Cosplay

"So, are you ready?"

"Excuse me?" He had become lost in his thoughts, and then realized that his eyes were again fixed on her breasts. He quickly looked away, his face turning red.

"Are you ready to donate your sperm?"

"Ummm, well." This did seem a little weird. How do you talk to a pretty nurse about sperm? And right there in the waiting room! In public. He only briefly met her eyes, and then pretended to be looking off in some other direction. "The hospital is out of sperm?"

"Silly boy," she responded. "The hospital doesn't take sperm. Of course not. It's for the lab, for research." Madeline pretended to suddenly realize that she must have made a mistake. "Oh, I'm so sorry. You're here for a blood donation." She put a hand to her mouth, feigning embarrassment. "I thought you were our 3:30 sperm donor. We are in fact very low, and he had scheduled an appointment for 3:30 and it's now 4:00 already." She glanced around. "Oh, I'm going to be in such trouble."

With her eyes averted he was able to return his attention back to her, back to those breasts that towered above him. "Trouble? Why?"

"It's not your worry. You wait for your call."

"No, please, tell me."

"No, no, I shouldn't have bothered you. I'm really sorry. I will leave you alone."

She turned to go but he said, "No, no, it's not any bother." He realized that he really didn't want her to leave him. She could talk about the weather and still be good company, particularly in the tedious boredom of a waiting room. "I've got nothing to do. Tell me."

She hesitated, as if she was very reluctant to trouble the young man further, but then said, "Well, it's just that I've failed to get any donations today. The last three appointments never appeared. Oh my, this could mean my job, and I really need the money so badly."

A sperm donation? Why not? A gentleman does not deny a young lady in distress, and certainly not a young nurse. It might also make for a pretty good story to tell his friends back at the fraternity. His penis swelled further. If this pretty nurse with such big tits wanted what he had, how could he deny her? Heck, he could probably wack this out in a few minutes, quite literally so, and still have time to give blood.

"I'll do it. I'll make a donation," he offered.

Her eyes lit up. "You would? You will? Really? Oh my, that's so wonderful! My hero!" She leaned back down and gave him a polite hug, only just brushing her cheek against his, her breasts barely brushing against his chest, but it was tantalizing nevertheless, coupled with the delicate, wistful scent of her flowery perfume.

She held out her hand, "Here, come with me. We have a special room for the sperm donations."

He took her hand and followed her out of the waiting room.

Madeline glanced around her as they were leaving, her heart racing as they crossed the room, and then decelerating when they finally cleared the crowd. The room had been filled with quite a few persons waiting to donate blood, accompanied by a number of nurses. She wasn't overly worried about getting caught. Blood donation is staffed largely by volunteer and student nurses. It would not be at all unusual to have someone there that was unknown to you. Still, she could not help feeling at least a bit nervous. She had done her best to keep her back turned to the supervising doctor, who would assume he knew everyone who would be working that evening, and would certainly be familiar with the nurse with the tight uniform and bursting breasts.

But, once they cleared the waiting room she breathed a sigh of relief. They would now be largely on their own, and she proceeded to lead the young man down a few corridors.

"Isn't this the new wing for the medical center?"

"Yes, yes," she explained. "The examination rooms are not quite finished yet, so they're letting us use them for our study."

Timothy was a little surprised at how far away the donation room was located, although as he thought about it, it did make sense. They would want to have the sperm donors to have considerable privacy. Still, though, the long walk with the pretty nurse, holding his hand, was a bit awkward. He hoped his growing erection wouldn't be obvious. This was certainly much more awkward than giving blood.

"Have you ever donated sperm before?"

"What? Um, no, no, actually, I haven't."

"It's really not difficult. Don't worry. I'll help you through the first time."

He didn't quite know how to react to that. On the one hand it sounded a bit erotic. On the other hand, it sounded a bit infantilizing. But, clearly she wouldn't really be helping him with it, the actual donating part.

She added, reassuringly, "It won't hurt that much."

