to work like this, the
view is too distracting.  So you just hold it right there, and I'm going to
close my eyes and think of the empire, porcelain and running water."

   And so he had.  It took about five more minutes till she felt the flow
start in his organ, and then it had been slow progress, as he'd jerk and
the flow would stop, then gradually restart.  The whole time her own fires
had barely reduced, and she'd stood there in an aching daze.  Eventually
he'd had to tell her he was finished, and she could quit now.  She'd let go
of him as if letting go of a hot coal, carried the stainless steel bottle
ot the sink, emptied and washed it, then returned it to the bedside table.
And halted beside the bed, head still lowered, again gazing at his slightly
softened erection, almost mindless with the burning in her belly.  He'd had
to prompt her again, to sponge his erection clean, then reattach his laptop
to it's bedframe, and roll the bed cover back.  Only then as she stood
beside the bed, no longer able to see his erection, did he remind her that
'her naughty clit was showing'.  She'd still been in a heavy sexual daze,
her mind drifting back among memories from her past.

   Now at the end of the day, standing with the Sister waiting patiently
for Cathy to continue, she remembers how without a moment's thought she'd
gripped the hem at her waist and pulled upwards, quickly removing her
uniform completely, as she must when discovered in sin.  She remembers
standing there naked but for her gauzy bra, for a long confused and heated
interval.  Holding her uniform in one hand, hips thrust forward and legs
spread wide, her mind tensed for her mother's punishments and treatments.

   He'd _laughed_ at her!  Laughed....  said something under his breath
that she didn't catch, then told her "No, put it back on.  Go back to work
Cathy." Recalling her reflexive mistake now, that same wave of confusion
and regret washes through her, deepening her blush.  She'd put the dress
back on, but as she finally pulled the hem down over her hips, covering her
sex, she'd felt a...  wrongness.  He knew she was being sinful, she
shouldn't cover...  Even now, standing in the ward with the Sister, her
clitoris still throbbing distractingly between her legs, she feels an echo
of that compulsion to strip off her uniform again.  It scares her - she's
never felt anything like that before in her work.

   Stammering, she tries to recover.  "Ah...  after...  that he passed
water, then, uh...  Mrs Fields' saline line blocked again at 4.45...  um...
nothing much else.  Pretty quiet afternoon.  Hope your evening is quiet. 
Uh...  Mr Bryan, he's..."

   "Yeah, he's quite the charmer, isn't he!  Wish I had a boyfriend like
that - always hard and tied down in the bed.  <snort>" The middle aged
Sister winks exaggeratedly at Cathy.  "Well, you have a good nights sleep
dear, you look worn out." She walks off into the ward.

   Cathy signs out in the register at the ward office, but as she's turning
to go the duty Matron calls out to her.  "Oh Cathy, wait up, I've a message
for you here.  It's from Mr Reynolds, ah...  do you know him?  He's our
Administrator.  He phoned, to tell you to pop over to his office for a word
straight after you finish on the ward today.  You know where it is?  It's
just down the left passage from the admin building entrance.  That OK?"



   No, it's not OK at all, Cathy thinks.  She's been going half out of her
mind most of the afternoon, and very badly needs to get back to her room to
deal with her problem.  Now this!  She nods, smiles her best smile for the
Matron, and heads out the door.  She's afraid to say anything, in case the
Matron spots that she's not happy about it, and offers to 'help her find
her way there'.  Matron is that kind of super helpful person, who'd think
nothing of giving her a tour of the Administration building on the way. 
She hears the woman call out after her "Cheerio then!  I don't know what he
wants, maybe something about your roster?  I'll call him now and let him
know you're coming straight over!"

   She has no idea what it might be about either.  She didn't request any
roster changes.  Her grades are above average.  It's been quite a while
since she made any significant stuff-up on the ward.  What could he want to
see her for, and why now?  Butterflies in her stomach don't go very well
with the throbbing urgent heat in her sex and aching nipples.  She really
hopes it isn't anything serious, or that takes long.  She's not sure she
can keep up her 'calm competence' face at the moment.  She's never even met
the man before, though she's seen him around.  He must be in his mid
forties - actually not too bad looking if you liked balding accountant
types.  Tall and fairly slim, she knows he jogs regularly, but that's about
the limit of her knowledge of him.

   Despite her unsettled state, she can't help admiring the afternoon as
she walks through the gardens towards the Administration building.  It's a
beautiful warm spring day in the mountains.  She's been happy here.  The
Mount St Joseph Sanatoria - a small hospital and fairly extensive long term
recovery sanatoria, set in mountainous wooded country in the Blue
Mountains, several hours drive West of Sydney, Australia.  The buildings
are arranged in beautiful gardens of open lawns, huge trees of many
varieties, and dense shrubbery borders winding acros the estate creating
many enclosed garden areas.  Sitting high on a plateau edge, there are
vistas across the great Blue Mountains valleys, to other mountain ranges
and clifflines in the far blue-hazed distance.

   The establishment includes a live-in nurse's accomodation building
housing all the trainee nurses (her included) and also registered single
nurses who choose not to live in the nearby country town, due to the 40
minutes drive.  The hospital is a very self-contained little world, quite
isolated in the bush, with one bus route to and from town daily.  Cathy
rarely leaves since she is from Sydney and knows no one in the town.  Also,
trainee nurse wages are not much, she can't afford a car, and she is trying
to save.  Food, work uniforms and casual clothing is provided by the
hospital, so she really has little need to shop.  What with the long shift
hours, her study, watching TV, chatting with her nurse friends, and other
diversions, her days are full.

