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Promise

By: Mr James



Beth looked up as Andrew closed the door, running her eyes over his face and observing the cruel glint behind his spectacles. He had a medium sized brown paper bag in one hand. She jumped up from her chair and almost ran over to him. He enveloped her in his strong arms and pressed her to his body, the hardness in his trousers pressing into her belly. Beth could feel the heat flaring in her pussy and the points of her nipples hardening.

Andrew kissed her roughly, forcing her lips apart and thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth. Beth moaned and tried, weakly to push him away. Her arms were weak and she just wanted to surrender to him. She fought the urge to yield her body to his lust and just let him take her and ravish her lush body. Her breasts were tightening and her nipples ached for him to touch them and suckle on them.

Beth tried, and failed, to recall how he had lured her into such sluttish behaviour. Their chance meeting on the internet and their liaisons by telephone had seemed to unlock a passage deep into the most depraved of her desires. As they kissed, Andrew slipped a hand between them and unfastened her jeans, pushing the stiff denim down her thighs until it fell, in a crumpled heap, around her ankles. His fingers slipped into the waist of her thong and she felt the material tighten as he twisted it, so that the waistband cut into her tender skin and the triangle of silk was pressed against her smoothly shaven pussy. Then a flick of his wrist and the waistband snapped. Andrew peeled the sodden material away from the lips of her pussy, feeling Beth tremble as it clung, for a moment, to her swollen, erect clit. 

Beth was bare from her waist down and, still kissing her mouth, Andrew ran his fingertips along the front of her thigh until he could brush one along the lips of her pussy. Beth moaned as Andrew pressed gently, slipping his finger inside her. Andrew unfastened his trousers and let them fall to the ground, then pushed his briefs down, letting his thick cock spring free. Pressing on her shoulders, he forced Beth to kneel in front of him, so that her mouth was level with the tip of his hard cock. A few drops of pre-cum were already glistening in the slit and she opened her mouth to capture them on her tongue. Andrew twisted his fingers in her blonde hair, holding her head still as he thrust his hard cock past her lips and into the back of her throat. Beth's eyes watered as he trust cruelly into her, making her gag on the hard meat in her mouth. She sucked on him desperately, her throat bruised from the force of his cock thrusting to the back of her mouth.

The only sounds in the room were Andrew's breathing and the gagging sounds Beth made as she sucked on his cock. Beth was flushed and fighting to breath around the swollen head of Andrew's cock as he rammed it deep into her mouth, watching as she struggled to open her mouth wide enough for his cock head to slide over her tongue. He pulled back and his cock slid out of her mouth with a loud 'plop' that seemed to echo around the room. Andrew walked over to Beth's chair and sat down, dragging her across his bare lap, so that his slick, wet , cock rubbed against her belly. Her bottom was raised high and her breasts felt heavy in her bra as Beth lay across his thighs. Her blouse slid upwards until the strap of her bra showed across her smooth skin. Andrew ran his fingers along the bare skin of her thighs, spreading her legs so that he could run the tips along her pussy and make them wet and slippery with the juice that oozed over the tops of her thighs. As he stroked her pussy, almost touching the hard nub of her clit, Andrew unfastened the hooks at the back of Beth's bra, letting her breasts swing free. The sudden freedom made her nipples throb and she moaned softly.

Andrew used the tips of his fingers to slowly ease the cheeks of Beth's arse apart and open the tightly puckered ring of her anus. Beth gasped and shuddered, as Andrew brushed his fingertip over the dark, puffy opening. Resting his fingertip on the tender gateway to her back passage, Andrew gradually pressed more and more firmly, watching as her anus opened and his finger pierced her. Beth had her eyes screwed tightly shut and explosive gasps slipped from her lips. Andrew reached beneath her with his other hand and slipped it inside the cup of her bra, closing his fingers over her swollen nipple. As he pinched and twisted the hard nub, Beth arched her back and pushed against his probing finger, impaling her arse on his digit. She squealed and groaned, as her pussy gushed over Andrew's thighs.

Andrew leaned over and took a tube of lubricating gel from the bag. Squeezing the tube gently, he spread the gel up and down the cleft between her buttocks and then eased his finger out of her anus before squirting a thick slimy glob of gel directly into her slowly closing arse hole. Andrew spread the gel between the cheeks of her bottom and eased his finger in and out of her tender anus. Beth was moaning and shuddering now, almost non-stop.

"Andrew, Oh God!, " Beth moaned, "I've never done this before, you're making me into a proper slut, did you know that?"

"What haven't you done before, Beth?" Andrew asked, softly.

"Taken anything in my bottom." she hissed, "I hate you, you bastard!" she screamed.

Andrew smiled as she shuddered under his caress. They both knew that her scream had been triggered by the firm tug he had applied to her dangling nipple and, as she felt herself beginning to cum, she had arched her back, driving the length of his finger into her pussy. She could do nothing to stop the wave of excitement as it ripped through her, making her pussy gush copiously and a thin trickle of her juice ran over her bare thighs to drip onto the floor. She lowered her head and realised that she must look like a slut, spread across Andrew's knee with her pussy slowly dripping and his finger probing deeply into her arse.

Slowly Andrew drew his finger out of the tight, wet passage and reached into the bag again. Beth was panting and hissing now and Andrew had to rest his hand on her neck to hold her still. 

"I hate you, you bastard!" Beth hissed again.

"Why?" Andrew asked, almost innocently.

"Because you've turned me into such a slut and now you won't let me cum." Beth sobbed.