Well, he sure hoped that it wouldn't. How could it? Actually, what an odd thing for her to say: 'Hurt that much?' Why would it hurt at all? He was beginning to have second thoughts about this. Surely this would only be jerking off into some cup, or something. He wondered if she would provide him with some magazines. He heard they did that, or at least they always did that in television depictions. It could though be rather embarrassing for her to hand him some magazines. It would be like his mother offering him magazines when it was masturbation night. Geeez, that would be a bit awkward., to say the least. He suddenly panicked at the thought of her asking him what kind of magazines he preferred. The fact was he preferred magazines about women with big boobs, and there was no way he was going to tell her that.

Once they arrived at her destination she turned the slide indicator adjacent to the door from "Open" to "Occupied," and then led him into the room.

The room was a bit cramped. There was the traditional examination table, a sink and counter, cupboards, and a stool. It was really quite sparse. Well, perhaps that was not surprising. It was, after all, a room for laboratory research, and such rooms tended to be rather thin on amenities. "Yes, okay, well," he said, "Um, is there some sort of cup or something?" He now just wanted to get this over with.

She smiled at him. "Don't be so impatient, young man. Goodness, you're feeling a little randy aren't you?"

He didn't answer.

"Yes, yes, but first, I must get some information. My goodness, I don't even know your name. Here, sit here," she said, gesturing to the stool. She sat up on the examining table, providing a brief, teasing exposure of her very nicely shaped legs. It was though a surprising choice. He would assume that he would be on the examining table, although he was also assured by the fact that she wasn't about to examine him. She picked up a clipboard and asked, "Now, yes, what is your name?"

"Timothy J. Edwards," he replied, sitting down on the stool.

"What a nice name! I'm Betty." She looked down at her name tag and thrust out her left breast. "Nurse Betty Sizemore."

He only glanced at her tag, for to do so would be looking explicitly at that large, thrusting globe. Even the brief exposure though stirred his balls. "Yes," he said, glancing away. "Good to meet you." He kept his eyes fixed on a corner of the room.

She proceeded to gather basic demographic and health information. Some of it was rather personal, such as STD's and other transmittable diseases, but understandable for what he was about to donate. However, the interview did at times take a few surprising turns.

"Do you masturbate often?"

"Excuse me?" He looked up at her. Sitting on the stool placed him considerably lower than her, which only further accentuated the prominence of her peaks, as well as providing a nice vantage point of her white stockinged, shapely legs.

"How often do you masturbate? We need to know this to estimate sample size, plus it's for basic scientific research."

"Well, um." He really didn't want to tell her the truth. Frankly, he masturbated every evening, or at least every evening in which he had sufficient privacy. He would at times even masturbate beneath the covers of his blankets when his roommate was in the bed next to him, but he would only do that if he felt he was asleep. He would try to be as quiet as possible, but masturbating did have some rather tell-tale sounds, particularly in the quiet silence of night. "I guess a few times a week," he lied.

"Oh, goodness, you don't have much testosterone?"

"Excuse me?"

"Have you ever squirted yourself in the face?"

"What?"

"When you ejaculated? When you reached orgasm? Has it ever squirted you in the face?"

This was really getting quite personal, if not odd. "Is this really necessary for the donation?"

"Oh, I know, I know. It's a bit personal, but a lot of this has to do with the research study." She uncrossed and then crossed her legs the other way, providing for him a very brief but tantalizing glimpse up her skirt. He noticed that she was wearing panty hose rather than thigh high nylons. He was a bit disappointed, but then realized that any such feeling or expectation was not really appropriate.

"Well, um, yes, yes, I guess I have," he acknowledged. Actually, that should really be a good thing, shouldn't it? It suggested that he came with considerable force and virility. Didn't it?

"Have you tasted your sperm?"

'C'mon!' This was really too much. But, then, he had recalled in his introductory sociology course how helpful and informative the national Kinsey survey turned out to be, and their questions must have seemed pretty personal and provocative back then. It would probably be good for society, for their emotional health, to realize that some seemingly dirty things were really quite common. "Well, yes, yes I have."

"Do you pick your nose and eat that too?"

His eyes widened in shock at that.

