7 comments/  78411 views/  68 favorites

The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 01

By: The_Maestro_Braddock



Doctor Greg Clark lived a typical, if upper middle class, American existence. A dermatologist with his own practice, he had patients enough to make a pretty penny and flexibility enough to do it while maintaining a fair amount of control in terms of the amount and times he worked. In his off time, he enjoyed running, playing pickup basketball with friends he had known since elementary school, doting on his two kids, Shelly, age 5, and Martin, age 2, and absorbing pop culture, especially music and literature. He married his college sweetheart and they were on their 8th year of wedded bliss. They loved, respected, and looked out for one another and when they had sex, both found it enjoyable. At 31, he seemed to be in a healthy, enjoyable rhythm.

On the day when it all began, Greg was running a bit behind for a dinner party. The basketball game ran over and there was construction on Main Street and what should have been a 6:15 shower had been pushed back to 6:30. As he hustled into the pelting, steamy mist, he heard his wife yell something to which he simply shouted back, "Ok." He had no particular interest in the "What? Can you say that again," back and forth since he was already rushing. With the babysitter already in the back yard, taking a dip in the pool and his wife more than ready to go, he was sure whatever was the issue the two of them could take care of it at that time or it could wait. Either way, he resolved to be sure to ask her about it later, and that that would be good enough.

He paused for a moment in the mirror and gave himself a quick up and down. Everything appeared in order: still in shape, teeth still white, nails still nicely trimmed. His hair, however, would need to be addressed. 

A victim of premature graying in his early twenties, the good Doctor had opted to get out in front of it in a fit of a vanity and shaved his head, reasoning that he would simply dye the hair as it grew back and people would not realize how gray he was really going. After very positive notices for the shaved head look, he dropped the second part of the plan and simply kept it bic'ed clean. Today, however, he had let the stubble go too far and, in a rush or not, he would have to shave it away once again.

But haste makes reckless fools of us all and in this way, Greg was no different. Taking far more than the customary dollop of body wash for his head, he found his eyes quickly filled with equal parts soap and unpleasant burning. Squeezing his lids shut in an attempt to prevent further stinging pain, he grimly set about his business, dragging the razor from front to back, rinses and repeating.

Two razor pulls in, he heard the shower curtain pull open and closed once more and sensed another person in the tub with him.

"Hey, I thought you already—" he began, before a digit pressed to his lips stopped him.

"Shh," his wife whispered back. "Just keep doing what you are doing. Mmmmm...and call me baby."

This struck Greg as odd as he could probably count on one hand the amount of times he called his wife baby. As far as he could recall, she never seemed to care much for it one way or another. More primary in his mind though was...

"Okay, but why are you—"

Again, he was interrupted...this time by his wife's nails dragging down his chest and stomach before teasing him to hardness. Stunned, Greg could only stand in place as teasing turned to more insistent stroking. As she varied speeds and occasionally dragged her nails down the length of his cock, he finally broke out of his stupor with a deep moan before speaking.

"Umm...I thought we were already running behind?"

"That's why you need to keep shaving," she responded in a throaty, playful whisper.

Still not quite understanding what was going on, Greg began to open his mouth once again. Only a shocked gasp came out as he felt his wife take him deep into her mouth. A rush of blood shot through his body. Her mouth was incredible, hot and wet and needy. He reached for the wall blindly, eyes still coated with soap.

"Shave," her heard her mumble/order him and so he did. He probably would have done anything to keep her mouth and her tongue pleasuring him.

As he enjoyed it, another part of his mind still struggled to process it. He couldn't remember the last time she had gone down on him at all, nevermind spontaneously in the shower. It had been so long, her technique even seemed different to him. Her blowjobs, as best he could remember, were good, but nothing like this. This...was amazing. Everything she did wracked his body with bursts of bliss and desire. It was as though, suddenly, she was living to suck his dick, she committed to it with such abandon.

Anxious to see her as she applied this new, improved ability, Greg rushed to finish shaving and clean the soap from his eyes. He fought against his desire to wrap his hands in her hair as her mouth drove him wild, convinced that to do so would mean the end of this magic moment. 

The bathroom was filled with the sound of jets of water, deep slurping, the doctor's own unconscious moans and grunts of sexual need and fulfillment, and his wife's almost constant murmurs of lusty contentment. As he clued into the sounds, his own lust somehow increased. He felt nearly dizzy with it. But somehow he persisted and finished his head, throwing it back into the shower head stream, restoring his vision once again.

Triumphant, he allowed himself a smile and looked down, prepared to take in the sight of his wife on her knees, loving his dick.

And so he locked eyes with her, her green eyes twinkling with naughty lust and control, almost smirking with an "I got you" statement of control. Her flaxen hair retained some curl even though as it continued to be soaked under the powerful spurt of water from the shower. Greg could not believe how hot she looked. How transcendent. He knew it was shallow to say that he never loved his wife as much as he did now, blowing him, but there it was. This world shaking round of head was officially the greatest gift she had ever given him, beating out the births of both their children.

Except...

His wife did not have green eyes, she had blue ones. And she had chestnut hair, not blond. It was straight, never curly. Who the hell—

The woman, the stranger noticed his eyes, and hers seemed to smile even stronger. She slowly, achingly slowly, dragged her mouth off his cock, using her teeth every so sparingly, until he was free of her.

"Mallory?" he gasped. Mallory was his 19 year old babysitter, a five-foot five-inch ball of energy that had watched his children for the past two years while attending community college just down the street. She was the subject of great ribald fixation for many of Greg's friends, with her penchant for cute, revealing outfits, sexy heeled shoes, perky breasts, toned legs, and a beautiful face that framed an easy, but vaguely teasing smile.

"Hey Doctor Clark," she said to him matter-of-factly, stroking him without hesitation, "I figured I could get you off before you even knew it was me. I guess lasting longer is one of the benefits of experience, huh?"

"You...you...But...Gina...the kids."

"Your wife went out for a bottle of wine, the kids are still next door finishing a movie. It's just you and me," she assured him in a confident tone, before dragging her tongue back and forth just below the head where it met the shaft.

"You still shouldn't be here," Greg managed to spit out.

"Mmm....you are so right, Dr. Clark. And you so shouldn't enjoying getting a blow job from your 19 year old babysitter. And yet, that's where we find ourselves. So the question is, what do you do about it?"

With that, she deep throated him once more.

"Ahhh," he could not help but gasp in enjoyment before recentering himself. 

"We...we need to stop," he stuttered.

She stopped, pouted a moment, and then, in a sing song voice, replied, "Do we?"

"Yes. Because, because I'm married and you are...young. And..."

"And you are so fucking hard," she cut him off. "And you love how I suck your cock. And I am here on my knees. And I neeeeeeeeeed your cum. In my mouth. In my throat."

"Wha..."

"So the way I see it, you can enjoy this moment, fuck my hungry mouth, and give me what I need. Or you can spend all night being pissed at yourself for not cumming all over my tongue only to come home and settle for mediocre sex with your wife. That is, if you get any sex and all."

Silence filled the bathroom, twisting its way through the stream.

"I tell you what," Mallory almost taunted, "I'm going to keep doing what I am doing and you let me know when you decide."

And so she did. And Greg could do nothing but yield to her oral talents. And then, like something breaking, he let out a groan, a grunt, a bark, seemingly all at once. His hands shut forward and tangle themselves in her hair and he began to force himself deeper and quicker into her mouth. Mallory moaned what was no doubt a delighted, "Yes!" and her eyes rolled back into her head in pleasure. Within moments, Greg was spewing profanity from his mouth, "Oh God. Oh fuck. Oh your fucking mouth. Making me cum so fucking hard. Oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," as he cock exploded in hers.

A smile visible on her lips, she swallowed most of it, careful to let just a bit leak out the side of her mouth. Standing up, she dragging her figure across her chin, collecting the excess. Then, looking deep into Greg's eyes, she licked her finger clean with a long lulling motion of her tongue.

"Thanks, Doctor C," she giggled, hoped out the shower, out the bathroom window, and jogged back to the pool where she dove in. As Greg collected himself, he heard Gina yell from the base of the steps, "Okay, I'm back. I'm going to grab the kids next door, hand them off to Mallory, and then we gotta go."

Greg shouted his assent in return, despite his mind being very much still on the subject of him having just finished face fucking his teenaged babysitter. He could not imagine doing anything dirtier or more sinful or more betraying that what had just happened, even as he was unclear if he was even to blame.

He would quickly find that he was capable of so much more very, very naughty behaviors.

The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 02



Dr. Greg Clark had kept himself busy the past week and a half. Very busy. Since the shower and Mallory and...the confusion, he found that free time meant time thinking about it. About her lips, about her tongue, about how it felt when he thought it was his wife, Gina, and how it felt when he it knew it was Mallory. He didn't like the thoughts. Actually, he did like them. A lot. And he didn't like that. So he stayed busy. It was not a perfect system, but it worked.

At this moment, he was busy rearranging the recipe cards and cookbooks. It wasn't fun or glamorous, but then, that wasn't the point. 

The front door opened with a low squeak and Greg looked up, expecting to see his wife coming with their two kids, Shelly and Martin. Instead, it was Mallory. Her hair was up in a French braid, her skin smooth and lightly tanned. She wore a cream tank top that clung to her upper body, making it clear how firm her stomach was and how perky her breasts were. She had paired it with a sexy, but understated black pleated skirt cut just above the knee. His eyes continued down her thin, shapely legs to a pair of black high heeled shoes that added at least four inches to her stature. Greg stared. He knew he was staring. He knew he shouldn't. And yet, he stared. She noticed him, smiled, and held his gaze. 

Aware that this had gone on too long, the doctor forced himself to work his jaws.

"Umm," he squeaked, "Hey Mallory. I, uh I don't think we need you today."

"Oh, no. I'm not here to babysit," she paused, smirked at him, and cocked her hips to the left, letting him sweat it out before continuing, "Gina lets me hang her sometimes between classes."

"Oh, alright then," he mumbled, gathering up his little project. Mallory's very presence made the thoughts hard to shake and introduced new ones that were perhaps better described as fantasies. He made the decision to get away from her as soon as possible.

As he stood to leave the kitchen, she spoke to him, forcing him to stay lest he be rude. 

"It's weird that you are home though. Aren't you usually at the office this time of day?" She asked this casually while sitting on the coach in the living room, not even looking at him as she searched the cushions for the remote. Greg felt himself relax a bit. She was obviously disinterested in him now. Maybe the shower encounter was like a sorority initiation thing or something. He still felt like a dirty older man, but at least she wasn't interested in a sequel.

"Usually, yeah. Twice a year though, I close the office to move old files to storage and destroy even older files. Today was one of those days and I finished quick. So I let myself go early."

"Benefits of being your own big boss, huh?"

"One of several, yes."

"So is it still cool if I stay here then?"

"Yeah, sure. No problem."

"Good because I need the break. Public speaking always takes it out of me."

"Oh, you had to make a presentation or something today? Is that why you are dressed so nice?"

"You think I'm dressed nice?" Mallory asked in return, eyebrow arches for a split second. She let the question hang in the air a few moments before rescuing the doc from having to respond. "Yeah, it was for my English class. We had to read a piece we wrote to the class."

"You think you did well?" Greg inquired, still blushing from her calling him on saying she was well-dressed.

"I think I did. I just took that age old advice about calming the nerves and didn't wear panties," she casually responded.

"Heh," he choked in shock, "You are funny. You are supposed to imagine the audience in their underwear, not take yours off."

"Oops," she giggled at an empty room as Greg was already scurrying to the master bedroom.

Joking or not, talk of Mallory not wearing panties under her pretty little skirt had gotten his mind racing. He felt much safer away in his room, away from her, if that was going to happen. It might not stop him from imagining her sliding out of that skirt in front of him, but at least he wouldn't be tempted to do something stupid.

"You know what I find funny?" Mallory declared as she pushed the door open and entered the bedroom. She had a gleam in her eye that froze Greg in place.

"Umm..." was all he could utter in response.

"I find it funny that a nice guy, a gentleman by all accounts, facefucks a younger woman, fills her mouth with his load, and never even brings it up to her for like 10 days after. I find that very funny."

She said all of this in a teasing matter-of-fact tone as she strode further into the room, growing closer to the paralyzed Greg.

"Well..." he began, trying to think of what to say, "I...I guess I just...didn't know how to bring it up. But you are right. I should have said something. So will you accept my belated apology?"

"Oh, baby...no I won't." Her taunting tone had grown stronger and she circled around Greg dragged her fingers across his shoulders and the back of her neck as she did so. "Don't be that guy. Don't apologize to a girl for giving her something she liked."

"I...I, well," he blundered.

"Especially when she knows that you," she cut him off, now standing in front of him, dragging her index finger down the center of his chest. She stood up on her tiptoes, pushing her chest into his and continued, whispering in his ear, "fucking loved it." Her tongue darted out at the end of the statement, licking the bottom of his lobe, causing him to exhale sharply.

"Shh," she instructed him, pressing a finger to his lips as he parted them to respond. "Don't even bother denying it. I could tell. You were...appreciative. Not just to have a hot teenage mouth wrapped around your dick, although you certainly did like that. But just to have that kind of attention. I could tell it had been awhile. And, I could tell that it was not just about a quick cum for you. You were certainly enjoying the journey as much as the arrival."

All Greg could think to say was "I didn't even know it was you."

"Until you did," she shot back, "And then you got even harder. Don't think I didn't notice."

By now, Mallory was standing in front of, so close their bodies just about touching but not quite, her arms lazily crossed behind his head. Greg had made no moves to get away from her since she entered the room, he was utterly rooted, utterly transfixed.

"You want to know a secret, Dr. Clark?" she asked in a way that told him that she already knew he did. He felt himself nod in response. It felt like someone else was in control of his body which, he supposed, was not that inaccurate.

"Well," she stage whispered, taking his hand and moving it down her body as she spoke, "I wasn't lying about not wearing panties." As she concluded, she forced his hand up her skirt against her pussy. He could tell it was bare, feeling impossibly smooth in his palm and on his fingertips. Briefly, he wondered how she could make it so smooth.

Then, he noticed she was wet, too. So very wet. All those earlier thoughts were chased right away. He felt lightheaded. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a photo of his wife on the dresser and found himself stunned that rather than diminish his desire for this 19 year old temptress, it increased it. There was guilt, to be certain, but it also turned him on to be doing to this in the room her and Gina shared.

"And maybe you are right, maybe I should imagine the audience in their underwear," she muttered, eyes locked on his, "But not wearing panties works for me. It makes me feel powerful. How does me not wearing panties make you feel?"

Greg could think of nothing to say that could dissipate this situation's momentum so he simply stood silent. After a moment, Mallory took it upon herself to answer her own question, sliding her hand into Greg's underwear.

"Ooo, so it makes you hard, does it, Doctor Clark? My wet, bald, teen pussy makes your married cock hard?"

Greg made one last ditch attempt to defused want increasingly felt inevitable. "You are right...I'm married. I shouldn't be doing anything like this."

The effort failed.

"You are right," she affirmed, "You shouldn't be doing this. You should be faithful to your lovely wife. You shouldn't let me jerk you off onto my thigh while you fingerbang me. Which is exactly why that's what's going to happen, isn't it?"

Again, he could think of nothing to say that would not make things worse (or, perhaps, better) and so he stayed silent. Mallory began to stroke him in earnest and asked again, "That's what's going to happen, isn't it, Doctor Clark?"

For some reason, her constant use of "Doctor Clark" got to him even more than her very talented handjob was. The combination of the two undeniably cracked him and found himself confessing in a strained yet triumphant sounding whisper, "Oh god, yes."

Mallory moaned in return, smiling wildly. She slowly, deliberately lifted her right leg up, first thrusting her knee as high as she could, then extending the leg out from there, placing her calf and shoe on his bed. She willed his eyes to look up the length of the leg and teasingly hiked her skirt up, exposing most of her right thigh. Then she went to work on him, undoing his belt, dropping his pants and rolling down his boxer briefs to let more of his cock reach for freedom.

"Mmmmmmm," she moaned again approvingly, "very nice."

She stroked him slowly, staring at her hand around him, almost as if studying. She absentmindedly let her mouth open ever so slightly and let her tongue slide across her upper lip. She muttered to no one in particular, with a sort of reverence, "Makes my hand look so small."

After a moment, she readjusted her focus once again and met Greg's eyes.

"Now coat my thigh while you make me cum," she ordered. The doctor's mind finally, completely, and totally shut down and he did as he was told, dipping his fingers inside her, coating them in her desire then dragging them out once more and gently, but insistently, massaging her clit. Mallory, meanwhile, maintained her position, leg splayed out, thigh deliciously on display, hand working Greg's shaft with seeming ease. And she talked to him, maintaining a tone somehow flirty, mocking, accusatory, and conquering all at once.

"Mmm, I bet you wish I'd hike up my skirt just a little more, show you everything. Show you how smooth my pussy not only feels but looks. And I want to. Yeah, I do. So fucking bad. And I will. But not today. Because you didn't even thank me for sucking your cock. So maybe when you get back into my good graces...maybe then..." Mallory trailed off, teasingly.

Moments later it was, "I knew you'd love my legs. Especially with the heels, hmm? Yeah, I thought so. Gina doesn't wear heels, does she? Not even to bed for you, huh? I know because I looked through your closets one night after the kids went to sleep. No stilettos, no wedges, no platforms, no sexy boots. It's almost like she wanted you to let a teenage girl make you cum in your bedroom in the middle of the day."

And later still, "Oh fuck. You are so hard. God...I am going to love fucking you. And you know we are going to fuck, don't you? Don't pretend like this sort of thing isn't going to happen all the time. I am so in love with your dick and you...you are hooked, I can tell. I am going to make sure you get everything Gina has been too selfish to offer you whenever you want it wherever you want—"

Before she could finish that thought, though, she suddenly gasped in a huge gulp of air. She swayed, clutching Greg's shoulder to stay upright, eyes rolling skyward. The gasp was punctuated by a shouted, "Oh shit!"

Fearing he had hurt her in some way, he began to draw his hand back from underneath her skirt and help her. She clutched his wrist and hissed, "Don't you dare! Don't stop."

Her own handwork became erratic and a light sweat covered her body. She moaned without performance, her eyes taking on a fixed glazed quality. When Greg attempted to alter his rhythm, she admonished him through gritted teeth, "No! I can feel your wedding ring on my clit and I neeeeed it. So bad! Keep it right on there!"

And so he did. And so she came, first with a series of quiet gasps and then increasingly louder and more vulgar, culminating in a tirade:

"Is this the ring you promised forever to Gina with?"

Greg could barely whisper, "Yes."

"The ring on my clit right now?"

"...yes."

"The ring covered in my cum as you get me off again and again."

"I...yes. Yes it is."

"God. I love it. It feeeels so goooooood. You love violating your vows, don't you?"

"That's not—"

"Love using that sacred symbol to make some teen slut cum while your wife is at work and your kids are at school and daycare?"

"Stop...stop say—"

"It's okay, Doc. Fuck, it's so much more than okay. I love it too! And it will be our secret. Our. Little. Dirty. Secret. YES!"

Mallory came again then, bodily visible convulsing. Every part of her looked tightened, taut, as if straining towards the ecstasy. Chasing it. Her hand tightened on his cock, jerking him roughly, mindlessly. It was all too much for Greg and he quickly let himself go too, groaning as cords of pearl liquid jetted out of him onto Mallory's extended thigh.

She gasped and giggled simultaneously. As her eyes opened once more they seemed fiery, like an athlete upon donning their gold medal.

"You are going to be so much fun," she informed Greg as she released him and let him fall backwards onto his bed. His head was simultaneously gauzy and cleared...it reminded him of how he felt in college after a night of drinking, that sense of elation and being utterly spent clashing at once. 

Mallory straddled his chest, and grabbed his left hand, lifting it to her lips. She licked and sucked each of his digits clean, sighing, "Can't let the wife catch you with wet fingers, can we?"

As he propped his head up to watch her, she revisited his ring finger and lewdly wrapped her tongue around his wedding band. She moaned in delight, "I taste even better off gold!"

Then, gracefully, she dismounted him and came to rest standing next to the bed. As she smoothed out her skirt and began to leave the room she glanced over her shoulder and pronounced, "Now don't keep me waiting for a thank you again. I can't imagine how I'll punish you if you do."

And she was gone. But not for long.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 03



"Alright, I dropped the kids off at your parents' house so that's all set," Gina told Greg as he walked through the door, kissing him on the cheek, "Sally should be here in like 30 minutes to pick me up for the casino. What time are you heading out?"

With some amount of regularity, Gina and Greg would leave Martin and Shelly with his parents and go out with their friends. When they were married, and then again after they had Shelly, the couple had promised one another that they would not become homebodies, only spending time with each other and the kids, or worse, be one of those couples that gets rid of their long time friends to hang out with their kids' classmates' and daycare mates' parents. Gina went to one of the nearby casinos where she and her friends could shop, eat, get drunk, do some gambling and then crash at the onsite hotel. Greg's plans were less consistent. This time out he was meeting some buddies for tennis, hitting a pub for trivia, and then going to Fred's to play video games in his home theatre room. 

"Not for awhile," Greg said, glancing at the clock in the family room. "We don't have the courts until 8:30 so I'm probably gonna grab a nap beforehand."

"You could do that...but I do have a half hour until Sally gets here," Gina said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmmhmm," she said, nodding and smiling widely.

Wordlessly, he literally swept her off her feet while kissing her deeply and deposited her on a nearby couch. As they kissed and undressed one another, the doc tried to keep his mind on the task at hand. Only three days earlier, he had finger fucked his teenage babysitter to orgasm, making sure she felt his wedding ring on her clit with every stroke, while she jacked him off all over her leg. His once perfectly satisfactory sex life with his attractive wife now felt...perfunctory. They had chemistry still, they fit together well, they knew little tricks to excite one another, but...it was suddenly somehow lacking. Mallory had reminded Greg of things he had given up on because his wife had made her lack of interest in them very clear. Dirty talk. Keeping her pussy shaved or at least trimmed. High heels. Etc. Etc. 

Thus, the sex life and the marriage he had thought were perfectly fine had been thrown into disarray in his mind. Good enough was no longer good enough. And so, as they kissed and moaned, as she rolled the condom onto him and pulled inside her, as they came together on that couch, Greg felt good, but not great. Which made him feel terrible: guilty and angry all at once. Guilty for what he had done and what he wanted to keep doing. Angry at himself for being such a husband/father cliché. Angry at his wife for shutting down so many avenues in their sex life. And then angry at himself again for not fighting her harder on those forbidden items way back when. It really took all the fun out of a late afternoon quickie.

As they both came down to earth, Gina sighed into his chest and thanked him, "I needed that. I SO needed that."

Greg affected a short laugh saying, "Me too," even though he did not feel nearly as satisfied as she seemed.

After another moment of cuddling, Gina rose, snapping the condom off him and gathering her clothes up. She then loped, naked and confident, to the bathroom. As Greg watched her he tried to tick off the features and attributes he loved about her. Unfortunately, his brain seemed to have a rapid undermining response for each one.

"She's in great shape."

"Yeah, but think of how much better she'd look if she sexed up her clothes a bit, maybe gave you a sexy show every now and then."

"She has very sexy underwear."

"That you feel a lot more than you ever see between her generally keeping the lights off and, again, not really showing them off."

"She and I cum at almost the same time every time."

"Yeah, in the exact same way, too. When's the last time you got a blowjob? She cums from your fingers, your mouth, your tongue, and then your cock. She won't even throw you a handie when she's on her period."

Before long, his reasonably optimistic voice was completely overwhelmed and his mind started to do a mental checklist of Mallory's positives. There was no voice that argued in this case.

"Talks dirty. So dirty."

"Wears sexy clothes and underwear and seems willing to show them off."

"Great heels."

"Definitely doesn't have a problem with blowjobs or handjobs."

"Pretty sure she has a navel ring. God I love those."

"Her tits are incredible."

With a frustrated groan, Greg peeled himself off the couch and headed to his shower, shouting an, "I love you and I'll see you tomorrow" to Gina before locking himself in the bathroom. Fifteen minutes, a hot shower, and a long look in the mirror later, the doctor exited into the master bedroom feeling re-composed and ready for a nap. This sense of calm and composure lasted but a moment.

Before him on the bed he took in the sight of a pair of bare, tan legs. The left was bent at the knee, the right crossed over it. On the right foot, a black stiletto shoes dangled, the foot casually bouncing back and forth. Greg stifled a sound, part groan, part moan, part lusty growl. He knew those legs did not belong to his wife, but had a fairly good guess who they did belong to.

Roused by the sound, the legs' owner parted them slightly to see who came in. Greg's fearful desire was confirmed. Mallory lay across the Clarks' bed, her blond hair tussled in a deliberately carefree sexy way. As she saw him, she broke into a broad grin, giggled a moment, kicked off the lone shoe, and bounded off the mattress. 

"Well, hello, Greg," she practically cooed, "You are looking...fit."

As she strode towards him, he could not help but drag his eyes all over her body. She was dressed in nothing but a white strapless bra and a simple pair of white tangas. Her skin remained the light tan color he had observed a few days prior, with hints of tanlines on her bouncing cleavage and just above the band of her panties. Her cheeks blushed slightly, betraying a brewing arousal. As his eyes focused on her taut stomach, he confirmed that her belly button was indeed pierced, a shining flower have nestled in her navel. She moved with a light but deliberate motion, conveying excitement and control simultaneously. 

"Mallory...what are you...how long have you been..." he began haltingly, breaking off questions here and there, never reaching their ending.

Before replying, she stretched onto the tips of her toes and gently pushed her lips to his throat, just below the Adam's apple, then to the right of his face where his jaw met his neck, and finally, brushed against his lips, her tongue teasingly whispering across his top lip as she lowered her feet fully back onto the floor.

"First," she said, still smiling, "I've been here long enough to see why the Mrs. always seems to have a nice bounce in her step."

"You saw me..."

"Have sex with your wife? Yes. And don't worry, I'm not jealous or anything. I actually enjoyed it. I'm not here to steal you from her, you understand, right? I'm here to...supplement your marriage. You, Doc, clearly give Gina exactly what she likes and needs, but as far as I can see she's not as...sharing. And a great guy like you? He deserves to have at least someone in his life who's willing to...indulge him a bit. You deserve to be made love to, to have sex with, and to be fucked. And your wife...she's just not the fucking type, is she?"

Greg could not think of what to say. He felt compelled to defend Gina, but Mallory was exactly right. In all the years they were together, they had made love, had had sex, but really, had never fucked. And if they did, they certainly never called it that because Gina did not like the word.

Seeing his dilemma, his college coed babysitter shushed him. "Don't worry...I'm not asking you to indict her...I already know the answer. This wouldn't be happening if I didn't."

"What wouldn't be happening?" Greg managed to croak.

"This," she responded, thrusting her mouth back over his, crushing her body fully against his own. Her tongued danced into his mouth, darting over his own tongue, running along the back of his teeth. It was too much. His mind never even contemplated resisting. He pulled Mallory tighter to me. He swore he could feel an electric charge pass through as he clasped his hands around her bare waist. She coaxed his tongue out of his mouth and into her's where she sucked on it with a kind of hungry lust. She ran her nails down his chest, feeling his body pleasantly shudder with awakening in response. She could not help but moan as his excitement fed her own. 

Still, she broke the kiss after a few moments more. It would be easy enough to just lose control now, but she had more plans for her boss, her conquest. As she once again returned to flat feet, Greg looked down at her with a slightly glazed look that betrayed how much of his mind had been shut down by his desire for her.

"I was going to ask if you needed a little more time to recover from putting it on your wife," she teased, grinding against him through his towel, "But I can feel that that is not an issue for you at all."

She swiveled her hips a few more rotations, absentmindedly tangling her hand into her own hair before turning away and taking Greg by the hand.

"Come here, sir," Mallory instructed him. "You and I are going to have so much fun."

Upon reaching the bed, she laid horizontally across it, languidly wrapping her legs around the back of the still standing Greg's knees. She propped herself up on her elbows and stared at him, almost as if she was memorizing him. Disentangling her right leg, she began to explore him with her toes and foot, sliding up his leg, over the towel, and up onto his chest. She would pause occasionally to draw light concentric circles over random places on the doctor's body, thrilling to his involuntary reactions, the undeniable jump of his cock underneath the towel. He stood as if mesmerized, eyes wide and darting over her body, drinking in every curve, every muscle, every freckle.

"I can't help but notice, Doctor Clark, that you seem to be spending a lot of time looking at my stomach. Do you like it?"

"Very...very much."

"Why?"

"I...always have thought the space between a woman's navel and the waistline of whatever she's wearing is...umm...so sexy."

"You do, do you? And that goes even for a little girl like me?" she asked, taunting him.

"You're not...not a little girl."

"Are you sure, Doc? I am just 19. You don't see me as a naughty girl?"

He sighed heavily in response. It was the sigh of a man who knew something shouldn't turn him on but still did.

"You are a woman," he offered halfheartedly.

"Ooo. And what kind of woman am I?"

"I...I don't understand?"

"What kind of woman am I? Am I a pretty one? A nice one? A sexy one?" she paused, biting her lower lip and then exhaling in a sensual growl, "A slutty one?"

His cock visibly jumped underneath the towel as he stumbled over finding an acceptable response.

"Nevermind, you just gave me my answer," she giggled and then inquired, cocking her head slightly to the side, "Do you like my belly button ring?"

"I do. It's...very nice."

"Just very nice? Not sexy or hot?"

"Umm....those too. Both."

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"...yes."

"I knew you'd like it. I knew it would turn you on. I heard your wife talking to a friend one day about how she once promised you she'd get one if you did something for her. You followed through, she got scared of the possible pain and chickened out. But you were such a good guy you never gave her a hard time for not keeping her word. Is that true?"

"Well...I guess."

"Even though she promised? Even though you held up your end of the bargain? Even though a navel piercing on a sexy woman is tremendous turn-on for you?"

"Yeah, but I wasn't going to make her—"

Mallory cut him off before he could finish, "Nor should you have to. I'll just tell you now, anything I promise I'll do for you, I will do. No excuses. For instance, right now, I promise that I will sneak into your bedroom one night and fuck you while your wife sleeps blissfully unaware next to us. You like that idea, don't you?"

Greg said nothing and so she asked again, "Don't you?"

"It...sounds dangerous."

"It does, doesn't it? Dangerous. And bad, too. Like something only a filthy girl would do?"

"Prob...Probably."

"And you like that I'm just that kind of filthy girl? The kind that will somehow cum even harder if she gets to ride her man's cock while staring at his wife's sleeping face?"

"Oh god...I shouldn't..."

"But?"

"But I do."

"Mmmmm...I knew you would."

By this point, Mallory's foot was resting on the not so-good doctor's shoulder. She called attention to it, "I just painted my toes yesterday. The color's called Blue Flash. Do you like it?"

"I do."

"Good. How about you show me what you do with your wife's feet that she likes so much she brags to Ms. Martin down the street about it."

Wordlessly, Greg complied, rubbing his hands up and down her calf as he brought her foot to his mouth. He licked her heel first, tentatively, and then became increasingly bold, running his tongue the length of her sole, in between each toe, sucking each toe into his mouth, even dragging his teeth along the arch of her foot. Mallory tried to watch him but quickly became overwhelmed with the sensation. She dropped her head backwards, moaned, dug her fingers into the comforter. She kept with the pleasure shooting from her foot up her leg and through her body as long as she could without squirming. 

The she pulled her leg away from him, gasping, "That was...unexpectedly enjoyable. I wish I had more time for it today. But we have more pressing business."

"What?"

"This," she said and deftly undid his towel with her foot, revealing him as fully naked. Mallory lightly rubbed her toes across the top of his cock before letting her leg drop back down to behind his knee once more.

"Beautiful," she whispered, mostly to herself.

"Yes, you are," he replied, brain on autopilot, eyes fixed on hers.

"Mmm...what a flatterer," she giggle, "I bet you say that to all the babysitters."

Wordlessly, she reached behind her back and undid her bra. It clung to her high, proud breasts for an agonizing second before slipping away. Her nipples small, taut, the perfect shade of rosy pink. A flush spread over her chest, beginning just below her collarbone on either side and spreading to the tops of her tits and the small valley between them. He could see her stomach quiver ever so slightly betraying both her desire and her anxiety about whether her toplessness would please him.

"They're smaller than hers, aren't they?" Mallory cooed, her voice low and sexy, but not so much that one couldn't hear a slight hint of worry in it.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Now, Doc, I've heard men prefer women with larger breasts. Given that, I hope mine aren't—" she began.

Greg interrupted her, "They're beautiful, Mal. Absolutely beautiful."

She smiled, bright, confident, and a touch wicked. "Touch me," she ordered.

And he did. It had been so long since he touched another woman, he could feel his hands shake. Part of it wanted to run from the room, to jump his car, to get away. He had done wrong but there was still time to stop this train. He didn't have to become the cliché, the father that fucks the babysitter.

But the rest of him knew it was already too late. It was the moment Mallory snuck into the shower that day, the moment she had set her sights on him. He knew she was attractive, aesthetically speaking, but had never once fantasized about her, leered at her, until that day. And since then, he was consumed by her. In one bravura move, she had altered him, let loose all his pent up desires and fantasies and now seemed dedicated to making each and every one of them a reality. He wished he could go back to being the good husband, the one who accepts vanilla sex with his attractive wife and "forgets" all his wants that she deemed too dirty or gross or wrong or whatever. But that was not really an option. Especially with Mallory writhing below him at his touch, moaning, biting her lip, and whispering promises of future debaucheries, of desires quenched and reignited again and again.

For her part, Mallory almost could not believe it. Doctor Clark had always been a great guy in her eyes, good with his kids and careful to make time for them, conscientious about doing his fair share of household chores, treating his wife lovingly, making sure to surprise with small gifts or kind words here and there. And, on top of it, he never seemed to even have a wandering eye. Mallory would bring friends by to use the pool and he smile and wave but never stared at the teens in their suits, never made excuses to hang around. An smart, attractive man in his thirties, older but not too old, who was dedicated to his family and, unlike most of the other dads she babysat for over the years, never once made a move on her or tried to get a peek of extra skin; it was no wonder she crushed on him so hard.

And then she started to see the cracks in the Clarks' marriage. She knew compromise was necessary to make relationships work, but she only saw Greg compromising. Things seemed perfectly to Gina's liking. Mallory would listen to Gina on the phone or peek in her diary and see that Greg went down on her often and enthusiastically while the last time she had given him a blowjob to climax was five years prior. Dr. Clark forgot to clean his search history and she found that he was quite a fan of dirty talk and listened to audio files and read stories filled with them, but later she'd overhear Greg telling his friends that the Clark household was a verbal obscenity free-zone. The more Mallory looked, the more she saw it. It was a perfect marriage because Gina got want she wanted and Greg had managed to convince himself it was what he wanted too. That's why she decided to join him in that shower. He needed a wake-up call and she figured there was no better way to wake someone up than with a surprise blowjob. 

She was right.

Dr. Clark dragged his fingertips lightly across her nipples and she shuddered involuntarily, goosebumps washing over her body. There would be time for foreplay some other day. Right now, she needed to be fucked. So she told him so.

"God, Doc, I'm so wet for you!" she practically shouted, shooting up on the bed and grabbing his cock, "I need this now!"

He thrust his hand between her legs and grabbed the fabric of her panties, yanking them away from her body. She shimmied left and right, kicked her legs in the air, did whatever she could to help get them off her. As she felt the soaked white tangas finally glide over her toes and drop on the floor she could not help but proclaim a victorious, "Yes!"

"Are you going to fuck this cunt, Doctor Clark?" she demanded, legs spreading, exposes herself to his gaze, "Are you going to fuck this naughty, wet, teen cunt?"

"Is that what you want?" he whispered in response. The last time he talked dirty to a woman was college, which was also the last time he had been with a woman who was not Gina, the last time he had seen a bare pussy in person, the last time he had been with someone who wanted him to indulge in every dirty desire he had as well as fulfilling her every nasty craving. So, he was out of practice. 

Mallory could tell, though, that he was eager to get back up to speed and so she proceeded to tease it out of him.

"I'm sorry, what was that old man?"

"I said, is that what you want?"

"Is what, what I want?"

"Is me fucking your...cunt what you want?"

"Oh, you know it is. Is that what you want? To fuck your slut babysitter in the bed where you sleep with your wife?"




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 03



He could only nod.

"You don't mind if we don't bother with a condom, do you Doctor Clark? I prefer to...feel it for real."

Her eyes were dark with her lust, her tongue darted seductively over her lips. Her fingers ran up her sides and onto her breasts, then her nipples, pulling them, rolling them. She hissed, feeling pleasure spreading throughout herself.

"Use me," she gasped. "I want to be used. To be fucked. I know you need to fuck me Doc. You need to—"

Then he was on her with a growl, cutting her off. His mouth over hers, his teeth tugging ever so lightly on her bottom lips. His hands wrapped around her waist dragging her to edge of the bed. She let her right leg splay off to the side. As he straightened up, he took her right leg with him, placing it on his shoulder. She guided him into her, his cock rigid and hot, seemingly straining against its own limits. He thrust forward, once, twice, three times before he drove himself to the hilt. Mallory shouted something in nonsense as they held position for a moment, his dick bobbing ever so slightly in her to the rhythm of his heartbeat, her muscles twitching and pulling on him.

"Shit," he exhaled. "So wet. So tight."

"Can you handle it?" she replied, lightly mocking. "Is my teen pussy too much for you?"

He offered no reply, only tightening his grip on her thigh, pulling and pushing her roughly against him.

"Yessssss...be mean to me. I want to feel how much you love fucking me behind your wife's back."

Her words seared him. Instead of guilt he only felt more hunger. He had no desire to hurt Gina, but it was undeniable that the forbidden fruit of adultery only made him want this nineteen year old temptress thrusting against him all the more.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," she chanted in rhythm. "This is my cock now. My. Fucking. Cock."

"Take it then," he taunted back, "Show me how you own this dick."

He slowed his pace and she wrapped her legs around him in response. He stopped entirely and she dug her heels in, fucking herself onto him by pushing off her elbows.

"Oh god," they moaned together.

She continued her pace, breaking him down, forcing him to drive back against her in rhythm. His eyes devoured her, her half open mouth, her tits bouncing with each thrust and parry, her stomach muscles contracting, her flower belly ring springing up and down each time. Her cheeks were flushed, and the blush on her body had spread and darkened. Everywhere he looked, her body revealed something that just turned him on more.

"Oh god," she whimpered, "Never been fucked like this. So big. So hard. Damn! Fuck! So fucking good."

She arched her back and scream grunted as she came for the first time. Her entire body tightened up, seemingly every muscle from top to bottom. She moaned and twisted, riding the climax as long as it crested. Then, as it dissipated, she exhaled in one long blast of air. As her muscles loosened once more, she felt dizzy and her ears rang. She silently admonished herself for waiting this long before letting loose the doctor's pent up sexual energy.

For Greg, the rest of the world faded away. Mallory became his sole focus. His senses were consumed by her. Literally, nothing else mattered to him. There was only his lust for his 19-year-old babysitter. While he had always enjoyed sex, this was something different. It was better, so much better. He loved it, hated it, and feared it all at once. Fucking Mallory was like a drug that robbed him of all his good sense, morals, and appropriate desires for his wife. He knew this, but found himself unable to resist her power. He wanted to possess her, to consume her, and yes, a very dark part of him wanted to hurt her, to control her, to dominate her because of how out of control she made him feel.

Mallory saw the look in his eyes of lust mixed with fear mixed with hate and it only excited her further. To her, this was what sex was about. It was animalistic, immoral, and overwhelming. If love, desire, anger, fear, fantasy, and pleasure did not all collide, then you are doing something wrong. She supposed this was why she had made the move on the doctor and resented his wife Gina. Gina had this man capable of all these things and forced him to restrain them, to tamp them down when she should've been delighting in them. Mallory had decided that, right or wrong, she could not let that potential go to waste. 

"Yes! Harder! HARDER!" she ordered Dr. Clark on. "I know you want to fuck me harder. DO IT!"

Even though he was completely in her thrall and did desire to fuck her as hard as they could both handle—or, in that dark part of him, even harder—he was still the man he was. Years of enjoyable but gentle love making with his wife had left him with the idea that that was the way things should be done. That to do otherwise was wrong. And while he knew he was clearly doing wrong, and enjoying it, already by giving in to his babysitter's charms, there was still some part of him holding back. That part was intimidated, even scared, of Mallory's reckless, unabashed desires.

As he realized this, Mallory came once more. This was a lesser orgasm, but longer, rolling over her, causing her to undulate her torso like a wave, first hips, then abdomen, then chest and neck, before returning in the opposite direction, neck through hips. Her pussy pulled on him, trying to take him even deeper. Her eyes watered. Her mouth parted, ragged breath spilling out between her lips. 

Greg saw this and it set him ablaze. The intimidation was shoved aside by the vision before him. If he had ever seen someone so purely sex on legs before, it had been years. She took her desires and made them manifest and loved every second of it without reservation. The doctor could not help but do the same in her presence. 

He began to lose it entirely, his strokes becoming erratic, his breath hissing between his teeth. Mallory noticed the change immediately and could not help but laugh in teasing triumph.

"Do you want to cum? Are you close?" she asked, feigning a naïve tone.

"Yes," Greg groaned.

"Am I going to make you cum? Is my teen pussy too much for you?"

The corrupted doctor made a noise of assent, but could not bring himself to respond further.

"Do you want to cum inside me?" she continued to toy with him, "Will you fill your babysitter up?"

"Please," he moaned, eyes beseeching.

"Mmm, I don't think so...soon, maybe, but not today," she said, sliding her hand down her body until she reached his hard cock, still driving into her unevenly with wild desire. She wrapped her fingers around it digit by digit and extricated Greg from her. In control or not, she could not help but sigh disappointedly as the fullness slipped away.

Dr. Clark failed to notice, however, as he was far too concerned about his disappointment.

"But," he began, voice sounding near shattered.

Mallory cut him off, pulling him up, his cock hovering above her stomach. She began to stroke him rapidly, her fluids and their sweat all the lubrication needed.

"Mark me," she cooed to him, locking eyes with him. "Cum all over my tight stomach. All over the belly ring you love so much. I neeeeeeeeeeeed it. Coat my tight abs, Doc."

Greg's objections disappeared with her dirty talk and the room lapsed into silence, punctuated only by their heavy breathing and the sound of Mallory's enthusiastic handjob.

"God, your cock is sooooo big. And so hard. All because of me, isn't it?" she continued.

Greg could only nod, staring at her stomach and the tiny twinkling navel piercing.

"You love that ring, don't you? Show me. Cum all over what I gave you that she never would."

The mere reminder that Mallory had gotten the piercing his wife never would and, thus, that he was fucking someone who wasn't his wife—his teenager babysitter, in fact—was enough to drive him over the edge. Eyes clenched tightly, body going rigid, he came over her body with a curse filled scream. Mallory purred as his cream landed across her torso and pooled in the area surrounding her belly button. She released him and he flopped next to her on the bed.

"Look what you did to me," Mallory whispered to him, her fingers dancing in the puddle of cum cooling on her body. She coated each one and then licked them clean as Dr. Clark looked on in partially satisfied, partially panicked wonder.

"What kind of man does this to his teenage babysitter?" she demanded in a fake stunned tone, still gathering and tasting his seed.

"Soooo depraved," she added for good measure.

After another minute of dining on his desire, she bounced off the bed, involuntarily moaning at delicious soreness of recently being fucked paired with the feeling of Greg's remaining cum being pulled down her body by gravity.

"Gotta go, Doc. We both have plans."

She gathered her clothes with confidence ease, slipped her heels back on her feet, and strolled out of the room, naked, clothes bunched in one hand. Greg stared at her figure from behind and, despite sexual exhaustion, felt the first pangs of returning lust. She paused at the doorway, perhaps feeling his eyes on her and turned slightly, showing her left breast, nipple still rigid and upturned while still giving him a generous view of her pert ass.

"And don't worry, you keep playing by my rules, you will cum in me. Often. A girl's gotta keep some pleasures for future encounters though," she assured him, before completely leaving his field of view. Moments later he heard the front door close and the house fell truly and completely silent. He exhaled sharply, trying to drive away the gravity of what he had just done.

"What could possibly happen to me next?" he incredulously and rhetorically asked aloud. He could not have begun to guess what was still in store for him.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 04



Mallory waited only a few days before making her next move.

While getting dressed to head to the gym, Doctor Greg Clark heard the doorbell ring. Already downstairs, his wife Gina opened the door. He heard light chatter in the foyer but, at first, could not make out who had stopped by. Figuring it was just a random neighbor, he made his way down the stairs to do the polite thing and say hello.

However, as he grew closer he realized Mallory had stopped by for an unscheduled visit.

"...really, this is what we wear," Mallory was explained to Gina, chuckling a little.

Greg's wife responded, "That may be, but I still think it is inappropriate for kickball."

"Oh, don't worry about it so much," Mallory reassured, "All the girls wear it and it's just a fun little joke. The guys wear a silly outfit too."

"If you say so," Gina said, shrugging her shoulders in resignation, "In the future though, maybe you could not wear it when you come by? I'd prefer to Shelly not be exposed to...sexualization so early."

"It's not sexualiz—"

Gina interrupted, done with Mallory's justifications, "Maybe not to you, Mallory, but I guarantee it is for a lot of people out there."

Greg stood on the bottom of the stairs, riveted in place. He needed to decide whether he was going to go out there where his wife was admonishing their babysitter for dressing too provocatively, a girl he had came all over only a few days before, or hide himself away back upstairs in his office. His feet felt encased in concrete, his mind wrapped in gauze. His mouth went bone dry.

Then, Gina shouted to him from the front door, "Greg, Mallory's here. I'm taking the kids to my folks like I said. We'll see you later. Mallory's just going to use our shower and then take off. Okay?"

"That—that's fine," Greg managed to stutter.

Then he heard his children's voices and giggle rise, fade, and disappear behind a closing door. Once more, he was alone again in the house with Mallory.

She giggled in the foyer, doing a little dance. She waited for Greg to come down on his own, unaware how close he already was. After a few moments without him stepping forward, she shouted to him, "Oh Doc! Come down here and see my outfit. I think you'll find it really...cute."

She wandered towards the stairwell and caught Greg standing there, making his choice of whether to present himself or run and hide a moot point. Again, he found himself just feet away from Mallory in a big empty house with his wife away for several hours. She casually leaned opposite him, with one leg bent, foot resting against the wall. Her other leg was extended out in front of her, extenuating the length and tone of it. The perfect tan of her legs stood in marked relief to the bright white tennis shoes she wore. She appeared sockless, or, at least, wearing socks so small they could not be seen above the sneaker.

Her golden hair was done up in pigtails. She wore a bright blue half shirt with the word "Kickball" and the number 15 emblazoned across her chest. Her midsection was tan and taut and his eyes devoured it despite himself. Twinkling at him from her navel was that same flower belly ring. He couldn't help but see it, in his mind's eye, drowned in his cum. He was instantly aroused.

Continuing downward, he noticed she was wearing very, very short athletic shorts, easily the shortest of that kind of short he had ever seen. She had, through painstaking effort no doubt, taken already short shorts and made them even tinier by twisting the waistband down and over itself twice. In their present form, they tantalizingly promised a glimpse of the lower half of her beautiful ass without ever delivering. 

After a moment of letting him take her in, she sprang forward, bouncing towards him, giggling.

"So what do you think?" she asked, head cocked to the side as if she didn't already know.

"Wow!" he exhaled.

She smiled at his reaction, and twirled around so he could take it all in. "So, I take it you approve then?"

He stared a moment before responding, "Well... yes. Yes, definitely."

"I thought you might," she said, ending her rotation and looking up at him with big eyes. She bit her lip and fiddled her hands behind her back shyly.

"But I heard that all the girls wear this outfit for kickball?" Greg teased.

Mallory smirked and held her hand up, drawing her thumb and first finger very close together, "I might have told the Mrs. a little, tiny, tiny fib."

"I see," Greg murmured, sitting at the kitchen table, "You...you should sit down Mallory."

He pushed another chair out with his foot in her direction. He knew what he had to do. He had to have a conversation with her right now where he thanked her, assured her of her sexiness and...talents, and made it clear that it could never happen again. He was the adult and he needed to start acting like it.

The plan immediately went awry when Mallory chose the doc's lap for a seat instead.

"Why thank you sir," she cooed theatrically, shifting back and forth in a gentle grind on her employer's lap.

"That's not what I—," Greg began before abandoning ship, deciding this was not where he should put his efforts, "So, about earlier this week..."

"Mmmhmm," she nodded enthusiastically, eyes wide and staring.

"That was...well, it was an incredible experience," the doctor complimented, "I...you blew me away."

Mallory smirked, "I think you are confused, Doc. I haven't blown you in several weeks."

He chuckled humorously, "I think you know what I meant, Mallory."

"Maaaaaaaaybe," she teased, "But everyone loves a pun."

"Ok, fine," he started again, slightly annoyed, "As I was—"

Mallory interrupted him again, leaning in close and whispering in his ear, "You know what else everyone loves?"

"I—will you just let me finish and then tell me?"

"I make no promises."

Greg sighed, "Fine. Go ahead."

He could hear her licks her lips, a soft, wet sound that reminded him of watching predatory great cats on the Discovery Channel for some reason, before she responded, "Blowjobs."

"I know for a fact that's not true."

"Oooo, sorry, Doc. Gina's not a fan of bringing you pleasure?"

"I...I don't think that's why she's—"

"You think she doesn't know you like having your cock sucked?"

"That's not what—"

She ignored his attempts to contradict her, continuing, "I'm not sure how she could think that. When I was on my knees in the shower, it was pretty damn obvious you love blowjobs."

"Mallory, I am not dispu—"

"Although, maybe it was just the location? You a big shower fan Greg?"

"I like showers, sure, but—"

Mallory dropped to her knees in front of him, wicked glint in her eye. "I guess we'll just have to be scientific about this, won't you?" she opined, pulling down the front of his mesh shorts and wicking boxer briefs with surprising dexterity. 

Before Greg could even process the shame of his cock already being half hard, Malloy dipped her head downward and took him in her mouth. She slurped loudly, tongue whirling over every bit of semi-rigid skin it could touch. She made sure to make eye contact and offer a self satisfied smirk as Greg's body quickly responded to her hot mouth and tongue. With a wink, she began to bob up and down on the rapidly thickening member, doing her best to hold his eyes until Greg became too overwhelmed.

As she hummed something between an affirmation of his pleasure and an invitation to enjoy it even more so, Greg could not seem to locate a reason to object. His head drooped backward onto the top of the chair, his hands sought and caressed her face. A gentle brief flash of teeth on skin made him shiver in delight. He sluggishly tried to recall what exactly he was doing before she began this obviously well-deserved blowjob but found focusing difficult. 

Mallory focused her mouth on the head of his dick as she began to stroke his shaft with both hands. The doctor groaned and rotated his hips in time with her manipulations. "Yes, like that," he called out. She watched him intently, the earlier look of conflict dissipating replaced by concentration and pleasure. The teen coed delighted at how he involuntarily licked his lips or ran his hands over his shaved pate. The occasional flash of his deep blue eyes looking down at her with blurred joy nearly made her gasp in pleasure. He moaned again and she reluctantly released his cock with a moist pop.

"I think that confirms it, Doc," she purred, "You like having your cock sucked. So I guess it is your wife that is no fun, huh? Her loss."

With a theatrical shrug and barely suppressed giggle, Mallory deep throat him. He nearly shot off the seat in response, as though her mouth was a live wire. She battled back a gag and a cough as he plunged far past her lips into her throat. Incoherent noises slipped from his lips.

Then, finally, his brain caught up. "Wife," he thought, grabbing hold of what Mallory had just said. "Damn," he rebuked himself, "end this now. No more!"

"Stop," Greg said, voice strangled with ambivalence, "Don't....No. Stop."

Mallory ignored him, showing no sign of even hearing him.

He raised his voice a bit, "Mallory...stop."

Still she ignored him.

"Mal," he groaned, resolve falling apart like paper in a hurricane, "Just...enough. Stop."

She pressed on a moment longer before stopping. She looked up at him, guilt on her face. "Oh my god," she whispered, "I am so sorry Doctor Clark. I should know better, you know? No means no. I know that. Oh, I am just so...embarrassed. Forgive me?"

Greg found himself confused and conflicted and, as such, could only reply, "Right. Of course."

"Can I... can I still take a shower and change?" she shyly inquired. He could only nod, his cock still exposed, thick, hard, and shiny with saliva.

"Thank you so much," she replied, gently kissing his cheek. Her hand grazed his dick and she pulled back as though it burned.

"Shit!" she proclaimed, "Total accident. So sorry."

Greg finally moved to but it away, offering a half-hearted mumble to assuage her concern.

She left wordlessly and moments later the shower began with a loud clatter of water. Greg began to relax and reflect on what just happened. Although initially a bit disappointed that things had gone so far, he soon talked himself out of that disappointment. He didn't expect Mallory to do what she did, he reasoned. She surprised him. Despite that, though, he still managed to say no and stop her. Overall, he rationalized, there was actually much to be proud of himself about. And if he was still hard, well, who wouldn't be after that partial blowjob.

At the height of his self-congratulations, Mallory bounded past him through the living room. With the exception of the elastics holding her hair in pigtails and the shoes on her feet, she was entirely naked.

"Sorry," she rapidly apologized as she moved past, "Forgot my bag."

Greg sat, eyes fixed wide. Convinced he needed to stop fooling around with her or not, he could not help but gawk at the nineteen year old body so blatantly on display before him. He noted the tan lines, seeing them clearly for the first time. He could not help but imagine the revealing bikini that would've enabled her to get them. Never an ass man, he nonetheless found himself thinking hers was perfect. Toned muscle was clear under her skin, but not intrusively so. It highlighted how good shape she was in without diminishing her feminine sexuality. As she bent over the couch, the lips of her pussy, tight, pink, and moist commanded his attention.

"ARRRGH," she shouted, "Damn it!" She sounded in pain.

"Wha—" Greg asked, hesitantly rising from his chair and heading towards the living room.

"Back spasm," she spat through gritted teeth.

He stopped at the edge of the living room, still a few feet away from where Mallory was draped over the couch, apparently in pain.

"Well?" she demanded, voice angry.

"Wha...what should I do?"

"Well, Doc," she began, sarcastic anger curdling each word, "You could come over here and help me back up to standing."

"But...well...you're naked."

"How astute of you. Do you think you can get over being a little boy for a second to help me or not?"

"Right....yes, sorry. Being silly," he mumbled and moved to directly behind her, "What's the best way to do this without making you feel worse?"

"Usually...usually, someone just grabs me around my rib cage, here," she instructed, pointed to just below her breasts, "and eases me up."

"Ok, got it," Greg said and reached out. He made sure to keep himself as far away from her as possible to avoid revealing that his hard cock showed no signs of quitting.

"What is this, the fucking eighth grade dance," she mocked, teeth seemingly gritted in pain, "Get right up behind me...I'm going to need you to push against."

"Well...the thing is that..."

"You're hard? Yeah, I saw when I walked by. You're a too big to hide in athletic shorts, Doc. Anyway, I've had your cock in hands, in my mouth, and in my cunt at this point. I think we're past the point of needing to be modest here."

He admitted to himself that, yes, he was probably being silly and erasing the space between them.

"Thank you," she breathed in relief, pushing her ass up and against Greg. He could swear he heard her moan, but he shrugged it off as either his overactive imagination or yet another exhale of pain.

As explained, he grabbed her rib cage and, ever so slowly, guided her body upright.

She exhaled in a one long push and Greg began to stop away. "Hold on!" she objected, "You don't want me to fall on my face, do you?"

"Well, no. Of course not."

"Then just stand there Greg. Let my back work itself back into joint."

So quietly they stood next to the couch, her naked body leaning into his. He was aware of how close they were to the front window. He knew that, at the right angle, looking at the right moment, any passerby could see him embracing his naked teen babysitter. Her tight body would be there for them to devour with their eyes. He imagined the gossip mill that would ensue. Panic rose. He tried to will himself to relax.

"You okay back there?" Mallory checked in.

"Yeah just...feeling exposed."

"You're feeling exposed? I'm the one out here completely on display."

"True. Sorry."

More silence. Greg could feel the heat of her body through his thin clothes, a pleasant, radiating warmth. Her breathing was shallow and irregular, he assumed from pain. He was painfully aware of how rigid his still was, his engorged member thumping against her lower back in time to his heartbeat.

Gradually, almost so slowly that it nearly escape the doctor's notice, Mallory began to press into his body more firmly, no longer just leaning, now molding herself into him.

"Doctor Clark," she whispered.

"Uh-huh."

"It's possible that...well...I might have told you a bit of a lie."

"About what?"

"Well...the thing is...see...I don't have a bad back. I never have."

"Oh...okay," he replied, not really understanding. Either way, she had a spasm, right?

"What I'm saying, Doc, is that there was no spasm."

"But, then, why did you—" he trailed off.

"To get you close," she admitted, a wicked smile playing across her face, unseen to him, "To get your hands on my body."

She let her hand walk up his thigh and across his shorts until it was pinned between them, back of her hand pressed against the small of her back, palm flat against his cock.

"Mallory," he said flatly.

"Doctor Clark?" she replied, making no effort to removed her hand.

"Come on, Mal."

"Your wish is my command," she smirked and cheekily responded, leisurely beginning to move her palm in wide, firm circles.

He hissed between clenched teeth, already feeling lightheaded. "That's not...what I meant," he grunted.

"Really? Huh...I guess you should be clearer in your requests then," she sarcastically played innocent. Her hand did not stop moving.

"Mallory....I'm serious," he grimly assured her.

With a sigh she stopped and turned around to face him. She absentmindedly let her fingers moved across his chest in a random pattern.

"Come on, Doc, you aren't going to make me earn it, are you?" Mallory pouted.

"There's nothing to 'earn.' We are not doing this," he told her firmly. He seized her hand and squeezed it, harder than he intended. She grimaced in response and he released it with a mumbled apology.

"So rough," she whined, rubbing the offended integers.

He apologized again as Mallory brought the fingers to her mouth and sucked them to reduce the soreness. Her eyes fixed on Greg's and she raised an eyebrow teasingly.

"Would you kiss 'em better?" she asked him after releasing them from her moist lips, her pink tongue ever so slightly darting out to give them a last lick.

"Mallory," he heaved, exasperated. "This is silly and it's already gone on too long. Take your shower and get the hell out of here."

He began to walk away when he heard her comment in a stage whisper, "That's fine...I'll just take care of myself here then."

A distinctive wet squelch later, Greg knew exactly what she meant. At first he ignored it, reasoning that she was just trying to gall him. Then, he recalled where she was and how close that large window was. Anger flaring, he stomped back into the room. 

Pitched forward, one hand on the top of the couch, the other nestled between her legs, Mallory masturbated herself without shame in his living room. Her small breasts hung ever so slightly down from her chest, rocking with each thrust of her fingers. Her lips were puckered and she exhaled in short quick puffs. Her cheeks flushed quickly, her skin blushing a noticeable pink tone under her tan. For a moment, he forgot what he came in to do.

Mallory peeked over her shoulder at him and smiled warmly. "You can watch if you like," she assured him, "Or, you know, play along. You still look pretty...worked up."

Greg knew what she meant without looking, his cock heavy and hard in his shorts. He blushed at his lack of self control.

"There's no reason you shouldn't be able to appreciate the show your neighbors will too," she added, reminding him of his original purpose.

"Get out of the window," he commanded in a low, tense growl.

"No," she asserted in between small gasps of enjoyment, "You let me suck your cock, get myself all turned on, but won't fuck me? I can deal. But not a chance I let you stop me from getting off."

"At least get out of the window!" he grunted, grabbed her arm.

Mallory spun away and slapped him in a fluid movement. He blinked, stunned. She took advantage of his confusion, grabbing his head and forcing his mouth against hers. He could smell her all over her fingers, feel the sheen of her desire rubbing off on his face. He groaned and Mallory took advantage, slipping her tongue into his open mouth. They tussled and twisted about. Greg would get the upper hand, freeing himself from her grasp, sucking fresh air into his lungs, then Mallory would come back as strong as ever, mouth once again finding his.

Before long, they ended up on the floor, Greg pinned somewhat painfully between the side of the couch and the wall, Mallory draped across him, her hand up the leg of his shorts and grasping him firmly through the athletic boxer briefs. 

"Do you think they saw us?" she whispered, "Do you think they saw you throwing around your much younger naked babysitter?"

"Take your ha—"

"Do you think they thought you were raping me? That you were going to fuck my tiny pussy without my permission?"

"Mallory, I am s—"

"I wonder if they called the cops. Any second now, a patrol car could pull up and catch us like this, accuse you of assault. Wouldn't it be better if they could see what a nasty little slut I was when they walked? How much I like you using my body for your sick gratification?"




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 04



Despite himself, that last statement gave Greg a thrill. Mallory caught that.

"Mmm, Doctor Clark, you like that, huh? You like when I tell you how bad I am? How naughty? What a slave I am to my nasty little thoughts?"

"You...you're very sexy," Greg agreed, attempting to change tactics, "I'd never deny that, but—"

"You know why I think that really is, Doctor Clark?" she offered, bulldozing over his speech, "I think it's because you're the same as me. I'm just more honest about it. That's why I scare you...because you're scared you'll lose control."

"I'm not scared," he contended as she loosened her grip on him and began to tantalizing tease his dick.

"Then fuck me," she breathlessly begged.

"Mallory, I don't want to f—"

"Bullshit!" she barked, "You're so fucking hard right now, you could pound nails. I weigh 60-70 pounds less than you yet I've got you pinned to the ground right now. You may not want to get caught, you might think it'd be wrong, but you absolutely want to fuck me!"

"Mallory!" he growled back, "Whatever I feel doesn't matter. I'm married...this needs to stop."

"We can talk about that after you fuck me."

"I'm not going to fuck you."

"Yes. Yes you are."

"I'm serious, Mal, we are done. Now get off me."

"Listen to me right now Greg. You're going to fuck me. You are going to bend me over this couch and fuck my pussy until we are both satisfied. Until we are hot and sweaty and gasping. Until we both cum hard. And maybe sometime after that, maybe we'll discuss not doing this again."

Greg was done being nice. Without concern for her possible pain, he rolled off the wall, knocking her against the couch. He began to standing, yanking her hand out from his shorts. "That's not happening."

She laughed at him and replied confidently, "Fine. I'm sure your wife will be thrilled to find out what we did in your bed the other day."

Greg froze halfway between standing and laying, hand still on Mallory's wrist. "You...you wouldn't," he spat back.

She smirked with creepy confidence, "I absolutely would. You didn't think you could fuck me without consequences, did you? You came all over me, Doc. You think you can just do that and walk away?"

"You asked me to!" he squeaked, panic breaking through.

"And?" she challenged him, voice all syrupy sweet and sinister cocky, "You think Gina will believe that? You think she'll care? She might try to reconcile, to move past, but every time she looks at you she'll just see you fucking me, spraying your load all over my tan tummy."

Greg felt weak, sick. He slumped towards the floor. Worse, he knew he was still as hard as ever. Being blackmailed by this foulmouthed coed was turning him on.

She continued, "I'll never play this card again, Greg, I promise. I'm not saying I won't try to...persuade you again, but I will never threaten to tell Gina after this. But if you've got me so turned on and with her being back soon, I don't have time to be coy about this. I'm sorry for the lack of artistry, but those are the breaks. I'm getting your cock because I want it. Or I'm ruining your life. Those are your choices."

He fell the rest of the way, legs awkwardly splayed out in front of him. "I can't...perform right now with that hanging over my head," he offered, last ditch.

"Who do you think you are kidding?" she laughed, lunging forward, her mouth mashing into his, teeth hitting teeth, hand returning to his steely desire.

She kissed him deep and hard and he did not resist. He was beat and he knew it. The threat she possessed was too real to ignore and she had him too aroused to focus and think his way out of it. Inevitability never felt so good.

"I need to feel your skin," she grunted, grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt. They awkwardly shifted and shuffled until she victoriously yanked it over his head and threw it out haphazardly away. Straddling his outstretched legs, she pushed her breasts into his chest, her nipples impossible hard and hot against him. Both groaned simultaneously.

"Touch me," she ordered, gulping air, and then kissing him again. Hesitantly, he complied, his fingers teasing the outside of both her breasts. One hand then moved to her lower back with the other snaked down, parting the lips of her slippery cunny. She moaned her approval as one finger, then two, slipped inside of her. Again he found himself surprised at how hot, wet, and tight she was. His wife was consistently all three when they had sex, but...never like this. His thumb found her clit and she shook for a moment like a fish trying to escape a hook.

She flopped against him, hot skin on hot skin, and begin grind hard against his hand. As she did so, she began to whisper in his ear, "God! You're so good with your fingers! Does Gina appreciate this like I do? Does she get as wet as I do?"

Greg tried to assert boundaries, "Could you not mention her?"

"What, you don't want me to say her name? To say Gina? To remind you that you promised to love, honor, and cherish her as long as you both shall live? How does fucking my nineteen year old pussy fit into that one Doc? Did you maybe write your own vows? I promise to be faithful until a hotter piece of ass comes along? Until a nasty teen who loves to fuck shows up? Is that what you promised her?"

Greg bit his tongue but still could not hold back a lusty moan.

"You can call me by her name, if you want. While you fuck me. You can call me Gina. You can pretend that it's her you're fucking, that she woke up one morning and finally got fun. Finally started to care about what you want in bed. I don't mind, Doctor Clark. I'm just a worthless slut. I'm just here to get fucked. I don't care if, in your mind, you are fucking me or your wife or your eleventh grade English teacher."

She stopped talking for a moment and tried to catch her breath, her arousal robbing her of lungfuls of air.

"Cum for me," Greg whispered, part of him hoping she might relent once she got off, most of him just wanting to see and hear the incredibleness of her orgasm.

She bore down and rode the waves of pleasure, maintaining herself. "Not yet," she replied, her voice all ragged gasps, "Only want to cum with you inside me today."

After another pause to recompose, she started back in on him, "The thing is, Doctor Clark, I don't think you can pretend I'm not here. I think it's too unrealistic even for fantasy. She won't fuck you, and even if she would, she can't fuck you like I do. You can try to call me Gina, but it'll be just like when you sleep with her. You are saying her name, but all you are thinking about is me."

Despite every cell in her body screaming epithets at her, Mallory twisted off her employer's gifted fingers and dropped down next to him. She pulled off his remaining clothes without pausing for permission; again throwing them carelessly off to parts unknown. She smeared the dribbling pre-cum all over the head of his dick, admiring how much there was. As Greg looked on, she sampled it with a quick dart of her tongue. He murmured approval.

"You going to fuck me soon, Doc?" she inquired, somehow making herself look innocent even as she began to jerk his cock in long, languid strokes.

"You're sooooooooo hard already. I don't want you popping after one stroke," she continued, "Plus, Gina's not going to be gone all day. I'd hate to have her walk in and have her witness you defiling me, you know?"

She stood before him then and he allowed his eyes to drink her in. The pigtails, the twinkle in the eye, the blushing cheeks, the tan body with pink undertones of arousal visible. The proud breasts topped by hard nipples the shade of bubble gum. The perfectly flat tummy with sexy belly ring demanding his attention. Her beautiful bare pussy. Her legs, long for her height and the right mix of thin and muscle tone. Even the fact that she still had shoes on did it for him.

Confident he had seen enough to keep him from running, she turned away and bent over the couch, presenting herself. Her labia pouted slightly, slick and rosy. She began to rub her clit and directed in a sexy purr, "Take what you want." 

"I'm only doing this so you won't tell Gina," he reminded her, standing and wrapping his hand around his dick.

"Of course you are," she mocked, "Like any married man would, you are just fucking a teenager to protect your wife's feelings."

"I'm being honest," he proclaimed, slowly pushes into her hot, grasping sex.

"Uh-huh," she moaned, "All for Gina, right?"

He gave up on making the point, knowing his body was contradicting any denial he could offer. He continued slowly pushing into her, going deeper on each stroke.

"Come on," she impatiently mewled, "Fuck me!"

He ignored her, somewhat delighting in her frustration.

"Come on Doctor Clark, fuck your little slut. Fuck me! Harder!"

Still he held back.

She looked over her shoulder, a smirk on her face. "Fuck me for Gina," she whispered. Greg pushed hard into her.

"Fuck me for Gina," she repeated, louder.

Again, he went harder into her with a single stroke.

She kept looking at him with her devious, dangerous smile and again implored, "Fuck me for Gina!"

Greg responded with several hard deep thrusts before slowing once more.

"Fuck me for Gina!" she demanded, licking her lips.

Wrapping his hands around her waist just above her hips he pulled her quickly against him as he thrust forward. And again. And again.

Mallory finally broke eye contact, looking forward and dropping her head.

"Fuck me for Gina!" she began to chant, "Fuck me for Gina! Fuck me for Gina! FUCK me for Gina! FUCK me for GINA! FUCK ME FOR GINA!"

Greg only grunted behind her, going increasingly strong and deep with each stroke to find her again begging for more. The dark, twisted part of him, the part buried and chained that Mallory had carelessly unleashed, loved hearing her speak his wife's name as her pussy welcomed him in again and again. He loved the sound of her shouting it in time to his thrusts. Loved the reality that he was fucking her with abandon while she reminded him over and over again that she was not his wife.

The doctor was distantly aware of the sound of voices out on the sidewalk in front of his house but he paid the information little heed. Mallory, on the other hand, seized the opportunity right away.

"Mmm," she moaned as she felt him filling and stretching her with another stroke, "Do you think they can see us?"

Hearing only breathing in response, she continued, "Ooooo, I bet they can. And they know. They know I'm not your wife. They know you are fucking a teenager in front of a big bay window for all the world to see."

"Maybe...maybe we should move?" the doctor offered, momentum slowly.

"I don't think you want to move," Mallory taunted, "I think you want to show me off. I think you chose this spot on purpose. So all the neighbors could see your tight, blond, teen fuck princess. You're just using me to make them all jealous, aren't you?"

"That's not...I don't think—" Greg faltered, confused and suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

"Well come on then, Doctor Clark. Give them the show. Fuck me hard. Show them how I let you treat me because I'm already so addicted to your hard cock. Come on Doc! Fuck me!"

He growled at her from the back of his throat, "Let me think!"

