Hysteria [Father & Forbidden]

The song played in the background of his mind as he leaned back in his chair, idly flipping the pages of his upcoming patient's background and he could not for the life of him get it out of his head. He was an 80's buff, there was no doubt about that, and hearing the haunting notes of a Def Leppard song as he gazed at the sad eyes of the young woman in the dossier seemed to hint already at the emotions her gaze engendered inside of him. His own eyes held perhaps a measure of the same sadness, a loneliness that was bone deep, but it was not something he thought about overlong as he sat there. His fingers traced along the papers to once more review, his other hand coming to pick up his pen to make a few notations on the notepad next to him. His hand was sure and steady, the letters written in cursive and boldly expressed, the type of handwriting given to either the supremely confident or the quietly self-assured.

Doctor Elias Preston was definitely the latter.

Regardless of his abilities however, there seemed sadly little information about his upcoming patient. It was obvious trauma had occurred, a vague notation concerning hallucinations, and a small note with little detail concerning the death of her husband. It was the disgustingly shoddy workmanship he expected out of the State Hospital system and it was something that truly displeased him. They had placed her on suicide watch, leaving her alone and potentially drugged out of her mind, and had not addressed any of the underlying causes regarding why she was so troubled. Misdiagnosed, ill-treated, and tossed to the wayside. More than likely it had not done anything but worsen the symptoms. It was something he would have to address when he had her in his office, the State could only have held her so long, and now that they had released her at least she was coming to her appointed counseling services. Or at least that was what he hoped she would be doing.

He looked up at the clock, making a small sound in the back of his throat as he did so, if she were already here and in the waiting room then he had kept her waiting far too long. Straightening he placed the folder down and stood up, for a moment looking over the room he stood in. It seemed more like comfortable study than a counselor's office. It had little to do with the idea of the job and more to do with comfort for the person he was working with. Long ago he had learned the fundamental fact that nobody would ever talk to a doctor, not truly, that they had to feel like you were a friend...either that or a stranger. Strangers though had little guidance outside of the office, but a friend could be called. A friend could be confided in. That is why he took so few patients and why his wait list was so incredibly long. Those handful of patients he kept on after first meeting them had long term results....their lives were better, and that is what mattered most to him.

First impressions were always important and he knew what he looked like, knew exactly the kind that he gave off. He gave off the idea that he was a teddy bear. Six feet and broad shouldered, forty years of age and distinguished. His brilliant hazel eyes shone behind his glasses as he looked around to find her, the dark black hair on his head thinning just slightly and showing some grey at the temples. His beard was kept professional, the grey more prominent within it than in the hair atop his head. That frame held a heavy set man, muscled stature giving way more towards padding the older he got, and no matter how often he promised himself he would address the issue he always seemed never to do so. His clothing was simple professional, black slacks and a green long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves tugged up to his elbows. Looking around he smiled when he found her, his voice quiet and deep as he spoke.

"If you're ready we can begin...?"

My God what had happened to this poor woman?

Surely he had not expected things to be in this state of disrepair. When he had entered the waiting room to bring her back she had seemed almost to be in a fugue state of sorts, completely disconnected from what was happening around her with barely the semblance of an ability to respond to the stimulus of the world. She may not have understood what was happening, she was hardly lucid, and so he guided her into his small office with a light touch on her arm...afraid to actually reach out to do anything that might set off a response. Often they warned you about touching a patient, yet he had discarded it several times in his professional career. Physical touch was something that most human beings needed, and as long as you were not taking advantage of them. As long as you were not causing them pain and suffering through your actions, then more often than not it was very appreciated. If the world they lived in was not so frightened of the offenders hidden in the corners, then he would recommended massage and touch therapy to practically everyone struggling with non-violent mental difficulties.

He shook his head as he escorted her in and she took a seat, and for once in his life he was trying to ignore the looks of his patient. He'd had his fair share of a beautiful woman sitting in his office. Had his few moments of appreciation for someone who was lovely, yet hers was a mingle sadness and beauty, making it even more painful to see in another human being. Her uncertainty, her shame, her pain was easy to see....and combined with the pertness of her chest and the show of pale flesh, the way her jeans tightened on her legs as she sat back and adjusted herself. It took his breath away and he merely watched her before once again shaking his head and setting it in the back of his mind. No matter how he felt he had one job, and one job only, and that was to help her through this trial in her life.