   Really, she thinks, it's quite an idylic lifestyle compared to back home
in the city with her mother.  She could wish to be free of this distracting
complaint of hers, but if God chose this for her, who is she to go against
his will?  Mostly it's not even that much of a problem.  She'd never have
admitted this to her mother, but really she quite enjoys it in some ways.
Even though the feelings can be so intense they drive her up the wall with
distraction, and there's always that edge of intensely frustrating, aching
urge for more, fundamentally it's a pleasure.

   It's only recently, with the Mr Bryan situation, that her complaint is
developing into a serious difficulty.  Like now.  She'd half hoped the walk
outdoors might cool her down a bit, despite the familiar 'walking effect'.
Sometimes when she's hard and there's nothing else she has to do, she'll go
for long slow walks, to enjoy the softly alternating pressure of her labia
against the sensitivity of her rigid clit.  It's a guilty indulgence, and
also gradually builds that urgent frustration till she can't stand it any
more and has to sit for a while.

   This time, the Mr Bryan factor is turning out to have yet another side
effect.  She had already noticed after the spilt drink incident that the
small amount of walking around on the ward was quite alarmingly
stimulating. Somehow, she seemed extra slick down there, and her clitoris
more achingly swollen than ever.  It didn't take many steps around a ward
to have her groaning inwardly under the onslaught of frustrating urgency.
Worse, the slippery feel of her labia against her stiffness kept reminding
her of how his penis had felt in her mouth.  So while hoping the walk back
to her dorm might help, she'd had a feeling she'd have to take a rest stop
or two along the way, before things got too intense.  Time wouldn't be any
problem, since she'd be in no rush.

   Only now she is in a rush.  The Matron would have phoned him
immediately, just as she'd said - curse the woman for her invariable
efficiency!  Nothing for it but to go 'straight over' - thanks for that
Matron.  She'd started walking briskly, and by the time she's half way
across the gardens towards the Admin building, her attempt to distract
herself with thoughts of the weather and her life at Mount St Joseph is
faltering badly.  Unlike her little secret pleasure walks, she doesn't feel
guilty - she's not doing this for her enjoyment, but because she has to. 
Even if the result is going way beyond her usual comfort zone, and already
starting to feel more like something she used to suffer most evenings
before she'd moved out of home.  A reminder that does *not* help her
attempts to resist the building tension in her body.  She tries not to
think about it, but now recollections rear in her mind.  Of evenings in her
bed at home, restrained in her usual spread-eagled sleeping position,
struggling to control her body's lustful responses to the patient
application of the cream to her sex and over-developed, too-sensitive
clitoris.  Of how ashamed she'd feel after she'd so often fail and lose
control completely, her body breaking into frenzied, straining contortions
against the ties, moans and cries of wanton abandon bursting from her lips.
Eventually she'd regain her composure as the fog of sexual arousal would
slowly ebb, and then struggle again to retain control as the cream was
carefully, patiently and thoroughly reapplied.

   Now she's an adult, she reminds herself.  Twenty one months ago, and
mature enough to control her own body, surely.  It's unfortunate that this
walk across the grounds has to be brisk, and that the result is going to be
a much longer period of distraction back in her room before she can get
anything useful done, or sleep.  She grits her teeth, determined to ignore
the flaring heat and tension in her loins.  Angry with the Matron for
making her hurry, annoyed with the Administrator for choosing today to call
her.  Irritated that she can't keep the images of Mr Bryans erection, and
it's feel in her mouth from popping into her head, along with those other
memories.  Somehow the two seem to be merging into a kind of sensual swirl
- the feelings in her body mixed with the fullness of her mouth around that
thick shaft...  her body, sweating and naked on her bed at home, thrusting
her swollen sex upwards...  She's not ignorant of the mechanics of
intercourse, she knows what her hips are trying to do with that thrusting,
how her animal instincts responded to the careful fingers probing slightly
inside her to check her virginal intactness each night.  Why does this all
have to happen today?  Being asked to see the Administrator, when she can't
get the feel of that stiff shaft out of her mind, can't stop her body's
animal aching for it from making her problem so much worse?

   She's almost to the building now.  She can feel herself flushed and out
of breath, even though she's only walked briskly.  She just wants to
scream! Such an intense feeling, and there's nothing she can do about it.
With every racing heartbeat, her clitoris *pulses* an intense burst of
sensation, with every step the friction drives her nearly mad with desire,
to...  to...  she stops the thought.  Through the main doors now.  Which
way was it?  She can barely think.  The...  left?  Yes, down there, that
way.  She's panting, she realises, as if she'd run.  Must try to calm down.
His office...  she checks to plaques on the doors as she walks unsteadily
past them.  Ah.  Here it is, 'Mr Reynolds, Adm.'

   Pausing outside the door, she wonders if she can wait a few moments to
catch her breath, and hope the tormenting throb in her belly would subside.
She struggles to clear her head, trying to push out all the deluge of
sensations and images, without success.  Glancing down at herself, she
checks the trim of her uniform, automatically smoothing it down her hips,
as it has ridden up again slightly during her walk.  Her nipples are
standing out against the stretchy fabric, of course, but that can't be
helped.  She has a strange thought to try pushing them back in, that makes
her glance around guiltily as if she was really going to do such a thing,
here.  With the result that she notices there is a security camera mounted
on the ceiling a little further down the corridor, pointed her way.  Its
red light gleaming, somehow the camera makes her intensely aware that she
isn't even wearing panties, together with a vivid recollection of how she'd
somehow ended up with her dress up around her waist today in Mr Bryan's
room.  A flare of overwhelming heat from her sex ends any chance of further
thought.  Now she just wants to get out of the view of the camera.

   She knocks on the door.  A muffled voice sounds from inside.  Something
she takes as permission to enter, so she turns the handle.  For a moment
nothing happens, then there is a buzzing sound and the latch releases. 
Solid and heavy, the door swings open silently at her push.  She steps
inside.