Top
    



MIKE38.TXT -- m+/F+

DOOGIE HOWSER, M.D.:
The Final Fuck

By Uncle Mike
(Max S. Wojtylak)
[email protected]

Dear Diary:

Today I learned a valuable lesson. I think it was that you should never
give up hope. Or maybe that if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. But
probably it was just that, like Ben Franklin said, in the dark all cats are
gray -- even ones that aren't moving anymore and have tire tracks on their
backs. Or something like that.

The day started off with Vinnie grabbing me as I was leaving the house
and pulling me into the backyard. I told him I had to get to the hospital but
he wouldn't let go. Said he had to talk.

It turned out Vinnie's big news was that this time he had figured out an
absolutely perfect way to get Janine to have sex with him. I reminded him he
had figured out absolutely perfect ways at least a dozen times before and he
was still a virgin. He reminded me I was one, too. I said goodbye and went to
the hospital.

Vinnie doesn't really mean to say stuff like that, I think; he just
starts talking before his brain is warmed up. OK, so what I said to him wasn't
so nice, either -- but he started it. He's always talking about getting Janine
in bed, and he's never managed it. I don't know why she still goes out with
him.

But he's right, I haven't had any more success with Wanda. Yeah,
sometimes I say I don't want to, I want to wait. But I've got to admit, when we
start kissing and my penis -- my cock, OK? -- gets erect, all I can think about
is tearing off her clothes and fucking her right there in the car, or on the
beach, or in the theater.

Anyway, talking with Vinnie got my mind onto sex and I couldn't get it
off -- or get off, come to think of it.

My cock was pressing against my white slacks by the time I got to the
hospital, and I tried holding a clipboard at my waist to cover it up. So then
Dr. Canfield sees me and says I won't get much information by holding the
clipboard up to my navel. So I raise it, and of course everyone turns around to
see what he's talking about, and they see my pants bulging. At least I think
they did; I heard giggles and snickers.

So I'm embarrassed, and you know how I blush. Well, I mean, I know how I
blush. Bright red, like a traffic light. I don't know how I managed to make it
through rounds.

But I did, and by the time we were done -- a couple of really interesting
diagnoses, by the way; I'll want to make a note of that bilateral occlusion --
I'd pretty much forgotten my embarrassment.

Then I go to pick up some charts from the nursing station and I start
talking to one of the nurses -- the cute one with the red hair, have I written
about her before? No? Good, let's keep it that way -- at least, let's skip her
name. I don't think I'll want to be reminded of it if I ever reread this.
We'll call her Red. She's kind of short, but she's got a really cute face,
freckles, curly hair -- well, and there's the important stuff, as Vinnie would
say: tight butt, tits out to there, great legs. A real piece of work. She's
only a fill-in, so I don't get to see her much, but whenever I see that she's
on I make it a point to hang around the nursing station more than usual. Hey,
I'm only human -- and I'm only a horny teenager, right? So what if Red is maybe
10 years older than me? I'm a doctor, for heaven's sake.

So we're talking -- the usual stuff, crabby patients, happy patients. And
then we start gossiping about the other doctors and nurses.

We were talking about one of the doctors who was going out with a nurse
in the emergency room when I said I didn't know what he saw in her. What I was
talking about, actually, is that the doctor's a real brain and this nurse --
well, let's just say that every once in a while the nursing schools mess up and
let through one or two clinkers. And this girl really clinked.

That's what I meant, but it turns out Red -- the nurse I'm talking to,
you know? -- never met the other girl. But she had seen her. So she says
something about how it's obvious what he sees in her, she's beautiful. Meaning
the nurse in emergency, of course.

Well, I must be hanging around Vinnie too much, because right away I
blurt out that she -- the nurse in emergency, right? -- isn't nearly as
beautiful as Red. And Red says something appropriately modest. And I keep
going, talking about how she's really beautiful and -- God help me -- I think I
even said sexy. Hey, what can I say? I'm still a horny teenager.

Maybe if I'd been thinking with my brain instead of my cock I would have
noticed something going on, but I'm not sure. All I know is Red seemed to
encourage me, and I kept going. Hey, maybe the problem with me still being a
virgin was with Wanda, not me, I figured. I seemed to be doing really well with
Red.

