"Going Under" with Olivia Holt

[TheLW]

Going Under
With Olivia Holt
Written by TheLW
Codes: MF, Blowjob, Handjob
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.


That Friday morning was like any other. My first alarm went off at 5:45 a.m., its familiar buzz dragging me out of whatever dream I was having. I reached over, turned it off, and lay still in the quiet of my room. The early light hadn't quite crept in through the curtains yet, and for a few minutes, I just let myself drift in and out of that hazy space between sleep and waking.

At 6:00 sharp, the second alarm went off, more persistent, less forgiving. I sighed, rubbed my face, and finally forced myself out from under the covers. The floor was cold under my feet as I shuffled down the hallway to the washroom. The hot water of the morning shower was a small mercy, shaking off the sleep and letting the day start to take shape.

After drying off and getting dressed, jeans, a black T-shirt, and my work hoodie, I made my way to the kitchen. My lunch routine rarely changed. I pulled out two slices of bread, laid down a couple slices of ham and cheese, and wrapped it up. A small bag of chips went into the lunch bag with it. It wasn't gourmet, but it was enough to get me through the day. I filled up my travel mug with coffee and headed out the door just before 6:45.

By 7:00, I had my apron on and was behind the line. The kitchen lights buzzed overhead, and the low hum of refrigeration units filled the background. As the first customers filtered in, the familiar rhythm kicked in, greeting the regulars, prepping the stations, warming up the flat top.

The breakfast rush started on cue. I heard the point-of-sale system beep as it printed the first order slip of the day. I reached over and tore it off, eyes scanning the ticket. A moment later, I cracked two eggs onto the flat top, the yolks spreading slightly as they hit the hot surface. The sizzle of bacon already filled the air beside them, the scent curling up around me like an old friend.

Orders came in steadily, eggs over easy, bacon crisp, toast on the side. My hands moved with practiced ease, plating up hash browns, flipping pancakes, sliding omelets onto warm plates. The soundscape of the morning built up around me, the clatter of pans, the hiss of the fryer, the low murmur of voices from the dining area. It was the kind of chaos I had come to know, even love. Predictable, in its own way.

It wasn't until midway through my shift that I started feeling a dull pain in my stomach. At first, I brushed it off, maybe I ate too fast, or maybe the coffee hadn't settled right. It wasn't unbearable, just... noticeable. A quiet discomfort that sat there, lingering, not sharp enough to stop me, but just enough to make me aware of it with every movement.

When my shift finally ended, I didn't stick around to chat or grab a coffee like I sometimes did. I just gathered my things, mumbled a quick goodbye to the team, and headed straight home. The walk back felt longer than usual, the weight of the day hanging heavier than it should've.

Once I was home, I dropped my bag by the door, kicked off my shoes, and sank onto the couch. I figured the best thing to do was rest. Maybe it was something minor, stress, lack of sleep, or just one of those random stomach things that disappears after a good night's rest. I didn't eat much dinner, just picked at some toast and drank water, trying not to overthink it.

As I got ready for bed, the pain hadn't worsened, but it hadn't gone away either. It hovered, stubborn and unsettling, like a warning my body was trying to whisper. Still, I told myself I'd feel better in the morning. That sleep would take care of it.

The next morning, things had gotten worse. Much worse.

I woke up curled on my side, my stomach clenched tight, the pain no longer a dull ache but something sharp and relentless. It had shifted, too, now rooted firmly in the lower right side of my abdomen, stabbing every time I moved, coughed, even breathed too deeply. I knew then it wasn't just something I could sleep off.

By mid-morning, I couldn't take it anymore. I called a cab and made my way to the hospital, trying to stay upright in the backseat, every bump in the road sending another jolt through my side. At the emergency room, I checked in, gave them a brief explanation, and waited, clutching my abdomen while trying not to wince with every passing second.

It didn't take long before I was called back. A nurse led me into an examination room, and after some quick questions, they ordered a CT scan. By now, the pain had made it nearly impossible to think clearly. I lay still under the sterile white light of the scanner, my mind racing as I waited for answers I wasn't sure I wanted.

It wasn't long after that the doctor came in with the results. His tone was calm but firm, his words landing with weight, "You've got appendicitis. We need to get you into surgery as soon as possible." There was no time for questions or hesitation. Nurses came in and started prepping me, changing into a gown, inserting an IV, explaining the procedure in clinical but reassuring terms. I nodded along, still half in shock, the pain now joined by a surreal sense of urgency.

