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Nympho Nurse

Harriet Sommers

This page copyright © 2009 Olympia Press.

CHAPTER I

Jane was a registered nurse, living in Philadelphia. She did not work in a hospital. Jane preferred to work in rich, private homes, usually in the posh, suburban areas on the outskirts of the city— Chestnut Hill, Bala Cynwood, Jenkintown or Rydal as a private nurse to wealthy patients. Not only was it a more interesting career in terms of the men she met along the way—(if not patients, often horny relatives of patients!)—but it removed her from the strain of hospital atmosphere and the condescending attitude of doctors within them (contrary to what the soap operas would have one believe about doctors falling insanely in love with nurses! Doctors fell insanely in love with heiresses, whose fathers could set them up in practices...) and the general feeling of being under surveillance which hospitals gave to nurses.

Jane was a very competent nurse. It was not that she did not do a very thorough and committed job with her patients. But she liked moving from mansion to mansion, as she worked. The patients and their relatives were so grateful to her, in so many ways. Jane liked these expressions of gratitude and the new men in which these positions gave her access to. The greater truth was the fact that Jane liked to fuck, and this career style of nursing gave her infinitely more possibilities to be fucked—sometimes royally!—than other styles.

She was currently working on a cardiac patient in Rydal, Pennsylvania, a man of sixty, who was making a recovery from a severe heart attack, and a relapse from it—the relapse coming after going back to work too soon.

His name was Henry Saks and he was a well-known architect. He had built this modernized version of a French Normandy castle, which was his mind-boggling home in Rydal, where Jane now attended him as faithfully as a cocker spaniel. He was also a widower and terribly horny. At the moment, he was developing a terrific crush on Jane, as she bathed him in bed, took his temperature and blood pressure, prepared and brought him his special meals and doled out his heart pills several times a day. This was her second week on Henry Saks' case. She had been with him since he came home from the hospital, and it was all she could do to fend off his daily passes at her, while she was taking care of him, trying to help him reconstitute his heart, during this rest period the doctor had prescribed for him!

Jane was not unused to heart patients getting horny. But she was very scrupulous in dealing with them. Not until total recovery was achieved did she ever let any of them fuck her. This pattern of conduct netted her two things—The first was an easy conscience; Jane did not want to be the instrument of any man's death or even relapse; the second was, that by the time full recovery was achieved by the patient, he was so mad for her that the best sexuality was exhibited, and great generosity was forthcoming.

She had a long, mink coat from Revillca from one such patient, a diamond bracelet from another, a Volvo from a third, and if she played her cards right with Henry Saks, who knew what she might get from him, not only during their rolls in the hay, but as a consequence of rolling with him?? One man of his age, had actually altered his will, giving a nice little chunk to Jane, to the horror and consternation of his family...But he didn't give a fuck, except to Jane...First she had saved his life, then given him a reason to go on living! Yes, Jane played her professional nurse's cards very, very cleverly.

Her prim and proper white nurse's uniform never fooled men—never had and never would. She kept her thick, long, flowing blond hair immaculately tight in a bun with a net over it and a white cap over the bun. She wore very little makeup while on the job. But this did not prevent her male patients, their relatives and friends from seeing—after a number of treatments or visits—her beautiful, young face with its wide green eyes, her stunning figure, however severely draped by the white uniform, revealing two gigantic and very provocative tits, held sternly in check by a brassiere that made them even more prominent!—and her longish, slender legs with the delicate ankles. Yes, the men missed none of these sexy traits, were only more turned on, because the uniform attempted to both conceal and disguise them!

“Jane?” called Henry Saks, just finishing his lunch, which she had exquisitely arranged on a family silver tray.

“Yes, Mr. Saks?” she replied, rising from a brocaded French chair and approaching the great oaken bed in which her coronary patient was lying.

“It was a delicious lunch, Jane. Superb. But I'd love another cup of coffee.”

“Nix, Henry! You know we've just started the coffee this week. One at breakfast and one at the lunch hour. None at dinner. And that's your doctor's orders for the present. Respect those orders, Henry, all of them! That way you get well,” said Jane, smiling provocatively at him, then bending down to remove the silver tray and carry it to the kitchen.

