This is an 18+ fetish blog. I am 37, cis queer woman. I was on old birth kink Tumblr before the purge and am back now after a few years.
I mostly write short birth stories on reblogs and sometimes some original longer fiction. I don't RP. You can send story prompts, if you like, but no guarantee I'd ever get to them.
Likes:
Long, very painful labors
Long pushing and crowning
Hospital births (stirrups, IV's, catheters, being monitored)
Medical intervention when the patient is struggling (forceps, vacuum, episiotomy)
Surgical intervention (either a c-section after a very difficult vaginal attempt or repair of birth injuries, up to and including hysterectomy)
Post birth pain (crying while delivering the placenta, whining while tears are stitched up, in a lot of pain going in to or being wheeled out of surgery, being really sore after birth)
Nursing struggles (engorged breasts, pain while nursing, being milked with a breast pump while tears are sewn up or the patient is waking up from surgery)
Not birth related, necessarily, but I also love gynecological and abdominal surgery fantasies, especially around the patient being intubated and then waking up in a lot of pain.
Dislikes:
Children in the room while the person is birthing
Water births
Sensual births (I'd rather their face be screwed up in pure agony, not ecstasy)
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You're too far into labor for a c-section now, but the overdue monster ripping its way through your cervix is just too large to be squeezed through your stubborn hips. The only option your doctors have now is to force your pelvic bones to separate...
I distinctly remember looking at the clock at 12:46am on Tuesday, realizing I’d been in labor for a full 48 hours, and bursting into full on ugly sobs. I’d read enough books to know I was in transition, my body shaking so hard my teeth were chattering, nausea roiling in my gut each time a contraction gripped my straining middle.
“Oh God, how long can this last?"
The pressure had been building for hours. Every contraction was like a fist squeezing my entire pelvis into powder. The nurse kept saying, “You’re doing great, almost there,” but I wasn’t sure what “there” even meant anymore.
Finally, the OB told me they had no other choice but to use the vacuum extractor to pry him out.
I shrieked as I felt the deep, crushing pressure of the vacuum being applied. The OB barked something—more urgency in his voice this time. The baby was still stuck.
I screamed as I pushed again, every ounce of strength I had left, and then...
SNAP.
A brutal, sharp pop tore through my pelvis. It was a sickening, internal sound, followed by something even worse: agonizing, tearing, white-hot pain. It was like my core snapped and my legs, up in stirrups, were no longer attached correctly.
Then came the splay.
My legs flew open, grotesquely wide, far beyond what my hips or pelvis should have allowed. I heard someone gasp. One of the nurses moved instinctively to catch my leg before it flopped off the table.
The other one shouted, “Her pelvis gave!”
She grabbed the other leg and I made the mistake of looking down, over my swollen belly, to see myself being held froglegged in a way no human body should with a bulge the size of a bowling ball sitting firmly at the rim of my rapidly bruising and grotesquely tilted pelvis.
I sobbed, clutching the rails, unable to catch my breath from the sheer agony. “It hurts,” I choked, “Oh God—I blew, my pussy blew!” My voice broke into a wail as another contraction crushed through me, this time with the added agony of my shattered pelvis screaming and shifting with every tremor.
“There’s no time,” someone muttered. They kept the vacuum attached. The OB was firm now, working quickly. “Push again. We have to get the baby out now.”
I barely heard him. My hips felt like they were detaching from my body, everything ruined down there, nerves howling with every movement. But I pushed, howling, crying, feeling like my body was giving way entirely.
And then the pressure changed.
Suddenly, there was a gush of fluid, blood, and then the incredible relief of weight leaving my body. A tiny cry rose through the fog. I blinked against the tears and pain, barely registering them lifting the baby away from my ruined lap.
But I couldn’t focus on that.
I couldn’t move my legs. They were still splayed wide, and the pain between them had gone from unbearable to unthinkable. My pelvis felt like it was shattered glass, like it would fall apart if someone so much as breathed on me.
“We'll get an X-ray but call the OR and ortho, she's gonna need the works.”
