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I looked at the note again.
It read, “Your sister will visit you when she finishes her shift at 22.00.”
I was reading the note in a hospital bed. There were tubes attached to my arms. Although movement was difficult, I could use my hands to read my iPad or notes.
I was not seriously ill. I had been, but had made a good recovery. I had returned back to normal life, and now had just three tests to go, of which this was the first. I’d had to return to hospital for the tests. After this first one, there would follow a test in two months and the last in four months’ time. For the first and second tests only, I had tubes and equipment hooked up to me solely for monitoring purposes. I wouldn’t be going through the main tests until the next day, but they wanted me in overnight to get me settled. For the last test, providing everything went OK with the first two tests, they would still need me in the night before to get settled, but I wouldn’t have the paraphernalia of equipment attached to me.
My room was down a corridor away from the main wards and I could just hear the crank of trolleys in the distance. It was a warm evening and I was lying outside the bedclothes. I’d been given a gown to wear that I pulled a bit further up my legs. I’d grazed my knee playing football and the grazed area had been itching from the warmth of the gown.
I thought a bit more about my sister, Nigella. I hadn’t seen her for at least two years, since she left home. At twenty two, she was four years older than me. When she was younger, she was never interested in her young brother. As she got older she began to notice me more, but I just seemed to irritate her. Eventually, I was glad she’d left home as she was a right bitch to me as well as for mom and dad. I wondered why I was now being honored by a visit.
Nigella had always caused trouble for my parents. There were always rows, usually about money. Nigella never had enough. She’d borrow money from other kids against her future pocket money.
At twenty, to be more independent, she had begun a nursing diploma. She’d been lucky to get on the course as that type of hospital-based studying had tended to be phased out for degree level college-based courses. Anyway, she’d charmed the course administrators to let her through. She’d had enough of my parents and left to rent a room in the nurses’ hostel, continuing to be broke most of the time.
However, one asset Nigella always possessed was her looks. Our mother was Italian and Nigella had inherited the olive skin, long dark hair, flashing black eyes and slightly thick sensual lips. Mom was distantly related to Vanessa Lawson, so she’d decided to name her own daughter after Vanessa’s famous television-cook daughter. My sister even looked like a young Nigella. She had a sensational figure. Her tits were bigger than average and her ass was sculpted into a beautiful bubble butt. At 5 ft 7 in she was even the same height as her English relation, with lovely long legs. You would refer to her figure as nicely stacked, rather like a secretary in the Madmen TV drama.
Nigella used this asset for what she wanted. She was now engaged to be married in six months’ time to Horace, a rather straight-laced wealthy accountant. Horace was just about OK in the looks department, but any attraction the opposite sex had for him was strongly diminished by a large beer belly. However, as one of the richest young men on the scene, he was assiduously chased by the girls of the neighborhood. Nigella had cleverly outwitted the other girls and then enticed him slowly. A friend told me that he’d overheard Nigella telling his sister that during the first six months Horace was only allowed to kiss her. This had been followed by her allowing him to feel her breasts and then on to her giving him hand relief. After a year she’d slowly introduced some oral ministration. There was no question of full sex, she said, until they were engaged.
Horace, clearly not being able to contain himself, then proposed marriage. She declared that he was the first man that she’d slept with and, knowing her ambition to bag a wealthy man, I believe that she did hold herself back for him.
After Nigella left the family home, she never came back. This seemed sad to me, but I suspect that, as with a lot of girls that clash at home with their parents, she would return to the fold later in life.
Her estrangement was not helped by our uncle. Sadly Uncle Toni, my mother’s brother, died suddenly. He didn’t have a lot of money, but he had paid off his mortgage and owned his house. He left his estate entirely to my mother except for two bequests for Nigella and me. He left me, his nephew Jack, the sum of $20,000 to be paid to me on my eighteenth birthday. His bequest to Nigella was a bit more complicated. Knowing her propensity for blowing money, he also left her $20,000 but stipulated it was to be paid to her on her twenty-fifth birthday or when she got married, whichever was the sooner.