"No!" she replied, pushing back on his dick to account for his slacking pace, "There's nothing to think about. My pussy is sooooo wet for you. You couldn't stop fucking me if you tried. So go ahead, show me off. Let them see what a man you are, fucking this little girl slut. I won't tell them how weak you are. How you're my plaything, not the other way around. It'll be our little secret that you'd divorce your wife tomorrow if I told you it was the only way you'd get my sweet cunt again."

That was the button to push. Greg grabbed her waist hard and thrust into her quick, deep, and with a sort of violence. She gasped in shock then moaned in pleasure.

"You are not in control!" he snapped, his mouth as close to her ear as he could manage still buried inside.

"Yes sir," she moaned, turning her head to make eye contact, "Show me who's in charge. Pleeeeeeeeeease."

"I am. You blackmailed me, but I am now in charge!"

"Show me....show me," she whispered, "Pull my hair and show me what a man you are. Teach me what a whore I am."

If, through the anger, arousal, fear, and primal enjoyment of exhibitionism, Greg was able to realize the babysitting coed was manipulating and mocking him, he showed no signs of it. Instead, he did exactly as commanded, braying, "You want that? Fine!"

He grabbed both pigtails near their bases and yanked hard. Mallory screamed and arched her back, pain and pleasure mingling til there was no difference. Just as she wanted it.

"Yeah!" she shouted out, "Show me what a man you are! Pull my hair! Hurt me! Fuck me so hard! GOD! Show me off to all your neighbors. Let them see what a whore I am. Let them see how better a fuck I am that your wife. FUCK! Yes. Harder, Doctor Clark. HARDER!"

"I'm in charge here!" he panted, "I. Don't. Want. This. But. I. Am. In. Charge!"

She giggled as best she could with the limited oxygen she could take in, "Oh, you do want this. You want me all the time."

Greg ignored the truth of her words, concentrating only on the feel of her hair in his hands, her wet hungry pussy on his cock. The image of her, hot, sweating, back arched, tiny glimpses of tits flashing with each thrust.

"She feels incredible," he admitted in his mind, before steeling himself again, "I do not want this. I'm doing this for my family, for our lives together. I don't want this. I don't want her."

Again, though, dark, hot thoughts broke through, "Look at her body. God, look at how amazing she looks. Her ass. Her back. Oh god. I just want to see her cum."

He pushed it down, rationalizing, "If I just make her cum, she'll be satisfied, this will be over. Just make her cum. Not for me or for her. For Gina. For our life together. Just make her cum."

"Touch yourself," he ordered her. "Rub your clit while..." he trailed off.

"While you fuck me?" she challenged.

He pulled her hair harder in response, "Do it!"

Her fingers deftly danced between her legs and found the button at the top of her slit. Aroused and as anxious to cum as Greg was to see it, she rapidly and erratically set up herself. Rotating in ovals, she made sure to make contact with the doctor's cock as well every few rotations.

"Like this?" she moaned for approval.

"Yes. Keep going."

"Oh god, Doctor Clark. Your cock feels so good inside my nasty little hole. You make me feel so full. And...oh god oh god oh god....I think you're going to make me cum. Can I cum? Pleasssssse? I need your permission. Let me cum, please."

"If I say no?" he grunted, instantly drunk on power.

"Oh goddddddddddd. Please, Greg. Please, sir. Don't say no...I'm so close. So close! But you're in charge...Please!"

"Cum," he decreed.

"FUCK!" she screamed, as loud as she ever had, her back arching even further. She looked improbable at best, badly injured at worst, head thrown back, hair tight in Greg's hands, tits thrust forward, ass rapidly driving backwards as he pounded into her. "CUMMING. OH GOD! FUCK! SO GOOOOOOOD! DON'T STOP! OH GOD! OH DOCTOR CLARK, FUCK ME! OWN ME! I'M ALL YOURS! ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!"

Her words, the contortion of her body that could only be achieved when wracked by pure pleasure, the grasping spasms of her seemingly never satisfied pussy...all of it was proving too much for Greg. Even as Mallory was coming down from her climax, the very bad doctor felt his building to inescapability.

"Gonna...gonna cum," he croaked, body already stiffening in anticipation.

Mallory pulled off and away from his with ease, proving how unreal the illusion of his control really was. He was too far gone too care.

"Wait," he groaned in bitter disappointment.

"Not yet," she replied, shaking her finger at him even as she grabbed his dick roughly, "Not letting you cum inside me yet."

"Wha—wher—" he stuttered dumbly.

"Pick somewhere. Do it soon though...you are so close!

"Fa-fa-faaaaaaace," he finally managed to admit.

"Ooooo, Doctor Clark, so nasty!" she teased, dropping to her knees before him, "That doesn't seem like the sort of thing that happens in a loving marriage with Gina."

Gradually, she licked him from base of his cock, all the up the underside before sucking the tip into her mouth.

"I'm delicious," she proclaimed, licking her lips. One hand disappearing between her legs, the wet sound of fingers moving out of her quickly apparent. The other grasped him and began jerking. Her hand flew easily up and down his cock as it was well lubricated with their sin. After a moment though, she slowed and began to look up at him as though something just frightened her.

"I'm so young Doc," she cooed in a small, almost scared voice, changing "characters" on a dime, "I've never let a guy cum on my face before. Will it hurt?"

"I....I hate when you do that," he groaned.

"I don't think you do. In fact, I think you love it," she replied, grinning before slipping back into the other voice, "Will it hurt?"

"N—no. No....I don't think so. Never...done it either."

"Oh no, Mrs. Clark won't let you cum on her face?! She's so mean, isn't she? So, if I do it, will I be the best?" Mallory maintained the act, biting her lip.

Greg was too close to fight with her. "Fuck...oh god...please, Mal," he begged of his babysitter.

"Ok," she smiled brightly still in character, "I'll do it. I'll be like those girls in the porn movies. Your barely legal porn star."

The doctor shuddered and reached out for the couch for support as her stroked him double time, aiming at her face.

"Go ahead Doc," she called to him, "Make me your barely legal porn star. Cum on my face. I bet it feels so good. Do it, Doctor Clark. I want it. Make me your porn star. Make me better than Mrs. Clark. Cum for me. All over cum. I want it on my face. Cum!"

"God. God! GOD! CUMMING!!!!!!!!!!" he roared, pistoning himself into her jerking hand as spurt after spurt of his essence gushed forth, landing on her cheek, across the bridge of her nose, on her lips, a bit in her hair, and finally, cheatingly, she took the last two pulses on her tongue swallowing it greedily down.

Greg let himself drop to the floor, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to keep out the inevitable pangs of guilty conscience as long as he could.

Mallory crawled to him and demanded, "Open your eyes."

He refused.

"Look at me, Greg," she kept at him, "Look at what you did to me."

She began to poke him until he relented, unshuttering his eyes and looking up.

"Look at what you did, Doc," she said smirking. Her face was irregularly dotted and streaked with thin pearl and thick white splashes of liquid. Her eyes shone brilliantly, a lush, dewy meadow at spring dawn. "Do I like pretty?" she inquired, licking away cum from her upper lip in a long loping movement.

He struggled to speak, simultaneously battling disgust and arousal. She did look pretty to him, fresh, rosy cheeked, eyes bright and alive. The cum...enhanced it all somehow. On the other hand....how could he do that? It was so base, so...objectifying.

"Well," she said, clambering to her feet, "Thanks for the first, Greg. Perhaps we can do it another time?"

"Mal..." the doctor began, voice heavy with shame.

"I know, I know, you're a busy doctor with a family, I'm a busy college student with a babysitting job. I'd love to compare day planners, but I've got to take a shower before Gina gets back. We'll just play it by ear, okay?" she left the room without waiting for a response.

Greg lay on the floor, tangled up in his own guilt. As the heavy spray of the shower echoed through the halls, he forced himself to his feet and did his best to clean up the living room. He tried not to worry about if the neighbors saw him as there was nothing to be done for it now. In his mind, he repeated over and over again that he did it to be free and now he was. It felt like a hollow victory, but it was all he had to cling to.




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 04



In the shower, enjoying the ache between her legs and the feeling of hot water and steam enveloping her, Mallory was already planning her next move. One she knew would break the doctor's resistance for good.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 05



Dr. Greg Clark sat at his desk, letting the individual in front of him respond to an interview question and willing himself to not yawn or blatantly check his watch. He was no fan of hiring people because of moments like this. The inevitability of turning away some qualified applicants along the way for things as simple as being as deadly boring as this guy or saying no to genuinely nice interesting people who did not quite have the necessary qualifications or skill set. Still, he was glad for the distraction.

It had been almost a month since the last time he and Mallory, his sexy, vexing teenage coed babysitter, had...well, fucked. He tried to label it something else, but no other label really stuck, really described what they had done. She had come in in that improbable kickball outfit with the half shirt, and short shorts, hair done up in pigtails. The outfit meant specifically to tease and titillate beyond all moral reasoning...and it had worked. 

He had mauled her and allowed himself to be mauled. He had bent her over the couch, drove himself inside her doggy style, using her pigtails like handlebars at her suggestion and then covered her face with his wicked desire. Even when she pointed out to him how exposed they both were, how someone if they looked at the right time at the right angle could totally see them making a mockery of his wedding vows through the front bay window, he did not stop. In fact, he had to admit, it excited him even further causing his strokes to become harder, faster, and more erratic. In the moment he could not have been more satisfied with the experience.

In the moments that followed, however, the guilt crept in. The knowledge of how risky he had been and how little he had cared about that risk ate at him. He never imagined himself capable of cheating and certainly didn't think he'd be reckless when he did. Maybe, someday, at a business trip in a different state with a woman he didn't know who he gave a fake name to. Maybe... and it was a small maybe... maybe then. Not with his babysitter in his own home in a room that could possibly allow the neighbors to see him calling a teenager a slut and leaving bite marks on her shoulders. So he made a choice. He'd have to go cold turkey, get the drug that was Mallory's voracious sexual appetite, incredible body, and smutty mouth out of his system.

Work was the solution. So he dove into projects that he had viewed as long-term "eventually" goals while being sure to avoid all but the slightest of contact with Mallory and even then only when Gina was close by, if not literally in the same room. Without access, he reasoned, there would be not opportunity to fall off the wagon.

One of the maybe, someday projects was hiring an administrative assistant to check people in, schedule appointments, collect co-pays, and file insurance vouchers. He had figured for years that it was wish item but not one feasible due to economic commitments. However, in redoubling his work focus, he took a serious look at the money coming in, the expenses, and the customer base and realized that they were turning people away because of the amount of time he and his Physician's Assistant Pammy were spending doing things like filling out insurance paperwork. By giving that work to someone else and accepting more clients, they would actually make significantly more money they an assistant. Thus, after verifying that his PA was onboard, the doctor bought some ad space in a few papers and online and collected about 12 viable candidates and spread out the interviews over the course of 3 days. Here on day 3, Greg was awaiting the wrap-up of this interview before reaching his final candidate.

When this candidate, a Robert Greho finally stopped talking, Dr. Clark decided to forgo his last few questions and simply thank the man for his time and send him on his merry way. Once Greho left, Greg intercomed to Pammy, who was covering the waiting room, and told her to send in the final candidate in a minute or so. He then turned his chair around and pulled the candidate's resume off the stack of papers. He began to read it to himself to remind himself of the features. Good school, strong work history, interesting outside hobbies that suggested a well rounded person and thus the possibility of being to interact with people in a friendly, helpful manner. This Rachyl Limor had promise.

As Greg continued to review the resume, he heard the door open quietly and close with a click that sounded an awful lot like the lock being engaged. He did not pay the possibility much mind as he told the candidate to grab a seat without turning around or looking up from the paper. After a last second re-glancing, he turned wheeled his chair back around to start the interview.

"So..." he began before all sound was died in his throat. 

Sitting across his desk was Mallory Rich, the babysitter. Her blond hair was impeccably wrapped into a bun on the top of her head, held together by two chopsticks. She wore a charcoal business suit that must have tailored to hug her body in the way it did. The hem on the skirt might appear conservative and appropriate from a distance, but any closer look quickly made it clear it was a bit higher than what was appropriate for interviews. 

Underneath was a freshly starched white dress shirt that presented on first blush as a conservative. Again, though, a closer examination made the observer very aware that she had chosen to leave unbuttoned not one, not two, but rather four buttons on her shirt and had bra that pushed her small breasts to together and up to highlight them. The bra was red and rimmed with lace that could be just barely seen in the space where the shirt was left opened. 

She had covered her legs in black tights that were in a tight fishnet pattern that, again, took a moment to notice. Additionally, the way she crossed her legs hinted that these were thigh high stockings, not standard issue interview wear. She pulled the outfit together with a pair of nearly four inch stiletto heels. 

The total effect was an outfit that upon first glance looked to be acceptable interview wear but left Dr. Clark feeling vaguely, guiltily, aroused and compelled to look closer. As he did so, the tweaks became increasingly clear to him, leaving him feel even more drawn to stare and trapped in the room with this girl/woman who could not seem but help but unearth each of the dirty desires he had apparently been suppressing for years.

"This...isn't you!" he spat accusatorily at her while waving the resume. He was aware he was shouting and did not intend to, but felt powerless to stop.

"It's not?" she said coyly, snapping the resume out of his hands. She glanced over it for a moment and looked back up, a teasing smile crossing her lips, "Looks like you are right. Rachyl Limor seems to have quite the resume though. Too bad she couldn't make it, huh? What. Ever. Will. We. Do?"

"Look, this is not okay. I have to hire someone here and I don't have time to talk to 19 year olds who pretend to be people they are not for...I don't know...a little attention!"

"Well, maybe I wouldn't have to do this if a certain doctor was not avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you," he told her unconvincingly, "I've just been...very busy." 

"Huh...busy? Just so suddenly?" she responded, a teasing lilting quality pulsing just underneath the words.

"...yes."

"I guess I'm finding it a little...HARD," she overemphasized the word and marked it with a not-so-subtle bite of her lip, "to believe that. You want to know what I think is happening?"

"Mallory, I really should get back to wor—"

"What work? There are no more candidates, you have no appointments the rest of the day. What have you got to do?"

Greg felt flush and rooted in his chair. He searched for his mind for some sort of excuse or explanation but it was like swimming through porridge. All his mind seemed to have the capacity for was mediating the warring factions of "Damn, look at those legs. Look at those perfect tits," and "You. Are. Married. You have a good wife and wonderful kids and a beautiful home. Don't throw it all away." 

"I have..." he struggled with his words like he was straining to lift a heavy load, "...paperwork."

"Paperwork? That's the best you've got, Doc?" she needled him, adjusting the hem of her skirt just a bit higher without breaking eye contact.

"Mallory," he exhaled in frustration.

"Doctor Clark," she mockingly imitated.

"I do seriously have things to do."

"Aren't you going to let me tell you my theory on why you've been so 'busy' lately?" she asked, sure to make the air quotes when she reached the word busy.

Greg exhaled sharply then slumped his shoulders, "Will I be able to get back to work after that?"

"I'd say that is almost entirely up to you, Dr. Clark."

"Fine," he capitulated.

"Okay," she said, nearly bouncing in her seat. "So, I think you have this sexy, slutty little babysitter who keeps doing whatever she can to get a hold of your cock. I mean, it's like she just...neeeeeds it, you know. Anyway, this naughty girl has gotten to you on several occasions through trickery and seduction. You usually resist, but she just won't take no for an answer. And you are only human, after all, so eventually her hot mouth, her dirty, dirty language, her tiny tits, her tight, wet pussy, well, you get the idea...eventually it just gets to you and you break. And it feels sooooooooo good when you break. She always rewards you in exactly the way that you know, in the darkest parts of you that you try to keep reined in, you want to be rewarded. And God...when you cum, you cum harder than you have cum in years. Probably harder than your wife, your safe, boring, 'nice' wife, has ever made you cum."

She stood gracefully, sure to allow her skirt to ride even higher and confirm that, yes, those were thigh highs she was wearing. She began to saunter around his desk, dragging her fingers almost fetishistically across the wooden surface. She continued, "And given that, afterwards , even though you loved using this tiny, little coed and being used by her, you could write it off. She was aggressive, you might have given in, but what chance did you have, and so on. You were still a decent guy, a victim really. Of great, dirty sex, sure, but a victim nonetheless. But something...happened the last time you fucked her."

At this point, Mallory completed her rotation around the desk and arrived in front of Greg. Casually, she slid her skirt higher still and straddled him, sitting on his lap. Although he attempted to shift to hide what was now his nearly fully engorged erection, she felt it right away. She smirked and winked at him, casually dropping her hands on his shoulder. She gave him a quick, dry hump before resuming her speech.

"Maybe it was the way her back looked, muscle clenching and rippling, as you doggy fucked her senseless. Possibly it was the moan of pleasure and pain she let loose when you yanked on her pigtails. Perhaps it was the depraved perfect way she gazed at you in appreciation, face dripping with your seed. Whatever it might be though, there was a time, maybe it was just a moment, where you stopped trying to be a good husband. You admitted to yourself that you could stop but didn't want to. That you loved fucking this woman, this girl really, and were willing to do it regardless of the rules, of whatever commitments you had. You knew what you were risking and you decided that perfect shaved pussy was worth it. And now that you've crossed that line, you're scared. Because now, if you allow that bad, bad coed to fuck you, to suck your dick, to even just give you a handjob, you want it and you are responsible, not just a helpless sexed up victim. Am I on the right track?"

Greg said nothing, suddenly becoming fixated on a spot on the filing cabinet behind her. He avoided the penetrating, playful green eyed stare she leveled on him and pretended to be searching for something in his mind. Mallory allowed the silence to deepen around them without interruption, just staring at him with her head cocked, waiting for a response. The doctor attempted to will his betraying hardness down only to have it bob uncooperatively against Mallory's panty covered slit. 

With a slight giggle, Mallory began to grind against him. Slowly, deliberately, she rotated her hips, pushing against his demanding member before torturingly taking the pressure away.

Teeth gritted, the sullied doctor grunted, "Stop."

Mallory showed no signs of hearing him and in fact seemed to ever so slightly increase the rate of her hip rotation.

"Stop," he admonished again, a bit louder.

She certainly must have heard him this time but paid his request no heed, undeniably pushing faster and harder against him.

"Stop!" he demanded this time, voice a harsh sharp burst of air, eyes finally meeting hers.

She held his angry look unbowed and whispered, voice dripping with confidence, "Make me."

Then, she tightened her arms around his neck, pulling him tight against her, burying his nose in the nape of her neck. Unable to resist, he breathed her in deeply. With a low moan, she doubled the friction, making his chair squeak. 

It felt incredible. It made him feel powerless and like the world's most virile man all at once. He loved it and hated it. He loved her and hated her. A rapid, urgent burning consumed him, seeming literally to begin at his feet and travel upwards. It was a bolt of white, hot anger.

"STOP!" he roared, standing and taking her with him. Without any hint of gentleness, he tossed her on her back onto his desk. 

If she was surprised or hurt by it, her face betrayed no sense of that. Instead, she half whispered- half moaned, "Wow," as she dragged her black painted fingernails slowly up her legs, first across the tights, then the bare flesh. "If you are sure you don't want this, do you mind if I just...address the need myself right now? I'm just so. Very. Wet." She asked this of him in a tiny voice, not unlike someone might ask for extra serving of dessert they know they shouldn't have. It only fed Greg's anger.

"If this is how she wants to behave," he thought darkly, "How she wants to act like she wants to be treated, fine! I'll give her exactly what she asking for."

Then this "nice guy," this kind, respectful man with a good job and an up-to-recently solid home life, stopped fighting against his darkness. For real this time. Not for just a moment, not for just a thrust. He let it consume him. He opened the Pandora's box that was the twisted kaleidoscope of his desires and admitted that he could cage them no longer.

He growled, guttural and animalistic, "Bitch! Fucking tease!" and set upon her.

She laughed in response, "Oh we both know that doesn't apply to me."

Then, he took his two powerful hands and grabbed ahold of the front of her shirt, tearing it asunder. Buttons popped this way and that.

Her laughing stopped. Then she began to purr, every bit the sex kitten. "You definitely owe me a shirt."

"Why can't I make her stop?" Greg screamed in his head. "Why can't I be in control?" Without thought, he punched the desk, next to her. 

She gasped, eyes growing wide before cooing, "Mmm, I knew you were in there somewhere. You gonna show me who's in charge now?"

Greg's head swam. He looked down at Mallory, her face flush in aroused triumph. Her wonderful breasts, small but just the right mix of firm, perky, and soft, rose and fell in the red push-up bra she knew he'd love, her stomach muscles almost pulsating, forcing him to take in the brand new star shaped piercing that highlighted her navel. Her skirt was more or less useless now, a tiny piece of bunched fabric serving only to cover the top of the tiny red thong she wore beneath it. The fishnet encased her legs from the thighs down, tapping into fetishes he was not aware he had in the first place. Somehow, at some point, she had undone his pants without his even knowing and his dick tented his boxer briefs accusingly. His rage started to dissipate, cooler heads beginning to prevail.

He half-turned and she saw he was coming back down. She had to stop herself from groaning in stifling frustration. What would it take to get this man to let go, to accept that he was driven by lusts that she could satisfy, wanted to satisfy, and that his wife would forever stop him from quenching. Instead, she chose a one word retort, a Hail Mary, to reignite his anger. "Coward," she stage whispered. Short, distinct, direct. She watched his entire body go rigid and almost vibrate, like a guitar string being pulled taut. Her last ditch blow had worked, she could tell in that instant. She bit her tongue to stop her from shouting a victorious whoop. "Finally," she thought, "Finally, I will fuck the man Doctor Greg Clark is at his core."

"You fucking cunt," he snarled at her.

Normally, Mallory would not be a fan of being called a cunt. A slut? Definitely. A whore? Maybe...okay, honestly, probably. And she was fine with calling her, well, cunt a "cunt." But herself? Not typically. However, coming from the good doctor, from this nice, usually gentle man? It just worked for her. She instantly felt herself go from moist to sodden, her nipples stiffen to almost painful levels against her bra.

He advanced on her swiftly, undressing with no attempt at seduction or guile. She watched as his broad chest, his strong arms and legs, his near six-pack and then, finally, his cock, were exposed to her. She unconsciously licked her lips in delight. Goddamn this was a good looking man.

When he reached her, he roughly grabbed her legs and spread them wider. She made no moves to resist him or to aid him, only laid on the desk watching through eyelids hooded with forbidden desire and cocky satisfaction. Still saying nothing, he pushed her soaked thong to the left, exposing her pussy. The slight change in temperature made her gasp. She was so ready for this.

He seemed to pause for a moment and she urged him on with a moan, "Take what's yours."

And so he did, driving himself into her to the hilt and grunted, "So tight."

"That's teen pussy for you," she taunted.

"Shut up!" he demanded of her with a grimace of pleasure distorting his face.

Mallory did as he asked, ceding still more control to him. He began to move inside in slow rotating thrusts which seemed to spark every nerve ending inside her. She felt his desire, his need in his rigidity, his fruitless attempts at self control in his not just jackhammering away at her from jump street.

After a moment, his eyes refocused on her and he demanded, "Do you have any idea what this could cost me?"

"What what could cost you?" she asked, playing dumb to see how he would define what they were doing.

"This...this affair!" he returned.

It was a simple word, not even dirty. But in his saying it, she knew it was now reality. This was no one-off thing, no quickly fizzled four event engagement. This was an affair, a hidden sexual tryst with legs. She arched her back, a joyful jolt of pleasure settling into her abdomen.

"Tell me..." she begged him.

"My marriage! My standing in the community! Time with my kids! My customer base! My friends! My sanity! My self-respect!" he yelled and thrust into her, quick, deep, and direct, with each one declaration. Mallory grasped the end of the desk in both hands to meet the force of his hips without being pushed right off the furniture.

"Yes," she agreed in a breathless murmur, "All of that. So why do it?"

"Because...because I need this," he admitted. "I need it so fucking bad. I have this...darkness inside me."

"I see it. I want it! Share the darkness with me. I can take it. Not like that boring shrew you call your wife."

The statement was designed to elicit a reaction in Greg and it did not disappoint. His neck when red with still further anger and he reproached, "You don't get to talk about her!"




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 05



"About who? That bland woman who couldn't keep you satisfied? That plain wife who told you 'no' when I've always said 'yes' and 'more.'"

"Stop it!"

"Why? Am I wrong? Did she not just...let this happen? Did she not let some teenage tramp with an always wet pussy and dirty mouth come in and destroy the illusion of her happy marriage? Is she not so disinterested in her husband's life beyond what he'll do for her that she doesn't even notice the way he's begun to look at their children's babysitter, with barely concealed, boiling lust? Is that who I'm not supposed to speak badly about?"

He had no good answer and so he said nothing. Instead he yanked her bra downward, freeing her proud breasts. He leaned forward and began to hungrily consume them, starting from where they settled against her chest and moving inward to her nipples, licking, sucking, and nibbling at every bit of exposed skin. While he focused on the right breast, his right hand caressed the left one, his fingers rolling her already firm nipple between them. When he moved his mouth to the left, he did vice versa with his left hand. It was the first time that she had allowed him to focus so much time on her tits and it was well worth the wait. She swore she felt a tiny orgasm light through her the first time he ever so slightly dragged his teeth over her nipple.

She urged him on with a gasped, "yes," here, a moaned, "more," there. Then, when her desire became such that she needed even more, she deliberately baited him, sighing, "You like my tits better, don't you?"

Again, he did not respond. But his hips did. The pace that had slackened while he lavished her chest with attention returned full force. To get the angle right for the speed, his head rose higher, bringing his jaw closer to her collarbone and the nape of her neck.

"Oh, and my pussy too? My nice, bald, tight teen pussy? Much preferred to hers that she won't even trim for you?"

Greg's anger rose once more, co-mingling with his lust. "Why couldn't she leave well enough alone?" he thought. "Why can't Mallory just be happy with winning, with making it impossible for me to ever go back to just vanilla sex? Why must she still needle, mock, and try to one-up me?"

The rage and lust birthed a third feeling desperation. Desperation to take control, desperation to make her feel like he did. And so he bit her. A small nip at first, one she barely noticed. And then harder. And then harder still, sucking in her flesh and sinking his teeth in at once.

True to her implied pledge, she cheered him, urged him to do as he wished, "Oh God! Oh! Ow! Yes. Bite! Harder! Hard as you want! I want everyone to see the bruises. God yes! Brand me with your teeth!"

He kept at it, leaving a trail of deeper, darker hickeys along her collar bone and up her neck. He regained a modicum of control and began to straighten up. In response, Mallory sat up and dragged her nails down his chest leaving bright red, angry lines. Greg cannot help himself and moaned in enjoyment of the shock of pain it caused him.

Mallory grinned, "Ooo, Dr. Clark likes a little bit of pain, doesn't he?"

Not bothering to wait for his response, she sprang further forward wrapping her lips around his left nipple, swirled her tongue around the tip and bit down ever so slightly, nails digging into his back to pull him in closer. Surprising himself and stunning her he quietly commanded, "Harder." 

She obeyed, sucking the nipple deeper into her mouth and biting down further and still he bid her, "harder." And so it went for several moments, their thrusting slowing down in part because of body position, in part because their energies seemed to be almost fully focused on her mouth, her tongue, her ever further clenching teeth, and his nipple. Finally, he demanded of her, "Harder! 

Hurt me damn it!"

Greg could not describe where the desire came from, but in that moment, he knew it was what he wanted. No mere nibble or love bite, just the sharp pain of a full bite. Mallory could hardly believe her ears but still pressed on as instructed, pull her mouth closed, hard, upon the vulnerable nub in her mouth. His response was instantaneous in his appreciation, his head pitching backwards, eyes staring to the heavens, and bellow rising from his chest, "Yeeeeeeeeeees!" Satisfied with her efforts, Mallory moved the left nipple and repeated the process, finding his perfect threshold of pleasure-pain far more rapidly. Then, his need for it apparently satiated, he pushed her onto the desk once more. The skin around his nipples was red, already moving towards purple. She could still see where she had scratched him, no longer angry but still visible as 10 raised lines on his torso.

"You gonna fuck my brains out now?" she asked him, wrapping her legs around his back, making sure he could feel the points of her stiletto heels on his skin.

"You're damn right I am!" he spat back at her.

They both grew silent, locking eyes. They focused entirely on one another's pleasure and their own, allowing everything else to recede away from them. Mallory moaned, sighed, cursed, and thrashed her way from climax to climax. Greg grunted fiercely, gritting his teeth to maintain control, altering his stroke every few moments to make the moment last. Neither gave a damn about whether Greg's PA could hear them, the state of their clothes, or how to explain their scratches and bruises if others asked.

"Are...you...close?" Mallory panted, breaking the silence. She could feel herself slipping out of her head, her thoughts becoming fuzzy and buzzing. Her back was slick with sweat and it caught painfully when it came in contact with the desk beneath her. Her legs ached. Her vision blurred. She half wondered if this might be what being fucked to death was like.

"Do you want me to be?" he replied quickly and noncommittally in a single gulped breath.

"God! Fuck! Yes! I want to feel you explode, feel you finally accept the perverted desires in you!"

"Wh-where?" he spurted back.

"Inside me," she begged, "Fill me with your cum. Now! This is the time. I need your cum!"

The doctor felt his body jump. He had love cumming on her thigh, her stomach, and her face. If he was honest, her face especially. But inside her? The thought thrilled him in a primal way. And frightened him.

"Are you...on anything?" he said, searching for what he wanted to ask.

"Birth control, you mean?"

"Yes..."

With that, she rose up to her elbows to better make eye contact and challenged him, "Do you really give a shit?"

"I..."

"Come on! You know you want to cum with me, to spill your load in hungry teenage cunt."

"Bu—bu—but," he stuttered, "pregnancy."

"Uh-huh. And yet, you haven't stopped fucking me since you asked," she called him out.

It was true and even with her saying it, he found himself unable to slow down. 

"Oh God," he moaned, doubling over at the waist. His conscience was shattering around him, he was a mess of conflicts. It hit him like a fist in the gut. And yet , he could not stop. No matter the risk, he wanted this. Nothing, not even himself, could stop him now.

Mallory let him swim for a moment in this realization before gently bringing her mouth to his ear and whispering, "It's okay. Go ahead. Cum inside me. It's safe, I promise. I'm on the pill."

"So close," was all he could manage in response. 

She slid her hand between them, finding her clit, and started to rapidly stimulate it with two fingers. "Me, too," she promised him in the same gentle whisper, "Don't fight it, Doctor. Pleeeeease. This slut needs you soooooooooo bad."

That was all Greg could take. Evoking his profession once again, calling herself a slut, begging for him to line the walls of her pleasure dome with his seed...it was like the perfect recipe to finish him off. He grunted in relief, accepting everything at once, his lust for her, his dark desires, his willingness to destroy his entire life to have her fulfill those desires.

As she felt his arousal pump into her, she quickly followed him to climax, her fingers a frantic blur over her cunny, her muscles contracting, pulling ever bit of fluid from his cock. Both still cumming, they tumbled backwards into his desk chair, light headed, sweaty, and exhausted.

"Mine," she breathed in his air when she could finally speak. And he knew she was right. For the first time since this all began, he unapologetically allowed himself to enjoy the thought.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 06



Doctor Greg Clark awkwardly lowered himself into the overstuffed armchair and placed his giant mug of cappuccino on the small, round, wrought iron table before him. He glanced around. This is the first time he had ever been in this coffee shop. It made sense. It was about 15 minutes outside of the town where he worked and lived...there generally wasn't much reason to head out here. 

But the place smelled great, the sip of his drink had just the right mix of espresso, steamed milk, and cinnamon, and he appreciated the barista who had embraced a fashion choice of varsity sweaters and poodle skirts despite that clearly not being something required to work there.

He sat sipping his coffee and staring out the window. He was not entirely sure what he was here to do. After last week, after the office, he and Mallory both agreed that they should sit down and talk. Talk somewhere where there was very little chance of them being able get naked. She had suggested this place, reasoning it would be easy enough for him to get out there after his last appointment (Every Thursday was his half-day, a privilege he allowed himself as he offered Saturday hours every week. Normally, he'd go to a movie, but being here seemed far more important to him at this time.) and still be home to greet Gina and the kids when they got home at 5.

Mallory walked in moments later, her strides fluid and unhurried. She was dressed unfussily in a tank top and yoga pants, her hair pulled back by small clips, no doubt planning to hit up the gym after this. She smiled at him and offered him a short giddy wave before getting in line. 

Greg attempted to make his ogling of the supple sensual line of her back and the incredible thing those pants did for her ass somewhat not obvious. He imagined he was failing. He wondered if he should've taken his ring off before coming. Would that make this meeting better or worse? Then he remembered how much Mallory loved the feeling of his wedding band on her clit the first time he made her cum. He let himself indulge in that trip down memory lane, only refocusing on the world around him when his babysitter sat down next to him in a similarly comically large chair. 

She curled herself into the swingback, resting one foot lightly on his knee, tucking the other beneath her. She dragged her finger through the whipped cream atop her mocha and casually licked it off her digit. He wondered if she was aware of how hot it was or if this was just something she did.

"Hey you!" she said brightly, wide smile dancing upon her face. He could not help but smile back. Her levity was contagious.

"Hey Mal," he returned, temporarily forgetting to worry about other people must think of his 30 plus year old self sharing a table and coffee with a pretty blonde teen.

"Nice to see you. I love you in that suit. I think the tie makes your eyes even brighter," Mallory complimented him, fixing her eyes on his.

"Thanks," he replied, blushing a bit.

She called him on it, giggling, "Oh my god, that's so cute. I love making boys blush."

He only nodded in reply and a silence blanketed them both as they sat, looking at each other and sipping coffee.

She broke the tension awkwardly, "I've seen you naked."

"Yup," he replied, coughing slightly on his hot beverage.

"And you've seen me naked."

"Also true."

"I'd very much like for that to happen more."

"Uh-huh," he offered noncommittally.

"Would you also like that?"

Greg exhaled slowly, preparing to respond. Mallory cut him off before he had the chance, "Let me rephrase that: do you like seeing me naked?"

Again, the doctor gathered himself, beginning, "Well—"

"Uh-uh," she asserted, "This is not a court of law and I have no interest in some lengthy explanation. Yes or no, do you like seeing me naked?"

"Yes."

"My body...does it turn you on?"

"Yes."

"Can I assume then that you enjoy what I do to you with this naked body and what I let you do to me?"

"Yes."

"Good. And for the record, I am unanimous in my support of seeing you naked and having you do things to me with that nakedness."

"...thank you?" he replied hesitantly.

"And thank you. For both the compliments and the nakedness you've provided."

"Well, ok then," he mumbled, taking a long drink for lack of a better idea what to do.

"I guess all I need to know is that you are in," she offered, pushing through the weird rhythm of the conversation.

"In?"

"Yes, 'in.' This is something that's happening here," she gestured between the two of them, "I like it. I like fucking you, I like you fucking me. I love how your cum feels inside me, on my skin and I know you enjoy giving it to me. I don't mind you trying to be the good guy, trying not to indulge the desires you have beating below the skin. In fact, that's usually a turn-on in and of itself for me. But I need to know you really do want it. I need to know that you are onboard with this, that you recognize we've connected and we both need this outlet. And I need you to not always be resistant. Because, yes, I love seducing you, but I will need you to sometimes take control and seduce me. Or at least be onboard from the start of some encounters."

She completed her speech and glanced away, the confidence no longer hiding her fear and embarrassment, red leached into her cheeks.

"Wow, umm..." he hemmed and hawed, "Wow, Mal...I...look. I, jeez. Okay, yes I think we have connected. And clearly you've reawakened things in me that I let go so long ago I forgot they were ever there. I don't know how I can go back now...I'm pretty sure I can't. And I have to you thank-slash-blame for that. So a large part of me—"

"Definitely large," she cracked, smirking and refusing to make eye contact.

"Really?" he replied, eyebrows arching, "I mean...stop distracting me! As I was saying, yes, there is a big part of me who wants to keep doing this, that wants to see where this is going."

The doctor could see her body language shift slightly, betraying her excitement about the development. He felt guilty to cut off that enthusiasm at the knees.

"But," he continued and cringed as she retracted, "I'm married. I have two kids. My first responsibility lies with them.

"I know that," she affirmed, "I'm not suggesting we run away together to the Bahamas to spend our days naked on the beach and leave them behind. At least not for more than a weekend at time."

She smirked and when she saw him do the same, she pressed on, "But seriously, I'm not here to break up your home. I'd never want to do that. You are a good husband and a great father."

"Well, maybe a great father, but—"

"Knock that off," she urged him, clasping her hand over his. His pulse raced, he felt warm all over with the skin-to-skin contact. "You didn't pursue me. You weren't some horned up dad peeking on me in my bikini or finding weird excuses to rub up against me. If you were that kind of guy, this never would've happened. I saw how great you were, how much you sacrificed without asking for anything in return. Then, I heard Gina talk about your relationship and realized how all her needs were getting met but only those of yours that aligned with hers were getting attention. The belly button ring thing, the fact that she told her friend that you guys never used dirty talk while I knew you had files on your computer that were just women talking dirty, the moments you'd lose yourself and actually glance at another woman, especially if they wore heels, while your wife refused to wear anything like they had on, didn't even really own anything like it, despite having a killer body—"

He interrupted her, "You don't have to do—"

"I'm not doing anything Greg, I'm just being honest. It's not fair that you've exposed your desires to her and had her repeatedly vote down all but the ones she'd do anyway while she gets all hers met without ever having to do the hard thing and say, 'This is a fantasy of mine.'"

"I...I guess."

"No 'I guess' about it. It's true. And here's what else is true. Without me, one day you will wake and realize this on your own and you will go out and fuck someone else and that someone else won't give a damn about your wife or kids and will gladly blow up your life to have you to themselves because, Doc, you are a world champ in the bedroom."

He blushed and waved her off.

"I'm serious," she said, smiling radiantly again, "I think the only person, place, or idea that's gotten me off harder or on more occasions are my hands and my toys and they basically have 24/7 access to me for practicing purposes."

They both laughed a bit at that and the tension slipped off their shoulders.

"So," she started again in between chuckles, "Are you 'in'?"

He paused and then nodded, "With a pitch like that, I don't see how I cannot be. We have to be safe and smart, but...god, I can't believe I'm doing this...but yes, I want this. I want you."

"Good," she cooed, throwing her arms around his neck, "I am going to make this decision totally worth your while."

"I have no doubt. Just don't feel under any obligation to keep it going when you decide you are tired of this old man.

"Hehe," she tittered, "I wouldn't worry about that, Greg. Sooooo, you know what we have to do now?"

"Ummm..." he mulled, shrugging.

"Trade sexual histories!"

He smiled widely and laughed in return, "O...k."

"I know it's a little putting the horse way after the cart at this point, but we should probably have some aspect of our relationship that we are responsible about. Plus, it could be fun."

She tossed him an exaggerated wink then and a sweet giggle.

"I'll start," she announced bouncing in her chair to face him cross-legged, "Three. Four including you."

"Four?"

"You know...guys I've...slept with..." she hesitantly offered.

"Oh...OH! I see. Four. Okay."

"Does that surprise you? Is that bad?"

"What? Oh, no. Not bad at all. I honestly had no idea what to expect. You could have told me I was your first or your 31st and I would have been equally believing."

"But it's okay?"

"Yes, yes of course. I always said I wanted to sleep with a more experienced girl."

"Well that's goo—wait...really?" she queried skeptically.

"Yeah. I'm two, including you."

"HOLY SHIT!" she shouted and that slapped her hands over her own mouth, eyes wide in shock.

"Would you quiet down?" he whispered beseechingly, eyes scanning the room. The shop was more or less empty and only the girl in the poodle skirt seemed to notice the outburst, giggling to herself and averting her eyes as she cleaned out one of the espresso pumps.

"Just...just me and your wife?" Mallory whispered.

"Yes. Just the two of you. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well...fuck, yes, Greg, it is. You're hot. And I've seen pictures of you when you were younger so I know that it's not a recent phenomenon. A handsome, smart guy with your demeanor and build should've been cleaning up!"

"Well, I met Gina the summer after my sophomore year of college..." he trailed off.

"And?! What about those first two years? What about high school?!"

"I only dated my first girlfriend in high school for a little while and I was so worried about being too aggressive that basically nothing happened at all. My second girlfriend told me early on she was against sex before marriage and I thought I was too young anyway. It turns out, I eventually stopped feeling too young, but she kept to her guns about that. In college I had...opportunities, but...I don't know. I felt like I had waited this long, it should at least be with someone I have a deep emotional connection to."

"Ooo, ooo, tell me about the opportunities!" she cackled, grabbing his arm.

"Uh-uh, we are still on you. You need to explain your four."

"Fine," she pouted, crossing her arms and accidentally or very purposefully forcing her breast upward towards the opening of her sport tanktop, "But don't think I'm forgetting this."

"I won't he promised and indicated for her to go on."

"Okay...first one was...my first. My boyfriend at the time, it was just alright and then he got really weird. Possessive. Obsessive. Really freaked himself out about his performance, about what I was doing when he wasn't around. So, I had to break up with him."

"Ugh...sorry."

"Don't be. For most of us, present company excluded apparently, the first one ending weirdly is not all that unusual. Anyway, second guy was a close friend of mine for years. I broke up with my boyfriend really near prom and this guy offered to be my date. There was never anything sexual between us—"

"Uh-huh," Greg replied with an overexaggerated wink of his own.

"I'm serious!" she giggled, slapping him on the arm, "There never had been, but prom worked its magic, I guess. I got really turned on dancing with him and we ended up in a room by ourselves at the hotel when another couple get busted by his parents in the lobby because they found out he was going to a hotel for the night which they specifically told him not to. We fully planned to go to the party in the suite we had all split, but while changing one thing led to another and, well, we didn't make it. Everyone assumed we just got wrapped up in the drama of our roommates and didn't come looking for us."

"Naughty, naughty," he teased, "Was it better?"

"Oh yeah...much. I mean, it was pretty vanilla compared with what I know I like now. You know, no dirty talk, just missionary, that sort of thing. But he was talented so I didn't mind that. We might have made a go of a relationship but he was going to go to Europe for college so we both decided that was unrealistic."

"Do you regret that?"

"Not really. The long distance would've been killer and, to be honest, when my libido wasn't already way elevated by ball gowns, dancing, and freedom from parental influence, kissing him was way weird. So, it was definitely for the best that we didn't prolong it.

"Last year, I had kind of an on again-off again fuck buddy thing going on with a senior. He wanted to be serious, I had no interest in anything but going out with my friends to our parties and meeting him back at his room at like 2 in the morning to get my fix. I think I broke his heart."

"Wow...harsh there Mal."

"Oh, whatever. He was one of these jock jerks who calls the freshman girls 'fresh meat' and picks one out to use and toss away. It just happens that he was unlucky enough to choose me and he's the one who ended up all loopy and starry-eyed. I have no sympathies for him."

"Well, I know not to cross you. You're a tough one."

"And don't you forget it," she said, mock punching him and giggling, destroying the illusion. "Anyway, that's me. Your turn."

"Ok. Gina. Done."

"Come on! I want details. Oh and I want to know about the almosts, too."

"Fine, fine. Which first?"

"Hmm...let's go with the wife."

"Well, there's not much to tell that you haven't heard before, I think," Greg began, "I was convinced by career services that I needed an internship between sophomore and junior year so I applied for and got this one at a nonprofit that was about getting medical supplies to poor or devastated countries. It was sort of like Medical Supplies without Borders. I was pre-med so it seemed like a good fit. Gina ended up getting one of their other internships because she wanted to learn how to run a non-profit. We met and hit it off right away. By the end of the summer, we were exclusive and when we went back to our respective schools, we agreed to do the long distance thing. And with one minor hiccup, we did.

"We graduated, moved closer to one another. Then, closer. Then moved in together. Then got married. Kids. Here."

"Uh-huh," she said, looking on skeptically, "And?"

"And what?" he shrugged evasively.

She leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered in his ear, her hand "accidentally" brushing across the front of his pants, "And when did you first make her scream your name?"

He blushed, smirked, and answered, "We started making out pretty early on. Had progressed to dry humping before we left at the end of the summer. That was pretty frustrating because it worked for her all the time but only me about 25% of the time and she refused to use her hand. Or anything else."

"Oooo, poor Greggy. You just have been so worked up," she mocked.

"Laugh it up, funny girl, laugh it up," he scolded before returning to his story. "Hand stuff started happening when I visited during Fall Break, I think. So we had been together about four months by that point."

"Four months?! You were 20 years old and had to wait for 4 months for a handjob?!"

"Well, I was 19. Remember, my birthday is in November, so she still had a few weeks to go. But, basically, yes to your question" he replied witheringly.

Mallory swallowed her giggle and tried to sympathetically intone, "You were a saint, Doc, an absolute saint."

"Right. Anyway, that's where we stayed for awhile, maybe another year. Then came oral."

"Ooo, did you make her use her pure little mouth? Was she—"

More or less ignoring Mallory, he pressed on, "She was onboard with that back then. Claimed to enjoy doing it for me. She was better at it than she was with her hand, so that was cool. And I enjoyed going down on her. It was pretty great."

"Was she your first?"

"To give me a blowjob?"

"Yup."

"No...no...I'll tell that story in a sec though. I was her first, however. For damn near everything, I think. Anyway, that was our physical relationship more or less until we were both the same city. So we were...23 the first time we had sex."

Mallory pretends to do a spit take and gasps, "For serious?"

"Yes," he grumbled, "For serious. We were engaged a few months later, married about nine months after that. Gina got pregnant a year or so later with Shelley. Then Martin was three years after that."

He continued, cracking a smile, "About two years after Martin was born, my 19 year old babysitter blew me in the shower and then fucked me a few weeks later. And I think that catches you up to date."

"Your babysitter sounds like a slut," Mallory jokes.

"A total slut," Greg agreed smirking.

She giggled and bounced slightly in her chair in delight. "Continue," she demanded in a silly voice.

"What's to continue? Met wife, had sex with her, stayed faithful until a saucy minx came along."

"Saucy minx, huh? I like that. But I meant tell me about the two almost."

"Ahh...ok. Well, first was freshman year of college. Then there was—"

"Wait, wait, wait...don't rush past that. I want details!"

"Why?"

"I don't know," she responded, contorting her body as if shy, "Maybe I like to hear that sexy voice of yours describing the naughty things you did to other girls."

"You are bad."

"Only at my best."

"Fine, fine. Let's see."

"Remember, LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLOTS of details."

"Ok. So Catie lived down the hall from me from freshman year. She was a junior, like 5' 2", strawberry blonde with more red than blonde, and, for some reason, took a liking to me right away. On campus we had like an instant messaging system and she'd use it to send me messages all the time. Mostly invitations to have a 'sleepover,' her words, not mine, and semi-provocative pictures of herself she took with like an ancient digital camera. I was still all mopey after Ms. Virgin from high school and I broke up so I largely ignored it.

"Plus, she was a crazy drinker, almost four or five nights week and always til she was just blasted. That was not really my scene. So that, on top of us being in different classes and me being wounded after the high school breakup, I was just not very receptive."

Mallory yawned sarcastically, "Wow, Doc, this is titillating."

"Hey, you said you wanted the story, so you need to deal with the setup."

"Fine," she pouted, "Go on."

"So, she's keeps pushing and I keep just evading. Thrust, parry. That sort of thing. I wasn't even fully aware that I was doing it.




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 06



"Back then, I had a hookup at a local record store who would let me buy CDs at cost so every Tuesday night I'd go down there and buy several of the newest discs. Wednesdays, I was done with classes by 10:30 in the morning so I'd do that and then go to the laundry room with my clothes and a stack of the new CDs. I'd just hang out there for hours, listen to all the stuff I bought the day before, and wash and fold my clothes. It was like my little ritual.

"Anyway, apparently Catie figured it out and one day, about noon, she snuck in and locked the door. Which, of course, I did not hear because I had my headphones on. So she came up behind me, hugged me, and began just kissing and love biting my neck."

"That must have freaked you out," Mallory observed.

"Kind of. Actually, yeah, definitely. Enough that it made me freeze. Because of freezing though, I was able to realize it felt really good. I was shirtless, just wearing athletic shorts because, after all, it was laundry day. I could feel her breasts against my back, warm and soft, and her hard nipple burrowing into my back. Her tongue, her mouth, her lips, her teeth just slowly tasting my skin from the outer shoulder in towards my neck. I went hard like...instantly," he said, snapping his fingers.

Mallory said nothing but visibly squirmed in her seat. She knew her cheeks were flushed hot and pink, could feel her nipples tighten and grow. Her core was warm and molten heading towards wet. She sighed and focused in on her older lover's bright eyes and tried to picture him as an 18 or 19 year old shy version of himself.

"I can't remember what I said to protest, but I know I made an attempt towards asking her to stop. She ignored me and slid her hand inside my shorts, grabbing my cock and...to be honest, it had been a little while and it felt good and...I just folded right there. And she knew it, too, she knew she won. So she started to really jerk me off. Hard and fast. And talking as dirty as I had ever heard anyone talk in real life up until that point."

Mallory shift again, the friction providing a momentary jolt of pleasure. She half-groaned despite herself, "What did she say?"

"A bunch of stuff. I remember 'I knew you wanted this,' 'I get you hard all the time like this, don't I?' 'Do you like the way my tiny hand feels wrapped around your big, fat cock?' distinctly and they all had that kind of feel to it. So she was saying these things to me and just giving me this aggressive handjob and I was, I don't know, it was almost like my whole brain just shut down. It was a wholly different experience. The most overwhelmed I've ever felt during sexual stuff."

"Wow," Mallory commented sarcastically, "Way to make a girl feel diminished."

"No, no," Greg objected, "You misunderstand. It wasn't entirely a good time. Everything about her was so aggressive and almost offensive in its over-the-topness. It was as if... she was trying to... I don't know...torture me? Not like 'torture' because I'm teasing you like crazy. But...real torture. As if the very idea of me was offensive to her and this was the only one she could express it. 

"I...I don't know. It was all just wholly arousing and repulsive at the same time.

"I can remember the smell of her, the overwhelming odor of mint mouthwash that she was always drinking to cover up her alcohol breath and the 'fresh breeze' flavor of her shampoo. I can remember the feel of her tongue on my skin and the way her body pressed and then slowly seemed to meld into my own. I was just covered in layers of her. It was stifling and powerful and a little bit scary.

"And then she got really weird. Her dirty talk got...threatening."

"Really? Like what?"

"Like, 'I could just stab you right now and no one would know. Just fucking murder you and get away with it.' And 'I just want to want to choke you while I fuck you, feel you cum as you die.' Really dark stuff like that."

"...shit...scary."

"Like I said, it was bizarre. And my response was too. It...I don't...it really turned me on. I kind of believed her I guess...I really thought she might do it and it made feel helpless. But the way she said it, the breathiness of her voice, it was undeniably exciting to me. That's what I meant when I said it was overwhelming."

"Did she make you cum?"

"Yes."

"Hard?"

"Very."

"God," she whispered, breath heavy, "Then what?"

"She left. Just walked right out. I was able to recover enough to turn around and watch her leave, topless and in a pair of black silk boy shorts."

"Was that the last time?"

"No," Greg confessed, "It probably should've been. That would've been the right thing to do. But...no."

"Tell me," Mallory beseeched him.

"Are you sure?" Greg confirmed.

"Mmm...yes," she smirked, "I'm...enjoying this."

"Ok, fine. The next she approached me, sober, and asked if I wanted to be serious. I told her no and she got angry, swore up and down at me, demanded to know why I didn't stop her from doing what she did the day before. I let her get it all out, apologized, and headed on my way. I didn't see her for more than a week after that.

"Then Friday came around and I was burnt out. One of Catie's insane parties had kept me up nearly all night with noise and I had a mandatory freshman meeting that morning. So I was basically too tired to sleep but too exhausted to be doing anything. My roommate and his girlfriend had left to visit his parents for the weekend so I was sitting in my desk chair staring at the TV, being super lazy. I had all sorts of vague thoughts of stuff I wanted to do: go to the gym, do some reading for class, jerk off...that sort of thing. But I was just too damn blah to get going. So there I sat, dressed for the gym, book open on my desk, half hard, but just gaping at my TV showing a rerun of Fraser, a show I never watched before then or since."

"You're losing me again, Doctor Clark," she cheekily injected.

"You want the story, you're going to get the story," he replied.

"Fine...but I'm listening under protest," she pouted.

"Acceptable," he said, briefly sticking his tongue out at her, "There I am, too eh to get anything done. And here come Catie. She's opens the door without knocking, closes it behind her without asking if she can come in, and clicks the lock in place. I'm immediately on guard, asking her what she wants, telling her I'm kind of busy, etc. 

"Catie just brings one finger to her lips and shhs at me. 'Quiet,' she orders me, 'I've got stuff to say.'

"I should be unlocking the door and pushing her out it but I don't. Like I said, I was dull around the edges. The whole thing felt off, but I just couldn't motivate myself to move. It was like being frozen in panic without the pounding heart rate, sweating palms, and the like."

"'Will you walk into my parlor,' said the Spider to the Fly?" Mallory offered.

"Sort of, yeah. Knowing the danger but too beguiled to escape. Anyway, she walks around the room and starts drawing the shades, one by one. She clearly woke up very recently, but not just. She's taken the time to tussle her auburn hair just so and I can smell that familiar cloud of Listerine around her. She has on the tiniest pair of shorts she must own, pale green with blue piping, and a white t-shirt that's been washed so much you can tell it used to say something on it, but can't see what. Then I notice she's wearing heels, which is too improbable to ignore."

"What kind of heels?" the babysitter interrupts.

"High ones," Greg replied, vague sarcasm crinkling the corners of his voice.

"Don't kid me. I know you remember. Amongst other things, you are clearly a man who appreciates the footwear a woman takes the time to pick out."

He sighed and while shrugging his admittance, described them, "They were like high heel sneakers. You know, tennis shoe style. Black. A texture to them...maybe velour? Thick heel, probably about 3 inches high."

"How did her legs look in them?" Mallory wondered aloud, leaning in.

"...Great. Honestly, I remember them looking as good as her legs had ever looked. And she had nice legs. In those shoes those...they were luminescent...they couldn't have been more attention grabbing if she dipped them in fluorescent paint."

"Careful, Doctor Clark, you might get this gal jealous."

Greg leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially, "Right now, it seems more like I am getting this gal off."

She made a "my goodness, what improper manners" face as he returned to a seated position. He smiled the smile of someone trying to suppress a guffaw and picked up the story.

"When all the shades were drawn, she walked back to my desk, and stood between the television and me, legs provocatively akimbo. I ogled her, I admit it. The energy in the room was heavy with portent. There was part of me concerned that she intended to follow through on her laundry room fantasies.

"I began to stand, saying, 'Look, Catie, I'm not sure what—

"She cut me off, hand on my chest to keep me seated. 'Greg, I've just been feeling soooo guilty,' she began, 'I know I've treated you very...oddly lately. Mean at times. And that's not fair. You are a good guy. I know that.'

"I hesitantly accepted the compliment with a small, 'Thanks.'

"'I'm just the type of girl who...expects certain things. Expects success, you know. To get what she wants. And I've wanted you all semester. Wanted you very fucking bad, actually. I think I've made that clear. And yet, you...you keep not giving me what I want.'

"I objected, 'It's not that you aren't...very attractive and interesting and fun, it's just...'

"'I know, I know,' she said, waving me off, 'I get it. You can think I'm hot and still not want to date me. I understand. Disappointing, but...I know that. Which is why there was no excuse for what I did.'"

"She said all this did she?" the coed before him asked skeptically.

"Approximately," he responded, eyes rolling in annoyance, "I'm recreating the event to give you the feel of it, even if the dialogue is not 100 percent accurate. Understood?"

Mallory smirked and bid him continue.

"I tried to let her off the hook with a 'hey, the things we do for love, right?' kind of platitude, but she wasn't having it. She kept repeating it was wrong what she did, it sucked that she treated me that way. I told her all was forgiven and she said she wouldn't feel that we were good until she made it up to me.

"I assured her that it was not necessary but seeing we were reaching an impasse and being too zonked to care and my patience for the annoying 'no it's fine, no I insist' game so I gave in. 'Fine,' I allowed, 'You can make it up to me. But I'm pretty tired right now so maybe later?'

"She smiled at me, confident and pleased with herself, and assured me, 'I promise that I will do all the work and you will forget you are tired right away.'

"'No, no, really,' I started and she cut me off with a look.

"'I can't have this guilt hanging over me another moment, Gregory,' she pouted and I folded like a card table, giving her the go ahead. She perked up and declared, 'So, like I said, it sucked I treated you the way I did, so I think the way to make it up to you is, well, to do just a little more sucking.'

"Now, when I say I was dull that day, I mean it. I was so dull, the basically single entendre sailed over my head by a wide margin. It wasn't until she pulled her shirt over her head with surprising ease and tossed it at me that I realized what she was saying."

Mallory giggled in retrospect at his cluelessness.

"Like I said...dull. Plus, I still had never had a blowjob."

"What?!"

"Will you keep it quiet?!"

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"As I said before, high school sweetheart shut down oral sex in advance. Thought it was gross. It wasn't like I wasn't aware of it. It was just that, in some ways, I was still resigned to never getting one so that, merged with my somnambulist state...I just plain didn't make the connection. And then, when I did, there were Catie's breasts, exposed for me to see."

"Aww, she had you beat before you were even in the game," Mallory teased her employer.

"She curled into my lap and pulled me into her for a hard kiss. Her hand slid with incredible dexterity between my shorts and my boxers, seeking me out. I gasped, pulled away, and told her no. She smiled in reply, eyes lacking any warmth, and asked me, 'How do you think this ends? Do you think you just say no enough and I go away? Do you really think it'll be that easy? You may not want to date me, but I know you want me. I know when you jerk yourself off, you can't help but think of how nice my tits felt against your back or my hot breath in your ear. I've watched you and I've asked around about you. Your nineteen, you must be perpetually hard, and you are surrounded by girls and women in their physical prime. I know you must think about fucking almost every person on this campus every time you see them. But you haven't hooked up at all. Some girl back home visited a couple of times and apparently you made her moan and scream'."

Mallory interjected with a raise of her eyebrows.

"Girl named Brynna...friend of a friend actually. We both got dumped around the same time and kind of hit it off. Did nothing besides kiss and dry hump, really, but she really liked to dry hump. We went at it almost all summer and into first semester but then both of us kind of realized it wasn't going anywhere so we stopped."

"Mmmhmm," was all the babysitter said.

Greg began again, "So she was saying,'...apparently you made her moan and scream, but she's it. No other fun for you. So you must be set to explode. Why not with me? You know, sooner or later, I'm going to catch at a weak moment and it's going to happen. Better now, right? Or do you really intend to try and stay strong?'

"I shook my head, giving in, and her smile grew, her eyes took on a cruel twinkle. 'Good,' she replied, 'Now let me take care of you. Let me show you what you'll be missing.' I nodded again, weakly, and gave in. Her mouth was over mine, her tongue exerting its will over mine. I moaned, I admit, in pleasure as she grasped my cock and began to stroke me from half mast to full, angry hardness. My hands found her tits and I caressed them gently. 'You can do better than that,' she admonished me and in a flash I was pulling and rolling her nipples without thinking. She smiled and groaned, demanding it harder. 'I knew there was a devil in you,' she whispered in triumph before moving to my neck and biting down hard, leaving a bruise, a souvenir she called it, that took two weeks to fade.

"Pleased with herself, she dropped to her knees and grabbed my shorts and underwear, pulling them off in one quick jerk. My cock stood exposed, rigid and involuntarily bouncing with each beat of my heart. She licked her palm and grabbed it, tight and hard, and began to yank it. 'Remember this,' she moaned, 'Remember how hard I made you fucking cum with my hand.' I could do nothing but whimper and nod, fear and pleasure mixing into one indiscernible mess of sensation.

"'Can I touch myself while I blow you?" she asked me, eyes bright and wide, a mockery of innocence, 'I'm just so wet right now and...well, I just don't know what I'll do if you say no.' To punctuate her point, she spun her tongue around the head of my dick, lapping away my pre-cum.

"I let my head drop back and told her in raspy, short breathed voice, 'Please do.'

"I could hear the grin in her voice as she asked, 'How do you want me?' I couldn't understand what she meant so she patiently spelled it out for me, 'Do you want me like this? Do you want in just my panties? Naked?'

"Without conscious thought of it I whispered shamefully, 'Naked.' She smirked her self-satisfied grin and stood up. Making sure my eyes were on her, she slowly shimmied and spun, dancing a brief striptease to no music. I gazed, unblinking, and took in the sight of her, the first woman I'd seen fully nude, in person. My high school girlfriend had shown me her breasts and let me touch her all over, but every time we fooled around she was always wearing at least panties. I could touch her under them but they'd never come off. And now this woman, basically this stranger, was showing me everything. Her beautiful full breasts, topped with tiny almost red nipple jutting skyward, her pert ass, the slope of her abdomen from chest to waist to the thin, close cropped patch of hair between her legs. 

"Every part of me was screaming to just go for it. To take her and give her everything she claimed she wanted. Hard and fast, right there on my desk, on the floor. She let her fingers dance between her legs, separating the folds and returning glistening. She smeared her essence roughly across my lips and while I licked them clean and the taste drove me wild, I did not leap up from the chair and act on my impulses. Somehow I held back. I just did. As she sunk back to her knees, I saw a brief flash of disappointment. If I had to guess, she was hoping I wouldn't hold back.

"One hand disappeared between her legs, her breathing changing almost immediately, and the other grabbed my still turgid member. As few gentle tugs and then... she took me in her mouth. Quickly. Fully. Until she gagged. I don't know if she was the best at blowjobs or anything, but for my first introduction to oral sex...it was amazing. I instantly understood what all the hype was about.

"She set about her task with merry enthusiasm, humming nearly throughout, stopping only to quietly, but definitely exhale hard as she climax on her fingers. She deep throated me, suck me as she stroked me, licked me all over, lightly bit me...it was incredible. Then, sensing I was close, she began to talk to me. 

"She declared, 'When you are about to cum, you have to tell me.' I agreed hastily, anything to get her to keep going. 'I don't swallow. I...don't deserve to get that privilege. Sluts shouldn't get rewarded.'

"I tried to tell her that that wasn't true, that she was no slut. I was still stuck on the idea that slut had to be bad, you understand. But she kept refusing to take my statements seriously. I don't even know if she heard me, honestly. She ran my cock, rigid and slick with her spit, up and down her cheek and moaned, 'Just a dirty slut. Shouldn't enjoy this. Can't help myself. So wrong. Love it. Love sucking cock. So wrong though.' It was as though she was unraveling before me. And, god help me, I was turned on by it. In a sick way, it made me feel...powerful. Like my dick was too much for her. That she loved it so much it had broken her head. And knowing I shouldn't feel that way, knowing how sick that was, just turned me on more.

"She did that for the next several minutes, alternating between sucking me and taking me out and rubbing me over her face, her tits, stroking me, all while monologuing about how bad she was. After a few rounds, it had taken its toll on me. I couldn't sit still. I pushed against her hand, I fucked her mouth, and she loved it. She told me to go harder, to 'really punish' her. 

"Finally, between her firm grasp and her wet, hot, deep mouth, I couldn't hold back. 'Gonna cum,' I called out to her and she seemingly ignored me, sucking me hard. 'Oh god, your mouth feel so good Catie. You're going to make me cum.' Still she persisted and I just gave in. I remember thinking dark, selfish thoughts about how if she didn't listen, she deserved a mouth full of cum. With that thought, I groaned and exploded, my first pulse arriving in her mouth. She pulled me, gagging and sputtering, and stroked me hard and fast, sending my lust all over her face. Again and again, she said, almost chanted, 'This is what sluts get. This is what they deserve. This is what I deserve.'

"I should've done the right thing and told her that wasn't so, but I could not...not in the state of mind I was in. Instead, I cheered her on. Told her she was right, that she was getting what she deserved. Eventually she stopped, her face painted everywhere. 'Thank you,' she whispered and stood to leave."




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 06



"Wait, wait!" Mallory objected, "I thought my face was the first you...umm...painted."

"Yeah," Greg confessed, chagrinned, "First I chose to...first I requested. Catie beat you to the true first, I guess."

"Oooo, Doc, I don't know about you...so many secrets."

"Anyway," he replied, ignoring her comment, "She just stood and left then. Face covered, completely naked. After a moment, I chased after her, followed her right into the shower. We got each other off there, with fingers and hands, until we were both pruny, then retired to her room for my first 69."

"And after that?" Mallory demanded, visibly flushed.

"Nothing. Never again. She was flirty, but I ignored it. I...I felt like I took advantage of her. That she was a mess. And she probably was, but I realize now so was I so...in any case, never again."

"God..." she exhaled and leaned back in her chair, "Did you like telling me that story?"

"I'm...hard if that's what you're asking," Greg admitted.

"I know," she giggled, "I just wanted to hear you say it. Now come on."

She stood and bounced in place, grabbing his hand. She yanked on his arm till he stood. "Let's go," she commanded.

"Where?"

"To the bathroom," she announced, pulling him behind her. She turned to the barista as they passed and informed her, "I'm going to fuck my man in your bathroom right now. Is that ok?"

"Use the handicapped one. It's bigger," the girl in the poodle skirt recommended while blushing deep crimson.

"Wait," Greg interrupted as Mallory began to open the door, "I thought you wanted to hear about both 'almosts'?"

"The other can wait. I'm too fucking wet to concentrate and there's no way I'm not making use of a cock this hard."

"It's probably filthy in here," the doctor whined, looking about.

"Not as filthy as it is up here," Mallory replied, gesturing to her own head.

She kissed him then and all desire to resist dissipated. Together they stripped her of her exercise clothes and he of his work clothes. He lifted her and placed her on the counter, holding her legs spread in a wide v. Mallory reached between her legs and grabbed him, guiding him forward. His cock slipped inside her with ease, her slick heat enveloping him. He moaned as he kissed her and drove himself into her.

"Are you still thinking of her?" she asked as they broke for air, "Can you still see Catie in your mind?"

"Yes," he confessed.

"Gooooooood," she groaned in delight, "Do you wish you fucked her?"

Greg stayed silent a moment, thinking about it, before answering, "Too turned on right now. Only care about fucking you."

"That's right, Doc. I'm one of a kind. No one can fuck you like I can. Nobody's as bad as you need except me."

He groaned and pushed harder into her. She pushed back, forcing him deeper. 

"Still...I bet you were tempted. Tell me how you would've fucked her," Mallory begged.

Greg took a deep breath of air and quickly spat out his thoughts, "In the shower. When I just fingered her. There was a moment, when she grabbed me...my cock and whimpered. She tried to pull me to her and I backed away."

"What we you going to do? What would you've done?"

"I...was going to pick her up, push her against shower wall, and just fuck her like that. With her completely off the ground, no way to resist me just taking control. Just...just fucking her."

"Mmmmm, she'd have been a lucky girl that day. God, you feel so good!"

"Does it turn to you on to hear about Catie?"

"...yes...I don't know why, but yes."

"It makes you wet to think about her lips wrapped around my cock?"

"So fucking wet. Wish I could've been there."

"Did you picture her stroking my dick?"

"Mmm...I have a feeling I'll be picturing it for some time. Little bit of fuel for my alone time."

"You're soooo bad. What nasty little thoughts you have."

"Oh god...I know. Such a dirty mind. Oh god...oh yeah...harder. Oh...ooooo...fuck me harder!"

"Are you close?"

"Are you?"

"Yeah...oh....fuck, yes. So close. You feel so good. So wet and tight."

"You want me to cum with you?"

"Yes....love to see you cum."

"You like making your babysitter cum? Your little teen babysitter?"

"It's all I think about doing lately."

"Then prove it, you pervert. Show me how bad you want this girl."

He took her off the sink and brought her to the ground then, her legs now resting on his shoulders, he thrusting into her as hard and as fast he could. She moaned below him, undulating against each stroke, forcing her clit against his wiry hair, the stimulation just enough to drive her wild.

"Gonna cum Doc...gonna cum. You're making me cum. Please...I want to feel you. Fill me up. Cum inside me. Please....cum. God, Doc, cumming. C-c-cumming. Oh. Oooooooooh. Oh god. Fuck! Yes. Oh God! Oh, I can feel. Yes, let go. Fill me up. Oh...yes....oh...so much cum. You're cumming so hard."

With a single final groan, he collapsed on top of her, shaking. She untangled her legs and wrapped them and her arms around him until he stilled.

"Mmm," she moaned, "Catie can still get you off all these years later, huh?"

"You got me off," he contested.

"I don't know Greg...seemed more like I had assistance. Maybe we'll just call it a threesome."

They laughed for a moment before cold discomfort of the bathroom tile reminded them where they were.

They stood together and wiped each other clean of the dirt and dust.

As they donned their clothes once more, Greg asked where Mallory was going to the gym.

"I'm not going to the gym anymore. And you still have time before you need to get home."

"Oh?"

"Yup. So what we are doing is going back to my apartment for a shower and round two. You can show me how you would've treated that naughty classmate of yours."

"And if I say no?"

"You won't," she replied and confidently walked out of the bathroom, leaving her panties on the floor. He scooped them up, shoved them in his pocket, and followed her. She was right. He didn't say no to her that day. Not once.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 07



Author's Note: Special thanks to NeonKnickers for doing an editing pass on this and the previous chapters. The help was much appreciated. 

*

Until recently, Dr. Greg Clark rarely had sex dreams. In fact, he almost never did. Often, dreams that looked like they might become sexy veered off at the last moment. He had ones where he and the literal lady of his dreams would be repeatedly interrupted (usually by someone or several someones who seemed entirely nonplussed by what they had walked in on) and he had ones where the alarm woke him up. But never ones where he got beyond the most chaste of make out sessions.

Then, in June, shortly after his shower "encounter" with Mallory, he started to have them all the time. Sex in a plane. Sex in a maze. Sex in his parents' old house. Sex at a high school that wasn't the high school he went to, but totally seemed like it was. Sex with fictional characters. Sex with celebs. Sex with people he might have seen once but had no idea who they were. And so.

For instance, right now, he was in the midst of a dream wherein a young Viking woman was enthusiastically fellating him in appreciation of him traveling back in time and saving her from a pack of marauding trolls. 

This was probably the most realistic dream yet. 

A little too real in fact...

The doctor woke with a start, suddenly very aware that this was no dream. There was a mouth wrapped around his cock, it was very talented, and judging by the sleeping body to his left, it did not belong to his wife. A small hand was slid underneath his shirt and pushed against him as he attempted to sit up. He could have forced the issue but did not want to risk waking his sleeping spouse. 

