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Nursing School

Nursing School – An Erotic Mini-Story

by Jenelle Watson

Going through nursing school on student loans is tough. You know each little expense will add years to paying your loan back. Too many students whip out the plastic every time they want a slice of pizza or a new laptop computer. I wish them luck!

Nursing school is even worse if you’re horny all the time. All the intimate contact with patients and fellow students drives you crazy. During my first year, I masturbated a lot!

Nursing school starts out with mostly book and computer study. It’s only after a while that you really get to work with people. However, the beginning was fun too, mostly because of Corine. She was my roommate. Corine is one of those curvy redheaded, big-breasted, Irish Catholic girls. You might know the type. I think it is their strict upbringing that makes them so rebellious.

On our first day, I entered the dorm room that was to be mine for the next four years, to find Corine already there. She greeted me with a great big smile. We settled in, put our clothes away, then headed down to the cafeteria and talked all the way through our first meal. We were so excited!

Upon returning to the room, Corine got really quiet, then, looking hesitant, she asked, “How do we handle…. you know…”

“Oh, you mean periods? Come on, we’re going to be nurses.”

“No,” and then she hesitated again, “OK, so, Jen. I like to masturbate. A lot. I hope that doesn’t shock you.”

Frankly, I was shocked, but not because of masturbation. I was shocked because she so boldly brought it up. It was my turn to match her boldness, and I managed to surprise myself. I’m normally rather shy.

“Well, Corine, if you should come into the room, and I happen to be giving myself some joy at the time, I hope you’ll just deal with it,” and I laughed nervously.

“Jen, I’m so glad you’re like-minded about that. I for one, don’t intend to let anything interfere with my, ah… self-pleasure.”

“Good on you! Me too!”

“Now that that’s out of the way,” she said, and we both laughed.

After getting my desk all set up, plugging in my phone charger and all that, it was time for bed. I tromped down the hall to the communal bathroom, peed and brushed my teeth, with about four other girls in there at the same time, then returned to our room.

Corine was in her bed. Or more correctly, she was on top, and stark naked, looking at her phone. I was only shocked because it was the first time I had seen a naked girl, or anyone naked, for that matter, other than in the gym showers in high school. Corine was so matter-of-fact about it.

I tried to be equally calm, just saying, “Oh, Hi,” as casually as possible. Then I did something that wouldn’t have been typical for me, but the room was warm, too warm, so trying to act as everyday about it as Corine, I took off my clothes, all my clothes. I hoped she wouldn’t laugh at my little, light-brown boobs. In fact, they don’t even qualify as boobs. They’re just tits.

I don’t think she noticed, or she certainly pretended not to, so like her, I curled up on my bed, starkers, too. I snuck little glances at Corine from time to time. I have to say she was pretty. If I went for women, I’d be all over her.

Corine put down her phone and we started talking about nursing school, very much looking forward to our first classes. As we were talking, one of her hands went to her breast, and she started making light little around her nipple with a fingertip. Seeing that, I felt an unexpected twinge in my lower stomach. I kind of wanted to do the same thing to my own nipple, but I didn’t dare. I was frozen in inaction, and trying my best to maintain the conversation.

As we continued, her other hand went to her pussy, which was hairless, by the way, and started idly stroking her clit area.

It seemed alright to ask under the circumstances, so I asked, “You shave down there. Can I ask why?”

“Actually, I depilate. I use Nair. I just love the feel. I don’t care much for hair.”

Admitting more than I would have with anyone else, even friends I’ve known for years, I said, “You know, I’ve always hated my hair down there, but haven’t done anything about it. Don’t you feel skanky or anything?”

“No, lots of women do it these days. It isn’t like 1970 or something.”

“Cool.”

She continued to run one finger over her nipple, which I could clearly see was erect, and with her other hand, she started more earnestly rubbing her vagina. I was feeling really strange. Kind of horny and light-headed.

She started getting really blissed. She was arching her back, and moaning slightly.

