Sleepy-Time Gal
	There it was again. 
	Sue had a pain in her back when she should awake rested and 
ready to take on the new day. She imagined there would be blood in her 
stool again as well. This was getting to be old. And every time she 
complained to Dr. Morris about it, he told her she was healthy as a 
horse and to not worry so much.
	As his nurse, she knew Dr. Morris was a good doctor, certainly 
the most brilliant in the city and among the top in the world, but even 
she, little R.N. Susie Quim, knew you weren't supposed to bleed out 
the ass. But he had given her the works the first time she complained, 
with all the 'umm's' and 'umm-hmm's' that a girl could want. She 
thought he knew something he wasn't telling her, but she had heard that 
so many times from patients when it wasn't true, that she thought it was 
some psychological need on the part of patients even she wasn't 
immune to.
	He told her to rub the 'affected area' with cocoa butter. Like she 
wanted to spend time greasing her asshole. The thought repulsed her. 
She could do anything to a patient, but that was her personal anus and 
she didn't like the feel of rubbing it or the sensation that her ass couldn't 
quite close because of the lubrication.
	She didn't really like to look in the toilet, put she put on her best 
air of professionalism and examined the contents. There was the blood. 
It wasn't like the dark color that meant internal bleeding and serious 
ailments, but it was blood.
	She sighed and got ready for work. She wouldn't mention it. A 
few times she did and Dr. Morris asked if she'd been using the Cocoa 
butter. She said no and he said, "umm-hmm."
	The weird part was that she could always tell when she would 
wake with the back pain and the blood. The night before she would 
have a dream. It wasn't always the same dream, but it always made her 
feel the same way. Sometimes she was a patient that was somehow 
awake under the anesthesia and the doctors were doing something at 
her bottom end. Sometimes she was a captive and her captors were 
abusing her. Sometimes she had been drugged and men were having t
heir way with her.
	She was always helpless and they were always doing something 
between her legs. And the next moring her back ached and she bled.

	"Why can't that stupid woman use the Cocoa butter?" Dr. 
Morris thought to himself as nurse Quim came in.
	Even without it it was getting easier, but if she had started with 
the softening cream when he had first suggested it, her asshole would 
be stretching pliantly around his huge cock and she would avoid the 
tearing of those tender tissues.
	Because he did not want to leave any evidence, saliva was the 
only balm he could use. He shifted in his chair and the sore spot on his 
dick reminded him that saliva was only moderately effective. But at 
most times she was a normally functioning woman with all her intellect 
and intuition intact. He didn't want to give her any more reason for 
suspicion than the oddly reoccurring back pain and rectal bleeding.
	That was part of the reason he remained professional and a little 
distant during the day. He could certainly activate the neural blocks and 
take her in the office. He had felt like it many times. But why risk it? It 
would be odd for her to have a blank spot in the middle of the day and 
there were all the intangibles. What if someone walked in?
	No, he had worked it out as carefully as he had microcrafted the 
'tick' that rested just below her hypothalamus. Being given an apartment 
as a benefit of employment was not unique for an R.N., but it was more 
than keeping up with the Dr. Joneses for Dr. Morris. It was a special 
apartment with three entrances. There were the front and back 'private' 
entrances that everyone knew about. The back was called private 
because you could enter the apartment from the parking garage. The 
third entrance was truly private- for Dr. Morris alone. He could enter 
the apartment from the elevator.
	He lived in the same building, so he went into the elevator 
several times a day. Nothing suspicious about that. But once inside, he 
could key the panel in the rear to open and let him through to the 
service room behind. The nurse's apartment lay beyond the rear wall of 
the service room with an access panel that opened into the hall of the 
apartment.
	The panel was a four-foot stretch of the wall that closed into 
molding on all sides, making it undetectable. It was even finished in 
the same way as the rest of the apartment walls, so no tapping 
investigator would hear a hollow spot. It also entered the apartment in a 
blind spot. Only someone standing in the hall itself or in one corner of 
the living area (where nurse Quim's television presently sat) could see a 
person enter. And Dr. Morris had peepholes that let him see the hall and 
the two other rooms along the wall so he wouldn't blunder into an 
occupied area.
