"Doc MacFarlane, Nurse Betty, and Warden Charlie": Behind Bars

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"I'll give you more," he growled. "Can you handle it, Nurse? Can you?"

Without waiting for her answer, he inserted a second finger into her pussy beside the first. He could feel her clench around him, the grip instinctive, reflexive, her body responding on a primal level. She was sopping wet; her juices were oozing out onto the rug. He withdrew his fingers slowly, the movement making a sucking sound. He paused for a moment then slid them back in again. She gripped him again, harder this time.

He rotated his hand so it was palm up, the perfect position for his thumb to find her clitoris. He gave it a soft, single twirl, looking into her eyes for her response.

 

[CutiePie1997]

"Oh, Jesus!" Betty cried out at the feel of Michael's thumb upon her clit, her nails digging even deeper into the flesh of his back. Her head had fallen back, eyes closed, but not she forced them open so that she could look into his own eyes, again begging, "More, Michael. More."

But before he could do as requested, Betty reached a hand down between their bodies, taking hold of his hand. She turned it fully palm up, telling him, "Curl ... oh, God, curl your fingers ... curl them ... up against the front of my vaginal canal."

It didn't even dawn on her that she was using medical terminology, rather than simply using the word pussy. She explained, "The anterior of my vaginal canal, right behind my clit ... touch that ... curl your fingers into it."

She would continue to guide Michael if she had to, but -- as he was a doctor as well -- she knew he would understand her request perfectly. Betty had learned during her masturbation years before losing her virginity and then later with her husband -- with whom she fucked more times during a week than there were days in the week, at least before he began cheating on her -- that the front of her canal was almost as sensitive as her clit. She didn't know whether it was the elusive G-spot or not -- she wasn't convinced such a phenomenon existed, really -- but she knew that touched properly, it could send her into orgasm after orgasm.

 

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Michael smiled. Betty was turning out to be far from the proper professional he had come to know.

He continued to slide his fingers in and out of her, slowly, ever so slowly, resisting the urge to speed up. WIth his mouth, he found her left nipple. It felt like a bullet against his tongue. He gave it a flick with the very tip, once, twice, thrice, before sucking it into his mouth.

"Oh, is that how you like it?" he whispered. "Are you a filthy little thing that likes her pussy fingered? Are you? Tell me, Betty. Tell me. I need to hear you say it."

He wanted, no, needed, to hear her ask for it.

 

[CutiePie1997]

Betty couldn't believe how good Michael was making her feel, and within just seconds of him stimulating her canal in the requested manner, she already knew that she would be coming hard and possibly often.

"Oh, is that how you like it?" he whispered as he sucked on a nipple. "Are you a filthy little thing that likes her pussy fingered?"

Yes, she thought to herself, not letting the word leave her brain. Ronny, her Ex-husband and the only other man with whom she'd ever gone all the way, had very much disliked talking during sex; the only thing he'd ever wanted to hear from Betty were compliments after it was over or maybe the screams of Oh, God, I'm cumming at the heights of the moments of explosion.

"Are you?" Michael continued questioning her, prompting her to go beyond her training with Ronny. "Tell me, Betty. Tell me. I need to hear you say it."

Before she knew what she was doing, Betty answered with a sense of desperation, "Yes, yes! Oh, God, Michael, yes! Finger me! Finger me! Fuck, please ... please ... please..."

Her repeating of that last word -- almost two dozen times it would turn out -- were almost choreographed with Michael's repeated insertions of his fingers into her, their tips massaging the anterior wall of her canal and building the pleasure until finally her entire being exploded in orgasm. Betty had no idea just how loud she was, but the next day she would be questioned by more than one of her female neighbors and given hungry ogles by some of the males who'd heard her from various locations about the prison's exterior grounds.

"Again!" she demanded after she'd regained her composure enough to form that single word. She grasped Michael's hand and held it in place, fearful that he was moving onward, repeating with a demanding voice that one wouldn't imagine coming from meek little Nurse Betty, "Again!"

 

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"How can I say no?" Michael murmured. He moved his mouth to her other nipple and gave it the same attention he had given the first. She arched her back, thrusting her breast into his hungry mouth.

