Adventures in Home Health Care, by Rajah Dodger (c) 2004, 2009
Some marriages get stronger as the years go on.
Mine wasn't one of them.
It's not that I didn't love my wife, but she has her personality and rough edges, and I've got mine. Over the years, instead of wearing each other smooth to mesh better, they left each of us with raw spots. So, here we were with our separate careers, living in separate bedrooms in an upscale two-story in the classy part of town. I suppose we could have gotten divorced, but that would have required more effort than either of us wanted to put in.
Which is not an excuse for my behavior... but I'm getting ahead of myself.
My wife took a bad fall at her office, and when the doctors finished dealing with her she was looking at three months of recovery at home including physical therapy. I wasn't in a position to take off from my job to tend to her, and I wouldn't have been able to handle the therapy tasks anyway, so we called a medical service and arranged for a full-time nurse.
Her name was Martha, and she was almost a complete opposite to my wife. Where my wife was tall, Martha was only five-foot-two. Janet was a demure redhead, but Martha was a flashy blonde. Janet came from Boston and sounded it; Martha was apparently from somewhere in the South. Janet's wardrobe ran to business suits; Martha showed up in a set of nurse's whites featuring a skirt that dared both gravity and common sense yet didn't quite show anything over her white stockings.
Still, the younger nurse managed to handle her larger patient with cool efficiency, handling the washing chores since my wife couldn't use the shower, helping her in and out of bed, preparing meals for her. I was more and more impressed by what I saw of her.
One evening, after my wife had been put up to bed, Martha joined me in the study for a drink. I knew little about her other than her Southern origin and that she took her job very seriously. As I sipped my Wild Turkey and she held her bourbon and soda, she asked me out of the blue, "Kevin, just how long is it since you and Janet had sex?"
When I finished sputtering and had applied a napkin to the whiskey spots, I managed to put together a polite reply. "Why do you ask?"
"Well," she continued, "outside of her recent injury she's in good physical shape -- her legs are good, or will be after they finish healing. Her figure's certainly good, not many women have D-cups at her age without major stretch or sag marks. She could stand to lose a few pounds, but who couldn't. But I've been posted in a lot of married couple's homes, and she must have the most ... interesting collection of vibrators and dildos that I've seen in years. I can only assume that for some reason the two of you aren't intimate, and haven't been for a while."
My mouth fell open, half from the offhand way in which this stranger was discussing my wife's body and intimate habits and half from the way she crossed her legs, which for the first time gave me more than the briefest glimpse of the tops of her white stockings.
I was embarrassed that for the last year and a half I hadn't given any thought to what Janet did for sex since she wasn't interested in me any more. The pictures that came to my mind now of my wife playing a vibrator over her breasts or shoving a dildo in and out of her vagina combined to make me both horny and uncomfortable around Martha. Her provocative posture didn't help. I stuttered something about different careers and different schedules, but there was a look in her eyes that said she knew better than that. "Of course," she said dismissively, and sipped thoughtfully at her glass.
A few moments passed without comment from either of us, and then she broke the silence with "So, is it you?"
I shook my head in disbelief. "I beg your pardon -- is what me?"
"Are you the reason she doesn't have sex with you any more? I know that she's physically up to it..."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, much less the nerve of this girl. "Now look here, Martha, I think you're way out of line here! I'm perfectly..." I was going to say something more, but she chose that moment to uncross and recross her legs. The transition made it apparent that she wasn't wearing panties under her skirt. She took my moment of confusion to get up, pluck my drink from my nerveless hand, and put both of our glasses on the sidebar. When she returned, she patted my legs together and sat down astride them, facing me.
"Look, Mr. Spencer," she began, then clucked her tongue and reached forward to unbutton my collar button. "Or maybe Kevin would be better, don't you think? I'm in charge of getting your wife back into full health, and in case you've decided to join the Catholic Church, that includes sexually. Now the way I see it, I have two choices. I can get you to fill me in on what's going on here, or I can get your wife to tell me."
She leaned forward, and the front of her uniform shifted fluidly against her curves. Her scent was cinnamon and vanilla, and she whispered into my ear: "We get *very* close in physical therapy, Kevin... she won't keep any secrets from me!"
