Adaptation

The past several months have been a true testimonial to the adaptability of our species. As a middle aged MILF sucked on my engorged organ with blissful abandon, I let the stimulating warmth gradually seep through my core and tighten the two sperm producing orbs into my abdomen. She wasn’t much of a looker, but her oral skills were delightfully developed, and her passion was unmistakable. Her tongue massaged my glans with gentle circles, as her mouth evolved into a vacuum, sealed with moist and firmly puckered lips at the base of my penis. Her hand wandered across my crinkled scrotum gently. Within a few brief moments, I shamelessly erupted; rocking my hips gently towards her kneeling form, as she greedily swallowed my essence. After a short respite she rose and helped me secure the zipper, and with an appreciative pat on my rump, she disappeared into the milling crowd at the food court in the Mall. My heart slowed its tormented pace and I strolled somewhat unevenly towards the short line in front of the Booger King. Just a few months earlier, I would have considered the ball draining blowjob in public as lewd, but now it happened with such frequency, I hardly gave it a second thought. A young coed grabbed my deflating crotch and smiled. I gently shook my head, and she turned to the guy behind me who dropped his slacks as she eagerly dropped to her knees. All about me, similar scenes of debauchery were on display, and I could only reflect on the circumstances that brought us to where we were today.
I’d gone to the airport with my beloved wife Becky to pick-up her cousin returning from a vacation in Southeast Asia. Naomi was a free spirit that loved to travel, and thanks to a lucrative estate left by a distant relative, she now had the means to pursue her dreams. It was a late night arrival, and she looked extremely tired as she entered the cool terminal, her eyes were encircled with dark rings and sunk into their sockets. With a heavy shoulder bag, she staggered into my wife’s arms and unceremoniously stifled her sniffles. Several other female passengers appeared equally exhausted, all with the noticeable flush of a fever and runny noses. Fearing a pandemic of bird flu, we quickly hustled her into the car and sped to a nearby hospital. The reception area was filled with women with similar symptoms and soon Becky and I began to feel the symptoms of the flu. My balls ached. A nurse with a box of vials in one hand and a handful of forms in the other stopped and jotted down our names, took our vitals and drew a vial of blood from each of us. Shortly thereafter, a second nurse and her assistant gave us an injection and advised us to go home if we could and call immediately if the symptoms worsened. We were only too happy to comply as more victims were cramming into the cramped area, making movement and even breathing difficult.
We got home and cranked up the heat while forcing down liquids before falling into our bed under a mountain of covers. It is difficult to describe the feeling of being sandwiched between two soft sickly kin – a wonderful prescription for a good night’s sleep. Becky snored softly and evenly. Many nights, when sleep escaped me, I would listen to the rhythm of her breathing, much like listening to the waves of gentle ocean surf, and find solace there. She was still an attractive woman although she quickly disagreed when anyone mentioned it to her. With a welcoming smile beneath a crown of curly brown hair, she was eager to help those in genuine need and keep me content when the day was done. Becky worked part-time at a nearby day care center with the unexpected dividend of keeping her fit chasing the rug rats although the stubborn tummy roll (undoubtedly nurtured by her fantastic cooking) never receded to her satisfaction.