by S.G. Johnson

The elevator doors opened and a young black orderly in blue scrubs wheeled Mark onto my floor. Mark's right foot was propped up and bound in bandages, while his handsome face was tight with pain. My eyes moved past the bandaged foot to the tanned, muscular, moderately hairy legs and the black leather shorts. My jaw dropped, because I'd been chasing Mark unsuccessfully for months, and here he was, delivered to me on a silver platter. And not only that, but those shorts...

I hurried out from behind the desk and planted myself directly in their way. The orderly looked vaguely surprised, but avoided running me down. Mark gave me a look like he really wished I were somebody else.

"Hi, Mandy," he said sheepishly.

I crossed my arms and smiled. "I told you that you were going to kill yourself skydiving." My eyes roved over the tight black T-shirt and a bell went off in my brain. Suddenly I knew why Mark hadn't been all that enthusiastic about my advances.

He blushed charmingly. "I was walking to lunch, reading a book, and I stepped on a nail. Then it got infected, and swelled up like a balloon, so here I am."

"I'll take good care of you!" I said merrily.

"I was afraid of that," he muttered.

Pretending not to hear, I stepped beside the wheelchair, saying to the orderly, "I'll take it from here."

He ambled off without a question. Like most of our orderlies, he was trying desperately to get out of the dead end land of minimum wage and into the more lucrative field of medicine. He wasn't about to argue with the head nurse.

I wheeled Mark into a private room at the end of the hall. On a Wednesday afternoon, nothing much happens so we had lots of beds. Usually I used the day to catch up on my paperwork, but I'd been chasing Mark for so long that my brain nearly burst at the possibilities of having him under my tender care. This was going to be my last - best - chance at seducing him.

I stepped on the foot pedal to lower the bed, then helped him to sit on the side of the bed. He winced as the swollen and bandaged foot bumped against the wheelchair.

"Would you like a painkiller?" I asked. Standard procedure.

"I don't like taking pills," he said warily.

I shrugged and smiled. "Suit yourself." I accidentally on purpose brushed his injured foot as I folded up the wheelchair and took it to the hallway. A groan escaped from his lips.

In the hallway, I took a moment to catch my breath. My hands were jittery, my panties were wet. Mark was such a handsome hunk of a man, tan and muscular, with close- cropped black hair and beard and mild brown eyes. How many men in the world loved reading and skydiving in equal proportions? I wanted him.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, then breezed back into the room. "Now comes the part everybody loves." I reached into the cupboard.

"What's that?" he asked.

I held the hospital gown before him. "You change into one of our lovely high fashion gowns."

He sighed. "Do I have to?"

I smiled smugly. "Yes, you do." It was a rare occasion I got to undress such an attractive patient.

"Un, are you going to help?"

I pointed at his injured foot. "You've only got one leg to stand on. If you undress yourself, fall over, and clunck your head on the sink, the hospital is liable."

He didn't argue any further. Instead he pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing a breathtaking set of hairy pectorals. I closed the door to the hall, then pulled the curtain. He tossed aside the shirt, and I knelt before him. I untied the single black combat boot, and stripped off his sweatsock.

"You in the army?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No, I just like the boots."

All was fair in love and war. "I was," I lied. "I was happy to trade in my greens for my whites."

He looked interested, the first thing I'd ever said to him that seemed to hold his attention. "Really?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." I promised myself mentally I'd tell him the truth later.

"I've always had a thing for uniforms," he admitted, his eyes taking in my white uniform dress, belted around the waist with a white belt, white hose, white rubber-soled shoes, and most unusual in this day and age, my nursing cap pinned to the top of my coiled brunette hair.

"Shorts next."

"Yes ma'am," he replied obediently. He unzipped.

He was wearing dark red bikini briefs under his leather shorts, and the penis nestling inside them was starting to lengthen.

"Stand up," I told him. "Hold onto the bed rail for balance."

He stood on one foot, right hand clutching the bed rail tightly, the tendons standing up on his arm, while I knelt and slowly drew the leather down his legs. He breathed hard, and cooperated readily with I negotiated the leather over the bandaged foot.

"Sit down." He sat promptly. I slipped the leather off his good foot, then held it in my hands, the leather warm and masculine-scented. "I like black leather," I commented.

He brightened. "You do?" He even looked a little hopeful.

I laid the shorts aside. "Now the skivvies," I said in my best no-nonsense voice.

He licked his lips, then stood up again, clutching the bed rail tighter than before. His legs trembled a bit and his knuckles turned white as he balanced on one boot. I stared at his turgid crotch for a long moment, and heard him suck in his breath when he realized what I was staring at. That made him harder still, and his penis unfolded, sticking straight out in front of him, the fabric stretching tightly over it.

I deliberately brushed him with my long nails as I took hold of his waistband. I drew the briefs down slowly, nails scratching him lightly, his penis springing free and sticking straight up as I pulled the cloth to his thighs, then to his knees, then his ankles. He sat down on the bed with a plop, and I frowned severely at him. "I didn't tell you that you could sit down. Stand up."

