by Sasha Pearl
I try to take a picture of her back between my thighs but she says no, she needs to stay out of that kind of stuff.
Nurses are mean.
Minutes later she was gone. Normally I would have walked her out but since getting around was so hard to do, and also because I was ready for well earned nap.
Hours later I woke up. Nowhere to go, nothing to do, no reason to not try the magic wand that she left me with.
I examine the wand and can’t find any switches. It’s smooth from top to bottom, nowhere to flip or push or twist.
If I hadn’t seen her open into a cornucopia of swiss army knife sex toy awesomeness, I would think this thing I was looking at was was solid and dead and potentially a dildo but a boring one.
I needed it to come alive so I got creative and tried this (no) that (no) and even this (nope and don’t try it yourself. Ever.).
Flustered, I texted her. Help! Vibrator won't work. I'm going to cry. Save me, save the world. Send directions.
She texts back, “On airplane; back next Tuesday”
I reply again, begging for help and she doesn’t answer.
That mean mean nurse shut me down and left me here with nothing to make me cum but my own ingenuity.
Dammit.
Nothing worked.
I tried (repeatedly) remembering something, imagining something, deploying the old sex toys, but they got me NO WHERE. My vibrator still wouldn’t go past “too slow to be useful” and I found myself eyeing one of the kids electric toothbrushes but I didn’t act on that passing impulse.
Three days later I was grumpier than ever.
Four days she finally called me back (why she couldn’t call from Denver makes no sense to me but whatever) and asked how I was doing.
I asked her to come back and lick my pussy (please) and she said no, that was a one time thing. I asked how to turn the sex toy on and she said I needed the key.
The key?
Yes. What kind of health insurance do you have?
I tell her and she says she’ll call me back.
She calls me back.
They have an opening at medical spa place full of nurses and therapists and sex toys. My insurance covers it if I follow the therapy 100%. If I leave, quit or refuse I get a bill for the whole thing and I will never be welcome back or able to refer friends.
I’m fine in my house. I need nurses here. And someone to walk the dog. And someone to cook for me and clean and maybe someone else to….
No, you need to go to where the help is instead of waiting for help to come for you.
I don’t need to go on a trip; I just need a new vibrator!
You need this. You’ll thank me. I’m the nurse, you’re the patient. Don’t pack anything, not even a phone charger. They don’t let you bring things in there anyway. There will be a car to pick you up in 1 hour. And I’ll take care of the puppy, don’t worry.
Awesome.
An hour later a dark tinted SUV pulled in front of my house. I came out with only my tiny black purse that had ID, cards, lipgloss.
The ride there was long-ish, and I slept some of the way. I can’t tell you if it was north, south, east or west of here but I do know at the last part we had to cross two tightly guarded private bridges that were either here to keep people out, or keep people in, or both.
The driver pulls my scooter out so I can roll myself safely-ish up the ramp and into the lobby.
The first thing I notice is that the air is cooler here, lighter and filled with something else -- freedom? optimism? Whatever it is, I like it.
The curvy blonde at the front desk walked from behind her podium hugged me (her tits felt real, for the record) and picked up my bag.
Below her embroidered name (Suzannah) and a flag showing where she was from (Arkansas) was a red pin that said "Silent."
Was it a statement? a challenge? I still don't know.
I follow her down this long wide hallway to a smaller one that.
She showed me how to open my room, and pointed out the amenities (stocked full size fridge; electronic gadgets to summon nurses and masseuses and maids; a padlocked treasure chest) then left me alone in a posh suite with no agenda.
I took this to mean I had no schedule, nowhere to be, an thus threw myself across the large bed, rolled just enough to remember I had a cast and rolling hurts, then laid on my stomach to soak in the view.
I'm not sure if I was really asleep or only half asleep when I was gently awakened by windchimes which announced my door was opening. I was in no position to jump up and answer the door anyway so I took Tina Fey's advice and just went with whatever was unfolding.
A white-uniformed petite brunette with heavy bangs and a tiny waist smiled at me from the doorway. Her nametag read "Molly" and under it was a purple pin that said "Primary."
She sat down on the bed next to me (is she a nurse? is she my maid? is she here to serve me?) and pulled a thick binder out of her red alligator print and told me to get reading.
Before I could ask her a question or engage her in any way, she got off the bed and left.
I opened up the book and fell right into it.
Great.
My insurance will only pay for this "retreat" if I do every single thing prescribed by my Primary.