With that, she hopped up lightly from my lap and headed for the study doorway. "Well, you think about it and let me know who I need to talk to. I think I'm going to call it a night. Pleasant dreams!" She gave what had to be a deliberate wiggle of her bottom as she sauntered out and upstairs.
I poured another couple of shots of Wild Turkey and tossed them down fast and straight. It didn't help. My mind was still awash with images of my wife, naked on the bed, breasts sweaty and bouncing as she pumped a thick dildo in and out of her red-fringed pussy. I could almost smell her musk on my lips again, even after three years. But the aroma in my nose wasn't her musk. It was cinnamon and vanilla, and the face on the woman in my vision wasn't Janet's, it was Martha's.
I left the study, brushed my teeth, and masturbated to a fast, furious and unsatisfying orgasm before going to bed. I'm not sure what my dreams were, but I didn't wake up refreshed.
*** *** ***
The next night I had to work late and didn't get home until after dinner. When I got home, my dinner was waiting on the table, and Martha was there stirring her iced tea. "How's Janet?" I asked. Martha stared lazily at me, still stirring her glass as she responded. "Oh, we had a very difficult day; lots of hard work, poor Janet was quite exhausted by dinner time. Poor thing, she was so out of it I had to undress her for bath and bed." I grunted, trying to set aside the picture of small Martha man-handling my wife's body (or more likely woman-handling) as I chewed my food.
"So," she continued after a pause, "have you thought about last night?" I stopped chewing and looked at her suspiciously, but she maintained the same bland expression as she continued, "about telling me why you and Janet aren't fucking any more?"
That stopped me in my tracks. I wanted to slap her face. I wanted to wash her mouth out with soap. I had a pulsing erection and wanted to bury it in her mouth. My face must have been an open book to her, because she started to laugh, not a high giggle like one associates with blondes, but a low masculine chuckle. "Poor Kevin," she smiled, "he's so horny he can't think straight... did I upset you with my language? Would you rather I ask about you and your wife being intimate? But I watched her with that big dildo this morning, and she wasn't being intimate, she was seriously fucking herself."
Somewhere in this lewd recital I swallowed the last of my food, but I still couldn't figure out how to respond. All I could do was shake my head in a negative expression. That didn't stop her. "It's true, you know -- you don't want to hear it from me but you knew Janet couldn't go completely without sex for that long, didn't you?" She got up from her seat and walked around the table to me, her words burning their way into my ears. She stood behind me, her strong fingers massaging my shoulders and her voice oozing like honey. "Would you like to see the evidence, Kevin? Do you want to see how your wife has been amusing herself while you've been down the hall?
I didn't know whether I was angry at Martha or at Janet, I just suddenly wanted this whole bizarre episode to be over. "Yes," I blurted out, "You'll have to show me, because Janet would never be... would never do that."
Martha laughed abruptly, a harsh barking sound in the stillness of the dining room. "You don't think... well why don't you come upstairs and see for yourself then? She turned and headed for the staircase, and I followed her perforce. We kept bumping into each other all the way up the stairs, and I started to hush her when we reached the landing so that we didn't wake Janet. She brushed me off sharply. "You couldn't get her up with a cattle prod; now quit being such an idiot."
Upon entering my wife's bedroom, I was immediately struck by the overwhelming pungent smell of sex. Janet had kicked off the covers and was lying sprawled atop the bed, her body sweaty and one hand tucked between her thighs. She had definitely put on weight since the accident, but still made an erotic sight nude. A cock-shaped vibrator was lying between her outspread legs, showing the moist signs of recent use. I stood there in shock, taking the scene in, while Martha's hand started sliding along my bottom, dipping occasionally between my legs. "Look at her, Kevin, she's a healthy middle-aged woman and her body's screaming for sex, just not for yours." Martha's voice was soft but penetrating, and she continued relentlessly stoking the fire building inside me. "It makes you hard looking at her, doesn't it? I know it must, it makes me get all hot and wet and want to finger myself to a good hot cum. Go ahead, Kevin, take out that cock of yours, make yourself hard for your wife."
