Dr.'s Orders 2: Dilation

The hospital smells like antiseptic and bad decisions. Josh Tager, the orderly no one watches, ducks into an empty corner of the mental ward. He needs this. His 10-inch cock strains against his scrubs, heavy and ready. He yanks them down, wraps both hands around the thick shaft, and starts stroking with the kind of focus that says he’s done this before. Josh isn’t shy. He lifts the fat head to his own mouth and sucks the tip in, tongue working slow circles while his fist pumps the rest. The moans from the cells bleed through the walls, raw and unhinged, but they only make him harder. He bobs his head, takes a little more, then pulls off and spits on his dick so his grip slides faster. He jerks harder, hips snapping, until the orgasm hits like a snapped restraint. Thick ropes shoot across his tongue, his lips, his chin. Josh swallows what he can and lets the rest drip. Mission complete. He tucks himself away, wipes his mouth on his sleeve, and steps back into the fluorescent light like nothing happened.