Clarissa & The Doctor

The girl would jump up, clutching her open dress across her magnificent chest. "I don't know," she'd say, the picture of innocent indecision.

Michael would laugh. "I do. Now take off your clothes."

Clarissa would comply. Michael knew she would.

Michael would circle the girl, stripped of her clothing, looking her up and down. She'd be beautiful, of course, perfectly proportioned. She'd watch him, nervous but obviously quite excited. Michael would stand in front of Clarissa, looking down at her, enjoying the fact that she was naked while he was clothed. He liked the power it gave him. Reaching out, Michael would cradle the girl's soft cheek in one gentle hand. With the other he would caress her breasts, trailing his hand down to her flat belly, running his finger lightly around the edge of her navel. Finally, Michael would cup Clarissa's mons in his hand and begin to stroke her labia, gratified that her pussy was already soaked and slippery.

Clarissa would moan: music to Michael's ears. He'd insert one finger, then two, in her vagina, and begin to probe, to explore. His practiced fingers would quickly find her G-spot, which he'd gently massage. Clarissa's hips would swivel instinctively as she'd lean against Michael, breathing hard, eyes closed, lost. Michael would put one arm around the girl, supporting most of her weight, and she'd snuggle immediately into his embrace. Michael would stroke her faster now, his fingers still inside her, kneading her G-spot, rubbing her rapidly-swelling clitoris with his thumb. He'd smile as he felt her approacing orgasm, her vagina beginning to contract around his digits. "You want to come, honey?" He'd ask, softly. Clarissa, beyond words, would only nod.

"Tell me," Michael would say. "Beg me to let you come. I want to to hear you say it."

"Please," Clarissa would gasp. She'd be having a hard time concentrating.

"Please what?" He'd make her say it.

She'd open her huge black eyes and look at him imploringly. "Please make me come! I- I can't stand this anymore, please--!"

Michael would grin, and rub Clarissa's clitoris harder. Oh, this was it; she was coming. He'd feel her contract, beautifully, time and time again, as orgasm finally overtook her. She'd cry out, twisting on his fingers, grinding her pelvis against his hand. Michael would keep his fingers inside of her as she recovered, enjoying the aftershocks. Satisfied that she was finished, he'd remove his hand and bring his fingers to Clarissa's lips. "Taste yourself," he'd whisper, smearing her juices around her mouth. He'd kiss her, then, running his tongue lightly around her lips. She'd look at him adoringly and smile.

"Did you like that?" Michael would ask.

Clarissa would nod.

"Good. Now fair's fair, honey. My turn."

Michael would step back, unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants, and pull down his boxers. His cock would rise, rock-hard, curving up slightly, from its nest of dark curls. He'd stroke himself, enjoying the girl's growing excitement and his own building anticipation.

"Get on your knees," he'd order, snapping his fingers again. "Here, in front of me."

Clarissa would walk over, stand in front of Michael, and drop to her knees. She'd look up at him, her dark eyes huge in her pale face.

"Suck my cock," Michael would say. "I want to come in your mouth."

"Yes, doctor," the girl would whisper, and, taking Michael's cock in her hands, place her lips around the head.

She'd start slowly at first, tentatively, gently kissing the head and shaft, licking, tasting. She'd become bolder, beginning to suck in long, slow strokes.

"Tongue the glans," Michael would instruct. He'd grab her hair in his hands and move her mouth up and down on his engorged cock. It would be exquisitely slick with her saliva, and she'd moan from time to time, her mouth full of him. Her tongue would feel fantastic, flicking along the sensitive underside of his prick, while Michael shoved himeslf deeper into her mouth, snapping his hips. He'd feel her throat muscles working as she took him all the way down, her pretty little nose nuzzling his pubic hair. Her mouth and throat would be warm and wet and tight.

"Tickle my balls," Michael would say. "And look at me. I like eye contact."

Clarissa's hand would cradle Michael's balls as she gently massaged his scrotal sac. She'd gaze up at him, transfixed, sucking, licking, tonguing. Swallowing his dick to the root.

"You like sucking my cock?" Michael would ask, punctuating each word with a particularly enthusiastic thrust of his hips.

The girl would nod, her eyes never leaving his.

"That's my girl," Michael would chuckle. "Suck harder. And keep your tongue going."

Clarissa would do as she was told, making her lips tighter around Michael's cock, moving her tongue up and down the underside of the shaft, swirling it around the head. She'd unconsciously reach one slender hand around his waist to steady herself, and, parting his buttocks, begin to stroke his anus with her forefinger.

