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!"