The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 08

"Honey?" Gina Clark shouted up the stairs to her husband.

"Yeah?" Greg responded from his comfortable position lying on their bed half-watching the Thursday night football season opener. They had just gotten the kids down a little while ago and he was looking forward to a slow NFL Network-induced slide towards sleep.

She waited to respond until she was standing in the doorway of their dim bedroom.

"Oh...you look so relaxed already...I feel bad," she started hesitantly.

He propped his head up with his hand to make eye contact and assured her, "No, no. it's fine. What's up?"

"Mal just called. She and her roommate are having a hard time setting up their TV and stuff. She was wondering if you could help them out. But I'll just call her back and let her know you are ready to quit for the night.

"That's okay," he countered, sitting up, "I can go. I'm pretty sure she could demand a lot more money from us than she does so it's the least we can do?"

"Are you sure? I bet it can wait."

"Nah, I'll just get it out of the way."

"Ok...well, do you mind if I go to bed without you? I'm pretty tired."

"Go for it," he said, granting her request.

He gave her a quick peck as he skittered past her and through the door into the hall. "There's no telling how long these things can take anyway. I could be home in less than an hour if I'm lucky...hours from now if I am not."

"Good luck. Don't stay too long. You need your sleep too."

"I promise if it looks too complicated, I'll tell her it'll have to wait."

Fifteen minutes later, Greg was knocking on the door to Apartment 4W. Mallory answered moments later.

"Hey, Doc," she said, her voice all sweetness and light. She stood in the doorway looked rosy cheek and scrubbed clean, like she had just gotten out of the shower. Her hair was bound up by an elastic in a loose, simple ponytail. His eyes trailed down her body, taking her in. She wore an old concert t-shirt, clearly washed within an inch of its natural life. If he had to guess it probably fit her when she was 12, before her growth spurt kicked in. Now, it terminated just above her navel when she stood naturally and clung to every inch of her upper body. Her nipples poked out slightly, but noticeably and left him imagining that she had foregone a bra.

"Come on in," she bid, turning to lead him down the foyer hallway into the apartment proper. As she walked he took note of her ass and legs in the skinny jeans she wore. The denim hugged and showcased her in a way that was undeniably appealing.

She spun back to him when they reached the living room and his eyes completed their journey with her bare feet and her toenails freshly painted a deep red color.

"Chick Flick Cherry," she said.

"Sorry," he replied, eyes confusingly returning to hers.

"It's the name of my toenail polish. I just saw you admiring it."

"Ah. Right. Yes...it's...well, I like it quite a bit."

"Mmm...I know how you do."

"So, my wife said you needed help?"

"That I do," she agreed, a sexy, teasing tone creeping into her voice.

"Ok, well, what do you want me to start with?"

She stepped into his personal space and rose up on the tips of her toes, laying her arms on his shoulders. "This is always good," she said and kissed him deeply. He happily returned the embrace.

"Mmm," he groaned appreciatively as she pulled away, "That is quite nice. I should get started on your TV stuff though, if I'm ever going to finish it."

She giggled, her blues sparkling with amused delight, "You're cute."

She grabbed his hand and pirouetted her back to him, guiding him to the couch.

"There is no TV problem, silly," she continued, "I was just...feeling needy."

"Oh? Oh!" the doctor caught on, "Well, jeez...this isn't something we should make a habit of...too dangerous."

"More dangerous than the two of sixty-nining each other a literal foot from your sleeping wife?"

"Perhaps not. Anyway, what I was going to say was that we shouldn't make a habit of this but since I am already here, I don't seem the harm in me...helping you out."

She smirked, "So kind of you to make such a generous sacrifice."

Greg leaned over her, lifting her chin with two fingers on his left hand, and kissed her deeply. Realizing this was the first time he had kissed her without hesitation or seduction, she felt herself go lightheaded. She pressed deeper into him to steady herself, letting herself be folded into his arms.

Greg felt the heat of her against him, the way it spread from the points where their bodies met throughout his whole person. Her fingernails danced lightly over the back of his neck, just where it met his head and an uncontrollable shiver of arousal pulsated through, bringing goosebumps in its wake.

Losing track of where they were, the duo stumbled and fell over the arm of the sofa in a jumble of arms and legs. Greg bounced and fell onto his back on the floor below, exhaling in a great puff of air. Mallory, still safely lying on the couch, could not help but chortle.