He sprang to his feet, and swore softly when his foot hurt from the sudden movement. He clasped the bed rail for balance while I slipped the pants off his sore foot, then said, "You may sit down now." I added the underpants to the heap on the counter by the sink.

He sat, his eyes glazed and his penis throbbing. "Do you order around all your patients like this?" he whispered.

"No," I said shaking out the gown. "Some patients need more discipline than others."

He met my eyes and there was a desperate longing in them. "I need lots of discipline," he admitted. "I just wish my foot didn't hurt so much," he added, the macho facade finally crumbling.

"We can take care of that. Now hold out your hands."

He did and I slid the nightgown up his arms. I stepped between his knees, my uniform brushing his body lightly in several places, then reached around his neck and tied the top tie. His face close to mine was perspiring slightly, and he was breathing through parted lips, his breath brushing softly against my neck. A warm frisson went down my spine.

He slipped his arms around my waist then, and pressed his face against my shoulder. I moved my hands lower and tied the second lace in back. I rested my hands on the cloth over his back for a long moment, feeling his surrendering desire as he held me. I wanted to give in and start kissing him, but I'd pegged him well enough to know ordinary sex would only disappoint him. So I plucked his hands from my body and aid, "Time for your enema."

"What?" he exclaimed, his face contorting as I stepped to the cabinet.

I smiled sweetly at him. "I told you I'm the head nurse around here. I decide exactly what kind of care my patients need."

"But -"

I frowned ferociously at him. "Do you want me to take care of you, or not ?"

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured weakly.

"Good. Get in bed with your ass in the air."

He crawled up on the bed and knelt on his hands and knees, the gown gaping so that his hairy ass was uncovered.

"Chest down," I commanded. He whimpered as he obeyed. I checked between his legs and saw his swollen penis turning a dark red, he was so hard. I laid the Foley catheter on the bed beside his hand where he could see it.

"I'll be back in a minute. Don't move."

I swished out of the room, went to the medicine cabinet, grabbed a needle, and measured out the proper amount of painkiller. I took a side trip to my locker and collected a favorite personal item. I put it in my pocket, then returned to his room. I closed and locked the door behind me, the snapping of the lock sounding loud in the small space.

I stepped around the curtain to face his ass, wiggling slightly as he waited for me to do whatever I was going to do. I stepped up to where he could see me and showed him the needle. "Painkiller. The doctor authorized it, you want it, I'm going to give it to you."

"Oh...," he said.

"Oh, yes," I affirmed. I climbed up on the bed behind him and said, "This is going to hurt a lot."

He tensed and I plunged the needle into his left cheek. He cried out softly and I depressed the plunger. His ass jumped and he started to rise up, so I slapped the other side of his ass and barked, "Down!"

His chest thumped against the bed. I removed the needle, wiped up the spot of blood, and climbed down. After I disposed of the needle, I returned to his side and checked his pulse. It was racing. He was so excited, the painkiller was coursing through his blood stream in record time.

"How do you feel?" I asked, mindful of my professional duties.

"Lightheaded," he replied.

"Anything else?"

"Horny."

"How horny?"

"Very horny."

"Good." I caressed his ass gently. "This painkiller has some interesting side effects. It loosens inhibitions. Patients do the craziest things when they're on it."

He moaned. I pulled on a set of hospital-issue latex gloves, snapping them as I pulled them up my forearm. "Safer sex," I said. "You do practice safer sex, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am. All the time."

"Good."

I climbed on the bed behind him and caressed the crack of his ass. It was moist with sweat, the black hair along side his anus curling endearingly. "You ever had an enema before?"

"No, ma'am."

"You ever had anything in your ass before?"

"Yes, ma'am." His voice sounded like he was blushing.

I nodded to myself, my suspicions confirmed. "Did you like it?"

"Yes, ma'am." His voice was a desperate whisper.

"Good." I smeared K-Y on my fingers, then worked a little of it into his anus. He tensed at first and I waited, and he relaxed, his fingers digging into the mattress. I simply slid my finger in enough to lubricate him, then removed it, and inserted the end of the Foley catheter.

The Foley is a clever device, composed of two black latex balloons and a tube. I inserted the first balloon into his ass, then pumped it up with air. He panted wildly as he felt it swelling inside him, stretching the membranes of his rectum, and pressing on his prostate. Thanks to the painkiller, he was relaxed and receptive, no discomfort marring the experience before him.

He moaned when I started pumping up the external balloon. In a couple of minutes, the two balloons were fully extended, making a dumbell shape, half in and half out of him, so the attached tube couldn't move.

I gave him a simple vinegar and water enema, his fingers clawing up great handfuls of bedclothes as he felt the warm liquid gurgling through his colon. When the enema bag was empty, I deflated the balloons, removed the catheter, and slipped in an enema plug.