	Such was the care he had taken to insure secrecy. He wasn't 
going to throw it away for a midday boff. Besides, nurse Quim was 
actually a very fine nurse and activating the 'tick' would leave her 
groggy and unhelpful for a couple of hours.
	It was much better, and safer, for him to slip silently into her 
room and turn on the transmitter. At first he had found fucking a 
sleeping woman disturbing, but then he lightened up on himself. Sure, 
he was taking a woman unawares and without consent, but that was 
why he had injected the neural suppressor into her brain. Once he made 
peace with his social outcast status, he began to get into his life-like sex 
toys.
	He had developed the 'tick' for quite another reason, to provide 
him with insurance against Betty finding out about his affair. That was 
two nurses ago, when he didn't need to use his secret door. He would 
put Betty out for the night and then sneak out to nurse Evans' bed. But 
eventually nurse Evans moved on and after striking out with the new 
nurse, he realized that the neural suppressor could turn 'no' into 'yes'.
	Holly Bear, she was the one to blame. If she had seen sex with 
her employer as a perk of her job, his new hobby might not have been 
born. But she had said 'no' and she was such a dish he couldn't let it go 
at that. He found himself fantasizing about the way her uniform 
separated that half an inch where her full, round breasts strained the 
buttons and knew he had to do something for his own peace of mind.
	That was funny. A piece of her mind for his peace of mind. But 
he implanted the 'tick' anyway. That night was obscured by his 
schizophrenic argument with himself over the wisdom of his plan. I 
know it works, I've tested it. Yeah, on one subject. But it's based on 
brain physiology. You read that in a book on neural suppressors? Well, 
I know it works, damn it. So, what are you going to say to the police 
when she calls them?
	Misgivings intact, he slipped through the wall and turned on the 
transmitter. It worked like a charm. It stopped her snoring and put her 
into a slow, tidal respiration.
	Then there was nothing but the sleeper that would not wake and 
those marvelous tits. He had pulled up her nightgown and played with, 
sucked and generally lost himself in those tits for the better part of an 
hour before he even thought about the sex he had come for. Then he 
rolled her on her back and put his cock between the mighty mounds, 
getting off on the feel of her warm flesh surrounding his cock and balls 
as he pushed up until he was totally buried in the yielding breastflesh. 
He had to work hard to come and that is probably why his climax took 
him by surprise.
	That taught him the lesson of bringing a clean-up kit as he 
frantically tried to clean every evidence of his semen from her hair and 
face and pillow and sheets. It took him two days to work up the nerve- 
his other half called it sinking to the depths again, to attempt it again. 
That time it was easy. Check the rooms. Crack the panel and listen for 
the snore. Go in. Turn off the snoring.
	He took her on her knees that time, carefully turning her head so 
she wouldn't smother. To control his semen, he wore a condom, but it 
wasn't the same. Oh yeah, he got off on holding her generous butt as he 
slammed into it while she slept, but it was the act and not the sensation 
that was exciting. It was the feeling of driving deep into this prohibiting 
bitch that brought the cum up his cock rather than lush wetness of her 
cunt.
	He visited her three nights in a row after that, refining his 
technique. After trying a syringe to extract his semen, which was 
laborious and slow, he found a new use for a breast pump. And he 
found that he had dumb luck on his first try. Fucking like spoons was 
mildly acceptable, but missionary was horribly boring with a sleeping 
partner and any position that required lifting any part of the sleeper was 
draining since he was lifting dead weight and not an active participant. 
He tried them and went back to the knee-chest position he had used his 
first time.
	It was good. It was simple. And jamming his belly up into the 
shelf of bouncy buttocks while he drove his cock deep into her just 
never got boring.
