The Last Flight Chapter 7 - Sex Stories

The Last Flight Chapter 7

... that I cried out with the pain. He didn't stop but just kept pounding and pushing. Grunting and pawing at my breasts. Suddenly, it was over. He spilled his seed into me and semi-collapsed against me as he came. I just stood there, numb. This wasn't what I had planned for my first time and suddenly I hated him! He had taken advantage of me. I knew I was willing but now, with my senses returned, I felt sick. His penis slipped from me and he stood back and took a deep breath. He must have noticed the look on my face. “ Karen?” he said, slowly. “ Get away from me,” I whispered. He looked hurt. “ Karen, I...” he began to speak but I stared at him and repeated myself. “ Get away from me you bastard!” I screamed at him. He looked as though I had stabbed him through the heart and I suppose he realised that there was no point in arguing and, as he buttoned his trousers, turned and walked slowly from the room. I never saw him again. I neither knew, nor cared what had happened to him. It was six-thirty before anyone came to me. A nurse in a crisp white uniform checked my notes then looked at the dressing on my thigh. It was clean. “Bon,” she said as she pulled the crumpled sheet back over me. “Did you 'ave a good night, Mademoiselle?” she asked as she wrapped the wide, black collar around my arm and began to inflate it, her accent as strong as the nurse who was there when I awoke the previous night. “Not really,” I replied. I didn't really want to elaborate. “Oh, I am sorry to 'ear ...

... zat,” she said. “What was wrong?” “Oh, just a dream.” “Cauchemar?” she said, questioning. I frowned uncomprehending. “Oh, erm, Night, erm, 'orse?” she offered. That made me chuckle a little “Yes,” I smiled at her, “Nighthorse.” "It is only to be expected,” she replied solemnly. “After all, you 'ave been through a bad time.” Finally, after she had removed all the paraphernalia and put it back on its stand, she said: “All is well, Mademoiselle. Breakfast shall be along soon.” She was right, the trolley appeared a few minutes after she left and this time I asked for 'Thé'. It was no better, it had been in the pot for quite some time, I judged from its darkness, and the milk did little to help, just accentuated its rusty brown colour and made it even thicker. I wasn't at all hungry, even though I had eaten very little in the past forty-eight hours. The lady was very nice though and left me a croissant and a little jam and butter, in case I changed my mind. She spoke only in French and I had no idea what she was saying as she chatted away. I don't think she even noticed my silence. “Good morning, Karen.” Matron Blanchard appeared at the door. Immediately I felt my face burn. “Oh, Good morning, Matron,” I replied somewhat sheepishly, not knowing where to look. “Matron?” she repeated the title as a question, looked sideways at me and raised an eyebrow. I smiled, flushing even more and replied: “Françoise,” and felt extremely self concious. “I spoke to Doctor Harlow before he left. He ...