Chapter 4
It seemed ages before Mercy could get her head together. Somehow putting on her stiffly starched white nurse's uniform seemed to help. She stood before the long mirror and moved her hands along her voluptuous body from breasts to kneecaps. She was careful not to grip the huge melons of her tits too strongly for fear of stirring herself up again.
She could still not quite believe the violent orgasmic explosions which had shook her virginal body, but she was resolved in any case to go right to work in order to cleanse her thoughts. Work was always the best distraction.
She had been more lacking in underwear than she'd expected, but fortunately had managed to locate in a chest of drawers some frilly white panties, black garter belts, nylon stockings, and a black bra which only barely managed to contain the huge white mounds of her overflowing tits. A black slip had also been located.
Most of this stuff was fairly old fashioned -- she was used to pantyhose -- but somehow the overall effect was not displeasing, and she found the garments singularly comfy. It was very fortunate that she and Mrs. Armstrong were just about the same size.
At first she had been somewhat puzzled on finding a white bra with the nipples cut out, so that her enormous protuberant pink nipples jutted out of them. But finally, on rummaging further she had located the bra she was wearing now. It was just a trace snug, but since she had exceptionally large aureoles she was used to having part of her nipple area, with its little pimples and all, showing over the top of it.
Her feet were rather tired from the low-heeled pair of shoes she had been wearing ever since California, but one of her closets revealed a pair of spiked black patent leather heels. She was surprised that a high-heeled pump could feel so comfy, but she supposed it was the change that made the difference.
So that now she was outfitted suitably -- if somewhat irregularly. She pulled out a lipstick and began doing her lips. Her lower lip was exceptionally sultry, full and pouty, so she had to give it a little extra, but she made both lips a bright, shining pink, licking them both afterwards to make them shine.
As she Out on her lipstick -- that was her only makeup, she involuntarily thought of Mrs. Armstrong sucking on her husband's penis.
It was ghastly and unthinkable for a woman to do something like that. What on earth could she possibly get out of it?
Mercy went to the windows and opened two of them. Now there was no one down below on the lawn or at the pool. She wondered where they were. She noticed with a rush of embarrassment how fresh the day's air was coming in the open windows. She had made the room all musky from the heat of her scent.
She vowed that she would never again do something so disgusting.
But in any case there was no time to dwell on her fall from grace any longer. It was high time she was looking in on Grandfather Winslow.
When she entered the old man's gloomy room downstairs she was taken aback all over again with. its spareness. The patient himself lay in its center, like a sacrificial offering, only his eyes alive enough to indicate a living creature harbored there. On either side of his bed there were a variety of tables, but not with any medicines on them. There was not much point in administering medication to an individual who, was not capable of making his symptoms known.
The rest of the room was equally spare. Around the walls were some barren-looking brown cabinets filled with linen, plates and other odds and ends. In the center of the ceiling of the room hung a bare bulb under a green metal shade. Very appropriate for a dying millionaire, Mercy thought obliquely, not quite understanding it herself. She made a note to get a television for the old man, to be suspended from the ceiling. It must drive a person crazy to just lie there, she thought.
"And how's our nice patient today?" she tried to say cheerfully, sweeping into the room and bringing the scent of her youth and blonde loveliness.
The old eyes swiveled to meet her. Mercy moved around the room straightening things, not looking back at him again, until finally she began opening all the window shades, making the old man blink furiously.
"Oh, too bright for you, I suppose. Well, you're probably right. I'll just leave the one open in back of you. But it's a beautiful day. outside today, grandfather."
She pulled down several shades and partly opened one of the windows. Then she came back to his side and lifted his wrist to begin taking his pulse.
But what's the point of taking his pulse? she thought, and dropped his hand without finishing her count.
"Well, it's time for your bath, Mr. Winslow," she said, and she began removing the blankets and sheets from his supine form.
It was the first time in the two days she had been in the house that she was to give the old man a bath, but he certainly needed it. It was obvious on removing his bedclothes that his previous nurse had been very lax in this regard. And the Armstrongs did not seem the sort of people who would know about administering the old man's needs.
They seemed like preoccupied types, full of themselves and not much interested in others' needs. She wondered idly what their favorite hobbies were.
As she took the bedclothes off the old man, it gradually dawned on her that he was going to be significantly different from her other charges.
In the first place -- and the only place -- he was virtually totally immobile.
All of her other patients had always been able to at least wash their own genitals. In this respect Grandfather Winslow was singularly different.
But if she didn't see to it that he was clean down there, she would be seriously remiss in her attentions to his withered old body, and to her calling as a nurse.
Yet she was pleasantly surprised to find him clean down below as she unwrapped him. Probably he ingested so little from the food tube inserted in his body that his voiding would always be negligible. And there was only the slightest stain under his penis .. .