As she writhed under him, he thrust his fingers into her again, this time three instead of two. He could feel her pussy walls stretching to accommodate. He curled the tips of his fingers up, as she wanted, so they were pressing into the anterior wall of her vagina, finding that oh-so-slight bumpy area of tissue that his anatomy training told him was her G-spot. He rubbed at it, varying the pressure, while his thumb, toyed with her clitoris. He could see her clit was fully engorged, slipping and sliding under the pad of his thumb like a button. A button that seemed to supercharge Betty's already racing nervous system.

His cock ached with the need to dive into her wetness but he controlled himself, suppressing that urge by focussing on the little signs that told him she was on the edge of another eruption. He'd been with multi-orgasmic women before but never one that could manage three in a row. Was Betty to be the first?

He couldn't wait to find out.

 

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Betty was indeed what Doc wondered, and after she came a second time a minute later and once more demanded Again, he manipulated his fingers and thumb and pushed her body to explode a third time just a couple of dozen seconds after that.

It was the most incredible thing a man had ever done to her. Betty's heart raced, thumping within her like a well played pair of timpani drums. The euphoria overwhelming her left Betty oblivious to the outside world; all she knew during those moments as the waves of joy washed through her entire being was her body and Michael's.

She had no idea, for example, that her screams had very easily washed over much of the Staff Cabins area, leaving those who had heard her without doubt as to just what was happening between her and Doc.

This time when she was finally able to form words in her mind and make them come out her mouth, Betty begged, "No more ... Michael ... I ... Oh, God ... no more."

She urged him with fingers dug into his body to come up higher, wanting to kiss him with still quivering lips, then after some time whispered, "I want to feel you inside me."

She knew that he was going to hurt her with that monster cock, but Betty needed this just as much as Michael did. She could only hope that her had prepared her.

The last thing she said to Doc was, "Carefully."

 

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"Mmm-hmm," he said. "I'll be careful. But not just yet. You're not ready. I'm not ready."

Without warning, he slid his fingers out from her. They came away with a sucking sound. He gave her a moment, enjoying the sight of her naked, panting, eyes wide, mouth open. Then, before she could say anything, he slid his hands under her buttocks and lifted them into the air, rolling her up onto herself so her back arched and her knees almost touched her chest.

"Comfy?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Good."

Again, without warning, he sunk his face between her legs until his tongue found her outer lips. He teased them apart then dipped into her wetness. He inhaled her fragrance then, with a tilt of his head, used his tongue again to flick upwards over her clit.

"Good," he murmured. "So. Fucking. Good."

 

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Betty knew in an instant what the Doc was about to do, even before his mouth found her sopping wet pussy.

"Comfy? Good."

"No, wait, Michael," she tried, drawing another deep, sharp breath as his tongue lapped over her folds and clit. "Wait, I want ... oh, Michael..."

She was trying to tell her new lover that she wanted him to put his cock inside her. Michael had already delivered her three unbelievable and unprecedented orgasms. It was his turn now.

"Good, so. Fucking. Good."

"Michael ... please ... or God ... oh ... Michael, I want..."

But it was hopeless, as there simply was no way Betty was going to let Doc stopped this, not after she realized that he was quickly working her toward orgasm already! Instead, she just grabbed his head in her hands to hold him in place, as he miraculously drove him to yet two more screaming orgasms in under 5 minutes.

 

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He didn't wait for Betty's shuddering to stop. It was a bit of work to extricate his head from the vice-like grip of her legs. He wiped her juices off his face against the flesh of her thighs. He slid his arms under her, hooking his elbows under her knees and got to his feet. The prison calisthenics he had made a ritual every day for the past few years made him more than a match for her slight frame.

He took her three steps to the right, to the corner of the room, next to the hearth. Another step forward and Betty was sandwiched between plasterwork and Michael's body.

She'd recovered now. Here eyes were on his, glazed but focussing. Her arms were around his neck. She pulled herself close to him.

His erection was clamped between his stomach and hers. With no difficulty, he lifted her into the air, freeing it, then let her down so the tip of his cock just touched her pussy. He tilted his hips left then right, letting the head slide past her outer lips. He stopped just as he felt the liquid heat that indicated he was almost in her.

