First Appointment

After suffering a minor injury to his buttocks, a new patient at a medical clinic gets far more than he expected from a comely and exotic nurse named Saanvi.

Part One

It was undoubtedly the most embarrassing injury I had suffered in my life. I had broken a couple of toes, three fingers and even some ribs over the years, most of those from participating in sports. They were, I suppose, manly injuries that a typical active male would almost brag about having. However, the gouge in my buttocks did not fall into that category at all. It was caused by a moment of carelessness and stupidity. On some level, I deserved it.

My name is Victor (Vic) Charles. As a kid I was teased by schoolmates for being “the boy with two first names.” It didn’t bother me as there was nothing wrong with either of my names. Furthermore, the surname Charles had a long history in my suburban Canadian community. The Charles family had been business and political leaders since the 1880s. It was now 2024. I was 40 years old and unmarried, but I considered myself to be successful as an investment counsellor at a major bank. I had plenty of friends and numerous hobbies to keep me occupied.

One of those pastimes, however, was responsible for my embarrassing injury. I liked to volunteer as a minor official at youth hockey games. I’d been doing it since I was a teenager. This meant I was not on the ice, but I was operating the time clock/scoreboard, or doing P.A. announcements, or manually keeping track of scoring plays and penalties, or manning one of the penalty boxes to make sure the players returned to the ice at the proper time. On this February Sunday, I was doing the last of those tasks at a tournament for boys under the age of 12.

There were several arenas in town being used for this large, annual event. I was assigned to the small venue located so close to my home that I could easily drive to it in less than ten minutes. It was not a luxurious building by any means. It had been hastily built in the 1950s and was now showing its age. On cold winter days—as this one was—it could get extremely chilly because the teams’ benches, penalty box and timekeeper’s box were set against a thin wall. It was all that separated the staff and players from the great outdoors. Throughout that long day the temperature outside was well below freezing. All the volunteers were thoroughly bundled up. There was a small, antiquated overhead heater that made a lot of noise but did not create much warmth. I had worked the penalty box area in that arena for decades. It was separated from the visiting team’s bench with a barrier. On it there was a bolt that protruded dangerously outward. Until today it had never been a source of trouble because it was far enough away from where the penalized players and penalty box attendant usually stood.

The sixth and final game I volunteered to work that day was a boisterous, well-attended affair that had the building rocking with noise. Late in the game a penalty was called. The clamor of the crowd, plus the loud rattle of the overhead heater made it difficult to hear what the referee was reporting to me and the scorekeeper. I thought I was being smart by lifting myself into a sitting position on the boards so I could get closer to the referee to better hear what he had to say. That was true; I did hear him much better. Unfortunately, I forgot about the protruding bolt. When I descended back down to floor level, the bolt ripped a sizable gash in my jeans and briefs, and (unknown to me) had opened a cut on my backside. Both the penalized player and my friend Terry Spencer, who was the game’s scorekeeper, saw and heard what had happened to me. They both laughed at my mishap—as I did. I was happy there were only two minutes left in the game. I figured I could run out of the arena once the crowd dispersed and without any of them seeing the enormous rip in the seat of my trousers.

At least that was my plan. I knew something was amiss because of an unpleasant sensation engulfing my rear end. When I momentarily sat down on the penalty box’s bench and got up a few seconds later, I left behind a pool of blood. Terry saw it before I did and became alarmed. “Vic! You’re bleeding fairly heavily. You need to get that cut attended to quickly,” he stated.

I pointed to the game clock at the far end of the arena and noted, “Terry, there are only 90 seconds left in the game. I can certainly wait until it’s over.” I did, but as soon as the buzzer sounded, Terry signaled to one of the on-ice officials to get someone from the St. John’s Ambulance crew to treat my injury. They had been assigned to all the tournament venues just in case a player or spectator needed medical help. They probably hadn’t figured on a 40-year-old minor official getting hurt by a protruding bolt in the penalty box.

The players had all left the ice and most of the spectators had vacated the stands by the time a paramedic named Jason reached me in the penalty box and examined my wound. I explained how I had suffered it. He described it as “nasty” and patched me up as best he could, but he was worried about the possibility of tetanus from the rusty bolt. He suggested I go to the emergency room of the closest hospital for further treatment. The only good thing to come from this silly mishap (so far) was that a few days later the arena replaced the bolt with a much smaller one that no longer presented such a hazard. In a roundabout way, I had unintentionally done something good for future penalty box attendants at that arena.

Terry insisted on driving me to the hospital. I was thankful for the offer because I wasn’t sure I could manage it. I got further treatment when I arrived. This included having stitches applied to the wound and having the dressing changed. I was given antibiotic pills to battle any infection that might occur. I was also told to report to the ParaMed office located across the street from the hospital the next morning at 8 a.m. for another dressing change and further assessment. Once there, I’d be given a schedule of appointments to return, likely daily, for further dressing changes until the wound was sufficiently healed. I let out an audible sigh at the ordeal I had gotten myself into due to a single moment of carelessness. Having suffered this injury while doing voluntary community service made me think about a cynical adage: “No good deed goes unpunished.”

