The Candy Striper part one
The day I turned sixteen, I applied for a job at our local hospital. I had no interest in working at the local burger joint, and I figured I’d get hired because my mom was a nurse there. My dad said I was tall for my age, five-foot-eight, mostly all legs, a bit gangly, weighing almost one hundred-fifteen pounds. I was well on my way to having a great rack of tits, sitting firm and high on my chest. They had been the boys’ focus at the parties I’d attended since I was in eighth grade. Not that I’m a slut or anything, but several boys have played with my tits, and yeah, I let them fuck me every once in a while when the mood hits me. I interviewed with the personel department at …