"You can sit up now," I said. I took the device over to the sink, washed and disinfected it. In the mirror, I watched him kneeling up, hands covering his ass. His face was a brilliant shade of embarrassed pink. I smiled. "It gets worse," I reassured him cheerfully.

His shoulders slumped in defeat.

I brought the bedpan and smiled broadly. Obediently, he lifted himself up and I pushed it between his legs. Then I slowly pulled the plug out. "You can get rid of it now."

"Are you going to watch?" he asked, in a low voice.

"Of course. I have to supervise all medical procedures."

He looked like he wanted to sink into the mattress and disappear forever, but a glance at his rigid erection told me he was not going to scream for help. With a look of bitter embarrassment, he went.

"Good boy," I said approvingly. "Bend over."

I washed his ass with warm water and soap, dropping the paper towels into the bedpan. I spent a long time washing his ass, caressing the crack and especially the shiny pink rosebud in the middle. He panted and wriggled, so I dawdled over my task, petting and gently pinching him. When I pressed my fingertip against his anus, it yielded easily, and he moaned in anticipation.

Laughing silently, I took the bedpan to the bathroom, emptied and washed it. I stripped off my gloves and threw them away, washed my hands and arms, and pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. Then I took my favorite toy out of my pocket and strapped it on. When I returned to Mark's bedside, he was still bent over, one hand cradling his scrotum and the other hand stroking his hard penis.

"Grab you legs," I commanded him.

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled into the sheets. He hugged his knees, and I pulled out a dental dam.

I climbed on the bed behind him and contemplated the delightful vision of his thoroughly clean ass waiting for my attention. "Spread you knees."

He slid them an inch farther apart. I slapped his ass and commanded, "Wider!"

He groaned and complied.

I laid the pale green piece of latex over the crack of his ass and pushed it between his cheeks. His breathing came fast and hard, so I pushed harder. "Please!" he begged.

For an answer, I buried my face in his latex-covered ass. He jerked and twitched as I rubbed my tongue over the latex, pressing hard at the wrinkled flesh in the center. He made small animal noises, and I pressed harder, thrusting the latex into his anus with my tongue. He grunted and thrust his ass back against my face.

I slipped my left hand between his legs and grasped his penis. He thrust into my hand, but that pulled him away from my tongue, so he thrust backwards, and I stuck my tongue as deep in his ass as it would go. But that drew his erection away from my hand. With a cry of frustration, he thrust forward again, and back again, and forward again, and again and again. He fucked himself fast and hard, panting and moaning in desperate need.

Suddenly he held still and I felt the pulsing as his penis erupted with sperm. At that moment I bit his ass hard. He yelled and jerked violently, loud moans and spastic twitches shuddering through his body afterward. When I let go of him, he collapsed.

"I like fucking men," I said conversationally. "So now I think I'll fuck you."

He raised his head in surprise. I lifted my skirt and rubbed the tip of the strap-on against the crack of his ass to let him know what was coming. He lifted his hips to me, and I inserted the tip.

"Yes!" he exclaimed. He pushed to his hands and knees, impaling himself on my artificial penis.

I gripped his hips tightly, hanging on while he bucked wildly, his ass slamming against my legs. I slapped him right on the place where I had given him the injection. "No."

He flinched. "No?"

"I said I'm going to fuck you, not be fucked. Now lie down and hold still."

He stretched out prone on the bed while I braced my hands on the mattress and leaned into him. He gasped.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I pulled out a little, then pushed in, finding the natural rhythm I knew so well from the other side. Pleasure rushed through me. I liked fucking, liked using my strength against my partner, liked seeing him lying under me, liked listening to his moans as I thrust myself deep into his ass.

I humped faster, my hips pumping vigorously, driving my slim phallus in and out, in and out, in and out, while he cried incoherently with pleasure. Then his cries changed timbre, and he began to writhe, and I knew he was close to coming again. The sight, sound, and smell of him excited me, and I fucked wildly, no longer worried about hurting him, or being discovered, or anything else.

Lust rushed through me, soaking my panties with eagerness as I reached for the peak of pleasure. I buried myself as deeply in his ass as I could, then ground my hips in a circle. He cried out in pleasure, his body spasming beneath me. Waves of pleasure rocked through me, leaving me limp and sweaty against his ass.

We caught our breath, then he said softly, "You're the first woman who ever did that to me."

"Oh?"

"I've tried telling girlfriends I'm bi, but it didn't work. Some of them were turned off, and some of them were willing to try, but they just didn't understand how to make me feel good. So lately I've stuck with men, because I don't have to explain things to them."

I kissed his shoulder and gently withdrew. I tossed the dildo in the sink for later clean up, then I lay down beside him.

"I understand all right, because you see, I like getting fucked in the ass too."

His penis stirred and his eyes lit up. "You do?"

"I do."

He grinned at me. "Turnabout is fair play."

"It certainly is." Deliberately I rolled over and presented my backside to him.