But Henry Saks grabbed her right arm before she actually got hold of the tray. With astonishing strength, he pulled her down so far that he, seated, could plant an ardent, craving kiss on her lovely mouth, and grab hold of her giant-sized right tit. Poor Jane had to literally peel Mr. Saks off herself.

“Now, Henry! We've been over this ten times, at least. Romance like coffee is forbidden to you right now. Not only are you not to do anything, but you're not supposed to even fantasize about doing something sexual like that!” said Jane, knowing it would only increase his sexual fantasies pertaining to her body, while he waited for her permission for an affair to start.

“But Jane, this is almost the third week!” he whined.

“Not even the end of the second, Henry...Have patience and with luck and good taste—which means don't grab my tits as though they were rubber balls!—you may be rewarded by my favors. Not in this house, of course, but perhaps in my apartment on Spruce Street. When you are reasonably, really, absolutely well, Henry, you can hope for something like that. In the meantime, I'm here to help you restore your health, not to play the role of a damned murderess, which I could very well be, if I went along with your sexy ideas, at this stage of your recovery,” she stated firmly.

“Murderess?” laughed Henry Saks. “At the rate my libido rises when you come near me, Jane, I'm more likely to die from sexual frustration than from a new coronary attack!”

Jane, now standing a foot away from his bed, could not help laughing at this. “You'll live,” she assured him.

“And you? Don't you ever get hot, Jane? Or am I too old to get up your dander, my dear?”

“Don't be silly! I've told you how good looking you are for your age, and I was quite sincere. No one would ever guess you're sixty, Henry, with that good body and that youngish face...Getting younger all the time you get better,” she added, patting his cheek.

Henry was ready to grab her tit again, but restrained himself. Then he stared at her lovely, but unreadable face.

“But back to you, Jane,” he said. “Don't you ever get terribly frustrated, working like this six days a week?”

“Don't worry about me. I'll survive,” she assured him, coloring ever so slightly, because unbeknownst to Henry Saks, Jane was already involved with his nephew, Bert, and was having a pretty wild and horny affair with him on her day off. She had explained to Bert that his uncle had one of the special, patient-nurse type crushes on her—almost a form of transference!—and that Henry must never, now or in the future, know of her affair with Bert...It might bring on a new coronary attack.

“Okay, I'm taking your word for it, my dear.”

“Do.” She said, finally picking up the tray and heading for the bedroom door with it.

“But of course,” he added, “I realize that you have boyfriends, Jane. A lovely girl of twenty-five must!”

“A few,” she shrugged, “but no one of any great interest to me at the moment, and left Henry's room, with this lie on her lips.

The truth was that his nephew, Bert, thirty-five and married was of enormous interest and attraction to Jane, and was nearly fucking her ass off on her cherished day off each week. And Jane thought Bert was absolutely gorgeous and was beginning to resent the fact of his wife more and more. Yes, she and Bert had a very hot thing going right now...Still, she wasn't lying to Henry Saks. It was entirely conceivable, maybe in two or three months, if he continued to recover so promisingly, that she'd go a few rounds with him. A part of Jane was very attracted and responsive to older men, especially if they came on with surprising virility. Added to that, Henry was a widower and very wealthy to boot. No, she was not putting him on at all! They might very well make it, the two of them, once she was convinced that he would not drop dead while humping her.

But for now, she continued her daily round of chores, pacifying Henry like a true nurse, telling him not to get hot and bothered about her right now; it went against all his therapy to get excited in any way! As for herself, tomorrow was her day off, and she was spending it mostly in bed with Bert. God, she did get hot pants when she worked, with six days of live-in celibacy to contend with! By the time she got her one day out of seven off, she was ready to be fucked by a kangaroo!

Fortunately, this was not necessary, since her days of being full-time, live-in nurse, provided her with this never-ending parade of men. Indeed, she was still not really rid of her last patient, Jon, a man of twenty-nine who had undergone a prostate operation, some months ago, with the conviction that this would not only render him sterile, but impotent as well.

