Jay Friday
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A Hospital Stay [Part 4]
🕑 Added 2025-01-24 19:37:41 +0000 UTCIt was the next day, and I was experiencing a fair degree of mental anguish.
I almost wished Mia hadn't said anything about Natalie's break-room gossip.
Every time any staff came into the room -- a nurse to check how my blood pressure was responding to the medication I was on, someone to change out the bed linens, an orderly with my evening meal -- I wondered.
I studied them, looking for some smirk, some double entendre in what they said. Anything to indicate they might've heard Natalie, holding court, telling a story about a patient who was such a quick cummer.
The worst part, of course, was that it was true. I couldn't even tell people she was lying. My lips set in a thin, chagrined line and I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling stressed.
"Everything okay, big fella? You look a little grim." It was Denise, bustling about the room as she did every morning on her rounds, making sure supplies were in order, well stocked.
Ordinarily, I found the familiar routine comforting. Her sarcastic, friendly presence was a good part of the day.
In this moment, I was just wondering how much she'd overheard from Natalie. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment.
But I liked Denise and I tried to put a brave face on it. "Uh, yeah. Just...contemplating my own mortality, I guess."
She snorted. "Hah. Strapping young guy like you? You can't let a little stabbing get you down. I'm forty-five. You have plenty of time to contemplate your own mortality when you wake up with chronic lower back pain every morning, to texts from your deadbeat ex-husband who was supposed to have bought the right school supplies for the kids, but he didn't, so they got written up and somehow it's my fault..."
She continued muttering in that vein for a while as she moved about the room.
In that moment, I was incredibly grateful for Denise.
This melodrama with Natalie, my stamina -- while important to me -- wasn't the focus of everyone else's attention. People had kids, families, lives; Denise just worked here. It was reassuring. I smiled at her. "Aw, you don't look a day over thirty, Denise."
She shook her head. "You're a terrible liar. I'm not senile yet; I remember what I looked like at thirty, mister. I also remember what it was like to live without back pain, without a shitty ex-husband, and without a custody agreement. Forty-five wears a little different."
I gave her a once over with my eyes as she turned away to pull something out of a cabinet; she was so businesslike that I hadn't really looked at her. She was short, a bit thicker. I hadn't ever seen her out of her nursing scrubs, but her generous hips and a full bust filled them out. It was easy to imagine how she'd been a hottie when she was younger. Hell, she was still hot, I thought, my gaze lingering on the curve of her ass as she turned away.
I was warming up to the conversation, feeling generous. And her sense of humor was infectious. I laughed, and put on my best shit-eating grin. "Well, I'm sorry, without photograph evidence to the contrary, I'm going to have to disagree: you look thirty. If you've got some photo proof from when you were younger -- full body shots would be best to really assess, you know, maybe something from a beach vacation? -- I'd be happy to look at them and offer a more considered estimate on how much older you look now."
She rolled her eyes at me, a slight smile on her face.
"The back pain and possible senility I can't help you with, though..." I paused, thoughtfully, then raised a finger as if having a flash of inspiration. "Maybe you should see a competent nurse?"
Now, she laughed. "You're an incontrovertible flirt, too. The worst kind of patient. But I already knew that."
"A flirt? Me?" I put mock outrage into my voice.
"Don't think I haven't noticed all the flirting you do, mister! First the energy between you and Natalie, then that waitress from the bar who was all tears when she walked in, and big, satisfied smiles when she left...and that med student hussy Dr. Carlson had in here was mooning over you from the moment she walked in!" Her tone was also outraged.
I laughed again. "...Hussy? You're talking about Mia? Okay, now I believe you're 45. The last person I heard say that word was my grandmother. She'd be 107 next month if she were still alive. And Mia seemed nice!"
I tried not to load the last word with any special meaning.
Mia had been very nice.
Denise was still smiling, shaking her head. "Just don't let all this female attention pump up your ego, is what I'm saying. They're already telling tall tales about you in the breakroom."
I froze. "Oh...uh...like...what?" I tried to keep my voice neutral.
She shrugged dismissively. "Oh, it's just breakroom chit-chat, you know. Health-care's stressful, so sometimes people just tell stories about patients, and they always embellish..."
"C'mon, Denise. You can tell me," I cajoled. Now that I knew Denise had heard it, I had to know what they were saying.
She waved me off. "It's just nurses talking shit with each other, James, the specifics aren't..."
