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.