This is just a light-hearted bit of amusing smut I wrote for fun, not to be taken seriously! First attempt at writing something original rather than fanfic. I used to work in a hospital so have a vested interest in all-things medical. I must point out that nothing in this fic is based on hospital folks I worked with in real life!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to any real persons, living or dead. The author retains full rights to this work.
In which Nurse Becky starts her new job
“I never reckoned you were serious about becoming a nurse. I guess I was wrong though. Hope it all goes well on your first day!”
“Thanks, Gemma.” My older sister has always been sceptical about me training to be a staff nurse. Come to think of it, so have my parents. I’m determined to prove them all wrong.
“The pay’s lousy though. And the NHS is in crisis. Are you sure you’ll be able to stick it out?”
Gemma is as subtle as a bigot on a diversity awareness course.
“I find it very rewarding helping people. I’m a born people-pleaser.”
Gemma sniffs and shakes her head. “Well you’re braver than me. I’m squeamish. The sight of someone being sick just freaks me out. Watching Holby City is bad enough.”
“It’s people like you that give being healthy a bad name,” I reply.
“Sorry sis. You know we’re all over the moon that you’ve landed that job at Little Rogering.”
Little Rogering General Hospital is a lot smaller than the city hospitals I worked at during my training. It resembles an old Soviet tower block. Brutalist architecture at its finest. As I go through the swing doors two nurses are coming out.
“Stupid little bitch thought your sternum was what you sat on,” says the first.
Just inside the door is a pigeon hole behind which sits a pigeon wearing glasses. She coos softly to herself when I explain that I have an appointment with Sister Brenda O’Connor.
“Rebecca Gibson?” She rises up slightly and leans forward as if she is wishing to confirm that I have brought the lower half of my body with me. Apparently satisfied, she sinks back and gives me totally unmemorable directions of which I can recall no more than that I have to go to the third floor.
I get into the elevator and for some reason that I will never understand, press the button marked four. I immediately press three but the elevator glides contemptuously past my destination and stops on the fourth floor. The doors slide open and I am faced by an old man in a wheelchair and another nurse who is escorting him. He is wearing a dressing gown and seems half-asleep. The nurse has no sooner pushed her patient into the elevator when she slaps her forehead.
“Crap. I’ve gone and left his records in the ward. Hang on here for a moment, will you?”
Before I can say anything, she’s disappeared down the corridor. No sooner has she hurried off, the patient’s eyes open a fraction, rather like a crocodile as it waits to ambush its prey. I am probably being mean here comparing him to a crocodile as he seems like a sweet old man. He is smiling at me now.
“Get your tits out!”
Before I can be certain that I’m hearing right, he’s pressed the button marked B for Basement and the doors are closing.
“Please, we must wait!” I shout.
“We’ll go down to the basement and play a quick game of ‘Naughty Nanas’ in there,” says the sprightly old goat. “You don’t mind a few pink patches on your arse do you?”
“What? But I’m running late and I still haven’t found Sister O’Connor yet!”
“Don’t waste your time. She’s the ugliest woman in the hospital.” He suddenly propels his chair across the elevator and pins me against the wall. “Come here. I want to take handfuls of you.”
He’s a man of his word too. When I come to think about it, he must be the oldest and dirtiest man I’ve ever met.
“Stop doing that!” I squeal thinking that his sense of direction hasn’t faltered over the years. “You can’t go around doing things like that!”
“Up guards and at ‘em! I’m eighty-seven and I could teach you young lasses a thing or two!” He whips open his dressing gown and once again proves his point. Holy crap. Much as it distresses me to look at his cock, I must say it looks more ramrod than shamrod.
The door slides open and I catch a glimpse of an amazed Asian man in scrubs leaning against a trolley. Hurriedly I press the button for the fourth floor.
“You were in the army, were you?” I humour the wizened pervert.
“The RAF actually. That’s where you meet ‘em. Big, wobbling tits slapping against your belly. That’s the stuff to give the pilots, eh?”
“It’s very nice,” I say. “But don’t you think you ought to put it away now?”
“I know where I’d like to put it. You’ve got a firm butt my dear.”
“Thanks. Can I have it back now?” For a senior citizen he sure has strong fingers. I can hardly prise them off my trousers.
The doors slide open on the fourth floor and there’s an astonished nurse blinking at us.
“What happened to you, Mr Norris?”
The old git shrinks into his wheelchair. “She tried to elope with me.”
“He went mad the minute you disappeared,” I say lowering my voice discreetly. “He started mauling me and suggested we do inappropriate things in the boiler room.”
The nurse looks at me in a way that might be described as strange.
“She pressed the button!”
