“Have a nice time, dear!” my mother called out as I left the house.

Not for the first time I wondered what she’d think if she knew what kind of ‘nice time’ I was hoping for. For the past few months I’d had many very nice times with her good friend Mrs Hotter, an affair which had ended when we were caught in the act by her son, Tommy.

However, Mrs Hotter had given me to understand that Mrs Craddock, two doors down from her, might appreciate a visit. Her words were etched on my mind: “She gets lonely, poor thing. Her husband travels a lot in his work. She’d welcome the company. If you’re willing, she’s quite happy to entertain you this coming Wednesday evening.” So there I was, having done myself up to the best of my ability to make an impression.

Making an impression was, truth be told, not something at which I excelled. This was why my experience with girls my own age was virtually non-existent. Mrs Hotter had taken my inadequacies in her stride, and thanks to the months I’d been seeing her, it wasn’t my lack of sexual know-how that was an issue, but my inability to present myself as even half way desirable.

I took the long way round to Mrs Craddock’s, so that I could approach her house being seen by as few neighbours as possible. My involvement with Mrs Hotter had taught me the value of discretion. Mrs Craddock lived right at the end of the street, and I approached from the corner feeling very nervous. I couldn’t actually recall seeing the woman, so had no idea what to expect. I realised now that Mrs Hotter hadn’t furnished me with any clues as to how to approach Mrs Craddock. What if she required a more sophisticated approach from a man, even one who had only recently reached his majority? Mrs Hotter had freely admitted that she liked getting down and dirty, and had taken the initiative in most situations. What if Mrs Craddock required seducing? I had never successfully seduced anyone in my life. Even my one same-age sexual experience, with Frida, the Bensons’ au pair, who had by now returned to a town in northern Sweden with an unpronounceable name, hadn’t come about as a result of active seduction. Come to think of it, I still can’t think how it ever happened.

These thoughts made it impossible for me to feel like a cast iron adult as I walked up the garden path. I stood on the front step, feeling all at sea, but now I’d come this far, I had to follow through. Since I’d been given to understand that I was expected, it would have been impolite not to show up. I rang the bell.

It took next to no time for Mrs Craddock to answer the door. My first impression of her made me scarcely able to believe my luck. The woman looked dressed to kill in a blood red dress, black nylons and heeled sandalettes. I was so taken with her figure I hardly noticed her bob cut and her cool, blue eyes. Before I had time to deliver the line I’d prepared, she was saying, “You’re Darren, are you?”

I nodded. “Yes, Mrs Craddock.”

She looked me over as if I was a specimen to be analysed. What little confidence I still owned now required life-support. “You look strong,” she decided. That was good, wasn’t it? Then she was pointing. “You can take those paving slabs round the back for me. There are gloves in the barrow. I’ll be with you when you’re done.” Then she closed the door.

This wasn’t what I’d been expecting or hoping for at all. Had Mrs Hotter go the wrong end of the stick? Had I got the wrong end of the stick? Had Mrs Craddock pulled a fast one just to get someone to do a bit of heavy lifting? From what little Mrs Hotter had said, I’d had a vague idea of someone one might feel sorry for. That wasn’t the impression Mrs Craddock had given at all. The one slither of hope I had was her attire. She wasn’t exactly casually dressed, and I did want another look if nothing else.

Besides, I’d been brought up to be helpful, so I set about the task. There was a wheelbarrow next to the pile of slabs, which I loaded up and wheeled round the back of the house. Spying a big pile of dirt close to some French windows, it seemed a safe bet that this was where the slabs were meant to go. I offloaded and returned to the front of the house.

It took five trips, by which time I was unpleasantly sweaty and feared I was giving off an odour to match. Having made an effort to appear presentable, I was now wondering why I’d bothered to spruce myself up at all. Still, Mrs Craddock appeared as I offloaded the last of the slabs. “Why don’t you come in?” she said. “You look like you could do with a drink.”

“Thank you, Mrs Craddock,” I said. “I’d like that.”