Now, I was heading into an operating room.

The doctor placed the anesthesia mask over my face. He said, "Alright, I need you to start counting back from ten."

Ten… nine… eight… sev…

And then, just like that, everything faded to black.

After being put under, I can only assume what happened next wasn't real. Somewhere between anesthesia and unconsciousness, I drifted into a vivid, dreamlike state, so real, it felt like I had simply woken up.

I found myself lying in what looked like my hospital bed, but something about the atmosphere was different. The lighting was softer, casting a golden glow instead of the harsh fluorescents I remembered. The hum of machines was quieter, distant, like a soundtrack muffled behind glass. Everything felt slower. Warmer. Almost inviting.

Then the door opened.

A nurse stepped in, blonde, radiant, with a smile that lit up the entire room. But it wasn't just her smile that caught my attention, it was her outfit. Definitely not standard-issue hospital attire. She wore a red-and-white costume that looked like something from a risqué Halloween party. A white satin top trimmed with red, bows tied neatly along the hem, clinging to her form in a way that seemed entirely impractical for actual work. A matching skirt barely reached mid-thigh, and red garter straps led down to white thigh-high stockings, finishing with six-inch red stilettos that clicked dramatically with each step.

She approached the bed, clipboard in hand, though I doubted she needed it, and leaned in slightly, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," she said, voice dripping with playful warmth. "I'm Nurse Holt, but everyone just calls me Olivia. Or Liv, if you like."

She stepped closer to the bed, one hip cocked to the side, casually flipping through a clipboard that I'm pretty sure had nothing written on it. Her eyes flicked down to me, then slowly back up, smiling like she'd caught me staring, and didn't mind one bit.

"You've had quite the day," she purred. "Appendix out, still managing to look cute. That's impressive."

Liv leaned in, close enough that I could smell her perfume, soft and warm, like spiced sugar. She placed a hand gently on my chest, her fingers light but lingering.

"Don't worry," she whispered, her lips close to my ear, "I'll be taking very good care of you."

She pulled back with a smirk, turning slowly to check the machines beside the bed, though she never once looked like she was actually reading them.

"Doctor's orders, and all that," Liv said seductively, before giving a wink.

Then she climbed in.

The mattress shifted slightly beneath her as she slid in beside me, one leg draping over mine like it belonged there. She rested a hand on my chest again, this time with more weight, more purpose. Her eyes sparkled with flirtation, her lips curved into a knowing smile as if she could feel the way my pulse had just quickened beneath her fingertips.

"Recovery can be... a little boring," she said softly, her body so close now I could feel the heat radiating from her skin. "I just thought I'd make it more... stimulating."

She leaned in, her hair brushing against my shoulder, her voice a hush against my ear. "Besides," she whispered, "you've been through a lot. You deserve a little comfort... don't you think?"

The lines between dream and desire blurred. My thoughts clouded with sensation, the warmth of her, the softness of her tone, the surreal intimacy of it all. I couldn't move, not because I didn't want to, but because part of me knew this wasn't real. This was the edge of sleep, the space where logic took a backseat and imagination was in full control.

And Liv, Nurse Holt, was the embodiment of that.

I tried to speak, to respond, but she simply placed a finger to my lips, quieting me.

"Shhh... Just relax," she murmured. "Let me take care of everything."

And so I did.

Then, with a smile, she let her hand drift lower, slipping beneath the sheet, past the edge of the waistband of my hospital pants. A moment later, Liv had fished out my dick, and started stroking it. Liv's touch was like a spark of electricity, sending a thrilling jolt of pleasure coursing through my body. Her hand moved with a rhythmic, up and down motion, each stroke deliberate and full of intent.

"Hmm," she whispered, her lips grazing my ear, "definitely responsive... that's a good sign."

She chuckled, low and wicked, and for a moment, the sterile hospital room melted away completely. There was only Olivia, her skin, her scent, her nearness.

Olivia continued to work her magic over my cock, as her hand moved with practiced skill, her grip was firm yet gentle, her thumb circling the sensitive tip. Each stroke was intentional, teasing, drawing out the sensation. A low moan escaped my lips as Liv's movements became more confident, her touch now purposeful and unapologetically arousing.

"That's it," she cooed, her voice a sultry melody. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

Her lips met mine in a soft, exploratory kiss. She tasted sweet, like ripe fruit, and her lips were impossibly soft. I couldn't help but respond, my lips moving against hers. The kiss was intoxicating, making the world spin even as I lay still.

