Mr. Wallace and Me Pt. 06

"Old Mr. Wallace was fully clothed," he said. "But I found traces of sperm on his body. Some of it was his ... but some was from someone else. You know, you have wonderful posture, Miss Smith.

My voice was shaky and barely above a whisper..

"Thank you, Dr. Phillips."

From behind me, his hands that spent so much time on dead people went to my bare arms as I felt his suit jacket and scrawny body up against my back. With my heels on, we were about the same height.

"You know, I've never had much success with women," he whispered as his tongue teased my right ear. "Certainly with no one as beautiful as you. Do you find me attractive, Miss Smith?"

I was petrified with fear. Dr. Phillips' hands were making my skin crawl.

"Ummm ... well ... yes," I said, my voice shaky. "Yes, you're very attractive."

The horrible little man's voice became more confident. His right hand slowly moved the frilly strap off my right shoulder.

"You know," he said, "All I would have to do to link you to the sperm on Mr. Wallace is to do a coroner's inquiry and test your dna."

I turned to face him.

"But," I said, the frilly strap still hanging off my slender shoulder, "I ... I don't have sperm. I ... I'm a girl."

"It's funny about that," he said with a broad smile that made his pencil-thin moustache look sinister. "I'm a medical examiner, you know."

He took my left hand and led me in front of the full-length mirror that Mr. Wallace had made me look at all those times. Standing behind me, with his left hand, he moved my left hand fingertips gently over my throat while his right hand held my bare right shoulder.

"Do you feel that bump, Miss Smith?" he asked as my fingers rolled over it. "It's smaller than most, but it is undeniably an adam's apple." He kissed my neck and I shuddered. "Only men have them."

My blood ran cold.

He knew.

Slowly, he moved the frilly strap off my other shoulder as I stared into the mirror. I moved both my hands over the dress at my breasts to hold it up and Dr. Phillips began wetly kissing my back and shoulders. I closed my eyes.

"Your wrists," he said between kisses. "He tied you up, didn't he? Was it kinky sex, or did he force you?"

"He ... forced me," I said, half-lying.

"And he died having sex with you?"

I nodded. Dr. Phillips' hands caressed my shoulders as he began kissing my neck.

"Given the choice, that's how I'd like to go," he said. "You're so lovely, I have no doubt that Mr. Wallace died a happy man. Tell me, Miss Smith, under normal circumstances, you'd never look twice at me, would you?"

I started to sob.

"You were so beautiful, unapproachable and disinterested in the living room when I came in, weren't you, Miss Smith?"

I nodded, sobbing more. His hands were making my skin crawl. His left hand turned my face toward him, and he kissed my mouth clumsily. I hated it.

"You don't know what it's like, Miss Smith," he said. "All my life, I've been ridiculed because I'm such a washout with women. You know, my dear, you have a very lovely back." His hands began to run all over my bare back. He didn't say anything for a minute or so, his hands on my back, his lips on my neck and right shoulder while I held up my dress. It wasn't like Mr. Wallace or Mr. Maddox or Gary the convenience store clerk, who were sleazy but powerful men. If it came to it, I could probably beat Dr. Phillips in a fight, but now I had to act all girly and let the little worm touch me ... and kiss me.

"Any woman I've been with, I've had to pay for the privilege," he said. "I've also put together a huge collection of erotica."

"Porn?" I murmured. The long day was taking its emotional and physical toll. I was feeling so tired. Despite my loathing him, his hands and mouth were starting to have an effect on me.

"I prefer 'erotica,' if you don't mind," he said. "It's given me an appreciation for ladies with, shall we say, a little extra. I've been with tranny prostitutes from Bangcock to San Francisco, and I have to tell you, girlie, not one of them was half as beautiful as you."

The horrid little man turned me to face him. I felt helpless holding up my dress.

"The way I see it, Miss Smith, you have a choice," he said, running his fingertips slowly back and forth across my collarbone. My legs started to shake. "I could begin a coroner's inquiry in which I would have immense power to call witnesses and determine the cause of Mr. Wallace's death. If nothing else, the newspapers would eat up a story about a man dying while having sex with a transvestite. Oh, and of course, your lawyer, Mr. Drummond, is likely to be disbarred if he attempted to alter evidence in the death of Mr. Wallace."

Mr. Drummond? No! I couldn't let that happen.

"You ... you said I have a choice, Dr. Phillips?"

"Oh, I think you know what that choice might be, Miss Smith," he said, his hands settling on my tiny waist.

"You won't do anything to Mr. Drummond ... or me ... if I have sex with you? Is that it?"

"No," he said. "That's not it. Well, not entirely. Not only are you going to have sex with me, you're going to make me believe you like it. That you love it."

I gasped. Make love to this miserable little man? Nausea swept over me.

"And that's not all," he said as he moved my hands from the dress, which fell to the carpet.. "From now on, you're going to be my girlfriend."

