The Young Father

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As his wife was being wheeled into surgery he was having his thick cock inside my wet drooling mouth, his flared mushroom head vibrating against my oral cavity, close to a toe-curling orgasm. His thighs were spread wide, giving me ample space to work my magic. "Fuck, your teeth," he murmured, even as he gave a deep thrust inside my mouth. It was simply because he was too big not to scrape lightly on my teeth every time he slid inside.

He was not looking for this. I was not looking for this. I was one of the midlevel residents at the ObGyn down here in the city's biggest hospital, and he was one of hundreds of prospective fathers at the department. What made him special, then? Well nothing really, except perhaps the fact that he and his wife were first-timers at this game. His wife had some complications and the heart of the baby was going erratic at times, consequently she was put on watch by our specialists. And I was one of the residents who had the responsibility of reporting the heart tracing for the morning rounds.

He was sitting beside his wife, who was maintaining a cheerful disposition despite her predicament. They were simple folk, young, from one of the farms to the north of the city. Their parents were coming - they themselves had come by the last bus after the lady broke her water. He was tall, brown-haired with a day's beard on his face, and was watching me examine his wife with strange eyes. I thought, Oh one of those people, who couldn't stand even a doctor touching his wife. I dismissed his stares and proceeded to read the morning tracing of the baby's heart. Damn, that was not reassuring.

I called the specialist on-call and discussed the case. He agreed with me that the next course of action was surgery, to save at least the mother. I counselled the lady of the situation, called the interns and let them prepare the patient for the operation. I watched from the sideways as the husband stood and kissed his wife on the forehead, rubbing his eyes. Tired, or crying? 

He caught me unaware later at the café catching a breakfast. He said they were waiting for the operation theatre to call his wife, that his wife had insisted he go eat. He confided that he felt guilty as hell for all his wife and his baby's problems, that he hadn't prayed enough, as it were. I didn't know what came over me the talk of prayer ticked me off and as we walked back to the ward I pulled him to one of the night on-call rooms that dotted the hallway. 

"Prayer, huh. Let me tell you mister, prayer does nothing in this world. It's hands that make it happen, hands like mine," I tugged at his belt and pulled his pants down, releasing to my surprise a veritable monster cock. I felt the saliva pool in my mouth as I kneel before this young father-to-be and slid that thick shaft past my lips, earning myself a moan from the man.

"Fuck, so long," he murmured softly even as he thrusted gently into my mouth. Of course they were one of those that God forbid had sex while the wife was heavily pregnant. I smiled at my luck, gave a small lick across his piss slit, and swallowed the cock whole. I spent fifteen minutes on my knees, even received the call announcing that his wife was being called to the OT, all while sucking her husband's delicious cock. Then he asked me my favorite question. "Can I fuck you?"

Much later, I watched from the sideways as he held his baby, who for all the hullabaloo had cried lustily as he came out to this wretched world, signifying good health. His wife looked on tiredly, the drips for the pain and hydration still running. He looked up, saw me and smiled widely. I felt a warmth and my ass twitched, where thousands more of his babies percolate deep in my darkness.