"Good girl," Michael would say, approvingly. "Such a quick study. Didn't even have to tell you. Now, take my balls in your mouth. Gently now, no teeth."

Clarissa's lips and tongue would caress Michael's balls as she sucked, slowly, lovingly, her hand working Michael's cock, slick with saliva and pre-come.

"Put me back in your mouth, baby," Michael would order. "Make me come."

Clarissa would close her wet, hot lips around Michael's dick, sucking and tonguing, up and down, in and out, like it was the last cock she'd ever get, her finger continuing to probe his anus, her other hand tickling his balls. She'd suck harder, making a little vacuum out of her slippery, hot mouth, saliva and pre-come glistening on her lips and chin.

Christ, it was too much.

Michael was breathing hard now, eyes closed, muscles tensed, lips parted. He stroked his cock hard and fast, slicking generous drops of pre-ejaculate up and down his stiff shaft. "C'mon, honey," he moaned, softly, actually feeling the girl's mouth on him, and groaned as he felt his balls contract, and his belly tighten and tingle. "Oohh..." Michael sighed, as several bursts of creamy white jism shot in a wide arc out of his wildly jerking prick. He imagined Clarissa swallowing as he shot, knowing that she'd love it, lapping up every last drop.

Michael stood, breathing hard, still holding himself. Crud, he'd gotten come everywhere. God only knew where most of it had landed. Gross. He'd find out tomorrow and clean it up. For now, he mopped himself up with a bunch of Kleenexes and tossed the damp wad at the wastebasket in the corner of the room. It missed.

"Fuck it," Michael muttered, and threw himself into bed.

*************************

I sighed, shifting from foot to foot. Another exciting Saturday night in line at the grocery store. It was bad enough that the woman ahead of me had had fifteen coupons (I'd counted), two of which she'd spent five minutes trying to find. Now she was writing a check.

"Don't you hate it?" said a familiar voice at my back. I turned around, instantly nervous.

It was Dr. Hanlon. At least, it resembled Dr. Hanlon. This Dr. Hanlon, however, wore an expensive, multi-patterned shirt, close-fitting faded jeans, a longish black leather jacket, and scuffed boots. I mentally calculated that he was sporting roughly a thousand bucks' worth of clothing. He smelled good, too. He looked great, and he looked like he knew he looked great. For some reason, his arrogance made him even more attractive. I felt an unexpected heat between my legs and blushed. He was carrying a small basket of groceries.

"Doctor Hanlon," I said, smiling way too hard, "I didn't know you shopped here." Way to go, Clarissa, I thought. Always right on the ball with the scintillating conversation!

Dr. Hanlon smiled. Wow. I'd never had that smile directed at me before. No wonder all the nurses swooned. "I was in the neighborhood. This your store of choice?"

"I, um---" I stuttered, blindly handing my stuff to the cashier. "I live right up the street. I walked here. You know, to enjoy the weather? It was such a nice evening. It's awesome weather for this time of year, don't you think?" Great; I was babbling.

Dr. Hanlon smiled again, turning up the wattage. "It has been nice." He checked out my huge pile of food. "Cook a lot for yourself, huh? I almost never cook. Just me, you know. Not even a houseplant."

The man was being friendly -- not at all his usual self-- and it was freaking me out. I wanted to leave before I said something really stupid and paid for it on Monday.

I paid the cashier and started to pick up my food, suddenly realizing that buying six bags of groceries without a car to carry them home in had been a bad idea. That's what comes of grocery shopping when you're hungry. I sighed. Lugging the stuff a half-mile up the long, steep hill to my apartment wasn't going to be fun. At least I'd get some good cardiovascular stimulation.

Dr. Hanlon put a hand on my arm, sending a small shock of pure pleasure zipping along my nerve endings. I almost gasped. An image of him touching me in lots of other places lit up my neurons. I blushed again.

"Are you going to walk home with all of that?" He asked, frowning.

I shrugged, faking composure I did not feel.. "It's really not far."

Dr. Hanlon reached over and hefted the groceries easily. "Come on. I'll give you a ride."

A ride?? This from the man who probably thought I should be studying cosmetology instead of medicine? I wondered, fleetingly, if Dr. Hanlon had mistaken me for someone else.

We walked out onto the sidewalk in front of the store.

"I can't," I stammered. "I don't want to inconvenience you."

Dr. Hanlon started across the parking lot. "I'm walking to my car, Miss Blackwood, and I'm taking your groceries," he called back over his shoulder. "If you want to see them again, I suggest you join me."

