Divine Intervention: A Doctor's Delight

The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the day’s events. My husband, Mark, had undergone a vasectomy, a procedure that had left him sidelined with an ice pack plastered over his lower abdomen. It was a strange twist of fate, really, that we’d become pregnant just weeks later, a divine intervention as the doctor had put it. I felt a surge of joy mixed with a touch of disbelief, a new life blossoming amidst the aftermath of his minor surgery. But as the weeks wore on, I found myself yearning for something more, something primal and immediate. Mark, exhausted from recovery and the constant worry over our new arrival, seemed equally restless. It was during one of those restless nights, fueled by hormones and a desperate need for connection, that the idea struck me. The doctor’s office, a place of sterile white walls and hushed conversations, became the perfect setting for a secret rendezvous.

I chose a deceptively innocent outfit for the occasion: a crimson, short skirt that barely skimmed my thighs and a silky blouse with a plunging neckline. My heels clicked rhythmically against the pavement as I made my way to the parking lot, the cool night air doing little to quell the heat building within me. Mark was already waiting, his face pale and weary, the ice pack still clinging to his lower body. A passionate kiss ignited our reunion, a desperate plea for release in a world suddenly overflowing with responsibility. We held hands as we entered the building, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow on our faces.

The waiting room was filled with the quiet murmur of nervous patients and the scent of stale coffee. I found an empty seat and busied myself by adjusting my skirt, letting my gaze linger on Mark as he approached the examination room. The anticipation grew with each passing moment, a tangible force that tightened my muscles and quickened my breath. When the door finally opened, revealing Mark with a small, sterile container, my heart pounded in my chest.

He hurried down the hall, seeking out a private bathroom – a small, cramped space with only one toilet and a door that locked from the inside. As he secured the latch, I felt a wave of exhilaration wash over me. I had planned this moment, this act of shared pleasure, as a way to ease his pain and satisfy my own growing desires. The irony wasn't lost on me; a pregnancy test confirming our new baby, followed by a desperate need for intimacy, a twisted dance between expectation and reality.

I waited patiently in the waiting room, my senses heightened, savoring the anticipation. Then, Mark emerged, the container clutched tightly in his hand. We made sure no one was watching as we walked down the hall, the tension palpable in the air. Reaching the bathroom, he locked the door behind us, sealing our secret world within those four walls.

The silence was broken only by the rapid beat of our hearts. I leaned in, my hand reaching beneath my skirt, revealing my lack of underwear. My body trembled with anticipation as I ran my fingers across his chest, a silent invitation to indulge our desires. He responded immediately, his hand instinctively sliding down my skirt, his touch electrifying my skin.

As he approached, I began to stroke his erect member, my movements both gentle and insistent. The scent of arousal filled the small room, mingling with the antiseptic aroma of the office. My pussy, swollen with pregnancy hormones, felt incredibly sensitive, begging for attention. I let out a moan as he penetrated me, the sensation a powerful release of tension and desire. I came with a loud gasp, my body writhing with pleasure.

Mark continued his ministrations, his hand stroking my clitoris with increasing intensity. I closed my eyes, lost in the moment, surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure. As he drew closer to climax, I grabbed the container from his hand and began to manually stimulate him, my voice a low, suggestive murmur. “Cum for me, baby,” I whispered, my breath hot against his ear. “Let me see you cum! Oh, baby, I love to watch you cum!” My words were filled with lust and longing, fueling his desire and pushing him closer to release.

He took over the pumping, his body convulsing as he reached the brink of ecstasy. With a final, earth-shattering explosion, he emptied his semen into the container, the sound echoing in the small room. I licked him clean, savoring every inch of his aroused flesh. A wave of satisfaction washed over me as we collapsed onto the cool tile floor, breathless and spent.

As we made our way out of the bathroom, hand in hand, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of both pleasure and guilt. This secret rendezvous had been a temporary escape, a desperate attempt to reconnect with my husband amidst the chaos of our new life. But as I waited in the hall for Mark to turn in his sample, I knew that this wasn't a solution, just a momentary distraction. The demands of parenthood loomed large, threatening to consume our lives and leave little room for such passionate encounters. Still, in this moment, surrounded by the sterile environment of the doctor's office, I allowed myself to revel in the shared pleasure, a small act of rebellion against the responsibilities that awaited us. The audio file, available on the Ignite playlist, captured the essence of our encounter, a raw and primal expression of lust and desire.

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