Instead, he settled for lifting his head. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, he saw a cascade of blonde hair spilled across his lap, dipping up and down with every long suck of Greg's member. That confirmed his suspicions; his babysitter/mistress was paying him a late night visit.

"Mallory?" he murmured.

Still she continued unabated, a small moan in response the only evidence she heard him.

"Mallory."

She adjusted her speed, moving her hand, and taking him deeper into her throat.

Finally, frustrated, he forcefully spoke her name, as loudly as he dared, "Mallory!"

This time she stopped, pulling her mouth off him with a gentle pop. She slid her body upward, dragging every inch of herself over every inch of Greg. Despite himself, he found his hands roaming over her body, identifying she was wearing a ribbed tanktop and a pair of tiny shorts. Another pass over her made it clear that that was all she was wearing; there was no hint of underwear.

"Shh, Doc," she laughed in his ear, "Your wife needs her sleep. You should respect that."

"What are you—"

"Did I surprise you?"

"Yes!"

"Shhhhhhh," she giggled again before continuing, "I promised you, remember?"

"Promised me what?"

"That I was the kind of dirty, dirty girl who would fuck her man in the same bed as his sleeping wife."

Greg raised his eyebrows in the dark room, "Your man?"

"Am I wrong?" she cheekily returned, giving his still hard cock, coated with her saliva, a squeeze.

"Mmm," he appreciated the attention before clearing his head and adding, "Look, I appreciate this. And you feel great. But I think this is a bad idea."

She paused for a moment as if actually considering his opinion before responding with a shrug, "And I think you think too much."

Before he could speak again, she was on him, her mouth seeking his, desire removing any self consciousness. He could not help but respond in kind, tangling own hand into her flaxen locks and kissing her back, hard. Their tongues sought out one another, twisting against each other for seconds before darting across a lip here, running across teeth there. They would break the liplock briefly to venture out to an earlobe or a shoulder or a neck before returning to the other's now gasping lips with renewed hunger. 

Greg twisted and turned but Mallory refused to let him move on his side or get on top of her. Part of it was she just wanted to be on top this time and part of it was she feared if he gained control of the situation, even for a minute, he'd start to think clearly again and realize just how dangerous the situation was to his future. To that end, she jerked him off slowly, confidently building his desire but never giving into the impulse to have him blowing load all over the both of them as quickly as possible. He pushed his hips on occasion, trying to beg without begging for more friction, for her small hand to go faster, her slim fingers to grip him tighter, but she ignored him.

Meanwhile, the doctor had disentangled his hand from her hair and let both hands run wild over her, stroking and teasing her skin until it seemed to tingle everywhere. Under her shirt, caressing her back. Up and down her arms in barely there concentric circles. Across her stomach. Cupping her breasts, rimming the nipples with his nails until they ached to be sucked. 

Feeling Mallory becoming increasing responsive to his attentions, he once more attempted to put her on her back and seize control. With a moan that indicated a desire to let it happen, she grabbed both his hands and lifted them above his head while settling herself more fully onto his lap. She began to rock her hips forward and back, dragging her pussy across his hard cock, only a thin piece of cotton separating them. His breath hitched in his throat, he bit his tongue to keep from moaning. She added a swivel to her hips in response.

Once she was confident he was back under her sway, she let his hands go. He let them drift down her body before sliding them underneath her shorts and grabbing hold of her ass. He pulled her harder against himself and started to return her gyrations in kind.

"You like my ass?" she asked him, biting his ear.

"I love it."

"You like grinding against me? Can you feel how hot my pussy is for you through my little pajama shorts?"

"Yessssss."

"You want to be inside pussy? That hot, wet, tight pussy?"

"Pl—please."

"Even though I'm just a teenager? Barely an adult?"

"Oh god help me, yes."

"Even though your wife, your loyal, loving wife, mother of your children is right next to you in this bed, sleeping, wrongly secure in her belief of her husband's fidelity?"

"Why would you even—"

"Because I know it turns you on. Because it turns me on. We are both bad people. Filthy, filthy people."

"Mal, I—"

"Look at her," she commanded him, pushing his head to the side and sitting up, "See how calm and peaceful she looks."

He stared for a moment, his guilt rising higher and higher as the nubile woman on his dick kept grinding her dirty, tempting cunt into him.

"She looks so sweet. So pretty," Mallory whispered, calling his attention back to her. She sat over him, no longer wearing a shirt, her small tits proudly bouncing with each thrust of her hips, a twinkling piece of jewelry in her navel springing this way and that, "But she won't fuck you, will she? She would never suck you off in the shower or jerk you off all over her stomach or her thigh or her face, would she? And she certainly wouldn't interrupt your workday for a quickie on your desk, huh? So stop feeling bad and start fucking me. We both know the betrayal just makes it hotter."

Greg again found him speechless, as he often did around Mallory. Gina was his wife and she was nice and pretty and kind. She was the mother of his children and she was good at it. But Mallory was right, she never would indulge his dark desires, his less than savory lusts. And Mallory did and would and seemed pretty dedicated to doing so.

And so he wrapped his hands into the waist band of Mallory's shorts and began to pull them down. She pushed and shifted her body to help, the two of them eventually shimmying the tiny sleepwear to a place where he could push them off with his feet. Then, she grabbed his pole and guided him inside her, sinking down slowly, letting herself feel every inch of him while she rhythmically tightened and relaxed her muscles, gripping and releasing, gripping and releasing. They stayed like this for several moments, both holding their breath without even realizing. Then Mallory placed both of her palms on Greg's chest, leaned forward slightly and began to draw up and down on him.

Greg made a move to match her and she dug her nails into his chest, shocking him. "You move, you will wake her. And while I'd love to show her how she should be treating you, I know you don't. So just lay there and let me fuck you!" she demanded.

The doctor conceded, and Mallory took over, sure to ride him just hard enough to ensure they were both enjoying themselves but not enough to shake the bed. 

Greg placed his thumb on her lips and she dutifully sucked on it, soaking it. He then slid pushed it against her clit, rotating it counterclockwise again and again as she bit her lip and tossed her head back in ecstasy.

They could only remain disciplined for so long. Soon, Mallory was riding Greg without pretense, without concern for rocking the bed. He thrust against her to his heart's content, ignoring her earlier warnings. 

And they began to talk, teasing one another, taunting their lust til it was all they could see.

"You like fucking married men?"

"You like fucking teenage pussy?"

"Homewrecking slut!"

"Dirty old man!"

"I'm gonna cover you in my cum."

"I'm going to wake her up and make her lick me clean. But then I bet you'd love that."

"You want to fuck my wife, too, don't you?"

"I'd love to. Love to eat her out while you just pound me from behind."

"Oh god!"

"You like that, don't you?"

"Oh shit, fuck, yes."

"Mmmmmmmmmm, me too. God, I'm such a filthy slut."

"I want to fuck you all the time."

"Who's stopping you?"

"Oh god, oh god..."

"Go ahead, Doc. Lose it. Cum for me. Cum in me!"

And then, Gina stirred! She groaned and rolled over, and then rolled back and groaned again. Mallory leapt off Greg in a panic, clattering awkwardly to the floor. Greg was too far gone to stop himself so although he froze like a deer in headlights, his cock fired off shot after shot of cum over his stomach and chest. All time stopped. The room seemed frozen, every sound echoed like a gunshot.

But Gina remained asleep. 

Finally, Greg slid to the floor, joining Mallory where she lay in an awkward heap. Despite themselves, despite their hearts pounding in their eardrums, they giggled.

"That was scary," Mallory whispered.

Greg agreed, "Terrifying."

"I thought we were dead."

"Me too. I noticed all your big talk about showing her how's it done went away," he teased.

She playfully slugged him, "You know I don't actually want to end your marriage. Although I totally would be the meat in your marriage sandwich."

"God, I made a mess of you," she added, touching the cum cooling on his chest.

"Well, I kind of made it of myself. But it certainly would not have been possible without you."

"I should probably clean you up."

"You probably should."

She tentatively bent over Greg and began to lap up his seed. She glanced up at him and promised, "But just clean-up. Nothing else. That was too close."

"Agreed."

And while he meant it when she started, the sight and feel of her naked, twisting above and around him combined with the sight and feel of her tongue aggressively seeking out every spot of semen on him proved tempting. He felt himself begin to rise and harden anew. And so did she.

"You promised," she admonished him, gesturing to his dick.

He shrugged, "Can't control that. But, look, I'm not trying anything."

And so the promise stood a bit longer. Until, in the course of fulfilling her cleaning duties, Mallory somehow ended up straddling Greg's head, her bald slit hovering inches above his head. Without invitation he grabbed her hips and pulled her down on his mouth.

"You—" she began with an angry tone before it extinguished in a moan of enjoyment, "promised."

Before long, they rolled onto their sides, the not-so good doctor's head held tightly between her thighs, alternating between dipping his tongue deep inside her and sucking her clit gently into his mouth. The sight of Greg's cock, hard and pulsating mere inches from her lips, proved to be too big a temptation for her as well and soon she was feeding it to herself with both hands jerking it at its base. They writhed in rhythm with each other, keeping their focus firmly on the others pleasure even as they felt themselves losing their minds. Wet slurping sounds, hums, and suppressed moans filled the air. She came hard twice, thighs clamping even tighter on his head, before he lost control and filled her mouth with his cum. She swallowed it in two mighty gulps, barely keeping from coughing and sputtering on the load.

Shifting until they were face to face again, they kissed tenderly, tasting themselves on each other's tongues. They hugged for a moment.

"I should go," Mallory thought out loud, "it'd be bad if I feel asleep like this."

"Yeah, smart thinking." 

They both stood and put their clothes back on and as Mallory began to walk away Greg told her, "We can't do this again. Fun, but too dangerous."

Without glancing over her shoulder she replied, "I don't know...we'll see."



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 08



"Honey?" Gina Clark shouted up the stairs to her husband.

"Yeah?" Greg responded from his comfortable position lying on their bed half-watching the Thursday night football season opener. They had just gotten the kids down a little while ago and he was looking forward to a slow NFL Network-induced slide towards sleep.

She waited to respond until she was standing in the doorway of their dim bedroom.

"Oh...you look so relaxed already...I feel bad," she started hesitantly.

He propped his head up with his hand to make eye contact and assured her, "No, no. it's fine. What's up?"

"Mal just called. She and her roommate are having a hard time setting up their TV and stuff. She was wondering if you could help them out. But I'll just call her back and let her know you are ready to quit for the night.

"That's okay," he countered, sitting up, "I can go. I'm pretty sure she could demand a lot more money from us than she does so it's the least we can do?"

"Are you sure? I bet it can wait."

"Nah, I'll just get it out of the way."

"Ok...well, do you mind if I go to bed without you? I'm pretty tired."

"Go for it," he said, granting her request.

He gave her a quick peck as he skittered past her and through the door into the hall. "There's no telling how long these things can take anyway. I could be home in less than an hour if I'm lucky...hours from now if I am not."

"Good luck. Don't stay too long. You need your sleep too."

"I promise if it looks too complicated, I'll tell her it'll have to wait."

Fifteen minutes later, Greg was knocking on the door to Apartment 4W. Mallory answered moments later.

"Hey, Doc," she said, her voice all sweetness and light. She stood in the doorway looked rosy cheek and scrubbed clean, like she had just gotten out of the shower. Her hair was bound up by an elastic in a loose, simple ponytail. His eyes trailed down her body, taking her in. She wore an old concert t-shirt, clearly washed within an inch of its natural life. If he had to guess it probably fit her when she was 12, before her growth spurt kicked in. Now, it terminated just above her navel when she stood naturally and clung to every inch of her upper body. Her nipples poked out slightly, but noticeably and left him imagining that she had foregone a bra.

"Come on in," she bid, turning to lead him down the foyer hallway into the apartment proper. As she walked he took note of her ass and legs in the skinny jeans she wore. The denim hugged and showcased her in a way that was undeniably appealing.

She spun back to him when they reached the living room and his eyes completed their journey with her bare feet and her toenails freshly painted a deep red color.

"Chick Flick Cherry," she said.

"Sorry," he replied, eyes confusingly returning to hers.

"It's the name of my toenail polish. I just saw you admiring it."

"Ah. Right. Yes...it's...well, I like it quite a bit."

"Mmm...I know how you do."

"So, my wife said you needed help?"

"That I do," she agreed, a sexy, teasing tone creeping into her voice.

"Ok, well, what do you want me to start with?"

She stepped into his personal space and rose up on the tips of her toes, laying her arms on his shoulders. "This is always good," she said and kissed him deeply. He happily returned the embrace.

"Mmm," he groaned appreciatively as she pulled away, "That is quite nice. I should get started on your TV stuff though, if I'm ever going to finish it."

She giggled, her blues sparkling with amused delight, "You're cute."

She grabbed his hand and pirouetted her back to him, guiding him to the couch.

"There is no TV problem, silly," she continued, "I was just...feeling needy."

"Oh? Oh!" the doctor caught on, "Well, jeez...this isn't something we should make a habit of...too dangerous."

"More dangerous than the two of sixty-nining each other a literal foot from your sleeping wife?"

"Perhaps not. Anyway, what I was going to say was that we shouldn't make a habit of this but since I am already here, I don't seem the harm in me...helping you out."

She smirked, "So kind of you to make such a generous sacrifice."

Greg leaned over her, lifting her chin with two fingers on his left hand, and kissed her deeply. Realizing this was the first time he had kissed her without hesitation or seduction, she felt herself go lightheaded. She pressed deeper into him to steady herself, letting herself be folded into his arms.

Greg felt the heat of her against him, the way it spread from the points where their bodies met throughout his whole person. Her fingernails danced lightly over the back of his neck, just where it met his head and an uncontrollable shiver of arousal pulsated through, bringing goosebumps in its wake.

Losing track of where they were, the duo stumbled and fell over the arm of the sofa in a jumble of arms and legs. Greg bounced and fell onto his back on the floor below, exhaling in a great puff of air. Mallory, still safely lying on the couch, could not help but chortle.

"Oh you think that's funny," he mock demanded.

She only laughed harder in response.

"Come here, let's see how you like being on the floor!" he shouted, reaching for her.

She swatted his hand away and attempted to escape. Greg proved too quick, however, catching a belt loop on her pants in his hand. That was enough, in her state of poor balance, to send her tumbling to the floor as well. He immediately set upon her, poking and needling her ticklish spots until all she could manage were strangled laugh gasps. 

"Stop, stop," she begged while gulping air. Greg let up for a moment, smiling broadly at her state. She grabbed him behind the neck and pulled him to her, kissing him roughly, snorting with shortness of breath. 

They made out then. Simple, unhurried, but aggressive. They rolled this way and that, neither seeks dominance, only to inspire the other to step up their game. When, at one point Mallory ended up straddling Greg's waist, he liberated her from her shirt and appreciatively ran his hands over her small, newly exposed breasts. Minutes later, the tide turned and the doctor found himself watching his shirt sail off somewhere behind the cedar chest that doubled as a home for mail not yet opened and read.

Soon, Mallory was on her back again and Greg was slowly drifting down her body, seemingly driving to cover any inch of her skin with his touch. He tasted her, licking, nibbling, biting, sucking and that which his mouth could not reach at that moment was caressed, rubbed, press, scratched, tickled, teased by his fingers and hands.

She lay there thrilling at his touch. "Ahh, ooooo, yes, oh, oh, so good," she cooed before imploring, "Can—can I ask you for something?"

"Mmmhmm," he responded without being distracted from his mission.

"S—s—soooo," she stuttered, riding small crests of pleasure as he rolled her nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger and darted his tongue in and around her belly button, "you know how we talk—how you said this should be about me realizing some desires too, not just you?"

"Of course," he managed through teeth clenched around her jeans zipper as he slowly dragged it downward, letting her hear each tooth separate, letting her feel the subtle change in temperature as more of her panties were exposed to the air.

"Wellllllllllllllllllllllll, I have a request..." she began, looking hesitant and shy. She felt vulnerable, asking for the focus to be on here. Sure, being with Greg was a culmination of several of her own fantasies, but she never asked for them to be fulfilled, just took them herself. The stated focus was on the Doctor's fantasy, even if they did get her off too.

"Go on," he whispered encouragingly, peeling her skinny jeans down and off her.

"Do you like my cotton panties?" she asked him as he separated her legs and lowered his mouth to the area where her left inner thigh met her pelvis. Her panties were simple, bikini cut, with the words "Do You Love Me?" written in bright blue across a sea foam green background.

"Uh-huh," he assured her, dragging his tongue up that space, careful to avoid even the smallest of contact with her cotton covered sex. She shuddered at the provocation. 

"Even though they are just cotton?" she further implored.

"Yup," he confirmed, repeating the process for union between her right inner thigh and pelvis. Again she could not help but register a slight full body shake.

"Don't you think cotton is something...a little girl would wear?" she teased and watched as a flash of lustful anger (or was it angry lust?) flashed across his eyes. He could not help himself when she played the "But I'm so young, am I being naughty?" card with him.

Instead of rising to the bait this time though, he recognized she was retreating to safe territory. He lifted her right leg straight in the air and began to kiss, lick, and nibble it from the back of her thigh moving upward to the back of her knee. She marveled at how good it felt and let her head swim with the odd stimulation until he called her back to Earth with a blunt, "So I believe you had a request?"

"Yes. Ok. Don't laugh," she paused and he just moved to her left leg without breaking eye contact, "Well, ok. So...you remember the first time..."

Sensing her trailing off, he prodded, "In the shower?"

"I mean, the first time we fucked."

"Of course I remember. You were wearing that tiny pair of white underwear and the strapless bra. You called me depraved."

She smirked and clicked her tongue against her cheek. "Yeah. And you loved it."

"I'll allow the premise. So about the first time?"

"At one point, you...like, you sucked my toes, licked my feet...that sort of thing."

"I recall."

"That's the first time I'd ever had that. And...I don't know...I really want to try it again. I'm not like...I don't know a fetishist about my feet or anything, I just...it just, well, I guess I—" she muddled around before Greg cut her off with a deep kiss.

Separating for air, he looked her deep in the eyes, and spoke, "Of course I will. You don't need to make excuses. Just lie back, watch if you want, and enjoy."

He then proceeded to kiss his way back down her body, this time continuing right on to Mallory's feet. She felt...anxious. Like first day of school anxious. Butterfly in the stomach, practically vibrating from anticipation. She did not know until she finally asked for just how much she had wanted this.

When Greg began, he took his time, building the sensation up rather than dive right in. At first it was almost ticklish for Mallory and then the pleasure broke through and the ticklish feeling became just another part of the experience, of the pleasurable torture for her. 

She began to moan and coo, just quiet, nonsense sounds at first. Then, just short gasps, "Doc." "Greg." "Oh." "God." And the like. Then the doctor dragged his lower teeth along the arch of her left foot and she squeaked, "Wow!"

It stunned them both. She even clapped own hand over her mouth unconsciously after she heard herself do it. But Greg was not to be deterred and he went back to work. The dam had broken for Mallory now and she began to babble.

"Oh God, Doc. Why—why does this feel so good? Oh God...no idea. I had no idea."

He sucked her big toe into his mouth.

"Do you do this for your wife, Greg? Do you do this for Gina? Does she appreciate it like I do?"

He rang his tongue underneath her toes where they met her foot.

"Ooooooooo. So good. So. Good. Gahhhh!"

He moved his attention to her other foot, beginning on the outside of the arch.

"I'm so...so wet. Can...Will you let me touch myself? Can I make myself cum?" she moaned, dragging the foot not receiving attention up and down where she could see his hard cock pressing against the front of his pants. He only nodded in response.

"Oh thank you. Thank you," she praised him, shoving both hands down the front of her underwear.

He paused and whispered, "I want to see. Show me."

"You want to see? See me play with my soaking pussy. My bald, wet pussy," she groaned, arching her back and shoving the panties down her thighs. When they got close enough, Greg snagged them and pulled them the rest of the way with one hand.

"Look at me," she gasped as she rubbed her waiting clit, as though she would need to ask.

Mallory aggressively pursued her own orgasm as she watched, through barely open eyes, Greg watch her and play with her foot. She was being harder than she normally would with herself, but she wanted it that way. She could feel she was being rougher than she needed to be, that she should be with herself but she could not stop. She recalled her the first time she gave a guy at a party a handjob through his pants. 

She had been so aggressive about it, she had actually rubbed him hard enough to wear the skin down somewhere around the point where the shaft met the head. When she found out what she had done and that he was aware that it was happening, she had asked why she let him continue. He had told her that it felt so good and he was so turned on that it was worth it. The pain he was feeling and pain he knew would continue to feel did not matter, only cumming did. It was in this state of mind she found herself.

Greg must have noticed because he stopped his attention and urged her, "Slow down, take it easy."

"Don't you stop!" She shut back. "Don't you fucking stop!"

He started to say something else and she cut him, "Fuck you, you pervert. Lick my feet like I told you, you dirty old man."

She caught that fire in his eyes again and it sparked her first orgasm, a quick hard burst that almost folded her in half. "Oh yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" she screamed, "Oh god yeah. Look at me like that. Like I'm a fucking bitch. Like whore garbage."

Greg arched in his eyebrows in exaggerated interest and began to play with her foot again. She came again almost immediately, this time less intensely but the feel lasted longer. "That's right, slave," she groaned.

She knew what she was doing. This had begun vulnerable and sweet tonight, but she wasn't ready for that, not really. That kind of terrified her since she knew it was not a possibility. She was as much his fucktoy as he was hers but he was married and that wasn't changing. So she made it dirty. In this case, filthy.

He switched feet again and she gasped automatically. Her other foot sought out the bulge in his pants and pushed flatly against it. She heard him grunt, the first indication of the evening that he could be distracted from his task.

"You want this whore to make you cum in your pants?" she murmured in a low sexy voice, "You want a nasty little footjob?"

He said nothing but jerked against her foot as she began to move it up and down.

She mocked, "God, look how hard you got from licking my feet. You are SO depraved. And look what you've done to me. I was just an honor student. Young. Sweet. Now I'm finger banging myself while jacking off a married father of two with my foot. While he sucks my toes. You ruined me. I'm such a slut now. Just a filthy slut."

She got off on her own dirty talk, mewling, "Yesssssssssssssssssss," and shaking hard enough that her feet jerked off his cock. Shaking her head clear, she refocused her efforts. Fast and hard she pressed and rubbed her barefoot up and down against his cock. He moaned, loud and long, and she knew she broke him.

"Oh yeah, Doc, cum for me. Fill your pants. Look at my pretty little foot jerking you off. You're so nasty, letting—more like making your babysitter make you cum."

"Fuuuuuuuuck you," he groaned.

"Fuck me?! You wish, Doc, you wish. Now cum for me."

And it became a chant, "Cum for me. Cum for me. Cum for me." Over and over again. Until he had no choice. His world went grey and and he sprayed cum all over his boxers, her feet rubbing and kneading every drop out of him.

When it was too much, he stumbled backwards and sprawled out comically on the carpet. After a few moments he exhaled, "What the hell was that?"

"Fun?" Mallory offered hesitantly.

Greg propped himself up on one elbow so he could see her before replying, "No...I mean, yes it was. It just...took a turn there."

She fretted, "Did you not like it?"

"You know the answer to that question. It's just..."

"It kind of dark?"

"Well...sort of. I mean...you called yourself 'whore garbage.'"

"And it turned you on, didn't it?"

"Mal...yeah, I won't lie. It did. But I can only let that happen in good conscience if you don't really feel that way."

"Feel like I'm garbage?"

"Yeah...exactly. If you are just saying it because it's a hot, nasty thing to say in the moment, that's fine. But if you believe that about yourself...I don't want any part of confirming that."

She crawled to him then and bore into him, trying to make herself as close to him as possible. She kissed him lightly and he returned the gesture. 

"You're so sweet," she whispered, resting her forehead against his, "I promise I don't hate myself or think I'm really garbage. It was honestly just dirty talk because I know we both get off on it."

"Ok. Good. I just needed to ask."

"I appreciate that. And I'm sorry I took it there. I just..." she trailed off.

"Got scared because it felt too sweet?"

She nodded slightly.

"I figured. You are safe with me though, I promise. Safe to explore whatever you want."

"I...know. It's just...I don't know...weird, I guess. The only reason this started was because you were only seeing to Gina's needs and wants and giving up on yours. I don't want to just be another version of that."

"And because of that, you won't. Don't worry."

Mallory left out the second part, the part about feeling too close to him, about crossing a line to something more than just lust and what it might do to her, might do to both of them.

They lapsed into a mutually content silent cuddling until Mallory felt how soaked the doctor's pants were.

"Wow," she gasped, "You must have cum a gallon."

"You turned me on," he admitted, sheepishly.

"Don't worry...I like it. Wouldn't have minded it coating my face," she admitted to titillate him.

"Anyway," she continued, "I can't send you home like that. If the Mrs. is still awake, she'll have a few questions, I'm sure. Get out of those pants and let me wash 'em."

"And if your roommate comes home? Is she going to be cool with someone more than 10 years older hanging around naked in her apartment?"

"Don't worry. I've got this big ass robe/blanket thing you can wear until everything is clean and dry."

"Fine," he signed and shrugged out of the pants and boxer shorts. She grabbed them and his shirt and clothes as well to ensure a full load and made her way to the laundry room in the back of the apartment. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked down the hallways naked.

"Are you staring at my ass," she asked, pausing in the hall.

After a beat, he confessed, in a small voice, "Yes."

"You like what you see?"

"Very much."

"Good," she laughed and continued on her way. Five minutes later she was back with a big burgundy fleece monstrosity that Greg concluded was the "big ass robe/blanket thing." She tossed it to him, but chose to remain naked herself, lying next to him on the apartment floor. 

Greg took in the view before whistling, "God, you're beautiful."

"Mmm," she replied, stretching from the tips of her outstretched fingers through the heels of her feet, "Thanks, Greg. You aren't so bad yourself."

She could feel him still watching him and it turned her on. Given how hard he came, she was stunned he could even look at her without being overstimulated. Yet, here he was, greedily taking in every inch of her with his roving eyes. It was a rush for her and before she even thought about, she began to finger her pussy right there under his watchful stare.




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 08



"What are you doing?" he asked, voice thick with something close to reverence.

"I'm still so wet," she moaned, "And it turns me on to have you stare at me like you are."

"And how's that?"

"Like I'm, I don't know, some kind of prize. Or piece of artwork. I can feel all your awe mixed up in your lust. I appreciate that. It's like...I don't know. You don't just want to fuck me. I mean, you want to fuck me—"

"Yes I do," he guiltily interjected.

"But...like, you want to do it out of appreciation. It's not just about getting off for you, it's about...well, getting me off too, obviously. Other guys might look at me like some cheap random centerfold...a magazine they'll splash their cum on while jerking off and toss in the recycle pin. To you...forget it. This is hopelessly pretentious."

"To me, you are more like a callback, a pinup model. Yeah, the photo makes me hard, wants me think dirty, dirty thoughts. But I bring it with me on the battlefield, to my field locker, to home at war's end. Until I can have the real thing again."

"Mmm...I like that. Way to land my analogy Doc."

They slipped into silence as both concentrate fully on the two digits plunging in and out of Mallory wet desire and the thumb stroking her clit. As her breathing became more erratic, Greg drew closer and wondered aloud, "Are you going to cum?"

"Would you like me to?"

"Of course. It turns me on so much when you enjoy yourself."

"Mmmmmmmmm. Good. I am close. But I'd prefer if you made me."

"That can be arranged," he assured her, kissing her deeply and replacing her fingers with his own. Soon, she could not concentrate enough to keep kissing him, settling for the occasional brief tongue joust. Then, she was moaning in his mouth. Finally, she began to shout/ groan and he slid his lips next to her ear to whisper to her.

"Go ahead, Mal. Let go. I know you want to. Just let yourself. Cum all over me, all my fingers. Show me how naughty you are. Just let yourself cum."

She went rigid then and hissed out a long, restricted breath. She held his hand in place, too turned on to handle further stimulation, too in the throes of orgasm to let his fingers slip away quite yet.

"Amazing," he reviewed her orgasm, "Just stunning to see."

She turned towards him and kissed him appreciatively. Her hand moved down his chest and parted the robe-let. She found his cock and was pleased to feel he was already hard. She broke their embrace and stared him right in the eyes. "I want you to fuck me with this incredible length of dick. Can you handle that?"

"Does it feel like I can handle it?"

"It feels like you want to do more than handle it."

With that, he rolled her on to her side, back facing him, and lifted her leg in the air. He slid into her from behind and began to slowly impale and retract while rubbing her clit.

"Oh, Doc. You feel so good. Why can't you just fuck me all the time?"

"Not possible, physiologically speaking," he replied sarcastically and they both giggled.

"Yesss," she moaned moments later. Then, her groans, coos, and demands became louder and more rapid until she seized in orgasmic bliss.

As she came down, she looked over her shoulder and inquired, "Are you close?"

"Sort of. Kind of," he puffed. "Don't want to cum quite yet."

"Good. Because I want us to be face-to-face when you cum. Will you get on top of me?"

"Your wish is my command," he replied. She protested as he slipped from her and flipped her on to her back. He took both her legs and had her hold them straight in the air before he separated them into a giant V. Clambering between them, he sunk himself into her to the hilt.

"So deep," she groaned. "God, always forget how deep you go."

"So tight," he responded in kind, "How can you be so tight and wet at once?"

"It's a gift, Doc. Now fuck your slut," she urged.

"Are you my slut?" he demanded.

"If that's what you want. I'll be anything you want. I can be as good or as bad as you'd like."

"I...like when you are bad."

"And I like being bad for you. Now show me what you do to bad girls."

As Greg began to rhythmically thrust against her, the front door swung open. Mallory's roommate Brenda strolled in announcing, "Hey Mal, I'm home! What's doing?"

Greg's eyes went wide in terror. He began to scramble away from Mallory but she locked her legs on his back and ordered him, "Keep fucking me."

She added a plaintive, "Please," and shouted back, "We're in the living room."

"In the—oh," Brenda came up short when she saw the scene, "I can, umm, come back. Or, you know, find somewhere else to—"

Mallory interrupted her, "Oh Brenda, he's fucking me so good. His cock...it's so deep inside me. He's so hard for me. And sooooooooooooo big."

Despite his fear, Greg was aroused to hear Mallory compliment his manhood so.

"I'm his nasty little slut and he's showing me what happens to girls like me," Mallory continued, reaching out for her friend.

Brenda took her hand as if in a fog.

"Do like what you see, Brenda?"

"Huh, wha?" Brenda mumbled, visibly confused.

"Am I pretty? Do I like sexy with an older man fucking me?"

"You...you're very pretty. You know that."

The bizarre scene was unlike anything Greg had been a part of before but it nonetheless turned him on. He grunted and increased his pace.

"Ooooooooo!" Mallory moaned loudly, "He's really pounding me now, Brenda. So hard. Do you see that?"

"Ye—yes."

"You won't leave me, will you? Stay please," Mallory begged in a slight, wounded voice.

Almost robotically, Brenda sat down on the floor next to them still holding Mallory's hand. Greg finally allowed himself to fully look at Brenda. It was hard to say with her legs tucked underneath her, but she appeared to be taller than Mallory. She wore her hair in a shaggy dyed black bob that framed her pretty, oval shaped face. A smattering of freckles dotted across the bridge of her nose. Her blue eyes looked flat and glassy flecked with a sort of confused curiosity. They were rimmed kohl black, with a small loop eyebrow ring above her left eye. She was dressed like, well, Greg was not sure of the proper term these days: goth, punk, scene, emo? Alternative in any case. Safety pinned up leather jacket over what appeared to be multiple layers of thin strapped tank tops, ribbed up black jeans, thick heavy soled boots. Despite the loose, tossed together nature of her clothes, Greg could tell she was athletic, fit, and that she was making an effort to restrain her chest leading him to believe it was probably fairly sizeable. 

She avoided eye contact with him flitting instead between her roommate's face and staring down to the thrusting union between Mallory and Greg. He could not tell exactly what her eyes were registering as she watched him slide his cock nearly all the way out of Mallory's hungry pussy before driving himself, vigorously, back into her; it looked to be a mix of surprise, fear, and wonder.

"Can you see how big he is?" Mallory whispered to Brenda. Brenda could only nod in response.

Mallory continued, "And he just keeps fucking me with it. I'm soooo small, but he won't step, Brenda. He won't. And I don't want him too. Oh god, I don't want him ever to. Am I naughty?"

Brenda struggled to respond.

"Is your roommate a bad girl to be fucking this married father of two?"

"He's married?" Brenda sputtered, "You never told me he was married before."

"Oops," Mallory moaned/giggled.

"She knew about us?" Greg asked, a bit of panic evident in his voice.

"A little," Mallory confessed, looking up at her roommate and stroking Brenda's hair, "She likes my story time at night before we go to bed. I tell her what you did to me, how you treated me, and she touches herself. Don't you Bren?"

"Please, Mallory, I don't—"

Mallory pulled hard and quick on Brenda's hair, cutting her off, "I asked, 'Don't you?' Now tell the Doctor the truth."

After a long pause, Brenda murmured, "Yes."

"Yes, she does, Doc. I tell her all about you cumming on my thigh or bending me over your couch in nearly full view of the neighborhood and she just abuses herself. She can't help it. She's a bad, bad girl like me."

Greg was out of his mind now, watching Mallory manipulate them both, feeding her own arousal in the process. He abandoned all sense of gentleness and began to pound her furiously, erratically, concentrating only on his own pleasure.

"Fuck yes!" she shouted as he began, "Oh god, yeah, lose it Greg. Show Brenda how hard you can fuck my teen cunt."

She turned her attention back to Brenda and slipped back into her small, sing-song voice. "Ooooo Brenda, do you see what he does to me, how he makes me act. I used to be su—such a good girl. But now...now I need this cock all the time. I'm—I'm afraid of myself, of my fantasies."

Brenda made a noise back of her throat that sounded like it was the start of something comforting before it just died.

"Could—could you kiss me Brenda? Like the other day?"

"Mal, I...we agreed that that was just a...a silly thing. I don't think I shou—"

"But you said I was pretty. You still think I'm pretty, right?"

"You're beautiful," Brenda began, scanning her roommate's body up and down and visibly blushing before continuing, "Very beautiful. But—"

Mallory gently guided Brenda's face closer to her's, cooing, "Please. I don't know what's happening to me. Please, kiss me and comfort me. Please..."

With a moan, Brenda gave in. In contrast to the aggressive fucking Mallory was engaged in with Greg, her kiss with her roommate was slow, deep, and sensuous. Greg could see a hint of tongue here and there, pink and glistening. 

He stared and whimpered, "Oh God. Mal. So hot."

Mallory separate from Brenda but kept their faces close together. She gasped in Brenda's air, "Oh, god, I think he's getting close. I think he liked watching us kiss. See ho—how he takes everything and corrupts it. Gggggggggggggod. He's so evil, the things he puts in my head, you know?"

Brenda said nothing. Her face betrayed a glimmer of recognition that this was a game to Mallory, a seduction lark. But she was too bought in to stop now. She had been seduced.

"Will you help me Brenda?" Mallory pleaded, grabbing her friend's hand and guiding it toward her legs. "I want—I need to cum, too. Before he does. Can—will you...touch me?"

"How d-d-do you—" Brenda stuttered.

"You know how. Touch me like you touch yourself late at night."

And so Brenda let her long thin fingers dance down her roommate's tight stomach until they reached Mallory's clit. Then, tentatively, she began to rub a small light circle on the button.

"Harder," Mallory whined and Brenda complied. Moments later Mallory came twice in rapid succession, nearly bucking Greg off of her. She kissed Brenda again, sweetly, and signed, "Thank you, B."

"So close," Greg growled from below.

"Oh, Brenda, he's going to cum soon," Mallory whispered.

"Inside you?" her roommate replied, voice filled with stunned wonder.

"Not this time. This time, I need it on me."

"What? Why?"

Greg listened to this with teeth gritted, striving not to lose it before this scene played out.

"Because—I'm just so dirty. I'm a slut. And sluts get cum on."

"Where?" Brenda inquired, eyes wide.

"My—face," Mallory whimpered in response, "All over my face. Coated. Dripping."

"That's so wrong," Brenda stated, almost without thought.

"I knooooooooow. So wrong. So...dirty. I just can't help it. I need it all over my face. Tell him I need it, Brenda. Tell Doc where I need his jizz."

Greg grunted and dug his fingers into the carpet, struggling against his desire to lose it.

"I—I can't say..." Brenda tried to excuse herself.

"Pleeeeeeease. Brenda. Tell him. Say, 'Greg,'"

Brenda broke again and began to imitate her roommate, "Greg..."

"Good," Mallory complimented her, "But use your sex voice."

"I don't have a—"

"Shh, you know you do. It's the one you use when use my dildo when you think I'm not around."

Brenda blushed fiercely but did not disagree.

"Good. Now tell him to cum on my face. To spray his seed all over my whore visage. I want my features buried."

"Greg," Brenda called out haltingly.

"Sex voice," Mallory commanded.

Changing her tone, Brenda continued, "Get up here and....and jerk yourself off—"

"No, I'll do it," Mallory corrected her.

She began again, "Get up here so Mal can jack you off all over her face."

"Tell him what I am."

"She's—she's a dirty teen whore—"

"And what do I need?"

"She needs your cum all over her face. Her whore face. She wants to be coated...like she deserves."

Greg roared, willpower utterly destroyed. He sprang forward, landing on his knees on the opposite side of Mallory's head from Brenda. Brenda squeaked an incoherent sound as practically a shout. Mallory was barely able to wrap her fingers around his rigid, sloppy pole and aim it at her flushed face before he yelled, "Oh yeah...take it all over your pretty face. Drown in my cum!" and released. 

The combination of the hot, thick ropes of warm liquid coating her visage and Brenda's delirious, almost panicking continued rubbing of Mallory's clit set the babysitter off again and she climaxed squealing and arching her back to bring her face closer to his spewing cock.

As both came down from their orgasmic highs they became aware of Brenda's giggling presence.

"Oh my god," she said, louder than necessary or, in fact, than she intended, "My god...there's so much of it. You are...you really are coated." Whatever was going on with Brenda, the frightened repulsion/attraction she had been experiencing, apparently broke with the doctor frosting her roommate's face like a cake.

"It feels so good," Mallory moaned back. Greg flopped to the ground, feeling utterly empty. Mallory spoke to him without moving her head, "God, Doc, I can't believe you could still cum so much considering I had already made gotten you off once."

"You did?" Brenda asked, shock.

Mallory turned slightly towards her and confirmed, "Yes. With my foot."

"Wow," Brenda whispered reverently. Then she added, "Do you like...need a towel?"

"Probably. Unless you want to lick me clean," Mallory teasingly offered.

"What? Reall—I mean, no. Gross. I—why would anyo—I'm just not that kind—" she stammered and stuttered.

"Come here," Mallory whispered, ignoring her roommates rambling protests, and pulled Brenda downward by the straps of the myriad of tank tops the black haired teen wore.

"No," she whimpered in protest.

"Please," Mallory begged, "I'm so unclean. You have to...I need you Bren."

Brenda's resolve disappeared and she began to slurp and lick the cooling coating of sin from Mallory's face. Mallory cooed contently but warned her, "Don't swallow it all. I want you to share it with me."

"So gross," Brenda muttered but did not stop. Before long, Mallory's face was more or less free of the white viscous mask and Brenda, as instructed, kissed Mallory, drooling the collected cum into her roommate's mouth. As Brenda attempted to pull away, Mallory shifted and kissed back, pushing the cum back into Brenda's mouth. They went back and forth, cum and saliva coating their tongues, dripping out of the corners of their mouths, coating their chins. Finally, Mallory swallowed her load and ordered Brenda to do the same. 

"Do you like cum?" Mallory asked her. Brenda was shy once more and would only shrug. Mallory smirked in response and assured her, "It's okay. It'll be our secret," before hugging her close. When Mallory let go, Brenda stumbled from the room, looking dazed. 

The babysitter turned back to her employer, crumpled naked on the floor, with a blissed out smile plastered on his face. She crawled past him and snagged a dishcloth off a nearby table and wiped the remaining cum and spit from her face.

"So did you enjoy that?" she asked musically.

"Wow...it was...wow."

"You're usually more articulate."

"I usually have not witnessed my young coed mistress seduce her obviously shy roommate while we're in the midst of fucking, cum on said mistress's face and then see said mistress's roommate lick her clean and swap my cum back and forth."

"So that's a yes on liking it then?"

"Yes. Definitely. You are...god...I don't know. Is sex on legs a compliment?"

"From you, it is," she assured him as she cuddled into him until they look like a gender-reversed John Lennon and Yoko Ono from that one album cover.

"Is she going to be alright?" Greg asked a moment later, concern finally creeping into his cum drained mind.

"Oh yeah," Mallory promised, "She's got a...I don't know...a phobia about cock I guess. She wants it. She's horny all the time. But she's scared too."

"So...did you know she'd be home now? Did you plan this?"

"Umm...kind of," she admitted, making her voice very girly and naïve sounding, "I mean, it wasn't like goal #1, but I figured...my psych text calls it gradual exposure therapy, I think. Put her in the same room as a big dick. See how good it makes me feel. Taste how good the results are. Eventually realize there is no reason to fear the penis."

"And the whole, 'Look what he's done to me' bit?"

"I just thought it'd turn her on. Figured some of that fear must be based on how bad she wants dick. Turns out it worked for both of you."

"So you guys..."

"Fool around?"

"Yeah...that."

"Not really. Only a little. We kissed the other day, kind of out of the blue. She went to give me a peck on the cheek goodbye, I accidentally turned my face so our lips met and...it was just off to the races for both of us. Mostly though, I just tell what a good fuck you are and she makes herself cum while listening."

"Wow..."

"Turns you on, huh?"

"I am increasingly realizing I am just like every other guy out there, apparently. I cheat on my wife with my teen babysitter. I like cumming on my conquests. And, now, I get off on two women being together."

"Trust me, you are not like every other guy out there. And don't worry, I wanted it to turn you on. Watching you kiss another girl, especially while you are 7 inches deep in me was a definite fantasy moment for me. How hot was seeing her lick my cum covered face clean?"

"Believe me, if my body was physically capable of...rising to the occasion, I would not have been able to control myself."

"Would you have fucked her?"

"Would you want me to?"

"Mmmmmmmmmmaybe," she replied coquettishly and bit her lip, "Would you want to?"

"I...she's very pretty."

"So that's a yes?"

"It's a...I could be persuaded."

"Hmmm...interesting."

They cuddled on the floor, both dozing until the buzz of the dryer signaled the arrival of warm clothes. Mallory disengaged herself and returned with the spoils. Greg dressed slowly in front of her as she sat on the couch naked, one leg extended, the other legs pulled in tight against her chest. She rested her chin on that knee and sighed, "Can I persuade to stay for another round?"

He smiled and shook his head, "It's late and I can't stay much longer and make the whole 'fixing the home entertainment system' believable. Besides, the mind is willing, but the flesh, I expect, is a bit too weak."

"Tis a shame. Tis a pity."

"Indeed," he agreed and bent over to give her a gentle kiss on the cheek, "See you soon."

As he turned and left, Mallory's thoughts began to settle in. On the one hand, she was starting to devise a plan to fulfill another of her fantasies. On the other, she was fighting a rising wave of panic about the couple-y comfort she had felt cuddling with Greg on her floor and with that gentle kiss. Where was this going?



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 09



As usual, the Clarks' home on a Sunday morning was a bustle of activity. As Greg sat at the kitchen table reading a book to his two year old son Martin, his wife Gina ran back and forth, getting herself together for church, and trying her best to ignore their five year old daughter Shelly's proactive whining about attending Sunday School.

"But...I'll miss the peace..." she sighed to no one in particular as Gina closed the bathroom door, effectively ending their dialogue.

After pacing for a moment, Shelly realized she had another parent. "Daaaaaaaaaad," she sing-songed, skipping into the room, "Do you think I should have to go to—"

The noisy clatter of the doorbell interrupted her. Try as he might, Greg had never figured out how to change that things tone or volume.

"Sorry, kiddo, looks like we have to table this for now," he told her, mussing her hair slightly and handing her the book he was reading, "Why don't you show Martin how big kids like you read?" 

With a dramatic sputter, she took the book and sat next to her brother.

Satisfied that both were suitably distracted he opened the door to see who would be by at this time.

"Good," he began with a smile, "Morning?" He finished sounding significantly more befuddled.

"You should probably pick your jaw up, Doc. The neighbors might talk," Mallory sassed him as she strolled in.

Not able to help himself, he looked her up and down. She was wearing a sundress, a nice fit for the Indian Summer day it was shaping up to be. A white field awash with yellow flowers, sleeveless. He followed the demur—but still tantalizing—neckline of the dress down to about three inches above her knee where it ended. It was made of a light bouncing cotton that fluttered as she walk and settled down nicely to showcase her stare-worthy ass when she stopped. Her tan, toned legs stretch to the floor, ending in feet slid into wedge heels that looked like they were made of wicker. He snapped his eyes back upward, not wanting to be too obviously lecherous in his leering, and attempted to focus on face. She had scrubbed clean quality to her; if she was wearing any makeup at all, it was very subtle. Her blond hair cascaded over her shoulders, secured close to the part with a pair of hair clips.

He forced himself to speak, worried that he had stood for far too long silent not to raise suspicion or, at the least, concern. "Umm, Mallory...did we say we needed you this morning? Because...that was a mistake. We have church so...you are...umm...free to leave."

Mallory giggled at how out of sorts he was. She enjoyed seeing him tongue-tied. Even though he had grown to accept his desire to engage in what others might label some rather unsavory activities with her teenage body, he was still delightfully prone to becoming befuddled when others were around, when she tried things in public, when she tried things when Gina or the kids might be home soon, and so on. Generally, whenever there was some sort of perceived risk on his part that he'd give up the game or get caught. It was nice. It kept the element of the forbidden in "the room," if you will, made her still have to be aggressive and seductive. It was like the best of both worlds: getting to be naughty and in control at times and yielding to being fucked with abandon at others.

"Hey Mallory," Gina said, walking into the kitchen still affixing her earrings. She caught her husband's look of utter confusion and apologized, "Oh, shoot! I totally forgot. Mallory is coming to church with us today."

Greg looked back at Mallory, eyebrow arched.

"Yeah," she confirmed, "My folks' church is pretty judgmental. Boo to gays this, know your place woman that, so I stopped going as soon as I could. But I miss the, I don't know, non-political aspects of the service? Anyway, your wife said your church was pretty progressive so I thought I'd give it a try."

It sounded plausible enough to Greg and had he not, only four days before, had sex with Mallory on her apartment room floor while her roommate watched and, then, participated a bit, he might have bought it. But, by now, he knew that any sudden appearances, requests, or unexpected visits from Mallory usually had another purpose than the stated one. And that purpose usually involved the continued shattering of his moral code. Still it was church. Besides teasing him, she couldn't do much, right?

So he replied, "Sounds good. Let's get going then."

The family plus Mallory piled into the gigantic minivan that Gina insist they buy after Shelly's birth, parents in the front seat, kids in their car seats in the first row bucket seats, Mallory all the way in the back in the middle of the bench seat.

"You can sit closer, Mal," Gina offered when she noticed.

"That's okay Ms. C...I can stretch out back here."

As the doctor began to back up, he quickly noticed, that Mallory had an ulterior motive for her seat choice. She was fully visible to him in his rearview mirror and was taking full advantage of it. Trying to focus on the road, he still found himself stealing glances backwards. Glances that she took every advantage of by pouting naughtily, running her tongue over lips, biting her bottom lip, sliding forward in the seat some so her dress would hike up and show her not very appropriate for church skimpy blue silk underwear. By the time they pulled into the church parking lot, she was caressing her left breast through her dress while teasing herself through her panties. She quickly adjusted herself as they settled into a spot and by the time everyone was out of the car, you couldn't guess by looking at her what she had been up to. She was good.

Mallory lagged behind to walk with Greg when he was done locking up the van, smirking at him as they strolled towards the building.

"That was not very appropriate church behavior," he scolded her without making eye contact, trying not to smirk himself.

"Guess it was a good thing we weren't in church then, huh?" she teased back.

"Humph," he scoffed, "Maybe so. But those panties are not what good girls wear to church."

"I could just take them off," she offered. He only shook his head in response.

"Would it help if I told you that they aren't panties, just a thong?" Again a shake of his head.

"In that case, we may both have to accept I'm not a very good girl."

With that she quickened her pace until she caught up with the rest of the Clarks, making sure to emphasize her hip movements as she went. The doctor did his best to keep his eyes in his head and his tongue in his mouth as he watched her go.

Once inside, Shelly dutifully stomped off upstairs to Sunday school with her mother carrying her brother to daycare close behind. Greg and Mallory stood in the hallways waiting for Gina's return as people milled about them, going upstairs to daycare and Sunday school or heading to the narthex to pick up a program and head into the congregation. Somehow, without his noticing before it was too late, Mallory backed up against him, subtly molding herself to him in a way that looked to the outside observer like two people conserving space in a crowded hallway. Greg, however, was very aware of the ways she'd move her body against him in ways that appeared to be accidental or about letting someone through but were designed to provide maximum friction between them. She smelled strongly of herself, of clean, and of some kind of peppermint bodywash and after a minute, it was all around him, flooding his senses, making his head feel floaty with suppressed desire.

His wife returned looking out of breath and a bit annoyed. "Sorry guys," she said, glancing around, evidently still looking for something, "It looks like whoever was assigned to work the daycare room today is not showing so I'm going to do it. You're on your own for the service."

"Are you sure, Mrs. C?" Mallory asked sweetly, "I can do it for you, if you'd prefer."

"That's very sweet but the whole point of you coming was for you to see the service. Can't do that and run the daycare at the same time," Gina assured her, kissed her husband on the cheek—completely not taking note of how close the babysitter still was to him even though the crowd in the hall had thinned considerably—and headed back upstairs.

Mallory spun to face Greg and smirked, clicking her shoes together, "Looks like it's just the two of us, Doc."

"That it does. Now we are going into a place with tons of people so you will have to be on your best behavior," he ordered her.

"And when am I not?" she replied, playing innocent.

"Uh-huh. Let's g—."

"Ahh, Greg, just the man I'm looking for!" Dan, the church's maintenance man declared, popping out of a nearby office. 

"Dan, church is about to start and—"

Dan held up his hands to stop Greg and said, "No worries. I'm not gonna keep you, just need an easy favor. The AC is broken up on the second floor so I'll be trying things to fix it downstairs. I just need you be up there. You can be in the balcony and listen to the service. You won't miss a thing. You sit there, I'll text you, you say if it worked or not. Rinse. Repeat. Until it is fixed."

"I don't know," Greg hemmed, "We have our babysitter here so she can see if she wants to start attending more often and I don't want to just leave her by hers—"

"No worries. Just take her with you."

Greg exhaled, "Fiiiiine." He wasn't normally this disagreeable to helping out but the entire of an entire service in a hot tiny balcony while wearing a suit and tie did not please him. Nonetheless he gave in and guided Mallory down the hall. Upon reaching the balcony stairwell, the doctor lifted the velvet rope with sign stating "Balcony Closed" for Mallory to duck under. As she did, she "accidentally" lost her balance and had to steady herself by putting her hand onto Greg's crotch.

"Oops," she giggled as she felt him rise a bit.

"Come on," he grumbled in response, flushing an embarrassed pink, and replaced the velvet rope behind him before ascending the stairs.

The balcony was an oddity, an oval opening sliced into the side of the congregation, only big enough to set about five comfortably. It was difficult to see anything but the very front of the church from it without leaning over the railing and nearly impossible to see the choir in the loft. From the floor of the congregation, it was even odder. The seats in it were set far back from the railing and the interior was crushed red velvet which essentially swallowed the dim lighting. Under the best of circumstances it was hard to get a clear look at who was in it. It was not a useful addition by almost any definition.

Today, though, it was even less useful than usual. In addition to the broken AC, the church had hung a curtain over the exterior of the balcony to hide it while new seating was installed. No one had yet bothered to remove it.

"Wow," Mallory quietly whistled, "I guess it really is just us, huh?"

"And he was not kidding about the heat," she added moments later. She was right. Up in the balcony only a minute and Greg could already feel the first blush of perspiration on his skin.

"Well, hopefully Dan will get it done quickly," Greg offered, trying to be reassuring.

"Doesn't matter to me," she replied, "I've got nowhere to be."

Mallory took her seat on the plush two seater set deepest in the cavern that was the balcony and patted the seat next to her. "Come on and take a seat. I can hear the organ starting."

With a sigh, Greg dropped in next to her. The air was heavy and, combined with the earlier teasing, left his head feeling as though it was packed with gauze. His phone chirped an incoming text and he quickly silenced it...he had forgotten to turn it to vibrate. Even though it was lost amongst the boom of the organ, he still blushed fiercely. The blush deepened when Mallory whispered, "Naughty, naughty," while pantomiming a finger wag.

The text read, "What I was looking for is what where I thought it was. Have to find it. Hang tight, I'll be as quick as I can."

"Great," bemoaned Greg.

"Looks like we are stuck with each other a little longer, huh?" checked Mallory.

"Yeah, something's apparently not where it was supposed to be...or something."

"Oooo, hate when that happens."

As the singing began, Greg looked around for a song book and found none.

Mallory noticed his futile searching and pulled him back into the seat. "Don't worry about it," she assured him, linking her arm in his, "We can just listen to the music. We should probably conserve our oxygen anyway in this thing."

He smiled at the joke, parted the curtain slightly, and relaxed for a moment, until he saw the pastor.

"Oh, this too," he thought aloud.

"What?"

"Nothing...just...this guy's a guest preacher. Not our normal guy."

"Is that bad?"

"Not bad per se, just...well, he's boring to be honest."

"No song book, wrong pastor, stuck in an oven...not really a good introduction to your church, huh?" she kidded.

"Sadly, no."

"Eh, it happens," she reassured him, "I can make my own fun."

Another song began and Mallory leaned into Greg. "You should take your jacket off. And your tie."

"What?"

"It's hot as...well...Hell up here. No one can see us. You are going to be a puddle by the end of this thing if you keep all that stuff on."

Greg had to admit that it made sense. It took of his jacket and tossed it on one of the other chairs. As he went to do the same with his tie, she snagged it from him, donning it herself in its loosened state. He sniggered a bit to himself. He had not seen a woman wear a tie like that since a college dance when they pulled them over their dates' heads and wore them as a sort of statement of ownerships. Or maybe it was the first wedding after college, when they were still more like college parties. Either way , it took him right back.

"You like?" she asked, doing a small shimmy in front of their chair and spinning the tie around in her hand.

"I do. Very cute."

"Cute?" she asked, voice marked with disappointment, "Cute, not sexy?"

"Cute can be sexy. They can coexist."

"Do I fit the bill? Cute and sexy."

"And more," he assured her.

"Goooooooood," she replied exaggeratedly. 

The service pressed on and no text from Dan. Greg glanced at his watch and was stunned to find only about 10 minutes had passed since they got into the balcony meaning they still had at least 50 minutes of service to look forward to. He looked over at Mallory and saw that she was glistening with a sheen of sweat. Where her hair touched her skin, it had grown darker and began to stick to her neck and shoulders because of the moisture. Droplets of sweat occasionally zigzagged down her chest, disappearing into her cleavage. She became aware of him watching her in fascination and let him stare for a moments longer before facing him.

"You were right...this guy is boring. Super boring."

"Yeah...sorry."

" 's ok. You kind of owe me though."

"Oh? How do you figure?" he returned, eyebrow arching.

"I was promised a transformative religious experience."

"Not by me."

"Not how I remember it."

"Ok. Well, say that I did promise you a...."

"Transformative religious experience."

"Right. That. What can I do about it now?"

"Hmm...Oh! I know one way you can encourage me to say 'Oh God,' over and over again," she replied raising her own eyebrow and ever so slightly biting her lower lip.

"And that wou—" Greg began before catching on, "Uh-uh. No. Not here. That's not okay."

"Oh come on, Doc. We have this whole balcony to ourselves. Looking at you sweat and not tasting it on my tongue is driving me crazy and I know it is driving you crazy too because I saw you staring at me. And no one will know what we've been up to because we are going to be all sweaty and sticky when they see us next even if we just sit here.

"No, this is church."

"Exactly! I know how you love the forbidden like I do. What could be a naughtier place to have sex than a church...in the middle of the service? With a teen girl, besides?"

"Stop that."

"What?" she asked innocently, maneuvering herself so she was on her knees in front of him, "I am just telling the truth that I am SOOOOOOOO young."

"Come on, Mallory—"

"That's exactly what I am telling you to do."

He ignored her and continued, "If you are bored, I don't know, pray or something."

"That's exactly my intention," she replied and dropped her head into his lap.

Her breath was hot, hot enough that even with the heat of the balcony he could feel it through his pants. His body betrayed him and he felt himself grow harder, longer, thicker. She did too and let a pleased half-moan escape her lips.

He reached down to force her off and she caught his hands with her own, grabbing, batting and otherwise frustrating his attempts at repelling her. As she kept him busy, she used her teeth and tongue to grab hold of his zipper. He heard, or perhaps just sensed, that telltale sound of a zipper being undone and went rigid in panic. She pulled it all the way down and his cock sprang loose, through the opening in his boxer, through the opening in his pants. Without a moment's hesitation, she engulfed him, taking him deep into her mouth. She hummed with him there, the vibrations sending tiny shockwaves through him. He realized he was holding his breath and struggled to release it.

Greg tried to rally, to force Mallory off him, but could not seem to. Part of him wondered if he was even trying as hard as he could. Soon, her oral ministrations became too much for him to strain against; the heat of it inducing a sort of trance. Feeling him go slack almost everywhere except what she had in her mouth, she let go of his hands and began to undo pants button. The interruption in her rhythm was enough to give him a second wind and he protested against this separation of button from button hole. She looked up at him, dragging her teeth gently along the underside of his cock as she let it slide from of her mouth. Then she spoke, pausing occasionally to run her tongue around the part of his dick where the head met the shaft.

"We both [pause] know that I am [pause] going to suck your cock. [pause]. I can do it [pause] with your pants [pause] undone and out of the way [pause] or you can [pause] end up with [pause] your lap covered with [pause] cum [pause] and [pause] saliva. Your choice."

Maybe it was just because she had his cock in her mouth, but it made a sort of basic sense to Greg so he stopped resisted as she finally undid the button and yanked his pants and boxers down. She allowed herself a moment for a smug, sly smile and then immediately took him in her mouth again. As she took her deeper and deeper, she shrugged off the straps of her dress and undid her strapless bra, freeing her breasts for his appreciation. His moan of delight told her the gesture did not go unnoticed. Keeping one hand on his dick, she allowed the other to roam across her small perky tits, absentmindedly giving herself small bursts of pleasure. This, too, did not escape the doctor's attention. 

"Oh god," he sighed, "I love when you touch yourself."

With stopping the blowjob she mumbled an, "I know," in response.

She gazed up at him as he struggled to maintain eye contact. His eyes grow glazed and it became an increasingly uphill battle to not close them and just succumb to the pleasure. She loved these moments, when she was on her knees, seemingly the one in the vulnerable position, the one being dominated. However, it was anything but the case. Greg, all six feet of strong masculinity, was like putty in her hands. Rock hard putty, if you will. She felt the subtle growth of his cock in her mouth, signaling how beyond the bend he was. She loved the feel of it, how it was a struggle for her to take it all, the dull ache of her jaw, the sting of tears in her eyes. For some reason, the idea of cock sucking as work, as effort, appealed to her. It made it seem more...she didn't know. Sacred, perhaps? Like a mythic trial...or the naughtiest kind of prayer. 




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 09



Her eyes twinkled with devious delight. That thought gave her an idea. 

She let his cock escape her mouth and thrilled to the strangled disappointed sound he made. As she rose up to whisper in his ear, she began to jerk him off with both hands, his dick sliding easily between them, so slick with her spit.

"Are you close?" she breathed.

"So....so close," he gasped back.

"Do you want me to make you cum?"

"Please...please."

"Where?"

"I...I don't know. Wherever..."

"How about in my mouth? So I can take you like communion?"

He bristled at that, about to bring forth indignation at her blaspheming. But he also found himself responding to it, thrusting against her hands a bit harder. For not the last time, he loved and hated, simultaneously, the way she used taboos to unleash his lust.

"Yes. So wrong, but yes," he agreed to her idea.

"Mmm, it is so wrong. And I'm going to make it even more so."

"Oh please don't make me go too far," he begged, drawing on the last shred of moral judgment his sex addled mind could bring forth.

"I think it's too late for that, don't you?"

He knew she was right so he remained silent.

"So you'll do what you're told?"

"...yes, Mal," he moaned.

"Gooooooooood. Then when you get really close, I just want to say 'Hallelujah.' As much as you want, but just that. No, 'I'm going to cum,' or 'You suck cock way better than my wife,' just Hallelujah. And then, after you cum and I take every drop into my greedy mouth and swallow it down, I want you to say Amen."

"That's...that's so fucking dirty. Oh God. You are so wrong. Such a slut," Greg babbled.

"The sluttest," Mallory shot back, "Is that a yes then?"

"Yesssssssssssssss," he hissed, "Just suck my cock."

"Yes, sir!" she declared, saluting him and dropping back down to her knees.

As she took him to the base, his head lolled backwards, eyes clenched tightly. She could feel every muscle in his body tighten, preparing for release. She watched him closely as she licked, nibbled, jacked, and sucked his cock. She was a feminist, she had always thought so, and she admitted that being the sexual plaything of an older married man did not really fit in that mold. However, at moments like this she felt so connected, so settled inside, that she had a hard time imagining she was doing wrong by herself. As she stared up, she realized he was moving his lips, whispering something ever so slightly.

She increased her pace and intensity and with it, Greg began to speak more rapidly and progressively louder. Soon, he was rigid head to toe and chanting, in as restrained a tone as he could manage because he would've preferred to shout, "Hallelujah," over and over again. It was every bit as filthy as Mallory imagined it would be and it unconsciously drove her to force her left hand into her soaked thong where she roughly began to finger herself.

Then it happened. Mid-chant the doctor went silent just exhaling a strong blast of air. Following close on the heels of that, the teen felt her mouth fill with a warm rush of thick liquid. She gulped on it as though it was oxygen itself and it coated everything, her tongue, her teeth, her gums, the inside of her cheeks, her throat. She came as she thrust two fingers into herself, brushing past her g-spot as her small pushed into her clit. She felt Greg go slack, the tautness dissipate from his entire being. 

She began to relax herself, extracting his softening member from her mouth before realizing what he had agreed to mere moments ago. She suck drew back into her mouth and began to bob her head earnestly up and down on him. Greg jerked spastically, gasping from the oversensitivity. Struggling catch his breath, he coughed out, "Amen. Amen. Please...oh god...Amen," before Mallory finally let him be.

Greg looked down at her through heavy lids and tearful eyes. What was what a sheen of moisture had grown to unquestionably leave her "sweaty." Her dress was had become a bit translucent with it, her hair looked both matted and wild. Her cheeks were flush and her chin was shiny from a mix of sweat, saliva, and his cum that she could not swallow. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, like a Viking might sweep away the overflow of mead. 

"You're going to kill me one of these days," he proclaimed.

"Can't keep up with this little girl, Doc?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Get up here," he demanded, pulling her into his lap.

She curled up into him and breathed in his scent. His dress shirt was soaked through with sweat but it did not bother her. She took it as a badge of honor. Even in this heat, she knew she was mostly to blame for his condition. Mallory did not bother to pull her dress or bra back into place so before long, Greg found his hands drawn to her breasts, like moths to a flame. 

As he touched and teased her she moaned and began to kiss up his neck. When she reached his ear, she bit and licked it before whispering, "Don't start anything you can't finish, old man."

With that, Greg's phone buzzed the incoming text warning. Both jumped, startled and then giggled as quietly as they could. Below them, the choir was launching into yet another bombastic hymn so it was unlikely anyone heard and, if they did, it was lost amongst the music far too quickly to be focused on.

While the sweaty doctor reached for the phone, Mallory slid off his lap and began putting herself back together, grumbling, "Damn." She hadn't expected to get fucked when they first entered the balcony but with it seeming like it was imminent she could not help but be disappointed.

Greg was too, for his part. He loved a good blowjob as much as the next guy and his babysitter was far better than a "good" cocksucker. That said, he hated not giving back. He could tell she had gotten herself off while she "worked," but that wasn't quite the same.

Dan's text read: "Hey man, sorry...still working here. Too damn complicated."

Oddly, Greg no longer minded the maintenance man's screw or insistence they stay in the balcony.

He looked at Mallory and saw that she was almost completely redressed. "Time to have some fun," he thought darkly to himself,

"Hey," he growled at her, "get over here."

She was bit surprised at his tone, but felt compelled to do as he said. As she got close, he grabbed her by the arm and whispered harshly in her ear, "Who told you you could put your clothes back on?"

"But I—" she stuttered in reply.

"Take them off," he demanded, "now!"

Mmm, Mallory liked this very much. Him taking control, bossing her around. Which is not to say she was going to give up that control easily. She was going to try to give as good as she was getting, slowly rocking her hips back and forth and turning around in front of him as she pulled her dress up over her head.

The doctor leered at her, making no attempt to cover it up. He licked up his lips with every inch of skin she slowly exposed, that perfect ass in the tiny tiny and obviously soaked thong, her flat sexy abdomen bedazzled with a navel piercing. Her perky a-cups encased in a blue strapless bra. Her toned back, rippling as she undulated. Her slender neck. And then the dress fell away.

"Your bra, too," he barked, "I want to see those tits."

Mallory's heartbeat quickened. She felt a bit nervous. If she had to throw on the dress in a hurry, that was one thing. A bra was considerably harder to get back on and, given the state of her dress, it was going to be very clear that she wasn't wearing one if she tried to go without.

"Now!" he coldly told her.

Arousal overruled good sense and she languidly reached behind her, undoing the clasp. She caught the cups and held them for a split second longer, just to tweak him, before letting them fall away, leaving her standing in a church balcony, sweaty, pussy dripping with desire, nipples thrust forward, hard, despite the brutal heat, in only a small thong and his tie.

He grabbed her roughly and flipped her on to the bench seat. Despite knowing this was all a game, she gasped at the suddenness and aggression of it. She could see from Greg's smirk that he enjoyed her audible surprise.

"Should I take off my shoes, too?" she teased, stretching out each leg in front of her and then bringing them back to the floor, leaving her spread before him.

"Leave them on," he brusquely order. 

"Ooo, yes sir! How about my wet, wet panties?" she asked, hooking her fingers beneath the waistband. She wanted the upper hand and was convinced that he would balk at her wearing nothing but a pair of wedge heels with the pastor below discussed the parable of the sower.

He slapped her hands away as lowered himself between her legs. "My job," he grunted. Mallory was stunned as he forcefully grabbed each side of the band and pulled it hard to the floor. Once more, her heart rate jumped. This was too much. She was all for reaching for the precipice, but the doctor was throwing them both right over the edge.

"Gorgeous," he sighed in awe as he stared out her open weeping core of desire. 

"Doc," she began, trying to hook her fingers under his chin and get him to look up, "This has gon—"

He ignored her plea, dragging his tongue from the base of her sex to her clit. Her gasp disrupted her plea for sanity. Pulses of fire and electricity surged through her as he began to go down on her. She thrashed her head back and forth. She quivered. She pushed her hips forward attempting to capture his tongue right where she needed to climax only to have him dart away a moment before. He had eaten her out before, but this was different. This was surgical, designed to stimulate every cell of her without granting her climax. She was onto his game but too wound up to do anything about it.

"You fuckin' bastard," she hissed through gritted teeth.

He only smirked and what about his methodical maddening business.

"Come on! Eat my gash, my slit, my cunny, my pussy, my cunt. Whatever. Just make me fucking cum!" she snarled.

"Now, now," he said, pulling back with a mocking smile on juice smeared face, "Is that anyway to talk in the house of the Lord?"

He awaited her response, using his thumb to draw looping, lazy circles over her client, so lightly as to only maintain her state.

"How would I know?" she shot back, "I'm the kind of slut who enjoys fucking happily married men!"

"Sounds like someone needed to be raised a little better," he goaded.

"It's never too late to teach me some manners, Daddy."

Mallory had no idea what possessed her to say that. She had never once used the term in sex, never even considered it. Up until that second, she thought it was way creepy. But then it tumbled out of her mouth and the force of drove her wild.

"Oh fuck," she moaned with ecstasy, "Can't believe I just said that."

Greg's only response was to dive back between her legs. This time, he was playing for keeps, hitting her sweet spots rapidly and repeatedly.

Mallory moaned with increasing intensity, rate, and volume, "Oh Daddy, yes, Oh Daddy, eat it" over and over again until Greg had no choice but to clamp his hand over her mouth to prevent her from alerting the whole congregation that there was a naked 19 year old with a newfound Daddy fetish getting tongued to orgasm in the balcony.

As he felt her begin to settle he removed his hand and began to slow his pace. She vibrated in her seat, knees knocking against his chest on either side. She ran her hands over his shaved pate and then licked the sweat off each digit. Finally she felt strong enough to speak and in control enough to keep her volume.

"You NEED to get fucked after doing that," she assured him.

He began to rise but recalled what she did to him earlier. He returned to his knees instead then, slurping her clit into his mouth and encircling it in his tongue.

"What are you doing?" she questioned, clearly confused. "I need that dick and I [oh god] know you want to give it to me."

Still he persisted until she finally realized what was happening.

"Oh, Amen!" she exclaimed, a bit too loud. A few people from the congregation looked up to the balcony but could not see where the noise came from.

As he stood, he shook his head in mock recrimination, "Tsk, tsk. Must be quiet in church."

Mallory pushed herself onto still shaky legs and walk towards the doctor. She tried to put some extra sexiness into her sway, but the adrenaline spraying through her body made that kind of concentration difficult. Nonetheless, Greg watched her with an air of impressed appreciation. She reached him and posed herself shyly in front of him, hands behind her back, eyes downcast, lip bit, one feet dragging back and forth on the ground.

"Excuse me sir," she said in a sweet child voice, lightly running her nails up and down his steely member, "Can I bother you for a fuck?"

Greg laughed heartily before wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off her feet. He kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on his lips and tongue. She moaned with delight, wrapping her legs around his torso. They stood like this for several moments, tongues darting, plunging, massaging, mouths open, wet, and gasping. Their sweat made it difficult to maintain, however, so they had to concede that standing sex was not a realistic endeavor under the circumstances.

