Twix and I arrived at the medical center well ahead of my appointment time. The halls were quiet, almost empty. We found an abandoned office nearby and slipped inside, locking the door behind us. I shed my shorts and panties as Twix shed his shorts and boxers simultaneously. We stood partially bare and breathless in the dim room.
Twix grabbed his dick. “Ready?” he asked, his voice low and rough.
I nodded, saying. “Hell yes.”
He lined up and pushed inside me forcefully. A sharp, pleasurable pain shot through me, and I nearly gasped. “God, you’re big,” I whispered.
His hips started pumping steadily, deep and relentless. “You feel so tight,” he growled.
I moaned, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Twix, don’t stop.”
As we were having sex, his hands roamed over my body, returning again and again to my breasts, squeezing and teasing my nipples as he drove deep inside me.
We both climaxed, sweat slick on our skin.
When we were done, we got dressed and walked to the lobby of the office I needed to go to. After checking in with the receptionist, I asked Twix to wait there for me while I was in the exam room.
He nodded. “I’ll be right here.”
A nurse led me to the exam room, took my vitals, and confirmed my pregnancy.
“Are you sure about the abortion?” she asked.
I met her eyes. “Yes, I am.”
She returned with an 8-ounce cup of water and a small paper cup containing the mifepristone pill.
“Take it with the water,” she said. “I need to see that you took the pill.”
I swallowed it and showed her I had done so.
“You can lie down if you want,” she said. “We’ll be back in 35 minutes to check on you. Sometimes, women feel nauseous afterward.”
Before leaving, I asked, “Could you please send Twix back when you return?”
“We will,” she promised. “Twix isn’t his real name, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. Honestly, his friends and I don’t remember his legal name. It’s at the point that his boss calls him Twix,” I explained.
A few minutes later, Twix arrived at the exam room. I stayed seated as he entered, and the nurse left and I took his dick in my mouth.
“Keep going…don’t stop,” he panted. He groaned, thrusting deeper, and murmured my name, his voice rough and urgent. He groaned again, thrusting deeper, his voice rough and urgent. He climaxed several times. When he was done, he got dressed.
Ten minutes after that, the nurse returned to the exam room with the rest of my medication, handing me a prescription bottle of Misoprostol pills labeled with my information and carefully explaining the directions.
“You take both pills within 24 hours to complete the abortion,” she said.
I asked, “When can I have sex again?”
“You can have sex any time between now and when the abortion starts,” she said. “However, you need to wait four to six days after the abortion is complete before resuming sexual activity.”
Twix and I thanked the nurse then headed to his car.
We left the office and hopped into his EV Hummer, heading to my house. We didn’t talk much during the ride, but I asked, “Will you tell your wife about us?”
He shook his head. “I won’t tell Diana.”
“I won’t either,” I said.
We arrived at my house, and Vince was waiting at the door, smiling warmly. Both he and Twix helped usher me inside. Immediately, I noticed the fake floral arrangements scattered throughout the house, a thoughtful nod to my allergy to real flowers.
“Look at these,” I said softly, gesturing to the bouquets. “You remembered.”
“Of course,” Vince replied with a smile.
“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” I said, turning to Twix. “And thank you for driving me.”
Twix gave a small grin. “Anytime. Just wanted to make sure you got to the office and back home safely.”
I nodded, feeling comforted by their presence. The day had been long and intense, but seeing both of them there made me feel grounded, safe, and supported.
Twix kissed my cheek and left.
Vince and I spent a few moments walking through the house together, Vince pointing out little touches he had arranged for me—the fake flowers, clean spaces, and reminders that he remembered my allergies and preferences. I felt a warm wave of gratitude wash over me.
No comments:
Post a Comment