What could I do but follow?

I walked up to his car, stopping to admire it as he opened the trunk and deposited the groceries. It was gorgeous, just like I'd heard. I'd never seen it this close before; med students and doctors don't park in the same lot.

"Nice Mustang," I said, momentarily forgetting to be nervous.

Dr. Hanlon closed the trunk and walked around to the passenger side of the car. He unlocked the door and opened it, motioning for me to get in. "Sixty-nine.You like cars?"

I got in. Dr. Hanlon got in beside me, buckled up, and started the engine. Unlike his office, the car was immaculate.

"I really don't know much about cars," I admitted, "but I've always loved Mustangs. Old ones for sure. Did you do this yourself?"

Hanlon nodded as we turned out of the parking lot and onto the street. "Little at a time. Took awhile." He grinned the grin of the total enthusiast. "She kicks pretty good. Wanna see? Take a little detour?"

I hesitated. "Now?"

"Why not? You got somewhere to be?"

"Uh, no," I said, slightly nettled by his correct assumption that I would be without plans on a Saturday night. "But my ice cream is melting."

He laughed, shifting gears and gunning the engine. "We won't be long."

**********************

Michael Hanlon drove, wondering what the hell he was doing. This wasn't wise; the girl's nearness to him had already given him the usual raging hard-on. He was just giving her a ride home, he reasoned. Showing off the car. No harm in that. He stole a glance at her. For once she was actually dressed attractively: a tight green sweater accentuated her luscious breasts; form-fitting jeans hugged her shapely legs. She'd foregone her usual tight pigtail for two loose braids resting on either shoulder. She looked all of nineteen. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Michael suddenly found himself in the middle of a war between his Finer and Baser Selves. Conscience and better judgement were firmly on the side of his Finer Self, and they were valiant. But Michael's libido had a lot more troops, and they fought dirty, and they were fighting for the opposite side. Michael had a feeling his Finer Self was going to lose, but his Finer Self was determined to go down bravely. Michael debated the issues. He looked at all the angles. He weighed the consequences. The war was mercifully short. Ultimately, the bad little devil on his left shoulder kicked the good little angel square in the ass off of his right shoulder. Conscience and better judgement bit the dust, as they are wont to do when battles like this are lost. Fuck professional ethics, Michael thought, his cock throbbing, and decided once and for all that Clarissa Blackwood would spend this evening, and many evenings thereafter, impaled firmly on his prick.

**********************

We sped onto the highway. Dr. Hanlon had us in the fast lane almost immediately. There was an awkward silence. Awkward for me, at least. I picked at my cuticles, stealing furtive glances at him. God, he was handsome, and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating. And I was alone with him in his car.

"I've heard a lot about this car," I finally blurted, looking for something, anything to say.

He turned to me, smiling. "Like what?"

"Like, how great it is, how much you probably spend on it, stuff like that. Most of the male med students would give their right arm for a car like this."

Dr. Hanlon looked at me again, still smiling. "What else do you students say about me?"

I hesitated. Dr. Hanlon had to know that most of the med students at St. Stephen's, while they respected his medical skills, thought he was a class-A prick.

**********************

Michael grinned, watching the girl squirm. He knew exactly what his med students thought of him, but he was enjoying this.

"Miss Blackwood?"

Clarissa turned red again. "I don't know, sir."

Michael decided to go for broke. "What do you think of me, Miss Blackwood?"

The girl twisted her hands in her lap, fighting her own battle. Finally, she took a deep, trembling breath, and turned to Michael. "I think you're a great physician and a brilliant man and just absolutely incredible in every way and why do you hate me so much?"

She paused, realizing what she'd said. "Oh, God..." she groaned, turning away quickly, and hid her burning face in her hands.

Michael burst out laughing, surprised and delighted. This was almost too easy. "Honey," he said, gently pulling the girl's hands away from her face and stroking her cheek, "I don't hate you. I want you."

*********************

I gasped, turning halfway around in my seat to look at Dr. Hanlon. I couldn't believe it.

"What?" I squeaked. "Then why do you give me such hell at the hospital?"

Dr. Hanlon sighed. "Jesus, Clarissa, think about it! I've been trying to keep you at arm's length. I wanted you to hate me, but it obviously didn't work. I mean, I get a hard-on every time I look at you. Do you know what it does to me to watch you day after day, sucking on those stupid lollipops? Thinking I can never have you? I jerk off every night, imagining you on the end of my cock. I want you more than I've ever wanted any girl in my life. And it's mutual, isn't it?"