“You wicked old man.” I round on him so fiercely that he sinks even lower into his chair. The nurse is looking at me suspiciously. “Do you work here?”
I gave her the famous Becky Gibson smile. “Yes. Today’s my first day. I’ve come to see Sister O’Connor.”
“What were you doing on the fourth floor?”
“I pressed the wrong button.”
“Don’t leave her here with me,” croaks Mr Norris pathetically.
“Hasn’t he done this before?” I whisper.
I receive another suspicious glance. “On Dunlivin Ward he’s known as Mr Sunshine. All the staff are very fond of him. He’s a model patient.”
Sister O’Connor is a ruddy-cheeked fortysomething woman who could make the likes of Beth Ditto look like a size zero. She smiles and welcomes me onto the ward.
“We’re all really delighted to have you join the team here,” she says to me in a broad Irish accent. “This hospital needs more eager and open-minded young people.”
“I am always eager and willing,” I say…
In which Sister O’Connor instructs Becky on how male patients are prepared for catheter insertion.
My first task of the day is tending to Josh, an attractive man in his early twenties like myself, who’s been involved in an RTA. He’s come straight up from A&E and at first glance seems to be in a bad way but has stabilized nicely. He’s got a broken right leg, fractured ribs and both hands are tightly bandaged. His leg will require surgery to fit some titanium rods into his shattered femur. As I insert a cannula and IV line, I notice him staring nervously at me.
“Are you comfortable? Is there anything you need?” I smile to him.
“Nurse…I really need to pee,” he exclaims, looking embarrassed.
I was confused as I thought he’d already been catheterized. “Okay, I’ll be right back with a bedpan.”
Josh shakes his head. “Can’t use one when I’m hard,” he groans, moving the bedsheet down with difficulty due to his bandaged hand. “It’s driving me mad.”
“Oh.” I murmur, feeling my cheeks suddenly reddening. He’s pitching quite a tent there in those green scrub pajamas. For all my training, I’ve never encountered a patient with a raging hard-on before. Until now that is. There’s a first time for everything. Sister O’Connor seems to have sensed that there’s a bit of a problem and enters the cubicle.
“Something wrong Nurse Gibson?”
“Well sort of,” I reply. I explain Josh’s dilemma.
Sister O’Connor’s face relaxes into a smile. “Oh is that all? I’ll easily fix that for you,” she adds with a wink. “You’ll find that this sort of thing happens quite a lot with male patients. Especially the younger ones.” She pulls the curtains round the cubicle.
“Fetch one of those will you?” she says, indicating the stack of grey cardboard bowls on the cabinet, normally used for patients to be sick in. Sister O’Connor pulls on a pair of surgical gloves and Josh suddenly looks extremely nervous, fearing she’s about to shove a ruddy great hypodermic into his cock. I wonder what the hell she’s planning to do. To my surprise she then whips out a tube of KY jelly from her tunic pocket. My eyes widen. I assume that’s to help the catheter line slide in more easily.
“Always remember never use the regular hand gel on sensitive areas like the genitals,” Sister O’Connor says. “It contains alcohol and can cause an allergic reaction in some patients.”
I nod. I don’t see any sign of a catheter. “Are you preparing to insert it?”
“We can’t insert anything until his boner’s been sorted out,” she replies, pulling down the bedsheet and unfastening the ties on Josh’s pajama bottoms. “Now don’t you worry sweetheart,” Sister O’Connor grins. “I’ll have your chap under control in no time. No need to feel awkward.”
She pulls down his pants and I find myself gawping at his impressive eight-inch erection. I know it’s unprofessional to stare but damn! Mind you, what Sister O’Connor is doing doesn’t exactly seem professional. She lubes up her gloves with the gel and slips a chubby hand round his cock. Josh lets out a moan. He can’t quite believe this is happening. Neither can I. I’m pretty sure this isn’t part of standard NHS patient care regulations! But Sister O’Connor’s jacking him off as though it’s as routine as taking a patient’s blood pressure. Josh’s member makes my ex-boyfriend Andy seem so small by comparison. I sigh, feeling strangely aroused as I continue to watch. Sister O’Connor is giving Josh one hell of a handjob, her thick arm rising and falling faster than a fiddler’s elbow. I guess that’s why she’s the most experienced member of nursing staff on the ward.
“Oh God,” Josh groans, as his balls are caressed and squeezed.
“He’s nearly there,” Sister O’Connor exclaims as she continues to pump his meat furiously. “Have that bowl ready for when he cums.”
“Yes Sister,” I reply. I feel unbearably hot all of a sudden and the wetness between my thighs is growing.