“She’s hemorrhaging. We need to start packing her.”
“She can’t close her legs, her pelvis is totally unstable.”
I heard it all but couldn’t answer. Every inch of my body throbbed. My thighs trembled with effort, my tailbone burned, and the center of my pelvis felt like it had been blown apart from the inside.
Hands were on me again—compressing my belly, pressing on my still swollen and trembling fundus, drawing blood and more tissue out. I screamed, the pain in my pubic bone so sharp it made my vision tunnel.
“She’s got separation. Symphysis pubis rupture. We need to stabilize her now.”
Someone held my hand. A nurse tried to keep me calm while others quickly bundled me into pads, bracing my legs gently but firmly in place.
They packed towels and surgical pads between my thighs where I could still feel myself gushing blood. I sobbed harder when they lifted my pelvis to check the damage and felt everything grind inside me.
"Good God, put me out, please! I can’t take the pain," I begged, my eyes rolling back as an involuntary twitch of my hips sent a bolt so sharp through my ravaged pelvis I almost blacked out. Unfortunately I did not and could only trail off with a pitiful moan.
"We can't quite yet, honey, I'm so sorry. It would tank your pressure. We're gonna get you stable and up to surgery and they'll give you the good stuff."
My face crumpled and I sobbed as another well meaning nurse shoved another pad into the gushing wound that used to be my pussy and ground the broken bones in my pelvis.
I drifted in and out, alternating between moaning and begging for pain meds, while they rushed me to the OR. The agony of the jostling combined with the ceiling tiles and bright lights flying past above me made me suddenly nauseous.
The head nurse, expecting me to puke, swiftly turned my head to the side and at that moment I caught sight of myself in the reflection of the glass.
I could never have imagined my first birth would end with me splayed like a broken rag doll, pelvis shattered, with blood sluicing through soaked pads between my legs with every bounce of the gurney. My eyes are wide and glassy and my deflated bump and straining tits look out of place on the trauma patient I clearly am.
I have a suddenly flash of clarity about just how bad of shape I'm in.
"Oh fuck, I'm ruined."
The bed hits a bump, hard, and I buck up, screaming and twitching, before my eyes roll back in my head and everything goes black.
One of the earliest birth videos I remember seeing. My fav thing about this is that she’s calm and relaxed up until the head crowns and pops out. Then the cries and screams come
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Young Mother to be Morgan strains on the delivery table,a sheen of sweat glistens on her forehead as the medical staff urge her to push.
The stress is beginning to tell on the monitors as her heart races with the effort and her Oxygen levels start to sag.Shes put on Oxygen to try and help her cope.
A she strains through another contraction,her eyes roll and she falls limp on the delivery table,the doctor rushes to check her pulse.
She has suffered a cardiac arrest,the table is dropped flat and the resuscitation effort begins,starting with bagging.
Her gown is pulled down exposing her bump and swollen breasts,and causing her arm to fall limply off the side of the table.
Chest compressions are started,Her legs rock gently in the stirrups as a result of the force being pressed through her chest.She has a shockable rhythm so the paddles are gelled and charged.
The paddles are applied to her and the electrical current causes her to twitch as the shock is delivered.
The defibrillation fails and she converts to asytole,Shes intubated and the compressions continue while they await a surgeon to perform the Emergency C-Section.
My stills taken from the brilliant one life one death by Digital02.com I'd love to see this remastered into higher definition one day.
I didn't realize, really, what I'd agreed to when I signed the form for the forceps but at that point I wasn't really in any state to be making decisions at all.
I'd been in labor for 57 hours, 44 of them after the epidural I planned for -- and begged for -- failed to do anything at all. But I had the needle in my back so, by hospital policy, I was tethered to the bed for the whole labor anyway, unable to do much more than flip my aching, bloated frame from side to side and pray for it to be over.
Transition was worse than I could have ever possibly imagined. It was like a vice wrapped around my hips and lower belly, crushing the bones of my pelvis into dust every 90 seconds, lasting for over a minute, with mere seconds of rest between each onslaught. At the one hour mark of this agony I overheard, over the sound of my own screams, an OB nurse say she'd never seen a transition this tough go on this long.