She led me through the house, which was very similar to Mrs Hotter’s, but then they would have been built at the same time. We ended up in the living room, where Mrs Craddock indicated an armchair for me to sit in. There was an armchair opposite, which she herself occupied, crossing her nylon legs, at which I couldn’t help but stare. She’d already poured out two glasses of wine. After my exertion I would have preferred orange juice, but at least Mrs Craddock preferred a different tipple to Mrs Hotter, whose drinks had always made me cough and splutter like a novice. Wine I could handle.

“Well, Darren,” Mrs Craddock said, giving me a new appraising look. “Tell me a little about yourself.”

I was still pretty nervous. I’d learned a lot about sex from Mrs Hotter, but new acquaintances always made me feel ill at ease, and it was important I made a good impression. I took a sip of wine, crossing my own legs and trying for suave man of the world. “What would you like to know, Mrs Craddock?” I asked, unable to tear my eyes away from where black nylon met red dress.

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen and a half,” I replied truthfully. And then, because I thought it was polite to show some interest in her, I continued. “How old are you, Mrs Craddock?”

The woman frowned. “Never ask a woman her age, Darren. Have you not learned that?”

This made me feel very silly indeed. I didn’t know why I’d asked anyway. It was obvious that she was about the same age as Mrs Hotter, late forties, some years older than my mother, who had given birth to me when she was quite young. “I’m sorry, Mrs Craddock,” I said, taking a new sip of wine to cover my embarrassment.

“What do you do for a living?”

This was an awkward one, another source of embarrassment. I suppose I could have lied, but for some reason I said, “I’m between jobs, Mrs Craddock.”

“I see,” Mrs Craddock said. To my relief she didn’t sound as if she thought this was a stain on my character, as people so often did. “Girlfriends?”

I reached for the wine again. “Er, I’m between girlfriends too,” I said, thinking it wasn’t a bad line.

“How many girlfriends have you had?”

Crap! This was not a question I wanted to answer. The truth just wasn’t an option this time, since I’d already intimated at least one. Though Mrs Hotter hardly qualified as a girlfriend in the accepted sense of the word, I could always pretend, just as I could pretend the same of the far from successful coupling with Frida, the Swedish au pair, and a mild fumble with Caroline Potts. “Three, Mrs Craddock.”

She nodded to herself, seeming pleased with the answer. “Interests?”

I had a vague idea that ‘football and noisy indie bands’ wasn’t an answer any woman would appreciate, especially one like Mrs Craddock. Then it struck me that my chance to appear more sophisticated than I felt had arrived. I took a new sip of wine. “Beautiful women like yourself, Mrs Craddock,” I said.

The woman arched an eyebrow. Then she gave the flicker of a smile. “Yes,” she said. “It would appear so from the way you’re looking at me.”

That made me very self-conscious indeed. I tore my eyes away from the woman, scanning the room, my gaze fastening on framed photographs of two children, at various stages of their development. Remembering how I’d been caught in the act with Mrs Hotter by her son, I felt suddenly anxious. Mrs Craddock seemed to read my thoughts, saying, “I doubt very much that they’ll be home before Christmas.”

“Oh?” I said, hoping to prompt some further information that might put me completely at my ease.

Instead Mrs Craddock took a sip from her glass before saying, “Well, you come highly recommended. I’ve heard a lot about you, Darren.”

This was good. Mrs Hotter must have given me a glowing review. All the same, I went with a line I’d picked up from a film. “All of it good, I hope.”

Mrs Craddock gave a funny little smile. “I’m told that you understand the value of discretion,” she said.

“Yes, Mrs Craddock. I would never tell anyone about…” I was being presumptuous. So far there was very little to keep from anyone. Things had been easier with Mrs Hotter. We’d become co-conspirators, comrades in clandestinity. Mrs Craddock seemed more the kind of person who liked the threat of mutually assured destruction. “It would be … if anything came out about … I mean, if something were to happen… I wouldn’t want to…”

“You wouldn’t be tempted to tell your friends, for instance?” There was steel in her voice.

