Gay Chinese Nurse Takes Married Man's Virginity

The late-morning sun lay flat across the clipped lawn when Reid pulled his sedan into the driveway of the quiet suburban house. Reid was twenty-eight, a Chinese home-care nurse with neat black hair and steady dark eyes, and he had learned to read a house before he knocked. He checked the chart on his tablet—Emmett, fifty-two, two weeks after abdominal surgery, routine wound check and vitals—then smoothed the front of his navy scrubs and rang the bell.

The man who opened the door was broad through the shoulders and a little soft through the middle, salt threaded into his short dark hair. Emmett wore a faded gray T-shirt and loose cotton pants, barefoot on the hardwood, and he looked at Reid a beat too long before he found his manners.

"You must be the nurse. Come on in. My wife Deborah's at the office. She said someone from the agency would stop by."

"Reid," he said, stepping inside. The house smelled of lemon polish and leftover coffee. "I'll keep it simple if you want. Wound, vitals, make sure you're healing the way you should."

Emmett shut the door. The lock clicked loud in the stillness. He led Reid into the living room, where a wide sofa faced a muted television and a manila folder waited on the coffee table. Reid set his bag down and glanced up, and their eyes caught. Emmett's were blue-gray and restless. Something in them flickered—raw curiosity, then a flush that climbed his throat—and Reid felt it settle warm behind his ribs.

He had known he liked men since he was nineteen, and he knew the look of a married man trying not to stare at another man's mouth. Emmett's gaze dropped to Reid's hands, then jerked away as if the floor had suddenly become fascinating.

"Sit wherever you're comfortable," Reid said, voice even. "I'll start with your blood pressure."

Emmett lowered himself onto the sofa. When Reid knelt and wrapped the cuff around his arm, their knees brushed. Emmett inhaled sharply. The numbers on the little monitor climbed higher than a resting patient ought to show.

"Nervous?" Reid asked.

"A little." Emmett's laugh came out thin. "You're not what I pictured."

"What did you picture?"

"Someone older. Someone who wouldn't—" He stopped, color high across his cheekbones. "Never mind. I'm fine. Just do what you came to do."

Reid held his eyes a moment longer than the job required. The air between them thickened, sweet and charged, and neither of them looked away. Outside, a lawn mower droned two houses down. Inside, the only sound was Emmett's uneven breathing and the soft tick of a clock on the mantel.

Reid loosened the cuff and set it aside. "Shirt up. I need to see the incision."

Emmett hesitated, then dragged the gray cotton high over his stomach. The wound was a neat pink line just above the waistband of his pants, healing clean. Reid's gloved fingers were careful at first, clinical, pressing gently along the edges to check for heat or swelling. Then he peeled the gloves off—he murmured something about needing a better feel for the tissue—and his bare palms settled warm against Emmett's skin.

He did not rush. His thumbs traced the soft give of Emmett's belly, the faint trail of hair below his navel, the tender place where the T-shirt had ridden up. Emmett's breath went shallow. Reid looked up and found those blue-gray eyes locked on him, wide and helpless and bright with something the older man had clearly been swallowing for years.

"You're shaking," Reid said quietly.

"I know." Emmett's fingers dug into the sofa cushion. "I shouldn't say this. I'm married. Deborah's a good woman, and I've never—I've never been with a man. Not once in my life. But I've thought about it. For years. Since long after I was grown. And you walked in looking like that, and I can't think straight."

The confession hung between them, raw and shaking. Reid's pulse kicked hard. He let his hand rest just above the waistband, not pushing, only offering the steady weight of his palm.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want," he said. "But if you've been curious, and if you want someone who knows what he's doing, I can help you explore. Right here. Only if you say yes."

Emmett stared at him. His chest rose and fell. Then he nodded, once, hard. "Yes. God, yes. I want that. I want you to show me."

"Say it clear," Reid said, because he needed the words. "You want me to touch you. You want me to take you somewhere you've never been."

"I want you to touch me," Emmett said, the crack in his voice turning hungry. "I want all of it. I'm saying yes. Please."

Reid smiled, slow and sure, and slid his palm lower. Emmett was already hard under the cotton, thick and hot against Reid's hand, straining the loose fabric. A broken sound left the older man's throat. Reid rubbed him through the pants, unhurried, watching Emmett's mouth fall open.

"Look at you," Reid murmured. "Fifty-two years old, married, and aching for a man in your own living room."

"Don't stop." Emmett's hips lifted into the touch. "Please don't stop. I've never felt anything like your hand."

Reid leaned in until their foreheads nearly touched. He could smell soap and nervous sweat and the faint coffee on Emmett's breath. "Then take these off. Pants and shirt. I want to see what I've been feeling. I want you bare for me."

Emmett shoved the pants down his thighs with shaking hands and kicked them aside. His cock sprang free, flushed dark and heavy, a bead of wetness already shining at the tip. He yanked the T-shirt over his head and sat there flushed from chest to throat, cock standing up against his soft belly, eyes fixed on Reid like a man waiting to be told what came next.

Reid wrapped his fingers around him and stroked once, slow, from root to crown, smearing that wetness down the shaft. Emmett groaned, head tipping back against the sofa, one hand flying up to grip Reid's wrist—not to stop him, but to hold him there.

"Good," Reid said, thumb circling the slick head. "Stay with me. We're just getting started, and I intend to be thorough."

Reid sank to his knees between Emmett's spread thighs. "I'm going to suck you first. Then I'll ride you. After that, if you still want it, I'll be the first man inside your ass. Say you want it."

"I want it," Emmett breathed. "Take my virginity. I've never let anyone back there. I want it to be you."