Really well. I mean, I was putting the moves on her and she was jumping
on them faster than I'd ever seen. Next thing I know, she's flipping up the
panel in the counter and leaving the nursing station, walking down the hall,
and I'm following her. I turned around to see if anyone was looking and when I
turned back, she'd disappeared. Then a hand comes out of a door and yanks me
into a linen closet.

By this time my cock is back at full erection and there is absolutely no
cranial activity whatsoever. She gives me a kiss with her tongue halfway down
my throat and I almost had an orgasm right then. Then she pops open the first
couple of buttons on her uniform and I can see those huge, ripe tits bulging
out of her bra. I start to go for them but she says to wait, and she turns out
the light. We kiss again. I try to get a hand inside her top and my other
hand's trying to slide up her thighs.

She says, "I want you. Now! Let's do it right now!" Well, I don't wait
for another invitation. I almost tear open my zipper getting my pants down and
I'm tugging my briefs off -- they're hung up on my cock, it's so hard -- when
the door hits me in the ass and I fall forward just as the light goes on.

In the split second that I fell I figured I'd land on Red, but then I
keep going down and I put my hands out. They slap onto the tile floor, but it's
not enough to keep me from jamming my cock onto the floor, too. And just as the
pain starts to course through my nerves, I hear this giggle in front of me --
and then this chorus of laughter behind.

I didn't stick around long enough to get the whole explanation, but
apparently Red is something like a professional prick-tease and she's gotten at
least two other doctors and an orderly the same way; she gets them going and
gives some kind of signal to the other nurses.

You can imagine the comments I got the rest of the day. Let's face it, a
geeky teenager thinking he was going to get to fuck some knockout nurse was
probably the funniest thing that happened in that place all week. The only
bright side was that nobody told Dad.

Luckily -- well, it seems funny to put it that way, but it was lucky
because it got everybody busy and kept them from riding me even more -- we had
a lot of action soon afterward. Sometimes the ward is completely quiet, but
then there are days when it seems like every patient is having a
life-threatening episode. And it's usually not related cases, either, it's just
one thing after another. Today we had an old man who suddenly stopped
breathing, another guy whose IV tubes kept falling out, and even one patient
who got into a fight with a friend who'd come to visit him and had to be
sedated.

But then there was Martha. When they brought her into the ward that
afternoon, I thought she was 25, maybe 30. According to the chart she was 42.
Wow. The first thing you noticed about her was her face. Like Raquel Welch's,
I'd say: perfect cheekbones, big eyes, incredible skin, the whole works. Like a
goddess.

When she was put in the bed, under the covers, her face was all you could
see. But I was there when they brought her in, and I could see that she had
more than that going for her. She wasn't as big in the chest as Red, but what
curves! And legs that seemed to go right up to her tits. Man, I was in love. So
was every guy that saw her.

So when the Code Blue alert was sounded for her room, every doctor and
intern and orderly hit the ground running. I ended up in the back of the room
with nothing to do, but I couldn't bear to leave. There was this incredibly
beautiful woman -- she couldn't be dying! She'd been brought in because she'd
had a few unexplained fainting spells, but I don't think anyone believed there
could be something seriously wrong with anyone who had a body like that.

But whatever it was, it was serious. It was fatal. They gave her some
jolts but it was no use; they didn't even try cracking her chest for massage.
It took five or six minutes before anyone started to leave the room. We
couldn't believe it. On the way out I heard Canfield saying they'd have to
autopsy her -- state law in deaths without known cause. The thought of someone
carving up that goddess seemed like a sacrilege. When he asked me if I'd want
to attend -- they're going to do it tomorrow morning, when the coroner can be
there -- my jaw dropped open. I don't remember saying anything, but I got a
note in my mailbox later telling me to be there at 10:30 a.m., so I guess he
interpreted my mumbling as a yes.

I've seen a lot of people die. It's one of the worst things about being a
doctor. And one of the hardest for someone so young.

I don't think I was really in my right mind after that. At least, that's
how I explain what happened.

I was making one last tour of the ward, dropping in mostly on the
patients I liked.

When I got to Mrs. Sherwin's room, I knocked on the door and cracked it
open. She usually calls out a really sweet hello. This time there was nothing.
I walked in and found her sound asleep.

That's when I remembered: she had just come from surgery.

Every hospital has a few patients who have almost nothing wrong with
them. They just like company, and don't have many friends outside -- and
they're rich. Usually, it's old bags who complain about how the bed sheets
aren't taut enough and tell the doctors how to do their jobs. They figure their
money gives them the power to be as cranky as they want but still get pampered.
Hospital finances being what they are, they're right.