I couldn’t take it any more, and so I started fingering my nipple the same way. I had never done it like that. I was more of a general tit caresser, and so found her way of running my fingers in circles right around my nipples very sexy. Pretty soon, almost with a mind of its own, my other hand went to my own pussy, which I realized was already quite wet. Something you should know about me, and it is probably common to many Filipino women, is that I can get very, very wet down there. I literally leave small puddles sometimes.

Corine had a screaming orgasm. She was so loud that I thought the neighbors heard it. A moment later, I had my own, quiet, shy orgasm, but it probably was no less strong. I felt a twinge of guilt, but mostly a remarkable freedom. It was the first time in my life I had been able to masturbate around someone. In fact, I had never even entertained the thought that such a thing would ever happen. At the time, I couldn’t even bring myself to say “pussy,” let alone “cunt.” It was “vagina” all the way.

School started, and it was much more challenging than I expected. High school was a breeze compared. There was lots of book learning, lots of computer work, many tests, and zillions of lectures. I liked it most of the time. When I got a D on a conversions test, I wasn’t so sure, but I quickly recovered, returning to good grades, and enjoying nursing school over all.

In two months, we started having weekly sessions called clinicals. This is where student nurses do things. The lectures had over a hundred students, but the clinicals were typically with just six students. Our main clinical instructor was Judy Finch, a friendly and humorous gray-haired lady.

At first, most were done with gadgets and models. We learned to inject silicone bags, and practiced on oranges. We gave plastic models bedbaths, which was quite humorous, having all of us, including Mrs. Finch, laughing our heads off.

In time, our clinicals became more personal. We took each others blood pressure, injected each other with saline, stuck tongue depressers in each other, and so on.

It was around this time that I saw a notice on a bulletin board that the school was hiring what they called “standardized patients.” Considering how I felt about money, I thought it would be grand to make a little money on the side, so I went to the office and signed up.

What they told me is that standardized patients model real patients, and are subjected to all the things the students have to learn, such as changing dressings, administering meds, and taking blood. I was told it might get ‘personal’ too, but was too stupid, or shy, to ask what that meant. I realized it might be painful at times, but hey, it paid $50 for two hours work.

Corine and I were in a clinical group of six together, along with three other women and a man, Rachmul Jaspura, who everyone called “Rock.” Sometimes, when I’d frig myself in our room, images of Rock came to mind. He was the classic dark, tall and handsome, reminding me of Cary Grant. However, his skin was darker, and he wore a neatly trimmed beard. I could swear I caught him staring at me a couple of times, but it was probably just my imagination.

I was telling Corine how I had signed up for the standardized patient thing, and she said, “Oh, no!”

Alarmed. I asked her why she said that.

“You know what you have to do, right?”

“Yeah, have blood drawn, get bedbaths…”

“Well, dear, you also have to get suppositories, get catheterized, have breast exams, and things like that.”

My heart lept to my throat. I hadn’t thought of that. My mind betrayed me as I started freaking out, then I began crying.

Corine came over to my bed, and put her arm around me, saying “Oh, dear. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just spoke before I thought. I’m so sorry.”

As she said it, she was kind of rubbing my arm up and down. Maybe because we were both naked, maybe because I was so upset, I don’t know, but something came over me. She was so close. How could I resist? I kissed her. She kissed me back. We kept it going for quite a while. Again, I felt that funny feeling in my lower stomach and vagina.

We turned more toward each other, and were hugging and kissing up a storm. In a minute, I felt something strange, as if Corine had a third lip. Then I realized, she was trying to French kiss me. I let her in, and responded in kind. It seemed so nice, and also so natural.

She broke the embrace first, but only to reposition herself and kiss a trail from the side of my neck, down next to the outside of my little tits, down my stomach, bypassing my pussy, all the way down the front of my left leg to the top of my foot. Then she kissed her way up my other foot, my leg, my thigh, and landed on my pussy. She hung out there, working her tongue into my very wet slit, while I literally shivered in delight.