I was squirming and grinding my hips, and wanted nothing more than to show my superiority over that fake phallus on the bed. I quickly unfastened my belt and unzipped my pants, shoving them down along with my briefs. My cock, released, snapped up against my stomach, and Martha's hand slid between my legs to stroke my balls, urging me forward until my legs were pressed against the bed. "Go ahead," she whispered, "she's lying there for you Kevin, you don't have to jack off into the toilet tonight, give it to her right now, give your wife all that hot, thick cum!"
It all made a weird kind of sense, not that I was really thinking coherently. All I knew was this: there was my wife asleep having gotten herself off, and here was I with swollen needy balls, Martha's fingers playing with my bottom and her voice cooing in the background. I started stroking my cock, not even bothering to spit for lubrication, feeling the lust wash over me. My breath came in pants and my vision was blurred, and it seemed only moments until my balls clenched and my legs went taut. Too soon, Janet would have said had she been awake, but she wasn't and I was coming hard and fast, sending thick sticky white streamers from her legs up her wide belly to her full breasts. "Yeahhhh," hissed Martha, her tongue dancing against my ear, "that's right, spray your cum all over her big fat tits, look how she loves it even in her sleep!"
And that was obviously true. Janet was half-stirring, her eyes still closed, but her fingers had begun slowly stroking her slit. I had half a thought that I should get out before she woke up, but I was still in the middle of cumming. My last spurts trailed from the side of her right breast over her right arm. Panting, my heart pounding, I surveyed my wife in this new light, watching her cum-splattered body shift from side to side as she frigged herself in her sleep.
A sudden burst of self-loathing finally pulled me from my daze -- what was I doing, taking advantage of my sleeping wife by jerking off on her? I spun around, and promptly tripped over the briefs which were still around my ankles. When I managed to get dressed and up off the floor, Martha was standing in my place beside the bed, rubbing my cum into Janet's breasts and crooning into her ear. I gaped as Janet's hand sped up between her legs, her hips rose six inches into the air, and her whole body stiffened and shook for a space of three or four seconds. Then she collapsed onto the bed, completely limp.
Martha stood up, absently sucking on one wet finger, and looked at me with an attitude of surprise. "What, are you still here? Go to bed, Kevin, the show's over." She waved a dismissive hand in my direction and turned back toward Janet's bed. The look she gave my wife just then was oddly proprietary, but I was too awash in a combination of shame, anger, and post-orgasm lassitude to examine the moment. I left the room, half-running to the safety of my own bed. "Tomorrow," I thought before falling into a dreamless stupor, "Tomorrow I've got to put a stop to this!"
The next morning was Friday, and I sent the office an email that I'd be in late. That let me stay home long enough to join Janet for breakfast. It was a quiet affair; my wife was yawning and Martha, who I was beginning to think of as "that woman", was quietly professional. You'd never know she had been rubbing my sperm into her patient's breasts only last night. When Martha finally left the table to go upstairs and prepare for the morning physical therapy session, I had my opportunity. I broached my concerns to Janet, of course not mentioning the activities of the previous evening, but putting my emphasis on the nurse's insolence and unprofessional appearance and demeanor.
You would have thought I had proposed selling a baby. Janet went into a frantic tizzy, the thrust of which was that Martha was the only friend and human contact that she had, and we couldn't possibly find an adequate replacement for her. I sat there in shock, trying to reconcile this needy, clinging woman at the table with the self-sufficient, forceful businesswoman I had married. Was being cooped up in her enforced convalescence having this profound an effect on her, or had she been sliding off the edge through the months and years of our estrangement with me none the wiser?
About that time I heard footsteps on the stairs, and the nurse entered the dining room with a strongly disapproving look. "Please, Mr. Spencer, poor Janet really mustn't be given any more stress today, she has a lot of work to do with her therapy." I thought I saw a quickly-suppressed shudder cross my wife's face at that comment, but I had gone through some painful physical therapy back in my high school days and attributed the look to dread of the hard work ahead. I finished my breakfast, kissed my wife on the cheek while Martha stood nearby with crossed arms, and headed out for work.
One thing was sure; my idea of getting that nurse out of our house was a dead issue.
*** *** ***
I knocked off work Friday promptly at five, and got home in plenty of time for dinner. I looked at my wife with a much more critical eye now, picking up on details that must have escaped my notice before. She looked tired; there were lines under her eyes and she seemed not quite there. Shortly after dinner, she announced that she was tired and headed upstairs to bed. I gave her a hug which she barely acknowledged, and when she went upstairs I headed to the study.
