I was working as a nursing aide at a large country hospital before I enrolled at university. I mostly worked night shift, and enjoyed the quietness and the lack of hustle and bustle. The work was easy, just checking on patients through the night.

Some patients were in just overnight, for minor surgery, while other more serious cases where often heavily sedated and only required their life support equipment to be monitored.

This particular night was very quiet. Only half the beds were occupied, and only one of the special care rooms contained a serious case.

Christine, the aide I was to replace, met me as usual. It was two o’clock in the morning and she said everything was under control and the patients were all sleeping comfortably. 

Then Christine took me to the special care room, and we stood outside while she gave me the details of the case, and what we were expected to do. She said that Matron had indicated that, at the moment, it was unclear whether the special care patient would last through the night.

Christine explained that the man had been brought in unconscious, having survived a very nasty motorbike accident coming through the mountain pass to the north of the town. He was now on life support, but it was also important to keep his temperature down. For that reason, staff were asked to spend a little time every hour or so swabbing his body with a sponge and cold water.

Now that Christine had outlined the duties for my shift, she took me in to see the patient.

The man was huge and he was hairy, and probably in his late thirties. His eyes were closed and he was eerily silent. Only a single dial beside the bed confirmed that he was breathing. He lay naked, but for a sheet covering his lower half.

I thanked Christine and she prepared to leave; then she stopped and turned and looked at me and smiled, and in a hushed voice, provided a final piece of information.

“Just one other thing I should tell you Freya. He has tattoos, as do most of the bikie patients we get admitted. But he does have a special one.”

I asked Christine what was special about it.

“He has a honey bee tattooed on the end of his penis. One of the day staff said that when he first came in he had a partial erection, probably caused by a rush of adrenalin or a sudden hormone surge in the moments leading up to the accident. She said that the bee had its wings extended, but later, when the erection subsided, it appeared to have them folded.”

I was looking at her in amazement and Christine laughed.

“Thought I should tell you just in case you thought it was a real one and started madly beating him with a fly swat.” 

We both laughed nervously, then she left me to it.

I shut the door behind her and turned to look at my patient. He looked so gentle, so serene. His long blond hair and strong square chin made him look like a sleeping Viking chieftain, the sort we might see in a movie or picture book. His huge muscular arms could have easily swung a sword to cut off his rival’s head and limbs. They rested beside his body and his giant open hands faced upward.

I lifted the patient record sheet from the end of the bed and read his name Odin Amundsen. Definitely a Viking, I mused. His ancestors might easily have known mine way back when so many girls would have been named Freya.

I collected a sponge and a bowl of water and started the task of keeping the giant cool. I began with his brow, face and neck. His skin was taut and leathery. One could have been wiping down a leather skirt, or a snakeskin handbag.

As I prepared to move to his chest, I had a sudden desire to kiss Odin, so I leant forward and lightly touched his lips with mine. But then I wanted more, and pushed my mouth harder against his lips. It gave me a beautiful feeling, and I suddenly felt very happy.

I sponged his broad shoulders with one hand while I burrowed my fingernails into the forest of hair on his chest. Swabbing Odin was suddenly feeling exciting, and I began to concentrate on each moment with loving attention. 

I had not had a lot of experience with men. I probably should say I’d had none. As I grew older I began to realise that being so tall and thin, and being flat chested, I wasn’t going to get men rushing to me with offers of a romantic date, or with bunches of flower or chocolates.

As I said, I experienced a growing feeling of excitement as I swabbed Odin. I began to have thoughts about things I could do, quite inappropriate things, and that made me more excited.

I went back to Odin’s face and kissed him again. I even ran my tongue across his closed lips. Then I moved back down, just below his chest where the long hair stopped and his shorter belly hair began. I looked at his hand lying beside him, and only inches from the edge of the bed and where I stood. His bed was quite high but because I’m tall, it didn’t seem unduly so. 

I reached out and slid my hand beneath his, and lifted it. I had a sudden thought; I can have his hand if I want to. I looked at his long thick fingers. For all I knew–or rather didn’t know–about men’s penises, any one of Odin’s fingers looked capable of doing what a penis did.

With my other hand, I lifted up the hem of my nurse uniform exposing my panties. Then I took Odin’s hand and placed it between my legs and rocked it slowly to and fro. Then I took hold of his index finger, pulled my panty crotch to one side and placed the tip of his finger against my wet pussy. It felt wonderful. But then I remembered the story of the bee and I put his hand back and went and drew back the sheet, all the way to the bed end.

