Nurse Cherry! (TABOO, Forbidden Relationship, Older/Younger) Read online

  Nurse Cherry

  by Tuesday Taboo

  Copyright 2014 Tuesday Taboo

  All Rights Reserved

  Nurse Cherry

  Book design by Tuesday Taboo

  Cover Images Copyright 2014 by Tuesday Taboo

  WARNING! - The subject matter in this story is incredibly TABOO!

  All of the characters are over the age of 18 and none of them are blood relatives.

  Want more? Join my mailing list for free TABOO stories, exclusive discounts and even free review copies before the stories hit Amazon!

  I write lots of stuff, and it’s all as nasty as this! Click here for more! Read it all for FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

  My wife had booked me into the appointment. She’d made a few of them already, but they’d been easy to ignore up until this point and so I had, pretending to forget our having my secretary book other things at the same time that I couldn’t miss. Sure, the occasional pain that had lanced through my balls on a couple of occasions was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t anything to be too concerned about.

  Until my wife started threatening me. We already didn’t have sex anywhere near as much as I felt like I needed, and she cut me off, telling me that my dick wasn’t going to come anywhere near here until I went to the doctor.

  She knew it would work, and it did. The next day I was sitting in a waiting room, thumbing through old copies of Reader’s Digest and Fishing Today, trying not to cross and re-cross my legs nervously as I waited for the people who were really sick to get looked at so some old doctor could fondle my balls and make me turn my head and cough and then tell me I needed to go in for more tests.

  “Mr. Jenning?” the receptionist said, a rather dour old battle-ax of a woman who’d probably had the job for at least as long as the building had stood. Hell, she looked like she’d been here first and they’d just built the place around her, actually.

  “That’s me,” I said under my breath, setting whatever magazine I hadn’t been reading down and making my way past her. There was a plain white door that I’d seen five or six patients go in and out of, and I knew from watching their procedure that she’d buzz me in when I got close.

  Only she didn’t. She just looked at me, then glanced down at my crotch and looked back up at my eyes. I couldn’t tell if she was inwardly laughing at my condition or secretly feeling sorry for whatever diagnosis she presumed I was about to receive, but either was I knew she’d read my file, which pissed me off. “Head on in to room number six,” she said as she pushed the button to unlock the door.

  “Okay.” I leaned on the door and it opened smoothly, revealing a professional hallway with a number of doors, each of them labeled and numbered. The door to number six was open, so I went in. The lights must have been connected to a motion sense, because they came on when I entered. It was a nice examining room, at least. I hadn’t been in one in a while, and the anatomy posters and health warning s I’d expected to be plastered all over the walls weren’t there at all, replaced by a large TV screen that I guessed was for showing people footage of their insides and clean, metal walls.

  Maybe it’s easier to keep metal walls clean, I told myself, imaging something terrible happening in here.

  “Mr. Jenning,” a man’s voice said from behind me, and my heart sunk a little. I’d been holding out hope that some hot little vixen would have been given the task of lifting my cock and examining my testicles, but no, turns out I’d been right. Old doctors are the best doctors, supposedly, and this guy fit the medical stereotype in every way. Gray hair, glasses, a sharp look in his eyes and good posture yes, but his days of surgery or ground-breaking research were well and truly behind him, if indeed he’d ever had them. “I’m Dr. Westfall.

  I stood up straighter from where I’d been peering at the row of buttons on the TV, trying to figure out if I could work out how to get the game on. “Hello,” I said.

  He pointed at the TV. “You need a code, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh.” Since this guy probably wasn’t about to offer it to me, I moved toward the examining table. “Should I, um, take off my clothes?”

  Dr. Westfall shook his head, and when he sat down in one of two comfortable looking chairs in the corner I took the opportunity to occupy the other one. This was refreshing, as well. The longer I could put off his cold hands on my junk, the better. “Let’s have ourselves a little chat, first.”

