Chapter 10
Full awareness came to Jane after Jonas had pumped his load into her, every drop of it. Finally he withdrew his throbbing cock and climbed off her. She lay spraddle-legged, sex fluids spilling from her gaping vulva down her ass to the bed covers.
Jonas' penis was still magnificently erect.
He turned to face the doorway where his wife stood blanched with fury.
She wasn't alone. Behind her towered Dr. Wilson. Beside him was a handsome brunette woman, her hair cut in bangs. Jane remembered seeing her at the clinic party. A nurse, Karen something.
Madge said in a thin voice, "I think I am going to vomit."
Jane found herself shocked into clear awareness. One thing she knew for sure. Madge Blake wasn't going to vomit. Not when she had a chance to make her husband crawl to her, begging forgiveness.
She shot a glance at Jonas. He was dodging his wife's gaze. Well, that didn't make him a coward. Any man would be upset when his wife caught him in bed with another woman. Jane waited for him to recover and tell Madge to go fuck off.
He glowered at his wife. His erection began to wilt.
Jane sat up in bed. She saw Dr. Wilson looking at her as though he had never seen a naked woman before, his eyes bulging. His lower lip was wet. He sucked on it.
The silence was deadly, Wilson gasping, Madge holding a hand to her throat as though to stop her heart from leaping out of her mouth.
Jane spoke, not because she willed it, it just came out.
She said, "Madge, go ahead and vomit. Go ahead. Prove you can do it."
Madge looked stricken. She sagged back against Dr. Wilson, who put his arms about her.
Jane was sitting in a soggy circle of bed cover. She looked down at her pussy and saw that it was still gaping, the coral lips visible, drool spreading all about her.
She said, "Madge, I apologize for staining your bed covers."
There was no response. The three in the doorway clung together. Shocked. They had never experienced anything like that before. But Jane saw them in a clear, white light. Fakes. Wilson incised patients to extract their money. Madge operated on her husband's wallet. The brunette must have some parallel con working.
Jane muttered, "Oh, fuck," and climbed out of bed and picked up her white party dress from the floor. She put it on in leisurely fashion, aware that sex liquid-Jonas' semen and her cunt drool-were running down her leg. She was in no hurry to hide the guilty wetness.
At last Madge said, "So this is what goes on at the hospital!"
Jane paused, waiting until she had phrased it properly.
She said, "Madge, until you've been fucked on an operating table, you don't know what good is."
She went to the other room and got her coat and walked out of the house, chin high.
It was a long walk home. She didn't mind that. She had made a pretty good exit, she thought.
Her vagina felt as big as a bucket. She was sort of walking bowlegged. Yes, she had been very well fucked. If only Jonas hadn't frapped out when Madge barged in! He should have cracked the bitch across the chops.
Wait. Madge was his wife. You, Jane, are just somebody he works with and who has tonight for the first time gone to bed with him.
But, it didn't in her heart seem that way. More like she and Jonas were married.
She had that to think of on the way home.
At home she found Dad asleep in the living room facing the flicker of the TV. She turned it off and bent over him, kissed his forehead, and said, "Dad wake up, it's bedtime."
As she did this, she got a whiff of her body odor. Indoors, without the wind blowing her, she absolutely reeked of cunt. As her father aroused, she was afraid he would smell her. She rushed off to her room.
She threw off her coat and peeled off the clinging white dress, which looked the worse for wear. She was naked underneath. She had gone to the party without panties, had left her bra at Jonas' house. She thought, a souvenir for Madge, but not a useful one. It would hang loosely on Madge's small tits.
In the mirror she saw that her breast crowns were still puffed out to cones, hand-sized. She fisted them and gently milked them out. They felt used. And she saw that her pussy lip hair didn't conceal the glistening coral of her gash. The outer labia were still swollen open. She stood there, squeezing her fists rhythmically on her tit ends, studying herself, tousled hair and hooded, satisfied eyes, lips twisted into a sensual smile. She thought, Janey, you look fucked, and up the hole it feels wet and wiggly fluttering in and out, remembering that hard cock it had to suck on.
She moved to the bathroom, still pulling her tits, feeling her ass voluptuously, lasciviously, invitingly, as though the rolling hams formed a mouth for her inner self to speak and say, "We've had a big one inside here, aren't you envious?"
She giggled at herself as she squatted on the John to pee. She looked down between her tits and saw her pink clit protruding through her hair nest. She drew her breasts together and kneaded the ends with one hand so she could nudge that impertinent little nubbin. Just a touch, and delicious little bubbles popped steamily inside her. Ready for more! And the smell of how raunchy it was! She should bathe, but it would be nice to lie in bed sniffing the reek of cunt and thinking how good it had been to have a man's cock up her hole.
