The Night Nurse - Addicted to Amanda

As a Night Nurse, Kyle's dark tastes go unnoticed. He takes another taste of comatose Maya, then claims sleeping Amanda's virginity in the shadows of the ward.

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.
_________________________________________________
If you haven’t read the previous stories of The Night Nurse tap on my name!

The long, fluorescent-lit corridor of Ashcroft Medical Center felt like a tomb. Kyle had just come off his fifteen-minute break, the taste of stale coffee still on his tongue, and he wasn’t looking forward to the long list of chores he had to burn through before his shift ended.
“Hey, hold up!” called a fellow nurse named Tony, carrying a stack of towels. Kyle turned to face his friend.
“What’s up?” Kyle asked. He knew Tony was about to go on break.
“Could you drop these off at room 404, the coma patient?” The look of tiredness and desperation in his eyes was plain. Tony was one of the good ones; he owed him a favor.
Kyle didn’t say anything, just reached out.
“You’re a good mate—I need my break!” Tony was gone as soon as he’d arrived.
Room 404. Maya.
There was a little activity in other areas of the ward, but no one near Maya’s room. No one going in or out.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, snapping the blinds on the door window shut for privacy. He didn’t have the time he’d like to have with her, but beggars can’t be choosers.
He wanted to try something he hadn’t before. He lowered the bed rail, positioning her perfectly. He pulled her unconscious body toward the edge of the bed and turned her onto her side, facing him. He took hold of her jaw. This was an experiment he was interested in trying, something he’d heard from another nurse.
He pried her lips open and placed two fingers inside.
“Fuck me,” Kyle breathed, the words escaping before he could stop them. He froze, listening. The only sound was the rhythmic beep of her heart monitor. He released Maya and crept back to the door, peeking through the blind. An empty corridor. No nurses in sight.
He returned to Maya. This time, he unzipped his fly and pulled out his already hard cock, pulling her limp head closer to the edge of the bed. He slipped his hard-on between her lips.
He felt it instantly—the instinctive, reflexive suck action. It was a soft, rhythmic pulse, a ghost of a real blowjob. He started slow, savoring the novelty, the absolute control. He went deeper, testing the limits of her throat, and the sensation was incredible. He loved it. He fucked her face with a steady rhythm, her mouth working not as strongly as if she were awake, but nonetheless, a blowjob was still a blowjob. With his own powerful strokes, he was soon ready to feed her.
“Yes,” he hissed, and he filled her mouth with his cum. He watched her throat work as she swallowed reflexively.
“Good girl… I’ve missed you,” he whispered.
Just then, he heard the loud crash of a bedpan hitting the floor, followed by a string of swearing and the quick response of a nurse nearby. He pulled out, his heart hammering. He grabbed a paper towel, roughly wiping her face. He didn’t have time to check her breathing. He was gone.