But Mrs. Sherwin isn't like that. Most of us like her a lot. She's only
48 -- nowhere near in as good a shape as Martha was, but still a good looking
woman. Of course, part of those good looks are due to the wonders of medical
science.

That's why she's so well-known around the hospital. She's been married
five times. Every time she gets a divorce, she spends some of the settlement on
sprucing up before she goes out to hook the next guy. Actually, she keeps
herself in good shape -- works out every day, in the fully equipped gym Husband
No. 3 put in -- but she's a fanatic about wrinkles and such. This time, she'd
had a very minor nose job; took out a bump no one else could see.

When I saw that she was out like a light, I was about to turn around and
leave.

Then I noticed that the water pitcher on her bedside table was right on
the edge. I went over to push it back. When I did, I looked down at Mrs.
Sherwin. Her nose was covered in a very small bandage -- the surgery really
could have been done as an outpatient, but she insists on the whole works,
general anesthesia, everything, every time.

With her nose covered, her lips were slightly parted. Very full lips --
thanks to the settlement from Husband No. 4. Her breath was very regular, and
the sheet over her chest was rising and falling.

It's a big chest -- Husband No. 1, and he paid for it while they were
still married, too. One of the doctors says they're the best boob job he's ever
seen.

I decided to take a look. When would I have the chance again, after all?

I slipped down the sheet and reached under her. I didn't have to be very
careful; she really was out. I tugged apart the knotted string at the top of
her gown and pulled it down.

They were impressive. 38s, the other doctor had said. And thanks to the
miracle of silicone, they stood out from her body firmly.

I couldn't resist. I gave them a squeeze.

And then another.

I've felt Wanda up a few times -- and of course I've examined lots of
women -- but I had never had the chance to really handle a pair of completely
naked tits before. They were a little stiff, but they still felt nice.

I kept rubbing. The nipples got hard. I got harder.

I must not have been completely out of my mind, because before I went any
further I went and made sure the door to the room was closed. I couldn't lock
it -- how could I explain that if some nurse came by? -- but I did put a chair
in front of the door, so even if someone didn't knock I'd still hear the
clatter.

Then I went back to Mrs. Sherwin. She was still sleeping. I undid my
zipper again and starting whacking off with one hand while I rubbed her tits
with the other.

I got kind of enthusiastic, I guess. The sheet and her gown slipped down
a bit. Then I wondered what would happen if I pulled them down even more.

She had a very furry, gray bush. Well, I didn't think she came by her
blond hair naturally, anyway. I kept pulling on the gown.

I'm not a gynecologist, and even if women were willing to let some
teenager put his hand up their cunt, no doctor at the hospital was ever going
to let me have a chance at it. Oh, I've seen lots of them, and I've helped
deliver babies and all, but somehow none of that was the same as having that
naked cunt in front of me while my cock was hanging out of my pants, thick and
hard.

I wondered if it really counted as losing your virginity if the woman was
unconscious. I decided it did. I inserted a couple of fingers in her hole and
started rubbing. Nothing. There was some hand cream on the bedside table --
lemon, I think. Some citrus scent, anyway. I took a glob and rubbed it into her
until she was nice and slick.

By now I had the sheet all the way down and the gown around her ankles.
The bed creaked a little when I climbed up and knelt between her legs, pushing
them apart as I kept rubbing the lotion into her crack. My cock was waving in
front of me, aiming straight at her hole.

I moved forward. The head of my cock hit the entrance to her hole. The
lotion felt cool and slippery. I drove the tip in and her lips closed around
it. I was in! She was still a little dry on the inside, though. I pulled out to
smear some lotion right on my cock and put it back into position. I had one
hand on her tits, squeezing the nipples between my fingers; the other hand was
guiding my cock into her. I pressed forward.

At that instant, I heard a knock on the door. I leaped off the bed. I
didn't know what to do first -- cover Mrs. Sherwin up? Put my cock away? Jump
out the window?

I decided on covering her up first; I could always try to cover myself
with my clipboard again. There was no time to be fancy. I pulled the gown and
the sheet over her in one motion; let her figure out why the gown was undone.
The knock came at the door again, and then I heard it hit the chair.

