The Contract Ch. 02

A laugh burst from her lips around the cockhead, and she sat back again, an incredulous smile splitting her face. "Vanilla?" she giggled. "YOU did this, didn't you ... Doctor?" She smacked her lips. "Either you dipped this monster in vat of vanilla, or you're MAKING me taste this!"

He smiled nervously down at her and shrugged. "I ... um ... didn't know that you'd be ... um ... really doing that to ME," he said defensively. "But I ... knew you liked vanilla, and ... um ...."

She stood and wrapped her arms around him, holding him, laughing. He spun her around again, her back on the surface of the couch again, holding her again. "You can do anything to me, can't you?" she asked gently, the smile never leaving her lips, her eyes admiring him. "You can make me FEEL anything. Make me DESIRE anything. You can do anything you want!"

"There's only one thing I REALLY want right now," he husked.

"Oh, yes," she whispered.

Her legs were already spread for him, and he maneuvered himself above her, lining himself up. She reached up and held his face in both hands, gazing into his eyes, waiting patiently as he found her dripping opening. He applied pressure, then a little more, and even more. Her eyes remained tenderly on his, unblinking, but her lips parted and she began to pant. More pressure and more, and the head of his cock pushed into her and her eyes closed for a long moment before opening again, gazing deeply into his. Her panting became more pronounced, deeper.

And now, he was pushing further into her, further and further, and her eyes closed again, opened, and she couldn't prevent them from rolling back. As his hips pushed in the last few inches, he allowed his face to lower, as well, and she let go of his face with her hands and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

"Are you okay," he panted gently.

"Yes," she gasped. "Can ... can you do me a favor?"

He took a few deep breaths. "What?"

"Would you mind staying ... just like this .... Ooohhh! ... just ... um ... just like this ... forever?"

And he barked a laugh, pushed himself up with his hands above her, pulled his cock out several inches, and pushed back in. The noises she was making were becoming incoherent again. She seemingly couldn't figure out what to do with her hands. She pressed her palms into his chest for awhile, then clutched at his upper arms, held his sides, stretched them out toward his neck, but couldn't quite reach it, then put them by her sides as she began rolling her head from side to side. Another orgasm claimed her, shook her, made her cry out, her cunt clutching at his cock. It had been too long for him. He could go no further. He thrust forward violently, making her scream out one last time, and he cried out as well while his balls contracted and he came and came. It went on for an unending minute, and he collapsed on top of her.

He was concerned about her ability to breathe beneath his bulk, and so he slowly rolled over in place, taking her with him, until he was on his back and she was sprawled atop him, as if his body was a piece of large, firm, fleshy furniture. She ran her hands over him and sighed.

They both drifted, contented, happy, for many minutes. She couldn't decide, for awhile, whether to let herself drift into sleep or stay awake to contemplate her happiness. She felt him stir beneath her. "What was it you wanted to ask me in there?" she murmured. "What did you want to ask the 'real me?'"

He smiled up at her, then reached up and tapped her on the forehead. "Is that you in there?"

"Oh, I hope so."

"I was just going to ask you what type of personality you wanted to have," he said.

"What?"

"You, my dear, are a submissive. I've never encountered such a submissive personality."

She sighed deeply. "Like my mother."

"Oh, no; not by a long shot! There is a HUGE difference between submissiveness and masochism. Completely different motivations. So different that they're covered by different fields of psychology. One is Normal, the other Abnormal."

She burrowed the side of her face into his neck, trying to feel closer to him. "So what about ME?"

"Many submissives don't want to BE submissive," he said gently. "Assertiveness is all the rage right now. I can help change you, if you want me to."

She thought about that for a moment. "Can you make me half-and-half?" she asked gently.

"Half-and-half?"

"I'd love to be a little more assertive at work, but when I get back home, I just want to be your hypnotic sex slave."

He laughed at that while she refused to look up, still trying to burrow farther into the side of his neck.

"I can't get close enough to you," she said softly. "I don't ever want to move."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to," he said, looking down at her, forcing her to look up into his eyes. "You'll have to leave tomorrow."

She blinked, concerned. "I will?"

"Yup. All we get is twenty-four hours. It's in the contract."

In a flash, she was up and running, tall and naked and proud, into the next room; and he thought that if she had been born an animal, she would have been a gazelle. But then, she was back, holding the contract, tearing it into little pieces. With a smile, she stretched herself out on top of him again, pressing her body into his.

"Now," she drowsed, "where were we?" He laughed and put his arms around her, holding her close.

"I've turned into a cliché," he mumbled. She lifted her head and looked at him questioningly. "A successful black man with a gorgeous, young white woman."

"Don't you dare say that!" she said seriously, resting her cheek against his chest. "We are NOT a cliché! There is no one like us. In all the universe, we are unique."

"We're not unique, Gail," he said softly, stroking her bare back. "We're just in love."