========
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Mike38 Doogie Howser mF nec
From: fr582@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Max S. Wojtylak)
Date: 19 Aug 1996 02:41:47 GMT



DOOGIE HOWSER, M.D.: The Final Fuck

By Uncle Mike


Dear Diary:

     Today I learned a valuable lesson. I think it was that you 
should never give up hope. Or maybe that if at first you don't 
succeed, try, try again. But probably it was just that, like Ben 
Franklin said, in the dark all cats are gray -- even ones that 
aren't moving anymore and have tire tracks on their backs. Or 
something like that.

     The day started off with Vinnie grabbing me as I was leaving 
the house and pulling me into the backyard. I told him I had to 
get to the hospital but he wouldn't let go. Said he had to talk.

     It turned out Vinnie's big news was that this time he had 
figured out an absolutely perfect way to get Janine to have sex 
with him. I reminded him he had figured out absolutely perfect 
ways at least a dozen times before and he was still a virgin. He 
reminded me I was one, too. I said goodbye and went to the 
hospital.

     Vinnie doesn't really mean to say stuff like that, I think; he 
just starts talking before his brain is warmed up. OK, so what I 
said to him wasn't so nice, either -- but he started it. He's 
always talking about getting Janine in bed, and he's never 
managed it. I don't know why she still goes out with him.

     But he's right, I haven't had any more success with Wanda. 
Yeah, sometimes I say I don't want to, I want to wait. But I've 
got to admit, when we start kissing and my penis -- my cock, 
OK? -- gets erect, all I can think about is tearing off her clothes 
and fucking her right there in the car, or on the beach, or in the 
theater. 

     Anyway, talking with Vinnie got my mind onto sex and I 
couldn't get it off -- or get off, come to think of it. 

     My cock was pressing against my white slacks by the time I 
got to the hospital, and I tried holding a clipboard at my waist 
to cover it up. So then Dr. Canfield sees me and says I won't get 
much information by holding the clipboard up to my navel. So I 
raise it, and of course everyone turns around to see what he's 
talking about, and they see my pants bulging. At least I think 
they did; I heard giggles and snickers.

     So I'm embarrassed, and you know how I blush. Well, I mean, I 
know how I blush. Bright red, like a traffic light. I don't know 
how I managed to make it through rounds.

     But I did, and by the time we were done -- a couple of really 
interesting diagnoses, by the way; I'll want to make a note of 
that bilateral occlusion -- I'd pretty much forgotten my 
embarrassment.

     Then I go to pick up some charts from the nursing station and 
I start talking to one of the nurses -- the cute one with the red 
hair, have I written about her before? No? Good, let's keep it 
that way -- at least, let's skip her name. I don't think I'll want 
to be reminded of it if I ever reread this.  We'll call her Red. 
She's kind of short, but she's got a really cute face, freckles, 
curly hair -- well, and there's the important stuff, as Vinnie 
would say: tight butt, tits out to there, great legs. A real piece 
of work. She's only a fill-in, so I don't get to see her much, but 
whenever I see that she's on I make it a point to hang around the 
nursing station more than usual. Hey, I'm only human -- and I'm 
only a horny teenager, right? So what if Red is maybe 10 years 
older than me? I'm a doctor, for heaven's sake.

     So we're talking -- the usual stuff, crabby patients, happy 
patients. And then we start gossiping about the other doctors 
and nurses.

     We were talking about one of the doctors who was going out 
with a nurse in the emergency room when I said I didn't know 
what he saw in her. What I was talking about, actually, is that 
the doctor's a real brain and this nurse -- well, let's just say 
that every once in a while the nursing schools mess up and let 
through one or two clinkers. And this girl really clinked.

     That's what I meant, but it turns out Red -- the nurse I'm 
talking to, you know? -- never met the other girl. But she had 
seen her. So she says something about how it's obvious what he 
sees in her, she's beautiful. Meaning the nurse in emergency, of 
course.