His girlfriend!

"Oh, I'll treat you like a princess," he said, the bony fingers of his right hand caressing my left breast while his left held me close by my now-bare waist. "I'll take you to dinner, dancing, movies. We'll take walks, holding hands. You'll hang on me when we're with my friends and colleagues. We'll spend evenings in each others' arms watching TV and kissing on my couch. Weekend after next, I'll take you to the medical examiners convention in Cleveland. Nice hotel room, the works. You'll dress sexy, and my colleagues will be jealous as hell when they see me with my beautiful girlfriend."

I stood there mortified in my high heels and cute panties, my dress at my feet, this horrid old man's fingers pinching my sore, tender left nipple. He's crazy, I thought. He's been frustrated so long, watching too many porn movies. There's no way I'm going to be his girlfriend. I don't what I'm going to do. But I need time to think ... to save Mr. Drummond's career and to keep my parents from knowing ... to get myself out of this mess some way ... any way.

"Well, Miss Smith? Do I start a coroner's inquiry ... or not?"

"You're a horrible man," I said as tears streamed down my cheeks.

"Perhaps," he said, pinching my sore nipple harder. "But you're going to convince me that you love me, aren't you, Miss Smith, or whatever your name might be?

I stifled the urge to throw up. This was a nightmare. I felt so defeated. I needed time, time to think. For now, I had to convince this horrible little man that his perverted dream could come true. My eyes met his as I reached back and pulled the rubber band from my ponytail. I shook my head femininely and my blonde hair cascaded down over my neck, shoulders and back. I reached down, pulled my dress up and put it back on. He gave me a puzzled look as I shimmied into the dress and smiled.

"Here, darling," I said softly, "let me look pretty for you while I help you out of those clothes."

I removed his suit jacket, folded it femininely and put it on a chair. I crossed my arms around his neck, tilted my head and placed my mouth on his. Mr. Phillips' hands went to my torso, pulling me to him as I allowed his tentative tongue to enter my mouth.

I could tell the kiss excited him. I leaned back in his arms and girlishly undid his necktie, giving him little flirty pecks on his lips. As I hunched in my shoulders and undid each button of his dingy shirt, I planted wet kisses on his hairy, bony chest above his dingy undershirt. I moved his shirt over his shoulders, but it got caught on his buttoned cuffs.

"Shouldn't I know my boyfriend's first name?" I asked with a cute smile as I undid his belt and pants, which dropped to the carpet. I pulled down his briefs. His very thin penis -- about five inches -- was erect, emerging from a mass of gray pubic hair. His hands running up and down my bare back excitedly pulled me to him.

"It's Leo," he said.

He was obviously enjoying himself immensely, but he looked so ridiculous with his pants at his ankles, his shirt trapped at his wrists and his yellowed undershirt showing two small holes. I tried to forget about that and how puny and repulsive he was, how I hated his hands on me. I had been through so much already today. My body was sore and tired, and now I have to make this absolutely horrid old man think I was falling in love with him.

"MMMMMMM," I like that name, Leo," I murmured romantically.as I kissed him passionately, his tongue moving aggressively now in my sweet, young mouth. I was getting seriously close to vomiting. His eyes were closed in obvious ecstacy as we kissed. Mine were open. My hands went to his head, my long, slender fingers moving sensually over the greasy strands of hair he had combed over his bald spot. His right hand squeezed my left breast and ... and I couldn't ... I just couldn't.do this anymore.

"I'm sorry," I said, sobbing, pushing myself away and turning my back to him. "I'm sorry. I just ... I just can't!"

"WHAT?" he shouted. "You bitch! You can't get me all revved up like that and then stop. I'll ruin you, do you understand?"

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to keep from passing out. He put his hand on my side, but I slapped it away. I knew that I was probably ruining my life and Mr. Drummond's, too, but I just couldn't make love to this miserable excuse for a human being. My back to him, I bent over the bed, crying and fighting terrible nausea. I heard Dr. Phillips cursing and muttering while opening his medical bag.

"Please go," I said, my head in a fog. "I'm sorry. I .. I just ..."

Suddenly, Dr. Phillips pushed me over onto the bed. My arms pinned under me, nausea making me defenseless, a cloth with a strange smell was pressed hard against my face. I tried to struggle, but the room was swimming around me. The last thing I remember was Dr. Phillips's cruel voice in my ear.

"That's it, bitch," he said as my body went limp and I began to pass out. "Breathe in deep. Yes, just like that. Good girl."

I don't know how long I was out, but I when I awoke, something was terribly wrong. My wrists were once again tied together, stretched out above my head. I glanced up and saw that one end of Dr. Phillips' necktie was tied to the headboard, the other to my wrists. My dress was on the floor ... and Dr. Phillips was naked on his knees at the end of the bed, smiling as he moved his bony fingers up and down on his small penis.

