Message-ID: <25694asstr$965617804@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: NightShade X-Original-Message-ID: Reply-To: i_m_nightshade@hotmail.com NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 06 Aug 2000 18:47:56 CDT X-Abuse-Info: Please be sure to forward a copy of ALL headers X-Abuse-Info: Otherwise we will be unable to process your complaint properly Subject: {ASSM} RP. The Camp Nurse 01 (Mf+, teen, satire) Date: Sun, 6 Aug 2000 23:10:04 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: newsman, dennyw THE USUAL WARNINGS: This is a work of fiction by a twisted mind. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of natural and/or unnatural sexual acts, if you are underage, or if this type of material is illegal where you are, don't read any further. This is a fantasy. You will have to loosen your clench on reality a little when you read it. This is a tale in which physical acts and human responses are not limited to, nor necessarily based in, reality. Some acts and responses in this story may be physically impossible and/or physiologically improbable. Also, as is the case with most of the stories in this newsgroup, all the women in this story are beautiful - gorgeous, even. Gravity has not caused breasts to droop nor have wrinkles creased unblemished faces. The men (the leading men, at least) are hung like bulls. They can get it up and keep it up often and at will. In this special little fantasyland, there are no STDs, morals, or unwanted pregnancies. Guilt is a four- letter word. Most important of all, neither strength of character, courage of convictions, nor moral belief stand a chance against any erotic stimulus. This can be as benign as an accidental glimpse of a bared ankle or as stimulating as a whipping on the genitals. For those of you who didn't understand the preceding statements, GO AWAY! This story is intended for the salacious entertainment of consenting adults. Do not try to do any of the things described in this story. You could injure yourself or your partner, be arrested, or shot by her father.... If you are under 18 years of age, GO AWAY! This story will burn your eyeballs and fry your brain. If material of a strong sexual nature is prohibited where you are, GO AWAY! By continuing, the reader accepts all responsibility for any disgust, revulsion, jail sentences, or pleasure that results from reading this story. If you don't, GO AWAY! You have been warned! If you enjoy this story and feel the urge to post it on a site, at least give me (NightShade) credit for it. So, stick your tongue firmly in your cheek and enjoy the story!....:) NightShade The Camp Nurse Chapter 1. The First Day by NightShade first posted 1/97, revised 12/98 Author's Note: I hope you enjoy this story line. This first chapter takes a while to get going, but it does, eventually. It's called plot development and generally makes a story more interesting. The subsequent chapters should contain more SEX (which is what we're all here for, right?), but if you don't read this first chapter, you'll miss the plot. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- BLAM! I heard the blast of the shotgun and my military training took over. I dropped my bags and hit the dirt and rolled to my right, away from the sound. I took inventory of my body, checking for wounds as I scurried for cover behind a slight rise in the terrain as it sloped up from the lake. As I rolled, my sub- conscience had registered the distinctive 'click- click' of another round being chambered. Even worse, I could hear the whop-whop-whop of the helicopter that brought me up here receding in the clear thin air. I began to sweat. It was the only way out of here. I was going to die up here and didn't have a clue why. I instinctively tried to locate the threat because whoever was shooting at me was really stupid. The fucker had fired a warning shot. My drill instructors always told me that you don't attack a shotgun, you run out of range or get behind something. Then nail the bastard. Anyone who had a clear shot with at you with a shotgun and missed, well, they were just plain stupid or blind. I figured the shooter was somewhere off to my left. I couldn't see anyone or anything from where I was so I tried to crab over a ways to get a better angle. BLAM! click-click BLAM! click-click This time several good-sized branches fell on my back and I heard the bark of the trees right behind me being ripped away. SHIT! I was dead meat. The fucker wanted me alive, and, for some reason, that scared me more than dying. This was supposed to have been an easy gig, but it could have been a setup. I suddenly realized I didn't know any of the major players, and worse, no one knew where I was. On purpose. I started to get up very slowly, keeping my hands in clear view over my head. Might as well go out like a man - standing up - than die face down in the pine needles. Besides, if I didn't get up soon, I'd pee in my pants. Not from fear, mind you. It had been a long two-hour flight out of Ontario Airport and there isn't a John on a helicopter. "Hold it right there, you mother-fuckin' bastard! Where the hell do you think you're goin'?" It was a voice from your worst nightmare. Shrill and angry. PMS on steroids. Pitched at just that one certain tone that made your bowels turn to water, kind of like fingernails on a blackboard, only worse, much worse. I knew she was an ugly mother for sure, and I was face down and couldn't see her. Worse, she had a shotgun. "Mernnfroong gdnr nddnf." It's difficult