So violent was my son's drop into my pelvic girdle and the sudden, overwhelming pressure to push that I screamed "he's breaking me, OH MY GOD, my MY HIPS, MY ASS, IT HURTS SO BAD!"
I wasn't one of those moms who felt empowered when I was told I could start pushing. On the contrary, I knew from the second I started bearing down and felt my tailbone creak that something was very wrong. I knew with every fiber of my being that my child was way, way too big to come out of me and me be left intact.
"Cut him out, oh dear God, please, please, I feel like I'm gonna die, I can feel my pelvis GRINDING, MY ASSHOLE OH GOD MY ASSHOLE, oh God please, I can't take it anymore, please GET HIM OUT!"
That's when they handed me the form for the forceps. I signed so fast they were putting me up in stirrups before the clipboard was even out of my hands.
All the sudden I felt a freezing cold liquid dousing my pussy lips and a gloved hand entering my hole. At first it was a rimming and then, without warning, it felt like I was being roughly fisted. I didn't even have a chance to object, though, before a contraction was gripping me and I could do nothing but screech as it forced my massive baby deeper into my overloaded birth canal.
I think they must have told me they had to cut me as part of the procedure but I never expected them to do it during a contraction or without numbing me. I felt the scalpel slicing through my tender tissues and, almost immediately, the unimaginable searing agony of a metal spatula being forced into my overstuffed birth tube.
I was shaking so hard in the stirrups that I had a nurse on either side, forcing my thighs into the cold metal. The second spatula going in, impossibly, was so much worse than the first. There was no room left and, to add insult to injury, I could feel my son, wedged firmly in my hips kicking hard, adding to my overall misery.
I was too out of it, in too much distress, to be extended the courtesy of knowing what was going on down there. They didn't even tell me when they were going to pull the head out so the utter destruction of my perineum, urethra, and asshole -- which felt like a grenade had gone off in my nethers -- was a complete and total surprise.
"I'M RIPPING, MY PEE HOLE, OH MY GOD, MY PEE HOLE TORE!"
The severity of my injuries immediately rippled through the room and I felt an oxygen mask being placed over my face. A nurse was trying to talk to me but my vision was tunneling. I'm ashamed to say I couldn't even think of my baby, all I could focus on was the unbelievable agony between my legs.
The shoulders, well, I was already ripped so bad you would think it couldn't get any worse but, it turned out, one piece of me had been spared. But, my premonition had been correct: this birth would destroy me down there forever. When he turned, the left shoulder almost entirely detached my clitoris.
My eyes rolled back in my head and I could feel myself start to vomit from the sheer agony of it all. They were turning my head to the side to keep me from aspirating as they pulled the rest of his body out.
The massive gush of fluids as he left my body was a new level of pain. My gruesome tears stung as it kept coming, coating my thighs and the floor.
My vision started to go black as I felt a gloved hand examining what used to be my genitals. I could only sob as I clenched down painfully on nothing, the continuous leak of birth fluids searing through my ripped skin. I could hear voices around me but I'd lost the ability to follow the plot.
"Her clitoris is hanging on by a thread."
"She's going to need a total urethra repair."
"Call plastic surgery. She's gonna need a lot more than that."
Before I lost consciousness, I heard someone say my son was fine and he'd weighed in at 19lbs.
My poor pussy clenched down on nothing again and I let out a pitiful wail. A nurse near my head stroked my hair and tried to reassure me I'd be under anesthesia soon. I was in so much pain I had no dignity left.
"Please, put something in my pussy, oh God, it hurts so bad. Please, it hurts when it clenches, OH GOD PUT ME OUT."
The last thing I felt before losing consciousness was a gloved first shoving through my tears and settling, as I'd asked, in my overstretched hole. I moaned pitifully, so badly injured that this one tiny mercy felt like a blissful relief.