Probably through lack of experience, I’ve never thought a lot about the size of men’s penises. Odin’s penis looked very large, even though it was resting, and at its base was a coconut-sized bunch of testicles nestled inside a mass of blond hair. And sure enough, there was the honey bee neatly tattooed on the big reddish brown bulb at the top of his penis which stood up through this nest of blond hair. 

Looking at his manhood was so invigorating and I desperately wanted to have it, to own it.

I wriggled my hand down into the hair to find the base of his penis and when I did, I clasped it tightly and closed my eyes. I found myself shaking just a little, but didn’t know why.

And now I knew what I most wanted to do in the whole world. I still had an hour before I was to be relieved for my tea break. I locked the door.

I had entered a state of being that I did not understand, but did not want to stop. I removed every piece of clothing and footwear. Then I climbed up onto Odin and flattened and pressed my body against his. I felt so calm, and what began as excitement, morphed into a sort of ecstasy and I sighed and shut my eyes.

I must have lain there for a good ten or fifteen minutes, most happy with my lot. I thought how nice it was to lie on top of a person. In fact, to this day lying on someone is one of my favourite loving positions, even if fully dressed and not feeling especially sexual.

Some time had passed and I was feeling sleepy; then I imagined I felt something between my legs. I managed to not flinch or respond. Yes, something was definitely moving slowly up between the top of my thighs, pushing my flesh gently aside as it did so. 

I was mesmerised. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. I wanted whatever it was to keep coming up towards my crotch.

So much rushed through my mind. I couldn’t take it all in. I lifted my head slowly, and opened my eyes and looked at Odin’s face, but nothing about it had changed.

Then without planning to do so, I found myself moving my legs apart, and edging down to meet whatever it was, coming up towards me.

I had already felt a tiny orgasm and I knew that I was wet, and getting wetter. Suddenly, whatever it was pushed against my vagina, and I opened like a flower and spread my wetness everywhere.

I now knew exactly what was happening and I didn’t want it to stop. I started to move down again and as I did so, I opened up and sucked in Odin’s penis head, but I kept on moving down along his huge shaft. Further and further down I wriggled, and Odin came further and further up into me.

I began to sob. I wanted Odin to put his giant arms around me and fasten me permanently to his body. I wanted to run my hands through his long hair and stick my tongue into his mouth. I wanted him fully alive.

I stopped crying, settled down and rode my Viking’s manhood like I was riding a galloping horse. I desperately wanted to feel him come inside me, and he did.

At first he frightened me with his bellowing roar. But he only roared once, when he sent a torrent of sperm into my helplessly lustful little vagina.

I heard myself calling out, “Yes Odin, yes!”

I lay still for a long time but all was quiet. Odin didn’t move or make another sound. I heard a bell ringing in the distance, and knew that my time was up and that someone would be looking for me. I dragged myself off my Viking lover and stood up.

I looked at his penis, still standing tall, sticking out of its luxuriant blond nest. And there was the honey bee, wings spread wide, and drinking from the hole in Odin’s penis.

I quickly cleaned Odin, swabbed his belly and pulled the sheet back over him. Then there was a knock on the door and I called “Coming, just give me a moment please.”

I threw on my clothes and headed out the door.

“How is he?” asked the lass who had looked after him the night before.

“Nothing seems to have changed,” I answered, trying not to look at her and thinking that I must look dreadful.

“He can’t last much longer. He just didn’t seem to want to go. Like he was waiting for something,” said the nurse.

I stared at her.

“Do you believe he will die?”

“The doctors and surgeons think so. It’s a brain problem. It’s no longer connected to his body, or something.”

I turned abruptly and hurried away, unable to get my mind around it all. Had I simply imagined everything? Had it not really happened? But what was leaking from me now was proof that something had happened, something beautiful and amazing.

I got to work early the next night. I’d spent the whole day wondering and daydreaming. Dreaming that Odin would recover and throw me on the back of his big motorbike and we’d ride off into the distance. But that was not to be.

“They found him dead early this morning. Strange though! He had his one good eye open, and a most angelic smile on his face,” said a nurse going off duty.

“And the girl that found him said he had an amazing erection and that the bee tattoo was truly beautiful.


When my night shift finished, I went to Odin’s room. It was not occupied so I sneaked in and locked the door and lay on the bed and cried and cried, and I imagined that I was the wife of an ancient Viking god. 


Taken from Australian Short Stories by Richard Lee. Available from Amazon. This story also appears in the novel The FIFI CODE by Richard Lee. Available from Amazon