Kissing My Dad's Friend

“Again,” he says, his voice low and commanding, almost a growl.

I open my mouth to protest that I can’t come again so quickly, I never have before. But to my surprise, I can already feel the second orgasm building, especially with the way Russ pushes my ass down and angles his hips higher, his cock dragging along my front walls with every stroke, the tip of his cock running right across my G-spot every time he thrusts into me.

Before long, the pressure starts to build behind my belly all over again, and I’m gasping for breath, arching right back up toward the peak again. This time I forget to be quiet. I come with a loud cry that echoes through the stairwell, my whole face and body flushing the second it happens, but it’s too late to go back now.

For his part, it barely even seems to faze Russ. He just tightens his grip on my hips, keeps fucking me right through the orgasm, not even slowing down when my pussy clenches and convulses around him from the force of it. “I’m going to come, Maggie. You tell me where you want it.” I can feel his body going tense, and hear the tightness in his throat, his voice, as he battles to control himself for a few more seconds.

“In me,” I gasp. “Come inside me.”

I say it just in time. He obeys, and I feel the hot rush of his cum as he finishes deep inside me, his hands tight around my hips as his cock jumps inside me. I reach back to grasp his hands, but he’s already pulling out of me, spinning me around. I gasp again at the sensation of our mingled juices spilling over, down my inner thighs, tracing along my legs. It feels white hot, and so fucking dirty.

But Russ has more presence of mind than I do. He’s already kneeling at my feet. He leans in to kiss my pussy, just once, his mouth hot and hard enough to make me shudder all over from the pleasant sensation. Then he yanks my panties and my scrubs back up into place, and winks up at me from kneeling at my feet.

“That was fucking incredible,” I whisper.

“You are fucking incredible,” he counters, rising to kiss me softly on the mouth. He draws back just as the stairwell door nearest us opens, and one of the nurses sticks her head in, one I don’t recognize, from the surgery wing. She recognizes Russ, though, as is clear from the way her gaze darts from him to me and back again. Russ looks every inch composed, already standing a few feet away from me, smiling placidly.

I, on the other hand, feel like I probably look like I just… well, got fucked senseless. I can feel the flush in my cheeks, and I know my scrubs are wrinkled, my hair mussed. Still, I plaster on a belated smile.

“Everything okay in here?” she asks. “I heard a shout.”

“I just dropped my phone,” I lie quickly, still breathless, my lungs heaving in protest as I resist the urge to gasp for breath. “Um, Russ was helping me fix it.”

“Oh, bad luck.” The nurse frowns. Is it my imagination, or is she looking at me funny? Second guessing my makeshift cover story? “Hope it’s not broken.”

“It’s all good, Stacy,” Russ replies, with the kind of broad, easygoing smile that it’s impossible to argue with.

“Okay, well.” She’s about to let the door swing closed, before she squints at it, confusion written across her brow. “I could have sworn these stairwells were alarmed, you know…” With that, she lets the door shut, and we’re both plunged back into semidarkness.

Only then do I break into breathless laughter, doubling over and Russ watching with amusement. “That… was too close.” When I straighten again, he leans in to kiss me once more, his mouth soft and slow against mine this time, a gentler kiss than before.

“Worth the risk,” he murmurs, his gaze serious, fixed on mine. Then he offers one more wink, and checks his watch. “I’ve got surgery. I’ll see you soon, Maggie.” With that, he turns to go, and leaves me alone in the stairwell, my heart still racing, every nerve ending in my body on fire with adrenaline, desire, victory.

“Holy fuck,” I murmur to myself in the now empty stairwell. “Did that really just happen?” I am so fucking screwed. But hopefully Russ was right. Hopefully it was worth the risk.

4

The next day, I’ve made up my mind. I spent most of the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep. All I kept picturing was Russ in the stairwell. Russ, bending me over that railing to fuck me. Russ, pinning me against the wall, his voice low and commanding.

God, I want him to fuck me again. And not just to get back at my dad, even if that is why I started to flirt with him in the first place. By now, that’s just a distant memory in my head. I want Russ, I want his hands all over me, I want him to show me how he made me have two orgasms in a row, I want him to teach me everything he knows about making my body feel incredible.