I waited there, somehow knowing that Martha would be back. I thought back on the previous evening, squirming in the recollection of how my own lusts had allowed me to treat my sleeping wife as a sex toy with the nurse egging me on. There would be no repeat of that shameful scene, and I struggled to put those lewd images out of my mind.
Sure enough, the nurse walked in uninvited and unannounced, walking right by my chair without so much as a good evening, and pouring herself a bourbon and soda. I waited until she turned to face me, and then commented that I thought Janet looked worn down, and perhaps Martha was pushing her too hard.
The younger woman's eyes flashed, steel blue piercing the air aimed at me. "Too hard?" she challenged, "What do you think physical therapy is, a play session? Your wife needs a lot of work to make sure those bones knit properly and she gets her strength back. You should try going through her daily workout and then see what you look like at dinner time. She'd better be working hard!"
Her tone of voice changed, shifting from righteous indignation to sly innuendo without a break. "Or would you rather have her weak and needy, like she is now? You seemed to like her that way last night..." She set her drink down and sashayed up to me, her self-assurance preceding her like a powerful force. "Is that it, Kevin, you want to go upstairs and jack off on your wife again?" All those images which I'd been suppressing at the office came back to me full force, along with a painfully stiff erection. She looked pointedly at my crotch as she continued, "Yeah, I can see where your mind is. Tell me, Kevin, did you get off knowing that Janet couldn't stop you from cumming all over her? What was the biggest turn-on, jacking off on your wife's big fat tits or seeing her cunt all puffy and sloppy wet? Did you dream about me cleaning all that cum off your wife's naked body and wish it was you?"
I should have objected to her language -- hell, I should have walked out before this whole obscene conversation got started. Any such thoughts, though, fractured and vanished when Martha started unbuttoning her blouse right in front of my face. She wore no bra -- a fact previously concealed by the stiff white uniform material. While her breasts weren't in the same cup range as my wife's, she had more than a handful and they bounced with emphasis as she spoke. "Or maybe you really got hot about pulling your cock out with another woman in front of your wife?" The nurse leaned forward lewdly and swiveled her shoulders left and right, batting her breasts against my face and surrounding me with her perfume. "Is your cock hard for Janet or for me now, Kevin? Do you even know the difference?"
I didn't know -- more to the point, I was so far gone I didn't care. If this woman had turned around and told me to kiss her ass I would have buried my tongue inside her like a shot. I was on the edge of coming in my pants, just from the way her voice and words slithered their way into my ear and crawled down my chest, teased my stomach, and settled like hot oil into my groin.
Martha stood back, and I almost fell forward trying to follow her breasts. She regarded me with some amusement, commenting, "Well, I guess we answered half of *that* question. Tell you what, Kevin, you think I'm overworking your wife, let's just find out tomorrow." I sat on the chair in hyper-aroused frustration, trying to follow the direction of her conversation. "If you can outlast Janet in the same therapy regimen she gets in the morning, well, I'll help you get your rocks off like you've never done in your life. You'll think you've died and gone to heaven, or maybe that heaven is cumming to you. Otherwise..." and at this she held a finger to one corner of her red lips and looked up at the ceiling as if making a decision, a stance which only emphasized the proud upthrust of her breasts. "Otherwise, I'll give dear Janet an extra-special treat for all her hard work -- and you, my horny friend, will just have to sit there and watch us!"
All of this sounded just great to me; which shows just how far around the bend I was. Some piece of reality made its way through my lust-fogged brain, though, and I tried to pin it down. "But Janet, she would never..." Just like the previous night, Martha cut me off, only this time with lilting amusement. "Oh, but of course she would, you silly boy. Have you forgotten your little conversation with her this morning? I'm your wife's best friend -- she'll do *anything* as long as I'm there with her!" And before I could give any thought to the implications of that remark, she bent over, extended one well-manicured hand, and cupped my balls while rolling her thumb across the base of my cockshaft. That was the last straw for my overheated body, and I felt my face turn hot with embarrassment as my cock spewed and I came stickily and thoroughly in my pants.