to talk clearly when your mouth is full of pine needles and moss. "What did you say, you fuckin' bastard? Speak up before I blow your head the hell off!" "I'm looking for the camp administrator, Janet Crandell," I said after turning my head and spitting out the debris. "What for?" I don't know why, given my rather precarious situation at the time, but that question got my dander up. (For those of you who don't know what 'dander' is, it's something that is usually a lot more comfortable when it gets up than something else that, when it gets 'up,' tents your shorts and leaves a wet spot on your pants. In certain circumstances, however, like the one I was currently in, dander, when it gets up, can be life threatening. Clear? I didn't' think so.) I resented her question. "Are you Ms. Crandell?" I asked her back, none too politely. "Nope." "Then it's really none of your GOD-DAMNED FUCKING business, is it?" I yelled. I started to get up. BLAM! click-click She apparently didn't like my attitude any more than I liked hers. "Stay down, you no-good, mother-fuckin' bastard!" I stayed down. As I lay there, I realized that I had heard several odd high-pitched sounds after that last shot that were familiar, but out of place in the current surroundings. At first, I had dismissed them as birds, but they kept coming. I couldn't locate where the sounds were coming from, but they seemed to come from all around. Slowly turning my head to both sides, I spied several pairs of Nikes, Reeboks and Adidas in various pastel colors sprouting some of the finest pairs of young tanned healthy legs I had ever seen in my 23 years. Then came 'The Voice' again: "Stay back, girls. It's a MAN!" She said that last work like it would leave a dirty taste in her mouth. I really think she meant it as a derogatory description of me, too. One of the pairs of legs sassed back to her, "We KNO- O-O-W" in typical teenage sarcasm. I decided I liked that kid, whoever she was. Several of the spectators giggled, and one or two others laughed outright. The sound of running feet preceded the arrival of the authorities. Help, I hoped, had arrived. "Gertie, what's all the shooting about. I hope you didn't hurt anyone. I warned you about bringing that, that, that THING up here." "I got one, Miss Crandell!" Gertie shouted excitedly, like I was rare specimen that she could make extinct and do the world a favor, like wiping out small pox. "I finally got one of those slimy no-good PRE-vert bastards trying to sneak into the camp! I knew the little shits would show up sooner or later." "Where, Gertie? Where is he?" "Over there, suckin' dirt." I didn't see any of this, as I was still face down in the moss, taking no chances. I heard or sensed someone come over to where I was lying. "My name is Janet Crandell. I am the administrator of this camp. Who are you and what do you want?" The questions were put forward in a very business-like manner, but in a voice that would have melted the heart and resolve of the toughest CEO. I also noticed she did not ask me to get up. "My name is Chris Mattson. I was hired to be your camp nurse." I reached - very slowly - into my shirt pocket and handed her my contract. There was dead silence for several minutes. "May I get up, now?" I asked this question after what seemed to me was enough time for her to have re- written the entire contract, much less read it. Not receiving an answer, I slowly raised my head up, just so I could look forward. As I lifted my head up, I looked directly at a set of very shapely ankles. I had never thought of ankles as all that sexy, but now. Wow! If the rest of her looked that good, this must be heaven. I took not hearing a gun shot as a good sign, and I continued to lift my head up. Smooth tight skin, toned calves, one knee bent slightly, the other locked. Not a mark, not a mole blemished the evenly tanned legs. Her thighs seemed to go on forever and all I could think of was how they might feel locked around my waist. I could almost feel those firm leg muscles straining in ecstasy. I shook my head to clear it of those erotic images. There was still a loaded weapon in the hands of the enemy. This was no time to lose focus. I pulled my hands under my chest and levered my upper body up. My movements were slow and easy. My eyes passed over a slight swell of feminine hips fronting for a high-set, firm, tight ass inadequately covered by a pair of those clinging nylon running shorts. There wasn't even a hint of a bulge over her pussy. Her crotch was as flat as that of a world- class athlete. I didn't see any panty lines, and the shorts were tight enough that if they had been there, I would have. I paused to pay homage to perfection. It isn't everyday I get to see a living epiphany. A few inches higher was a trim bare waist highlighted by one of the most perfect navels God ever created. I paused again. My breathing was becoming labored. Must have been the altitude, right? Then came the highlight, the absolute showstoppers: a set of perfectly sized, high riding tits tightly encased in one of those sports-bra things. It looked like the sports bra was gradually loosing the fight to contain them, but it was a glorious battle to watch. "This is too fucking good to be true!" I thought, as I was finally standing erect. In more than one sense. "If she's blonde, blue-eyed and gorgeous, I'll know this is a wet-dream." I was still staring at her chest, although I towered above her 5'3" frame. I was torn. Why spoil a good wet dream with a shit-ugly face? But it was becoming