Nigella was furious. She knew şişli üniversiteli escort she wasn’t good with money, but didn’t want her fiancé to find out. Once she was married to him she knew she’d be financially OK. However, up to that point, Horace was a stickler for her living within her means and she knew that he would have qualms about marrying her if he thought she was careless with money. If she’d immediately had Uncle Toni’s legacy, she could have spent to her hearts content, without Horace knowing that she struggled within a budget. Now she had to continue to manage on her nurse’s salary.
As 22.00 approached, I wondered what she’d look like. She always had a way of looking glamorous, whatever she was wearing. Truth be told, I’d had the hots for her since I’d hit puberty. She’d been a young teenager’s dream. Even though she was my sister and I hadn’t seen her for two years, she was my sexual fantasy most times I masturbated.
I had heard that at the hospital Nigella always seemed to get the best shifts, having time off at Christmas etc when other nurses had more onerous duties. This, it was suggested, was because of her ability to charm the senior male staff and nursing administrators. One nurse started a rumor that she had seen Nigella appearing out from under a desk that a minute previously had been occupied by the Assistant Principal, who had appeared to be doing up his zipper as he left the room.
The last person to look in on me was the duty nurse at 21.00. As she handed me the note about my sister, she told me that, as I was not being treated until the next day, I would not be disturbed again until the morning. That is apart from my sister who, apparently as a nurse, could visit me anytime.
Eventually the door opened and in walked Nigella. Wow, she looked terrific.
If people had seen us both at that moment, they would have clearly seen that we were brother and sister. Like Nigella, I had inherited the Italian looks, olive skin, slightly thick lips and glossy black hair. However, unlike Nigella, in terms of looks, I knew I was an average guy. I was sure that I would get my share of girls in life, but not the stunners of the opposite sex that Nigella could enjoy, if she hadn’t needed the security of a rich husband.
She was wearing a white nurse’s uniform that looked a bit short, showing off her long nylon clad legs. The belt drew in at her waist, emphasizing her well-shaped breasts. The only part of her body assets that was hidden was her ass, as the dress didn’t cling to her buttocks. Her hair was tied up and held with a clasp and topped with her nurse’s cap. As you would expect with Nigella, she was wearing full makeup with shiny red lipstick.
She was wearing stiletto heels that she would have put on at the end of her shift, rather than the flat shoes which would be compulsory on shift.
With the heels, the whole uniform looked like something that would be worn on the Playboy channel, rather than a practical hospital garment, and I realized, even excepting the heels, that the hospital managers were obviously lenient towards her in respect of what she wore.
She hesitated for a moment and then walked straight over to me.
“Jack how are you?” she asked with an anxious voice, which I knew was totally contrived.
Slightly annoyed, I answered, “Nigella, you know I am OK. I’ve virtually had the all-clear. There are just three final tests for them to carry out.”
“Nigella, what do you want?” I said, getting right to the point, preventing her saying any more polite clichés.
She looked all big eyed, “Jack, I’m here because I need your help.”
I couldn’t imagine what she meant. Did she want me to be a peace-maker between her and mom and dad? If so, I’d certainly give it a try.
“I have a little financial difficulty.” she said plaintively.
She continued, “You know you were lucky to get your money from Uncle Toni immediately. I can’t get hold of mine until I’m married. I am in a temporary financial embarrassment.” She looked discomfited as she got the words out.
“Why not ask Horace?” I queried, although I already knew the answer.
“Horace wouldn’t understand. He’d think I was a spendthrift. He hates profligacy. He’d think I was unsuitable for a wife. You must help me!” She finished with an anguished sigh.
“How much do you need?” I asked cautiously.
“Only two thousand dollars.” she said.
She made it sound a small sum of money and, in the light of the sum of money I had received from Uncle Toni, it was.
“What’s the rush?” I asked, puzzled.
“It’s a payday loan.” She answered with a heavy sigh.
Now I understood. I had a friend who worked in the business, so I knew how it worked. She would have left a post-dated check in the amount of the principal borrowed plus the fee. On the due maturity date, she would have the option of returning to the store to repay the loan and fee in cash, and receive the post-dated taksim anal yapan escort check back, or phone the lender and instruct the lender to deposit the check.
