Part One

Not counting when I was born, I’ve had the good fortune in my life to only require an overnight stay in a hospital just twice.

The first time occurred when I was 18 years old. I had some mysterious ailment that sapped my energy and made me sleepy. It also came with a brutal headache. I tried to put up with it for a while, toughing it out and hoping it would just vanish.  It didn't work. Even my high school teachers began to notice my unusual lethargy and said I should be at home instead of at school. I agreed. I stayed away from school for two weeks while I visited a few specialists, but none seemed to be able to pinpoint what exactly was ailing me. My tests always came back negative. I did learn that another teen and a 12-year-old in my city had the same medical trouble, but we had no connection to one another. Finally, my family doctor sent me to the local hospital for a few days of observation and a battery of tests.

I was assigned to a ward where I was by far the youngest person in a room that accommodated four patients. The other three gents ranged in age from 55 to 82. They seemed to be longtime residents. Sadly, we didn’t have a lot of shared interests, so I read quite a bit to amuse myself. At the time, I subscribed to several periodicals, so I brought a stack of them with me plus a couple of sports autobiographies to pass the hours. My friend, Bruce, who seemed to be addicted to porn, dropped by for a visit only a couple of hours after I was admitted. He slipped me a magazine that contained nothing but very descriptive sex stories. I soon discovered that many of the tales depicted sexual frolics between animals and humans. That was an absolute turnoff for me and I never picked up the magazine again. Well, almost never.

During one of the rare periods when one of my roommates, a man named William, was somewhat chatty, he asked me how old I was. When I said I had turned 18 the previous month, he said, “Lucky you, young fellow!  When we get our sponge baths today, you might get the special treatment from Nurse Hand Job! You are in her target demographic group.”

Of course, I asked him to elaborate. He explained that a nurse came daily to “bathe” the patients. It was not a traditional bath done in a tub. Instead, the patient remained in his bed while a nurse used sponges and warm, soapy water to cleanse his body from head to toe. Then she toweled him off. “It can be sort of an erotic experience,” William confessed with a naughty wink of his eye.

“Sounds like fun,” I agreed. “But what did you mean about me fitting into her target demographic group?”

He continued, “There’s a certain nurse in this hospital named Sandra—she’s quite an attractive and shapely woman—who seems to have a thing for teenage boys. She often gives special attention to their genital areas. Basically, she concludes the sponge bath with a pleasing hand job until the guy comes. That’s why we refer to her as Nurse Hand Job.”

I chuckled as I waved my hand at William in a dismissive manner. Then I said with a smile, “Oh, that can’t possibly be true. I think you’re putting me on.”

“I swear it’s the truth!” William insisted. He seemed annoyed that I didn’t accept his word as gospel. “These other two guys who share this room have been here for a while, too. They’re both asleep now, but they’ll back up my story when they wake up. Whenever we have a teenage roommate here, the nurse pulls the curtain around his bed for his private sponge bath. She doesn’t do it for us old coots, though. Within a short time, we often hear him moaning with delight. Some of the young fellows, like you, are shy and prefer to stay quiet about it, but others are very talkative afterwards.”

“If you say so,” I said, still suspecting his story was some sort of fantastic malarkey. Then, out of curiosity, I asked him, “When do the sponge baths happen in this ward?”

“Usually in the early afternoon, just after lunchtime," William stated. "If nurse Sandra is working that shift, you’re probably in for a very pleasant experience.”

After my pasta lunch was delivered and I had finished eating it, I prepared myself for my first sponge bath. I still thought that William’s story was probably pure fiction. However, just in case it wasn’t, I began to mentally prepare myself for Nurse Hand Job’s special treatment.

I pulled out Bruce’s magazine, bypassed all the off-putting stories about humans having sex with various animals, and found a more traditional story of sexual lust to read. I figured I might as well start to get aroused as not to waste time. I got the impression that a typical sponge bath maybe lasted a maximum of five minutes. Near the back of the magazine, I found a less shocking story about a youthful Italian hooker who was servicing a horny old priest. That did the job! My timing was excellent. I had an erection when a nurse I hadn’t seen before entered the room pushing a cart that held buckets of water, a stack of sponges, and squeeze bottles of liquid soap.

“Hello, Nurse Sandra!” William said enthusiastically. He glanced at me and gave me a look that tacitly said, “See, I told you so, kid!”

She was about 30 years old. As William had said a couple of hours earlier, she had an attractive, busty figure and short blonde hair. (I suspected it was dyed that color.) She greeted everyone collectively and added, “Oh, I see we have a new face here since yesterday. Who are you, young man?”

I told her my name, Chris Watkins. When she asked me my age, I told her that, too.

“Oh, you’re 18! How wonderful! What a great age that is!” Then she said she’d bathe me last. I watched her give the other three occupants of my ward their baths with very little consideration of personal privacy. Each bath might have taken three minutes to complete. When Nurse Sandra pulled her cart to my bed, she closed the curtain around it. Now I was 99 percent sure that William had been telling me the truth all along.  Lucky me!