I cut in. "Please? Indulge your favorite stabbing victim in some breakroom gossip? I'm bed-ridden. The most exciting thing that has happened to me was Mrs. Christie down the hall commandeering a wheelchair and mounting that escape attempt, and I only got to see her for a moment before she got apprehended."
Denise laughed, shaking her head. "No, no. It's just silly stuff anyway. Natalie and Mia trying to one up each other with tall tales about the hunky bouncer guy in 328."
I was disappointed, but could tell I wasn't going to get her to tell me. It was more or less what I had expected, after the conversation with Mia, but hearing it confirmed still embarrassed me.
At least Denise seemed to clearly think they were just flat-out lying.
"...Haha, yeah, I get it." I watched her bustle about, wishing she'd shared the details, but feeling a sense of relieved camaraderie towards her. It felt like she was on my team.
Which prompted another thought: increasingly, it felt to me like there might be something medically wrong. Maybe I could ask her about it.
"Denise, uh...I wanted to raise that I'm feeling a little...um, sensitivity...near some of the lower abdominal wounds..."
Denise gave me a sharp look. "You know, I saw that Mia added a note about that to your file. What..."
But she was interrupted by a knock on the open door, and someone else coming in. Someone wearing lilac scrubs.
"Good morning, Denise. Morning, James," Natalie said, cheerily. "Here to check those bandages. Get stabbed again last night, or have you kept yourself out of trouble?"
I didn't say anything -- I felt a little like I'd been caught red-handed. I didn't want to talk about this in front of Natalie.
Denise glanced at Natalie, glanced back at me. She closed her mouth, clearly picking up that this was a conversation for another time. "Well, I'll leave you two to it, then. But don't give my patient any guff, Natalie. He's convalescing nicely!"
Denise bustled out.
"Oh, you know not to worry about that with me, Denise. I've got such a gentle touch." Natalie said it softly, after Denise had left the room. Her green eyes were locked on mine, for a moment, an inscrutable expression on her face.
And then she walked over and shut the door behind Denise.
"Natalie, what..."
I trailed off as she approached. She had a look in her eye, now.
"Mia was telling an interesting story in the break room this morning, James." Natalie picked up my chart, glancing over it.
"I, uh...I've heard you've been telling an interesting story too..." But I was on the back foot. We hadn't talked since the other day, and I found myself...intimidated, remembering what had happened.
Natalie from college had been quiet, nervous, inexperienced. Natalie now was far more assertive.
"I've been telling a true story." She paused, smirking as she looked at my chart. "Patient indicates some sensitivity near lower abdominal wound; further testing recommended? Really? C'mon now, James."
"I-I do have some unusual sensitivity," I said.
She laughed, teasingly. "You know, I've heard a lot of bullshit excuses from guys. But blaming it on a medical condition is a first. Next you'll be telling me that Mia really did make you cum faster with a blowjob than I did with my hands."
"I-I mean, it's not like I was timing it," I muttered. Then I flushed, embarrassed. Why had I said that?
Natalie was speechless for a moment, mouth open, astonished. And then, she said, "She...really went down on you? Mia?"
I hesitated, but nodded, after a moment. I didn't see any point in lying about it.
Natalie pursed her lips in disbelief. "And you came fast? For inexperienced little Mia?"
I blinked. Mia had seemed nice. And I wasn't just saying that because of the blowjob. The casual distaste in Natalie's voice snapped me out of the feeling of being on my back foot. "If you don't believe me, fine. Not sure why you think I'd lie, but..." I shrugged.
She just shook her head. "I don't know why you'd lie, but I really don't believe you. The James I knew only ever left girls like Mia one of three ways: a quivering mess, madly in love, and then, eventually, completely heartbroken."
She paused. "I mean, that's how you left me, back in the day." She ran a hand through her blonde hair for a moment, reflecting.
Now it was my turn to be speechless.
But then her lips curved up into a smile. "Not this last time, though, huh? Kind of the other way around..." She said the words softly, smug, as she sat down next to the bed. "Anyway, the idea that Mia got you off quickly with a blowjob is ridiculous. Now, disrobe from the waist up, please."
She helped me struggle to sit forward with some effort and gingerly slip out of the hospital gown. I felt both embarrassed and guilty, now. "Natalie, when I -- when we -- look, I was a jerk, but I didn't do it on purpose, I'm--"
But she cut me off, waving my stammered apology away. "You're sorry, I know. You apologized already. And look, if you want to do things with Mia, that's...your business. It's just hard for me not to look at her and see myself, eight or ten years ago, impressed and mooning over the tall, handsome stud."