I felt her tongue working on my inner labia, and she seemed to be gently sucking one, then the other, into her mouth. Bang, I orgasmed! It was probably the strongest orgasm I ever had. A moment later, I was curled up in a little ball and crying again, with Corine brushing my hair away from my face.

“I know, Jen,” she said softly. She knew these were tears of joy and release.

I offered to do the same for her, but she declined, saying that was just for me, to make up for her saying such a foolish thing.

I told her that the payment was way in excess of the damage, and we both laughed.

The ice was broken, and over the ensuing years, Corine and I repeated that performance in many variations, many times.

I hadn’t been called to be a standardized patient yet, but our clinical group employed one. I participated with great interest, of course. This was simply about changing bedding with an immobile patient. I could understand how a plastic model certainly wouldn’t work for that. This standardized patient thing, I started to feel I could do it OK. Certainly they wouldn’t call me, if they need something like administering suppositories. Or at least, so I hoped.

Rock and I got to talking, and I found out he had signed up as a standardized patient as well. He had already done one session for ear, nose and throat assessment. I asked how it went, and he said it was uneventful, and easy money. That cheered me up somewhat.

A week later, I got my first call. I was to emulate a person with a very contagious disease, while the student nurses performed all the self-protective and sterile procedures. It went well, and I felt kind of proud of my ‘performance.’ I feel I was pretty good at acting like a real patient.

We started doing work in actual hospital wards. It was terribly exciting, and routine all at the same time. Mostly, it was scut work, like changing sheets, spoon feeding, and emptying bedpans. Every procedure I performed for the first time, no matter how routine, worried me, flustered me, and finally, I conquered it. Like flossing an old lady’s teeth. I felt I hurt her, but she didn’t complain. Taking care of her teeth, like many of these little things, was terribly embarrassing, but I got through it. I knew in the end, I’d be helping people, not hurting them.

Rock and I started smiling at each other in the clinicals and when we’d cross paths on campus. One thing led to another, and ended up with a pizza date. A rare evening when I felt I could afford a little time away from studying, he took me to a pizza place, where we stayed way too late, laughing, and generally having a good time.

I asked him, why, as a man, he took up nursing. To me, he seemed like the type who could do anything. He could be a Navy SEAL. He could be a heart surgeon. He could even be a rock star. He sings and plays guitar and sounds great. Well, being born in Pakistan, he couldn’t be a US president.

Rock surprised me with a very well thought out answer. He had been a computer wizard since grade school, and had already established a business as a local computer technician. He had done music. But he felt that he was somewhat inept at dealing with people. He said people scared him. Therefore, he thought the best thing he could do is learn to deal with people on the most intimate terms possible, which is nursing.

The next day, there were flowers sent to my room. From Rock! I could swear Corine was a bit jealous. I hoped she wasn’t.

I needn’t have worried. I came back from a lecture that had been canceled, mindlessly unlocked the door and came crashing in, only to discover Corine on her bed under a big hulking black figure, also naked, a guy who everyone called “Johnny B,” one of the star football players. At our college football was a big thing, so Johnny B was probably going to be a big name in the NFL some day soon.

‘Way to go, Corine,’ I was thinking. But what I said, was “Oops, sorry. I’ll come back later,” and quickly scooted out of the room.

Before I got back out the door, Johnny had pulled out of Corine, and had turned around to see who the intruder was. He flashed me a big smile, and I happened to see his penis before I left. It was fascinating, and I kind of wanted that in me. Hell, I wanted any penis in me, still being a virgin, but his, oh that was something. It seemed inordinately large, based on pictures I had seen, and it was jet black, even darker than Johnny B himself. I was also surprised considering how big the man himself was, that his very attractive, hairy ass was a compact thing in comparison.

I was called as a standardized patient again, making another easy $50. All I had to do was get transferred from gurneys to beds, over and over again.

