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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 © 2010. Please
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Ironic
by Hawk Richards (heminway@epix.net)
***
I couldn't believe it. My folks were in the room. Didn't
they see me fucking the nurse? My balls were swelling
with the need to orgasm. All of a sudden, everything
went blank. A torrent of hot semen burst from my loins.
I saw the face of my mother. She was crying. I woke up
startled, confused, and bewildered. (MF, dream)
***
The tragic gray rain swept the crisp, frozen landscape.
The once doughy ground was now hardened. The trees were
barren and winter had conquered with shades of gray
washing the painter's pallet. Hews of amber on the tip
of a horsehair brush pressed timidly to the canvas.
Then, strong slow strokes of the painter's instrument
sounded through the night below the groaning wind. Bent
over the easel was the artist. His eyes intent on the
beauty only he saw and was able to transfer to the
reality of the canvas.
The red glow of my cigarette grew as I took a long drag
off it. I walked forward slowly into the dim light of
the streetlamp, where the twilight grew into a haze. A
deafening sound had pierced the night. It was a sound
only I could hear. A pain in my chest seeped to my brain
stem. I winced as I felt the thought tear my flesh. My
legs gave out underneath me as the world went black.
Cold.
I awoke to the sterile smell of a hospital. My eyelids
rose as the heavy burden of lifting the weight of drugs
pressed them down. Groggily I swept the room with an
adrenaline stimulated stare. A room full of standard
hospital green and stainless steel greeted my anxious
and heavy eyes. The other bed was empty; so was my
stomach. My lips were aching for some water to nourish
my need. My chest felt like a mass of broken tissue,
torn and rendered wounded by both life and the heart
pounding wonder of why I was here. What could wound me?
I had a clue as to who had done it. I started to sit up
when the pain shot through me immobilizing me for many
minutes, which seemed like eternity. How close had I
come to death this time? I was getting careless. I still
was not safe from myself anymore, even in the hospital
helpless and weak. Helpless and weak are two things that
I never like to be. My own body had betrayed me.
My eyes suddenly opened as a nurse came through the
door. She looked like an angel. I am not kidding. Her
blonde hair seemed to flow in my dazed sight. Her white
uniform was just a wisp of white to me. I could only see
her float over to me with a caring smile.
"Looks like you finally decided to join us Mr. Andrews,"
she said.
I could only grunt an appreciative groan. My mouth was
so dry I could not speak; yet, somehow I asked for a
drink of water.
"Only just a little bit," she said as she poured me a
cup of water from the pitcher near the bedside. "How are
we this morning?" she asked knowing all too well that I
felt like shit.
"Where am I?" I muttered spilling some water on my
hospital gown.
"You're at St. Johns Hospital. You took a nasty bump to
your noggin," she said as she checked my bandages.
I whimpered a moan of protest as the pain shot through
the haze of painkillers; I am sure they fed to me
intravenously.
"You have a visitor Mr. Andrews," she said.
I looked up to see a dark clad figure enter the room. At
once, I recognized him. It was hard not to for I had
known him all my life. He was tall with a balding gray
pattern of hair upon his round head. There were deep
furrows of worry etched into his forehead. His cheeks
were hollow and made his pronounced smile even more
pathetic. He was more worried than he usually looked. It
was I.
It would be me 20 years from now as a husk of flesh and
bone. The thought of aging never had bothered me. What
did bother me was the reluctance to go through life as a
drone to society and the thought that dreams could be
locked up behind a pathetic smile and wool suits. A
neatly packaged product of conformity. A trite existence
in little houses painted white, picket fences, a dog, a
cat, and the whole stereotypical dribble pounded into my
brain by radiation sets and countless hours behind the
blind mask of the American dream.
"Hello," I said.
"You really should take better care of yourself."
"Yes."
"Your mother is outside would you like to see her?"
"My mother? She is not my mother."
"Well, she is outside would you like to see her?"
"Not really."
"I don't understand you."
"And you never will."
"Fine."