"Ready?" he asked. "We'll take it slow. Promise."

He locked his lips to hers then, inch by agonising inch, let gravity do the work and lowered her onto him.

 

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Betty giggled through her heavy breathing as Michael manhandled her into the air, her arms wrapping around his neck to hold them tightly together. She didn't know what he was doing or where there were going until she felt herself pressed into the corner of the cabin's walls.

"Michael...?" she asked with a questioning tone, somewhat in disbelief of what she thought was coming. She and her husband had never done anything like this, he preferring to either have her on her knees before him doggy style or her atop him cowgirl style. She asked only, "Really?"

"Ready?" he asked. "We'll take it slow. Promise."

She didn't know what to say; this was simply out of her wheelhouse. But she felt his cock slipping up and down against her swollen folds and clit, and all she wanted was anything that he did. She nodded her head hesitantly, and a moment later -- as she stared intently into his eyes -- Michael let her body simply sink slowly downward upon his monster cock.

"Slow!" she warned him with almost a tone of panic as the bulbous head of his cock began to force its way into her. He hesitated, and after a moment of letting her body adjust to the intrusion, Betty nodded permission for Doc to continue. Again, as more of him pushed difficultly into her, she begged, "Slow! Slow, Michael ... slow."

Betty didn't know how long it took for her second-ever-only and by far most-well-endowed lover to finally sink all of his cock inside her. A dozen times or so she warned him about his entry, sometimes without him even gaining any real depth into her. But his girth was nearly too much, and even when her canal had relaxed enough to handle that, his length became an issue when he hit her cervix and felt like he'd hit bottom.

Again, Betty's claws were taking a toll on Michael's back side after she'd reached each arm under his arms and then reached the hands upward to dig into the backs of his shoulders. With each additional insertion of more length, her fingers curled, sinking their modestly long but still sharp ends into his flesh. In the morning, they would find that in contrast to the scratches on his lower back, these marks did indeed draw blood in at least six places.

Finally believing she was ready for him, Betty began shifting her lower body to and fro, feeling his shaft slide against her clit as well as tapping against her depths. She closed her eyes, pressed her forehead into the crook of the tall man's neck, and begged, "Fuck me, Michael. Fuck me hard."

 

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Michael started slow. With the whole length of his cock embedded within the glove-like grip of her pussy, it was all he could do to start with. He controlled himself with great effort. He wanted to drive himself in and out of her. He wanted to see her bounce on the end of his cock. He wanted to feel her stretch and clench.

But he started slow, with small, almost undetectable swivelling of his hips, letting her clit rub against the root of his cock. He pressed his hands against the wall and braced himself, his body as rigid as a column, letting Betty ride him. She used her arms to lever herself up and down, Michael matching her movements, gradually increasing the force of his thrusts.

He could read both pleasure and pain in her eyes. He took care to speed up then slow down, riding the crest of her pleasure, dipping ever so often into her pain, just for a moment. He felt her cunt clench around him yet again as her pupils widened. She threw her head back as she came, his lips finding her mouth, his tongue diving deep.

"Fuck you hard?" he asked. "Like this? Hard like this?"

Grunting, squirming, thrusting, he drove into her again and again like a piledriver. She was almost bouncing now with the force of his thrusts, her moans punctuating the very deepest of his penetrations. Her sweat streamed down her breasts as they mashed against his chest. Slick, oh so slick, almost as liquid as the cunt juice dripping off his balls and onto his bare feet.

"Are you ready, Betty? Are you ready? 'cos I'm just about to cum. Do you want it? Huh?"

She had just opened her mouth to reply when his orgasm took him. The final thrust took him onto his toes, slid her up the wall, had her throw her arms against his neck. And then the world exploded in a molten surge that filled every nook and cranny of her sopping cunt.

 

[CutiePie1997]

Betty was pinned between the meeting walls and Michael's body, the wedging of her into the corner and her hands grasping his shoulders holding her aloft as his hands pressed into the wall. Oh, and there was also the fact that his cock was stuck up her like the stick up the middle of a caramel apple, helping to hold her aloft as he rammed that stick in and out of her apple.