"Take me back to the chair," Mallory whispered in his ear, chewing delicately on the lobe, "I want you to sit and let me do all the work."

Greg conceded without objection, placing her down gently before sitting next to her. She kissed her again, light, rapid, teasing kisses with small bites on his lower lip, before shoving him away. "Do you want me?" she asked, looking him dead in the eyes.

"Yes," he admitted without hesitation.

"Right here, right now?"

"Yes."

"How badly?"

He paused for a moment to consider and then replied, "Bad enough to fuck you in church, during service."

"Mmm, that's pretty bad," she moaned, stroking his hard cock as she stood. She climbed across his lap and turned her back to him, before lowering herself onto that cock. Greg grounded his teeth in ecstasy. She was hot, wet, and tight and seemed to fit perfectly around him. She laid herself back against him, letting her head drop on to his shoulder. "I'm going to fuck you now. So hard. And I want you to just let me. Let me fuck me you and just watch how my sexy body moves during it."

She then sat up straight and began to do just that. After a minute or so, however, she slowed and laid against him again.

"Oh, and feel free to think how much better I am at this than your boring wife," she added for a little extra spice and was rewarding with uncontrollable twitch of his cock. He did love to be reminded of what he was doing wrong.

She returned to her upright position and began to bounce herself on his dick, pausing ever few strokes to rotate her hips around and squeeze him with her kegel muscles. She was not teasing him, per se, but she was certainly taking her time. The doctor stared at her back, watching the way the muscles shifted and moved. Never had a back been so sexy...it was mesmerizing.

"You're so bad," he whispered.

"Tell me why..."

"You are just...drawing this out. I can feel how wet you are. I know you are just as desperate as me to get off. I think you want to..."

He paused.

"I want to what?"

"You want to get caught," he gasped as she dragged her nails across his sac.

"Ooo, maybe. What a scene we must be right now. Naked. Sweating. Fucking. Maybe we'd be lucky and it'd be one of those sexy choir girls I saw running around before the service. Maybe she forgot to wear anything under her robe. Or better, maybe it would be Gina."

"Uhhh," he groaned. Despite himself the idea turned him on. "Why my wife?"

"So she could watch me make you cum. So she could see I own this cock now. And once she sees that, maybe she'd join in. I'd make her suck your cum right out of me."

"You are so nasty."

"And you love it!"

"I do...I love it so much."

Then Mallory moaned, long, "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck."

"Did you just cum?"

"Couldn't help it," she babbled, "Now that I came, I should probably just stop, right?"

He mocked growled and began to drive up into her. She bounced up and down with it as best she could, lurching this way and that from his thrusts. At first, Mallory tried to match him, to take or at least share control. But it was too much. He was too aggressive. All she could do was enjoy it, to let this man lose his mind and reap the benefits. She took her hands off his knees and Greg, seeing this as invitation to use her like his personal plaything, wrapped his hands around her waist. He pulled her up and down as his stiff prick, harder and harder. Her hands found her tits and cupped them, then they moved to her nipples which she began to rub, twist, and pull on with abandon. Her mouth went slack, her breath little more than puffing gasps. This was the kind of sex that would leave her sore tomorrow, achy and oddly empty. It was exactly what she wanted.

Behind her, a reedy whisper woke her from her pleasure coma. "So, do you like church?" he managed to croak, his own breath shallow and thin.

"Yessssss," she hissed, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth.

"Do you just like it?"

"No. I fucking love it. I fucking love church."

"Oh god...what a mouth on you!"

Mallory slowly rotate her head to the side, body barely responding to command, and looked at him. She tossed him her sexiest sweat covered look and took him in. The muscles in his arms, chest, and neck seemed to pulse at random intervals, straining with exertion. His face was fierce with desire. She could tell the bad doctor didn't just want an orgasm. He was chasing something else, THE orgasm if you will. And he was going to take her with him to the incredible world where only lust exists, where people are reduced to little more than thrusting, undulating, mindless bodies dedicated only to pleasure damn responsibility, loyalty, or consequences. She had made him like this, this gasping grunting adulterous beast. This perfection.

With that realization, her body became awash in fire. Her eyes rolled in the top of her head. Her body shook violently. She was only barely capable of thought enough to bring a hand to her mouth and bite into it to keep from shouting. She fell backward against him, dizzy and robbed of muscle control, her hand bouncing against the plush red cushion of the chair.

Greg took her in with sex dead eyes and continued to propel himself into her, singularly focused on his own pursuit of release. Her mind only ash all she could think to do was babble at him.

"Cum for me, Doctor Clark," she grunted, "Cum in me. I want to feel your cock explode. Bless my cunt. Anoint my pussy. I neeeeeeeeeed it. Oh god. Make me your holy slut, Doc."

The hot flash of anger that he felt the first time she blasphemed was gone from Greg. Now he only wished to fulfilled her perverse request. He hit double time and Mallory dug her nails into the outside of his upper thighs. The quick shock of pain was what he needed to be pushed over the cliff. 

Harshly pushing his mouth against her ear, he growled at her, "Take it Mal. Take it!" 

Then he sunk his teeth deep into her shoulder to keep from bellowing and held her tight against him. Jet after jet of his seed sprayed into her, setting her off as well until both melted into one another and the seat below them. With one last push, Greg tumbled them both to the floor to keep the church pew free of their comingling and soon to be dripping sin.

Ten minutes later, as the benediction and closing hymn rang out, they sluggishly stumbled to their feet and awkwardly got dressed against, muscles stretched raw, limbs jellied and shaking with leftover adrenaline. They looked one another over and laughed; they were a mess. 




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 09



"Can I keep the tie, Doc?" Mallory asked, smiling as wide as she could manage and spinning it in front of her half heartedly.

"Consider it a souvenir."

They stumbled down the stairs, leaning on one another for support. Dan caught them halfway down.

"Oh, guys...wow...it is really hot up there, huh?"

"Yup," they said simultaneously, smiles slightly dancing on their lips.

"Jeez...so sorry. It looks like it is beyond me. Gonna have to bring in an expert tomorrow. Man. Wouldn't have made you stay up there if I knew it was so bad."

"Don't worry about it, Dan. We survived somehow. Can you just tell my wife we are out in the car sucking up air conditioning?"

"Sure, sure. Of course," he promised. When he finally got into the balcony himself, he was perplexed. Yes, it was hot. Darn hot. But they looked like they had run a marathon and it was not THAT hot. "Oh well," he shrugged, thinking aloud, "Heat affects everyone differently, I guess."

At the car, Mallory and Greg snuck a deep, but quick kiss before both threw themselves into the van where Greg blasted the AC on full. A few minutes later Gina and the kids arrived.

"Oh honey," she clucked sympathetically, "Dan told me what he made you guys do. I'm so sorry."

"It was...hard. And rough," he confirmed with a double entendre that nearly left he and Mallory giggling like 12 year olds.

Gina turned to Mallory in the backseat and asked, "So I know that was not the best example with the heat and the guest preacher, but, what did you think?"

Mallory looked at the front seat through small slits in her heavy eyelids before grinning. She responded, "I can honestly say, Mrs. Clark, that it was the single best church service I've ever been to. I plan to CUM a lot from now." She emphasized the word "cum" as if Greg might have missed her sly wordplay somehow. The doctor bit his tongue to keep from laughing as he maneuvered the van towards home.

"That's great. Isn't that great, dear?" Gina said, turning back to her husband.

"I can't imagine better news," he replied, locking eyes with his babysitter in the backseat, "I think she'll be a very useful part of our church community going forward. I'm sure I've got some JOBS for her to do."

"Now, now, Greg," Gina objected, "This is not an excuse to make her your personal lackey."

"It's okay Mrs. Clark," she reassured, "You know me. I have energy to burn and I live to serve."



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 10



Dr. Clark answered the door in a pair of khaki linen shorts and a green t-shirt. His face conveyed a tired anxiety, the kind that grew out of a sleeplessness spent rehearsing what he was going to say.

Mallory, on the other hand, was the picture of relaxed cheerfulness. Her blond hair cascaded over her shoulders, clean and well kempt in an unfussy manner. She was dressed to enjoy the early fall warmth in a pale blue sleeveless v-neck, cutoff jean shorts, and flip flops. She smiled widely, almost visibly pulsating with positive excitement. Then, seeing the look on Greg's face, her own fell a bit.

Feeling guilty for ruining her good mood, he smiled back awkwardly and made a show of welcoming her, swinging his arm wide and bowing at the waist. She strolled in, looking around the room.

"Where's the family?" she asked, depositing her bag on the couch.

"Day care, school, work...the usual," the Doc replied succinctly. He did not want to lose his momentum on chitchat.

"Right, right," she said, looking about before turning back to him and looking him dead in the eyes, "So, I'm here to talk about the Daddy thing, huh?"

Greg was surprised at her astute guess and fell over himself to respond, "Well...I mean....well, yes."

"Did you not like it?" she asked, cocking her head to the side, a challenge playing across her lips.

He tried to get his bearing back, taking two quick breaths, before replying, "Up there, it was amazing. Surprising, super dirty, sexy. But since..."

She mumbled, worried, "You think I'm weird?"

"What? No, no."

"Sick?"

"Absolutely not, Mallory," he objected, reaching for her comfortingly.

"Then what? You came, I came. You felt great about it afterwards. We giggled and made dirty jokes in front of Gina. So what is the problem?!" she spat at him, building up steam as she went.

"I need to make sure no one hurt you!" he blurted back.

"What?!"

"I needed to make sure that you didn't call me Daddy because—"

"You think my father abused me?"

"I don't think anything. I just...I needed to check. Younger girl attracted to older man, at times hyper sexualized, calls her lover 'Daddy' in the middle of sex..."

Mallory began to chuckle then laugh in response.

"Look, I had to be sure, Mal. I don't want to be taking advantage of you by perpetuating a cycle that—"

"Stop," she whispered reassuringly, "Let me talk."

Mallory pushed him gently onto the couch and sat on his lap, draping her arms on his shoulders and making easy eye contact.

"First, I think it is so cute you are worried like this. It makes me feel really...special. So thank you. Second, you are aware that calling someone Daddy while they fuck you in a semi dominant way is not an entirely new sexual practice, yes?"

"Well...yes....of course."

"And that many, if not a large majority, of these people asking for 'Daddy' to fuck them harder, faster, etc etc were not abused by anyone, nevermind their fathers? That many, if not a majority, of them come from stable homes with loving families?"

He shrugged and nodded.

"Okay, good. For me, the answer is no. I've never been abused, sexually or otherwise. My father's a good guy who has been there for me throughout my life and never been too strict or too lenient. I just had an impulse and I went with it. Me saying 'Daddy' is no more indication that I have sex with my father than you enjoying me saying it is an indication you want to have sex with your kids."

He breathed out in relief.

"That's...I'm glad. I'm sorry. I just got to thinking and—"

"I know you did," she cooed, rubbing his head and pushing her head into his neck, "And I really do appreciate it. But I'm having sex with you because I think you are hot and you fuck well. There's no family psychosexual drama I am still working out. I promise. Besides, you are older but you are not OLDER, you know what I mean?"

"Right. Yeah...ok. I guess I'm a little young for that—"

She cut him off, smirking, "I mean, don't get me wrong, I still think you are like SUPER old."

He chuckled from deep within his chest at that, the tension unspooling. "Well, sure. That makes sense," he concurred.

After a moment of mutual giggling, they separated. Mallory smiled widely up at Greg and asked, "So, empty house, huh?"

He nodded, an irrepressible grin separating his lips.

She rose to her tiptoes and breathed in his ear, "That's liable to give a girl ideas." She spun away from him and flopped on the couch, stretching her body provocatively.

"What kind of ideas, young lady?" Greg hammed up in reply.

"I...want...to..." she paused between each word, enjoying seeing the Doctor almost lean forward he was so heavily hanging on her every word and then rushed the last few words, "watch the movie."

He arched his eyebrows in disbelief. "Are you sure that's the best use of this time?"

"Plllllllllllllllease?" she pouted.

He sighed and nodded, "Fine, fine."

The "movie" was something Mallory had learned about weeks earlier. Alice, the other "Almost"—one of the women who Greg had almost slept with before he settled down with Gina—was an actress and acting teacher who had made at one point, made a very indie movie full of mumbling and bad lighting. 

The babysitter didn't care about all that though. The reason she wanted to see it was Alice danced around in her underwear. And get naked...a lot. And simulated sex acts. She knew all about how Greg and Alice had connected the same summer the doctor first met Gina after he'd seen Alice in some musical. How they had wild chemistry and spent months all over each other when they were together and emailing each other dirty messages when they weren't. Eventually, Greg felt he had to choose between Alice and Gina. Alice seemed disinterested in anything serious so Greg chose Gina.

Greg paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked over his shoulder. "Can't we do... anything else?" he asked hopefully.

"Describe to me again what it was like the first time you saw her up close?" 

"Why?"

"Come on, Doc. Set the mood."

Greg rolled his eyes but spoke anyway, "I saw this member of the chorus, this tall, thin, pale girl with a black bob and a flapper dress...I noticed her about 15 minutes into the first act and couldn't stop looking for her the rest of the show. By pure accident I ran into her at a bar later that night and...You know how people always say, 'I expect so-and-so actor to be taller?' Well, not her. She was exactly as tall as she looked on stage. Tall and thin and so pale she almost glowed. The only thing that was different was that she was a redhead and had a very short haircut, Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby-esque. The black bob was a wig. Her real hair was better. Much sexier. But I'm probably being overly romantic about the whole thing."

"You think?" his teen mistress giggled, "I can only hope you say such nice things about me when you tell the next girl you fuck about me."

The doctor dove back at her and tossed her onto the stairs, hands wrapping around her mid-section. She laughed louder and twisted back and forth, pretending to try and get away. His fingers grazed her skin as her shirt rode up her abdomen, exposing her tan flesh. His lips caught hers as his body pressed her down against the carpet. She smiled a quick smile and opened her sweet, cool mouth, letting his tongue in. They groaned together in delight. Mallory felt herself go flush, felt her want to roll her hips against him rises. Mmm, it would be delicious. But she really wanted to see that movie.

She tutted, "Maybe later. Not yet. You still have a request to fulfill."

Greg sighed dramatically, sitting up straight. "Fine," he huffed, "And for the record, there's not going to be another girl. Doing this, well, that's about as much wrong as I can take."

Mallory licked her lips and shot him what she imagined was her best naughty smirk. "We'll see. You've taken to my...wrongness with a lot of enthusiasm, Doc. I wouldn't be surprised if you have a fleet of hot, willing girls servicing you whenever, wherever, and how ever you want by this time next year. Now show me that DVD so I can make sure you don't forget about me when you are having all that sex."

Greg shook his head at her prediction, partly worried that she might be very right. There were...things he now knew he had in him that would be very interested in losing himself in a parade of young flesh and fun, dirty adultery. He willed himself not to worry about it, assured himself that it was nothing to worry about.

With a heavy sigh, the doctor pushed off the couch. He walked in front of Mallory, shaking his head and mumbled, "This is so weird."

"Yeah, but like weird hot, right?" the babysitter purred, tickling her employer from behind as they climbed the stairs.

At the second floor landing, Mallory broke left towards the study where the walls were lined with shelves filled with books and movies as Greg went right.

"Wait, I thought—" she began, confused.

"Not there," he replied curtly, pushing open the door to the master bedroom.

The babysitter caught up in time to see the doctor removing the lower drawer of his wardrobe and pulling a DVD case with a bland looking photo of a group of quirky looking people lounging on an oversized couch.

"Doc, Doc, Doc, am I to take from this that you have this movie hidden from your wife?" Mallory teased. 

"Hard to explain to your wife why you own a non budget movie with a girl who you used to date who's near naked, naked, and/or simulating sex for 35 minutes of it," he succinctly explained as he powered up the DVD player.

Mal felt herself flush and her skin go warm. She thought, no, she knew that this was Greg's escape before her. That he'd watch his old flame on screen and touch himself when Gina and the kids weren't around. This was his one indulgence, the one way he allowed himself dirty pleasure, the thing that let him shed the skin of a perfect husband for 15 minutes and just go filthy. She was instantly aroused and jealous. Alice, or the digital approximation, was her predecessor and now she was going to meet this...memory face-to-face. She shifted, uncomfortable and embarrassed by how quickly she had gotten wet.

Not one to confront a rival without giving it her all, Mallory decided to even the score. She kicked off her flip flops, undid her cutoffs' button fly and began to shimmy out of the shorts before Greg commented.

"So, no movie then?" he said, trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

As the open credits began to roll on the screen, the coed smirked and reached for Greg's belt. "If Alice is going to be naked, it's only fair we are too."

She rose up to her tip toes and kissed him deeply as the belt unlatched and clattered to the floor.

"Besides," she whispered in his ear as the teeth of his zipper slowly separated, "I want to be able to see how hard she makes you. You know, for comparison purposes."

She shoved his pants to the ground and let her fingers dance over his quickly rising cock. She allowed herself a smirk. "Of course, if you're this hard already, it may be difficult to notice the differences."

Her shirt quickly joined the piles of clothes on the floor. She cupped her breasts and teased the nipples while Greg watched, his face a poor attempt at hiding his overwhelming lust.

"You like my tits?" she teased.

"You know I do, Mal?"

"Yeah? You want to taste them?"

"God, yes!" he gasped, awkwardly lunging forward.

She took a step back and waved her finger at him, "Uh-uh. Not yet. Do what I say Doc and maybe, MAYBE, you get to enjoy my tiny, teenage, tits."

He groaned in frustration.

"It'll be fun!" she promised, twirling around, showing off her firm, naked body to him, "Now lie on the bed. I'm going to be behind you. And you and I are going to enjoy this movie."

He shrugged in obvious disappointment and did as he was told. She allowed her eyes to linger lewdly on his cock before sliding behind him on the bed, pushing her naked body against his back. She bit her tongue to keep from moaning at the undeniable rush she felt as the heat of his skin seeped into her own.

The moment Alice first appeared on screen, Mallory knew it had to be her. She was exactly as the Doctor described her. Tall. Thin, but with hips and a chest. Super short red hair. Pale.

"You weren't kidding, Doc," the babysitter breathed in Greg's ear, "She is so pale she's almost iridescent. She's beautiful."

"Mmmhmm," he allowed, eyes riveted to the television.

Before long, Alice's character was alone in her apartment, her cadre of goofy friends departed to their various quirky romantic storylines. Meanwhile Alice turned on her stereo—which played a song obviously written by one of the filmmakers—and she was dancing around the apartment in a lavender cami and black thong. The camera, heretofore static and boring, lovingly scanned every inch of her body. She inspired the filmmaker to better work, evidently.

"God...her ass," Mallory involuntarily gasped. Greg just nodded in response, his mouth dry.

The movie meandered away from Alice to silly live triangle involving two dark haired woman and a man with wildly improbable facial hair. It was...not very good. In addition to being the only one worth looking at, it appeared Alice was the only one with any talent either.

Just as Mallory reached the end of her rope with the poor acting and dumb storyline, it cut back to Alice. This time she was in the shower addressing a male roommate sitting on the other side of the curtain. The babysitter admired her sort-of rival's breasts with a slight burn of jealous. They were bigger than her own and topped with tiny but long rosy nipples.

"Wish I had tits like that," she mumbled.

"Stop that," Greg managed to divide his attention enough to say, "Your breasts are great."

"Hers are bigger."

"Bigger isn't everything."

"So...whose do you like better?"

"Yours."

"Flatterer."

"It's true. Although, both at once..." he trailed off suggestively.

"Pervert," she whispered back, blushing at the thought. Jealousy mixed with lust at the idea of being between the doctor and the one that sort of got away.

Another storyline briefly interfered and the teen felt her buzzing lust grow frustratingly dimmer. Thankfully, the interlude between Alice was shorter this time and the scene quickly cut to her laying out outfits on her bed while still naked, dripping, and pink from her hot shower. The camera did not hesitate to make it clear that there was no way to verify if Alice was a natural redhead as things were perfectly bare and smooth. Both Greg and Mallory audibly moaned at the delicious mound between her legs and giggled at each other.

Before long, the roommate came back and overwhelmed by her nudity and his long dormant feeling roughly threw her to the bed. Alice's character protested and tried to get away but soon was moaning lasciviously and urging her attacker to make her moan more. It had some distressing lessons about the nature of sexual assault from people you know and what exactly no means, but it was also undeniably sexy.

And bizarrely long for a non-porn film. He was on top, then he was taking her from behind, then she gave herself over fully to the sex and climbed on top. She moaned and thrashed convincingly, her mouth half opened, her cheeks flush, her hands all over her own skin.

Mallory wrapped one hand around the doctor's hard cock, unsurprised to feel it hot and straining in her grip. Her other hand found her pussy moist and slippery, clit begging for attention. This also did not surprise her.

"Are you sure this is fake?" she gapsed, her fingers easing their way into her sex.

"What do you mean?" Greg said, pushing his hips forward, in essence slowing fucking her grip.

"I mean...your Alice looks like she's getting fucked for real. And that she likes it."

The doctor groaned, his hips pistoned a little faster, his cock bouncing with a burst of new arousal.

"Mmm, you like that idea, don't you? That you are watching this girl you kissed, you fondled, you went down on, get fucked? That it turns out she's the kind of slut who has sex on film for money? And not a lot of money either."

"God," he near bellowed.

"Don't worry, Doc, that's just another perverted fact that I'll keep secret. But make no mistake. You. Are. A. Dirty. Dirty. Pervert."

"Oh god....yes...you made me a dirty pervert."

"Yes, I did. My mouth on your cock just once and after that...mmm, such a bad boy."

"God, Mal...your hand feels so good. And I can hear you fingering yourself. Did Alice get you wet? Hmm? Are you a dirty little slut just like her?"

"Maybe I am Doc? Maybe one of these days I'll let you film me getting fucked by you. Perhaps a gift for your wife for Christmas? An instructional video so she can see how to keep her man satisfied?"

"You're evil..." the doctor moaned, hips jerking still faster against her grasp.

"And you love it!" she hissed, her fingers a circular blur over her clit, "Now watch your old girlfriend get fucked while your teen mistress fingers herself and jerks you off in the bed you share with your clueless wife."

"Filthy," he mumbled but obeyed.

The action on screen moved on to another of the lousy other plots and the doctor rolled his head back, kissing Mallory deeper. Their eyes returned to the screen when Alice engaged in a same sex makeout session with some blonde who wasn't in the rest of the movie. The writer probably told people the scene was about how Alice's character kept looking for validation through sexual acts, but it mostly came across as a contrived excuse for the movie to shout, "Look, boobs! Chicks kissing each other! Hard nipples! Moans!" Despite its obviousness, both the doctor and the coed found themselves respond. When their scene ended though, Mallory finally caved.

"I can't stand it!" she nearly shouted, "Fuck me!"

Greg moved to comply without hesitation, reaching for the remote.

"No! Leave it on!" the babysitter ordered.

She flipped onto her stomach and lay nearly flat with her ass just slightly lifted off the bed, head at the end of the bed, facing the TV. She turned back to Greg and demanded, "I want you to lay on top of me, fuck this tight pussy that needs your dick so bad.

She paused, blushed deeply, and added quietly, "...and call me Alice."

Greg hesitated a moment. His body wanted that. All of it. The "call me Alice" in particular nearly made him growl in primal lust. But his mind was concerned. "Are you—"

"Fuck your dirty, slut babysitter!" she cut him off with a roar, her embarrassment, lust, and jealousy curdling into anger at Greg for not just doing what she told him, "Call me by the name of the only woman who could possibly turn you on more."

"That's—"

"Call me Alice," she moaned, "Use me and call me Alice."

With that, all objections leached out of him. He slid his cock into her hot, needy cunt and let his body weight pin her to the mattress.

"Ooooo, Greg," she moaned and did her best to push herself back into him, driving him deeper inside her.

"Alice," he began, "Shit! Alice, you're so fucking tight."

"Mmm, stretch me out Greg. Fuck me like I like that stupid actor fucked me onscreen."

The naughty doctor only grunted in reply and began to move him hips more in earnest.

"Yes!" she yelled. "Like that. Take me. Own my pussy!"

"Oh god, Alice, I've wanted you for so long," he groaned.

"I know, I know. Show me now. Fuck me like you've wanted to for years. Like you thought about after Gina went to bed, her needs fulfilled, yours still not unaddressed."

Greg's left hand found her clit and massaged it quickly while his right tangled itself in her hair and used that for leverage as thrust harder and faster into him.

"Uh-huh, like that. Yeah, like that. You know how I want it. Hard and fast. Don't worry about anything but getting yourself off. That's what I'm here for...just fuck me for your own pleasure."




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 10



"You're so nasty," the doctor babbled almost mindlessly into Mallory's ear as their bodies ground, slapped, drove, and pounded against one another, "Dirty. Such a slut. Look what you do to me. Such a pervert because of you. Animal. Fuck. God...so hard for you."

"Who am I?" Mallory panted in response, her hands sliding between the mattress and her breasts and roughly groping herself.

"Alice...fuck! You're Alice!" he hissed in reply.

Her eyes scanned up on the screen as Alice's character swallowed a full bottle of pills, stripped naked, and climbed into a bathtub. She began to pretend to masturbate, fingering herself while waiting to die from an overdose, evidently.

"Look at me touch myself onscreen while you fuck me," Mallory breathlessly demanded.

The two were clearly out of their minds with lust as neither blinked at how bizarre and pretentious the movie had become. They both only focused on the pale redhead's gasping, moaning apparent death throes, the look of bliss on her face, the bouncing of her soft, beautiful tits.

"God," Mallory gasped, "Look at me finger fuck myself! How could you give me up? You'd never be cheating on your wife with a teenager if you stayed with me."

Greg grunted in rhythm with his thrusts, "I. Don't. Know. The teen. Is. Pretty. FUCKING! Hot."

"Mmm," the babysitter whimpered as the doctor continued to take her roughly, feeling flattered, "I guess you'd just have to fuck us both, wouldn't you?"

"God, Mal—"

"Doc!" she shouted, admonishing his slip up.

"Oh! Alice!" he rushed to correct himself, "Alice....your mind's so dirty!"

"Only for you, Greg. Only for you."

As the movie went to credits, the two lost themselves to physical sensation. Dirty talk degenerated into grunts, gasps, moans, and pure heavy breathing. Mallory bit her lip hard as two climaxes battered her with almost no break in between. Her nails dug into her breasts as her every muscle tightened froze. She squealed. As the second climax passed, her body became unarrested again and she thrashed almost involuntarily. She could feel the sheets below her were soaked and slick with sweat and sex. She delighted at the idea of her sullying the sheets that Greg and Gina slept beneath, let herself imagine them going unchanged and the doctor's staid wife's body rubbing against the product of adulterous indulgence.

"Oh, Doctor Clark," she murmured, her voice found once again, "We are drenching your sheets. When's the last time you and your wife drenched the sheets?"

He did not reply verbally, his only reaction to work her clit harder.

"That long, huh?" she chuckled.

This time Greg groaned, "So close" rather than acknowledge her taunt.

"On my back," she demanded. "I want to feel your hot cum on my back as you call my name."

He agreed to her terms with a ragged breathed grunt. He pulled her to her hands and knees, shifting to a more traditional doggy style position.

Mallory continued, "Look at my back, Doc. Look at how it runs into my beautiful ass. Can you see my muscles tighten as you use my cunt? Can you see how much each muscle loves you fucking me? Look at those dimples....mmm....you don't get those dimples on the back of a mom with two kids, do you? No matter how in shape Gina is, her body can't compare to a ripple 19 year old's can it?"

To further facilitate her employer's release, she popped her ass up against him, driving him deeper. She continued, fucking back against him, stealing his control. Within thirty seconds, he held his breath, grabbed himself, and pulled out. Mallory sighed at the sudden emptiness but quickly forgot her disappointed as she felt the first hot spray on her skin.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh Mallory!" he yelled, his cock uncontrollably dousing her back in pump after pump of warm translucent pearly desire.

He violated the "call me Alice," edict, but Mallory was too thrilled to reprimand him. He collapsed next to her and she bowed her head, kissing him deeply.

After their lips separated he mumbled, "Shit. Mallory...I...goddamn. You..."

"Yes," she giggled, "I know."

They luxuriated in the post-coital glow for a minute, their skin flush, their gasps slow to return to normal respiration.

Still breathing heavy, Mallory announced, "Well....time to go. No need for the kids to come home to this, right?"

She gingerly stepped onto the floor, enjoying the beginning sensations of stretched soreness, without waiting for Greg to affirm.

"You shouldn't relax for too long there, Doc. Need to change those sheets and hide your Alice video again."

"Right, right," he replied, brain still fuzzy.

He rolled onto his stomach as Mallory began to walk out, sure to add an extra wiggle to her strides. He groaned in lust at the scene on her back, tan skin splashed with white cream, rivulets of the thinner cum winding their way haphazardly down towards her ass.

She paused for a moment, feeling like sex on legs, feeling his hungry eyes on her. Without looking back, she proclaimed, "Doc, just so you know, I'm going to find Alice and the three of us...we're going to spend some time together."

She left then, leaving Greg to contemplate what a fun, but probably terrible, idea that would be.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 11



Dr. Greg Clark gritted his teeth and tried to focus on Ms. Bristol's words. It wasn't that she was boring; he was genuinely interested in how Shelly was adjusting to life as a kindergarten student. Mallory, however, was making it damn hard to concentrate on anything but how hard he was and how good her hand felt— slipped through his open fly and unbuttoned boxers—stroking him slowly, but persistently.

This was supposed to be parent-teacher day where parents arrived en masse to drink weak punch, eat weak store bought cookies, meet one another, and have brief meetings with their children's teachers. Gina could not make it due to a work commitment but she suggested Greg bring Mallory along. He objected but she argued that since, as the kids' babysitter, she also would be checking to make sure Shelly was doing what she should for school when they weren't around, Mallory needed the information too. Under normal circumstances, it would be a perfectly appropriate suggestion. Everything involving Mallory these days didn't seem quite appropriate anymore. 

Greg had fought off Mallory's advances long enough to get to the school, but the moment they sat down in Ms. Bristol's room, there had been no stopping her. At first it was just a hand on his thigh, then the hand was, occasionally, brushing his crotch. Next, a more definite fondling, on top of the pants. Finally, Mallory realized that Greg was too concerned about not being noticed to actually stop her and decided to be as inappropriate as she could manage. Hence, the firm slow motion handjob under the juice stained conference table.

"I'm sorry...umm...Dr. Clark?" a voice in the hallway floated in. Greg drew his eyes towards, feeling as though he was trying to move his head through jello.

"Yes?" he managed, surprised by how dry his mouth was.

"Your son is experiencing a bit of a...meltdown in our daycare room. We were wondering if you might come and take him?"

"Oh, sure," he agreed, turning to Ms. Bristol, "Is that ok?"

"Well, we were almost done so I suppose that—" she began, her voice betraying her feeling that it was, in fact, not ok.

Mallory interrupted, quickly zipping Greg's pants, "I can go, Doctor Clark. You finish here and then come and find us."

"Could you do that?" Ms. Bristol asked, face brightening.

"Of course. Happy to," the babysitter reassured.

Ms. Bristol gushed, "That's just so helpful."

"See you later, Doc," Mallory called out cheekily as she left. 

Ten minutes later, Ms. Bristol was drawing to a close. Greg had gotten more out of it since Mallory left, but not as much as he would've liked. One of the unexpected consequences of his affair with the coed was how sex crazy he had gotten. He found himself inspecting women more than ever before and, unfortunately for his attention, Ms. Bristol was a young attractive woman. So he spent a great deal of time taking her in with his eyes.

She was a new teacher in her third year so the doctor estimated she was about 25 or 26. She was confident in herself, he could tell, and had therefore not made an effort to conceal who she was. She had an asymmetric haircut dyed a deep red color and left the multiple piercings in each ear and a stud in her nose in. Today she was wearing a pink button down v-neck sweater that was appropriate but allowed for a bit of cleavage when she was seated because of the height difference between her and Greg and her tendency to lean forward as she spoke. Her dark grey pencil skirt nicely highlighted her thin waist and shapely legs while still suggesting a certain seriousness about her job. On her feet, she had a simple pair of black kitten heel mid-calf boots that were no doubt comfortable, and therefore a rational choice for a teacher on her feet all day, but still sexy and fashionable. So, even without Mallory there to tease him, Greg had remained stiff as the wing of a tropical storm.

She spoke with her hands, using highly animated motions to convey her excitement. As she reached the end of her spiel about Shelly, she failed to notice the punch cup Mallory left behind on the table and set it tumbling, half full, into Greg's lap. Without waiting for permission, she was on him with a napkin and numerous, rapidly spoken apologies.

"Oh! So sorry. I can't believe I...So sorry. Should come out, but...Oh man, sir I mean...so embarrassed," she rambled.

Greg repeatedly let her off the hook and tried to force her off him before she could feel him straining against his flat front navy pants. And for one hopeful moment, it seemed he had. Then she noticed another spot of pink and was dabbing away.

"Just one more spot there," she said aloud, ignoring his protests, "Let me get it. Again I am so sorry. I can be so clumsy and...Ooooooo."

She said it like that, all exaggerated and slow. She had found his cock.

"Doctor Clark," she looked into his eyes, voice taking on a scolding tone, "Is this what I think it is?"

His mouth went dry, his tongue got fat. Every muscle in his body froze. Even his brain seemed to grind to a halt.

"Verrrrrrrrrrrrry nice," she continued, cracking a naughty smile, releasing all the tension in the room in a rush. Then, Greg realized what she called very nice and got stressed all over again.

"You know," she cooed in his ear, hand still firmly on his cock, "I always told myself when I became a teacher that I would do my best to establish a relationship between not only myself and the students, but take the care to go the extra mile for exceptional students and their parents. Your daughter seems to be exceptional and, you, Dr. Clark, sir, certainly feel the same way to me. Would you like me to go the extra mile for you?"

"Wha—what do you mean?" Greg managed.

"Well...let me put it this way. When I was younger, I really thought I should wait for marriage to have sex. I've since revised my position on the matter, but for a few years there, I was quite dedicated to that point of view. The problem was, and I am trying to put this delicately here, I still loved cock. I, frankly, craved it. So I developed quite a...talent for handjobs during those lean years. Do you understand?"

"Do I understand that you got good at handjobs?"

"Not good. Great. Legendarily great. And while I would like to see how you handle this monster when both of us are naked, this doesn't seem to be the place and certainly not the time. But a man with a dick this hard shouldn't go home with it...unattended."

"Ms. Bristol—"

"I have my hand on your cock, Dr. Clark, it only seems fair that you call me Claire. Unless, you know, calling me Ms. Bristol is a turn-on for you. Is it, sir? Is it a turn-on?"

"I—I don't know what to—"

"Just relax, Dr. Clark. Just tell me how you got so hard and let me do the work."

"This...please Ms—er—Claire. We shouldn't be doing this."

"Oh, I don't know...Young handsome parent with a nice cock. Even younger schoolteacher with a talent for handsex. Isolated classroom. Seems pretty right to me."

"I'm married."

"Yes, yes you are. But I don't see your wife anywhere here. And yet, here you are, long, thick, and stiff. Now what put you in this state?"

Silence. Claire pulled in him against her body and whispered, all hot breath and tongue, in his ear, "Tell Ms. Bristol what turns you on, sir." She began to rub him through his pants in tight concentric circles, keeping her body pressed tight against him. Greg gasped and tried to resist becoming further turned on, but made no move to push her away.

"Kiss me," she moaned, tipping her head upward. To Greg's own shock, he acquiesced without objection, merging his mouth with hers. Her mouth was oddly cold and bracingly fresh. She tasted vaguely of birch beer; sweet with that underlining sharp bite. Tongues sought out one another, twisting, joining, and separating again. They broke apart, Greg unconsciously having wrapped his arms around Claire.

She looked up at him, blue eyes ablaze. "I think that's what they call chemistry," she asserted, smiling wide.

Greg nodded, panic dancing across his face. He might have broken through a lot of his hesitance with Mallory but that did not mean he was ready to get jerked off by his daughter's kindergarten teacher during parent-teacher conference day. He began to speak in a tumble of words, searching for some handhold, some way to put the brakes on this situation, "It was a great kiss. You are good at kissing. Very good. I liked it. And your hand feels nice. It does. But, but...shouldn't...can't—"

Claire kissed him once more, silencing him. Again, Greg was surprised by his lack of effort at rebuking her. She fumbled with his belt, popping it loose with clumsy fingered manipulation. She bit his lip gently as she slid his zipper open.

"Claire," he gasped as she pulled him out of his boxers.

She bid him, drawing her left pointer finger to her mouth, "Shhh, let me make you feel good."

She started slow, agonizingly slow, lightly dragging her nails from base to head and back down again. Greg's breath hitched in his throat and he felt his knees go weak. He reached for the desk for support and groaned, "Oh. Ooooh. Uh. Uh."

"Feel good?"

"Y-y-yes," he hissed.

"Good. Now tell Ms. Bristol what made you so hard while she makes you feel even better."

Greg began to search for a response as he resolved himself to the inevitably of what was happening. He was dully aware of the ground he kept losing. Four months ago the line was: "I will not cheat on my wife," then "I will not fuck my babysitter," then "I will not fuck my babysitter while her roommate watches," before running right past, "I will not have sex in church during a service." Which brought him here, traipsing past the "I will not get a handjob from my kid's teacher," moral boundary. 

"I can't hear you," she whispered, beginning to grip and massage him.

"Don't mention Mallory, don't mention Mallory, don't mention Mallory," he thought to himself over and over again, willing himself not to admit his affair with his babysitter to this heavy petting instructor.

"Your eyes," he croaked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your eyes, they're beautiful."

She blushed and glanced away before returning eye contact. "That's sweet. But I have your dick in my hand. We are past the polite courting stage. Tell me what got you hard."

"Legs. Your legs."

"Mmmhmm..."

"They're just...couldn't stop peeking at them. Long. Skirt just a little too short. Sexy shoes."

"Oh, you like those, do you?"

"Ye-yeah."

"I feel bad now...you can't really see my legs when we are both standing. What could I show you to make up for it, I wonder?" she breathily asked, tongue clearly firmly in cheek.

Claire released him for a moment and dragging her hands up her body and slowly unbuttoned her sweater, her cream demi bra peeking out. A flush was spread across he breasts as they rose and fell in rapid time with her breath. "Does this make up for it?" she asked, her voice full of faux-trepidation.

"It—it'll do," Greg said, doing his best to land a joke.

"Mmm, turned on and still having a sense of humor. Very nice."

She licked her lips and wrapped her hands around his cock once again. She stared down at his member in almost rapt fascination while Greg watched her, breasts bouncing as she stroked him. The blush that had begun with him complimenting her eyes had hung around giving her a warm, aroused glow. Her eyes took on a smirking, naughty glimmer. Her lips glistened and her tongue would occasionally peek out to keep them wet. She was living up to her boasts and was quite clearly enjoying it.

Claire dragged her gaze from his member and locked eyes with Greg. He felt his cheeks grow warm and red but could not look away. She slightly altered her grip and rhythm and a burst of pleasure shot through him, curling his toes and forcing a gasp from his lips. She smiled warmly.

"You can touch me, you know?" she offered, voice carrying her need to his ears. He slid his hands between her bra and her skin and began to gently stroke her breasts. She let her head flop back and moaned. 

Moments later, Claire whispered, "Do you like them? Do you like my tits?"

"They're wonderful," he reassured her.

She moaned, deeper this time, and pitched herself forward, crushing her lips into his. Her tongue forced itself into his mouth and the two lost themselves to the sensations. There they stood in Claire's classroom, mouths merged, Greg's hands cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples, her right hand pulling his body close, her left hand stroking him with sustained enthusiasm. Greg was aware of the danger, how exposed—literally and otherwise—they were, but he could not help himself. Her hand was soft and smooth, her stroke firm, her mouth warm, wet, and entrancing. His morals collapsed under the weight of her desires and charms.

Claire felt one of Greg's hand leave her breasts and begin to slide down her body. It yanked her skirt upwards and began to tease its way up her thigh before she stopped him, breath heavy with disappointed.

"Uh-uh," she admonished him, "Very tempting, but just you."

"But—" he began.

Claire stopped him right away, "Nope. You touch me like that and there's no way I can stay quiet. I am...a bit too noisy for classroom quickies. Just let me make you cum."

She adjusted her approach again and Greg felt his body shake in response. She pulled him even closer and brought her mouth next to his ear.

"God, you are so hard. So fucking hard," she whispered in a voice of pure, hushed sex, "I love how you feel in my hand. So hot and long and thick."

Greg could only gasp and grunt in response.

"I wish I could just get on my knees and suck your dick right now. Take you in my mouth, take you so deep. Taste you. Feel you fill my throat. Mmm....or fuck you? You got me so wet. I'm dripping. Wish you could just put me on the desk and make me scream. Wrap my legs around you while you fuck me as hard as want and I beg for more. God! So turned on."

"ohmygod, ohgod, ohgod," the doctor babbled.

"Shh," she warned him, "Don't you get noisy now."

She increased her speed.

"You gonna cum for me?" she asked, practically begging, "You gonna cum for Ms. Bristol?"

"I want to. So close."

"Do it. Cum. Cum."

"Wha—where?"

"Ooooo," she replied, eyes widening, "Good point. I'd love it on face. Mmm, or maybe my tits. But now's probably not the time."

She reached behind her and grabbed the mug sitting on the edge of her desk. "You can sweeten my coffee, Greg."

"Oh...oh fuck," he gasped, feeling his body coiling towards climax. "I'm so...you've got me so close. Are you...are you sure?"

"Yessssss," she moaned, "Cum for Ms. Bristol. Fill my mug so I can drink it down. Cum for me."

Greg stiffened and groaned as his seed sprung forth landing on the lip of the mug and then inside it. Claire continued with slowing speed, drawing out every drop of him. The last pulse dribbled down her fingers before she released him. As focus returned to his eyes, she caught his attention and licked her fingers clean while buttoning her shirt with the other hand.

"So bad," he whispered to her, "Trying to turn me on when I'm so clearly spent."

She shrugged, "Eh, can't blame a girl for trying."

Claire reached for him then, kissing him gently on the neck as she gingerly put Greg's exhausted cock back into his boxers and zipped him up.

"Dr. Clark?" a voice, Mallory's voice, said from the door.

Claire subtly took a step back, giving them appropriate distance apart, and shook Greg's hand.

"Again, thanks for coming in, Dr. Clark. Your daughter is a wonderful part of my class."

"And thank you, Ms. Bristol, for taking the time to...umm...going the extra mile today."

She gave him a "you are SO bad" look and replied, "My pleasure, sir. I enjoy helping out truly special parents."

Greg let go of her hand and began to walk towards Mallory and his two kids.

"Oh, and Dr. Clark," Claire called after him, stopping him midstride and forcing him to turn back to her.

"I will be sure to keep in touch, to stay...hands-on, as the year goes on," she teased before taking a long gulp from her coffee mug and throwing him a barely perceptible wink.

After Greg brought his children home where his recently returned wife Gina put them to bed, he brought Mallory back to her apartment. One minute into the drive, she posed the question, "Am I crazy or was there something weird in the air with Ms. Bristol before we left?"

The question took Greg by surprise and he stalled to gather his thoughts, "How so?"

"I...I don't know. She seemed like, too close to you. And the tone in her voice. Oh and you looked so red in the face. Did you guys like...fight or something? Is Shelly in trouble?"

"What? No, no. It's...not that."

"But it was something?" Mallory asked, voice marbled with concern.

Greg heard the fear, exhaled sharply, and told her everything. About the spill, about how he was still hard from the earlier teasing him, about trying to resist and failing, all of it.

"Wow," Mallory sighed when he concluded the story, mentioning how Ms. Bristol drank down her cum laced coffee right in front of all of them.

"Yeah..." he replied, blushing fiercely and feeling terrible.

"That is...SO HOT! God!"

"What? You aren't, I don't know, mad?"

"No. God, no. I mean, I might be a little jealous that she got that load after I did the groundwork. Or that she beat me to getting you off in a classroom. But mad? Never. I told you before, I don't own you. I want you to enjoy yourself. I'm going to be competitive, don't get me wrong. Somebody gets you off, I'm going to try to outdo them as soon as I can. But you getting a naughty handjob from a sexy schoolteacher? I'm SO onboard for that!"

"I...did not expect that."

She smiled at him sweetly and gave him a hug and small kiss, "You are too cute, but you need to pay better attention and trust me more."

She returned to her seat and hummed to herself until the next light where she sighed heavily and announced, "Now I'm horny!"

"Umm...sorry?"

She slid down in her seat, unbuttoned her black pants and slid them down her hips a bit. Greg tried not to stare at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm going to make myself cum right now," she proclaimed, "You can feel free to do whatever the spirits move you to."

She got off one quick orgasm and Greg made it three more blocks before giving in his libido. They pulled into a dark corner of the mall parking lot and retired to the back of the minivan where Mallory rode her employer while he did his best to relive every detail of the Ms. Bristol story again, including what else he'd like to do to her, until both fell in a pile of warm, sweaty, spent limbs and cuddled briefly before beginning the drive again.

As they pulled into her parking lot she smiled dreamily and let Greg know, "I think I might have to pay that Ms. Bristol a visit. She seems like someone I might get along with." Then, with a gentle kiss on his cheek, away she went.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 12



The phone call had been surprisingly easy for Dr. Greg Clark. He expected to be nervous or get her voicemail or... who knows what? He just didn't expect it to be so easy.

He had a late afternoon cancellation and had no extra work to do. His mind had gotten to running and he recalled Mallory's promise. Any time he wanted her, any where she wanted her to be he need only call and ask. He did not quite buy the flexibility and could not help but want to test it. Sure enough, she answered and told him she'd be there right away. Apparently his babysitter meant what she said.

When he hung up the phone, that's when the nerves came. What if Gina dropped in for a surprise visit? Sure, she had not done that since before Shelley was born, but she still could. Or what if there was an emergency? Granted, dermatologist emergencies are few and far between, but, still, it could happen, right?

And so the doctor sat for fifteen minutes, mulling all the ways it could go wrong. He had all but convinced himself to call her and tell her to turn back around when there was a knock at his office door. Pammy eased it open and whispered, "There's a walk-in here. She said you said she could come by?"

"Yes, of course. Send her in."

"Did you tell me? Because I don't have her on the schedule?"

"She just called, Pammy. Literally. Sorry not to give a heads-ups."

"No worries," she replied, her voice betraying her worries.

"You can go on in," she heard her tell Mallory.

Mallory entered, only a tan London Fog jacket and a pair black knee high leather boots. She closed the door behind her.

"I think you've got a jealous PA there. Cute...but jealous."

"About what?" Greg asked. Pammy being jealous was never something the doctor had been aware of before.

"Oh, I think you are smart enough to put that together, don't you?"

"You think?"

"Oh yeah, totally. Not that she doesn't have good reason?

"Oh?"

"Yes," Mallory smiled, untying her jacket and shrugging it off to reveal her naked body beneath, 

"Because I am going to use all this to fuck your brains out."

The doctor went speechless and just took her in. He did not have a lot of opportunities to just stare at her body fully. Either they were all over each other already or she was fully dressed and he was trying to avoid anyone noticing any indication of lustful desires or intentions for her teen body. Her hair was casually tussled, a sexy, simple look. Her face was clear of makeup with a small ridge of freckles dusting her nose and cheeks. The freckles helped to draw focus to a pair of green eyes that would be eye catching even without her beautiful face surrounding them. Her neck was long and slender and was already blushing with desire. Her breasts were small, high, firm, proud and topped with perfect hard nipples that he could feel his mouth watering for already. Her torso was long and lean with a perfectly flat, sexy stomach. A belly button ring nestled nicely over her navel, something she knew drove him wild. Her legs were mostly encased in her black boots, but he knew them to toned and shapely. She kept her pussy smooth and bald, something Greg hadn't thought he cared all that much about until the first time he saw hers. Even though it was October, her skin was still a little tan from summer and faint tanlines very visible over her breasts and pelvis, reminding him of the bathing suit she wore when this all began... the bikini she wore to suck him off in the shower.

"You done eye fucking me?" she teased, striking a small pose, "I promise the real thing is even better."

"Oh, sorry," he said, a bit embarrassed.

"Mmm, don't be. It makes me hot to see you look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you'd do anything to have me again. Like...like being inside me is your drug of choice."

"Oh, it so is."

"Good. Because I'm so addicted to you too," she giggled, "now get over here and teach your kids' babysitter what happens to naughty girls who walk around in nothing but a trenchcoat and fuck me boots."

Greg smiled but remained rooted behind his desk. 

"Oh, I see," she said, eyes narrowing, "You need a little...persuasion then?"

"It...couldn't hurt," he smarmily suggested. 

She waved her pointer finger in front of her in the universal sign of "bad boy," and then brought it and the middle one to her mouth. She sucked them slow, maintaining eye contact, moaning ever so lightly. Soon they glistened with her saliva. Satisfied with how wet she had gotten them, she parted her legs slightly and slid the finger between the lips of her pussy.

She gasped as she made contact with her clit and shot at him accusatorially, "You're a real bastard, you know that? You call me to come over here, I skip Anthro, put together this outfit, and then you make me get myself off when I get here?"

"Are you objecting?"

"Noooooo," she moaned, "Definitely not. I like that you are treating me like the nasty girl I am."

"Tell me when you're close," he ordered her.

"Oh God. Oh yeah, I will. Uh...uh....uh. Can I—can I sit?"

"No," he denied here, "Just stand and do what you're told."

"Such a bastard. Oh man! Dr. Clark, I must be such a slut to let you treat me like this."

"The sluttiest," he agreed, not taking his eyes off of her. 

Mallory's fingers began to dive deeper inside her, her thumb now in constant contact with her clit. She wavered on her feet and finally awkwardly stumbled into a lean on the bookcase closest to her. Greg did not object, a source of relief and disappointment to her. She half wished that he'd force her to try and maintain her balance while standing with nothing to help her. Now that they had entered the next stage of their affair, the one that let Greg seduce her as well, she found herself increasingly aroused by the idea of him mistreating her—in a sexual sense of play, of course.

Just the thought of what she allowed him to do and say to her pushed her arousal to the next level. She let him know, "Uhhhhhh, Dr. Clark, so close. Gonna cum for you."

He was on her in the flash, grabbing her hand and forcing her to extract it from her burning desire, "Not yet you aren't," he revealed to her.

She could only whimper in frustrated wantonness.

Greg pulled her fingers to his lips and sucked them clean of her juice. He could feel her sway with lust induced dizziness.

"Taste your lust," he demanded of her and kissed her deeply, roughly pushing his tongue in her mouth. In response, she sucked it, drinking of her fluids mixed with his saliva.

"I love the way I taste on your tongue almost as much as I love the way I taste on your cock," she confessed, giggling slightly. She unzipped him with her other hand and grabbed him through his boxer shorts. "Ooo, this one seems pissed about the lack of attention he's receiving," she whispered, letting her head drop onto his shoulder. 

Greg exhaled in a puff of air, every part of his body getting stiffer. Mallory nestled further into the space between his neck and shoulder. She licked and nibbled him there for moment while continuing to rub him in a circular motion, feeling him grow longer and fatter under her ministrations. Eventually, she murmured, "Awaiting further instructions, sir."

"Follow me" he commanded, roughly pulling and pushing her into the small exam room to the left of his office. He walked past her and locked the door to the waiting room.

"You have me trapped," she cooed happily, crawling up on to the examination table.

"That's right. I can do whatever I want to you and no one can help you."

"Ooooooo, you promise, Doc?" she moaned, rolling over and arching her back, thrusting her breasts, topped with perfect hard nipples skyward. She dropped her head over the head on the end of the table and licked her lips.

Greg watched her little show as he began to shed clothes. "God, Mal...the things you make me want to say and do...you are so incredible. You just...wow."

"Mmm," she moaned appreciatively, stretching her arms out towards him, "You are the sweetest talker."

"It's just true."

"Well, thank you. The thing is, though, Doc, I don't want the sweetest talker right now. I want that dirty, nasty, naughty talk." 

He arched his eyebrows and stepped closer to her, "Oh, do you? And why should I give you that?"

"Because I'm the kind of bad girl who walks around all day thinking of ways to fuck this married guy I know," she sighed as she caressed her breasts, pinching and pulling her nipples, "But especially because I'm the kind of filthy slut who goes ahead and does it."

"I see...well what if I told you that you lying like that gives me ideas that a married man my age shouldn't have about a teenager?"

"I'd say," she began, reaching over her head and grabbing the waistband of his boxer briefs and yanking them downward, "you're still overdressed."

"Seems you took care of that, what else would you say?" Greg queried, stepping even closer.

She made a 'I am just a naïve young woman' face and whispered in her best little girl voice, "Use my mouth?"

"You want me to fuck your face?"

She bit her lip and nodded slightly, maintaining her 'What do you mean I am playing with fire right now?' look. "Uh-huh," she said in a soft voice, smacked her lips, and opened her mouth wide.

He grabbed his cock and began to angle it towards her mouth, but paused. Mallory saw a look of concern and doubt spread over his face.

"It's okay," she assured him, breaking beyond the parameters of nasty girl ever so slightly, "I want you to. Do you not want to?"

"No, no. I want to. Desperately," he admitted.

"Then do it. I want it, you want it. Don't worry, you'll hurt me only just as much as I want to be hurt. Trust yourself."

He slid into her mouth with a groan, "I used to be a good man until you."

"Mmmhhmm," she mumbled around his dick in a tone Greg swore was sarcastic.

"God...fuck...you are so damn good at this. Are all girls your age this good at cock sucking?"

Mallory garbled a response that was incomprehensible but she meant as, "Uh-uh. I'm the best."

"Oh, Mal. Uh...your mouth feels fucking great," he babbled, slowly thrusting in and out of her mouth. Mallory initially let the doctor set the pace, but quickly became tired of him so obviously holding back. She wrapped her arms around the legs and began to pull him in, feeding herself his cock deeper and quicker.

"Baby...baby, you don't have to do that," he grunted, trying to be chivalrous.

She only grunted and pushed him faster and harder.

"Oh god...you really are a slut! You love this don't you?"

Mallory only gagged/moaned in response. If she was honest, Greg was probably just a bit too large for her to taking him this way. Her jaw already hurt, he was going a little too deep, and her eyes watered from the effort. She had no interest in being fully honest with him or herself though. He was clearly enjoying it and that, in turn, just turned her on even more.

She lightly dragged her teeth over on the outstroke as she had learned he was the rare guy that occasionally enjoyed that kind of sensation. He gasped and stumbled, slamming both hands on the exam table to stabilize himself. In her mind, she smiled a naughty smile to herself.

"Oh god...I can feel your teeth," he moaned, "uhhhhhhh....naughty, naughty."

Now content that he was gone enough to stop being polite, Mallory let her arms drop the grip she had around his legs and refocus them on herself. She began by teasing herself, lightly dragging her nails up and down her legs then over and across her stomach, tracing expanding circles across her flat tummy. She then returned to her breasts, fondling herself with abandon and writhing in pleasure.

Greg watched with rapt attention before being too turned to stop himself from speaking, "So hot. I love watching you touch yourself."

In her head she smiled again and sucked her employer's cock even more aggressively.

"Oh yeah! Such a natural. I don't understand why we aren't doing this all the fucking time. Sooooooo good."

His babysitter grabbed his hands and placed them on her neck. Greg pulled away like he'd been burned.

"Oh, umm, no," he objected, "I don't...that seems like...not safe."

She grabbed his hands again and guided them towards her throat. She could feel his resistance so she pulled off him and caught his eye. "Please," she quietly beseeched him. "I need this."

She thrust over his rigid, glistening cock again with a satisfied moan. This time he did not resist her guidance. She had never done this and thus had no idea if she did indeed "need" it, but she did want to try it. It was odd to be the (significantly) younger one in the affair and to have to pretend to be more experienced at times. She knew though that he wouldn't try it if he knew neither of them had done it before and thus she might not like it or might be hurt somehow. 

At first, his pressure was so light he could barely feel it. She readjusted his hands and pressed them harder until she could feel it. At first, there was panic. Then, as it passed, she felt exhilarated. It sparked and fulfilled her want of having him dominant her. The feel of him towering over her, using her mouth for his own satisfaction, lightly choking her...it made her feel like his plaything. His dirty, whorish plaything. She moaned loud and shook with lust.

"Does this turn you on?" Greg asked, voice laced with an odd anger, "Does making me do this to you, choke you, treat you like trash, does that fucking get you hot?"

She groaned her assent, dragging her teeth on his dick.

"Fuuuuuuuuuck!" he gasped, "You're such a slut. My little teen slut."

Again, mumbled agreement.

"Do you want to make yourself cum?"

"Yessssssssssss!" her mind screamed, but she only inclined her head slightly to indicate a nod.

"Should I let you? Do you think you deserve it?"

This time, she gave a slight shake of the head. "No," she thought, "I don't deserve it. I'm just a mouth, tits, and a pussy here just for your pleasure. I don't deserve anything but a face full of cum."

She stunned herself with the dirty thoughts running through her head. Stunned and wildly aroused herself. She didn't think she really felt that way about herself, but she had to admit, she did like indulging in the fantasy that she did. For not the first or last time, she found herself marveling over how fucked up human desire really was.

"Mmm," he clucked, voice thick with teasing arousal, "I appreciate your honesty, and agree, but I'm in charge here and I want to see you finger your soaking wet cunt until you cum. So that's what you are going to do right fucking now!"

Mallory groaned loud and low, mouth and throat still taking her married lover's cock deep. Her body quaked with anticipation as she devoted both hands to the task of getting herself off. She curved two fingers on her left hand upward, pushing against her spongy g-spot. Two fingers on her right rapidly rubbed her clit in a tight up and down motion.

"There you—oh, oh—there you go, you naughty girl. Perform for me. Show me how you get yourself off when no one else is around. Show me how nasty you are."

That was all it took for the babysitter to lose control. She gasped, writhed, and, eventually screamed as she came. In screaming, she let the doctor's cock drop out of her mouth. Without a beat, he grabbed her hair and yanked her into a sitting position. "Did I say you could stop blowing me?!" he shouted and at her and slapped her face. A moment later, he realized what he had done.

"Oh shit," he muttered, guilt crushing him.

Mallory tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled wide. She spoke, sucking in gulps of air, "That...(huff, huff)...was...(huff)...fucking...(huff, huff)...incredible! Oh god! Sooooooooo good." She collapsed backwards onto the table's raised headrest.

Greg could barely comprehend what she said, so lost in his own guilt. "Mallory...I am so, so sorry. I just got so wrapped up in it and...I...so sorry."

"Are you kidding me?" she laugh, "That was perfect. I came again when you slapped me. And when you had your hands on my throat... Oh and told me I don't deserve to cum but ordered me to anyway...Fuck, Doc...you need to let that side out more often."

"So...you liked it?"

"Taste my sin and tell me what you think," she whispered, putting her fingers into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around each digit, cleaning her juices off each finger, savoring the taste of her.

He affirmed, "Sure seems like it."

She kissed him then, long and tender. As she disentangled, she moaned, "I really do love tasting me in your mouth. Mmm...I really taste good, don't I?"

"I'm a fan. Definitely."

She leaned in close, breathing heavy on the side of his face, his neck, his ear, whispering, "Better than your wife?"

"Don't..." he warned.

"Don't what?" she asked, tongue darting across his ear then retracting, "Don't remind you that while your fucking my hungry little mouth, your wife was probably sitting at her desk blissfully unaware? Do you not like when I remind of that?"

"You know how I..." Greg trailed off. In truth, he didn't know what to say.

Mallory snaked her hand down and grabbed his cock, hard and slick with her saliva and leaking pre-cum. She stroked him roughly and announced in a much louder voice, "Because your dick tells me you ABSOLUTELY love when I mention her. When I compare myself to her. When I remind you that I'm such a hot piece you can't help but violate your wedding vows...over and over and over again."

She was right of course. He loved it. Then he hated himself for it. Then he loved that queasy feeling of feeling guilty for cheating on her and feeling good for getting away with something and feeling bad for still loving her and acting this way and feeling vindicated for finally getting what he wanted sexually from a woman who reassured him that not only was his kinks normal, they made her hot.

"Not going to even try to deny it then?" she teased him, snapping him out of his reverie, "My, my, my, Doctor Clark. It seems I am corrupting you."

Greg mumbled something in response.

"What's that, baby? I couldn't hear you."

"I'd much rather you were fucking me," he stated again, louder.

She smiled seductively and licked her lips, "Oh, I can do that, Doc. In fact, I can do both at the same time."

Mallory shoved him down on the table and kissed him deeply before climbing astride him, back to him. Inexorably slowly, she lowered herself downward, taking his hard thick member deep inside her. She rose off him and repeated the process three more times, waiting for him to react. 

Finally, he broke, hissing, "God...you're driving me crazy."

"Mmm, am I Doc? What should I do?"

"Just...just fucking ride me."

"Would you like that?"

"Yes. Please. Fuck me."

"Will you play by the rules?"

Although nervous about what that might mean, Greg was too aroused to employ proper risk-reward evaluation and readily agreed.

"Glad to hear it," she whispered, driving herself fully down on him with a lascivious moan. When he was buried to the hilt inside her, she began to rotate her hips clockwise and milk him by clenching and unclenching her kegels.

"Yesssssssssssss," he responded, grabbing her hips, "How can you be so tight and so wet at the same time."

"That is the mystery that is me. Are you ready to play now?"

"Whatever you want, Mal. Just keep making me feel so good."

"Oh, I will. I'm going to make you feel so good while I ride you. Do you like watching my back, my ass, while I fuck you, Doc."

"God, yes. You look so good. You've got an amazing body. These two dimples in your lower back...uhhhh," he interrupted himself to moan with pleasure, "how I can see your muscles flexing as you bounce up and down on me...just incredible."

"Good, Doc, good. I like to be appreciated. You ready for the rules?"




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 12



"Uh-huh."

"I want you cum on me. On my tits, my stomach, my legs above the boots...everywhere but inside me or on my face. I want to be able to put my coat and drive home covered in your cream without anyone have a clue."

"Damn! Fuck! You're so dirty!"

"You like that, don't you? That I'm a nasty little slut that has all these filthy thoughts in her head that she can't keep to herself?"

"You know I do."

"I guess that makes you pretty dirty, too, doesn't it, Doc? Fucking a teenager in your office, in her apartment, in CHURCH, in your own bed next to your sleeping wife!"

"Yesssssssss," he hissed.

Then, she abruptly stopped riding him. "Rule 2!" she proclaimed, "You answer every question I ask. As long as you keep answering, I keep riding. Anytime you don't or won't or hesitate or try to avoid, I stop. You do it too much, you piss me off enough, I jump off this table and leave you rock hard with no release. Understood?"

Greg's anxiety rose again but, once again, he was far too turned on to let cooler heads prevail. He acquiesced. 

Mallory then began to ride him slowly, undulating her body to emphasize the suppleness of her body, the contraction and relaxation of her muscles that she knew the Doctor found hypnotic and arousing. It was also allowed her to grind her clit and g-spot briefly against wherever she could find purchase, keeping her plenty turned on while allowing her not to completely lose her mind. She needed to save that for after she had all her questions answered.

"Let's start with," she quickly found that she had to parse out each questions slowly to keep some semblance of normal breathing going, "How did you fuck your wife last night?"

"What?" Greg gasped, moved by both surprise at her question and the exquisite of a talented coed's pussy flexing around his rigid prick. 

"Sorry," Mallory replied, voice dripping with as much sarcasm as her short breaths could manage, "I forgot she's too proper for such coarseness. How did you make love to your wife last night?"

"How do you—" 

She slowed her pace to punish him for avoiding the question and answered his, "I pay attention. I am sure you guys have sex at random times...I witnessed it once, as you recall. But I do know for sure, every Thursday is sex night."

"Fine, fine. Are you jealous?"

She slowed down even further, "I told you before. I'm not jealous, I'm competitive. Now remember, I'm the one who asks the questions. Answer mine."

"What was it again?" Greg joked.

Mallory playing it unamused, pulled herself off him, hovering just above. The sudden shock of cold air made him whimper, "Please don't stop..."

"Answer," she demanded, simply, in response.

"Fine!" he grumbled, giving in, "Missionary, okay?"

She dropped herself down hard on him, almost squealing in pleasure as she felt him thrust into her.

"Fuuuuuuuuck," Greg moaned, "Feel so good."

"You like that?" she moaned, beginning to ride her employer, "You like fucking me?"

"Yesssssss..."

"Better than 'making love' to your wife?" Mallory let the making love part of the question drip with barely concealed condescension.

"I—well—it's different."

"Tighter?"

"Uhhhhhh...yes, a bit."

"Wetter?" she gasped, rotating her hips at the end of each downstroke.

"Oh god," he mumbled, "yes. You know you drive me crazy when you do this?"

She allowed herself a smile, "Why do you think I do it? So...missionary? No oral?"

"I...went down on her."

"She didn't suck that big hard cock of yours, though?"

Quietly with a trace of disappointed embarrassment Greg replied, "No."

"You didn't get to fuck your wife's pretty face?"

"Haven't...uhhhhhhh...in years. And never 'fucked.'"

"Rrrrrrrrrright. Did you cum?"

"Yes," he admitted, feeling increasingly weird which, in turn, made him more turned on, which made feel even weirder and so on.

The babysitter could feel his cock jump inside here with the question and delighted in how he enjoyed her pushing his boundaries. She smiled and whispered in her sexy voice, "Where?"

"In the condom?"

"A condom!" she exclaimed, stunned, "Your own wife makes you use a condom?"

"Y...yes. Doesn't want to...to use birth control."

"And how do you fuck me? Do I make you wear a condom?"

"N...nooooo," he admitted as she began to ride him harder.

"And I let you cum anywhere, don't I?"

"Yes."

"Tell me where."

"On...on...your face. Your tits. Your stomach. Your legs. Your back. Inside you. God!"

"That's right. Anywhere. You know why?"

"I...I don't."

"Because I'm a slut. A dirty, naughty, teen slut. Aren't I? A fucking whore! Just a filthy little girl. A seductive homewrecker, right?!" she rode him ever harder, cumming as she denigrated herself.

"If...if you say so."

"Tell me what I am!"

"I...Mal...please...you know..."

She stopped abruptly and began to climb off the title. He felt his anger flash and grabbed her hips, pulling her back.

"Bitch!" he grunted.

"Yessssssssssss," she moaned. "More!"

"Slut!" he shouted, now actively pulling and pushing her up and down on his rigid member, "Dirty, fucking whore!"

"Oh god Doc. Do you kiss your wife with that mouth?"

"Stop asking me about her!" he demanded.

"Do you eat her prude cunt with that mouth, Greg?"

"I told you to stop!" he yelled her.

"It's too bad she's such a damn bore, Doc, because she has a great body. I tell you, if I could get her to loosen up, trim that pussy up....Mmmm, the things I'd do to her for you. Would you like to see that; to see me seduce your frigid wife?"

Stop..." he moaned it now, his conscience losing to his libido.

"Answer me."

"She'd never go for it."

"Ooooo...so I'd have to be forceful then? Would you like to see that, me raping your respectable wife, make her into my little lesbian slave? Break her until she's just our little fuck toy?"

She could feel him grow even harder, heard his breathing become irregular, his stroke become more insistent.

"Nevermind," she moaned, "I can feel how hard it makes you. Are you picturing her face glazed and dripping with my juices while she begs you to cum all over it to, fingering herself the whole time?"

"Pleeeeeeease," he begged, "stop."

"Tell me the truth!"

"Yes! Ok! Yes! I want to fuck you while we make her suck your tits and rub your clit. I want to tell her how hard you make, how good you fuck, what you do for me that she never would. Ok?"

Mallory came again, breathe rattling out of her as she shook. Gasping, she told him, "Oh, Doc. That would be amazing. I'd love to make that come true for you."

"Never," he stressed, bitterness seeping in to his tone, "happening."

"Remember that night at my apartment? With Brenda?"

"Yesssssss," he groaned, the sight of them swapping his cum flashing in his mind.

"I want to...to do that again. But all the way. I want you to see me go down on another girl, make her cum all over my face. I want to grind my pussy against hers. I want you to fuck her from behind while her face is buried in my cunt. I want to do it all. With anyone you want. I bet I could convince Brenda to be our little plaything. Or someone else. Would you like that?"

"God!" he exclaimed after her nasty diatribe, "Yes. But you don't..."

"Stop!" she ordered, "I'm not her. I'm not scared of what you want. I'm just as filthy as you are. Worse even."

"Oh! Fuck! You feel so good. I'm so close!"

She leapt off the table and dragged him to the floor with her. She grabbed his slick cock and began to stroke him hard and fast.

"Remember your promise?"

"To...to...cum all over you?"

"Yesssssssss. Coat me!"

"God...so dirty!"

"Mmhmm, your nasty little slut."

She noticed he had his eyes shuttered tightly and demanded, "Look at me! Please. I want you to see what you are doing to me! How depraved you are! What you've done to me. Made me a whore. Filthy, slutty garbage."

"Fuccccccccccccccccck!" he screamed and let us a torrent of cum splashing first against her tits. She angled him downward and subsequent streams landed across her toned tan abs, coated her navel, and glazed the area above her vagina. She moaned and cooed as he groaned and thrashed in her hands.

Finally satisfied he was spent, Mallory let him go and Greg flopped on the floor next to her.

"Wow..." he groaned, "I know a good feminist like myself shouldn't be okay with the things you say, but...god...it turns me on so much."

She idly played with the hot cum slowly cooling her stomach, "Don't worry, Doc, it's our secret. Besides, I'm a fourth wave feminist...I say if it feels good, and believe me it does, then any words you want to use are fine."

She stood then and Greg watched as sauntered around the room naked to collect her coat. He saw small streamss of his cum drizzle down her legs, some over her boots, as she put on her coat.

"Like what you see there Doctor Clark?"

"Love it," he confessed.

"What a sweet thing to say to a girl like me," she smiled. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. Before she straightened up she whispered in his ear, "Now, tonight when you go to bed, just think of me driving home, naked but for my coat and boots and covered in your cum. Think of that as your wife sleeps peacefully next to you and try not to jerk yourself off."

With that, she stood, spun about, and strutted out of the exam room, into his office, then into waiting room and beyond.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 13



The phone rang and Dr. Greg Clark's teeth chattered with overflowing adrenaline. This was probably a bad idea. 

