The Big Spill

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The Big Spill By Karin © 2001

It was on the Motorway between Manchester and Hull, I was trying to make it to the ferry port before my boat sailed to Rotterdam. The plan was to go to a big bike fest in Dusseldorf Germany, I’d been looking forward to the break for weeks. The last thing I remember before the accident was the traffic. It was fairly heavy rush hour and as usual the impatient, or unobservant motorist was too busy fighting his own car wars to worry about mirrors or motorcyclists. I’d dodged a couple of idiots who’d pulled out in front of me without looking behind and I’d had been lucky so far not to have been squared by some dick head in a ford fiesta.

The motorway opened up a bit as I managed to get to a gap in the traffic and more in frustration than anything else I cranked the throttle and opened her up to cover the gap before some prick tried to cream me again. As I sped up the inner track of the middle lane I remember seeing the tanker ahead of me. I knew I was safe as the middle and fast lanes were temporarily clear so I powered the bike onward to get past him. I was doing about 85mph and closing on the fuel lorry fast when I noticed a pipe dislodge itself from the housing at the back of the truck. It flew off to the rear of the vehicle and spewed a stream of diesel onto the road as it bounced along the carriageway. I slewed the bike to the right to try to avoid the inevitable but the hose bounced out in front of me and spilled more of the deadly lubricant into my path.

I tried to power through it, hoping I could maintain enough traction and get to the outside of the road, avoiding a disaster. My front wheel caught it first and I felt front end of the bike dip like a figure skater in a graceful bow. I leaned hard to counter balance but as I did so the rear wheel hit it and the bike pitched in the opposite direction. The world seemed to stop. The only thing moving was Me, and it was like slow motion as one minute I was a rider aboard my beautiful machine and then my mother bird was gone and I was flying alone, supported by nothing but air. I knew it would hurt, but I wasn’t ready for quite how much it would hurt. It was like running as hard as you can into a solid brick wall.

The wind was smashed from me and I remember bouncing once or twice, each time it was like being hit by a train. I felt my arm bones smashing as I put out my hands to protect myself, then I was pitched upward in a curving arc, I remember watching the opposite carriageway turning about, cars and trucks upside down then right way up then upside down again. I saw my bike rush underneath me, sparks streaming from her glistening paintwork as she slid to her demise, then my head hit the floor with a huge bang and all was dark.

It was a minute later, or so it seemed. I opened my eyes to terrible pain. My limbs were in agony like someone was stretching me on a rack. I sobbed briefly. More an exclamation than anything. I looked around, trying to adjust to my surroundings. Everything seemed to be white. I couldn’t hear any traffic and thought for a moment that perhaps I had died and was now waiting in Gods vestibule. “Hello Peter” said a voice out of view, “You back with the living then?” I moved my head, or tried to, but the brace around my neck prevented me from moving so I still couldn’t see who it was that had spoken. A face appeared above me. Dark brown hair fastened back. Little paper hat perched on top of her head. Was this an angel?? “How you feeling then?”

It was a legitimate question. I didn’t really know other than I felt like I was being tortured. A stream of questions rushed though my mind but the best I could summon was “Where am I?” It illegal bahis was a shit cliché, but nothing more inspiring appeared to me. I couldn’t seem to open my mouth so I couldn’t actually utter the words and a groan was all that emerged. My eyes must have conveyed the question.

“You’re in Hull Royal Infirmary” she spoke, her accent twanged with East Yorkshire. “You were brought here off the M62, you’re in a bit of a bad way, but we’ll soon have you up and about again.” She went on to tell me that my left leg was in traction, my right leg was externally fixated (splinted with steel screws attached to a metal rod on the outside of my leg) , both my arms were broken, my right arm in three places, my helmet had disintegrated on impact apparently and as a consequence my jaw was in tiny pieces, held together with wire. I lost my concentration after that and closed my eyes to sleep, it was less painful in the darkness.

