Chapter 1
Dr. Jonas Blake first saw the new nurse's blue eyes across the operating table. He had asked her for a scalpel. Her gaze hung on his for a split second. Then she selected one of the gleaming instruments rowed in front of her, and handed it to him.
He could see only those wide, cornflower-blue eyes. A gauze cap covered her hair, and a mask of the same material hid her lower face. She wore a bulky paper throwaway operating room smock and powdered plastic gloves. Her name was Hearne, R.N., and someone had told him that she had a magnificent pair of breasts. He could see only a bulge of paper smock where her bosom should be.
A stirring in his loins surprised him. Here he was incising a man's belly to remove a diseased appendix, yet suddenly horny for a girl concealed except for her eyes!
Her brows appeared brownish. A redhead?
He wondered why he, a married man, was excited by a pair of blue eyes.
Twenty minutes later, Jane Hearne, R.N., stood at the disposal bin tearing off her paper smock.
Nurse Kelly appeared beside her, removing her gauze cap and mask.
Kelly whispered, "Did you ever see such a cock?"
"What?"
"The patient. That yummy salami between his legs."
The operation had been a routine appendectomy, the young male patient's belly and crotch necessarily exposed.
Jane said, smiling, "Kelly, don't you think of anything but sex?"
She tossed her smock and gloves into the bin, put on her starched cap, and pinned it into her hair. She went out into the corridor of B-Wing-Six smoothing her uniform dress.
She was thinking, My God, Dr. Blake was looking right through my clothes! Those dark eyes of his, staring! It had been grossly impolite and nonprofessional....
Yet, she felt flattered.
Sure, she had noticed the patient's oversize penis. She had chuckled silently, for it had been abnormally long. But a nurse became used to seeing naked genitals. They were just organs, like the liver or spleen.
Had she been rude to Nurse Kelly? She hoped not. Kelly was a pleasant, pretty little thing, with a good sense of humor. This was only Jane's second day at City General, but she already liked Liz Kelly. Well, she had been preoccupied by Jonas Blake's staring at her. He had seemed to look right through her clothes!
She was through for the day. She entered the nurses' lounge, unbuttoning the front of her uniform dress. Two nurses were slumped in armchairs smoking cigarettes. They looked weary. Jane didn't yet know their names. She smiled at them and went through a doorway to the lockers. Beyond was the lavatory and a shower room. That was all the nurses had. City General was really cramped for space.
After opening her locker, she stripped off her white uniform dress and tossed it at the laundry bin. In the mirror on the back of the door she saw her face; makeup okay, her red hair pinned up into a wreath about her white cap. Her face was pretty enough, she thought, but her blue eyes were too wide, giving her a look of innocence that didn't match the lush, plump sensuality of her wide lower lip. She regretted both aspects of her appearance. She didn't wish to appear a naive, dewy-eyed innocent. Equally, she tried to hold down the passions evident in her mouth.
She glanced at her breasts, an overly plump pair thrusting outward. They seemed to stretch every bra she owned. This one was practically transparent, revealing pink aureoles as big as teacups. More important, her nipples were erect, thick protrusions like fingertips. She gaped at them, shocked. Had Dr. Jonas Blake done this to her just by staring through her clothes? God, was she also damp in the panties? She wanted to feel her crotch but a glance at the doorway showed that one of the nurses in the other room was seated facing Jane. She hurried to the lavatory. There she slipped into a toilet booth and shut the door. She reached into the waistband of her panties, felt through her thick, bushy pubic hair down to the plump lips of her pussy. She squeezed them and felt a soft squishiness. She spread them and fingered into hot ooze.
She bit her lip in anguish. Not again! She had sworn off men. She simply couldn't go through that torment again, that being wet down to the knees all day long in expectation of a heavenly fucking in the evening. Worse, what always eventually happened, the end of the affair, and the constant masturbation that failed to relieve the need for hot man meat inside her.
Cursing her own weakness, she returned to her locker and raised on tiptoes to reach to her street clothes, hanging on hooks at the top of it.
Nurse Liz Kelly entered the locker room and saw Jane stretching upward to lift clothing off the top locker hooks. Reaching on tiptoes lengthened her buttock and leg muscles. Liz sighed. Jane was the most gorgeous female that she had ever seen, long-legged and high-rumped, tiny-waisted. And those glorious big tits! And her lovely mass of soft auburn hair, and that lush mouth that Liz wanted so desperately to kiss.
