I awoke to blinding light and with a throbbing headache. I reflexively squeezed my eyes shut and started to shield my face with my left hand. This minimal movement brought on maximal pain in my shoulder. I squinted and forced open my eyes. My left arm was bound to my chest by a black canvas and Velcro apparatus. I looked to the right. My hand was taped to a foam-covered board and an IV had been threaded into a vein. A red plastic bracelet with the notation, “ALLERGY: penicillin” was around my wrist.

I mumbled to myself, “Where am I? What happened?”

A voice behind me and to the right answered, “You’re in the emergency room at Valley View Hospital. You were in an accident.”

“Is everyone else OK?”

The disembodied voice walked around the gurney. I was face to face with an athletic-looking thirty-year-old dressed in a ball cap and jumpsuit. “Yeah, it was just you and your pickup taking on a fully-loaded tanker truck. The semi won. I was one of the EMTs that pried you out. You gave us a scare.”

I guess I looked quizzical.

He continued, “We thought you had major injuries. The entire driver’s side was crushed and you were covered head to toe in what we thought was blood.”

“Thought?”

He laughed and continued, “I stuck my head into the blown-out passenger window to get a closer look. You smelled good enough to eat. It wasn’t blood; it was barbecue sauce. We found an aluminum pan on the floor and about five pounds of ribs and chicken.”

I started to laugh, but caught myself. There was an abrupt searing pain in my left lower ribs and a stab in my left thigh.

“So far, the docs say you have a concussion, a dislocated shoulder that I popped back in, three cracked ribs, and this.”

He raised the gown. Getting beyond my being buck naked, there was a nasty-looking two-inch wound on my outer thigh and an equally scary wound on the inner thigh not more than an inch from the end of my cock.

“What the fuck?”

“You got gored by a bull.” He continued, “The Peterbilt had a set of those stupid bull horns on the hood. One horn pierced right through your door and into your leg. You’re lucky you still have your manhood.”

I saw him swallow hard as he lowered the gown.

“I gotta go. I’ll stop by and see you after my shift. They’re admitting you for observation.”

I said my thanks as he shut the door. I couldn’t help but notice the way he filled out that jumpsuit. He was maybe 6’ 2” and perhaps 185 pounds. He had a tight-looking ass and did I spy an erection as he turned to leave? It really didn’t matter in my condition. I had a lot more on my plate than sucking a hot stud’s cock.

I ultimately was wheeled up to the orthopedic surgery floor; but not before a clerk performed a wallet biopsy (checked my insurance card and IDs) and an intern dealt with my thigh wounds. Dr. Kim Edwards, the surgical intern, was cute in a college soccer player sort of way. She was of average height and weight (as best I could tell with her white lab coat). She had dark straw-colored hair, no makeup, and was wearing small wire rims. In short, I normally would walk right past her and not bat an eye.

And then she removed her lab coat!

Dr. Kim (as she asked to be called) was wearing rather loose-fitting robin’s egg blue scrubs. Despite the abundance of thin fabric, there was no mistaking the fact she was braless. She had heavy-looking 38DDs and matching large nipples that were struggling to break through her top. My thought was, “Gotta love air conditioning.”

We chitchatted as she opened cabinets to retrieve supplies, donned gloves, and prepared the general area of my leg for whatever she planned. She had a very subtle southern accent; not one of those twangy Tennessee or Alabama voices, but more like what one hears around Lexington.

I took a stab, “Kentucky?”

“Nope, Virginia,”

I tried again, “College soccer, UVA?”

“Nope, field hockey, UNC.” She laughed and asked whether I always talked so much.

I laughed back and told her I wasn’t used to going “0 for 2”. She flipped her hair and responded, “Yeah, I bet not.”

Dr. Kim went about her business, first placing sterile towels to localize a squared-off area of my thigh to include both wounds. It was necessary to hike up my gown, given that the wounds were only about a third down my leg. I watched her face as she exposed my semi-tumescent shlong. Much like the EMT, she swallowed hard, then locked eyes with me for a split second. I couldn’t tell if she was impressed with my significant endowment or whether she was simply grossed out by the two jagged holes. One way or the other, she quipped that I was her first toreador patient.

I asked if she was going to numb the wound edges before she launched into doing whatever she was going to do. Much to my chagrin, she answered in the negative. She stated the injections would hurt more than the procedure. “Besides,” she added, “You’re a big boy, a very big boy.”

I started worrying that she was losing focus.

She washed the exposed skin with sudsy Betadine soap and then painted it with some sort of fluorescent pinkish stuff. It stung like a mother. I’m not talking the “little bee sting” thing that doctors always suggest, but rather fire-breathing-dragon pain.

