Glass Half

Patients don’t get admitted to this unit unless the doctors give them less than three months to live. It can be heartbreaking, working in hospice, but incredibly rewarding as well. People are grateful for small kindnesses, like a warm blanket, or just someone to sit and hold their hand. It feels good, as a nurse, to ease the transition, especially when someone is done suffering and is just ready to pass on. But the fact remains, getting a bed on my floor is pretty much a one-way ticket.

She was a lot younger than most of our patients, in her low 60s, which is always especially tough for me. It was breast cancer, metastasized.

The radiation and chemo had made her sick and pummeled her body. She was done. She wanted to live whatever she had left of life in whatever comfort she could. She didn’t have family, husband, kids. All she had was a house in the woods and a pair of big dogs. She couldn’t stay at home; she could barely walk. So she had come here.

“I’m worried that it may be spreading,” she told me after I had taken her vitals. “Can I show you?”

She lifted up her shirt. The right breast was clearly cancerous. You could see the tumors, lurking malignantly just under the skin. The entire underside of the breast was covered in an angry red rash, with raw-looking raised areas that oozed.

“The rash doesn’t look cancerous to me,” I lied. “Maybe it’s just a reaction to the radiation. We’ll see what the oncologist has to say.” I took a Sharpie and outlined the perimeter of the rash. It was big, far too big, and it was no kind of side-effect or drug reaction that I’d ever seen.

Her other breast, the one on the left, was perfect. Straight out of a teenage wet-dream: firm, pale, slightly perky, not too big. Flawless.

“I’m scared to go home,” she told me. Her shirt was still raised up, her breasts, both of them, right up in my face. “I just don’t want to be a burden to anybody.”

“You’re not a burden,” I told her. “I’m sure you’ve spent a lot of time in your life helping other people. Now it’s your turn to accept some help.”

“How long have you been a male nurse?” she asked me.

“Oh, I’ve always been a male nurse!” I told her, and we both laughed. Our eyes me, and something electric passed between us.



I was working the night shift, which is not my favorite. I had one patient on a morphine drip who wasn’t doing so well (or ‘circling the bowl’, as we say to each other when we’re well out of earshot.) I wasn’t sure he would make it through the night, and I was considering calling his family and asking them to come to the hospital. It was nearly two in the morning when her call bell went off.

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” she said. She was sitting in her vinyl hospital armchair, wearing a gown and sweatpants, reading a novel. “I have a terrible cramp. Could you rub my shoulders?”

Of course I could.

I rub patient shoulders all the time. Sometimes, when the morphine stops working, that is all I can do for them. But it doesn’t usually make my dick hard.

“Mmm,” she said, and my cock twitched involuntarily. “That feels so good. A little lower please?”

I complied.

“Would you mind rubbing around the front as well?”

“Like this?” I asked, sliding my hand inside her hospital gown and cupping her left breast in my hand.

“Yes,” she said. “Exactly like that.” My dick was now a full-on twitching erection, making a conspicuous tent in the front of my scrub bottoms. I felt her nipple stiffen under my palm. “The other one too, please.”

Somehow or other, her gown had become untied, and slipped in a crumpled mess around her lap. My right hand cupped her cancerous breast, hard and lumpy. I squeezed both her nipples between thumb and forefinger, bending over to sniff her hair.

“Yessss…” she sighed, arching her back. “Harder. Make it hurt.”

I squeezed harder, as hard as I could, and her moan electrified me. Then an alarm went off. It was room eleven, my morphine drip. I had to run, and then it was definitely time to call the family, in the wee hours of the night, and hopefully he could hang on at least until they arrived for one last goodbye. It was a long night, and I didn’t make it back to her room until shift change, where I found her asleep in her chair.



She was losing weight, weight that she couldn’t afford to lose. We put her on drugs to stimulate her appetite. We didn’t have cannabis at our hospital, that would have been so much easier.

I checked on her at lunch time. She hadn’t touched anything on her tray.