Andrew reached beneath her and pinched a nipple between thumb and fingernail, pulling slowly and listening to her scream and wail in frustration as she pressed her bottom against his finger, feeling it slide more deeply into her arse. Slowly he drew his finger back until it slipped from her rectum with a loud plopping sound.

Andrew drew a hard rubber plug from the bag, slightly longer and thicker than his thumb. Quickly, he smeared it with the cool gel and placed the tip at the entrance to her virgin anus. Gently at first, but steadily increasing the pressure, he began to force the hard rubber plug into Beth's tight anus. He looked down and watched the tender skin around her arse, as he stretched it by forcing the slick, smooth rubber plug into her rectum.

Beth panted and grunted as she bore down trying, at first, to fight the intrusion into her tender bottom. Gradually the plug slipped further into her anus, stretching the ring until she felt as though he was going to tear her arse open. Afterwards, Beth swore that she could hear, as well as feel the 'pop' as the plug slid home.

"I hate you!" Beth hissed, "You've made me into a dirty whore!"

Andrew said nothing, just hauled her to her feet and marched her along to her bedroom. Every step made the plug lodged in her rectum move, sending sparks of dark pleasure into her pussy and making her wetter and wetter. She could barely feel her legs as she staggered after Andrew, the juice from her pussy seeping onto the tops of her thighs. He pushed her roughly across her pillows, laid along the edge of her bed so that her bottom was raised. Pinning her down with one hand, he tapped the base of the plug in her arse with the tips of his fingers and watched as Beth squirmed, cumming, just a little. Beth looked up and saw herself in the mirror, her hair matted with sweat and her make-up smeared across her face where she had wept in frustration as Andrew teased her. She could see her breasts swaying gently, the swollen, inflamed, nubs of her nipples brushing against the bedclothes.

Andrew took hold of the base of his swollen cock andrubbed the swollen head along her bare pussy. Beth lowered her head and moaned, a long, drawn-out sob. Slowly he ran the head of his cock along the weeping slit of her pussy, spreading her sweet, fragrant juice along the shaft. He used the fingertips of one hand to open Beth's pussy, while he held her still with the other at the base of her spine. Carefully, tenderly, he eased the head of his cock between the lips of her pussy and held her motionless.

"Andrew, please," Beth sobbed quietly, "Please fuck me and make me cum."

"Shhh," Andrew replied, "be patient."

"Oh God, please," she begged.

Andrew said nothing, just took hold of her hips, holding her still, and ramming his cock viciously into her pussy. Beth screamed as her whole body locked in a spasm and her pussy contracted around Andrew's cock. Andrew pulled her hard against him, so that she could feel his heavy balls pressed against the cheeks of her bottom. Slowly, her shuddering calmed and she was able to draw great gasping breaths. Andrew waited, savouring the ripples pulsing through her pussy and caressing his cock. Then he began to thrust and pull his hips back, so that his cock almost slipped out of her pussy, before he rammed as hard and deep as he could.

Long strokes of Andrew's cock stretched her pussy, until Beth thought that she would tear under the pounding. Her pussy squelched and slurped wetly as Andrew drove the meat of his cock cruelly into her gaping cunt. She felt his balls slapping against her shaved pussy and the rasp of the short hairs against her smooth skin. Her whole pussy felt scraped raw and her lips felt bruised, as he plunged deep into her. The plug in her anus was stretching her there too and Andrew would rest his thumbs against the base and push to keep it deeply seated in her bottom, or to drive it further in.

Beth was shuddering as every muscle trembled and she could see herself as she thrust back onto Andrew's rigid cock. The wanton creature in the mirror bore no resemblance to the cool sophisticate who had invited him to visit. This was a wanton slut who wanted to be fucked like some back street whore. Every thrust only made her more determined to have his thick cm spraying into her.

"Oh God Andrew, " Beth whined, "I want to cum with you, cum inside me please!"

"Where shall I cum?" Andrew teased her.

"Please, right where you are, right inside me, inside my cunt!" Beth screamed, "CUM IN ME YOU BASTARD!"

As she screamed and thrust herself back onto him, Andrew felt the hot cum bubbling and boiling along his shaft, spraying the inside of Beth's womb in long sticky streamers. His cock jerked spastically and gout after gout of cum shot into her womb, filling her and overflowing to drip onto the bedclothes and smear over her thighs.

Andrew pushed her forwards, so that the last strings of his cum splattered on her back and over the hard plug, still stretching her anus. Beth fell across the bed, her hard nipples scraping across the sheets and making her cum again, just a little one this time. She felt the bed tilt a little as he sat next to her then lay beside her, cupping her tender breast and nuzzling the base of her neck.

"Rest now, my love." Andrew murmured, "I shall wake you later and we can carry on exploring our passions."

Beth said nothing, just sighed in sleepy anticipation.

Promise



For over an hour, the eggs had been churning inside her. No one in the coffee shop knew what was taking place inside her form-fitting jeans. 

...no one but Him. 

she had not spoken much. He had been more than happy to quietly remind her of what her body already screamed: she was extremely frustrated. It had taken every bit of willpower and concentration based on the six years of training to remain still as the eggs clanked furiously together within her wet sex. she was thankful for the sweater her Master had suggested she wear, for the extra layer covering her chest had ensured that her nipples would not be visible. 

But finally, back at the house just minutes after His promise of a hot bath, she knew that relief was nearly at hand. Emerging from the car, she groaned softly through gritted teeth, knowing she was not to beg unless she was truly desperate, and the perpetual stimulation had certainly not been to the level of making her desperate. 

...just incredibly horny beyond belief. 

"How are you doing, little one?" 