She giggled at his reaction. "I was just joking, just teasing. It's good to lighten things up with a bit of humor. Now, let me see, where was I? Oh yes, did you like the taste of it?"

"Well, no, not really." That was in fact true. He had been hoping that he would like it, and then he would work on trying to blow himself, but once he realized that he didn't like it, he kind of lost interest.

"Oh, that's too bad! I actually really like it myself. I think it's very, very tasty."

His balls began to stir once again.

"Have you masturbated with your finger up your butt?"

That was an easy one. "No, no, I haven't done that."

"Really? You're quite the innocent young man, aren't you?"

He wondered if they would provide him with a consumer satisfaction questionnaire when this was done. Her jokes and editorial commentary weren't very helpful in putting him at ease. He was beginning to wonder if those large breasts and pretty face were really enough to overcome her bedside manner.

"Have you ever ejaculated into your pants?"

That wasn't an easy one. He had done that, a couple of times. In fact, more than just a couple of times. "Well, yea, I guess that has happened."

"How did you do that?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, it didn't just happen when you were walking down the street, did it? Or, did it? Does it just happen because of the friction of your clothes?"

"No, no ma'am," he replied. "It was when, one time, when I went, you know, to an adult theater."

"You masturbated in your pants watching dirty movies at an adult theater?"

His face turned beet red. This was really very embarrassing. Couldn't they ask these questions in a less intrusive, less humiliating manner?

"I didn't really know that they still had such things, you know, with home videos, dvd's, and the internet, and all that. Is there something about the experience of actually going to an adult theater that makes you excited?"

Actually, he had done it because he really couldn't get access within his frat room, at least not with the privacy that he wanted, needed. It was common to hang a sign on the door to indicate you were with a girl, but he felt rather uncomfortable hanging a sign that indicated that he was watching pornography and jerking off. So, yes, he had gone to an adult movie theater and jerked off into his pants. Is that really so bad? "No, no, actually it was a little embarrassing." It was indeed. He had felt like he was a dirty old man long before his time, or at best some sort of a pervert. Everyone was sitting as far apart from one another as possible, and he thought a couple of the customers were in fact homeless persons, as they appeared to be sleeping. Plus, the movie wasn't even really that good, although it was in fact good enough to get him off. One of the girls had really, really big tits, and that part with her was pretty darn good, particularly when the guy got to fuck her between her boobs and cum all over them.

"What kinds of things do you think of when you masturbate?"

His face instantly turned red. "Um, well, girls, of course."

"Silly boy. Of course you think about girls, although it would be fine if you preferred boys. But, no, I mean, what in particular do you enjoy the most? What do you dream about, fantasize about, when you masturbate?"

You would think that donating sperm would be an enjoyable experience but leave it to Templeton College to turn it into something unpleasant. There was simply no way he was going to admit to his fantasies about large breasts, not to this nurse. "Nothing really special, nothing out of the ordinary."

She smiled knowingly down at him. "Now, Timmy."

His name was 'Timothy,' or 'Tim,' if she wanted to drop the formality. Not 'Timmy,' but he led it slide. Still, though, nobody had called him 'Timmy' for many, many years.

"I'm a nurse. I have seen and heard many things that would make your face blush. You don't have to be uncomfortable with me." She again uncrossed and crossed her legs, back to the original position, smiling down at him, fully aware of the effect her teasing thighs was having on him.

He swallowed, took a deep breath, and said, "Breasts, large breasts. I think about large breasts." He felt so deeply embarrassed, even ashamed, at his confession of his preference, his interest, perhaps even his perversion, particularly having to do so when two of the largest he had seen in person were towering over him.

She smiled sweetly down at him, like a teacher who discovered that her student had a crush on him, or a mother who just discovered that her son had his first wet dream. "Well, that's really very sweet of you, Timmy. Does your girlfriend have large boobies?"

His face became redder. "I don't have a girlfriend," he admitted. 'Please don't say it's probably because I watch dirty movies,' he thought. 'Please don't say that.'

"Well, it's probably because you just haven't met the right girl yet."

He sighed with relief.

"And perhaps you really shouldn't go so often to the dirty movie theater."

