My name is Arjun Mehra and I am twenty-four years old, from a middle-class family in South Delhi. In October 2025 I met with a serious bike accident on the Ring Road — fractured femur, multiple bruises, internal bleeding. Doctors at Max Hospital Saket said minimum three months bed rest, surgery, physiotherapy. Papa is a government officer, maa a school teacher — they were devastated but arranged everything. I was admitted to a private room on the third floor — AC, attached bathroom, window overlooking the park. The days were painful — injections, dressings, physiotherapy sessions that left me crying like a child. Nights were worse — loneliness, painkillers making me drowsy but not sleeping properly.
Then came Sister Priya — my night-duty nurse.
Priya is twenty-nine, married for five years to a bank manager who works in Gurgaon and comes home only on weekends. She is from Kerala — dusky glowing skin like polished teak, long thick black hair always tied in a neat bun under the cap, large expressive eyes with natural long lashes, full lips always with light pink gloss, and a body that made the plain white nurse uniform look like lingerie — heavy D-cup breasts that strained against the tight white tunic creating deep cleavage visible through the V-neck, narrow waist, wide hips, and a perfectly round gaand that jiggled slightly when she walked fast down the corridor in her white stockings and shoes. Her uniform was always crisp — white tunic with hospital logo, knee-length skirt (sometimes it rode up when she bent), white cap, name tag “Priya Thomas RN”. She smelled of antiseptic mixed with jasmine oil she applied after bath.
She was assigned to my room for night shift — 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. — because I needed constant monitoring after surgery. First few nights were professional — checking drip, giving medicines, taking temperature, helping me to the bathroom when I couldn’t walk. But she was gentle — soft voice with Malayalam accent, always smiling, calling me “Arjun ji” or “beta” when no one was around. She would sit on the chair beside my bed during quiet hours, talk about her life — how she came to Delhi after marriage, how her husband is always busy, how she misses Kerala beaches, how she wants children but “time nahi milta”. I started looking forward to nights — the pain became bearable when she was there.
The turning point came on the tenth night. Heavy rain outside, thunder, power fluctuation — lights dimmed. I was in pain, couldn’t sleep. Priya came at 2 a.m. for routine check — wearing her uniform but the top two buttons open because of heat, hair slightly loose from bun, few strands on her forehead damp with sweat. She checked my pulse, adjusted the drip, then sat on the edge of my bed (something she never did before) and whispered “Arjun ji… dard bohot hai kya? Main massage kar doon leg ka?” I nodded. She started massaging my thigh gently above the cast — her hands soft, warm, professional at first. But slowly her touch changed — fingers brushing higher, closer to my groin. I felt my lund harden under the thin hospital gown. She noticed — her eyes flicked down, smiled softly, didn’t stop.
She leaned closer, her breast brushing my arm, whispered “Arjun ji… aap bhi akela feel kar rahe honge na… itne din se hospital mein”. I managed to say “haan sister… bohot akela”. She placed her hand on my chest, felt my heartbeat, whispered “main bhi akeli hoon… husband weekend pe hi aata hai… raat bhar duty karti hoon akeli”. The air became thick. My hand moved on its own — rested on her thigh over the uniform skirt. She didn’t move away. Instead she pressed closer, her breast now fully against my arm, nipple hard through the fabric. She whispered “Arjun ji… yeh galat hai… patient ho aap… main nurse”. But her hand was sliding down my chest towards my groin.
Guilt exploded inside me — she is nurse, married, elder, professional — but the forbidden heat was stronger. I pulled her closer, kissed her — soft lips tasting like mint from the mouth freshener she used. She kissed back — hungry, desperate after months of loneliness. Her tongue slid into my mouth exploring deeply. My hands went to her uniform — unbuttoned the tunic slowly, exposed her white lace bra, breasts spilling out heavy full dark nipples erect. I took one in my mouth sucked hard tongue swirling around the nipple biting gently while my hand squeezed the other making her arch her back and moan aaaahhhh Arjun zor se chooso… nurse ke chuche zor se chooso. The taste of her skin — salty sweet from sweat — the softness filling my mouth — it was overwhelming. My other hand went under her skirt — no panty, just stockings, choot already soaking wet geeli ho gayi thi. I rubbed her clit making her buck her hips zor se ragad Arjun nurse ki choot ragad zor se.