We had another clinical. This one was about urogenital assessment. We had a male standardized patient. He was a medical student. He was talkative, but played his role well, as six nurses, including Rock, checked him for hernia, did a digital rectal exam, checking for enlarged prostate or rectal lumps, manipulated his testicles, rolled back his foreskin and looked in his meatus, the technical term for peehole. The last part was sticking a Q-tip in there, to get a sample for STD analysis. He said that part stung a bit, but didn’t seem to wince too badly at first. By the time the fifth student got to him, he was doing fine, but I noticed his penis was somewhat larger than it had been. When the Q-tip was stuck in him, he drew in his breath and winced a bit. Evidently, having that done several times in a row causes noticeable irritation.

Rock had handled the guy’s exam like a pro. I thought he’d be embarrassed handling another man’s junk. He did look a little sickly, however.

I was the final student to ‘do’ this guy. By now, his penis was indeed erect. It was the first real, live erect penis I had ever seen. Mrs. Finch told us that erection is a common occurrence happening perhaps thirty percent of the time, and that we should just carry on, generally ignoring the ‘condition’ but letting the patient know that it is OK.

So I said, “Erections are common. Don’t worry, I’ve seen it before.” I almost laughed, because the truth is, I hadn’t seen it before.

I had him lay sideways on the table, snapped on gloves, put KY on my index finger, and stuck it in him. I felt a corresponding tightening of my own ass and vagina, sort of in solidarity, but it was an erotic thing for me, too.

I had a hell of a time working through the procedure, because it was having a horrible effect on me. I wanted to run out of the room, find the nearest bathroom and masturbate like crazy. My legs were actually weak as I started feeling his testicles for lumps. I took much longer than a real, experienced nurse would take. I probably took longer than the other students as well, because these were the first testicles I had ever felt. They were sure interesting, like grapes, or I was thinking, like chicken gizzards, inside that scrotum. I was completely intrigued until I heard Judy Finch say, ‘Ahem, Miss Watson…”

How embarrassing. I had stalled out in some sort of hypnotic trance. What must the other students have thought of me? I went on to feel that magnificent penis, making a point of staying alert and being fleet about it. Finally, I had to stick in the Q-tip. Without thinking, I just jammed it right in, about an inch, and I felt his whole body tense up. To his credit, he didn’t yell or even say anything. Mrs. Finch told me that I had pushed it in twice as far as needed. Poor guy!

Afterward, I talked about it with Rock, and I found out why he was looking sickly. He was scheduled as a standardized patient the next day, and that was the clinical he was going to have to suffer through. My heart went out to him. I don’t know whether it was the potential pain of getting stuck with Q-tips, or the embarrassment of having his genitals handled like that which bothered him more.

I wished him luck. We talked some more, then decided to go out for pizza again, and continue our discussion. Suddenly, I had the craziest notion. I leaned over and kissed Rock. He responded happily. We continued kissing there in the pizza place like a couple of high-school kids. The next thing I know, we were in his dorm, continuing to kiss, but reclined on his bed. He didn’t have to ask. I pulled off my T-shirt, and my skirt. He reached around, fumbling with my bra clasp. I turned it around and took it off myself, hoping he wouldn’t be disappointed with how little I had to offer in that department.

Quite the contrary, he seemed delighted, leaning and running his tongue lightly over my nipples. That sent shivers of ecstasy throughout my body. I realized nipples can be sensitive. Corine had taught me that, but this was on a whole new level. Soon we were both as naked as the day we were born. I was so ready.

Rock stopped.

“What?” I asked.

“I don’t have any protection.”

I was totally disappointed, I can’t even express it in words. I was almost angry with him, and had to moderate my voice.

“Really? I thought you guys always carried those things in your wallets.”

“Well, I’m an idiot. Hey, wait a sec…” and then he started rumpling around in his roommate’s desk drawer.

“Ah!” he said victoriously, holding up a little packet.

He rolled it over his dick, and I arranged myself for easy entry. It wasn’t particularly romantic, but I just wanted to be fucked. To hell with romance at that point. He complied, climbing awkwardly on top of me, pressing his penis against my lower belly. I was so excited!