Awesome.
The second page of my notebook had a list of things Molly had left for me to complete. Spa treatments today. A big meeting tomorrow. After that, TBA.
A gentle knock on the door interrupted my reading. Before I could say a thing whoever it was let themselves in and dropped something heavy by the door.
She walked to me and introduced herself. I can’t remember her name because she looked so much like Jennifer Lopez whoever named her anything else got it WRONG.
JLo handed my a silky peach robe and told me there was massage table in the bedroom closet. I nodded agreement, even though this wasn’t a question.
Where would you like to set up?
I look around and see only one place the table could go – wedged in between the TV and a coffee table.
I point there.
There? Not the balcony? Or by your pool?
I don’t have a balcony. I don’t have a pool. Just a hotel suite.
JLo commands me to stand up, grabs me by the hand and leads me through the door that had been hidden by the tasteful curtains.
We are outside on a private covered balcony that faced tranquil aqua water. Further out I could see mountains. We could be in Cuba, if things like this happened in places like that. I’ve never been anywhere else so maybe this is Hawaii or Puerto Rico or New Zealand. I don’t care what it’s “name” is – this place is the perfect harmony of sky and mountains and water and clouds and I could stand here forever.
On the other side of the balcony was the entrance to a grand living room flanked by a huge workout room, a meditation-yoga room and a library. Stairs led to a lower level which housed an indoor pool surrounded by R-rate Romanesque murals depicting feasts and orgies and passion and glory.
Is this all?
JLo shakes her head. One more place, but you can’t see it yet.
She checks her watch and tells me have “a lot to accomplish” in the next few hours so we’d better get busy.
I think about laying next to the pool but decided to have our little “thing” we are about to have on the balcony.
With that decided I slip out of my traveling clothes and into the peach robe. She calls out “make sure you take everything off”
I call back “I’m leaving my bra on”
She calls back “No you are not, thank you ma’am”
I repeat myself and then she reminds me I have to follow everything, just as prescribed, so I take it off (sob!) and walk towards her, my heavy hard nipples pushing against the sliding satiny silk robe with every step.
--
JLo had also changed. Instead of her yoga pants and t-shirts she now had on a white lab coat over a pink lacy bra-panty set that covered very little and s
howed a soft fullness that held silent promises of kindness and acceptance.
The table she stood next to on the saltillo tiled balcony was white leather and looked like a cross between a massage table and beach chair. I walked towards it with my arms crossed over my jiggling bra-freed boobs.
As I sit down she pats my head affectionately then leaves her hand resting on my shoulder.
For the next part all you need to do is be honest and have patience and then when we finish we are done and you can check THIS off your list.
Check what? off What list?
She shook her head and leaned so that her boobs were practically up against mine. Don't worry about it, your job is to relax, ok? Now, did you remember to leave your panties in the bathroom?
Yes. A drip of something warm trickled down my pussy in response to her question.
OK, good start. Now....
And without another word she clicked the chair into something that looked like a gynecologist chair, placing each of my legs into a groove that held them open.
A piece of the peach robe fell between my knees, giving me a moment of privacy.
She pulled out a tablet and started asking question.
Which of the following do you like: Patchouli? (NO) Orange Blossom? (YES) Rose? (DEPENDS)
When was my last physical?
When was my last period?
How many times had I cum in the last 30 days?
Did I take a daily vitamin?
Any bad habits?
Where did I work?
How many kids?
Parents alive?
Did I exercise?
Was I seeing someone? (I replied is "feeling" the same as "seeing?" and she nodded and paused to type something in, wrinkling her nose with concentration)
Did I wax my pussy?
I didn’t want to answer that, and I paused, so she lifted my robe and then patted my thigh.
Lets start there.
I shake my head. No, not today, how about um….
If you’re pushing back now, this adventure is going to be hell and it isn’t supposed to be. It’s a gift, and you need to make room for it and embrace what is being delivered.
I answer by closing my knees – well, almost closing them because my ankles were a yard away from each other, held loosely in gyno chair cuffs.
Opens a clear vial and drizzles an amaretto scented oil across my girl parts that sends waves of warmth deep into me.
I close my eyes and lean back.
She opens my knees and tells me to take a deep breath.
As I breath in she places a square of linen right above my pussy lips. EXHALE! She commands and I let all my air out while expecting a stab of pain as she rips my hair out.
It doesn’t hurt that badly at all.