“That I got off with a hot…” Oh shit, I really was putting my foot in it. “I’m sorry, Mrs Craddock. I didn’t mean…”

“Well would you?”

“Oh no, Mrs Craddock. If anything… I mean… You can’t be too careful, can you?” I was sweating even worse than after moving all those slabs.

The woman stared hard at me, as if trying to make up her mind. Then she relaxed suddenly. “Tell me, Darren, what preferences do you have when it comes to les arts d’amour?”

I had no French, but I understood well enough what she meant. The question took me by surprise, since I didn’t think I’d done particularly well on the discretion test. Not wanting to say anything that might put her off, I replied, “I’m open to experience, Mrs Craddock.”

There was another long silence as the woman ran her eyes over me, as if she still wasn’t sure. There were questions I wanted to ask her, about her husband, about what she hoped or expected from me, except that I had a vague idea this might be off putting. I didn’t have many talents, but if there was one thing I was really good at, it was putting my foot in my mouth. All the more reason to act like a clam and let Mrs Cradock take all the time she needed to make up her mind.

As the silence dragged on, I studied Mrs Craddock, trying not to make it too obvious, and no doubt failing miserably. The curve of her bosom was definitely something to get the pulse racing. The auburn bob cut framed her face nicely. Her eyes were searching, unemotional, her cheeks full, her mouth sensual. As she shifted position, my eyes returned to her thighs, and now there was just enough movement in her dress to reveal that the nylons were stockings. This was definitely a preference for me, though I was still reluctant to openly voice specifics. If my ardour had been slightly tempered up to now by the nature of the interrogation, at this point I felt tangible growth.

Mrs Craddock’s positional change was almost certainly intentional, for she teased her nylons with a red nail and said, “Would you do two things for me, please, Darren?”

“Of course!” I replied, a little too eagerly to be commensurate with suave sophistication.

“Firstly, in future I want you to address me as Nurse Craddock. Can you do that, Darren?”

This was peculiar, but now that the situation was becoming promising, there was only one answer. “Of course, Mrs… Nurse Craddock,” I said.

“Good.” Her eyes roamed me again.

“What’s the second thing, Nurse Craddock?”

“I’d like you to stand up and undress for me, Darren.”

At last we were getting somewhere! I would rather we’d both undressed, but I didn’t want to say or do anything to risk the moment being lost. “Yes, Nurse Craddock,” I said. “I’ll do that.”

As I began to strip naked, Mrs Craddock turned and walked across to a large bureau. Again I was surprised, but inclined not to argue. Besides, as she walked, I got a good view of her fantastic arse beneath her dress. It really was something to behold, and my equipment responded to every step she took. I watched as Mrs Craddock opened a drawer and took out a pair of latex gloves. We’re talking old school here. This was back in the day, before nitrile and vinyl, when medical professionals still used gloves of proper rubber that snapped into place, as these did when Mrs Craddock pulled them on, giving me a very particular look.

This was good. I remembered the school nurse using gloves like this, and it had always excited me in ways I didn’t quite understand. If this was Mrs Craddock’s thing, I definitely wasn’t going to argue. By now fully naked, I didn’t know whether to look at the woman’s sturdy thighs or the tantalising swell of well-rounded bosom.

As promising as the situation had become, I still felt at a disadvantage. Over the past few months I’d become accustomed to Mrs Hotter’s ways. She would have stared straight at my erection and complimented me on it with a wicked smile on her face, leaving me in no doubt at all what she wanted. Mrs Craddock came up to me and eyed me like she was about to dissect me. I was unnerved to find it very sexy. Then she said, “Open your mouth, Darren. Show me your tongue.”

This was very weird indeed, but again, who was I to argue? The sheer proximity of the woman was enough to keep me nice and rigid and desirous of getting much better acquainted with her. I would do whatever she wanted. “Yes, Nurse Craddock.”

