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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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		                WARNING!
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Nurse Wendy
by Slim n' Dusty (slimndusty@yahoo.co.uk)

***

A nurse uses a dead man for her pleasure. (MF, work, 
nec)

***

Nurse Wendy wheeled the gurney into the ward. He had 
been the only man left in there. She drew the 
partitions around for privacy anyway. The life support 
machine had been wheeled away and she had been asked by 
the young man's doctor to wheel him down to the morgue 
as the other assistants were busy or had left the 
hospital, but she stood there for a while. Was it his 
silence that made her stay and draw the partitions? Was 
it him not knowing of her presence anymore? She could 
not wheel him away just yet. 

She gazed at his still face and the eyes that the 
doctor had closed. She noticed bodily contours from 
beneath the sheet and her heart was beating fast. She 
occasionally made nocturnal visits of this kind, but 
most of the deceased patients she attended to were much 
older. He was young, early twenties and the admin staff 
were having difficulty locating relatives. The life 
support was needed elsewhere. 

She moved around to the side of the bed and paused. She 
sat beside him and looked at his pale face. His eyes 
were closed. He no longer breathed. She removed the 
covers that kept her image of him imaginary. Peeling 
the layers back gave her a brief twinge of excitement. 
This was not a work act, a 'clean him up' act. This was 
something else. Something exciting – something naughty. 

She moved closer to him and felt herself tremble. A 
slight scuffling could be heard as her shoes found a 
resting place beneath the bed. Her hands began to 
unbutton his cotton top. The top button first, of 
course. The one nearest his pale neck. She unbuttoned 
it and hesitated, before leaning forward to kiss the 
area of exposed skin. Did her lips detect a lingering 
remnant of body heat? Her heart began to pound. He had 
expired only recently. 

The next button revealed his upper chest. She kissed 
the small patch of hair over his sternum. Her hands 
paid a visit to each of his nipples and pinched them in 
turn. They had been warm once but now they were cool. 
Her pinching made the tiny nipples hard. 

Nurse Wendy looked at his unmoving chest. His ribs were 
now locked and silent. She knew death would start work 
on him shortly. To her, a good-looking man when alive 
is considered handsome. A good-looking man when dead is 
beautiful. She knew that his beauty was now limited 
before it would be torn apart in a furnace or by 
worms... 

The young man had an entire temporary landscape that 
demanded exploration, a landscape that would soon be 
deforested and destroyed by impending erosion. She 
stroked his face and the small patches of stubble that 
signified early manhood. Unbuttoning the rest of his 
top, she traced the fine hairs downwards from his chest 
to his navel and kissed his smooth, flat belly. 

Whilst attending to his belly, one of her hands 
strayed, grew adventurous, and followed the path of 
increasingly dark hair southwards. It was brought to a 
halt by the cord that kept his pants close to his 
waist. Her hand hesitated at the silly obstruction, and 
then began to work its own way past the now loosened 
cord towards his lower torso and into the patch of fur 
that lay concealed beneath. 

She lay her head on his flat belly while her hand 
played amongst the soft curls. The palm of her hand 
brushing across the patch, her fingers isolating some 
of his hairs, twisting them around and around. One 
finger stretched out and brushed the padded base of his 
cock, slowly tracking its contour and flaccid length 
until arriving at his exposed tip. 

Nurse Wendy stood up and moved around to the foot of 
the bed. She reached out and pulled his pajama trousers 
down to his upper thighs. In the semi-darkness his shy 
manhood lay foundering on its side, and like its owner 
– both were caught in a slumber of no return. She 
shivered at the sight and felt the beginning of a slow, 
deep, delicious ache between her legs. An ache she'd 
only felt with men in this state and in no other - the 
unending silence and stillness. 

The perfect juxtaposition that made her few moments 
with them delicious: her self-awareness, her body warm 
and receptive to touch, their loss of awareness, their 
bodies cold and numb, her body capable of movement and 
manipulation, their bodies compliant, immobile and 
vulnerable. Vulnerable as calves caught in deep mud. 

She learned from their bodies and explored their 
bodies, grew familiar, kissing them, handling and 
playing with them, toying with them, pleasuring herself 
with them. She imagined herself as their goddess, their 
creator and that she created them for her pleasure. She 
wanted to spend hours with many male bodies without 
being labelled or criminalised or deprived of them in a 
cell. 

She knew the dead would never share her secrets with 
the living. It was the living she had to worry about. 
She knew that dead men would never betray her, never 
talk behind her back. They would silently obey her, 
fulfill her wish and carry her sweet secrets away with 
them before they could grow bitter on the wagging 
tongues of the living. 

Dead men would not remember what she said or did to 
them. They faithfully held on to secrets. Dead men 
selflessly gave their bodies to her without judgment or 
expectation or demand. Their staring eyes were 
incapable of recording image or curve. Their mouths 
would not utter insult or biting sarcasm, instead they 
would provide her with a receptacle for her kisses. Her 
memories and moments of passion would remain safe with 
her. And this newly deceased man before her would 
respect her wish and follow those who obeyed her before 
him... 