His penis ...
As she unveiled him she was amazed to find that it was not only his eyes which were capable of movement .. .
Before her very eyes his penis inflated, enlarged, filled itself with blood, became engorged with it, bringing pulsing blue veins into full, excited life.
"Really, grandfather!" she exclaimed, astonished at this obscenity.
But was it really his fault? Wasn't it as much hers? Or neither of their faults? After all, she had to unveil him in order to clean his withered flesh. And it wasn't his fault that she was an attractive, buxom blonde. She knew that men liked large breasts, and she had long ago resigned herself to the unpleasant fact that hers were overlarge and overexciting. Nothing could do anything about that. It was just the way a girl was born, to be busty or not.
And blondes. For some reason men favored them. It was all very disgusting.
Nothing was given away in his eyes, and she was embarrassed to glance at them. But there it was. An upraised penis spoke for itself.
It was the first time she had ever seen one so close, although she had glimpsed other, more flaccid ones -- and she had seen Jack Armstrong's tool from the upstairs window.
The sensation of seeing one so close was indefinable. She was a little afraid of it. Could a woman's body really take such a thing inside of her? Mixing their inner juices together? Wasn't that disgusting? How could her mother even have allowed it?
"Well, I can see that you won't be able to wash yourself, Mr. Winslow. So I suppose I'll have to do it all for you." And with this she swished around to the washbasin, filling up a bedpan with water and soaking a sponge in it.
Returning to the bed, she couldn't repress a surge of prurient excitement as she regarded the old man's unnaturally alive erection. She had done that for him. She wondered if any of his other nurses had excited him like this. Was it a compliment or an insult?
Did her breasts tingle strangely as she regarded his penis? She tried to fight her obscene thoughts, tried to disregard this stem of flesh that was the only part of the old man's body with a real living warmth. She wondered how its temperature would feel if she clutched it. No one need ever know, and she could regard it as research. She was a nurse, wasn't she?
Hard as a bone and sticking straight up, the aged fool waggled back and forth as she came nearer. Even the wrinkled ancient bells below it seem to quiver under their sparse curly dark hairs.
Mercy shook her pretty golden head as if to dislodge from it her obscene thoughts. Then she squeezed the sponge and began washing her aged charge.
Over and over and across and under his body she went with the damp sponge. She lifted his wrinkled old ass slightly in order to get under it, then turned him on his side, and then finally on his other side.
Occasionally her delicate white hand brushing against his dick and it jerked, or she would casually sideswipe it with the sponge. Then finally she saw with some dismay that -- considering her professional obligations -- she was going to have to do the entire job.
"I hope this doesn't annoy you, grandfather, but I'm going to have to wash around your genitals. It'll only take a moment."
She couldn't make out the nature of his mental reaction, if any. His eyes merely swivelled around, expressionless.
Although if she had looked closely she would have seen the slight spot of semen welling up in the head of his prick ...
Her left hand wrapped around his throbbing old rod, in order to keep it out of the way, she told herself, as she washed his balls. She was surprised at its warmth, and also surprised to find that she wasn't the least bit disgusted. Indeed the old man's tool felt rather nice in her hand. Curious, she found that she could pull the foreskin up and back over the purplish knob ...
"Grandfather!" A slight spurt of liquid, clear but mixed with milky spots, spat out the tip of the old man's penis.
Nonetheless, she did not remove her hand. Professional duty required that she wash him. Mortified and trembling from some unclear distress, she began bathing the withered old sacks of his nuts with the sponge, under and around, almost caressing them. At the same time her left hand clutched his red hot dick spasmodically, opening and closing on it and moving the foreskin up and back as if from instinct.
She sponged down into the crack of his ass, right down into the tight brown pucker, then up again, along the sensitive vein connecting his balls and asshole. Then finally she began cleansing him around the base of his dick.
A faint swooning sensation seemed to overcome her. Its vagueness was indefinable; she had no idea where it had come from. Maybe it was from something she ate. She half thought that this feeling resembled somewhat the "vapours" that women used to get a century ago. But it was something else ...
Mercy felt her nostrils dilating obscenely. The tall, big-busted blonde nurse began jagging off the old man in earnest, "cleaning" him. The sponge caressed and finally wrapped itself around his pulsating rod. Mercy felt as if some sort of delirium was overtaking her. What on earth was she doing, anyway? ...
"God, what am I doing?"
But it was too late for conjecture. For now, with his burning cock covered in soap and being rubbed, petted and jerked mercilessly, Grandfather Winslow suddenly felt the old familiar boiling in his balls, and then his dick was jerking and spurting milky warm come all over Nurse Mercy's beautiful golden face. ...