He had actually only gone there once. Well, perhaps a few times, when they had a special big boob feature. Those were really difficult to resist.

"Alright then, that's all of the questions. Let's get started." She slipped off the examination table. "Stand up and take off your pants and underpants now."

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, yes, I need to examine you, you know, for STD's and such."

"But, I just told you that I don't have anything like that."

"Yes, yes, but you must appreciate that we do have to check ourselves. We really can't just take your word on it, although we also actually can't rule them out with a visual exam, but we will lose our license if we fail to at least make the attempt."

That did make sense. With a deep sigh he undid his belt.

"You should get your shoes off first."

He hesitated. At this point he wanted only the quickest 'slam, bam, thank you hand,' that he could provide. He didn't need to take his pants off to do that. But, he doubted that he would win this argument. He removed his shoes and then undid his belt, unclasped and unzipped his slacks, and then pulled them down, along with his underwear. He so wished that he had worn better underwear. His mother had always said to wear the underwear you would want the whole world to see. You never know when you might get into an accident. Well, she was essentially right about that. His worn white jockey briefs even had a bit of a skid mark. It was an old one, just a stain really that didn't ever seem to come out. Still, it was awfully embarrassing.

Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice it, or at least she was polite enough not to comment on it. She even helped him to step out of his slacks and jockeys.

"Oh, you should wipe yourself more thoroughly, Timmy."

He felt like he might faint. This was so dreadfully embarrassing. Only his mother had commented on that, and he had made it quite clear by his reaction that he never wanted her to comment on it again. He did try though to do better. He tried real hard, but he kept getting the skid marks. He even went out and purchased new underwear, replacing his used ones in an effort to keep it all hidden from his mother. He considered explaining to the nurse that it was an old one, but he really preferred that the subject just change..

Once he had stepped out of his clothes, the nurse instructed, "Okay, very good, Timmy. Now, stand still while I examine the little man."

He always felt uncomfortable when he disrobed before a nurse. On the one hand, he would be worried that he might develop an erection in her presence, particularly if she was as attractive as this one. On the other hand, he was worried that he would be at his most shriveled state, and the worrying seemed to have that precise effect. One time he tried imagining the nurse without her uniform, hoping that he would swell up enough to make him look larger, but not too much to make it seem like he was getting an erection. It didn't work. It's actually rather hard to will an erection when you're all self-conscious and nervous.

He would want to explain to the nurses that he was in fact normally bigger than what he currently appeared, but he doubted that they would believe him, and it would only draw their attention to its size, or lack thereof. None of them though ever commented on it, thank goodness, except for this one.

He looked the other way while she began to examine his penis for lesions and sores, although perhaps he should in fact look down. Those breasts would provide a nice backdrop for his penis but, obviously, it was too late for that. Imagine getting an erection now?

"Hmmm," she moaned, "You smell very nice, Timmy."

"What?" Now he did look down.

She looked up at him with those large, pretty, round brown eyes, her breasts beneath them jutting out her uniform. "I so enjoy the scent of a boy, of a man. He is so earthy, so pungent, so musky. It's like it's some sort of pheromone. I just enjoy it so very deeply, so instinctively, so viscerally." Nurse Betty pressed her nose against his penis and breathed in deeply, sighing with profound pleasure and satisfaction. She pressed her nose into his penis, around his penis, and into his balls, caressing, rubbing, and massaging his penis and balls with her nose.

It was rather surprising, and perhaps odd, to say the least. But, it wasn't so bad. In fact, it was rather nice. He wouldn't actually ever ask a girl to rub her nose against his penis, and he certainly doubted that he would ever meet a girl who was into such a thing, but if a woman tolerated his penchant, if not fetish, for big breasts, how could be begrudge this one's interest in his manly scent? And, besides, when does a boy not enjoy a woman caressing his penis with her face, even if it's her nose rather than her lips and tongue.

But, she stopped, pulled back and said, "Whew! That was quite nice. Alright then, well, you appear to be a very healthy young boy, or, I should say, young man. Now, let's take your temperature." She reached into the deep pocket of her uniform and pulled out a thermometer. It seemed a bit on the large size.