She Made Me Cum in Front of the Doctor

This is one of those stories I’ve never told in full before, mostly because it still feels too outrageous to be believed. But if there’s any place that might not only believe it, but appreciate it for what it is… it’s here.

When I was 19, I got into a serious car accident. Real damage. I ended up in the hospital with both arms broken, one leg shattered, and my foot crushed on the other. I was immobilized in a partial body cast, completely dependent on the nurses for even the most basic needs. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t hide. I couldn’t even cover myself up.

My girlfriend at the time, Tamara, worked at the hospital in patient services. Sweet, right? Someone to take care of me?

No. Tamara was sadistic. Wicked, even.

She’d sneak into my room constantly, sometimes at night, sometimes in broad daylight, and jerk me off. Not slowly or lovingly either… rushed, efficient, and entirely for her amusement. And she’d always leave the mess. My stomach, the gown, the sheets… sticky proof of what had happened. She wanted me caught. Wanted the staff to see I was a dirty boy, wasting hospital laundry, needing to be cleaned again and again.

I remember one nurse, visibly annoyed, scolding me like a child: “Again? Do you have any control?” She wiped me off without compassion, muttering that I must be “one of those pervs.” I don’t know what the hell she though – my arms were in casts… I was just spontaneously orgasming??

Another nurse… she wasn’t angry. She was curious. I think Tamara had planted ideas in her head. One day, she came in, ran her fingers down my abdomen and over my cock like she was checking my pulse. She lingered. Then one day, while checking the cast on my foot, she just… took me into her mouth. Right there, silently, like it was part of her rounds. I almost passed out from the shock and the pleasure.

But that wasn’t the most of it all…

Apparently, my constant “incidents” of exposed orgasms got flagged, and someone reported me for inappropriate behavior. A psych consult was ordered.

She arrived one afternoon. Early 30s. Stern. I remember trying to explain, blushing furiously, practically begging her to believe that I wasn’t doing it to myself. How could I – there was no way I could masturbate. But then she pulled back the sheet, and Tamara had just been there. A fresh, dripping load decorated my belly like a flag of shame.

The doctor looked at me coldly and said, “You know we have protocols for patients who can’t control themselves.”

I genuinely thought I was about to be committed.

Then Tamara walked in.

And the two of them laughed. Laughed like old friends. Turns out, they were old friends.. Tamara used to work on her ward. It had all been a setup.

The two chatted like I wasn’t even there. Tamara pulled my gown up, wrapped her hand around my cock, and started stroking me again… right in front of the doctor. My body tensed, helpless. The doctor didn’t even blink. She just kept chatting with Tamara like it was coffee break. And I came again, humiliated and twitching in my cast.

The doctor gave me a final glance and said with a smirk, “Well, I don’t think you’re psychotic. But you are a dirty perv.”

And then they left me there, soaked again.

To this day, I don’t know who else on the staff was in on it. Or how many times I was touched or used when I couldn’t fight back. But I do know this: that hospital wasn’t a place for healing. Not for me. It was where I learned what it meant to be truly helpless. And how much they loved me that way.

—Andre