In the quiet corner of the hospital, a young candy-striper named Lizzie pushed her cart down the corridor. She had been at the hospital for hours, her ponytail bobbing as she moved from room to room, bringing small comforts to patients who needed a friendly smile or a warm drink.

As she turned the corner, she caught a glimpse of a man in his thirties, Mr. Harris, through the small window of his room. His eyes were closed, his hand moving rhythmically under the blanket. She froze, her heart skipping a beat as she took in the scene. As he lowered the blanket, she could clearly see his hand was wrapped around his cock, stroking it with a practiced ease. The sight was both shocking and fascinating.

Mr. Harris's chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths. Lizzie felt a flush spread across her cheeks as she continued to watch, her eyes wide and her breathing shallow. She felt like a voyeur, but she was too curious, too captivated to look away.

Her hand hovered over the door handle, unsure if she should knock or just go in. But before she could decide, Mr. Harris's eyes opened, and they locked onto hers. For a moment, she felt as if she had been caught doing something wrong, but then she saw a flicker of something else in his gaze: amusement. He didn't say a word, just held her gaze as his hand moved faster, his breaths quickening. Lizzie felt a strange mix of embarrassment and arousal, her own body responding to the silent exchange.

Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the handle. She pushed the door open slightly, feeling the heat of the room wash over her. Mr. Harris's eyes never left hers as he brought himself closer to climax. His hand moved rapidly, and she saw the strain in his neck muscles. Then, with a low groan, he came, lifting the blanket and spurting ropes of cum onto his stomach. His eyes closed again, and he took a deep, satisfied breath.

Lizzie stumbled back, her cheeks aflame. She didn't know what to do, what to say. But before she could flee, she heard his voice, low and even. "Thank you for watching," he murmured, his eyes still closed. "It's not often I get an audience."

She mumbled an apology, her voice barely above a whisper, and hurried away.

Hours later, Lizzie was at the nurses' station, her mind still reeling from the encounter. The request board caught her eye, and she noticed Mr. Harris's name with an unusual message: "Patient requests candy-striper to read from a book." Her heart skipped again.

With trembling hands, she picked up the book from the designated spot, feeling the weight of its pages. The nurse nodded, giving her a warm smile that made Lizzie blush even deeper. "He's quite the charmer," she said, her voice filled with mirth.

As Lizzie approached the room, her heart pounded in her chest. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open, her eyes immediately drawn to the bulge in Mr. Harris's blanket. He looked up at her, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, my reader," he said, his voice warm and welcoming. "I've marked the page where you can start."

Her hands shook as she took the book and sat in the chair beside the bed. She began to read, her voice steady and clear. The words were innocent, a simple description of the setting in some mundane novel, and she felt the tension in her neck begin to ease.

But as she turned the page, she noticed a shift in the text. She read about a couple walking in the rain, their clothes sticking to their bodies, the warmth of their embrace in stark contrast to the cold outside. She felt her cheeks start to heat up again, glancing up at Mr. Harris from time to time, his expression unchanged but his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her stomach flutter.

The scene grew more explicit, and she stumbled over the words. She could feel his gaze on her, heavy and expectant as if daring her to keep going. She read of kisses that grew more passionate, of hands wandering and clothing falling away.

With each sentence, she felt Mr. Harris's eyes on her, watching her reactions. And as she read about the couple making love, she was acutely aware of the growing bulge in his blanket. She tried to focus on the words, but her mind kept drifting to the memory of his hand moving under the fabric, the way his body had tensed and released.

Mr. Harris's hand reached out and gently touched her leg, sending a jolt of electricity through her. She gasped and looked up at him, her eyes wide with shock. His gaze was intense, his hand moving slowly up her thigh. She knew she should stop, should pull away, but she was transfixed.

"Keep reading," he whispered, his voice a dark caress that sent shivers down her spine. And so she did, her voice growing softer his. The story grew more heated, the characters' passion spilling onto the pages, and she could feel it in the air around them. His hand grew bolder, moving higher, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her panties.

"I need your help. Will you help me?" he asked.

Lizzie felt like she was in a daze. She nodded, not trusting her voice to form words. "What can I do?" she asked, innocent but anxious.

Mr. Harris's fingers tightened slightly on her leg. "Read the next part," he instructed, his eyes never leaving hers.

Her eyes scanned the page, finding the paragraph where the woman in the story took the man's cock into her mouth for the first time. She swallowed hard, feeling the heat in the room intensify.   She read of the woman's curiosity, the tentative way she approached the act, her heart racing with anticipation. As she read, she felt Mr. Harris's hand move closer to her own crotch, his thumb rubbing against her in a slow, deliberate motion.

"Ah, yes," he murmured, his hand moving faster under the blanket. "You're doing so well."

Her voice grew softer, the words almost a whisper as she described the sensation of the man's cock filling the woman's mouth. She could feel her own breath hitch as Mr. Harris's eyes grew darker, his pupils dilating. His hand was now fully under the blanket, his strokes becoming more urgent.

"Ever done that before?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Lizzie's face grew hotter, her eyes never leaving the page. She felt her own heart thumping in her chest. "No," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Would you like to?" His question hung in the air, heavy with desire.

The candy-striper felt a thrill run through her. Here she was, sitting in a hospital room with a stranger, reading him a book that was turning into something so much more. She nodded, her eyes never leaving the page.

"Good," he said, his hand moving even faster now. "Keep reading."

And so she did, her voice growing stronger as she described the woman's inexperience, the way she fumbled and learned. She read about the man's groans of pleasure, the way his hips bucked upward as she took him deeper. She could feel Mr. Harris's tension building, his hand moving in time with the story.

With each word, she grew increasingly aware of her body's response. Her nipples were hard against her shirt, and she could feel the dampness between her legs.

As the climax of the scene approached, she looked up at him, her eyes questioning. "Finish it," he urged, his voice strained.

And so she did, her voice barely audible as she described the man's release, the way the woman swallowed his cum. As the last word left her lips, Mr. Harris groaned loudly, his body spasmed, and she knew he had come again.

The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound their ragged breathing. Lizzie felt a strange sense of accomplishment, of power. She had read those words, had brought this man to the brink, and watched him fall.

Slowly, Mr. Harris leaned back against the pillows, his hand finally still. He looked at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

Lizzie blushed even deeper, not sure what to say. But she also knew that she would never forget this moment—the way his eyes had locked onto hers as she had read, the way his touch had set her body on fire.

"You're welcome," she murmured, setting the book aside. She didn't know what would happen next, but she knew that her life had changed in some fundamental way. She had stepped into a world she never knew existed, and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to leave it.