I was lost in the moment, the feeling of her lips moving against mine, her tongue dancing with mine, the pleasure of her touch overwhelming my senses. She pulled back slightly, her lips still barely brushing mine, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Liv leaned in closer, her breath hot on my ear. "You like that, don't you?"

"Yes." I answered.

She shifted her body, pressing against me, her hand still moving rhythmically, driving me to the brink. The kiss intensified, becoming hungrier, more urgent. Her teeth grazed my bottom lip, nipping gently.

Liv's hand continued its steady motion, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through me. She pumped her hand around me, her movements fluid and sure.

"That's it," she said, her voice a sultry purr.

After several more minutes of her intoxicating touch, Liv slowly shifted her position. She moved downwards, her body grazing against mine.

Saliva dripped from her parted lips, a glistening thread descending onto my length. I jolted at the sudden warmth, then watched as her tongue began a languid dance around the ridge of my cock.

Her eyes looked up to meet mine, a wicked smile playing on her lips before she enveloped me completely. The sudden heat of her mouth was overwhelming, her cheeks hollowing out as she began to apply suction.

Liv took her time, exploring every inch of me with her tongue, her head bobbing slowly. She was teasing me, bringing me close to the edge only to pull back.

I couldn't help but let out a low groan.

Working my cock over, like it was a lollipop in her mouth, Liv bobbed her head up and down, as she sucked me off. She picked up her pace, one hand wrapping around the base of my shaft,

The room filled with the sounds of my ragged breaths and the soft, wet noises of her ministrations.

Her mouth was a velvet vice, slick and hot, pushing me closer and closer to the brink. I could feel the tension building, every muscle in my body tensing as Liv's movements became more insistent, more demanding.

Liv must have sensed it too, because she doubled her efforts, her head bobbing faster, her hand stroking in sync with her mouth. A low groan escaped her lips, vibrating around me, and that was it, the final push.

I explode in her mouth, releasing a torrent of hot, pent-up desire. Liv takes it all, her throat working as she swallows every last drop.

Liv gently releases me, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, her eyes never leaving mine.

"You taste good," she says.

Then I heard another voice.

It cut through the haze, clear, clinical, and familiar.

"Good, you're awake," the doctor said, his tone calm and reassuring. I blinked against the harsh overhead lights as the real hospital room snapped back into focus.

"The surgery went well. You're going to be just fine."

He stood at the foot of my bed, clipboard in hand, dressed in his standard white coat. No stilettos, no crimson trim, just reality.

"You'll be discharged shortly," he continued. "We'll have a nurse bring your clothes. In the meantime, here's a note for your employer. You'll need to take it easy for the next two weeks, no heavy lifting, and definitely no running marathons."

He offered a quick smile, slipping the folded paper into a plastic folder by my bedside. "Any questions?"

I shook my head no.

The End

[TheLW]

Going Under... Again
With Natalie Lind and Olivia Holt
Written by TheLW
Codes: MFF, Blowjob, Oral, Tit Fuck
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.

Most people would probably say having two different surgeries within a year was pure bad luck. I would have to agree with them. A few months ago, I was here getting my appendix taken out, and now I was back in the same hospital, this time waiting for my gallbladder to be removed.

It felt strange walking into the place again. The smell hit me first, that sharp, clean, almost chemical scent that makes you think of bleach and rubber gloves. Everything looked the same too, the long hallway with those squeaky floor tiles, the chairs in the waiting room with the same ugly patterned cushions, the big TV in the corner playing some daytime talk show no one was watching.

I signed in at reception, gave the receptionist my details, and sat down. My name was called about twenty minutes later, but it felt like an hour. My doctor came in with his clipboard and his calm, steady voice. He went over the procedure, explained the risks, and asked if I understood everything. I told him I did, even though my stomach had already turned into a knot the size of a baseball.

Eventually, they wheeled me into the operating room. The temperature dropped instantly, it was colder than the hallway by a mile. The lights overhead were blinding, and the hum of the machines made the room feel alive in a way that wasn’t comforting. My doctor placed the anesthesia mask over my face, and I caught a faint whiff of plastic mixed with something oddly sweet.

“Alright,” he said, “I need you to start counting back from ten.”

Ten... nine... eight... sev...

And just like that, darkness swallowed me again, that familiar slide into nothing. Then, slowly, the world reformed, not the cold OR with its beeping machines and sharp lights, but the same softened hospital room from before.