obvious, even to me, where I was looking. I raised my eyes and looked at her face. She was the woman of my dreams. I had never visualized any one woman when I fantasized, but Ms. Crandell was all of them rolled into one tight package. I pinched myself to see if this was a dream. It wasn't. This was better than a wet dream. It was real! Administrator Crandell stood all of 5'3'' - at most - and, with her clear face and youthful figure, didn't look old enough to be the administrator. I idly wondered if she ever wore her blonde hair in curly pig-tails. It would be just like an erotic Brady Bunch. "Hi. Uh, Boss? I hope." I stuck out my hand. "Oh, yes. Hello. Uh, I'm sorry about the rude welcome, but there seems to have been some sort of terrible mistake. This is an exclusive all-girls camp. ALL girls." She left my hand waving in the breeze so I took it back. Not a good sign. "And? What's the problem?" "Uh, well, uh, let's go up to my office and discuss this, OK?" She waved her hands to indicate the throng of young girls who had surrounded us during this little scene. When I said "OK," there was a corporate groan so full of teen-age hormones, I thought I felt a pimple growing. We started up the path towards the large building she had indicated. We had to go right past a solid Teutonic mass of flesh holding a 12-gauge pump action shotgun. This had to be Gertie. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. As I walked by her, I purposely stayed in a meek posture with my head bowed until I was next to her. Hey, it works with gorillas, and that's the immediate image I had when I first saw Gertie. There was palpable hate in her glare. She felt safe and invincible holding the shotgun. Stupid bitch. She let me get too close to her. As I passed in front of her, I pretended to stumble. It took her by surprise when I suddenly spun from below the muzzle of the shotgun, reached out and grabbed the gun from her fat, oversized hands. Shocked at loosing her precious weapon, she just stood there, her mouth hanging open. I did a swift leg sweep to knock her legs out from under her. She fell hard, knocking the wind out of her. I swear to God, the earth shook when she landed. I stood over her, staring down at her. I resisted the training I had had to finish her. My fist unclenched and the muscles trained to kill protested as I just looked at her. I expected to see fear in her eyes, but Gertie surprised me. All I saw was hate. Loathing. Disgust. You get the picture. I was 'MAN', ergo, I was "EVIL." I shouldn't have hesitated. The bitch had shot at me. Self-defense, right? As we stared at each other, I slowly pumped the shotgun and ejected the shells onto her body. There were five shells in the gun and one in the chamber. Shit, she must have reloaded the damn thing while Ms. Crandell was talking to me. I broke down the gun, and with a final glare at her, stuck it under my arm and continued up the path. As I neared the office, I spied my bags neatly stacked back down at the dock by the heli-port, ready for an exit. Even the two I had been carrying when the shooting started. Not a good sign, again. However, several minutes later, after a seriously heated discussion about sexual discrimination, lawsuits for breach of contract, etc., Janet Crandell gracefully conceded defeat. Temporarily. For the remaining part of this session only. She needed a nurse to meet the insurance requirements; I was a bonified registered nurse; I had a signed and notarized contract. Therefore, I was the new nurse at Camp Rah-Rah-Rah. I wouldn't have been such a hard ass about it, but I really needed this job. For several reasons, not all of them honorable. To make a long story short, I had enlisted in the Navy because I wanted to be a Navy SEAL. A real one, not the kind in the movies that even Demi Moore could qualify for. It was what I had wanted to be from as far back as I can remember. Once in the Navy, I worked so fucking hard I actually was selected for the SEAL training program. It was the happiest day of my life and began the best part of my life, ever. The training was all I had dreamed of. It was harder than anything you can imagine. The DIs ran us until we couldn't stand up and then made us crawl back. The next day we did it again, twice. In between, we had classes. Hand-to-hand, weapons, explosives, close-in killing, tactics, team-work. I loved it. Every fucking minute. No matter what it was, what they did, I thrived on it. It was what I was meant to be. Several of the guys I thought were tougher than I was dropped out due to injuries and dequals. I was sorry to see them go, but it was their own fucking tough luck. I thought this was the greatest thing ever, and now they would miss out. But disaster - and the Navy - has a way of ruining a perfectly good career choice. I had almost finished with my SEAL training when I ran into that great unique military institution, the SNAFU. You know, Situation Normal, All Fucked Up. A Pentagon computer somehow decided that I would make a good medic for the squad and that I should be trained not just as medic, but as a fucking registered nurse. I was appalled, horrified. Not at the idea of the schoolwork. But that my squad I had trained with would be reformed without me and sent on active duty while I spent four years in nursing school. I wanted to fucking kill and blow things up -on orders, of course! - not carry a first aid kit. I appealed all the way up the line. Nothing could change the decision. My commander appealed all the way up. Senators