He knew though he had to be careful, it served nothing yet to make her face that pain, instead he needed to draw her out into trusting him and more than that...trusting herself once more. He watched as she moved, as she began to massage herself and he understood that the stimulus was part of what helped her manage, helped her bring herself back into line with the world. It was not uncommon for individuals to do so, in fact that was exactly why the autistic engaged in stimming patterns in order to help them focus properly, and he said nothing to stop her doing so. Instead he gave a small nod of his head, not smiling at her words...there was no need to be reassuring, this was serious and deserved him treating her properly...like an adult and not something broken.

So he moved a small seat over, a footstool really, so that he could sit within a few feed of her. It was something no Doctor had done with her, it was the kind of closeness that a friend might have...someone truly intent on her story, and his face was somber and quiet as he began to speak. "Heidi...," he said, his voice low and lulling. "I know you've got that litany down pat don't you. Everyone wants to know...what you did and how you're feeling. Everyone wants to ask...what is wrong with you. That's not what I want to ask you." He didn't touch her, he merely scooted closer and placed his hands on his knees as his eyes sought hers.

"What I want to know...is what is right with you. What have you been doing recently, what do you enjoy doing...does anything make you smile...does anything help you focus on the here and now?"

He was worried for her. There was little doubt that she was having a hard time remaining on task and on one topic. The inability to maintain focus was something that he had briefly mentioned in passing and he could see that it brought a tightness to her even though she did not have an outburst concerning it. Well, that was something worthy of noting. He listened as she spoke, seeing her uncertainty ease as she came to discuss even a couple of the things that made her smile and he made his mental notations concerning it. It was these little things that might aid them along, these little moments that would provide an opening or two for them to explore her mind. He did not know what the other Doctor's had told her, but he did know that what they were interested in was ensuring nothing but their own backsides were covered. Very few seemed interested in the surety that their patient was integrated back into the world with the skills to keep them from harming themselves and others.

That was not the kind of Doctor he was.

Reaching out to touch her was perhaps not the proper thing to do, it was hardly ethical and something that anyone in the profession would look down upon. Especially since it was done without a nurse or assistant in the room. You never wanted to breach that contact, never wanted to put yourself in the path of being liable for malpractice. Yet once again he ignored the age old adages and continued down his own preferred path. His hands came out to take her own, seeing the emotional turmoil, and his strong fingers wrapped round her delicate skin and held it in safety and surety. He was laborer, there was nothing rough about those fingers, but even though the skin was smooth the strength of purpose was within those limbs. He was no weakling, no spineless man, and the hands cupped hers with a confidence that was able to provide an anchor in her time of uncertainty. Why he had felt willing to do so was something that bothered him, rarely did he initiate contact at the first meeting but he was self-aware enough to know what had him do it.

It was those eyes.

Beautiful and compelling, the stormy emotions held behind a gaze that was still wet with her tears. Even though the smile came and was offered, even though she was trying to please him, it was that which made this so painful for him. He had seen many people come through his office but never had he seen someone seem so sad and lonely, so lost and yet so eager to try to make him happy. He gave her a reassuring smile as his fingers smoothed over her palms, giving a gentle sound in the back of his throat as he finally answered her.

"I can't say yet, I would like you not to be on them. Nothing is going to change for you if you have to stay on medication. Maybe you'll be calm, maybe you'll be placid, but more than likely you'll be just a zombie. So...let's start slow, let's actually start moving you off anything they have you on and we'll go from there." He paused, his voice quiet and considering. "You have a hard time on stage, yet...there are ways to act without it, to enjoy your work and the thrill of doing so. Perhaps we can read lines from your favorite play together?"

He was an intelligent man, that was true, and well trained in dealing with those who had suffered such mental defects in their lives. Yet this was something through him a bit, causing him to feel discomfort for the first time since he had met the woman and that was enough to make him wonder if he truly was the right person for this particular patient. It was the tumultuous emotions that were throwing him off, the inability to remain grounded in the present and the swift movements between not just trauma but disconnection. He slowly took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself in the face of what was in front of him, almost as if he was preparing to go into battle. There was more truth to that than he wanted to believe, because frighteningly she was more dangerous than any monster to slay. Mentally putting on the armor that would stop him from doing anything that was not only immoral, but in the case of a psychologist, very much illegal.

She was vulnerable. A woman in distress. Surely he would not be such a bad man to try to rescue her?