I’d been there about a week I suppose. My wareness of the passage of time was not at it’s best. Still lying in my tortured state, all my needs were catered for and I was unable to do anything for myself. My nutritional requirements were provided through a tube in my nose, my pain relieving medication was administered through cannulars in my arms and legs (they tended to move around a bit) my bodily functions were mainly self contained. I had a catheter in my dick trickling and endless stream of piss into a bag at the side of my bed. My cock burned like it had hot wire in it but at least I wasn’t pissing the sheets. My shite however was mopped up in a big man’s nappy applied to me twice daily by the tender touch of the nursing staff. I still felt like I was being crucified and the discomfort, not to mention the embarrassment was, at times, unbearable.

One morning, a team of nurses and doctors gathered around my bed and began to discuss me as though I wasn’t there. They spoke in a medical code which I was not privileged to comprehend but after they had left, Julie, my nursing angel explained that I was on the mend. My physio would start tomorrow so at least I’d be able to move around a little bit and they were going to remove my catheter and replace it with a uridom, a kind of thick rubber condom with a tube attached. They were also going to move me onto a general surgical ward in the next week or so, depending on how I got on.

The removal of the catheter isn’t something I ever want to experience again. Aside from the sheer shame of having your once proud man parts pulled about like they don’t even belong to you, the burning sensation of the withdrawal is unbelievable. They did offer anaesthetic but the prospect of having a Male Nurse stick a needle in my penis had me quivering with fear.

9 days in and I was dying. The physio was going great and it was a blessed relief to be turned and twisted and thumped and pounded by the female wrestler who purported to be in the medical profession, but what was really getting to me, over and above all my other pains and tribulations was the ever present dull ache in my balls. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d emptied them and I really was gagging for it. Julie came in one morning on early shift to see to my man nappy. As she pulled the curtains around the bed she asked how I was feeling.

“I’m OK” I replied in a sullen, matter of fact way through the gritted teeth of my wired jaw, “This is too embarrassing for me Julie, having you wipe my arse and empty my piss bag… I am an independent bloke and I find it hard to deal with… sorry, I’m a bit down today. Nice to see you this morning though”

“What needs to be done, needs to be done Peter” she answered. “Unless you think you can illegal bahis siteleri do it yourself.”

“I can’t do anything for myself Julie, that’s the point…”

I was splayed out on the bed like St Andrew on the cross so I was in no position to argue. As she removed the disposable towelling from around my loins she found last nights excrement ready to be cleaned up. I looked away in shame and stared out of the window hoping she would hurry and get it over with. She took the hot flannel and began to clean the inside of my thighs and arse cheeks. Her ministrations felt fantastic but I was in no mood to play. After she had cleared away the mess she began to wash the rest of me. Her hot towel stroked across my balls and around my prick, across my pubic hair and up onto my stomach. I’m afraid I couldn’t help it but my cock began to twitch into life as she gently stroked me.

“Oh my God, that’s all I need” I quipped as my semi turned into a full blown pulsing hard-on and I looked at Julie in the eyes in the hope that she hadn’t noticed. She had noticed.

“It’s not the first stiffy I’ve ever seen in this job and probably won’t be the last” she smiled, … “and anyway, it all seems to be working OK so it must be the only bit of you that wasn’t broken in the accident. I bet if your arms weren’t broken you’d be pulling it off, I bet you’re dying for it.” Her professionalism slipped for an instant and she busied herself in an attempt to cover her obvious faux pas.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Funny you should mention that nurse, I’ve had this pain in my testicles for quite a few days now…” I looked at her hopefully trying to conjure all my psychic skills to tell her through the power of the mind to toss me off … or better.”

She stroked my cock with her hot flannel just a moment too long, she seemed to really be considering it, then replied “Not today big boy, you must know it’s more than my job’s worth.”

She dried me, powdered me, and replaced my uridom and nappy, she resumed the picture of the true professional throughout only betrayed by her occasional glances at me. As she prepared to leave I whispered a humble apology. “That’s OK,” she said, “I’ve seen worse” She gave me a quick wink as she turned to leave, leaving me puzzled as to what she meant. I was left with my Hard-on pulsing against the inside of my nappy as I imagined her soft mouth and hands, caressing, stroking and sucking my stiff cock to eruptive conclusion.

