The lesbian nurse

I moved to Guildford two years ago; John was
transferred and I had to leave my job as a secretary
for Colson’s, a wine importer back in Warminster.

I had no real qualifications, but we needed the
money from both of us working – and I was getting bored
fixing up the new house and window-shopping in the town
centre everyday. Eventually John brought up my old
nursing qualifications – It’d already occurred to me,
but I wasn’t sure that it was what I wanted now.

I’d drifted into the classes at 16, with nothing
else to do, and passed the qualifying exams, then after
half-heartedly applying for a couple of local posts —
thrown it all up and worked for Colson’s for four
stagnant years.

But John thought it was a great idea. “Give
them a call tomorrow, love,” he said, nestled under
my arm as we lay in bed that night. His hands were
wandering about in their familiar and welcome pre-sex
rounds; I lay back, relaxed as he gently turned me on,
stroking the outline of my thighs, the curve of my
bottom, my stomach.

I saw him looking at my nipples under my T-
shirt – he knows how sensitive they are, what they do
to me – and I felt the melting begin in my tummy as he
pulled the T shirt up to my shoulders and sucked the
nearest erect nipple in between his warm moist lips,
tweaking the other between his index and middle
fingers.

I lay there passively, letting him do his thing
as his suction drove pleasure throughout my body,
radiating from my nipples, my breath deepening.

He moved to lay at my side, now, and I could
feel the heat of his cock throbbing against the cool
skin of my thigh. It felt bigger than its seven
inches (I’ve measured it for him once.), hot and blunt;
I couldn’t stop my bottom from shifting in the bed of
its own accord to turn and press my thighs against his
hardon, my breasts against his lightly-haired chest.

Now I felt my usual urgent need to be taken by
him, to be overwhelmed; my open mouth found his and
our tongues danced with each other. His large hands
ranged down over my bottom, first pressing it down to
push my delta against his stiff tool, then to part the
globes with his palms while running his forefinger
lightly over my anus, then down, gently, to make small,
gentle circles at the now sticky bottom of my pussy
while his other hand tweaked a nipple sharply.

He shifted, pushing me on my back and rising –
I opened my legs for him, held out my arms to him as
he positioned himself above me – in the half-light I
could see the outlines of his cock as it rose past his
navel. I would have it – in me – now!

As that thought passed through me, I felt an
unbearable sticky itch within me that only his cock
could scratch, I murmured, “Fuck me, Fuck me please!”

With one hand he f****d it down, pushed the
plump head up and down in my slick entrance, pressed
on the hood over my clitoris, then, as if tiring of
teasing me, he maneuvered his stiff, vein-ribbed boner,
it was stiff, oh how stiff, to my inner channel, then
quickly, smoothly, pushed it all, all of the stiff,
male meat into my hot, oily tunnel. GOD! I loved the
feeling of him filling me!

Breath whooshed from me as he entered; the feel
of the full length of John’s cock stretching me com-
fortably and juicily — made me woozy with pleasure:
before I recovered I felt the brief intimate slap of
his balls against my smooth bottom-cheeks and his hand
pulling at my left nipple again.

The sensations overwhelmed me, rode me up to my
pleasure, too many to keep track of. I could feel all
the veins in his cock as it pressed against me interior
walls, the pleasure-pain in my soft breasts, his
weight pushed against them — forcing me, taking me,
the butterball heat-itch in my middle being scratched
with his slick, blunt fuck-tool.

I gasped out, my hair disheveled, my hands at
his chest, my legs wrapped around his bottom, looking
into his eyes as he pounded me, a thin film of sweat
on his muscular body – bigger than me, taking me –
his thickness thrust in and out, moving my pleasure
on, closer to blotting me out.

“Cocksucker!” John said to me distractedly, his
breath ragged, “Fuck!”

I could see he was approaching his orgasm, and
I needed mine – I pushed against him raising my thighs
so he could sink in a little deeper, his enraged cock
thrust, he slapped against me, and again – my pleasure
neared its peak as his thrusts became deeper, longer,
His frantic fingers pinched my nipple harder and pulled
up on it with a sharp pain – I surrendered to the body-
filling waves of ecstasy.

“Cunt, Cunt!” his breath gasped from him now,
and finally he pressed into me with all his body, and
even in my daze of sensations I felt his spunk jet out
from his iron cock, deep into me, filling me, his cock
still filling my channel, so full! I held him to me,
savoring the completeness, my vacant cunt filled.