"Oh you think that's funny," he mock demanded.

She only laughed harder in response.

"Come here, let's see how you like being on the floor!" he shouted, reaching for her.

She swatted his hand away and attempted to escape. Greg proved too quick, however, catching a belt loop on her pants in his hand. That was enough, in her state of poor balance, to send her tumbling to the floor as well. He immediately set upon her, poking and needling her ticklish spots until all she could manage were strangled laugh gasps.

"Stop, stop," she begged while gulping air. Greg let up for a moment, smiling broadly at her state. She grabbed him behind the neck and pulled him to her, kissing him roughly, snorting with shortness of breath.

They made out then. Simple, unhurried, but aggressive. They rolled this way and that, neither seeks dominance, only to inspire the other to step up their game. When, at one point Mallory ended up straddling Greg's waist, he liberated her from her shirt and appreciatively ran his hands over her small, newly exposed breasts. Minutes later, the tide turned and the doctor found himself watching his shirt sail off somewhere behind the cedar chest that doubled as a home for mail not yet opened and read.

Soon, Mallory was on her back again and Greg was slowly drifting down her body, seemingly driving to cover any inch of her skin with his touch. He tasted her, licking, nibbling, biting, sucking and that which his mouth could not reach at that moment was caressed, rubbed, press, scratched, tickled, teased by his fingers and hands.

She lay there thrilling at his touch. "Ahh, ooooo, yes, oh, oh, so good," she cooed before imploring, "Can—can I ask you for something?"

"Mmmhmm," he responded without being distracted from his mission.

"S—s—soooo," she stuttered, riding small crests of pleasure as he rolled her nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger and darted his tongue in and around her belly button, "you know how we talk—how you said this should be about me realizing some desires too, not just you?"

"Of course," he managed through teeth clenched around her jeans zipper as he slowly dragged it downward, letting her hear each tooth separate, letting her feel the subtle change in temperature as more of her panties were exposed to the air.

"Wellllllllllllllllllllllll, I have a request..." she began, looking hesitant and shy. She felt vulnerable, asking for the focus to be on here. Sure, being with Greg was a culmination of several of her own fantasies, but she never asked for them to be fulfilled, just took them herself. The stated focus was on the Doctor's fantasy, even if they did get her off too.

"Go on," he whispered encouragingly, peeling her skinny jeans down and off her.

"Do you like my cotton panties?" she asked him as he separated her legs and lowered his mouth to the area where her left inner thigh met her pelvis. Her panties were simple, bikini cut, with the words "Do You Love Me?" written in bright blue across a sea foam green background.

"Uh-huh," he assured her, dragging his tongue up that space, careful to avoid even the smallest of contact with her cotton covered sex. She shuddered at the provocation.

"Even though they are just cotton?" she further implored.

"Yup," he confirmed, repeating the process for union between her right inner thigh and pelvis. Again she could not help but register a slight full body shake.

"Don't you think cotton is something...a little girl would wear?" she teased and watched as a flash of lustful anger (or was it angry lust?) flashed across his eyes. He could not help himself when she played the "But I'm so young, am I being naughty?" card with him.

Instead of rising to the bait this time though, he recognized she was retreating to safe territory. He lifted her right leg straight in the air and began to kiss, lick, and nibble it from the back of her thigh moving upward to the back of her knee. She marveled at how good it felt and let her head swim with the odd stimulation until he called her back to Earth with a blunt, "So I believe you had a request?"

"Yes. Ok. Don't laugh," she paused and he just moved to her left leg without breaking eye contact, "Well, ok. So...you remember the first time..."

Sensing her trailing off, he prodded, "In the shower?"

"I mean, the first time we fucked."

"Of course I remember. You were wearing that tiny pair of white underwear and the strapless bra. You called me depraved."

She smirked and clicked her tongue against her cheek. "Yeah. And you loved it."

"I'll allow the premise. So about the first time?"

"At one point, you...like, you sucked my toes, licked my feet...that sort of thing."

"I recall."

"That's the first time I'd ever had that. And...I don't know...I really want to try it again. I'm not like...I don't know a fetishist about my feet or anything, I just...it just, well, I guess I—" she muddled around before Greg cut her off with a deep kiss.

