Nurse Nancy Misbehaves

Chapter One-1

Chapter One

The Night Shift

“Oh, Mr. Tatum, you really shouldn’t be out of bed at this hour!”

She sashayed into the room, wiggling her cute behind and smiling prettily. Her springy blonde curls bobbled like a golden halo in the dusky light, her bright eyes shining like sapphires as she indignantly watched her patient climbing from his bed.

“Can’t stand it anymore, little lady,” the man announced grimly.

Nurse Nancy pushed him back on the bed, kindly but firmly. “You want to use the bathroom? I’ll help you,” she said, feeling like a mother hen, though she hardly looked like one. “That ankle of yours needs to be babied, or you’re going to be here a lot longer than you planned.”

Feeling the touch of her sensuous hand, his sour expression warmed to a grin and his limp p***s began to stir. “I’d rather baby you, darling.”

“Oh, you are so sweet,” her eyes sparked naughtily.

She stood right next him, all one hundred and fifteen pounds of lush sweet-smelling flesh. He drank in every drop of her fresh-faced Southern charm, and taking her warm hand in his firm grip, he guided it down to his crotch. There was just the thin layer of his hospital gown between her fingers and his swelling c**k, and the heat from him poured out all over her like honey from a jug.

“Mr. Tatum!” she jumped back, “you behave yourself!” But she couldn’t break his grip on her hand.

“Oh, no, little girl, you’ve been teasing me for three days, and men like me jus’ don’t take kindly to being teased with nothin’ to show for it.”

She smiled, feeling the pulsing warmth of his growing erection send rivers of delicious sensation all the way up her arm. They spread to her chest and down to her softly undulating belly, making her spasm in a most erotic way.

“But, really, sir, I can’t do anything like that for you here,” she said in her sassy Southern drawl.

“Oh, sure you can. Who’d know at 2 a.m., anyway?” His sour expression transformed to a sly smirk, which made her want to giggle.

Men were always making a play for her, and she knew just how to bat her blues eyes in reply, while brushing them off in her next gesture. But this fellow was a bit too delightful to ignore. He had a cowboy’s rugged look, a craggy, tan complexion and green eyes that flashed both cold and warm. And muscles. Taut, sinewy muscles—not an ounce of fat on his lanky build.

“Little sweet talk, little sweet cream,” he moved his other hand under her short, white uniform skirt and let it amble up between her thighs as if he was getting set to stay there, “Best way to cure this backwoods boy and get me back in my boots. Whadya say?”

Ooo my! How he tormented her—her hand on his fat erection, his hand snaking its way inside her panties—what could she do but let her body speak?

“You really can’t,” she purred breathlessly. Her heart began to pound hotly, and she couldn’t stop from wriggling on his exploring fingers. He didn’t have to hold her hand to his crotch; the desire bounded through her, so that she finally grabbed his erection and began to jack him off.

“Yeah, baby, that’s it.”

“Oh, but we really shouldn’t…” she warned herself as much as she warned him, although she already knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t quit. The only off switch she recognized was that powerful physical rush that erupted in climax.

“Of course, not? But who’s to know?” her cowboy stallion urged her. His free hand went around her waist, while his fingers continued to probe between her thighs. They’d insinuated their way into the moist treasure beyond her s*x lips, into the place that made her quiver; that made her inner muscles constrict, and excitement flood the area with urgent spasms.

The sly lothario’s smile was positively sinful; his green eyes danced with glee.

“Oh, you are terrible, Mr. Tatum.” In a last attempt at proper decorum, she tried to pull back—but that’s not what she wanted, and that’s not what happened next. He pulled her to him harder and made her stay, where his hand couldn’t quit its feverish playing anymore than hers could stop squeezing his vigorous muscle. As precum oozed from the tiny opening of his p***s, desire poured from her wet lips.

“You want to suck, baby?” he asked.

“Uhuh,” she mindlessly responded.

Pulling his hand from her crotch, he pushed her between his legs and presented his eight hard inches of tumescent might to her waiting mouth. She licked it first, her tongue riding round the head like a wave, while her round blue eyes seemed to darken and melt away with her lust. Just licking him made her p***y ooze with juice. It ran right past her panties, and drizzled down her legs. When she zeroed in on his thick meat, her whole mouth seemed to swallow him. She drew back sucking, her tongue and cheeks coiling around the stalk the way a p***y would f**k.

“Damn! You are somethin’ else, little girl!”

In the back of her mind, she imagined with horror the stir his exclamation could cause on the quiet hospital floor. She backed off and placed a finger over her lips, “Shush! Or I’ll have to stop.”

Sorry, he said, as he wound his fingers through her hair and shoving her face back to his c**k. Although he wasn’t sorry at all.

Back to her play, her eager mouth dove for the throbbing c**k and devoured it again, and again, and again, each time sucking harder with her tongue curling about the shaft, while her mouth and lips slurped in a frantic, explosive motion. She could feel the orgasm in him begin to rise, so there was no use stopping, no matter how loudly her patient moaned. Mr. Tatum leaned back on his bed while she worked him, his hand still clinging to her hair. She could feel the urgency, not just in his c**k, but though his grasping fingers.

Then suddenly he groaned, “Gawd, yes, baby yes!” and Mr. Tatum shot all over Nurse Nancy’s face, spewing a load that suggested he hadn’t come in some time—which was probably true.

“Oh, dear!” she said, as she sat back on her heels. He’d let go her hair and was reclining against the mattress.

“Now that’s a cure!” he said when he had enough breath to do so.