The last thing I heard was a male voice, full of awe and a bit of mirth.
"You'd think she'd never want anything inside her again!"
The mesh panties are so hot. She wanted to keep it dignified as long as possible, didn't want to be one of those women who took her clam out at 3 inches dialated.
But it's coming and she can feel it. Any second she's gonna have to do away with the pretense and spread bare her leaking, puffy pussy for every doctor and nurse on the ward to watch her squat out what, if her husband's genetics hold true, is sure to be a truly massive kid.
They offer her what amounts to little more than a diaper after she's expelled her son, who weighed in at 14lbs. She tore, badly, and had to lie there for an hour while the doc made two distinct holes for her waste again. She's still leaking birth fluids and the burn on her stitches as it trickles down her bruised genitals is enough to bring tears to her eyes.
She refuses the diaper. Everyone's already seen her ruined cunny and it hurts so bad she doesn't want anything between her and the ice pack, anyway.
As she's rolled out in a wheelchair, her birth injuries stinging with every jostle, she sees a fecund mom in a hospital gown, pacing the halls. Her mesh panties are peeking out the back of her gown as she doubles over from the pain of what's clearly a wicked contraction.
"Forget the underwear, honey, and get the epidural! You don't want to feel it when you rip!"
After two very calm standing births during which she barely made a noise at all, she ended her birthing experience flat on her back screaming while being fisted through a breech birth.
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Look at the size of that man compared to his poor, laboring partner. I bet he put a 12 pounder in her belly that she’s now really struggling to get out.
Content: this is medical fetish fiction about labor, birth, and hysterectomy.
One of the interesting things about recovering women from hysterectomy is that, due to the nature of the procedures, it’s not uncommon for them to wake up feeling sensations like those of labor and birth.
We get a lot of “it feels like back labor!” and “I feel like I am having contractions” from laparoscopic hysterectomy patients as they ride through the gas pains pressing on their new internal incisions.
Vaginal hysterectomy patients are more likely to compare it to delivery. “I feel so heavy down there, like I just gave birth” is a common one. I had a very groggy lady ask me the other day if she ripped more pushing out the second twin because it felt like her butthole had torn. She was 61 and her 36 year old twins were in the waiting room. (Later, when she was only slightly less groggy, she told me it was her son who'd ripped her so bad it made it extremely painful to push his sister through the damage. He looked like he wanted to puke when, as I had her legs spread to remove her catheter, she said I could probably show him the scars from where he tore her up.)
What's fascinating is the sensations of labor and birth are so intense and primal that even women who had their last baby 60 years ago can be thrown right back to that place in the right circumstances, like a little anesthesia and having their insides rearranged with a scalpel.
We had an 88 year-old lady the other day who’d had a radical hysterectomy and she was super out of it. Nothing could convince her the severe bladder spasms weren't contractions and, when her epidural started failing, she told everyone she saw she was in transition. You really haven't seen anything until you've seen an ancient looking lady, who somehow managed to get her legs in the delivery position because she was so convinced a baby was going to be coming out, screaming “I'm crowning, oh God it's too big, pull it out of me!”
That's the nature of the uterus. Whether you use it or lose it, you end up the same way: laid out in a hospital bed, bleeding out of your pussy, and moaning about the pain.
I had the first baby born in my small town seconds after midnight in 2024. Our pictures were in the paper and everything and we got a little certificate co-branded from the hospital and the local newspaper.
The local paper is so into this yearly tradition it sends a photographer to hang around the maternity ward to capture an image of the mother/child pair lucky enough to win that year's honor.
I'm sure the guy who got that assignment was very annoyed with me because, while my son popped out at 12:01am, I was up in stirrups, my destroyed pussy gaped and leaking, while my my placenta was manually removed, piece by piece, by the doctor's hands going in and up me what felt like a thousand times. They said they numbed me but I have my doubts. I think the poor newspaper kid who had to stand outside my door listening to me shriek about the pain in my pussy for two hours might have some doubts too.