     Well, I must be hanging around Vinnie too much, because 
right away I blurt out that she -- the nurse in emergency, right? 
-- isn't nearly as beautiful as Red. And Red says something 
appropriately modest. And I keep going, talking about how she's 
really beautiful and -- God help me -- I think I even said sexy. 
Hey, what can I say? I'm still a horny teenager.

     Maybe if I'd been thinking with my brain instead of my cock I 
would have noticed something going on, but I'm not sure. All I 
know is Red seemed to encourage me, and I kept going. Hey, 
maybe the problem with me still being a virgin was with Wanda, 
not me, I figured. I seemed to be doing really well with Red.

     Really well. I mean, I was putting the moves on her and she 
was jumping on them faster than I'd ever seen. Next thing I 
know, she's flipping up the panel in the counter and leaving the 
nursing station, walking down the hall, and I'm following her. I 
turned around to see if anyone was looking and when I turned 
back, she'd disappeared. Then a hand comes out of a door and 
yanks me into a linen closet.

     By this time my cock is back at full erection and there is 
absolutely no cranial activity whatsoever. She gives me a kiss 
with her tongue halfway down my throat and I almost had an 
orgasm right then. Then she pops open the first couple of 
buttons on her uniform and I can see those huge, ripe tits 
bulging out of her bra. I start to go for them but she says to 
wait, and she turns out the light. We kiss again. I try to get a 
hand inside her top and my other hand's trying to slide up her 
thighs. 

     She says, "I want you. Now! Let's do it right now!" Well, I 
don't wait for another invitation. I almost tear open my zipper 
getting my pants down and I'm tugging my briefs off -- they're 
hung up on my cock, it's so hard -- when the door hits me in the 
ass and I fall forward just as the light goes on.

     In the split second that I fell I figured I'd land on Red, but 
then I keep going down and I put my hands out. They slap onto the 
tile floor, but it's not enough to keep me from jamming my cock 
onto the floor, too. And just as the pain starts to course through 
my nerves, I hear this giggle in front of me -- and then this 
chorus of laughter behind.

     I didn't stick around long enough to get the whole 
explanation, but apparently Red is something like a professional 
prick-tease and she's gotten at least two other doctors and an 
orderly the same way; she gets them going and gives some kind 
of signal to the other nurses.

     You can imagine the comments I got the rest of the day. Let's 
face it, a geeky teenager thinking he was going to get to fuck 
some knockout nurse was probably the funniest thing that 
happened in that place all week. The only bright side was that 
nobody told Dad.

     Luckily -- well, it seems funny to put it that way, but it was 
lucky because it got everybody busy and kept them from riding 
me even more -- we had a lot of action soon afterward. 
Sometimes the ward is completely quiet, but then there are days 
when it seems like every patient is having a life-threatening 
episode. And it's usually not related cases, either, it's just one 
thing after another. Today we had an old man who suddenly 
stopped breathing, another guy whose IV tubes kept falling out, 
and even one patient who got into a fight with a friend who'd 
come to visit him and had to be sedated.

     But then there was Martha. When they brought her into the 
ward that afternoon, I thought she was 25, maybe 30. According 
to the chart she was 42. Wow. The first thing you noticed about 
her was her face. Like Raquel Welch's, I'd say: perfect 
cheekbones, big eyes, incredible skin, the whole works. Like a 
goddess.

     When she was put in the bed, under the covers, her face was 
all you could see. But I was there when they brought her in, and I 
could see that she had more than that going for her. She wasn't 
as big in the chest as Red, but what curves! And legs that 
seemed to go right up to her tits. Man, I was in love. So was 
every guy that saw her.

     So when the Code Blue alert was sounded for her room, every 
doctor and intern and orderly hit the ground running. I ended up 
in the back of the room with nothing to do, but I couldn't bear to 
leave. There was this incredibly beautiful woman -- she couldn't 
be dying! She'd been brought in because she'd had a few 
unexplained fainting spells, but I don't think anyone believed 
there could be something seriously wrong with anyone who had a 
body like that.

