Nurses LOVE Doctors Explicit Erotica #2
“I want your mouth on my pussy. I want you on your knees in this ugly little room and I want you to lick me until I soak your chin. Don’t be gentle. I clock back in forty minutes.”
Cal’s jaw flexed.
He went down.
No ceremony. Knees on the linoleum, hands yanking her pants and underwear to mid-thigh in one pull. Cold air hit her cunt. She was shiny with it. He looked at her like he was starving and then he put his mouth on her.
Elena’s head thunked back against the locker.
His tongue was broad and flat and he licked her from hole to clit in one long stroke that made a wet sound in the quiet room.
Then he did it again. And again. He sealed his lips around her clit and sucked, two fingers pushing into her at the same time, and Elena’s hand slammed down on the back of his head.
“Fuck—yes—right there—”
He worked her like he had a shift to finish and this was the only thing on the list.
No teasing for the sake of it. He ate her sloppy, chin wet, stubble scraping her inner thighs, fingers curling until he found the spot that made her thighs shake.
Elena tried to stay quiet. She failed in small broken sounds.
The locker rattled when her hips snapped forward.
Cal groaned into her pussy like he liked the taste. The vibration ran through her clit. She was close already, humiliatingly close, the kind of orgasm that had been sitting in her all night waiting for an excuse.
A pager buzzed on the locker.
Both of them froze.
Cal’s mouth stayed on her. His fingers stayed inside her. The pager buzzed again, insistent, somebody else’s problem trying to become theirs.
Elena looked down. His lips were glossy with her. His eyes were on her face, waiting.
She reached back, silenced the pager without looking at the name, and shoved his head back between her thighs.
“You finish what you started,” she said. “Then we go pretend we’re adults.”
Cal’s tongue went back to her clit like he’d never left.
Cal didn’t take his mouth off her.
He walked her backward on his knees until the backs of her legs hit the cot.
Elena sat hard. The mattress was thin and smelled like bleach and other people’s sleep.
He yanked her shoes off, peeled the scrubs and underwear the rest of the way down, and shoved her knees apart like the room belonged to him now.
“On your back,” he said.
“No.” Elena caught his hair. “You on your back. I want to sit on your face.”
Something flashed through his eyes. Heat.
Approval. He didn’t argue. He stretched out on the cot, long body taking up the whole thing, scrub pants still on, the thick line of his cock obvious down his thigh.
Elena climbed over him. The cot creaked.
She planted a knee on either side of his head and lowered her cunt onto his mouth.
Cal’s hands clamped her ass and pulled her down.
His tongue shoved into her.
Elena braced on the wall above the cot and rolled her hips.
Wet sounds filled the little room immediately, filthy and shameless.
His nose pressed her clit. His tongue fucked up into her, then flattened and dragged, then pointed and flicked.
She could feel how soaked she was by the way it smeared across his mouth, down his chin, onto his throat.
She smelled herself on him already. Salt. Heat. The faint lotion from her own skin mixed with the rawer scent of her pussy.
“That’s it,” she whispered. “Eat it. Don’t you dare come up for air.”
He didn’t.
Cal licked her like he had been waiting for permission to be disgusting about it.
He sucked her clit between his lips and tugged.
He pushed two fingers back into her from below and curled them while his tongue worked the swollen bud.
Elena’s thighs started to shake. She ground down harder, smearing herself over his face, and he groaned into her like he wanted to drown.
The first orgasm hit ugly and fast.
It punched up from the spot his fingers kept stroking and burst behind her clit.
Elena’s mouth opened. No sound came out at first, just a silent snarl, then a broken fuck as her cunt clenched around his fingers and spilled more wet onto his tongue.
Cal kept licking through it. He didn’t ease off.
He drank her through the pulses, chin shining, throat working.
Elena’s arms trembled against the wall.
She didn’t get off him.
“Again,” she said, voice wrecked. “Make me cum again. I want it sloppy.”
Cal made a hungry sound and changed the angle.
He sealed his whole mouth over her and sucked, then released and lapped her from asshole to clit in long, filthy strokes that made her flinch and push back for more.
One of his hands left her ass, popped the button on his own pants, and fisted his cock.
She heard the wet sound of him stroking himself.
She looked down between her own tits and saw his fist working that thick shaft, the head dark and slick.
He was huge. He was still fully hard. He hadn’t even tried to put it in her.
Elena reached back and wrapped her fingers around his, feeling the heat of him, the pulse. He jerked under her. A bead of pre-cum welled and she smeared it with her thumb.
