Gay Erotic Stories

I was a senior at Bradford. A bunch of my college buddies and I decided to skip school and go to Great Slopes, a ski area in New Hampshire. We cut Friday classes and pooled enough money to rent a chalet for a night. We figured we'd have some fun, maybe get drunk, possibly even get laid. You know, big college man plans. The nine of us drove the hour or so in two cars. Some had their own skis, but most of us planned on renting once we got to the resort. I did; I was a novice and didn't have any of my own gear. We got to Great Slopes by about 11AM, parked, bought our lift tickets, got outfitted and went to stand in the lift line. I made two uneventful runs down a beginners' slope and moved over to the line for a medium run. One of my buddies was in line for a more advanced run, and waved me over. I went. As soon as I reached the top, I knew I was in trouble. There were steep hills and sharp twists and turns, but I did my best to take it slow and work my way down. Even though I fell down a couple of times, I was fine...until I was about half-way down. Some jerk came whizzing by me, knocking me off balance. Before I could get control back, I was shooting down one of the steepest slopes, off the edge of the run, and into the trees. "Two broken arms, one multiple, one a mild fracture; a cracked collarbone; and a fractured leg. Multiple cuts and contusions, abrasions, and possible internal injuries," I heard the doctor say into the telephone. I guess the Ski Patrol had done a great job of bringing me down and transporting me to the hospital. I must have been out of it, because I don't really remember the ambulance ride at all. The doctor was speaking to my mother, who I could hear shrieking through the ear piece. "Put the phone up here," I said. An orderly carried the handset over to me and positioned it for me to talk. My arms were pretty much useless, so he held it. "Ma, ma, it's OK. I'm all right. Everything's fine. Don't worry." Sure. She told me she'd be on the next plane. She was, and came to the hospital the next day. As I said, I wasn't in any life threatening danger. I was just in traction, with one arm suspended above me in some sort of pulley and gear arrangement, the other in a soft cast, and one of my legs in a hard cast that ended about mid-thigh. Mom tsk, tsk, tsked her way through two days, making sure to let the nurses know she was there and insisting on full attention for her boy. I couldn't wait for her to leave. Eventually she did, but I had at least another week, maybe more in the hospital before I was released. That was going to be a drag. With my right arm in traction, I couldn't write, I could barely hold a book. And because of the mass of ropes and pulleys, I couldn't even leave the bed. Basically I could watch TV, eat, sort of, and have somebody stick a bed-pan under me twice a day. What a life. Most of the nurses were older, I guessed in their 40's and even 50's. Most were married, though I wondered how, they were so ugly. And most of them had a bad attitude, I supposed from having a lot of demanding shithead patients, like I might well become. I quickly realized how dependent I was. After all, I was used to pissing when I wanted to, not when someone had the time to stick a bowl under me. But there was one pretty young nurse named Carole Anne. She was on the evening shift, a result of her lack of seniority, she said. She liked it because most of the doctors were gone and there was generally less activity, and fewer people looking over her shoulder and hassling her. We spent a fair amount of time talking to each other; she told me I was the only young person on her floor. In fact, I was one of the few patients on her floor at all. I was in a semi-private room, but except for the first day, there wasn't anyone in the other bed. Or in the room across the hall. I don't know when a hospital's busy season is, but this wasn't it. But I'm getting ahead of my story. Carole Anne had been on her "weekend" (even though that was Friday and Saturday) when I was admitted. I had been attended to by Rita on those days; old, cranky, wrinkled Rita, I called her. Mom flew back home on Sunday afternoon, confident that I wasn't going to die or something. On Sunday about 4PM, I met Carole Anne. She came in to see if I needed anything, and to tell me that she was going to bathe me after dinner. Giving a bath to someone in traction is more like quickly wiping them down with a washcloth. That would have been fine, but I realized that it also meant she would be my bedpan service for the next 8 hours. I vowed to hold it in. Now Carole Anne was about 5'4" with a short perm that perfectly framed her cute face. She had only been a nurse for about 6 months, which I guessed made her maybe a year or two older than me. Early 20's for sure. She had a very attractive figure, which her starchy little nurse outfit neither complimented nor hid. Still, she was a cutie, and in different circumstances I would have been trying to figure out how to get a date with her. Dinner came and went; an aide took to the task of feeding me and then cleaning me up. I felt like a baby, unable to do even the simplest job for myself. With the soft cast off, eating with my left hand and stiff elbow was uncomfortable, at best. A little after 7:00 Carole Anne came in for my "bath." She pulled the circle of curtains around the bed, an unnecessary action because there was no one else in the room. I figured it was just SOP. She undid my hospital gown; simple because it wasn't even tied behind me. It was a special one that just tied onto my arms and legs and was draped over me. She folded the gown down, until it was in a small pile over my crotch. She did the same thing working from the bottom up. When she was done, I had a pile of neatly folded hospital gown covering my dick, and not much else. She dipped the washcloth in warm water, then squirted some liquid soap onto it, and began to wash my chest. It felt great, if only because I was a greasy mess, and it felt good to get clean. The washcloth scurried about, up and down. As she leaned over me to reach the far side of my torso, I tried to look between the buttons of her uniform. Even though the buttons were widely spaced, they rarely gapped, and I got hardly a flash of her lacy white bra. Still, I could sit there and stare at her chest as she ministered to me, since she was preoccupied with her task. And stare I did. I had nothing else to do. She washed my shoulders, and gently brushed at my face, making sure not to get any soap in my eyes. Then she moved down to my feet, and washed them. One of my legs, of course, was in a cast, which covered part of the foot to which it was attached. She washed the toes and the heel, then moved to the "good leg." As she washed my foot, I complained. "That tickles." I kicked my leg a little. She moved up and wiped off my lower leg, then my thigh. As she did so I continued looking at her cute face and even cuter body. I began to have a natural male reaction. I got an erection. It came on suddenly, springing forth like a newly watered flower. She saw it and quickly picked up the folded gown from it. My partly erect dick waved in the air. She looked completely professional as her fingers encircled my swollen member; I thought I was in for a wonderful time. I was about to be surprised. Because instead of stroking it as I expected, she took her other hand, extended two fingers in a "Brownie-scout" salute, and whapped the head of my dick with them. Hard. Really hard. "OW!" I shouted. "SHIT, what was that? OH SHIT, THAT HURT," I yelled. "OW." She was taken aback, and stepped away from me. As the pain in my groin subsided slightly I looked at her. She was beet red. "I'm sorry," she said. "That's what we were trained to do in nursing school if a patient got an, I mean, if, well, you know." "Well SHIT, that HURT!" I complained. "Jesus! That REALLY hurt. Fuck." My penis was throbbing. She just stood there looking at me. She blushed even more. "I'm sorry... I'm really sorry. I've never had to do it to anyone before. I didn't realize.... I mean I'm really sorry. It's just that you were, ah, and I thought I should, ah, you know take control, and ah," "Control? How's this for control?" I hissed. "Get the fuck out of my room! SHIT. It STILL hurts!" She cleaned me up as best she could and replaced my gown. She was right about one thing. My erection had vanished. She worked quickly and turned to exit. "I really am sorry," she said. "That's just what we were trained to do..." "I know. You already said that," I said testily. "It's crappy training. You hurt me." She left the room. I didn't see her for the rest of the night. The next day passed uneventfully. I mean, I watched some soap operas on TV, I chatted with a few of the old, wrinkled nurses, you know? A big day. Late in the afternoon Carole Anne peeked her head around the door. "Hi," she said. "Oh hi," I responded. "It's the torture monster." I wasn't happy to see her. She stayed outside the room, her head twisted around the doorway. "I deserve that," she said. "I know I said I'm sorry yesterday, but I REEAALLY am sorry. That was a terrible thing I did. Please. Accept my apology." With that she stepped into the doorway and brought a small bouquet of flowers from behind her back and held it toward me. Of course with my arm in a sling I couldn't do much, but I cracked a little smile. I couldn't help it. "Well...." I said, as though I were making up my mind. "Well......" "Honest, Mike. I'll never do it again. To anyone. I was just as shocked as you were. In our class they sort of glossed over it, and maybe I missed something or something, but..." Her voice trailed off. She started over. "But... hey, I'm trying to apologize, OK?" "Well...." I smiled at her. "OK. Apology accepted. But jeez, man, that hurt." "I know," she said softly. She placed the bouquet up on the table by the head of the bed. It was out of my sight, but if I turned my head a little I could see it. She left the room. The fragrance lingered. At 5:30 sharp the food detail came in and fed me. I didn't see her again until after 7. When she came into the room, it was obvious she was going to give me a bath. I shuddered at the very idea. She came into the room and drew the curtain. "I know, I know," she said. "Trust me. I learned my lesson." I rolled my eyes. "No really. It'll be fine." She began her routine, but as she bent over me I noticed that one of the buttons on her uniform had accidentally come apart. It happened to be the one right at the peak of her tits, and now I had a view into her blouse. It took me only a moment to size up her skimpy