Vaughn is great. He’s stable, he’s kind; he never cheats on me or forgets an important date. And I am bored out of my mind. I bury myself in novels full of burning romance and unquenchable desire, when reality I am lucky if we have plain, uninspiring vanilla sex more than once a week, lights out, over within five minutes. I’ve tried talking about it – I suggest maybe we do something a little different. He thinks this means that I want to be on top for a change. After a while I just gave up trying. What with that and a job which has me running around the hospital changing bed sheets and being yelled at by grumpy old men, my life is about as dull as it can be.
It’s not surprising that I felt the first thrill of excitement when a patient with no identity was brought in. He was almost criminally handsome, with soft brown hair and a tall, muscular form, obviously a powerful man in terms of his physique. The problem was – he was in a coma. Nobody knew his name, or if he was ever going to wake up. I was intrigued by this mystery, like something straight out of a romance novel, and I immediately began fantasizing that he would wake up and fall madly in love with me, turn out to be a billionaire and take me around the world in his private jet.
But of course that’s silly. He was put into one of the beds I was assigned to, and I was to take care of him, check up on him, and that was that.
Part of caring for him was giving him a sponge bath every so often. And during that time, I allowed my mind to wander.
The first time I removed his gown to give him his bath, my eyes actually widened as they fastened on his cock. It was soft, of course, and couldn’t be responsive in a coma state, but even without being erect it was, well, enormous. I had never seen a man so large before, and I couldn’t help staring. What might it feel like, to hold that heated, hardened length in my hand, to wrap my lips around it, dripping and straining… to have it thrusting inside me, stretching my sensitive walls with its rock hard thickness? I shook my head, dislodging the improper thoughts I was having. Tearing my eyes away from his penis, I took in the rest of his body – a lightly tanned, perfectly muscled chest with just the right amount of hair; broad shoulders and powerful arms. It was a beautiful body – but my eyes were drawn guiltily back to his gorgeous cock.
I dipped the sponge into the warm, soapy water and dragged it down the center of his chest, enjoying the sight of his skin gleaming and slicked with water, imagining that we were on the beach and we’d just been for a dip in the water. We’d lie together until the sun was just setting, and he’d take me right there on the sand as the water lapped around us, perhaps as the last few visitors were still making their way home, the roughness of the sand and the coolness of the waves contrasting with his hot, slick length sliding inside me, caressing my eager channel…
I moved down to his strongly muscled stomach, running my fingers through the slightly coarse trail of dark hair which thickened as it tangled downwards. I marveled at how warm his skin was, and I imagined him aroused at my touch, swelling to complete hardness, ready to flip me over and fuck me through the mattress with his magnificent penis at any moment.
Finally, I reached the place I had been aching to touch. I lathered my fingers with soap, slick and lubricated, and took that incredible length in my hands. It fit perfectly as I crooked my fingers around the soft flesh, dragging them from the top of his manhood down into the tangle of dark hair. I made sure to reach every contour of his balls, feeling them curved and warm in my cupped palms, spending perhaps a little more time than necessary familiarizing myself with every inch of him.
It was almost the end of my shift by the time I reluctantly redressed him.
That night I initiated sex with Vaughn, left aroused and wanting from my experience that day. It was a bad idea – I was left even more frustrated and dissatisfied than before, unable to climax at the absent-minded touch of my lover, whose own average penis and few short thrusts were worlds away from the things I was imagining.
As Vaughn turned over and started snoring, I reached guiltily down between the sheets and began touching myself, imagining that it was the mystery stranger in the hospital bed who was parting my pussy folds, stroking his broad fingers along my heated pussy and demanding access, pushing his way in as far as he could, scissoring his fingers and hooking them into my oversensitive walls until I was trembling and gasping. I imagined that it was he who was stimulating my eager clitoris with his tongue, pushing and teasing and tugging gently with his teeth on the swollen, needy mound until I came in a burst of hot pleasure, the sensation spreading through me like a shot of strong liquor.
I was left feeling guilty and confused – was it ok for me to be thinking about a patient like this? But the orgasm had left me relaxed and sleepy, and I closed my eyes to dreams about what color his eyes might be.
The routine went on for weeks – I’d look forward to the time I spent with the mystery man, bathing his body, touching his soft but still impressive cock, and when I lay inert under my boyfriend, I’d think about that broad, muscular body working over me, that iron hard cock ramming into my pussy and bringing me to explosive climax instead of the disappointing reality.
One evening at the hospital, it was almost the end of my shift and I had saved the sponge bath until the very end, when there were fewest people around, when I could relax a little and look a little less professional. I let my long chestnut waves fall loose to frame my face, took off the black-rimmed glasses I used to read the charts, and even went so far as to unbutton the top few buttons of my uniform, allowing a little of my cleavage to peek out. I admit; I got a thrill of illicit pleasure from looking a little sexier whilst ministering to my favorite patient.
Before I got started on bathing him, I put on a coating of my dark red lipstick, the one that made my plump lips look moist and attractive, desirable. I liked to feel desirable, indulge my fantasies a little as I ran my soapy hands over his warm, smooth flesh. I liked to wear my naughtiest red underwear under my uniform and let the scenes run wild in my head as I gently massaged the muscles beneath my fingers.
My mind was engaged in a particularly satisfying fantasy as I applied my fingers to his long, thick cock, gently massaging his balls as I thought about him giving me pleasure with his tongue, the slick muscle flexible and talented against my aching clitoris, bringing me trembling and gasping to a dizzying completion.
I was so occupied with my fantasy that I didn’t notice his eyes fluttering open. He must have been watching me, playing with his penis with my soap-lubricated hands, my top revealing, my hair tumbling provocatively over his shoulders. After weeks of coma, waking up to such a situation has to be disorienting to say the least. Waking up to somebody massaging your long-deprived cock, though, can only really evoke one reaction, and I was shocked to find myself suddenly holding his rock-hard manhood, straining proudly at an impressive full mast. My hands froze and I looked wide-eyed up at his face – he was awake!