Olivia Holt stepped in first. Same radiant blonde hair, same wicked smile. Same outfit, red-and-white satin top hugging her curves, bows trailing down the front, tiny skirt flaring over red garters clipped to white thigh-highs, six-inch red stilettos clicking across the floor, like a promise. She carried that pointless clipboard, eyes locking on mine instantly.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she purred, voice low and teasing. “Miss me?”

Before I could answer, another woman followed her in.

Natalie Lind. She wore the exact same costume, white satin top trimmed in red, bows tied neatly, skirt so short it barely existed, garters snapping against pale thighs, stockings gleaming, heels matching Olivia’s. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves, lips painted deep red, eyes sparkling with the same mischief.

“Meet my friend Natalie,” Olivia said.

“So this is him,” Natalie said, voice low, husky. “The one you won’t shut up about, Liv.”

They didn't hesitate before joining me on the bed, the mattress yielding beneath us as they settled into position. Olivia found her place to my left, Natalie to my right, both kneeling beside me. I could feel warmth emanating from their bodies, washing over me like waves.

Olivia leaned in first, fingers trailing down my chest. “Gallbladder this time? Poor thing. You really know how to keep coming back for more attention.”

Natalie chuckled softly, her hand joining Olivia’s, sliding lower. “We thought you deserved double the care today.”

My hospital gown was already pushed up, sheets kicked aside. I was hard before they even touched me, anticipation, the dream logic making everything sharper, more urgent.

Olivia moved above me in one fluid motion, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of my shoulders. Her skirt bunched at her waist as she positioned herself over my face, the heat of her skin radiating against my cheeks. When I looked up, I could see her watching me through half-lidded eyes, wisps of blonde hair framing her face like a halo gone wrong.

“Time for your oral exam,” she whispered.

Gradually, she descended toward me. I felt her warmth against my lips, tasted her essence, honeyed and earthy, impossible to resist. Olivia moaned low, hips rocking, grinding against my face.

Her hands braced on the hospital bedframe. “That’s it... just like that.”

Beneath me, Natalie slid downward. I felt the cool touch of her fingers as they encircled me, gliding slowly from the root to the crown of my cock, and back again. A soft, appreciative sound escaped her. “It's already so hard for us.”

Her mouth followed. Hot, wet suction enveloped the head of my cock in one smooth motion. Natalie’s lips sealed tight around me, velvet-soft and scorching. Her tongue immediately went to work, swirling circles around the sensitive ridge, then dipping into the slit to taste the bead of pre-cum already leaking there. She hummed low in her throat, the vibration traveling straight down my shaft like a current.

Then she took me deeper.

Her head tilted slightly, throat relaxing as inch after inch disappeared between her painted red lips. Cheeks hollowed with plenty of suction, creating a perfect wet seal. The flat of her tongue pressed firmly along the underside, dragging with every slow retreat before plunging forward again. Saliva pooled at the corners of her mouth, slicking the way, making obscene soft glucking sounds fill the hazy room.

The contrast was intense, Olivia’s dripping pussy grinding down hard on my face at the same pace Natalie set below. Every time Natalie sank low, Olivia rolled her hips forward, smearing her arousal across my lips and chin. The dual assault short-circuited thought, tongue buried in sweet-salty heat above, cock wrapped in relentless sucking heat below.

Olivia's pace quickened, desperate and demanding. Each roll of her hips pressed her engorged center against my face, her sharp intakes of breath punctuating every contact. I offered my tongue flat and broad beneath her, a willing platform for her pleasure, before shifting tactics, the tip now dancing over her most sensitive point with teasing lightness that gradually built to deliberate pressure, sending tremors through her thighs as they clenched around my head.

“God... yes...” Olivia hissed, fingers tightening around the hospital bed siderails.

Natalie pulled off with a loud, wet pop, a thick string of saliva stretching from her lower lip to the glistening head of my cock before snapping. She looked up at me through dark lashes, lips shiny and swollen, then deliberately pursed them and spat, once, a heavy glob landing right on the tip, then again, lower, letting the warm strands run down the shaft in slow rivulets, coating every inch until I gleamed under the golden light.

She cupped her full breasts, lifting them, pushing the soft mounds together until they formed a perfect slick channel. My cock slid between them easily, disappearing into warm, yielding flesh. She squeezed tight, trapping me, then began to glide, slow, deliberate strokes from base to tip. The satin of her nurse top framed the view perfectly, creamy cleavage shining with spit, nipples stiff and dark pink against the white fabric, bows swaying gently with each pump.

