HEATHER CARLSON, RN by Greybeard
I was walking through a local Shopping Mall, and paused in front of a small shop that sells uniforms. In the window was a mannequin dressed in a green surgical scrub suit. As I looked at the window's reflection of a tall man with a grey beard, my mind flowed back to the Summer of 1973, when I had an encounter with an incredible woman.
When she entered a room, everyone was immediately aware of her presence. Heather was tall and walked with the quiet grace that comes from earned self-confidence. Certainly not the slim body of a super model, but yet the flair of her hips were understated in comparison to her long graceful legs and her breasts were comfortably proportional to her slender frame. But all of those thoughts receded into the background the moment you saw her face. Her angular features with those high cheekbones were dominated by dark brown eyes, and framed by shoulder length jet-black hair that made her flawless complexion sparkle like pink porcelain. Her smile was warm, but muted, and as she walked into my room, I could sense her warmth and I was at ease despite the fact that Heather Carlson, RN was here to prepare me for surgery.
She came into my hospital room humming softly and pushing a cart. She closed the door and looked into my eyes, smiled and said " Hi, Bobby. I looked into her eyes and I was speechless. There was the tall skinny girl that went out with me once, taught me many things, and just as quickly disappeared when her father was transferred to another state. She smiled back and said "sure is a small world isn't it. We can catch up on old times, but right now we need to get you ready for tomorrows surgery."
She pulled aside my sheet and in a soft voice said " let me help you take off your pajama bottoms". Still maintaining eye contact, she slipped the fabric past my ankles, but when she looked down, her professional demure slipped a little and she whispered " Oh My God, that is a big one".
I know what you are thinking, but I must admit that I am really quite average, and what impressed her was not my penis, which she had seen before, but a scrotum that would have been the envy of an Angus Bull. The small holes on the abdominal wall that are supposed to heal shut after a baby's testacies have moved into their protective sack, had opened and over the last year, my scrotum was stretched as it slowly filled with fluid. I first noticed the heaviness after returning from my tour in South East Asia. I did not say anything because the Army does things as it's own pace, and I did not want my discharge held up, maybe for months while they got around to taking care of non-emergency surgery. Luckily the doctor who performed my discharge physical let me pass with a stern lecture about getting it taken care off right away.
Repairing a Hydrocele is a simple procedure that closes the holes again, and if I had followed orders, the doctor would have taken care of me at the outpatient clinic. To save time and expense, I would have been asked to shave myself, and make sure that my bowels were cleaned out the night before. But gaining admission to Law School was more important, and I did not have a girl friend to nag me about the fluid's progress. So, I put off seeing a doctor until I was at the point that he wanted to hospitalize me just in case other problems came up. And that is why I was laying on that bed, with a pad under my butt, and a beautiful nurse was preparing to shave off all my hair from my belly button to half way down my legs.
She slipped on a pair of gloves, smiled and said " let me start by softening you up a bit." She covered me with a hot wet towel that felt nice, and at least for the moment helped to cover my growing embarrassment. I was able to keep my emotions under control until the towel came back off and she started rubbing shaving cream on my scrotum and thighs. When her hand swept up around above my penis, to my pubic hair, I could no longer suppress the erection.
I blushed a little but she gently tapped the head with her finger and then smiled and said " we need to leave that until later." I immediately went limp and seeing that razor in her hand was enough to keep me down for the rest of the shaving. I did not even respond when she gently lifted my penis a couple of times to get to the last few hairs.
She rinsed the last of the soap with a wet cloth, and after admiring her handiwork, she smiled and said " I'll bet you are happy that it is warm outside." I was starting to relax but then I heard her say " well I guess it is time for the enema."
I was expecting to see a small disposable Fleet Enema Bottle, but instead, Heather filled a bright red enema bag from the sink in the bathroom, and hung it on a pole next to my bed. I have been through this before, so I started to roll over to the sim's position normally required for enemas, when Heather gently put her hand on my thigh and said " no, we need you on your back so you can perform the collection procedure at the same time."