"Okay, Master," she replied, her voice a little shaky as she closed the passenger door. The winter air was dry and cold on her face, in great contrast with the wetness and the warmth between her legs. The crotch of her thong was uncomfortable, as it had been for quite a while because her body was flowing greatly from the constant churning within her. 

After locking the car, her Master came around the front of the Corvette and took her into His arms. Even through the winter clothing, she was almost fully certain that she could feel His reassuring heartbeat: the sound which announced His love for her, the rhythm which mirrored His possessive thrusts, the force which compelled her to kneel each morning and evening before Him in her vulnerable nudity. 

"Do you need to cum?" He asked, dipping His head to direct His hot words straight into her ear. 

"Y-yes, Sir." 

Somehow, the control box for the eggs felt like a massive weight, attached to the belt at her left hip. All she needed to do was pull up her winter coat and turn down or even turn off the incessant clanking within her. 

When her Master opened her winter coat, she thought and hoped that He would actually turn down the power to the eggs. Instead, He placed His hands on her breasts and guided her backward until she was leaning against the passenger door of the Corvette. she could not even begin to count the number of times He had molested her against His favorite car, and twice He had even bent her over the hood and used her - both times in winter and while the hood was still warm from the drive just ended. 

When He began to unbuckle her decorative belt, she hoped that He would be removing the eggs from her and replacing them with a certain part of Himself. First because of Nature and then because of His business trip to Somalia, she had not enjoyed having His thickness filling her and, knowing better than to vocalize her desire, she used her eyes to implore her Master to fuck her, to make her claw at Him and scream His name into the cold moonlit night. 

As He unbuttoned and unzipped her snug jeans, she kept her hands on His upper arms, knowing that if she were to release her grip, she would likely try to undress Him. Nonetheless, she almost did release her grip, nearly certain that the punishment would be well worth her taking the initiative. 

Yet He stopped there and brought His large hands back up to the swells upon her chest. "Finger yourself with the eggs inside you." 

she was unsuccessful in her attempt to hold back a soft whine of disappointment, but consoled herself with the hope that this could be just the beginning of an event, not the main event itself - that after all this time, her Master was likely just toying with her body and especially with her mind to further heighten the eventual moment of impalement. As she complied with her Master's command, she kept thinking, hoping, wishing, dreaming about being thrown to the snow-covered ground, her bare ass and legs shivering as He drew out His solid erection and, using the advantage of external sexual anatomy, remained fairly warm as He pressed into her gladly-yielding body for the first time in several weeks. As much as she loathed cold weather, as much as she abhorred snow and ice, she would gladly and enthusiastically be fully naked and completely freezing in the snow just to have her Master pushing deep into her once again. 

He slid a hand from her chest, down over the fluffy pink sweater, and lifted the sweater's hem to reach for the control box affixed to her wide belt. she gripped His arm more firmly while continuing to finger her clitoris, hoping that this was the end of her weeks-long carnal torment, only her lengthy training preventing her voice from shamelessly begging to be fucked in the open air of the cold winter night. 

Edging His hips forward, He briefly pressed the bulge of His arousal against her forearm. It was just a quick taste of how He felt, a rapid reassurance that she was not carnally suffering alone. 

He squeezed a breast and dipped His head, His lips effortlessly finding hers despite the lengthy time apart... 

He swallowed her scream as the eggs within her lurched to full song. Then He hugged her fiercely, His powerful arms anchoring her as she floated from herself, struggling to prevent the orgasm her Master was attempting to force upon her. she could no longer finger herself, but kept her hand down the front of her jeans, down the front of her thong, her body wantonly humping her own hand as the tears of desperation began to fall... 

"Kneel!" 

she had barely heard her Master's command, but her knees somehow found the snow-covered driveway. her eyes were closed as she rocked back and forth, struggling to hold her impending climax at bay, hoping she could wait until the necessary permission was granted. 

Time seemed to stand still as she floated in the murkiness between agonizing bliss and blissful agony. 

The first jet of warmth on her cheek shocked her back to her present reality, and she very nearly lost the battle. Several weeks without ejaculating allowed her Master to truly mark her, yet she could not enjoy the facial. 

Not yet. 

she was pushed to the ground, her glazed face pressed into the cold snow. she barely heard His permission, His order, but her body rejoiced regardless as He held her down, dominating her in yet another way as one orgasm rolled into the next. Almost as torturous was the fact that the eggs continued to perpetuate her release, practically creating a string of climaxes which quickly exhausted her, to the point that she was actually quite thankful when she felt His hand on the control box and knew that in a moment she could finally regain her breath and allow her sated body to sag further into the cold snow. 

The inert eggs remained inside her as her Master carried her to the back door. As He entered the house with His loving slave limp in His arms, she looked up at Him weakly, barely able to smile her thanks and more than ready for the hot bath He had promised her on the drive back home.  



Promise



Be warned, absolutely no hard sex here, and this is not really an erotic story. But it still seems to fit into 'LV' rather than 'Non erotic'

I sometimes get complaints that my stories can be a little unrealistic, but please remember it IS fiction. At least mainly so, as there is a thread of real truth in this little particular tale whatever you may think.

Couple of London slang words in there as well and they're all words I occasionally still use myself, but I'll leave you to work them out if you don't know them.

Please enjoy.

+++++++++++ 

It weren't as if it was a bad dance, not as dances go.

Not that I'm much of a dancer myself of course, but let's put our cards on the table shall we? Except for a few guys who know what they're doing, and the posers of course, not a lot of geezers out there are really, are they?