     But whatever it was, it was serious. It was fatal. They gave 
her some jolts but it was no use; they didn't even try cracking 
her chest for massage. It took five or six minutes before anyone 
started to leave the room. We couldn't believe it. On the way out 
I heard Canfield saying they'd have to autopsy her -- state law 
in deaths without known cause. The thought of someone carving 
up that goddess seemed like a sacrilege. When he asked me if I'd 
want to attend -- they're going to do it tomorrow morning, when 
the coroner can be there -- my jaw dropped open. I don't 
remember saying anything, but I got a note in my mailbox later 
telling me to be there at 10:30 a.m., so I guess he interpreted my 
mumbling as a yes.

     I've seen a lot of people die. It's one of the worst things 
about being a doctor. And one of the hardest for someone so 
young.




     I don't think I was really in my right mind after that. At 
least, that's how I explain what happened.

     I was making one last tour of the ward, dropping in mostly on 
the patients I liked. 

     When I got to Mrs. Sherwin's room, I knocked on the door and 
cracked it open. She usually calls out a really sweet hello. This 
time there was nothing. I walked in and found her sound asleep.

     That's when I remembered: she had just come from surgery.

     Every hospital has a few patients who have almost nothing 
wrong with them. They just like company, and don't have many 
friends outside -- and they're rich. Usually, it's old bags who 
complain about how the bed sheets aren't taut enough and tell 
the doctors how to do their jobs. They figure their money gives 
them the power to be as cranky as they want but still get 
pampered. Hospital finances being what they are, they're right.

     But Mrs. Sherwin isn't like that. Most of us like her a lot. 
She's only 48 -- nowhere near in as good a shape as Martha was, 
but still a good looking woman. Of course, part of those good 
looks are due to the wonders of medical science.

     That's why she's so well-known around the hospital. She's 
been married five times. Every time she gets a divorce, she 
spends some of the settlement on sprucing up before she goes 
out to hook the next guy. Actually, she keeps herself in good 
shape -- works out every day, in the fully equipped gym Husband 
No. 3 put in -- but she's a fanatic about wrinkles and such. This 
time, she'd had a very minor nose job; took out a bump no one 
else could see.

     When I saw that she was out like a light, I was about to turn 
around and leave.

     Then I noticed that the water pitcher on her bedside table 
was right on the edge. I went over to push it back. When I did, I 
looked down at Mrs. Sherwin. Her nose was covered in a very 
small bandage -- the surgery really could have been done as an 
outpatient, but she insists on the whole works, general 
anesthesia, everything, every time.

     With her nose covered, her lips were slightly parted. Very 
full lips -- thanks to the settlement from Husband No. 4. Her 
breath was very regular, and the sheet over her chest was rising 
and falling.

     It's a big chest -- Husband No. 1, and he paid for it while they 
were still married, too. One of the doctors says they're the best 
boob job he's ever seen.

     I decided to take a look. When would I have the chance again, 
after all?

     I slipped down the sheet and reached under her. I didn't have 
to be very careful; she really was out. I tugged apart the knotted 
string at the top of her gown and pulled it down.

     They were impressive. 38s, the other doctor had said. And 
thanks to the miracle of silicone, they stood out from her body 
firmly. 

     I couldn't resist. I gave them a squeeze.

     And then another.

     I've felt Wanda up a few times -- and of course I've examined 
lots of women -- but I had never had the chance to really handle 
a pair of completely naked tits before. They were a little stiff, 
but they still felt nice.

     I kept rubbing. The nipples got hard. I got harder.

     I must not have been completely out of my mind, because 
before I went any further I went and made sure the door to the 
room was closed. I couldn't lock it -- how could I explain that if 
some nurse came by? -- but I did put a chair in front of the door, 
so even if someone didn't knock I'd still hear the clatter.

