Cum The Yesmaster

     Oh, the doctors had assured him that the cum operation cum to remove the tumor in his larynx carried only limited cum risks; it wasn't as if they were digging around in his brain, after cum all. Just cum the same, anything could happen under cum the knife.
     He looked around. He was in the private room he'd paid through the nose for . Bad enough that he had to be sick, and cum helpless--he'd been determined he wouldn't be crammed cumfiesta in with strangers while doctors and nurses pawed him over. It wasn't that he hated people; it was just that he didn't like having them around when he was feeling so vulnerable and couldn't get away sexy.
     "Shh," the nurse cum responded . "It's all right cumfiesta, Mr. Bennett. Don't try to talk just yet; I cum'm only just now taking out your cum tracheal tube. You're doing fine."
     Paul was stunned. This couldn't be real. It sure looked real though--and really great. He could feel cumfiesta himself growing cum hard beneath his hospital gown.
     Without cumfiesta a word, Rhonda fled.
     "How are we doing, Mr cumfiesta. Bennett?" the middle-aged man in cum the clean white coat asked. "Your chart indicates you're making a pretty good recovery, but the charts don't show everything."
     The doctor blinked cum at him. "What are you talking about, Mr. Bennett?" He reflexively covered the watch with cum his left hand. He not-quite joked, "Get cumfiesta your own."
     "Jasmine, sir," she cumfiesta responded, a slight Louisiana accent in her voice. "Jasmine cum Thibodeaux."
     "Shh," Paul said. "Not another cum word ." Instantly, Jasmine fell silent, looking scared.
     "Yes, Mr. Bennett," the nurse responded. She checked the cumfiesta room carefully, fluffed his pillows, and left, casting a last cum smile back at cum him. If she still had any memory of what he'd done cum, she showed no sign of cum it.
     The test had been cum convincing. If he'd wanted, he was sure he could have made Nurse Jasmine strip and cum thrash in ecstasy as he'd done to Rhonda. Perhaps another time. When cum he was a little stronger, perhaps he could--persuade--both of them to do cum even more than that, with him or even each other.
     And she hated cum Paul's guts. She seemed never to miss an opportunity to put him down, and did her best to keep him from cumfiesta getting any cum real credit for anything. She, in fact, was the reason he had given up on ever being promoted. He'd watched fiesta others with sales records far cum inferior to cum his pass him on cum the cumfiesta corporate ladder; some of them had been people cumfiesta he'd trained. But there cum had been cum nothing he could do about it, nothing but grit his teeth and soldier on.
     It was cumfiesta the perfect sexy opening.
     "I think you should cum stop worrying about it, Charlene ," Paul instructed her. "I'll take care of Mrs. Cortez."
     Ms. Sands' expression softened. She nodded. "Yes, Paul." Then, with a touch of her former steel, "Don't call me Charlene. It's Ms cum. Sands to you, is that cum clear, Mr. Bennett?"
     "It's all right, Charlene," he assured her. "Let it happen. Lose control. Nothing matters but sex, right here, right now, with me, Charlene."