"Mrs. Sherwin?" It was my Dad! I had to say something. "She's still under
the anesthetic, Dad," I managed to blurt out as I stuffed my cock back into my
pants and zipped them up. I moved so fast I caught a tiny bit of skin in the
zipper. Wow, does that hurt. I had to blink hard to fight back tears as I
turned to greet my Dad, coming around the corner of the room's little entryway.

"Douglas? What are you doing in here?"

"Just wanted to say hi, I guess. How about you, Dad?"

"Oh, same thing. So how is she?"

Well, it went on like that -- doctor small talk. All the time, of course,
my cock is screaming in agony from the zipper. Finally I said I had to see
another patient and I got away. I ducked into another room -- I didn't care
whose it was -- and slipped into the john. It hurt even worse when I pulled the
zipper down, but when I finally got my cock loose, it was an incredible relief.
I zipped back up, leaned back against the wall and just rested there for two or
three minutes.

There was just a little time left in my shift by then. I finished up some
paperwork and thought about going for a pizza after work. In between checking
little boxes, I gave Vinnie a call. He had already picked up the phone before I
remembered his plans for the day. His hello sounded more like a bark. I guessed
his plans hadn't worked out.

"Oh, it's you, Howser," he said. "Nah, she wouldn't do it. I really
thought this time would work, though. And man, have I got a hard-on. I almost
feel like going out and fucking some dog just to get off, you know?"

I said I knew just how he felt. He liked the idea of pizza, and he agreed
to meet me at the hospital when my shift ended.

By the time he got there, I had put a little ice on my cock and it didn't
hurt at all any more. I was just finishing the last of the files when he came
in. Before I could get a word in edgewise he started talking, as usual. First
it was all about how Janine had gone halfway but then backed out. I could tell
he was really upset. But not too upset to notice a chart on the wall, showing
the diseases of the liver. Really gross stuff. But Vinnie started talking about
how it would make a great opening for a movie, showing all the diseased tissue
underneath the credits. That got him off onto a whole tangent about making a
movie in the hospital. I'd already finished up my paperwork, but instead of
going out for pizza he wanted me to take him on a tour. I said he'd already
seen the whole place. He said there might be some interesting corners for his
movie. I humored him.

Vinnie's got a very weird imagination, so I didn't bother asking why he
thought the laundry room was a perfect spot, or what attracted him to the
boilers so much. But when he asked about seeing the morgue, I tried to draw the
line. He insisted. I finally gave in.

The attendant was the same guy who'd trucked Martha down earlier that
day. I made some remark about him working an odd shift and got an earful about
how the late guy had called in sick and the boss had made him work four hours
overtime to help out. He wasn't happy. I suggested to Vinnie that we skip the
morgue; this didn't seem like a good time to test the attendant's good humor.

But Vinnie starts chatting with him about what a bitch it is to get
screwed by your boss, and the next thing I know Vinnie's volunteering us to
watch the place for him while he heads out for dinner.

So the attendant takes off and Vinnie pushes me inside. It's a little
cool, but not too bad -- they refrigerate only the sliders with bodies in them,
to save money, and they only keep the examining rooms a little below normal so
the doctors won't lose the feeling in their fingers. It's amazing the stuff you
learn as a doctor, huh?

Well, Vinnie's walking around the place, holding his hands up in front of
his face, "framing" the scenes, and I'm just leaning back against a wall. I
mean, I'm a doctor. I've seen morgues, I've seen dead bodies. No big deal. But
Vinnie's acting like a kid in a candy store, gawking at everything -- the
stainless steel autopsy tables, the blades and spreaders, all that stuff.

I figured I'd play a joke on him, so I started pulling open the slider
drawers until I find one with a body in it. I call him over, and he comes --
but not too quickly. This is interesting, I thought -- Vinnie's not quite so
into filmmaking when he's got a body in front of him.

Now, what I did next was wrong to begin with. I mean, you're not supposed
to play around with bodies, are you? Isn't that being disrespectful to the
dead?

But I wanted to scare Vinnie, just to see what he'd do. So I pulled back
the sheet over the body's face.

I was looking right at Vinnie and I was disappointed. He didn't scream or
faint or anything; he just stared, mouth open. I started to make some kind of
remark, but then I looked down.

It was Martha.

"Jesus, she's beautiful," Vinnie said. I remember that very clearly.

"Yeah." I was staring myself. Even lying on that cold slab, she was
beautiful. Her eyes were closed, so it just looked like she was sleeping.

Vinnie reached out and touched her face. I didn't try to stop him.

"She's still warm," he said, quietly. "Are you sure she's..."