“You don’t like what you got for lunch?”

“No.” She looked at me wryly. “Would you?”

I looked at the untouched tray: mystery meat, rehydrated mashed potatoes, dubious vegetable. “Well, it is hospital food,” I said sympathetically.

“Isn’t there something else I could eat?”

“Maybe I can get the kitchen to send something else up…”

“That isn’t what I’m talking about and you know it.”

Is there a world record for going from completely flaccid to totally erect? I may have just shattered that record. “What if the doctor calls? What if another patient rings for me?”

“Well then I’ll have to be quick, won’t I? … Shut the door.”

She reclined the head of her bed so that her face was right at the level of my crotch. I undid my drawstring and dropped my scrub bottoms, letting my engorged cock pop out.

“Mmmmm,” she said, “Now that looks delicious! Bigger than I thought it would be, too. Now turn around, I want to check out your bum.”

I did as I was told. “Very nice. Spread your buns for me. I want to lick your asshole.”

Who was I to argue? Patient satisfaction is our number one goal. I spread my cheeks apart, and felt her hot breath on my most private parts. Her tongue traced its way up the back of my balls, along my taint, and up to my anus, where it slithered and circled and did its honest best to infiltrate my asshole. My dick was harder than I could ever remember it being.

She came up for air. “Mmmm… yummy. I could do that all day long. But I did say I’d be quick, now didn’t I? Turn around again, let me have that dick.”

My cock was leaking sticky clear pre-come. She kissed it right on the swollen purple glans. “Now use me,” she said. “Fuck my face.”

“If I do, will you eat your lunch afterward?”

“I’ll try.”

She opened her mouth wide, and I slipped my cock inside. How long had it been since I’d had an honest blowjob? Not in the last ten years of marriage, that was for sure! Her tongue caressed the underside of my cock, swirling around the head.

I was already pretty close. She took my hands, placed them on her breasts, one perfect, one ruinous. I started fucking her mouth. Gently at first, just sliding my cock softly in and out between her lips. She moaned onto me: “Harder.”

A call bell went off somewhere on the unit. She moaned again, something I couldn’t make out. I gripped her tits hard and started fucking her mouth in earnest. It felt amazing. She choked and gagged a little bit, but stayed with me. I felt myself slipping over the edge. I buried my cock in her mouth, it felt like I was halfway down her esophagus, my hands gripping her tits like handlebars, biting down hard on my lower lip as I came.

When she had extracted all the sticky white semen from my wilting cock, she smiled. “Thank you. Now shouldn’t you go see who’s ringing?”

I pulled up my pants. “Remember your promise,” I said. “I want that plate to be clean by the time I come back.”

“I’ll try,” she said.



The oncologist confirmed my suspicion. The rash was no side-effect, and it was spreading by the day. Cancer had riddled her body like mold in blue cheese. She took Dilaudid now and then when the pain got unbearable, but she said she hated the way it made her feel.

Despite everything, she was gaining back a little weight, and with physical therapy she could get around on her own now with a walker.

Sometimes when I worked nights, I’d come to her room and give her orgasms with my fingers while we kissed; sometimes I’d jerk off onto her tits; and sometimes we’d just sit and talk.

“I want to die at home,” she said.

I nodded. I get it. I understand.

“Will you come visit me?” she asked, “Just once?”

I never ever go see patients or their families outside of the hospital. It is a line that I don’t ever cross, the work/life barrier. I do it to protect my own sanity, to keep from being overwhelmed by the sadness of other people’s tragedy. “Yes,” I said, “Of course I’ll come see you.”



I told my wife I had to go to a training on my day off. Totally plausible, I have to attend those on a fairly regular basis. Even so, I kept glancing into the rearview mirror as I navigated the back roads through lush hills to her cabin, as if my wife might be tailing me.

No dogs barked as I pulled up the long driveway. She told me later that she’d given them to a shelter, the kind that doesn’t kill animals. She told me that was the first time in this whole experience that she’d broken down and cried.