Cilla, that's my missus of course, loved dancing though, and we had this sort of unspoken agreement that once she'd had a couple with me and had her feet stepped on a few times, then I'd be let off the hook. Then I'd be free to renew my acquaintance with the bar and the liquid delights behind it, and she'd go off dancing with her mates, or other geezers as well if she wanted. 

Now hang on there. 

I know what you're thinking, and you couldn't be further off track.

I said dancing and that's just what I meant. No funny stuff and no canoodling and definitely none of that mucking about stuff. 

In all the time we'd been married I'd never once even so much as suspected that Cilla would do anything like that.

So, no problem there, right.

Was there?

Well what would you think of the present situation then?

Cilla had been dancing with the same guy for the last half hour or more, and that weren't normal, no bloody way. Two dances was all right, and maybe even three if it was one of my mates or something. 

But the half hour passed and still no bleeding sign of her coming back.

What was going on?

Maybe I was worrying about nothing ---- But a little wavering in my tummy told me otherwise.

There!

The music stopped and she'd be coming back to me.

But bugger it ----- She didn't!.

The wavering in my tummy turned to a big square lump of lead, and for the first time in our ten years of marriage, I felt the pangs of jealousy.

Cilla was a lovely bit of crumpet, though even I wouldn't claim her to be some Miss World or anything.

Pretty enough boat race and great Bristols and things, but perhaps her best feature were her pins. Lovely and long and shapely they were and just seemed to go on and on forever. That's why even at the age of thirty nine, Cilla could still get away with wearing such short skirts when we went out for the evening.

But she was still dancing with him ----- The same bloke that is. Six feet odd tall, bit on the thin side with dark blonde hair. Quite the opposite of my five feet ten, dark hair and more chunky build.

What the hell did she see in the bugger?

Christ! ----- That must be the sixth or seventh dance they've been together now.

Time to act!

Dragging myself up from the stool I was sat on, I mumbled something to the people we were sitting with about going to find the loo. Didn't want that lot know that I was worrying about the missus's behaviour.

Now where were they?

I made my way through the throng on the dance floor, trying to pick out the blue colour of my wife's short dress.

Ah! ---- There they were, over towards the corner.

My steps ground to a halt as I spotted the pair of them, my wife Cilla moulded up against the blonde bastard as if they were bloody well glued together. Neither of them hardly moving their feet as they clung to one another on the spot rather than danced, Cilla's head resting on his chest.

Oh Fuck!

My insides did a somersault, and I sucked in a deep breath.

This weren't right --- Not right at all. My Cilla hadn't never done anything like this before.

No ---- They weren't actually kissing or anything, and Blondie's hands weren't anywhere that would warrant giving him a thumping.

Not yet anyway.

No --- It was the way they were holding onto each other. That and the fact that she'd been with him for so damn long.

He said something to her and I heard her giggle, and reach up and stroke his cheek.

Too familiar ----- Far too familiar!

"Hi Cilla," I greeted her, as I strode purposefully up to the pair of them. "I've been wondering where you had got to."

"Got to?" My wife repeated in puzzlement as she glanced round in my direction, a blank look on her face. "Got to where?"

"You've been gone nearly an hour Cilla," I exaggerated a bit, fighting to control my temper. "What are you up to?"

I saw recognition dawn on Cilla's face, as she came back into the real world as it were.

"Oh, Ken," she uttered breathlessly, easing herself almost unwillingly away from the clutches of this other geezer. "This is Dave, Ken. We've just been dancing and chatting, that's all."

"For a bit too long for my liking Cilla," I insisted, and held my hand out to her, to take her away.

For one awful, long moment I thought she was going to reject it, and quite what I would have done then, I'm not at all sure. Thumped someone I suppose.

"Yes Ken, of course," Cilla spilled out after some hesitation, and gingerly reached out for my hand. "Can I just finish this last dance though please honey?"

"The music has stopped Cilla," I pointed the obvious out to her rather shortly. "It stopped a few minutes ago."

"Oh yes of course Ken," she mumbled in confusion. "I'll be right with you honey, but I've just got to say goodnight to Dave."

"No goodnights Cilla," I insisted irritably. "We're out of here and I mean now."

I was getting well pissed off, I can tell you.

"Now hang on a minute mate," her new friend Dave started to interrupt, but one look from me and he sensibly changed his mind.

"Now Cilla," I repeated. "Now or else I'm buggering off without you."

"OK Ken," came back Cilla, reluctantly letting go of buggerlugs. "I'll see you around sometime Dave."

--------------

Pissed off?

Well what do you think?

How would you have felt?

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at Cilla?" I almost screamed at my damn missus as I hustled her back to the bar. "Who was that bloody bloke? What were you doing with him?"

"Nothing Ken," Cilla fought back. "Nothing at all, but it's got me thinking that's all."

"Thinking? ------ Thinking? ----- It looked like a lot more than thinking to me."

Cilla looked at me steadily, and knew that she had that habit of being able to stare me down. But not that night and that's for bloody sure!

"We need to talk Ken," she said quietly at last. "Let's go home now and we can talk."

"Not at home Cilla," I exploded, recoiling at those dreaded words that I'd never expected to hear from my missus. "If we need to talk, then there's no time better than now."

"Better at home when we're on our own sweetheart," she insisted, but I refused, calling for her to come clean, on the point of boiling over.

"Ok," she agreed. "But listen me out."

I agreed, dreading what she was about to tell me, but I agreed, totally confused and wondering if the next few moments would be sounding the death knell of what I'd imagined to be our perfect marriage.