I have no memory of the photograph being taken but I look so bad I'm surprised they put it on the front page of the paper considering how absolutely wrecked I look. My face is marred by pain, I have huge black bags under my eyes, and if you look closely you can tell I'm actually still in the stirrups in the picture, a drape casually thrown over my brutalized genitals so they could get the picture between pulling my placenta out of me and putting 40 stitches in my clitoris, ureter, and rectum.
I certainly don't remember giving the kid a quote but I must have because it was there in black and white the next, in a pull quote box in bold next to a graphic of the New Year Baby, for my parents, co-workers, and every other person in our town to read over their morning cereal.
"I feel like someone detonated a grenade down there. I tore my butthole when the doctor pulled him out and they say I'm gonna have a catheter for weeks because that's pretty torn up too. I've been in labor since Christmas Eve. You think I care about having the New Year's baby?"
It was attributed to me, my full name right there on the front page next to "mom to 17lb New Year's Baby." It was months before I could go anywhere in public without my neighbors glancing down at my pelvis when they saw me, clearly wondering if my tissues were still a car crash down there.
So remember today folks, that behind every single "New Year Baby" headline in every town in the world is an exhausted person waking up with their genitals on fire and their hips and pelvis aching, leaking milk from their tits and blood and stray birth fluids into their hospital issued mesh panties.
The Hips That Launched 1000 Orgasms: A Medical Fetish Fiction
Content warning: this is a medical and surgical fetish fiction in which characters derive sexual pleasure from a surgical patient undergoing bilateral hip replacement and experiencing a difficult post-operative period. Those characters have sex, the patient is never involved or aware they are being fetishized. There is no useful medical information about hip replacement here. This is 18+ fetish fiction, minors DNI, otherwise read at your own risk.
Author’s note: I have a sudden huge thing for hip replacement surgery now? I don’t know. This is 3000 words of my latest hyperfixation, which is evidently women screaming about the pain in their broken hips. Truly dead dove territory here.
***
My grandfather's wife needed double hip replacement surgery and he asked me to help him get her to the hospital, wait while she was in surgery, and be there to see her with him when she got out.
I didn't really want to do it, frankly, because I have a raging medical and surgical fetish and, when he asked me to do it, I got off the phone, got hard when I immediately imagined the look on her face when she woke up and felt the pain of what had just been done to her, and then got soft real fast when I felt like a creep for sexualizing my step-grandma's surgical pain. Even though he's only been with the woman for a few years -- she's wife number six, we don't get attached -- and we've met a grand total of two times. It still felt...icky...to do what they would consider a kind favor if I wasn't going to be able to keep my dick down. Considering how many times I got hard thinking of that look on her face when my brain wandered toward the request, I wasn't going to be able to.
But it was icy the morning of the surgery, he's 78, and she's suffering so badly from the arthritis that's necessitating the hip replacements that he was going to have to transfer her from her wheelchair into their van in the ice. So, I'm not a total asshole....I said I'd come pick them up and gave my dick a talking to for the whole half hour drive to their house, insisting that we were not, under any circumstances, going to sexualize any part of my step-grandma's surgery experience.
We got there, they said a lovey, dovey goodbye -- they're disgustingly into PDA for septuagenarians -- then she was wheeled in for surgery, already a little loopy from the drugs they came her to keep her calm before the procedure. My dick did so well, only a teeny tiny jump, when they placed her central line and told her she'd really want that to deliver her pain medication once the nerve block placed during surgery wore off.
The surgery took about six hours, a little long for a bilateral hip replacement, and I tried valiantly not to look at the clock and imagine what they were doing to her at that point during the surgery. Were they prying her lips open to place the endotracheal tube? Using the saw to remove the arthritic joint? Or hammering the second new one in? Maybe there had been an unexpectedly tragic complication and right that very moment a surgeon was breaking her ribs as she coded on the table. It was a long six hours and Grandpa thought I had a weak bladder I had to go to the bathroom so many times to talk down my erection.