Thoughts aside, she now let her lust rise 
uncontrollably upwards into her warm throat as she 
climbed onto the bed. Her heart pounding as she slowly 
moved on all fours over his restful torso. Her breasts 
beneath her uniform touched the young man's unmoving 
belly as she moved up to his still face. Gently she sat 
herself onto his groin. She felt the small, soft, 
seemingly insignificant lump of his endowment between 
her legs, but that part of him would willingly come to 
her later. 

The first act - a slow pelvic rub against him. Leaning 
forward with her hands resting on each side of his 
head, she kissed his chin and mouth. First, she gave 
him soft kisses on the lips, while her uniform rubbed 
against his naked chest. Her large nipples, restrained 
inside her bra, pressed against her clothing and came 
into a vague teasing contact with his upper body. 

Rhythmic movements from her hips and thighs swayed her 
body with his. Slowly, her tongue pressed itself 
against his lips, flicking both of them slowly before 
inviting itself into his oral chamber, slowly exploring 
his mouth until it reached its still, cool counterpart 
and turned playful. 

Whilst wrestling inside his mouth, Nurse Wendy reached 
down beneath her skirt to give her pleasure some needed 
focus. There was a brief tearing sound of Velcro 
parting, as she made a convenient swift entry to her 
front. Knowing that she could be sought after at any 
time, her Velcro underwear always came in handy for 
such moments. Lifting his limp penis, she gave it a 
necessary task to service her most tender region. 

While she made vital contact, she wondered if her act 
betrayed a boyish virginity and whether his cock had 
seen any significant action before falling silent for 
eternity. She had read once, in a paper, where a young 
virgin man was dying of cancer and his last wish was to 
be with a woman. His doctor arranged it for him before 
he had gone to his grave. 

Nurse Wendy smiled at this young man's innocent face 
and convinced herself of his purity. She felt a 
privilege in tarnishing his boyish innocence. Each 
slow, self-guided, rhythmic brush against him, 
sharpened her aching need. Whilst directing her 
movements below, she freed one arm to explore his face. 
Her fingertips sought desperately for his attention. 

'Where is my perfect dead man?' she whispered between 
breaths. 

One at a time, she unfastened his eyelids so that she 
could stare into her young lover's eyes. A moan escaped 
her as she saw the undivided attention he now gave her. 

Her freed hand dipped toward the moistening groove 
between her legs. She ran her fingers through several 
times and held it there before imploringly reaching for 
his mouth. Her fingertips moistened his dry lips with 
her sticky lust, before they slipped past and brushed 
his virgin tongue. Naturally, his lips closed over her 
fingers as she slowly withdrew them. She leaned forward 
once more and kissed him. The shifting of her weight 
made him groan. Her delicious scent escaped his lips 
and greeted her. 

Nurse Wendy moaned. She released his pale, glistening 
cock and moved herself up to his head, regretting that 
she hadn't been to witness his passing on. 

On one lucky occasion she had been a witness to a man 
dying and she waited as he neared death before grasping 
the opportunity. The ward was full of other men but 
she, again, drew the partition for the private 
encounter. Aside from the front entry, she remained 
fully clothed. He was made hard and kept hard with the 
assistance of a pump and a small tourniquet around the 
base of his penis. 

She slipped a condom on his member before intercourse 
and made the intercourse slow and silent, driven solely 
by the musculature of her vagina. She bade a slow 
gradual entry, an inch at a time, as he fell in and out 
of consciousness. 

At one point he awoke, looked vaguely at her body 
mounted on him and smiled without uttering a word. Not 
long after, she felt his slow departure as his flagging 
hardness left her hungry body, the last vestige of his 
bagged life slipped out into the cool air. 

She now stared longingly into her new dead lover's eyes 
while welcoming him to her sex, shivering as his nose 
made contact. Her rhythmic movements began once more as 
she sought the contours of his face that gave her the 
most pleasure. Holding his head firmly to her body, she 
arched her back and closed her eyes. Her vulva, 
loosened with this new arousal, made delicious sounds 
as it caressed his dead mouth and nose. Her lips parted 
whenever his nose came into more intimate contact. 

She straightened her back to get a look at him and 
directed his gaze. His eyes held no cunning or anger. 
Unfocused he stared through her into the distance. His 
mouth and tongue held no venom or spite - that had all 
been taken away from him when he died. Now it was her 
sex relishing his obedient presence, savouring his 
quiet beauty, generously imparting its own sticky 
language to his still lips. She loved to look deep into 
the eyes of her dead lovers as she felt them obediently 
nudging her closer to orgasm. 

* * 

He did not feel her pelvic rhythm speed up, he did not 
feel the airspace between her legs turn subtropical, he 
did not feel her perineum swell against his chin, he 
did not hear her whispering her lust to him over and 
over while her teeth clenched in orgasm...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 35