"This isn't a sudden decision honey," Cilla started with. "I've been mulling it over for a month or more, but the time has come, and I've decided to take you up on the promise you made me."

"Promise? What damn promise? I've never promised you that you can carry on like that with another man."

"The night before we were married," Cilla reminded me. "You made me a promise and the time has come honey."

"What promise?" I mumbled, feeling suddenly very, very empty inside. "I don't remember any promise."

But I was lying!

Oh my God, how I was lying!

I had made her a promise, just like she said, though I'd long since dismissed it from my mind.

"I think you do remember Ken," Cilla said quietly avoiding my eyes. "I'm really sorry honey and I don't want to hurt you. I'll be forty in a few months but as much as I still love you, I think the time has come."

Oh Shit!

Oh for Chris's sake, whatever possessed me to ever make that promise!

---------------------

Let's go back a few years shall we?

Back to the night that I first met my Cilla.

I, that is we of course, were at a small jazz club in south London, though at the time neither of us knew that the other was there.

There was a break in the music, and people all around me were standing up to replenish their drinks.

"How can I get rid of him Anne," I heard the pretty young woman just in front of me say to her friend. "I don't want to be rude or anything, but I really don't fancy him."

"Well he's gone to get us some drinks Cilla," the friend told her. "We could just leave without saying anything."

"I can't do that to him," the pretty blonde with the long legs told her pal. "It's not as if he's awful or being pushy or anything---- I just don't fancy him."

I looked at the girl and took a double take on the huge length of shapely leg that was sticking out below the hem of her mini skirt. Maybe, just maybe, I could help out a girl with a pair of pins like that. 

I have to say that at the time I was two years into my divorce from my first missus, and all I can say is that I was having the time of my life with the ladies.

"Hi you two," I crooned as I leant forward between them. "Can I offer my services?"

The two of them stared at me as if I was something from another planet.

"I overheard what you said," I told the pair of them. "I can help you. Pretend to be your boyfriend or something."

"I haven't got a boyfriend," the pretty blonde protested. "What's it got to do with you anyway?"

Further discussion was cut short by the arrival of lover boy, who thrust the tray of drinks in front of the two girls. Actually, I could see why the girls weren't all that keen on him.

"Ah!" I startled him with, opting for another tack. "Are these for my sister and her friend?"

"Eh ..... Yes I suppose so," he responded nervously, eyeing me up uncertainly.

"And this one must be for me," I continued, picking up the beer that he had so obviously bought for himself. "Thank you very much mate. Bloody good of you."

"Your sister?" the poor sod queried unhappily, watching as his pint of ale started to disappear rapidly down my throat.

"Yes," I replied with a smile. "I've come to take her home."

"Home?" lover boy repeated, his disappointment evident.

"Home?" Copied my newly acquired 'sister' and her friend, equally surprised.

"Yes home," I went on nonchalantly, smiling at the pretty blonde. "You know you promised Mum that you'd be home early tonight."

Ok, I was taking a risk and from the look on her face I was about to be shot down in wonderful, glorious flames, but a cheeky bugger like me has had worse failures.

But then help came from another source.

"Can you give me a lift as well please?" asked Anne, and started to collect her purse and things.

"Of course Anne," I replied, surprising even myself by remembering her name, and stood up to escort the pair of them out, taking the blonde's arm as she hesitantly raised herself on those long, slim legs.

"Thanks for the drink mate," I called out to the hapless fellow who was still stood there looking lost, and quickly draining the pint that I'd just nicked from right under his nose.

"Drink up girls and thank the nice man," I instructed my young charges, which they did and muttered their thanks. "We'd better be getting home."

"But .... But ..... But," the poor chap uttered. "They're not little girls; they must be twenty odd at least."

"Yes but you can't be too careful these days you know," I teased him somewhat unfairly. So unfairly that I suddenly felt very guilty. "Look ---- See that red head with the big tits and the tight jeans on over there?"

"Yes," he confirmed, staring over at the redhead, one of my occasional bed companions when I wasn't feeling too fussy. "The one with the ring through her nose and the tattoo on her left tit?"

"That's her," I carried on jovially, pressing a tenner in his hand. "Go and buy her a vodka and tonic and tell her you're a friend of Ken's -------- Can't fail there sunshine, nobody does."

"Vodka and tonic eh," he repeated a bit bemused by the unexpected turn of events.

"That's it," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Get one for yourself while you're at it."

With that I guided the two giggling girls away from the table, resisting the urge to look back.

"You cheeky bleeding sod," laughed Anne as we went through the door. "You pinched the poor bugger's beer."

"Nonsense young lady," I retorted with a grin. "I bought him another and set him up with Lilly."

"True," agreed Anne. "By the way, this is Cilla and I'm afraid we're both nearer to thirty than twenty."

"That's Ok," I answered. "I'm more than thirty, so that makes it even better."

At that point, I stopped at my car, a six-month-old, top of the range Jaguar as supplied by my company, and their eyes widened just a little.

Hell! ----- That's what I got it for. I was their top salesman after all.

"Well ladies what is it," I asked them. "Are you two off on your own, or are we moving on somewhere for another drink?"

"A drink Ken ---- definitely a drink," gushed Cilla, almost the first words she'd uttered. 

Anne stared at the Jag and then looked up at me before agreeing, and it was off we jolly well went.

---------------

The rest of the evening went well and we had real fun together, the three of us. They discovered that I couldn't dance for peanuts, but that I was good company, and I discovered that the pair of them were intelligent as well as pretty. 