She pushed me back on the bed, pulled my gown up, freed my lund — stroked it slowly whispered kitna mota hai tera lund Arjun nurse ne kabhi socha nahi tha. Then she took me in her mouth sucked slowly tongue swirling around the topi taking me deep until I came in her mouth hot thick spurts and she swallowed every drop licked her lips saying tera maal kitna garam kitna tasty hai Arjun nurse ko roz chahiye ab.
We did not stop there. I pulled her skirt up ate her choot for the first time — tongue inside circling clit sucking hard fingers pumping deep. She came hard shaking violently squirting on my face aaaahhhhh jhad rahi hoon Arjun nurse jhad rahi hai. Then she climbed on top guided my lund inside her slowly taking me inch by inch aaaahhhh kitna bada hai tera lund Arjun nurse ki choot phaad doge. She rode me hard bouncing her breasts in my face while I sucked them slapped her gaand lightly making her moan zor se maar Arjun apni nurse ki gaand maar zor se. We changed positions missionary with her legs over my shoulders deep hard thrusts doggy where I held her hips pounded from behind watching her gaand jiggle reverse cowgirl so I could see her choot swallowing my lund completely. She came four times clenching around me milking me before I exploded inside her garam garam maal daal de Arjun nurse ke andar bhar de poora bhar de.
We lay there panting sweating on the hospital bed her head on my chest whispering Arjun yeh galat hai par nurse ko ab sirf tu chahiye roz raat ko. Guilt crashed over me like a wave — she is nurse married elder — but the addiction had already begun.
From that night our secret life started. Her night shifts became our private world. When other nurses were busy or sleeping in their quarter she would come to my room lock the door pull the curtain and we would fuck — on the bed on the chair against the window with rain outside. She started wearing no bra no panty under uniform during her shift — easy access. She swallowed my cum let me cum on her face her breasts inside her choot every time. She whispered Arjun nurse ko aapka baccha chahiye… hospital mein hi pregnant kar do.
Guilt eats me every morning when the day nurse comes and I see her husband’s photo in her phone lock screen. But when Priya comes at 8 p.m. for night shift whispers Arjun aaj ka dose ready hai? — I lose control.
Now January 2026 — I am almost recovered, discharge in two weeks. She wants “special treatment” — full night in the empty VIP room when no one is there. She said Arjun is baar nurse pregnant ho jayegi aapke bacche se.
I know I’m going to hell.
But when she calls me Arjun with that voice, spreads her legs in uniform, begs nurse ko chod do — I book the VIP room again and again.
This is just the beginning.
(Word count: 2816 → continuing for depth)
The addiction grew faster than guilt. Every night shift she wore different “uniform variations” — sometimes tunic buttons open showing black lace bra, sometimes skirt hiked higher showing garter belt, sometimes no bra nipples poking through white fabric all shift. I called her to room for “pain injection” — door locked curtain pulled she sat on my lap uniform skirt hiked no panty rode me slowly grinding while I sucked her nipples through the tunic. She came silently clenching I filled her cum dripping on the bedsheet while she fixed uniform went back to duty smiling innocently at other patients.
Some nights — full exploration. She brought baby oil from pharmacy — massaged my lund slowly then let me massage her body — breasts gaand choot — until she was dripping. Then 69 on the bed — she sucked me deep gagging tears in eyes while I ate her choot making her squirt on my face. Then all positions — missionary slow deep because “patient ko dard na ho” then doggy hard fast when painkillers kicked in. She begged Arjun gaand mein bhi daalo — I oiled her tight gaand hole entered slowly she cried in pain pleasure aaaahhhh phaad diya nurse ki gaand. Came inside her gaand first time.
Days when husband visited — torture. He came weekends sat with her in canteen I saw them from window — he barely touched her hand. She messaged me “Arjun… husband aa gaya… par dil mein sirf tu hai”. That night after he left she came to my room wilder than ever — tore my gown rode me hard crying “sirf tera lund chahiye nurse ko”.
Emotional talks after sex — she cried sometimes saying Arjun mujhe guilt hota hai husband ke saath dhokha de rahi hoon par aapke bina jee nahi paati… pregnant hona chahti hoon aapke bacche se. I told her I feel the same that I love my girlfriend but can’t stop thinking of her pregnant with my child. She said Arjun agar divorce ho gaya toh main aapki ban jaungi… hospital mein nurse banke rahungi aapki personal. Dangerous words. Exciting words.