He rearranged himself, and I felt his dick insisting at my entrance. It pulled on my hairs a little bit, which stung. He repositioned and tried again. Still no joy. He then reached with his hand, coating it liberally with my copious girl juice, then tried again. Suddenly, I felt a wonderful stretch, as the tip of his penis poked into me. He held back, knowing I was a virgin, so only the tip was in me. I put my hands on his glorious butt, and pulled him down hard, stabbing his penis all the way in. I said something along the lines of “Eeek!” as I felt his penis puncture my hymen. It only stung for a few seconds.

Nature took over, and he started pumping in and out, as I did my best to match his rhythm. It felt so awesomely good to have my vagina stretched out by his fat penis. I started to get the feeling. You know the one I mean, and within a minute, I was writhing and yelling in orgasmic delight. In that moment, I learned just how wonderful, intercourse can be. I had no idea what I had been missing out on.

He hadn’t orgasmed and I was starting to feel squished under his weight, so I gently pushed him off to one side, as his penis slipped out of me. I immediately regretted losing that great tool within my body.

He removed the rubber, and started stroking himself. Here was this beautiful man, masturbating right in front of me. I am a visually-oriented person, and it was probably the most amazing thing I had seen in my life. But, I couldn’t let him finish alone. That wouldn’t have been polite. Besides, there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to hold that penis in my hand at that moment. True, I had held the standardized patient’s penis, but that was nowhere the same as handling a penis that moments before had been buried inside my body. My boyfriend’s penis. That’s right, now, Rock qualified as my boyfriend. I was proud on several levels.

I started almost instinctively rubbing my hand up and down on his penis. He arched his back, yelling, “I’m cumming” and then started pulsing out several squirts of thick white fluid. It was pretty much what I was expecting to see, but I was nevertheless, absolutely fascinated.

I know this is weird, but I left there, knowing that not only did I want to fuck again – and again and again for the rest of my life, but I also wanted to stroke a guy, or guys, or whatever, to orgasm many more times in my life. Oh, I loved doing that for him, and seeing the ejaculate squirt out. Strangely, I felt a strong sense of accomplishment.

The next evening, I met up with Rock at the pizza place, and asked how his clinical went. He wouldn’t tell me until after we left, where we could speak privately.

“So, how’d it go?”

“OK.”

“Just OK?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you get erect?”

“Do we have to talk about this?”

“Yes!” I said laughingly.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Did you like it?”

After a pause, he said, “Actually, yes. I was all prepared to have a miserable time, and lo and behold, the first student stuck her finger in my butt, and all I could think of was you, and what we did yesterday, and I got hard right from the start. It was terribly embarrassing at first. Judy Finch was there, and said the usual thing about ignoring erections, and continuing on. so the student did. Hell, I practically lost it with the very first student.”

“Do I really have to talk about this?”

I gave him a look like ‘Don’t dare leave out any details.’

He continued, “The fucking Q-tip thing does sting, that’s for sure.”

“So what about your erection situation?”

“It got worse. I was trying so hard to keep it together. By the fifth student, I couldn’t, and ejaculated right there in front of seven women, including Mrs. Finch.”

Funny thing, though, At the time, it was embarrassing. Now, it feels kind of special.”

“Huh?”

“My memory of it is super-erotic. All I want to do right now is fuck your brains out, thinking of how it went this afternoon.

“The sixth student wasn’t quite the same. After a guy cums, he gets all sensitive.”

“I can relate. I think us girls might have a bit of that, too. Sometimes we cry afterward,” I expertly added, as if I knew all about girls and sex now that I was so experienced.

“Well, I still needed my ass poked by the last student. That part was OK, but when she started doing the testicle check, I became terribly ticklish. Then, when she pulled my foreskin back, all I wanted to do was get away. Yet, now when I look back on it, I get all horny. Go figure!”

“So, now you want to fuck me?”

“Um, yes.”

“Me too, I’m so horned up I can hardly wait.”

“But where are we going to go? My roommate is probably studying.”

