She awoke late the following morning. The bed was cold beside her.
Then she remembered ... the memory of last night swept over her and thrilled her once more. She sat up. She had things to organise.
The first thing she did was to reach across to the phone and call up the nurse, old Mrs. Crow, and tell her not to bother coming back. Brad had been allowed back from hospital, the bed and the machinery had come with him, and initially Mrs. Crow had been hired to look after him. But now she would look after her stepson herself.
She slipped out of bed and chuckled to herself.
"Me ... playing the nurse again!"
She searched through the wardrobe to find her old nurse's uniform. It was a bit tight now, her breasts were bigger, and the skirt was a bit short, but it still fitted neatly around her slim waist.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Mmmmm, very nice. She undid one of the top buttons and pushed her breasts up a bit. The skirt was so short now, that when she bent over she could see the pale flesh above her black stockings. She laughed to herself. She felt sure that Brad would enjoy that! Then she fixed the nurse's cap to her head, stepped into her shiny black high-heels and stood back to see the whole creation in the mirror. Perfect!!
"Jennifer! You look like a real tart!" she murmured proudly to the mirror. "Ah! ........ except for one thing!"
She leaned over, slipped off her knickers and threw them on to the bed. No need for those!
She went down to the kitchen and prepared Brad's breakfast. He had to be fed, as his injuries and the plaster-casts, wires and pulleys didn't allow him to move at all. He was imprisoned in his own bed.
She wondered what he would like, what should she feed him? She prepared a bowl of yoghurt with sliced strawberries on top and set it on the tray. Then she noticed a mango on the window ledge. It was really ripe, so she carefully cut it into quarters and took out the stone, peeling back the skin so the triangles of flesh stood up.
The sweet smell of mango excited her nostrils; the heavy perfume brought back memories of last night, the smell of his sex as she masturbated him, the smell of her own fingers, the taste of his cum ..... it all remained within her. She was on a knife-edge of lust, and she was wet just thinking about it.
As she sliced into the fruit, her hand was shaking so, she was worried she might cut herself. When she'd finished she ran her fingers across her lips, tasting the exotic fruit. Her stomach was a turmoil; it was all building up inside her. She slumped against the table, she licked her lips.
