The Night Nurse - A Little Taste of Maya

By night, he's their guardian. In the dark, he becomes their violation, exploiting the paralyzed, the comatose, and the locked-in for his own twisted pleasure.

Disclaimer: Welcome to a world where forbidden desire is the only rule. This story is part of a collection where all lines are meant to be crossed. If you keep reading, you're already on the other side.
Reader discretion is advised.
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This is a new character.

The dull, heavy ache in Kyle Manning’s blue balls were a constant, throbbing reminder of his current misery. It was a physical manifestation of the heartbreak currently shattering his world. Two hours ago, he found out his girlfriend, Sarah, wasn't just "busy"—she was balls-deep in his best friend, Mike. The betrayal had been a sucker punch to the gut, followed immediately by the most intense blue balls of his life.
Kyle, twenty-two years old, stood in the nurses' station at Angel’s Care, staring at the roster with a scowl that could curdle milk. He was a good-looking guy, tall with a runner’s build and a jawline that could cut glass, but right now, his dark hair was disheveled, and his eyes were bloodshot. He had the patience of a rattlesnake.
It was midnight, and the hospital was a zoo. A sudden wave of COVID-19 cases had hit the hospital, and the staff on his ward was down six nurses—three men, three women. The place was a chaotic symphony of beeping monitors, shouting orders, and the sound of people coughing into their sleeves.
"Kyle," Brenda, the charge nurse, barked, looking harried. She was a middle-aged woman with a clipboard that looked like it could crush a skull. "You're on Hot Chick duty. Room 404."
Kyle blinked, his brain still trying to process the betrayal. "Excuse me?"
"Maya," Brenda said, pointing a manicured finger at the file. "Coma patient. Needs a full bed bath and change. You’re the only one left on the floor that’s free right now, so you’re stuck with her. The family is gone, the other nurses are swamped. You’re up."
Kyle looked at her, then at the file. "I’m a guy, Brenda. We don’t do intimate care for female patients, especially a bed bath. And it’s 404. That’s Maya, she’s fourteen."
"I know," Brenda said, not looking up from her paperwork. "There are no female nurses are available. If you don't do it, the patient gets dirty, and the administration will have my head. Just wipe her down, wash her hair, and put fresh pajamas on her. Get it done."
Kyle ran a hand through his hair. He was exhausted, and now, more pissed off. The last thing he wanted to do was get intimate with a comatose patient. "And if I get caught? If I'm seen handling a naked patient? A kid!"
Brenda finally looked up, a dry, knowing smirk playing on her lips. "We’re too short handed for you to be seen. Be a big boy, Kyle. You can handle it. I won’t tell if you don’t."
With a grunt of annoyance, "Fine. Whatever." Kyle left to get the wash cart.
Maya Connors was in her own room, with an en suite unit. So, there would be privacy, that was a plus.
He walked down the hall to Room 404, pushing the wash cart. The place was a ghost ward. The silence of the pediatric ward was different from the adult ICU. It was softer, filled with the quiet hum of equipment and the occasional rustle of linen.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the soft glow of the monitors surrounding the bed. In the center lay Maya.
Kyle stopped dead in his tracks.
She was a young girl, she looked around fifteen or sixteen. She had been in a car accident—head trauma, the chart said. Her hair was a cascade of pale, golden-brown silk that spilled over the pillow. Her skin was so pale it looked translucent, a stark contrast to the dark sheets. Her eyelashes were long and dark, resting heavily against her cheeks.
She was, without a doubt, the "Hot Chick" Brenda had called her. She was breathtakingly beautiful, a sleeping angel who looked untouched by the world.
Kyle set the basin down on the bedside table. He looked at her for a long moment, his annoyance with his day fading, replaced by a sudden, sharp curiosity. He pulled the sheet back.
She was wearing pajamas, cotton and soft. Kyle hesitated for a second, then he reached under the little girl, and sat her up, then lifted the top off. She had the most adorable small breasts. His cock twitched at seeing them. He lay her back down, and proceeded to remove her pants. He stepped back a little, his eyes scanning her body.