The doctor who came out to tell us the surgery had been a little difficult but she would recover normally told us a nurse would come back shortly and let us come see her in the post-anesthesia care unit once she was a little more awake. I had to excuse myself to the restroom again to have another talk with my dick because it was already getting traitorous at the thought of seeing her in the PACU, when her pain was most likely to be uncontrolled.
We didn't get to see her in the PACU, though. They came, said she was stable but needed a little more time. I figured she was either really groggy, really nauseous, or she was in so much pain it would freak us out and they were trying to control it before we saw her.
Unfortunately for me, my traitorous dick, and step granny, it was the latter. Two hours later they told us to meet her in her regular room because she was being wheeled down to be settled for the night, and to prepare ourselves because they were "struggling to keep her comfortable." We started hearing her pitiful groans when she was still halfway down the hall.
The semi I sprung the second I heard her keening cry after being jostled as the bed hit the door making the turn into the room turned into a rock hard erection when I saw her for the first time. She was lying flat on the bed, her head thrown back in agony, with her legs strapped around a blue triangular hip abductor pillow at her knees and mid-calf. The top of the triangle ended about one inch under her vagina, a hint of which I could see in the form of coarse gray hair partially obscuring a yellow catheter tube that snaked down to a half full bag of light yellow fluid hanging on the side of the bed.
Her face was beet red, streaked with tears, and her eyes were glassy and unfocused. She was crying so hard she seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating and the involuntary spasms of her struggle for breath and the heaving sobs were jerking her aching hips, sending slices of agony through her entire pelvis and down the bloody bandage covered incisions down the sides of her legs, which only made her struggle harder.
The cute, muscled twink nurse who introduced himself as Marco, her night nurse, said her nerve block was wearing off and he would give her another dose of pain meds once he plugged in the monitors. He was making quick work of getting her settled when grandpa and I approached her bed.
I was so fucking hard I could barely move for fear my erection, which was twitching enough in my boxers to make me tremble, would hit the thick, dark denim of the jeans I wore specifically so I could hide this problem if it, um, popped up. I was in such a state that any friction would absolutely have been game over for me.
[If you've gotten this far and are fucking horrified by me, well, I was fucking horrified with myself to be leaking pre-cum at an old lady's obvious agony. Trust me, I get it. I didn't want my fetish to turn me on in a real life hospital. But holy shit she was lying there, screaming "my hips, my hips!" while strapped down immobile to that pillow like she was out of central casting in a surgical fetish fiction film and there were no number of thoughts of hellfire and damnation that could talk my penis down at that point. Why did it have to be hips?! I've had a hard on for this particular surgery since I was like 10 and I saw an old lady on Rescue 911 with a badly dislocated hip beg the paramedics to let her die rather than taking her to the hospital to have hip replacement for the second time because she didn't think she could endure the pain of waking up from that surgery again. I must have had 3000 orgasms since then watching the exact part of the video where she woke up from anesthesia and screamed, "my hip, oh God, why, I can't take the pain in my hip!" So, actually. I was doing insanely fucking well for what this was doing to me, thank you very much.]
Step granny saw grandpa and let out a wail. She tried to reach for him and groaned when it shot white sharp sparks through her surgical wounds again. She was visibly struggling to put words together through the haze of pain and the drugs in her system but she looked at him plaintively and began to beg, her voice raspy from the trach tube.
"Please, make the pain stop, I feel like I'm gonna die I'm in so much pain! It feels like someone's drilling into my hips! This was a mistake, I didn't know it would hurt this much, I don't want to die in this much pain!"
I had to turn around at that to pinch the base of my cock to keep myself from busting. I grunted when I was just barely successful but couldn't rein in a few involuntary thrusts of my own hips into the air that I hoped, if anyone was paying attention, would look like me trying to hold in my vomit of horror at seeing step granny in this condition.
But I turned around and it didn't seem like anyone was paying attention because Marco was putting a bolus of morphine into step granny's IV and she was pleading for him to hurry because it felt like a grenade had gone off in her pelvis.
