Post-Section Ecstasy

The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the recent events that had turned my world upside down. Just days ago, I’d endured a grueling C-section, a brutal extraction that left me weak, vulnerable, and desperately craving release. The pain in my abdomen throbbed with every movement, a constant, agonizing pressure, yet beneath the discomfort, a fierce, primal heat burned within me. The arrival of our son, little Leo, had brought a surge of love and joy, but it had also ignited an insatiable hunger, a desperate need to lose myself in the sensations of pleasure.

Woody, my husband, was a man of immense strength and passion, a primal force that both terrified and thrilled me. We'd always been adept at finding ways to connect, to satisfy each other's deepest desires, but now, with my body weakened and restricted, the challenge felt amplified, the stakes higher. I couldn’t simply succumb to my urges; I needed a plan, a strategy that would allow me to indulge in my lust while respecting my physical limitations.

As soon as the nurses cleared the room, leaving me alone with the echoes of their voices and the lingering scent of disinfectant, I acted swiftly. Stripping off my hospital gown with feverish haste, I plunged into the lukewarm water of the shower, the shock of the temperature a welcome distraction from the throbbing pain in my core. The hot water cascaded over my naked skin, soothing the muscles that had been strained beyond their limits. It was a perverse kind of comfort, a momentary escape from the reality of my recovery. I leaned back against the tiled wall, letting the water work its magic, anticipating the inevitable return of Woody.

He was a man who understood my desires, who had always been attuned to my needs. We’d discussed the possibility of exploring alternative forms of intimacy during my recovery, and the idea of a shower session had been a shared fantasy, a whispered secret that now felt tantalizingly close to fruition. The anticipation built within me, a delicious torment that fueled my lust. Every tick of the clock, every distant cough from the hallway, heightened the tension, making my breath catch in my throat.

Finally, he appeared, his presence filling the small room with an intoxicating blend of masculine energy and raw desire. He stripped quickly, his movements efficient and deliberate, mirroring my own frantic energy. There was a knowing glint in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the mutual attraction that had always simmered beneath the surface of our relationship.

“How do you want me to go down on you?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, laced with a desperate plea.

“I don’t know, sweetness,” he replied, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down my spine. “You got any ideas?”

The question hung in the air, pregnant with possibility. It was a challenge, an invitation to explore the boundaries of our shared desires. Without hesitation, I responded, “How about you sit down on the shower bench, and I’ll suck you dry?”

The thought of it, the sheer abandon of it, sent a surge of adrenaline through my veins. I moved quickly, approaching him with a predatory grace, my hands tracing the contours of his chest, my fingers lingering on his nipples. As he obeyed my command, settling onto the cool, smooth surface of the shower bench, I lowered myself onto his lap, my hips arching slightly, ready to unleash my pent-up energy.

I began slowly, teasing him with gentle nibbles, my tongue exploring the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. The anticipation built, the heat intensifying with each passing moment. Then, with a sudden burst of passion, I plunged my mouth into his flesh, my lips wrapping tightly around his shaft. The sensation was overwhelming, a primal connection that bypassed all rational thought.

I began to suck, deeply and rhythmically, pulling at his muscles, feeling the blood rush to his head. The pressure mounted, intensifying the pleasure, drawing out a moan from his lips. It was an intense, demanding rhythm, one that demanded my full attention and control. As he writhed in my grasp, a wave of euphoria washed over me, erasing the pain and fatigue of the past few days.

As I continued my assault, he lost all control, his body convulsing with pleasure. I noticed a bead of sweat trickling down his temple, clinging to his eyelashes. My hand moved to stroke his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the connection between us. The shower walls seemed to close in around us, trapping us in a world of pure sensation.

“More,” he gasped, his voice strained. “Please, more.”

I obliged, increasing the speed and intensity of my movements, pushing him to the brink of ecstasy. My fingers danced over his body, exploring every inch of his sensitive flesh, finding new points of pleasure with each passing moment. The water swirled around us, a silent witness to our shared lust. The air crackled with electricity, a tangible manifestation of the raw energy that pulsed between us.

At one point, I paused, tilting my head back and letting out a primal scream, a release of all the pent-up tension and frustration that had accumulated over the past few days. He responded in kind, letting out a guttural groan that echoed through the small room. The intensity of our connection was palpable, an undeniable force that bound us together in a moment of pure bliss.

As I continued my assault, I realized that I was no longer just seeking physical pleasure; I was craving intimacy, a connection that went beyond the purely physical. I wanted to feel his warmth, his breath on my skin, the solid weight of his body against mine. It was a desire that transcended the limitations of my weakened state, a testament to the enduring power of our love.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I slowed down, easing my grip on his flesh. He let out a long, contented sigh, his body relaxing against the shower bench. The adrenaline began to subside, replaced by a gentle wave of tranquility.

“That was… incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with pleasure.

“You too,” I replied, my heart pounding in my chest.

As I stepped away, he reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. His touch was electric, sending shivers down my spine.

“Let’s do it again,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.

Without hesitation, I nodded, eager to lose myself once more in the intoxicating embrace of our shared desire. We repeated the ritual, each time pushing the boundaries of our pleasure, exploring new depths of intimacy. Before long, I found myself giving him three more blowjobs in that shower, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of our shared lust.

When one of the nurses finally came to check on me, she found us both dripping wet, our bodies exhausted but satisfied. She eyed us with amusement, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Seems like you two found a way to spice things up,” she said, winking.

The realization that we had been caught hung in the air, a playful transgression that added a layer of excitement to our shared experience. It was a naughty indulgence, a secret pleasure that we had discovered in the confines of our hospital room.

As my stay drew to a close, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of longing for the freedom of our shared fantasies. Six weeks of recovery felt like an eternity, but I knew that the time would pass quickly. I couldn't wait to share another story with Woody, to once again lose myself in the intoxicating pleasure of his touch. The thought alone was enough to send a shiver down my spine, a reminder of the enduring power of our love and lust. The world outside the sterile walls of the hospital seemed distant and muted, yet within our shared space, we had found a sanctuary where desire reigned supreme. And as I prepared to leave, I knew that I would carry the memory of that shower session with me always, a potent reminder of the enduring passion that burned between us.

Did you like this story? Post-Section Ecstasy look, but like these, here Story taboo sex.