As she reached me she stood on her toes and kissed me. ‘Who’s your friend Callie?’ One of the nurses asked. ‘This is. . .’ I realised that she didn’t know my name. ‘Morgan Owen.’ I said and held out my hand to the nurse. ‘I’ll just be a second, don’t you dare leave without me.’ ‘A second I can wait, after all I’ve already waited three hours so what’s another second.’ She poked her tongue at me and scurried off to return a couple of minutes later minus white coat and surgical gloves. We never did make it to dinner that night. When we got to her apartment, small but with a great view over the beach at Tamarama, she went off to take a shower leaving me to browse around her living room. I found Hot August Night and placed the CD in her player and selected Sweet Caroline. I could hear her singing along in the bathroom. ‘What made you play just that track?’ she asked as she emerged towelling her hair. ‘It was playing on my car radio as I drove back to the station last night and it seemed. One thrust after the other as my body aligned with hers. One thrust with my fingers was replaced with my thick hard shaft on the next thrust. Deep and hot was my commanding push. She screamed out as she found climax, “Fuck me, damn you fuck me hard!” I did as I was told as I lifted her knees to my ribs and pounded deeply into her sheath as her hips flailed to meet my every thrust. Her orgasm full, her need absolute, I fucked her as hard as my body could do, as deep as my lengthy prong would reach. She screamed out my name as her body convulsed and then fell still, numb to anything but reverie of the peaks she had found without end. My need was almost as quickly found as one thrust after the other took me to her deepest recess, the head punching at the inner wall of her womb with each entry. I grunted and could do no more as my sack tightened to a knot prepared to release my hot sticky seed into her yet again. My cock swelled as I restrained my release, she knew I was close and thrust.
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