What did surprise me was that Cilla had got religion at some stage, and had gone overseas as a volunteer straight from university. She wasn't into being drawn on why, but she had become disillusioned with that life and her church, and had only recently arrived back for good in the UK.

Didn't worry me ----- I'd never really cottoned on to that religion stuff much anyway.

Several very pleasant hours later and we decided to call it a night, all tumbling back into my Jag, me wondering where the evening would go from there. They were both very attractive young ladies and I wasn't fussy which one I ended up with. The tall blonde with the perky little tits and legs designed to go with a mini skirt, or the brunette with the big Bristols. Of course I wouldn't have objected, but I didn't get the impression that a threesomes was on the cards.

"Can you drop me off first please Ken," Anne spoke up, somewhat pre-empting any suggestions that I might make. "It's on the way to Cilla's."

Ah well ---- that seemed to be settled then.

We arrived at Anne's, and I leapt out to open the door for her, doing my mature gentlemen's act. I walked her to her front and went to say goodnight. I almost went to shake her hand for God's sake.

"Thanks for tonight and everything Ken," Anne smiled at me, threw her arms round my neck, pulled my lips down to hers, stuck her more than ample tits hard up against me and all but sucked my tongue out of my mouth.

Strewth!

Nearly ten minutes later, by which time we'd added hand-to-hand wresting to our repertoire, we at last came up for air.

"What's going on Anne?" I demanded, enjoying, but puzzled by her unexpected behaviour. "Why the hell did you ask me to drop you off first, and then start to snog me like that?"

"Glad you asked Ken," she said sadly. "But when you went to the bar last time, we tossed a coin and Cilla won."

Oh ----- I'm not often speechless.

"Be careful with her Ken, she's led a bit of a sheltered life and not very experienced." 

Oh dear! Perhaps the wrong girl had won me.

"If it doesn't work out though, don't forget me," Anne ended with, and with a final smile, she stuck her tongue out at me saucily, wriggled her bottom and disappeared through her front door.

'We'd see,' I thought. 'Let's see how the rest of my evening pans out.'

--------------

Right then!

Back to Cilla.

I jumped back into my Jag, revved the engine and made off sportily down the road, expertly working my way through the gears as I weaved through the traffic, trying to pretend I was Stirling Moss or Jason Button. Between you and me, it was pretty expertly done, and just the sort of thing to impress a girl.

"Wrong direction Ken," Cilla laughed at me.

They do have a way of putting you down these girls, don't they?

However, fifteen minutes later, I was parked outside her apartment building, up the stairs, in her flat and sat on her sofa with a drink in my hand.

Not bed ----- sorry, I meant to say --- not bad!

"No regular boyfriend then at the moment," I queried, fairly sure that I was on safe ground.

"No boyfriends for an awful long time Ken," Cilla responded wistfully. "I had a couple of very casual relationships at university and I've been in Africa since, and as a volunteer, that would have been frowned on."

"So what went wrong then," I asked.

"Don't want to talk about it," she replied just a little too abruptly. "But those who set the rules weren't always very good at keeping them in their private life."

And that was about as much as I ever got out of her on that subject.

"So I hope you're not thinking that you're going to end up in my bed tonight then Ken," my pretty little companion continued with a smile.

"I hadn't really thought about it Cilla," I shot back acting all hurt and innocent. "But since you mention it ........."

I left the comment unfinished, and she told me that I had no chance ----- No chance at all.

Half an hour later I was lying in her bed, watching her take what remained of her clothes off. I'm not sure which of us was the most surprised, and to this day I'm still not too sure how the evening progressed that far, that quickly.

"Stop looking at me," Cilla said shyly as she reached behind herself to undo her bra.

"I'm not looking Cilla," I informed her. "I'm ogling, and thoroughly enjoying it."

"I've never undressed in front of a grown man before," she murmured, blushing furiously, as she slipped her panties down her lovely long legs.

"Then aren't I the lucky one," I replied, grinning widely.

"I'm not used to this sort of thing Ken," Cilla said quite firmly as she slid her lovely naked body under the covers and up against mine. "Oh my God that feels so wonderful, just how Anne described it."

What?

Hey ---- She said she wasn't very experienced, but Cilla was in her late twenties and a very attractive girl to boot.

"You've never been to bed with a guy before Cilla?" I asked her incredulously.

"No, never!"

"Have you ever made love?"

"No Ken, never!"

You mean you're a virgin?"

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"You do realise what is about to happen though don't you," I asked uncertainly, not being used to this situation.

"Well I was sort of hoping that we could just mess around a bit Ken," Cilla surprised me with. "I don't think I'm really ready to go the whole way yet."

"But you jump into bed with me naked," I made my argument, somewhat flummoxed.

"Yes but I trust you Ken," Cilla responded, leaning over and kissing me as her warm, perky breast squeezed up against my chest. "You just seem such a nice trustworthy sort of guy."

Oh Golly Moses, how difficult can life possibly be?

Was I going to be the Gentlemen, or was I going to be my normal self?

But before I could think further she was all over me rubbing herself against me for all she was worth.

"Can I feel it please," She giggled, grinning at me like a twelve year old. "I've never really felt one before."

"Help yourself sweetheart," I replied sagely. "It's not going anywhere else this evening."




Promise



--------------

Well that night we kissed and touched each other, and she pulled my plonker for all she was worth, but shied away in fright when I suggested she might suck it. That didn't mean that she fought too hard against me eating her out, and she groaned and squealed as I did some of my best work ever on her sweet, little, blonde pussy.

It was a night to remember as I introduced her to so many new experiences, and I delighted in bringing her to at least two orgasms ----- Her first ever.