She was perfect. Her chest rose and fell with a rhythmic, shallow breath, the motion barely perceptible. Her waist was slender, her hips flared just enough to be alluring. There wasn't a blemish on her skin, not a scar, not a mark. She looked like a doll, a living, breathing masterpiece.
Kyle felt a familiar tightening in his groin. He was horny again—his blue balls were screaming at him, demanding release. He looked at Maya, then at the basin of water, cloths and sponges.
"Okay," he muttered. "Let's get this over with."
Maya lay naked under the hospital lights, her body pale and serene. Kyle wet the washcloth, wrung it out, and began to wash her breasts – but all he could think off was sucking on those tender nipples.
He shook the thought off.
His hands were smooth and moisturized, the skin worn soft from the constant, harsh hand-washing required at the hospital. He had the careful, clinical touch of a healer, and they felt perfect against her soft skin. He washed her arms, her shoulders, her neck. He was efficient, methodical, but his eyes kept drifting from her face, her lips, her neck, down her perfect breasts, subtle stomach to well-groomed young pussy.
As he moved down to her stomach, his fingers brushed against the soft curve of her hip. He lingered there, his thumb tracing the bone. He felt a strange urge to touch her, not just to clean her, but to feel her.
He moved the washcloth between her legs. She was clean, but he still needed to wash the area. He parted her thighs, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was a guy in a hospital room alone with a naked girl—severely against policy. It was a big deal, and to make it worse, his mind was still racing with thoughts of Sarah and Mike, the betrayal, the anger. The situation felt charged with electricity.
He dipped the washcloth into the water and began to clean her intimately. He was gentle at first, just washing the outer lips, but then he felt something. A wetness.
Kyle froze. He pulled his hand back and stared at his fingers. It was then that he realized he’d forgotten to put on gloves. How? Why? And his finger, they were glistening with moisture.
"What the fuck?" he whispered.
He looked at Maya. Her face was slack, her eyes closed. She didn't react. But the evidence was undeniable. She was wet.
Kyle’s brain scrambled for a second. Was it the water? No, it was too thick. It was her. She was getting turned on just from being touched.
A surge of adrenaline, mixed with lust and arrogance, shot through him. He had a beautiful, naked girl lying on a bed, and she was responding to him. He was the one making her wet.
"Okay," he said, his voice dropping an octave. He tossed the washcloth into the basin. He reached out, his fingers spreading her labia. He touched her clit, just a light graze with his thumb.
She shuddered.
Kyle grinned. It was a dark, predatory grin. "Oh, this is on, baby."
He didn't stop. He leaned in closer, his face inches from her pussy. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent—a sweet, musky smell that made his mouth water. He lowered his head and licked her.
The taste was intoxicating. She was sweet, like honey, and incredibly hot. He licked her again, harder this time, his tongue exploring the folds of her sex. He found her clit and circled it with his tongue. And he lapped at her pussy over and over again, then he took her clit in his mouth, making love to it with his tongue.
Maya’s body arched off the bed. Her head turned from side to side. Her breathing hitched, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Kyle pulled back for a second, watching her face. She was moaning, a soft, unintelligible sound escaping her lips. She was having an orgasm.
He grinned again, his ego swelling. He went back to work, his tongue flicking against her clit, his fingers spreading her wider. He wanted to make her cum again. She was in a coma—could he make her scream?
And then, she did, but it was low and weak. Not loud enough for anyone to hear. This made him smile.
Her body convulsed. Her legs kicked out, her heels striking the mattress. She cried out, her back arching so high it looked painful. Her hips bucked against his face, grinding herself into his mouth.
Kyle swallowed, his own mouth watering. He pulled back, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.
"What the fuck," he breathed, staring at her. She was still spasming, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her climax. She was beautiful. She was incredible.
He looked down at his own body. His cock was straining against his scrubs, a massive, painful erection. He needed to get off. He needed to fuck something.
He looked back at Maya. She was slowing down, her breathing returning to normal, though her chest was still heaving. She was laying there, flushed, her legs slightly apart, her pussy glistening with his saliva.
Kyle reached down and unbuttoned his pants. He pulled them down along with his boxers, freeing his cock. It was thick, purple, and angry. He gripped it in his hand and gave it a few pumps.