“Don’t cum,” she said. “You don’t get to cum until I say.”
His hips kicked. He licked her harder.
The second orgasm built slower and meaner.
It sat low in her belly, a tightening that made her sweat at her hairline.
The cot springs complained. Elena rode his face in small desperate circles, clit dragging over his tongue, his fingers pumping her dripping hole.
She could hear how wet she was. She could feel his stubble burning the insides of her thighs.
She could taste copper in her own mouth from biting her lip.
“Cal—fuck—don’t stop—”
He didn’t.
She came with her whole body this time. Her cunt fluttered hard around his fingers.
A fresh rush of slick ran down onto his mouth and he licked it up like it was the only thing he wanted to swallow all night.
Elena shook through it, thighs clamped around his head, one hand still on his cock to make sure he didn’t finish.
When she could see again, his face was a mess.
Shiny from her nose to his throat. Lips swollen. Eyes blown.
Elena lifted off him on shaky legs. Her pussy felt used and empty at the same time. She stood there naked from the waist down, tits still out from where he’d shoved her bra, and looked at the cock in both their hands.
Thick. Veined. Wet at the tip. He hadn’t gone soft at all.
“On the cot,” she started. “I want that in me—”
The pager on the locker screamed.
Not a buzz this time. The sharp, ugly tone they used for things that could not wait.
Both of them froze.
Elena snatched it. The screen lit her wet fingers.
Room 8. Pressure dropping. Need attending now.
“Shit.”
Cal was already sitting up, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist, pulling his pants closed over that brutal hard-on like it was just another task. His face was still glossy with her. He looked wrecked and calm at the same time.
Elena yanked her underwear and scrubs up. Her cunt was so wet the fabric clung. She shoved her bra down, smoothed her top, and shoved her hair back with hands that smelled like him and herself.
At the door she stopped.
Cal stood behind her, close, still hard, still breathing like he’d run a flight of stairs.
“Later,” she said.
It wasn’t a question.
He nodded once. His mouth was red.
Elena opened the door on the empty hallway and walked out like she had not just cum twice on a nurse’s tongue. Behind her she heard the sink run. Water. The sound of him washing her off his face so he could go back to work.
Her legs did not feel like they belonged to a doctor.
They felt like they belonged to a woman who was going to get fucked in a supply closet before sunrise.
Room 8 stabilized at 1:41.
Elena signed the last order with a hand that still smelled like Cal’s mouth. The floor had gone thin again. One tech on break. The charge nurse two wings over. Hallways that felt longer than they were.
She found him restocking gloves in the south supply closet.
The door had a push-lock. She used it.
Cal turned with a box of 4x4s in his hand. His mouth was clean now. His eyes were not. He set the box down without looking at it.
“How’s eight?”
“Alive.” Elena’s back hit the door. “You still hard?”
He didn’t answer with words. He crossed the closet in two steps, crowded her against the steel, and put her hand on his cock through his pants. Thick. Heavy. Fully up, like the last hour of charting had done nothing but keep him ready.
“Yes.”
“Good. Pants down. Bend me over that crate.”
He did it like he’d already mapped the room.
Hands on her hips, spinning her, shoving her scrub pants and underwear to her knees.
The plastic crate of saline bags sat waist-high.
Elena folded over it. Cold air hit her ass and the wet mess between her thighs.
The closet smelled like latex and cardboard and the faint sweetness of alcohol wipes.
Cal’s palm ran up the back of her thigh, then between them. Two fingers slid into her with no resistance. She was still soaked from his mouth. He pumped once, twice, spreading her open, and she heard how wet she was in the tight space.
“Fuck, Elena.”
“Put it in. Don’t tease.”
The sound of his zipper was loud. Then the blunt heat of his cock dragged through her slit, notching at her hole, and he pushed.
Elena’s mouth opened against her own forearm.
He was thicker than his fingers. He stretched her in a slow, filthy slide that made her cunt cling and flutter. Inch by inch. She felt every ridge. When his hips finally met her ass she was full in a way that made her eyes sting.
Cal held there. Breathing. One hand braced beside her on the crate, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks under the cheap fabric bunched at her knees.
“You take it so fucking well,” he muttered.
“Then use it.”
He pulled back and drove in.
The first thrust slapped skin. The second made a wet noise that should have embarrassed her and didn’t.
Elena shoved back to meet him. The crate rocked.
Saline bags whispered against each other.
Cal fucked her in a steady, deep rhythm that filled the closet with the sound of her pussy sucking at his cock.