She fingered her ovaled gap, thinking, You shamelessly open thing, I could poke a fist up you. You're disgustingly loose. Everything was, even her peehole, opening to let piss squirt out like from a fire hose. It splashed so hard in the bowl that it spattered her ass, and Jane gave not a damn. Fuck that, too. Maybe the following day she could corner Jonas in his little office and charm that snake right out of his pants.
As her pee waned she still pulled her tit ends and toyed with her clit, but she frowned, knowing that because Jonas' cock had been in her she would turn into his doormat. She would walk down the B-Wing-Six corridor like her lower spine had melted, wobbling all over the place, her legs bowed, and everybody would know she had started fucking again, and when she saw Jonas, her eyes would look up and down him, eating him alive.
Her cunt really stunk. She would have to douche, at least. She got up and took the douche from the medicine cabinet and filled it with warm water, a white bulb, and a black nozzle. She squatted on the toilet again, poking the nozzle up her vagina. It got lost in all that space. She squeezed the bulb and it felt good as the spray washed the walls of her still-quivering organ.
She hadn't faced up to the fact that Madge now had an argument to use in prying Jonas loose from the hospital. She had caught her husband fucking one of the nurses, had witnesses, and would blackmail him for all it was worth. Jonas knew vaguely that she must do something about it or Madge would have him seated behind a vast mahogany desk at Wilson's clinic.
But she was in no mood to calculate what she could do. She had automatically begun fucking herself with the douche nozzle. The white bulb looked like a shiny tennis ball buried in her pussy hair. As she fingered it around, she tweaked her hot clit and pulled her nipples. She would sleep better if she got another cum. Oh, it wouldn't amount to much compared with that moment of turning inside out when Jonas had shot his load into her, but it would be an easy orgasm, for she was started now, and when she had the hots for a man she could sometimes cum by just stroking her tits or squeezing her legs together and humping a little.
She grunted as an enormous viscous bubble grew in her belly and started dividing into smaller ones that popped squishily on the thrust of the douche nozzle. Her face was burning. She had a cum already! She raised off the seat and hipped into it, hearing the squishing of her cunt, kneading her tit ends and mashing her clit.
The bubbles fired off, each bigger than the last.
She had to do something for Jonas! Tomorrow.
"Oh, Janey, you hot cunt you!" she gasped as the big bubble burst and she hip-jerked through fiery orgasm, and into a series of .smaller bubbles, tiny ones hissing out of her as she collapsed onto the John seat, smiling lasciviously and wiggling the douche nozzle in her pulsing vagina.
In the morning, as she walked from the bus into the hospital, she felt her pussy lips squish past each other on every step. It was a repetition of the night before, or the same thing still going on, and it was all Jonas' fault, the big-cocked darling man. In the locker she found clean panties and took them into the john, knowing the ones that she had put on an hour before were finished, the whole crotch band soggy.
But she found her lip hair matted from juice, and knew she would just soak through the fresh panties. She decided to do like Liz, without, try to air away the moisture.
Liz hadn't yet arrived. Nor had Jonas. She began her day bustling about with a crew of practicals, giving bed baths, feeling so good that she sang under her breath. Her inner thighs were wet, and squished when they rubbed together. This delighted her, though she hoped that she didn't smell too strongly. When she arrived at the room of the appendectomy, Hank Carson, she was in a Liz-like mood. He looked her up and down, whistling, and she said, "Mister Carson, get a grip on yourself or you'll tear your incision."
"I'm tired of gripping it. I wish you would."
"I'd love to, Mister Carson. As soon as you're healed."
He was chuckling when she left, and Jane was glad. This whole thing made her more relaxed. It was important to keep patients cheerful, and she was a better nurse for it, but couldn't quite keep her mind on her work. She was thinking of Jonas plunging in and out of her, and once, when sitting down by a patient's bed, she squeezed her legs together and in her wet crotch felt a hot tremor, a pulsing little cum.
Liz arrived. She stopped Jane in the hall, saying reproachfully, "I knew it would happen. I saw it last night. And now it shows all over you."
Jane shrugged. "That's how it is."
"You have to be more discreet. Honest, you're walking bowlegged." Jane giggled.
"Jane, scandal goes around hospitals like wildfire."
"You were in the office with him, the door locked."
"But I was quiet about it. And you're so goddamn beautiful, everybody watches you anyway."
Jane thought that Liz was looking kind of hot-eyed at her, feeling girl lust again, which Jane didn't need. No. She turned on to one person at a time.
Jonas didn't arrive until almost noon. Jane saw him unlocking his office. He beckoned. She followed him in. He still wore street clothes.
He said, "I've got to change. Shut the door."
She closed it and leaned against it, her heart thumping as Jonas sat on his bed and kicked off black street shoes.