I didn't really have much to say to that. Natalie started inspecting the wounds, unwrapping them one by one, checking stitches, occasionally applying different things, re-wrapping.
"I mean, I don't even think Mia would know what to do with it. Remember how I used to try to give you blowjobs?" She asked the question in a lowered voice, but matter-of-factly, lips pursed as she checked over my injuries.
"Hey, Mia did just fine...and, I wouldn't say you tried. I mean, you did give me blowjobs..."
Her closeness was so distracting, the soft curve of her breasts prominent in her scrubs. I felt off-balance again. I didn't want to overshare, I wasn't sure what was most important to address -- Mia had known what to do with it, Natalie had given me blowjobs.
And Natalie was being...odd, I thought.
I opened my mouth to ask her about it, but I closed it again before I could say anything as she trailed her hand along my abdomen smoothly. It was a feather-light, sensual touch. I remembered what that hand had felt like, wrapped around my cock.
I started to get hard.
"I don't think I gave you a real blowjob back then," she whispered. "Not like the kind of blowjob I give now."
The suggestive tone in her voice had the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, and my cock taking further notice.
Her blowjobs back in college had been...well, fine. I'd enjoyed them. As I've mentioned, they had never been enough to get me off, though.
But then, her handjobs back then hadn't, either, and the other day, she'd been...incredible. The implication -- how much better a blowjob from her might be, now -- was impossible not to think about.
I found myself focused on her lips, unable to look away: full, naturally red, a contrast from her freckled skin and blonde hair. They were currently curved into an self-assured smile, her eyes on the movement of her hands as she checked another bandage.
"Probably no point in giving you one, though, is there? I mean, they way you were for my hands, and if Mia had you cumming quickly...well, I don't even know if I'd get you in my mouth before you..." she pantomimed an explosion with one hand before resuming re-wrapping my wound.
I could hear the competitive edge that her words had, every time Mia's name came out of her mouth. Was she...jealous? But now that she'd dangled the possibility of a blowjob, I couldn't think about anything else, and I resented the dig at my stamina. "C'mon, I mean, back in college--"
But I stopped. She was giggling. "Back in college, yeah. Back in college you lasted a while for my handjobs, too."
I reddened, feeling a mix of emotions -- shame, but also anger, frustration. "Okay, c'mon, just because I was fast one time a few days ago doesn't mean --"
"Oh, so you think that was, what, a fluke?" Pale green eyes met mine, finally, challenging and sarcastic. "You were having an off day, I'm sure. You'd last much longer if we did that again."
I wanted to spit back at her that it had been a fluke. But thinking back over the last few days, well...even I didn't believe that, anymore.
"It’s just…you were…a lot better than you were in college," I mumbled. "It…caught me off guard, that’s all."
She smirked. There was only one bandage left, now -- the one at the crease of my hip and leg. She was looking down at it.
Actually, she was looking next to it.
At some point during all this discussion of blowjobs and handjobs, I had gotten hard. Not just hard -- throbbing. I was visibly tenting the hospital gown.
"I'll tell you what," she said, amused. "What if we tried something new. Not something from college; something we never did together. That way you aren't caught off guard."
She paused. I wondered what she had in mind. We hadn’t done anal, that I could remember…my pulse quickened.
"But if you still cum quickly," she whispered, "You have to admit that you just can't handle me anymore." Her gaze was locked on my cock.
I swallowed hard. She had made me cum so fast. But I was turned on now, wasn't thinking with my brain. "Uh...okay...how long is quickly?"
She giggled, again. "Let's say...three minutes? Think you could handle that? I don't exactly remember how long that handjob was..."
"I, uh..." I didn't know how long the handjob had taken, either.
But I doubted that it had taken three minutes.
Her smirk deepened at my hesitation. "I mean, if you know you can't do it..."
"No...I mean, I, uh..." What was there to say? "I'll...try," I muttered. It sounded pathetic in my own ears. 'I'll try?' How had it come to this?
"Great. If you can't last, though, I want to hear you say it. Out loud. That you can't handle me anymore."
She had an odd, intense look on her face.
The look snapped me out of my own embarrassed arousal. I was a little taken aback. Her expression was vaguely...
Vengeful. That was the word.