In the bathroom above, he heard the pipes rattle to life as Gina started the shower. She had just gotten back from the gym, forcing him to stop literally mid-stroke. He hid his obvious excitement under his robe just as she popped her head in the door.

"Hey! Everything been okay here?" she asked, chipper.

"Yep. Just...umm...reading her in bed," he badly improvised.

Gina did not seem to notice. "Great. I'm going to grab a shower and then join you, okay?"

"Sure, sure. Unless you want some help." Greg figured it was worth a shot. No need to tell her that he was so hard because he had been thinking about the sight of their babysitter dripping with his cum as she donned a trenchcoat and left his office."

She smirked and waved him, "I'm exhausted. Thanks though."

He didn't have a choice then but to get off. After all, what would she say if he kept het up because he was too hard to sleep?

Still, this idea? This was a terrible one. Dangerous. Dumb.

He knew it.

But he wasn't hanging up the phone.

With a soft click, the ringing stopped. Clark held his breath. Then, a sleepy, throaty voice came through the other side of the line.

"Mmmmmmmmmm," Mallory, his children's coed babysitter, purred, "Doc, it's a bit late. Us college kids have classes sooo early in the morning."

He could practically hear her stretch, her small, ripe breasts pushing against the tight fabric of her t-shirt, a sleepy, but naughty smile curling the edge of her lips.

He considered a mumbled apology, perhaps playing it off as a dialing his pocket, but his boiling blood would not let him. He needed a fix or he'd never get to sleep.

"I know," he admitted, voice replete with hesitance and shame, "But I...I couldn't sleep."

"Oh, no," the teen cooed, her voice a pout, "That's a shame. Do you need a lullaby?"

Greg ignored the question and the tone, "I've been...thinking about what you told me to and—"

"And what was that? I can't recall," she interrupted him, playing dumb.

"You said to think about you...umm...covered in my cum, naked under your coat except from those high heeled boots. And...and, driving home that way. Covered in cooling cum without anyone the wiser."

"Oh, that's right. I did tell you to do that, didn't I? That's a pretty hot image, isn't it Doc?"

"Yes," he sighed into the receiver.

"So not exactly the stuff of nightmares, right?"

"No. Not at all."

"What's the problem then?"

"I'm...well, it's like...I'm really turned on, ok?!"

"Oh, I see. Those thoughts got you all...hot and bothered did they?

"Yesss..."

"Why don't you just take it out on your wife there? I'm sure she'd be fine with you drilling her to the bed while calling out my name."

"I..." he went speechless.

"Relax, Greg, I'm kidding," she soothed, "Although if you ever decide to do that, film it. I want a copy of it to keep me warm when I don't have...access to you. Do you want me to come over there and...relieve some of the pressure?"

"NO!" he barked, immediately regretting it, "I mean, yes, I really do. But that's not a good idea."

"It seems like a great idea to me," she disagreed, drawing out every letter of great, "But whatever. Your choice. You want to come over here and then cum over me? We can see if my bed can take the all the action?"

"God," he muttered to himself, "That's...very tempting. But I...really can't. Gina's just in the shower. It'd be pretty suspicious if I just took off right now."

"Oh no, Doc. Gina's right upstairs right now? Awake?"

"Yes, but...but in the shower so—"

"I don't know whether to be honored or insulted, Greg. Do you think I'm just your little speed dial whore? That I'll put down everything I've got going on because you need to cum before your frigid wife gets out of the shower?"

"That's not...I just...God, Mal, you just have me so crazy right now."

"Hmm...ok then. Tell me, Doc, what are you wearing?"

"I...what?"

"If you won't drive here and you won't let me in there, you don't leave me with a lot of options. But the thought of you in that big house, cock rock hard and tenting your pajamas, with Gina totally oblivious and no one else to take care of you just breaks my heart. So I figured you might be interested in a little phone sex."

"Umm, ahh," Greg hesitated. This was probably a bit risky. Quite a bit. But as he wrapped his hand around his dick through his clothes and found it still unyielding, he let his better instincts be drowned out by Mallory's sexy, unsavory siren song.

"Ok...yes, please," he groaned, rubbing himself for a moment.

"Oh, anything for my man," she assured him, "Now I believe I asked you a question?"

"I have—"

"Wait!" she stopped him cold, "Where are you?"

"In the office, first floor."

"Ok, good. Just trying to respect your safety first mantra. Door closed?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. Continue, please."

"Okay. Well...I have on a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt."

"Come on, Greg, describe them for me."

"Right. I'm wearing a black t-shirt with a logo on it for a sandwich place near where I went to school."

"The Hungry Beast?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Mmm...I like that one on you. You look really good in it. What else are you wearing?"

"A pair of light cotton pajama pants. They're blue, like light blue."

"If I was there, could I see how hard you are for me through them? How turned on you got just think of me driving around dripping in cum?"

"Oh yes, Mal. There's no way to hide it in these pants."

"Good, good. I like that. I like what you are wearing, but I want you to be wearing less. Can you take off your shirt for me?"

"Whatever you want," he told her, placing the phone down for a moment before returning to report, "Ok, it's off."

"Goooood. And your pants, too?"

"Just my pants?"

"Yes. When you get them off, tell me."

"They're off."

"Good...now what are you wearing?"

"Just a pair of boxer shorts. They're like a dark blue color."

"I can see you in my mind now, Greg. Standing in that office, nothing on but your boxers, cock straining to be free. Is it, Doc? Is your dick that hard for a teenage girl?"

"Oh, god, Mal...you make me sound so dirty."

"Well, is it?"

"Yes. God, yes!"

"And I bet you want to take it out right now, don't you?"

"Very much so."

"Too damn bad!" she mocked, "You get turned on by a teenager, you are going to beat off like one. Don't have the guts to come over here and fuck me proper cuz you are too scared? Fine, you can cum in your boxers then. Unless you want to hang up and do this on your own? Do whatever you want?"

After a pause, Greg whispered, feeling small, "N—no."

"I thought so. You are too addicted to me to hang up this phone. Hearing me getting off is worth the price of messing up your boxers like a fifteen year old, isn't it?"

"...Yes."

"God, I love a man who can choke me in the mid-morning and take a scolding late at night. There's no way you don't leave me positively wet, Dr. Clark."

"Can...can you tell me what you are wearing?"

"Well, I thought you'd never ask, sir. Our apartment's a little warm tonight so I was just about to go to sleep in this little cami and a pair of panties."

"What do they look like?"

"The cami is kind of silky with a little lace at the top. Spaghetti straps. Red. It's probably for someone a bit bustier than me so it hangs loose on me. If I'm not careful, sometimes my breast can pop out and when I bend over...Mmm...I can just tell Brenda's trying her hardest not to look but I know she can see every inch of my tits. I like to wear it around the apartment to clean up or when I know she's got a project or something. It drives her up a wall, I know it. She spends a lot of time hiding in our bathroom and trying to be very quiet."

"You're so evil," he groaned, trying to restrain himself from tugging himself to bliss, instead choosing a gentle kneading motion.

"She's like you, Greg. She's has all this nasty, naughty desires kicking around her brain but she's so scared to embrace it. Scared of what she might turn into. I'm just helping her come to terms with her lusts in more of a hurry."

"So, you're a humanitarian?" Greg managed to joke.

"If that's what it will take to get her pretty little goth face between my legs someday soon, sure, I'm a humanitarian. Anyway, I don't remember hearing you complain when I got her to taste your seed off my tongue."

"Uhhhh," he moaned, "I'm picturing it right now."

"Don't," she return moaned, "I want all your attention on me right now."

"Ok...then tell me about your panties."

"You remember the white pair of tangas I wore the first time you took me? After I watched you have sex with your wife and then gave you what you really wanted and needed."

"Uh-huh."

"These are like that pair's cousin. Same style, but black."

"Are they wet?"

"You mean, am I so wet that I made my panties all sopping, too?"

"Yesssss..."

"Let me see for you," she said and then gasped her answer, "Oh yeah. God! You make me so wet, Doc, all the time. They're soaked."

"Are you still touching yourself?"

"Mmmmhmmm...shouldn't have asked me to check if you didn't want me, too. I'm not able to resist touching my pussy anymore than you are. Do my clothes please you, Doctor Clark?"

"They do."

"Should I...disrobe?"

"Well, it sounds like your panties are too soaked to be helpful so...yes, take them off."

"Ooooo," she moaned as Greg heard the sound of fabric sliding down flesh, "Thank you, sir."

"No, thank you."

"And my cami? Should I take that off too?"

"No. Just push it up over your tits. I want it to be like you were so turned on you couldn't bother to take your shirt off before you started to finger fuck that beautiful cunt of yours."

"That's such a bad word, Greg. Sooooooooo bad. I don't think Gina would approve of you calling her vagina a cunt, would she?"

"No. Maybe that's why she's not the one keeping me up all night from across town. Do you approve of me calling your vagina a cunt?"

Mallory's breath hissed from between her teeth as he said it again. "Yes. I...I very much approve. Tell me about this fantasy of me too horny to properly undress. Have you had it before?"

"Mmmhmm."

"When?"

"Several times."

"How does it happen that I end up in such an...amorous state?"

"I picture it as happening before...all this. You are wearing a fairly conservative outfit. Just a pair of jeans and green v-neck sweater you have, nothing special. I am driving you home and from my height and the angle you are sitting at, I can see down your shirt and for the first time it clicks: you are incredibly sexy. I quickly look away, but not before my cock picks up on what my brain is thinking and goes rigid. You see it, but we are both too scared to act on anything so we drive in silence the rest of the way. As we go, your brain won't let you forget about what you just saw and it starts spinning out fantasy after fantasy about what you'd like to do with that dick. You keep pushing them down and they keep popping right back up. You feel your nipples go hard, your pussy start to leak. The more you tell yourself to stop, the worse it gets."

Greg listened for a moment to Mallory's heavy breathing and the rhythmic wet suction that is unmistakably a woman fingering herself before continuing.

"By the time we pull into the driveway, every bump, every turn...anything that moves your body in the slightest causes friction for you, puts you right on the edge of moaning out loud, of begging me to do take you in the quickest, most brutish way possible.

"Instead we get to your house in time and you fly out of the car without even collecting your night's payment. You blow past your parents with a barely managed hello. You swing open your door, step into your room and, with your last bit of restraint, ease it closed again, and lock it. You toss your bag across the room, pull your sneaker off without unlacing them, and decide who gives a damn about taking socks off. Your jeans prove to be harder than you expected. Your heart is racing, you are bouncing about the room, all you want is to get them off, and touch your clit. It's like a fever in your mind. Finally, your get the buttons undone and push them and the thong you wore underneath them, to the ground. The rush of air on your pussy almost doubles you over it feels so good. 

"Aggressively, you push two fingers onto your clit and bite your lip. You let yourself fall to your knees, thrusting to two fingers inside your demanding gash and use the palm of your hand to keep pressure on your clit. You bite the edge of the bed to keep from screaming aloud all the obscene desires you are feeling.

"You want to be able to play with your nipples with your other hand but are way too into things to stop now. So you just roughly shove your shirt above your breasts. And there you are, on your knees, biting your mattress, one hand buried between your legs, the other mauling your tits. The perfect picture of a naughty slut."

"God," she gasped, shuddering with a small orgasm as he completed his story, "I...wow...so hot."

"Did you like that?"

"Very, very much. I do have a question though. What happens to you after you drop me off?"

"Depends on my mood. Sometimes, when you throw your purse, it pocket dials me and I hear the whole thing. The grunting, gasping, and quiet cursing. The sound of you pounding your fingers in and out of yourself. By the time I get home, I'm so hard that I can't hide and certainly can't go inside in that state. So I jerk myself off in the car while listening to you.

"Other times, I imagine that you forgot to draw the shades. As I drive up the hill away from your neighborhood, I realized I can see right in your window. I tell myself I shouldn't watch, but I'm powerless. I watch you abuse yourself until you are sated and turn off the lights."

"Mmmm, Doc. Such an active imagination. Did you like telling me how you objectify me in your head?"

"Wha...I mean..."

"I'm kidding. Did you like telling me one of your specific fantasies?"

"Yessssss...it was amazing to hear you cum while I was telling you."

"I'm sorry about that. This was supposed to be about you ge—"

He cuts her off, "No...never apologize for that. I would literally give up on food or water if it let me see and hear you cum all the time."

"Still...let's focus on you. Do you still have those boxers on?"

"Yes. Do you want me to—"

"What did I tell you earlier? Leave them on. I want you to cum in them. It'll be like you are back in high school and that girl was too scared to actually touch you and instead was constantly making you splash your cum all over your shorts. I think that idea kind of turns you on, doesn't it?"

"It...it does. I don't know why, but it does."

"Don't worry about the why. It turns me on too. I see you after the senior prom, making out with this girl in her living room, her prom dress a sloppy mess now. You're so hard and you are begging her to touch you, skin on skin, just this once. But she refuses. And you are upset and disappointed but also so horny that you'll take what you can get. So when she hikes up that dress over her head, straddles your lap, and begins to grind you towards climax you shut up and take it."

"Were you different after your prom?"

"If it was you and I who went to prom together not me and the idiot and you and the coward, it definitely would be. No one would be able to fix my dress it would be so ripped up and cum saturated. And your tux? Forget ever get that deposit back."

"Oh god," he groaned, "I wish that was my prom."

"Mmmm, me too. Me too."

They both went quiet for a moment and just listened to the sounds of each other's self pleasure and heavy breathing. Over his head, the rush of water bouncing off the brass tub and circling its way down the drain persisted.

"I need more," he whispered, almost to himself.

"What?"

"I'm so hard, but I need more. To make me cum. Please...I'm so close."

"Of course, Greg. I'll help you. Is your computer on?"

"Umm...yeah. But what's—"

"Sit down and go to Facebook. Go to my page. And don't stop touching yourself!" she ordered.

After a few moments, she heard him moaned through the phone, "I'm there."

"Now look up a photo of me. Choose one of your favorites. Tell me what it is."

"You are on a beach chair in a red bikini. You have your hairs in sort of a braided crown around the top of your head. You're wearing sunglasess. You are holding some kind of iced coffee beverage thing with a straw near your mouth and your sexy pink tongue is peeking through your lips, chasing that straw."

"Ooooo, I know exactly which one you mean. Why that one?"

"It's just so innocent on the surface. But the tongue, the condensation running down the cup over your hand, the bikini bottoms being a little small...there's a hint of sin underneath."

"Mmm...and so there is. God...I'm so young in that photo."

"You are so young now."

"Which you fuckin' love. I just have to mention my age to make that dick of yours jump, you bad man. I mean, that was taken during a trip I took with my parents my senior year of high school. I'm the very definition of barely legal there. You are jerking off to a picture of a girl who turned 18 two weeks before."

Oh god..."

"How does that make you feel?"

"So...so dirty. Like...there's something in me. You...you put it there. It makes me...I'm just...it makes me like a junkie."

"You are. You are sick...infected. Like me. I gave you what I have, Doc. Now we are both stuck. I'm sorry but I needed to share it. I was compelled to. I needed you to be as...wrong as me. And now you are. And you love it, don't you? The dirtier your thoughts, the nastier your fantasies, the more turned on you are?"

"Yesssssss..."

"And you know it's wrong, don't you? To do the things to me that you have. To want to do all those other things? You know it's wrong, but you don't want to stop either, do you?"

"No...please...no."

"Good. Me either. I love being a nasty slut...I don't want to ever stop."

"My nasty slut," he corrected her.

"Oooo, possessive now, are we?"

His confidence faltered a moment, "Is that...that okay?"

"Definitely. You want me, I belong to you. I actually have a fantasy about you staking your claim to me."

"Tell me," he urged.

"Alright. Well, it starts with you and I on your couch. We both still kind of dressed...you're still wearing a t-shirt and dress pants. My shirt is unbuttoned and I have no bra underneath. My skirt is hiked up. We're making out and we're dry humping. I'm actually just grinding myself on your hard cock and I'm getting so close to cumming when we hear the garage door opening. It's Gina so we have to scatter and make ourselves look appropriately. 

"She comes in chipper and full of energy and I just know there's no way she's going to bed any time soon so I'm not gonna get fucked. I'm horny and pissed and decide to get the hell out of there and go out dancing with some friends. I leave the address in your pants pocket as a tease...I never expect you to actually show up.

"We get to the club and I'm still buzzing on sexual energy. My panties are soaked...I can feel them clinging to my lips as I walk. I want, no need, some kind of attention or I don't know what I'll do. Explode probably. I head to the dance floor and start grinding against every dude there. Just being nasty. Before long, I'm surrounded by guys. There's so many of them, Doc, and they're touching me everywhere. And I'm letting them. I'm goading them, pushing for more. In my mind, I can see them surrounding me, undressing me, taking me. One in my mouth, one in cunt, one in each hand. And just when I'm about to suggest that to my four favorites, I see you.




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 13



"You are standing by the bar, sipping on an old fashioned, eyeing me. You're wearing the black suit and shirt with a green tie...the outfit you wore to that benefit last year. I can't read your expression, so I start to dance more provocatively, trying to get you to react. Still nothing.

"I'm horny and frustrated and, god, I need to be fucked. And you just stand there, impeccable and imperceptible. I grab the first guy and kiss him. He's ok, not great, but that's fine. I'm more concerned with performing for you now. But when I look to the bar in smug satisfaction, I don't see you.

"Disappointed, I am about to just give up on you and let these boys have their way with me when I hear your voice. You tell them that I'm with you...that I'm yours. They laugh and mock, saying it sure doesn't look that way to them. Calmly, you move past them to me. You look deeply into my eyes and command, 'On your knees.'

"Without hesitation I do it and find myself eye to cock with your steel desire. I look up at you, eyes wide, mouth moist and open ever so slightly. You nod. You say nothing, but I know what I'm to do. I unzip you and let your dick hit me in the cheek as it springs forth.

"You are in control, guiding me on how fast to do, how wet, etc but not to the point of fucking my mouth. At first, people are joking and catcalls but before long the club goes quiet. Someone kills the music. I feel so many eyes on us. All I can hear is the sound of my mouth sliding up and down on your dick and your occasional moans. No one tries to stop us. A few girls seem to want in, but you don't grant their request. Everyone just stands in rapt attention, their own arousal growing but finding themselves unable to pull their eyes away.

"I beg you to fill my mouth with your load and soon you do just that. I let everyone see how much you fill my mouth and take a deep swallow. You lift me to my feet and carry me out of the club. We are just planning to get to a hotel and finish what we've started, but I'm too turned on. I beg you and you finally give, laying me on the hood of your car and taking me right there."

"Wow..." he groaned. Mallory could hear the rapid rustling of fabric and knew he was sticking to the rules. The combination of that and saying her story for the first time set her off again. 

"Fffffffffuuuuuuuuccccccccccccckkkkkkkkk," she bellowed into the receiver, hips pitching upward from the bed.

"God, I wish I could see you right now, Mal."

"Te—te—tell me what I'd look like," Mallory managed.

"You're flush. Your face obviously, but I can see if on your chest as well. Your nipples are as hard as I've ever seen them. Your hair is a mess, cascading out in every direction. I can see your inner thighs are slick with your lust. Your fingers gleam with it as well. Periodically, you put a digit or two in your mouth, sucking them clean, eyes rolling back into your head with enjoyment, a humming sound in your throat. Your toes curl and uncurl at random. You writhe back and forth, as though your body was trying to get you to stop, the level of pleasure being almost too strong."

"Oh, Doc, I wish you were here to see me. I wish it was you inside me instead of my fingers. I'm sooooooooo wet for you."

"I want to be inside you too. So deep..."

"Would you fuck me if you were here? Would you fuck this teen pussy?"

"Yesssssssssss," he hissed, "I'd pin your hands above your head and just use you until I was sated."

"So bad, Doctor Clark. So bad."

"You want it!"

"Yes. God yes. I'd love to be your plaything. Just let you take me and use me. Fuck me as hard and as long as you want. That's what I'm here for....FUCK!" she came again.

"Oh god," he moaned, hearing her gasp, groan, and whimper, "I'm so close Mal."

"Are you still looking at that photo of me?"

"It's on my computer, but I haven't really been starin—"

"Well start now. Look at my body. Does it please you?"

"Yes. God yes."

"Stare at it. Look at my tongue. Picture it wrapping around your cock, not a straw. My bikini top undone, hanging between my tits. My hand rubbing frantically between my legs, over the fabric of my tiny bottoms. Look at my smooth tan skin. Now picture it dripping with your cream. On my face. In my hair. On my tits. Filling my navel. Can you imagine it?"

"Mmmhmmm...." was all he could manage, he breath ragged.

"Do you want it?"

Just a grunt now.

"Can you still hear the shower?"

Slowly, "I....oh....no. It's...it's not on."

"Uh-oh, Doc, your wife must be done. She's got to towel off and put on some pajamas and then she'll come looking for you. She's going to catch you jerking your dick to a Facebook picture of your children's babysitter. Is that what you want?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Then stop. Hang up the phone. Go to bed."

A whimper.

"You can't, can you?"

"....god...too fucking hard. Need to cum so bad."

"Well then hurry Greg. Stroke that cock. Stroke it hard. Fast. Gina's going to be there any second. Any. Fucking. Second. And then what? No more marriage. Limited custody. Reputation and the career in ruins. Am I worth that, Doc? Is my pussy worth the risk?"

"I...it must be because I can't stop. God, I can't stop. Wish you were fucking me right now!"

"Then cum for me. Fill your boxer, you dirty old man. You coward. Fill those shorts because you won't come over here and teach this nasty teen who's in charge. Fill those shorts because you can't let your wife know how perverted your brain is. Cum. For. Me. Cum. For. Me."

"Soooo close," he whispered. Then, "CUMMMINNNNNNNNNNG!"

On either end of the phone all either of them could hear was their ragged breathing.

"Was it good?" Mallory spoke first.

"Yes. God....I'm soaked, Mal."

"Mmmm, me, too. Sign of a job well done, I think. Will you be able to sleep now?"

"I...yes, definitely."

"Good. Good."

"Thank you Mallory."

"Thank you Doc. Best call to get me out of bed after I just got comfortable I've gotten...ever. Get to bed now. I'll see you soon."



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 14



Many towns, come fall, boast festivals, fairs, or carnivals. Dr. Greg Clark’s town was no different. For two weekends every year in October, the town green was consumed by gigantic slides best traversed atop burlap sacks, humming generators powering merry-go-rounds and food trucks, and countless booths hawking paintings by unknown artists, knit caps, inflatable cartoon characters, and who knows what else. Fall Fest became the focus of all the residents and the businesses. Local restaurants trotted out their best carnival food in the hopes that people would like it enough to sample the restaurant’s full menu in the months to come, insurance companies, pet groomers, massage therapists, and more set up booths to give away cheap trinkets and hopefully get their names in people’s minds. 

Even the college ran some booths including a haunted house ride that was a favorite of Greg’s oldest. Well, not a favorite so much as a ride she’d stand outside of for three years running now, ask a series of questions about it, and then refuse to go on as she didn’t want to be scared. The doctor was fine with that but always a little curious as to what, exactly, his daughter was hoping to hear in all those questions. He was a little bit relieved to see a “temporarily out of order” sign hanging on the ghoulish mouth that served as the front door.

Greg strolled aimlessly around the various amusements, just killing time. Gina and the kids would be meeting him at 2, but he had managed to arrive much earlier than he had expected. He figured he could just take in the sights with the excess minutes and see if there was any silly crafts that might catch his eye for gag gifts come Christmas time. 

That had turned out to only take 13 minutes. 

So, with 35 still on the clock he allowed himself to simply enjoy the scent of fall in the year, the subtle but soon to grow bite of chill in the air, the sight of trees awash in reds, yellows, and oranges. 

This total mental absorption was perhaps why he nearly trampled Mallory when she popped out from behind the Haunted House.

“Careful there Doc. Can’t just go around rubbing up against coeds, unless you want someone to call you a pervert.”

Greg allowed a small, tight smile. While he had come to be a lot more…agreeable to giving in to the pleasures his children’s babysitter offered, he still was uncomfortable with her increasing tendency to blur boundaries. The bold teen was growing increasing demonstrative with her affections in front of Gina and the kids, hugging him when she never had before, finding excuses to bump into him playfully before he and Gina might go out for the evening, these sorts of things. When no one was in the room, but sure to return soon, she was even worse, kissing his neck, licking his earlobe, whispering dirty phrases to him, or, once, shimmying out of her underwear and shoving them in his jacket pocket after Gina had briefly run upstairs to grab a small handbag.

Despite her protestations of not wanting to break up his marriage or replace his wife, the increase in recklessness left him wondering how truthful that was. That, in turn, only served to increase his conflicted feelings. He knew he was cheating on his wife, there was simply no denying it now. He knew but indulged in some delusions to help him accept it. First, that it was just sex between he and Mallory and that neither of them were emotionally invested. Second, although their “riskiness” was more stage play that reality so the chances they would be caught were quite slim. Lastly, he was just a passing fad for Mallory; she’d be over him and onto some college guy before they knew it and therefore there was no reason to worry about this becoming a long-term thing or something he’d have to put the brakes on.

“Soooooo,” she murmured in sing song, arms behind her back, chest pushed up and forward, eyes cast down in a show of shyness, one foot nervously drawing figure eights on the ground, “Where’s the family?”

“Not here yet,” the doctor replied, trying to stay distant, “I’m meeting them over by the MEGASlide at 2 o’clock.”

She glanced at her watch and smirked, her pink tongue peeking ever so slightly from out between her white teeth. “Why that gives you over a half hour to play, doesn’t it?”

“No, not really, Mallory. Not here.”

“No?” she cocked her head, “Are you surrrrrrrre?”

He kept his tone neutral and light, affecting a chuckle. “Yes, I’m sure. 

“Is it the way I’m dressed? Is it not sexy enough for you? Are you losing interest?”

Despite himself, he looked at her. She was dressed in dark green slip on sneakers, tight, flattering jeans, and the official Fall Fest long sleeve t-shirt that she had obviously chosen a very small size to ensure snugness. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and was makeup free, only the temperature putting a little cold induced blush into her cheeks. She looked clean and wholesome. It was only the look in her green eyes that betrayed how far from wholesome she was.

“You know it’s not that, Mallory. Gina and the kids are going to be here in a little while and I just think it’d be a bad ide—”

“I disagree, Doc, I really do,” she practically purred, placing her hand on his chest.

“Well, be that as it may…” he drifted off, the heat of Mallory’s hand radiating through his shirt.

“Okay, fine,” she pouted, feeling the triphammer pulse of his heart in his chest, “Can you just hold a ladder for me so I can replace some lights on the ride then, at least?”

“Yes, that I can do,” the doctor nodded and smiled, finding her defeated resignation oddly cute. “See,” he thought in self criticism, “she can take no for an answer.” 

She led him behind the haunted ride and into the maintenance door. As Greg’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, Mallory disappeared deeper into the area, calling back to him, “Just gonna grab the bulbs. Can you set up the ladder under that first strobe over there?”

He followed her instructions, dragging the heavy ladder over and snapping it open with a loose clatter. 

“So is this why the ride is out of order? Lights?” he asked, straightening his shirt over his strong frame.

“No. That’s something mechanical. We’re not allowed to touch that. We don’t actually run the ride, we just stand next to it and look cute.”

“Well, I’m sure you do an excellent job at that.”

“I absolutely do. Anyway, we have to be here regardless, in case the repairman actually shows up. So I figured I might actually be useful and replace some of the strobes.”

As Greg opened his mouth to respond, the lights went out with a dull thud.

“Whoa, Mal! You ok?” he yelled in the direction he assumed she was standing. He began to move forward, doing his best to navigate by the tiny bit of light that filtered in from outside through the gaps and holes of the rickety structure.

“Mal?” he tried again, concerned at her lack of response.

“I’m fine, Doc,” she breathed in his ear, somehow sneaking up behind him, “I just changed my mind.”

He jumped a little in shock, stumbling forward when he overcompensated to appear unsurprised. 

“Changed to what?” he mumbled, feeling a bit foolish on his knees.

As Greg moved to stand, he felt the babysitter’s weight push against the front of his wide shoulders. The unexpected counterweight sent the doctor awkwardly backwards. Mallory came with him, landing on top of him, her mouth exhaling warmly next to his ears.

“I don’t feel like putting up lights anymore,” Mallory finally replied huskily, her intentions very clear.

Greg found himself without a suitable rejoinder for the comment and simply grunted a confused, “Okay,” while trying once again to get back his feet. Before he could shrug off the coed, however, her mouth found his. Her hands aggressively grabbed the back of his head and pulled his face tighter against hers. He opened his mouth to gasp and her tongue eased in, massaging his. She tasted sweet, like cinnamon sugar. 

He melted into Mallory, his hands finding her pert ass, before recalling who he was and why he was there. The doctor then attempted to nudge her off him, grabbing her shoulders. Mallory proved stubborn and surprisingly persistent, hooking her legs around his, and chasing after his mouth each time he was able to get it free. They tumbled over each other on the floor, shoving towards and away from one another, mouths meeting and separating, tongues twisting against one another, hands brushing aside clothes in search of skin only to have another hand push the fabric back into place once more. Greg tried to ignore the fact that more than once when he was on top he found himself kissing her back hard rather than standing up and walking away.

When he finally regained some sense of composure, he found his voice once more.

“Enough,” Dr. Clark objected while sucking in a lungful of air.

“Shh,” Mallory moaned before gently biting his bottom lip, “Let me make you feel good.”

“Mal!”

“It’s okay, Doc, I can feel you. I can tell how excited you are.”

Greg couldn’t stop himself from blushing in reply. He was aware of himself, rigid and straining against the front of his jeans. Mallory gently ground against him and he, although wanting to do the right thing, pushed against her, almost automatically like a reflex.

“Is that a yes then, Gregory?” she whispered, also feeling his reciprocated movement.

“Please…I just—this isn’t the right time. This isn’t right.”

Mallory seemed to ignore him, her hand sliding between them and cupping his cock through his pants. A moment later, she was tugging the zipper downward. Finally, she sighed her reply, “No, Doc, it’s really not right at all. We’re sooooooo bad.”

This time Greg did successfully shove her off of him, sending her sprawling undignified before him.

“You can’t just do whatever you want because—”

“Because I turn you on,” she interrupted.

“Right. Yes. Or because—“

“I make you feel so good.”

“That too. But what I was going to say is—“

“That you want to fuck me?” she cut him off yet again, beginning to crawl back towards him, eyes alight with carnal glee.

“What? No. I mean, yes,” he verbally stumbled badly, “But no, not right now. Right now I should just be walking around, enjoying the fall day, and preparing to spend time with the family I love.”

“Or you could trust me, stay here a little while longer, and still meet your family. The only difference is you’ll leave me with a mouth full of cum. And I really think you want to give me a mouth full of cum today, don’t you Doc?”

“Er…umm...I… right now I—”

By this time, Greg was sitting up straight, but felt too unsteady, too clumsy to stand. Mallory’s hands were on him again, sliding up and down the front of his pants, teasing his cock. She dragged her nails down his legs, the slight burn leaving him hissing through his teeth, forcing his eyes closed. 

Then, for just a moment, there was nothing. The coiled tension of lust restrained began to seep out of the doctor. He let his fists unclench. But, before he could move, Mallory’s hot breath whispered through the space of his undone fly. He convulsed in delicious shock, every muscle clenching, his cock leaping upward, seeking the freedom of open air. 

Greg knew he was hard for her, knew he wanted something more than to let her take over, to erase the responsibilities from his head, all while greedily swallowing his load. Mallory was making meeting his wife and kids while dick still wet with her saliva sound like a very sensible idea.

Still, he gathered up all his will and objected.

“That’s enough Mallory!” he proclaimed in a voice that he intended to sound strong and forceful but instead came out as a rapid forced plea.

She stopped, then, finally, and looked up at him with wide, sad eyes. She fluttered her eyelashes and bit her lower lip ever so slightly. “You know I need your cock,” she almost whimpered, “I think I’m going through withdrawal it has been so long.”

Greg only shook his head and reached for his zipper. In response, she dove forward, slipping her hand inside his pants and grabbing him roughly. He groaned and shuddered, hips swiveling. In a quick easy motion, Mallory’s warm hand pulled his cock free and gave it a few short, rapid teasing jerks. She moaned lustily and loudly as she watched a single, large drop of precum crest and slide down the head like a single tear. With a delighted giggle she darted her head forward and caught it on her tongue. Without waiting for the doctor’s reaction, she wrapped her lips around the crown, teasing him with her teeth. 

Greg groaned and wrapped his hands in her hair. She gargled with joy and she began to sink his cock deeper into her wet, warm mouth, her lips sealing tightly around the hot, throbbing evidence of his dirty mind. As she began to bob her head, taking him deeper and deeper on each down stroke, she could feel his resistance slipping away. She delighted as his attempts to force her off, weak to start with, grow still more feeble until they became nonexistent and then reversed, urging her to become more aggressive.

Above her, the doctor’s groans followed suit. Weak objections became groans and grunts became gasping, urging commands, requests, and demands. She smiled around his cock as she heard him admit, “Fuck, want you so bad.”

She then began to swirl her tongue around the shaft in collaboration with the deep throating, exploring every bit of him with it, feeling the vein, the ridges of muscle, the rush of blood with each moment of further thrill she elicited from him.

“How can you be so good?” he mumbled, eyes rolling to the ceiling, arms and chest tensing, hands clasping her hair desperately in his fingers.

She hummed then, letting the vibrations of her mouth pulse around the doctor’s dick. He growled and cried out, his leg seemingly shaking on its own accord.

“God…don’t stop Mallory. Fucccck, please don’t stop. So goooood! Don’t stop sucking my cock, you little slut.” 

So, of course, Mallory did stop. She released his dick from her mouth with a pop and sat back up on her knees. He stared at her through lust glazed eyes, anger and desperation flicking through.

“Sorry,” she teased, gently stroking him, “It’s just awfully hot in here. You don’t mind if I get a bit more comfortable, do you?”

He shook his head with a foggy glance that told her he’d probably agree to damn near anything at this moment. If the clock wasn’t ticking and she wasn’t also so desperate to see her boss explode, she might’ve taken the time to enjoy his mindless compliance. Instead, she just enjoyed the fact that she could so easily take him to that place with just her mouth, tongue, the occasional graze of teeth, wanton glance, and breathily moaned dirty word or filthy sentiment.

“Thanks Doc…I appreciate that.”

Greg watched as Mallory pulled off her mis-sized tee-shirt, her small, firm, un-bra-encumbered breasts revealing themselves. As she gently tugged on the nipples, rolling then before her thumb and forefinger, she asked, “Do you like my tits, Dr. Clark?”

He nodded, staring at them.

“Mmm…good. I love the way you look at them. Such an inappropriate way for a married man to look at a teen girl.”

Greg could only groan in response as she grabbed his cock once more. He was trapped between guilt, shame, and unstoppable arousal, one of Mallory’s favorite places to put him.

“Did you mean what you said? That I’m a little slut?”

“Yessss,” he hissed back at her, watching her caress her breasts.

“Am I your little slut, Dr. Clark?”

“My naughty seductive little slut, yes.”

“Mmmm…good. Gets me so wet to hear you say that.”

She crawled back to him slowly then, enjoying how he watched her perky breasts sway with each move of her body. Her talented mouth engulfed him once more and he slipped fully into the narcotic lust cloud. He watched her with intensity as she ran her tongue from the base of the shaft to the head, where it spung around, collecting every drop of precum. Her hard nipples dragged over his thighs as her mouth bobbed up and down enthusiastically on his dick. Each barely there whisper of nipple on Greg’s skin sent tremors of pleasure through him. He could barely stop himself from thrashing about in lust fueled convulsions.

Mallory felt utterly indulgent, bestowing her full attention on the doctor’s cock. She loved the sensation of his thickening and hardening between her lips, the taste of her warm saliva mixed with his precum as she gulped it down. Her hands slid underneath his shirt, traces the trail of the tightening muscles in his abdomen, knowing it was because of her.

Before long, Greg gave into his baser instincts and began to actively thrust upward into the babysitter’s willing and receptive mouth. She hummed in delight even as she felt her eyes go glassy with tears of exertion trying to keep up. She willed him to fuck her face and he did not disappoint. She loved feeling both the boss and a sex toy at the same time, being so completely in control and totally used all at once.

As he bucked increasingly erratically, Mallory grasped his ass, moaning as she felt every muscle and tendon fire and recede, fire and recede, working overtime to get Greg what he desperately needed.

Glancing at the clock overhead, she noted time slipping away. Somewhat reluctantly, she resigned herself to accelerating things. She wanted to at least give the doctor the option of leaving on time to meet his family while hoping he’d choose to be late and spend more time with her. 

To that end, she grabbed his shaft and began to stroke it as she licked, suck, and lightly grazed the cock head with her teeth. Within moments, the doctor was grunting out how close he was before going taut, trembling, and bellowing out, “Cummmmmmmmming!”

Mallory swallowed over and over again, her mouth being filled with his lust, her tongue coated in it. The coed smiled widely at her employer and dramatically gulped the last drop before announcing, “Delicious.”

She crawled upward, curling into his chest. She listened to his gasping breath and rapid heartbeat and smiled in contentment. Her hand languidly sought and found his cock, gently rubbing him, reversing the trend towards shrinking and softening. She allowed herself an honest moment, confessing in her head how much she’d love to extend this moment, to cuddle and hold another and then, eventually, make slow gentle love to one another.

Unfortunately, Greg was experiencing a very different spectrum of emotions. As pulse and respiration began to emerge from the post-coital haze, he began to teeter on the edge of panic. While he tried to stop that train, calmness would not come. He unceremoniously disentangled himself from Mallory, face flushing, feeling ashamed as he struggled to push his now half-hard again cock into his boxers. 

His state of mind was obvious to the coed but she was unwilling to simply let him go. Laying back, she began to unzip her jeans. “You sure you won’t stay and return the favor?” she disingenuously challenged him, her hand disappearing into her underwear. She moaned loudly and arched her back as her fingers reached her clit.

“Or you could fuck me?” she offered. 

“You look like you are already ready again,” she followed up, pointing to the obvious bulge in his jeans.

Greg didn’t rise to the bait, too fearful, and disappointed in himself to process further stimuli. Instead he mumbled something about “talking about this later” and ran out the ride’s back door.

Mallory, meanwhile, enjoyed her own touch and began to think about how they could bypass that conversation and get right back to sex.

“Hmm,” she contemplated, a brainstorm forming, “I wonder how he feels about roleplay…”



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 15



Gina Clark rolled over in bed and apologized for the fourth time in ten minutes. "I'm sorry I feel so lousy," she whimpered, noise small and nasally. She had been struck with some kind of early flu or aggressive cold that left her stuffed up and feverish and thus stuck in bed for at least the evening. This meant she could not take part in bringing her children door-to-door for Halloween with her husband, Dr. Greg Clark.

"People get sick," he reassured her, "No worries, I can handle the kids out there."

"Oh, I called Mallory to help out."

"Really?" Greg asked, a touch annoyed.

"Is that ok? I thought it'd make things easier for you."

"It's...fine. I just feel bad. She's in college, I am sure there was a party or two tonight."

"She seemed excited to come over, I promise. Don't forget when we were in college we usually didn't go out until after 10. She'll get some money helping us out and still get to go to her party."

"I guess you're right," Greg submitted. It wasn't that he wasn't thrilled to be around Mallory. It was just that being around Mallory when she was watching his kids was odd for him. Like worlds colliding. It left him uneasy, the wanting her and the employing her not being compartmentalized. He was worried he would slip up and do something the kids would catch or be too rigid and leave Mallory feeling wounded.

The doorbell rang and broke him from his overthinking. He heard Shelly open the door and giggle loudly before yelling up to the second floor to tell her parents Mallory had arrived. Greg headed out of the bedroom and down the stairs to greet her.

"Shelly," he said in an even tone, "Remember what we said about yelling with Mommy si—"

He caught sight of the blond babysitter and his voice stuck in his throat.

"Sorry, daddy," Shelly said, oblivious to what her father was concerned with now.

"It's...it's fine. Just try to take it easy on the volume. Mommy needs her rest," he stumbled, keeping his eyes firmly on Mallory.

She was wearing a Supergirl costume, tall red pleather heeled boots piped with yellow, a small blue skirt drawn tight to her with a yellow belt, a small Superman "S" shield twinkling in her belly button, a blue long-sleeved half-shirt emblazoned with the same logo, and short red cape also piped in yellow. She's playfully grabbed the corners of the skirt and curtsied slightly.

"I hope you don't mind, Dr. Clark," she said, her voice making clear she was laying it on thick for his benefit, "We had a costume contest on campus a little while ago and then there's a dance tonight so it was easier to just keep the costume on. But if it's a problem, I have a change of clothes in the car."

"No, no," he waved her off, making the naughty sign by rubbing one pointer finger over the other about waist high where she could see it but neither of his children could, "It is Halloween after all. I have to just finish the kids up and then we can go?"

"Great. I'm just going to check on your wife," Mallory agreed, making sure to brush her hand across the front of his pants as walked to the stairs. The doctor did his best not to attempt to peek up her skirt as she ascended.

Mallory was pretty pleased with her costume even before she arrived. As the only girl in a neighborhood filled with boys her age, she had come to a love of comics early on. She drifted away in her early teens as most kids do. Then, while stuck visiting relatives she did not like, she excused herself for a walk one evening and stumbled into a local store that was having a "One Dollar a Longbox Sale." She bought herself two to keep herself busy for the rest of the week and there were enough gems in the mix to reignite her interest.

Supergirl in particular was not her favorite character. She liked her fine, she supposed, but there were other heroines she liked better. When it came to trying to win that costume contest though, she knew SG was a winner. She considered Poison Ivy but she knew the costume would have to be made "fresh" and decided she did not want to run around at the last minute. Batgirl or Catwoman could've been fun but the full costume and cowls would get pretty hot pretty quick and she wanted to have a costume she could win with and then take to the dance. So Supergirl it was. Iconic. Simple. Revealing enough to get the boys votes. Perfect.

And now, with this extra duty of helping with the kids, Mallory as even more pleased with her choice. She had...plans. She had dreamed them up on the drive over and found, to her enjoyment, they made her deliciously wet.

Even if she did not get to realize them tonight though she a.) had a sexy new game to try out with the Doctor and b.) she knew the costume alone was provoking a reaction in him. It was, she thought, in his "fetish" (though she used the term lightly) wheelhouse. Sexy (if ludicrous) shoes? Check. A tight midriff exposing shirt? Yup. Plenty of exposed leg? You know it. Balancing a scrubbed clean innocent sort of sexuality with the potential for some very, very dirty stuff? Oh yes.

And now, for that extra bit of naughty garnish on top, she decided to talk to his wife.

Greg completed the makeup, took a step back, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, kiddo, I don't know what exactly I did, but it's not what you want," he told Shelly.

"That's okay, Daddy. You're a boy...you don't use makeup. Can Mallory fix it?" Shelly chirped cheerfully.

"Yeah, let me go grab her."

He found her sitting on the edge of the bed, talking to Gina. As she noticed him, she casually spread apart her legs, giving him a glimpse at the Supergirl panties beneath without his wife's notice. She continued, "Yeah, so, I knew he liked them so I get it done. It hurt right after and it was a pain to keep clean the first week, but since then...so worth it. I really like it.

"Umm..." he cleared his throat, "Mallory, I am trying to do Shelly's makeup; she's being so sort of fairy or something. Anyway, I keep messing it up. Could you take over?"

Mallory bounced off the bed and enthusiastically agreed, "Sure thing! Feel better Ms. Clark!"

"Call me Gina," the sick woman croaked after the sprightly teen before speaking to her husband, "Still no good with the makeup, huh?"

"No. I mean, it makes sense. I can't draw a straight line on paper...there's no reason to think I can intricate patterns on people's faces."

They laughed a bit at that before Gina asked incredulously, "Can you believe what Mal's wearing?"

"Remember what you told me? She's a college kid. You remember what Halloween was like when you were in college."

"I never dressed like that!" she took umbrage.

Greg sighed and thought to himself, "Yeah, no kidding." Instead of voicing that thought he persisted, "Ok, fine. But you are aware that other college women wore sexy costumes on Halloween?"

"I guess..."

"It'll be fine. It's warm and dark out so she won't freeze to death and the neighbors won't be able to see her clearly enough to judge us. Besides, it is comic book accurate. Or was. Because of a reboot. Or something. I don't know, she explained it to me, but it sounded complicated."

She harrumphed in a way that let him know she knew he was right, still wanted to argue. He politely pretended not to hear. Bait not taken she then asked, "Did you ever want me to dress like that for Halloween?"

"Of course I did!" he was tempted to shout out her, but instead he only smiled, kissed her forehead and said, "You know I've always been in favor of you wearing as little clothes as possible."

"So that's a yes?" she prodded.

He sidestepped, "It is the answer I gave."

Another harrumph. "Why the sudden desire to argue?" Greg wondered.

"Oh, and she said she got her navel pierced for a guy. I just can't believe that! I would not risk that kind of pain just because a guy thinks it's hot," Gina espoused.

Greg clenched his fists on either side of his body once, twice, three times. He wanted to get into the time she promised she'd get a belly button piercing if he trained for a marathon with him, he did so and then she did not hold up her end of the bargain more or less admitting she never intended to follow through. He wanted desperately to do it. But he bit his tongue.

But he could only hold back so much. Instead the bitterness sprayed out in a super sarcastic stream, "Yeah, how crazy of her! Trying to do something you know your partner will think is sexy but might be a bit out of your comfort range is such a stupid, shitty thing to do. I wonder how she can look at herself in the mirror and not feel like she failed her gender."

She tried to backpedal, "No, no, that's not what I meant."

Greg ignored that comment, just saying, "Well, we are off. Get some rest."

"Wait, Greg, I didn't mean to—" she began but upon seeing him not even pause gave up mid-sentence. She couldn't believe he was still upset about that all these years later.

Trick-or-treating went off without a hitch. Shelly's Mallory done makeup conveyed her fairy-ness quite well and Martin was hit as a small, cute Frankenstein's Monster. Much candy was received. Near as Greg noticed little to no leering or judging took place regarding Mallory's outfit save two classmates of Shelly's who seemed to believe they were seeing the real Supergirl and that their parents assurances that comics were just make-believe were nothing more than lies.

The kids were each allowed one piece of candy then Greg and Mallory put them through the bedtime rituals of face and hand washing, brushing teeth, putting on pajamas, getting a story, and going to bed. As usual, they were cooperative except for one item a piece. Shelly wanted to wear her costume to bed (Greg convinced her it would ruin it) and Martin did not want to wash to his face (Mallory made a game out of it and he fell for it). In the end, it proved a relatively easy bedtime transition.

Greg flopped on the coach afterwards and Mallory curled up next to him, placing her head in his lap.

"Thanks a bunch for your help. I'm sorry Gina made you come out with all the college parties going on and all, but—"

She cut him off, "Don't be silly. You know how I love Martin and Shelly. And, you know, seeing you's not so bad either."

He chucked, "Not so bad? I'll take it. Anyway, you still have plenty of time to get back to school, pre-game it, and make the party you mentioned, so that's good. I'm going to check on the wife. Have a great night."

She moved to her knees and they shared a long kiss, followed by several smaller, quicker ones before he said good night and headed upstairs. There he found Gina in a Nyquil induced slumber and that his children were already deep in sleep as well. He looked at the time, just after 8:30, and decided to go downstairs and watch some TV to relax. After a few moments of channel surfing, he remembered tomorrow was trash day and briefly contemplating just being lazy and letting it go another week. His responsible side won out though so he threw on his shoes and began to drag the barrels out of the driveway. 

As he did so he realized that Mallory's car was still parked in front of the house. That was odd... he had said goodbye to her at least a half hour ago and had not seen her inside at all. "Where could she be?" he wondered. A moment later, his cell phone seemingly buzzed the answer. "The basement," was all it said.

The doctor felt his heart rate jump and his stomach flutter a bit. It was like this almost every time Mallory pushed the envelope and he was sure she was doing it again.

At the top of the basement stairs, there was a small stack of notecards. Written on them in Mallory's large flowing script was "Supergirl Facts: Read First." And so he did as he descended the stairs. He learned her name was Kara, she was Superman's cousin, she too was susceptible to kryptonite, and a few other perhaps interesting facts about nicknames and such. Greg was less nervous now, but significantly more confused. Did Mallory really intend to give him a lesson about Supergirl and her place in comics?

He reached the final card as he hit the bottom of the stairs. On it the babysitter had written, "The safe word is 'Earth Angel.'" He looked around and initially saw nothing. No Mallory. The room was arranged the same with the dartboard in one corner, the video game and TV in the other. Then, he noticed the door that divided the finished portion of the basement from the unfinished was opened. They always kept that closed and locked because there was too much stuff his kids could end up pinned other being stored on the unfinished side.

Cautiously, he opened the door fully. By this point, he could fill his pulse from his ears to his feet. He didn't know what the heck Mallory was playing at but she certainly had his rapt attention. It was dark beyond the door and it took Greg a moment to get his eyes adjusted. It was then that he noticed a single naked lightbulb lit in the extreme back corner of the basement. A stack of boxes and a carpet steamer obscured his ability to see what was there.

"Mallory," he tentatively called.

No answer.

"Mallory?" he tried again, a bit louder.

Still nothing.

"Mallory?!" one more time.

A tiny groan escaped from that corner. Greg forced his legs to propel him towards it.

He squeezed past the steamer and entered the square space. Under the harsh light, he found Mallory. She was standing with her arms spread above her and her head down, hair in her face. As he studied her closer, he realized she was handcuffed from both wrists to the thick pipe above her head. The handcuffs were cheap plastic, something Greg vaguely remember from a police officer playset Shelly had gotten last year, played with for three days, and promptly declared not something she wanted. They appeared to have been repainted a neon greenish color.

Throat dry, he croaked, "Mallory?"

Nothing.

He tried again. And then again. Still nothing. He could see her breathing. He was scared and annoyed in equal parts. "What the hell is going on?" he thought to himself, frustration building. Then, inspiration hit him.

"Supergirl?" he offered, voice stronger.

Mallory lifted her head, shaking her blond hair back away from her face. The doctor saw that the makeup was off slightly, mascara dripping a bit below both eyes, her shiny lipstick smeared slightly. She looked roughed up. "Like sexy roughed up," Greg observed to himself.

"Luthor," she hissed.

He suppressed his natural tendency to reply, "Ooo, real creative." Years of having a shaved head meant he had heard all variations of "Hey, [Famous Bald Guy]." He sensed though that this was not the time to be himself. On the other hand, he was not sure what to do. He had never role played with Gina. Ever. So this was waaaaaaaaaay over his head. He opted to stay silent, and simply circled Mallory/Supergirl with a superior smirk on his face, inspecting her like merchandise.

"I should have known you'd behind this!" she spat angrily. Inwardly, Greg/Lex Luthor was impressed with her acting talent.

He continued to eye her with obvious lust in the way he imagined a super villain might.

"Whatever your plan is, it will never work!"

"Oh?" he replied, an air of disinterest in his voice, a subtly raised eyebrow the only expression on his face.

"People will notice I'm gone. My cousin will notice," her voice took on a nasty, mocking/threatening tone.

Greg played along, getting very close to her face and barking, "Your cousin? YOUR COUSIN?!? The alien?!"

He pretended to calm himself as she cringed and began again, "Your friends, 'super' or not have no idea where you are. How will they save you?"

The babysitter playing superhero sneered at his overconfident façade, "He's always beaten you. Always. He'll have me out of here by dawn."

Again Greg reacted quickly, grabbing her around the throat and applying a small squeeze. He looked her in the eyes and held the gaze before practically purring, "Mmm, but you are not him, are you? You haven't beaten me, have you? In fact, I seem to have beaten you."

He paused and licked the side of her face, whispering, "Delicious." She whimpered weakily on cue.

He let her go and strolled around her again, going into a monologue, "You see, Supergirl, this is no indefinite detention. I'm not planning on ransoming you or holding you prisoner or really, anything of the sort. Most likely, you'll be out of here by dawn. Before anyone, even your 'wonderful' cousin, notices you are gone."

She straightened up some and made a show of weak defiance. Again, Greg found himself marveling at her commitment. "I'll destroy you the moment I am free," she threatened.

"Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem. I think you'll feel differently soon enough. And if not," he paused behind her and came in very close, wrapping his arm around her midsection before continuing, "well, now that I know who you are, I'll make sure certain...disincentives are in place."

She bristled, "You don't know anything about—"

"Oh, but I do...Kara," he cut her off dramatically.

Mallory/Supergirl dropped her head again and let out a single sob.

Greg was surprised how easily he was getting into this. And how much he enjoyed it. The dark desires he had locked up within himself...he just had no idea. But now, freed from the need to contain them, he delighted in discovering each new one. Apparently role play power fantasies were another check on the list.

"What...what are you going to do to me?" Mallory/Supergirl whispered in her smallest voice.

Greg/Luthor drew close to her once again.

"What am I going to do? Oh, I don't know...I thought we might have a little fun to pass the time," he then grabbed her and kissed her roughly. Mallory did a nice job of responding and resisting at once; enjoying but keeping in character.

"How dare you?!" she scolded.

He smirked in her face and subtly tasted her off his lips, "I don't know...you seemed to like it."

"I...I did not!"

Greg/Luthor kept his smirk up as he ran his hands over her chest, feeling her erect nipples through the tight shirt. He enjoyed the juxtaposition of them poking out the "super-shield," contrasting a figure of goodness largely associated with children's literature and her naughty lusts.

"Are you going to...rape me?" she asked, shuddering.

"No," he promised, his voice dripping with menacing confidence, "you are going to beg me to fuck you."

She shuddered and whimpered back, "Never."

"Are you sure? Because your body is telling me otherwise," he responded, pinching her nipple hard. She jerked toward him in a gesture of aggression until the handcuffs restrained her. He laughed what he hoped was a vaguely maniacal laugh.

"What's happening to me?" she asked, voice slightly panicked.

He picked up her lead and began to spin a yarn as he walked around her, "I am sure you notice yourself feeling...unusual. Your nipples are hard, your face is flush...I'm willing to bet your sweet little super hero panties are soaked. Not at all the normal, appropriate behavior of the Teen of Steel, is it?"

She nodded, visibly rubbing her thighs together as if in response to his prompting.

"And you, of course, feel weaker than usual."

"You are using kryptonite handcuffs, Luthor. In a fair fight, you'd never be able to restrain me."

"True enough," Greg/Luthor replied, "That's why I don't fight fair with you. Anyway, points for recognizing the kryptonite. However, if you think about it, does it feel like normal kryptonite?"

"What?" Supergirl/Mallory replied, confused.

"Think about it, normal kryptonite does not stop making you weak. You die from it and often fairly quickly. But how long have you been trussed up here? How long have we been talking? And yet, you breathe. You are not dead. Curious, isn't it?"

"What...what is it?"

"Oh, it's kryptonite. Just a little something...different I cooked up in the labs. I intended it for your cousin, but we found that it seemed to not affect him. I was confused, perplexed. Then, in looking at the tape, I noticed something. While Superman was fine, you faltered a bit. Just a bit. And seemed to blush. It was odd. So I surreptitiously had an employee of mine expose you to it. He watched you from afar that night as you falter again. This time, though, we had a drone follow you. It recorded you, the sweet, fair, and trustworthy Maid of Might, fingering herself on a Metropolis rooftop with abandon. Do you remember that night?"




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 15



"How could you...how did you know?" she cried.

"I already told you that. We made it happen. Do you remember how you felt that night? A little weaker, a lot hornier? Well that was just a small dose. Much smaller than the one you are absorbing right now. It seems my synthetic kryptonite does not affect males from your planet. But females? Oh it affects you very much...lowers your inhibitions. And it seems, Supergirl, you have some very, very unsuperhero like wants."

"That's not...that's not true!" she insisted unconvincingly.

"Oh, so brave," he teased, clapping his hands, "So brave, but, I expect, so wet under that tiny skirt. Am I wrong?"

"Go to hell!"

"Oh, my dear, not today. And if you won't answer me, I guess I'll just have to check for myself," Greg/Luthor casually proclaimed, reaching towards her legs.

"No!" she responded angrily, then moaned.

Greg picked up on her cue and ran with it, "Yeah, the kryptonite's a doozy, huh? The stronger your emotions, be they lust, fear, or anger, the more it affects you. So fight all you want, it just means its hooking itself deeper into you."

"Please," she whimpered again, "Please don't."

"Shall we bargain then?"

"I don't bargain with criminals!"

"Suit yourself." 

This time, he touched her inner thigh before she replied, "Fine. What's the bargain?"

"You tell me what it's been like since you were exposed to this magical substance," he said, indicating to the headcuffs, "for the first time and I won't check how wet you are until you want me to."

"I'll never want you to!"

"We'll see. Now, do we have a deal, or not?"

"...yes, fine," she whispered in a small voice.

"Good. Begin."

"Umm," she hesitated, "Well...it was weird at first. I felt, like, hot all over. Dizzy. Weaker, yes. But not nearly as noticeably weak as I was hot. But it passed so I thought it was no big deal. I don't really get sick so I had no frame of reference for it."

"Mmmhmm."

"Then, that night, I stopped to save a woman from a mugging. I sent the criminal running and was going to chase after him, but, suddenly, I found myself staring at this woman and all I could think about was how much I wanted to kiss her. It was overwhelming. I tried to walk away, but I couldn't. I was like in a trance. Next thing I realized, I had her up against a wall, my mouth all over hers. Good thing I get my wits back or who knows what I might have done."

Greg/Luthor wordlessly pull her tight t-shirt up over her breasts.

"Hey! We agreed!" Mallory/Supergirl objected.

"We never said anything about your tits," the dermatologist masquerading as super villain coolly replied, "Beside, you just lied to me. Every time you lie, I'm going to punish you in some way. So go on, Slut of Steel, tell me the truth this time."

"Don't call me that."

"Call you what? Slut of Steel."

She visibly shuddered in response, "Yesssssss," she hissed.

"Why, don't you like it?"

"No," she gulped.

Greg/Luthor leaned forward and sucked her nipple into his mouth. She moaned and groaned and thrashed a bit in response.

"Truth," he demanded.

"Yes, ok. I liked it. I don't know why, but I did."

"You liked it because it is what you really are. A slut. A dirty girl who wants it all the time, but has to pretend to be a goody-good. Hearing me call you what you are felt like freedom. It turned you on to know I know what you are, deep inside. Now tell me, were you really relieved that you stopped herself from going further with the victim.

"Yes. Yes, of course."

This time, he leaned to the other side and bit down on the nipple.

"Ow!" she screeched before it changed to, "Oooooooo. Oh, fuck."

"The truth," he reminded her before taking the nipple into his mouth again.

"Uhhhhhhh," she moaned, "Ok, ok! Honestly, I wished I went for it. Just took her back to my apartment and saw how her stamina lined up against mine."

"And was that the last incident like that?"

"Well you already said you knew about me...masturbating on the rooftop."

"And that was it," he asked, circling behind her.

"Yup," she assured him. 

He grabbed her breasts and began to gently fondle them. He then reminded her to tell the truth again before kissing and sucking the area where her neck met her body.

"Shit. Please. Oh God...you bastard. I can't wait for my cousin to beat you again."

"Uh-huh," he said, ignoring her attempts at angering him, "Continue."

"Arrgh," she exhaled in frustration, "There were...other times. I saved a family from a burning building and found myself fantasizing so strongly about sucking him off in front of his wife, I almost hallucinated it. It was so vivid."

"Go on."

"Stuff like that. Too many to count. Save someone, fantasize about touching them, tasting them," she paused, gulping air, "Ooooooo."

"Is it happening right now? Are you turned on?"

"I...please stop Luthor. You've made your point. Let me go."

"Could you even go right now? You look like such a nasty little Slut of Steel right now. You are so turned on, I'm not sure you could even get out of this room, nevermind fly home."

"Not...not tru—err—I can—"

"Shh...let me help you," he whispered to her.

"H—h—how?" she stuttered.

"Let me just finger you til you cum. Get your head clear again."

"I...no...shouldn't...cant'."

"Look at you. Your nipples are so hard, you are sweating, I can tell you are soaking those panties. Just let me help you. You need this, don't you? Be honest with yourself. You can't even manage complete sentences."

"Pleassssssssssssssse," she begged, breaking. Mallory was playing it pitch perfect.

"Good girl," he whispered, gently walking the finger on one hand down from her breast, across her stomach, pushed up her skirt, and buried his hand in her underwear. She was smooth and wetter than he even expected. His two fingers slid in easily and his thumb found her clit a moment later.

"Oh god, Mr. Luthor!" she called out.

"Feel good?"

"You...you know it does. So...fucking good."

"Goodness, what language!" he pretended to be shocked, "If only your peers could see you now."

She only humped herself harder into his hand in response.

"How do you want it?" he asked in feigned ignorance.

"Harder! Faster! Really finger fuck me!" she demanded, Mallory being sure to let her voice take on a kind of almost drugged, desperate quality.

Greg/Luthor honored the requested, driving his fingers into harder, then adding another. She gasped in response and let her head fall back onto his shoulder. He kissed her hard before biting her lower lip. He began to dry hump himself against her back.

"You feel that cock?" he told more than asked.

"Yessssssss," came the response, hissed through clenched teeth.

"That's what's going to be inside you soon."

"Ne-never."

"We'll see."

Mallory could feel the tiny contractions of her pre-orgasm begin to fire. "So close," she whimpered.

"Feel that kryptonite in your mind. Feel my fingers in your cunt. Just give in and ask for what you really want."

Even as her orgasm grew close, Mallory stayed in character and began chanting, "Hate you. Hate you. Kill you for this. Hate you."

"That's right. Hate me. It'll only make it all the better when you are begging me to cum on your face."

She went rigid then and fell silent. She trembled. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Her orgasm shut through her like electricity and would not leave. She bit her lip and swore she could taste a hint of blood. Then, she fell loose, all tension gone from her muscles. She felt Greg's fingers at her mouth, smelled herself on them, and opened to greedily clean her juices from them.

"Mmm," he sighed appreciatively as her pink tongue languidly lolled over his digits, "That's a good alien. Taste yourself. Lick your filth off me."

Mallory desperately wanted to compliment him, to tell him how excellent that had been. But she also wanted it all to keep going so she stayed in character.

"Happy now?" she asked, voice crackling with sarcasm.

"The better question is: are you?" he volleyed back, pleased to see the role playing was going on.

"Fuck you," she spat.

Greg/Luthor ignored her profanity, instead ogling her body once again, "You really do look incredible Kara. Just incredible. And don't think I missed the fact that you weren't wearing a bra."

"The drag—" she began her excuse.

"Sure, sure," he said, waving her off, "To get back to what you were telling me earlier. You must have been pretty freaked out, experiencing all these thoughts and fantasies. Who could you turn to? Who did you? Because I know you didn't keep it to yourself, did you?"

"Wha—What do you—" she stalled.

He cut her off, stroking her cheek, "Don't fight the kryptonite. Just let it do its work. You want to tell me everything anyway. You can just blame it on the kryptonite later. Those secrets are SO heavy. Let it go."

He kissed her again then. This time, Mallory played it like Supergirl was breaking down, kissing him back initially before pulling away.

"Do I have to ask again?" he whispered in her ear before nibbling on the lobe. Mallory/Supergirl shook in arousal again, but said nothing.

He stood back away from her and slowly undid his shirt, stripping it away.

"What...what are you doing?" she asked, voice full of lusty fear or fearful lust.

He smiled, enjoying wearing the guise of a super villain, "Just...getting comfortable."

He drew close to her again, kiss her hard, feeling her tits, her rock hard nipples press into his chest. She gasped at the heat and chased after him with her lips as he ended the kiss.

She moaned in hunger and disappointment before admitting, "I talked to...Batgirl."

"Batgirl?"

"Yes...the redheaded one. I visited her at her library classroom."

The way she emphasized classroom combined with the reference to her being a redhead helped Greg to realize that Mallory had just made Ms. Bristol, his daughter's teacher that had jerked him off during the school's open house the month before, Batgirl in this story.

"Really? What did you tell her?"

"I told her...everything. How...how I'd been craving..." she trailed off.

"Craving what?"

"...cock," she sighed, like letting go of a deep secret that she was sure she didn't want to but could no longer hold on to. "Pussy. Tits. Just...sex. I was craving sex with anyone. Especially...especially married men."

"Go on." Greg wanted to fuck her so bad, he was nearly out of his mind with it. However, the role play was so fascinating to him, he was doing his best to keep in character.

"I told her and she listened to me the whole time."

"Then what happened?"

"She called me a slut. A dirty, naughty girl."

"And how did that make you feel?"

"Goooooooooooooooooood," she moaned, "God help me...it made me feel so good. I wanted to be those things. And then she confessed she was just like me. She even told me how she gave a handjob to a student's married dad and how great it made her feel."

"Did you like to hear that story."

"Mmmm, yes. I really, really did."

Greg had to take a moment and marvel at how well Mallory was depicting a lustful super heroine who was slowly losing control of her morals to a foreign substance. Then he dove right back into the fantasy.

"I bet she was pretty turned on, too."

"Oh, definitely," she admitted, licking her lips like she was relieving the moment right there, "I don't know which of us started it, but we were all over each other. We ripped each other's...costumes off. Her breasts...oh god, they felt so good pressed against my own. Mmm, and it was so sexy to see that her red hair was natural, if you catch my drift."

"Did...did you taste her?" Greg struggled to speak and stay in character.

"Am I getting you hot, Mr. Luthor?" Mallory/Supergirl teased, again nailing the performance of a moral upstanding citizen being stripped down to her darkest desires. She shook her head as if trying to clear it and muttered something about not losing control. 

Greg/Luthor slapped her then, surprising them both. "I asked you a question, Kara," he growled at her.

"Yes," she spat, "A little. Mostly, we just..."

"What did you do, you bad girl?"

"We scissored!" she yelled at him, letting her eyes go wild with lust and fear of that lust, "We put our hot, wet pussies against each other and just ground away while we came again and again. Then, she licked me clean."

"And you enjoyed it?"

"Yessssssssssssssss."

"And it turns you on just thinking about it?"

"Yesssssssssss."

"What was it you said about married men?"

"That I wanted to fuck them?" she moaned.

"Did you know I'm married, Supergirl?"

"Yessssss."

"Do you want to fuck me?"

Silence.

Silence.

"Why do you fight it? We both know what you are and what you want. That kryptonite the best thing that ever happened to you. Letting you be the whore you've always wanted to be."

"Please," she begged, voice cracking with strain.

"What?" he asked as though he could not hear her.

"Please don't...I...please."

"Please what?"

"Just...please. Give...give me."

"Give you what, my dear?" Greg was loving the playing this villain.

"Give me what I need."

"What do you need?"

"Please...don't make me say it."

"Well, I can hardly give you what you need if you won't tell me what it is."

"I...I can't, Mr. Luthor. Please. You win. Just...please."

"If you can't say, then I can't help."

Silence.

In a tiny quiet voice, "Please...fuck me."

"What?"

A bit louder, "Fuck me."

"I'm sorry," Greg/Luthor asked, cupping his ear.

At normal volume, "Fuck me, Mr. Luthor."

"Can't quite make you out."

Louder, "Fuck me now Mr. Luthor!"

"Ooo, still muddled."

Shouting now, "DAMN IT! GIVE ME THAT HARD COCK! FUCK ME, MR. LUTHOR. FUCK MY BALD SUPER HERO PUSSY! FUCK ME!"

"Oh, you want me to fuck you then?" he asked, clamping his right hand over her mouth while his left grabbed her sopping panties and ripped them off her, "Must be a bit quieter though."

Mallory/Supergirl whimpered as he arched his fingers inside her, pushing on her g-spot, "Are you worried Mrs. Luthor will catch us?"

"No. I am Lex Luthor, I fear no man or woman."

"She's very pretty, your wife."

"Oh, you think so?"

"Yes, pretty. Nice figure. Great tits."

"You like them, do you?"

"Yes. Maybe her catching us would be good. Maybe I should scream."

Greg/Luthor slammed his hand on her mouth again and slipped his now soaked fingers on his left hand from out between her legs. He undid he zipper and freed his rigid cock. Without preamble he pushed up into her. She bit down on his hand.

"Bitch," he grunted.

"Noooo," she moaned, "Slut. Slut of Steel."

"Mmm, yes you are. My Slut of Steel."

"Never," she gasped, "you may be fucking me now, but you'll never own me villain!"

"We'll see," Greg/Luthor whispered to Mallory/Supegirl and spanked her. She gasped and ground harder against his pelvis.

"I'm so wet," she announced breathlessly, dropping her head backwards. Her neck exposed to him, Greg licked it, pressed his lips against, and bit down gently.

"No," she weakly protested, "No marks."

"Luthor takes want he wants," Greg/Luthor responded harshly to her and returned the heck, biting and sucking harder.

Mallory grabbed the pipe above her head, lifted her boot encased legs around her employer's back. He grabbed her naked ass to support her and began to thrust harder against her.

"Tell me you love it," he commanded.

"Never!"

"Tell! Me!"

"I...I won't," she mumbled, simulating trying to free herself from her chains.

Greg changed tactics then, pulling out of her. She tried to wrap her legs tighter around him, but he resisted, maintaining his distance.

"Look how bad you want it," he mock cooed to her, "how bad you need my cock. How wet you are for me. Just admit it. Admit you love fucking Lex Luthor."

"Can't make me..." she groaned, playing it like a junkie trying to resist another fix.

Greg reached between them and gently touched her wet pussy, teasing her every so slightly but giving her no kind of escalation or release.

"Wow," he said to her, making eye contact, "you are SO wet. So wet and needy."

"Puh-puh-please."

"Just say it."

"Won't..."

Greg/Luthor stopped touching her entirely and instead began to stroke himself.

"What...what are you doing?" she asked, eyes widening.

He smiled, dark and sarcastic, "Well, I'm standing here, rock hard, in front of a beautiful blond teen slut. She won't give me what I want, but I'm not going to let the view go to waste."

"You're—you're going to jerk off?" Mallory/Supergirl let a panicked fear creep into her voice.

"Mmmmhmmm."

"But...but. Such a waste."

"Yup. A shame."

"Don't..."

"What should I do instead?"

"Fu—fuck me. Please."

"Why?"

Silence.

"Tell me,"

With a defeated moan she broke, "I need your cock. I love the way you fuck me. Please...I need it so bad. Love your dick."

"Good girl," he whispered, slamming into her quickly.

"So deep," she gasped, voice filled with life again, "You're so hard for me."