He said, "We had a hell of an argument after you left. Everybody said the wrong thing, especially me. But, balls, Wilson and his nurse were acting so holier than thou, and everybody knows they shack up together and I'm pretty sure he screws Madge, and I accused them of it. I said I'd never been into you before and they called me a liar, and Madge threatened a divorce and I told her to go to hell."
"You did!" Jane was smiling broadly.
"But, she's my wife, see. I feel an obligation."
Jane was thinking, She's a whore, a mistress bound to him by legal ties. Outside of being his wife, she's nothing. She has no existence apart from that.
Jonas was taking off his pants.
Jane saw that his shorts front gaped, revealing the head of his penis nestled into his bushy black ruff of pubic hair. She felt a twitch inside her, then an increasing dampness between her legs.
Jonas had cast aside his pants. Sitting there in his shorts, he asked, "Got a cigarette?"
She found a pack on the desk, and a lighter. She took them to him, stood over him as they lit cigarettes.
He said, "Tell you something. You were a hell of a lot of woman last night. Madge fakes it. She's a female equivalent of a guy who can't get a hard-on. But you were so great I didn't even feel guilty about cheating on my wife. I do now, though. That's hell, isn't it? In the back of my mind there's always the thought that the right guy could make her get her jollies, come like a steam engine. See?"
She nodded. She was gazing down at the softedged triangle of his cockhead, at the wrinkled limpness of the stem. She wanted it, but even more she wanted to straighten out this mess that Jonas was in and somehow adjust herself to some sort of relation toward him. She couldn't even define what she wanted. To be his mistress sounded old-fashioned, and cramping. She had to remain independent, the autonomous Jane Hearne, R.N. Thoughtful, she turned and went to the door and locked it. She wanted privacy, to figure out things with him.
He said, "Janey, you have one beautiful ass."
She smiled. "It's big. In slacks I look like I'm all behind. I bet Madge does something for slacks."
"She does. She makes furs look good, too. She used to model for a fur company."
Jane moved back to the bed, saying, "Modeling seems empty to me, like a girl gets paid for being what she is, instead of for what she does. Madge needs work, I think." But then her mind slipped away from Madge, for she saw the head of Jonas' prick growing out of the gap in his shorts. She sighed deeply, and a tremor ran through her.
He said, "Look at that. Horny little devil! See what you've done?"
Jane licked her lips. She had a terrible desire to make it stand up like a post. She got rid of her cigarette and bent down over Jonas and nuzzled his cheek. She reached down his body to the swelling tip of his penis and squeezed it between her thumb and forefinger. It felt rubbery now, plushy soft.
She whispered, "I'm awful wet between the legs, Jonas."
She felt him slip a hand up under her skirt. She bowed her legs to let him get at her drooling twat. When he squeezed her soggy outer lips, she shuddered, groaned, spread her legs wider. Oh, it felt so good, so reassuring to have his fingers firmly pressing her pussy!
She looked down at his swelling prick, now cupped in her hand. Strangely, she wanted to taste it. She had had unpleasant experiences in going down on boys, had decided giving head was not her bag. But her mouth was slobbered by thinking of how it might feel between her lips.
There was another angle, that Madge probably never did it for him, and Jane felt competitive now. But, most important, the thought of doing it made her hot all over.
She pressed her mouth to his ear and whispered, "Jonas, it's funny, but I think I want to suck it. Isn't that crazy? Would you like me to?"
He nodded vigorously. He removed his hand from her cunt. Jane hiked up her skirt and knelt on the floor at his feet, arms on his thighs, gazing at the flaring pink cap on his fattening cock-stem. She fisted it, shook it, making the head dance about. She smiled. Then she leaned in close, extending her tongue. She thumbed the slippery underside, the glans, pressed open the split in the end, and drew it to her tongue tip.
She tasted the clear fluid oozing from the split. There was an exciting tanginess about it. It made her nostrils flare and quiver, and eagerly she curled her tongue about the meaty sloping arrowhead of flesh, all around the growing flare and even over the rim to the stem.
She pressed a soft kiss to the tip. Holding it between thumb and forefinger, she rubbed it around, touring her lips, smearing the split lubricant on them. Then she drew slobbery kisses off it, wet little pecks between tongue swabs of the growing expanse of cockhead before her eyes.
She paused, licking her lips and savoring the taste of it. She looked underneath for his scrotum. Still inside his shorts. She dipped her hand in and lifted out the sac of plump nuts, and rolled them about her palm.
She was breathing kind of hard, she thought, as she turned back to rubbing the head about her lips, making them feel creamy soft. This close, it looked just huge. And the stem was lengthening, saggy in the middle but much longer.
She slid her tongue under it, resting it in the trough, then opened her mouth wide and poked it in, stuffed it in.
Suddenly Jane's mouth was full of delicious cock.