The next few days bed baths were very much the worse. They were business like, as Julie refused to acknowledge my painfully erect manhood. I would stare blankly out of the window while she went about what was obviously a duty. How could any woman want to explore intimately the penis of a man who until a few moments before had been wearing a nappy full of shit!! When she’d finished, she would pack up her equipment and leave the room and I would lie there fantasising about her perfect mouth and gentle hands.

One morning I didn’t want to face her so as the door opened and she breezed in brightly, I feigned sleep. I could hear her pottering about the single bedded ward clanking her medical pots and pans and I waited for the shameful bathing to begin. She Drew back the hospital blanket and began to undo the elastoplast ties at the side of my pants. I was only filling the damn thing every two or three days as the soup they were chucking up my nose wasn’t exactly substantial. I continued to pretend to sleep hoping all this would be over with soon. My Hard-on was now almost permanent and I knew she must be sick of the site of it. As she was about to unveil my proud display she stopped and I heard canlı bahis siteleri her move across the room.

“Peter, are you awake?” She said softly, I ignored her.

“Peter?” …. Again I feigned sleep I heard her move to the door and leave. The door closing quietly. I popped open one eye and she had left the room. The curtains around the bed were still drawn but I could see the door through the open gap she had left. My hospital pants were still in place although the ties at the side had been loosened. Suddenly the handle on the door turned again and I shut my eyes fast before she had a chance to notice I was awake.

There was whispering from outside the curtain.

“It’s OK Linda, he’s asleep, just have a look at this. This is what I have to contend with every time I come in here. It’s like an iron bar wrapped in velvet and never seems to go down. And I always thought bikers bought big bikes ’cause their cocks were tiny”

The curtain swished aside and I listened to the crisp starched uniforms move around to either side of the bed. I felt hands at my nappy which thankfully was clean today. They moved the padded material aside and my prick jumped up like a startled cobra.

“Jesus Christ, it’s like a fucking club!!” whispered the unfamiliar voice. “Have you jerked it off yet?”

“No of course not” … “He’s a patient”

“Fuck off Julie, he’s a man. He’s probably full to bursting, you need to help him out a little. He can’t even scratch his nose let alone help himself out of this predicament.”

“But I can’t, what if he complains?”

“Oh bloody hell, when have you ever heard of a man complaining about a hand job…?”

There was a long silence. My eyes remained firmly closed as I waited for the next move.

Linda asked, “Has he started having wet dreams yet?”


“He will soon if you don’t empty that bag of his, get your glove on girl and do his prostate”

“What do you mean?”

“Here let me show you” said Linda as I heard the rustling of latex rubber followed by a squirt of KY from a tube. I felt fingers smoothing around my anus and suddenly a digit probed into my arse hole. Moving around a little it felt for the gland at the base of my cock, a very unusual sensation. It began to press on me from the inside. Almost immediately my penis began to twitch and throb and I felt the wonderful sensation of ecstasy begin to surge through me, from the root of my cock to the top of my head I tingled all over. I opened my eyes in surprise as a huge spurt of cum shot into the air and splashed across my chest and belly. Linda’s other hand quickly grasped my tool and began to massage it up and down pulling the cap of my foreskin back and forwards over my glanz in a steady, fast rhythm. The feeling of electric buzz coursed through my body as the finger in my arse probed deeper and pushed harder. Another jet of hot sperm shot from my rock hard prick and splattered against the pillow at the side of my head. This was followed by another, then another, as Linda’s hand stroked me till this earth shattering orgasm subsided.

“Fucking Hell…” I muttered though my wired Jaw.

“If you wan’t some more of the same… ask Julie,” Linda said “She knows how to do it now.”


I eventually began to recover from my injuries and my nursing angel administered to my sexual frustrations as well as my medical needs throughout. After I left hospital we continued to see each other and were married two years ago. I often ask her if she helps her other patients in the way she helped me but she say’s she can’t divulge that information as it’s all ‘Medical Confidential’

Hopefully one day she’ll spill the beans while helping me spill my seed….


Hope you like this tale of medical goings on as told to me by my good friends Julie and Peter. (Who don’t live in Hull incidentally)


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