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The Reluctant Savior. Krystan
Читать онлайн.Название The Reluctant Savior
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781646542048
Автор произведения Krystan
Жанр Религия: прочее
Издательство Ingram
Gabriel moaned as he, too, struggled with the urge to come. He knew he couldn’t hold out much longer, and was thankful as Carmella pushed him back on the couch, mounted his supine body, and quickly plunged his cock deeply into her now-dripping-wet pussy. Her hips thrust rhythmically as she drove them down hard onto his engorged cock, intuitively determined to push it as deeply into her own body as possible. By now, nature had taken over completely, with the two partners completely immersed in a sea of passion that had engulfed them both. Frequency and intensity escalated to a feverish pitch as they both yielded to the explosive energy that now demanded an immediate release.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” moaned Gabriel as Carmella drove his manhood into the deepest recesses of her body.
“Yes, yes!” she replied in total synchrony with the undulation of her hips. “Give it to me!” she implored as Gabriel’s body pulsed his milky white sperm into her vagina. “Gimme that baby!” she repeated with one final powerful thrust before she collapsed on his chest, both of them literally gasping for air.
“Oh my god,” Gabriel groaned as the intensity of the moment now seemed to have momentarily drained him of his very life essence. “That was amazing!” he whispered as Carmella cradled his head between her breasts. “Completely amazing…” he repeated weakly, as he bordered on losing consciousness altogether.
As Gabriel faded into blissful oblivion, Carmella seemed to experience just the opposite sensation. She felt totally energized—alive, vital, almost as if she were fulfilling a grand purpose that the universe had written into her destiny. Almost immediately, she rolled off the couch and onto her back on the floor below. She raised her legs up to the couch and over Gabriel’s seemingly lifeless body, determined to give his little white warriors full access to the treasures hidden deep within her body. She remembered reading somewhere that this move would increase the likelihood of his sperm reaching her egg, and true or not, she thrust her legs into the air to allow gravity to provide as much assistance as possible.
“Whatever are you doing, Carmella?” Gabriel questioned, slowly returning to his senses from what had been a most incredible, though momentary, reverie into uncharted territory for him. He still felt exhausted, but at least was oriented to time and place once again.
“Mr. Gabe, I’s just makin’ sure yo’ sperm is gettin’ as far up in me as it can. I jist kno’ that this is the right time for that baby o’ yours, an’ I’m doin’ my best to make it happen like you want. Yes, sir, Mr. Gabe, Carmella done gave you the best o’ what she had! Cain’t do no betta’…no sirree!”
“I don’t think it’s humanly possible to do any better, Carmella,” Gabriel replied with a sigh, now feeling a bit sad that this would probably be the very last time the two of them would share such an amazingly intimate moment together. “It was beautiful…you are beautiful,” he smiled, deeply grateful to this young lady for her sacrifice in his behalf. “If this doesn’t work, we’re out of time now,” he lamented.
“Don’t you worry none ’bout that, Mr. Gabe. Carmella ain’t gonna let you worry no mo.’ No sirree! Yo’ son’s in here right now,” she smiled, rubbing her belly while she lay there on the floor. “You’ll see, Mr. Gabe, you’ll see…”
chapter 8
Two Pigs and a Pen
Portland, Oregon
September 2002
Virginia Morrison felt more than a little uneasy. It was her next-to-last semester at OHSU nursing school, but her first exposure to the world of psychiatric disorders. She had heard horror stories from some of her other classmates about what went on behind the locked double doors looming ominously in front of her, and she wondered just what percentage of them were actually true. Even one would be more than enough, she told herself nervously, wiping the perspiration from her hand as she reached for the intercom to be buzzed in.
“Ms. Morrison!” The sound of her instructor, Kathryn Walker, a few steps behind, stopped her arm in midair. “Wait just a second and we’ll all go in together. There’s always a risk when the doors are opened, so they ask us to come in as a group, rather than one or two at a time. Aren’t you a bit anxious?” she queried as Gin quickly lowered her arm.
“Well, yes ma’am,” she replied, her voice reflecting a good bit of uncertainty. “I knew you all were just behind me, so I thought I might as well let them know we’re here.”
“And that’s certainly fine,” Ms. Walker added reassuringly. “It might be better to let me handle the request for entry this time, though, since it is our first visit, and you students are all new around here. I’m really the one they’re used to dealing with. Is that ok with you, sweetie?”
“Certainly, Ms. Walker. Didn’t mean to be presumptuous. Go right ahead.” Gin winced, imperceptibly she hoped, at the thought of being called “sweetie.” Anyone growing up with Virginia Sue Morrison would never have used the word “sweetie” to describe her. The flaming red-headed daughter of Frank and Mary Morrison would hardly ever have qualified for so gentle an epithet. Her three sisters would have more likely deemed her hellcat than sweetie, but then again, they lived with her, and knew all too well her rather tart wit and piercing temper. Reaching her twenty-first birthday had brought a welcome diminution of the latter, but hardly to the point of “sweetie.” Gin’s hallmark keen mind and highly perceptive nature continued on unabated, however, making her a rather remarkable student, and certainly a leader among her classmates.
Kathryn Walker was no newcomer to the game either. At forty-two years of age, and with over twenty years as a registered nurse, she was a strong asset to the OHSU nursing program. With her doctorate in nursing practice, she was well equipped, experientially and educationally, to turn out new graduates who could think on the fly and adapt quickly to the ever-changing demands of clinical nursing. Kathryn was proud to be a nurse, and endeavored to create in her students an appreciation of the vast treasure house of knowledge and skills associated with the title RN. She was a true gentle Southern woman, however, and prone to such pet names as “honey,” “sweetie,” “sugah,” “darlin’,” and on the rare occasion, when more reassurance was needed, even “sugah dumplin.’” (In the Deep South, the r’s and g’s were just too guttural and consequently, abandoned.) Gin was no exception to that rule, and today’s title was just a cultural remnant, never intended to be anything more.
As she pressed the intercom button, Kathryn wondered for a moment how her eight students would adapt to the locked environment they were about to enter. Inside, there were no more “norms” for behavior, no expectations, and certainly a total lack of predictability. Many equated this with a lack of stability as well, but to Kathryn, there was an odd sort of homeostasis about the unit. Admittedly, there were certainly flare-ups and many highly atypical behaviors, but they really didn’t surprise her much anymore. After eight years of bringing students here for their psych rotations, she had pretty much seen it all, or at least so she thought. And really, Kathryn sort of enjoyed the lack of convention and the unrestrained spontaneity she often encountered there. Here, there were no filters, no charades, no “appropriate” choices, no cover-ups—just raw, unrestrained emotions coupled with a conspicuous absence of normal controls. The unpredictability she found fascinating juxtaposed within her very orderly, sometimes too rational universe. Kathryn herself thrived on variety, and enjoyed exposing her students to worlds they had not encountered before, just to see how they would respond. Inevitably, those with the most flexibility, open-mindedness, and adaptability went on to become the most highly regarded professionals in their chosen