The Kinky Nurse and her Cuckolding ways

Transcript

I've been staring at the door for over 20 minutes, desperate for it to open. I'm willing it to move, but it remains motionless. She's running late.

She must have been held up, probably giving a bit extra attention to someone else. That would be typical of the woman. She's rarely on time, and always makes a short but genuine apology when she arrives.

The door opens, I hear a click of heels that announce her arrival. I love the sound. Crispy, classy and confident.

It's a pretty good summary of the woman. My eyes are focused on the floor by the door. Which shoes will she be wearing? Stiletto court ones with the red soles, the ankle leather boots, tassels on the side zip and a scarf mark on the back of the heel.

I've built up a pretty good idea of her shoe collection over the weeks and have my favourites. Her footwear is invariably sexy. Today's are probably the hottest of the lot.

Sky high, slingbacks. My eyes move up her legs. She makes her way slowly towards me.

She looks so good in heels. They pull her calves tight. They make her long, slender legs look incredible.

They push her hips in and her enchanting arse out. Sheer black stockings draw my gaze up. Sort of short, tight fitting skirt.

It contrasts with a crisp, white blouse. Her hair is pulled back as you'd expect in a place like this. Matching strands are left loose in a sway in the most sensuous of ways as they brush each other off her cheeks.

Come on there, San. Look at me. Oh, I'm looking.

I'm looking alright. Black eyeliner sweeps beyond the corner of the lid. Extending a wink to all you notice.

Her long lashes are laced with mascara, setting off her hazel irises brilliantly. She applies it immaculately. There's never a smudge.

And the colour coordination is perfect. Her lipstick matches her nail polish. I'm no expert, but I think the colour's called Nude.

No colour could be more appropriate for Dr. Kitana as she encourages us to call her. Her second name is so hard to pronounce.

I saw it on her lanyard, memorised it and masked it. Catches her by surprise when I use it. Her face erupts into a glorious smile.

A smile with nude lips. God, all I'd give to see the rest of her nude right now. I'm sorry I'm late.

I got held up, she says without looking at me. She picks up the board, clips over the rail at the bottom of my bed and runs a long finger down the digits and data that express the entirety of my existence these days. What is she looking at? Oxygen levels, pulse, blood pressure? I'm acutely aware that my pulse has quickened since her arrival.

I can feel my face begin to glow. She lifts a limp arm from the bed. Tubes, cannulas and drips prevent me moving it much.

I'm not in any pain and if I'm honest, there's a bit of me that rather enjoys shaving. Limited motion when she comes into my room. Before I ended up here, I was keen to try out a bit of restraint.

BDSM rather appealed. Sounded fun and I definitely wanted to give it a go. Never really had the opportunity to try it out though.

But I'd listened to a podcast by The Dominatrix and got really turned on when she described how she used a paddle on her clients. Naturally, I'd also watched plenty of sex videos featuring leather-clad models tying people up and running long fingernails across breasts, pricks and balls. I feel the tips of her nails on my skin as she tries to locate my pulse.

She pulls her face. Do you feel a little hot? She asks.

She raises the thermometer to my ear and gently brushes my hair away, allowing me to feel those nails again. She looked at it, nodded and then moved around the room. I nodded.

I'm getting much hotter. I felt like adding. She came over to take my blood pressure.

She says and turns to the trolley at the far end of the room. Her ass is almost visible through the tight skirt. I see her buttcheeks pull the fabric as she walks away from me, one foot slightly overstepping the other, giving her hips a delicious little wiggle.

As she moves, a thought rushes into my mind. Perhaps that walk is for me. Like she's putting on a bit of a show.

A special treat for a patient who can pronounce her second name. No, that can't be true. It must be this cocktail of drugs playing with my mind.

She's my female doctor. Come on, get a grip. But that grip casts my mind back to the sad reality of my own unfulfilled sexuality.

The list of sexual deeds I'd like to do is huge. The number of pleasures I have ticked off that list is a tiny. Once I am out of here, when I am better, things are going to be different.

I'm bloody well going to have the edgy, risky, reckless sex I crave. This is the sex I need and have always needed. This is the type of sex that's fundamental to my existence.

As Dr. Katana returns, pushing the trolley laden with an electronic observation kit, I can definitely feel the stirrings of physical sexual urge. This is the first time I've been aware of my cocc since I've been in here.

How long is that? Four weeks or more? I'm not sure.

I forget. Let's take a look. She slowly slips a grey fabric cuff up my arm and wraps it around the exposed flesh under my shoulder.

Her fingers trace a line over my skin which tingles under her touch. She pulls the strapping tight as she fastens the velcro. She makes eye contact with me and I'm convinced that she just winks.

My cocc begins to grow. A delicious idea comes into my mind. Perhaps she has a secret side.

Perhaps she's an exhibitionist who loves to strip at the classiest, most exclusive of sex clubs. The swelling of my cocc is mirrored by the growing constriction of the cuff and she takes a blood pressure reading. It's tight.