It was in every line of her body as she knelt before him. He had been practically shocked as she touched him. He felt her fingers on him and he could see the hint of her knees below her skirt, the silken skin bared to his eyes, the swell of her bosom as she inhaled and pressed so terribly close. He was nothing if not a man, nothing if not flesh and blood, and like any man he responded...feeling a stirring, the terrible desire manifesting in the physical flesh as he hardened. It caused him to move just the tiniest of bits, searching for a bit of comfort so that he could hide the equal amount of embarrassment. His gaze slowly raised along her lithe form, the beautiful curves accentuated in so exposed a fashion, before they finally centered on her face as her lips traced such tantalizing patterns along his skin. Her beautiful face, practically aristocratic and demure, a beauty if ever there was one...all that marred it was the suffering she had endured. It was not his intention in any fashion to abuse this moment with someone so very hurt, but he still responded.

He could not help but do so.

The play, he could center on that as well and provide some kind of direction to the conversation. It easy an easy leap to understand that she was playing the role of one of Henry's paramours, his wives, from Henry the VIII. Shakespeare. He might have seen it in his youth, but he in no way was prepared to try to recite lines from it. He struggled to remember the words, hoping behind hope that some Lit class in college might provide him a respite from his ignorance but he truly could not dredge up anything other than the historical significance. But, perhaps this would let them have interaction of a sort and a bit of a connection that could grow. It would let him use something at the very least. His hand turned over in her grasp, feeling her kisses as his tongue touched his dry lips and his cultured voice spoke.

"I...forgive me, I...," he gave a small laugh. "I forgot the lines, I'm not quite as good as you are without a script...should I wing it, do you think?"

There were many things he could do to immediately halt the moment, but he did not and he was not entirely sure whether it was surprise or a wish for it to continue that prevented him from doing so. Her lips were like heaven upon his own skin, the feel of her moving against him, and her hands tightening on his shoulders. He had allowed this, he knew that deep down inside of himself, allowed it for whatever reason. He could have prevented her from touching him, pushed her away from him, and had a measure of space between them...but instead he had let her hold him tight and mold her body to his own in order to kiss him. Did he feel her tongue against his own as the unasked kiss continued between them? The headiness nearly overwhelmed him in the nearness, her natural scent intoxicating in the close proximity and he found himself barely capable of thought.

Did he want to think though?

She had mentioned her husband in the midst of that kiss, and that frightened him deeply. Not that he felt she was a danger, but that he felt he had misjudged his true ability to aid her in her time of trouble. Perhaps she was far more damaged than he realized. Francis must have been so incredibly important, far more important than any person the doctor had ever had in his own life. The trauma, the responsibility, the guilt...why did it consume her so much that it had ruined her to this point? Made her uncertain not only of who and where she was, but in fact made her uncertain of what reality she truly existed within? The records had so little of what had truly happened and he would have to muddle his way through it just as he worked his way through this with her. As the kiss broke for a moment his teeth gritted, and he turned his face away to forestall any further affection.

As he caught his breath he hurriedly tried to find some measure to control the situation once more, to find his way back into angling the conversation in a way that would ensure not only the safety of his patient but allow for a break in the physical contact. He knew Henry had rejected Anne Boleyn, like many people he knew the vague historical ideas. More than that he knew Henry had executed her, though even with the ludicrousness of the moment he couldn't imagine doing any harm to this beautiful young woman. No, he would perhaps play the role to it's completion...merely to find out where it might lead, find out if there was anything more he could glean from what had happened to her and her....Francis, and then maybe later he could research this role and be better prepared for their next discussion.

He stood, pushing her away from him with his muscled thigh as he moved past her and towards the wall facing away from her. His face was hidden from her as he stood there and his hand reached out to turn off the music that had been playing on the 80's station, plunging them into silence. He stood there before speaking, the voice rough and perhaps there was a bit more to the act...a bit of jealousy having creeped in as he realized that he would never be as important as her late husband. That bothered him for some reason...bothered him deeply.

"Anne," he said, his head finally turning to look at her. "Accept your apology? Offer you mercy? What have you done to receive my forgiveness? What have you given, could you give, that I might pardon your crimes and accept you back?"