“Ahhh!” Josh jerks his head back and a white streak of cum shoots from his cock. Most of it lands in the bowl but some splashes on my hand, which I wipe off quickly.
“Better now?” Sister O’Connor whispers and Josh just nods, a huge smile spreading across his face. I’ve never seen a more contented looking patient. She removes her gloves and takes the bowl from me, depositing it in the clinical waste bin. “He’ll be softening in no time so try him with the bottle again and then we’ll fettle him up with a catheter.”
I follow her out of the cubicle. “Do you really do that often?” I say, astonished.
“Here at Little Rogering General, we always ensure that patients’ needs are met and we do things a bit differently to other hospitals. The patient was clearly in distress and needed a hand.” She tapped her nose to indicate that what she’d done was a kind of don’t ask, don’t tell thing.
“I understand.” I wonder if she’s ever had to deal with the geriatric pervert Mr Norris. The thought of giving him a handjob fills me with dread. I return to Josh’s bedside a few minutes later with a bottle to find that his erection has subsided.
“Finally,” he groans. “I’m bursting and can’t hold it much longer!”
“Will you be able to go now?”
“God, I hope so,” he replies and I take hold of his now flaccid cock and aim it at the bottle. Josh moans with relief as he starts to pee. “By the way,” he whispers, “what your superior did just then was amazing. I’ve never had such a great handjob. I would’ve preferred it if it had been you doing it though! No offence to the Sister but you’re way more of a hottie. Maybe next time?”
I doubt there’ll be a next time as he’ll have a catheter inserted and is due to have surgery tomorrow.
“We’ll see!” I say with a wink.
I’m pleased that all of Josh’s needs have been met. I think I’m going to enjoy working here at Little Rogering General Hospital. I wonder what the rest of the week will bring?
In which Becky has a close encounter with a paramedic.
Working the night shift at Little Rogering is a rather relaxed affair and gives ample opportunity for a quick legover – and many of the medics make their rounds with a twinkle in their eye, not to mention with love bites clearly visible.
They say NHS casualty wards are on the brink of meltdown and everyone’s rushed off their feet like blue-arsed flies. Little Rogering must be in some kind of alternate reality where overcrowded wards don’t exist and all targets are met. There doesn’t seem to be much trouble here in the form of drunks and the mortality rate is the lowest I’ve seen – certainly the patients that sadly do pass away here always go peacefully. One elderly man didn’t make it tonight. I hope Sister O’Connor didn’t wank him to death.
I’m finding it hard to visit the linen closet without interrupting Ryan, one of the male nurses here who’s just met with his latest conquest for a quickie. In tonight’s case it’s one of the porters. I had no idea the linen closet was a cottaging hotspot. I must try to remember that so to avoid future interruptions. I found a buttplug wedged between a stack of pajamas this morning. Ryan swears it wasn’t his. I wonder who it belonged to?
When it comes to sex pests, in this respect, the most persistent character is Jeff Bonehard, a paramedic in his early forties who seems to spend most of his time up here roaming the wards rather than down in the ambulance bay. He always claims to be on a tea break, but perhaps shag break would be more accurate.
Sister O’Connor finds him amusing. “Oh Jeff, bless him, he’s a refugee from the Benny Hill Show. Three divorces under his belt now, too. He’s well-known as the Seducer of the Wards. Hasn’t he given you an ambulance tour yet? He tends to do that with all the newbie female staff.”
“Er, no.” I have a feeling it won’t be long though. Who’s Benny Hill? I’ll have to Google that when I get a moment. I’m more of a Game of Thrones fan, though to be honest I hardly watch any telly at all.
Sure enough, Jeff rolls up again here on Burkenhare Ward and isn’t slow in making his feelings felt – both by hand and mouth.
“Oh Becky,” he grunts. “You’re like a bowl of shiny cherries and I want to suck you down to the stones. I dream about you. I can’t sleep because of you!”
“How can you dream if you can’t sleep?” I say.
“Oh, don’t drown me in semantics. I’m tearing my heart out here and offering it to you. How long can you go on spurning me?”
“I think you ought to get back and respond to some 999 calls. There could be some poor soul lying injured and bleeding, desperately waiting for an ambulance to arrive.”
“What about me? I’m dying. Have you no compassion? I’m not asking much. Just the benediction of your body. Afterwards I’d love to take you out for a meal and stuff.”
Jeff is a guy who does everything in the wrong order – sex first then get to know the girl later. His words would no doubt have feminists baying for him to be castrated. As cringe-worthy as some of the things he says are, I can’t help but fancy him. He is attractive, ruggedly built – he looks good in that green jumpsuit and lifting those stretchers in and out of the ambulance has obviously given him a great physique. His hair is steel-grey – a real silver fox and he has the most piercing blue eyes. He’d make a good Christian Grey…I bet he’d be open to all kinds of role play come to think of it. I was watching a documentary last week called Emergency Bikers – all about paramedics. I confess I had a few fantasies after watching that.