I open my knees a bit more and she touches me where my leg and pussy lips meet, here and there, and to sum this up and be exactly exact she played with my pussy 13 different ways.
When it ended she drizzled an orange scented oil across my pussy and then let drops of it fall onto my stomach and my chest. She put the lotion down and then used both hands to rub the oil into my skin from my neck to my knees.
Her strokes were firm and measured and in now way flirty. Her rhythm lulled me into a half sleep and I almost drooled on myself as she worked her hands up and down my back, pausing at the bottom for a second but not sliding her were I very much wanted it to go.
When JLo had finished rubbing every bit of me she stood back and offered me a hand so I could get up.
Seriously? No happy ending? You’re a tease.
She smiled back and me and led me to a tub.
Yay, I’d love a bath but my leg is in a cast.
No problem, I’m prepared with a cast condom.
She pulls out a waterproof thing that zipped over the cast and sealed it from water. Before I can reach out to take it from her she bends down and slides it over my cast. I’ve had a couple of good peeks at her tits today and now I just got the best one. They look utterly delicious. They were half the size of mine (I guess – I can’t tell without more measurements and palpations etc) and suited her perfectly because of how they balanced out her round heart-shaped ass.
I got into the bathtub and let her sponge water from my ankle to my tummy and my neck. She washed my hair while dangling her tits above my face which gave me the courage to reach out and grab one like a thief stealing fruit from a tree.
JLo threw her head back a little to get her hair to move out of the way then asked me if I liked her tits.
I said I was happy to meet them but I need more time to really establish a friendship.
She wrapped a towel around my wet hair, pulled the peach towel back over me and told me there would be time for that, later. I was to dry off and meet her in my closet.
I find the closet easily. It’s larger than most bedrooms and has an island in the center with drawers full of clothes and accessories. A few pieces of clothing line the room, all in my size, none that I’ve ever seen before. I don’t change my clothes (yet) because everything is hard with a cast on. This robe was enough, right?
In the second drawer to theleft I found a black lacy bra and slipped my robe off just long enough to pull the bra on. I searched for matching panties and came up with a silky thong. Score.
JLo walked in just then and commented that she hadn’t actually told me to get dressed but she liked what I chose.
Thanks I said and pulled the robe down to show off my tits.
Which drawers did you find those in?
I point at this one, then that one.
She nods her head and asks if I have looked in the bottom drawer yet.
No.
Open it.
I do, and THAT’S where I found a cafeteria line up of vibrators, nipple clamps and dildos and plugs of shapes sizes and textures.
All for me?
JLo shook her head. No, you can’t use any of it alone. That’s part of the therapy tonight. Tomorrow is a different matter. Pick out three things.
Three things?
I pick out what looks like the strongest vibrator, then I choose white art-deco looking nipple clamps and a small clear butt plug.
Good choice she says and asks me to follow her to the bedroom, and I go so fast I almost trip over myself.
Much like my nurse friend, JLo settles me between pillows and gets the toys out.
Unlike my friend, JLo is silent while she does, but I sense she wants to tell me something, so I ask.
If I explain it all to you, can you promise to still listen tomorrow to what they tell you and act like it's the first time you heard it?
I don't agree. I don't even understand the question, but OK, maybe if I leave room for her to repeat herself, she will. She does.
I want to tell you what's up, but that's not my job. You find out tomorrow but I don't think you should have to wait. Now, tell you or don't tell you?
Tell me.
OK. In this camp everyone is assigned to do something huge that they've never done before. A lot of people have to write books, finish degrees, run a marathon, read 50 books, stuff like that. But my nurse filled out my intake profile indicating I had done 96 out of 100 things on the list.
The only things I hadn't done that could be assigned for me to achieve were:
34: Visit California
45: Learn to Fly a Plane
78: Ride a horse
99: Have sex with a woman (both with AND without Carman)
I'm here for #99?
Yes, that's what they're assigning you. Aren't you excited?
I shake my head. Wait, no, just a random hookup? And where is the Carman?
She smiled. The Carman said start without him, he'll join in if he can.
Let's go, I'll start right now!
I'd love to, but it doesn't count if we don't get it documented etc. You need to wait until tomorrow for all that. But in the meantime, open your robe so I can click this on your fat nipples.
Fat
nipples?
Yes. Fat nipples. and a delicious pussy that is going to get a workout tomorrow.
Seriously, I'm here for sex? With who?
JLo shrugged her shoulders and then said she'd be leaving me alone with my happy toys now.
