I slide my fingers along his scrubs, the dusty blue ones worn by every resident, down his sides, to the drawstring waist. Tug at his ties, loosening t...em under his continued assault of my mouth. Our lips wrestle, his hard, thin, bristled, demanding. Mine push back, not simply giving. My hand slips under the scrubs, under the jockeys he has on, and wraps around his hard cock. I can feel the throb of my own straining against the front of my pants. I move my hand up his shaft, the skin like soft. As I sucked his fluid in, he began to buck wildly, shouting wordlessly from the primal pleasure and fear he felt. Orgasm, as they say, is the little death, and this was the little death mixed with the big one. The living can sometimes sense what the moment of annihilation is coming, and when I cultivate it properly, the mixture of the emotions plays into the blood and I feel it too. He came, splattering his cum over my hand and the back of the couch. Then he relaxed, and let me drink my fill. I. More

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