He got back on track with is duties when he saw Brenda, the charge nurse, hunched over the nurses’ station like a gargoyle. She looked even more frustrated than usual, a permanent state for her.
“Hey Brenda,” he said, forcing a cheerfulness he didn’t feel. “I thought you had the night off?”
She didn’t look up, her pen scratching furiously on a chart. “Carol had to go home. Her mom’s taken ill.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Kyle said, already starting to move past. “I’m heading to the boys’ ward, 201. If you need me…”
“Actually, you’re the guy I need.” Her pen stopped. She finally lifted her head, and her eyes locked onto his.
It was a look he knew, a look that meant his simple night of taking vitals and checking IV bags was about to get complicated. Then, a slow, predatory smile spread across her lips. “Okay, what have you got in mind for me?” he asked, his own smile fading. He didn’t like where this was going.
“We just had a psych patient brought in from the ER. Sixteen-year-old girl. She stinks. From what I hear, she was in the middle of a punch-up with some johns and then a cop. All reports say she went berserk, had to be tazed. When she got up here, she had to be sedated.” Brenda put her clipboard down with a thud. “They’re not getting to her tonight to start tests—too much going on downstairs. But we do need to get her presentable for the morning crew.” Their eyes met, and Kyle knew exactly what his next task was.
"Kyle, can you handle it – she’s in room 418? She needs a clean and change. I have to go re-program the IV pump for 205 and it's going to take me an hour. Carol's leaving left us backed up."
“Nobody will be coming by?” he asked, the idea of cleaning up a vagrant already making his stomach turn.
“Grab the wash cart,” she said, ignoring his question and handing him a slip of paper. “Here’s a list of her sizes. Grab some pajamas and other items from the storeroom. All hers are getting burned, per the instructions I got. They reek of urine, alcohol, and who knows what else!” She gave him one last dismissive wave. “Nobody’s coming near her tonight. You’ve got the room to yourself.”
Kyle grabbed the necessary cart, its wheels squeaking in protest. He loaded it with disposable bags for the patient’s clothes and headed towards the designated room, 418. It was a private room, a small mercy. He smiled when he saw through the small window in the door that she was out cold, but the smile vanished as he stepped inside and the smell hit him. Brenda wasn’t kidding. It was a nauseating cocktail of stale piss, cheap vodka, and something acridly metallic, like old blood. He closed the blinds on the door.
The girl on the bed was a mess. Her face was smeared with grime, her clothes—an oversized men’s hoodie and jeans—were filthy and hanging off her frame. He grabbed her chart from the foot of the bed and laughed softly. “Good evening Amanda Young, I’m going to be taking care of you tonight.” he pauses scanning for one line in particular, “An IM injection of haloperidol and lorazepam… you are truly out of it,” he said, a quiet tone, looking down at her still form. He pulled a surgical mask over his face to fight off the stench and snapped on a pair of latex gloves.
He started his examination, his touch clinical at first. This person completely put him off; the smell was offensive, and she didn’t look appealing, or even attractive under the layers of dirt. But she had two things going for her: a really cool jacket, maybe leather, and a pair of great combat boots. He rolled her gently onto her side and worked an arm free from the sleeve, then the other. He bagged the jacket, setting it aside. The boots came off next, easy. He rolled her over again. They joined to jacket to be saved. Checking the clothes, he confirmed Brenda’s assessment. It stunk of urine and vodka, but a closer examination revealed she didn’t piss herself—she’d been pissed on. Slapped around, and god only knows what else.
He took out a pair of heavy-duty scissors and began cutting her clothes from her body. He started with the outer layers, the fabric parting with a satisfying snip. He worked inward, slicing through the stained t-shirt and the damp jeans. When he finally cut away the soiled panties and the frayed bra, he stood back. His cock twitched.
Beneath the filth, she was a beautiful Black teenager, with a to-die-for body. He reconsidered her face. He had to find out for himself.
He took a warm washcloth from the cart and began to gently clean her face. He wiped away the grime, the dirt, the faint traces of blood. The face he revealed was the right face for this incredible body. A gorgeous, timeless face with perfect, high cheekbones and full lips, even in sleep. Her chocolate skin tone was perfection, a rich, deep brown that made his mouth water. As he cleaned her neck and shoulders, the first of her secrets was revealed: a delicate, trailing vine of tiny, star-like constellations that dipped from behind her ear and down the elegant curve of her collarbone. It was a roadmap to her breasts, and he could make love to those high, firm globes all night long—breasts that were now perfectly revealed, their dark, tight nipples like the center of their own private galaxy.
He soon discovered her hair was grossly matted, stinking of urine and grime. He found the right shampoo on the cart, filled a basin from the en-suite bathroom, and meticulously washed her hair, working the suds through the tangled strands until they were soft and clean. As he worked his way down her body, washing her flat stomach and curving hips, he found more. On her left hip, a single, perfect lotus flower in bloom, its petals unfurling just above the swell of her hip. He lingered there, washing the ink with a reverence usually reserved for the act itself. His gaze drifted lower, taking in the unobstructed view of her teenage sex—the delicate curve of her lips, the subtle parting revealing the small, sensitive bud of her clit nestled within. He worked until she was perfect. She didn’t look anything like the blacked-out vagrant who got her ass tazed and ended up here.
His cock was pulsing at such an obstructed view of female perfection.
He pulled out his phone. He wanted memories. He took photos from every angle, her face, her breasts, the curve of her hips, her tantalizing pussy. making sure to capture the art that adorned her. Then, he stripped off his own clothes, his cock already hard and straining.
He rolled her onto her belly, placing a pillow under her hips to elevate her perfect ass. He spread her cheeks, his fingers probing her pussy from behind. She was tight, but she got wet easily, her body responding even in its deep, drug-induced sleep. After a few strokes , savoring her, he coated a finger in her slickness and slowly plunged it into her ass, working it in and out, loosening the tight passage before adding a second finger. Once they went in easily, he lubed his cock with her juices and gently pushed it into her ass. He rested on top of her. Feeling her breath. As he was hilt deep. He fucked her slowly, savoring the feeling of her tight heat gripping him. He raised himself and grabbed handfuls of her beautiful ass cheeks, rocking into her until he couldn’t hold back any longer and filled her with his cum.
He pulled out the pillow and rolled her over onto her back. He wasn’t done. He went down on her, his tongue exploring her folds, tasting her arousal. It wasn’t long before her unconscious body began to tremble to his attack on her clit, her back arching slightly. She was having an orgasm, a silent, breathless convulsion of pleasure.
He was hard again by the time she stilled. He plunged his cock into her pussy, deep and hard, only to meet an unexpected resistance. Her hymen. He paused, a wide smile spreading across his face. Oh, what sweet luck. A cherry. He loved cherries. With a brutal thrust, he punched through. He fucked this beautiful Black girl deep, with long, powerful strokes, and she was so wet for him. He leaned down, his chest pressing against her breasts as he fucked her in the missionary position, and he kissed her. She didn’t kiss back but she was responsive. He fucked her hard, and she orgasmed a couple more times, her body shaking with the force of his depth and insistence. And she didn’t wake up—which was a real turn on for him.

As he felt his own orgasm building, he pulled out and moved up her body. He pried her mouth open and slid his cock inside. To his shock and amazement, her lips closed around him, a soft, reflexive suction. He fucked her mouth with a slow pace, nearly pulling his cock out, it was taking longer to cum this time, which he loved. Her getting pregnant could be suspicious, and he wasn’t willing to take that risk. That’s why he decided to fill her mouth. He so wanted to deep-throat her but was scared she’d choke or worse. So, he took her face in his hands, and taking his time, fucked her face, her lips clamped around him. When he came again, she swallowed every shot he gave her.
He kissed and tasted her body one last time, starting with her breasts, sucking the nipples until they were pebbled points. He was hard again, but he was out of time.
He quickly dressed her in the clean hospital pajamas, his hands lingering on her perfect form. He disposed of the burnable clothes in the hazardous waste bin, wiped down the cart, and left the room, pulling the door quietly shut behind him. The corridor was still empty. He whistled softly as he walked away, the phone in his pocket feeling heavy with his new memories.
His work was done.

The Night Nurse – 3
________________________________________________
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 a character's lif, giving your secret a new voice. [email protected]