Separating for air, he looked her deep in the eyes, and spoke, "Of course I will. You don't need to make excuses. Just lie back, watch if you want, and enjoy."

He then proceeded to kiss his way back down her body, this time continuing right on to Mallory's feet. She felt...anxious. Like first day of school anxious. Butterfly in the stomach, practically vibrating from anticipation. She did not know until she finally asked for just how much she had wanted this.

When Greg began, he took his time, building the sensation up rather than dive right in. At first it was almost ticklish for Mallory and then the pleasure broke through and the ticklish feeling became just another part of the experience, of the pleasurable torture for her.

She began to moan and coo, just quiet, nonsense sounds at first. Then, just short gasps, "Doc." "Greg." "Oh." "God." And the like. Then the doctor dragged his lower teeth along the arch of her left foot and she squeaked, "Wow!"

It stunned them both. She even clapped own hand over her mouth unconsciously after she heard herself do it. But Greg was not to be deterred and he went back to work. The dam had broken for Mallory now and she began to babble.

"Oh God, Doc. Why—why does this feel so good? Oh God...no idea. I had no idea."

He sucked her big toe into his mouth.

"Do you do this for your wife, Greg? Do you do this for Gina? Does she appreciate it like I do?"

He rang his tongue underneath her toes where they met her foot.

"Ooooooooo. So good. So. Good. Gahhhh!"

He moved his attention to her other foot, beginning on the outside of the arch.

"I'm so...so wet. Can...Will you let me touch myself? Can I make myself cum?" she moaned, dragging the foot not receiving attention up and down where she could see his hard cock pressing against the front of his pants. He only nodded in response.

"Oh thank you. Thank you," she praised him, shoving both hands down the front of her underwear.

He paused and whispered, "I want to see. Show me."

"You want to see? See me play with my soaking pussy. My bald, wet pussy," she groaned, arching her back and shoving the panties down her thighs. When they got close enough, Greg snagged them and pulled them the rest of the way with one hand.

"Look at me," she gasped as she rubbed her waiting clit, as though she would need to ask.

Mallory aggressively pursued her own orgasm as she watched, through barely open eyes, Greg watch her and play with her foot. She was being harder than she normally would with herself, but she wanted it that way. She could feel she was being rougher than she needed to be, that she should be with herself but she could not stop. She recalled her the first time she gave a guy at a party a handjob through his pants.

She had been so aggressive about it, she had actually rubbed him hard enough to wear the skin down somewhere around the point where the shaft met the head. When she found out what she had done and that he was aware that it was happening, she had asked why she let him continue. He had told her that it felt so good and he was so turned on that it was worth it. The pain he was feeling and pain he knew would continue to feel did not matter, only cumming did. It was in this state of mind she found herself.

Greg must have noticed because he stopped his attention and urged her, "Slow down, take it easy."

"Don't you stop!" She shut back. "Don't you fucking stop!"

He started to say something else and she cut him, "Fuck you, you pervert. Lick my feet like I told you, you dirty old man."

She caught that fire in his eyes again and it sparked her first orgasm, a quick hard burst that almost folded her in half. "Oh yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" she screamed, "Oh god yeah. Look at me like that. Like I'm a fucking bitch. Like whore garbage."

Greg arched in his eyebrows in exaggerated interest and began to play with her foot again. She came again almost immediately, this time less intensely but the feel lasted longer. "That's right, slave," she groaned.

She knew what she was doing. This had begun vulnerable and sweet tonight, but she wasn't ready for that, not really. That kind of terrified her since she knew it was not a possibility. She was as much his fucktoy as he was hers but he was married and that wasn't changing. So she made it dirty. In this case, filthy.

He switched feet again and she gasped automatically. Her other foot sought out the bulge in his pants and pushed flatly against it. She heard him grunt, the first indication of the evening that he could be distracted from his task.

"You want this whore to make you cum in your pants?" she murmured in a low sexy voice, "You want a nasty little footjob?"

He said nothing but jerked against her foot as she began to move it up and down.

She mocked, "God, look how hard you got from licking my feet. You are SO depraved. And look what you've done to me. I was just an honor student. Young. Sweet. Now I'm finger banging myself while jacking off a married father of two with my foot. While he sucks my toes. You ruined me. I'm such a slut now. Just a filthy slut."