     Then I went back to Mrs. Sherwin. She was still sleeping. I 
undid my zipper again and starting whacking off with one hand 
while I rubbed her tits with the other.

     I got kind of enthusiastic, I guess. The sheet and her gown 
slipped down a bit. Then I wondered what would happen if I 
pulled them down even more.

     She had a very furry, gray bush. Well, I didn't think she came 
by her blond hair naturally, anyway. I kept pulling on the gown.

     I'm not a gynecologist, and even if women were willing to let 
some teenager put his hand up their cunt, no doctor at the 
hospital was ever going to let me have a chance at it. Oh, I've 
seen lots of them, and I've helped deliver babies and all, but 
somehow none of that was the same as having that naked cunt in 
front of me while my cock was hanging out of my pants, thick 
and hard.

     I wondered if it really counted as losing your virginity if the 
woman was unconscious. I decided it did. I inserted a couple of 
fingers in her hole and started rubbing. Nothing. There was some 
hand cream on the bedside table -- lemon, I think. Some citrus 
scent, anyway. I took a glob and rubbed it into her until she was 
nice and slick.

     By now I had the sheet all the way down and the gown around 
her ankles. The bed creaked a little when I climbed up and knelt 
between her legs, pushing them apart as I kept rubbing the 
lotion into her crack. My cock was waving in front of me, aiming 
straight at her hole.

     I moved forward. The head of my cock hit the entrance to her 
hole. The lotion felt cool and slippery. I drove the tip in and her 
lips closed around it. I was in! She was still a little dry on the 
inside, though. I pulled out to smear some lotion right on my 
cock and put it back into position. I had one hand on her tits, 
squeezing the nipples between my fingers; the other hand was 
guiding my cock into her. I pressed forward.

     At that instant, I heard a knock on the door. I leaped off the 
bed. I didn't know what to do first -- cover Mrs. Sherwin up? Put 
my cock away? Jump out the window?

     I decided on covering her up first; I could always try to cover 
myself with my clipboard again. There was no time to be fancy. I 
pulled the gown and the sheet over her in one motion; let her 
figure out why the gown was undone. The knock came at the door 
again, and then I heard it hit the chair.

     "Mrs. Sherwin?" It was my Dad! I had to say something. "She's 
still under the anesthetic, Dad," I managed to blurt out as I 
stuffed my cock back into my pants and zipped them up. I moved 
so fast I caught a tiny bit of skin in the zipper. Wow, does that 
hurt. I had to blink hard to fight back tears as I turned to greet 
my Dad, coming around the corner of the room's little entryway.

     "Douglas? What are you doing in here?"

     "Just wanted to say hi, I guess. How about you, Dad?"

     "Oh, same thing. So how is she?"

     Well, it went on like that -- doctor small talk. All the time, 
of course, my cock is screaming in agony from the zipper. 
Finally I said I had to see another patient and I got away. I 
ducked into another room -- I didn't care whose it was -- and 
slipped into the john. It hurt even worse when I pulled the zipper 
down, but when I finally got my cock loose, it was an incredible 
relief. I zipped back up, leaned back against the wall and just 
rested there for two or three minutes.

     There was just a little time left in my shift by then. I 
finished up some paperwork and thought about going for a pizza 
after work. In between checking little boxes, I gave Vinnie a 
call. He had already picked up the phone before I remembered his 
plans for the day. His hello sounded more like a bark. I guessed 
his plans hadn't worked out.

     "Oh, it's you, Howser," he said. "Nah, she wouldn't do it. I 
really thought this time would work, though. And man, have I got 
a hard-on. I almost feel like going out and fucking some dog just 
to get off, you know?"

     I said I knew just how he felt. He liked the idea of pizza, and 
he agreed to meet me at the hospital when my shift ended.