  “Okay.”

  He shoved his glasses on to his forehead and peered at whatever it said in my chart. It was sure thicker than the paperwork I’d filled out, so they must have a medical history on me already. My heart started to beat faster. Maybe they already knew what was wrong and I wasn’t getting examined because I didn’t need to be examined. Maybe this was going to be a conversation about how to sort out my affairs, how to cope with the remaining time I had…

  Westfall cleared his throat. “Let’s get the most important thing out of the way first, shall we? You’re going to be fine.”

  I practically heard the air return to the room as I let it out of my lungs. I hadn’t known I was holding it in, but now that I was able to let myself relax for a moment I could tell that I was shaking. My fingers were cold, and he room was only just starting to settle down from the crazy little dip and spin it had been doing. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I won’t lie to you and say that what you’ve got is common, but we’ve seen it before and we’ll see it again.”

  “So what’s wrong with me?”

  He pursed his lips and set the folder with my records aside. “It’s not an easy thing, Mr. Jenning. I suppose I should just come right out and say it, but sometimes blurting things out isn’t the best way. Just let me ask you some questions first, okay?”

  I sighed. “But I’m fine?”

  “You will be.”

  “And there’s no weird pill I have to take or procedure I have to undergo?”

  That slowed him down. He blinked rapidly, pulled the glasses down to the bridge of his nose, glance at my chart and then pushed the glasses back on to his forehead. “No pills, no. I understand this is frightening, Mr. Jenning, but please, allow me to do my work.”

  Something in the way he said it set off a little alarm bell in my brain. Let me do my work, as if this very thing, sitting on his ass while I was sitting on my ass was his work…

  “What kind of doctor are you, Mr. Westfall?”

  Again with the blinking. He didn’t at all like to answer that, but to hesitate for any longer than the shock of my question forced him to would have made him seem ashamed of the answer. “I am a psychologist, Mr. Jenning.”

  The room started spinning again. I felt the cold ache begin in my fingertips once more, as my breathing got more rapid and shallow and my blood pumped through my veins at a much accelerated pace. “A fucking shrink,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “So when you say there’s nothing wrong with me, what you mean is I don’t have a bruise or a tumor or whatever. Nothing physical. My balls have been aching because I’m crazy?”

  There was a long, slow moment of tension, and then he set his glasses aside and let out a huge, rumbling laugh. It carried, banging off the metal walls and rolling over me from every direction, loud and persistent enough to make me think that maybe I was crazy after all. “No, Mr. Jenning,” he said at last, “I assure that my diagnosis of your condition doesn’t use the word crazy. It’s understandable, given the things your wife has told me.”

  That was a word I wasn’t expecting to come up in this office. “What’s Dianne got to do with this?”

  Westfall c
ocked an eyebrow at me, and then held up a hand to stop more of my questions. “Please, just humor me. Let us discuss this, and you’ll see as clearly as I do where your problem lies. If not, you’ve lost nothing. Your health insurance is paying for the session, and I’ll forward your chart to your regular doctor, who will confirm with you that there is nothing physically wrong.”

  I looked at him, watched him closely for a second. If Dianne had really discussed this stuff with him, I supposed I should listen. After all, it had been her prompting that had gotten me here in the first place. If I stormed out, Westfall would almost certainly contact her, and she’d be waiting for me at home, angry and with more threats of no sex. That was the last thing I needed.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s hear it.”

  Westfall grinned, and leaned back into the chair, clearly at ease now that I’d agreed to his little conversation. “You are Charles Jenning. Correct?”

  I nodded. “Last time I checked.”

  “And your wife is Dianne Graham-Jenning?”

  I nodded once more. “She is. Graham is her maiden name. When we got married, she wanted to go for the hyphen route again, and I didn’t have any issues with it.”

  “You say ‘again’, because she had been married previously, to a Mr. Denardo, with whom she also separated her last name from her maiden one with a hyphen, making her Dianne Graham-Denardo, once upon a time, yes?”