I poked my tongue out. “As far as you can!” Mrs Craddock ordered. I did as she said, wondering exactly what this did for her. She brought both hands into play, the fingers of one touching my lips, the fingers of the other feeling my tongue. It tickled, and the taste of rubber was very odd, but I did my best not to show it.

“Very good,” she opined at length. “Wiggle your tongue for me, Darren.”

Stranger and stranger, but I did as I was told.

“Excellent!” came the verdict. “You may close your mouth, Darren.”

I didn’t want to. I wanted to ask what this was in aid of. But having got this far, I didn’t want to risk making a complete ninny of myself either. My compulsion to blurt out inappropriate things had amused Mrs Hotter, but nothing so far suggested that Mrs Craddock shared that endearing trait.

Latex fingers were placed at the corners of my mouth, before being dragged down my neck to my chest, suddenly teasing me so that I experienced an instant nipple erection.

“Excellent reflexes,” Mrs Craddock decided, before sliding her hands further down my front. I rather hoped she would go straight for the prize, but that kind of luck was never going to come my way. Instead her hands slid round my body, suddenly grabbing and squeezing my buttocks.

“Nice and firm!” Mrs Craddock decided approvingly.

It seemed impolite to just stand there, so I said, “Thank you, Nurse Craddock.”

The woman didn’t respond to that, not directly. Still squeezing my buttocks she leaned forwards. My breathing ceased for a moment as her tongue emerged. Then she was licking the side of my neck. I just stood there, flabbergasted, as my skin grew moist. I was even more amazed, yet gratified, when Mrs Craddock moved on from my neck, using the tip of her tongue to render my nipples harder than I’d ever known was possible.

“Salinity slightly greater than one might expect,” Mrs Craddock decided, standing up straight and removing her hands from my bum.

Yes, the woman was decidedly odd, but I decided to treat this as a good thing. “Thank you, Nurse Craddock,” I said, instantly wondering if the circumstances warranted me thanking her.

Again, the woman seemed hardly minded to react to this at all. Instead she took my wrist. “Now, we’ve already established that you’re a strong lad, moving all those paving slabs. What I need, Darren, is to test your grip.” My head virtually exploded with relief. At last! She was pulling my hand up to her magnificent bosom. “Squeeze as hard as you can, Darren.”

I grabbed her breast, squeezing until my whole hand hurt. Having ogled her for half an hour or more by now, my cock couldn’t help but harden like it was twisting itself in knots, a twitch causing a trickle of pre-cum to emerge. I wanted to stand there, feeling Mrs Craddock’s ample boobs for a whole lot longer, but that wasn’t going to happen. “You may let go, Darren.” Reluctantly I did so. “Excellent grip! Excellent!”

I decided to take that as a compliment, as neutral as Mrs Craddock sounded. Besides, she was now looking down at my eager young cock. A latex hand moved, fingers moved, spreading the smear of liquid that had emerged. “Very good,” she said. “A nice, healthy reaction in a young man.”

I was throbbing hard, aching even, but I still wasn’t sure what to do or say. I was used to Mrs Hotter and her pottymouth, the way she appreciated vulgarity. This was a new woman, of whom I knew nothing. Amidst the blur of carnality, Mrs Hotter had at least advised me not to assume that all women were like her and take things for granted.

The trouble was, I really wanted Mrs Craddock, and I wanted her now. I stared at her bosom, wanting to grab hold of it again. I thought of her arse and wanted to grab hold of that too. But perhaps that was too forthright. I looked down as Mrs Craddock withdrew her hand, my eyes descending to the black nylon where it disappeared under her skirt.

Yes, that might be it.

As soon as I touched her there, Mrs Craddock swatted my hand away. “Now, now, Darren! That’s very naughty of you!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs Craddock,” I blurted. “I didn’t mean…”

“Nurse Craddock!” the woman corrected.

“N-N-Nurse Craddock. I’m sorry. I just want you so bad.”