     By the time he got there, I had put a little ice on my cock and 
it didn't hurt at all any more. I was just finishing the last of the 
files when he came in. Before I could get a word in edgewise he 
started talking, as usual. First it was all about how Janine had 
gone halfway but then backed out. I could tell he was really 
upset. But not too upset to notice a chart on the wall, showing 
the diseases of the liver. Really gross stuff. But Vinnie started 
talking about how it would make a great opening for a movie, 
showing all the diseased tissue underneath the credits. That got 
him off onto a whole tangent about making a movie in the 
hospital. I'd already finished up my paperwork, but instead of 
going out for pizza he wanted me to take him on a tour. I said 
he'd already seen the whole place. He said there might be some 
interesting corners for his movie. I humored him.

     Vinnie's got a very weird imagination, so I didn't bother 
asking why he thought the laundry room was a perfect spot, or 
what attracted him to the boilers so much. But when he asked 
about seeing the morgue, I tried to draw the line. He insisted. I 
finally gave in.

     The attendant was the same guy who'd trucked Martha down 
earlier that day. I made some remark about him working an odd 
shift and got an earful about how the late guy had called in sick 
and the boss had made him work four hours overtime to help out. 
He wasn't happy. I suggested to Vinnie that we skip the morgue; 
this didn't seem like a good time to test the attendant's good 
humor.

     But Vinnie starts chatting with him about what a bitch it is 
to get screwed by your boss, and the next thing I know Vinnie's 
volunteering us to watch the place for him while he heads out 
for dinner.

     So the attendant takes off and Vinnie pushes me inside. It's a 
little cool, but not too bad -- they refrigerate only the sliders 
with bodies in them, to save money, and they only keep the 
examining rooms a little below normal so the doctors won't lose 
the feeling in their fingers. It's amazing the stuff you learn as a 
doctor, huh?

     Well, Vinnie's walking around the place, holding his hands up 
in front of his face, "framing" the scenes, and I'm just leaning 
back against a wall. I mean, I'm a doctor. I've seen morgues, I've 
seen dead bodies. No big deal. But Vinnie's acting like a kid in a 
candy store, gawking at everything -- the stainless steel 
autopsy tables, the blades and spreaders, all that stuff.

     I figured I'd play a joke on him, so I started pulling open the 
slider drawers until I find one with a body in it. I call him over, 
and he comes -- but not too quickly. This is interesting, I 
thought -- Vinnie's not quite so into filmmaking when he's got a 
body in front of him. 

     Now, what I did next was wrong to begin with. I mean, you're 
not supposed to play around with bodies, are you? Isn't that 
being disrespectful to the dead?

     But I wanted to scare Vinnie, just to see what he'd do. So I 
pulled back the sheet over the body's face.

     I was looking right at Vinnie and I was disappointed. He 
didn't scream or faint or anything; he just stared, mouth open. I 
started to make some kind of remark, but then I looked down.

     It was Martha.

     "Jesus, she's beautiful," Vinnie said. I remember that very 
clearly.

     "Yeah." I was staring myself.  Even lying on that cold slab, 
she was beautiful. Her eyes were closed, so it just looked like 
she was sleeping. 

     Vinnie reached out and touched her face. I didn't try to stop 
him.

     "She's still warm," he said, quietly. "Are you sure she's ..."

     "Yeah, she's dead," I said. Even to my own ears my voice 
sounded dull and flat. "They just brought her down a little while 
ago. She hasn't had time to cool." 

     I don't know why, but I reached out and touched her face too. 
It was warm.

     And then I felt something else.

     My cock was starting to grow. I couldn't believe it. Getting a 
hard-on over a corpse! But my cock kept getting bigger and 
bigger, straining against my pants again.

     I pulled the sheet lower, exposing Martha's breasts. They 
were a little pale -- the blood was draining down, of course -- 
but still firm. Vinnie said something about stopping. I pulled the 
sheet lower.

