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Archive name: para.txt (MF, rom, reluc, bd)
Authors name: Marcia R. Hooper (marciar26@aol.com)
Story title : Paralegal, The

--------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 2003. As the author, I claim all rights under 
international copyright laws. This work is not intended 
for sale, but please feel free to post this story to 
other archives or newsgroups, keeping the header and text 
intact. Revision to the text (such as the basis for 
another story) is acceptable as long as the original 
author is given credit and the resulting story is 
distributed free of charge. Any commercial use of this 
work is expressly forbidden without the written 
permission of the author. 
--------------------------------------------------------

The Paralegal (MF, rom, reluc, bd)
by Marcia R. Hooper (marciar26@aol.com)

***

What happens when 28 year old Patricia goes in search of 
a new roommate. A very short 5 pages.

***

This is a work of fiction and is not meant to portray any 
person living or dead, nor any known situation. This 
story contains themes of bondage, spanking, date rape, 
anal sex, and BDSM. It is meant for adults only and is 
not to be read by person's under the age of 18, or the 
legal age in the county/state/country in which the reader 
resides. 

If you would like a Microsoft Word version of this story 
(a much better read), please contact me at 
MarciaR26@aol.com

THE PARALEGAL
by Marcia R. Hooper
(marciar26@aol.com)



I was at my desk at work. The Sanders brief was due at 
five p.m. . . I didn't have a chance. When the phone rang 
at just after two, I answered it as I always do: 
"Patricia Changuris, may I help you?"

A male voice said: "Hi. My name is Tom. I'm calling about 
your ad in the paper?"

I blanked out for a moment. Then I said, "Oh." 

My current roommate was leaving at the end of the month, 
and I had placed the add a couple of days before. I 
wanted another woman, but many men had called since 
Monday. Most I simply blew off. This one I didn't.

I said to him: "I'm pretty busy right now. Can you give 
me your number and I'll call you back tonight? Then maybe 
we can talk." 

I wrote his number on a Post-it pad.

I left at seven p.m.

=-=-=-=-=

"Hi," I said. 

"Hi."

It was eighty-thirty p.m. and he stood waiting in my 
doorway. He looked 5'10" and athletically built. His eyes 
were dark and so was his hair. I wanted to touch him.

When I got home, I had forgotten about his phone call, 
and worried only what I'd wear the next day. The Post-it 
note was stuck to the outside of my wallet. I saw it 
getting change for my roommate Marie, and almost groaned. 
Marie laughed.

"Go ahead," I warned. "Laugh. See who laughs last." I 
spanked her on her bare rear end as she danced away. I 
would miss Marie. 

"Come on in," I said to Tom.

Tom walked in. He looked at my jeans and my tee-shirt. I 
had not dressed up for him. Marie, I knew, had her ear 
glued to the inside of her door. 

"You here alone?"

I shook my head. 

"Show me around?"

I showed him around. 

When I was done, we sat down opposite each other on love 
seat and chair, and talked for an hour and a half.

"So, do I get the place?" he asked.

"The place is mine," I said, smiling.

"You know what I mean."

I shifted, but not out of discomfort. "Actually, I'd 
wanted another girl."

"A guy can protect you better," he said.

"From what?" I said, laughing, but he was right. Many 
times at night, being down here on the second floor, I 
felt unsafe. The patio door gave me frightmares.

"Please?" he said.

"Maybe."

"I'll take you out to dinner."

"When?"

"This Saturday night?"

This was fine for some back and forth banner, but then I 
said yes and he looked surprised.

"Yes?"

I couldn't control my grin. He knew that I liked him.

=-=-=-=-=

Saturday night I wore blue dress slacks and a blue dressy 
blouse. Not fancy on the outside, but underneath I was. 
Underneath I wore a black push-up bra and black panties 
from Victoria's Secret. Brand new Victoria's Secret 
panties and bra. This, on our first date.

He picked me up at seven o'clock and we went to Red 
Lobster for dinner. How he guessed I loved sea food is a 
mystery to me, because I never told him that. Afterwards, 
we went to Ginger's Irish Pub on 7th Avenue, and drank 
shooters and beer. We shot pool.

I never drink. But I do shoot pool.

Growing up, I had four older brothers and no sisters. I 
shot pool from the age of nine, and sometimes I beat them 
all. Except my brother Michael, who was more interested 
in me then he was in pool. With him--when alone--I 
learned to play strip-eightball instead. 

Michael was very good at pool. 

At the table I beat Tom three times and let him beat me 
once. He was very good and not used to loosing to women. 
He was a little irked. I was a little drunk. At a few 
minutes to midnight, we left the pub.

In the parking lot, at his car, he unlocked the doors 
with a flick of his hand. He opened my door and held it 
for me as I turned to get in. I kissed his lips. He 
seemed surprised. I was being a tease.

"Tease," he said.

"I'm not teasing," I said.

Or perhaps I was. I was pretty drunk. Either way, he put 
his arm around my shoulder and I put my arm around his, 
and when I came away from his mouth later on, I could 
scarcely breath.

You should have felt my heart.

"Now do I get the place?" he asked.

"I still want a woman," I said, and then laughed. "Just 
not like that."

He played with the front of my hair and curled locks of 
it over my ear. I liked his touch. 

"Maybe," I said.

He placed his hand on my breast.

=-=-=-=-=

At fifteen, I had size thirty-four breasts and my cup 
size was C. That's the largest I ever got. My weight is 
now steady at one hundred and ten pounds, and I wear size 
thirty-two. I am often embarrassed about that. I was 
embarrassed that night.

