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Andy and I agreed on one thing.  Working for Gordon was over.  No more Gordon and no more Stephanie.  Andy interviewed for a position at the local hospital and got it.  I quit the clinic and started working for home health.  It would mean hours of driving, but the money was good.  I could finally clear my mind and buckle down to being a good wife for my husband, caring and loving and monogamous.  No more fucking the boss.  No more fucking the nurses.  Just good clean living and having another baby.

But something odd happened during my second week of home health...

I had one last patient to see. It was still early, around 3 pm. I was driving through this rather unfamiliar rural area and happened upon a car on the side of the road. The windows were heavily tented, but I thought I saw a girl in the passenger seat. It wasn't an accident, and she didn't look hurt, so I decided to keep going at least for a while - maybe let someone know up ahead. I was skittish to get out by myself.

I drove beyond the bend just out of the car's eyeshot, and there was this guy walking ahead of me down the side of the road. He was tall with blond hair, soft curls dancing in the breeze over his peeling bare shoulders, baggy jeans that didn't quite cover his ass (a look which I detest). He was holding a white shirt balled up in his fist. I slowed down to get a look at his features in the mirror as I passed him.

I stopped up ahead. Okay, not very smart, but he looked like a kid. Cute. Tan. A flat teenage belly. Not a hair on his chest, though he sported some fuzz on his chin, like a half-ass soul patch that he has probably never shaved in his life.

His pecs were particularly attractive - tight but not massive. Just enough bulge to accentuate his athletic appearance. Big brown juicy nipples that I wanted to swirl with my tongue. I didn't recognize him from my local football physicals. I wouldn't have. He doesn't play. His parents won't allow it. He says they're afraid he'll get hurt. The guy is well over 6 feet tall. I'm not telling you his age, so don't ask. He looked like a quarterback who rides a surfboard to the game.

"That your car back there?" I asked. He nodded, approaching my passenger window. Once he got a good look at me, he smiled. I was wearing my teal scrubs. They are slightly sheer. The weather is hot. Yes, I had on a bra...and a thong. White cotton. Nothing lacy.

"Yes ma'am. I ran out of gas." Ordinarily, a guy calling me ma'am might potentially agitate me except I like boys with good manners, and this one was looking younger every second.

"You sure? I mean, are you really old enough to drive and do you know how to read a fuel gauge?" He laughed and dipped his head, slightly embarrassed. "I've run out of gas before," I continued, "So don't take it personally. That's when I learned what the dinging noise means."

"Oh yea?" he chuckled. I liked his smile. "I didn't hear a dinging noise."

"That your girlfriend in the car?" I was curious. He nodded. His wavy hair was framing each side of his face. "I'm guessing she was distracting you."

I winked. He liked it.

"Yes ma'am," he groaned. His forearms were folded just inside the passenger door where the window was completely recessed. His muscles were shapely and sharply defined. I admired them beneath his peeling brown skin...a small-town drifter just looking for a beach. So glad he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"She's mad at you, isn't she?" I interjected.

"How would you know that?"

"Because she made you walk down the road by yourself while she waits in the car, playing on her phone. I bet she's talking to another guy."

The drifter gave me a frown and looked back down the road from whence he came, but his girlfriend was beyond his reach. He was beyond hers.

"Sorry, I was only kidding." I wasn't. "You're way too damn serious for a guy whose pants are falling off his ass. What's your name?"

"Brandon," he replied.

"I'm Meg." We shook hands as he extended his long arm across the length of the dash. His fingers were a little rough on the tips, like he did some kind of manual labor. "Where are you going, Brandon?"

"There's a gas station about a mile from here. I'll pick up about a gallon and be on my way."

"Pick it up with what?" I asked. "Do they carry gas cans?"

"I hope so," he said.

"You got your parent's credit card?" Brandon didn't like the question, but it turned out he only had cash, five bucks to be exact.

"You've only got $5? Do you know how much a gallon of gas costs?"

Brandon stared at me a second. "Five dollars?"

"Usually just over four, but that doesn't leave you much for a container...which I doubt they actually have."

"Shit," he murmured under his breath. I couldn't help but chortle at his situation.

"Come on, hop in. I'll take you down there and get you settled."

"You don't have to do that." Brandon waved me off and stepped back from the Jeep.

"Nonsense, Brandon. Get in the car and quit being difficult. We've got to get moving before your girlfriend calls her ex to come rescue her."

"I don't think she has an ex."

"Don't ever think, Brandon. And don't ever run out of gas again, particularly on a date. This is supposed to be a date, right?"

"We're just hanging out," he responded, closing the passenger door and buckling himself in.

"I got 'ya'. A date without a game plan on five freaking dollars. You planning to get laid?"

Brandon looked over at me like I had prodded him with a taser, eyes wide in surprise that I would mention such a thing.

"What?" I asked to break the silence. "You a virgin or something, Brandon?"

"Hell no," he said confidently.

"What about your girlfriend? Have you fucked her yet? How long have you been seeing her?"

I could tell Brandon was bewildered by my candor, taken back by practically every question. Maybe it was the idea of having a nurse talk so frankly, or maybe it was because I was clearly older and more experienced. Whatever his issues, we ambled through a series of questions and answers over the better part of a mile that took us nearly three minutes.

I heard about his school, his friends, his hobbies, his plans for the future, and his hopes for getting a new car. He was driving his father's mustang because the used car that his parents helped him get just a year ago actually ended up in a ditch during prom. Totaled. Oh, and his phone was broken.