Finally he shrunk, panting, and his heated body
cleaved off from our mingled sweat and clumped down
beside me. Tendrils of pleasure sang me to sleep.

-=*=-

Guildford General did have a vacancy for a
qualified Staff Nurse, in fact for two of them. An
interview was arranged for the following Friday with
the ward sister, Angela, just after lunch. The
receptionist told me they’d had dozens of inquiries
from an advert in the local paper, so my chances were
pretty grim unless I was really well qualified.

I wasted half an hour trying on various outfits
– I settled on a medium-length woolen skirt with a
businesslike creme silk chemise, without the bra – The
chemise showed the bra, and I just didn’t have time to
go out and by one the right color, so I had to make
do, I smiled to myself, whatever.

When I turned up for my interview – a little
early – I was shown into her little office, and took
a seat nervously. Angela wasn’t there yet, so I sat
quietly with my hands in my lap and tried to think of
something else.

Muted chatter and the clink and rumble of trol-
leys outside the open door lulled me, and I relaxed a
little. After a few minutes a nurse in her early
thirties with her blond hair tied severely back stepped
through the door with a sheaf of folders.

“Are you Wendy Stanton?”

I nodded and rose, “Hello,” she said, with a
smile, “I’m Angela Leighton – Angela, alright?”

I smiled back. She sat down and leafed through
a pile of folders already on her desk. “Right – If I
can just get this form…okay. ” She pulled a pen
from her breast pocket. “Okay Wendy… Stanton…
what’s your address, Wendy?”

I told her and she copied it down. “Right –
Erm, Female, no, no, yes, erm… twenty-fifth.” She
went on with questions about my qualifications and
school history. We covered previous employers, then
she rose and shut the door, and sat down again.

“Okay, Wendy, that’s, um.. so far, so good. Now
I have to ask you some personal questions, do you
mind?” I said whatever was necessary was fine by me.

“Alright.” She ferreted out a clean sheet of
paper and put the form to one side. “When was your
first sexual experience?”

Well, this took me by surprise a little. “Do
you mean masturbation, or real intercourse?” I asked.

“Well, masturbation counts, I guess,” she said,
with a gleam in her eyes.

“When I was fourteen, then,” I said.

She made notes on the paper. “Was that when
you were alone, or … mutual masturbation?” At this
a brief flash of memory of Claire flashed by, dislodg-
ing more feelings with it than it ought to.

“Actually, it was with my best friend at the
time.” I said in a sort of impulsive confidence.

“A Girl, then?”

“Yes,” I said, reddening and wishing I hadn’t
been so honest. Angela gave no signs and made more
notes.

“What is your sexual preference at the present
time?” Angela looked me straight in the eyes across
the desk as she asked the question.

“I can’t believe this is relevant, ” I began.

“I know it seems that way,” Angela said in a
warm tone, “but trust me, Wendy, it’s very relevant
to this job. But if you don’t want to say…” she
let it hang.

“Heterosexual.” I said. “Exclusively Hetero-
sexual.” I added for emphasis.

Angela nodded sagely and gave me an appraising
look that covered most of my body. I looked down in
confusion to see my nipples erect through the silk
chemise. I blushed and looked away to the corner.
Angela coughed and the questions turned to my history
of diseases and allergies.

Finally, she finished and we both rose. She
gave me a warm smile. “I think you’ve done very well,
Wendy; we’ll be in touch.” I felt her eyes on my body
as I left. Were those questions for real, or was she
some kind of lesbian I wondered?

-=*=-

The ‘phone rang on Tuesday morning – it was
Angela herself. “Hello Wendy! I’m very pleased to
say that we’ve selected you for one of the positions!”

“That’s great,” I said, pleased. “When do I
start?”

“Sooner the better, I think,” said Angela. “Why
don’t you come by my house this evening and I’ll take
you through an idea of your duties?”

She gave me directions and her number in case
I got lost, and I said I’d be there by nine. I had a
long bath that afternoon, and in the middle of it
remembered that John was working late tonight. I
wrapped a towel around myself and called Angela at the
Hospital to ask if she’d mind picking me up, although
John’d probably be back by the time we’d finished and
could drive me back. She was only the other side of
town, anyhow.

“No problem, Wendy, No problem at all,” she
replied, “See you at nine. I’m really looking forward
to it.”