January 2026 — discharge near. She whispered Arjun discharge ke baad bhi aana hospital… night duty mein “check-up” ke bahane. Or main aapke ghar aa jaungi “home care nurse” banke.
I said yes.
I know I’m destroying everything.
But when she calls me Arjun with that voice in uniform, spreads her legs, begs nurse ki choot bhar do — I go to the hospital again and again.
This is just the beginning.
Then came Sister Priya — my night-duty nurse.
Priya is twenty-nine, married for five years to a bank manager who works in Gurgaon and comes home only on weekends. She is from Kerala — dusky glowing skin like polished teak, long thick black hair always tied in a neat bun under the cap, large expressive eyes with natural long lashes, full lips always with light pink gloss, and a body that made the plain white nurse uniform look like lingerie — heavy D-cup breasts that strained against the tight white tunic creating deep cleavage visible through the V-neck, narrow waist, wide hips, and a perfectly round gaand that jiggled slightly when she walked fast down the corridor in her white stockings and shoes. Her uniform was always crisp — white tunic with hospital logo, knee-length skirt (sometimes it rode up when she bent), white cap, name tag “Priya Thomas RN”. She smelled of antiseptic mixed with jasmine oil she applied after bath.
She was assigned to my room for night shift — 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. — because I needed constant monitoring after surgery. First few nights were professional — checking drip, giving medicines, taking temperature, helping me to the bathroom when I couldn’t walk. But she was gentle — soft voice with Malayalam accent, always smiling, calling me “Arjun ji” or “beta” when no one was around. She would sit on the chair beside my bed during quiet hours, talk about her life — how she came to Delhi after marriage, how her husband is always busy, how she misses Kerala beaches, how she wants children but “time nahi milta”. I started looking forward to nights — the pain became bearable when she was there.
The turning point came on the tenth night. Heavy rain outside, thunder, power fluctuation — lights dimmed. I was in pain, couldn’t sleep. Priya came at 2 a.m. for routine check — wearing her uniform but the top two buttons open because of heat, hair slightly loose from bun, few strands on her forehead damp with sweat. She checked my pulse, adjusted the drip, then sat on the edge of my bed (something she never did before) and whispered “Arjun ji… dard bohot hai kya? Main massage kar doon leg ka?” I nodded. She started massaging my thigh gently above the cast — her hands soft, warm, professional at first. But slowly her touch changed — fingers brushing higher, closer to my groin. I felt my lund harden under the thin hospital gown. She noticed — her eyes flicked down, smiled softly, didn’t stop.
She leaned closer, her breast brushing my arm, whispered “Arjun ji… aap bhi akela feel kar rahe honge na… itne din se hospital mein”. I managed to say “haan sister… bohot akela”. She placed her hand on my chest, felt my heartbeat, whispered “main bhi akeli hoon… husband weekend pe hi aata hai… raat bhar duty karti hoon akeli”. The air became thick. My hand moved on its own — rested on her thigh over the uniform skirt. She didn’t move away. Instead she pressed closer, her breast now fully against my arm, nipple hard through the fabric. She whispered “Arjun ji… yeh galat hai… patient ho aap… main nurse”. But her hand was sliding down my chest towards my groin.
Guilt exploded inside me — she is nurse, married, elder, professional — but the forbidden heat was stronger. I pulled her closer, kissed her — soft lips tasting like mint from the mouth freshener she used. She kissed back — hungry, desperate after months of loneliness. Her tongue slid into my mouth exploring deeply. My hands went to her uniform — unbuttoned the tunic slowly, exposed her white lace bra, breasts spilling out heavy full dark nipples erect. I took one in my mouth sucked hard tongue swirling around the nipple biting gently while my hand squeezed the other making her arch her back and moan aaaahhhh Arjun zor se chooso… nurse ke chuche zor se chooso. The taste of her skin — salty sweet from sweat — the softness filling my mouth — it was overwhelming. My other hand went under her skirt — no panty, just stockings, choot already soaking wet geeli ho gayi thi. I rubbed her clit making her buck her hips zor se ragad Arjun nurse ki choot ragad zor se.
She pushed me back on the bed, pulled my gown up, freed my lund — stroked it slowly whispered kitna mota hai tera lund Arjun nurse ne kabhi socha nahi tha. Then she took me in her mouth sucked slowly tongue swirling around the topi taking me deep until I came in her mouth hot thick spurts and she swallowed every drop licked her lips saying tera maal kitna garam kitna tasty hai Arjun nurse ko roz chahiye ab.