She was crying and it was nearly breaking his heart to see her so fundamentally damaged, to see her so aching and desperate for approval, so much so that she was offering herself to him. It was deeply painful, tearing him apart as he tried to fathom the amount of suffering she must have endured to feel and act the way that she was. She admitted it in her words, the thoughts that she was attempting to convey, and he finally hit upon something that the other physicians had failed fundamentally to find out. The cause of death. Oh, there had been suspicion of course but this was confirmation and would go a long way to maybe trying to gain her a measure of relief from the events that had caused her to spiral to such a moment in her life. A moment of weakness and uncertain on her knees before the very man who was supposed to be helping her.

Yet apparently his sorrow did not convince him to push her away.

No, instead his hand moved out as she nuzzled against that thick flesh hidden away still from her sight. Indeed, the Doctor had been completely unable to hide his arousal and now there was the feel of his thickness, the heavy girth pulsing beneath the fabric of his clothing. His hand touched her hair, caressed slowly, petting her as if to try to soothe her and his teeth came to click together...gritting hard as he struggled with the desire inside of him. His fingers slowly took a bit tighter hold of her hair as she spoke her words of offering herself to him, willing to give up everything just to make him happy, and as she did so...he ground up against her, moving that hardness along her beautiful lips and feeling her warm breath against him, his head tilting back as he looked up at the ceiling and hissed out a slow beseeching for this to end. This was torment.

It did not seem an answer from the heavens was forthcoming.

He was a foolish man to even think that he could get away with this, foolish completely to even attempt to try it, and more so...sick to do so with her, no matter how beautiful she was. It violated everything that he was, violated his edicts and morals, and violated her. God, goddamn what was wrong with him that he would actually allow this to happen? Yet his eyes moved towards the door to reassure himself that it was closed and closed securely, and then they flicked towards the clock, worry over how much time that they had left. Barely over ten minutes, if he was going to do anything then they would have to be quick. His hand moved away from her, both of them coming down between the two of them as he bit his own lip this time, and his fingers quickly undid the top of his pants and his zipper to free himself before her very eyes. He knew not if he resembled her husband in this fashion, for not it hardly mattered, his fingers gripping the base of that heavy shaft as his free hand took her arm to begin lifting her up into his lap.

His voice was soft, quiet and intense, taking advantage of the illusion and the desire coursing through her. Taking advantage of her willingness to please him...and her fractured mind. At the end of the day he would remember, taking advantage of that fractured mind. He felt sick, but it still did not stop him from whispering the words. "You will never lose me again, I swear, never again. Hurry, love, hurry then...soon they will come back for you, but we have this moment...we can have this, right now."

The concept of heaven might have been a foreign one to the man, one which he had only heard of in song and psalm, but at this moment he was quite sure he had found the earthly equivalent. The way she practically worshipped the heavy shaft that had been placed in front of her was beyond anything he had ever experienced in his life, the sheer exquisiteness of the actions, and if her Francis had ever been gifted such a treat then he had been the truly blessed to have found a woman such as Heidi. The good doctor never had though and the act of not reaching orgasm right then and there was one of monumental effort. The willpower to hold back in order to have more of her lips wrapped around him and the potential of having other more delicate places of her womanly figure becoming his was something he could barely summon...but summon it he did and he panted up into the air as he tried to regain a measure of control. A woman had so much power in a moment such as this, over the emotions of a man, and Heidi was playing him like a virtuoso.

His hands flexed in the air for a moment as she so ardently worshipped the flesh within her mouth, his fingers twitching slightly as if they did not quite know what to do with themselves. He had trouble opening his eyes as, the heated moment causing them to roll slightly back, but when he heard her moving to undress he forced them open so that he could admire the display that was provided to him, the ample feast before his very eyes. His flesh pulsed against her tongue, the heady taste of his precum on her flesh, and he caught his lip to stifle a loud moan that would have split the air at the sight of her alabaster skin. She was indeed perfection, the beautiful arch of her throat leading to her delicate shoulders and exquisite bosom. Her voice cooed his name once more and he felt a sickness inside of him as he realized that it was not his name that she was calling into the air. Her husband'ss, of course her husband's name.

The guilt ran through him but he still did not stop the assault of her lips.