and Representatives appealed all the way up. Nothing. The fuckers in the Pentagon got pissed at all the commotion - and that they had made an obvious mistake - and almost wouldn't let me graduate from the SEAL program. I couldn't have taken that blow, so I quit appealing, finished my SEAL training, and went to the Naval Hospital. Four years later I became Lt. Chris Mattson, RN, USN (SEAL). I wasn't assigned to a SEAL squad. There weren't any openings for a RN. Figures. I started my first tour of duty at a land-based hospital. I didn't last long. I guess you could say it had something to do with my looks. The doctors didn't like the way I looked, but all the nurses did. Well, two of the doctors liked me, but they both had tits. The nurses' commander, my boss, was about the only person who saw me as just me. The other nurses all said she was just too old to care. I didn't think so. She was a good person, rare in my book, and that made her special. I suppose I should describe myself. I'm just over six feet tall, 180 lbs. I've been told that if I grew a mustache, I would look like Tom Selleck, only better. I never considered myself all that handsome, but I never had trouble getting dates, either. No tattoos, no scars. Just your average guy. Anyway, why I needed this job.... It seems that my presence at the base hospital was causing quite a problem. There were numerous complaints from the politically powerful doctors, and from several outside civilians, as well. On the one hand, the doctors weren't getting anymore of the nurse-nookie they had been accustomed to getting. Neither was I, but that fact didn't seem to be relevant to the horny bastards. They had all heard of my SEAL training, and were too smart and too chicken to attack me directly. So they filed complaints about me. On the other hand, there were four or five catfights in the nurse's locker room, the last one requiring major reconstruction surgery. For some reason, the nurses were apparently fighting over me. God knows, I did nothing to encourage them. Well, OK, almost nothing. But it wasn't my fault, really! When the first female doctors had been assigned to the hospital, the male doctors had insisted that, on the basis of maintaining discipline, all the doctors, regardless of gender, had to use the Doctor's Lounge to change into their Operating Room scrubs and to shower after work. So when I showed up, the nurses, more for spite than anything else, insisted that I use their locker room to change. So some of them might have seen me naked and erect in the shower. Hey, what's a guy to do? They were naked, too. I got excited and got a hard on. You'd have thought they had never seen a 10" prick before. I mean, don't all guys have one? Anyway, after the last fight, the commander called me into her office. We had a long heart-to-heart about my future in the Navy, how she understood how frustrated I was. She knew that I didn't want to treat people in the hospital, but I wanted to put people in the hospital. She then advised me that both of the nurses involved in the most recent fight were married to guys that were very hotheaded, jealous, and were `connected.' While she was sure I could probably take care of myself, she suggested it might be safer for all involved if I was to make myself scarce for a long - she emphasized that word 'long' - time. It seems that none of the nurse's husbands had been getting any nurse nookie either, and were really pissed at me. One of the nurses had already reported that about 20 of the husbands had met. The hospital commander, one of the husbands at the meeting, had quietly told her to `fix' the problem before anyone else got hurt. She put me on an indefinite leave of absence. The commander quietly suggested I contact a placement agency she knew of that handled RNs. I did. The agency said they had an immediate opening at an isolated kids summer camp with no access, only helicopter, and I was perfect, just what they were looking for. Within the hour, I was airborne and, here I was. The staff at the agency either didn't know or didn't care that Camp Rah-Rah-Rah was an all girls cheerleading camp. Or perhaps they just assumed that a nurse would be female. Or perhaps because my name is Chris and not Christopher. Who knows? Who cares? I was here. Camp Rah-Rah-Rah was built in an abandoned government facility in a hidden valley about 5000' up in one of the endless mountain ranges of the West. It sat on a glacier-fed lake and was protected from the weather by high peaks on all sides. The outlet stream from the lake plunged over a 300' waterfall about a mile down stream, effectively sealing off the valley. It was beautiful. The camp was originally intended to be a training facility of some kind. Maybe the Forest Service wanted to train the rangers how to fly fish or something. But that's beside the point. There were several million tax dollars at work here, all of which the beautiful Janet Crandell had acquired for a mere pittance at auction. The camp was entirely self- contained with running water, huge underground warehouses that she had turned into a year-round training area, luxury hotel/dormitory accommodations for up to 200 people, kitchens, satellite communications, even a self-contained unit generating electricity from the water fall. It was typical government overkill. Janet explained all this to me as she took me over to the medical building. It was a good-sized out- building, attached to the main housing area by a long corridor. I felt like a giant walking next to her