Two Nurses, One Night at The Hospital #5
“Socks last.” Mara’s voice cracked on it anyway. “I already told you. I want them rolled down. I want my mouth on the skin underneath. I want you in that shower with water on your tits and my face in your cunt and time to hear you. Not a console in your ass and a shift change walking past the hood.”
Wren’s clit throbbed against Mara’s thigh, ugly and insistent. She could have cum in five more grinds. She knew it. Mara knew it. That was why Mara’s hands went to Wren’s waist and lifted her back toward the passenger seat like it hurt her to do it.
Wren landed crooked. Pants twisted. One tit still out. She tucked herself back in with shaking hands.
Mara wiped her fingers on her own scrub pant, a dark streak she didn’t bother hiding.
“Sunday,” Wren said. “You said Sunday.”
“Sunday is in eleven hours if you count sleep, which we won’t get.” Mara started the car, then shut it off again, swore, and looked at Wren. “Or we go back in now. East locker room. The single shower. Days uses the west side. If we’re stupid we do it now.”
Wren’s whole body said now.
“Now,” Wren said.
Mara stared at her mouth, then at the slouched cuff of Wren’s sock where the pant had ridden up.
“You walk in with those on,” Mara said. “You don’t touch them. That’s mine.”
They got out of the car like they had forgotten something in the building.
The garage air hit Wren’s wet pants and made her shiver. Mara’s hand found the back of Wren’s neck for three steps, a secret grip, then dropped before the badge reader.
The door clicked.
Warm hospital air. Bleach. Coffee. The locker room down the left hall, humming, almost empty.
Mara didn’t look at her when she said it.
“0710. We’re late. Don’t you dare take those socks off before I get the door shut.”
Wren walked.
Every step squelched a little. She kept the socks on.
The east locker room smelled like damp tile and someone else’s cheap body spray.
One bank of lockers humming. A faucet dripping in the far sink. No voices. Mara shut the door to the little side alcove that held the single shower and the short bench and thumbed the slide lock. It was the kind of lock that would not survive a real inspection. It was enough.
Wren stood there in full uniform with her heart in her cunt.
“Tops,” Mara said.
Wren pulled hers over her head. The sports bra came next, peeled off sticky skin, and the air hit her tits and pulled both nipples tight.
Mara watched while she stripped her own, no show, just fabric hitting the bench.
Mara’s breasts were fuller than Wren’s, pale with cold-pink nipples, a faint red line under them from the bra band.
Wren wanted them in her hands and her mouth and between her own tits if they ever got that sloppy.
Pants next. Drawstrings yanked. Navy puddled at their shoes. Underwear down. Wren stepped out of hers and they were so wet they stuck to her ankle. Her pussy felt swollen and obvious, lips slick, clit standing out like it had its own pulse. Mara’s was the same wreck, dark hair shiny with it.
Shoes off.
Socks on.
Black compression fabric from mid-calf to under the arch, ugly hospital issue, dented at the top where the cuff had fought all night. Wren’s legs looked obscene like that — bare ass, bare cunt, bare tits, and those tight socks still gripping her like a leftover rule.
“Sit,” Wren said.
Mara sat on the bench. Thighs open because there was no point in closing them. Wren dropped to the floor between her knees, tile biting her own kneecaps, and took Mara’s left calf in both hands.
She rolled the sock down the way Mara had promised somebody would.
Slow. Heel first, peeling the fabric off the back of the foot, then the ankle, then the arch.
The skin underneath was paler, marked with the weave, hot, a little damp, smelling like rubber and sweat and the inside of a shoe.
Wren put her mouth on it. Not cute. Open.
Tongue on the indent. She sucked the hinge of Mara’s ankle and felt Mara’s whole leg twitch.
“Fuck,” Mara whispered. “That’s—keep doing that.”
Wren finished the sock and dropped it. A sad black ring on wet tile. She did the right one the same way, even slower, and when the last of it cleared Mara’s toes she licked the top of Mara’s foot once, filthy and unnecessary, just to hear Mara’s breath break.
Then Mara pulled her up and sat her on the bench.
Mara on her knees now. Twenty-one. Naked except the socks she was about to steal.
She rolled Wren’s left sock down with both thumbs, pausing to kiss the inside of Wren’s knee, then the sharp bone of her ankle, then the arch where the fabric had sat so long Wren shivered when air hit it.
Mara’s mouth was wet. Her hair brushed Wren’s cunt as she bent and Wren had to grab the bench to keep from shoving her face there early.
Right sock. Last one. Mara took her time on purpose. When it came off she held Wren’s bare heel in her palm and looked up the line of Wren’s body — dripping pussy, tight nipples, wrecked mouth.
“That’s what I wanted,” Mara said. “All of it off except when I said.”
She stood. Started the shower.
