feel a little more … comfortable?’ Damn, what was the matter with me? My hands were acting of their own accord, a devil inside me was prodding my arms with his shocking little fork and shouting ‘go on, go on’.
‘Comfortable is one way of putting it.’ Ted sucked in a deep breath, his wide chest expanding and his teeth gritting. His gaze was fixed on his groin.
‘You want me to stop?’ I asked. I had the towel spread out and was holding his shaft over the top of it. I could have got away with saying I was still drying it, but barely – my movements were recognisable as stimulating to any adult across the four corners of the world.
‘I feel I should say yes, stop. Morally, that is,’ he said in a tense voice. ‘But …’
The head of his cock was poking out of the towel and protruding from his foreskin. He was heading to full hardness pretty quickly and I couldn’t help but be impressed that Mr Viper, or whatever he’d called it, was in such good form after all he’d been through recently. ‘But what, Ted?’
‘But, fuck, all that talking about shagging, a cold beer and then you doing that. I couldn’t help it.’
‘You want me to carry on?’ I could get into so much shit for this. I knew that. But sod it. Ted deserved to be treated like a man, the hero he was. And, at the end of the day, with those bandaged hands he could hardly bring himself any relief. This was a mercy mission and I was the only one here to stand up for the job.
‘Ted? Do you want me to carry on,’ I asked again.
‘Yes,’ he said almost in a whisper. His gaze caught mine. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘I don’t mind at all.’ And I suddenly realised I didn’t. What was the definition of holistic care? Attending to all of your patients needs. Well, I was just taking that one step further. Maslow would be proud of the lengths I was going to help Ted reach self-actualisation. Well, self-actualising for a few minutes, at least.
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he groaned, staring down at my hand, which I was working faster now. ‘The only thing I’ve felt for weeks is pain, so that is … what you’re doing is …’
‘Good?’
‘Yeah.’ A small shudder rippled up his body. ‘Good is one way to describe it.’
Now I was convinced. If there had been any pretence that I wasn’t wanking him off it went out of the window. I ditched the towel and gripped his cock. He was a well-hung guy and hefty in my fist, and I began a firm push-pull motion, the last of the moisture from the flannel sliding my grip.
‘Ah, yeah,’ he said, breathlessly. ‘That time when I came on Phedra. It was so wrong but so damn good. A bit like this. Thank you, Sharon.’
‘Shh, no talking.’ I glanced at the door.
He closed his eyes, pursed his lips. His strong hips jolted, as though thrusting for more of my touch. The headboard rattled against the wall.
I got into my task. His cock bloated further, the slit strained open. His pulse was hard against my palm. I shot a look at the door again, praying no one would come in.
‘Ah, ah,’ he panted. ‘Fuck, yeah. That’s it.’
Jesus, I’d be super impressed if he came this quickly but it would certainly be a good thing, given the illicit, high-risk nature of my actions.
I upped the pace, squeezed a little tighter. My heart was thumping so hard I could hear the pulse in my ears. Then with a throaty groan he came. Cum spurted from his slit onto the clean U2 T-shirt. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he could produce cupfuls. On and on it burst from him. I kept working, eking out every last drip like it was some kind of tap I was draining.
The deep moans erupting from him vibrated throughout his body. His back arched, his head pressed into the pillow. His body was alive and strong and racked with toe-curling pleasure. Seeing him like that was glorious even though it was completely wrong in a hospital bed. I couldn’t help the flush of satisfaction that burst in my chest.
‘Ah,
‘Comfortable is one way of putting it.’ Ted sucked in a deep breath, his wide chest expanding and his teeth gritting. His gaze was fixed on his groin.
‘You want me to stop?’ I asked. I had the towel spread out and was holding his shaft over the top of it. I could have got away with saying I was still drying it, but barely – my movements were recognisable as stimulating to any adult across the four corners of the world.
‘I feel I should say yes, stop. Morally, that is,’ he said in a tense voice. ‘But …’
The head of his cock was poking out of the towel and protruding from his foreskin. He was heading to full hardness pretty quickly and I couldn’t help but be impressed that Mr Viper, or whatever he’d called it, was in such good form after all he’d been through recently. ‘But what, Ted?’
‘But, fuck, all that talking about shagging, a cold beer and then you doing that. I couldn’t help it.’
‘You want me to carry on?’ I could get into so much shit for this. I knew that. But sod it. Ted deserved to be treated like a man, the hero he was. And, at the end of the day, with those bandaged hands he could hardly bring himself any relief. This was a mercy mission and I was the only one here to stand up for the job.
‘Ted? Do you want me to carry on,’ I asked again.
‘Yes,’ he said almost in a whisper. His gaze caught mine. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘I don’t mind at all.’ And I suddenly realised I didn’t. What was the definition of holistic care? Attending to all of your patients needs. Well, I was just taking that one step further. Maslow would be proud of the lengths I was going to help Ted reach self-actualisation. Well, self-actualising for a few minutes, at least.
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he groaned, staring down at my hand, which I was working faster now. ‘The only thing I’ve felt for weeks is pain, so that is … what you’re doing is …’
‘Good?’
‘Yeah.’ A small shudder rippled up his body. ‘Good is one way to describe it.’
Now I was convinced. If there had been any pretence that I wasn’t wanking him off it went out of the window. I ditched the towel and gripped his cock. He was a well-hung guy and hefty in my fist, and I began a firm push-pull motion, the last of the moisture from the flannel sliding my grip.
‘Ah, yeah,’ he said, breathlessly. ‘That time when I came on Phedra. It was so wrong but so damn good. A bit like this. Thank you, Sharon.’
‘Shh, no talking.’ I glanced at the door.
He closed his eyes, pursed his lips. His strong hips jolted, as though thrusting for more of my touch. The headboard rattled against the wall.
I got into my task. His cock bloated further, the slit strained open. His pulse was hard against my palm. I shot a look at the door again, praying no one would come in.
‘Ah, ah,’ he panted. ‘Fuck, yeah. That’s it.’
Jesus, I’d be super impressed if he came this quickly but it would certainly be a good thing, given the illicit, high-risk nature of my actions.
I upped the pace, squeezed a little tighter. My heart was thumping so hard I could hear the pulse in my ears. Then with a throaty groan he came. Cum spurted from his slit onto the clean U2 T-shirt. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he could produce cupfuls. On and on it burst from him. I kept working, eking out every last drip like it was some kind of tap I was draining.
The deep moans erupting from him vibrated throughout his body. His back arched, his head pressed into the pillow. His body was alive and strong and racked with toe-curling pleasure. Seeing him like that was glorious even though it was completely wrong in a hospital bed. I couldn’t help the flush of satisfaction that burst in my chest.
‘Ah,
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