  “Once upon a time.” I wasn’t all that happy with where this seemed to be going. I loved Dianne, but her previous marriage wasn’t something that either she or I liked to talk about, albeit it for different reasons. He’d been an asshole, and he’d sexually dominated her. I’d often thought to myself selfishly that if he hadn’t ruined her confidence in her own body, I’d get two or three times the amount of sex I did, and for that I hated him.

  “And you have one step-daughter?”

  I glanced at the charts he was looking at again, trying to read them upside down. Surely he knew this already. “Yes,” I answered. Christie.”

  “Christie Graham-Denardo?”

  I shook my head. “She thought all that hyphen stuff was silly and confusing. Just Christie Denardo. She’s almost twenty.”

  Westfall got a little quieter now, actually leaning in to talk, making me have to concentrate hard to hear him. “And your daughter, is she a virgin?”

  I saw red. Before I knew it I was on my feet, my hands folded into fists, one of them cocked back like I was getting ready to knock this fucker’s head off, which I probably was. He looked like he’d been expecting the outburst. Indeed, he didn’t even raise his hands up to protect his face.

  “It is only a question, Charles, though I admit that your violent reaction to it has confirmed many of my suspicions. If you are unwilling to speculate on your daughter’s virginity, then perhaps my previous diagnosis was incorrect. Maybe there is something wrong. After all, what father hasn’t wondered if their daughter has felt the hard press of another man’s hard cock up her tight quim?”

  The language he used was shocking, yes, but it spoke to me just the same. He looked sincere, his eyes warm with understanding. Maybe there really was something to be gained from talking to him, from not being judged by a man who may understand what it was like to be constantly around a young, tight virgin who insisted on wearing short skirts and tight shirts and lounging around the house in a long t-shirt and no panties, who constantly forgot to close the bathroom door when she took a shower or when she shaved her pussy, who left her phone lying around when the boys were buzzing her begging for sex she wouldn’t give them, even though they sent her dick pics on a nightly fucking basis…

  I sat back down and tried to compose myself. “I believe that she’s a virgin, yes. So does my wife.”

  Westfall smiled gently. “Yes, she does. Dianne told me that herself. Tell me then, Charles, do you have enough sex at home?”

  There was no point in denying it. At this point, I almost didn’t care if my marriage fell apart. I needed the truth to get off of my shoulders, and this seemed like the only place that could come anywhere near to understanding. “No, I don’t.”

  “Because your wife is unwilling?”

  I shrugged. Unwilling wasn’t the right word. Neither was unable. Dianne could fuck, that was for sure, but only when the mood took her. And afterwards, the guilt she felt about the pleasure we’d just shared made the whole thing taste like ashes. “She and her first husband had a… difficult relationship,” I said at last. “She can’t be intimate with me without being hurt, mentally, by the things he said and did to her so many years ago.”

  Westfall tapped the chart in front of him. “Yes, mentally. But as you well know, Charles, a thought, an addiction, an obsession can be every bit as dangerous to you as a physical pain. Take Christie, for instance. Your wife tells me that your daughter parades her body around. She doesn’t think it’s malicious and neither do I, but it is a discomfort just the same.”

  I nodded.

  “It cannot be easy to live with a woman who sexually starves you whilst another one puts her virginal body on display without allowing you to partake. You have my sympathies, Charles, and what’s more, you have my gift.”

  I blinked and shook my head, trying hard to clear my head of the sight of Christie bending over to lace up her shoes, her perfect ass like a work of art in her tight jeans, her little pussy ever so faintly outlined between her strong thighs. “Your gift?”