The sight alone sent a fresh surge of heat through my groin, her in that obscene red-trimmed outfit, tits wrapped snug around my throbbing cock, spit dripping down into the valley between them. Every upward slide pushed the head of my cock toward her chin, every downward stroke buried me completely in softness.

Olivia glanced back over her shoulder, blonde strands clinging to her flushed cheeks. “Look at him, Nat. He’s fucking loving it.”

A wicked smile played across Natalie's face. "Oh, I know," she purred, quickening her rhythm until her chest heaved with each movement, creating a mesmerizing undulation. "Right here, you can feel every throb." Her thumbs pressed lightly against the base where her cleavage gripped me, emphasizing each heartbeat.

My groan sent vibrations rippling through Olivia's sensitive flesh. Her body jolted in response, hips bucking against my mouth. I delved deeper with my tongue, exploring her slick heat, before tracing back to that swollen bundle of nerves. Each deliberate circle drew increasingly frantic reactions, her weight pressing down harder, her breathing reduced to ragged gasps, her thighs quivering uncontrollably against my cheeks.

Natalie leaned forward, letting another thick rope of spit drip directly onto my cock before squeezing her breasts even tighter around me. The glide turned impossibly slick, tight, soft, hot, relentless. Every few strokes her tongue darted out, quick kitten-like licks across the sensitive tip whenever it emerged from her cleavage, sending sharp jolts of pleasure up my spine.

Olivia' s voice broke into desperate, ragged sounds. “Fuck... don’t stop. Right there, right fucking there.”

Olivia’s movements faltered, hips stuttering in uneven jerks. I doubled down, sucking her clit hard into my mouth, tongue pressing flat and steady, flicking fast against the underside while I held the suction. Her whole body arched, back bowing, thighs clamping my head like a vise. A sharp, muffled cry tore from her throat as she came, hard, sudden, flooding my mouth with fresh heat. Her inner walls fluttered against my tongue, hips grinding down in frantic little circles as wave after wave rolled through her.

She shook through it, whimpering softly, until the tension finally broke and she slumped forward, panting, forehead resting briefly against the adjustable base of the medical bed.

Then she slid off to the side with a shaky exhale, collapsing beside me, chest heaving, a dazed, satisfied smile curving her lips. “Your turn to shine, Nat.”

Natalie released my cock from her breasts, strands of spit connecting us. She crawled up, straddling my hips. The skirt flipped up, she was bare, glistening.

She wrapped her fingers around me, positioned herself, and descended with deliberate patience. Warmth enveloped me gradually. Snug, wet, exquisite. She took me completely with a sound of pleasure, circling her hips once, pressing deeper.

Olivia moved behind her, hands on Natalie’s shoulders, kissing her neck. “Ride him good, baby.”

Natalie began to move, a gentle rise and fall that gradually quickened. The satin of her top shimmered with each motion, the decorative ribbons dancing with her rhythm. I met her movements, hands steadying her hips as we found our cadence together.

Behind her, Olivia's arms encircled her waist, fingers tracing downward to where our bodies joined. As she found that sensitive spot, Natalie arched backward, her pleasure escaping in breathless sounds.

Our rhythm crescendoed, the air thick with our mingled breath and the percussion of bodies finding urgent release. I felt Natalie tighten around me as her movements became desperate, wild.

Olivia whispered in her ear, “Come on his cock. Let him feel it.”

Natalie came undone, trembling against me, gripping me from within as pleasure overtook her. Her release triggered my own, I surrendered completely, my body answering hers in waves of intense sensation that left me breathless and spent. She rode through it, milking every pulse, until we both stilled.

Natalie collapsed against me, her lips finding mine in a lazy, lingering kiss that carried the tang of perspiration and desire. Olivia leaned in from beside us, pressing her mouth first to my temple, then turning to capture Natalie's parted lips with her own.

They stayed like that for a moment, bodies tangled, warm and heavy.

Then the haze shifted.

A voice cut through, calm, clinical.

“Good, you’re coming around.”

Lights snapped bright. Real hospital room. Doctor at the foot of the bed, chart in hand.

“Surgery went smoothly. Gallbladder’s out. You’ll be sore, but you’re fine.”

He smiled briefly. “Rest up. The nurse will be in soon with discharge papers.”

The End