Jeez, what did that mean? I was beginning to
wonder if Angela was a Lesbian, and she fancied me.
All those questions! What did I feel about that? It
reminded me of Claire; but that was a long time ago,
now. Somehow in my mind’s eye my image of Claire
seemed to be wearing starch, white linen, now. I gave
a little shiver and finished with my bath.

I spent the next couple of hours lounging
around, getting dinner and watching TV, surprising
myself a little with my growing restlessness. I
settled on jeans and a T-shirt, and after some
indecision, decided on a bra. As nine O’clock
approached, I grew steadily more nervous, and had a
glass of wine from the fridge to calm me down.

The doorbell rang at five to nine – Angela
stood there in her uniform. “You’re Ready?” she
asked, with her warm smile. I told her I was, shut
the door and we both walked to her car.

“I hope it’s not too late for you, tonight –
it’s just it’s the end of my shift at 8:30,” she said,
once we were underway. I told her it was fine with me,
and that anyway, I needed the job badly.

We made small talk, and eventually pulled up at
her block of flats. She parked the car, and we got out
into an awkward silence. She led the way to her flat,
unlocked the door.

It was a cozy flat, with rugs on the floor and
hung on the walls, ornaments and nick-knacks every-
where.

“Make yourself at home,” said Angela, and went
off to make some tea. I made for the sofa and looked
around while Angela made tea-making noises in the
kitchen.

She had some photographs framed on the wall –
there was a couple of a little boy, as a young baby,
then at two or so, then one of Angela with a younger
black-haired girl, standing in front of a tree shield-
ing their eyes from the sun, and – my eyes must have
bugged out – one of Angela and the black haired girl
kissing. I looked away, just in time to collect my
tea from Angela – she must have seen me looking, but
said nothing.

“Alright,” said Angela, and she began to take
me through the shift times, and a quick idea of who I
would be working with. I was half listening to her.
Running through my mind like a stuck record was
“Angela licks cunts”. I stared at her lips as she
spoke, unable to not imagine them pushed against a
moist cunt, her nose buried in the pubes.”…..Are
you free tomorrow afternoon? I’ll show you around the
ward, and introduce you.”

I said I was.

“Angela,” I said, hesitantly. She gave me her
full attention with her green eyes. “Can I ask you a
question?”

She said nothing — in a way that was an assent.
“Are you… um… do you prefer… other women?” I
croaked out, reddening.

“You mean, ‘Am I a Lesbian’? What made you ask
that,” she said in an even tone, giving nothing away.

“Well, the questions you asked at the interview,
and, the… picture over there…” I indicated, and
ground into an embarrassed silence. “I’m sorry,” I
began, “I shouldn’t…”

“Yes, ” she said, cutting me short. “I am a
Lesbian. Women turn me on, I love women. I don’t
hate men, just prefer women. By a good margin.” She
looked me steadily in the eyes, I guess I gaped back
at her. There was a silence built of cast iron.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to jump on you,”
she said finally, with her calm smile; I laughed
nervously. “Look, do you want to go?” she asked, in
a way indicating she would understand, wouldn’t be
offended.

“No, No,” I insisted, “I just wanted to know.”
The silence drew out again, my hand fidgeted in my
lap.

“Wow, you look stressed out!” she exclaimed
with a laugh. I smiled nervously up at her. “Since
you’re staying, would you like something a bit
stronger than tea to calm you down? Bacardi,
Martini…?”

I was aware we were heading into dangerous
territory here, but an ambivalence urged me on. “Yes,
please!” I said. She smiled at me and made me a
Martini and lemonade – I accepted it and gulped half
of it down. “Who is your friend in the photograph?”
I asked.

“That’s Melanie – I guess you’d have to call
her my ‘Lover’. We’ve being going steady for three
years now. We don’t live together, though.”

“Oh.” I said. Angela eased herself beside me,
at the opposite end of the three-seat sofa. She had
been sitting in the Armchair across from me. “Can I
ask you a question, now you’ve satisfied your curio-
sity,” she said, looking mischievous. I said okay,
and took another gulp of Martini.

“How did you and your friend get together that
time when you were fourteen?”

She certainly hadn’t forgotten anything about
our interview! She must fancy me, that’s why she
invited me over here, she wants to… she wants to
fuck me, I thought, and my eyes glanced over her
breasts. She noticed my attention, and now her eyes
were bright.