That is how it ended. That is how it always ended. I
understood his existence, yet he didn't understand my
reluctance. I loved them, yet I had contempt for them. I
lived a life they didn't understand. My head ached even
harder as I clenched my eyes shut. Even full of sense
depriving drugs I felt my body absorb sensations. I
tasted the acidic-sterility of the room, the stiffness
of the sheets and the warm circulated air.
I needed a drink.
***
I felt the need for company after he left. I pressed a
button summoning the nurse. She arrived in about five
minutes, which was an eternity. My drug-induced haze was
fading, causing the tender tissue surrounding my wound
to ache. I thought about asking for more painkillers,
instead I hit on her. I knew she must have had more
important things to do, but I seem to have a way with
women. Either they take pity on me or they are somehow
intrigued. I never really analyzed it.
"What seems to be the problem, Mr. Andrews?" She asked.
"I needed to talk to someone," I croaked.
"I see..."
"Are you feeling pain?"
"Only in my heart," I said trying to smile.
"Chest pains?"
"No emotional."
I could see her start to understand. Her lips curled
into a slight grin. Her eyes glinted in a mischievous
secret. For some reason she locked the door, let her
hair down, and glided to my side with ease. I took a
moment to admire her face.
"It's time for your sponge bath."
"Ok." It was all I could say at the moment. I had always
wanted to make love to a nurse.
As she swabbed my torso with tepid water and smiled, she
must have noticed the desperation on my face. I would
have called her an angel of mercy, yet her devilish grin
led me to another conclusion. She bent her face towards
mine.
Perhaps, it was my own take on the event, but I thought
she was going to kiss me. Instead, she looked into my
eyes, searching. She must have liked what she found
there. She didn't move away when I kissed her. Her lips
were too soft like feather pillows. I held onto her
waist. Our tongues intertwined like two serpents.
Soon, she left with an innocent smile. I still wanted to
fuck a nurse. I don't blame her for not allowing me to
go further than a kiss. Patients are in a hospital for a
reason. Something is physically wrong with them.
***
After I escaped from the Hospital, I had to talk to
someone, so I went to my favorite listener: "I remember,
sitting for two hours watching an ant crawl around my
kitchen. I just sat there. He was the perfect drone. He
was the perfect soldier." My cat just sat there, silent.
He understood.
That night I had a dream. I was on the hospital bed
making love to the nurse. Her auburn hair cascaded down
to brush my face. Each hair was like a whip biting into
my soul. She slowly gyrated her hips in rhythm to my
heartbeat. I heard the hospital equipment around me beep
in erratic beats. I could feel my cock penetrating her
body with each movement. She was so tight it hurt.
I heard talking in the background. It was the doctor. He
was either oblivious to the nurse rutting up and down on
my hips or he condoned the behavior. He held a x-ray of
my skull up to the light. He spoke to the unseen voices
asking questions.
"Will he be alright, Doctor?"
"He seems healthy."
I noticed the Doctor examining the nurse quite closely.
Her nursing uniform had vanished. Her overly large
breasts seemed to have a life of their own as they
bobbed up and down. Their cherry colored nipples pressed
into my chest like needles. My hands groped the soft
flesh of her breasts. I held on tight because my life
depended upon it.
"He doesn't act healthy."
"There is a special operation for such matters."
"Do whatever you can to make him... normal," my
Stepmother said in disgust.
"Ok, Mrs. Andrews."
I couldn't believe it. My folks were in the room. Didn't
they see me fucking the nurse? My balls were swelling
with the need to orgasm. All of a sudden, everything
went blank. A torrent of hot semen burst from my loins.
I saw the face of my mother. She was crying. I woke up
startled, confused, and bewildered. Never in my life had
I had such a vivid dream.
The memory made me sick. I had an awful headache. As my
stomach churned, I remembered what the doctor had told
me: "You have a tumor in your brain. You have two
options at your disposal. Either you can go through with
the surgery or you can try chemotherapy."
I blacked out once again. I had a vision of a nurse
swabbing the excess semen off her inner thighs. It
dribbled down her leg slowly.
The End
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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 67