brassiere. Her globes hung there, restrained in space as she moved the washcloth up and down my chest, around my neck, and over my shoulders. I averted my eyes. As much as I wanted to peek at this gorgeous girl's tits, I didn't want a repeat of the previous day. I looked at the ceiling. I thought about the news. I tried the multiplication tables. All the way up to 9 times 9. I felt a twitch in my dick. She moved down to my legs, and took care of the foot with the cast. Then she began washing the other leg in a repeat of the previous day. That wasn't all that repeated. As she tenderly washed my thigh, I felt my dick twitch again. I certainly wasn't as erect as the previous day, but I knew that my little internal traffic director was sending a shipment of blood to my penis. She softly rinsed my leg and my thigh, and then picked up the gown, revealing my crotch. She stared at me. Looking me straight in the eyes, she squirted some soap on her hand, and began to massage it into my groin. She didn't touch my penis, but she sure was making this difficult. I felt my dick twitch again. And again. I was, by now, more than half-erect. Her hand continued to stroke and slide around my groin area, applying the soapy lotion everywhere except my member. Then her hand slipped between and under my legs and she pushed hard to reach my buttocks. I could feel the soapy solution cover me there as her hand slid beneath me. My dick grew again. She withdrew her fingers, and put another squirt of liquid on them and on her palm. Now her hand returned to the juncture of my legs, and she grasped my balls, massaging the cleansing fluid into them. BOING! I was at full erection. She continued looking me in the eyes as her hands continued their professional duties. "I'm sorry," I said. "I can't help it. Don't hurt me." "I know," she answered. Her hand glided up and encircled my throbbing cock. I could feel the slickness of the soap as her fingers explored the length and circumference of my organ. She continued staring into my eyes as her hand played its knowing game. "I won't. Don't worry." She paused. "I'm just giving you a bath. A special bath to make up for yesterday." Her hand was moving up and down like a piston in motion stroking my dick. With my one arm in traction and the other in a soft cast, I hadn't been able to touch myself for days. And I was used to jerking off at least every day, maybe more. It was only moments before I felt myself rushing toward completion. Her hand continued its pounding as I exploded. My first spasm shot several feet straight up into the air. I guess I had built up the pressure during my days of inactivity. "Whew!" she laughed. "Wow!" The second spurt was also airborne; even the third managed to lift off nearly a foot. Then, as she continued pumping me, my jism flowed out of the end of my man pole and down all over her hand. She slowed down her pumping, and I felt my own hot fluid trickling down the sides of my still hard member. Finally it was over. She wiped off her hand on the washcloth, then cleaned me up, including a gob of cum that had hit me in the chest. After checking me thoroughly, she put my gown back on and tied the various loops that would keep it from slipping off. As she did so, she spoke softly to me. It was almost a whisper. "OK?" She looked at me. "I said I was sorry. I really am. Still." She paused a moment. Then she said "Even Steven?" I said "Even. But my name's not Steven." She giggled. "I know Mike. I know." The next morning my doctor told me that I was leaving the hospital in two days, and that it would be a lot cheaper to get a home-health nurse to visit me once a day, and anyway my insurance was about used up. I only had two days. That was really good news. And really bad. When Carole Anne appeared the next day, I asked if she did home health service. She shook her head. She said it didn't pay well, and was unreliable. "Some weeks you never got a call," she said. "No call, no pay." It was a doomed idea anyway, since I lived over an hour away. We chatted for a few more minutes and I asked her when my bath was. She squinted at me, and then said, "Mike. I said we were even. Yesterday was, uh, my way of saying ÔI'm sorry'. But I could really get in trouble if somebody caught me. I could lose my job! I don't want you to think that's a regular part of nursing protocol." "Oh I don't," I quickly countered. "Although wrinkled Rita did it for me just a couple of hours ago." She laughed. I smiled. She left the room. At 5:30 sharp the food service arrived, and shortly after 7 Carole Anne walked in and drew the curtain. "OK tiger," she said. "Bath time." I couldn't wait. Once again she untied the various ties that kept my gown on top of me, folding each section neatly down over my groin, never exposing that part of my body. Even after her little speech, I wanted a repeat performance. As she began the routine, she wetted down my chest and shoulders. As she reached for the far shoulder, she bent over and her breast tips scraped my chest through her uniform. She was not totally convincing when she said "Oops. Sorry." My dick twitched. This time it took maybe 20 seconds for me to come to full erection. I was holding the folded gown up on the head of my dick. I could have twirled it like a pizza, if only I could get the rotation started. She