"Let me go in and see about a gas can, Brandon." We had just pulled up at the Texaco, and I seriously doubted they had appropriate containers. They didn't. But I talked to the manager who was nice enough to let me borrow one that he kept in the back of his truck. I put in ten dollars' worth of gas after getting both Brandon and his girlfriend a couple Powerade's. We headed back towards his car.

"How's your girlfriend going to feel about me driving you up to your car? Is that going to make her jealous?"

Brandon hadn't even considered it. He wasn't sure what she would do or say, and I couldn't be sure she was talking to other guys. It was just a hunch.

"Tell you what, Brandon. I think your girlfriend could have called for some help and made this whole process much quicker and simpler. I think she's punishing you for running out of gas. I can empathize with her perspective, but here are your options. You can let me drive you back to your car where upon I kiss you passionately upon exiting my jeep to the tune of irreparably pissing her off - that's called payback. On the other hand, we could delay our return long enough to where the appropriate time elapses to cover you walking the entire distance. She'll be satisfied that you've endured your appropriate punishment and willing to forgive your shortcomings. Maybe she'll even fuck you tonight. You don't have any other shortcomings, do you?"

I could see Brandon's mental gears trying to process my train of thought. Though he originally seemed eager to get back to Brittany, he was willing to wait and take credit for the walk. He guided me down a dirt road that traveled further into nowhere. We ended up on a path which disappeared deep into the woods. I'm confident it's a place Brandon has been before.

I eagerly moved Brandon to the back seat where we had room to maneuver. He was more than willing to comply. "We probably should give this about 30 minutes for the time to be right," I suggested. "What would you like to do?"
He was shy as I suspected, but once I leaned in to kiss him, his hormones took over and his hands were flying everywhere. I happily let him feel every inch of my body, but we really didn't have very much time.

"You want me to suck your dick, Brandon?"

He certainly did.

Brandon laid lengthwise across the seat and let me straddle his long legs. I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down to his thighs. OMG, he had a jungle down there. I thought all the teens shaved these days. "You need to go home and trim this way the hell down," I told him.

I put him in my mouth and started rolling my tongue around the head of his cock very slowly. I had the sense other girls had always rushed. He was taken by my patient methods, and I was pleased by his response.

Brandon was musically moaning in a matter of seconds, and I just kept on teasing him for five to ten minutes. I could taste his pre-cum intermittently when his dick started bobbing in my mouth. That's when I'd slow my licking and just hold him in my mouth to let him calm down.

"A lot of guys would have shot their load after just a few seconds of this, Brandon. I'm impressed with your stamina. By the way, I don't see any shortcomings."

When I finally decided to let him cum, I sucked up and down his pole very sensually, clipping the edge of his circumcised helmet with my incisors. He absolutely loved that. A few circular licks on the frenulum, and his breathing turned erratic as his muscles contracted.

Much to my unexpected surprise, he urgently pulled out of my mouth and let his spunk fly everywhere. My scrub top was covered in splatter.

"What the hell are you doing?" I completely lost it, and it actually scared him.

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded as ever, trying to catch his breath. His dick was like a melting stick of margarine, going all soft and gooey.

"Why did you pull out of my mouth?"

"So I wouldn't cum in it," he replied rather honestly.

"Oh my god, Brandon. I wanted you to cum in my mouth. Does Brittany not let you do that?"

"You wanted it in your mouth? Shit!....shit, shit, shit!"

I had to laugh. I never told Brandon I wanted it down my throat. I just assumed that he knew. And now I was wearing his entire load.

I gave him five minutes of kissing, then pulled up his shirt and satisfied my kink - sucking on those lovely brown nipples. I don't think his girlfriend has ever done that either.

By the end of it, Brandon was hard yet again - maybe five to ten minutes later. I sucked his cock just as I had before, and this time his stamina was even better. I had to reach down and play with his balls before he came. This time I took every drop in my mouth. Brandon was so excited!

We got dressed and I drove back to that bend in the road, then sent him off scampering to catch up with his girlfriend. It only occurred to me at that moment that I might have made Brandon less effective for the evening. That actually made me smile, imagining sweet Brittany having to jerk him to erection. I wondered if he even wore a condom.

My last patient is an elderly lady who believed me when I told her I spilled milkshake all over my top. She probably would have had a heart attack if I had told her the truth.

I rushed home to get there before Andy, then threw my new scrubs in the washer. Whew! I'm wondering what kind of day he had at work.

Submitted: July 25, 2022

© Copyright 2022 DampKitten. All rights reserved.


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Add Your Comments:


sweet lemon

Just another fucking day in the life of queen Megan...pun intended.

Mon, July 25th, 2022 3:49am


Yep...Ladi Da, Ladi Da

Sun, July 24th, 2022 8:52pm


I liked this - it had everything you recommend in a story, interesting characters meeting by accident, a credible reason for the sex and nobody gives better blow jobs than you, right? Say, that would be an interesting event - a blow job contest for all the female doctors and nurses. I can imagine how many male patients would die of heart attacks or dehydration.
Nurse Megan, I think I need some treatment for a little problem I have....

Mon, July 25th, 2022 2:48pm


How little is your problem?

So, what does a blow job contest entail, Will? Enlighten me.

Thanks for reading this, babe. It is kind of infinite, I admit.

Mon, July 25th, 2022 7:42pm

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