However, as Nigella’s account was short on funds to cover the check, she would face a bounced check fee from her bank in addition to the costs of the loan, and the loan could incur additional fees and/or an increased interest rate as a result of her failure to pay.
The usual interest rate for such loans was on average 15 percent for a two-week period, which translates to an annual rate of 390%.
She was in a mess. I could see Horace being horrified to know she’d been to a payday lender. For the first time in many years, I was feeling sorry for her.
“OK,” I said, “you can have your money. I get out of hospital on Thursday, the day after tomorrow. We can go to my bank together, transfer the cash and you will sign the appropriate document, which will ensure that the money is repaid to me the moment you receive your inheritance.”
Knowing her, I intended to make damn sure that the paperwork was watertight. Although I knew she would start off with good intentions, a little extravagance could cause the good intentions to go out of the window.
Nigella looked relieved, “Oh Jack, you are a sweetie. I’m so grateful.”
Feeling that she ought to extend the friendly conversation, she started looking around the room. “You seem to have everything you need.”
As she said this, she started idly looking at my personal belongings on the side table. Picking up my iPad, she said playfully, “Now what kind of reading material do you like?”
“Put it back.” I said with a hurried curt tone.
But it was too late. Nigella had opened my iPad and I was silently cursing that I had not switched it off completely. Switching it out of sleep mode, Nigella started looking at the screen.
“Oh brother, you naughty boy, this is a very explicit erotic story. Still I suppose you are a normal eighteen year-old.”
As she continued to look at the screen, her expression changed. “This is about a brother and sister. That’s disgusting!”
Now revolted, but interested in what I had been looking at, she started looking at the history of my viewing.
I lay there white-faced mortified.
“These are all stories of brothers and sisters,” she said appalled, “apart from a few others about naughty nurses.”
Then came the worst part. She had obviously spotted the photo. She clicked on it and screamed, “You pervert!”
I could understand her annoyance. The photo had been taken secretly by me a couple of years previously, when Nigella had still been living at home. Nigella had bought a new bikini. It was obvious as soon as she had put it on that it was entirely unsuitable. The bikini bottom was more like a thong and the bra only just held her tits in place. Clearly any kind of movement would cause her breasts to break free.
“I bet you use this photo for jacking off, you repulsive piece of shit.”
I could only lay there in silence. I’d never been so embarrassed in my life.
“After Thursday,” she said, “I never want to see you again.”
I lay there dumbfounded. Did she really think that, having caused me horrific embarrassment, I would lend her a cent?
“I’m not paying you a dime.” I spat out belligerently.
Nigella hesitated. She had never been the brightest of creatures, but even she was realizing that this was not the ending she had hoped for. She wanted me squirming in embarrassment, which I was, but still thought I would lend her the money, which I wasn’t going to.
She stood staring in silence for a long time. Finally, she seemed to grit her teeth as she twisted her face into a half smile. “Jack, I’m sorry.” she said, “I know I’m a beautiful woman and it must be difficult having me as a sister. Let’s be friends.”
“Go to hell.” I said curtly.
She faltered, not knowing quite what to do. Eventually, she slowly came round to the side of the bed and, looking at the graze on my leg, said, “Oh dear, you’ve hurt yourself. Let me put something on it.”
“Leave it alone.” I hissed. I could not believe that a few moments ago I was going to agree to lend her money. She had always been a bitch and still was. I just wanted her to leave as quickly as possible.
Nigella went over to a table by the door where there was a bottle of lotion. She picked it up. Walking back to the bed, she sprayed a good dollop in her left hand and started massaging it slowly into my graze.
As soon as her fingers touched my leg, I felt a frisson shoot up my body.
As I lay there my breathing suddenly became heavier. This was because Nigella, having finished oiling the graze, had started inching her hand further up my leg. My arms were entangled in the tubes, but I wouldn’t have reached down to stop her even if I wanted to.
As her hand got higher Nigella whispered, “Jack, I like being attractive. Whatever taksim bdsm escort I’m wearing, I try to make it more sexy. Did you know that I’m wearing stockings under this dress?”
Her hand continued inching up my thigh until it reached my groin.