looked at me. "Tsk tsk, what are we going to do with you?" she said, chiding me gently. "You're like some horny teenager. Goodness," she smirked. "Boys." She stopped the movements with the washcloth, and walked away from the bed. She had her back to me as she squirted some more soap juice on the washcloth. Then she returned to the bedside. As she bent over, I could see that she had unbuttoned two buttons on the top half of her uniform, the ones directly in front of, and above her tits. As she bent over, the material "pooched" and I had a beautiful view of her brassiere encased breasts. They were lovely, and the bra was a wispy thin material that I could easily see through. She maneuvered herself over onto the side with my good arm, and as she reached for my cock with her soapy hand, I slid my hand into the gap on her uniform. I cupped her tit and gently squeezed. Her nipple popped to attention in my palm, and I felt her heavy breast aching for release. As best I could I pulled the material of that cup down, down over her nipple, down over her breast. The bra cup became bunched up below her tit, which now hung even lower as she bent over me. The full weight of her tit was now hanging in my upturned palm. I massaged it, sliding my hand back and forth to feel the hardness of the cherry tip in my hand. Her hand was busy, also, applying her soapy lotion and slathering it up and down my boner. She pumped me and pumped me, and in a very few minutes I was ready for release. She knew it. It must have been her medical training. She said "Countdown to ignition." I guess she was referring to the previous evening when my spunk had become airborne. She pumped and pumped my cock. I squeezed and squeezed her breast. Finally I could take no more and I hoarsely whispered "Blast off." I came, pumping my jism out through that tube that was somehow bigger, and yet tighter than a few minutes earlier. My spunk flew into the air, although not as high as the previous evening. But even as my eyes clenched shut from the pleasure, I could see her staring at my dick as she pumped it. Another wave and then another washed through me, until I was completely spent. As I awoke from my reverie I realized I still had her hanging breast in my hand. I slipped my hand out of her uniform. She straightened up, pulled up the bra cup, and buttoned the open buttons. Then she went about her business in her most professional manner, cleaning me and finishing my bath. I actually felt my dick start to twitch again as she washed off my penis, but she would have none of it. Finally she replaced my gown with a clean one, bent over and gave me a little kiss on the lips, and departed. She came back in the room later, as things quieted down, and we talked about a lot of stuff. I knew I liked her, and wanted to date her after I was released. Even though my school was more than an hour away, I thought I could see her most weekends. Imagine my surprise when I asked for her home number and she wouldn't give it to me. She said she was married! I was shocked. First, she was so young. Second, she didn't wear a ring. I asked her about it. "Oh, most of the nurses take off their rings when they come on shift. You know, chemicals, and body fluids, and stuff. Or if you accidentally get a shock from some equipment, the ring will burn a line right around your finger." I was crestfallen. We talked some more, and she left. I had just one more day in the hospital. And one more session with Carole Anne. I hoped. The next day blended into the tedium of all the others. Soap operas on TV. Wrinkled Rita disposing of my bed pan. Life in the ward sure isn't like ER on TV. At 4:00 sharp Carole Anne poked her head around the door. "Hi," she said. She pulled a small teddy bear from behind her back and offered it to me. I took it with my improving left arm and felt the soft white fuzz. "Going away present," she said. I was hoping for something more. We could both hear the call button at the nurses' station ring, and she said "Duty calls. See you later." She winked. Time expanded. The minutes seemed like hours. I must have looked up at the clock every 30 seconds. Finally it was dinner time. Jello again. Whoopee. And just as quickly dinner was done. The nurses' assistant left. I was alone in the room. I counted the minutes until 7:00. There were 23 of them left. Now 22. I felt like I was singing "99 bottles of beer on the wall" with an endless supply of bottles. The clock dragged. At last she showed up and pulled the curtain around her. I began to get a hard-on even before she finished folding up my gown. Tonight she didn't even make the pretense of folding it over my groin for my own modesty. She took the gown and threw it in a heap on the floor. My dick stuck straight up. "My goodness, aren't we eager tonight?" she said. "You really like to be clean, don't you?" She smiled at me. She unbuttoned the top half of her uniform except for the very top button at her neck. She unbuttoned it to her navel. I reached up and slid my hand inside. She shook her head and stepped back, then pulled the sides of the material away. Her tits popped out, and I gave thanks that she wasn't even wearing a bra tonight. She tucked the white fabric to the side of each breast, where it stayed. Her globes were fantastic, and I watched as her nipples puckered, then