I blushed some more and turned back toward the books.“Does that bother you?” he asked.I kept my back to him and answered, “No, not at all. If yo... want to masturbate, you should.”Saying the word “masturbate” was worse than swearing.He put his hands on my shoulders, but didn’t say anything. I trembled a little. His hands slid down my arms and back up. They moved to my front and cupped my breasts. My small boobs, enveloped by his hands. I leaned my head back against his chest. Neither of us. He couldn’t tell what they wore under them.Swallowing was a little difficult. He tried again.“Was it ... cancer ... ous?”The nurse, one Betty Kirkpatrick, drew back slightly, frowning. “I’ll let the surgeon explain. I’m not authorized to provide those details. He’ll be by in a few minutes to review the operation.”Phil grumbled, rattling his restraints for emphasis. “Will I ... live or not?” he demanded.Worried, the nurse laid her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. You came through the surgery with. More

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