Too tight. My arm's gonna burst. She mumbles to herself.

Not good. My mind wanders. Perhaps it's the rocketing pressure in my arm.

I find it hard to focus. She says something. I can't make it out.

But I think she's saying she's gonna do something to bring my blood pressure down to make me feel a little bit more comfortable. She removes her white coat and then, unbelievably, does a button on her blouse. The tight band on my arm is like a noose being pulled hard.

My cocc. My dear old friend. Suddenly and triumphantly breaks loose from my surgical gown and creates a peak in the bedsheets.

With tubes connected to my arms and legs incredibly weak, I am rendered virtually motionless. But the fact that I am unable to move vastly intensifies the experience. Right now, the only mobile part of my central body seems to be my cocc and it is pulsing in tone with the throbbing in my arm.

Held in the vice-like grip of the blood pressure machine, she loses the second button and becomes seductively stripped of black underwear. My focus jumps back. This is wrong.

This shouldn't be happening. This isn't right. Are the words I should shout out? But I remain silent.

Deep down, I know I want this to continue. It's more than I want. It's a visceral need.

Being teased by a beautiful, hot, powerful woman while being tied up is high on that sexual wish list of mine. As Dr. Kitana raises a cheeky eyebrow and looks right into my eyes, I'm conscious that I am physically constrained and fuck me does it feel good.

The white coat is gone. So is the blouse. Any traces of medical trappings, stethoscope, pen, clipboard? Gone.

Kitana is wearing a lacy top with a matching bra and a g-string. As she approaches the side of my bed, my erection grows. So good to feel hard again.

To feel alive. She bends over and the black lace trim of her bra is visible and just beyond that, the curve of her breast. I can't quite see her nipple, but the bra is pretty transparent and if she would just bend a bit more, I might catch a glimpse of it.

My erection, after that thought, is complete and holds the sheet up like a tent pole. Fuck. She has seen it.

She peels back the sheet, looks at my cock and gives me a nod of appreciation. She spins round, walks away in that seductive manner of before and brushes her ass against the doorframe. She rushes her hands over her thighs, up to her breasts, then drops them to her knickers.

Slipping her thumbs under the straps, she tests their elasticity and pulls them to her knees. She stares at me, purses her lips and whips off her tiny knickers. The transformation from medical consultant to stripper is complete, turning to face me square on while I feast on her pussy.

It's perfect. The thinnest of lines of immaculately trimmed pubic hair, end a little above her clit hood. I see a glisten of wetness on her lips.

Something else catches the light. She has a silver butt plug in her hand. My eyes dart back to her gorgeous pussy and by the time I look up again, the silver tool is in her mouth.

A heart shape protrudes from her lips. My heart somersaults as she rolls it with her tongue, coating it with her saliva. She turns, buttcheeks facing me, then bending low with legs athletically straight, gently eases the plug into her arsehole.

Precum is pouring out of my cock. My hands for free, I'll be rubbing it down my shaft, lubing myself up. The fact that I can't touch myself only has the effect of intensifying the feelings I have at the end of my cock.

A huge drip of my lube is eased out over my helmet and is slowly trickling towards my frenulum, my magic spot. Contact is made in my nerves jangle. My cock jerks involuntarily, sending another trickle of silvery fluid down my shaft.

It merges with the earlier stream and like two raindrops joining forces on a window pane, they combine and slide quickly down the back of my peric to my balls. The glug of precum traces a delicious line over my balls. I feel every millimetre of its movement until the circumnavigation is complete and it heads across my perineum and makes it to my arsehole.

Both of our arseholes are now enveloped in pleasure, shared sensations. She pulls up a chair, swings her legs over it in a fine burlesque style, sits and parts her legs and presents her pussy and her bejewelled butts. Her delicate fingers, which moments ago had been taking my pulse, stroke her lips and circle her clit.

I can see the pleasure this gives her as her head drops back and she moans ever so slightly. I yearn to class my cock with my fingers. I want to circle my helmet just as she runs her finger around the tip of her clit.

I need to tease out more pre-cum just as she is teasing out her juices. I yearn to class my cock with my fingers. I want to circle my helmet just as she runs her finger around the tip of her clit.

I need to tease out more pre-cum just as she is teasing out her juices. She slides a finger between the folds of her cunt and begins to thrust them finger fucking in and out. The juices are flowing freely and are coating her fingers and her inner thighs.

I imagine that my cock is taking the place of those fingers. I can feel it hovering around her pussy, waiting for her to grasp it and ease it into her. I can virtually sense the moment when my glands make contact with her lips, our juices mingle and I slide deliciously into her warm, welcoming cunts.

198 over 105. I'm getting concerned. Her voice is distant as if coming from another room.

I'm going to try one more procedure to see if we can get down something a little safer. Trust me, I think it will work, my sexy female doctor says. Reality seems to have partially returned.

I'm not inside her. Perhaps I never was. She's taken her seat again.

She raises her stalking legs and starts to finger.