Like she needed to get revenge on me.
It made me feel bad. Both for her, and about myself. Had I really been that shitty, in college?
"Natalie...why do you want to hear that from me?" I asked the question, gently.
For a moment, her expression changed, softened. There was vulnerability, and hurt, and...something more. Regret, maybe? Something else? I couldn't tell.
But only for a moment. After that, she got a canny look in her eye. "Tell you what. If you can last, I'll tell you why. If you can't, though...I want to hear you say it. Those are the...stakes, or whatever. Like a wager."
"No. I don't like the idea of playing games about..." I trailed off helplessly, and then made an expansive gesture. "Us. Sex. Emotions. Like, if you're still pissed, or hurt, I want to--"
She cut me off. "That's the deal, James," she said, firmly. "I think it'll be fun. But if you don't like it, I can check this last bandage and head out."
I considered for a moment, then nodded. I had misgivings, but I wanted to know what was going through her mind.
I'd try to last.
She gave me a small, satisfied smile, and then stood up, moving over to a cabinet, and grabbed the same tube of lube she'd pulled out earlier.
I had a moment of confusion. But she had already given me a handjob...
I watched, bemused, as she adjusted the hospital bed the same way Mia had, so that she was sitting almost between my legs.
Then she pulled off her scrubs top.
Her full, tanned, freckled cleavage was barely contained by a black bra.
God. She had always had an incredible pair of tits. They sat high on her chest, big and round and soft. Under the scrubs, I hadn't been able to see them, but if anything, the ten years since I had last seen them had only filled them out further. Or she'd gotten a boob job.
"You're staring, James. You always were a tit guy," Natalie mused. She reached up with one hand and squeezed one of her big tits, caressing it through the bra. My cock surged as I watched, mutely.
"Given how much you seemed to like these, I'm kind of surprised you never convinced me to give you a titfuck," she said, wryly. As she spoke, she reached behind herself, and unhooked her bra with one hand, slipping her shoulders out of the straps but still teasingly holding it over her tits.
"I certainly tried," I said, still staring. "You didn't want to, and then, uh, we broke up, I think." It had been pretty deep into our relationship, as I recalled -- but admittedly I wasn't sure.
My cock twitched as, slowly, she dangled the bra from her fingers. She slowly revealed first one full breast, then both, as she dropped it to the floor.
"Oh, right," she said, remembering. "I think I could tell we were headed towards a breakup, and I didn't want to do anything new. I figured maybe you'd stick around if you thought there was still, y'know, uncharted territory..." I could hear a touch of irony in her voice. And maybe...sadness?
But mostly my attention was elsewhere.
Her tits were big, with a bit of natural sag, but still sat high on her chest, the way I remembered. Her nipples were as I remembered -- bigger, but proportional on her breasts, turned up slightly, proud, like they were presenting themselves. And hard, I couldn't help but notice, staring at the eraser-nubs.
"...but anyway, I thought I'd give you one now," she said, softly. "I've been told I'm pretty good at it, so it'll be interesting to see how you handle it..."
She opened the container of gel, and started massaging it over and into her breasts. "Can you move your hospital gown out of the way? I'm all sticky, now, or I'd do it." She gave me a winning smile.
I didn't need convincing. Wordlessly, I pulled the gown the rest of the way out of the way, revealing my throbbing cock.
"Ready?" She glanced at the clock, asking the question with the air of someone who knew the answer was no, but was going to start anyway.
I nodded. I was transfixed, watching the shape of her tits as she fondled them, squeezing and carressing. I needed to try to last, I reminded myself. Three minutes.
I wanted to know what she was thinking. What she was thinking about us.
But that thought dissolved as she leaned forward, and grasped my cock.
"You probably thought about this a lot while we were dating, huh?" Natalie's voice was soft.
"Uh, yeah, I guess..." I grunted, staring down as she leaned forward, pulling my cock towards her, gently teasing one of her nipples with my cock, then the other.
"I know I did," she whispered. She was staring at my cock, too, grazing it against her nipples.
One of her hands was still wrapped around my shaft, but the other one drifted down to my balls, massaging, gently fondling them. I closed my eyes, leaning back, enjoying the sensation. Fuck, she felt good. And even better -- it didn't feel totally overwhelming.
At least not yet, I thought, remembering the handjob. I tried to keep my breathing even.
"I mean, you were always so dominant," she continued. "Always the one to show me what to do, how to do it. The one in control, taking charge."
