The Imprint Ch. 12: PAPER TRIAL

At that I was flipped on my back a second time, my legs were roughly yanked apart. I thought of the face who played the fat girl in Al Mandy's production, face contorted, gasping as she was entered.

An excited, high-pitched tone overcame Sam's attempt at replicating the understanding paternalistic tone he projected in court. As he lifted my body, Sam prated from his argument, "According to Dr Plume, the logical basis for the confabulation would be the porn Erica starred in, MEDICAL FRATERNITY PRANK, there you see it, trusted caregivers drugging her, cutting her clothes off, flipping her on her belly, taking her from behind. Treated skeptically by the police, the victim cursed her companion for putting her through the ordeal of the report. It's all there."

Clutching the bed sheets as I came, I tussled with Sam. Energized by the rhythm of my orgasm I forced Sam flat against the bed. On top, I screamed, "I'm going to ride that penis (cock) until it springs back to life."

Leaning forward to nuzzle nose to nose with Sam, in a softer voice, "I've news, Sam. You did more than create a phantom defense for me. I'm pregnant." To his shocked expression, I declared as I rhythmically rode up his penis to leave only the glans penis (tip) in touch, then crashing down absorbing his penis right down to its radix (root).

Sam's eyes widened, but his penis continued to grow inside me as I explained, "Oh, fuck. I'm not looking for love, marriage or money from you. I'd prefer you acknowledged paternity."

"But you're spoken for by Al Mandy," Sam protested in amazement.

"Strictly Business," I insisted. "I don't want shared parentage of a child to permanently entwine my life with Al."

After Sam emitted his ejaculate, I rolled on my back. In my afterglow, Sam's refractory period, Sam's cranium (head) lay on my mammaries (chest) suckling my mammary papilla (nipples). My mammaries (breasts) were sore but Sam's suckling was soothing, even though it risked drawing some colostrum (milk).

We crawled out of bed to review the papers. Al reached for his underwear. "You won't need that. After you sign, we can go it again," I promised. In an evil voice, I added after a deliberate pause, "If you can go erect (get it up) again. I'll let you be on top."

To his shocked look, I chided him, "Sam, the work I expect you to deliver is nothing," I paused to clutch my abdomen, "compared to the work ahead of me in the next few days or weeks."

I embraced Sam from behind as he signed. Turning to me as he handed me the paper my father's lawyer prepared, Sam asked, "How did your father take the news -- you're pregnant and Al is NOT the father?"

"`Father,'" I recounted that confrontation, "`It's all business. You're whoring me out for money. I whored myself out to provide for my own defense in a case in which I was deemed expendable by University Hospital's hierarchy.'"

I smiled and looked Sam directly in the eyes, "Your argument was brilliantly played directly to the audience, the elite of a provincial backwater." I quoted from Sam's concluding words, "`The whole story accusing the University hospital and our fire department of an atrocity in the course of training fails to meet the basic requirement of plausibility. The hospital and emergency services are here to help us. The firefighter is accused not merely of dereliction in rendering care; he's accused of rendering a victim helpless so that he could take advantage of her.'"

Sam shook his head. "Doctor's mistakes are usually buried with their patients."

"This time," I declared, "by the rhetoric of her lawyer."

Sam continued reaching the crescendo that concluded his argument, "Having seen how a wholly fictional porn production Erica played a role in makes up underpinning of the instant claim against the University Hospital and Fire Emergency services demonstrates the danger of allowing this case to go forward. Could you imagine if Capitaland emergency services encounters hostility or resistance from the people it is trying to serve. If it faces a combative public, it is trying to help, if it must come armed with weapons, rather than with bandages, then all its good work would come to naught. "

"Sign," I ordered Sam, "So we can go back and continue our good work. I want to go back to bed to continue celebrating and to try to squeeze every milliliter of spermatozoa I can get."

Suddenly, Sam looked down sadly. "I never would have thought..."

"That two brilliant people could put their heads together to beat the system and," I took the palm of his hand across my hypogastric region (lower abdomen), "leave an imprint."

"Brilliant?" Sam laughed, "We somehow forgot exactly how a virile man and nubile female can leave their imprint."

"I was in an egg donor program and lost track of my menstrual cycle (periods)." I justified my conduct. "Fortunately, I realized I had been inseminated, before I made a donation of a fertilized ova (egg). Now back to work."

As I was riding Sam's penis, I reflected on Sam's warning. I wondered how I would prevent Al from impregnating me. Watching Ali squirm under a local anesthesia during a vasectomy while I, cutting through his penis to snip his vas deferens rendering him impotent, had a certain appeal. What about using a general anesthesia to excise both his testicles?

A radical testectomy might be unnecessary if Al Mandy confined his libido his production of porn and stealing his starlets` panties.