"Yeah, she's dead," I said. Even to my own ears my voice sounded dull and
flat. "They just brought her down a little while ago. She hasn't had time to
cool."

I don't know why, but I reached out and touched her face too. It was
warm.

And then I felt something else.

My cock was starting to grow. I couldn't believe it. Getting a hard-on
over a corpse! But my cock kept getting bigger and bigger, straining against my
pants again.

I pulled the sheet lower, exposing Martha's breasts. They were a little
pale -- the blood was draining down, of course -- but still firm. Vinnie said
something about stopping. I pulled the sheet lower.

"Jesus!" That was all Vinnie said. It was enough. Even in death, that
woman had the most incredible body either one of us had ever seen.

"I wonder..." Vinnie said in a whisper. "I wonder -- what it would have
been like. To, you know..."

"To fuck her." Even around Vinnie, I don't usually use language like
that. But I didn't feel like Doogie Howser, Boy Genius, then. I felt like a
horny teenager with a raging hard-on.

"Doog, don't you think we'd better..."

I didn't pay attention to what Vinnie was saying. I pulled the sheet all
the way down. My hand slid between her legs and up to her cunt. I started
rubbing.

With my other hand, I undid my pants and let my cock out, and started
whacking off.

"Howser!"

I had forgotten Vinnie was there. I told him to go out and keep an eye on
the door. "You'll get your chance later," I told him. He stared at me, but he
did what I told him to.

My cock was still slick from the hand lotion I'd put on in Mrs. Sherwin's
room. When I climbed up on the slider and knelt between those long, cool legs,
I'd like to say I hesitated for at least a moment to think about what I was
doing.

But I didn't. I put my cock up to her hole and pressed it in.

With the lotion, my shaft was slick enough to slide through even though
she was completely dry. I slipped the head in. The muscles of her cunt were
slack, of course, but still tight enough to grip my cock a little when the tip
popped all the way in.

I caressed her tits and sucked on her nipples. I even kissed her on the
lips. They were cold -- cooler than the rest of her. Her teeth were clenched,
so I couldn't get my tongue in.

But my cock slid all the way into her cunt. There was still some heat
left inside her. I started stroking.

At first it was like fucking a pillow -- no reaction, no nothing. But as
my strokes picked up speed she started sliding back and forth beneath me. I
grabbed her ass and started shoving her harder onto my cock.

In and out, in and out. I wanted to shout it out: "I'm not a virgin
anymore!" I could feel her cunt walls pressing against my cock as I pounded it
in.

I kept it up for 10 minutes before I had to take a break, leaving my cock
inside her. I was getting tired, but my cock was still rock hard.

After a little rest, I started up again. God help me, I even thought
about shoving it in her asshole as well -- but the sphincter muscles tend to
relax after death, and I didn't want to stick my cock into a load of shit.

Her cunt was enough for me. By now I had worked up a sweat and I was
getting chilled from the slight cooling in the room, plus the deeper chill from
the refrigerated mist swirling out of the slider's drawer. But I was too horny
to stop.

I kept pumping, slamming my cock all the way into that dead woman's hole
while my fingers clawed at her ass, pulling her to me.

I closed my eyes and let my imagination take over. I was fucking Wanda,
poling that tight virginal cunt of hers. I was shoving my cock into Red, paying
that bitch back for humiliating me. I was ramming it into Mrs. Sherwin. I even
thought about sticking my dick into my mom -- all right, I admit it, I did.
After all, doesn't every guy? And my mom's good looking, in good shape for her
age. I thought about her inviting me into her bedroom when Dad was at work.
Stripping off her clothes, showing me her tits, spreading her legs, inviting me
into her. I think I even started moaning out loud: "I want you, Mom, I want to
fuck you, let me give it to you!"

When it finally came, my orgasm seemed to start somewhere in my
intestines and drive through my cock like a fiery lava flow. I shot my load
deep into the dead woman's cunt, over and over again.

By the time I got my clothes back on and went out to Vinnie, he met me at
the door. The attendant was coming back. I quickly pulled the sheet back over
Martha and slid her back into her compartment.

So now I have lost my cherry. I think it counts even if the woman's dead,
don't you?

But there's only one thing I worry about.

What if they noticed those scratches on her ass at the autopsy?


    

Back 1 page


Submit stories to: [email protected](dot)com
with the title heading "TSSA Story Submission"



Bottom