Two Nurses, One Night at The Hospital #6
Wren wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist and it didn’t help. She was dripping from the face down. Mara looked at her like she wasn’t finished. Like the two orgasms were a warmup they had scheduled around a lock.
“Bench,” Mara said. “Water off.”
Wren twisted the handle. The spray died. Drips. Steam. Their breathing too loud.
They didn’t dry. Towels stayed on the hook, half-used from whoever had been in here yesterday.
Mara pushed Wren onto her back on the bench.
Narrow. Cold. Wren’s wet hair stuck to it.
Mara climbed over her, thigh between Wren’s thighs, and dropped her weight until their cunts met, slick on slick, clit finding clit through the mess.
Wren’s mouth fell open.
“Don’t stop,” Wren said.
Mara didn’t.
She rolled her hips and the slide was filthy and perfect, two swollen clits grinding, water and cum making it too easy and not enough at the same time. Wren grabbed Mara’s ass and hauled her in harder. Their tits mashed. Mara’s wet hair curtained Wren’s face. The bench creaked.
The bench was too narrow for what they were doing and they did it anyway.
Mara’s cunt dragged over Wren’s in a slow filthy grind, clit catching clit, slick smacking quietly every time their hips met.
Water dripped from the showerhead onto the tile in an uneven tick.
Steam hung. Wren’s back stuck to the laminate.
Mara’s wet hair slapped Wren’s cheek when she moved.
They smelled like soap trying and failing to cover two girls who had already cum in a stall.
“Harder,” Wren said. “I can take it. Stop treating me like I’ll break.”
Mara gave her harder. Full weight. A mean roll that mashed Wren’s clit and made her vision go white at the edges.
Wren’s nails dug into Mara’s ass and left half-moons.
Mara hissed and did it again, and again, until the slide turned sloppy and their combined wet ran down Wren’s ass onto the bench in a warm line she could feel.
“Your cunt’s so fucking soft,” Mara muttered against her mouth. “Soaked. Open. I could sit on you until the day shift pulled the door off the lock.”
“Then sit. Don’t talk it. Fuck me.”
Mara spat on her fingers — not that they needed it — and shoved two into Wren while she kept grinding.
The stretch on top of the clit friction made Wren arch so hard her head hung off the end of the bench.
Mara fucked her with her hand and her hips at the same time, a dirty double rhythm, thumb sneaking up to help when the angle slipped.
Wren came first, wrecked and loud, no quiet rule left to obey.
Her pussy clamped Mara’s fingers and her clit jumped against Mara’s and she made a sound that would have carried if anyone had been in the west room.
Mara held her through it, grinding her down into the aftershocks until Wren was shaking and swearing and still lifting her hips for more.
“One more,” Wren gasped. “You. I want you to cum on me. On my cunt. I want to feel it.”
Mara pulled her fingers out and put that wet hand on the bench by Wren’s head. She lined them up again, clit to clit, and rode her with short desperate strokes. Wren got a hand between them and rubbed Mara where they met, two fingers on that swollen bud, sloppy circles in their mixed slick.
Mara broke with her face in Wren’s neck and her whole body gone tight. Wren felt it — the flutter, the extra flood of wet heat smearing over her own used pussy, Mara’s moan punched into her skin. They stayed locked like that, twitching, dripping, the bench a mess under them.
For a minute nobody talked.
Just breath. Drips. The far-off slam of a locker on the other side of the building.
Mara laughed once, wrecked, into Wren’s throat.
“We have to put clothes on and walk into daylight.”
“I know.”
They sat up slow. Wren’s thighs were shiny.
Mara’s too. The bench looked like a crime.
They used the sad towels anyway, not enough, leaving themselves damp in the places that mattered.
Clean scrubs from the lockers — Wren’s backup set wrinkled, Mara’s a little too big in the shoulders.
No hairnets. Hair wet and dark against their necks.
Badges clipped crooked on purpose, a private stupidity.
Socks went into a plastic bag. Bare feet into shoes. Wren felt every step in her well-used clit.
They left the lock off. Let the next person wonder.
The parking lot was too bright. Saturday morning. A bird going off like an idiot in the median tree. Mara’s dented car waited like nothing had happened inside the building.
Wren got in. Mara got in. The doors shut and the quiet came back, smaller than the stall, almost shy.
Mara’s hand landed on Wren’s thigh over the clean pant. High. Possessive. Her thumb rubbed once, not even trying to start anything, just saying mine without the word.
“Same shift tomorrow,” Mara said.
Wren looked at her mouth. At the wet hair. At the 21 year old night nurse who had just cum on her on a staff bench.
“I’m on 408,” Wren said.
“You’re on me,” Mara said. “Then 408.”
She started the car.
Wren kept her hand over Mara’s on her thigh all the way out of the lot, socks in a bag at her feet, badge crooked, cunt still pulsing like it hadn’t gotten the message that the shift was over.
More wild. More filthy. Don’t wait.