"You like that, don't you? Everyone thinks you are a paragon of virtue, but you walk around just dripping at the thought of fucking married men, don't you?"

"Mmmm...yes. Married...god...men. Oh god, it feels good."

"You are so wet, so tight. Mmm, love fucking teen heroes."

"I'm not the only one, Mr. Luthor?"

"For now. But you'll bring me more, won't you? Your teammates...you'll bring them to me and watch me make them slaves."

"Uh...uh...uh....uh," she moaned in time to his thrusts, "Give it to me. Fuck this teen slut harder!"

Greg buckled down, trying to last as long as possible for her, and increased his pace.

"Cu—cum—CUMMING!!!" she stuttered/screamed, arching her back.

Greg/Luthor buried his face in her breasts, licking and sucking them as she shook with orgasmic aftershocks.

"So perfect," he whispered, coming up for air for a moment, then going back in.

Gulping down air, she began to try to speak to him, "Ar—are you...going to—uh uh—make me your slave?"

"Do you want that, Supergirl? Do you want to...serve me? Betray everything you believe in for this cock?" he challenged her, holding eye contact.

Her eyes rolled back and she groaned, "Yessss." Seconds later, she went rigid and hissed, another orgasm over taking her. She tried to refocus on Greg/Luthor, eyes glassy and uncooperative before pseudo-whining, "Don't you want to cum for me?"

"Oh, I will," he grunted in response.

"Is my pussy not wet enough for you? Not hot enough? Not tight enough?" she questions, egging him on is small, breathless tone. She tightened and released her kegel muscles to tease him with all she could offer. He bit his tongue to keep from losing control.

"Please," she whispered, tongue all over his ear, breathe hot with lust, "give me your cum, Mr. Luthor. I want it. All of it."

He thrust deeper into her for a moment, his will breaking under the sound of her desire. She pulled her legs even tighter against him.

"You push me and there will be nothing to be done for you. You make me cum and you'll be mine. My Slave of Steel," he said, acting the part of a villain teasing heroes with the possibility of escape.

"Yes...anything. I...need this all the time. I need to be...used by you."

"Do you? Will you do as I tell you? Help me destroy the heroes?"

"Anything," she promised hotly, "But I'd rather spend our time fucking, not destroying. I'll be happy to...seduce some heroines for you. Just as long as you keep me your number one slave."

He moaned and bit his tongue harder. He saw the rivulets of sweat roll down her small breasts and wanted to lick them clean. He could feel the nectar of her lust spilling over him, increasing with each stroke. Her eyes were aflame, wholly Mallory's own and yet fully in character. He moaned again and his pace became erratic.




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 15



"Are you close, Mr. Luthor? Will you make me yours?"

"Where do you want it?" he asked, aware that the seconds he had left to control this situation were passing, his resistance to giving in to the orgasm he so desperately wanted.

"Everywhere...especially my face."

"Heh," Greg/Luthor laughed humorolessly, "Are you sure that's what a good girl like you wants."

"Not. A. Good. Girl," she replied, each sentence punctuated by a hard thrust, "I just want to give you what you've earned. Use my face."

Greg/Luthor was unraveling with her words. His mind was awash in his want to just lose control, to fuck himself literally into exhaustion. As his teeth rattled from adrenaline and his body shook with sexual lust, he tried to stay in character for a few more moments, revealing to Supergirl/Mallory the culmination of his evil plan. He took a deep breath and spoke his final evil monologue as quickly as he could.

"I've been taking the kryptonite serum for weeks. It's in me, Supergirl. If you let me cover your face, it will be it for you, your ability to resist me will be gone, permanently. You will be my slave, groveling, begging, doing whatever I want for another taste."

"Yessss," she moaned wantonly, "Make me your Slave of Steel. Break me. I only care about tasting you, pleasing you, and enjoying you when you let me. Pllllllllllleeeease, drown me in it."

Greg/Luthor hit the release on the cheap kids' cuffs and Mallory/Supergirl tumbled to the ground, free. Staying in character, she wrapped both hands around his cock, slick with her juices and cooed with reverence. She then began to aggressively jerk him, repeatedly swearing allegiance to him. Greg was overwhelmed by the talented babysitter's hands and language and could hold on no longer. With a bellow, he let loose stream after stream of his cum on her, landing on her neck, in her mouth, on her cheeks, her forehead, and even in her mouth and year. Dizzy and winded, Greg stumbled back into a small vinyl beach chair and collapsed. Mallory coated her finger in his seed and licked it clean. He audibly groaned, his arousal unable to overcome his body's weakness.

She stood before him, her shirt still lifted above her bare breasts, handcuffs rattling down from her wrists on either side. She was flushed, the hickey on her neck already a prominent feature on her otherwise pristine skin, her face coated in translucent whiteness. Mallory looked every inch like Supergirl turned sex slave. And she still would not break character.

"Mmm, thank you Master. I will go out and bring more like me under your control, as you wished."

Before Greg could even respond directly, she was walking back up the basement stairs, offering him a glimpse of her well fucked cunt and her smooth, perfect ass underneath her tiny skirt. He wanted to take her again right there and then, but his body could not respond to the call. Instead he watched her go, breasts still out, face still glazed. 

It would be awhile before he was able to see exactly what she meant when she promised to "bring more" for him.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 16



Dr. Greg Clark dragged the hamper filled with hot, clean clothes up from the basement. Staying up later than Gina to get stuff done around the house was something he had started shortly after the birth of their first child. Gina was exhausted a lot and going to bed between 8 and 9 nearly every night. As such, it was hard for her to help out with chores around the house and hard for Greg to get them done if he didn't stay up. However, what could have been an annoyance he found he really enjoyed. The housework seemed to go faster without anyone around and it allowed him to do things like catch up on TV shows that he had taped or DVR'd when he was too busy with work or childcare to watch them. When the children grew some and Gina started to hit the sack more like 10 or 11, Greg continued to stay up later a few days a week to get things done and enjoy the silence of his home.

At the top of the stairs, he heard the clock chime out that midnight had arrived. He smiled to himself. "33, I have arrived," he thought, "Happy birthday to me." 

It was a weird age. He still enjoyed birthdays and getting one year older didn't bother him. But 33 was just...devoid of meaning. Once you get past 21, it felt like only the 5's and 0's meant anything. Still...there would be presents and cake. So some good, certainly.

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he sat down to fold the laundry. Pulling it out, he found a text from Mallory waiting for him. It read, "Forgot to tell you I got a present for you. :) It's in the office. Go look and let me know if you like it. Hope you do!"

"See," he told himself, "It's started already."

He dashed off a quick response, "On my way. You didn't need to get me anything though."

"Don't worry, it cost me basically nothing," she wrote back.

Greg opened the door to the office and was surprised to find it glowing in a dull, diffuse orange. It took him a moment to realize the room was lined with candles. In the middle stood Mallory.

"Tada!" she announced in a forced whisper, spinning in a circle and twirling one hand above her head. He entered the room and quickly closed the door behind himself.

"How did you get in?"

She twirled a key in the air, "Your wife gave me a spare, remember?"

"I'm sure this is not what she had in mind when she did that."

She smirked and tossed him a wink saying, "Well, I won't tell if you don't."

"So...I heard there might be a present?" the doctor asked, heart picking up speed. He could guess what was she had planned what with the candles and all. Right away, his body made its interest clear. Still, he was worried. It was risky. This would be only the third time they had sex with Gina in the house. The first was all Mallory's doing; yes, it had happened inches from his wife in the same bed, but Mal had gotten him so worked up in his sleep he had no thoughts besides his carnal needs. The second was in the basement, the part farthest away from the master bedroom on the second floor, and his wife was in a Nyquil induced slumber upstairs. This time—with his brain still capable of processing information beyond "Look at those breasts" and "She's so wet"—doing this, especially with his wife that much closer made him hesitant to follow through.

"There is!" she confirmed with a giggle, "But first, what do you think of my outfit?"

She spun again and Greg made no effort to suppress his ogling. Maybe all she wanted to do was show him her body, he hoped. She was wearing wedge heels, a tight black pair of dress pants that he'd heard her describe as her club pants. They did a spectacular job showcasing her ass and the distinct lack of visible panty lines. The shirt was a tight black sweater that was shot through with the occasional track of silver thread—he interrupted his staring to process what he was seeing.

"Is that—," he began.

"Your wife's shirt?"

"Yeah, Gina's. I—,"

"Bought it for her, but she never wears it?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah, I've heard you two talking about it. Seemed important to you."

"Not really...it's more a symbol I guess. I bought it for her, she said she liked it, but she never wears it and is always making lame excuses why. If she didn't like it, she should just say so."

"Also, it seems like you'd really like to see her in it..."

"Yeah...I think it'd look great on her."

"And still, she didn't do it, huh?"

"No. No she didn't."

"Story of her life, huh? She can't tell you how she really feels, like about a sweater or her fantasies and she can't meet you halfway. Instead she just lies, manipulates, ignores, and leaves you feeling lousy, huh? I mean, it's a sweater for Christ's sake. It's tight-ish, but it's not like it's got a cleavage v or something. Hell, I know she's got sweaters almost exactly like this that she wears."

"Which is what I was thinking when I bought it," he agreed before start to defend Gina, "but I don't know about all the other stuff you jus—"

Mallory cut him off, "How do you think it looks on me?"

"Good. Really, really good," he admitted. It hugged her body tightly, highlighting her small but high, firm breasts, her seemingly perma-hard nipples, and her thin, tight torso. He was actually surprised given the height and bust difference between his wife and his babysitter/mistress/fantasy fulfiller.

"I had to pin it up to get the right fit," she confessed, seemingly reading his mind. "I didn't think she'd mind since she never wears it and I didn't think you'd be mad because you love looking at me in tight shirts."

"I am sure you are right on both counts," he allowed, "Thanks for letting me see how sexy the shirt is when someone cares enough to wear it. That really is a nice gift."

"Uh, uh, uh," she tutted at him, drawing closer, "That's just the start."

"Mal, it's late and I stil—"

She laid her hands around the back of his neck and tugged him downward towards her. She kissed him, deep, firm, and insistent. The taste of her mouth on his tongue sparked a heady rush. Her scent, clean with just a hint of some kind of citrus fruit, dazzled him. He gave himself over to sensation, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. Her slender hands moved down his back, then between them, fumbling with his belt.

"Do you... like the... candles?" she asked, speaking the words in between the gaps between kissing.

"Yes. Sets...the mood...nicely."

"Good...I...realized that...I never...treat you to any... romance," she giggled.

She finally got the belt undone with a jingle of metal on metal. With dramatic flair, she pulled it through the loops and tossed it on the floor in single fluid movement.

He pulled the sweater up exposing her abdomen. He continued lifting it upward, forgetting about the pins. He could hear the fabric give way some, no doubt the pins pulling holes in it as he reckless yanked it over her head. If he was going to worry about it, those anxieties were immediately swallowed when he glimpsed her body in the candlelight. Her belly ring, a long strand with a dark stone at the end, scattered the light across her lower abs. Her taut stomach quivered slightly as he dragged his fingertips across it. Her breasts rose and fell with her aroused breath. He slid his hand down her stomach, between her skin and her panties, doing his best to gently stroke the lips.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck," she moaned and her eyes narrowed to slits as he separated as he separated the labia and lightly stroked his fingers insider her.

"Wow, Mallory, you're so wet already," he marveled.

"I've just been sitting here in the room, waiting for midnight, imagining you taking your gift," she admitted, "That's bound to turn a girl on."

He pulled her in close once more as she began to work his zipper and kissed her hard. She whimpered with delight into his mouth.

"I know...this is...risky," she breathed, still trading kisses in between, "But I...couldn't stand...the idea of...her getting...first crack at you...on your birthday."

"Why?" he asked, staring into her eyes, "Jealousy?"

Regaining her composure, she confessed for the first time, "Maybe."

She pushed his pants to the ground and he stepped out of them. His cock, thick and hard, bulged obscenely in his grey boxer brief, a tell-tale spot of precum darkening them. She delicately traced it with her fingertips, her eyes fixated in rapt attention. She wasn't sure how long or fat he was, wasn't even sure if he was the biggest she had ever seen—although he was sure he was in the top 3 or 4 she'd been privileged to witness in real life. She just knew his was her favorite, the most perfect one, just as thick and as long as she needed.

Listening to his breath hitch and trip, she continued to barely caress him. Keeping her eyes on his dick, she began to explain her earlier comments further, "I was thinking about it last night and it was just...driving me crazy. I picture you two rolling around your bed. Getting naked. Maybe she would even toss you a perfunctory 45 seconds of head before putting on the condom and 'making love to you.' It turned me on, but it also pissed me off."

Greg felt confused and concerned by her tone. He tried to interrupt but she kept going.

"I just...it's not fair, you know?" as she spoke, she wrapped her hand around his cock through the underwear, "You deserve better. I deserve better. Instead, she gets off on this majestic piece of meat and you and I end up disappointed and unfulfilled."

She let go of him momentarily, slipping her hand into his boxer briefs, and then seizing him once more. "This should be my cock," she whispered, stroking him, "Can this be my cock, Doctor Clark?"

He only groaned in response.

"Oh, does my little hand feel good?" she giggled.

"Yessss."

"God, Doc, I can feel you getting even harder. Do I do that to you?"

"You know you do..."

"I must be such a naughty little girl to turn you on like that. A married man with two kids...it must take a pretty nasty slut to get that kind of man into this kind of state. Is that what I am? Am I your bad little girl? Your dirty little secret?"

"D—do you want to be?" Greg stuttered.

"Mmmm, more than anything," she admitted, kissing him deeply. She ran her fingertips over the top of his dick, spreading his precum over the head, and felt him shudder.

"Do you want me to just jerk you off right here and now? It's your birthday...I'll do that for you if you want."

He gritted his teeth and hissed before answering, "No."

"Good," she replied, batting her eyelashes, "Because I can be a lot more fun than that."

She released him and kissed him hard again. His hands tangled themselves in her blond locks while hers deftly began to unbutton his shirt. When it was open, she shoved him back into his desk chair and took a step away.

"Watch me," she instructed him as she began to sway her hips. Slowly, she removed her heels and her pants, leaving him in a dark green thong and tall thin black socks. 

"Very nice," the doctor confessed.

"Just very nice?" she asked, eyebrows raising, "Something I can do improve the view?"

"Take off your panties," Greg requested.

"Ooooo, good idea." Mallory hooked a finger under each side of the small straps resting on her hips and began to slide them off at an agonizing pace. When she stood again, her smooth, hairless sex was exposed, lips puffing out ever so slightly. 

The babysitter tossed them to him, explaining, "A souvenir."

Then she added, "Was this what you had in mind?"

"Yes."

"But I'm naked now."

"Yes."

"Ahh, I see. You wanted me naked?"

"Mmmhmm."

"You like to look at my pussy? My tiny teen cunt?"

"I...do. I shouldn't but...I do."

"Good. I think you should like it. I think I have pretty pussy, don't you?"

"Beautiful."

"So why shouldn't you like to look at it."

"For one, you're 14 years younger than me."

"And that makes it hotter."

"M—ma—maybe. But I should know better."

"Oh, you definitely should, Doc. And you do. And you still can't help yourself, can you?"

He didn't respond to the question, keeping himself on task, "For another, I'm married."

"To that boring woman upstairs."

"Still married."

She advanced on him.

"Yes, but it's me you want, isn't it?"

"I—yes. Often. But my wife is very attractive."

"Oh, I know. She's in fabulous shape, too, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"And you still can't stop fucking me, can you?"

He didn't respond.

"Do you think about me when you make love to her?"

"Sometimes..."

"Do you wish it was me you were inside?"

"I...I have."

"When you imagine that, that her hairy mess is actually my smooth cunt, that her mouth ooing and awing is really my mouth telling you wicked things, does it make you cum faster?"

"It...has."

"Mmm, I knew it."

She reached him and pulled his underwear off and tossed it away. She straddled him.

"Do you want this?"

"Please Mal..." he moaned.

She lowered herself onto him, taking in the sensation of it. The feeling of pressure, of her body opening to him, the experience of another pulse inside her.

"Gooooooooooood," she moaned, "So good. You know how to keep a girl satisfied, Doc, I'll tell you that."

He moved his hands over her body; touching every bit of it he could, savoring the feeling of her skin on his fingertips.

"Tell me more," she pressured him.

"About what?"

"Tell me: when you have sex with Gina, when you cum, do you tell her you love her?"

"Yes. Usually."

"When you do, are you still seeing my face, my body in your mind? Are still imagining the legs wrapped around your back are mine?"

"It...has...happened," he confessed.

"So, are you telling her you love her...or are you telling me?"

"Mal..."

"It's okay...you don't have to say it if you don't want. Just do something else for me?"

Having her perched on his dick filled his head with fog, but he tried to shake it off, to find some ability to concentrate. "Ok," he conceded.

"Let me hear what it sounds like?"

"What?"

"When you tell your boring old wife that you love her while you just got off on thinking of licking my tiny tits and yanking my hair while you pound me from behind."

"I don't think that that is a good idea." In fact, he knew it wasn't. But with each lift and fall she performed, every hip rotation, he could feel the battle being lost.

"Shh..." she whispered, putting a finger to his mouth. It was slick and tasted like her. He anxiously licked it clean. "Don't think."

And so, against his better judgment, he said it, "I love you."

"Uh," she grunted, grinding harder against him, "Again."

"I love you."

"Yes!" she gasped, "Once more."

"I love you."

"Fuuucccccccccccccck," she hissed, biting her lip and cumming. As she came back down to earth, she scolded him, "So bad Doc."

"I know."

"Telling a poor vulnerable teen you love her just so she'll fuck you? Lying to her?"

Then she added, "Unless you weren't lying."

Before he could reply, she pushed two fingers into his mouth, dripping with her essence. He was powerless but to suck them clean. The taste made him dizzy with desire. He groaned. She smiled, tossed her hair back and began to propel herself up and down on him. At times, she'd nearly come all the way off, pause, and then drop back down hard. Others, she'd take him deep and grind herself into him, rotating her hips and contracting her muscles. She'd bend forward to kiss him, his neck, to lick, suck, and bite his nipples enjoying the sound of him yielding to the pleasure/pain it produced when she got rough with her teeth the way he liked it.

For the most part, he was content to let her take control, focusing instead on feeling every part of her with his hands and fingertips. He traced the strong sensual lines of her back up to her hair. He pulled on her blond mane, ever so slightly, and she cooed at the sensation. Then, his hands were on her breasts, where they spent far longer than he initially planned, caressing, stroking, rolling, and occasionally pinching. She let him know what she liked, whimpering, moaning, and whispering "yes."

Her stomach, her hips, her legs...he touched them anywhere and everywhere he could, feeling his heat, her smoothness, her softness, the contracting of muscles just beneath the surface, the sheen of perspiration developing.

Mallory let her mind go to mush. She reduced her entire focus to 3 simple goals: to fuck, to cum, to make Greg cum. That was all that mattered to her, all she cared about. The feel of his cock inside her, pulsating, thrusting, growing. Strong hands touching her flesh. His toned torso underneath her hands. The electric buzz every time her clit made contact with his skin. The sound of his breathing. The taste of his saliva and her essence on his tongue. The feeling of her honey flowing out of her sex over his lap and onto the chair. The glazed look of lust fulfilled in his eyes. The echo of him saying "I love you." She absorbed it all, swam in it. These things were what she wanted, all she wanted. To be but a slave to these feelings and desires seemed to her to be a fulfilling fate; an existence worthy of full embrace.

She pressed her forehead against his, sweat mixing with sweat. She locked eyes with him and would not look away. The intensity of her stare got to him and he moaned with overwhelming lust.

"You feel so good," he confessed. "Your skin. The fabric of your socks on my legs. God! Driving me crazy."

"I can feel it," she whispered back, still staring, "You are so hard inside me."

"You made me that way," he agreed, "You are soooooo fucking tight. Uh...uh...uh. And so wet. I can feel you dripping."

"I can't help it," she moaned, "I know my naughty doctor likes a wet little pussy. Wet. And bare. And tight. And sooooooo young."

He gasped with each draw out description of her sex before speaking in a low, halted pattern, "Fuck, Mal. You make me sound like such a pervert."

"You are such a pervert. You were a good man and I made you into a pervert. A teen fucking, adulterous pervert. Didn't I?"

"Yessssssssssss," he admitted.

She smiled, a tiny, secret smile. She loved when he admitted what he was now. Saw his depravity and did not deny it but rather got off on it. Him resistant was fun, him guiltily embracing his darkness was utopia for her.

She began to babble, whispering but fierce, at him, foreheads still together, "I want this. I want this. Want it all the time. God. God. Fuuuuuck. You feel so good. Best fucking cock. Perfect for me. Perfect."

A moment she started again, voice taking on what could best be described as a tone of horny desperation, "Don't stop. Pleeeeeeease, don't stop. I...I need this. I neeeeeeeeed it."

Had Greg not been buried to the hilt in her grasping, hot, steamy cunt he might have been better able to process his concern. Instead he could only let it slip away and focus on how good it felt to violate all his principles.

"I'm going to scream," she announced, "I want to so bad, Doctor Clark. I just want to scream out, you fuck me so good."

"D—don't," he tried to mount a better argument than that, but could not as his babysitter had also chosen that moment to drag her nails across his skin, something that nearly always made his eyes roll to the back of this head.

"Oh, I know, Doc, I know. It'd be so bad of me. But I just...FUCK...I need to so bad. Tell me not to. Order me to keep my mouth shut."

He tried his best to do so, groaning, "Don't you make too much noise. Be quiet now."

"God...I wish I could. But I don't want to and I know you don't want me to. You love when I get loud. You're going to have to stop me. Please. I'm out of control, Doc. Stop me from screaming."

The words poured out of her and she was vaguely aware of how she sounded: drunk and high at once, slurred and accelerated. And utterly desperate. Almost ill.

"I...I can't," Greg confessed below her. He was talking too quick for his mind to catch up and make better choices. He wanted to hear her scream. He loved her sounds.




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 16



"But I might wake your kids. Or your wife. Gina would come down here and see. And know everything. And we'd both be too far gone to stop. We'd just keep fucking and she'd just stand there and watch. So tell me not to."

"I...can't. "

"Please...I need this."

"Then take it. Scream for me, for my cock. Ruin my life because you're too much of a slut to keep your mouth off my married cock."

"You're...you're just making it worse," she pleaded.

"Do it. I want to hear you scream. I love when you get loud and nasty for me. Fuck me and scream."

"Please...I don't want to be a slut. I want to be good again." They had veered into a weird role play, but Mallory was fully onboard.

"No you don't. You want to scream. You want everyone to know what you really are."

"Please, sir, let me be good again."

"No! You are too far gone to ever be good again."

"Oh god, I am, aren't I? I'm so dirty. Depraved."

"Do it," he whispered.

And so she did, a strangled, groaning cry of dark, immoral pleasure. And she did not regret it for a moment.

As the scream ended, she immediately resumed eye contact.

"I want you to watch me cum," she demanded.

"I always do."

"No. Eye contact. Watch me cum. Don't look away."

"O...ok."

"So close. Will you watch me?"

"Yes, baby. I'm right here."

"Watch me and tell me what you see?"

"Of course."

"God, so close. Your cock...god. Damn! Fuuuuuuuuuuck. Can I cum? Please let me?"

"Cum for me, Mal. Cum."

"Oh god, oh god....tell me what you see."

"I see a beautiful woman. Amazing body. Incredible legs. Perfect breas—"

"Tits. Call them tits!"

"Perfect tits. The kind no one could stop thinking about. I see a beautiful woman who's chosen to give in to her baser instincts, who lives to fuck and be fucked. For whom getting cum on the face is a better high than any drug. A beautiful woman gone bad girl. A—"

She came then, digging her nails into his chest like a bird of prey seizing something in its talons. She moaned long and low, shaking with adrenaline and orgasm.

Then, as her climax peeked and receded, she began to whisper a chant, "Oh Doc. Oh god. I love you. I love you. I love you."

Greg heard it but before he could react, his lizard brain took over and his orgasm consumed his immediate future.

"Gonna cum," he growled, grab her hips tightly and thrusting himself deep into her. She moaned, an aftershock skipping through her.

"Where do you want to cum birthday boy?" she gasped.

"In—Inside."

"Mmmm, good choice. Fill me up Doctor Clark. Cum inside me. I want to feel it. God, fill me up."

"Cumming," he gritted his teeth together and pulled down even harder on her hips, seizing her and holding her motionless. She felt his hot seed coating her walls in powerful spurts. She sighed with contentment, sliding off him.

As he began to go flaccid, she dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth again, humming. She tasted them both on him, her dew and his cum, as she cleaned him.

After a loving minute or so, she popped back up and mock curtsied. She could feel him dripping down her inner thighs and she loved it.

"Wow," he moaned.

"Agreed. Happy birthday Doc."

She blew out each candle, kissed him on the lips, and left, clothes bundled in her hands. As he sat in the darkness enjoying the post-orgasmic bliss, odd moments began to force themselves into his thoughts until he could not ignore them. The speech about his wife not deserving sex with him. Her wanting to hear him say I love you. Her whispering of the same.

Something had to change. And soon.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 17



Greg awoke to the sound of pots and pans clattering downstairs and the scent of sausage twirling around his nostrils. He groaned and stretched in well rested bliss, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes back to alertness. Slowly his brain caught up to his state of awakeness and the problems with the situation began to filter in.

Quickly he ticked off a list of things that didn't make sense at that moment: 

1.)He usually made breakfast if it was made in the house, Gina was a grapefruit and cup of coffee kind of woman

2.)The kids didn't like sausage so even if Gina did, for some reason, make breakfast she wouldn't cook up sausage nor would there be any in the house to cook.

3.)He went to bed on his own last night, after Gina and the kids went down to hers for the long Thanksgiving weekend, with the idea that he'd drive down today after doing some office work and help prepare food for the feast the next day.

Reaching #3 was what finally cut through the post-waking haze. With an awkward bounce, he was off the bed and rocketing down the stairs, his anti-burglar baseball bat in hand. He was not aware of any home invaders who would pause to make you breakfast but you just never knew these days.

He ricocheted around the corner and nearly ran headlong into an apron wearing Mallory, hot pan in hand. He took a moment to notice the navy colored apron smock was emblazoned with the slogan "Hot Food, Hot Kitchen, Hot Chef."

"Hey Doc," she chirped, "got a baseball bat there, do you?"

"Umm...yeah...I—" he stuttered, embarrassed by his overreaction.

"You aren't planning to crack my skull open with that, are you?"

"No. No! Of course not...just thought that maybe—"

"There was a teenage girl making breakfast before she robbed you blind?"

He giggled a bit at his foolishness, "Something like that."

"Well, that wasn't my plan. So how about you ditch the stick and eat some eggs instead?"

"Okay...okay, yeah, sounds good."

He sat and she pushed a pile of scrambled eggs on his plate. Also on the table sat a platter of sausage and toast and a carafe of orange juice. As he poured himself a glass of orange juice, Greg glanced out the window. Noting the still dark state of the sky, he knit his eyebrows together in confusion and wondered aloud, "What the hell time is it?"

"Like 5:30 or so, I think," the babysitter estimated from behind the refrigerator door.

The doctor snorted in surprise, "What kind of college student wakes up at 5:30 on a Wednesday morning."

"Actually, I had to get up at more like 4:45."

"Riiiight. So why would yo—" Greg's statement became lodged in his throat as Mallory traipsed back to the stove. With her back to him, it was clear that she had on nothing on under her apron from the string of pearls around her neck all the way down to the pair of dark blue pair of stiletto heels.

"You okay, Doc?"

"Uh-huh..."

"Whatcha doing?"

"Uhhh...eating breakfast?"

"Oh, okay. I thought you might be staring at my small but undeniably pleasurably round ass," she replied, glancing over her shoulder with a wide smile.

"I can multitask," Greg shot back with a shrug.

She bounced her hips left and right before spinning around and returning to the table to eat with the doctor.

"Eat up," she urged, a mischievous smirk pushing dimples into her cheeks, "You're going to need your strength."

"For?"

"You can't guess?"

Greg shook his head and took a bite of eggs. A moment later he gagged and sputtered.

"Bad?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Terrible," he nodded, coughing, "Soooo salty."

"I was worried that might be the case," she confessed, "I don't really cook all that much."

"Well, it is the thought," the doctor excused her after a long gulp of orange juice. "I thank you for that. I can just grab a bowl of cereal and get to the office early though."

"That's not—"

"Honestly, it's fine. Thank you for the attempt and for the delightful eye candy."

She stood and held him in his chair by pressing on his shoulder. "Knock it off, silly," she instructed, "I grabbed bagels and cream cheese in case of an emergency just like this. No man of mine is going to have just cereal for breakfast today."

"Man of yours?" he asked, wide eyed. While his gaze was undeniably fixed on the pleasing rhythm of Mal's journey to the fridge and the incredible way her back looked with each step, the invocation of "man of mine" left him feeling uneasy. This was his birthday all over again.

"Yep. Go ahead and deny it," she invited me.

"Well, I'm married, for one."

"I know, I've met your wife. She's lovely. Boring, but lovely," she playfully dug at him as she began to carve up bagels and toss them into the toaster, "Cinnamon raisin or plain?"

"Cinnamon raisin. But you do get that I do love her and that this is just a...a thing... a...vacation from goo—"

Mallory rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, "Yes, yes, I get it Doc. RE-Lax! I'm just having a little fun. I'm not really laying claim to you, okay? I just like the sound of 'man of mine.' It's fine. Besides, you can't tell me that you wouldn't like waking up to me in nothing but a tiny apron, heels, and pearls all the time."

"Alright, sure. I am just—"

"You are just being zero fun. Now enjoy your breakfast so I can enjoy you soon."

He quietly accepted his bagel quietly, feeling weirdly chagrined.

"Thank you," he mumbled, "And thanks for the offer. But I have to go to the office for some paperwork and then drive down to Gina's parents for tonight."

"Or you could put off the paperwork since who's going to know otherwise and still make it down to her parents in time," Mallory suggested, licking a spot of cream cheese off the corner of her mouth.

"Or I could just do what I said I was going to do," he shot back.

"Sure, whatever," the coed shrugged, "We'll see."

Greg's eyes, despite his best intentions, drifted from her eyes towards the loose opening at the top of her apron. Before he could sneak a peek downward though, he focused on the pearls again. His face screwing up a bit in confusion he asked, "Do you really own pearls?"

She fingered them lightly and smirked, "No, I had to borrow some of Gina's. I'll return them later. You can feel free to give me a pearl necklace whenever you'd like though."

Mallory began to spread cream cheese on another bagel half and added with raised eyebrow, "That's a double entendre, in case that wasn't clear. Although, if you also want to ply me with the...less sticky variety of pearl necklace, I certainly wouldn't turn it down."

Despite being the elder in the room, Greg blushed and glanced away. He loved and hated how easily she got to him. He tried to remember if there was a time when he and Gina would delight and dare each other with blatant entendres and dirty phrases. There were moments but they seemed very far away right now and paled in comparison to Mallory's unrestrained naughtiness.

He cleared his throat and began to lay the groundwork for his exit, "Thanks so much for bagels. And the attempt at eggs. It was very sweet of you."

Mallory saw through the compliment immediately. "But?" she shot back, smirk dancing across her lips.

"Buuuut," he drew it out, forming his next thought, "As mentioned, I have to go to the office and do paperwork and then drive down to thes to help with tomorrow's orgy of turkey and stuffing."

"Orgy, huh? Can I come? And cum?"

He sighed heavily in response and shook his head, refusing to engage, "So, again, thanks. I'm going to go shower and head out. Feel free to find your clothes again and head out. Don't worry about cleaning up, I can take care of that."

"No, no," she waved him off, "It's my mess, I'm happy to clean up."

Mal leaned over the table, lightly brushing her lips over his cheek. Without conscious choice, he inhaled her scent and sighed contently. His sense memory lit up and he suddenly intensely craved her. Her taste. The sound of her gasp as he slid deep inside her. The feeling of her skin against his, warm, soft, and smooth. The way she settled against and into him, post-coitus.

"Not good, not good!" he "shouted" in his own mind, suppressing the tangle of feelings that rose, of lust and fondness and, terrifyingly, perhaps something more.

She bent over to lift the plates from the table, her apron dipping downwards. Greg foggily settled his gaze on the exposed flesh, her small firm breasts topped by rose colored nipples. She paused long enough to allow him a long stare, aware of it but not acknowledging. Then, she sashayed away, sure to put as much hip sway into her walk as she could before becoming a cartoon.

Greg's mouth went dry, his heartbeat perked up, half anxious half excited. It was the heartbeat of a man about to make yet another bad choice, albeit one that he'd enjoy.

The doctor followed behind her, eyes sweeping up and down her exposed body. The way the belt of the apron, tied with a huge bow, rested upon her ass...the sight of her calves elevated by her high heels...the still slightly visible tan lines. Almost trembling, he rested his hands on her shoulders and leaned over to kiss her neck.

"But Doc," the babysitter whispered, "I thought you had paperwork to do at the office?"

He kissed her neck again, more open mouthed this time with a brief stroke of tongue. Mal moaned enthusiastically in reply, her head drifting back.

"I thought you said you didn't care," the not very good Doc replied.

"I very much don't. But you know me, always trying to play by the rules," she sighed.

"Liar," Greg chuckled, "Naughty women like you don't give a damn about rules."

He slid his hands under the apron, caressing the skin of her stomach, and then upward to cup her breasts. They felt incredible in his hands, perfectly warm, the nipples exquisitely hard against first his palms then between his fingers.

She practically purred in response, pushing her ass back against him. "If I had run of the house all the time, I wouldn't have to interfere with your work schedule you know..."

"You still would."

"Mmm...of course...but less."

"I think Gina would notice you being here," he murmured in her ear, his hand easing slowly downward.

"She wouldn't if she wasn't around," Mallory whispered, "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Doctor Clark? Me here all the time, hot and ready whenever you wanted, no wife around to ruin the fun?"

Greg tensed in response, not liking the direction the conversation was heading. Where his fingers slid a moment later quickly convinced him to ignore the warning bells.

"God, you're so wet!" he exclaimed, the surprise causing him to raise his voice involuntarily.

"Do something about it," dared the coed, her hands reaching behind her, grasping and yanking at his pants, attempting to remove them.

Pulling his focus away from her smooth, hot, wet pussy for a moment, he managed to aid her in sending his pajama pants to the floor in a pile. Greg kicked them away without thought while pushing Mallory forward, bending her at the waist. Her elbows on the counter, she eased one leg further apart from the other. Greg spent a moment admiring the view before Mallory's anxious hands guided him deep into her needy sex.

He grunted as she urged, "God, yes, Doc, fuck me! You feel so good! Please....fuck me!"

One hand finding the cabinet for support, the other her clit, the adulterous doctor pushed into her with measured precision. Her cunt massaged his cock, her muscles flexing around him, pulling him deeper. Mindlessly, he gasped, "So wet...so tight."

"Love it, love it, fuuccckkk...so hard. No one, no one fucks me like you," Mal babbled, doing her best to rock back against his aggressive thrusts.

Greg could only concentrate on the pleasure, the heat, the smooth, the soft. His brain was entirely devoted to interpreting each pleasurable neuron spark and nothing else. His breath was ragged. Mallory wooed and cooed in equal measure, delighted to be the cause of and the vessel for his mind obliterating desire. Both of them were flush with lust and exertion, muscles straining, a light sheen of sweat clinging to their skin. They jabbered at one another in whispers, hisses, and groans, "fuck," "cock," "harder," "tight," "pussy," and so on flowing constantly. If either slipped a "love you" between the filth, neither seemed to notice.

Soon both Greg's hands encircled his children's babysitter's waist and he took complete control of her body. He impaled her quicker, harder, and deeper on his dick with each thrust. She yielded to him fully, letting her torso completely fall against the counter.

Tits mashed and slide against the marble, the cold of it seeping rapidly through the thin material of her smock. She felt her nipples crinkle, getting impossibly harder. She bit her lip as she came, hissing through the clenched teeth, "Fffffffffffffffffuck yes!"

She was rewarded by the sound of the doctor's hitched breath. He loved when she came. For all the other stuff that got him hard and out of his mind for her, she knew this was the one that tripped him up the most. Her orgasm. 

Hands shaking and fumbling, she managed to undo the cord of the apron that tied behind her neck. She gulped air, struggling against her after tremors, to find her voice again.

"You gonna give me that necklace, Doc?!" she shouted out.

The doctor could only grunt back a confused, "What?" through the haze.

"You better give me what I want. I've earned a fucking pearl necklace and you better give it to me."

"So dirty...such a dirty girl," he groaned back at her, catching on.

"You gonna do it then, Doctor Clark? You going to give me a long string of pearls?"

"So close....got me so close," he groaned.

Mallory spun away from him and down her knees, her apron top flopping down away from her perky teen tits. She grabbed Greg's cock in both hands, her grip sliding easily over it, so slick from her dew. 

"Come on now!" she ordered me, "Decorate me, you dirty pervert. Give me my necklace. I deserve everything she gets and more. Cum on me. On my neck and my tits...please."

Greg could do nothing to deny the request, a brief attempt to hold on to enjoy her small, soft hands, quickly evaporated and he was exploding all over where she pointed him. Thick, heavy ropes of pearl indecency violated her perfect skin. She thrust two fingers into her pussy, the heat of his cum so arousing to her.

The doctor dropped to his knees beside her, huffing slightly. She smiled at him, undoing the real necklace, noting it dripping with splatter.

She mock giggled, "Oops," and dragged her pink tongue over each individual white sphere, cleaning them of his essence.

"Thanks for the gift," she added, gesturing to her chest.

He nodded, tongue still thick in his mouth, head foggy. 

Mallory continued, tongue loosened in the afterglow, "Love when you get me messy...such a buttoned up man, but so horny he can't stop himself from drenching me."

She caught his eye and smiled wider. "So. Very. Inappropriate," she tsked, "Not the behavior of a family man and upstanding member of society."

Greg finally gathered himself enough to respond, offering a mumbled, almost embarrassed, "We all have hidden sides."

"Mmmhmm, and I do love yours."

She crawled and burrowed into him, resting her head on his still clothed chest. His heart, though slowing, still thumped loudly and rapidly through his skin against her ear. She breathed into their mutual post-sex scent, her fingers mostly unconsciously playing through and rubbing his cum into her skin. As their skin cooled, she burrowed a bit farther into him.

"Cold," she muttered.

"This floor is probably not the best to cuddle on naked."

"Mmm, bed then?" she asked hopefully.

"I was thinking showers."

"Shower?" she offered, dropping the plural.

"Nah, we have multiple bathrooms for just this sort of thing. Well...not this sort of thing. But the need for multiple showers to be taken at once... You understand what I mean."

Mallory giggled into Greg's chest at his befuddlement.

"Anyway, feel free to take the big one upstairs, I'll use the one off the master bedroom," he strongly suggested.

She acquiesced with an indifferent shrug, "Suit yourself."

Surprised—and perhaps a bit disappointed—at how easily she gave in, Greg padded off, clothes awkwardly clutched in hand, to his shower. He turned the faucet on high, the echo of water off the tiles helping to somewhat stall his racing thoughts. He waited until steam began to settle on the cabinet mirrors before stepping under the pelting drops and sighed with contentment at the simple pleasure of a strong stream of hot water thumping against his back.

The doctor's mind seemed clearer, finally. The shower was where he felt most at ease letting his thoughts come and go and he had processed many an event in the various stalls and tubs he had ducked under a head in. At that moment, his mind went to his current predicament, married, two kids. Happily married, in fact, until very recently when he was forced to re-acknowledge his less than vanilla sexual desires. Desires that he had, one could argue, successfully suppressed in the name of a stable home and maintaining a kind partnership marriage. It might have failed to fulfill him fully physically but he had been in denial about for so long, he didn't even notice it. The teen mistress who brought this to light seemed to boast a bottomless sexual appetite and a willingness to apparently do whatever he wanted. She was also his children's babysitter and most assuredly significantly more emotionally involved in this...thing they were doing even as she insisted otherwise.

And then there was him, wanting it both ways, the long-term marriage, seeing the kids without needing to schedule or call ahead, and the lascivious lady on the side to "exorcise" the fantasies Gina, his wife, would never even consider. That was selfish enough. And it successfully ignored the question of his feelings for Mallory. Was she just a dirty mind and mouth, atop an athletic body that demonstrated great enthusiasm for sin or did he, too, have a bit more emotional investment than he intended. 

It didn't matter, Greg concluded to himself. If he liked her, loved her, or saw her as just a breathing sex toy, he was still committed to remaining married to Gina and to being the kind of father who lived with his kids, not who got every other weekend, half the holidays, and two weeks in the summer. The only feelings that did matter were Mallory's and the more he saw the more he realized he owed it to her to end things before she became too enamored of him (or her vision of him, anyway) and would be truly hurt by the "break-up."

As he completed the thought, the curtain slid open, bamboo rings clinking against the steel shower rod. Mallory entered, voice full of innocent enthusiasm, "Room for one more?"

"Umm," Greg managed before she wrestled back control once more.

"I know we said separate showers, but then I realized I'm the kind of naughty woman who doesn't give a damn about the rules," she teased, her voice taking on a breathy tone to match the lusty smirk on her face.

Greg's resolution to end things suddenly felt significantly less strong as he dragged his eyes up and down her naked, wet body. Mallory unselfconsciously picked up a bottle of body wash and squeezed a stream into her free hand and rubbed the blue puddle into her chest, sloughing away the doctor's dried cum.

"Goodness, Doc...you keep staring at me like that and I'm not sure I can be held responsible for my actions," she said, catching him. Only the heat induced flush hid the blushing he knew would otherwise be staining his cheeks.

"I...I just..."

"Love my naked body?" she giggled, "Yeah, I know. I bet you'd appreciate getting to see it more. Like mornings when you wake up? On the way out the door for work? Immediately when you get home from a long day at the office?"




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 17



Greg didn't reply, choosing instead to reach for the soap and ignore yet another one of Mallory's "Wouldn't it be great if..." intonations.

She was smart enough to notice his avoidance but chose to not comment on it. The babysitter grasped she was playing with fire a bit but saw her employer's unwillingness to engage as a good sign, better certainly than if he had told her to back off. That's what he "should've" done and the fact that he hadn't only told her just how tempting he found her.

The coed nestled close to Greg from behind, freeing the soap from his hands and began to rub it into the skin of his chest. He sighed despite himself, enjoying the feeling of soap cascading down his chest and stomach while her nails lightly scratched across his flesh.

"You have a hard time doing the right thing while I'm around, don't you?" she purred in his ear.

"You...you do make it difficult," he haltingly confessed.

"Wellllll, that's not good. You know how I hate to complicate your life," she cooed, the soap clattering to the floor as her sudsy hands gently teased Greg's cock.

"I don't believe that for a second," he hissed back, powerless to keep his dick from thickening and rising.

"I really, really do, Doc. And to prove it, I'm going to make things easy right now."

"Oh?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded, "I'm going to take my warm, wet, naked body out of this shower and place it on the bed you share with your wife. If you don't follow within five minutes, I'll assume you aren't interested and leave. If you do though..."

She rose up to the balls of her feet, licking his ear and letting her hot breath curve sensually down the canal.

"If you do," she resumed, "Well, I guess I'll just have to fuck your brains out."

The 19 year old slipped past the shower curtain as her 30-something employer gulped a big breath. She loudly blew him a kiss and walked away, leaving a trail of wet footprints from the bathroom into the bedroom before disappearing from view, on her way to fulfill her promise to lie prone on his bed.

Left alone in the steam and echoing water, Greg struggled to restrain his reignited libido which whispered its filthy suggestions to him. The right thing was obvious. Finish showering at a slow pace, go to the office for a bit, go to thes, gather his wits, and tell Mallory things had gone too far. Tell her that this was a fling that was getting emotional and that was not okay. He just had to resist his dirty thoughts for five minutes and he could seize control of things once again.

In the end, it was no contest. He lasted forty-five seconds.

With a groan of utter surrender, he recklessly jumped out of the tub. So hasty to get to the bedroom, he failed to fully turn off the water, a trickle streaming from the lower faucet going unnoticed. Greg stalked into the bedroom, his member, thick and hard in front of him, betrayed his intentions. 

Mallory lay on the bed as promised, back propped up by pillows. Her left leg was extended, her right leg bent at the knee, foot on the mattress. Rivulets and drops of cooling water speckled her flushed skin. Her eyes were alight with playful desire. Seeing him, she could not suppress her triumphant smile.

He stood several feet away for a moment, pondering what to do with/to his children's babysitter. She unashamedly stared at him, trying to memorize the look of his naked body, dripping, blushing with heat and lust. Satisfied with the view, she bit her lip and bid him forward with a single finger.

Rather than immediately climb onto the bed, he kneeled at the base, taking Mallory's leg in his hands. With a quick raise of his eyebrows, he licked her foot from heel to toe. The coed sighed contently, running her hands over her chest and abdomen. As Greg continued his task, licking the water from her flesh, sucking her toes, nibbling at her calf, she offhandedly teased her clit, slow but with no attempt to hide it. While distracted by the site of it, the doctor remained committed to his plan to run his tongue over every bit of her smooth, firm, yet supple teenage skin. She moaned in a mix of appreciation and frustration at his restraint.

She shifted and undulated beneath his attention, trying to angle herself for that extra little bit of friction, that extra smidgen of pressure. Despite how easily he gave in to baser instincts in entering the bedroom, he now demonstrated incredible willpower in not simply spreading her legs and licking her pretty pussy until she passed out from pleasure.

It all quickly became too much. So much pleasure and yet not nearly enough. Mallory wanted to just finger herself, to lewdly indulge and cum since the doc just wouldn't do it. However, Greg read her intent before she could carry it forth, grabbing her wrists and holding them rigidly. She can tease herself in the position he's trapped them, but little else.

"God, you bastard...I need you!" she finally begged, "Please, make me cum!"

The formerly decent family man smiled a wolfish grin but ignored her request, lavishing her with attention but not the kind she was so desperate for. With him now on the bed, she felt his hard cock occasionally graze her skin, sometimes leaving drop or thin line of precum on her skin. She knew he wanted her and that made his barely there yet everywhere presence nearly maddening.

Until, finally, his face was between her legs once more. Her flesh buzzed from the sensation of his tongue and fingers licking up and sweeping the water from her. She felt coiled, each muscle tight, each cell burning. Watching, she sees him remove his wedding ring.

"What are you doi—?" her question was swallowed up by a near screech of pleasure as he pressed the gold band against her clit and began to rub.

"Uhhhh," she grunted, "You know what that does to me!"

"What what does?"

"God! Fuck! Y—y—you using your ring to fuck me!"

"Tell me!"

"It...you...drive me so damn crazy with it. You promised...promised your wife forever with it."

"And now?"

"Now....uhh.....gonna cum!"

"Good, Mallory. Cum. Coat the ring."

"Fuck...so dirty. You promise forever and now you use it...use it to finger fuck your teen slut!"

The Greg who was nervous about emotional involvement couldn't be found in that moment. No good guy stood there anymore. He was just...desire. Corrupted, don't care about anyone but himself desire. Violating his vows blatantly only served to make him that much hotter and harder. The time to regret his actions will be later, to remember who he's supposed to be, who his wife is and how she deserves better. In this moment though, there is only a lust object in front of him begging for more.

Mal scrambled to her knees as he relented, slipping the soaked glistening ring back on his finger. She pulled and shoved Greg back onto the bed, straddling and mounting him without permission. She whimpered in delight as his cock stretched her with each fraction of movement she sunk down further on his dick. 

"Not going to last long," the doctor confessed, teeth gritted.

"Good," the babysitter responds, rubbing her clit feverishly, "I want to feel your cum filling this cunt."

Brain fully disconnected, Greg grabbed her hips, pulled her tight against me and exploded, grunting and shaking as his unprotected cock spilled jet after jet of hot cum inside her. She screamed in victory, her climax sent off by the twin sensations of his pubic hair against her clit and the first pump coating her walls.

Collapsed together in a seemingly boneless mess, gasping and panting, the two took a moment to regain their devastated senses. Mallory shivered involuntarily as their perspiration began to cool.

"See," she smiled at him then kissed his cheek, "I am a lot of fun to have around."

"Mal—" he began, weariness and guilt seeping into his brain.

"Oh come on, Doc, no need to go all serious. You know you love me."

He glanced at her then and found her looking at him expectedly, waiting for his response to that. "Shower time," he dodged, slipping out from beneath her.

"Can I join?" she called out after him.

Greg, too spent and distracted to discuss it, nodded, "If you'd like. Just don't try anything. This is one old man who cannot be roused right now."

She giggled and bounced off the bed after him, "I think you underestimate my persuasiveness."

"I think you overestimate my stamina."

In relative silence, they soaped up and massaged each other clean, hot water and firm fingers easing the exertion from joints and muscles. Greg felt content in the moment and that contentment carried fear with it. He shouldn't feel that, he reasoned. Giddy, guilty, horny, ashamed, exhausted...these were acceptable feelings after yet again cheating on your wife with a woman more than a decade younger. Stillness and comfort? These implied emotional intimacy and that was too big a step to risk. 

As Mallory toweled off and left to grab the clothes she had stowed in the family room, this fact continued to bang around in the doctor's head. He had no choice. To continue now was to risk his family, his way of life, Mallory's feelings, his reputation...it was time to stop pretending this was some fling, he realized. And if it wasn't some fling, it couldn't be anything at all.

The family man found the college student in the kitchen, rosy and fresh scrubbed from the shower. She sat at the island, staring out the window with a light smile on her face in between long gulps of ice water from a comically large plastic cup. She was dressed in a simple white long sleeve shirt, distressed jeans, and sneakers, hair in still damp tendrils spilling over her shoulders. The way he paused to take her in only further convinced him. He had played with fire for too long and if he didn't do this now, it would consume every last person he had any kind of positive feelings for, including her.

"Soooooooooo... we need to talk," he began.

She turned in her seat and read his features immediately. Her stomach tightened, her palms got clammy. "Well, this isn't good," she thought grimly.

He spoke quickly maintaining a sort of half-steady eye contact. He tried to explain how much he enjoyed her, beyond physically, although undeniably physically too. He spoke about how far afield his life felt from what he knew or thought he knew about himself. He admitted that how much he enjoyed her made ignoring the warning signs tempting but he knew that wasn't fair to anyone. Despite everything, he loved Gina, even if he had done a shit job of showing it by cheating on her and, more importantly, he loved being a father and had no desire to lose all that. He parried her rationalization attempts, restating each point more strongly and asserting that this was for her too. She was 19, too damn soon to think about moving in with anyone, never mind a still married guy more than a decade her elder. Either she'd get bored, or disappointed, or hurt; and he had no desire to be the source of any of those feelings. Finally, she stopped objecting and he ran out of words. The room went quiet. They had been speaking for over an hour and a half.

"Okay," she replied in a quiet voice at last.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. I want to make your life better, make sure you enjoy things more, not drag you down into serious time and contemplations of personal and financial ruin. So if you need time to get back to the point where this is pure fun again, I say okay."

"I didn't say I just needed—"

She held up her hands stopping him, "You are making a hasty choice. I'm leaving you a back door out. Or back in, in this case. So we say 'time,' not 'over,' because when you get yourself straight I'm going to want you to take me again, immediately, not worry about whether or not I'm still interested."

Greg sighed then nodded. If she wanted to say time for now, he could live with that. Eventually, inevitably, she'd grow sick of time and move on. Until then, to protect herself, why not let her label the end as possibly just a break? What could it harm?

"Good then," he pronounced, "So you'll stay Mallory top notch babysitter and all around helpful lady and I'll be Greg, dad, husband, doctor, and guy who pays the babysitter a bit more than necessary at the end of every night."

She raised her eyebrows and smirked.

"You know what I mean," he mock scolded her.

They both laughed at the moment and Greg felt relief. "Easier than expected," he confessed to himself. Then he noticed the familiar mischievous look in Mal's eyes.

"What are you thinking?" he wondered aloud, voice hesitant.

"I was just thinking that, when we walk out that door, our little game will be on hold for....some amount of time."

"Possibly forever," he reminded her.

"Right, maybe. Probably not, but maybe. Anyway, that happens when we leave the confines of your beautiful home. For now though, we are both still here and that break hasn't started."

"I'm not sure I—"

She stood up and glided towards him, hunger visible in every blink, every step, as she came closer.

She kissed him, arms looping around his neck. Long and deep. Her mouth was bracingly cold from the ice water. She tasted clean, wonderful. She smelled even better. One last big kiss to seal the agreement seemed like a fine way to leave things.

As she stopped, however, and opened her eyes to gaze into his, it became clear this was more than one last kiss.

"However long this break lasts though, Doc, it's going to feel like an awfully long time for you."

"Is it?"

"Uh-huh," she confirmed, licking her lips, "Going from, basically, blowjobs on demand to none at all, ever... that makes time just draaaaaaaaaaaaag by."

"It does, does it?"

"Definitely."

"Well, somehow I'll just have to find a way to persevere. I went without for years once, I think I can do it again."

"I don't know Doc, that was before you had your dick sucked by me."

"And you are, what, the best?"

"Ha...don't even pretend like you don't think so," Mallory scoffed, "You're the one, after all, who told me that's what my mouth was made for."

He blushed and nodded his head in embarrassed surrender, "Be that as it may, once we leave, that's no longer an option for me."

"Yes, exactly my point. Once we leave. But we haven't left yet, have we?"

"No, we haven't."

Her hand drifted to his zipper, slowly coaxing it downward as she spoke, "And you seem so committed to this break, it would be shameful of me not to do all in my power to facilitate its success, wouldn't it?"

"I can see your point, but I—uhhh," he interrupted himself to grunt as her hand deftly pulled his cock free of its cotton prison.

"Good. Glad to hear that. So we're agreed. I suck this beautiful cock one last time, absolutely just fuck it with my mouth, my tongue, my throat. You give me your adulterous cream, let me taste how bad you want me, one last time, and then we leave. Start this...separation on the right note."

She cockily flashed Greg a toothy grin as she sunk to her knees.

"Are we agreed?" the babysitter asked, cheekily as she gently tugged at his turgid dick.

"Can I say no?" Greg croaked.

"Do you really want to?" Mallory shot back before running her tongue left and right on his perineum.

Greg groaned but said nothing else. She smiled as she took him into her mouth, her tongue caressing the head enthusiastically.

She pulled back with a pop, eyes bright with creative energy. "Oooo, lightbulb," the babysitter declared. She grabbed her cast aside water glass and pulled out a partially melted ice cube, edges worn down and rounded. With a wink, she slid the cube over her lips leaving them glistening and moist. Then she released her warm pink tongue and placed the cube on it, pulling it back into her mouth.

The show over, she engulfed him with a quick dart of her head. With a bark he grabbed her hair tight in his hand. The shock of cold ripped through him, intense, almost painfully so, and incredible. She happily hummed around him as she felt his cock strain and bounce in her mouth.

"Damn!" he finally gasped out, his brain at last reactivating his language center, "Too much. Fucccck...so..uhhh...oh god! Don't stop!"

Mallory fixed her eyes on his face, watching him moan and blush as she took him deeper. She felt his hand gathered in her hair, pushing and pulling, tightening with every moment he grew closer to spilling his essence down her throat. She loved his struggle, between wanting to cum and not wanting the delightful torture of being oh so close to stop, between wanting to pull away from the sharp pierce of cold and wanting to go even deeper into it.

Greg panted and hunched, dizzy at her talent. He glanced at her, seeing her staring up at him with an expression made up of equal parts amusement, delight, and lust. Mallory looked completely at ease, totally in her element. She enjoyed this...it wasn't a favor or a gift for an anniversary. She was sucking his cock because she wanted to and knew he wanted it to. He bit his tongue to stop himself from declaring the break over before it started.

Mallory grabbed her employer's ass through his pants and pushed him deeper into her mouth, then eased him out, then pushed him again. He caught her invitation and whispered, "Are you sure?"

She enthusiastically mumbled, "Yes. Fuck my mouth!" around his dick, the vibrations making him shudder in overstimulation. Greg pushed himself against the wall, standing upright, and did as bid, placing a second hand on her head and thrusting forward into her opening, hungry mouth. Slow at first, then faster as she took him with visible delight.

"God, you look so good right now," he groaned, staring at her, "So hot with me fucking your mouth. Mm...yes....god...so beautiful. You make me fucking hard. Gonna cum....you're gonna make me fill your mouth with my cum."

Mallory nearly purred in glee at his rapid acceptance of the situation, at his willingness to use her mouth to pleasure himself. Her nipples stood up, thick and firm, rubbing and bouncing against the fabric of her shirt. She felt her core grow molten, hot and wet yet again. She made vague plans to make herself cum when she got back to her apartment.

As the cube regressed back to liquid state, the coed swallowed hard to eliminate the excess. With Greg's cock plunging in and out of her mouth however, inevitably water spilled out, down her chin and neck. She felt the still cool liquid slip downward, darkening the neck of her shirt. She imagined what Gina would think if she walked through the door right now, if somehow the Doc got away and left her there on her knees, face flush, nipples screaming to be looked at, water on her chin, neck, and down her shirt. Thinking about it only made going down on Greg that much more of a turn-on.

Returning to the present, she could tell the very bad doctor's will to resist climax was falling to pieces. Even his filthy babbled lust had gone away. All that was present in the room was Greg's heavy breathing and the wet sound of Mallory's mouth accommodating his erratic thrusts. She shoved him back against the wall again and retook control, her head bobbing far more rapidly that his hips were thrusting. She enjoyed the feeling of his large hands in her hair, the pressure and almost burning sensation as he yanked and clutched at her. The corners of her mouth stretched just a bit further open to accommodate Dr. Clark's pre-climax expansion, aching thrillingly. She locked her eyes on his and threw him what she hoped was her sluttiest, most wanton glance.

The first pump was shallow and thick, spilling over her tongue. "He's been eating pineapple," she thought reflexively as her taste buds absorbed his flavor. The second shot slid easily down her throat and the third joined it almost immediately. She pulled back and grabbed the root, pumping it rapidly, milking Greg for every last drop. She breathed rapidly out of her nose, feeling near panic but not daring to pull away to catch her breath.




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 17



Finally she felt him grow limp, both in her mouth and the rest of him as well. She gulped loudly and greedily until nothing remained. Then, she let his rapidly less impressive dick drop from her hand and mouth. She rose to her feet, tucked him back into his pants, and zipped him up.

"I'd say that you should rinse so you don't get in trouble if the Mrs. decides to suck you off tonight, but we both know that won't be an issue," she mentioned, unable to resist that last dig.

Greg did not rise to the bait, instead only bending at the waist to grab his overnight bag. "Ready then?" he asked.

"Full up for now, Doc," she replied, smacking her lips dramatically.

"And, to refresh," he began.

"We walk out that door into nomoresexville. Yes, I get it," Mallory rolled her eyes.

"Good then. Good."

And so they went, Mal first, followed by the Doc. As he locked up, he felt calm, free. It had been a hell of experience but now he could get back to reality. Commitment, fidelity, monogamy...time to get back to it all. It was over, he assured himself with no small sense of pride.

Mallory, on the other hand, walked away whistling. If absence made the heart grow fonder, she reasoned, he'd be begging for her to get naked sometime around the first weekend of December. And if not? She knew she could be pretty persuasive.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 18



Despite Mallory's predictions, the first weekend in December came and went without Dr. Clark begging her for anything. Not even a handjob. And, moreover, there was no sign he was even sweating it. If she wasn't so sexually frustrated, she'd have just been pissed off and perhaps a little bit hurt.

Of course, appearances are not always truths. Underneath his placid surface, Greg was roiling. Putting the sexual genie back in the bottle had proven a far harder challenge than he initially expected. It wasn't just that the young blonde made him damn near physically ache every time she came over to watch the kids, although, that certainly was part of it. Even when she wasn't around, he could feel...undiluted horniness in his veins. It made him almost panicky sometimes, how bad he wanted sex like the kinds he had grown accustomed to having with Mal. He tried to recreate the experiences with Gina but couldn't. She wasn't Mallory and he knew he couldn't go as far as he wanted. So instead, he stalked about, doing odd jobs around the house, sublimating his want for things that he already knew his wife had no interest in fulfilling.

It was into this situation that Mallory decided to strut in and force the issue. Gina and Greg were heading to a friend's birthday party and Mallory was going to watch the kids for the evening. She arrived early, just because, she claimed. Slipping out of her coat in front of the lady of the house, Mallory revealed she was dressed to the nines in a short, black, spaghetti strap dress.

"That's...unusual babysitting attire," Gina observed as Mallory sashayed around the living room as if she owned it.

"Yeah, sorry. Thought I'd have a chance to run back to the apartment to change but then thought I wouldn't. Turns out I'm early but...what can you do?"

"Well, feel free to go steal something comfortable of mine. The kids are asleep upstairs, you can take your time."

"I think I'll do just that."

Without realizing she had invited a predator into the room where her husband was still getting dressed, Gina whistled tunelessly to herself and began to load the dishwasher

With a dramatic flourish, Mal swung open the master bedroom door and strode in. Greg was standing in his boxers just pulling on a blue dress shirt.

"Nice shirt," she commented, "I prefer the skin underneath though.

"I forgot to say, Mallory, knock first. Greg might still be getting dressed," Gina shouted too late.

Mallory gestured towards the voice with a "get a load of her" smirk.

"Can I help you?" Greg asked, perhaps a bit too abruptly.

"Nah, I got this. Just helping myself to your ball and chain's clothes. She told me to."

She held up one finger to her lips and then shouted downstairs, "Looks like he's in the bathroom, Gina! Thanks!"

"Okay, take whatever you need!" floated up the reply.

Mallory closed the door quickly immediately after that.

"What are you—" the doctor began.

The blonde pushed her finger to his lips now, interrupting.

"Now, if you keep quiet," the babysitter said, turning back to him, "we can finally spend some time together. It's been forever!"

"Well, you know, time can...make things awkward," he hemmed, "Lead to uncomfortable situations."

"Or great ones!"

With that comment, she pulled her dress up overhead. Underneath, she had not a stitch on. Despite his best intentions, the family man gawked. His eyes settled on the small blue stone navel piercing twinkling against her taut tummy before he shook himself out of a lust stupor.

"Are you crazy?!" Greg balked, attempting to move around her towards the door.

Mallory continued to stand before him, naked, arm on hip. "I can't put new clothes on without getting the olds ones off, Doc. That's just common sense. Besides, you love my body; I don't know what you're complaining about."

"Mallory," he sighed, exasperated, "We don't do this anymore."

"Right. We're on break. But break's end. What better way to check if this one has than to show you what you could be running your hands over right now." As if to stress her point, she let her hands slowly slide up her body from her hips to cup her breasts.

"Not a break. Over," he replied, stressing each letter.

"Welllllllll, maybe over, maybe not, remember?"

"Yes, I remember, but...look whatever the case, I am definitely not ending the break now, okay?"

"Of course that's okay, Doc. Don't mind me at all. I'm just going to turn on some music and get some clothes on. Eventually."

She snagged the remote off the bed and turned the TV to a satellite music channel. As the thick, heavy beat came over the speakers, Mallory began to dance. By herself, but drawing closer and closer to Greg, eyes fixed on his. He looked away in embarrassment, trying to evade her. Before long, he ran out of real estate, backing into the bed. Mallory shoved him onto it with a firm push and sprung up into a straddle over him. As the doctor struggled to get his wits in order, she began to slowly, firmly grind down against him. 

More than a little tempted, Greg struggled with his conscience. However, his annoyance with her presumptuousness, with her recklessness carried the day. Wordlessl, the doctor pushed her off him and stormed out of the bedroom. 

She sighed heavily at his back, confused. She felt him go from somewhat stiff to raging hard. He wanted her, he must, she reasoned. So why didn't he just take her?

In the kitchen, Gina was still tidying up when Greg came fuming in, zipping up his pants, trying to angle himself so as to best conceal his still firm cock. He spied his wife, looking very pretty in a charcoal sweater and jeans, and got an idea. He spun and dipped her, as she giggled in shock.

"My goodness!"

"Sorry, something just came over me," he shrugged.

As she smiled and turned to return to her task, he interrupted her again. Grasping her waist firmly, he lifted and placed her on the counter. Before she could voice any objection, he kissed her hard, hands clasping her face. Reluctance dissipated rapidly and she opened her mouth to kiss her husband back with equal fervor. 

With frantic, avaricious hands, Greg pushed his wife's sweater above her bra covered breasts. While he sought the clasp, Gina yanked the sweater off the rest of the way, letting it drop to the floor. His hands stroked her warm, heavy breasts with unsubtle need. She moaned into his mouth, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders.

Once both were topless, Gina clutched Greg to her chest, groaning in pleasure, "Love the feel of your skin against mine."

He kissed her without reply. He didn't want "love" right now, he just wanted gratification. Carnal delight. He wasn't in the mood for sweet nothings.

Her hands found his belt first, undoing it, then the button and zipper beneath. She pushed the unclasped fabric aside, flattening her hand against the rigid member hidden within. 

"So warm," she murmured, as Greg kissed her neck, then down her chest. He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her pants, returning the favor, as he enclosed her nipple with his warm, wet mouth. She shifted her hips rapidly back and forth, aiding him in pulling her jeans off her hips, over her, and finally down to the ground. As cool air caused her skin to goose pimpled, Gina experienced a moment of clarity.

"Wait," she cried out, "the kids..."

"Still asleep," her husband replied, kissing back up to her neck. He pushed her panties aside, exposing her before her next objection.

Still as his fingers spread her lips apart and gently grazed her clit, Gina managed to gasp out a warning, "Mallory's in our room."

"Exactly! She'll be there for awhile I'm sure. Bopping around and trying on your stuff," he assured her, ripping open the condom package he had somehow grabbed without her noticing. He rolled the prophylactic onto his dick, shuddering at the feeling of the cool latex and his own touch.

"I—" Gina began, still unsure.

Greg cut her off with a thrust of his hips, sliding inside her.

"Oooo, what's gotten into you?" she moaned.

"I just love you. And want you."

"Uhhh," she groaned sharply as her husband began thrusting, "Fine. Just this once though, okay? No more sex in anywhere but the bedroom when other people are here."

Greg ground his teeth and kept quiet. He wanted to demand why 'just this once'? Why couldn't they make love in the kitchen whenever they wanted provided they were reasonably sure their kids were asleep? Who cared? But he held it in check. He should appreciate this one now, he reasoned, not worry about the future or past lack of kitchen sex. She was his wife, love of his life, and making love to her should've been enough, even if it was mostly vanilla bedroom based sex.

As he pulled her close, feeling her breasts spread against his chest, soft and warm, he tried to lose himself in the feel of her. She was undeniably attractive to him and the fact that she had had two kids was not readily apparent the way she had kept herself so fit. Who wouldn't be thrilled to be married to her?

Just as he posed this rhetorical, he opened his eyes and looked into the darkened hall. There, Mallory stood, still naked, watching. Catching his eyes, she languidly licked and sucked her first and second finger until they glistened in the kitchen light that spilled down the hall. She guided them down slowly as if offering him the chance to look away, daring him to do the right thing. It was a dare he was unequal to. As her fingers finally reached her bare slit and disappeared inside her, he couldn't stop staring. She trembled, eyes clasped tightly. Then, an arrogant grin spreading across her face, she let her eyes open sleepily, holding his gaze. Her free hand flew to her bare breasts as her fingers began to pump in and out, in and out. She bit her lip, eyes rolling upward. It was impossible to tell what was turning her on more, the masturbating or the performing.

The doctor felt his anger rise, quick and fiery. He gritted his teeth, breath sputtering between his teeth in a hiss. The fury engulfed him, swallowed him. He began to thrust harder into Gina, aggressively pawing at her chest, without paying a whit of attention to how his wife responded to the increased intensity. His mind spun and whirred. Even as he drove himself harder and faster into his wife, he was disconnected, dissociated. 

He was mad at Mallory for her refusal to see his viewpoint, to respect his wishes. It was so damn hard already, why did she have to make it worse? Why couldn't she have left him to his unexamined sex life? Why couldn't she not remind him of what he was missing, even while he was having sex with his wife?! And now? He told her no, he explained himself. He was as much saying no for her feelings as for his life. And still, she taunted him!

He was mad at Gina, even as he grasped how wildly unfair that was. Mad she wasn't into the sex that he was, mad she was unwilling to even try to budge on that years before, leading to the suppression and eventual explosion of those desires in him. And then he was mad all over again to see how sexy and fun she could be while still not being interested in exploring more.

Finally, he was angry at himself. For being weak. For wanting what he wanted and not being able to stop himself from wanting it anymore. For fucking a nineteen year old and still not really regretting it. For having sex with his wife but not being able to stop being envious of where the babysitter's fingers were at that moment.

Mallory only became more brazen and enthusiastic as she saw that anger twist his features, heard the wet slap of skin increasing in speed, letting her know he was going faster and, probably, harder. She returned her fingers to her mouth, now saturated with her lust, and lavished them with attention. Her tongue slithered and slid from tip down to palm before she greedily slurped them into her mouth. She half-wished Gina would hear the noise and turn to see her.

Her cunt felt empty almost immediately so she hustled to finger fuck herself once more. The taste of herself still lingering in her mouth served to further thrill her. She added a third finger and doubled over at the waist, grabbing the wall for support. She looked back up at him, mouth open to gasp, eyes dark with pleasure.

Greg's hands grasped his wife's hips firmly, too firmly. She yipped in shock, but he barely noticed. If he had been pounding into her before, he was now jackhammering. With each thrust into Gina, he became more enraged. Enraged with each pleasurable jolt reminding him he was having sex with Mallory through a surrogate. Enraged he would use his wife like that. Enraged that it wasn't Mallory's pussy. 

Mallory dropped completely to her knees without breaking eye contact, the fingers on her free hand, licked nice and wet, began to stimulate her clit. On her knees, three fingers swiftly thrusting in and out of her sex, her other hand flying in circles over her clit, she maintained that stare. "She's not me," she mouthed insolently, before quivering as her orgasm overtook her. Even as her eyes fluttered involuntarily, she continued, fucking herself for his eyes blatantly and defiantly.

Unable to resist, Greg groaned loudly. Mallory heard him and smiled wide. "Cum now. For me. Because of me. Not her," she whispered almost silently, willing him to understand. While no lip reader, the doctor caught the gist. And obeyed. Trying to think of soccer or sewing or anything else couldn't stop it. Even several feet away, not touching him at all, she controlled him. He filled the condom, barely stopping himself from shouting his babysitter's name. As Mallory faded back down the hall, the husband and wife caught their breath, the husband's shame rising, the wife more than a bit confused and sore.