Jane had been called in on that case, in Chestnut Hill, not after the prostate gland had been removed, but a month or so after the operation when he had a nervous breakdown stemming from the terror of having been rendered impotent.

It was Jane's job, as well as that of the doctor in charge, a well-known psychiatrist, to convince Jon, that the impotence was all in his mind, not his cock, and that given time and the willingness to try to sleep with his wife (this having been the fear that brought on the nervous breakdown) he would see for himself that he was still a total young buck, a great stickman, etc.

What a strange mansion that one had been! There were three small children, under the care of an English nanny. The wife, a professor at a Philadelphia university, worked five days a week. Jane was left almost totally alone with her patient, Jon, all the time, except for daily scheduled visits from his psychiatrist. Except for this one, most salutary interruption, it was Jon and Jane, together and unguarded pretty much to do what they would, together...

As it turned out, Providence could not have found a better nurse in the world for what was ailing Jon. For it was during the first week of her gentle ministrations, with the big, big boobs forever looking at him like two great eyes, or bending over him with some offering, nursing ministrations, that Jon felt his fearful, “lost” pecker going up, up and up, away from his fear of limpness and back to his pre-operative state of assumed hardness...Good God, did he start to get hards-on, under Jane's expert and kindly care. And this was one of those rare times, his illness being totally psychological in nature, that Jane hit the sack with the patient, right in his own “sickbed,” not waiting till the case was over and cured as was the more usual case, with her fine sense of ethics.

No she and Jon (who most of all, afraid of making it with his beloved wife, the professor) really had a wing-ding of an affair in his stately WASP bed Chestnut Hill. God, they used to climb all over each other, from the moment, he would pull off her nurse's cap, unpin that big bun of blonde hair and let it flow all over her shoulders. It was his pleasure to undress her out of this prim, starched, white disguise of a nurse's uniform, cap first, uniform second, brassiere and other underthings last, of course. And then, by Jesus, did this man with a “problem” dive for her like a shark! And did he gobble her up and eat her before and after fucking her as good as a male whore and probably better?

It was, indeed, all in Jon's mind. And in time, he became so confident of his cock's being normal, that he took the great plunge and discovered that he was certainly capable of screwing his beloved wife, just as well as ever...Only by then, he'd developed quite a thing for his naughty nurse, the lovely blond Jane, with her enormous tits and endless patience!

The two of them had fucked in every position known to man! Standing, sitting, squatting, in the bed and on the floor. Bathtub fucks with oil to lubricate them. God, what had not transpired in Jon's “'sickroom”....And it was true, he was indebted to Jane, deeply so, for helping him to rediscover his dormant, doubted sexual self-indebted to the tune of the Volvo she now drove back and forth to her jobs in the (usually) suburbs, indebted to a sense of greater loyalty to his nurse than his wife, the mother of his three children, whom he wildly had spoken of leaving, two weeks after their affair had started.

Fortunately for him, Jane was not interested in Jon as a husband. Much as she was fond of him and loved being fucked and eaten by this voracious “new” man, she was not in love with him and finally had him convinced that he was associating the novelty of her with love, when he was still basically committed to wife, home and the three children.

Well, Jon had stopped harping on divorce and remarriage to Jane. However, he was hotter for her, for her wild, free sexual ways, now more than ever. Sometimes, on her day off, usually given to Bert, she would have to unplug her telephone, which rang constantly from efforts by Jon, her case “Hangover” (there usually was one, that had not entirely finished with her before she started with a new lover from a new case. She was never that good at timings!).

Well, tomorrow would be Jane's day off, and she had promised it to Bert, her patient's nephew, putting off Jon yet another week. Her cunt throbbed meaningfully as she imagined Bert coming into her apartment, usually bedecked with gifts to make up for not taking her out, first, but coming straight to her door and after a drink and as few amenities were necessary, straight to her bed!