Water slammed on, too hot at first, then honest. Steam lifted. The spray hit the tile and threw a fine mist onto Wren’s thighs. Mara stepped under and held out a hand.
Wren went.
Hot water on tired backs. On tits. On the sticky mess between their legs, rinsing and then making it worse because they kept touching.
Soap from the wall dispenser, hospital floral trying and failing to cover the smell of two cunts.
Mara’s hands were everywhere. Slippery over Wren’s ass, up her ribs, thumbs on her nipples, one thigh slotted between Wren’s so their wet pussies kissed every time the water shoved them closer.
Wren soaped Mara’s breasts and pinched just to hear her hiss. She slid a hand down and cupped Mara’s cunt under the spray, two fingers riding the slit, not in yet, just holding the heat of her.
Mara kissed her under the water until Wren couldn’t tell spit from shower.
Then Mara pulled back, hair plastered to her cheeks, mouth red.
“I have been thinking about this tile since the utility,” she said. “Your back on it. My mouth on you. You making the noise you swallowed when my fingers were in you.”
Wren’s voice came out wrecked. “Then get on your knees.”
Mara’s eyes flashed. Hunger. Agreement.
She put her hands on Wren’s hips and started down.
Water sheeted off her shoulders. Her mouth passed Wren’s navel, her hip bone, the top of the trimmed hair Wren hadn’t bothered with.
Wren’s heel found the wall. Her other foot stayed planted in the puddle.
She already knew what Mara’s tongue was going to feel like from the other side of it and her clit throbbed toward that mouth like it had a hook in it.
Mara’s knees hit the wet tile.
She looked up once, water in her lashes, and set Wren’s thigh on her shoulder.
Mara’s mouth found her under the water and Wren’s head hit the tile.
Not gentle. Mara opened her up with both thumbs and licked Wren’s cunt like she was owed it.
Flat tongue through the folds, then a tight seal over Wren’s clit, sucking in wet pulses that matched the shower’s hammer.
Water ran down Wren’s tits, over her belly, over Mara’s forehead, into Mara’s open mouth around Wren’s pussy.
Wren tasted steam and soap and her own moan bouncing off the stall.
“Fuck. Fuck. Right there. Don’t you dare be nice.”
Mara wasn’t nice. She hooked Wren’s thigh higher on her shoulder and buried her face until her nose was in Wren’s wet hair and her tongue was working Wren’s clit in mean little flicks.
One hand stayed spreading her. The other shoved two fingers into Wren’s hole, easy from how soaked she already was, and fucked her in time with her mouth.
Wren’s hands slapped the wall. Then Mara’s hair. She held her there and ground down, using Mara’s face, watching water sheet off Mara’s back and the flex of her ass as she knelt in the puddle. The sounds were filthy even under the spray — suck, slosh, the thick note of fingers in a dripping cunt.
“You’re going to cum on my tongue,” Mara said, pulling off just long enough to say it, lips shiny, chin running. “In a staff shower. With the lock that wouldn’t stop a kid. Give it to me.”
Wren gave it.
The orgasm hit hard and ugly, a full-body clench that made her thigh shake on Mara’s shoulder.
Her pussy grabbed Mara’s fingers and spilled onto her tongue, a hot rush Mara kept licking through, greedy, until Wren was twitching and trying to climb the wall and still shoving her cunt at Mara’s mouth because stopping felt worse.
Mara eased her fingers out. Kissed Wren’s inner thigh once, almost tender, which was worse than filthy.
“Switch,” Wren rasped.
Mara stood. Wren’s legs were garbage. She made it to the bench just outside the spray, ass on cold laminate, and pulled Mara with her by the hips.
“Up. On my mouth. Now.”
Mara put one foot on the bench and stood over Wren’s face like she’d been built for it. Wet. Open. Her cunt hovered and then settled on Wren’s mouth, and Wren groaned into her like she’d been starved since the utility floor.
This angle was dirtier. Wren could see everything — the underside of Mara’s tits, water dripping off her nipples, the tremble in her belly.
She held Mara’s ass in both hands and licked from hole to clit, then fastened on and sucked.
Mara’s taste flooded her again, stronger after the shower had tried to wash it off and failed.
Wren shoved her tongue inside her just to feel her squeeze, then went back to the clit because that was what made Mara’s standing leg shake.
“Wren. Fuck. Your mouth. I’m—”
Mara’s hand slammed the wall. Her hips rolled and she fucked Wren’s tongue in short dirty strokes, smearing slick all over Wren’s chin and cheeks.
Wren ate her through it, sloppy, hungry, breathing when she could.
When Mara came it was with her thighs clamping Wren’s head and a broken sound she didn’t bother swallowing.
Fresh wet filled Wren’s mouth. Wren swallowed what she could and let the rest run down her throat toward her own tits.
Mara staggered off her, catching the wall.
The shower kept running. Neither of them moved to shut it off.