His voice gave out a soft cry, a solemn moan held within as he whispered quick entreaties. "God..oh God...Heidi, fuck...Heidi...." He wanted to touch her, to touch her just once, if this was the only time he could have that feeling of her beautiful body offered in supplication to him then it would be the opportunity he would not pass up. His hands finally moved to take her, one caressed into her soft hair to take hold of it, to pull her head back so he could gaze into her beautiful features...his eyes meeting hers, and he leaned in to kiss. God yes, to kiss those shining lips as his other hand found flesh clasped beneath it. Strong fingers moving to grip one beautiful breast, feeling the hardness of her nipple in his palm as he cupped her and unbidden he cooed soft platitudes into the air. That things were well, that she was forgiven, that she was adored and wanted. He swore he could smell the heady excitement of her arousal on the air, but his heart lurched as he realized the vulnerability of them both at that moment.

He did not quite know what world she was currently within, what her shattered mind made of the moment between the two of them, and for once he doubted that he cared. Yet he had to live in reality and even if he was wrapped into the carnal pleasure of that moment he could not help but glance towards the door in absolute fear. He knew that more than likely they would not be interrupted, at least not until they'd overly gone beyond the time allotted for her, and yet he could not help but experience the irrational fear that something would happen...someone would suspect, the noise would draw them, was it all worth it? Guiltily he knew it was, that she was worth the risk, and even if it might be the hormonal surges of testosterone and adrenal pumping through his veins...at least for now he could live with his decision. He caught her lips once more, kissing slowly before leaning his head against hers and whispering. "If you wish me to love you, then let me love you."

Whatever kind of man he might have been went out the window at the feel of her body against him. What did one say when an angel wrapped her legs around you and ground her hungry flesh against your erection? What could he truly think of at that moment with her lush bosom pressing hard against his chest, her arms wrapping round him as she pleaded for him to take her? He would be a complete idiot to deny himself such a thing, a complete fool to even try to resist the heat between her thighs. The moment felt like a surreal dream and he was tired of acting like he could not do this, tired of trying to prevent himself from acting upon his need for her and showing her that a man could save her from the torment she was experiencing in her life. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in her need for someone to show her love, show her some kind of compassion and want that would take those demons away from her and provide her that long lost solace she had dreamt of.

Any guilt inside of him was quickly squelched with desire.

There was no need to think anymore and no need to refrain from his wish to have her. He lifted her tight against him, making sure she was well braced, before moving her over to the nearby table to sit her perfect ass onto it. The act knocked over a set of files, spilling them onto the floor as he hungrily lowered his head to catch hold over her mouth once more. That mouth was not the only part of Heidi that received the attention of his lips, for he moved further down, his hands taking hold of her thighs as he tenderly kissed his way down over the peak of her right breast, tugging slightly with teeth before continuing his lavish attention further downwards. He spread her as he hunched his shoulders, kissing her inner thigh as he opened her beautiful form up to his sight. His tongue flicked just slightly, teasing, wondering what he needed to say to have everything, to have all of this. He knew the answer deep inside of his heart already and he almost quailed at the thought of speaking those words. Yet at the moment in lust, the feeling of euphoria rushing over him, he meant every single bit of it as he whispered back..."I love you too."

His fingers slowly tugged her panties up and off, tossing them to the floor in one swift expert motion. He felt like a God in that instance, seeing her for the first time and it was everything he might have dreamt of. The beautiful folds of her flesh exposed made him groan in his own delight for more of her, his eyes widening as his features flushed with hunger. He did not want to take her just yet, they had enough time for him to ensure that she was properly shown how very much she was loved. He was no Francis, but he was a man already infatuated with her, and he would do much to ensure she was well pleased with the results of her acquiescence. His fingers slid along the silkiness of her labias as he parted her and then leaned in to slowly caress her with his tongue, the hot air of his breath exhaling outwards over her skin as he began to work that exquisite form. His hands slid to cup her, like a man dying for a drink of water in the dessert, and he feasted...it was the only word to describe the moan of delight as the taste of her nectar touched his tongue.

He had no idea what she was saying into his ear, but the urgency in her voice was enough to convince him that whatever it was it was an encouragement for the act that they were consummating. She was more than perfect, she was everything he had ever wanted in a woman, and now he was touching the flesh of an angel and finding her to be more than just transcendental but a true reality beneath his hands. His hands slid to cup those amazing breasts, digging into the flesh to hold onto them, his eyes burning down as he gazed at her with wanton lust permeating every part of his being. Yet he was worried, frightened, fearful of the power of that moment. Of what it meant and what it could do to his career. It started to trickle into the back of his mind, interfering with his ability to really appreciate what was happening, and the logical side of him...the one that seemed to try to warn him of what all of this could mean started to intrude, started to speak about what would happen...what would happen if she came out of this disconnected state in the middle of all of this?

