1950 Love is the Drug - Sex Stories

1950 Love is the Drug

... and then said, "Friction?"

"That is certainly a factor but increased blood flow will also play its part."

She moved her right hand up and down the penis shaft several times.

"Once again, friction will come into play here but now there will be mental factors too."

At the very moment that Sister Hastings-Smith felt the penis twitch, she engulfed it with the flannel. Using both hands, she held it firmly in place until the patient's body finally stopped jerking. She then used the flannel to ensure that all of the bodily fluid was cleaned up.

"There, that should help you sleep, Mr Turvy," the sister said as she handed Celeste the flannel and marched back to her desk.

"Aren't you afraid that he will try that trick every night? asked Celeste when she had a chance to speak to Sister Hastings-Smith.

"Not really, Sister Hughes starts her week of nights tomorrow. I am told that when she slaps a cock, it doesn't get up off the canvas for quite awhile," laughed the sister.

..................................................................

Once she had signed the register as a fully qualified nurse she felt like there was nothing she would rather do in the world. The feeling of being in control when she stood opposite a young doctor (and sometimes a not so young doctor) and shook her head to save him from making a fatal mistake couldn't be bettered.

Her hard work and dedication was rewarded and by the time that the Second World War broke out she was a Ward ...

... Sister herself.

On the night of Sunday November 24th 1940, Celeste was off duty when the first bombs landed on Bristol. She quickly dressed and made her way to the Royal Infirmary. That night made her question so much of her life. She realised that there was such a fine line between living and not living. Not just life and death but giving up your life for others and having a life of your own.

The next night she dressed up, went out, got drunk and lost her virginity to a sailor. Within ten minutes an American G.I. had helped it stay lost.

On every free night after that she did something similar. She gave no less to her vocation but she made sure that she gave something to herself as well. Celeste didn't give any thought to getting pregnant until it didn't happen. The way that the Luftwaffe was pounding Bristol she just had a vague feeling that she would be dead long before there would be any consequences to her actions.

Once she believed she was in more imminent danger of being blown up than knocked up, Sister Celeste Lanyon got herself fucked at every possible opportunity. She did this for the simple reason that she loved it.

In Bristol, in wartime, there was no lack of backstreet boozers with endless numbers of seedy men who were willing to buy a girl a drink and even more willing to take her out the back and shag her. Usually, one pub was sufficient but occasionally Celeste had to pick her way through the blackout to find what she needed. Some nights it was two ...