In an instant I was back to insecure idiot making a fool of myself. You wouldn’t think I’d had several months of ribald sex with Mrs Hotter. On the other hand, Mrs Hotter would have liked to hear me give her a long list of filthy things I wanted to do to her. I couldn’t be sure of Mrs Craddock at all, even if me and my aching cock were desperate to do anything, just anything with this luscious woman.

“We haven’t finished the examination yet,” Mrs Craddock admonished sternly.

I still didn’t get this kink of hers, but as long as she wanted me to stay after being such an idiot, I was happy. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but you can imagine my delight when she reached out a hand, grabbing my erection and holding it in a firm grip. “Nice and hard,” she said. “Just the way it should be.”

She said it with a neutral voice, the way a nurse might give a blood pressure reading, but I was aching so bad for some action that when her fingers gave an extra squeeze, disaster struck.

Mrs Craddock reacted swiftly, pushing herself against me so that I came with my cock pushed up against her stomach. I was mortified, but the woman was as cool as a cucumber. She wiped me off on her dress, then rubbed the sticky seed into the fabric before saying, “L’éjaculation précoce. That’s worrying.”

I vaguely understood the French, but was much more concerned about what she’d said in English. I had to rescue the situation somehow. “I’m sorry, Mrs… Nurse Craddock. I can get it up again! I once came five times in one evening with Mrs Hotter!”

The woman was right to stare at me with incredulity. The boast wasn’t entirely true, but not far from the truth either. “I haven’t even had time to measure you yet,” she frowned.

Well, if that was what she wanted, I could easily help her out. Goodness knows I’d measured myself enough times. “It’s almost eight inches, Nurse Craddock,” I announced proudly.

Was there a flicker of a smile on the woman’s face? I could but hope. “That sounds about right,” she said. “But we must be scientific about these things.” She paused. “Are you confident you can achieve a new érection?”

Why did she pronounce it in French? But now was not the time to wonder about such things. “Yes, Nurse Craddock.”

“With or without some kind of aid?”

Relieved that this wasn’t quite the disaster I’d feared, I blurted out, “It might help if I could see your tits, Nurse Craddock.”

“I’m a nurse, not a stripper,” the woman fired back.

Chastened, and wondering if I would ever see her naked or if this was the extent of her weird game, I could only watch as she moved across the room, back to the bureau. She pulled off the latex gloves before snapping on a clean pair. There was something inordinately dirty about that sound and that action, I thought. It held a promise that you weren’t quite sure if you wanted to experience.

There was renewed swelling as she walked towards me and I could see the stain on the front of her dress. There was something intensely dirty about that too that appealed greatly. I saw that she had picked up one other item, which she handed me. A condom. “Please put this on when you’ve become fully erect,” she said. “I need an uncontaminated sample.”

That rather made it sound like the load I had shed was diseased in some way, which I didn’t like. And what exactly did Mrs Craddock mean by needing a sample at all? What was she going to do with it?

Then she sank to her haunches. Lifting my semi-engorged cock out of the way with one hand, she cupped my balls with the other, bouncing them as if weighing them. “Yes,” she decided. “It feels like there’s enough left in there to be getting on with.”

That was enough to send my ever-eager teenage cock back to full strength. I ripped open the packaging and applied the condom as Mrs Craddock looked on. Was it just my imagination, or was there definitely that certain gleam in her eye? I couldn’t be certain, in spite of my experiences with Mrs Hotter. This was new and different.

Mrs Craddock got to her feet and turned. “This is most unorthodox, Darren, but if it will aid you in producing a generous sample, you may push yourself against me.”

I looked down at the woman’s bum, knowing that I wanted to, regardless of whether it would aid me or not. It took but one step for me to be able to push my stiff cock against the woman’s dress where it hugged her full buttocks. I found myself wondering what kind of knickers she was wearing, but wasn’t sure if I should ask or not. Then it occurred to me that the best way to gain some traction was to grab hold of her breasts.