The procedure itself was pretty crude and involved just sticking what looked like a turkey baster into each hole and flushing what she claimed was antibiotic saline solution. The cool liquid actually felt good. She then opened a brown bottle and started pulling out a ribbon of greasy-looking yellow gauze. She cut two pieces, each about a foot long uttering, “Packing.”

I caught on that she was going to cram that stuff into my leg, so I naturally asked if it was gonna smart. Her response was another of those doctor phrases that terrify me; namely, that I might feel a “little pressure”. Well, I’ve never had a root canal and I’ve never been in labor; but the pain was wildly beyond “pressure”.

Dr. Kim finished up, ending the wound care by wrapping the thigh from top to bottom with a four-inch Ace. With every turn, the back of her gloved hand brushed my hardening cock. If you’d have asked me whether I would ever in a million years get turned on by someone wearing latex gloves; I would have laughed and asked you, “Just how do you think up these things?”

But, there it was. The little brain had a mind of its own.

Dr. Kim exited, suggesting she’d be checking in on me when she made late evening rounds. Thankfully (or not) she didn’t comment on the eight inches of man meat she had just encountered.

I got up to my room at 10:30 pm and was admitted by an all-business older nurse who didn’t smile once from start to finish. Thankfully she gave me a plastic basin that contained not only basic hygiene items, but also my wallet and cell phone. There was a text from my wife Donna that she would just give me a buzz when she landed tomorrow evening and that she’d be at passenger pickup outside of the SWA baggage area. I didn’t return the text. There was no reason to get her all worried prematurely. Procrastination was the name of the game.

I asked about pain medication. Nurse Ratched plopped down a tiny paper cup with two white pills. She pointed to a plastic cup of water with a plastic straw and walked out. Did I kill her dog? I swallowed what turned out to be two hydrocodone.

After about forty-five minutes, I was feeling pretty good. In fact, I was feeling better than good; I felt great. Not loopy, like that time I got my wisdom teeth removed, just blessedly pain-free. I eased out of bed, grabbed my IV pole, and limped to the john. With a couple of hours of IV fluids on board, I had to pee like a racehorse. I pulled my gown up and threw it over my left (good for nothing) shoulder like a toga, leaned back, and let the fire hose do its thang. I closed my eyes, swooned a tad from the joy juice pills, and felt that wonderful sensation of an emptying bladder.

I washed my mitts and headed back into the room, pretty much au naturale with my toga still over the shoulder. No sooner had I reached the bed, than my favorite EMT knocked and walked in. “Here, let me help you,” he offered. “That’s a new one,” he said, pointing to the gown.

“Whoops, forgot it was up there. Must be the pain pills.”

“Let’s leave it up there awhile. I’ll be able to check your ribs and thigh easier.”

With that, he pulled the curtain around the bed and sat on the edge. He gently began palpating the lateral rib cage, both right and left; moving inward and over my pecs. He circled the areolae slowly, moving progressively inward to the nipples. He lightly touched the very tip of each nipple with his index fingers, asking if they hurt. My response was truthful, “Far from it.”

He took my response to be a green light, leaning downward and licking first the left and then the right hardening tits. As he shifted away from the right nipple, he moved upward. I closed my eyes, licked my lips, and parted them. His warm lips met mine. I could feel first the very tip of his tongue tentatively teasing my barely open lips. I wanted it all. I let out a heavy sigh, placed my right hand on the back of his neck, and encouraged him to tongue fuck my now widely open mouth. I felt his left hand squeezing my right pec, then pinching the nipple. I broke our kiss and commanded him to pinch it harder, telling him, “Yeah baby, pinch it, twist it.”

I wanted more. I placed my hand on the top of his head and pushed him downward, “Suck my dick, boy. I know you want it.”

He took orders well. He licked and kissed his way from my neck to my chest, then directly to my navel and down to my manscaped pubic area. He inhaled deeply my essence and proceeded farther south. He lifted my cock and licked the junction with my balls. He spit-shined my rod, licking up and down a half dozen times, then stopped at the head. He used the very tip of his talented tongue to remove a large drop of glistening precum from the slit and distributed it around the head, in effect lubricating it for its later entrance between his lips.

I needed to control this cock sucker and shoot a load. “What are you waiting for? Suck my dick,” I commanded. He was a good team player and immediately took half of my bratwurst into his mouth.

He knew his way around a big hoss. He used both hands to jack and wring out the dish towel, while licking and sucking the head. I really liked his technique and I knew his placing two hands on my Louisville Slugger would keep him from gagging, should I get more forceful.

I was getting pretty close to blowing my fourth or fifth load of the day (who’s counting?) when the curtains parted and Dr. Kim stuck her head in. “Lars, you giving our patient a little physiotherapy?”

