"Whatchu looking at?" Josh asked, even as his rampant cock reared up its blunt hammer towards the ceiling, sweet vestigial cum still drooling from the piss-slit. I realized then that I had been staring, but could you blame me when there not a few feet away was a thick hog of a cock waiting to be serviced, with me lying there still lightly panting and sweating, my asshole trying but failing spectacularly to hold semen in, just minutes from the awesome sex we just had?
"I'm looking at you, of course," I answered, with my tongue in my cheek. I could see his cock twitch as I moved my tongue against the flesh of my cheek, as if sucking a large lollipop, or more preferably a large cock. "I'm looking at how handsome you are, and how big your cock is, and how lucky I am to be having you between my thighs. Regularly." He smiled at that, and his chest pecs puffed out slightly. Fuck. He really was a handsome son-of-a-bitch.
We weren't looking for this entanglement. We never did. I was a nurse in the neurology unit, specializing in stroke aftercare. Josh was the husband of one of our patients, a brilliant crime novelist who had a paraplegic stroke while driving cross-country to one of her book tour stops. Luckily she survived the ensuing accident with minimal injuries, but the paraplegia remained a hindrance. She was a strong woman and adhered to her physiotherapy religiously, but day-to-day life had to be adjusted towards her new predicament. And I was the one who had that duty.
Being a man in the stroke unit had its advantages. The sheer physical strength needed to help lift and carry patients was a godsend every time. But the job was mainly routine, thus could be boring, and made for dull dinner conversations. As it were I had next to no love life, and my personal time were devoted to gym and little else. I loved my job, but even I knew I wouldn't be receiving any awards any day soon. That was probably why when chance presented itself I chose to fuck my patient's husband. A mental reward, so to say.
I had the pleasure of meeting Josh right after Melanie was discharged from the rehab ward. I was far from a shy person, but standing in front of this tall Asian snack got me tongue-tied. I never thought serious bookish Melanie would be married to someone simultaneously so handsome and so dignified, with his thick black hair, broad shoulders, sculpted arms that must had seen the outside often as opposed to the gym like mine were. All right, I admit readily I went into this with a little crush on Mr. Josh Montgomery, more than a little to be frank.
Three months into our post-stroke care Melanie had a little accident, a toilet-related event that was easily preventable. But that event triggered a nervous breakdown that eventually required overnight hospitalization and psychiatric intervention. I was just signing off her details to the ambulance staff when I noticed Josh, who was standing near the door, had well, urine and shit all over his shirt. I indicated those to him and he shrugged as he undid his shirt and exposed his chest right there on the doorstep. I gawked at his well-formed body, his toned chest and wide masculine shoulders. Melanie was a happy wife, I presumed.
Later that evening after I cleaned the toilet and the showers I caught myself at the shower door listening in as Josh masturbated, his hand racing up and down his large cock - Melanie was indeed a very happy wife. His pants and his groans as he raced towards his orgasm was so hot to hear, so illicit, so forbidden, and I found my hand racing up and down my erection outside the door. Eventually he let out a quiet groan that echoed in the shower room, signifying his release. I saw his hot-white cum running down the shower wall before being washed away by the water with my mind's eye, and imagined running my tongue along the flow, and that thought triggered my own orgasm.
At dinner things were genial, even as my imagination ran wild whenever Josh extended his left hand, the hand that he had used to pleasure himself so well. I wondered if he kept on his wedding ring while he was masturbating. Probably not, the skin would chafe under the metal frisson. He noticed that I was not myself, and extended a finger to wipe the juice that dripped from the side of my mouth. Automatically I caught his finger like a fish catching the bait, and sucked gently at the pulp of his finger, the slight salt of skin burning my tongue, and eliciting a groan from his lips. I surprised even myself when I extended my foot towards where I imagine his crotch would be, and was thrilled to find he was fast in erection.
We left dinner lying half-eaten on the table and rushed to the bedroom, jumping like impatient children because we had our pants half-undone. When Josh reached the door, he turned and reached back and gave me a soul-searing kiss, while his other hand reached behind me and grasped at my ass. He stood there at the threshold, his cock in his ringed hand, his delectable pecs at full display, playing blatantly with his nipples.
