Off-Call

Chris trudged up the stairs to their tiny apartment, past the doors of the young singles who were quartered in adjacent sections of the old townhouse.  He was tired, exhausted to the core, mentally, emotionally, and physically wrung-out after a forty-hour shift on the hospital wards, having had to endure the non-stop verbal abuse and harassment of his superiors.  This basically meant everyone, from his intern and resident supervisors (who at least were getting paid), to the attending physician (God’s gift to the universe), and to the nurses (who seemed to take special delight in making life miserable for him and his colleagues).  Even the patients under his care went out of their way to make it clear that they were put out by being treated by such a subhuman life form as a medical student.  Although he could now easily hear the giggles and low conversational tones of the Volunteer Service personnel in their own chambers as he tiptoes by, and though and it was his responsibility as house parent at the mission house to oversee their personal well-being, he didn’t stop in the common kitchen or recreation room, choosing instead to face the anger of his young wife.

When he’d left her oh-so-many hours ago alone with a nursing baby and a houseful of immature young adult mission workers, he’d promised this one time to be home in time for supper.  Yes, dinner around the big table with the whole family.  “Just this once Chris, before you forget what we look like!”  And once again it was now almost ten o’clock the next day.  He knew Angela would be furious, and rightly so.  Being married to him must be just about the worst thing in the world.  Why did she even bother to stick around?  With a heavy-hearted sigh, Chris turned the doorknob, crossed the threshold, and steeled himself against the verbal onslaught that was sure to come.  Maybe he should’ve just stayed overnight in this on-call room and avoided this whole confrontation.  Gotta get some sleep.

After quietly closing the door and padding across the creaky floor toward the threadbare living room, he felt gentle fingers on the waistband of his scrub suit, followed by a brush of moist lips against his own.  “Angela, I’m so sor-…”  “Ssshhh!!!”  Angela’s velvety lips were again caressing his surprised mouth, this time a little more insistent, now probing with her undulating tongue, now drawing him into her own mouth till he could taste the sweetness of her essence.  All the while the slender fingers were deftly untying his scrub bottoms, and by the time he caught his breath from the mind-reeling kiss the pale green fabric was in a heap about his quaking ankles.

As he stood motionless and dumbfounded, he felt his briefs being yanked firmly down to his wobbly knees, and her tender lips and tongue moved seamlessly from his mouth to his penis.  With a much-too-loud gasp rising from his throat, he felt his lifeless worm of a shriveled penis being transformed into a tower of strength in her warm mouth.  Her hands traveled up and down his back from buttocks to torso, removing his clothing along the way, leaving her mouth alone to make an inviting home for his engorged member. She sucked him, licked him, nibbled his glans, tasted the little drop of milky fluid at the opening and felt herself melt.  Her fingers, now between his scrotum and anus, felt the quiverings that she knew meant he was soon to be going over the edge, and she calmly slid his rigid penis from her mouth and blew gently on it. His louder-than-usual groans were music to her ears.

Angela eased Chris onto the floor, pausing to deep-kiss him for another few times.  Then her own clothes were off within seconds and she was straddling his penis, sliding the shaft along her secret folds and up to the growing bulge of her own clitoris.  As she teased him this way, waiting to feel his pre-climatic tremors before taking him inside her swollen pulsating lower lips, she gasped as her swaying breast was taken into his mouth.  She felt his teeth, tongue, lips closing on her nipple, then pulling it deep into his waiting mouth, then the soft but urgent rhythm of his suckling.  What is he doing, that belongs to the baby, but oh-my-gosh does that ever feel good!  With a burst of oxytocin she felt the deep tissues of her milk-engorged breasts let down their sweetness, simultaneous with the familiar deep tugging in her womb that breastfeeding always brought.

Without even being conscious of the movement she tilted her pelvis to welcome his twitching phallus into her womanhood, and then impaled herself upon it, taking it deep into the inner reaches of her being.  She felt his penis tip moving against her cervix, his beautiful mouth drinking in her milk as fast as he could suck it down, his hot breath from flaring nostrils steaming against the other nipple, his fingernails digging into her soft buttocks, and then the enormous swelling of his phallic girth as he prepared her empty himself into her.  She was vaguely aware that the room’s walls were paper-thin as a throaty victor’s cry began to emanate loudly from her soul.

They erupted together in a double volcano of thrusting, convulsing, throbbing, quaking.  She felt what must have been gallons of sperm being shot into her body, even as he perceived the velvety sheath of her womanhood closing tightly around him and squeezing down of its own accord.  Meanwhile an electric jolt sizzled up and down her sweating belly from her burning nipples to her clitoris, and he continues to drink, and they continued to erupt.  Over and over and over…

Minutes later, after their breathing slowly returned to normal and the nerve fibers in every square inch of their respective skins had begun the slow-burning afterglow, Chris’ penis made an almost imperceptible decrease in girth on its way back to normal size.  In that moment his pearly semen started to leak down out of her vagina, for neither had moved from their one-flesh position.  He was conscious enough to breathe a silent prayer of thanks for the wife of his youth.  And as his sperm dribbled down his own loins and traced a sticky line between his buttocks, having returned to him from the depths of his lover, her milk continued to flow freely from both lovely breasts, dripping down his chin and onto the little heap of clothing lying beneath his head.

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1 reply
  1. pure love says:

    that was truely errotic…and sexy. I hav’nt been a mother yet but my hubby sucks my breasts like he’s being brreastfed and he says that when we’l have kids and when i am done with them… then my breasts would be all his to suck and he will suck out every drop of it….. How much i long for that day.. only God Knows

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