Part Two

The next morning, as ordered, I arrived at the ParaMed office at 7:40 a.m., 20 minutes ahead of schedule. I was obviously expected as the person in charge of appointments asked me if my name was Victor Charles. I said I was indeed. I was told to have a seat. When I said I preferred to stand because of the nature of my injury, the woman smiled. I was serious. Standing for an hour was far more comfortable for me at that moment than sitting for five minutes was.

At about 7:50 a.m., a pretty young nurse came to the waiting room. She, too, asked for me by name. Her nametag said she was Saanvi. From her complexion—and her unusual name—she was obviously of Indian descent. I raised my hand to identify myself. Saanvi looked at some notes about my case that she had gotten from the physician who had treated me at the hospital the previous evening. When she saw where my wound was located, she commented, “Given the nature of your injury, we need to go to a private room.” As I did not want to display my sore bum in front of half a dozen people who were being treated for injuries to their arms and legs, that seemed like a sensible decision to me, and I said so.

Saanvi looked to be about 25. She was only about 5’1” tall, but she had an endearing smile and was pleasantly busty for her small size. I always like to fantasize about new attractive women I encountered in my daily travels. Accordingly, my mind went into action. I pictured Saanvi in a bright yellow bikini. I figured she would fill it out quite nicely. Never did I think I’d be seeing her in less than that within a few minutes.

We went to Room #3. There were two chairs and a padded examination table on which patients lied if they needed to do so. I declined the chair. I verbally recounted how I had suffered my wound, how I’d been first treated by a paramedic onsite at the arena, and how I was further treated at the hospital’s emergency room not long afterward. Saanvi noticed that I was taking a light-hearted approach to my injury and she giggled at the way I told the story.

“Well, Victor, I think it would be better if you just stood up and bent over at a 90-degree angle while I look at your wound and change your dressing. You can use the examination table to support yourself. Please remove your trousers and underwear so I can have a look at the damage on your rear end.”

I did as she said, dropping both items of clothing down to my ankles. I was tempted to inform this pretty nurse that she was welcome to examine any part of me that she liked, but I held my tongue as such an obvious sexual comment would be crossing the line.

Saanvi basically agreed with what I’d already heard twice from medical professionals. I had suffered a nasty gash on my right buttock that was about two inches long. The dressing would have to be changed daily for at least a week, and I should take antibiotic pills as prescribed to kill any possible infection. Saanvi covered my stitches with a gauze pad that had a special antibacterial compound on it and secured it in place with medical tape. She said before I left the ParaMed office, I should make arrangements at the front desk for daily visits for the next seven days. The entire procedure hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes.

I was waiting for permission to pull my underwear and trousers back into place, which I expected at any second. Instead, I got the surprise of my life when Saanvi, seated behind me on a chair, put her hands between my thighs and fondled my testicles! I was certainly startled by what she had done, but I wasn’t complaining about it. Saanvi lowered her voice and said, “Victor, you have such a lovely cock. Will you let me play with it?”

It wasn’t the first time that I’d had a delighted woman praise my male equipment. I was fairly well endowed and had never gotten any complaints from the females I had bedded starting with cute and curious Jill Miller back in the seventh grade. (In fact, I was afraid I had hurt Jill when we had our one and only act of sexual intercourse. I was apologetic and proud of myself at the same time.) Having an on-duty nurse take liberties with my penis was something entirely new, however. I was greatly enjoying Saanvi’s touch, so I immediately agreed that she could continue doing what she was doing—and plenty more if she was so inclined. Apparently, she was!

I turned around to face her. Saanvi, sporting a huge grin, was still seated, so my rapidly stiffening rod was now at the level of her face. With her right hand giving me gentle tugs and her left hand rubbing my testicles, I became fully hard in under a minute. I was about to ask her a question, but she answered it without me having to say a single word. “Victor, your time slot with me was scheduled for half an hour. We started early and the dressing change took about five minutes. We can quietly stay in this room and have fun together until 8:30. That’s when I see my next patient. I enjoy having sex and I want to have a fuck with you. Are you okay with that?”

I looked at the clock on the wall. It read two minutes to eight. I figured 32 minutes of sex with a busty, horny, and somewhat exotic young nurse would be time well spent. It took me perhaps three seconds to inform Saanvi that her suggestion was an excellent one. I would happily fuck her between now and her next patient’s arrival at 8:30.

“That’s great!” she exclaimed. “But we do have to be quiet. As long as we don’t make a lot of unusual noise, we won’t be caught. I’ve done this with plenty of my male patients before.” Indirectly, Saanvi had just confessed to being a nymphomaniac.

Without further ado, Saanvi took my shaft into her mouth and gave me an excellent blowjob, alternating skillful licks and sucks, all the while continuing the superb stimulation of my balls. She had obviously done this many, many times before. “You have a large cock, Victor. I really like it!” she said the moment she removed it from her mouth. I had been inactive; I was just enjoying the sensation of having my phallus licked. It occurred to me that Saanvi’s prominent breasts needed my prompt attention, so I placed my hands on them and began squeezing them.