I gave her a puzzled look and she asked " didn't you tell your doctor that you wanted to save a semen sample?" Then, I remembered that when the surgeon went over the surgical consent form, he explained that one of the rare consequences of the repair might be the damage to the tubes that carry the sperm, and I might not be able father children. So, we agreed that a semen sample should be collected and stored at a local Sperm Bank, just in case. The doctor told me that in order to insure the maximum amount of healthy sperm; I should abstain from ejaculation for a couple days, but not more than four days. That meant that I would have to do it in the night before my scheduled surgery.
Heather attached a large enema nozzle with holes on the sides to the tubing and explained that the warm water would stimulate my prostrate gland and help me produce the maximum amount of semen. I spread my knees and she carefully lifted my swollen scrotum and slowly slipped a well lubricated finger into my rectum and massaged my prostrate gland through the adjoining wall, She whispered " this will get things started ".
My penis started growing and Heather slowly slid the tube in place. Then she held up a large mouth cup in one hand, and a sterile condom in the other, and asked " are you a squirter or a dribbler?" Well, I had not been able shoot the stuff over my head anymore, but I was still young enough that it didn't just pour out of me either, so we agreed that maybe it would be safer to collect the semen in the condom. In one quick motion, she had my very stiff penis covered, and then I heard the click and the water started to flow into my bowels.
She looked deep into my eyes trying to ignore my groin and said " I can't leave the room, but I'll turn around until you are done."
I looked back at that angelic face and then down to the tell tale tips of her erect nipple straining against her blouse. My mind flowed back 10 years when Heather had taught me how to get rid of my wet dreams. So, I whispered " I am sure that if you would help me again, I would have better results."
She sighed, and said " OK, just promise me that you won't tell the doctor." She sat on a chair next to my bed, facing me so she could watch the enema bag as it slowly flattened. With an almost a feather like touch, she stroked first the bottom side of my penis and then encircling it with her thumb and forefinger, she started to stroke up and down the shaft. My groin was alive with sensations of first warmth and then pressure from the water flowing into my bowels and the wonderful combination of pain and pleasure as Heather urged my body to give up it's load of semen.
I reached out and laid my hand on Heather's knee. Without loosing eye contact, she winked and parted her legs slightly so that I could continue forward until my fingers were just touching her crotch. I could feel the warmth radiating through the fabric of her scrub suit, and there was a new odor in the room. When I pushed a little farther and started to rub my thumb just below her mound, she shut her eyes for a moment and we both started to breath a little heavier, almost in unison. She leaned forward a little, and I was able to reach out with my other hand and cup her breast.
The enema bag was almost empty now. Both my thumbs were busy, one between her legs and the other worrying her swollen nipple through the thin fabric, and from the look on her face, I could tell that she not far from an orgasm. I was nearly there, but it felt like my bowels might empty before the condom was filled, and between gasps, I said, " if we don't do something quick, I am going to make a big mess on the bed". Heather looked down at my swollen belly, and my hard penis, and hesitated for just a moment. After taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth and inhaled the latex covered head and started to suck hard and at the same time furiously pumped my shaft. My fingers grasped her groin, just as she started to shudder. My penis, still in her mouth, exploded a few minutes later filling the condom, in several spurts that matched the rhythm of my rectum pulsating against the enema nozzle.
Just in the nick of time, we came down from our climatic highs and Heather clamped the hose and helped me into the bathroom. She slowly dragged the latex off my deflated penis and left me alone to empty my bowels. When the first rush of water poured out, I felt an ache deep in my groin that must have been my prostrate gland rejoicing over another completed mission. I started to get up once but Heather looked over her shoulder and cautioned that I might not be done. She was right, but after a couple more noisy splashes in the toilet, We heard a loud fart, and I knew that I was ready for bed. Heather tucked me in and then kissed me gently. Before turning off the lights, she wrote her phone number on a tongue depressor and said " this is just in case you need a private duty nurse while you are recovering." But that is another story
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