Code Red!

“How are we doing in he-Oh my god! Sartre, what’s going on in here!” Bethany’s smile melts to horror as she realizes Sartre has lost control of the room. In an effort to keep up the ruse, you feign retardation, waving your hands in the air.

“EEEUUURRGGHHHH!” You shout, pumping in and out of Sartre’s throat. Upon hearing Bethany’s voice, Sartre struggles underneath you frantically in an attempt to escape. Aware of your situation, you pin her shoulders down and press hard with your pelvis.

Bethany produces a walkie talkie from her pocket. She brings it up to her lips and presses down the button. “We have a code red in ward 8, I repeat we have a code red in ward 8, over.” Removing her stethoscope, she kneels down behind you and sticks her tongue between your ass cheeks, slurping noisily on your asshole. Her mousy assistant comes sprinting into the room.

“Bethany-I-What’s happening right now?!” she exclaims incredulously. Bethany pulls away from your ass and speaks.

“David’s a lost cause. If Sartre can’t save him, no one can. The only way we can sedate him is if we make him cum, and the only way to do that is by stimulating his asshole and letting him fuck somebody’s throat. I would try to save Sartre, but if he’s still infected his viral load must be absurd by now. I’m sorry but there’s no saving her,” she warns gravely.

“Ok, but what does this mean? What do we do with this crazy guy?” Jackie questions.

“Well, in the old days, ACHS would usually end in the patient being confined to ‘The Iron Throat,’ basically a device to keep you satiated and not a danger to society. We haven’t actually used one of these in years, but at this point it’s the only solution I can think of and I am going to HEAVILY recommend it to the board. Anyways, there’s no time. He should be able to communicate with you while I rim him, I’m going to need you to explain to him what’s happening.” Bethany goes back to tossing your salad.

“Ok, uhm, hi Mr David!” Jackie chirps. “It looks like you had another relapse buddy, we’re gonna need you to finish for us so we can get you to a new place ok?” You fake as though you have just left a deep slumber, still pressing firmly onto Sartre’s face. Having long since given up on struggling, her face and neck are turning blue from oxygen deprivation.

“Wh-What?” You feign. “What’s going on?”

“We’re gonna get you the best treatment available buddy! Just gonna need you to cum in Ms Sartre’s throat first!” She chirps.

Sensing leverage, you grin at her and say “Ok, but, I think it would be way easier for me to cum if you do something for me. See, climb up on top of her, yes like that.” Jackie straddles Sartre. “Ok and grab her throat, tightly, like I want to feel it, and stroke it. Stroke it like you’re jerking me off.” Jackie clutches Sartre’s neck tight and pumps it up and down around your cock. “Yes, that’s it, just like that..” You trail off.

You slowly begin thrusting in and out of Sartre’s throatpussy. Small gags and burps punctuate each thrust as you pick up the pace. You attempt to cup her enormous, battered breasts with your hands and knead them together, squeezing as hard as you can. Sartre pukes violently on your cock with a loud *GLRRRRPPPPHHHH*. Slop and foam spray Bethany’s face and chest, but she holds her position without flinching.

“Do you think you could get my gooch too Ms Bethany?” You inquire politely. Obliging, Bethany dips her tongue out of her mouth and slides it flat along your taint. You move your hips in a circle, sliding your hairy gooch down Bethany’s tongue, and your cock inside Sartre’s brutalized throat pussy. Bethany, sensing an impending orgasm, flicks her tongue back and forth on your taint and asshole, almost suctioning her tongue onto your skin.

Bethany, unable to keep up with your ferocious piston-like thrusting grabs your hips and holds on for dear life. Jackie is jerking you through Sartre’s neck with both hands now. “Faster, faster…” you moan. She squeezes as hard as she can and jerks with vigor. A familiar churning sensation in your balls indicates to you that it is almost time to cum.

Without unsheathing, you slide Ms Sartre’s limp body forward and climb onto the table. You wrap your legs criss cross around her head, locking your ankles together. With a grunt, you wrap your arms around her waist and squeeze, pulling her whole body in tightly. You use the back of your legs to bounce Sartre’s head up and down while you frantically hump her face. Your balls begin to shudder, and you squeeze her head with your legs as hard as you can. Puke explodes out of Sartre’s mouth, drenching her face and your scrotum. Indifferent to her distress, you maintain your vise-like grip around her face and erupt in her throat.

“Ah-uh-uh-uh-UNHHHHHH….” you moan. You collapse into a full body seizure as you pump your sweet nectar down Sartre’s sloppy, bruised throat. Sartre’s nose is buried in your balls. She attempts to swallow, but the volume of your load proves too much for her. Pressure begins to build in her throat, and she gags. Cum shoots out of her nose and her lips flap around the base of your cock, sounding almost like she were blowing a raspberry. Still throbbing, you grab your feet and pull them even tighter. Sartre, now ****, lays there limply as cum leaks from her nose, each spurt from your cock sending small strings onto your balls. Your orgasm continues for an unnaturally long time; Bethany and Jackie watch in awe as you spasm in Sartre’s throat for almost a minute straight.

Finally, as your orgasm comes to a close, you collapse, exhausted and still tightly latched to Sartre’s face. Bethany and Jackie climb onto the table and attempt to pry your legs off of her head.