I almost moaned at the pressure in the base of my cock as heard that and then had to push so fucking hard on my base again I almost squealed as I watched it take effect in less than a minute. Her eyes practically crossed before going wide with what looked like surprise. Her mouth dropped open and her tongue lolled around her lips as the drugs hit her.
She made a few noises that sent shivers through my erection before her whole body seemed to deflate with a long, breathy sigh. Her head fell to the side, her eyes and mouth locked open in a rictus of what could have been agony, bliss, or was more likely some combination of the two.
I don't know how I didn't bust right then. It was like she'd been written as a character in a kink fic to hit all my surgical fetish buttons. She was just splayed there, drugged out of her gourd, with a dumb look of utter shock on her face, like she never could have imagined having her arthritic hip joints sawed off and metal balls hammered into their place would hurt this bad.
She lay there like that for five minutes, emitting weak groans but otherwise completely catatonic. I didn't even know if she was conscious but grandpa stroked her cheek, rubbing a knuckle near her slack mouth.
"How are those hips feeling, honey?"
It didn't look like she was able to hear us for about 30 seconds but then her eyes went to half lidded, then rolled back in her head, and then she let out a long throaty moan that could only be described as pornographic.
"Ooooooooooh they feel so good, oh God it feels so good."
She let out another long moan and it looked like she was going to go catatonic again but this time with her eyes rolled back in her head and a mask of pure bliss on her pale features.
My grandpa turned to me and shot me an unexpectedly dirty smile for the situation.
"That's what she said last night. And that was the look she had on her face when she said it too."
My cock jumped in my pants so hard I was sure my grandpa had to see it. It was only that thought -- explaining to my grandpa why I was cumming all over his wife's hospital bed -- that kept me from nutting because...holy shit. I never ever thought I'd find my grandpa having sex with his wife hot but the idea of him pounding her mangled hips hours before they sliced them out just about sent me over the edge after everything else I'd endured over the last few hours.
I was thanking fuck I managed to hold it together when step granny emitted a strained chuckle and commanded her drugged features into what might pass as a smile. She let out another one of those long moans and I almost joined her as it sent a bolt of heat to my length.
"Give me a few hours and my hips can take you," she slurred. "They feel so good I'll take all of it, the whole thing, just give me a few hours."
It was a drugged old lady thing to say and, I can attest, would become a family favorite story of step granny's hip replacement tale once she was far enough from it for anything about it to be funny.
It was also the last fucking straw for my poor, aching cock. I didn't even have a chance to stop it. I was cumming, untouched, for the first time in my life, in the middle of relative's hospital room. And I wasn't cumming delicately or demurely, I was cumming like a fucking freight train, moaning, bucking into the air, and practically having a seizure as every fucking hot thing about the fucking hottest day of my life - which had basically been 10 hours of edging to a 15 year-old fantasy -- spilled over into the best and most embarrassing orgasm I had ever had, coating my boxers with a measure of cum I didn't know was possible to shoot out of me or anyone.
I was still jerking from the aftershocks when Marco, the nurse who I’d barely noticed before, put his shoulder under mine and held me up as I bucked involuntarily, spilling the last of my load. I had no idea what I was going to say to anyone but, for whatever reason, he was leading me out of the room, telling my bewildered grandpa I might be in shock from seeing step granny in so much pain.
Just as we were about to leave the room Marco looked at me knowingly, flashed a sick smile, and called back into the room, "now take it easy now, you two love birds. Wouldn't want to take those new hips out for a spin too soon!"
I groan as my poor, throbbing cock perks back up at the general implications of that and he grins like the cat that got the canary, clearly confirming to himself that I'm getting sexual pleasure out of this, as if cumming myself stupid in the middle of her hospital room didn't give enough of a clue.
He directed me into a nearby closet and I am about to open my mouth to explain why I'm not the worst person in the world for getting off to my grandmother's agonizing surgery recovery when Marco whipped his cock out and gave it a few fast, desperate strokes before pulling a face of relief that almost reminded me of step granny when she got the morphine.