"Wow," Gina exhaled.

"Yeah...." He was feeling worse by the moment.

"That was a little...a little rough."

"Oh...oh jeez, I didn't hurt you or like—"

"No, no. I just... like it softer, you know. I mean, I appreciate how excited you were and all. But...softer next time?"

"Right. Yeah. Sorry. I just got...carried away."

She nodded and walked to the bathroom as he pulled off the yellowish latex sleeve and deposited it in the trash. He felt queasy.

Greg slipped through the party, distant and distracted. His brain returned over and over to his actions, looking for exoneration and finding only guilt, self recrimination, and anger. His focus was a moving target, intense at points, nonexistence at others. He nodded grimly as a recent divorcee decried the legal system, became far too interested in someone he only just met's description of her macramé hobby, and zoned out entirely while the guest of honor told a very funny story about his meet cute of his wife. 

Tempted to drink away the feelings, he resisted, fearful how the booze might loosen his tongue and make him susceptible to confessions and revealing comments. Instead, he pounded ice water until he seemed to be using the bathroom every fifteen minutes. The doctor didn't worry about how odd it might've seemed to others, but was rather thankful for the brief respite.

On the drive home, he assured his exhausted wife he had fun as she dozed in the passenger seat. Reluctantly, he agreed to let Gina go to bed and settle things up with Mallory. As his wife disappeared into their bedroom, the babysitter could barely conceal her cat that had swallowed the canary grin.

"Soooooo..." she smirked, drawing out the word.

"How many hours was that?" Greg asked, ignoring her tone and focusing on the matter at hand.

"Five, but take your time Doc. I'm in no rush."

"It's late," he replied, frustration coiled in his voice.

"It IS late," she agreed before pivoting, "Your wife is asleep. I'm wet. These are all interesting facts, aren't they, Dr. Clark?"

"Not interesting at all," he snapped back. His eyes, however, betrayed his level of curiosity. He flitted over her form, wearing his wife's clothes. Tall argyle socks reaching to her knees, pale purple athletic shorts rolled twice at the waist, and a grey sleep tank which hung tantalizingly loose, presenting the possibility of young firm breasts slipping free with every movement she made.

"Are you sure?" she whispered, biting her lip and lightly fingering a thin tank strap.

He sighed, exasperated with her and his own libido in equal measure. Tightening his posture, he pushed back hard against her routine with a brusque tone, "I told you. We're done. And to be clear now, not a break. Done. Over."

"Huh? Really? How does this afternoon fit into that then?" she mused, swishing back and forth on the balls of her feet.

"This afternoon?" he snorted, trying bravado on, "You mean when I made love to my wife? The woman I'm married to and with whom I share two children? Is that what you are referring to when you say 'this afternoon?'"

"Ha," she let loose a thin brittle laugh, "Made love? No, Doc, you fucked her. Or more accurately, you fucked me. You just used her cunt to do it."

He gritted his teeth, "It's time for you to go home."

She ignored him, slipping into a monologue, "I wonder if she felt it; if some small part of her grasped that she was just a blowjob doll substitute for you to play out your fantasies about someone else's pussy. Could she feel that it was me you were really fucking?"

"Good bye Mallory."

She continued, uninterested in his reproach, "I bet she'd love to know she owes her afternoon delight to a teen's naked body that her hubby had been ogling in their master bedroom a minute before. Don't you think she might find it fascinating that the only reason she got some cock was that her husband was trying not to feel guilty about his enjoyment of babysitter cunt?"

"Enough."

"No, no. Not enough. What's enough is this joke you are playing on yourself. You are not too good to fuck me like you want to; not too good to betray your wife again. I know that and I still want you inside me. You don't need to pretend to be decent. I like that you're an adulterer and pervert."

"I doesn't matter what either of—"

"I'm right here, Greg. You think I'm sexy, I know you do. I fuck you like you've always wanted to be fucked and I love every second of it. So stop this pay at being good and start accepting how bad you can be."

"I've got to be—"

"I'm wearing clothes you've seen your wife a thousand times and you can't keep your eyes off me. She puts them on, you yawn. I wear them, I can feel your eyes burning through every stitch of cloth."

"You need to—"

"Come on, Doc, I can see how hard you are from here."

"That is not—"

"I'm wearing your wife's panties too, sir. A pair that I'm sure you haven't seen her in in sometime because they're so, so tiny. And I'm just soaking them right now. So fucking wet."

"This is—"

"Fuck me. I need you so damn bad!"

She began to stalk towards him, pure predator.

"Doctor Clark."

Step

"I'm not your wife."

Step

"I'm young."

Step

"I'm tight."

Step

"I'm smooth," she moaned, running her hand down her flat stomach and briefly under the waistband of her shorts to make it very clear what she meant.

"I'm filthy."

Step

"So stop screwing around and start fucking me."

The doctor accidentally bumped a half full cup of water on the counter, spilling its contents, breaking the tension for a moment. A moment long enough to regain his senses. He grabbed her coat off the nearby chair and tossed it to her.

"Good night Mallory. Go home. I'm going to spoon with my wife in our bed and get some rest. You go home and sleep well in yours, okay?"

With a gentle but undeniable force, he guided her stunned form to the front door and pushed her out onto the front stoop. Before she could say another word, the door slammed, the deadbolt slid into place, and the front light extinguished.




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 18



Through the shock of the sudden reversal of control, one thought bubbled up clear and concise in her psyche. "This is nowhere near over." 



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 19



Please note that this chapter is notably darker than most of this story with some violence comingled with sex and dirty talk that is markedly more degrading at times. As the writer, I feel it is "earned" and in line with where the characters are at this time, but I understand and respect others might be bothered by the content.

*

Gina found her husband Greg in the basement, moving boxes. He was sweaty and looked annoyed. She could not imagine what possessed him to be working on this task as it was so far down her list of things that mattered that she had more or less forgot about it.

He sensed her presence and shrugged at her quizzical look, "Got inspired. There's a lot of stuff here we don't need any more and the rest need to be sorted."

In reality, that was not true at all. Greg needed a distraction, any distraction and he had noticed all the junk down here when he was...doing the thing he was trying to distract himself from now.

"I really appreciate you'd even think of this," she complimented him, "But unfortunately I have to interrupt you."

He stopped, wiping the sweat off his brow with his arm. Gina took him in for a moment, noticing the way his cotton t-shirt matted against his pecs with sweat. She now doubly regretted having to do this to him.

She continued, "Mallory called and she's been drinking. She doesn't feel comfortable driving but does not want to stay at the person's house either. I feel like the drinking's not responsible, but we were in college too and we know what it was like. And calling us instead of staying somewhere she does not feel safe or driving home in her state is very responsible. So I don't want to tell her to just get a cab or something."

"But?"

"But I promised Shelly I'd read her a story tonight so I could brush her hair out at the same time. I was hoping you'd go?"

Internally, he sighed. This was something he'd been avoiding, but Gina was right. Not a good idea to put a drunk teen on the road.

"Makes sense. Let me go throw on a new shirt and I'll head out."

"You're the best, honey," she called after him as he clomped up the stairs.

Before he left, she caught him again and gave him a quick, deep kiss, "Thank you. Hurry home and I'll give you a reward."

"Ooo, intriguing," he whispered back.

Then she got serious, "But if it looks like she's really drunk, you should probably stay with her a bit and observe. Don't want her to get sick all by herself or have alcohol poisoning or something awful like that."

He nodded although staying with Mallory was the last thing he wanted.

As he drove, he couldn't help but to stray back to the conversation that he had had with Mallory almost three weeks before. He had sensed a change in their "play" and wanted to talk to her about the possibility of putting things on hold as it seemed both of them were developing feelings for each other beyond just wanting sex. She argued with him some but eventually confessed that he might be right and maybe they both needed some time to clear their heads.

Since then, however, she had been more provocative and risk-taking than before. Flashing her tits at him while Gina was in the same room. "Forgetting" underwear and uncrossing her legs in a short skirt. Hugging him far too long. Leaving messages of her breathing heavy and squealing in orgasm on his voicemail. The worst had been when Mallory had taunted Greg from the shadows while he had sex with his wife.

It had left him almost permanently aroused but also deeply angry. He really did care for her and had no interest in being mean to her, but he could not indulge in his infatuation any longer. To keep having sex with her when she felt something for him beyond lust was cruel, giving her false hope. The bottom line was that he had a family and could not throw that all away for a 19 year old babysitter. No matter how tight her body or raunchy her mind was.

So he had avoided her. And been doing reasonably well at it. Until this.

He pulled up at the house, a typical frat crash pad complete with Greek symbol banner and decaying porch, and beeped his horn lightly. A moment later, he saw Mallory emerge from the backyard. Despite the near freezing temperatures, she was very barely dressed. Her shirt, such as it was, was a triangular piece of gold metallic fabric held on her by chain link shoulder straps. As she turned to wave to a shouting someone in a second floor window, he noticed that it was backless except for a single chain that connected one side of the fabric to the other just below her shoulder blades. Despite their modest size, her breasts bounced pleasantly, hypnotically, with each step she took, unencumbered by a bra. The tip of the triangle ended just above her navel directing attention to sexy, sparkling belly button ring and lower.

Not fighting his eyes natural trajectory, he found her lower half was hardly better covered than the top. A grey and black striped micro-mini gave way to miles of toned teen leg that ended in a pair of sky high stiletto heels. She may have been drunk but she appeared to have no problem negotiating her shoes, strolling with hip swiveling purpose to his car. Greg groaned. This is exactly what he did not want to see when he picked her up. Why couldn't she just be falling down drunk in a pair of jeans and a soft comfortable sweatshirt? What kind of point was the universe trying to make to have this waiting for him instead?

Mallory opened the car door with a flourish and bent at the waist to peer in. The shirt drooped downward, giving a tantalizing glimpse of deep cleavage. He could only imagine the view anyone walking by and seeing her from behind might be privy to.

"What's up, Doc?" she cracked, smirking, "Long time no see."

He plastered a fake grin on his face thinking, "No need to be rude or uncivil. It's not her fault you're a dirty old man who goes rock hard at the sight of his babysitter."

In truth, it was kind of her fault and he knew that. But he was trying to be as pleasant and nonjudgmental as possible.

"Hey Mallory. Welcome to your safe ride."

"Why thank you sir," she responded cheesily. Up close, he could tell she had been drinking. Her syllables were just a touch too drawn out and her cheeks had that buzzed flush to them. This was not, however, a DRUNK girl. This was a "drink some water and wait an hour and you'll be fine" girl. Again, he pushed down his feelings of anger and annoyance. It would've been preferable for her to just wait an hour but if she really wanted to leave at that moment, then she had made the right choice.

He began to roll forward and after a few moments started to feel okay again. Yes, he admitted, he couldn't stop his eyes from glancing at Mallory's bare legs or his mind from pondering the physics of her shirt. And yes, the smell of the mouthwash she had evidently gargled with reminded him of the first girl who ever went down on him. But it was quiet and he felt safe. He started to think this was not going to be the big deal he had psyched himself up about. Then she began to speak.

"Wow, Greg, you're really sweaty."

"Yeah, sorry," he said sheepishly.

"Mmm," she purred, "Don't be. I like a man who's got a little sweat on him. Especially if it's mine."

"Yes, well..." he began and just trailed off, having nothing really to say to that.

She continued, either oblivious or disinterested in his discomfort, "Sooooooooooo, what were you up to? Working out."

"Just moving boxes, actually."

"Where?"

"In the cellar," he tried to stop himself from finishing the sentence but failed. He cringed with what he knew was coming next.

"Where in the basement?"

"Oh, you know, back there, the storage area I guess you'd call it."

"Well, I wouldn't call it that..."

"Ok...well, some might—"

"I call it Lex Luthor's sex dungeon."

"Anyway, that's where—"

"You remember? Because that's where you had me—"

"I was moving—"

"chained up. Where you just took advantage of me in my—"

"the boxes."

"tiny, tight Supergirl costume."

The car fell silent for a moment.

"Do you remember that?"

"Yes, Mal, I remember. It was...it was amazing, okay? But we agreed, no more of this. Do you remember that?"

"Well, I remember agreeing to a break. Not "no more ever". And I certainly did not agree to not harmlessly reminisce."

"It's not harmless."

"Oh, it's not?" she said, raising her eyebrows and shifting towards him in her seat, "Does it lead a certain stable family man down a naughty, naughty road?"

"Knock it off, Mallory, I'm serious."

"So am I. I seriously want to know."

"Fine, although we both know you already know. Yes, it turns me on to remember that and many other nights. Okay?"

"Do you want to tell me about them?"

"Mallory..." he sighed in resigned exasperation.

"No, really Doc. Since we stopped...fooling around, I've been crawling up the walls. You can ask Brenda. I've been. Wearing. Her. Out. And she's not even around this weekend. So if you could just tell me what you remember while I touch myself it would mean SO much to me."

"I really can't do that, Mallory. Besides, we are here," he turned off the engine and pointed to her apartment.

"That's fine. This is a pretty dark street. How about I just climb up on your lap for a quickie?"

She began to shift in her seat without waiting for his response.

"No, Mal," he replied definitively.

"Come on," she breathed hot in his ear, "Don't you want to find out what my panties look like under this skirt...or if I even have any?"

"Stop."

"God, Doc, I need that cock! Tell me you haven't thought of fucking me everyday since we stopped."

Her hand strayed across his lap until he grabbed it angrily and almost tossed it away.

"Enough!" he spat out.

"Fine! Damn it!" she blew up, "You're so fucking...I don't even understand you. Do you want to be miserable? There's no medals for not enjoying life, you know!"

He set his jaw tight and stared forward.

"Okay," she said with a slight pout, regaining control, "Do you want to come up for a bit at least?"

"Mal..."

"Alright! I get it. Thanks for picking me up though. I really appreciate it." With that she leaned over and hugged him. He cringed in fear but found it was just a friendly thank you hug and so he returned and added a pat on the back.

"Next time, drink less," he offered, letting himself soften, a slight smile letting her know he was just giving her a hard time.

She smiled back and saluted as she left the car, "Aye-aye, sir!"

He forced himself not to stare at her naked legs or her swaying ass as she walked away. He breathed in and out deeply, calming himself. He allowed himself a smile. On the whole, it had not been so bad. Yes, she was still damn hot and yes, she still knew just what buttons to press. But he had said no, he had stuck to that, and besides a bit of teasing, she had largely respected that. Maybe the worst had passed.

Calm and collected again, he nodded and reached for the ignition. No keys. He could've sworn he had left them in the ignition. He patted the pockets of his pants, then his outer coat, and finally the inside. Nothing. He checked the floor around his feet and there were no keys either. He sighed heavily and prepared to repeat the process when his phone buzzed. He snagged it off the dash and found a two word text from Mallory: "missing something?"

"You've gotta be kidding me," he mumbled to himself, jumping out of the car and slamming the door. He could fee his anger rising, his heart beating quicker. Repeatedly, he told himself "Just remain calm," as he climbed the stairs to her apartment. It was making little difference. 

He knocked, harder than he intended, and heard his babysitter invite him in with a sing-song tone. He was almost shouting the moment he was inside, "Mallory! This is ridiculous! I've got to get—"

He found her in her bedroom, leaning against her headboard. She spun his keyring on one finger and smirked. "Looking for these?" she teased in a voice dripping with false innocence.

"Yes," he grumbled and darted forward, reaching for the keys. She dodged him, spinning to another side of the room.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she warned, hands in front of her. He tried not to notice how the positioning of her arms thrust her breasts together and forward.

"We must be careful. This is my personal space," Mallory continued, drawing an invisible box on the floor, "You must not enter here without permission. That would be very...bad of you, Gregory."

He ignored her tone of mock admonishment and focused on the task at hand, demanding, "Just give me back my keys, okay?"

"And which keys would those be?"

He darted towards her again and she dodged once more.

"Uh-uh-uh," she rebuked him, wagging a finger in his face, the keyring resting around it, "That's not very polite. So which keys are you looking for?"

"The ones you have!"

"These?" she questioned, snagging her set of keys off her nightstand table and offering them towards him.

"No," he barked angrily, and knocked those keys out of her hand. Again, she sidestepped him as his grasping hands sought out his own set of keys.

"Oh...these then?" she asked, innocently, holding his keys out in front of him.

He snapped back, "Yes. Those fucking keys. Which you knew from the start. Now give them to me so I can get the hell out of here."

"What's the rush?" she asked, practically prancing around the room. Greg felt his eyes drift to her ass as she turned around. He dragged them away only to catch her catching him checking her out. She smirked defiantly.

"I have to get back to my wife," he replied.

Mallory's eyes flashed angry just for a moment before she revived the teasing, smoldering smirk she had been sporting for most of the conversation.

"Well, I'm not sure I like your tone, sir." With that, she pulled her skirt and her underwear away from her body and seemingly dropped the keys down into the gap.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Waiting for you to learn some manners," she responded cheekily, "Until then I keep your keys...unless you are going to come get them yourself?"

Greg stood indecisively for a moment. He was frustrated, annoyed, and, if he was honest, a little bit intimidated. She was so confident, so in control. It was her apartment, her turf, if you will. She was beautiful and smart and sexy and she was playing all three notes to perfection right now. He didn't want to play into her hands. But, he could hardly stand here all night waiting for her to give in. Finally, sick of how easily she seemed to get what she wanted out of him, he decided to call her bluff. He ran forward with a snarl. This time, as she attempted to get away, he snagged the back of her skirt and pulled/threw her into the corner of the room. He placed his body between himself and her freedom. He thrust his hand down her skirt, trying to ignore the heat and his body's immediate visceral reaction to the way her skin felt to the touch.

"What are you doing?!" she gasped.

"Taking back what's mine," he grunted, feeling his way around the lacey contours of what he quickly realized was a thong.

"Good," she moaned, grabbing his wrist. She thrust her pelvis forward and despite no attempt to do so, he felt the slickness of her arousal on his fingertips.

"Show me who the boss is then," she ordered him, enjoying the irony.

"Where—where are they?" he stumbled, panic rising.

"Huh...are you sure they aren't down there? Maybe you should feel around some more." She smirked at him as she continued to undulate her hips lewdly, brushing her sex against his resisting hand over and over again.

"I'm not in the mood for this," he growled, surprised at how he seemed unable to free his hand from her panties due to a combination of the tightness of her skirt, the grip she had on his wrist, and, he had to admit, a reluctance on his own part. His libido was at war with his morality and Mallory always seemed to have a way to give his libido the edge.

"In the mood for what?" Mallory groaned as her clit caught against the cold metal of his watch band.

"For games," he replied through grit teeth, increasingly aware of a sort of moral panic that was descending on him, freezing him in place.

"Oh really?" the babysitter replied, eyebrows arching skeptically. She let go of his wrist with one hand and wrapped her fingers around his cock through his pants. Shamefully, he was aware that he was already half hard and that his member gave an involuntary jump as she grabbed hold. "You might say that," she whispered, placing her lips directly next to his ear, "but your body's telling me a very different story."

That was enough for him, his anger trumping his paralysis. With a sound halfway between a growl and a roar, he pulled himself away from her, shoving her into the wall again. Breathing heavily and bent slightly forward, he stared daggers at her.

Mallory just giggled, maddeningly, in response. She mocked him, "Great job, Doc. Still don't have any keys though, do you?"

He felt his anger grow. He was so sick of being the weak one. Tired of being the one shaking his finger and arguing against his own desires. Of course he wanted to stay and enjoy her bountiful pleasures. Of course he did. But it would not be a good idea for him, for her, or for anyone in his family. He wanted to be fun or strong or both, but instead she kept making him be neither.

"Just give me the damn keys, Mallory," he ordered her, eyes dark with his anger.

The babysitter saw it and liked it. She knew that there were many ways to get what she wanted—surprise, feigned innocence, seduction, appealing to a sense of righteous indignation, merciless teasing—and that the old bag of tricks had not been working. So, she was desperate. Getting him mad enough to take what he really wanted seemed to be the only shot she had left. She knew it was a Hail Mary of sorts and a pretty wild one at that. But, she figured aggressive sex shared a lot of chemical and bodily similarities with anger, so why not? Plus, she admitted to herself, the idea of rough sex with an out of his mind with lust and rage Doctor Greg Clark left her panties as soaked as they had ever been.

"Mmm," she moaned, filling her voice with every bit of sex kitten she could manage, "it sounds like you want something. And we know I want something. Perhaps there's a deal to be made here?"

As Greg watched her, fists clenched at his side, she seductively lay across her bed, torso propped up by pillows, and ran two fingertips along the top exposed portion of her right breast. She moaned lightly and licked her lips, never breaking eye contact with him. Not one to leave a job merely well done, she followed this up by gently, slowly, but clearly spreading her legs. As she debated whether or not she should allow her left hand to dip between her legs, he broke.

"You bitch!" he shouted without thought, cringing even as the words left his lips. Despite the feeling of embarrassment and shame rising in his cheeks, he pressed on, "No damn deal. They are my keys, just give them to me."

Greg leapt at her then, a move she easily rolled away from. She wanted him to catch her of course, but she needed him in such a lather that the lines between anger and lust would be completely erased.

"Goodness," she called to him over her shoulder as she sprang back off the bed, "what language for a married father of two young children to use! What kind of role model are you?"

The mention of his children made him even angrier. He said something to her but it was so garbled by anger and exertion that it only sounded like a caveman grunt. She only giggled in response, her small breasts bouncing invitingly in the gold halter top, her bare legs striding across the room away from him. 

His thoughts alternated between, "Oh god, she's so damn hot. Maybe I'll just fuck her one more time. Just this last time," and "No! Fuck her! Manipulative homewrecker! Put her in her place, take the damn keys, and get the hell home!"




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 19



He chased her around the room. It would have been comical if he could've taken a moment to step outside himself. Instead, he was just a being of grim anger and raging libido trying desperately to keep both in check.

"I wonder what your wife would think if she heard the way you talked to me?" the teen mocked him and his vision only clouded further.

She broke for her bedroom door, but Greg beat her to it, slamming it shut. As she spun away to escape to another part of the room, he reached out and grabbed the end of the tip of the triangle shirt. She attempted to scurry away anyway. With a snarl and a pull, the doctor tried to yank her back to him. Instead, he felt the fabric give way and slip to the floor. It took him a moment to realize that he had torn the shirt clean off her. The second it clicked, he knew he had gone too far. He averted his eyes

"Oh, shit, Mal," he spoke in a tumble of words, "Damn I'm...I'm so sorry. I just...wow, I just lost my head there and—"

Without a word, she slapped him hard across the face, stunning him. He shut up and looked at her. She stood before him, cheeks flush, breathing rapidly and heavy, her beautiful torso completely exposed. Her abs rippled ever-so slightly under the skin, her navel ring twinkled, her breasts rose and fell with her accelerated breath. She slapped him again. Then, she stepped closer to him, her hands cupping her tits, her fingers gently tugging on the nipples.

"Don't you fucking do that," she hissed as she forced him to back up against the wall, "Don't you fucking pretend that this was an accident. This is who you are, you perverted old man. Look at you, you can't even take your eyes off my tits right now, you deviant hypocrite!"

Greg could only blink in reply. As shocked as he was at his actions moments ago, he was even more off kilter with what Mal was doing. She caught that confusion in his eyes and pressed her advantage.

"This is exactly what you came up here for, wasn't it?" she accused, "To catch a peek at my tits, to put your fingers in my cunt without me telling you it was ok?"

He argued back at her out of instinct, "Now, wait a second. That's not what happened at all. This was an accident. Honestly. And before, you—"

Again she swung at him with an open hand, but this time he caught her hand midair.

"Stop it!" he yelled at her.

"Or what?!" she shot back, eyes narrowing, "You'll hurt me?"

"What?! No, no. Definitely not. I...god, Mal, no."

She did not need him sad and apologetic so she did not let him dwell on the moment. Instead she grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him toward her. She noted with great satisfaction that, while not fully hard, he was certainly firm in his pants.

"Why not?" she demanded, keeping the hard edge to her voice, "That's what I am to you, isn't it?"

"What are yo—"

She ignored him, "Just something to fuck? To abuse. To demean?"

"Mal, that's not—"

Again, she allowed him no word otherwise, speaking as she began to undo his belt, "A teenager to get you hard and get you off when you finally got tired of that boring, bland wife of yours?"

"Please, Mal. You know that that is not at--"

"And why shouldn't you use me? I do things she'd never do. I let you do things she never would. I get off on it. I'm just as fucked up as you are."

"Mallory, you are not—"

"Fuck," she moaned lasciviously, "I'm such a dirty girl, Doc. I'm soooooooooo fucking wet right now. We need each other, Greg. We're both so unclean. SO! FILTHY! Come on, Doc, let's just fuck each other into oblivion."

With that, she thrust her hands down his pants and grabbed a hold of his now very hard cock. The shock of it motivated him and he threw her back away from him. She used the opportunity to take a pratfall, selling that he had knocked her down. It was apparently enough as he immediately dove forward, face full of concern. The name of the game was keeping him close and off balance and this accomplished both.

"Mallory, damn it," he said, his voice filled with shame and resignation, "are you okay?"

She only groaned in response, watching him out of the corner of a seemingly closed eye. As he bent over to check her more closely, she grabbed him and pulled him to the ground. As he rolled onto his back, she straddled him.

"Mmmm, touch me, Doctor Clark. Make me feel better," she moaned, grinding herself against the rigid member that gave away his real desires. He tried to stand, lifting her off him. She wrapped her legs around him and tightened, refusing to let go. Not expecting it, he couldn't adjust his balance accordingly and they tumbled on to the bed. Her breath escaped her lungs with a puff as he landed on top of her.

He shifted with a grunt and tried to get off the bed. Mallory grabbed his shirt and pulled it up over his head as though they were in a hockey fight. Greg was forced to shed it to regain his sight. As he focused his energy on regaining visibility the young coed beneath him took his distraction as the opportunity she needed to push his pants to the ground with her feet. Her hands again slipped into his boxers before he wriggled his shirt over his head.

As the doctor again tried to stand to get away from her, his pants tripped him up and he lurched forward. Mallory grabbed his left nipple and bit down hard, knowing he had a sweet spot for the comingling of pain and pleasure. He groaned loudly and unconsciously thrust himself against her grasping fists. She responded by biting again.

Greg then grabbed her hair roughly and pulled her away, her teeth dragging along the nipple, scraping down deeper in his flesh. She smiled up at him, her face flush with exertion and licked her lips. He bent down for a moment to catch his breath and Mallory reacted immediately by roughly grabbing his face, planting her lips on his and forcing her tongue into his mouth. He could taste the mixture of fruity alcohol drink and mint mouthwash on her tongue and his mind was immediately transported back to freshman year of college. Shaking the memory of past conquests loose, he struggled to free himself. In response, the babysitter bit his lip hard. 

His mind went blank. He yanked her away from him. The moment she was free, he slapped her.

"Oh yeah!" she shouted, giggling, "Again!"

And he did so, coming at her with the other hand.

"Mmm, Doc," she moaned, stroking him with both hands, "you are so hard. You like slapping around your little teen slut, don't you? Are you getting off on showing me you're the boss?"

"Shut up!" he commanded, his voice sounding far off and cloudy with lust and self-repulsion.

"Come on, Greg," she whispered, "Fuck this little girl! I am so wet for you; I'm just dripping all over the place."

He again tried to stand and she stuck with him. He knocked her against the wall, but she hung on. As he swung about in the direction of another wall, she dug her nails deep into his back, leaving angry welts. She licked and sucked and bit his ear and then did the same to his shoulder, leaving a rapidly bruising hickey. Where her nails were dug in, she now dragged them downward, raw lines tracing their trajectory.

As she howled and moaned and whispered dirty inflammatory things to him, Greg had become basically nonverbal, only grunting and gasping as they spun and bounced around the room. 

"I can feel how hard you are for me right now," she whispered to him, her breath hot with insistence, "I know you never get this hard for her, for Gina, your prude of a wife."

Greg didn't respond, but she saw some of the anger and panic slip out of his eyes. She redoubled her efforts.

"She doesn't control you like I do, does she? She doesn't own this fucking cock like I do!" 

"You...no one owns—"

She clawed his chest, causing him to interrupt himself with a lusty groan.

"You don't fool me, Doc," Mallory taunted him. "I know I can have you wherever, whenever, how ever I want. If I wanted to fuck you in front on your wife's entire family as she wept, you'd do it in a heartbeat. My teen cunt rules your fucking world, you pathetic loser."

He stumbled over his feet and her weight propelled him awkwardly on to her back on to her desk. He hissed out a strangled breath of pain. 

Mallory didn't let up, grinding against him relentlessly.

She leaned down, her lips next to his ear and whispered threats, emulating the classmate in college that got him off while explaining how she could kill him and get away with it. 

"I could just stab you right now and no one would know," she pointed out, dragging a pair of scissors across the desk to emphasize her point, "Just fucking murder you and get away with it. Or just choke you while I fuck you, feel you cum as you die. You'd die with a teenager quivering on your dick and then I'd just tell the world how you raped me and this was the only way to stop you. Mmmm....you want me so bad you'd let me kill you and ruin your reputation for a final orgasm inside me, wouldn't you?"

With a long, low growl, he shoved her hard against the wall, knocking the air out of her lungs. She finally released her grip on him and fell to the floor, believing her last effort had failed. As she attempted to regain her breath to form an apology, in an attempt to salvage the situation, he grabbed her by the hair roughly and tossed her onto her bed.

She looked at him and saw everything obliterated. His face was just a snarl. His cock, having slipped free of his boxers, bounced lewdly in front of him, purple and angry. He stalked towards her. She was frightened and aroused by the prospect of what was coming.

He grabbed her hair again with his right hand and wrenched her head to the side. He bit her neck hard while reaching between her legs and violently pulling her thong down to her knees where she kicked it the rest of the way to the floor. She could feel his teeth on her neck, the welts rising. He had never ever been this rough before. It hurt. But she never wanted him to stop.

"Is this what you want, slut?" he hissed at her, pulling apart her miniskirt, the three large buttons the held it closed audibly popping and bouncing into unknown parts of the room, "To get fucked?"

"Mmm, Doctor Clark, whatever do you mean?"she asked, switching to "who, me?" mode.

He slapped her in response, quick and stinging.

"Do. You. Want. To. Get. FUCKED?!" he roared.

"Oh goodness, no sir," she replied, even as she wrapped her legs around him.

"Don't you lie to me!" the doctor demanded, face growing red.

"I'm not," she asserted in a tiny voice, "Honest to God, I'm not. And surely a good man like yourself knows that no means no."

She waited to see him falter again, but there was no hesitance on his part. He placed one hand on her throat and squeezed and used the other to guide himself deep inside her. She moaned lewdly. As he began to thrust into her—hard, fast, and erratic—his grip slackened enough for her to speak.

"Oh, god, sir," she warbled, pressure still restricting her ability to speak, "I said no, sir. I said no. Please sir."

He ignored her.

"Oh, goddddddddd, sir. You are raping me!" she groaned, grinding her slit hard against his brutally thrusting pelvis, "Do you intend to rape me to your satisfaction?"

Still he ignored her.

"Please stop," she pretended to cry, "please...go home to your boring plain wife and your boring plain sex life. Stop now and I'll never tell."

"Shut up," he grunted, pounding even harder into her.

Mallory kept at him, "Don't you care that I said no?"

"No!" he shouted and pulled her hair again, this time pushing his lips hard against hers. She bit him again, drawing blood. When she released, he bit her back, blood mixing with blood.

"Yeah," she grunted, the innocent façade abandoned for a throaty rasp, "rape me! Take what you want. Use me! Ruin me! I'm your slut. Your whore. Show me how fucking worthless I am! Treat me like the fucktoy you know I am!"

He bowed his head, seemingly devoting all his energy to the motion of his hips. He chanted to himself an affirmation of each of her lewd phrases, "Not rape! You want this! Use you! My whore! My slut!" 

Mallory spread her legs further apart, holding a calf in each hand, letting him go even deeper inside her. She continued her barrage of dirty talk, "You feel how wet I am? How tight? It's never like this with her, is it? She'd never let you RAPE her like this, would she? We can only be with each other Greg! We're animals, fucking monsters! What you want is wrong, Doctor Clark. So wrong. I'm the only one who can give it to you because I'm just as sick inside.

He bit her again, just above the nipple, in response. She let go of her legs and scratched his back again screaming, "Fuck yes! Hurt me, Doc. Fucking hurt me so bad! Oh god. I'm such a slut. Oh fuck me! Fuck! Such a whore! Oh, god, I love this! Tell me you don't love this, Doc?"

He didn't respond.

She pulled on his ear until they were eye to eye. "Tell me," she spoke methodically, "you don't love this!"

"I don't love this," he snarled.

She laughed and spit in his face in response. He grabbed her throat once more.

"Yes," she rasped, "Harder!"

He squeezed harder.

"Watch me cum, Doc," she said in gasping breaths, "Don't take your eyes off me."

And Greg didn't. He watched as her eyes rolled back into her head, her body arched into him and blushed red, her pussy muscles tightened around him and dragged his cock even deeper. Then she went slack with a hissing moan of a breath.

He loosened his grasp on her but still did not stop thrusting. Mallory's body was on fire, each stroke inside her set off a mini cascade of tiny orgasms. She felt as though she might burst out of her skin. It was simultaneously the best and worst feeling in the world. She began to truly fear she would lose consciousness; her body was so overloaded with sensation. She weakly shoved him away and dropped to her knees. Barely able to focus enough to see, she grabbed and made contact with the stunned doctor's cock. She yanked it toward her and wrapped her mouth around him, taking him deep, tasting her juices all over him. She gagged. Tears began to stream out of her eyes. She did not care. She wanted this, the abuse, the pain. She wanted it so bad. In the moment it all made sense to her. They could just do this forever. Fuck each other and hurt each other and repeat. She could keep him that way.

Above her, he grunted and grabbed her head. However, he let her continue to have control, perhaps enjoying watching her so thoroughly debase herself as to not even pay attention to her body's natural reflexes, like the gag.

Moments later, she could tell he was growing close, the tell-tale threading breath and the lengthening of his shaft. She released him from her mouth, stunned that her jaw was already aching.

"Fill my mouth," she commanded, "That's what sluts deserve! Make me swallow it all!"

Her hand was a blur on his cock, moving up and down, twisting, squeezing, rubbing the head.

"Come on! Give it to me!" the babysitter demanded. "Give me your cum, Doctor Clark! Let me taste your sin! This teen slut needs it!"

"Fuck," he groaned, surprisingly quietly. Then, a moment later, a roar, and Mallory's world went bright. She felt him spray. Once. Twice. Thrice. And he kept going. Jet after jet coating her tongue. He had never cum like this she thought, feeling something akin to victory. Her eyes stung with tears as he drove himself as deep into her throat as she could accommodate, but she did not care. She loved the feeling of nearly drowning, of chocking with his desire. The desire he gave to her in a way he could never give to his wife.

She stayed on the floor, leaning against the wall beneath her window, legs splayed obscenely as the doctor began to get dressed again. She began to touch herself, masturbating before him, hoping he'd watch.

"Keys," he grunted and she indicated to her bedside table. They had been there the whole time, in plain sight. She giggled, then cooed as fingers danced past her labia and inside her.

"Stay," she moaned, "Watch me. Then fuck me again."

He said nothing, a tentatively closing door the only evidence he was gone. She came quickly.

Moments later, the shame and fear began to filter in. What had she done? She only meant to get him back but what she had done instead...she could not imagine how things could ever go back now.

Greg arrived home only an hour and a half after he left but it felt much longer. He washed up in the bathroom downstairs, trying to wash away what he had done to Mallory and what he allowed her to do to him. He stared at himself in the mirror, inspecting the bruises, bites, and scratch marks, wincing with a mixture of pain and shame.

Despite fearing what his wife would say, the questions she would ask, the doctor was simply too tired not to go to bed. He dragged himself up the stairs, feeling achy and rung out all over. Soft light spilled out his bedroom door as he opened it. Gina was propped up on pillows, reading a book. She put it down and smiled at him as he walked in.

"How did it go?"

"Fine, fine," he mumbled, "She wasn't too bad."

"Good."

He grimaced as he started to pull his shirt off and she caught it immediately.

"Are you okay?" she asked, voice concerned.

"Yeah...just..." he struggled for an excuse, "Fell down the stairs at Mallory's apartment building."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. Dumb of me. I was waiting to hear her engage the lock on her door and wasn't paying attention to where I was putting my feet," he spun the yarn.

"Ouch," Gina commiserated, getting out of bed, "Did you hurt yourself?"

"A bit," he said and began to tick off injuries, "I, umm, scratched up my back pretty good, I think. Cheap apartment carpet, you know? I bit my lip. I'm pretty sure I've got some decent bruises all over."

"Oooo, my poor man. Is, umm, everything hurt?" she asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

"Wha...oh, no, no. I am...intact," he assured his wife.

"Good, good. Why don't you just get in bed then and let me see what I can do about healing your wounds?" she offered.

He briefly considered refusing, but was worried that would be more suspicious than accepting. If he couldn't perform, he reasoned, he could just blame it on being more beat up than he had initially expected.

He gingerly removed his clothes as Gina disappeared to the bathroom for a bit to wash her face, brush her teeth, and finish up her evening routine. He felt himself grow annoyed. "Why can't she just be spontaneous?" he grumbled internally, sliding in between the warm sheets.

She emerged from the bathroom about 10 minutes later and flipped off the light. Lately, this too had been an annoyance but he was thankful for it this time. It made his injuries harder to see and assess.

Gina slid into bed next to him and kissed him gently. In short order, she used her hand to arouse him, slipped a condom on, climbed on top, and languidly made love to her husband. It was pleasant, but Greg found himself distracted throughout. Here was a wish to demand she use her mouth, there was a flash of Mallory's face, twisted in ecstatic success. Here was a want to talk dirty, there was the memory of the feel of Mal's bare, wet pussy opening up and claiming his fingers. Here was dark, twisting guilt sitting in his gut, there was growing irrational anger at Gina for leaving him so vulnerable to temptation in the first place.

After they climaxed together and Gina sent him to dispose of the condom, they cuddled together in bed.

"Did you enjoy it?" she purred quietly, settling in to his arms.

"Yes," he assured, despite having felt like he was everywhere but in their bedroom, "I always do."

"You were so quiet this time," Gina observed, seemingly harmlessly but leaving Greg feeling like he'd been kicked in the gut.

"Huh," he replied, noncommittally.




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 19



She shrugged and cuddled deeper into him, "As long as it felt good. Good night."

"Good night."

She slipped into sleep almost immediately, her breathing growing deep and regular. Greg followed after her but his sleep was shallow and fitful. Around 2AM, he found himself waking up rock hard, dreams of Mal's nasty talk ringing in his ears. Guiltily he snuck downstairs and jerked off while looking at photos on his babysitter's Facebook page.

He hoped this would be it, that this was a lapse, not a relapse. Across town, Mallory lowered herself into a hot bubble bath with a grimace, aching and bruised all over. She sighed as the heat began to take effect. She tried to turn her mind off, to stop the worrying. She knew she could "get" Greg, but was it worth it? What damage had she done, would she do? The possible answers left her deeply disconcerted.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 20



Writer's Note: Although this chapter contains sex and sexual things, the scale tips far more towards plot than previous installments. As such, the sex is...well, I'll let you judge for yourself. But please do keep in mind that this is being done with a purpose.




Greg closed his eyes and thrust into his wife, Gina. She ran her hands over his arms, his chest, before looping behind his neck loosely. If Gina noticed the unusual tension in his ramrod straight arms, taut pecs, or knotted shoulders she did not acknowledge it. Instead, she whispered that she loved him and then gasped in delight as his thumb found her clit.

In his mind, the doctor reassured himself over and over again that this was right. This was good. This was what he wanted, what he should want. He ignored the thoughts that bubbled up, comparing his wife's moan to the babysitter Mallory's, her bedroom talk to the coed's, the way she enjoyed him and the way his now former naughty nasty mistress did. He pushed down the images of Mallory's face, twisted in lust and anger, threatening him as they fucked roughly, tumbling around her bedroom, hurting and pleasuring each other in equal measure as they laid waste to her furniture. He did not want those things, he did not want the slim blonde with the dirty mouth and the dirtier mind. Greg only wanted to make love to his wife, to re-embrace the way he used to be, to give up on all those dark fantasies, dangerous encounters, and incredible orgasms.

He grunted and bit his tongue. "Not incredible," he barely stopped himself from saying, reprimanding this errant, inappropriate endorsement of the illicit sexual activities he was leaving in his past.

"You okay?" Gina breathily checked.

He opened his eyes and nodded. She was flush and sweaty, her breasts delightful bouncing with each thrust, her skin warm and smooth to his touch. She was attractive, fit, and could be wonderfully noisy. How could he not be happy, not be fully satisfied with her? Why couldn't he stop thinking about the thin, small breasted, pierced navel bearing, dirty talking, fantasy fulfilling blond teenager that used to watch his kids?!

Yes, used to. After their last brutal encounter at Mallory's apartment, Greg had determined he must carve her out of his life to be rid of her. As long as she was around, he needed to fuck her. He was weak; she was too hot, too filthy, too everything. While his wife was "only" kind, thoughtful, a good parent, a helpful life partner, a decent lover. So, he told Gina that he did not feel comfortable with Mallory being around the kids, at least for now, given that she was drinking underage and to excess. It was all nonsense, but Gina bought it. She let the coed down easy and found someone else. Thus ended his adulterous violation of the wild, hypnotic 19 year old Mallory.

Gina ran her hands over her husband's shorn pate and nudged him downward, meeting him in a deep kiss with a tilt of her head. His mind still drifted.

He had not anticipate was how hard it had been to "go back" even without Mallory around. He still wanted the dirty talk, the enthusiastic oral sex, the power plays, the danger. He tried to convince his wife to roleplay, to have sex in some less traditional places, perhaps ones where someone might see them, to even just say "fuck" every now and then while they made love. She had rebuffed each suggestion with no's, giggles, and eyerolls. Each time his suggestion was denied, Greg receded farther into himself, his resentment enveloping him. He tried to remind himself he was the one cheating, Gina was the victim, but the drumbeat of "Well maybe if she'd just meet him halfway on ANY of these" was growing louder. 

Greg caressed Gina's nipple, feeling it harden and hearing her coo into his neck. She arched her back, pushing her breast into his palm, filling his grip. He enjoyed its warm, soft, fullness in his hand and murmured his appreciation. She kissed him again, tracing the tight cords of muscle beginning in his shoulders and descending his back. It felt good to be with her, to be making love to her. But just good, never great, Greg found himself admitting.

Distractions like exercise, organizing the office and the home, volunteering had left him busy, in even better shape than ever, and with all of his stuff in its proper place, but it wasn't enough. He found himself masturbating at work between appointments, looking through Mallory's picture galleries on Facebook, furtively sneaking out of the bedroom and watching porn after Gina fell asleep. He wasn't cheating anymore, but he felt less honest than ever. Somehow, not fucking the babysitter had him doing a worse job as a husband.

Gina mistook her husband's slightly pained look for discomfort about being the same position, arms locked above, for us long and suggested with in between gasps, "Want me on top?"

A nod and long unhurried kiss later, the wife slowly lowered herself down the doctor's hard cock, feeling it spread her and pulse within her. She began to slowly push open and down, her hands splayed across his chest, feeling his muscles tense and his heart beat beneath them. She leaned forward, her hair tumbling over his face, and whispered, "Oh god, you feel so good."

Greg only grunted in reply, trying not fantasize about the time Mallory rode him while Gina slept through it all in this very bed. Instead, he explored his wife's body with his hands, wrapping up her hips, clutching her ass, caressing her face, fondling her breasts, dancing his fingers through her pubic hair until he found her clit with his middle finger.

Gina moaned louder and louder as her pace increased. "Are you going to cum with me?" she whispered, using the only dirty word she approved of.

"Not...not yet," Greg replied.

"Please," she pouted, digging her nails into his nipple, pain and pleasuring ricocheting their way through his body.

That's when it happened; he let himself relax and get lost in the sex and said it. "Oh fuck yes—"

He knew he was going to say Mallory, felt it on the end of his tongue, but managed to just stop it. The damage, however, was done. He had crossed a big no line for Gina.

With a strangle of disappointment, she shifted and pulled herself off him, awkwardly grabbing her robe as she stormed out of the room. Allowing himself a moment to both curse himself and thank his lucky stars he hadn't completed the sentence, he followed after her. He did not bother with a robe, semi-hard cock leading the way, lubricated condom still adorning it.

"What—" he began, knowing exactly the problem.

"You...you know how I feel about that word!" she spat back at him, not turning to face him.

"I'm sorry, Gina. I just got swept up in the moment. You know you just get me excited," he offered, trying to hold her.

She spun away to face him, looking angry, sad, and tired. "Why can't you just be happy with things like they are?" she accused.

"I messed up. It was an accidental slip of the tongue!"

"Maybe. But you've been trying to get me to do things for weeks now. Do you not like being married to me?"

"I—I—I'm not unhappy," he stumbled, "I just...look, long term, it's important to have variety and creativity in a sexual relationship if it is monogamous. I'm just trying to—"

"So you're bored then?" she interrupted.

"No," he quickly replied, lying a bit, "But better we start to try new things before boredom then wait and try to 'fix' it."

"So what, I'm just supposed to agree to whatever," she gritted her teeth angrily, eyes glassy with tears, "Let you 'fuck' me? Maybe I can watch you have sex with some girl we pick up at a bar? Or just shave myself bare so I look like some sort of porn star and you can treat me like trash, huh?"

"Come on, Gina, you know that's not what I'm saying. You don't want to do dirty talk? Fine, I suggested other ideas. And for the record, watching me with another woman or shaving was never raised. I'm open to your ideas too, but—"

"I told you, I don't have fantasies. I'm happy."

Greg deflated visibly. "Yeah...yeah, so you've told me."

"I'm going to bed," she said quietly, ending the discussion cold, "Feel free to do the same after you're dressed."

She tossed him his pajama pants from the floor and shut the bedroom door. He sighed, defeated again, and turned to the bathroom.

Across town, Mallory was lying on a twin long bed in some grey walled dorm room, football player dick in hand. Clad in a tiny pair of light green panties and nothing else, she jerked campus favorite Eric Desrosier's cock smoothly, with grim purpose. 

He groaned and muttered next to her, enjoying the sensation of her warmed toned leg draped over his. He and his friends always claimed that they'd rather just take care of themselves than get a handie from a girl, but Mal was certainly changing his mind on the subject.

He was confused when she showed up in his dorm room during the floor party and immediately started to flirt with him. He sort of recognized her from the freshman comp class they took together and occasionally seeing her at dances on campus but couldn't think of more than six words they had ever said to each other. Still, she looked great that night in a tiny jean skirt and a black shimmery shirt whose neckline was so low it left little to the imagination. It was fun, he figured, a good way to distract himself from missing his girlfriend, Lana, who was abroad this semester. They'd flirt, she'd go home after the party, he'd skype with Lana and use the sexual charge from the night to make masturbating on a webcam a little more exciting.

That was his plan, anyway. Clearly, things had gone down differently.

Mallory had left her apartment that night with one goal, forget Dr. Clark. And the fastest way to do that, she figured, was to wrap her hand around some strange cock. So she drove to campus and wandered around looking for an inevitable party. On the east side of campus, she could hear the distinct rumble of a stereo being forced to play too strong bass too loud through crappy speakers and knew she was on the right track.

Once inside, she fixed her eyes on Eric. She didn't pay attention to the school's football team and even though he remembered her from comp the year before, she certainly didn't remember him. Still he was tall and looked strong beneath his ugly, ironic (she assumed) Hawaiian shirt and board shorts and she concluded he'd do nicely.

Once he mentioned he had a girlfriend abroad, she knew she was going to make him cheat.

"See, Doc," she thought to herself, bitterness in her every cell, "I can steal any guy I want. You're nothing special."

After making out with Eric in the corner, she convinced him to take her back to his room. He hemmed and hawed about Lana but didn't stop her as she unzipped and tugged off his shorts assuring him, "As long as we don't fuck, it's not cheating, Eric. Of course, if you decide you want to fuck me, I promise I'll keep it secret."

"I..I don't—" he started to object until her tongue swirled over the head of his rising member.

She shoved him onto his tiny bed and danced to the music thumping through the door, slowly removing her clothes as she whispered, "Show me how you jerk off. Show me how you're going to make yourself cum when you are alone and thinking about this night again."

He quickly started to stroke himself fast and aggressive and Mallory was forced to practically shout at him to stop, "Wait! Save some for me, hero."

Eric liked that nickname, liked the way she looked almost naked, liked how she rationalized him hooking up with her behind Lana's back.

Then when she got a hold of him...well that he really was enjoying.

As Mal gripped Eric's dick in her hand, she tried to turn off the part of her brain that kept logging the differences between him and the Doc. For one, Eric was obviously not as smart and significantly easier to get to get to agree to cheat. He was beefier than Greg, thickened by copious amounts of beer, no doubt. Much more just big than cut and lithe like her employer. Err, former employer.

Eric's cock was nice...she was sure it would make her feel pleasantly full if he slipped it inside her. If he had any talent for sex at all, she could have a good time. She tried to focus on that, but kept thinking about how it was just a pale imitation of what she really wanted in her hand right now. Even as she tried to pretend otherwise, she knew this was just going through the motions. She wasn't going to make Greg jealous, he'd never even know. And Eric certainly wasn't going to make her forget the Doc.

Instead she tried to fill herself up with compliments, asking if she was better than Lana, asking is she was hotter, asking if he'd still fool around with her behind Lana's back after the girlfriend returned. Eric agreed to easily to it all. He just wanted to cum and while he might have been telling the truth, it seemed equally likely he was just agreeing without even actually thinking of an accurate answer.

"Oh god," he grunted without warning, spraying a bust of white up her arm followed by two or three small dribbles coating her hand.

"Well..." she commented as he caught his breath.

"Oh shit, Mal, you are so good at that. Sorry....I didn't mean to lose it so quick. I can like...I don't know, go down on you or whatever if you want," he offered sheepishly, embarrassed that he left her unsatisfied and came before he had even seen her naked, nevermind had sex with her.

"Don't worry about," she mumbled, suddenly feeling very sad and kind of gross, "you'll need your strength to be up when you talk to your girlfriend later."

She sounded almost pissed to him, Eric thought, and he was totally confused. She knew he was dating someone else, seemed hot for him because of that. What just happened?

"Did I—" he started.

"You were great," she lied, not wanting him to feel bad for her sudden rush of guilt, shame, and general self recrimination, "Lana's a lucky lady. I bet you drive her wild in the sack."

He smiled hesitantly then. It sounded like a compliment to him, like she meant it, but the look on her face made him think otherwise. Plus, he knew he had not performed particularly well tonight. He couldn't really reason it through though between the drinking, the post-orgasmic muddle, the lack of facts, and his usually less than sharp mind. So instead he just said, "Thanks."

Mallory nodded and finished getting dressed. "See you around, Eric," she half waved, "And don't worry, I'll take this to my grave."

"Wait," he stopped her, "Do you want to grab, like, lunch or something sometime? My teammate Heath's a good dude. I bet you'd like him a lot. He's like me but, you know, much smarter. And not to be weird, but definitely bigger." He gestured to his own rapidly shrinking member to emphasize the point.

She laughed despite herself. Eric had a sweet dumbness quality to him. And it was tempting to date an athlete with a big dick.

"I don't know..." she replied, "Give me your number and I'll think about it."

The football player smiled wider then, now sure that things were cool. He wrote it down on a piece of cardboard that used to be attached to a pizza box. "Alright then...cool. And, like, thanks...it's hard to do this long distance thing. I'm glad it was someone like you instead of someone who'd get all... 'so are we dating now or what' about it."

"No problem," she mumbled, feeling gross again, and got away from his room, off the floor, and out of the dorm as quickly as she could without looking like she was being chased.

Greg couldn't climb in next to his wife yet, that much was clear. He was too...everything. Guilty. Angry. Sad. Confused. Disappointed. He was amplified all over the place and knew he'd just toss and turn in bed, sure to score no points with Gina.

He needed to do something to pass the time until he calmed down.

"I'm just looking at the internet on my phone," he assured himself in his own head, "Look for the scores, maybe check the headlines. That's all."

When that approach was quickly exhausted but he remained as tense as ever, he continued to play with his phone. "Maybe a game," he whispered.

What he wasn't going to do, he thought as he scrolled through the menu screens, was look up that email account gave him the password. He wasn't going to type in the password, which he had memorized, and scroll through all the photos of herself she had left there for him, pictures of her in sexy outfits, of her naked, of her masturbating. He wasn't going to read through the various short missives she had left there, filled with short statements like, "Every time you fill my mouth with your cum, the only thing I want is more" and "I was so turned while I had dinner with you and Gina tonight, I had to masturbate in my car at the end of your driveway before I could go home. Too bad you didn't come out to check on me."

He wasn't going to do that. This is what made the fact that fifteen minutes later he was standing naked in front of the mirror in the bathroom, staring at his smart phone with his rigid cock gripped tightly in his fist so odd. 

On the screen was an image of his babysitter arching her back in apparent organic bliss, hard nipples reaching skyward, mouth open in a silent scream of delight. Greg was the concave opposite of her convex showiness, stooped over and grunting as quietly as he could. His bicep and tricep were taut as piston erratically but determinedly, moving his clutched fist rapidly up and down over his hot, hard shaft. Lotion squeezed out from between his fingers, precum dripped from the darkening, now near purple head.

Despite trying to keep himself silent, he was soon whispering, his words a mix of frustration and lust. "You love when I say fuck, don't you? Your dirty teen mind is even nastier than mine. God...just want to call you. Fuck you. Hope she catches us...then she'll see. Mmm...hope she catches us just as I decorate your body with my cum. See you beg for more and more."

He caught sight himself in the mirror and faltered a moment, "Oh god...so wrong. How can I d—". Then his lotion coated hand slid over the head of his dick, sending him shuddering with arousal. His self recrimination disappeared.

Unbeknownst to him, Gina was having a terrible time sleeping too and decided to find her husband, apologize, and ask him to come to bed. Instead, she found the bathroom door locked and heard the wet sound of her husband's thick cock fuck moisturizer soaked palm. She couldn't make out what he was saying until he grunted a single, too loud "You're fucking making me cum."

She dropped her head and dragged herself back to bed as Greg sprayed his load into the bathroom sink.

Gina knew what she had to do.

The next morning, Greg took the kids to the park while Gina begged off, claiming a headache. The moment the family was gone, she was on the phone to Mallory.

"Ms. Clark?" Mallory asked, befuddled, "But you told me Dr. Clark didn't want me to watch the kids anymore."

"I know, but I have an idea. Come over so we can talk about it?" the wife requested.

Mallory dressed quickly, giddily. She couldn't imagine how Gina could turn Greg around on this but she was on board with whatever the woman suggested.

A land speed record later, Mal sat in the living room, leg bouncing impatiently as Gina held out a glass of water.

"...and it's no secret the kids love you."

"I screwed up though. You told me yourself."

"I know I did Mallory but I think my husband was a little too over the top with his punishment."

"So...you'll talk to him?"

"Yes, I will dear. I have no doubt I can convince him to rehire you. But, the thing is, I need you to do me a favor..."

Mallory felt joy and adrenaline pulse through all her cells. She was positively beaming as she declared, "Whatever you need, Ms. Clark!"




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 20



"Please, you can still call me Gina."

Mallory nodded, shifting to the edge of her seat.

"I guess the important question I have to ask you first, to determine if this will work, Mallory, is: would you like to have sex with my husband?"



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 21



Mallory's mouth went desert dry right away. She involuntarily coughed, feeling silly and helpless all at once. "So this is it," she thought, "Caught."

Gina watched her with a hint of impatience darkening her eyes and turning up the corners of her mouth. "I said, would you like to have sex with my husband, Mallory?"

Mallory let out a breath of air she hadn't realized she was holding on to. Gina wasn't accusing her of sleeping with Greg, she was...inviting it?

"Why am I asking?" Gina continued on, her rate of speech increasing, "Of course you want to sleep with Greg. You aren't exactly subtle about it. I swear, you sometimes stare so hard, I think you must have x-ray vision. "

"No, no, Ms. Clark, that's not—"

"Relax. This isn't about embarrassing you or yelling at you. It never bothered me that you'd ogle Greg like a schoolgirl with her first naughty crush and it certainly doesn't now. I just have an idea that will help us both out and I want to know if you're onboard."

"So, you are asking me to fu—" Mallory interrupted herself when she saw Gina cringe and restated, "have sex with you and Dr. Clark?"

"Both of us?" Gina laughed. "No, no. Definitely not that. Just Greg."

"As like a present?"

"I guess you could call it that."

"I'm...I'm confused," the babysitter confessed, "I didn't think you guys were into that sort of thing."

As she spoke, Mallory wondered if she and Doc had perhaps underestimated Gina's prurient interests all along.

"Into it? Not normally, no, but desperate times. So, now that you aren't pretending you don't want to sleep with Greg, can I count on you?"

"Wait, wait," Mallory objected, throwing her hands up, "I'm...give me a second. I never said I did or didn't want to have sex with Dr. Clark, first of all. I don't even understand what's going on here."

"What's going on is that you want your job back watching my kids. And you want my husband. I'm promising you if you agree to make that latter wish a reality, I'll make sure the former happens to."

"But it's not a threesome thing?"

"No...I have no interest in having sex with a girl even one as pretty as you, Mallory."

"Okay. Why then?"

Gina sighed and rubbed her temples. This conversation had already exceeded her patience for it. She got that hers was an unusual request but Mal was in college. She should've been all about challenging sexual norms and experimenting, right? 

"Not sure why you care since I am giving you something...two things...you want, but if you must know, Greg and I are getting divorced."

"What?!" the babysitter gasped in shock. Could she be so lucky?

"Well, not yet, but the writing is on the wall."

"Are you...how is that?"

"I guess if I'm asking you to sleep with him you deserve some details. Greg is into some things...sexually...that I've never really cared for."

Mallory bit her tongue, literally. It was all she could do not to snort, "Yeah, no kidding."

"For years, he's been fine with that. We did what I enjoyed, he liked it too, and never was a complaint raised. I kind of fooled myself into thinking it would always be this way, but I think part of me knew he couldn't be satisfied not...indulging forever. And now is that time. Our clock has run out."

"So I'm like a...pinch hitter? You bring me in to satisfy those things you won't do and you get to keep your marriage." Although it was almost exactly what Mallory and Greg had been doing behind Gina's back, the coed bristled at the thought of it becoming an official status.

Gina shook her head sadly. "No, I—I couldn't handle that kind of thing," she admitted with a deep sigh.

"Then...what?"

"I can't just ask for a divorce and not expect to get hosed on things. I may not like what Greg wants...sexually...but none of it is weird or dangerous enough that I can claim it is wrong of him or use it to shame him. He's better connected in the community, his job makes more money, and he has more flexibility. If I ask for a divorce, I'll be at his mercy in terms of custody the kids. Nobody is going to have sympathy for a woman who files for divorce from her handsome, successful husband when he's a great dad, kind and loving human being with rather mainstream, if gross to me, interests in the bedroom."

"So...you're setting him up?"

"Well...look, I have three choices. I ask for the divorce and take whatever he gives me, we just wait and wait and wait until we are both so miserable divorce is the only thing that makes sense, or he screws up and my wanting a divorce is justified. And if his screw up is cheating on me, he'll feel so bad that he won't even fight my demands. His guilt will make him want to make it better."

"So I fuck him," Mallory didn't bother changing the language this time, Gina cringes be damned, "and you fuck him over?"

"No, Mallory....not at all. I'm not going demand a ton of money or complete custody or anything. I'm not going to abuse him. I just want to...level the playing field a bit."

"Or tip it in your favor."

"A little, sure. But in the long run it's best for everyone. Greg can find someone who's a little more...accommodating, I get a divorce that doesn't make me a villain and leave me powerless, and you get to have sex with a man you clearly have a crush on and your old job back. Best solution for all."

"Or you could, I don't know, try to meet him halfway on the sex stuff? Show some flexibility since apparently he has done that for you for years?"

"Mallory, I'm going to ask you kindly to not offer me advice on being married. I've been doing it a long time, you're a nineteen year old," Gina reproached the teen through a tightly drawn mouth, "With all due respect, you have no idea what the hell you are talking about."

"I...I don't accept that. Marriage is about partnership and compromise and—"

"And all of that is true, but there are certain compromises that one can't make at a certain point. Some people can't be with atheists or conservatives or Yankees fans. I can't...change my mind on this stuff."

"So...this is it then? Marriage over?"

"Yes. And if you won't help me, I'll find someone who will. But I really hope you will. You're definitely his type. Thin, athletic, like me, but younger. Your breasts are smaller than he'd usually go for, but they're cute and perky enough I bet he'd overlook that."

Mallory suppressed the desire to shout at Gina that Greg loved her tits, smaller though they might be, and had spent considerable time proving his enjoyment of them with his hands and mouth.

Gina continued, unaware of Mallory's inner monologue, "You wear clothes like he used to want to see me in, you have a pierced navel, which he's always salivated over. I bet you are the type of girl who shaves designs into her pubic hair."

Mallory smirked at this comment without thought. Gina caught and with a heavy sigh added, "Or just gets rid of it all. I suppose he'd like that too. All guys are into that now, right?"

For a moment, Gina just looked lost, her face betraying the sense that she just didn't get the world anymore. Mallory felt a flickering sense of sadness for her. Gina just didn't seem to understand that it wasn't about the piercing or the pubic hair designs or the dirty talk or...whatever else, it was some sense that she would be willing to try something, anything, beyond her comfort zone that her husband might enjoy. Instead she wanted only want she wanted without seeing why Greg couldn't be happy with that. 

Shaking off the moment, Gina concluded, "At least he can have a good time destroying our marriage, right? So, what do you say Mallory? Will you have sex with my husband?"

Mallory paused. Every part of her was revolted at the thought of Gina's plan. It was so wrong, so awful. Why would she prefer to set up a man she claimed to love rather than even try out something like dirty talk or a few more blowjobs? It made no sense and was such a cruel "solution."

But still...Mallory wanted Greg again. Needed him. Was convinced he cared for her as more than just a good fuck. If this was the way to do it, to have Gina advocate for her and get her back in the family's graces...

Mallory nodded without making eye contact. "Fine," she whispered.

The teen went home then, feeling as gross as she ever had and, yet, still giddy with excitement. She always promised Greg she'd give him sexual liberation, she argued to herself. She didn't mean by ending his marriage when she said it, but maybe that had to be the price. He'd thank her for it later, perhaps with his tongue. She smirked a delightfully dirty smirk at the idea of that, then felt queasy again.

She knew it was weird to feel that Gina's "sin" was more extensive and wrong than hers or the Doc's but she couldn't stop herself from feeling that way. There was a difference between cheating to fill an unmet need when it is clear it will never be met and setting up your spouse so you don't have to even to attempt to try something new sexually, to meet your partner halfway on their kinks.

The she got to thinking of the Doc's kinks and grew flush and hot. She squeezed her legs together and enjoyed the sensations: the pressure, the heat, the increasing slickness. Guilt gnawed at the edges of her excitement, but couldn't overcome it. She thought of the Doctor between her legs, hard and thick, the muscles in his shoulders tight with exertion, his hands grabbing her waist and controlling her fully, claiming her pussy as his own, over and over again. She gave up on contemplating the moral ambiguity of her choices...she wanted that again. She wanted it so fucking bad.

Without further handwringing, she began to shed her clothes, running her hands over her flushed skin as more and more of it was exposed. She let her fingers lightly prance over her taut abdomen, feeling her electricity crawl through her, her muscles twitching in enthusiastic response. Moving upward, she clasped and kneaded her breasts, snickering at Gina's early dismissal of them. Mallory's nipples rose in response to her manipulations, high and full. She wished she could feel Greg's mouth on them immediately. They needed to be sucked, they were made to be between his lips, his teeth pressing into them, his tongue twisting around them.

Between her legs, she felt her sex grow hotter, wetter. It wasn't buzzing per se, but her arousal dominated brain couldn't think of a better word to summarize the physical experience of it. Impatiently, awkwardly, she pushed her panties and tight jeans down her thighs, twisting and hopping until they melted into a puddle on her apartment floor, She teased herself a moment, enjoying the way she body roared at her, demanding she get serious, dammit!

Her fingers coated in her dew, she greedily brought them to her mouth, her tongue lapping at her lust. She could tell that her fingers were just not going to give her what she needed so she ran to her bedroom. With one hand between her legs, thrusting two fingers frantically in and out of her, she tossed her nightstand until her free hand closed around the glass dildo hidden within. With a triumphant grown, she fellated it, sure to leave it wet with her saliva before collapsing to her knees and guiding it, slowly, deep into her cunt.

The coed quickly became disillusioned with romancing herself gently. The pace increased, the cool glass's temperature rapidly increasing in both her grips. She could feel a trickle of her desire wind down the sex toy and over her knuckles.

The slide and release of the deadbolt caught Mallory's attention and she called out sharply. "Brenda! Oh fuck Brenda! I need you!"

Her shy roommate approached immediately, blushing deeply but not pausing. She recognized the sound in Mallory's voice. She knew what "need" meant. And while she knew what she did with Mal, what Mal did to her, what she did to Mal, was often dirty and sometimes against all she thought she knew of her morality, Brenda could not help herself. She loved violating her personal code when Mallory was leading the way.

Brenda dropped her purse and book bag in the frame of Mallory's bedroom door, admiring her roommate's back and ass as they drove fitfully against some object she could not see. "What..what can I do?" Brenda tentatively solicited.

"I—I can't—fuck myself hard enough. Just—need it—so hard right—now. Gotta cum! Please Bren—Brenda—please fuck me!" Mallory breathlessly implored.

Brenda shrugged out of her clothes and joined her roommate. She guided Mallory backward against the hardwood floor, pressing her body against her roommate's. Brenda was struck by how feverish the blonde's skin felt and wondered what could've put Mal in this state.

The dark haired shy girl shed her inhibitions and pulled the dildo from Mallory's grasp. Swinging her top leg over Mallory's left one, Brenda pulled her begging roommate more fully against her. She pushed her rapidly moistening sex against Mallory's hip reasoning there was no reason they both couldn't enjoy themselves at once. Then, kissing with Mallory with more frantic need than she had been aware of until their lips met, the shy scene girl began to violate her friend with the now heated slick glass sex toy. She found a pace quickly and was soon grinding against Mallory at the same rate, enjoying the delicious almost but not quite enough friction.

"Harder," Mallory hissed and gritted her teeth, "I told you I needed to be fucked hard, you dirty girl."

Brenda adjusted her grip in response, pushing upward harder and faster. She licked the fingers of her free hand and slid them over Mallory's clit, rubbing in light but rapid circles.

"Oh yes. OH! God yes! You know what I like, don't you?"

Brenda bashfully did not reply, instead gently biting the blonde's neck where it met her shoulder.

"If you're gonna bite me, you better leave a mark," Mallory demanded. Brenda complied, sucking her flesh deeper and bringing her teeth down hard. Mallory mewled and thrashed, delighted, in reply.

Mallory came for the first time moments later, seizing in place, body forming a partial bridge. Brenda began to ease off, figuring Mal would be satiated.

"Don't you fucking stop!" Mal bellowed instead, adding, "And don't think I didn't notice you grinding your sopping cunt all over me. You better not even dream of cumming until I'm satisfied.

Brenda whimpered in reply, now heading towards a desperate need to climax herself. She had hoped to leave Mallory satisfied and steal away to her bedroom for a quick, private orgasm herself.

Before long, both of the girls' bodies were slick with their sweat and desire. They bumped and slid off each other as both struggled to satisfy Mallory's rampant appetite and Brenda desperately attempted to resist her own carnal cravings.

Orgasms washed over Mallory coming faster and faster but with less intensity. She needed to explode, she thought, just knock herself out with it, but the harder she chased that kind of climax, the farther it seemed to slip away.

Brenda, meanwhile, was nearly mad with need now. Her wrist was hot flashes of pain, the entire rest of her body tightly wound in brutal anticipation of release. Everything seemed to ache and pulse at once. Even the occasional brush of a lock of Mallory's hair left her roommate gasping and shaking. Every cell cried out to cum.

Panic took hold and Brenda began to beg, her voice a ragged, erratic whisper, "Please Mal—so—you've got me so—I need to—oh god—just—please."

Hearing how frantic Brenda was tripped something for Mallory and with a low long groan she came one last time, hands grabbing and clawing and her own tits as if her body felt alien to her. She shoved Brenda and the dildo away, rolling in the opposite direction and involuntary pulsated in time to her aftershocks. Brenda awkwardly stood, letting the toy slip from her fingers. She wondered if she might cum simply from walking back to her bedroom.

"No," Mallory declared, rolling back towards Brenda in time to catch the roommate's attempt at retreat. 

She confessed, "I want to see you."

Brenda was too far gone to be embarrassed by the thought of it. She laid back down on the floor on her side and gliding her fingers over her small tuft of dark pubic hair and towards her pleading mound.

"Uh-uh," Mallory rebuked her, "With the dildo."

Brenda wordlessly picked it up spread her legs wide and aggressively began to thrust the toy into herself. It was her first time ever using a dildo, but she took to it like a natural. While she doubted she could ever admit, the thought of using this object on herself, covered in her roommate's cum and hot from her body heat, thrilled her.

"Mmm, yeah, like that," Mallory whispered, staring with still lying on her side, "Does it feel good?"

"Uh-uh-uh-huh...s-s-s-so good," Brenda stuttered and sputtered.

"You like fucking my used sex toy?"

Brenda nodded intensely, her breath too hard to hold onto long enough now to form sentences.

"You know why? Because you're a filthy, filthy girl. Such a dirty little harlot."

Brenda felt the words pulse through her, hot and damning. She was a harlot, deep down inside. She knew it. With a moan, she altered her grip on the toy, grabbing it with both hands and locking her elbows. Then, she began to thrust upward into it, keeping it stock still and forcing herself to fuck it.

"God, you look so good right now, baby," Mallory moaned, scooting closer. She ran her hands over Brenda's breasts causing the dark haired girl to shake harder and gasp.

"Please," beseeched Brenda.

"Please?" Mallory teased.

"Touch my....my....touch my tits. Play with them. Feels so good."

"Will it make you cum hard?"

"Yessssss."

Mallory obeyed with a smile, running her nails over the engorged tips of both nipples just like she knew her roommate craved.