“Well, I need to retaliate,” I said cryptically.

“What?”

A while back, I came back to the dorm, and caught my roommate, Corine, with Johnny B…”

“Johnny B, really?”

“Yup, in person, and stark naked, erection and all.”

“No kidding!”

“Well, under the circumstances, I think it would be just deserts if you and I do it right there in front of her.”

I knew this was especially bold of me, but somehow I was growing. Maybe it was the nurse training, in which we deal with people in all sorts of intimate states every day, and we have to take charge. I don’t know, maybe it was because I was learning from Corine’s gregariousness, but it seemed like fucking Rock right there was an OK thing. Oh, I must have been horny!

We walked to my dorm, and to my disappointment, Corine wasn’t there. Just like a couple of old pros, Rock and I stepped out of our clothes right away, and started hugging on my bed. It was only moments before he was in me. It didn’t sting at all this time, and felt even more wonderful than the first time. This time around, I didn’t have all that baggage and emotions of it being the first time. We were just in the throes of having orgasms when the door banged open, and Corine stood there, hypnotized and open-mouthed. We couldn’t stop, and ended up with a simultaneous orgasm, right before her eyes.

A million emotions ran through me. I was at once embarrassed, proud, and satisfied.

I particularly enjoyed the clinical in which we learned to place urinary catheters. Our first standardized patient was a woman. I tried to remain all professional when I spread her inner labia with my fingertips, found her peehole, and started feeding the flexible tubing in. But once again, I really wanted to masturbate afterward.

I also learned to catheterize a male patient. It was the same guy that I had done my first urogenital exam on. He was smiling and talkative as usual. He also let us know that this was the worst job a standardized patient can have, because after having a tube shoved all the way down his dick and into his bladder six times in a row, peeing the next day is very painful, or in his words, ‘stings like crazy!’

It was interesting seeing the catheter go so far in. There is much penis inside a man as out, so the catheter goes in around fourteen inches before it makes it past the sphincters and into the bladder. It made me super-hot placing the catheter. This time, to my disappointment, the patient did not become erect.

I told Rock, and he confirmed that it does indeed sting like crazy the next couple of days, but he enjoyed his sessions as a standardized patient. One time, he ran a fever the next day and had to take antibiotics for two weeks afterward.

Rock and I got terribly excited about the whole catheterization deal. We ‘borrowed’ some catheters from the hospital, and played with catheterizing each other. Unlike the way we were supposed to do patients, to do it quickly and get on with other procedures on other patients, he and I took a very long time, and had wonderful orgasms with the catheters in place. Yes, a man can ejaculate while catheterized. The cum just flows out around the tube.

There was a time with Johnny B, Rock, Corine and I that was what you might call an orgy. We were confined to the two twin beds in my dorm room, but the four of us made do nicely. I did receive Johnny B’s huge black dick, and have to say the experience was glorious.

On that day, we all seemed to have an anal fixation. I fingered Corine’s asshole, and felt her orgasmic anal contractions squeezing my finger, which almost made me cum just from the sexiness of having my finger in her sweet ass. In the process, I found out that whereas you might think an asshole is a foul smelling thing, it actually smells sweet. There are glands around the anus that secret a delicious smelling substance. The only problem is when wiping patients ‘back there,’ you notice the shit smell, not the good smell. Oh well.

Everyone has slightly different sexual tastes. It turns out that Johnny B has a thing about testicle massage. Being nursing students, we’ve had to squeeze our standardized patients a few times, checking for lumps, but to do it recreationally puts a fantastic spin on it. Johnny B must be a sort of pain freak, because although we squeezed his testicles quite firmly, and he was wincing all over the place, he still wanted more. I was actually somewhat straining my fingers, trying to massage him to the extent he wanted. Knowing human anatomy, we knew that testicles are rubbery things. They don’t pop from too much pressure, so after my turn, Corine gave it a try. Actually, she had already ‘done’ his testicles many times. Finally, Johnny B wanted Rock, with his powerful hands, to give it a try. It was exciting to see my strong man squeezing so hard on Johnny B’s testicles.