But did I actually do the dirty deed? ------ NO!

Nor the next night either.

The third night, and we were playing around yet again.

"That doesn't feel like your finger sliding about down there," Cilla gasped out breathlessly.

"No sweetheart," I replied, trying desperately to keep my voice level, as I worked my hard cock up and down the warmth of her wet slit. "It's something a little bigger."

"Don't put it right in though will you Ken," Cilla reminded me. "You did promise."

"That was two nights ago Cilla," I pleaded with her. "We're a proper couple now."

"Oh go on then if you must," she relented huskily. "But not right the way in."

"Oh my God Ken .... Oh my God ...... Oh my ..... Ooooooh! "

She bleeding loved it!

She couldn't get enough of it, like a duck to water.

Poor Anne. She never did get her chance!

--------------

To cut a long story short a bit, Cilla agreed to marry me about ten months later, by which time we were shacked up together anyway.

Way to go!

Anne was to be her bridesmaid, and my pal Alf was primed to be my best man, on the basis that he could tell jokes better than any of my other close friends. Cilla's parents were tickled pink that their eldest daughter had found a man at last, and one that had already made some sort of mark on the world, and my parents had instantly fallen in love with their new daughter to be.

Important to note here that it wasn't just sex that was the attraction, and I wasn't making the same mistake as I had with my first marriage. 

No --- Cilla and I already shared so many interests and we'd already tried out a few of each others with great success.

No!

I didn't become a regular at the church or anything, but I had gone along a few times, and even happily agreed to a church wedding.

Everyone was happy!

Everything was perfect!

Nothing could go wrong on that wonderful day.

As I said, we'd been living together for some time by then, but Cilla's Mum wanted us to take the traditional route and not see one another the night before the wedding. 

So ---- Cilla packed her overnight bag and made to set off for Anne's where she would be sleeping, before the pair of them would go to her Mum and Dad's house the next morning to get all dolled up for the ceremony.

"Behave yourself honey," I joked with her, knowing that she was going out with Anne and a few friends for a few drinks that evening. Sort of a low-key hen party.

"What do you think I'm going to get up to you old fool?" my future bride teased me. "We're only going to the pub and not some male review bar." 

"I picked you up in a pub don't forget Cilla," I laughed at her as I handed over her jacket. "There's a whole lot of other guys out there would be happy to chat up a pretty girl like you."

I expected her to laugh. Well, you know ---- laugh or make some funny comment back to me.

But she didn't!

No ---- She didn't!

"Well that's not going to happen anymore now is it Ken," Cilla said with an odd tone to her voice. "No more guys chatting me up from now on."

"You mean you want to be chatted up by other men Cilla?" I asked apprehensively, not liking where this conversation was heading too much.

"No! No of course not Ken," Cilla responded immediately. "It's just that ....... Well it's just ....... Oh I'm being silly Ken, just ignore me."

"You do want to marry me Cilla?" I demanded grabbing hold of her and pulling her to me. "You're not having second thoughts?"

"No of course not honey," she replied, smiling at me, and then reaching up to give me a little kiss. "I'm just being emotional and silly."

With that, Cilla laughed a little, picked up her overnight bag and made for the door.

"I'll see you at the church tomorrow Ken," she called back to me. "I love you."

---------------------

Panic over, I readied myself and popped down to the pub to have a sort of 'final' pint with my pals. I'd already had my stag night a few nights before, and remembering the state I'd found myself in after my first one before my previous marriage, I'd kept the whole thing toned down a bit.

The evening passed pleasantly enough, most of the chatter being about Arsenal's recent glorious victory over Chelsea, and how we were unlucky not to have scored a sixth goal, and how the two penalties the referee had somehow or other missed, the blind sod, could have made it eight.

By the time I'd sauntered back to our place, fairly late on, I'd forgotten all about the little contretemps with Cilla earlier, and was looking forward to a nice cup of tea and my bed.

Dring Dring ----- Dring Dring ----- Dring Dring.

The damn phone greeted me as I walked in the door.

"Hello, Ken Thompson."

"Thank God you're there at last," Anne greeted me with. "This is the third time I've rang."

"What's up Anne?" I demanded, at once concerned as to what had happened. "Is Cilla OK?"

"She's OK Ken, but you better get your ass over here as quickly as possible."

"Why? What's happened?" I cried out in alarm. "Has there been an accident?"

"No, not an accident," Anne replied. "But you need to come over and sort out Cilla if you still want to get married in the morning."

My stomach lurched!

'Sort out Cilla?'

What the hell had happened at her hen party for Christ's sake?

As you can imagine my mind targeted on the obvious. What the hell had she done and who with?

But Anne wasn't any more forthcoming, and insisted that I get my skates on and get over to her place, my brain working overtime as broke more speed limits than I should have done as I rushed the five miles to Anne's little flat.

"What's up? --- What's gone wrong? ----- Where's Cilla? ---- Is she OK? ---- She hasn't done anything silly has she?"

I bombarded Anne with questions from the moment she opened the door to me, only stopping when she thrust a cup of tea at me. Let's face it ---- Unless you're British, then it's difficult to explain the many faceted powers of a cup of tea.

"She's alright Ken I promise you," Anne conceded at last, once I'd settled down. "She's in my bedroom crying her eyes out."

"Oh God no," I mumbled, assuming the worst, wondering what guy she'd ended up with, and just what they'd got up to. "Be honest with me Anne, I beg you. How bad is it? What has Cilla done?"

"Not so much what she's done Ken," she replied quietly. "More a case of what she hasn't done!"