The bare-breasted nurse smiled at her handiwork, then turned to leave the study. As she did so, she tossed a parting comment over her shoulder. "Sleep well, Kevin, you and Janet are going to have a real workout in the morning!"
*** *** ***
Saturday morning dawned overcast. Inside the house, I came to breakfast in tee shirt, socks and sneakers, gym shorts, and a jock strap it had taken me over an hour to find. There was nobody there to greet me; a note in the nurse's neat handwriting said that Janet had taken a light breakfast in her bedroom. I shrugged and went to fix myself an egg and toast. And coffee, of course. Then I went to brush my teeth and headed upstairs to the salon outside Janet's bedroom. The full trappings of a workout room had been set up there – treadmill, rowing machines, floor mats, medicine ball, stationary bike, weights, and things that I didn't particularly recognize.
Janet's bedroom door opened, and she came in wearing a sports bra and nylon running shorts. Martha followed her, looking serious, and addressed us together like a schoolteacher to a pair of unruly students. "You both know why you're here, and you know the stakes. Let's get to it."
She started us on jumping jacks, mostly as a warm-up exercise. That certainly gave Janet's sports bra a workout. Then she put Janet on the treadmill at 3mph and 5 degrees, ratcheting up on a program to 5/15. I'd have gotten a more appreciative look at my wife's legs except that my task was pushups. Martha alternated between checking on Janet and checking my form, slapping my butt sharply when I raised it too high. After fifteen minutes, my arms were relieved to hear her call time so I could switch places with Janet. The treadmill was harder than it looked, but not quite as bad as the one I'd had for my annual physical. It left my attention free to watch my wife, who was getting frequent corrections from Martha on proper pushup form. Her legs were already covered with a light sheen of perspiration from the treadmill, and her running shorts stuck to her bottom like skin.
My legs were pretty shaky by the time I finished, and I was glad to lie on the floor catching my breath as Martha brought us both bottles of water to rehydrate with. "That was for warm-up," she announced, "now we start keeping score."
We started with sit-ups. Each of us sat at facing the base of one of the rowing machines and Martha hooked our feet under the edge as anchors. She called out count to us, "One ... and down. Two ... and down." It wasn't long before my stomach muscles were complaining. Janet was looking serious but not as stressed as I felt. By the time we got to fifty, though, she looked both weary and determined to beat me. Which she did, as I couldn't make it past 58 and Janet kept going to 65. Martha went over to tend to Janet first, offering her water, rubbing her shoulders and murmuring something to her. Then she came to me, helping me sit up to drink the water while she squatted behind me supporting my back. Her voice came in my ear, "Gee, Kevin, if you're going to do that poorly maybe I should just tie your hands behind your back now and let you watch your wife eat me out for the rest of the morning." I almost choked on my water, but managed to retain my composure. The jock strap helped – I was glad I'd found it.
Next came the rowing machines. Martha got each of us properly seated and adjusted the footbars to suit us. She had an easier time with these; they had built-in counters, so she only had to set a timer. "Full strokes, you two, or they don't count. Twenty minutes." Twenty minutes on a rowing machine is *not* easy; before the time was half over Janet was sweating as much as I was. Martha kept busy checking each of us, taking our pulse and watching our form. From time to time she'd whisper in Janet's ear – and Janet would suddenly row harder. My vision was getting blurry but I wasn't going to let my wife embarrass me.
Some timeless period later, I heard Martha's voice call "Time" and I slumped forward panting, my whole body shaking from the after-effects of more physical effort than I'd put forth in years. "Okay, you two, relax a minute and I'll be right back," she directed. I looked over at Janet; she seemed as drained as I was, and there was a worried look on her face. The nurse returned with juice and sweet buns, and we shared a quiet moment replenishing our energy before she took the dishes away.
"Okay," Martha announced when she returned, "Kevin took the rowing but the two of you are still pretty close. It's getting hot in here, and I want to see you putting all your effort into this, so it's time to strip down." She looked directly into my eyes as she finished her sentence, "All the way." I looked at her like she was crazy, but Janet just stood up and calmly pulled off her sports bra letting her breasts hang free, then turned slightly away from me as she pushed her shorts and panties down. I stood up shakily, took off my tee-shirt, then hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts and jock at the same time, bending over to get them down to my feet before remembering my socks and sneakers. I could smell my own sweat and musk, but stood up straight and asked, "now what?"