He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between her legs. He didn't bother with any foreplay. He didn't need it. He just wanted to be inside her.
He lined himself up with her opening. He pushed forward.
He expected her to be tight, but he wasn't prepared for how tight. She was like a vice. He groaned, his head falling back, as he forced his way past her resistance. He felt a barrier, a thin sheet of skin, give way.
He broke her hymen.
Maya’s head arched back for a split second, there was a look of shock and pain crossing her face, but she didn't wake up. Her body went rigid for a moment, then relaxed, accepting him.
Kyle gasped. He was inside her. He was fucking a coma patient.
"Fuck yeah," he muttered.
He began to move. He pulled out until just the tip was inside, then slammed back in, all the way to the hilt. He set a fast, hard rhythm, his hips slapping against her thighs. He was grunting, his eyes closed, lost in the sensation. The sound of their bodies joining filled the quiet room, a stark contrast to the rhythmic beeping of the monitors.
He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. He fucked her hard, using her body like a warm, living doll. He didn't care about her pleasure, or her pain. He only cared about his own release.
He watched her face as he fucked her. She arched her back again. She was reacting to him, her body responding to his thrusts. Her hips were bucking slightly, meeting him halfway.
Kyle felt his own orgasm building. It was going to be huge. He pounded into her harder and faster, his balls slapping against her ass.
"Here it comes," he growled.
He thrust one last time, as deep as he could go, and released. He filled her tight, beautiful pussy with his hot seed. He groaned, his body shaking as he emptied himself into her.
He collapsed on top of her for a second, his chest heaving. He pulled out, his cock softening slightly. He looked down at his work. His cum was leaking out of her, mixed with her juices.
He sat up, a satisfied smirk on his face. He felt like a king. He had taken what he wanted. He had used her, and she had loved it.
He reached for the basin of water and the washcloth. He cleaned her up, wiping away the evidence of his visit. He washed her pussy, making sure he got every drop. Then he washed his own cock, cleaning it off.
He pulled his pants back up and buttoned them. He looked at Maya one last time. She was still lying there, her body covered in a light sheen of sweat. She looked peaceful, almost as if she had been dreaming of him.
Kyle grabbed a fresh pair of pajamas from the drawer. He dressed her, pulling the soft cotton pants up over her legs and tucking the shirt around her. He pulled the sheet back up to her chin.
He stood up and looked at her. "Thank you, Maya," he whispered. He kissed her, “You were amazing!”
He turned and walked out of the room, the sound of the wash cart rolling. He closed the door behind him.
As he walked down the hall, the anger and the sadness from earlier were gone. They had been replaced by a dark, hungry satisfaction. He had gotten what he wanted. He had released his blue balls, and he had done it in the most depraved way possible.
To the most exquisite virgin little pussy.
He stopped at the nurses' station. Brenda was still there, buried in her clipboard.
"Done," Kyle said.
Brenda looked up, a skeptical look on her face. "You actually did it? And she's clean?"
"She's clean," Kyle said, his voice smooth. "Who's next."
Brenda raised an eyebrow. "Room 395, needs a bedpan changed in about fiveteen minutes– mom’s still present. Won’t go home."
Kyle grinned, a flash of his predatory charm. "We’ll see about that."
He walked away, heading back to the breakroom. He was tired, but he was also energized. He had a new mission now.
He thought about the other patients on the ward. The ones who were lonely, the ones who were helpless.
His mind began to race with possibilities. Who was next? Who else was waiting for him to give them a "bed bath"?
He wasn't sure yet, but he knew one thing for sure. He wasn't going back to Sarah. And his friendship with Mike was done. He was going to find his own kind of fun, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.
Kyle Manning, the predator, had just tasted his first meal, and he was hungry for more.

Should I continue? Let me know in the comments section! Or email me your thoughts!
The Night Nurse – 1
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My world is built on shared desires and whispered sins. Now, I invite you to add to the silence. Leave a comment with your thoughts on the story, or offer something more forbidden: a true experience. Let me weave it into the life of a character, giving your secret a new voice. [email protected]