She jumped to her feet and grabbed a Kleenex from the box beside his bed, frantically wiping the mess away from her face. “Oh, dear!” she repeated.

“Everything all right in here?” Nurse Willet was at the door asking.

“Oh! Everything is just fine,” she turned briefly toward the woman, smiling. “I was just helping Mr. Tatum to the bathroom, and he was having a bit of a problem. But I think everything is taken care of now. Don’t you think so, Mr. Tatum?”

“Yeah, I’ll be just fine. A fine nurse here, Miss Willet.” Mr. Tatum pulled himself upright with a little help from Nancy and grinned broadly.

“Well good,” the inquiring Nurse Willet remarked. Seeing that nothing was amiss, she turned away and walked back down the corridor.

“Mr. Tatum!” Nancy exclaimed in a hushed whisper, “You cannot do that to me again.”

“Did I see you complaining?”

“You don’t understand… I can’t help myself, and you certainly didn’t make things very easy.”

“Made it easy for you to get me off,” he quipped.

“You’re a very naughty man!”

“As naughty as my nurse.”

She smiled. “Just please, don’t do that again. Now, get yourself back in bed and stay there!”

She abruptly left, slipping into an empty room to catch her breath. And yet, regaining her composure wouldn’t be that simple; her body was still too flushed with s****l desire. Leaning back against the wall, she reached under her skirt and inside her panties, where, with a few brisk strokes to her enflamed, wet p***y, she climaxed, coating her fingers with her thick, sticky c*m. For sixty seconds, she thrashed back and forth, mouth open, silently screaming, until a merciful God blessed her with several quick, powerfully glorious spasms.

Then she caught her breath… wiped her hands and crotch, straightened her clothes, and ran her fingers through her mop of curls. With a smile on her face, she re-entered the hospital corridor and started her rounds.

***

Nurse Nancy had known Johnny Toliver since she was in kindergarten, roughly twenty years. He’d been as randy then as he was now; a spunky charming kid with a swarthy smile, even for a five-year-old, and a mean streak that made him cut off one of her blonde braids with scissors. He’d only gotten halfway through her thick hair when she yanked it back, but the damage had been done. Her mother repaired the mess, cutting off the rest of her long locks to match the shorter hair. She was miserable. The following day, Nancy threw the beautiful blonde remains on Johnny’s desk with a sassy, “There! You satisfied?” His mean streak had been only a brief aberration, so he was just a bit chagrinned to see a mountain of lush blonde curls covering his desk.

Johnny was no different twenty years later, and no different when he landed in the hospital with an acute asthma attack. Nurse Nancy wasn’t one to hold a grudge, but she wouldn’t forget either. She kept her distance while efficiently taking care of her patient.

“Hey kiddo, you don’t suppose you could give me a backrub, do you?” Johnny asked her, at the same time moving his shoulders and wincing with pain as if they really hurt.

“And why would you need that except to mess with me?” she replied.

“The other nurses do,” he said with a wry smile.

She looked at him warily. He had something up his sleeve—or his hospital gown to be more precise.

“But the other nurses don’t know you the way I do.”

“You still holding that hair thing against me?”

“I haven’t grown it long since then because of you,” she retorted.

Just the way she held her body was eye candy for a red-blooded guy. She walked, stood and strutted with her shoulders proud, thrusting out her generous bust line as if she were advertising the equipment for sale. And that lovely swell of her hinny from behind—the round orbs seemed to float as they pressed tightly against the back of her skirt. Was it really her cleft visible from that point of view? Or was it just the male imagination that made it look that way? What a profile! What a package! The guys exclaimed to themselves. Nancy was just that kind of girl. Just that kind of woman!

“But I was only five!” he gesticulated expressively with his hands. He feigned a look as sad as a naughty puppy.

“And you haven’t changed,” she quipped haughtily. She was rarely haughty, and truly, her smug retorts were just as much a way to tease as they were a serious judgment—though Johnny would never know that for sure. Had he known how he’d feel about Nancy at twenty-five, he’d have never cut her precious blonde braid. They would have hit it off in high-school, gone to the prom, smoked behind the bleachers, f****d hard, and generally run around as the two biggest sluts in their class. They deserved each other; everyone knew that. They were destined to be the perfect couple; everyone knew that, too. All but for one rash move in a childhood rage when Nancy refused to play tetherball on the playground and took off with her girlfriends laughing at him because he forgot to zip his fly.

“I think it’s time to bury the hatchet… or even if you don’t, isn’t giving your patients backrubs part of the job?”

“My job is to see that you rest and take your medicine, so that you can get back to work.”

“I’ll rest better if you give me a backrub.” He batted his long dark lashes her way, pursed his lips and crooked his finger. His voice deepened sexily, “Don’t you think twenty years is long enough for your revenge? And I know you give massages; I saw you rubbing old Mr. Dwyer’s shoulders yesterday.”

“He had muscle cramps,” she said.

“And I don’t?”

“No, you don’t,” she said pointedly.

“But I would rest better.”

She could remember wanting him in high school, thinking how she’d give anything to give up her silly game of revenge and do what everyone expected of her. While she listened to her friends whisper about his s****l prowess—the biggest d**k in the senior class, ‘and he sure knows what to do with it…’ she pined for him silently, screwing other guys, while in her mind, she was dreaming about what Johnny Toliver could do with the biggest d**k in the senior class. As he sweet-talked her with his lame logic, the old feelings came flooding back. If a back rub was all he wanted, that would be just fine. But she had a hunch that he had more in mind. There was an out-to-conquer look in his big brown eyes.