The answer was treadmill and bicycle. First Janet on the treadmill while I got the bicycle. She was put on a program to go up to 8 miles per hour and 20 degrees of grade, while I had to get the bike up to 40 mph for as long as I could. The bike seat was slippery and had a ridge that kept riding up into the crack of my ass, so this was a lot harder than it looked. Martha was spending a lot of time standing next to Janet, one hand behind my wife while she said something I couldn't hear over the noise of the treadmill. I noticed with some surprise that my wife's nipples were erect. Before I knew it a bell on the bike sounded warning that my speed had dropped. I gritted my teeth and managed to get moving again, but not for long. Janet meanwhile had already pulled the stop cord on the treadmill and was lying on the floor, legs quivering and chest rising and falling quickly. I looked away quickly but not before my cock jerked to life, and I got off the bike very carefully before I flopped down on the floor.
I looked up and there was Martha with a half-smile on her face. "Not bad," she purred as she squatted next to me. "Keep that up and you'll get to be the one showing off when we're finished." Her fingers skimmed over my stomach, making me suck in my breath as my cock jumped, but she merely pulled her hand away.
Next we traded places, Janet climbing astride the bike while I got onto the treadmill. I watched Janet's face as the bike seat gave her the same kind of problems I had experienced. The higher grade was hard on my legs, and it only got harder when Martha joined me. Her fingers teased my flexing bottom cheeks apart and played with my anus, making my cock swell as it bounced in time with my marching rhythm. There were too many distractions here, and I worked hard to keep my mind on my aching legs. I spared my wife a glance; she was pedaling hard, her eyes tightly shut. I yanked the stop cord just before my legs gave out beneath me, and slid gracelessly off the back of the treadmill as it slowed to a halt.
Another break for water, and the rowing machines awaited us. Martha had positioned them so that Janet and I were facing each other as we rowed, and she had attached pads and straps to the footbars so our bare feet wouldn't slip off. We waited as she snugged the straps around our feet and ankles then reset the counters on the machines.
"Go!"
My wife and I stared into each other's eyes as we rowed, the challenge a tangible presence in the room. For a good five minutes the only sounds in the room were our soft grunts of effort and the squeaks of the machines. Then Janet's eyes got wide; I couldn't imagine why until I smelled Martha's perfume and felt her sliding her hands around me from behind. "Keep stroking, Kevin," she said as her hands slid down my stomach to grasp my cock and balls. In moments I was not only pulling back on the rowing bars but trying to lift my ass off the seat to force my erection into her soft hands. Janet briefly lost her rhythm, then bit her lip and put her whole body into the task of keeping up with me. Just when I was ready to explode, the nurse left my cock throbbing in midair and crossed over to sit behind Janet, whose face quickly shifted from superiority to dismay. I watched transfixed as Martha's hands slithered around my wife's waist, dipping between her opened thighs and stroking her insistently. I could feel the blood pulsing in my cock as I pumped the rowing bars, watching my wife's eyes glaze over in arousal. Her strokes became less sure as the nurse continued her teasing until my wife's cunt was visibly swollen, dark red and dribbling between her thighs. Somehow I managed to keep part of my mind on my rowing, knowing that I was pulling ahead of Janet in the competition.
An alarm rang, and Martha quickly rose from behind my wife to record the numbers from the rowing counters. "Well, well," she said with a smile on her face, "looks like Kevin's not gone *soft* in his desk job after all!" She turned to me and looked pointedly at my crotch, where my cock had only lost part of its stiffness. Then she moved to face Janet, and her voice took on a decidedly nasty tone. "As for you, Jan-Jan, I'm *terribly* disappointed in your performance. We both know you can do much better than this!"
When Martha came back to me, I saw that she had fastened Janet's hands to the rowing bars so my wife was held in an upright position facing me. There was also something between Janet's legs, I couldn't quite make out what.