Lars (first time I’d heard his name) did look Scandinavian: blonde, blue-eyed, and trim. Anyway, he stopped his service long enough to laugh and invite her to join the fun.

Dr. Kim stepped in, closed the drapes behind her, unbuttoned, and shed her lab coat. She lean down and gave me a passionate open-mouth kiss. Just as I was ready to reciprocate and explore her mouth with my tongue, she pulled away. My disappointment was short-lived. She reached down, jerked her shirttail out of her scrub bottoms, and pulled the top over her head and off. My previous guess was spot on. She had very large, pendulous knockers with areolae at least two inches in diameter. Centered we’re dark brown nipples as big around as her index fingers and at least 3/4” long. With her left hand, she guided my head toward her breasts, pushing her cleavage into my face with the other. I was in hog heaven. My thought was, “Thank you ma’am for those pain pills.”

I opened my mouth to accept her right Tootsie Roll nipple, but she had other ideas. She held my head firmly and ran her sweet treat around my face. I locked eyes with her and licked my lips, distributing abundant saliva over both. She caught on, now isolating her rubbing only to my lips. She began sighing heavily and pouted her own lips. She simultaneously pushed the nipple into my mouth as I reached up and lightly pinched her opposite unattended mam. She let out a “harumpf” sound that startled even me.

We both giggled and even Lars looked up with a “What the fuck?” expression. Dr. Kim swatted his head lightly and to my pleasure asked Lars if he’d like to trade positions.

Lars held my cock while Dr. Kim got down on her knees as if to say her bedtime prayers. He directed my slobbery dick into her mouth. She mimicked his technique; jacking and twisting her little hands while bobbing her head up and down on the mushroom. She began murmuring like a castaway feasting on her first chicken leg.

Lars walked around the worshipping Dr. Kim and stood opposite my turned head. “Now it’s your turn, Pops.” He pulled up the lower of the two zippers on his jumpsuit about a foot; then reached in and extricated his package, balls and all. I thought I had large nuts; but his truly were as big as lemons, XXL lemons. His cock was nothing like mine, but still a humdinger. It hung below the horizontal, presumably from its tremendous weight. It was no more than seven inches long, but it was thick and wide. I mean really wide, maybe an inch and three-quarters. On the other hand, the head was small. His whole package had the appearance of a dangerous-looking spearhead. I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel stabbing my ass.

Lars inched closer to the bed and carefully placed his right knee on the mattress. This trapped my only good arm against my torso. I was at his mercy. He wasted no time assaulting my mouth. He rubbed the precum that was dripping like a faucet all over my lips, while asking, “You like big cocks; don’t you, Pops?”

I was getting a little tired of this moniker; but truth be told, I loved the look of his meat. I was ready for a late-night snack.

He held my forehead with his left hand and fisted his salami with the right. Even his manly fingers couldn’t fully encircle that beast. I signaled I was ready for a workout by licking the bottom of his small cock head, then inching forward and sucking in his offering.

Lars knew I couldn’t really be an active participant in our lust-making, so he took the lead. Thankfully, he allowed me to just suck and lick the head of his machine, as opposed to face fucking me. He spat on his palm and began jacking off; slowly at first, then more rapidly. The entire time, he was egging me on. “Suck my cock. Yeah, that’s it, Pop. Take my load.”

Well, I did want his load and I wanted Dr. Kim to take mine. The timing was perfect. Lars pulled his cock from my mouth, no doubt planning to give me a facial or shoot on my tongue. This allowed me to implore Dr. Kim, “Faster, harder. I’m gonna cum.”

Lars shot three massive ropes (consistent with his huge testicles) directly into my mouth and onto my tongue. His aim was perfect. I wanted more of that salty jizz. I needed to suck that beaver tail of a penis and pull every ounce of seed from his dangling balls; but I became distracted. I was too busy exhorting Dr. Kim to finish me off, “Oh baby, I’m cumming. I’m cumming.”

I couldn’t see her; but whatever she was doing brought me to a body-shaking climax. She continued to suck my ultra-sensitive cock head; no doubt trying to harvest every drop of man juice. I couldn’t take the stimulation and begged her to stop.

Dr. Kim rose, wiped my spooey from her lips with the back of her right hand, and put her left arm around Lars’ shoulders. She pulled him into a deep kiss. This WTF moment made me feel like the proverbial third wheel; but it was clear these two pervs had a thing of their own going on. I just laughed and said the obvious, “Thanks, guys!”

Lars and Dr. Kim tidied themselves up and hit the road. Their timing was perfect, as Nurse Ratched knocked and entered the room not five minutes later. She took my pulse and blood pressure, refilled my water pitcher, and checked the IV. With a surprisingly pleasant smile, she asked if I needed anything else.

“Nope, I’m just feeling whipped.”

“I bet,” she said and walked out the door.