Nurses LOVE Doctors Explicit Erotica #5
Out in the hall a pair of shoes went by.
They both heard it.
He didn’t stop.
He hiked her leg higher on his shoulder and drove in harder, and Elena’s second orgasm started climbing the same path as the first, meaner, built on being filled under a light that hid nothing.
Cal pulled out and flipped her before the orgasm finished cresting.
Elena’s stomach hit the torn paper. He shoved her top hip forward, bent her top knee, and slotted back into her from behind on the narrow table. The angle was tighter. Meaner. His cock dragged along a different wall and her mouth opened against the crinkle of paper.
“Stay on your side.”
He took her like that, one hand on her waist, the other braced on the table edge so it wouldn’t roll. Skin slapped. Her tits mashed the vinyl under the paper. The stirrup she’d left her other foot in rattled when his rhythm shook the whole thing.
Elena reached back and grabbed his ass, pulling him in.
“Deeper. I can take it.”
He gave it. Hips snapping. Balls against her. The wet was louder on her side, dripping off the table edge onto the tile in slow ticks she could hear between thrusts. Cal’s breath was hot on her shoulder. He mouthed the place on her collarbone he’d marked last night and sucked it darker.
“You’re going to look like you got fucked when you walk out of here,” he muttered.
“Good. I did.”
He pulled out again, hauled her to sit on the edge, and stepped between her thighs.
Elena locked her ankles behind his back. He shoved in standing, her ass half off the table, and the new depth punched a sound out of her she didn’t try to swallow. Face to face. His mouth wet. Hers wetter. She could taste herself on him from the stirrups and the salt of her own spit from earlier.
Cal fucked her in short, grinding strokes. The table bumped the wall. A jar of swabs tipped and didn’t fall. Elena’s clit rubbed his pelvis every time he bottomed out. She was close again, the good kind, the kind that made her thighs shake and her cunt go sloppy around him.
“Cum,” he said. “I want to feel it before I pull out.”
She did.
Hard. A full-body clench that made her forehead drop to his. Her pussy seized on his cock and spilled more slick down his shaft onto the floor. Elena shook and kept her ankles locked so he couldn’t go anywhere.
Cal’s control finally cracked.
He pulled out with a wet sound, fisted himself twice, and came across her tits and belly.
Hot stripes. Thick. One hit her nipple and ran. Another painted the soft skin under her navel. He stroked out the last of it onto her stomach, breathing like he’d run, cock still dark and twitching in his hand.
Elena looked down at the mess.
Then she reached between them, grabbed him, and guided the head back to her hole.
“In. Finish the rest inside.”
Cal’s eyes flicked to hers. He pushed back into her used, dripping cunt and gave three deep, slow thrusts. She felt the last weak pulses, the leftover heat, the way his cum from her skin smeared between their stomachs as he ground in and stayed.
They stayed like that.
His cock softening a little, not much. Her heels in the small of his back. His cum cooling on her tits in the bright exam light.
Footsteps in the hall.
Not a rattle this time. Two people. Talking low about a transfer that wasn’t theirs. The voices passed the door, paused like someone had glanced at the occupied light, then kept going.
Elena and Cal froze with him still inside her.
Then Elena smiled. Small. Mean. Tired.
Cal’s mouth twitched against her temple.
The footsteps faded toward the station.
He eased out. Cum and slick followed, a filthy mix that ran down the table paper. Elena sat there painted and leaking and did not cover herself until the hall was quiet again.
Cal found the wipes in the second drawer like he’d worked this room a hundred times.
He cleaned her tits first. Then her belly.
Then between her legs, gentler than the closet, which somehow felt more intimate than the fucking.
Elena watched his hands. Steady. Professional.
The same hands that had just come on her and then pushed back in.
She dressed without looking in the little wall mirror.
Badge straightened. Hair shoved into a knot that would pass. Underwear over a cunt that was a mess again.
At the door she put her palm on the deadbolt and didn’t turn it yet.
“Same lot,” she said.
Cal was tucking his shirt in. He nodded.
Elena unlocked Exam 3 and stepped into the empty corridor smelling like antiseptic and sex, his cum still a faint tacky film she hadn’t fully wiped off her stomach.
The occupied light clicked off behind her.
Dawn in the garage was the color of old ice.
Elena took the stairs again. Her legs felt used in a way charting never caused.
Deep ache. The tender rawness between her thighs when the seam of her underwear dragged.
She had wiped what she could in Exam 3 and still caught the smell of him when she moved too fast: skin, sex, the cheap soap that never quite covered it.
Cal’s truck was two rows over. Engine off. He was leaning on the closed door with his bag at his feet like he’d gotten there first on purpose.
They didn’t hug. They didn’t kiss. The garage cameras were old and nobody watched them, but habit was a kind of uniform and they both still had it on.
Elena stopped an arm’s length away. The concrete smelled like oil and cold. Somewhere a day-shift car door slammed and a laugh bounced off the pillars, too bright for the hour.
“Transfer went to four,” she said.
“I saw.”
“Exam 3’s going to get wiped down in twenty minutes.”
“They’ll smell the wipes. Not us.”
Elena almost smiled. It didn’t make it to her mouth.
She could still feel the ghost of him. The stretch. The heat of his cum on her stomach under the scrub top she’d pulled down careful so nothing showed at the neckline. The darker mark on her collarbone sat just under the chain. If anyone asked she would say the necklace rubbed.
Nobody would ask.
Cal looked at her mouth the way he had at the start of the first night. Less careful now. He knew the shape of it around his cock. She knew the sound he made when he finally let go.
“Tomorrow,” Elena said.
Not a question.
“Night shift.”
“Same room if it’s empty. If it isn’t, closet. I’m not doing the on-call cot again. The springs are loud.”
Cal’s mouth moved.
“I’ll last longer.”
“You already last. That’s not the problem.”
“What is.”
Elena unlocked her car. The beep cracked the quiet.
“Nothing,” she said. “That’s the problem. We do the job. We lock a door. You fuck me until I can’t chart straight and then we walk out like the ice machine is the most interesting thing on the floor.”
He didn’t argue. He didn’t dress it up.
“Next night,” he said. “I’ll already be hard.”
“Good.”
Elena opened the door. The seat was cold.
She sat and the ache between her legs lit up, a reminder she hadn’t asked for and wasn’t going to refuse.
Cal stayed where he was, hands in his jacket, watching her like the next twelve hours of daylight were just the part they had to get through to get back to a locked room.
She started the engine.
He picked up his bag.
They left the garage in different directions, two 28 year olds with the same shift burned into their bodies, no promises in the air except the one that didn’t need saying.
The hospital behind them kept humming.
Tomorrow the halls would be empty again after midnight. Exam 3 would be dark. And Elena already knew how the deadbolt would sound when she turned it.
Dripping. Dirty. Next.