diminutive form, but she never seemed to notice. I lugged my bags, the sum total of my earthly belongings, and fell in love with her voice as she gave me the nickel tour. The dispensary I was in charge of was typical of the lavish style of the rest of the compound. There was actually a small OR with an emergency generator. The clinic had not been used for quite a while, so I spent the rest of that first day getting it into shape. Mostly dusting and organizing, familiarizing myself with the medical stocks. I had intended to make a list of things to order, but after two hours I hadn't been able to find anything to write down. As I was beginning to notice about all the things Ms. Janet Crandell did, this place was very well equipped. About 3:00 I heard the helicopter coming back up the valley. Thinking perhaps that she had changed her mind, I went to the window to see what was going on. I could see the Heli-port from the dispensary window. I watched in wry amusement as Janet Crandell and Gertie pantomimed out a dramatic scene worthy of the best silent pictures. Janet would point at the chopper and Gertie would shake her head 'No'. Another firm gesture towards the chopper by Janet, and Gertie would hang her head and shuffle a couple of steps towards the machine. She would then turn and say something, holding up her clasped hands in supplication, begging, only to collapse against Janet's resolve. Then the whole process would begin again. Janet would point, Gertie would plead. Point, shuffle, beg, point, plead. Gertie obviously did not want to leave. But she did and the chopper faded away for the second time that day. I felt better about this one leaving. The phone rang - did I mention they had their own phone system? - and Janet's assistant informed me that a Staff meeting was to be held at 4:00 before dinner. I showered, shaved and dressed in my best nurse whites to meet the staff. I followed her directions to the boardroom. I was early and was able to greet each arriving staff member. Being a gentleman, I stood up as each one came in the door. All of them had heard the news by now, if not all the shooting. They were all looking forward to meeting me. Apparently, all of them had also showered and shaved (I guess) and were wearing the most attractive or flattering clothing they had with them. And not a wedding ring in the bunch. I would describe each of them individually, but this is a short story. Suffice it to say that each one of them was either a current or an ex-Cheerleader at a major University or pro sports team, and that there wasn't a ounce of excess weight on any of them. And with what they were - or weren't - wearing, I could tell. You get the picture. They were all outgoing, smart, friendly, confident of their womanhood, and exceptionally beautiful. Excellent role models for the young girls at the camp. The buzz in the room quieted down when Janet walked in. Or should I say floated in. I never noticed her move her feet, but she was suddenly at the head of the table, calling the meeting to order. Before she spoke, she surveyed the female staff, and grinned a wry smile. "All right, people, a few things on the agenda. One, you have probably heard the news, but I would like to formally present our camp nurse, Mr. Chris Mattson. Please introduce yourselves and make him feel welcome." A titter of giggles swept the room. I blushed. So did Janet. "Not THAT welcome, ladies!" That broke up the room, and the ice. The sexual tension that had been building around us disappeared. When the laughter died down, she continued. "Second, you are probably also aware that Gertie is no longer with us." There were a few repressed cheers, which Janet glared at with honest disapproval "I'm sure we will all miss her in our own ways, but it does leave a couple of holes in the class roster. We will need to spread out her responsibilities. First, I need a volunteer to take over her campers." A tall redhead raised her hand. "I could take some of them. They're all the same age as my girls, so it should fit OK." She flashed me a shy smile as she finished speaking. A tawny, gorgeous black woman quickly spoke up, "Me, too. I'll take the other half." Another shy smile in my direction. "Thank you, ladies. Work it out between you." She looked down at the teaching schedule. "OK. Next, is there anyone who quilts?" There was a long silence. "Anyone? Please?" Finally, a quiet voice spoke up behind Janet. "None of the campers had signed up for that particular class, Miss Crandell." Several of the staff tried to cover up their smiles. It wasn't nice, but it was funny. Janet shot her assistant a pained smile. "OK, well, that takes care of that. Now, how about the self-defense training? I know that all the girls have to take that course." Another long silence. Finally I spoke up. "What type of training are you looking for? Hand-to-hand or shotguns?" The room broke up. I probably shouldn't have said anything, but the bitch had shot at me. The look on Janet's face wasn't pretty, but I had another card up my sleeve. "Mr. Mattson, this is a serious meeting. Please keep your comments appropriate." All right, I deserved that. "I apologize, Ma'am. But I do have extensive training in hand-to-hand fighting and weapons. Navy SEAL training, to be exact. I could put together a training program for your campers. From the response of your staff for a request for volunteers, I could include training for them as well, if you want." Janet's face went from suspicious to surprised to relieved. When I made