     "Jesus!" That was all Vinnie said. It was enough. Even in 
death, that woman had the most incredible body either one of us 
had ever seen.

     "I wonder..." Vinnie said in a whisper. "I wonder -- what it 
would have been like. To, you know ..."

     "To fuck her." Even around Vinnie, I don't usually use language 
like that. But I didn't feel like Doogie Howser, Boy Genius, then. I 
felt like a horny teenager with a raging hard-on.

     "Doog, don't you think we'd better..."

     I didn't pay attention to what Vinnie was saying. I pulled the 
sheet all the way down. My hand slid between her legs and up to 
her cunt. I started rubbing.

     With my other hand, I undid my pants and let my cock out, and 
started whacking off.

     "Howser!"

     I had forgotten Vinnie was there. I told him to go out and 
keep an eye on the door. "You'll get your chance later," I told him. 
He stared at me, but he did what I told him to.

     My cock was still slick from the hand lotion I'd put on in Mrs. 
Sherwin's room. When I climbed up on the slider and knelt 
between those long, cool legs, I'd like to say I hesitated for at 
least a moment to think about what I was doing.

     But I didn't. I put my cock up to her hole and pressed it in.

     With the lotion, my shaft was slick enough to slide through 
even though she was completely dry. I slipped the head in. The 
muscles of her cunt were slack, of course, but still tight enough 
to grip my cock a little when the tip popped all the way in.

     I caressed her tits and sucked on her nipples. I even kissed 
her on the lips. They were cold -- cooler than the rest of her. 
Her teeth were clenched, so I couldn't get my tongue in.

     But my cock slid all the way into her cunt. There was still 
some heat left inside her. I started stroking.

     At first it was like fucking a pillow -- no reaction, no 
nothing. But as my strokes picked up speed she started sliding 
back and forth beneath me. I grabbed her ass and started shoving 
her harder onto my cock.

     In and out, in and out. I wanted to shout it out: "I'm not a 
virgin anymore!" I could feel her cunt walls pressing against my 
cock as I pounded it in.

     I kept it up for 10 minutes before I had to take a break, 
leaving my cock inside her. I was getting tired, but my cock was 
still rock hard.

     After a little rest, I started up again. God help me, I even 
thought about shoving it in her asshole as well -- but the 
sphincter muscles tend to relax after death, and I didn't want to 
stick my cock into a load of shit.

     Her cunt was enough for me. By now I had worked up a sweat 
and I was getting chilled from the slight cooling in the room, 
plus the deeper chill from the refrigerated mist swirling out of 
the slider's drawer. But I was too horny to stop.

     I kept pumping, slamming my cock all the way into that dead 
woman's hole while my fingers clawed at her ass, pulling her to 
me. 

     I closed my eyes and let my imagination take over. I was 
fucking Wanda, poling that tight virginal cunt of hers. I was 
shoving my cock into Red, paying that bitch back for humiliating 
me. I was ramming it into Mrs. Sherwin. I even thought about 
sticking my dick into my mom -- all right, I admit it, I did. 
After all, doesn't every guy? And my mom's good looking, in good 
shape for her age. I thought about her inviting me into her 
bedroom when Dad was at work. Stripping off her clothes, 
showing me her tits, spreading her legs, inviting me into her. I 
think I even started moaning out loud: "I want you, Mom, I want 
to fuck you, let me give it to you!"

     When it finally came, my orgasm seemed to start somewhere 
in my intestines and drive through my cock like a fiery lava 
flow. I shot my load deep into the dead woman's  cunt, over and 
over again.

     By the time I got my clothes back on and went out to Vinnie, 
he met me at the door. The attendant was coming back. I quickly 
pulled the sheet back over Martha and slid her back into her 
compartment.

     So now I have lost my cherry. I think it counts even if the 
woman's dead, don't you?

     But there's only one thing I worry about.

     What if they noticed those scratches on her ass at the 
autopsy?