I opened my eyes. I still didn't really understand. "Natalie, I-I thought you liked that, I--"
"I did like it." She was speaking softly, nostalgia in her voice. "But I always used to think about what it would be like to overwhelm you, for a change." A smug smile was on her face.
I hated the way she drifted between unpacking how she felt about our past, and...teasing me? I didn't even have the words for her attitude. "Natalie, c'mon, I--"
But -- eyes on mine, now -- she leaned further forward over me, nestling the smooth valley of her breasts along my length. The contrast -- going from grazing her nipples, to being sheathed in her cleavage -- was exquisite, and I moaned.
"Now I know what it's like to overwhelm you. Anyway, we can talk more about how I feel if you can last."
And with that, she started rocking up and down my length. The slick sensation, the way my cock slid easily between her breasts.
I could feel the orgasm racing towards me already. I was supposed to last through three minutes of this?
She was playing with me.
And I wasn't sure there was anything I could do about it. Wasn't even sure there was anything I wanted to do about it.
As I stared at my cock, sliding up and down between her tits, she brought her hands to the sides of her tits, pushing them together all the more tightly around my cock.
I groaned at the snug channel that created, the sensation of having her tits milking me.
She was looking at my cock, pumping in and out of her cleavage as she moved, then looked up at me. "This is pretty hot. My tits around your big dick." She watched it for a few more strokes, then added, quietly, "I like how your dick is big enough that the head pokes out between my tits."
I was breathing hard, trying to focus on lasting; I just nodded my agreement. She glanced up at the clock. "It's only been a minute, James." She pouted. "You're not going to cum already, are you?"
"C-can you just...slow down a bit?" I gritted my teeth as I said it. I hated the pleading note in my voice.
"Hmm? Oh, sure..." She said the words sympathetically, and she did slow down, considerably. "Think you'd have lasted this long in college? Longer? You really liked my tits...maybe I wouldn't have been as good at it, though..." Her voice had a musing quality.
But I didn't answer. After a few moments of the slower pace, I realized that it was almost harder for me to handle. Now she was giving me long, slow, agonizingly sensual strokes up and down between her tits. Each stroke emphasized just how full her tits were, how deep her cleavage went when she pushed them together, how impossibly tight the valley between her breasts was, how she had to force my cock up between them...
It wasn't helping me to last longer at all. I watching her work my cock, helpless in the face of the massive orgasm I could feel about to boil over me. I fought to hold it back, but with every stroke, that was less and less likely.
"Ninety seconds down...halfway there, big guy..." But she was studying my face as she spoke, and I watched her lips turn up into a satisfied smile. "Uh oh. I remember that look from the other day..."
I was aware that I made a sound -- somewhere between a frustrated growl and a whimper -- as I started cumming.
The first jet of cum sprayed out from between her tits, across her neck and chin, and so did the second and third. The rest -- and there were many more, my cock throbbing as it spurted onto her -- were less dramatic, coating the top of her chest, pooling in the valley of her tits as she moved up and down my length, slower now.
She looked down at herself, my cock still resting between her tits, her entire chest and neck covered in my cum. "Wow."
She let out an amused, satisfied sigh.
I watched, a little dazed, as she cleaned up, wiping first herself, and then me, clean with the supplies in the room, started redressing.
"Natalie, that was...incredible, but I want to talk abou..." I stopped midsentence, as she held up her hand, palm facing me, and shook her head.
She cupped one hand behind her ear, expectant.
I blushed. I knew what she wanted. "I...can't handle you." I muttered the words out, begrudgingly.
She nodded, looking pleased for a moment, and then sighed. "Well, then. Okay, I've gotta go, James. I'll see you again soon."
"Come on, wait, Natalie--"
But she was gone, sauntering out the door.
I lay there, collecting my wits. But it turned out to be a simple task. There were only two things running through my mind.
First: I wanted to know how Natalie really felt about me. Needed to know. These...encounters...had reignited some feelings for her, I realized. I could admit that to myself. But I felt guilty about how we'd left things. I needed to know how she felt, at bottom, with whatever strange games she was playing stripped away.
And second: I had to know why I couldn't last longer. There must be a reason.
Comments
Dm12345
Im waiting for Denise to come in and throw us a curve ball. She seems fun and milfy. Not sure which way you take her path but I think she has one.
Reader79
Great story! Can't wait to learn more about Natalie and James' new premature problem!