"I'm sorry," he said, continuing to rut his massive cock desperately into his hand, "it's just she's so fucking hot, she's like a god damn fetish porno, and I've been hard as a fucking rock since she woke up and screamed "my hips, oh my god, someone put a gun up my vagina and exploded my hips!"
I heard that and for the second time in my life, and that day, I nutted my brains out without so much as stroke to my cock. He kept tugging on me through the aftershocks as he told about what she was like to recover.
He said it was like she could feel everything from the moment she was brought around on the table and that she started screaming for pain meds the instant she was extubated, while they were still suctioning out of her throat even. Marco started bucking into his own hand, his voice becoming uneven with arousal, as he told me the doctor kept insisting she had a nerve block and she was just being dramatic or was maybe even med seeking while she was laying in the bed, trembling, on the verge of going into shock from the pain.
His voice became uneven as he stroked himself harder and began to imitate step granny as she lay there screaming, groggy and deeply confused from the effects of the anesthesia.
“I feel where they broke my hip!”
“Why is this happening to me? Please make it stop”
“Am I dying? I’m in so much pain I feel like I’m dying!”
By this point Marco had jerked himself into a frenzy reliving how she looked and sounded in the depths of her agony but he blew his load when he relayed the look on her face when she was moved from the operating table to the bed. She was evidently a little more aware than she should have been and, well, he was cumming too hard to tell me exactly what happened but it must have been brutal because he came screaming “my hips are shattering, my hips are shattering.”
It was remarkably chill between me and Marco after we both came down from fucking ourselves silly to our medfet dreams made real life. He was asking me about my favorite surgeries, how I realized medical stuff turned me on, if my granny was always so dramatic. I was telling him I knew her about as well as he did when he got a text that made his jaw drop.
“Holy shit. Fuck dude. She wasn’t being dramatic. They just caught her anesthesiologist high in the parking lot. He was diverting during her fucking surgery.”
I look at him with a blank look. “What does that mean?”
He winced. “It means instead of giving her the drugs he took them himself. Everything she was supposed to get after and, holy shit from the way she was when she woke up, maybe from during the surgery too. Holy shit. I hope she had enough during the surgery. She did keep saying she felt everything.”
I felt my heart start to race as I thought I understood what he was saying but I asked him to clarify just to make sure I was understanding.
“No wonder we were nutting over how hot she was being. She didn’t have any pain meds after the surgery and she may not have even had enough during the surgery. She wasn’t being dramatic, she was raw dogging a double hip replacement.”
For the third time in my life, and that day, I busted absolutely untouched in my pants. That was the single fucking hottest thing I'd ever heard up until that moment.
That is until three days later when I held Marco's cock and step granny's hand as she strained on a bedpan to take the dreaded first post-surgery shit.
"Oh God, I need an enema, I feel like it's breaking my hips!"
I quit counting how many times I came, untouched and otherwise, during her recovery as Marco and I got to know each other.
There's a reason we still refer to step granny's now long healed, ballroom dancing hips as "the hips that launched 1000 orgasms."
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You were a mess when they brought you in. Your hips were clearly dislocated and askew at a disgusting inward angle. You were bleeding internally into your belly and pelvis from the crush trauma . You were gaped from the birth and lying in a puddle of your own birth fluids. You were in absolute agony screaming "my hips, oh God my hips! oh God it hurts so bad!" and "ow ow oh God I'm still contracting, it's killing me, I think I'm gonna die!" We didn't sedate you before moving you to the operating table and you yelled out "OH MY GOD I FEEL MY BONES GRINDING TOGETHER" before your eyes rolled back in your head and you passed out.
You begin to truly wake up from the anesthesia about four hours after surgery when the nerve block started to wear off and you started to feel the the deep grinding ache in your hips from the bilateral hip replacement and the stinging fire of the pelvic fixator staked through your skin and bone. Your eyes roll back in your head in agony when your new hip is manipulated by the nurse for the first time, fire shooting up your back and down your thigh as the injured muscles object.
"Oh God please don't move me, it hurts so bad. Oh God please give me something for the pain!"
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