"They're nice," he protested as I removed his hand.

"They're small."

"So what?"

Incredibly, I determined he meant it. 

"I'm just uncomfortable," I said standing between the 
rows of empty cars. "Let's get inside."

We got inside and he kissed me again. I kissed him back. 
He placed his hand on my breast and I didn't remove it 
this time. I let him go inside. I let him unlatch my 
brassiere. I let him undo the buttons on my blouse and I 
moaned when he sucked on my nipples. Then his hand found 
my thigh and moved between it and my other thigh . . . 
and it was time to leave. 

I redressed myself and he snickered turning over the 
engine.

Come on, I thought. I have to straighten out. If 
anything, it added to my heat.

"Can you hear me now?" he teased.

"Stop it!"

Laughing, he got onto 34th Street and took the Queens-
Midtown tunnel. I fumed all the way home. I was hot. No . 
. . what I was, was horny and bursting.

At the turnoff to my street, I said, "You're not coming 
up."

"I'm not?"

"No," I said. "You're not."

We both fought down laughter.

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

We made out at my curb.

"Ummn," I said, finally freeing my mouth. He had his hand 
on my panties.

"You're coming up."

"I am?"

"You am."

He laughed as I straightened my clothes.

Inside, we made it past the closed front door and then 
went back to the closed front door. My back was pressed 
up against it.

"Ung, God," I moaned as he ground me with his erection. 
"I am so horny!"

He carried me into the living room, then down the hall to 
my bedroom. Marie was out of town.

"Do I get the place," he whispered.

"The place is yours."

"Including the bed?"

Oh, God. . . yes!

He put me down on my bed, sitting up, and unbuttoned my 
blouse. I went for his zipper.

"Take that out," he said, "and you have to suck it all 
the way."

I looked up, distressed and apprehensive. I thought that 
he meant it.

"I do," he warned and it made me shiver. I rubbed him 
instead.

When my blouse was off and he had my brassiere, I let him 
stand me up. 

"I'm not--" I got out, before he shut me up.

His finger was in my mouth.

"Ethuse be?" (Excuse me?)

"Shsss."

I sucked on his finger. 

One-handed, he unbuttoned the top of my slacks, lowered 
the zipper, then let them fall off my hips. It took 
little work. They pooled around my feet. 

Still with his finger in my mouth, I let him put the 
other hand down the back of my panties and hold my rear 
end. I was one step from madness.

"How long?" he asked.

"Voreber!" (Forever!)

"A guy? Or your roommate?"

I wanted to cry. "Vy Voovade," I said and he removed his 
finger.

"How long since a guy?"

A long time.

"A long time," I said.

He was silent a time, then he said: "I plan to fuck you, 
you know."

Oh, God . . . please!

"Please!" I said.

And then he fucked me.


=-=-=-=-=

"Ow," I moaned into my pillow, long, low and extended. I 
ached. No . . . I ached!

Beside me, Tom stirred on the bed. I couldn't move my 
hands, I couldn't move my feet. Both were immobile. I had 
never before been tied up.

"I ache," I protested. "No, I mean, I ache!"

Tom gave a little laugh.

"It's not funny," I whined, although it very well was. My 
ass felt like an exploded hand grenade. 

"You want some more?"

"No!" I exclaimed, the absolute truth, and he laughed. 

"I don't believe what you did to me."

He rolled over and placed his hand in the small of my 
back. It didn't hurt there. 

"I have never been spanked before."

"You have now."

"I know," I said. And so humiliatingly. I lifted my head. 
"Please let me loose."

He shook his head.

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I like you this way."

"Tom," I said, almost emitting a laugh, "we just met!"

His hand ran gently over my rear end. I felt the heat. I 
felt the sting. He put his fingertip in the top of my 
crevice and slid it down between my cheeks.

"Stop that," I said. "And let me up."

His finger entered my rectum.

"Tom!"

"Raise your behind."

"No!" I exclaimed. So he raised my butt for me.

"Tom . . . this is degrading." I took a sharp intake of 
breath and looked back over my shoulder. No one had ever 
done that before either.

"What are you doing?" I said.

He removed his face. "I have to explain?"

I stared at him, aghast. "That's . . .that's . . ."

"Pleasurable?" he said.

"No!" Yes! "Stop it," I said.

He continued on.

When I was moaning and shivering some few minutes later, 
he got off his knees and squat low over my ass. I had 
never been done there before either. Not by a man. His 
hands spread my cheeks and he touched me on my anus with 
his cock and I violently shivered. I wanted this really 
bad. But I was being raped.

"Tom," I pleaded, "Please. No."

He held where he was. He was barely inside me. "Do you 
want me to stop?" he asked.

From his tone, I knew that he would. If I asked.

"Please," I said. "I've done enough." 

Hadn't I done enough? 

"I won't do this," he said, "unless you want me to."

Oh, God . . . I wanted him to so badly. But I said, "No, 
please. Let me up."

And he let me up.

=-=-=-=-=

I was at my desk one week later and on another case. My 
bottom had welts on it but no longer hurt. I no longer 
hurt inside. Then the telephone rang. I sat there and 
stared at it. It was three o'clock.

"Hello? Patricia Changuris."

"One last time. Yes, or no. I won't call again."

Please don't do this, I thought. This is so not fair. I 
asked him to hold.

"He won't you know," I slowly whispered, the handset 
under my chin. I was so depressed. I punched the flashing 
button. 

"No," I said, and then I said, "Yes. But I won't have sex 
with you again."

But of course, that wasn't true and he knew it.

THE END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 23