Liz Kelly had fallen head over heels in love with her.
Jane was putting on a sweater and slacks. She was frowning, angry at something.
Liz asked, "Jane, did I offend you when I said how big that patient's prick was?"
Jane looked startled. "Oh, Liz, I didn't see you. I was thinking about something else. You mean the appendectomy? He really had a huge penis, didn't he?"
Liz nodded. "He's a nice kid, too. I prepped him for the operation. He was so cheerful, in spite of the pain. He's a college boy named Carson."
"Well, that big thing of his won't do you or the college girls much good until his incision heals."
"I'll have to content myself with peeking under his sheet at it."
Jane laughed. She was dressed now. She seized up her coat, slammed her locker door shut, and hurried out, waving good-bye to Liz.
Liz watched her go. She sighed . Jane had been nude when Liz first saw her, the evening before in the nurses' shower room.
Liz had just gone off shift, so tired that her rump had felt weighted down to the backs of her knees. Standing under a warm shower spray, she had felt like sitting on the tile floor and bawling with fatigue.
Then into the shower room had walked a naked goddess, a redhead. Nobody would ever miss that. Auburn with dark shadows, glossy hair tumbling to her shoulders. Liz had gazed at big, wobbling breasts with bulging pink crowns, huge aureoles, the kind that puffed out, extending thick nipples. Jane had a wealth of pussy hair, auburn or maybe brownish, a large curly triangle of it bunched and bushy on her mound, thick and forming little beards between her pearly thighs.
The goddess had murmured a greeting to Liz, and turned on a shower, her back to Liz. Her rump was high-sprung and dimpled, firm, high white globes. In the under-cleft was a fringe of long hair.
Liz Kelly had said, "Hi!" without seeing Jane's face. Only her red hair, which grabbed the eye; and her body, that big-titted, hairy-crotched luscious body that made Liz drool, for she had a thing for other girls. Oh, she dug guys, sometimes too much. She swung both ways. But the sight of Jane Hearne had made her heart flutter, and in her belly an oozing began, a vaginal action quickly bedewing her thighs.
Liz had forgotten her exhaustion and turned to wondering how she could get this redheaded goddess into her bed.
Jane Hearne pushed out the glass doors of the main hospital entrance and raised her coat collar about her face to keep out the cold.
Dr. Jonas Blake was a handsome devil.
He was married.
That was neither here nor there, for Jane wasn't playing the marriage game. She had become a Ms., a determined Women's Lib Ms., her own boss and no man's Mrs. She was no more or less than Ms. Jane Hearne, R.N., career woman, age twenty-four, I.Q. 128, specific measurements 39-26-37, thanks to gymnastics three nights a week-floor exercises, balance beam, and parallel bars. She was firm of breast and flat-tummied, strong behind, and lithe of leg. But the gymnastics, the physical thing, was just a matter of keeping her health and self-respect. What mattered was the 128 I.Q. and to keep it growing. Tuesday and Thursday evenings she attended a course in embryology at the university. She planned on getting her B.S. in another two years.
Her bus came. She climbed aboard. There were no seats so she grabbed an overhead strap. Her legs ached, for she hadn't sat down all day.
She liked City General. Oh, the hospital was too big and terribly overcrowded, but the hustle and bustle challenged her, and in all the turmoil she found an anonymity that she desired. Her department at Presbyterian Clinic had been under the iron heel of Dr. Klinger, a male chauvinist pig who had viewed nurses as slaves, who had made floor supervisors of those girls who had served him best on their backs on his office couch. The bastard!
The bus was swinging through the gray heart of the city where the March wind blew trash flying, then veered out to Lake Boulevard through the park. There were four lakes. In the old days they had been boggy places the city had shrunk away from. Now they had been dammed and dredged and reshaped, and fashionable Charles-burg had gravitated to them. Dr. Jonas Blake had a house there. Jane lived beyond, in a decent old suburb, shaded by big maple trees.
She got off the bus and breasted the wind a half block to the modest two-story clapboard house where she had grown up. It was well kept, for Dad liked carpentering and painting and gardening far better than his work as a bank teller. Mother's car was in the drive. Mother was an executive secretary who brought home a bunch more money than Dad did.