the offer to train the staff as well, you would have thought the home team had just scored the winning touchdown. The cheers, whistles, and applauding went on for several minutes. When it finally quieted down, Janet said, "Well, it seems as if we have a new self-defense instructor. And a new staff course, as well." She looked around at all the female staff. "All staff personnel will participate in that course," she continued. An emphatic, over-loud whispered "YESSSssss!!!" from her mousey assistant broke up the room again and the meeting as well. Janet resignedly waved them away out of the room and sat at the head of the table shaking her head. She was smiling, however. She motioned for me to stay as the room cleared. "You seem to have caused quite a stir, Mr. Mattson. I haven't seen that much makeup on my staff in the four weeks we've been here." "Please, call me Chris, Miss Crandell..." "Janet." "OK, Janet. Look, I apologize for the remark about Gertie, but she did kind of start things." "Don't think anything of it. She was really out of place here, but I couldn't get rid of her without a reason. You provided that reason, so in a way, I should be grateful to you. However, I won't have you making negative comments about anyone, and I mean anyone, in a staff meeting, or anywhere else for that matter. Do you understand, mister? I don't work that way." "Yes, Ma'am." "That sounded like there should be a salute with that," she chuckled. "Sorry. Just habit, I guess." "Well. Let's go to dinner. I'll show you to your table." "'My' table?" "Yes. All the staff spread out around the room and sit in different areas. I feel this encourages informal interaction between the staff and campers. You have an assigned table. The campers do not. They may sit where they like." By that time we were at the door to the dining area. The hubbub of noise from room came through the double swinging doors and filled the hall where we were standing. Janet looked at me with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile. "Ready to face the enemy, sailor?" "Aye-Aye, Skipper," I grinned back at her as I held the door open for her. Apparently she wasn't expecting that because she gave me a very pleasant and appreciative smile as she ducked under my arm and into the room. It was like a switch had been switched off. There was dead silence in the room. Even the kitchen staff stopped banging on the pots and pans. All eyes were on Janet and me as we made our way over to what was to become 'my' table. The silent eyes follow us every step of the way around the large room to the far back corner, as yet unpopulated by diners. "This was Gertie's area. She never seemed to attract that many diners. You just inherited it. Looks like tonight you'll get to eat in peace. Or you can join me if you like." "No thanks, Janet, I'd better not. I wouldn't want them to think I couldn't handle dinner on my own." "Suit yourself, sailor," she flipped over her shoulder as she walked away. With that wiggle in her hips, I could have almost sworn she was flirting with me. Regardless, I was getting stiff just watching her walk away towards the food line. Or maybe it was being in the middle of all that young hot stuff. You see, there was a reason I had never taken advantage of any of the freely available nurse nookie at the base hospital. It was all too old for my taste. I liked mine young. 18 at the oldest. There was something about a girl turning into a mature woman that turned me off. I don't know. I always associated mature women with my Mom. And fat. Not obese, just rounded, padded figures. I liked mine lean and mean. Which was why Janet, even though she was obviously over 18, interested me. She looked and acted young. And she would continue to look young for a long, long time. She looked more fuckable the longer I looked at her. I broke my stare when I felt a tugging on my pants leg. "Hey, Mister. Can I sit with you?" I looked down to see an absolutely doll faced innocent young girl standing next to me. Her big brown eyes looked up at mine and she batted her eyelids in a most seductive manner. I just about came then and there. This was going to be harder -literally - than I thought. "Sure. Just let me go get my tray." "OK. I'll wait here." I went off in the direction Janet had gone to get her dinner. There was nothing special about the menu, mostly healthy food, as would be expected. I piled up my tray with what was apparently a surprising amount of food from the looks of the food servers. I grinned at each one as I went by, and they just blushed and piled on more food. Way to a man's heart and all that... By the time I returned from the food line and got back to by table, my section was full. The only empty chair was mine. I looked around and caught one of the other staffer's eye. I motioned to her now nearly empty section and I made a questioning gesture of 'what's going on?' She just laughed. I sat down to 11 pairs of eyes. But I couldn't tell you what color they were right then because all I noticed, on the QT, of course, was 11 pairs of fresh young tits. Firm, gorgeous, unfettered youthful tit- flesh. A veritable feast of flesh. In all my favorite sizes from grapes to walnuts to oranges. The eyes around the table finally caught my attention and I smiled. I swear one of them swooned - or at least sighed heavily. I began small talk around the whole table, getting even the shyest ones to speak up. I let them fill me in on the rules, the schedules, what they liked, etc. Stuff they knew about, non-threatening. They