She leaned forward and whispered “This naughty nurse could continue with what you want, if you changed your mind on the loan.” As she made that delicious offer, her hand reached my testicles and she moved the tips of her fingers round them, cradling them.
My cock was acting as a tent pole pushing upright into my gown. The thought of being given hand relief by my sister had been one of my greatest fantasies. Concerned about somebody walking in, I looked across at the door. I could see the red tab, indicating it was locked, which meant Nigella must have locked it when she retrieved the lotion.
With a dry mouth I said, “Go for it.”
With a sly smile, Nigella used her right hand to lift the gown off my boner. The corona was swollen and had an angry redness.
Her smile froze momentarily when she saw the size of my penis. I guessed it was bigger than Horace’s. She took both hands away to bathe them in lotion, leaving my hard rocket pointing skywards. Having ensured that she had plenty of lotion on both hands, she slid her left hand back again around my balls. Moving deliberately slowly, she grasped my throbbing man meat with the tapering fingers of her right hand.
Her fingers, tipped with red nail varnish, felt cool against my hot phallus. She didn’t rush it. She lightly gripped my tube of flesh and languidly started jacking me off. Occasionally, her finger tips would massage the mushroom head and she would rub the sensitive point at the back. Her left hand wasn’t lazy. She was twiddling and tweaking my balls, scratching the skin on the underside and then gently grasping and tugging them.
The practice she’d had jacking off Horace had obviously been worthwhile. I was in ecstasy. I was being given hand relief by naughty nurse Nigella, my sister. I was benefitting from all her delicate finger skills and I didn’t want it to end. I’d always had an ability to delay cumming and I was determined to make this last as long as possible.
I smiled inwardly as I saw Nigella glance at the clock. She obviously thought her little brother had received his money’s worth.
Oh boy, this was heaven. Her fingers continued their slow jerking.
Inevitably, I could hold off no longer. If anything her massaging of my cock had slowed down, but she knew what she was doing. She was concentrating on the rim of my helmet, gently rubbing it with one finger when my orgasm exploded. Fiery spasms of cum spurted all over my gown, the force of the jets sending jizz all over the place. Nigella continued softly squeezing my balls as my spasms continued and gently rubbing my helmet with her fingertips, the jets of cum darting out through her fingers.
I lay there exhausted, cum all over my gown. Nigella reluctantly helped clean me up. She didn’t really have a choice as otherwise there would be evidence of what she’d done.
I met Nigella at the bank on the Thursday as arranged. She was all smiles until the paperwork was completed then, as I should have expected, marched off without an acknowledgement as soon as she had the money. She was still the bitch she’d always been.
A couple of days later, I saw my friend who worked locally in the payday loan business. I told him that Nigella had approached me to cover her payday loan and asked him to let me know if he ever discovered that she’d got into anymore deep water.
I didn’t hear anything from my friend until a couple of months later just before I was due to go back into hospital for my second set of tests. He told me that he’d heard she’d got into difficulties again. This time the sum required was near four thousand dollars.
As I went back into hospital for my second set of tests, I thought that I wouldn’t be surprised if Nigella made me a second visit. Sure enough as I lay there that evening with tubes attached, a nurse came in with the same written words as previously, indicating I could expect a visit from my sister.
I licked my lips gleefully. Nigella was not going to get away with a handjob this time. I would be looking for the oral ministration that I knew she had given Horace.
On the dot of 22.00, the door opened and in walked Nigella. Wow, she looked good. Now thinking of her as my naughty nurse, I looked at my yummy sister as a potential cock sucker.
Her nurse’s uniform appeared whiter than ever, showing up her tanned skin. She had obviously taken even more trouble over her makeup, with her black eyes sparkling and her pouty lips rouged.
She locked the door, picked up the bottle of lotion and came straight towards me, walking like a model with her nylon clad legs one in front of the other and her stiletto heels clipping across the floor.
She didn’t waste any time. “I need four thousand dollars.” she said, “I know what you want, so I’ll just do what I did before and you can pay me the money on Thursday.”
With that, she poured lotion onto her hands, lifted up my gown and grasped my member which, annoyingly for me, responded immediately by surging into a hard erection.
“Whoa sister,” I said, “a handjob is not enough for a loan of four thousand dollars.”
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