“Nurse Craddock, it would make it easier for me to produce a sample if I could hold your tits,” I said, hoping the woman wasn’t about to shoot me down.

She was good about it. “All right, Darren,” she said. “If it will help, you may fondle my glandes mammaires.”

I didn’t understand the French exactly, but I got the gist. I moved my hands round to grip Mrs Craddock’s bosom firmly through the dress. I thought she gave a little grunt of satisfaction, and thus encouraged, I ground myself against her, humping my stiff rod against her arse. There was a definite swell of nipple through her dress too, which I felt suggested things were back on track. So did the little sigh she suddenly gave.

Thus encouraged, I murmured, “You’re so incredibly sexy, Nurse Craddock.” And because she was, and because she was giving more encouraging sighs, and because grinding myself against her and fondling her big bosom was such an incredible turn on, I added, “I really want to fuck you right now, Nurse Craddock.”

“Now, now, Darren,” Mrs Craddock said. “I think I should advise you that expressing such sentiments towards a professional counts as sexual harassment.” The way she said it suggested she wasn’t too bothered.

OK, I could play at that game. “I’m sorry, Nurse Craddock. It’s just that you’re so incredibly hot.”

“Well,” Mrs Craddock replied, “Given how imperative it is that you deliver a nice big sample, I’m prepared to make allowances.”

She was fiddling with something as she spoke. I looked round to see her lift the soiled front of her dress. As stocking-tops and silky black knickers were revealed, I humped that little bit faster, squeezing Mrs Craddock’s tits that little bit harder. The woman was gripping her dress with the latex fingers of one hand while the other slid inside her panties. I was suddenly glad I’d cum prematurely earlier. This way I could enjoy the view for longer than I might otherwise have been able to. Grinding and grinding against her bum, I watched intently as Mrs Craddock’s hand moved inside her expensive black knickers, hearing her sighs become more agitated.

Well, that expelled most doubts. Why not try again? “Are you sure you don’t want me to fuck you, Nurse Craddock?”

The woman gave the most voluptuous sigh, her knickers bulging as her hand moved. I could tell what she was doing, moving fingers towards her entrance. “That’s very naughty of you, Darren.”

Her tone told a story. It may be naughty, but she was also finding it agreeable. I squeezed her breasts hard, concentrating on the hard nipple I could feel through the fabric. Was it just my imagination, or was she pushing back against my cock as she fingered herself. She was sighing again at any rate, in a way that could only be described as brimming over with lust. “It would be our little secret, Nurse Craddock. No-one need know. I’m very discreet.”

“It’s very tempting,” Mrs Craddock admitted. She was definitely pushing herself back against me now, the round curve of her arse making my cock as hard as a poker wanting to poke her. Her hand was working intensely.

If I still didn’t quite understand the rules of the game, I felt I was at least getting somewhere. Thus emboldened, I felt there was little to be gained from reticence. “Do you like it doggy style, Nurse Craddock? All you need to do is bend over…”

There was a snort from Mrs Craddock. I wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but at least she kept on fingering herself. “You’re very forward, Darren.”

I clutched at her breasts, almost beside myself with wanting to get those clothes off her and do this properly. It drove every sensible thought from my head. “Mrs Hotter liked it when I was forward,” I said, with no thought that Mrs Craddock might not be keen to hear about my adventures with another woman; albeit the very one who had recommended me to her.

“Oh, Darren!” she sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Do whatever you like, Nurse Craddock,” I whispered, digging my fingers into her breasts as I humped and humped like an impossibly randy pup.

Mrs Craddock gave a drawn out sigh. Then she breathed, “Darren, I think I need to sit down.”

Had I said something wrong? I didn’t know, but I reluctantly let go of Mrs Craddock, watching her move across to the armchair and sit down. If I’d blown this through my own naîvity I’d never forgive myself. To my relief the woman kept the front of her dress pulled up and spread her legs. A gloved hand slid back inside her panties and I could clearly see beneath the fabric that she wasted no time in getting a couple of fingers inside herself. I could even hear the reaction of the moisture inside, which sounded delicious in all its filthiness. Her eyes went to my cock, which I was just holding now. She nodded at it. “Keep going, Darren. I still need that sample.”