"Fuck you hard?" he asked.

"Hard," she begged.

"Like this? Hard like this?"

"Hard! Like that!"

She'd never imagined anything like this, let alone experienced it.

"Are you ready, Betty...?"

"Yes..."

"Are you ready? 'cos I'm just about to cum..."

"Cum," she repeated desperately. She had already cum here against the wall papered plywood, and she was beginning to fear that she would have to beg him to stop if he himself didn't finish soon. She pleaded, "Cum ... Michael!"

"Do you want it? Huh?"

She opened her mouth to scream Yes! when she saw the look in his face and knew it to be the onset of his own orgasm, and then a short moment later she saw, heard, and felt her lover climax. It was a wonderful sight, almost as -- no, as beautiful as any of the more than a half dozen orgasms he had caused her over the last ... how long ... twenty minutes, thirty, forty?

Betty had let out one last loud grunt of pained pleasure as Michael rammed himself deep into her warmth and wetness to empty his balls into her. Then she just grasped him tightly and watched him in awe as the euphoria enveloped him. At one point, his knees seemed ready to buckle, startling her.

"Down!" she ordered, "Down ... to your knees, Michael!"

She wriggled her body a bit, telling him to drop them to the floor, and when he was finally on his knees, still deep inside her, Betty grasped a handful of his hair and pulled his head back a bit so she could better study him. His joy was ... amazing.

I did this. I caused this. Me.

It had been so long since a man had enjoyed himself inside her, and suddenly Betty was crying -- tears from the eyes, sobs from the throat -- as the emotions of the moment caught up with her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered through the sobs when finally Michael opened his eyes and looked at her. She chuckled, embarrassed, then kissed him softly. "I just..."

She didn't know what to say, so she kissed him again instead, this time longer and more passionately. Then, suddenly, she knew exactly what to say: "I've never been so happy in my life."

 

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Michael grinned that MacFarlane smile at Betty's words. His head and body were still awhirl with sensation, the afterglow of his orgasm burning through his nerves like sunburn. He returned her kiss with passion.

"Well," he replied, "you're the best thing that's happened to me in the triple C. Thank you."

After the passion of the last forty minutes or so, it seemed odd to disentangle himself from her. He glanced at the time. It was getting late. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bathroom where he set her down. He allowed himself one final look at her fine body, finishing with another kiss on the lips.

"Your housemates are going to be back soon," he said. "You might want to, em, clean up. I'll get the dishes into the sink then I'll head off as well." He put the palm of one hand to his back. When he raised it, it was blood-stained. "Yeah. Think I might need to wash up as well."

He pulled her close, letting the feel of her flesh be his final goodbye.

"See you tomorrow?" he said, by way of farewell. "And thanks. It was great. I mean that."

Once he heard the shower running, he got dressed, tidied up as he had said then, with a final backward glance, headed out the door to his own cell. He couldn't tell if it was his imagination but the air outside smelled all the sweeter.

 

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"Well, you're the best thing that's happened to me in the triple C. Thank you."

While she had said she'd never been so happy before, implying ever, Michael had qualified his statement to the time he'd been in Clark County Correctional only. But Betty was too happy to notice that, whether it had been intentional or not, and even later down the road if she did recall it, she might not think anything of it then either.

He spoke of her roommates' eventual return and the need to maintain some level of propriety -- the word in her thoughts about the situation. She blushed at the thought of what Molly and Madge would say about this.

"Sorry about that," she said when Michael's fingers appeared before her, tipped in red. She snatched up a wad of toilet paper, signaled him to turn, and wiped at the half dozen or more scratches and holes that had or were turning red. She repeated, "Sorry."

After a passionate kiss, Michael told her, "And thanks. It was great. I mean that."

Betty beamed with delight, unable to remember the last time a man -- her Ex, the only man to ever fuck her until this night -- had said something to that effect. She could only respond, "It was. Thanks."

She didn't want Michael to go, but she knew he must. She stepped into the shower, realizing that her body was still buzzing from the aftermath of the most incredible night of her life.