  “I happen to know a Christie Denardo, Charles. Your Christie Denardo, in fact. She’s a fun-loving, caring nurse, and the staff loves her. She’s very empathetic, as well…”

  A nurse. Is that what Christie was already? I know she’d been going to school for it, but I’d been so lost in my sexual funk, trying so hard to ignore her sweet voice and her innocent words, desperate to not be alone in the same room with her lest I hold her against the wall and make her beg for my big cock to take her little cherry and teach her what her body was really made for.

  “You know her?” I asked dumbly.

  Westfall picked up a remote from the table that I hadn’t noticed and punched in a code. The big TV set into the wall lit up immediately, but instead of the baseball game or the news, Christie appeared.

  “It’s recording,” I heard Westfall’s voice say from the speakers. “Now remember what we said.”

  Christie nodded. She was a redhead, and she was wearing a slinky nurse’s uniform that looked like she’d been allowed to make a few alterations to it before they started filming her. She’d always had big breasts, like her mother, but the buttons of her uniform were undone, and the cameraman, presumably Westfall himself, wasn’t at all shy about making sure that her cleavage remained in the shot. She was wearing a white lacy bra underneath the top but now and then it didn’t stay against her skin the way it should have and I could see straight down the smooth flush of her breast to the dark shadow of her areola.

  “Is this really going to help?” Christie asked, her voice sounding sure and kind even though she was clearly in an awkward situation. Having an old guy film you can’t ever be fun…

  “It will,” the recording said, and the real doctor next to me nodded in agreement with himself. I could feel my cock getting hard already, and the grip I had on the armrests of the chair was so tight it was almost painful. My step-daughter was an incredibly gorgeous girl, and as the camera shifted to show off her long, tan legs I could see that she didn’t appear to be wearing any panties. Her thighs were taut, and she actually let her fingers slip up under her short dress so that she could pull it up even farther and reveal herself to the doctor and the camera.

  And to me. That was what this was really about, wasn’t it? No doubt Westfall had let her know who would be seeing this, but she didn’t seem to mind at all. No, in fact, as the camera zoomed in and her shaved pussy came clearly into view, I could see a few drops of moisture on her lips. She plunged a long finger into her slit, then brought her newly-wet digit up to rub at her clit slowly. I felt
my jaw drop open and my head physically move as I followed the circles that finger made on the screen. Even though I had to shift in my seat as my erection became more and more uncomfortable, my balls didn’t hurt in the slightest.

  Westfall hit a button and the image on the screen paused. Christie’s pussy was perfectly framed, her finger just about to dip back into her sweet, tight snatch for more moisture so that she could continue her show for me. “How do you feel, Charles?” he asked me, peering at my face closely.

  “I…” It was a good question, actually. I was incredibly aroused, of course, my cock throbbing and aching. The pain wasn’t there, though. I wanted to see what else Christie would do for me. I wanted to watch her peel that uniform off, maybe lick her own lust from her fingertips before she spread her legs and-

  “This is important,” Westfall said, his voice a little sharp. “Do you feel any discomfort?”

  “No, not really. I mean, I’m ha… I have an erection, but the pain I’ve been getting a couple times a day isn’t there.”

  “Not at all?”

  “No.” My eyes went back to the screen. Her finger was so close to her honeypot. I wanted nothing more than to taste that little cunt, to push my fingers and then my cock into it once I’d stretched her enough to take me. It wasn’t fair that someone else had gotten to Dianne and ruined her before I’d been able to be her first. Christie hadn’t had a first yet, and I wanted, no needed it to be me.

  “Do you want to see more?” Westfall asked.

  “Yes.”

  I’d been expecting him to push the button and continue Christie’s show, but instead he set the remote aside sadly. “I thought as much, and I don’t blame you at all. Your daughter is an incredible young woman, and I will admit to experiencing more than a little of the condition you’re experiencing right now, while she did her therapy work for you. But there isn’t any more to show you. A few seconds after this image, I asked her to stop. We’d gotten enough footage, or so I presumed, and there was no need to make the poor girl deflower herself simply so that either you or I could get some sort of gratification in the act.”