“Let me help you out of that hospital gown, sweetie,” she said in a whisper. She also removed my underwear with a devilish smile. “Ooh, lovely!” she commented. She was no doubt referring to my penis. It was already partially erect from my having just read the sexy story about the junior Italian prostitute, but Nurse Sandra’s presence got it standing tall and strong.

She put a finger to her lips to silently instruct me to keep quiet. “I’ll take care of that in a couple of minutes, I promise,” she said into my ear. “First, I’ll give you the regular sponge bath...and then a treat down there, sweetie.” I detected a cute eastern European accent in her soft voice. Anything exotic I found erotic!

“Thank you,” I mouthed without saying a word. “I can hardly wait!”

Nurse Sandra first washed my back, my face, and my upper body down to my beltline. (Of course, I wasn’t wearing a belt.) This was already a sensual experience, so I can imagine even a normal sponge bath could be a major sexual turn-on for a lot of men—especially if they were lonely old fellows confined to hospital beds.

“Let’s have a bit of fun now,” she whispered to me. “I’ll give you a hand job to make you feel good. You can feel my tits if you like. Okay?”

Of course, it was okay. It was way better than just “okay.” I knew this experience was going to be better than any story I'd find in Bruce’s dirty magazine. Nurse Sandra squeezed some liquid soap on my hard phallus and began to stroke it with one hand while caressing my testicles with the other. Wow! What a sensational feeling! I could tell she had done this many, many times before. Furthermore, she seemed to enjoy our lusty encounter as much as I did.

“Don’t you want to feel my tits?” she reminded me.

I was in such a rapturous state that I had temporarily forgotten her bonus offer. Imagine that!  She kept her uniform top on, but I placed my hands on her bosoms and gave them good squeezes for about a minute. That’s about how long I lasted before letting loose with a superb ejaculation. Nurse Sandra was experienced enough to know when I was about to come, so she took her one hand off my balls and used it to hold some paper towels an inch or two from the end of my dick so there would be as small a mess as possible. Yes, indeed she was very much a professional at this.

“Did you like that?” she softly asked me as she finished bathing the area around my happy penis.

“Very much, Nurse Sandra,” I replied to the silly question. “Thank you!  You are excellent at your job.”

She surprised me by gently kissing me on the lips. Then she kissed my flaccid penis, too!  She smiled sexily and said, “Let me help you get back into your hospital gown, Chris.”

I had glanced at my wristwatch on my table when Nurse Sandra had closed the curtain. I noted the time was 1:43 p.m. When she opened the curtain, it was 1:51.

After she had left our room, my three roommates grinned at me. “Well,” said William. “I told you what you could expect from a Nurse Sandra sponge bath. Was I right? Let’s hear the details!”

“A gentleman does not discuss such intimate things,” I said—which drew guffaws from all three of my older roomies. “However, I’ll will say this: It was utterly fantastic. I had the best cum shot of my life. Oh! Gee, it looks like I’m discussing intimate things after all.” For the first time since I had arrived, the four residents of our ward all shared a laugh.

Part Two

My hospital stay was uneventful, at least from a medical standpoint. Seemingly, no expert could figure out precisely why I was so lethargic and sleepy. Apart from the tiredness, I felt perfectly normal and I still retained a good appetite. I was told I would be discharged the following afternoon at a time yet to be determined. Four o’clock was the best estimate they could give me, but it could be three or four hours on either side of that time. Of course, I was hoping for another marvelous sponge bath from Nurse Sandra (a.k.a. Nurse Hand Job) before I got my walking papers. Luck, so it seemed, would determine if I was getting a second erotic sponge bath.

As it turned out, luck had nothing to do with it. The four of us were all surprised when Nurse Sandra returned to our ward shortly after 7 p.m. She was not pushing a cart with her bathing supplies this time. She was there on a mission. “I dropped something during my rounds today. I want to see if it might be on the floor,” she explained. She pretended to conduct a search near our beds, but when she got to mine, she deftly handed me an envelope and whispered to me to read the note inside it once she had left the room. None of my roommates had seen her do that. “Well, I guess it’s not here,” she said, and left the room.

I was extremely curious about the contents of the envelope, of course. I briefly hid it under my pillow, got out one of my periodicals to read, and then concealed the envelope within a copy of Sports Illustrated. When I finally read the nurse's note, it was jaw-dropping. It said,

“Chris, I see you are scheduled to be discharged tomorrow sometime, so I might miss out on giving you another sponge bath. I have made alternate plans. Long before my shift starts, I am going to show up in your ward at about 11 a.m. and take you to a room that has bathing facilities for special-needs patients. There we can enjoy a bath. Yes, I do mean a real bath, and yes I mean ‘we’. I can’t wait to ride your 18-year-old dick. It’s beautiful. See you tomorrow! Sandra.”

Undoubtedly, that was the greatest letter I had ever received in my life. It still is.

