The time I was boyfriend-in-residence for a bunch of young nurses [MF] x 24

This was one of those weird situations you’re gonna think I made up. But I’m going back 35 years here.

I had this job that sent me to this remote town for two or three nights once a month. The town had about 4,000 people but it was a hub for a huge empty area. It had a modern hospital and other amenities you wouldn’t think such a small place would have.

The bars and the people were pretty drab. But one night, there was a lively bunch of young women. I don’t mind admitting I’m kind of a weird guy. I often ran experiments on myself. I had, previously to going on this job, some close calls with dangerously psycho girls, sex diseases, and surprise boyfriends who chat about murder. I wondered if I could be like this 13th Century saint dude I was reading and go straight from waking up in a different bed every morning to no physical contact at all.

Of course, floating around in this empty landscape tipped the scales in favour of success. Unless I was going to fuck Mother Nature by digging a hole in the ground, there wasn’t a lot of temptation. So when I spied these eight women, I thought “Challenge accepted.”

Knowing beforehand I didn’t have a goal of getting fucked that night made it curiously easy to just stroll up to their table and ask them if they minded me joining them because I needed the company. They were all nurses at the hospital. They were out celebrating the last day for one of them that was leaving town. I told them they looked like a tightly knit group. They said they all lived in the same building, a nurse residence attached to the hospital. A new nurse was rotated in every month from a big city hospital a thousand miles away. If they weren’t close with each other, they’d never cut it there, they said.

I had to practice a mental mantra, repeating in my mind, “You are not trying to fuck, you are not trying to fuck,” but it seemed to work. It was weird because, not having that goal freed me up to just relax and chat. I must have given off the lack of predator vibe as well, because when I first sat with them, their energy was all high and all over the place, but after a while, they were all relaxed too. I guess I was just one of those guys who was “out with the girls.” But without my sexual sonar blips and all of them without their offense-defense measure-counter measure decoy-torpedo shit turned on, it was one of the best long nights in a bar I’d ever enjoyed, laughing, telling stories, teasing, clinking shots.

They totally insisted I come to their residence and wouldn’t allow me to go back to the hotel. The joke was, “You’re one of the girls now, you’re not staying alone.” We sat around their common room with a movie on, still drinking. Some went to bed and three stayed up. They started comparing how long they had gone without a fuck. I have to admit my mantra was getting spotty and I began to feel the guilt of a wolf sitting unnoticed in the corner of the hen house. One of them had a much longer dry spell than the other two, like 8 months or something. They acted all sympathetically to her like, “Oh, you poor thing, that must be so hard.” I sat out that hand, just sipping and watching the show on TV, minding my own business.

As a joke, one of them said, “Well we have a guy right here.” The other one piled on saying “He wouldn’t mind I’m sure,” patting my leg behind her. The convo kept going down this road. The girl with the dry spell seemed to be warming up to the idea. I thought to myself, “This is the test. Can I do it?” Because we had all been so brutally frank all night talking about sex and everything, I told them about my experiment. All three of them went like, “Ohhhhh! That’s why you were different!”

It took them all of like 30 seconds to convince me it was a dumb and useless idea. Convincing me then was like the thing they put on the dry spell girl, saying, okay, look he’s agreed, so it’s on. We actually both shrugged like we were bring peer pressured into it. We stood, met in the middle, I bowed like an idiot, and she lead me away by the hand. The other two are like high five-ing and celebrating for their friend.

So we fucked. There’s not much to say about that, other than it was good in that way sex is, yeah, good, after a year with the same girlfriend. It was normal sex. I had errands in town and was scheduled to leave on my third day. They made me get my bag and live at the residence, in the girl’s room. We both had work the next day, but I was at their communal dinner table that night, hung out with them watching shows and talking late, and then spent that night in the girls bed again, screwing and sleeping all cuddling like.

So, fast forward a month. I get back in town. Even though my company booked a hotel room, I went round to the residence. I knocked on the door and some of them were home and I was welcomed like it was a big homecoming. As the evening chatter progressed, a decision was made — without me being involved in it — that whoever had had the longest dry spell would get me for the length of my visit. There was a big conversation, they’re all reminding each other of this guy or that, and finally agree on who gets me. There was a big cheer, I was made to meet her in the middle and bow again and I was taken away hand in hand, everybody cheering and whooping.

For almost two years, this went on every month, kid you not. After like 8 months, none of the original girls were there anymore but the tradition carried on. It was just what living in that residence for eight months included. The ritual on the first night grew into this weird witchy thing with all the girls making the chosen one swear to show no possession after their “boyfriend experience” was over. They had this thing where the previous girl would take me by the hand and “give me” to the next girl. They had candles where, when you arrived, you were given a candle and you didn’t know what it was for, and then when your turn came up, your candle was lit from the previous girl’s candle, and would stay lit the whole time my visit lasted. Your candle was put on this high shelf over a door when you left.

Hanging around the common room, everybody would be talking about it right in front of me in serious nursing terms, all convincing each other it was a good mental health program they invented, and it how it kept everybody saner and reduced fighting, and was safer because no one was tempted to sleep with strangers in the town or dudes passing through etc. etc. (Being nurses, they gave me full-on tests every time). Because they all had to compare notes every time, it became pretty obvious who was up next the following two or three months. So we’d be like hanging out and the girl who was next months’ “winner” was all like, “I can’t wait!” and they’re all like, “You’re gonna love it” and carrying on like that. I should include that every now and then, one of them would take me aside in private and check in with me that everything was still okay. They were nurses, they were caring professionals. I was looked after very well.

It wasn’t all fun and games. Some girls were sad. A few times the girl didn’t want to and just wanted to sleep with a big male body in bed. They weren’t all cute they weren’t all “my type.” One girl was just not into the whole thing and so they made this new rule of drawing cards to win if that came up again. The craziest night was actually a tie between two girls so all three of us went off. But I have to admit, most of them were fucking hot. Nurses are a different breed, at least these nurses out in the middle of nowhere were, and sex was much more a bodily function and a stress reduction thing than anything “sexual” if that makes sense. They were not uncomfortable talking about any aspect of it. For example, one night everybody agreed coming from cunnilingus was way easier than coming from a fuck. So then it became a rule that if they didn’t orgasm from fucking, I had to make them come from licking. And they were straight up and brutally honest about everything. If they didn’t orgasm the first night, the next evening, they were all over me with instructions and sketches and warnings to me about getting it done. More than once, I’d be laying in bed in the morning and the girl I was with would go for coffee and I’d hear mumbling and then a round of whooping and hollering and shouts down the hall to me. I gave her an orgasm. High fives. I might have felt weirded out by it, but I always knocked on that door the first thing back in town, I tell you what.

When I was transferred out, I never found out if the whole thing died with me, or if someone was found to replace me. But I left 24 well-burnt candles on that shelf.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/comhxc/the_time_i_was_boyfriendinresidence_for_a_bunch