I nodded, feeling very warm between my legs, feeling my nipples grow hard. "But you could have anybody you wanted," I said. "I mean, look at you. You're handsome and smart and---"

"Yeah, whatever," he said, dismissively. "So I picked you. I like you. I want to fuck you, honey; what do you say?"

Goodness, he did get right to the point.

I swallowed hard, strangely excited by such a blunt proposition. "You're my Attending Physician," I began, nervously, not knowing remotely how to proceed. My God, of course I wanted to sleep with him; I'd wanted to for months. But a crush is one thing; a cat can always look at a king. Making it a reality, however, opened up a whole different can of peas. Did I want to go to bed with Dr. Michael Hanlon? You bet I did, but I knew in my heart that it just wasn't ethical. And we were taught that being a doctor is as much about ethics as it is about medicine. Believe it or not, I knew I had to walk away from this. I took a deep breath and said what I most definitely did not want to say. "I'm flattered, Doctor Hanlon," I said sadly, "But I can't. It wouldn't be right. It's a question of ethics. I mean, I only have another couple of months at St. Stephen's. Maybe once I leave--?" Michael Hanlon was a doctor. Surely he'd understand.

Dr. Hanlon shot a me an amused glance, his dark eyes flashing. "No? You turning me down? Hope you're kidding, because you really don't have a choice. Remember, I still haven't done your evaluation. Hate to see you lose out so close to graduation."

I turned to him, shocked."You wouldn't," I said.

He reached over and tweaked one of my braids. "Aw, sure I would. And you're thinking, 'I'll tell.' Go ahead. Your word against mine. You haven't exactly been batting a thousand during this rotation. Everybody knows we don't get along. Let's see who they believe. I mean, come on, honey," he continued, grinning, "I'm a Board-Certified Cardiologist at a major metropolitan hospital, cum laude graduate of Washington University, and you're, uh, what? Correct me if I'm wrong? A fourth-year med student from a third-rate school somewhere in bumfuck, Dominica?" He chuckled.

This was crazy. This was wrong. But the very fact that Michael Hanlon had so much power over me, such unquestionable control, coupled with the attraction I already had for him, was making me wet. I could feel it. I couldn't fight it. And I hated myself for it. I tried one last time. "Please don't do this," I said. "Not like this."

"I'm going to fuck you whether you like it or not, honey," Hanlon grinned. "So you can make this easy or hard. Up to you. Look, I know you want this, Clarissa. I'm just relieving you of the burden of responsibility. You really ought to thank me."

I crossed my arms protectively over my chest and looked straight ahead, glaring. In a way, he was right, and that made me even angrier. I stewed for awhile in silence. That crack about where I went to school had stung. "You really want to know what your students think of you, Doctor?" I said, finally. I was furious. "We think you're a prick."

Dr. Hanlon laughed.

***********************

"Come here," Michael Hanlon said, crooking his finger at me. He patted a place beside him on my couch. He swigged deeply from a bottle of bourbon, alternating mouthfuls of liquor with drags from a cigarette. I stood across the room, watching him, fascinated. I think I was still in shock. Doctor Hanlon, sitting here in my apartment, drinking. Smoking. Boy, did I want one of those cigarettes.

"I said come here." He frowned. "What the hell are you staring at?"

I walked over and sat down beside him. "You," I said. "You're, uh, kind of different than I thought."

"Meaning I'm human?" Hanlon chuckled. "You think I sleep in my white coat? Actually, I sleep naked. Speaking of which, get undressed. I want to see you."

"You could ask nicely," I said, annoyed. I really wasn't sure how I felt about all of this, at this point.

Michael stubbed out his cigarette and put the bottle on the table. Gently, he took my chin in one hand and turned my face to his. He looked sad. "Aw, honey. Are we gonna start out like this? Do I need to teach you a lesson right away?"

I gasped at his words, and a warm, shuddering thrill shot through me. God, this man was so sure of himself. So completely in control. He'd made it abundantly clear that I was his to do with as he pleased. I wondered just what kind of a lesson he'd teach me. I closed my eyes and moaned, a totally automatic response.

Michael laughed softly at my reaction. "Wow. Touched a nerve, didn't I? Take off your pants."

I stood, shakily, and shucked my jeans and panties. Before I could stop him, Michael grabbed me and tossed me over his knees. I struggled, but he pushed one arm across my back, pinning me to his lap. "If you don't hold still," he said, quietly, "I'll start with my belt instead of my hand, and believe me, you're not ready for that."