“Her name was Claire – she was a year older than
me, much more confident than I was. She – she made me
do things.” She had mastered me; I had been her little
slave to use.

She had teased me with her too-perfect blonde
body until I had begged to lick her perfect little
sixteen-year-old cunt for her, tears in my eyes. She
never cared for me, and finished with me in two weeks,
before moving on to greater victories; I was like some
kind of warm up for her. The last I’d heard of her,
she was high up in a famous woman’s magazine in London.

“She made you just masturbate her? Did she make
you do anything else?”

Angela had edged closer on the sofa. I felt a
familiar warmth between my legs; and shivered. I
couldn’t look Angela in the eyes, somehow, “She made
me, you know, do cunnilingus on her,” I stammered out.

I glanced up at her eyes, she was beside me now.
She looked magnificent, strong and confident, with me
the object of her attention, her prey; it was almost
too much to smell her warm perfume. Her breasts jutted
up at me, crowded me. My nipples ached against my bra
cup, my insides began to melt.

“Did you… enjoy it? Enjoy what she made you
do? Did you like being made to lick her cunt?”

I stammered out some nonsense as I felt her cool
hand cup the back of my neck. “You like to be made to
do things, don’t you?”

I glanced about like a frightened rabbit, but
her gaze transfixed me, and I stared my lostness into
her green eyes as she leant closer and brushed my
parted lips with hers.

“Poor Darling,” she breathed, and stroked my
hair. “You want to lick my cunt, don’t you? Do I make
you wet? Hmm?”

I couldn’t have replied even if I knew what to
say. I felt so turned on by her attentions, by not
knowing what she would do to me, by her being in
control, I was half out of my mind with desire. My
mind was numb.

Her hand at the back of my neck gathered my hair
and pulled down on it hard enough to make me turn my
face up. “Put your tongue out,” she commanded quietly,
keeping up the tension on my hair.

I gazed at her, and peeped the tip out; it felt
so secret between us, we both imagined it buried in her
cunt. She laughed, and bent to kiss it, sucking hard
on it. “Lick my cunt, Hmm? Lick it?” her warm breath
spoke into my mouth, as I gasped back into hers.

She released my hair, her hands were on my
breasts now; she jerked the T shirt out of my jeans,
reached inside and unhooked my bra. My full breasts
spilt forward, into her hands, at first with my nipples
burning into her palms, then intense sensations swept
me as she twisted my nipples roughly between her thumb
and forefingers.

Abruptly she let me go, and held out her hands
to help me up from the sofa. I was in a state, my bra
half-on, and half off, my T shirt rumpled. She led me
by the hand into her bedroom, and sat me on her double
bed. The sheets were cool under me.

“I… I…” I stuttered, but Angela was unzip-
ping her nurse’s uniform. She unhooked her bra, kicked
off her shoes and her small breasts bobbed free. She
quickly slid her skirt down, then her panties, reveal-
ing her carefully tended mound. It was cut very short,
and shaved at the sides. She was evidently a natural
blonde.

She stood in front of me, her hands in my hair
again, pushing my face into her warm pubes. “Lick my
cunt, Wendy, put your tongue in. I’m wet for you.
Lick me!” She parted her thighs, and ground my willing
face into her moist slit. The dark, heady perfume of
her juices filled my lungs, intoxicated me. She
hunched forward, and I craned my head forward, then
squeezed my tongue between her cuntlips, tasting her
heat and moisture. How sweet her moisture was!

With one hand she pressed my face into her
mound, the other was busy at her nipples, pulling them
out and letting them snap back painfully. “Oh, you
tongue me, you slut,” she hissed, “you tongue-fuck my
cunt.” She rocked her thighs into my face. My tongue
pressed into her moist creases, tasting her sweet fresh
juices.

Suddenly she pulled back, and tugged at my T-
shirt, pulling it up and over my head. I held out my
arms meekly, staring at her breasts with their stiff
nipple-turrets, and she pulled it off, my breasts
jiggling, my nipples taut.

As she leaned over me to undo my jeans, I craned
up and caught a nipple between my lips briefly, then
lay back as she took off my jeans and jerked my panties
down. She pushed me roughly over on my tummy, grabbed
my hair with one hand, and pulled it tight enough to
hurt a little.