She met me at the door, naked, leaning heavily on her walker. She had lost all the weight she’d gained at the hospital, and then some. She looked gaunt. Her cancerous tit was crusty and deformed. I hugged her close, and she kissed me hard on the lips, with surprising vigor.

“Come on in,” she said, “What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?”

She led me to the bedroom. The house was weirdly quiet and bare. It didn’t feel like anyone lived there anymore. Her chest of drawers was covered in pill bottles, every color of the rainbow. On her bedside table was a handgun, a nickel-plated revolver that looked like it belonged in a cowboy movie.

I slipped out of my clothes and joined her in the big soft bed. My cock was hard and it rubbed pleasantly against the crease of her ass. We kissed again, and I slid my hand between her legs. She was wet, dripping wet and slippery.

My dick found its way inside her, and we fucked, slowly, enjoying the sensation, never wanting it to end. She humped back against my cock, wiggling her ass. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” she told me. Her voice had gotten dry and raspy.

I kept getting close, and then having to stop. I didn’t want to come so soon.

“Would you mind licking my pussy? Just a little bit?”

I didn’t mind at all. Not one little bit.

I dived between her legs, burying my face in her crotch. My tongue found her clit, my fingers toyed with her pussy and her anus. I don’t know how long I was down there, but it was far more than just a little bit. Finally, she cried out loud and her body shook, and I knew I had been successful.

She kissed me. “Thank you so much. You’ve always been so kind and patient with me.”

“It’s been my pleasure. Really and truly.”

“Would you do one more thing for me?”


“Would you fuck my ass? I’ve always wanted to feel that, and I’ve never had it.”


We rearranged ourselves. She was too weak to stay up on all fours, but lying on her stomach with a couple pillows under her hips seemed like it was going to work.

I got my head between her cheeks, inhaling the scent of her sex, and rimmed her asshole, licking her from her pussy up to the base of her spine and back down again, delighting in her sighs and the way she pressed back at me.

“Do it to me,” she whispered, “Don’t be too gentle.”

I pressed my cock against her saliva-wet anus. She groaned, and pressed back against me. Her body opened up to accept me. I shoved forward and she grunted. She was wicked tight. “Fuck me,” she said, and I did.

My cock plunged in and out of her tight, hot asshole. Every time I thrust into her, she panted and coughed. Her hands were gripping the pillow at the top of the bed, her head to one side, eyes shut tight. “Harder… harder…”

I reached under her, finding her soaking wet pussy, spreading her juices up and over the erect nub of her clit. I was losing control now, fucking her ass as hard as I could, losing myself in my own pleasure.

“Oh my God,” she called out, her voice suddenly clear and loud, “I’m going to come!”

We came at the same instant, her cunt spasming on my probing fingers as my cock exploded in her ass. We lay there for a long time, locked together, sweaty and panting, two lovers in an obscene embrace that neither one of us wanted to let go of just yet.

She had to take some pills. She needed applesauce to get them down now. After that, we fucked again. She tried being on top, but quickly got too tired, so we rolled over, and I fucked her missionary-style, kissing her lips as I came deep inside her cunt.

“I might fall asleep,” she said. My cock was still inside her. “Don’t wake me up if I do. Just leave. You’ve been an amazing nurse.”

Soon she was snoring. Her face looked relaxed and peaceful. I gently extracted myself, and crept into her shower, washing the sex smell off my body. She hadn’t moved by the time I left.



I saw her name in the newspaper the following week. I read the obituaries obsessively, for reasons that are probably obvious. The short article said that she’d died at home, after a long illness, and that she’d left all her money to an organization that rescues abused animals.

I cut her obituary out of the newsprint and put it inside my wallet, where I carried it around with me until it disintegrated.







1 Comment »

  1. It’s not often that I’m teary-eyed and hard as a rock at the same time, but I was when I finished this story… Beautiful!

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