didn't have nametags, but I remembered most of their names by the end of dinner. The conversation lagged a couple of times, but with a well-placed question, it picked up again. Once it was stopped abruptly by a water glass being spilled. The girl who spilled it had been rather quiet throughout the dinner, and now sat there jerking and shaking in her chair. A flush rose up her neck and spread over her cheeks. She gasped audibly in an OH-OH-OH manner, and then slumped down in her chair with a queer smile on her face. Being the nurse, I immediately jumped up and rushed to her side. I picked her up in my arms and rushed to the dispensary with her. Surprisingly, only Janet followed. Sarah, the girl, closed her eyes, rested her head on my chest, wrapped her arms around my neck and held on tightly. At first I thought she was just scared and tried to comfort her and held her close. I didn't know what to think might be wrong with her, but I noticed that my shirtsleeve was moist where it went under her legs. She still shuddered every once in a while and clung tightly to me. I got to the dispensary and laid her gently on one of the examining tables. She didn't want to let go of my neck. Gently prying her hands apart, I began my examination. I called up her records on the computer to check for epilepsy. Nothing. I check for allergies. Nothing. I checked for anything. Nothing. I began to get nervous. It didn't help that I was being watched. Janet had entered the room while I checked the computer. She had this kind of amused look on her face as she watched me work. And work, and work some more, without a result. I began to get panicked. My first case, and I was a flop! I checked reflexes, muscle tone, everything. I could find nothing, but a state of extreme relaxation and wet spot between her legs that I blamed on the spilled water. The panic must have been apparent because Janet called me over to her. "Are you going to carry every girl down here after she orgasms?" she whispered. "WHAT?" I looked at her with disbelief. She pointed to the wet spot on my shirtsleeve. "Smell it." The tangy aroma was unmistakable. "You didn't see her?" I shook my head. I had honestly not been aware that she had been stroking herself under the table. "God, the whole room knew what was going on. These girls have been up here for two weeks without their boyfriends. Some, actually most of them are pretty sexually active. They get kind of horny from about this point on. For the next two weeks of their time here it will only get worse. I kind of expected something like this to happen, just not this soon." "Gee, thanks for warning me!" Janet grinned up at me. "Hey, it's been 4 weeks for me and the staff, too! Why should I give you a break?" I almost grabbed her then and there and tossed her on the bed. Unfortunately, the bed still had Sarah on it and she was watching us intently. I went over to her. "Feeling better?" I asked her quietly She nodded her head 'Yes.' "Do you need to get some rest or will it be OK to release you?" "Can't I stay here tonight?" I slept in the next room and I think she knew it. "No, I really don't think that will be necessary." "But what if it happens again?" "Do you think it might?" Again she nodded, shyly this time, like a scared little girl. I leaned over and whispered in her ear so Janet couldn't hear. "Then grab your pillow and hug it tight to you. You can think of me if you want, or your boyfriend. OK?" I grabbed one of her hands in one of mine, knelt on one knee, brought her hand up to my lips and kissed her on the palm of her hand. Sarah flushed, squealed, grinned and jumped up, all at the same time. She winked at Miss Crandell and ran back to the dining hall. She came back to the door and said "Thank you, Mr. Mattson" to me, then left again. "WHAT did you tell her?" "That is a trade secret! You'll just have to do the same thing she did if you want to find out, won't you?" With that, she blushed deep red, turned and walked back towards the dining room. About half way down the hall, she turned back. "By the way, that was a good job in there. You did everything right. If it had been serious, you would have found it. Glad to have you aboard." With that she went back and finished her dinner. I smiled to myself as I watched her walk away. There was a bit more wiggle in her walk this time, I noticed. I wonder if she had noticed my erection. It would have taken a blind woman not to. The rest of dinner passed with no further orgasms or fainting spells. The girls in the rest of the hall had filed out long ago, but my area was still all there. Janet finally came over to rescue me, claiming a 'meeting' I had to get to. The girls actually groaned, and I realized then how erotic that sounded. It was so close to the moan that escapes those parted lips when you're teasing a fresh one into her first fuck. You get them to the edge, then pull back. Do it again, and again and again. When they're delirious, they are yours for the picking. Cherry picking. So it was with more than a little difficulty that I stood up. My prick was stiff and cramped in my shorts. I have always had to keep it aimed down, just in case something like this happened, because if it was pointed up, it would pop up out over my belt. That had happened to me one time in Jr. High School, but I learned quick. So my meat was sticking down my pant leg and was kind of swollen. I guess I underestimated the length a little because there were several gasps when I stood. Until I adjusted my pants leg, my Ol' John Henry was a good two inches out in the open. I kept going as if nothing was the matter, but even Janet's eyes were wider than normal. "Shall we go, Miss Crandell?" I asked, holding out my arm to her. "Y-Yes, Mr. Mattson. Yes." She was still shaken by what she had glimpsed, or thought she had, or was it that she hoped she had. Her grip on my arm was possessively tight. I dropped her off at her office and thanked her for rescuing me. I almost got her in a clinch right then, but her assistant happened by, so I said good night to them both. The remainder of the evening I spent unpacking my kit and finishing straightening up in the clinic. I listened to the bells as they rang, remembering the schedule the girls at dinner had told me. 9:00 In Rooms. 