"Oh, good, you're up," he said as I tried to clear my head. He reached with both hands for my frilly panties and slowly slid them down my slender legs and over my high-heeled shoes.

"Wha ... what have you done to me?" I asked hazily.

"Oh, that?" he said. "Just a bit of chloroform, It won't kill you."

I was still groggy when Dr, Phillips maneuvered between my legs and kissed me, his tongue in my mouth, his hands squeezing my sore, tender breasts.

"I'm sorry I had to do that," he said. "I truly am, but you're so stunningly beautiful ... and so unlikely to report anything I do to the police."

With that, the horrid older man picked up my legs, put them on his scrawny shoulders, moved forward and placed his slender cock at my opening.

"Nooooooooo," I wailed. "Please ... wait ... wait ... no ... please."

I looked helplessly at his leering face as he entered me, sliding in slowly and easily. He did not fill me up the way Mr. Wallace did. I struggled against the necktie. It gave just a little, but I couldn't quite free myself. Dr. Phillips' face was blissful as he pumped his small penis in and out of me on the same bed where Mr. Wallace died fucking me.

In and out, in and out, in and out, his hands gripping my narrow hips, and then he stopped and pulled out of me.

"Whoa, almost came right there," the awful man said.with a sick smile as he hovered over me. "I don't want to cum yet. This is going to be the fuck of my life."

With that, he bent over and began kissing me, nibbling hard on my poor nipples, nuzzling my neck, all over and over and over again. My body went limp. I was losing my will to resist, and the ugly little worm was beginning to turn me on, urgently moving his hands over the deep concave of my stretched-out midriff. It was as if he couldn't get enough of me. I could see the sweat on his poor excuse for a moustache as his face showed his triumph..

"You're so beautiful," he marveled. "And you're mine."

This probably was indeed the fuck of his life ... and, oh my goodness, maybe mine too. He entered me again, and this time, when he began to thrust, I was moving with him. The memory of Mr. Wallace's massive organ hitting my prostate was a distant and yearning memory as Dr. Phillips' smaller organ teased me. My little penis was trapped between our bodies, and despite my loathing this pitiful old man, I couldn't summon the will to resist any longer. I returned Dr. Phillips' kiss whenever our lips met. His face was red, his blotchy head perspiring, and he was actually drooling into my mouth. I moaned when he bit my nipples. I couldn't help myself. I was lost in a fog of lust. My legs slid down his body and wrapped themselves around his waist. That was something I couldn't do with Mr. Wallace, and now, it felt so intimate, an act of acceptance and surrender.

Dr. Phillips was ramming into me harder and harder, grunting and sweating. I pulled, and my wrists slipped out of the necktie. I was free to resist this vile creature. I don't know which of us was more surprised when I wrapped my arms around his neck and brought his lips to mine. He smiled his inane little smile, even as he rammed into me over and over. I wasn't being forced anymore. My tongue eagerly played with that of this horrid, awful man. His hands despoiled my sides and breasts as we fucked like two lovers, my legs wrapped around him, my arms around his neck. I was making helpless, little girlie noises. He was grunting loudly with each thrust, our mouths sharing saliva as if it belonged to both of us, inseparable.

I was getting so close to cumming, This was so much better than a corpse. I felt like a real woman ... his woman.

Suddenly, he stopped and arched his back. Sweat pouring off him onto me, he smiled.

"Please ..." I pleaded, my hands now flat against his sweaty, hairy chest. "Please ... don't stop."

"Well, Miss Smith," he said, catching his breath, "are you my girlfriend?"

"Oh yes!" I murmured. "Whatever you say. Yes, I'll be your girl. Just please ... don't stop."

His hands went to my shoulders, and he resumed thrusting in and out of me, We kissed, our tongues playing with each other as I sexily shimmied my shoulders in his grasp and moaned. He was in charge. We both knew it, and we both liked it.

"Ohhhhhhhhh, Leo," I murmured, my body limp under his assault. "I'm your girl. I want to be your girl,"

His face squirreled up. He let out a horrible, gutteral wailing noise and banged into me so hard that for the first time I felt his cock hit my prostate. My little penis was hard. I was close ... so close. I couldn't feel Dr. Phillips' cum squirting into me, but I knew that it was. I waited for the final thrust that would get me off ... but it never came. Dr. Phillips moaned and rolled off me, breathing hard on his back, one forearm over his eyes.

"No!" I thought. I wanted to cum, I needed to cum. I looked over at Dr. Phillips, who had the most contented smile on his face. I was so tired. I had been through so much. This awful little man was blackmailing me. He was threatening Mr. Drummond's career. We had just made love, and I was feeling so girly. I didn't want to think right now. I snuggled up to Dr. Phillips, kissed his hairy chest once, and felt his arm move around my slender shoulders. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

End of Part 6 (To be continued.)