He tasted great. Not a hint of chalkiness to be found.
Cure grunted and moaned, which only made Dr Kelly take him deeper.
Deeper. Deeper still.
Deepest.
She threw back her head and grinned, a glob of spit connecting her mouth to the tip of his cock like a chunk of Spiderman’s web. This was what she had craved.
Without warning, Cure lifted her up and tore away her doctor's uniform in one swipe of his big, bulky hand. Her breasts were unleashed, shining in the crimson sun. Her body was perfect.
Cure twisted her in his grip, spinning her right around so that she was upside-down, her tremendous hair brushing the tiled floor. She took his massive dick again as it whipped around like one of those inflatable men you see outside car showrooms.
And then, Cure began to feast on her vagina.
He slurped and slopped and gulped and hummed.
It was like he was a criminal on death row, and her vagina was his final meal.
Drool, mixed with the excitable juices from her fanny, oozed out onto the floor.
‘Is that a hotdog?’ asked Cure.
Dr Kelly wheezed. She’d forgotten all about the hotdog!
‘I’m so sorry!’ she mumbled with a mouthful of cock.
‘No,’ said Cure slowly. ‘I like it.’
And then, in what was the most erotically charged moment of Dr Kelly’s life, Cure lapped the still-warm hotdog right out of her vagina.
‘Mm,’ he grunted.
It had only just begun, and yet it was the greatest sex Dr Kelly had ever experienced.
But it was about to get a whole lot better.
The floor rumbled. A terrible, frightening rumble, like the entire world was about to split in two.
The lights flickered, there were petrified screams from out in the corridor.
Then a deep, guttural roar.
What was that?
Cure dropped Dr Kelly to the bed. His eyes were no longer on her; they were focused on the door, which rattled so much it looked as though it may fall away from its hinges at any moment.
‘What’s happening?’ asked Dr Kelly.
‘Him’, said Cure sombrely.
‘Him who?’
Suddenly the door burst open, and a bulky, chonky, thicc boi with a chiseled jaw, incredible bulges and a dick that measured up to Cure’s strode into the room. There were little spikes protruding from his body, which wiggled like trees swaying in the breeze.
‘Him,’ said Cure.
Dr Kelly instantly knew.
She’d heard the rumours. She’d seen the fan art. The slash fic. The memes.
But, until now, she had no idea it was all true.
Standing in the doorway, his cock inflating like he had just seen his prey, was Covid.
The Covid.
The two giant, perfect specimens of men, glared at one another.
One green, one blue.
One good, one evil.
Both incredibly sexy.
‘She is mine,’ said Cure.
‘No,’ said Covid, his voice deep and gravelly. ‘I will fuck her.’
‘You will have to go through me first,’ said Cure.
Dr Kelly’s heart beat so rigorously against the inside of her chest it reminded her of the time she was fucked from behind by Mike Makindo, the butcher from Peanut Butter Lane. Sadly, not long after that, Mike died from Covid.
Was she about to witness two men fight over her? Then, when they were done and one was crowned the victor, would she get to be sexually serviced by the champion?
They both grunted.
They stamped their feet.
They flexed their muscles.
Then they charged.
But what happened next shocked Dr Kelly to her very core. The two men didn’t start pummelling one another into oblivion. They didn’t scratch or tear or punch.
Instead, they kissed.
Slowly, their tongues sloshed together making slopping sounds, like how a cat sounds when it eats its dinner. They both growled in ecstasy, gulping down each other's tongues like they were ravenous wolves.
Animalistic.
Passionate.
Nice.
Cure’s hand crept down Covid’s rippling chest, caressing the enormous muscles, until he stopped on his big fat willy. He stroked it like it was a guinea pig, squeaking in pleasure as it erected.
‘What the hell is this?’ demanded Dr Kelly.
Her tits warbled as she stomped over to the two giants among men. Her pussy was wet, ready to be jabbed with a meaty member, and yet the only two members in the room were only interested in each other.
Or were they?
Without warning, Covid turned to Dr Kelly, and in one sweeping movement he took her in his arms and brought her up to his face, burying his face between her breasts like they were Grandma’s raspberry trifle.
Dr Kelly whewed. A finger had found its way into her clunge—a finger far meatier than any hotdog.
But it wasn’t Covid’s finger… it was Cure’s.
Dr Kelly was tossed to the bed, her pussy gushing passion sauce as the two men turned their attention from each other to her. Her heart raced as they approached, a look in both of their eyes that could either be lust for her, or lust for blood.
Or both.
Cure leapt onto the bed and plopped his cock into her gob, thrusting in and out so the tip of his cock practically nuzzled against her breakfast. Meanwhile, Covid had sex with her in the vagina.
It was incredible. Her body ached from pleasure, and she shuddered. She actually shuddered.
Cure bent down and began lapping at Covid’s tongue, the two powerful, moist muscles combating one another like expert swordsmen. As his dick punctured her esophagus, Cure began suckling at one of Covid’s protein spikes. Covid moaned, but Dr Kelly couldn’t tell if it was through pleasure or pain.
A moment later, she had her answer.
Covid bust thick, creamy man-syrup inside Dr Kelly’s private palace, his dick barely able to stay straight under the immense pressure.
Then, like he had been holding it in until that exact moment, Cure coated the inside of Dr Kelly’s throat with enough cum to wallpaper the entire community centre.
And it tasted like pure happiness.
Not wanting to feel left out, Dr Kelly joined them by ejaculating all over the place as well. Things got very messy, very quickly.
She couldn’t quite come to terms with what had just happened. Not fifteen minutes ago, Dr Kelly had been a normal, run-of-the-mill, just-your-everyday orthodontist-turned-vaccinator. She’d never done anything like this before—and with a patient no less. She’d just had the very best sex of her life, both with the vaccine AND the disease.
They had both pumped her full of their juices, and now they all lay there, quiet and still. They had done everything they could to her. Now it was time for them to rest.
And the three of them laid there, in silence, listening to the sound of each other's breathing.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
There was no out. But from who?
Dr Kelly stood. Did it matter?
She looked at the two men on the bed before her. She turned. She smiled.
She felt good.
About the author
M.J. Edwards has fallen lovingly into the role of titillation expert, thanks to the response given to her debut book, Kissing the Coronavirus. She now is a part-time writer and part-time keyboardist in her local church band.
Due to her husband’s infidelity, M.J. Edwards currently finds herself single and living with her grown son, Richard, who is only partly supportive of her latest career choice.
Follow her on Twitter at @MJEdwardsAuthor
Kissing the Coronavirus 2: The Second Wave (Kissing the Coronavirus Chronicles) Page 2