“Slut! ” she said loudly, and her open hand came
down hard on my bottom with a loud smack. It stung and
I cried out, muffled by the bedcovers. “You want to
tongue me, Slut! Say it!” She smacked me again,
harder. “Say it to me!” The feelings in my bottom
joined with the warmth in my tingling slit.

“I…” She pulled back harder on my hair,
bringing my head off the bedcovers, smacked me again.
Tendrils of pleasure-pain felt around by body. “I want
to tongue your cunt,” I whispered. And I did.

I adored her strength, the way she dominated me.
I wanted to worship between her legs. I felt her thumb
force its way between my exposed bottom-cheeks, and
press in and out against my anus. I was hot, hot. I
wanted to be taken.

She roughly turned me over again, on my back,
and straddled herself on top of me. She moved up until
her breasts we above my face. “Suck my tits, Slave-
Slut,” she commanded from above me.

I reached up and caressed them, then craned up and
captured each nipple in turn, sucking the nipples hard,
how I like it. “Ooooh, feels good!” Angela gasped.

After a moment one of her hands reached down to
roll and tweak my left nipple painfully hard. I raised
a knee and ground it into her behind, above me. It
felt hot and sticky. We continued this way for minute,
then she raised herself, and bought her sweet cunt over
my face. We stared into each other’s eyes with lust
and love.

“Tongue me, Slut?” she teased, her perfect
blonde quim inches above my hungry lips.

“Yes, yes,” I husked. Finally, she pressed her
open thighs down on my mouth. Her hot, sticky moist-
ness enveloped me, and I was glad. I opened my mouth
so my top lip worked on her clitoris as I moved my
head, while my tongue pressed into her as far as it
could go.

She rocked on her knees above me, her hands
reaching back to squeeze my breasts and brush my
nipples. My own cunt ached for her, now. After a
time her movements became spasmodic on me, and she
deserted my breasts.

I looked up to see her hands clamped on her
own, her eyes closed, mouth parted. My tongue tasted
sweeter juices deep inside her. She was close. I
nibbled on her clitoris, my hands wanton on her
bottom-cheeks, moulding them, pressing her into my
face. I wormed a finger between them, as she had
done to me, and pressed at her anus.

She gasped, above me, and her thighs jerked
frantically on my face. I moved to remove my finger,
but a quick hand darted down and pushed it back into
place. Her anus relaxed rhythmically on my finger,
but I kept up a gentle probing pressure with my
fingertip.

After a few moments, she collapsed on top of
me, panting. Her nipples burnt into my breasts, and
mine into hers. Her mouth sought mine, and our
tongues entwined. I knew she could taste her own
juices from me. Her leg slipped between mine and at
last her thigh squashed my pulpy slit, to my pleasure.
Her caressing hand trailed down my body, reached be-
tween my thighs. She ran her forefinger smoothly up
and down my oily channel, slipping over my raised
clitoris and lightly into my vagina.

“Oooh, like that, Slut?” she breathed.

I ached to feel her within me. “Fuck me, make
me come!” I gasped.

Her smooth finger slicked up and down. She
leaned down and covered my mouth with hers. My thighs
parted wider and I quivered. Her hand twisted – now
her thumb stroked horizontally across my clitoris, and
her slick, oily finger wormed confidently into my
bottom.

I bucked as she pressed her fingertip into my
anus, but her weight held me down, and her tongue
licked mine soothingly. Her experienced finger slipped
in, lubricated by my juices – it’s itchy-burning in me
connected with her thumb toying with my clitoris and I
caught fire in my bottom and in my cunt. My hips
jerked, my breath rushed in and out – her finger slid
in my anus all the way to its knuckle. My back arched,
and I came, came in my cunt and in my bottom, like
never before – my whole body was alight, my tensed
muscles sang.

Sensing I was coming, Angela slid down my body,
and replaced her thumb with her tongue. She splurged
her hot tongue into my wet slit, and shifted her head
up and down so the whole surface of her broad, muscular
tongue pressed up and down the inside of my cunt-lips.
Her finger in my bottom vibrated, tickling deep in my
anal canal. I came again, and again.

Eventually she slipped her finger out of my
bottom, and moved up the bed to me. As I lay there
panting, she embraced me, kissed me tenderly and
stroked my hair. We lay there, our legs entangled,
each feeling the other’s smooth thigh against their
soaked cunt. I felt that she owned me, and I was so
contented, the only cloud hovering over me was what
to say to John…