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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!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. Please
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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