Author's Note: Special thanks to NeonKnickers for doing an editing pass on this and the previous chapters. The help was much appreciated.
*
Until recently, Dr. Greg Clark rarely had sex dreams. In fact, he almost never did. Often, dreams that looked like they might become sexy veered off at the last moment. He had ones where he and the literal lady of his dreams would be repeatedly interrupted (usually by someone or several someones who seemed entirely nonplussed by what they had walked in on) and he had ones where the alarm woke him up. But never ones where he got beyond the most chaste of make out sessions.
Then, in June, shortly after his shower "encounter" with Mallory, he started to have them all the time. Sex in a plane. Sex in a maze. Sex in his parents' old house. Sex at a high school that wasn't the high school he went to, but totally seemed like it was. Sex with fictional characters. Sex with celebs. Sex with people he might have seen once but had no idea who they were. And so.
For instance, right now, he was in the midst of a dream wherein a young Viking woman was enthusiastically fellating him in appreciation of him traveling back in time and saving her from a pack of marauding trolls.
This was probably the most realistic dream yet.
A little too real in fact...
The doctor woke with a start, suddenly very aware that this was no dream. There was a mouth wrapped around his cock, it was very talented, and judging by the sleeping body to his left, it did not belong to his wife. A small hand was slid underneath his shirt and pushed against him as he attempted to sit up. He could have forced the issue but did not want to risk waking his sleeping spouse.
Instead, he settled for lifting his head. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, he saw a cascade of blonde hair spilled across his lap, dipping up and down with every long suck of Greg's member. That confirmed his suspicions; his babysitter/mistress was paying him a late night visit.
"Mallory?" he murmured.
Still she continued unabated, a small moan in response the only evidence she heard him.
"Mallory."
She adjusted her speed, moving her hand, and taking him deeper into her throat.
Finally, frustrated, he forcefully spoke her name, as loudly as he dared, "Mallory!"
This time she stopped, pulling her mouth off him with a gentle pop. She slid her body upward, dragging every inch of herself over every inch of Greg. Despite himself, he found his hands roaming over her body, identifying she was wearing a ribbed tanktop and a pair of tiny shorts. Another pass over her made it clear that that was all she was wearing; there was no hint of underwear.
"Shh, Doc," she laughed in his ear, "Your wife needs her sleep. You should respect that."
"What are you—"
"Did I surprise you?"
"Yes!"
"Shhhhhhh," she giggled again before continuing, "I promised you, remember?"
"Promised me what?"
"That I was the kind of dirty, dirty girl who would fuck her man in the same bed as his sleeping wife."
Greg raised his eyebrows in the dark room, "Your man?"
"Am I wrong?" she cheekily returned, giving his still hard cock, coated with her saliva, a squeeze.
"Mmm," he appreciated the attention before clearing his head and adding, "Look, I appreciate this. And you feel great. But I think this is a bad idea."
She paused for a moment as if actually considering his opinion before responding with a shrug, "And I think you think too much."
Before he could speak again, she was on him, her mouth seeking his, desire removing any self consciousness. He could not help but respond in kind, tangling own hand into her flaxen locks and kissing her back, hard. Their tongues sought out one another, twisting against each other for seconds before darting across a lip here, running across teeth there. They would break the liplock briefly to venture out to an earlobe or a shoulder or a neck before returning to the other's now gasping lips with renewed hunger.
Greg twisted and turned but Mallory refused to let him move on his side or get on top of her. Part of it was she just wanted to be on top this time and part of it was she feared if he gained control of the situation, even for a minute, he'd start to think clearly again and realize just how dangerous the situation was to his future. To that end, she jerked him off slowly, confidently building his desire but never giving into the impulse to have him blowing load all over the both of them as quickly as possible. He pushed his hips on occasion, trying to beg without begging for more friction, for her small hand to go faster, her slim fingers to grip him tighter, but she ignored him.
Meanwhile, the doctor had disentangled his hand from her hair and let both hands run wild over her, stroking and teasing her skin until it seemed to tingle everywhere. Under her shirt, caressing her back. Up and down her arms in barely there concentric circles. Across her stomach. Cupping her breasts, rimming the nipples with his nails until they ached to be sucked.
Feeling Mallory becoming increasing responsive to his attentions, he once more attempted to put her on her back and seize control. With a moan that indicated a desire to let it happen, she grabbed both his hands and lifted them above his head while settling herself more fully onto his lap. She began to rock her hips forward and back, dragging her pussy across his hard cock, only a thin piece of cotton separating them. His breath hitched in his throat, he bit his tongue to keep from moaning. She added a swivel to her hips in response.
Once she was confident he was back under her sway, she let his hands go. He let them drift down her body before sliding them underneath her shorts and grabbing hold of her ass. He pulled her harder against himself and started to return her gyrations in kind.