“Yes, Nurse Craddock.” I tugged on my cock, staring at her, at the irregularities in her dress caused by stiff nipples. I wanted to see them, her breasts, her nipples, for real. She was working her fingers with intent, her pussy squishing loudly. I found myself feeling a bit desperate. I didn’t want to just stand here and tug myself. “You’re so hot and sexy, Nurse Craddock,” I said. “Please let me fuck you.”

Mrs Craddock smiled. Was that a sign? “I’m a married woman, Darren,” she said.

My desperation made me revert to the idiot that blurted out the first thing that entered his head. “That’s all right, Nurse Craddock. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fucked a married woman.”

The smile widened as the woman sighed and moaned. Moist vagina echoed in my ears, making my desperation grow. “I’m old enough to be your mother,” she breathed, as if she was looking for reasons not to let me drive my hard cock into her sopping cunt.

“That’s all right, Nurse Craddock,” I said. “I’m quite used to fucking my…” I broke off, horrified by the oedipal implications of what my deranged mind had almost made me say. I went bright red as I began to burn. “I mean I don’t… I haven’t…” I stuttered, breaking off my steady rhythm as I recoiled from the very thought.

Mrs Craddock pulled her hand from her panties too, but not because of any similar horror. She was clearly amused. “Don’t worry, Darren. I know what you meant. Come here!”

She sat up straight and beckoned. Relieved at how well she took my stupidity I moved up to her. Mrs Craddock reached out and grabbed my cock with one hand, the other, the one that had just been in her panties, she placed on my buttock. I could feel her creamy juices on my skin.

“Ejaculate for me, Darren!” she breathed. “I really need that sample!”

After being so very embarrassing, I was in no mood to put my foot in it anymore. I would do as I was told. “Yes, Nurse Craddock,” I said. “Whatever you say, Nurse Craddock.”

She gripped me hard, moving her hand with intent. “Ejaculate for me, Darren,” she breathed. “Give me that sample!”

I would have no trouble doing that, I decided. Somehow the sheer perversity of the double layers of rubber – her gloves and the condom – gave the situation a perverse edge I would never forget. Her other hand was grabbing at my buttock, pulling it to one side. I was hardly paying attention to this, concentrating hard on staring at where she was handling my cock and breathing, “Ejaculate, Darren! Ejaculate!”

It wouldn’t be long. “Yes, Nurse Craddock. I’ll cum for you, Nurse Craddock. Soon, Nurse Craddock.” I stared hard at her bosom, at her panties, wishing she’d got naked for me, wishing she’d lay back and pull her panties to one side and let me thrust my rigid pole into her. But having made too great a fool of myself already, I was determined to let her have her way.

I hadn’t bargained for that way involving her sticking her finger up my bum, but that’s what she did. Before I knew it she was wriggling her finger in me, the other hand still working ten to the dozen. “Ejaculate, Darren! I need that sample! Ejaculate!”

As bizarre as it all was, it also drove the perversion factor sky high. With Mrs Craddock tugging hard on my cock and wriggling her finger in my bumhole, there was only one possible outcome. “Yes, Nurse Craddock! I’ll cum for you! I’m cumming for you, Nurse Craddock! I’m… Aah! Fucking hell!”

And there it was, my load shooting out into the prophylactic. “Good boy!” Nurse Craddock said. “Give me all of that semen, all of it!”

She made sure she drained me of everything I had to give before removing her finger from my backside and sliding the condom off me, carefully avoiding any drippage.

And then Mrs Craddock did the most extraordinary thing. Sitting there, she opened her mouth and extended her tongue. She was staring at me with a particularly wanton look in her eyes. Her tongue curled, and then with deft fingers she pulled the spent item onto her curled up tongue, as if it were a mini-penis, being careful not to spill any of the liquid, and making sure the tip of her tongue extended to the tip of the condom.