“Let me help you by taking my top off!” Saanvi said. She quickly removed the garment. It was a simple, navy-blue t-shirt; none of the ParaMed staff wore typical nursing uniforms. Her beige bra came off a few seconds later, causing her large breasts to jiggle for a moment as they settled. If I wasn’t fully aroused before, I truly was now!
“Your tits are magnificent, Saanvi!” I told her. Amusingly, she was impressed that I had remembered her name since I could no longer see her nametag that was pinned to her discarded t-shirt. They were lovely, pliable objects that I merrily manipulated. I suggested we trade places so I could sit on the chair and be face-level at her tits so I could suck on them without difficulty. For a brief moment I forgot that sitting was now painful for me, but the chance of getting mouthfuls of this sexy nurse’s big boobs was worth the discomfort. Since the onset of puberty, I had long been a tit-loving man. (Diminutive Jill Miller had been a busty young teen all those years ago.) Saanvi’s set was probably the best I had ever experienced.

Saanvi stepped back to remove her slacks and panties and exposed her shaved pussy. That somehow surprised me. I didn’t know Indian girls ever did this—and I don’t know why I thought that was the case. Regardless, it was another enticing body part of Saanvi’s for me to enjoy. She moved forward to me so I could lick it to my heart’s content. Saanvi clearly enjoyed my act of cunnilingus, too, as she began to squeal in ecstasy. I had to remind her to lower her voice.

She giggled for a moment and said, “Yes, Victor, you are right. Both you and I must stay quiet during sex.”

Saanvi intended to climb abord me while I was sitting in the chair, but the extra weight on my lap hurt my sore bottom beyond the point of toleration. I let out a yelp and quickly set Saanvi back onto her feet. I made a helpful suggestion: “Why don’t I fuck you on that padded examination table? That way I won’t hurt myself further.”

“Very good, idea Victor!” she agreed. “Not only do you have a big cock, you have a smart mind, too!”

“Thanks for those compliments,” I replied. “I’ll have to be on top riding you, though. Okay?”

Saanvi readily agreed, noting, “That’s the best kind of fucking, Victor! I like it when the man takes charge and seriously screws me very hard like there’s no tomorrow. Yes, do it!”

My nurse climbed onto the table, lied on her back, spread her legs invitingly, and then I climbed aboard her. I quickly shoved my throbbing penis into Saanvi’s wonderful vagina. For someone who was apparently very sexually active, I found her pussy to be pleasantly tight. Maybe it was because she was small and I was large in stature, at exactly six feet tall. Maybe it was because I had a penis that was both thick and slightly above average in length. Whatever the case, Saanvi enjoyed the penetration. She did her best to suppress any verbal expressions of joy, but I could see it on her face that she was thrilled that I was rhythmically shoving my manhood in and out of her. My hands were firmly upon her waist so I could give her strong thrusts. Occasionally, I put them back on her breasts. Their jiggling greatly turned me on. I couldn’t help stopping my screwing every now and then to feel them. They were irresistible!

I could feel an orgasm building. I was tempted to remain inside Saanvi’s wonderful pussy and deposit my load of hot semen there, but I thought better of it and pulled out. Two tugs later I was squirting ropes of jism on Saanvi’s torso and face. The feeling was terrific. I hadn’t come that hard in at least 20 years. I felt like cheering.

Saanvi grimaced when a large portion of my ejaculation struck her face. I gave her an insincere apology. I always enjoyed that sexual act whenever I got together for a romp with a compliant gal. I just liked the sight of my thick goo dripping from her nose, cheeks, lips and chin. Part of my cum shot was also dangling from the areolas of Saanvi’s excellent tits, which was also a sexy sight I never tired of seeing.

Saanvi rose from the table and grabbed a few paper towels and a large handful of tissues from the nearby supply cupboard. “I never was into a man ejaculating on my face,” Saanvi said quietly to me. “It’s always messy and it achieves nothing. But if it makes you happy, Victor, I shouldn’t complain, though, because your fucking made me extremely happy. You have a very strong dick, Victor. You should use it as often as you can. It certainly pleased me.”

“Thanks for those compliments, too!” I replied. “I can’t speak for every male on the planet, but I like coming on females’ faces because it’s fun. Hey, at least I find it to be fun! I’m sorry if it bothered you. Saanvi, if we have a next time, I’ll aim my cum shot elsewhere.”

“There will definitely be a next time!” she told me with absolute certainty.

“Oh?” I inquired, hopefully seeking confirmation.

“Yes, there will,” Saanvi said with equal confidence. “When you make your seven days of appointments at the front desk, make them all at times that occur during the morning. That’s my shift here. Changing your dressing can easily be done in two minutes. The rest of the time we’ll spend fucking. I expect in about three days your sore bottom won’t be nearly so tender. Then I can ride you whenever we fuck, Victor! That ought to be great fun for both of us!”