A Jacks - Passion_s Her Game

"You made the big one," he said..

"You sonofabitch," I said. "How did you do it?"

He put his hands on the edge of the bed and smiled at me.

"You figured it?"

"What the hell else with somebody letting the line leak just enough to get me damn near killed. What did it cost you?"

"Five hundred."

"Two tackles and two guards?" I said. "Hundred and twenty-five bucks each."

"We're even," he said.

"No, we're not," I said. "But now it's your turn."

He grinned.

"I had my turn," he said.

"You won't know it for a while yet," I said.

"What?"

"You Judas bastard," I said. "How do you think I felt all the time after she was killed."

"Shut up," he said.

He started toward the door but he knew already. He was getting the feeling of how it feels to live every day, all day, with the fact that you're a no-good bastard.

I woke up the next morning with a terrible headache. I couldn't remember going to sleep. They must have given me something, but I knew I'd been hit hard in the head, so they wouldn't have given me a hypo. Whatever it was I had been out a long time. My ribs hurt me and I looked under my hospital gown to see if they had taped me and then I remembered they don't tape you any more for ribs, only for a game if your ribs haven't mended. I pushed the button on the bell-cord. A couple of minutes later an old, ugly nurse came in. The name tag on her breast pocket said she was Miss Clara Cook.

"Well, well," she said. "You had quite a sleep."

I didn't like her and I don't think she liked me. "Could I have something to eat," I said.

"After you wash yourself."

"What time is it?"

"Almost noon."

I started to get out of bed.

"No, no," she said. "You're not to get up."

She went into the bathroom and returned with a wet washrag and a towel.

"What's wrong with me?"

"You'll have to talk to the doctor."

"Why can't I get up?"

"The doctor will tell you."

"For Chrissake," I said. I took the washrag and the towel. I washed myself sitting on the edge of the bed. She went out of the room and when she returned, a young nurse was with her. In some strange way she reminded me of Joan Leighton. I felt hollow and lonely all of a sudden. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her. She was quite tall. Her name was Mary Cassidy. She was blonde and had tawny skin and the most beautiful figure, long, lovely legs, and high breasts pushing hard against the starched front of her nurse's uniform. Her eyes were bright blue.

The pain started in my ribs again when I moved but when I looked at Cassidy, I forgot about the pain. They made up the bed with me sitting on the edge and when I started to stand on the floor, Miss Cassidy told me not to.

"Who told you?" I said.

She looked at the old ugly nurse and they exchanged glances while their hands kept busy tucking in the sheets at the bottom corners of the bed.

"Doctor's orders," they said at the same time. "Who's the doctor?"

"Dr. William Nolen."

"What kind of a doctor is he?"

"Medical," said Mary Cassidy.

"I think I'm going to have a baby, I was hoping for an O.B.," I said.

Miss Cook made a sour face and wrinkled her nose, but Mary Cassidy smiled and I winked at her. But she looked away.

"Get into bed now," said Miss Cook and they both went out of the room, Miss Cassidy following Miss Cook.

I waited a couple of minutes and pushed the button on the bell-cord. Miss Cook came in.

"When do I eat?"

"Not until the doctor sees you."

"You said after I washed."

"Doctor's orders."

"Where's Doctor White?"

Willard White was the team doctor.

"He's consulting with Dr. Nolen."

"Come on, what kind of specialist is Nolen?" "Brain, if you must know."

"Oh-ho! My noodle got scrambled."

"I don't know," said Miss Cook.

"I want to see Miss Cassidy."

"Why?"

"I know her brother."

"I doubt that," she said sourly.

"Tell her to come in, please."

Miss Cook didn't say anything. She went out of the room. I rang the bell-cord again, but nobody came. About twenty minutes later Miss Cassidy came in. Christ, she was beautiful, and what a body. Despite that starched uniform, I could tell what kind of tits she had. Not big melons, but tiger tits, conical with a large base glistening softly to long sharp nipples. No other way would that nurse's uniform stick out so sharply in front.

She knew I was staring at her tits, but she ignored my gaze and looked straight at me.

"How's your brother?" I said.

"I don't have a brother."

"How's your mother and dad?"

"What do you want, Mr. Scallen?"

I grinned.

"Well, now, ahhh -"

"You're wasting my time."

"If you haven't a brother, why did you come?" I said.

"You rang."

"That was twenty minutes ago."

"All right. What is it?" She was standing by the door, but the door was closed.

"Come over here," I said.

"What do you want, please," she said angrily, and she really sounded sore.

"You're damn good-looking, Miss Cassidy."

She drew her lips in faintly and they parted and I could just see the edges of her even white teeth. Her eyes were hot and angry. She turned the doorknob and jerked the door open. She went out fast, but not before I had a glimpse of that beautiful, perfectly shaped ass, and those perfectly shaped legs and slim ankles. My crotch throbbed when I thought how beautiful she looked. I hadn't seen anything that beautiful in years. Down boy. Down. Just thinking about all that white smooth skin of her long limbs gave me a pain in the pit of my stomach and my cock started to tremble and rise. Damn it. Down boy. But my cock couldn't stop thinking about her, either. I felt it huge, congested, swollen, stiff as a ramrod. Already it had lifted the sheet and made a little tent of the blankets. It was standing up vertically from my belly. Hey, knock it off, I wanted to tell it, but it wasn't going to listen to me as long as I kept thinking about the gorgeous ass and tits of Mary Cassidy. I closed my eyes and started seeing her undressed, trying to imagine her body. I could see her belly, then her soft, hairy crotch, slim, golden hairs, curling softly between the tops of her smooth, white thighs. Then slowly she turned. I saw her dimpled, round ass, with dimples like those in her cheeks. I longed to put out my hand and touch it. How soft and smooth and round it would feel.

Her ass was perfect, firm and muscular. I felt my hand steal under the blankets while I held the vision of her buttocks in my mind. I put the palm of my hand around the shaft. I could just barely touch thumb and forefinger together and in my other hand I held my balls. I lifted the blanket and looked at my cock. The little slit on top of the pulsing head seemed, to look back at me as if it were the eye of a small beast. But what the hell was I to do? The pain in my crotch increased. I squeezed. I hated jerking off, wasting a good hardon that way. It stood there, vigorous and massive, the unsheathed head glossy and purple, the veins looking like blue worms. The tip touched the bottom of my navel as I drew it back against my belly. I released it and watched it quiver in mid-air. Angrily, I opened my eyes, sore at myself for day dreaming about Cassidy and sore at Cassidy for not coming back. I gave my cock a whack, trying to knock him down, but it was still hard for Cassidy. I squeezed it because it was ready to come and I didn't want it to come, but there was no stopping it. I couldn't control the congestion, and suddenly it exploded in my hand, first with a single quiver, a few drops of semen, and then, bang, pow, come flooded all over my hand. I wiped it off in a fit of despair, using the sheet and lay back and slept.