She got off on her own dirty talk, mewling, "Yesssssssssssssssssss," and shaking hard enough that her feet jerked off his cock. Shaking her head clear, she refocused her efforts. Fast and hard she pressed and rubbed her barefoot up and down against his cock. He moaned, loud and long, and she knew she broke him.

"Oh yeah, Doc, cum for me. Fill your pants. Look at my pretty little foot jerking you off. You're so nasty, letting—more like making your babysitter make you cum."

"Fuuuuuuuuck you," he groaned.

"Fuck me?! You wish, Doc, you wish. Now cum for me."

And it became a chant, "Cum for me. Cum for me. Cum for me." Over and over again. Until he had no choice. His world went grey and and he sprayed cum all over his boxers, her feet rubbing and kneading every drop out of him.

When it was too much, he stumbled backwards and sprawled out comically on the carpet. After a few moments he exhaled, "What the hell was that?"

"Fun?" Mallory offered hesitantly.

Greg propped himself up on one elbow so he could see her before replying, "No...I mean, yes it was. It just...took a turn there."

She fretted, "Did you not like it?"

"You know the answer to that question. It's just..."

"It kind of dark?"

"Well...sort of. I mean...you called yourself 'whore garbage.'"

"And it turned you on, didn't it?"

"Mal...yeah, I won't lie. It did. But I can only let that happen in good conscience if you don't really feel that way."

"Feel like I'm garbage?"

"Yeah...exactly. If you are just saying it because it's a hot, nasty thing to say in the moment, that's fine. But if you believe that about yourself...I don't want any part of confirming that."

She crawled to him then and bore into him, trying to make herself as close to him as possible. She kissed him lightly and he returned the gesture.

"You're so sweet," she whispered, resting her forehead against his, "I promise I don't hate myself or think I'm really garbage. It was honestly just dirty talk because I know we both get off on it."

"Ok. Good. I just needed to ask."

"I appreciate that. And I'm sorry I took it there. I just..." she trailed off.

"Got scared because it felt too sweet?"

She nodded slightly.

"I figured. You are safe with me though, I promise. Safe to explore whatever you want."

"I...know. It's just...I don't know...weird, I guess. The only reason this started was because you were only seeing to Gina's needs and wants and giving up on yours. I don't want to just be another version of that."

"And because of that, you won't. Don't worry."

Mallory left out the second part, the part about feeling too close to him, about crossing a line to something more than just lust and what it might do to her, might do to both of them.

They lapsed into a mutually content silent cuddling until Mallory felt how soaked the doctor's pants were.

"Wow," she gasped, "You must have cum a gallon."

"You turned me on," he admitted, sheepishly.

"Don't worry...I like it. Wouldn't have minded it coating my face," she admitted to titillate him.

"Anyway," she continued, "I can't send you home like that. If the Mrs. is still awake, she'll have a few questions, I'm sure. Get out of those pants and let me wash 'em."

"And if your roommate comes home? Is she going to be cool with someone more than 10 years older hanging around naked in her apartment?"

"Don't worry. I've got this big ass robe/blanket thing you can wear until everything is clean and dry."

"Fine," he signed and shrugged out of the pants and boxer shorts. She grabbed them and his shirt and clothes as well to ensure a full load and made her way to the laundry room in the back of the apartment. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked down the hallways naked.

"Are you staring at my ass," she asked, pausing in the hall.

After a beat, he confessed, in a small voice, "Yes."

"You like what you see?"

"Very much."

"Good," she laughed and continued on her way. Five minutes later she was back with a big burgundy fleece monstrosity that Greg concluded was the "big ass robe/blanket thing." She tossed it to him, but chose to remain naked herself, lying next to him on the apartment floor.

Greg took in the view before whistling, "God, you're beautiful."

"Mmm," she replied, stretching from the tips of her outstretched fingers through the heels of her feet, "Thanks, Greg. You aren't so bad yourself."

She could feel him still watching him and it turned her on. Given how hard he came, she was stunned he could even look at her without being overstimulated. Yet, here he was, greedily taking in every inch of her with his roving eyes. It was a rush for her and before she even thought about, she began to finger her pussy right there under his watchful stare.