But he was so close to cumming...

The noise they were making was far too much and the worry crept back into him as he tried to stifle the noises coming from her throat. His hips hammered into the desk, rocking them, and luckily for both the furniture withstood the heated blows that strained their lovemaking. Though this was hardly lovemaking, now was it, Elias? He thought to himself. His tension was deep as he realized that the only way through this was to finish this and his body began to move into the work of that very fact. He had provided her pleasure, wanted her to feel that he was worthy of this attention....not just Francis, but him...Elias. Yet he knew that it was a foolish gamble, that in the end none of this might matter, and it was a momentary fling that would be gone...because surely he could not continue it now could he? Yet thank god for her, thank god for her beauty, because as she tightened up around him he felt those thoughts finally trickle away and he leaned down and kissed her. He kissed her hard and thanked his lucky stars to have this one moment with her.

His orgasm hit like a freight train and came far quicker than he wanted, but probably timely if the clock was any indication of the matter. The intensity shook him to the core as for the briefest second he forgot all of his fears and unloaded deep within her. The moment stopped the hands of that clock, his head tilted back as the agony and pleasure seared his mind. The shaft flexed deep witin her, sliding to the full length of his thick flesh and he held still as those teeth gritted together and his eyes finally closed. He moaned hard and his head came back down into that kiss, demanding she open her mouth to his searching tongue, his whimpering growl almost a mewling noise against her lips as his ass flexed and he filled her with seed. He panted out, shaking softly as he whispered against her lips. "Heidi...oh fuck...Heidi...you're so beautiful...so...good..." He shivered as the last words left him and he found himself spent within her, shaken as the thought hammered into his mind as ecstasy left him...

Oh my God, Oh my God...we didn't use protection... Slowly he raised his head from hers to gaze down into her exquisite features, searching her eyes for something, some hope to cling to, to somehow console himself with the act he had done...to make it right, no matter how wrong it might have been.

The orgasm was torrential, it drove him to the edge of pleasure and over it, and much like the woman underneath him it came as a sudden shock of cold water when he spilled his seed inside of her and the fire of lust was replaced with the utter stunned realization of what he had done. Looking at her as she lay there his eyes widened as he still finished, the powerful moment seeming to draw out as if he was trapped in that timeless eternity with her. He could see her on horror, her on confusion, and her own lust running rampant over her features and his brow furrowed as he realized that even in that moment of understanding he did not stop. No, his hips continued to piston deep within her until he was fully spent in her fertile womb. His body ached, his entire soul ached, but in the end he could not in any fashion feel sorrow for himself. No, he deserved the terrible guilty feeling that began to take hold of him as he finally came to a faltering stop...his legs trembling from the desire and the vigorous fucking after all these lonely days.

It was inexcusable.

What was more, he could see the sudden changes moving swiftly over the woman underneath him. The woman was clearly mad, no matter her beauty, no matter the flesh which had promised salvation. No, that flesh promised eternal damnation, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that whatever foolish thoughts had been inside of him that he suggested he was capable of helping her had flown away with the spreading of her perfect thighs. He had cast aside everything that was good about him, which apparently was very little, just to have a taste of what she was. Oh, surely she had played her own part, but how could he hold her culpable when she was clearly not in her right mind? No, the answer was no, and more than that it was criminal what he had done. He could actually go to jail over this, and the thought made him pull away from her in disgust, not at her...but at the act they had just consummated.

Sliding out of her he stepped away, seeing the cum drip from her hot hole, revulsion and a sick delight inside of him at the view of it. He fumbled as he left her there, his voice almost desperate as he whispered frantically. "Quick, quick, get dressed...," it was all he could think of to say as she seemed to come to some kind of terms with what had happened and reveled in the moaning of her lust. He had little doubt that they'd been heard, little doubt in the slightest. Would people come, would they find them? Almost certainly it was a yes. His hands moved down to grip his pants, jerking them up so that he could button and zip them, his desperation quickly coming to fueled panic. He would lose everything, he would lose it all, was it worth it for the few moments of lust with this woman? Was it worth it to forever be ruined because he couldn't think past the need of his own cock? Whatever those answers were he did not have enough time to find them.

The door opened....