Indian Nurse Sex Story: Meera's Night Rounds

They say an indian nurse sex story always starts in a hospital corridor, with white uniforms and the smell of antiseptic. Mine started in my own bathroom, with the sound of running water and one white bra dripping on my sink. I am Aarav, twenty nine, stuck at home in a two room flat in Kandivali after an appendectomy, and the woman changing behind my bathroom door was Meera, the home care nurse the agency had sent for my dressing changes.

It was raining like Mumbai had forgotten every other weather. Meera had arrived forty minutes late, soaked to the skin, her white uniform clinging to her body like a second skin. I could see the dark outline of her bra through the wet fabric when she stood under my porch light. She apologized three times before stepping inside, leaving a trail of wet footprints across my tiles.

"You will catch a cold like this," I told her, handing her a towel. Her hair was plastered to her cheeks. Water ran down her neck and disappeared into her collar. She laughed, a tired sound, and said her auto had broken down two lanes away and she had walked the rest in the downpour.

I gave her one of my old oversized t shirts and told her to change in the bathroom while I made tea. She hesitated for exactly one second, then took it. When the bathroom door closed, I stood in the kitchen listening to the lock click, and I hated myself for the images already running through my head.

The tea was still brewing when I went to knock and ask if she needed anything. The door was slightly open, steam curling out. I should have turned away. Instead my eyes dropped to the sink, where her wet white bra lay in a small puddle, one strap twisted, the cups heavy with water. That was the moment something shifted in my chest. The sight of it, intimate and careless, made my mouth go dry.

"Aarav?" her voice called from behind the shower curtain. "Is the tea ready?" I mumbled yes and backed away, but the image of that bra stayed burned behind my eyelids. She came out two minutes later wearing my t shirt, which fell to mid thigh. Her legs were bare. Her hair was wrapped in my towel. She had nothing on underneath, and we both knew it.

She sat on my couch and pulled the towel off her hair, shaking it loose. Drops of water flew onto the cushion. "Your dressing," she said, all business again. "Let me see the wound." I lifted my shirt and lay back while she knelt beside me, her fingers cool with antiseptic on my bandaged stomach. Her face was inches from my skin. I could smell rain and soap and something warm that was just her.

"It is healing well," she murmured, peeling the old dressing. Her knuckles brushed my lower belly and my whole body tensed. She noticed. Nurses notice everything. Her eyes flicked up to mine, and for a long second neither of us moved. The rain hammered the windows. The t shirt sleeve had slipped off her shoulder, baring the smooth curve of it.

"Meera," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "I have been thinking about you every single day since the first visit." The words came out before I could stop them. She went very still, her hand resting on my stomach. "You should not say things like that to your nurse," she said quietly, but she did not move her hand away.

"My husband works the night shift at the depot," she said suddenly, as if the sentence had been waiting months to escape. "I sleep alone in a bed that feels too big. Do you know what that does to a woman, Aarav?" Her thumb pressed a slow circle above my bandage. "Tell me I am wrong for feeling what I feel right now."

"You are not wrong," I whispered. She leaned in and her lips found mine, tasting of rain and the tea she had not yet drunk. Her kiss was hungry, almost angry, like she was making up for years of empty nights. My hand slid up her bare thigh under the t shirt and she gasped into my mouth. Her skin was warm and slightly damp.

She pulled the t shirt over her head in one motion and stood before me naked, water still beading on her shoulders. Her breasts were full and heavy, nipples dark and hard in the cool air. I had seen bodies in magazines, on screens, but nothing had ever looked like this, real and breathing and three inches from my face. I cupped them, feeling their weight, and she arched into my hands with a soft moan.

"Touch me properly," she breathed. "No one has touched me properly in two years." I took one nipple into my mouth and rolled my tongue around it while my thumb circled the other. Her fingers dug into my hair. She was already wet, I could smell it, that sweet sharp scent of a woman who wants badly. My hand traveled down her belly, past her navel, and found the hot slick folds between her legs.

She was drenched. My fingers slid through her easily, and she spread her thighs wider on the couch, giving me everything. I pushed one finger inside her and she cried out, grinding against my hand. "More," she panted. "Please, more." I added a second finger, curling them inside her, and her whole body shuddered. Her juices ran down my wrist.

"Wait," she gasped, pushing my hand away. She slid off the couch and knelt between my knees. Her eyes locked on mine as she pulled down my shorts. My cock sprang free, hard and aching, and she wrapped her fingers around it with the practiced confidence of a woman who knows exactly what she is doing. "So big," she whispered, and took the head into her mouth.

The heat of her mouth made me groan out loud. She sucked slowly at first, her tongue swirling around the tip, then took me deeper, her throat working. One hand pumped what her mouth could not reach. I tangled my fingers in her wet hair and guided her, and she moaned around me, the vibration sending shocks up my spine. I had to pull her off before I finished too soon.

"Not yet," I said, lifting her to her feet. "I want to be inside you." She nodded, eyes dark, and let me lead her to the bedroom. The sheets were cool against our heated skin. She lay back and spread her legs, and I settled between them, positioning myself at her entrance. She was so wet that I slid in with one slow push, and we both cried out at the feeling.

She was tight and hot, gripping me like she never wanted to let go. I started slow, deep strokes, watching her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. "Harder," she begged. "Fuck me harder, Aarav." I drove into her harder, the bed creaking, her nails raking down my back. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the room.

I pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach, lifting her hips. She went to her knees eagerly, arching her back, presenting herself. I entered her from behind in one stroke and she screamed, a raw sound that the rain could not cover. I gripped her hips and pounded into her, watching my cock disappear into her glistening pussy. Her ass bounced against my thighs with every thrust.

"Yes, yes, like that," she chanted. "Do not stop, do not you dare stop." I reached around and rubbed her clit in fast circles while I kept thrusting. Her body tensed, her inner walls clenching around me in waves. "I am coming," she wailed. "Oh god, I am coming." Her orgasm hit her like a wave, her whole body shaking, her pussy milking me so hard I could not hold back anymore.

I pulled out at the last second and spilled across her back in hot ropes, groaning her name. She collapsed onto the mattress, breathing hard, my spend cooling on her skin. For a long moment the only sounds were the rain and our ragged breathing. Then she laughed, a real laugh this time, and rolled over to face me.

"That dressing change took much longer than usual," she said, grinning. I laughed too, and pulled her against me. Her head rested on my chest. Outside, the rain had softened to a drizzle. She stayed until the last local train sounds faded, then dressed in her damp uniform, wringing out her hair. I watched her from the bed, memorizing the curve of her waist as she bent for her bag, already aching for tomorrow.

At the door she turned, her bag on her shoulder, her eyes bright. "Same time tomorrow," she said. "But leave the door unlocked. And Aarav?" She smiled slowly. "Wear nothing under your shirt."