9:30 In Beds 10:00 Lights Out. Like clockwork I could see the lights across the way blink out. They were all out on this side of the dormitory within a minute of each other. I wondered absently if the little minxes were that obedient at home. My light soon followed and I crawled into bed for what I hoped would be a long peaceful sleep. I couldn't have been more misguided. Within 30 minutes I heard the door to my room quietly push open. I pretended to be asleep, which wasn't hard, given how tired I was. For a while I couldn't hear anything at all, and I was just beginning to think it was my imagination when a tiny hand was laid gently across my lips. "SSSShhhhhh. Don't say a word," came an unfamiliar whisper. A second small hand soon grasped my now throbbing cock and began to rub it up and down. "OOOOhhhhhhh, Daddy, that feels good. Let me kiss it for you." That whisper was followed by a hot sucking sensation that nearly pulled my balls back up into my groin. This kid could give head! Or was it Janet? The size was about right. The mysterious little nymph suddenly quit blowing me and straddled my cock. "OOOOHhhhh, Daddy, you make me so hot. I've got to have you inside me." A small squeal escaped as my cock was enveloped in one of the tightest pussies it had had the pleasure to penetrate. I was surprised when the kid took it all. Most have to work up to it in four or five fuckings. "OOOOOOOOOhhhh, Daddy! You're so biiiig. You filled me all the way u-u-u-uu-u-up" Little miss nasty collapsed on my chest. I held her gently, tweaking her little tits and erect nipples as she lay there until she gathered her wits together. Then with a quick kiss and a whispered 'Thank You, Mr. Mattson!' she was gone. I had just begun to drift off again when the door opened again. This time I was a substitute for "Billy". Then "Tommy". Then "Daddy" again, twice more. Then "Billy" was back. I asked this one if this was seconds, and she said 'No'. I told her she may want to check up on her two-timing boyfriend, Billy, when she got home. For over two hours the parade kept up. For a while I wondered if there was a schedule or something. I thought about how ridiculous it would look if there were a line outside my door. The only differences I could tell in all the visitors that night were height, weight, tits and twats. The tits I felt ranged in size from just bare nipples only to those that were more than a mouthful. The twats were all tight, some more than others and all were wet. But even after what must have been twenty orgasms on my cock, I had yet to spill my seed. These cunts were so primed that they only took 5 or so minutes to get off, then 3 to cool down and then gone. Slam, bam, thank you sailor. That was a new twist! Each tryst ended with a kiss and a whispered "Thank you, Mr. Mattson." I began to suspect a plot. The last visitor was the most memorable of them all. The time between visitors was a bit longer and I was actually asleep when I awoke to a hot mouth on my cum- coated cock. What a way to wake up! But something about this one was different. More experienced, maybe. Softer, fuller lips, perhaps. When she got on board, she was quiet. I wasn't a substitute for anyone with this one. She came almost as fast as the others and as she was resting on my chest, I breathed in deep, smelling the wonderful fragrance of her hair. I played with her firm breasts, tweaking her stiff nipples. She groaned deep in her throat and began to rotate her hips again. Then she raised herself up and leaned over me, propping herself up on my chest with her hands, letting her boobs sway as she rode my prick like a pro. I really worked on her tits, massaging and squeezing. I focused on the stiff flesh of her nipples, rolling them between my thumb and forefingers, first firmly, then with increasing pressure. My ministrations affected her and she worked harder and harder on my cock, trying to get me off. She must have gone through six or seven of her own shuddering orgasms, fighting her way through them to keep humping my log until I felt myself swelling in her. As I spurt my cum into her belly, she pressed her lips to mine to gag us both. We both yelled into the other's oral cavity as the moment seized us. She lay there a long while this time, quietly twirling the hair on my chest. Then finally, with a sigh, she gave me a light kiss and a whispered, "Thank you, sailor", she was gone. I was still laughing as I fell asleep. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- End of chapter I hope you enjoyed it. :) All my published works are archived and can be read or downloaded free at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/authors/NightShade/ Comments to i_m_nightshade@hotmail.com -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+