To say that I was looking forward to the dawn of the next day would be an understatement. I didn’t dare say anything to my roommates. I wanted to see the surprised expressions on all their faces when Nurse Sandra came to take me away. I was not surprised. When Nurse Sandra arrived with a wheelchair to take me elsewhere—which was standard operating procedure—I saw three very envious faces.

Without uttering a word, Nurse Sandra pushed the wheelchair to the nearest elevator which took us down to a floor that was located below the hospital lobby. I could tell it was a place that wasn’t commonly used. About 30 yards from the elevator was a room that had a sign outside it that said “Special Bath”. I thought that was an excellent description of what I anticipated would happen. Nurse Sandra finally spoke. “So far, so good!” she said. She unlocked the door, I got out of the chair, she found the light switch, and we both went inside.

The first thing I noticed was an enormous bathtub. I had never seen one that wide or long before. Nurse Sandra said it was most often used for severe burn victims or if some unfortunate person had been sprayed by a skunk. “Get undressed, Chris,” she instructed. “This morning, you and I are going to have some real fun together.”

As I disrobed, I had to ask her an important question. “Not that I object,” I began, “but why are you doing this for me?”

“It’s not really for you,” she said. “It’s 100 percent for me. I love the young hard dicks of teenage boys. I love fondling them, licking them, and fucking them. They never let me down. You, Chris, have one of the nicest penises I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen plenty of them.”

“That’s what I understand!” I retorted.  I quickly realized my comment could have referred to Nurse Sandra's reputation or my equipment.

Nurse Sandra ran the bathwater, checked its temperature, and even added some scented bubble bath to it. Then she disrobed in a sexy manner. She was gorgeous. Nurse Sandra was about 5’5” tall. Her beautiful breasts were slightly larger than average and had perky nipples. Her pussy had been shaved. Nurse Sandra’s bum was slightly bigger than I generally liked to see on females, but I was not about to quibble over such a triviality. I was rock hard instantly—like most typical 18-year-old males would be under these circumstances.

Nurse Sandra pointed at my crotch and said, “See what I mean!” She paused for a second to laugh and then declared, “Time for our bath for two, Chris. Let me help you into the tub!”

I sat at the end furthest away from the faucet. There was plenty of space for Nurse Sandra to position herself so that her legs were wrapped around my waist and her pussy was just inches away from my hard penis. We began with long kisses. All the while I fondled her sexy, full jugs. I pulled my lips away from hers to kiss her cheeks, shoulders and neck. Then I lifted her right breast with my left hand and sucked away on the stiff nipple. That was wonderfully arousing—not that I needed to be aroused at that point!

“Ah, Chris,” she said. “You are a tit-loving man, I see. Are you happy with mine?”

I just laughed softly and said, “You ask the silliest questions, Nurse Sandra. I adore your tits. I wish I could play with them and suck on them until Christmas.”

Next, Nurse Sandra got what she came for. She began massaging my phallus in her special way that had made me cum so quickly less than 24 hours before. “Don’t make me come so quickly this time,” I advised her.

“You are right, Chris,” she said knowingly. “I want your big hard cock in my pussy. Can you do that for me now?”

“Another silly question!” I replied. “Hop aboard!”

Nurse Sandra moved herself forward a critical few inches onto my thighs. Grasping my rod, she stuck it inside her vagina and began to sexily move up and down. I thought that was heavenly, but when she started to vigorously gyrate her hips around my throbbing penis I went into sensory overload.

“Damn, I’m going to come any second now. What should I do?” I asked.

“Now that really is a silly question, Chris!” she replied. “Come inside my pussy!”

So I did...and did...and did. My ejaculation put yesterday’s cum shot to shame. It seemed to last for about a full minute. Whenever I thought I had fired my last volley of semen, another one came streaming out of my dick shortly thereafter. It occurred to me that this exertion of energy would not exactly help my ongoing lethargy problem.

We stayed in the tub together for about an hour. We took turns licking each other’s lower regions. I got hard again, but even the oral excellence of Nurse Sandra could not make me come a second time within 60 minutes. My first semen explosion had thoroughly drained my balls. “You can’t get water from a dry well,” I explained when she seemed frustrated that no subsequent cum shot was coming. Even when I slid my dick between her ample tits for an enjoyable titty fuck—something I had fantasized about all night—the sperm shower I envisioned in my dreams failed to materialize.

It was shortly after 12 p.m. when we got back into our clothes, I climbed back into the wheelchair, and Nurse Sandra pushed me back into the ward. She subtly squeezed my dick and then left the room. Without being asked, I said to my roommates, “She’s a world-class fuck, gentlemen.”

Two hours later I was officially discharged from the hospital. The medical experts concluded that I had contracted some type of parasitic disease that was sapping my strength. They just advised a long period of rest, with increased physical activity each day until I slowly regained my strength. That was what I did. My recovery was slow but steady.

When the attending physician officially discharged me, he said. “I’m sure you’ll be happy getting back to the comforts of home and out of this place.”

I quickly replied, “Not necessarily!”