"Uhhhh,rrrrrr, uhhhhh," Brenda nonsensically groaned, twisting the dildo as she plunged it deeper into her sex.

"I want you to gush all over that fake cock so I can lick both our cream off it," the blonde cooed in her friend's ear, "Then I'm gonna eat that pretty pussy until I'm satisfied."

"Soooo wrong," Brenda murmured, "So dirty. Can't stop....just...can't."

"Don't then. Let yourself be the dirty harlot everyone can tell you are just by looking at you. You're filthy and everybody knows it Brenda. Everyone knows what a dirty little bi-slut you are. And then all want to fuck you."

"God...oh god...uhh...shit...gonna....fuck...so...oh god!" Brenda panted before falling apart, shaking and twisting. She climaxed three times rapid fire, then collapsed into a twitching mess, burrowing into her naked, still sweaty roommate.

Extracting the glass sex toy from her roommate's shaky fingertips, Mallory guided the slippery object to her lips. As Brenda watched through wide but cloudy eyes, the blonde obscenely licked and sucked until it glistened with her saliva. With a satisfied grin, she commented breathily, "God, we taste so damn good."

Mallory then predatorily focused her gaze upon her dark haired roommate and purred, "I'm still hungry though."

Brenda moaned and shook her head, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "You don't need to do that for m—" she began.

"Trust me, it's not just for you. But if you're sure you don't my tongue on you—"

"That's not what I said!" Brenda objected rapidly, already beginning to push her roommate's head downward.

"Mmmm, that's what I thought, you bad girl."

Brenda blushed deeper and in a voice just above a whisper begged, "Please just eat my pussy."

With a faux salute and a swallowed giggle, Mallory dove in. She was actually fairly inexperienced in matters of oral sex on other women. While, ironically given their roles overall, Brenda had taken to it with a surprising enthusiasm, Mal was still finding her sea legs on the matter. But, Brenda could testify, she was proving a fast learner.




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 21



As the blonde gently pressed her tongue against her roommate's spread already well fucked sex, the scene girl murmured encouragement, enjoying the transition into more languid, easy going love making after the frenzy they both just rode. Mallory caressed her legs and ass slowly, tenderly, and eased Brenda towards her climaxes rather than aggressively pushing her there. The dark haired roommate settled in, absorbed in the moment, and let two orgasms fill her cells and wash over her before she eased Mallory away from between her quivering legs and brought her upward.

As Mallory came closer, she reached for a sheet to wipe her face. Brenda stopped her, reassuring somewhat shyly, "I want to taste us both when I kiss you. I...I really like that."

Mal smiled at that and kissed her roommate with enthusiasm, their tongues curling into one another, massaging, exploring. When they finally broke away, panting shallow but satisfied breaths, Brenda locked eyes and, with unusual confidence for her, ordered Mallory, "Now, I'm going to throw some clothes on and make waffles. You meet me in the kitchen in 15 minutes and tell me what got into you."

"You mean besides that glass dildo?" the blonde cracked.

Brenda stuck out her tongue in response, "Joke all you want now, in 15, you're gonna tell the truth."

And, sure enough, Mallory arrived in the kitchen 15 minutes later in light blue pajama pants and an old t-shirt to watch her roommate bop around the kitchen in tiny, tiny boy shorts and a sports bra while she finished off a batch of large, fluffy waffles. After they were divided up and the crannies filled with butter and syrup, Brenda need only say, "So..." before Mallory purge herself of all information.

She admitted she did have more than "God, I want to fuck that cock," feelings for the Doctor and that she speculated he was indeed into the affair for more than her body. She explained how badly her recent attempts to seduce him back into the affair had gone and confessed that, all things equal, if she had been a man and he had been a woman, she wasn't sure if she wouldn't have been in jail for assault right now. 

Then she moved to the present, telling her roommate about her terror at being summoned by Gina, about how convinced she was she was caught and how scared she was that she had utterly derailed Doctor Clark's life. Finally, she explained the "deal," her temptation to take it, and her disgust with herself for being tempted.

Brenda nodded understandingly throughout. When Mallory finally wrapped up with an embarrassed shrug, she gave herself a moment to digest it all and then spoke:

"Well, where did you think this would go?"

Mallory blinked, a bit surprised by both the question and her lack of ready response, "I...I didn't have a plan. I thought it'd be fun for a bit. I really didn't think about it getting serious. Although now I feel kind of silly about that, like I was lying to myself. I liked him, thought he was smart, funny, and handsome. Of course if he had a great cock, knew how to use his tongue, and had stamina that would be all I needed to fall for him. What else is there?"

"So, do you want to break up his marriage?"

"I...no. I mean, some of me does. Maybe a lot of me? Like my worst impulses. What I really want is impossible I think."

"Which is?"

"Him somehow being all mine, emotionally and physically, making each other's fantasies coming true, but his life unaltered in any other way. Married, good home life, getting to keep being a great dad. Like a split universe where in one I move in, we fuck whenever and wherever we want and I never have to be jealous of Gina again and another where he's #1 Dad and Husband and all is well and good and nuclear family, apple pie, and bald eagle American greatness."

"Well, until we master string theory that can't happen. So in this reality?"

"....I don't know. I just know I want him. The way things are now...I can't do this."

"I think that's how breakups feel," Brenda offered.

"Yeah, yeah. You're right. And people survive those all the time. I should say no, huh?"

Brenda shrugged a bit, moving her hand back and forth in a teeter-totter gesture, "Wellllll...I don't know about that. I've, well, 'seen' you two together and you certainly seem to 'get' one another sexually, at least. And if he's great to you in other ways besides? That's a tempting offer."

"You have no idea!"

"Well, I kind of have an idea considering what it inspired on your bedroom floor a bit ago," Brenda teased.

"Oh...right. That," Mallory replied, now blushing too.

"Anyway, in econ speak, it's a risk reward thing. Doing this means access to Greg, true. But you have no idea how he's going to react. Maybe he'll never put together you set him up. Maybe he'll be excited to be freed from the marriage once it happens. Or maybe he'll resent you and blame you for it."

"Ugh...I didn't even think about that."

"And even if everything goes according to plan and no one blames you and Greg's all yours... If their marriage ends because of you, can you feel okay about yourself?" Brenda posed.

"I...." Mallory trailed off before beginning again, "Like can I live with the knowledge that I'm a dirty little homewrecker?

"That's one term."

"Is it weird that I get kind of wet thinking about that?"

"Before I met you, I'd have said yes. But I think you've ruined me."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. You know how I know?"

"How?"

"Because while you call Gina and agree to the deal," Brenda said, handing Mallory the phone and dropping to her knees, "I'm going to be licking your bare, pretty pussy."

"Who said I'm accepting the deal?"

"Aren't you?"

"Maybe I need some time to—"

"Dial the number, Mal," Brenda whisper as she dropped off the chair to her knees.

Mallory giggled as she dialed. She lifted herself off the chair without objection as her roommate slipped her pants and thong off and cast them aside. She sighed at the sensation of her skin being exposed the air and curled her toes and bit her lip the moment she left Brenda's hot breath on her slit.

She stuttered out a hello as Gina picked up and Brenda's tongue slipped into her wet, willing folds. In anxious, rapidly escaping breaths, she gasped out, "I'm in," and hung up almost immediately. Tossing the phone onto the table, she yanked her shirt over her head, clasped her breasts, and encouraged Brenda not to stop. Worrying about the moral implications of her choices could wait a few orgasms more.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 22



Greg pick up his cell phone with a heavy sigh. The phone beeped in reply as he accepted his wife's call. 

"So..." he began, already knowing what he was about to hear. As he waited for Gina's reply, he pushed aside the curtain and stared out at the fluffy snow piling up in heavy mounds on the grass, driveway, and street in front of his house. The wind swirled it about, intermittent sheets of thick white obscuring his vision.

"Have you seen how it looks?" Gina asked, voice already ripe with apology.

"Looking now."

"Does it look as bad there as the news is making it seem?"

With another heavy sigh, he admitted, "Yeah...it's pretty thick. Still coming down."

"Greg...I'm sorry. I really thought it'd be fun for the kids and you know how my parents love to do the five o'clock mass out here."

"I..." he took a moment to gather himself. He could hardly blame his wife for the weather. Even the local news in all its love of snow hysterics, had not accurately estimated how hard this storm would hit. "I know. I just really love Christmas Eve dinner. Going from having your Mom and Dad and Dad and Mindy here with us and the kids to me all alone is sad."

"Your folks aren't coming anymore either?"

"Not til tomorrow. It's not safe for them either."

"I really am so sorry. I really thought this storm would be no big deal and the kids would walk in to a huge Christmas spread and they'd be so excited."

"Nothing to be done now, Gina. It's brutal out there. Stay with your folks tonight and you guys and my parents will all get here tomorrow and we'll make up for it."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"I kind of have to be. Can't stop the snow and I'm not going to have anybody drive this to keep me company."

"I guess, at least, you don't have to worry about all the cooking."

"Well, that's something at least. Can you call me before the kids go to bed so I can read them the Night Before Christmas and say good night."

"Of course...I doubt they'd let me forget."

"Good. Well, I love you all. Talk to you tonight."

"Love you Greg. Stay warm." Greg hung up his cell and dropped down into a kitchen chair. After another long sigh and a glance around the room, he muttered, "Happy Christmas Eve. Now what?"

As her husband disconnected, Gina paused a moment to contemplate texting Mallory, alerting the babysitter to Greg's isolated state. After a brief war with her conscience and her sense of jealousy, she typed out a quick message and rejoined her family. She tried not to dwell on the potential "gift" she was sending to her husband.

"Green or red, Mom?" Mallory yelled from the attic, knotted strings of garish fake garland.

"Whichever's uglier! We want it to look awful for the grab bag," her mom replied.

Giggling, the coed opted for neither, choosing a ratty looking gold strand instead. Despite having an apartment five minutes away, she was glad that she decided to spend the few days around Christmas with her family for moments like these. Plus, an empty apartment was providing no distraction from her obsessive dwelling on accepting Gina's deal.

"Here we go," she announced feeling as good as she had felt in more than a month. 

Her mom took one look and with a hearty laughed declared it, "Perfect! We'll have the ugliest box by far!"

Mallory's father shook his head as he sipped his coffee on the couch, "All these years, I still don't understand your family's traditions at all."

"Because you are no fun. It's a wonder I ever married you," Mrs. Rich teased back, tossing a cheap pink bow at her husband.

"It wasn't supposed to be this bad, was it?" Mallory asked no one in particular as she stared at the snow coming down outside.

"Don't think so. Perfect for the season though," Mr. Rich replied before chasing his wife into the next room. 

She cackled loudly until shouting, "Truce!" while Mallory smirked at her parents' playfulness.

Glancing back out the window, she felt her cell phone buzz on her hip. She checked the text, butterfly spawning rapidly in her stomach. Gina was alerting her to the lack of "supervision" Doc would have tonight.

"You okay Mally-gal?" her flush cheeked Mom asked as she re-entered the room.

"Huh? Oh....yeah, yeah. Doing fine."

"You sure? You looked so worried for a second."

"Just...you know...boy stuff."

"Ahh, I remember it well. That man over there," Mrs. Rich gestured to Mallory's dad, "Certainly put me through things."

"Hey," he objected, "I was only giving what I got!"

"Thanks guys. This is...different though."

"It always is," her mom said, giving her a gentle side hug, "But we're here when you need us."

"Thanks," Mallory sighed, resting her head on her mom's shoulder, "It's not something I can really explain though."

Greg hauled wood from the backyard into the garage as the wind and snow stung his eyes. He doubted he'd need it, but if this storm was anything, it was expectation defying. So better to have wood close by if the power went out than to have to have to make a trek into an even darker, colder yard if things went pear shaped.

Which, he reminded himself, it would not. It was all going to be fine. He'd have the "Saddest Christmas Eve of All Time," watch some Christmas movies, go to bed, and wake up to well packed snow without ever having to deal with loss of power. And then, that excess wood could be used for a Christmas Day fire just for haha's. He knew the kids loved that, so it'd be perfect.

Reassurances against today getting worse in place, he went back inside to prepare a meal to go along with the "Saddest Christmas Eve of All Time." He wasn't sure what it was going to be exactly, but it probably was going to involve steak and, perhaps, brownies. Stiff hooch would almost certainly make an appearance as well.

"Mom," Mallory yelled as she tossed clothes left and right out of massive Rubbermaid bins, "Have you seen my elf costume?"

"Have you tried the blue bin?" the reply floated down the stairs.

"With the old holiday lights?"

"That's the one!"

"Okay!"

Scuttling along the wall, Mallory eventually reached the bin in question and following a dramatic tossing of the lid, was rewarded with the sight of a folded up green dress and red and white candy cane stripped socks.

"What are you looking for that for?" her mom asked, suddenly right behind her. Mallory jumped, startled.

Fighting down a blush, she met her mother's eyes and lied her near perfect ass off, "Well, I thought I'd visit the kids tomorrow and they'd get a kick out of it."

"The Clarks?"

"Yeah. You know, later in the day. If that's okay?"

"Oh, of course. They're only a few minutes away and you know after two we all get lazy and just kind of sit around here anyway. I wasn't sure if you were even babysitting for them anymore. I hadn't heard you mention them for a while now."

"Yeah, well, they haven't needed me much. Which is why they said I should feel free to come by. See the kids and all that."

"That's great Mally, very sweet of them and you to do that. I don't think you are going to be able to fit into that outfit though. You aren't 13 anymore, you know. Mr. Clark might just get an eyeful."

Mallory laughed nervously in reply, blush no longer contained. "Well, umm, ju—just thought, you know, worth a look," she stuttered.

"Sure, dear. Just don't be disappointed if it doesn't fit."

Realizing steak not on the grill would be nothing but a disappointment, Greg instead decided to go ahead and eat some of what he intended for Christmas Eve dinner. Just because it wasn't happening for everyone didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the Swedish Meatballs he had intended to serve. He hummed along with the carols emanating from the living room and tried to ignore how empty the house felt.

As the opening strains of a particularly bombastic version of O Come all Ye Faithful filled the house, Greg awkwardly spun and danced across the room. He dumped a handful of ingredients into the pot, wafting the odors of the thickening sauce. Continuing to strut around the kitchen, the doctor grabbed his phone. Handling it one handed to keep from smearing ingredients on it, he attempted to open the camera to send a photo of his masterful cooking to his wife, kids, ands with something pithy like "Wish you were here." A little something to give them a laugh and let them know he was keeping busy. Instead, his thumb landed a bit too low and, rather than click the shutter, opened the Saved Picture folder. There, in the lower left, was the thumbnail he recognized right away. 

Without thinking, he pushed it, the thumbnail filling the screen. There was Mallory, smirking teasingly upward, arm outstretched to take the selfie. He remembered the moment distinctly. The babysitter had shown up to attend church with the family and somehow that seemingly innocuous event led to the two of them fucking in an under renovation balcony without the benefit of air conditioning. Afterwards, he and Mal, both giddy from dehydration and sex endorphins, were laughing and speaking in double entendres obvious to them and no one else. The coed had demanded his phone to commemorate the event and Greg's wife and children aided and abetted her, knowing how jealously the doctor protected him phone from other people's meddling. And that's how, sweaty, wearing a white and yellow floral sundress that dipped delightfully to offer a generous view of her breasts, Mallory took a picture of herself in front of Greg's entire family for him to look back on and remember how they had passed the service moments prior. And did so with the family's encouragement to boot. 

His stomach turned as he remembered that day and the days that came before and after it. He blushed with shame, anger, and arousal nearly simultaneously, each fueling the other emotions in a sort of cyclical build up of ambivalent emotional misery. With an attempt at a cleansing sigh, he placed the phone down heavily, taking a picture of his meatballs no longer appealing to him.

"Saddest Christmas Eve Ever," he mumbled to himself as he pulled down a bottle and rocks glass from the liquor cabinet.

"So, does the elf costume still fit like it did when you were in that show?" Mrs. Rich asked as she passed daughter the mashed potatoes.

Mallory shook her head, "Nope, you were right. I guess I didn't stop growing at 13 after all."

The teen was being truthful, just not fully explaining that it fit exactly as she hoped it would. Back in seventh grade, Mallory had worn it for a local community theatre production. Something about Santa's Workshop...she couldn't remember quite what. The costumer had dressed she and six other kids around her age in green or red velour costumes—green for girls, red for boys—in various styles. 

Mallory's outfit consisted of a green velour tube top and skirt with matching plaid cropped jacket, all of which were lined with white fake fur. Below the skirt she had worn red and white striped "candy cane" socks that, at the time, were so tall they actually stretch beyond the full length of her legs, the excess cotton awkwardly bunching underneath her skirt. Her "elf" boots, complete with the distinct curl at the toe, were similarly ill fitting, a situation only rectified by wearing multiple layers of tube socks to make the boots fit snugly enough for her to gawkily box step around the set.

Now though, six years later, the fit was...decidedly more snug. Mallory had grown a few inches taller during eight grade so the skirt was no longer a demure knee length but rather a tantalizing upper thigh hem. Those too long socks were just perfect, reaching to about an inch below the skirt. The boots, once the bane of her dancing attempts, now hugged her feet perfectly. She was pleased to find as she strutted around her room that she had also gotten considerably better at walking in heals in the six years since the show.

Her height had also converted the tube top from a full length shirt to one that nicely revealed her taut stomach and her newest navel ring, a snowflake. Furthering the effect was that although her breasts were rather small now, she had virtually none as a 13 year old. Thus, the top now swelled rather provocatively. Deliberately forgoing the jacket ensured that no one could mistake the purpose of wearing the velour and fake fur shirt.

Still, her mom didn't need to know all that so Mallory simply ended the conversation by adding, "I don't think I'll be letting the kids see me in that one."

Prone on the floor, glass of scotch perched precariously on his chest, Greg happily listened to his children, in stereo, regale him with stories of the car that apparently was driving too fast past their grandparents' house and ended on the neighbor's lawn.

"Grandpa said they were damn idiots," Shelly dutifully reported.

"Well, it sounds like he's right, but you know what your mom and I have said about saying 'damn.'"

"But...Grandpa said it!" she objected, her little brother giggling at his sister getting in trouble.

"And if I was his dad, I'd talk to him about that. But I'm yours and you know your mother and I's rules."

"...yes."

"Good. Now I won't have to send Santa back to the North Pole with all your presents."

"Daddy," she squealed, recognized the joke, "You would never do that to me!"

"Lucky for you, we won't find out this year. Now blow me a kiss and head to bed you two. I've got to get some cookies out for Santa."

Shelly and Martin giddily blew him multiple kisses before simultaneously shouting, "Merry Christmas, Daddy. We miss you!"

"I miss you guys too, but I'll see you both before you know it. I love you both a bushel and I know tomorrow's going to be great. Give mommy the phone now so I can tell her good night too."

After a moment of awkward static, Gina was on. "Hey Honey, you set for tonight?"

"I think so," Greg reassured her, "Power's still on and I have wood in the garage in case it goes out. I already made food for tomorrow so no worries there. I'm just gonna snuggle under a blanket, drink, and watch a movie or two."

"Anybody stop by?" Gina couldn't stop herself from asking. She never heard back from Mallory and found herself obsessing over if anything might be happening, if Mallory was still on-board, and so on.

"In this weather?" Greg replied with confused incredulity.

"Like, you know, a neighbor. Or the Riches...they're just a block away," she bit her tongue a moment too late. If she wasn't careful, he'd know she was up to something.

Greg sighed loudly on the other end, "Can we not talk about Mallory right now? I agreed to consider allowing her to babysit Martin and Shelly again and I will. But it's Christmas Eve, Gina."

"No, I know. I'm sorry. I just...she's a good kid."

"I'm not so sure."

"It was one time, Greg. She's a college student who got drunk once. That's not remotely interesting even."

"Please, can we just have Christmas be Christmas right now and leave arguments about child care for some later date?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. Please don't miss us too badly tonight, okay?"

"I can make no promises but I will try. Merry Christmas Gina."

"Merry Christmas, hubby. See you tomorrow."

With that, she hung up and Greg was alone once more.

The plan was simple. Mallory was waiting until her parents went to bed and then she was sneaking out, wrapped in the warmest blanket she could find. A quick jog down the street and over would put her at the Clarks quickly. Hopefully, so quickly, in fact, that her body wouldn't fully process how cold it was.

Her heart raced as she lay in bed, wearing the costume under the covers, and waiting for that moment when they were really, truly, fully going to sleep. The last time she was this amped up on Christmas Eve was the night she decided she would sneak down and wait for the Santa next to the tree. Instead, six year old Mallory had fallen asleep almost immediately after getting downstairs and Santa Claus once again evaded her. This time, though, she promised herself, she would fulfill her clandestine Christmas Eve plan.

She strained as she heard her parents' footfalls rising up the stairs. They whispered to each other in hushed tones, giggling from a bit too much holiday cheer. The hall lights snapped off and the bedroom door closed with a muted click.

Holding her breath to stay calm, she slid out of bed and pulled the blanket tightly around her body. Creeping with delicate care, Mallory eased out of her room and down the stairs. As she crossed the living room, the fake candles in the window went out. With a gasp, she froze in fear, convinced she was caught. After an endless moment of stock stillness, she allowed herself to glance around the room. From the living room, she could see into the kitchen. Where she should've seen the microwave clock glowing green there was nothing but black. 

Feeling a bit safer, she walked to the back of the house and tried the light in the back bathroom. Nothing. The power was out. The teen allowed herself a relieved smirk. Then she remembered why she was skulking around in the dark and her stomach flipped once again. Time to get going.

"Are you kidding me?" an annoyed and, yes, buzzed, Greg shouted at his house as it plunged into darkness. 

"You couldn't even let me see the end of A Muppet Christmas Carole?" he muttered to the swirling snow outside as he grabbed the flashlight and headed to the garage.

Grabbing an armful of wood, he stomped back inside, talking to myself and feeling the familiar heat of alcohol in his blood. He wobblingly lowered himself on to the hearth, pulled open the fireplace doors and began to feed the empty maw the jagged pieces of timber. Getting the fire started seemed to take an interminable amount of time but finally, with an aggressive amount of crumpled newspaper and the application of several long fireplace matches, the flames roared to life. 

Satisfied that it would not be snuffed out the moment he stopped prodding it, he went to the closet down the hall and produced the heavy sleeping bag that he and Gina had bought years earlier when they were entertaining a winter camping trip. News that Gina was pregnant with their daughter derailed that plan and with the exception of occasionally using it as a blanket at concerts in the fall, it had lived an existence that left its purpose largely unfulfilled. He found himself somewhat giddy to finally use it for warding off cold weather while he slept.

Spreading it out on the floor, he arranged it for the perfect distance from the fire to get the heat without being overwhelmed and from the tree so as to not accidentally roll into it while he slept or stumble into it if he needed to leave the sleeping bag for the bathroom. When he was finally confident of its placement, he pulled the oversized pillows from the couch and arranged them at the head of the bag. Then, he half zipped into so he'd be able to enter with ease and zip it up around him with little effort.

His sleeping arrangements near perfection he returned to the fire to evaluate its progress. We shifted from foot to foot, evaluating if the pile of wood already inside would be enough. With a shrug he decided more wood would probably be a good idea and left the room once again to gather the remaining pieces.

His earlier annoyance forgotten, the doctor was now full of pride and a long-lasting childhood love of fires in the fireplace, he bounded back into the room only to stop short. Like a bad movie cliché, he dropped the pile of wood at his feet, lucky to not crush his toes in the bargain.

"What are you doing here?" he forced out of his lips haltingly.

Backlight by the fire, Mallory turned slowly around to face the married man. She was bundled tightly in a thick layer of blanket, crystals of snow twinkling in her blonde hair as they melted.

She felt awkward and vulnerable. As exposed as she could remember with him even though she was still wrapped in a blanket. Sneaking into his shower those few months ago was no big deal in comparison to how this felt now. Still, she screwed up her courage and willed her inner sex kitten back to the surface. 




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 22



"Nobody should be alone on Christmas Eve, Doc," she offered with a tiny smirk. 

"I'm quite—I'm quite fine thank you," Greg asserted, suddenly feeling far more boozed up then he had a moment before.

"Mmm...I agree," she teased, her smirk breaking into a full smile. 

Greg sighed and shook his head. Sounding tired and a bit sad, he told her, "You should be at home with your family."

"They're already in bed, dreaming and snoring. Besides, they have each other. You're here all alone, in the dark, and that's just not right."

"How did you—," he began before the answer dawned on him, "Oh...Gina."

"Yup. Just cause a certain man of the house is being stubborn doesn't mean that the lady forgets to be nice too. She told me all about the big Christmas Eve plans and how she was visiting her parents in the afternoon and then they'd all come back here together and your parents would be here and wow! Wouldn't that be a great night for the perfect family with the perfect family man," as she detailed this, she couldn't help but let a sarcastic quality creep into her voice as she mention "perfect."

"With the snow, I thought that might happen. Safety first!" she continued with a bit of dramatic aplomb, "Looks like I was right."

Mallory wisely failed to mention how she could have known that Greg came back early, ahead of the storm and he was too stunned too raise that question.

"And I just know how you love the holidays, Doc. How...festive you can get. It'd be a shame to let all the energy go to waste, wouldn't you say?"

The more she spoke, letting teases and digs and innuendo festooned bon mots drip from her lips, the more her confidence rose. It was like a driver retaking the wheel after a car accident. Hesitant and ill at ease at first, increasingly returning to old habits the more the accident faded into memory. Mallory had quickly reached the stage of one handed driving. Not fully confident in her old prowess but certainly well on her way.

The babysitter finally let the blanket slip from her shoulders and pool at her feet. She mock curtsied, giving the doctor a peek at the tiny pair of red panties beneath, "So, lord of the manor, on this late Christmas Eve, nearly Christmas morning, this elf is gladly here to serve whatever Christmas wishes your filthy mind can conjure up."

Greg dumbly replied, "You shouldn't be wearing...that around in—in this kind of weather."

"You don't like it then?" she pouted. "Is it too small? Too short? Too tight? Does it make me look too much like a little slut?"

Between the loneliness of being along on Christmas Eve and the scotch in his veins, Greg's resolve was already weak. Her words went right into his head, tripping neurons and neural transmitters, releasing memories and desires. He swallowed hard and tried to put together a plan of rejection.

Keeping her eyes on him in the dim light, Mallory let her fingers on her right hand "walk" down her body from, from her neck, across her bare shoulders, over her cold and arousal raised nipple, down her exposed stomach, smoothing her skirt. When she reached the hem of the tiny garment, she let her hand drift out, fingers finding and wrapping around the glass of scotch, dripping with cooling condensation.

"Have you been drinking, Dr. Clark?" she asked as she brought the glass upward, "Don't you remember your advice to me about alcohol? You weren't being a hypocrite then, were you?"

She took a long sip, enjoying the feel of the liquid burning a path down her throat before heating her belly. Sure he was watching, the babysitter made sure to languidly lick off a small droplet left perched on the rim on the glass.

"Mmmm," she moaned and returned the glass to its resting spot.

With her left hand, she slipped her fingers just below the fur of the tube top. Greg licked his lips and held his breath, unconsciously leaning forward.

"Oh look," she cooed, moving towards him as she spun a sprig of green in her hand, "Mistletoe."

"Mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it," Greg lamely quoted Batman Returns. 

As he heard the words escape from his lips, he cracked, giggling and running his hand over his bald pate.

"God, I'm sorry. That was so lame. I'm just...I've been drinking and you're here and you look...god you look so damn good. And I'm nervous. And I...want things but I can't keep being this—"

"It's okay," she whisper to him, running her nails gently down his lightly stubbled cheek, "Just follow the tradition."

She raised the mistletoe above their head and leaned into him, their lips brushing gently then opening into a deep brief kiss.

"Do I taste like scotch?" she whispered, her voice light and airy, her confidence oddly shaken by the moment and by Greg's stream of consciousness confession.

"You taste like you," he whispered back, placing his hands gently on her for the first time since she arrived, "Now, please, go home."

"I don't want to," she told him, lips still almost touching his, "And you don't want me to."

"No," he confessed, "I don't. Which is why you really have to go."

"Or what?"

"Or else I might...lose control."

She kissed him again in reply. He didn't fight her.

Biting his ear, she pleaded, "Lose control. Use me. Fuck me. Hurt me. I don't care. I just need you again. I need to feel you."

"I can't," he haltingly replied, "I don't want to hurt you. Last time—"

Mallory felt her mask of wanton harlot slip a bit at the invocation of their last encounter. She remembered the bruises, the taste of blood, the anger. More than anything, she remembered the regret and look of fleeting but utter shame on the doctor's face as he ran from her apartment.

"Shh," she soothed, "Don't think about it, Greg. I—we—neither of us were in our right minds that night. We're not those people."

She kissed him again, gently at first, then harder, with hunger and heat. His hands clutched her to him and she could feel him growing harder against her. The sensation left her moaning and blushing with desire. Greg, with great reluctance, eventually pushed her away.

"No. No...stop."

"It's Christmas," she said, locking eyes with him, "You're alone with me, there's a crackling fire, you're a little drunk and it's Christmas. Just be here with me now and worry about the rest later. Let me be your Christmas present."

He still hesitated, the conflict between selfish indulgence and socially normed morality playing across his face.

"Dr. Clark," the coed said, trying another tactic, "Do you see what I'm wearing?"

"Yes."

"Do you like it?"

"I...I do."

"What do you like about it?"

"It's very...jolly?" he joked.

She ignored the attempt, keeping the tension thick, "What else?"

"The skirt," he offered, his voice taking on a thicker, slower quality.

"Why?"

"It's very short. And tight. And I know underneath—"

"Yes?"

"I know underneath you very tiny, very sexy underwear on."

"You're right. They're so tiny. And just soaked. Do you want to feel?"

"...yes."

Mallory took the married father of two's hand and guided it under her skirt. Her eyes rolled upwards as she felt his still cool fingers push the silky fabric more firmly against her sex.

"Do you feel?" she cooed.

"Uh-huh."

"My hot, tight, bare teen pussy is under there. You know what it wants?"

"What?"

"Same thing I want. You. Inside. Fucking me. Is that what you want?"

"Yes, but—"

"Quiet," she interrupted him, "It's rude to not appreciate a gift that someone has spent so long preparing to give you."

They kissed again, this time Greg moving first, one hand deep in her hair, the other still cupping her panty covered mound. Her fingers gracefully found and undid his belt, dropping it to the floor with a metallic clatter of belt buckle on hardwood.

"Are you going to open your present then?" she hissed as she pushed her hips forward, his fingers finding her clit through the barrier of her panties.

Greg nodded, eyes cloudy with lust. With interminable slowness, he slipped his fingers out from underneath her skirt, leaving Mallory whimpering. Then, he moved his hands to her top and began to pull it upward, struggling to be gentle with the tight, non-cooperative fabric.

"Stop being gentle," the teen growled at him playfully, "You don't slip your present out the paper do you?"

"No."

"No," she reiterated for emphasis, "You tear that paper away."

"But—"

"Open your present...your little naughty Christmas elf is getting soooo hot under here."

That little bit of a push was all the encouragement Greg needed and soon the soft green elf costume was lying in ribbons at his babysitter's feet. She stood before him in nothing but her tiny panties, her thigh highs, and her elf boots.

He mumbled something inaudibly to himself.

"What?" Mallory questioned, cocking her head and stepping closer.

"I want you," he confessed, louder this time.

"Mmm...," she moaned lightly in approval, "Of course you do."

Gina tossed and turned in her parents' house, her mind fixated on what the teen was doing to her husband right now at Gina's own request. She reached for her phone and texted Mallory, "Are you there yet?" unsure which answer she really wanted.

Moments passed without a response.

Gina sent another, "I've changed my mind. Not on Christmas Eve...I don't feel good about it. Please don't go over there. Our agreement still stands. Just not tonight."

Still nothing.

With a heavy sigh, Gina flopped back into bed. What was she doing?

Mallory locked her green boots behind Greg's neck as he slid his cock deep inside her. She gasped sharply as he bottomed out, unconsciously clawing at her own breasts. Although it had only been a few weeks, she had missed this like an addict misses that first hit. And the sensation of falling off the wagon was just as potent.

The doctor had wanted to take his time, to extend foreplay, to go down on her, but she wanted none of it. "I need this," she pleaded, "Just fuck me, Doc. Please. I just need to feel full. I want to remember how it feels to your teen slut again."

Greg was powerless against an invitation worded like that. And so he gave in.

Wordlessly, only the sound of their heavy breathing and the crackle of the fire breaking the silence, they yielded to their lust. Greg felt the impossibly wet heat of his babysitter's cunt and fell to the easy adulterer he had tried so hard to avoid relapsing into for a month. Giving up on his morality felt exquisite.

As they gained their rhythm, Mallory allowed herself to begin to vocalize, speaking the dirty words she knew his lust fed on.

"You know you needed this," she half taunted, "You need me to feel good. On top of me, fucking my cunt...taking what belongs to you. You needed this, didn't you? You don't get what you need from her."

Greg only licked his lips and thrust harder in reply.

She continued, "I needed this, too. I can't stop fucking you. No one, nothing, makes me cum like you do, Doctor Clark, sir. Please don't ever deny me your dick again. Please don't take your cock away from me. I'll do anything."

"Just tonight. Let's just...be here tonight," he whispered back, wanting only this moment, trying to push off thoughts of the future, of anything but these sensations in this place and this time.

"And the next night. And the next night. And the next night."

She paused to gulp air, "It's been a long time and I have some very, very dirty thoughts I need fucked right out of my brain, Doctor Clark."

"What...what dirty thoughts?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Oh, you'll see soon enough. Tonight though, I just need you to fuck me hard enough that I'm going to spend all Christmas day tomorrow sore and reminded of you."

He grabbed her legs and pushed them apart in the air, gripping her by the ankles. He slipped out of her as he adjusted his position, kneeling more upright. Quickly catching on, the coed pushed her ass upward and slipped a pillow underneath, tipping her pelvis upward. Allowing himself a smile, he paused with the head of his cock hovering just outside her slick spread lips.

"What are you waiting for, you pervert," she moaned in frustration, "Take what belongs to you. What you've been thinking about every day and night for weeks. Come on and fuck me yo—"

Her next word devolved into a sharp intake of breath as Greg gave her exactly what she wanted. Soon they were just panting and babbling back and forth in simple one to two word bursts.

"So hard."

"God!"

"Such a. Pretty. Pretty pussy."

"Deeper!"

"Oh fuck!"

"More!"

"So wet. So. Fucking. Good!"

"Can't. Won't. Not again. Need this. Need this."

"Close. God. So close. Mallory!"

"Tell. Tell me. I'm best. The best fuck. Ever had."

"Yes. God yes. Oh fuck!"

"Best?"

"Yes, Mal. God yes!"

"I'm. EEE! I'm...fuck. Gonna cum! Cum...cum with...please. Cum now!"

As the orgasm laced through her, producing a gargling scream and sending her into slow undulating spasms, Greg couldn't forestall his climax any longer.

"So sexy, Mal. Gonna cum for you," he proclaimed.

"Don't you fucking pull out," she hissed with sudden intensity, eyes clenched tightly, hands clasping her breasts so tightly, "I need to feel you...feel your filling me."

With a grunt, Greg lost all control, driving himself deep inside her one last time before his cock sprayed inside her, thick and hot.

As they tangled themselves up in one another, the loss of intensity leading to a rapidly encroaching feeling of cold, they playfully pawed at one another twisted into and out of each other's grasps until they were safely spooning inside the heavy, toasty sleeping bag.

"So..." Greg finally began, speaking the words since, "filling me" (or a nonsensical grunt, depending on one's opinion.)

"Yeah..." she whispered back, suddenly very much back to not feeling confident.

"This was...I've got a lot to think about here."

"Don't," she requested, "We both do such dumb things when we start thinking about this, analyzing it. You are attracted to a nineteen year old who watches your kids. I am attracted to a 30-something year old who's married with two kids. Our sex drives match up. What makes us hot seems to match up. Every time we fuck, we both cum as hard as we ever had. If you are thinking beyond that...no good will come of it."

"That's not realistic for me."

She sighed, "I know."

"But tonight though...I'm here. I'll wait til later to figure this out."

"Thank you."

"Mmm...no, thank you. I haven't cum like that since..."

"You fucked my mouth," she whispered, recalling that night.

"....yeah."

"Did it...did it feel good?"

"It...god, I'm sorry, Mallory, but it did."

"It's okay, Greg. Really. When I was fingering myself with your cum in my mouth, begging you, daring you to fuck me again...I came so hard I nearly lost my mind. We...weren't ourselves."

"I...yeah, I hope not."

"Trust me."

"Okay...okay."

They slipped into an uneasy sleep that soon deepened. Some time later, they had dozy spooning sex, quietly, just soft moans and gentle thrusts. Greg slipped free just as he came, a shot of pearl streaks across Mallory's stomach. She liked the feel of it, running her fingers through it as she slipped back to sleep.

When the power came back before five, Mallory bolted awake in response. She had set the alarm on her phone to five, making the decision that this one would be a freebie, something she wouldn't report back, but the power company had beat her to it. And after the night... she wasn't sure how anxious she was to report Greg at all.

She slipped out of the bag and the doctor's arms and stood, stretching. She could indeed feel that pleasant ache between her legs. She bent down and grabbed another piece of wood, resting it on the fire. It would take a little while, she reasoned, for the heat to warm things up.

She took a light jog to Shelly's room and removed a sweat shirt and wind pants from the top shelf, a change of clothes she had left there in case the kids got sick on her or what not. Dressed once more, she returned to the living room, gathered up the strips of her costume and her underwear. Pausing, she reconsidered, slipping them into his jeans pocket.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered.

She texted Gina back, assuring her that the storm was too much to even attempt. Satisfied at her double deception, she pranced out to the street, following the paperboy's footprints to mask her own. She knew this was not the last time she'd be telling Gina she failed when she had been very, very successful.



The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 23



"Look, I've already agreed she can come back and watch our kids. Can't this wait? Or I could do it over the phone maybe?" Greg grumbled to his reflection as he pulled the knot of navy and forest green striped tie tighter against his neck.

"I happen to think it's important you let her know in person," Gina called back, "And since we were invited to her parents' party, what better time?"

"How about you go then?"

"No way. You're the one that fired her for being a 19 year old college student AND being smart enough not to drink and drive, you are the one who has to fix it now."

The doctor considered pushing the info further but ultimately opted to hold his tongue. Things had not been great around the house as of late. Gina seemed to be avoiding him, they were picking at each other over the smallest things, and their sex life had dropped off a cliff. Most of the time, they were too annoyed with each other to want it and when they weren't, Gina only seemed to want a quick, perfunctory session—limited foreplay, no teasing, slam bang and over—or she said that all she could hear was him saying "that word"—"fuck" to be specific, although she refused to repeat it—and would stop the whole thing dead in its track.

At the same time, Greg had avoided Mallory for three weeks, since that late Christmas Eve night/early Christmas morning slip up. He had stopped letting himself think about her, look at those pictures she had left him in their secret email account, and continued to resist Gina's pressure to give Mal another shot as their babysitter. But now he had run out of excuses and, rather than be honest as to why exactly he did not want the coed back in their house, he had caved.

Greg knew what was going to happen when he left this house. He knew his marriage was in as rough a place as it had been ever and that his libido was running wild. He knew he was very much not past his wildly inappropriate wanton desire for the blonde 19 year old. He knew that when he got to her parents' house that it was inevitable their affair would reignite. And if it was as out of control as it was when he thought he was happy in his marriage...well, who could predict how it would be when he knew he wasn't.

Gina was living in frustration too. She did not enjoy the quibbling, the fraught silences, the generally dispirited love making. She was consistently doubting her plan and mad at her husband for having the kind of desires that were making her think of it in the first place. She did not really want him to go see that teenager with her tight body, great skin, and navel piercing that she knew he'd not be able to resist fetishizing the moment he saw it. She hated the whole damn thing, top to bottom, but the alternative was worse. 

File for divorce and be at the mercy of the court and public opinion? No thanks. Acquiesce to the man she married whispering profanity in her ear, sullying their sex life? Unthinkable. Live in married misery for years, waiting for him to break first? The very thought of it made her want to burst into tears.

No, forcing her husband to stray to ensure his guilt would let her control the terms of their divorce had to be the way to go. She might shudder at the very thought of him stripping Mallory's clothes off her, of his hands all over her smooth skin, of their mouths hungrily reaching for one another, only breaking to gasp or moan, but what other choice did she have? What options was she left with?

When Mallory's parents first told her that the Clarks had said one of them would be attending their annual "We Survived the Holidays" party, she went ahead and assumed it was Gina. Despite how wonderful Christmas Eve had been, she knew the doctor was avoiding her and that his wife had seemingly made no headway in reversing his attitude towards her resuming her babysitting duties. She had spent some time wondering how Mrs. Clark would deflect her parents asking why she hadn't been babysitting for Shelly and Martin in weeks, but otherwise gave it little thought.

Then, two days earlier, as she was helping her parents pick up party supplies, her mom let drop, "Oh and won't it be nice to see Dr. Clark? I know you get to see him all the time, Mallory, but I think it must be almost a year since we talked to him in person.

"You just want to stare into his eyes," Mr. Rich joked.

"Not just, dear," she corrected him, "Mostly, yes. But he's also very funny."

"Too bad he's married or you could run away with him."

Mallory blushed in the backseat, thankful neither was paying attention to her. This was a very awkward moment for her.

"Oh knock that off," Mrs. Rich mock slapped her husband, "You know I only have eyes for you."

"Uh-huh," he smirkingly replied.

"Well, you and Pierce Brosnan. But what are the chances I'll ever run into him?"

They all laughed, Mallory hardest of all, as if she was trying to force the discomfort out of her with the giggles.

Since then, the teenager had been gripped with anxiety. Thrilling, thrilling anxiety. She tried not to let her imagination run too wild, but she couldn't help it. She was thankful she had an apartment to escape to. It gave her a place to go to be as noisy as possible in without fear of her parents overhearing her as she gave her dildo and fingers quite a workout. More than once, she was disappointed that Brenda had opted to spend the entire break back home as she could've certainly used a helping hand or two. Or mouth. Or tongue.

Now, she flitted around her room, pulling her dark green thin v-neck sweater tight against her skin and smoothing out her loose, billowy—flowy as she thought of it—tan knee length skirt. She took a long look at herself in her old bedroom's mirrored closet doors, debating once again whether she should run back to the apartment and change. 

Finding an outfit for the night had been an exercise in threading an infinitely small needle. She wanted to be sexy enough to entice the doctor's baser instincts to the surface but not so blatant as to catch her parents attention or violate the "dress up for this party" edict that had become the tradition over the years. The skirt was relatively demur, the sweater tastefully tight, the neckline appropriately cut. Not a bad outfit for a formal class presentation and certainly good enough to pass the parent test. 

To ensure Mallory's primary goal, she added chunky brown high heels, left the bra at her apartment, and opted for a cream colored thong that she knew Greg had a particular appreciation for. Even though he couldn't see it yet, knowing she was wearing it gave Mallory a jolt of confidence and a bit of swagger in her step. She looked over herself in the mirror, the sight of her toned bare legs, the subtle way her breasts moved beneath her sweater that would reveal to anyone who took a moment to stare that her tits were unrestrained. Her skirt fluttered a bit when she moved quickly, allowing a bit more of a peek of creamy thighs but it was a slight enough to play innocent if someone called attention to it. She sighed and allowed herself to admit that, yes, she looked good. She wanted to be a little naughtier, push the envelope a little bit more, but this would have to do.

"You look very pretty, hon," her mom intoned from the hall, "I really like that skirt on you. Is it new?"

"Yes, mom...I get it with one of my gift certificates from Christmas."

"Well, good choice."

"Thanks!" Mal smiled wide and hugged her mom. 

"Oh...Mallory..." she began to whisper, "Did you maybe...forget something?"

The coed gave her mom an odd look until Mrs. Rich tentatively gestured to her daughter's chest.

"Oh! My bra?!" Mallory giggled, "Laundry day. Besides, it's not like I have anything for people to notice?"

"Hrrmm," her mom tutted as she left the room, "I think you underestimate the number of dirty old men your father is friends with."

Mallory bit her lip to hold back a smile. If only her mom knew that hooking a dirty older (but not really old) man was her entire goal.

Greg could not help but notice how sweaty his palms were as he walked up the path to the Riches, bottle of wine in hand. He was not a tremendous fan of parties like these, filled mostly with people he barely knew or didn't know at all, all thrilled to share whatever ailment was bothering them with him the moment someone mentioned he was a doctor. He loved a good time, but he preferred one where he was free to be himself and relax, not dole out medical advice and remain stone cold sober lest he sully his professional name.

Of course, he admitted to himself, all this internal grumbling had little to do with what was really making his palms sweat. Somewhere in that house was Mallory, her firm, smooth skin sheathed in a thin layer of clothes. Clothes that no doubt would flatter her. Clothes that would leave him straining for some glimpse of her flesh. Clothes that might test his ability not to transparently ogle her with lustful intensity in front of her parents.

He could practically test her in his mouth, smell her in the air as his mind ran away from him for the third time on the walk over. He awkwardly slipped his hands into his pocket to shift his already half hard cock over a bit, hiding his inappropriate bulge under the far less noteworthy one created by a fist in the pocket. 

What really made him nervous though wasn't the mere presence of his college aged mistress. It was how he felt when he woke up early Christmas morning to an empty house, a fire smoldering in the hearth, power returned, naked in a sleeping bag. Despite his drinking the night before, he remembered everything with clarity; the taste of her mouth with scotch still lingering on her tongue, the deliciously familiar feel of her tight wet sex enveloping him, the fire her words ignited in him. He had grown used to these post-coital mental recaps that he found himself unable to stop. This time though, he couldn't help but realize something was missing. Guilt.

He had grown used to the queasy adrenalized feeling recalling his sexual encounters with Mallory produced. The quickly rising hunger to do it again right away, the pleasant ache of a body after an intense workout, the undeniable rush of getting away with something, and, of course, the disgusted guilt about his personal weakness. That morning, however, the feelings that rose up in him were devoid of the guilt. And without the guilt, he found himself unsure of how he could ever control himself around her.

Just the thought of it, in fact, caused him to grow thicker and harder again his pocket and the knuckles contained within. He paused and bent over, pretending to tie a shoelace, buying himself a moment to try and deflate his amoral dick a bit. He half wished he had driven the ridiculously short distance because at least then he could continue on to some isolated spot and, with the relative privacy his car would grant him, perhaps reduce some of the tension.

Instead he swallowed once more, tightened his jaw, and stood up. Glancing downward and deciding he had brought himself back to a reasonable size, one enough to at least not be wildly obvious upon a mere glance, he knocked.

Ms. Mary Greene, the local neighborhood trophy wife, answered the door. She was dressed, as always, like a Stepford Wife come to life but updated for times that allowed a dress to show off a particularly well made set of fake breasts.

"Well hello there Doctor," she smiled brightly and reached to hug him.

He waved her off, claiming, "I think I might be coming down with a little something. Best to keep a little distance. To be safe."

She accepted his excuse with a small shrug and Greg was able to slip past her without letting her feel his cock against her stomach. Breathing a small sigh of relief, he nearly ran headlong into Mr. Rich.

"Have you started already, Gregory?" Mallory's dad asked, his full throated laugh already rising.

"No, Frank. You know I like to keep my wits," Greg assured him, "It's just your official greeter was a bit of a distraction."

Mr. Rich half whistled, "Yes, the hills do seem to be rather...friendly today, don't they?"

"Very much so," the doctor concurred, "Now if you could just take this wine off my hands and point me to a place to throw my coat, I can regain my composure a bit."

The host again let his laugh peel, grasping the cabernet and pointing towards the back right corner of the house, "We're just putting them in the office. Remember where it is?"

"I certainly do," Greg replied, keeping his voice chipper. 

He wasn't friends with Frank Rich per se, but he had always liked him. He didn't expect to feel nearly as awkward as he did. "Hey Frank, great to see you. What? Oh, not much. Mostly same old same old. Been fucking your daughter on and off since June so I guess that's new. No, no, I know it's wrong. She's just so good at it you know. You raised quite the naughty little girl, sir," Greg thought darkly to himself.

Mallory glimpsed Greg across the room, looking crisp in a charcoal suit, white shirt, and striped tie. She first appreciated how he looked, tall, broad shouldered, and clean shaved. A brief image flashed through her mind, of him—his shirt unbuttoned to expose his chest, his tie pulled loose and flopping with each thrust, his pants undone but still on—fucking her as she clutched his back with one hand and ran her nails down his pecs with the other, her skirt hiked up lewdly, her sweater stretched out and down, exposing her breasts to his large hands. She delighted to the sudden blush she felt creeping over her skin, the undeniable tide of wetness between her legs.

Her second thought was far less pleasant, a sudden inexplicable fear that Greg was telling her father all about their affair, about how she had seduced him, and the slutty things she wore, said, and did. She shook her head at the ridiculousness of it.

"Mallory?" her friend Veronica said, bringing her back to the present.

"Sorry," the blonde offered, "Just got distracted for a second."

"Oh?" Brynna wondered, "It wouldn't happen to be that hot guy with the shaved head over there, would it?"

"Wow, good spot, Mal. Very tasty," Veronica joined in. Her boyfriend Mike playfully shot her a dirty look.

"Knock it off you too! That guy's Shelly and Martin's dad."

"A dad?" Mike reacted with surprise, "Damn...I hope I look that good when I'm a dad."

"Is DILF a thing?" Veronica asked the group, "Because, yeah, he's one."

"You guys are terrible. Brynna, he's the dermatologist I told you about."

"Really?" she smirked, "Well, I think I could handle him giving me an exam."

Mallory rolled her eyes in reply, trying to maintain her "what are you guys talking about, he's just the guy I babysit for" aura.

However, as Greg crossed the room, long coat clutched in his hand, she couldn't restrain herself from grabbing his attention.

"Doctor Clark, Doctor Clark!" she raised her voice to catch his ear, "Can I steal you a second?"

He hesitantly nodded, and walked over to her group of friends.

"Doctor Clark, this is my friends Veronica and Mike from high school and Veronica's cousin Brynna."

"Hello, good to meet you all."

"Brynna is wondering if you have room for new patients. She's got...some skin thing," Mal facilitated.

"Nothing weird," Brynna rushed to say, "I just got these like...hot spots I guess. The skin get like tough and warm and itchy out of nowhere."

Greg nodded and handed her a card from his suit jacket pocket, "Sure, we have room. Give the office a call Monday and we'll check out your insurance and everything to make sure I'm in network for you. If you're not, we'll help refer you to someone who is."

"What if I only want you?" she pouted flirtatiously.

"Stop that, he's a married man," Mallory shoved her, "I'm so sorry Doctor Clark. She can be so inappropriate sometimes."

He shifted one foot to the other while letting Brynna off the hook, "It's okay, Mallory. It's nice to know young women still think I'm worth flirting with. Very flattering."

"See? He's fun," Brynna said, pushing Mallory right back.

"Oh, I know he's a great time," Mal replied to her, but keeping her eyes on the doctor.

"Right, well then, I'll leave you guys to have young people fun," Greg uncomfortably excused himself, "I have old people to pretend to listen to. And Brynna, please do call. What you're describing is often stress related but it never hurts to be certain." 

The group watched him leave until Veronica voiced what was foremost on Mallory's mind, "Wow...a great ass too."

"I've already told you," Mike played along, "No threesomes with dads. Respect the rules of our relationship."

"Fine," she sighed dramatically before turning to her cousin and Mallory, "One of you just needs to fuck him and tell me all about it then. Vicarious sex!"

Everyone giggled in response with Mallory hoping she was not laying her laugh on a bit too thick.

"Yes, of course. Just call the office and make an appointment. I'm sure it's nothing but I'd be happy to take a look at your son's moles," Greg said to an anxious partygoer, trying desperately to derail her twenty minute long "story" about her the moles on her child's back.

"But...cancer!" the woman stuttered.

"It's possible, but very very unlikely. And I won't even have a guess at that until I see him. So call and set a date. We'll have him squared away in no time, okay?" the doctor offered, already slowly sliding left, distancing himself from the overly concerned mother.

With a small "okay" she finally let him slip away. Moving towards the kitchen, he reflexively rubbed his temples. As predicted the party was lousy with people looking for free consultations. Even amongst them, however, the "every skin blemish must be cancer" crowd was of particular frustration to the dermatologist. They always left him feeling annoyed and run down. Being conscientious and concerned was great, but being concerned death was coming at any moment was more than a bit too much. As was there refusal to contemplate any other outcome without copious test results.

As he was snagged by another vague acquaintance, this one trying to sell him ad space on the Little League fence, Greg couldn't help but let his eyes wander about the room, telling himself he was looking for someone more fun to talk to. Of course, inevitably, he just ended up finding Mallory. She stood in roughly the same place as before, with the same high school friends plus a couple of others, one of which he recognized, vaguely, as a former patient. He was pleased to see that the kid had benefitted from the acne prescription and now had clear unscarred skin. As this guy— Ben Wellmore Greg seemed to remember—continued to sing the economic benefits of Little League stadium advertising, the doctor allowed himself some brief—and perfectly harmless, he assured himself—scanning of Mallory, from head to toe.

As usual, her legs looked great, enhanced even further by the heels. As he watched, she crossed one in front of the other, rubbing her calf against the shin of the other leg. It was nothing at all, an unconscious moment caused by an itch perhaps, but Greg found it oddly tantalizing. He continued upward, noting how the skirt hugged her hips, hypothesizing that it no doubt swoosh nicely back and forth were she to strut or turn around quickly, leaving him to wonder what sort of underwear would be exposed to a keen eye if she did so. Whatever she was wearing beneath the skirt, he hypothesized, would highlight her ass quite nicely should she offer a glimpse. His eyes lingered on her thin sweater as he realized her breasts were almost certainly bare beneath. Her nipples pushed against the fabric, making two undeniable points of interest sure to catch the eye of all the people in the room with even a passing interest in the female form. He glanced about to confirm his suspicions and sure enough, he caught at least three other men and one woman "casually" and repeatedly letting their stare settle on Mallory's chest. He struggled with who to be more disgusted with: them or himself. 




The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 23



Self recrimination or not, though, he found himself inevitably looking back at Mallory, drinking in the sight of her small breasts subtly rising and falling as she laughed at a friend's comment. His look lingered too long though and as he turned it upwards, he locked on the babysitter's shiny green eyes. Although the college students were clearly all in conversation, she made no eye contact with them. Instead, she held her gaze fast on Greg and bit her lip ever so slightly and suggestively. Just enough so he could notice. He quickly dismissed Wellmore with a "Yes, fine. Just email me the details," and ducked into the kitchen, unable to prevent his cheeks from growing a deep pink.

Cursing to himself, he walked down the back hallway to further his escape. He felt like he was 13 again and Hilari Sevor had just looked up and caught him staring at her. The only difference was that time he didn't run out of the room to hide.

"I'm a grown man," he mumbled to himself, "Gotta get control here."

Mallory stood waiting for Greg to pop back out of the kitchen. She was sure he'd be back out in a moment, he obviously was very appreciative of her appearance. He would have to return for a second look. Probably just refreshing his drink, she told herself.

Five minutes later, however, the teen was no longer buying that particular explanation. Trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice, she excused herself from the conversation with her friends. Moving slowly but purposefully, she weaved in and out of the partygoers, keeping an eye out for Greg in the various conversational circles and semi-circles that had popped all over the bottom floor of her parents' home. Reaching the kitchen she found that the doctor was nowhere to be seen.

"Time to get to higher ground," she thought upon concluding that this method of finding her prey simply would not do.

She settled on the view from the railing outside the guest bedroom. From there she had a full view of the living room and family room below, but was fairly well hidden from anyone looking on the first floor. Not totally, but enough to feel confident that she would go unnoticed if she kept her wits about her.

Greg sat on the edge of the bed in what he knew to be the guest room of the house. Hidden away due to the house's unusual layout, it gave him the isolation he craved to reset his wicked mindset. He had forgotten to tell Mallory she was re-hired, a mistake he was admonishing himself for. He knew he had to approach her again to get it done. If he failed to, not only would Gina be plenty annoyed, she'd certainly want an explanation as to why he hadn't and he was certain that no lie would make sense and the truth would be...unacceptable to his wife. 

To venture back to finish the job he had been sent to this party for was problematic. He knew he couldn't approach her as he was now, all hard cock and dirty thoughts. He couldn't trust himself not to make mistakes in this state.

As the doctor began to formulate and run through his "safe" approach, his eyes were drawn to someone walking by the open door and then leaning on the railing which enclosed the hallway. His thoughts immediately dissipated as she flipped her skirt briefly upward to separate its waistband from the waistband of the oh-so tiny thong she wore. Unknowingly, she gave him a brief, but clear, audience to just how nicely it showcased her pert ass. He allowed himself a moment of "oh come on!" fate decrying before losing himself to the sight of smooth, toned legs disappearing alluringly underneath the flowy skirt.

"How did you disappear, Doc?" she mumbled to herself, looking out over her family's party, bouncing her hips back and forth.

She hoped he hadn't left. Gina had alerted her that he'd be visiting to rehire her but if he had taken off without doing so, maybe he had changed his mind back. "I bet Brynna freaked him out," she thought to herself, annoyed with her friend's guileless forwardness all over again.

As she contemplating giving up and accepting the doctor had slipped away, she felt a breath of air on her legs as her skirt rose immediately followed by a pair of hands caressing and kneading her ass.

She glanced over her shoulder, gasping, "What are you doing?!"

Despite her surprise, she pushed back against Greg's firm large hands.

"I'm done, Mal," he whispered leaning over her, his cock hard nestled between his stomach and her lower back. 

"I don't understand," she admitted, wiggling against the firm tool. 

"You win. I'm tired of fighting the depraved desires you spark in me. From now on, I'm fucking this smooth teen pussy whenever I feel like it, whenever I feel like it."

"Oh god," she gulped, "But now? With all those people down there?"

"Uh-huh," he replied, pinching each side of the waistband of her thong and pulling them downward as he dropped to his knees. She obediently stepped up and out of them as they hit the floor. Keeping her eyes focused below, watching for anyone looking up, she heard him breathe in deeply, her wet panties no doubt against his nose. Her bit her lip in naughty delight as the sound of his hand shoving the tiny bit of moist cream silk into his pocket. She couldn't help but think of him jerking off later, his dick all tangled up in her used underwear.

"But, my parents," she objected as his fingers slid up her taut stomach towards her bare breasts, "What if they catch us?"

"Would they be surprised?" the doctor asked, his mouth next to her ear, "Do they good girls bounce around braless at a nice formal party?"

His palms just grazed her hard nipples, causing her to buckle a bit, his body and the railing helping to keep her upright.

"They do think their daughter's a good girl," she confirmed.

"Is she?" his hands flatted against her tiny tits, groping them with just the amount of pressure she loved.

"Uhhhh," she grunted, "No. Oh god, no. Good girls don't let a room full of her parents' friends and colleagues see her tits bounce around all evening just to drive a sexy married man crazy."

"Tell me what you are then."

"You know what I am."

"I want you to say it."

"Fuck...this is so risky. We should...god, you're so hard."

"Tell me what you are."

"I'm, uhhh, I'm your filthy homewrecker, your naughty little slut."

"What would your parents think if they could see you now?"

"They'd...they'd know what a dirty girl they raised. And what a perverted cheating old man you are."

"Do you like being fondled by a perverted cheating old man?"

"Yes. Shit! Yes."

"Shhh...don't want to draw attention, do we?"

"Please...you know me. If you, god, if you don't stop...I'm a screamer. I can't..."

"Find a way...I need to taste you."

"What?!" she groaned as his hands left her breasts. He did not reply, but moments later, she felt his hot breath on her exposed cunt. His head was under her skirt, resting against the bars of the railing. His hands once again finding and caressing her ass. He stayed like this for a moment, an endless moment—hands on her firm ass, mouth so close to her pussy she could almost feel him but still not tasting her. 

She babbled, making pleas for him not to do this, warnings she couldn't control herself, while simultaneously begging him to stop teasing her.

"Doc, noooo, please. Let's just leave. I'll let you have me anyway you want, just not here. Please...you know I can't stay quiet when your tongue's inside me. Fuck...this is not safe. Just...come on! Don't tease me. I can feel your breath. I know you want to taste me. Just do it. I mean, if you're going to anyway. But we shouldn't! Oh god...please...Doc...I'm so wet for you already. Just..."

She bit tongue hard on her tongue as his swept over her lower lips, until it flattened against her clit.

"Fffcccckkk!" she hissed between her gritted teeth, barely suppressing the scream she wanted to unleash.

As he increased the range and pace of his licking, pushing his tongue deeper and deeper inside her, she grasped the railing so hard her knuckles and her fingers went white. She allowed herself tiny moans and gasps, the occasionally gargled encouragement or curse at him for doing this to her because she knew she'd have to burst if she tried to be completely silent. The small periodic risks were safer than the single loud near certainty.

Her honey grew hotter and more copious the more he lapped at her sweet tight sex. He reveled in the flavor of her dominating his sense of taste, delighted in the feeling of just giving in to his most base animal drives without concern for anything but his own personal enjoyment and her pleasure. 

Above him, he heard her breath growing more rapid, irregular and strained. She slipped a hand between the railing and his head, forcing him flush against her cunt, as hard as she could with her strength mostly set on restraining her impulse to scream.

"Taste my cum," she grunted, "You wanted it. God, your face is going to be covered in my cum when I'm done with your mouth. So good...so good. Uhh,uhhh..."

She bit down again as she came, her body rocking and twisting almost comically as muscles contracting and released randomly, neurons overwhelmed with pleasure signals. Greg did not relent, coaxing rapid multiple orgasms from the blonde teen as she struggled to maintain any sense of control of her faculties, trying to watch below for voyeurs through barely open eyes.

As a third climax slipped away from her, Mallory finally felt her body reasserting itself. Gasping in shallow breathes, the tension evaporated from her every muscle and tendon, she slumped fully on the railing.

"Shit, Doc," she groaned, petting his head through her skirt, "I thought I was going to either scream, pass out, or explode. You weren't kidding, you were really hungry for me."

Greg muttered something briefly she could not hear as he lightly dragged his fingers up her legs started from her ankles.

"Come on up," the babysitter requested, "Let me clean you off before we go back to the party."

The doctor said nothing, his fingers continuing to languidly stroke her smooth quivering legs, sliding under her knees before moving to her inner thighs.

"Uh-uh!" admonished Mallory, "Don't you dare!"

The older man ignored her, two of his long thick fingers slipping into her hot wet core.

"I—I can't—I—I—ohgod!" she whispered as his digits began to twist and thrust inside her, his other hand gripping her ass, his tongue swirling around her clit as he sucked it into his mouth.

She let her body simply flop over the railing, body loose like a ragdoll, too weak and excited to even try and fight her employer. The wet noise of his fingers plunging into her and her own thin breathing filled her ears. She still managed to maintain her volume but no longer gave a damn about errant witnesses. 

"Let them watch," she thought to herself, eyes clenched tight, mouth open in a silent scream, "Just care about cumming. Nothing else. Just his mouth and his fingers and my orgasm. All that matters."

The not-so-good doctor rapidly coaxed two more orgasms from his lithe employee before sliding back out from underneath her skirt, chin and lips glistening. Mallory nearly slipped to the ground if not for Greg keeping her upright with one hand, her body too overwhelmed to respond to her brain's commands to remain standing.

He offered her his still slick fingers as he stood up behind her, his dress pants comically tented over his steel hard member. With as much immediacy as she could manage in her foggy scrambled state she gladly licked his digits clean, moaning appreciatively at her own dew's taste comingling with the flavor of his skin.

Satisfied with her efforts, Greg pulled his fingers free from the coed's mouth as she whimpered in disappointed. Pushing against the back of her legs to continue to hold her upright, he used his hands to move her sweater above her tits.

"Doctor Clark!" she hissed, voice still thick and heavy. The rush of comparatively cool air on her feverish skin derailed her objection as she moaned with enjoyment instead.

He leaned over her, the feel of his body over her, holding her up and keeping her bent the same time, was an unexpectedly powerful sensation for her. Without conscious thought, she pushed back more firmly against him. She turned towards face and strained to kiss him, tasting still more of herself from his lips and his tongue and running through his saliva. She mumbled a thank you into his mouth.

Aware he could not hold his position for long, Greg broke away first. Staring at Mallory, he whispered his plans, "I'm going to stand up now, unzip my pants, let my cock out, my cock which is so hard and thick for you right now, and flip up your skirt so I can see that cute ass of yours. Then I'm going to fuck you. 

"You're going to grip that banister, bent over at the waist, tits out, ass bare, and take it," the adulterous man whispered, "You're going to be as quiet as you can and make sure no one can see us and I'm going to fuck your delicious tight homewrecking cunt until I fill it with my hot, thick, white load. 

"Then, I'm going to button myself up, leave, take a shower at home, slip into bed, and let my wife know I rehired you. You're going to have to go back downstairs and explain to everyone where you've been, why you are so flush, and try not to think about our cum that's dripping down your thighs," Greg concluded.

"You fuck me and I'll scream," she promised him.

"You scream and everyone will know what a naughty girl you are."

"And everyone will know you're cheating on your wife by fucking a teenager."

"Which tells you just how bad I want your pussy doesn't it?" he shot back, standing up out of her view.

Mallory obediently held her position, knowing that, despite the risk, what he had promised her was far too tempting to resist. Now that the doctor had told her about his plan, to not have him realize it would leave her climbing the walls in sexual frustration.

Greg raised her skirt and took in the full sight of her, bent over, clothes pushed up to expose wide swaths of skin, the pink blush of exertion and arousal clearly visible on her flesh, her hands fiercely gripping the wooden handrail. She involuntarily rocked her hips ever so slightly back and forth as she waited. Satisfied that she was not resisting or objecting, he slowly slid his zipper downward, the sound of each tooth springing free seeming eerily sound. His cock immediately sprung free, head red with need, shiny with precum. He stroked himself a few times, a shudder of sensation ripping through him.

The blonde teen heard it all, knew the small almost slapping noise was him stroking his cock, just knew it, and became almost panicked about the idea that he might've have chosen to just get himself off instead.

"Please," she begged in a tiny voice.

"What?" Greg replied, knowing perfectly what she had said.

"Please...don't make me wait."

"Wait for what?"

"For...for your cock."

"What am I going to do with my cock?"

"Oh god...I can't believe you're making me do this."

Silence

She gulped, "You are going to—to fuck me."

"Is that what you want...to be fucked?"

"Yesssss."

"Just to be fucked."

"You bastard," she groused, "Stop teasing me. You know you love fucking this teen slut."

"I can just take this cock home to my wife," he threatened.

"You're so evil!" she spat, eyes shooting daggers at him as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

He said nothing, just let Mallory see him continue to stroke himself.

"No, not just fuck," she broke, dropping her head onto the wood in front of her, "Use. Pound. Treat me like your fucktoy. Fuck me unconscious! Take me however you want, as hard as you want. Just...god, please, don't make me wait anymore."

"Such a bad girl, saying such filthy things to a married man," he cooed at her, placing one hand on her hip.

No pride left she groaned in delight at the small feeling of contact.

"Like that?"

She bit her lip and nodded her head in silent enthusiastic agreement.

"Then you'll love this," he promised, resting his cock just against her wet swollen lips. 

Mallory held her breath, waiting. She told herself over and over again to be silent, to keep it contained. Then he slammed fully into her, his cock invading and spreading her.

"Oh fuck yes!" she let out, quick but loud. Too loud, the babysitter was sure. She stared down at the floor below, trying hard to focus as the doctor began to fuck her with deep, hard thrusts. Seeing no reaction, she was confused.

"Music and conversation drowned you out, don't worry," Greg reassured her, "But you must be more careful."

"You bastard!" she replied, part venomous, part appreciative, "You absolute fucking adulterous bastard. Can't believe you'd do this to me."

In reply, his fingers found her clit and her brain went to mush. Dropping her head, she yielded to the sweet mindless oblivion offered by thought annihilating fuck. She yielded all but vocal control to the doctor's power. He gladly accepted the silent invitation, fucking her as pleasure forced her to undulate and flop about. Seeing her—the girl who so easily had controlled him, guiding him to fully betray his sexual morality with alarming frequency—was like its own sexual gratification. Paired with the exquisite feeling of her, Greg found himself rushing quickly to climax.

"So close," he grunted, "You feel....god...incredible!"

She babbled happy unintelligible encouragement.

"Gonna cum," groaned the doctor.

"Yessss," came the moan beneath him. The sound of her voice, sounded both so far away and so needy, set him off. With a coiled noise more beast than man, he burst inside of her, his dick jerking out at least six gushes of his cream deep inside her.

They toppled to the ground then, Greg to landing on his tailbone with a muted moan of pain, Mallory on her hands and knees. Both still shook and pulsed with pleasure. The babysitter crawled to him and gently sucked his cock clean before slipping him back into his pants and resting her head on his knee.

"Doc," she scratchily whispered, "You...you can't ever do this to me again. I lack the self discipline and you...fuck too well."

Both managed small laughs, blissed out and exhausted.

After a few moments of recovery, the doctor struggled to his feet and loped off towards a bathroom. Mallory followed suit, shortly after, worried if she waited much longer she'd pass out in her well fucked condition on the carpet.

Twenty minutes later, she found her way back to her ground of friends.

"Damn!" Victoria almost shouted, "Where the hell have you been? You have some incredible sex hair going on."

"Oh," she self consciously tried to smooth tresses down, "I...uh...fell asleep upstairs."

"You have some kind of nightmare? Your clothes are all wrinkled and, like, not pointing the right direction," Brynna jumped in.

Mallory just shrugged, spinning the skirt forward until the zipper was in the right spot, painfully aware that she couldn't let it fly too high up or people might note her lack of panties.

As she evened out her sweater, she saw Doc move towards the door from the kitchen. He looked calm, clean, and collected. She silently cursed him for getting so put together so quickly.

"Mmm," Brynna commented, "There he is again. I tell you, that is one appointment I will absolutely be on time for."

"Marr. Eeed!" Mallory reminded her, speaking phonetically and with emphasis.

"Eh...everybody cheats, right?" Brynna offered disinterestedly.

Mallory didn't reply, having no rejoinder for that, considering what she and the married man had just done upstairs.

As Greg reached the door and said goodbye to her parents, he locked eyes with his babysitter and gave her a quick nod of the head. She couldn't help but blush and smile. She couldn't wait to pay him back.