Rosco Murtson - Adoption Agency Girl

Nurse Frye knew she'd like this boy in particular. She knew it from the way he stood on the scales with his little white butt sticking out and with his hands crossed primly over his pecker and balls. She could tell she'd like him when he was first admitted, because of how wide open his eyes were. And they'd gotten wider still when she'd patted him on his shoulder and said, "Go ahead, dear. It's perfectly all right. Take off all your clothes so I can examine you before we find a lovely new home for you. Every stitch."

Despite his best efforts at modesty, she'd gotten a good look at his prick as he undressed. Nurse Frye always enjoyed that first sight of a fresh new prick, one that was all hers for a while, one that would never be quite the same once she got done with it. This boy, Tim, had a nice prick. It was very white and small, shorter and not much fatter than his finger, and graced with a foreskin so tight and pointed that it was just possible it might never have been fully drawn back to expose the rosebud head hidden within. She felt nice and warm and itchy all over, from the palms of her hands to the fatty lips of her twat as she looked sidelong at it, secretly smiling as she looked into his future.

“A hundred and twelve pounds," she announced when he was up on the scales, still shivering though she'd already turned up the heat in the examining room. "Now come over here, get up on the table, and we'll test your reflexes."

Still his hands remained closed before his darling little prick as he came off the scales and walked hesitantly to the forbiddingly long black table. From her seat at the desk, Nurse Frye got a glimpse of it flopping upward as he jumped up and sat on the leather, then again it was hidden under his hands and between his clasped thighs. She got up, smiling her motherly best, and came toward him. He looked so deliciously big-eyed frightened that she wanted to say Boo! to him and make him jump, but he'd be jumping to other tunes before long.

From the shelf under the table she took a small rubber mallet, and with this in hand she said, "Cross your legs, Timmy, for the knee tap test."

He quickly did so. What a nice, compliant boy he was! She tap, tap, tapped first one knee, then the other, and he stiffly responded in perfectly normal fashion, not that she cared. She ran some other tests on him, all involving at least some physical contact with him, and all the while she spoke to him warmly, soothingly, instilling both trust and respect for her into their budding relationship. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when she put aside the stethoscope she shared with Mr. Scantland and picked up a clipboard.

"Measles? Chicken pox? Pneumonia? Broken bones?" She went down the list ticking them off on the clipboard as he answered, and the tone of her voice changed as she said, "How often do you masturbate?"

He choked and blushed and squirmed his fists into his lap, and again he couldn't answer when she repeated the question. She laid the clipboard beside him and said, "Please answer the question, Tim. How often do you masturbate? Do you do it once a day, once a week, three time a day, ten times a day? Don't be embarrassed to tell me. We've got to know."

He tried to answer and failed, and before he could try again she laid a warm hand on his tensed little shoulder and said, "Perhaps you don't understand the clinical term. What I'm talking about is your playing with yourself, jerking off, jacking off, abusing yourself. I'm sure you know what I mean, Tim."

"I don't… do it at all," he squeaked, and though she was delighted by his answer, she cocked her head and said, "You mustn't lie to me, Tim. It will-go hard against you if you do."

"I don't do it!" he said, near tears in his embarrassment "I swear on my mother's honor I don't!"

What a find this one was!

Again the practiced, questioning look, and Nurse Frye said, "And you're twelve whole years old? Hmm. You do get erections, don't you? I mean, your penis does get stiff at times other than when you have to urinate? We'd just better see. We'd just best find out for ourselves," she said, and off her shelf came a sheaf of glossy photographs of the type that still are not to be found in the magazine racks of your corner liquor store.

He gave a start as if he'd been shot when she showed him the first one, a photo of a partially clothed, big-busted blonde gazing lustfully down at a stark naked lad who was deeply involved in licking her cunt. "This is a picture of the act of cunnilingus, of course," she said, "and looking at it is often enough to help a normal boy of your age have an erection. Put your hands at your sides, please, so I can see what reaction it has on you."

He very reluctantly did as she told him, and there was his little pecker, peeping up out of his clasped thighs like a beautifully surrealistic little worm, still soft as could be.

She showed him another picture, this one considerably blander, of the screen's leading sex queen clad in extremely exotic lingerie. He settled down a little as he saw the familiar face, but his pecker remained flaccid, as it should have at this point, and his general revulsion for what he saw in the picture remained.

There followed picture after picture, with Nurse Frye commenting on every one, and after a dozen or so of these the boy was able to look at each new shot without flinching, and was even showing a morbid interest in the anatomy of the naked female and in what outlandish things the female could do with the naked male. She showed him pictures of girls and girls together and of boys and boys together and of gloriously entangled sex orgies until he was almost to the point of looking forward to the next photo to be shown, and then when he was just about to really react to them all she set them aside and shook her her head and said, "I'm very much afraid there might be something wrong with you… sexually. Something that might make you, well, difficult to place in a foster home."

"I'd have to stay here?" he said, eyes tragically wide.

"Or in some other institution* Until you're all right. Until your condition changes," she said, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder again, and slid it smoothly back and forth, up and down his back. "Look at the pictures some more. They should help you and I'll try to help you and we'll just see if your penis can get nice and stiff."

He frowned and tried to squirm away from her caressing hand, and he said, "I don't want to look at 'em any more. They're too weird."

"And I'm sure you don't want to stay in a place like this for the rest of your life either. Look at them, Timmy. If you're any sort of a normal boy I'm sure you'll come to enjoy pictures like these. And I'll try to help you. Hm? Just lie down and look at them one more time, dear. And spread your legs apart. That's right."

He lay on his side, head propped up on his hand, to look at them. He was scowling but his interest was there, and he was no longer so embarrassed about exposing his private parts. With one leg crooked up, his beautiful little prick and his tight little sac of nuts were laid completely bare and open. Nurse Frye was hard pressed to keep from just grabbing his pretties, especially with the added stimulus of all those hot pictures right there before her. She'd always liked dirty pictures. Even pin-up girls pictures helped turn her on, and even the most familiar ones of her very extensive collection still retained the capacity for making her nipples get stiff and her cunt get wet. Her nipples and cunt were that way now, but it was the proximity of this beautiful and beautifully innocent boy that was doing it even more than the pictures were. She smoothed her hand up and down his inner thigh, saw his prick give its first discernible twitch, and had herself a nice little orgasmic tingle. She had it again the first time she curled her hand around his warm, soft pecker.