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It doesn't take long, surprisingly, for me to do exactly that, and I cum hard, releasing everything that's been built up the past couple of days, screaming and arching my back in pleasure.
 
"Good girl," I say. I pull my cock from you and slap it lightly against your pussy a few times before shoving back deep into you and getting back into a rhythm. "I'm gonna fill you up, precious." I grab your hips and fuck you more.
 
I plant myself deep inside you and unleash a large load of cum deep in your pussy, enjoying filling you and hoping one of my cells mingle with one of yours, making you mine. I sit back on my hios rubbing your stomach. "Feel better?"
 
"Mmmmhhhmmm," I moan softly, a content smile on my face, almost purring as you rub my belly. "That feels good, baby."
 
"You earned it this time," I say as I finger the ring of yellowish purple marks around your hips. I lean down and kiss you again.
 
I kiss you back again, shaking my head. "And if the doctors would've let me, I would've been all over you," I tease. "Damn drugs."
 
"Mmmhmm," I hum, kissing you back. "I like a big strong man who takes care of me when I need it most. And you were there for me, so yes," I kiss you. "I would've been all over you. Plus, as I mentioned before, sex is a great painkiller."
 
I wake up the next morning in pain, and I give a soft whimper. I needed to change the bandages too, so I found the new bandages and begin trying to use my teeth and good hand to unwrap my bad one, not wanting to wake you.
 
I hear you whimper each time your hand jolts and I open my eyes to see you fighting your bandages and tearing up. I get up quickly and come to you.

"Whoa, baby! Baby, hold on, hold on, hold on." I take your hand. "What are you doing? Is it ok?"
 
"Need to change bandages," I say tearfully. "I didn't want to wake you up. . ." I bite my lip to keep from crying.
 
"Baby, don't cry," I kiss your forehead. "It'll be ok." I walk you to the bathroom and lay your hand out on a towel. "Is it hurting?" I look at you, making sure you tell me the truth.
 
"Hm," I say. I peel off your wraps and your hand smells bad. The cuts are puffy and red. "The doctor said it would get a little weepy and infected, but that is normal, so I think it is ok."

I pat it down very gently with the alcohol wipes the hospital gave you, before spraying it with Betadine antiseptic solution, turning it all brown and yellow. I easily and snugly wrap it the way the nurses showed us, and then covered your wraps with some clean ace bandages. "All new," I say. I get your bottles and give you two pain pills.
 
I knock back the pain pills without complaint, although I still make a face. "Thanks, baby," I say. "Was trying to do it myself. . . Didn't want to wake you. . ."
 
I nod. "Yeah, a little bit. The alcohol and Betadine stings a little, but I expected that. . ." I find your hand and nuzzle my head into it.
 
I smile and nuzzle my head into your hand more, growling. "I don't like this," I grumble waving my bad arm in the air. "It needs to stop."
 
"Well you have 4 weeks before the staples are out and then two more with stitches." I remind you. ""But I'll be here."
 
I pout and rest my head on your lap, feeling drained. "I hate feeling weak," I say softly. "Stupid knife. . ."
 
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