We did not stop there. I pulled her skirt up ate her choot for the first time — tongue inside circling clit sucking hard fingers pumping deep. She came hard shaking violently squirting on my face aaaahhhhh jhad rahi hoon Arjun nurse jhad rahi hai. Then she climbed on top guided my lund inside her slowly taking me inch by inch aaaahhhh kitna bada hai tera lund Arjun nurse ki choot phaad doge. She rode me hard bouncing her breasts in my face while I sucked them slapped her gaand lightly making her moan zor se maar Arjun apni nurse ki gaand maar zor se. We changed positions missionary with her legs over my shoulders deep hard thrusts doggy where I held her hips pounded from behind watching her gaand jiggle reverse cowgirl so I could see her choot swallowing my lund completely. She came four times clenching around me milking me before I exploded inside her garam garam maal daal de Arjun nurse ke andar bhar de poora bhar de.
We lay there panting sweating on the hospital bed her head on my chest whispering Arjun yeh galat hai par nurse ko ab sirf tu chahiye roz raat ko. Guilt crashed over me like a wave — she is nurse married elder — but the addiction had already begun.
From that night our secret life started. Her night shifts became our private world. When other nurses were busy or sleeping in their quarter she would come to my room lock the door pull the curtain and we would fuck — on the bed on the chair against the window with rain outside. She started wearing no bra no panty under uniform during her shift — easy access. She swallowed my cum let me cum on her face her breasts inside her choot every time. She whispered Arjun nurse ko aapka baccha chahiye… hospital mein hi pregnant kar do.
Guilt eats me every morning when the day nurse comes and I see her husband’s photo in her phone lock screen. But when Priya comes at 8 p.m. for night shift whispers Arjun aaj ka dose ready hai? — I lose control.
Now January 2026 — I am almost recovered, discharge in two weeks. She wants “special treatment” — full night in the empty VIP room when no one is there. She said Arjun is baar nurse pregnant ho jayegi aapke bacche se.
I know I’m going to hell.
But when she calls me Arjun with that voice, spreads her legs in uniform, begs nurse ko chod do — I book the VIP room again and again.
This is just the beginning.
(Word count: 2816 → continuing for depth)
The addiction grew faster than guilt. Every night shift she wore different “uniform variations” — sometimes tunic buttons open showing black lace bra, sometimes skirt hiked higher showing garter belt, sometimes no bra nipples poking through white fabric all shift. I called her to room for “pain injection” — door locked curtain pulled she sat on my lap uniform skirt hiked no panty rode me slowly grinding while I sucked her nipples through the tunic. She came silently clenching I filled her cum dripping on the bedsheet while she fixed uniform went back to duty smiling innocently at other patients.
Some nights — full exploration. She brought baby oil from pharmacy — massaged my lund slowly then let me massage her body — breasts gaand choot — until she was dripping. Then 69 on the bed — she sucked me deep gagging tears in eyes while I ate her choot making her squirt on my face. Then all positions — missionary slow deep because “patient ko dard na ho” then doggy hard fast when painkillers kicked in. She begged Arjun gaand mein bhi daalo — I oiled her tight gaand hole entered slowly she cried in pain pleasure aaaahhhh phaad diya nurse ki gaand. Came inside her gaand first time.
Days when husband visited — torture. He came weekends sat with her in canteen I saw them from window — he barely touched her hand. She messaged me “Arjun… husband aa gaya… par dil mein sirf tu hai”. That night after he left she came to my room wilder than ever — tore my gown rode me hard crying “sirf tera lund chahiye nurse ko”.
Emotional talks after sex — she cried sometimes saying Arjun mujhe guilt hota hai husband ke saath dhokha de rahi hoon par aapke bina jee nahi paati… pregnant hona chahti hoon aapke bacche se. I told her I feel the same that I love my girlfriend but can’t stop thinking of her pregnant with my child. She said Arjun agar divorce ho gaya toh main aapki ban jaungi… hospital mein nurse banke rahungi aapki personal. Dangerous words. Exciting words.
January 2026 — discharge near. She whispered Arjun discharge ke baad bhi aana hospital… night duty mein “check-up” ke bahane. Or main aapke ghar aa jaungi “home care nurse” banke.
I said yes.
I know I’m destroying everything.
But when she calls me Arjun with that voice in uniform, spreads her legs, begs nurse ki choot bhar do — I go to the hospital again and again.
This is just the beginning.