“Becky, you don’t have to beg me…though I would love to see you kneeling in front of me! I have much to offer your eager mouth. I just adore brunettes such as yourself. And those hazel eyes…a man could drown in those.”
“I’m serious about the 999 calls.”
“A lot of people who call 999 are chronic malingerers or time-wasters. They cost the NHS a fortune you know. Come on Becks, I’m dying to introduce you to my Sprinter.”
My eyes widen but then I realize he’s talking about the ambulance.
“How many other women have you introduced?”
Jeff looks a little awkward for the firs time. “Not going to lie, my love-life is like Oklahoma after the tornado. I’m always on the lookout for a future ex-Mrs Bonehard. I keep telling women, look I’m just not long-term marriage material. Sooner or later I will break your heart and cheat. And I do. I suppose that’s nothing to be proud of at all but I always believe in being 100% honest about myself. I am a rogue. I am disgusting.”
“Do you have kids?”
“Oh yes. One from each marriage and two…unplanned ones from flings. I adore them all. I always make sure I seem them all equally.”
I can’t believe I’m hearing this. He could give Clint Eastwood a run for his money. Jeff must be paying out a fortune in child maintenance to his exes. I’m surprised he isn’t bankrupt but insists he’s on good terms with everyone. What a guy. I’m falling under his spell already. He seems to have some indescribable hold over women. Part of me wants to say yes to him, but the other part is screaming ‘don’t go there!’ What to do?
Jeff leans over and plants a kiss on my lips.
“What the…what was that?”
“Just a kiss,” he grins. “Well guess I’ll head back and sit in the ambulance and ponder about things. Be seeing you…”
My heart’s pounding and I feel a bit tingly.
Five minutes later I discreetly make my way down the ambulance bay, trying to act nonchalant.
“I knew you’d come,” Jeff grins and nodding to his work partner Terry to make himself scarce. Terry mumbles something to himself, like he’s fed up of being booted out of the way every time Jeff’s pulled. Poor Terry. He’s short, bald and overweight. I doubt he gets much action.
“Right, well I’ll go and take another fag break then!” he grumbles.
“Come and inspect my ambulance,” Jeff says as I hop inside the back and he quickly checks to make sure no-one’s watching before closing the door.
The interior of an ambulance is nothing new to me of course.
“Nice isn’t she? The old girl’s just been serviced and fitted with some new equipment.”
“Lucky for her,” I reply. I know how men get attached to their vehicles. Shit, what’s happening to me? At this very moment all I want to do is rip off Jeff’s jumpsuit, push him onto the stretcher and straddle the thighs whose muscular shape his uniform cannot disguise.
“Feel free to check my vital signs,” I murmur. Hey if he can say cheesy lines, so can I.
By the time my fingers find the obvious bulge in the front of his jumpsuit, it’s plain to see that Jeff’s raring to go.
I quietly pull down my scrub trousers and panties and remove them and lean against the trolley. Stroking my clit gently, I shudder with the intensity of the pleasure that’s flooding through me. Jeff watches me as he unzips his jumpsuit, smiling at the sight of my fingers moving rapidly between my spread legs.
“Wow. Just wow. You are something else!”
I turn round to face him. “I’m ready for your rapid response!” I think Jeff’s bitten off more than he can chew for a change!
“I’ll ride you through the night like a wild mare fleeing through a forest fire, pink tongues of flame licking your gleaming flanks, the night owl’s shrieks stifling your broken moans!”
Oh God. I can’t help but burst out laughing. How does he come out with such lines? Mind you don’t they say the best way to get a woman into bed, or in my case an ambulance stretcher, is to make her laugh?
Jeff climbs on top of me, pulling open my uniform so he can nuzzle his face into my cleavage. His wet lips suck at my nipples through the fabric of my bra, and I reach down to grab hold of his (very large!) cock and guide it inside me. In the excitement, I’d taken just enough of a look at him to realize he’s the perfect size to fill me up, and I sigh as he thrusts himself home. This was it, everything I had fantasized about; sex with a horny paramedic who was getting just as much dirty pleasure out of this as I was. As Jeff fucks me with swift, powerful strokes, I arch my body up to meet his, urging him to go faster, harder. My excitement peaks swiftly, suddenly, and I come, turning my head to breathe in the scent of him on his uniform. Jeff’s orgasm follows moments later filling me with his seed and he collapses on me, shaking his head as though he can’t quite believe what has just happened.