	Of course, that didn't rule out change. He had fallen into a 
routine and then one night while his mind was wandering as he fucked 
her, his thumb strayed over her asshole. Hmmm, he thought, I haven't 
done that since Betty and I were dating. He took his dick out of her and 
aimed it at the wrinkled orifice. He pushed and- nothing. He pushed 
harder and was getting nowhere. Have to open them up, he thought to 
himself and put his cock back in her pussy, letting it slip to the back of 
his mind as he began to hump her faster until he came.
	But it didn't stay back there long. Two days later, he went into 
the apartment with the express purpose of fucking her ass. He rimmed 
her until the sphincter relaxed and kept licking until he had two fingers 
slipping in and out of her with ease. All the time he was thinking how 
great that would feel if she was awake and how outraged she would be 
so she wouldn't have to face that she liked it. Then he got behind her 
excited as a 17-year-old and pushed his cock against her asshole again.
	This time it started easy, but got tougher as he pushed farther in. 
He wasn't sure that this part would feel so great to her. But to him it 
was great. Two fingers were nowhere near enough to open her for his 
fat sausage. Her ass was in emergency elasticity mode as it stretched 
around his invading cock. Protesting and grudging every inch he forced 
into her, her anus was clamped on him like no other sensation.
	By the time he had thrust into her anus three times, he was 
hooked. It would take hundreds of years, he estimated, before he got 
bored with this. Nothing in the rest of the brutal, barbarian rape of her 
asshole changed his mind. He had gotten off on the feeling of 
penetration before when he was fucking her pussy and the feeling of 
slamming up on her ripe hams with his dick buried in her tight, resisting 
ass was 10 times better. He still felt like he was driving in deep into her 
whether she liked it or not, but being in her ass also gave him the 
sensory feedback of intruding where he was not wanted. It was just 
fucking good.
	Then nurse Quim came along. She was not quite as babeilicious 
as nurse Bear, but she had her own points. First off, she was easier to 
handle in bed. Nurse Bear, bedsides the 44 DD tits, had a 39 inch ass 
and probably weighed 160 pounds. Nurse Quim was petite in 
comparison, a reasonable 5'5" and about 125. It wasn't as much trouble 
to put her legs over his shoulders and fuck her in the ass as she lay on 
her back.
	He was doing that one night when the next chapter in his secret 
nightlife was written.
	One particularly lusty thrust flopped nurse Quim's legs off him 
and back over herself. At the moment he was more concerned with 
keeping his dick in her ass than restoring his position, so she lay there 
for a second as the idea formed. He had grabbed the sides of her hips to 
keep her from falling off his dick and he found that the new tilt of her 
hips made his dick dig into her at a real nice angle. She couldn't do 
anything about her awkward position, forced as she was into a dream 
state by the neural suppressor, and it made the thrusting easier on him 
without making her asshole the least bit looser.
	He liked it. So his little trips to see nursey became more and 
more likely to end with her folded up like lawn chair taking his hard 
charging cock up her ass. But that faded as the trouble it took to keep 
her legs from flopping all over the place grew with the intensity of his 
fucking. So he pushed her up a little farther to try and get her feet to 
rest on the bed behind her head. Good idea, but hard on him. Her 
asshole raised to the no-man's land between the height of his cock on 
his knees and the height of his cock standing over her. That wasn't why 
he had put her in that position in the first place.
	But rather than discard the discovery, he simply stood up. He 
had her rolled into a ball beneath him and he was pounding down on 
her like a piledriver. It bent his dick, but it gave him all sort of angles to 
explore as he ravaged her bowels. And it was a good bend. Not the 
bend of 'I'm not going in', but more a bend to let him know he was 
doing something as he fucked the ever easier to fuck asshole of his 
nurse.
	Now if she'd take care of her damn asshole, this would be great, 
he thought- just like the tightest pussy in the world and hot as a 
firecracker. But instead nurse Quim insisted on coming in the next day 
with that look on her face and questions in her mind.