"Good." Reid bent his head and closed his mouth over the swollen head, tongue swirling through the salt. Emmett jolted. Reid sank lower, lips stretching, taking him inch by inch until the head nudged his throat. He breathed through his nose and swallowed him deeper, until his nose brushed hair and Emmett's cock was buried in his throat.

Emmett clutched his hair. "Jesus—your mouth—"

Reid moved, slow and filthy, pulling up until only the head rested on his tongue, then sliding back down until he gagged softly and took him again. Spit shone on the shaft. He worked throat and hand together, twisting at the base, and Emmett's thighs trembled. The married man panted, hips twitching, trying not to thrust.

"Don't come yet," Reid said, pulling off with a wet sound. "I want you hard when I sit on you."

He stripped out of his scrubs, lean and smooth underneath, cock already leaking. He found lube in his bag, slicked his fingers, and climbed onto the sofa, straddling Emmett's lap. Emmett stared as Reid worked two fingers into himself, hole clenching around them, breath hitching. When he was ready he coated Emmett's shaft until it gleamed and lined the fat head up with his hole.

"Bare," Reid said. "Just skin. You feel that?"

"Yes—"

Reid sank down, slow and deliberate, taking him inch by inch until his ass settled flush against Emmett's thighs and every thick inch was buried inside. Emmett grabbed his hips. A broken groan tore out of him.

"So tight. Christ, you feel incredible."

"Move with me." Reid rose until only the head remained, then dropped back down. Again. The pace stayed deep, sofa creaking, his ass slapping softly against Emmett's lap. He braced on Emmett's shoulders and rolled his hips, feeling that cock drag over the spot that made his own jump. Emmett thrust up to meet him, clumsy, then surer, fucking up into Reid while Reid rode him like he owned the rhythm.

"That's it. Fuck me. This is half of what you wanted to know."

Emmett watched his cock disappear into Reid over and over. His hands roamed Reid's waist and chest, greedy and reverent. Reid kissed him, deep and messy, and Emmett kissed back like a starving man, hips still pumping. Reid rode harder, bouncing, the wet sound filling the room. He felt Emmett getting close, thrusts turning desperate.

"Not yet." Reid lifted off. Emmett's cock slapped wet against his belly. "On your knees. I'm taking your ass now. You've never had a cock in you. You still want it?"

"Yes. Please. Fuck me. I want you inside me."

"Hands on the cushion. Ass up."

Emmett scrambled onto all fours, shoulders down, back arched, ass trembling. Reid knelt behind him, spread him, and dripped lube onto the tight, untouched hole. He circled the rim, patient. "Breathe. Push out. Let me in."

One finger slid in. Emmett gasped. Reid worked him open—one finger, then two—crooking until he found the spot that made Emmett cry out and shove back. He added more lube, murmuring, "That's it. Opening up for me. First time and already greedy."

When Emmett was slick enough, Reid pressed his cock to that virgin hole. "Tell me if it's too much."

"Do it. I need it."

Reid pushed. The head popped past the tight ring and Emmett shouted, shock and pleasure tangled. Reid stopped at the tip, rubbing his back. "Breathe. First cock you've ever had, and it's mine."

"More. Give it to me."

Reid sank deeper until his hips met Emmett's ass. The stretch burned and then bloomed into a deep, shocking fullness that made Emmett's toes curl against the cushion. He had never felt anything split him open like this, never known his body could take a man and want more. Emmett shook, hole fluttering, a low moan spilling out. Reid stayed still a few heartbeats, then drew back and thrust in, slow and deep.

"Full," Emmett choked. "Don't stop. Fuck me."

Reid set a rhythm, long strokes that dragged almost out before driving back in. Emmett's ass gripped him like a fist. Reid watched the rim stretch around his cock, hot and possessive, then reached under and wrapped a fist around Emmett's dripping cock.

"I'm going to pound this virgin ass and stroke you until you come. You want that?"

"Harder—"

Reid snapped his hips, fucking him in deep ruthless strokes, skin slapping loud. Sweat slid down Reid's chest onto Emmett's back. Every thrust shoved a broken sound out of the older man, and Reid answered with a low growl, praising him, owning him, careful even while he fucked him hard. His hand flew on Emmett's cock, twisting over the head. Emmett shoved back, moaning without shame. Reid angled until Emmett cried out and jolted, then hammered that spot, one hand steady on his hip, the other working him without mercy.

"You're doing perfect," Reid panted against his ear. "Don't hold back."

"Come for me. Come on my cock."

Emmett broke. His ass clenched, pulsing, and he came in thick spurts over Reid's fist and the cushion, groaning Reid's name, hole milking him. The clutch dragged Reid over. He slammed in deep and came, flooding Emmett's ass, hips jerking, emptying himself into the man whose virginity he had just taken.

They stayed locked together, shaking, the room thick with the smell of sex and ragged breath.

Reid eased out carefully, one hand steady on Emmett's hip. He found soft cloths in his bag and warm water in the kitchen, then cleaned Emmett with slow, gentle strokes—his tender ass, his softening cock, the mess on the cushion—until the older man shivered and let out a long, shaky sigh. Emmett turned onto his back, flushed and wrecked, smiling in a way he had not worn when he opened the door.

Reid cupped his jaw and kissed him, deep and unhurried, tasting salt and satisfaction. Emmett kissed back, a broad hand resting on Reid's waist, neither of them rushing for their clothes.

"You all right?" Reid murmured.

"Better than all right." Emmett's voice was hoarse. "I didn't know it could feel like that."

Reid smoothed a thumb across his cheek, then helped him back into his pants with the same careful hands he had used on the incision.

"I'll be back for your follow-up," Reid said, buttoning his scrubs. "If Deborah's at work, I'll make the whole visit more thorough. I'll take my time with you."

Emmett smiled, eyes bright, already picturing the next afternoon the house would be empty.

"How soon can you come back and take me again?"