In the living room Jane found Dad watching the TV. He was a fine-looking, large man. Jane had inherited his red hair and blue eyes. He was quiet, unaggressive. That was his trouble, in Mother's opinion.
Jane swooped down on him and kissed his cheek and gave him a hug.
He said, "You're in a good mood, honey. In love?"
"No! A good day. And something amusing in the operating room."
"Like?"
She giggled. "Oh, it's inside stuff. I guess it would sound kind of raunchy outside the hospital. Let me go get rid of all these clothes."
She sailed off toward her room. She heard Mother clattering dishes in the kitchen, and called a greeting to her.
Her mother replied, "Cocktail, Jane? Dry martini?"
"Okay. Out in five minutes."
Her room was on the first floor, well lighted, with its own bath. She tossed her coat on the bed, then peeled off the sweater and slacks she had changed to at the hospital. She still wore her white nurse's stockings, and white shoes with flat crepe soles. She customarily used stockings and a garter belt instead of panty hose for reasons of thrift. She was proud of her bank account. She pulled the garter belt up out of her panties to get at the hooks, wrestled it free, unsnapped the garment, and dropped it on her dresser as she went through to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
She pushed her panties down and squatted on the toilet to pee.
Jonas' dark eyes were like Bill Tyler's, she thought. Well, face it, you dig a certain type of man. But Bill had been such a bastard. Did all girls learn about sex in painful fashion?
Her bra felt too tight. She curled an arm behind her back and unhooked it. The weight of her breasts jerked the sheer nylon. She brushed the straps from her shoulders, then peeled the cups down her breasts, an out-thrusting pair of melon-size tits that made men hard in the pants, dammit; she wished that she weren't so blatantly sexual in appearance. She wanted to be herself, Ms. Jane Hearne, not a pinup, not a sex kitten, not just a pair of big boobies. Other girls envied her mammary development, but Jane wished that her intelligence stuck out instead of her tits. Worse, her oversize puffy aureoles pushed out her nipples. Often they showed right through her bra and uniform.
When she was about fourteen she had joyed in her growing titties, and had found that massaging them could almost bring her to orgasm. Rid of the bra, she automatically kneaded her breasts, and felt the nipples bulge against her palms. The warmth thus engendered went right down to her crotch. Shamelessly she tweaked the thick nipples. She liked masturbating. She had never felt guilty about it as some girls did. Naturally, having her breasts sucked was better than this. The first time that Bill Tyler did it she had cum, and when he took off her panties they were soggy with vaginal juices.
Six years before. She had been eighteen. After a thousand protests she had found his fat-knobbed penis pressing at the lips of her pussy. Her position was cramped, lying on the back seat of Bill's car, but heaven opened up when that plushy bulge squeezed her labia apart and eased up her narrow but slippery body hole. And when Bill's stiff prick was fully inside her, his testicles resting in the crack of her behind, his loins flattening her clit, she had cum so hard that her cunt had squished audibly.
Squatting on the John-she still hadn't peed-she gazed down at her fluff of pussy hair, split on her lips. She saw her glossy pink clit poking out into view, erecting as she thought about being fucked, and as she pulled her nipples out to long, thick pegs. She was passionate, sexually hot, no denying that. However, she would never let her own body use her. Not since Bill.
That bastard.
If only Jonas Blake didn't look like him!
She had appreciated the danger that very first night in Bill's car. After her violent cum, she had lifted a leg and hung her ankle on the backrest of the front seat, then curled her other leg about him. His long, rigid cock had begun to saw in and out of her. "Ooooohhhhh!" she had gasped when it slid to the very depths of her belly, and "Aaaaahhhh!" as it tugged out, pulling against the suction of her squeezing vagina. She had braced her ankle on the front seat, her other heel pressing Bill's spine, and arched up to meet his thrust.
She had panted again when the glorious, soft-capped bone pierced her narrow hole and stretched it to contain his thick cock. His nuts flopped softly into the crack of her ass, and when he was in deep he sort of screwed around, crushing her clit, and before long she had another orgasm, a quick little one, a minor convulsion of her belly, but it fairly steamed his prick.