She would think of Bert for the rest of the day, while the long hours dragged, taking care of his Uncle Henry. Actually, Jane was so hot, she had had cunt twinges when the invalid had grabbed her tit, but she knew his condition and it was entirely too precarious for her to climb into the “sick-bed” with him, as she had with Jon. Yes, when and if Henry recovered, she could truthfully enjoy a few rounds with him...But Jane, now creaming with memories of her last time in bed with nephew, Bert, now considered Henry work, and full-time work at that.

“What do you do on your day off, Jane?” asked Henry, as she brought him his dinner.

Jane shrugged. “Oh, a little visiting, sometimes lunch with a friend, followed by shopping.

“And in the evenings?” prompted Henry. “Oh, dinner and a movie—or, if I'm very lucky, the theatre or a night club.”

“Hmmmm...” said Henry. “I don't dare ask what happens at the end of such evenings!”

Jane grimaced, as if to tell him he was being silly.

“Quite often, nothing at all,” she lied coolly. “After all, I'm not seeing anyone in particular. Just dating a few, and most of them casually.”

“I believe you because I have to believe you. If I went along with my worst suspicions of what you do when you leave my bedside, I'd certainly have a relapse!” grunted Henry, the deprived.

Jane laughed, her laughter filling the room like sunlight.

“Over that? Then think, Henry, what would happen to you, if I were insane enough to bolt your door and climb into bed with you, as you request, at least every other day! Think, and you'll realize it's almost a suicidal request!” she told him honestly, because these bouts of being grabbed, coaxed and persuaded were enervating, draining and at the same time, perversely provocative, turning Jane on, while they offered no realistic outlet for her sex drive, which was ever-ready and not at all difficult to touch off.

It was because of this fact, she reasoned, that she had learned to be clever and mildly exploitive of this sex drive she possessed. Let it net her a few goodies, while she was putting out so freely! In the end, it might net her a substantial husband, but Jane was not ready for that big number yet. She was having too much fun fucking around and experimenting with all types of men, young or old, preferably (but not necessarily) rich...God, she had such hot pants, she could hardly wait for Friday, tomorrow and young Bert (young stud??) to arrive at her apartment and screw her like mad! She did not care if he fucked her till she could hardly walk...With Henry's case, she didn't walk much, anyway...

“A penny for your thoughts, Jane!” Henry's voice intruded on her lust-filled and horny reverie...

“Oh, just thinking of some errands I have to do in Philadelphia, tomorrow.”

This was not entirely untrue. She had to go to the butcher's and buy two T-bone steaks, for Bert and herself to barbecue, when they were finally exhausted from hours of making love. She had to check on her liquor supply to see if it would be adequate for the hours they would spend together...Jane usually never cooked for a man. What was it about Bert that made her so generous, so domestic? He brought her with furs, jewelry or an automobile. Why then, did Jane give him not only herself, but home-cooked and expensive meals, as well?? Was it possible that she (who rarely got one) was developing a serious crush on this virile young nephew of Henry's?? If so, it was certainly out of character for Jane!

At last it was her day off. Jane had taken the suburban train into Philadelphia the night before, leaving Henry Saks' house, as though it were some prison, however elegant a prison, which circumvented all of her natural, animal instincts.

After a good night's sleep in her own bed, she rose rather early to set both her apartment, its commodities (the chief commodity being herself) in proper order.

Her errands included a stop at the butcher's the grocery, and the liquor store.

Bert was due at three. He was leaving his office early. Bert was a corporation lawyer. He was twenty-nine years old and already making a staggering annual salary. He was a success like his Uncle Henry. They both had the same last name: Saks.

When he arrived, he was loaded with packages. There was a bouquet of American beauty roses, a cashmere scarf from Lord and Taylor, a solid gold chain with a strange medallion hanging from it. Jane looked at it in confusion.

“That's your birth symbol, for God's sake!” laughed Bert. Don't you recognize it, Jane? Taurus, the bull. I thought you dug Astrology!”

“Oh, I do! I was just slow in recognizing Taurus the Bull. I more often think of Taurus the sensual, the Venus-ruled sign, lover of beauty, lover of love, when it comes to that,” she mused.

Young Bert studied her; he gazed at her with his brown eyes glowing at the sight of...

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