Martha stood between us, facing my wife, as she removed her uniform. As in the past evenings, there was nothing under it but skin. Her ass winked at me as she leaned over toward Janet and whispered something, then stepped back and slid her bottom down my chest until her thighs were snugly around my cock. "See this, Jan-Jan?" The diminutive of my wife's name sounded horridly mocking coming from the younger woman. "Remember telling me how much you wanted it? Well, it's mine now. You could have had it all these months. You could have had it today if you'd worked harder." There was sweat on my wife's forehead, and her body was quivering in her bindings. Martha took my hands and used them to cover her own breasts, just the right size to fill my palms. My thumbs stroked her nipples as she squeezed her thighs around my cockshaft. "See this cock, all excited and filled with cum?" She opened her legs, pinching the underside of my cockhead so it flared and pulsed visibly. "Say bye-bye to it, Jan-Jan." And with that, Martha lifted her hips and slid herself down onto my erection. I took in a deep breath and gasped; her muscle control was exquisite. I pressed my feet hard against their anchor as Martha rode me, squirming her ass against my groin and sucking me inside allowing no resistance. Not that I had any resistance. I looked at Janet, who was staring at us blankly, and realized she must be watching my cock move in and out of the nurse's pussy. Martha squeezed inside, and my eyes crossed. "See that, Jan-Jan? Your hubby's getting ready to cum inside me... he feels so big – you remember how big he used to feel inside you, right?" I tweaked the nurse's nipples as I felt my balls lift and tighten.
My orgasm came over me like a waterfall, going over the edge in a rush, my hands clutching her breasts as she squeezed and milked me relentlessly until I was spent, leaning against her back, panting. She lifted herself up until my cock popped out of her with an audible liquid sound. She waddled across the floor to the other machine, where Janet was waiting open-mouthed. "That's right, Jan-Jan, you can't have his cock but I'll give you a treat. You can have his cum!" My view of my wife was blocked by Martha's backside as she grabbed Janet by the head. I saw my wife's feet straining against their anchors and heard the nurse let out a husky moan; my sticky cock started to rise again as I imagined Janet's face buried in Martha's cunt, her tongue scooping out my release.
I watched as Martha's ass muscles suddenly clenched and she ground herself against my wife's face. She pulled away and I saw my wife, hair disheveled and face glistening with juices. She hunched forward ineffectually, whining "But Martha... "
Martha whirled and slapped Janet across the left nipple. The sudden violence was shocking, the impact site quickly white, then red, but more shocking was my wife's reaction. She moaned, a noise of undeniably unabashed lust. Martha slapped her other breast, then alternated one after the other, all the while lecturing this once-professional woman like a small child. "Don't *smack* you *smack* take *smack* that *smack* tone *smack* missy! *smack* ... I know how you think, what you like, what your secrets are... look at you, you're trying so hard to hump that vibrator between your legs, too bad you can't quite get up to it." That explained what I'd seen earlier; apparently the fix had been in for my wife on the rowing machine. "You want that cock?" She pointed to my recovered erection, still sticky with Martha's juices. "Nooooo, you're a disobedient girl who's just thinking of her own hungry cunt. A fat *smack* titted *smack* bad *smack* girl!"
With that last stroke, Janet keened high in her throat and shook from head to toe, having one of the most amazing orgasms I'd ever seen her have. Her nipples looked like swollen raisins and her knuckles were white where she gripped the rowing bars. Martha quickly came over to me and unfastened my footstraps, tugging me to my feet and across to Janet's machine where she positioned my bottom against my wife's face. "I did promise you you'd cum like nothing before," the nurse snickered, "Bet you never imagined anything like this!" With that Martha kneeled atop my wife's legs and took my entire length into her mouth, her throat massaging my cockhead. I groaned, then groaned louder as I felt my wife's tongue press into my ass. I dug my fingers into Martha's shoulders for balance – my wife had *never* shown the least interest in assplay – then the two tongues worked me in earnest until I had to shut my eyes in the explosion that was my own orgasm, the nurse's talented fingers coaxing every last drop out of my balls.
When I came to, I was curled on the floor in a fetal position, my aching balls feeling like they'd been turned inside out. Martha had Janet on the floor and was giving her a sponge bath, all professional now. I got up to my knees, and the nurse looked up at me dismissively, saying "Hmmph, about time for that. Go clean yourself up; your wife still has her regular work to do."
As I walked bowlegged to the door, I heard her voice from behind. "And Kevin..." I turned to face her. She was licking her lips slowly. "We won't have any more discussions about changing nurses, will we?"
/ END /