"Jane!" her mother called from the hall. "Your cocktail is getting warm."
She jerked her thoughts to the present. She was sitting on her John pulling her tits. She still hadn't urinated.
"Be right out," she said.
But she dropped a hand to her pussy and, with the tip of a long, slender index finger, nudged her slippery pink slit.
A jolt of fire shot through her belly.
She caught her breath. There, inside. So hot! She pinched the slippery bud and tugged it. It was like pulling a fiery net that drew her vagina into a knot, squirting juice out to her labia. Her breath whooshed out, "Ooooohhhhh!" She leaned forward, saw her tits hang out, her pink aureoles puffed to cones, extending her rigid nipples. She bent a nipple while doing the same to her clit, and a bolt of fire squirmed through her from each hot point and joined in her belly, bursting like a liquid firecracker. "Aaaahhh, good!" she gasped.
She gazed down at her breasts, at the slender fingers plucking at the left nipple. She enjoyed the sight of the long white slope, the aureole disc bigger than the palm of her hand, the nipple as thick and long and stiff as any that she had ever seen. Looking at her own body turned her on. Not that she was vain. She was firm in her wish that she weren't built so lustily. But privately, when masturbating, she let her gaze roam over her curves and planes and dimples, enjoying the sight as though she were a man. It was nobody else's business. In fact, a psychology professor had once said in a lecture, You must like yourself before you can like anybody else. Well, she liked Ms. Jane Hearne, liked gazing between her titties at her slightly rounded white belly, at the lush, dark, auburn hair fringing it, a finger-deep fluff on her mound, between her legs curling out against her gleaming thighs, even though she had spread them wide. Her thighs were full, stretching her white nurse's stockings. This body, she thought, should have been quite enough to satisfy Bill Tyler.
But, no. The horny bastard! At a dance given by her nursing school she had introduced Bill to Nellie Wallace, a mousy girl that Jane had thought no threat. But a week later Bill had plugged Nellie. And he knocked her up. The little simp! Imagine, a nurse not knowing about contraceptives! Nellie's father had gone to see Bill's father, a gun in his pocket. They were now married six years.
Jane had learned her lesson. Take the pill and stay away from horny guys. Oh, she had fallen a few times since Bill. But, gradually, she had drawn into herself, dedicating herself to her career, to making Ms. Jane Hearne someone she could be proud of. She would depend on nobody! She had her R.N., her bank account, her physical fitness from gymnastics, and in two years she would add a B.S. to her Ms. and her R.N.
As to sex, she masturbated.
Her clit was growing. It was a large one, and extremely sensitive. Just bending it back and forth like a light switch shot the most delicious thrills into her belly. While doing this she fingered her outer labia, plump, bushed with .soft hair. Then the inner lips, as slick as jelly, swelling out like flower petals. She traced them to her fuck-hole, which was drooling, and rather narrow because she could count on her fingers and toes the number of times a cock had been shoved into it.
Her cunt felt so hot and drooly that she decided to use the vibrator. She rose and opened the medicine cabinet, took out the cock-size plastic rod, and a hand mirror. She placed the mirror on the floor against the bathtub, angling it up at her crotch. She squatted on the toilet again, spreading her legs, giggling when she saw how red and open her cunt was. And just glistening with desire!
She inserted the curved, tapered end of the vibrator, watched her hairy lips close on it, then pressed the trigger button.
"Oooohhh," she cried as it shook her cunt. She raised off the John seat and hipped into it, impaling herself on the six-inch gadget, feeling the quivering of her vagina rise in her body, a series of scalding waves shaking her to the eyeballs.
She was starting to cum.
"Oooooohhhh," she whispered to herself. "Come good, Janey, come sweetly, come squirty! Let it go, baby, let it all go!"
She jerked her hips and pulled her nipples as the quivering inside of her became explosive. In the mirror against the tub she saw the end of the white vibrator buried in her cuntal hair, which was all slobbery, and her fingers wet. Drool was running down her thighs to her stocking tops.
She arched against the unbearable heat, humped at it, her tits swinging like bells.
Then it burst and her face flamed and her tits burned as they jostled about, and she came all over, every cell in her belly exploding in unison.
She fell back on the john seat, panting, slack with relief but still humping and cunt-sucking the buzzing and shaking instrument that filled her hole.