My mouth fell open. I knew I probably looked incredibly stupid, but Mrs Craddock just smiled. She leaned back in the chair, moving a latex hand against the outside of her knickers, rubbing herself and moaning softly at the back of her throat. Slowly she tilted her head back.

I hardly knew where to look, at her hand still massaging her pussy through her knickers, or at her mouth, where my sperm was slowly running backwards along the crease in her tongue. This was very weird and very wonderful, and as I watched I realised that my cock was still rigid. “Aaaah!” Mrs Craddock breathed, staring at said organ. “Aaaah!”

Perhaps I should have asked if she wanted any help, but it didn’t seem so. Her hand was working hard down there, her body heaving. Beneath her dress her nipples were like tiny nuts. Her smiling eyes suddenly closed. My sperm was still sliding slowly down her tongue. Her body arched. “Ugh!” she exclaimed. “Ugh!”

I watched her spasm; once, twice, three times, four times. Then her hand stopped moving and she remained absolutely still, breathing heavily for about fifteen seconds before opening her eyes. I stared in what was no doubt disbelief as she pulled the condom from her tongue, squeezing it over her open mouth.

She smacked her lips before sitting up and smiling at me. “Darren, I’m glad to be able to inform you that you have very healthy semen. Judging by the taste, at least.”

I nodded, still stunned by what I’d just seen. “G-g-good,” I spluttered. “I’m glad.”

Mrs Craddock rose to her feet. “You may get dressed now, Darren.”

That was disappointing, seeing how I was still hard, but I decided not to queer my pitch by making a thing of it. While I pulled my clothes back on, Mrs Craddock moved back to the bureau to deposit the gloves and the spent condom. When she returned, she’d also pulled her dress back into place, though the stain on the front still told its tale.

“I think we need to pencil in a new appointment for you, Darren,” she said. This was better. I must have done something right, though I couldn’t think what exactly. “Does the same time Monday evening work for you?”

“Yes, Nurse Craddock. A pleasure, Nurse Craddock.” I’d never had cause to regard a return visit to a nurse as a pleasure before.

“Excellent,” Mrs Craddock said. There was a little pause. “Oh, and Darren.”

“Yes, Nurse Craddock.”

“In the meantime I need you to refrain from doing the hand jive. I know that’s difficult for a boy of your age. But it’s for medical purposes, you understand?”

I understood perfectly that it had nothing to do with medical purposes, but I said, “Yes, Nurse Craddock. I’ll do as you say.”

Mrs Craddock gave me a funny little smile. Then she said. “Two more things, Darren.”

“Yes, Nurse Craddock.”

“Should anyone have seen you come here this evening, you were helping out with the new patio. You understand?”

“Of course, Nurse Craddock.”

“In future I think it’s better if you enter the back way, don’t you?”

When Mrs Hotter had said this, or something like it, it had proved to be an expression that doubled for something else. Was this what Mrs Craddock meant too? How was I supposed to know? I didn’t want to blurt out the thing that was in my head, but managed somehow to find the wherewithal to say, “Is that special code, Nurse Craddock?”

This caused Mrs Craddock to give a little start and to stare at me as if she was especially impressed. “Sodomie? Peut-être,” she said.

I vaguely understand this, but decided not to push it.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Mrs Craddock said, extending her hand. Inside it was a crisp twenty pound note, which back in the late eighties was not be sneezed at, particularly if, like me, you weren’t earning any money of your own. “This is for your help with the paving slabs.” And she winked at me.

Back home I disregarded Mrs Craddock’s instruction and jerked off in a frenzy recalling her filthy condom trick and picturing myself fucking her doggy style after a particularly sensational blowjob. But after that, I resolved to do as she wished, however difficult. I was, after all, curious as to exactly what the point of Mrs Craddock’s ban on the administration of self-pleasure was.

I wasn’t sure my resolve would hold, but I couldn’t wait for Monday evening to roll around.