distended under my gaze. My hand instinctively went up to hold one. She closed her eyes for a moment as my hand made contact. I squeezed. Then she spoke. "Have to give you a Ôno-soap bath' tonight, Mikey." "Why?" I mumbled. I had gotten used to the slippery feel of her soapy hand on my dick. I wanted it again. I was about to protest. "Because then I couldn't do this," she said. She bent down and kissed the head of my throbbing penis. As she did, her hanging tits dragged across my stomach. I could feel the hard points scratching against my torso as she positioned herself over me. "Oh," I said brightly. "That will be OK, nurse Carole Anne." Her mouth sunk lower down on me. I squeezed her tit, then reached for the one further away. Now I was cupping the other breast, and using my forearm to scrape against the closer one. Even though I only had one good limb, I was feeling both of her breasts with it, and it was wonderful. She bent down further, taking the full length of my cock into her mouth. She began to make little moaning sounds as the head of my dick bounced against the back of her throat. She moved her head up and down, and gently massaged my testicles with her hand. I'd been hoping for another hand job. I hadn't expected this. She moved her head up high enough that she retained just the head of my penis between her lips. Her hand moved in to encircle me. She pumped. Her twinkling eyes met mine, and she said "I hope you've found the medical service here acceptable, sir. And I hope you WON'T tell any of your friends." "I promise," I said. I would have said anything she wanted to hear. She licked my dick head with her tongue, causing excruciating sensations of pleasure. Her hand kept pumping me. I kept grabbing at her tits. She moved her head away from me, and her body down, until her tits were hanging directly over my upright shaft. She lessened, rather than released her grip on me, holding just her index finger and thumb around me in a circle like a rubber ring. The finger-circle went up and down. Up and down. But now her gorgeous jugs were hanging around the sides of my dick, and I could feel the soft tit flesh rubbing against me with every stroke. As she moved her body around I could feel the tips of her tits scraping against my upper thighs, then returning to engulf my dick, then scraping against my groin. It wasn't long before I was ready. "Mission control," I said, weakly. "Ready, commander," she cooed. She slipped one of her hands under my ass, and began to prod my asshole with her finger tip. She pushed it in up to her first knuckle. I bucked up, trying to give her better access. I had never felt this before, and it was incredibly pleasurable. She positioned her breasts directly over my dick, and swung gently back and forth letting them bounce against my pulsating penis. "Oh, I'm coming," I said. "Oh, here I go." Her pumping increased, her tits swung freely, slapping against me, her finger pushed further into me. I shot my first load directly onto her chest, where it would dribble back down the slopes of her tits. It wouldn't be alone. The second shot went directly onto her left tit, and as though I had aimed it, the third spasm found her right. With the majority of my spunk out of the way, she moved down and replaced her mouth around my organ. I was still coming, but with much less volume. I could feel her sucking the life out of me as her tongue danced all around and over the tip of my dick. I reached up and squeezed her tit, ending up with a hand full of my own goo. I didn't care. It felt like lotion, and I spread it all over her hanging breasts. She continued to suck me. At last I was spent, and I took my hand away from her. She released me, and removed her finger from my anus. She took the washcloth and cleaned me up, including my hands, and then washed her own chest off. She rebuttoned her uniform, and then finished the rest of the job she had come in to do an hour earlier. She left the room, and I didn't see her again for some time. I thought about using the nurses' call button, but I knew I shouldn't push it if there wasn't a real reason. I planned to use it only if she didn't come back in by 9:00. I must have drifted off, because it was nearly midnight when I awoke to a gentle shaking. "Mike. Mike." It was her. "I'm going off duty, and I just wanted to say goodbye." I reached up and rubbed my bleary eyes. My angel of mercy was leaving. Tomorrow so would I. She said, "I hope you know how sorry I was, now." "I do," I said. "And I'm going to miss you," she said gently. "I've never had a patient quite like you." "Well, I'm beginning to think this accident was the best thing that ever happened to me," I said to her. She smiled. Then she bent down and kissed me gently on the lips. It was a long kiss, gentle, not passionate. One of her hands came up and caressed my face as she broke it off. "Goodbye, my horny skier," she said softly. I never saw her again. MIKE HUNT has more stories than you can, uh, shake a stick at. Each one is based on a real life experience, though names and places are changed to protect disgusting creatures (like this dirty nurse) and other low-lifes (like me.) If you would like more stories from MIKE HUNT, e-mail me. Fans and flames to M1ke@hilarious.com . Note the 2nd character in M1KE is a "one" (1) not an "eye" (I).