Temptation in Traction

Chapter 1: Dangerous Desires

Bill Mitchell lay in his hospital bed, a prisoner of plaster and pain, his body a map of casts and traction devices. Two weeks of confinement had left him restless, his mind wandering to places it shouldn’t, especially when Amy, the volunteer nurse’s aide, breezed into his room. At thirty-six, he knew better than to entertain thoughts about an eighteen-year-old, but damn if she didn’t make it hard—figuratively and literally.

Amy was a vision with her strawberry blonde curls, emerald eyes, and a smattering of freckles that danced across her nose. Her slender frame, long legs, and that tight, round ass of hers were a constant distraction, especially in those sinfully short shorts she wore today. Bill cursed his immobility; if he could just move, he’d have some control over the situation—or at least over himself.

“Morning, Bill,” Amy chirped, her voice a teasing melody as she sauntered over, her hips swaying just enough to catch his eye. “Didn’t think I’d catch you staring, did I?”

Bill’s face heated, but he shot back, “Hard not to when you’re dressed like a walking distraction. What’s with the outfit? Trying to give an old man a heart attack?”

She laughed, a throaty sound that sent a jolt straight to his groin. “Old? Please, you’re not even forty. And I dress for comfort, not for you… though I don’t mind the attention.” She winked, leaning over to adjust his pillow, her chest brushing against his arm. The contact was brief but electric, and Bill bit back a groan.

“Comfort, huh? Looks more like a calculated assault on my sanity,” he quipped, trying to keep his tone light even as his body betrayed him under the thin sheet. “You’re playing a dangerous game, kid.”

Amy’s green eyes sparkled with mischief as she perched on the edge of his bed, her fingers trailing lightly over his casted arm. “I’m not a kid, Bill. And I like danger. Don’t you? I bet you were a real risk-taker before this whole mess.” Her gaze dropped pointedly to the sheet, where the evidence of his growing arousal was impossible to hide.

He swallowed hard, his voice rough. “Amy, you need to stop. This isn’t right, and you know it.”

She tilted her head, her smile wicked. “What’s not right? Me noticing how hard you’re getting just from a little chat? Or the fact that you’re stuck there, all horny and helpless, and I’m the only one who can do something about it?” Her fingers danced closer to the edge of the sheet, teasing, testing.

Bill’s breath hitched, his mind racing. “I’m twice your age, for Christ’s sake. You’ve got no business messing with me like this.”

“Age is just a number, Bill,” she countered, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “And I’m not messing. I’m curious. I’ve heard the nurses whispering about you—about how big you are. I’ve seen the outline through this flimsy sheet, and I want to see the real thing. Don’t tell me you’re not aching for some relief after weeks of nothing.”

Her words were a punch to his restraint, and sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought the urge to give in. “Amy, pull the sheet back up. Now. I’m not some toy for you to play with.”

But her hand was already moving, her long, slender fingers gripping the edge of the sheet and tugging it down with a slow, deliberate motion. His semi-hard cock sprang into view, and her eyes widened with a mix of awe and hunger. “Holy shit, Bill. This is… wow. I’ve been with guys, but nothing like this. And you’re not even fully hard yet.”

“Amy, stop!” His voice was a desperate growl, but his body was a traitor, responding to her gaze, her words, her sheer audacity. He felt himself hardening further, the heat of her stare like a physical touch.

She didn’t stop. Instead, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his shaft, light as a feather but enough to make him twitch. “Come on, Bill. You’re sweating, panting already. You’re so damn horny, I can tell. Let me help. I’ve given plenty of hand jobs, even blowjobs to guys I like. And I like you. A lot.” Her grip tightened just slightly, and he felt a bead of precum form at the tip, his control slipping.

“Amy, I’m begging you—don’t do this,” he rasped, but his hips shifted involuntarily, craving more of her touch. She was right; he was desperate, his cock throbbing, his balls tight with need. Her hand moved, stroking slowly, expertly, and he knew he was seconds from losing it completely, her wicked smile promising an explosion he both dreaded and craved.

“Relax, Bill,” she purred, her voice dripping with intent. “Let me make you feel good. You’re already so wet at the tip, so ready. Just say the word, and I’ll take you over the edge.”

His resolve hung by a thread, the room charged with tension, her hand poised to push him into oblivion. What would he do next?