Rock didn’t let go. He only lightened up, and kept squishing those testicles of Johnny’s back and forth within his scrotum. Suddenly, Johnny B had an ejaculation without his penis being touched at all. When he calmed down, he thanked Rock profusely.

I was putting my index finger everywhere that day. It also ended in Rock’s ass and Johnny B’s ass. Then, Rock wanted to buttfuck me while the two of them watched. I was all for that. While it was a bit painful at first, he was gentle and slow, and within minutes the pain transmuted into something quite the opposite. My body craved more. I wanted him to buttfuck me deep and hard. He gladly complied!

Corine asked Johnny B to fist fuck her. He tried, but the most they could manage was four fingers. My man, Rock, he’s quite a brave soul, and an experimenter. He then requested that Johnny B try fisting him. In his ass, of course. The two of them went at it, while Corine and I sat on the edge the other bed fingering ourselves and watching intently. They didn’t manage full fisting, but both of them enjoyed the attempt very much.

Afterward, I asked Rock whether he worried that some of our activities were ‘gay.’

His answer was perfect, “That’s not even an issue.”

And that was only our first year. I did perform as a standardized patient many times. I suffered the indignities of receiving suppositories, having my breasts examined, urogenital exams, and even urinary catheterization, as well as all the usual stuff, like pretending to be a burn victim, having my teeth brushed, being a hostile patient, and all sorts of other things.

You may think this is strange, but I grew to like all those clinicals, especially the personal ones. The more personal the better. Perhaps I’m a bit of an exhibitionist, but I just loved having my vagina seen and manipulated by various nursing students, especially anything to do with speculums or catheters. A girl finds it very erotic to show off her cervix to strangers. It’s rare. Very few people outside the medical profession ever see a cervix. Did I have orgasms? Yes, all the time, although quite often the nursing students missed noticing, or didn’t understand why their speculums were pulsing up and down for a few seconds.

Rock and I are married, and work at a hospital in Syracuse, New York. He’s a psychiatric nurse, and I’m in the osteological ward. I help people with bone problems. Sometimes, we get an accident victim who has incapacitated both his hands, typically with broken arms or broken wrists. This sort of accident is more common with men than women. I think it’s because men are more daring.

These patients have to be helped with everything from feeding to urination. I don’t mind. In fact, I particularly like it when I have a patient who has been on my ward for three days or longer. These guys, and gals too, have a huge need for sexual release, but they can’t do it themselves.

Technically, it is illegal to help them in that way, but no one is complaining, and the staff always looks the other way, if they’re not doing the same thing themselves for their own patients. Once the family and visitors leave, I’ll help a man with his urinal. I pull his gown back down and replace the sheet, but then I do one last check under the sheet and gown. You know, making sure his penis is settled correctly. And sometimes it takes a while, I have to move my hand up and down repeatedly, and lo and behold, the poor fellow accidentally ejaculates, generally once a day. They are so thankful!

I’ve done it for some of the women too. Interestingly, they’re more forward. A guy will never come right out and ask me to masturbate him, even though he’ll make jokes, even off-color ones about sexual matters all the time. But a woman will just come right out and say she needs an orgasm, and is there any way I can help? Go figure!

This masturbation business is, without a doubt, the very best part of my job. Oh Rock knows. He does it for some of his psych patients as well. I’m not sure of the details. I ought to ask him someday. Why can’t psych patients do themselves?

Don’t get me wrong. I love everything about nursing. Sure, there’s blood and poop, and people will puke, but helping people when they really need help is a very satisfying vocation.

Corine and I stay in touch. She didn’t end up marrying Johnny B, but instead his teammate, Jamal Johnston, who as you know is a star NFL quarterback. They have two kids. Rock and I are still working on that, but we’re in no hurry.

I hope you enjoyed this little book. You can find more like and unlike it by looking for Jenelle Watson, or my brother, Jeremy J. Watson, in the Kindle store.

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