From my look it was obvious that I had no idea what she was on about.

"Ken," Anne started slowly, not knowing how to explain. "At the pub we were chatted up constantly by groups of guys from the moment we got there. Eight girls like us all done up to the nines, so I suppose it was reasonable for them to think that we were all out on the razzle."

"So what did Cilla do Anne?" I demanded. "Please just tell me. I'm sure I can forgive her."

"It wasn't her Ken," Anne carried on. "It was the rest of us. Well, all except June and Tina."

"June and Tina," I repeated, puzzled. "Why were they different?"

"They're married Ken and they don't mess around."

I looked at her blankly. This really wasn't making any sense.

"Ken," she said quite loudly as if I was being thick. "We were all flirting with these guys and having a good time, dancing and snogging for all we were worth."

"And Cilla?"

"No Cilla was just sitting there refusing offers to dance and everything."

"I still don't understand," I protested feebly.

"Oh you men are so stupid," went on Anne. "Can't you see ---- We were all having a great time flirting and carrying on and things. I let one guy feel me up on the dance floor right in front of them all for a laugh, and those two tarts Marcie and Judy went outside to the car park with a couple of them."

"I'm sorry Anne, but I'm still lost here."

"She was missing out on the fun Ken," Anne said with a frown. "Can't you see? Your virtually the first proper man she's ever been out with and it's suddenly occurred to her that she won't ever be able to discover what playing the field's about."

Oh Shit!

My mind went back to how troubled she'd been just before she'd left the house earlier. I put two and two together, got five, and felt myself on the point of being sick as I realised what Anne was saying could be true.

Oh Shit!

------------

We chatted a bit more, Anne filling me in on exactly what had happened and what Cilla had said. Eventually I found myself cautiously opening the door to the bedroom and peering nervously in.

"You OK Cilla?" I asked timorously at the untidy heap lying on the bed.

"What are you doing here Ken?" She half sobbed back. "Please go away."

"Not till we sort this out honey," I insisted.

"Nothing to sort out Ken," she mumbled. "I can't go through with it --- I'm so sorry."

"Maybe we ought to talk about it sweetheart."

"Nothing to talk about Ken," she replied. "I just can't go through with it."

I sat down on the bed and stroked her hair for some time, and I admit that the thought that I should simply get up and go and walk away from the problem did occur to me.

But not for long!

It was at that moment that I think I really realised quite how much Cilla meant to me became clear. How much I'd fallen in love with her, and how much I wanted to spend my life with her.

I sweet-talked her for ten minutes or so, when in a sudden rush she sat up and threw her arms round me, telling me how much she loved me.

"So what's the problem honey?" I demanded. "We love one another so let's get married."

"But ..... But ..... But ... "

"But what?" I laughed at her, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"But you're the only man I've ever been with Ken," Cilla sobbed unhappily. "What if .... Well ..... You know."

"Are you saying you want to go to bed with someone else Cilla?" I asked, unsure of my ground; not sure what she was thinking."

"No of course not silly," Cilla replied, trying to grin at me. "There is nobody else and never has been."

"So what's the problem honey?"

"What if there is one day? What if I need to find out what another man inside me feels like Ken? What then?"

What then indeed --- What then!

"Is that your only problem Cilla?" I asked her gently, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

"Yes Ken, but it's some problem isn't it?"

"Not at all Cilla," I replied confidently, a completely stupid idea forming in my somewhat beer befuddled head.

Cilla looked at me with a puzzled expression, almost breaking my heart with the innocent hope that shone from her eyes.

"I'll give you a get out of jail card as a wedding present," I told her, referring to the game of Monopoly that we frequently played. "One slip up with some other guy and I'll forgive you. How about that?"

"You don't mean it Ken," Cilla wimpered. "You couldn't."

"But I do sweetheart," I continued, maybe getting a bit carried away with the theatrics of the whole situation. The six pints of beer that I'd had earlier could have been involved there of course when I thought about it afterwards. "Once, just once honey and I promise to forgive you."

"But Ken ---- I mean ---- well....."

"Sweetheart," I interrupted her, cuddling her up close. "I intend to love you and adore you for the rest of lives, and keep you so happy in bed that you'll never be tempted, so it's no problem for me."

"Oh Ken ....."

"Oh Cilla ....."

I'm not sure where Anne slept that night, but it wasn't in that bed, and the following day Cilla and I were married as planned and became Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, her mother totally unaware that her daughter had spent half the night practicing for the honeymoon.

-----------------

So!

A good number of years passed and I can honestly say that our marriage was every bit as good as you could possibly imagine.

Two kids, one boy and one girl and two better little tykes you couldn't wish for. 

In the first few years we occasionally referred to my promise when we had had a few drinks or felt a bit soppy, but it was always in good fun.

At least I had always thought it was!

But the subject hadn't been so much as mentioned for many a year, almost forgotten, virtually extinct.

Then that dance came up, and my nightmare rose it's ugly head.

Oh damn it!

God damn it!

What the fuck was I going to do?

--------------------------------------

"I think we'd better go home and discuss this like I suggested Ken," Cilla whispered, taking my arm and indeed taking control, guiding me over towards the exit. "I'm so sorry honey, but it's been building up inside me, and it just won't go away."

In a daze I allowed myself to be led out of the club and back over to our car.

I couldn't even drive and in any case Cilla gave me no option, sliding behind the wheel and turning on the ignition.

"It won't be so bad honey," she said to me, oh so gently. "We'll work it out between us and I promise everything will be OK."

I wasn't so sure, but I was concentrating so hard to keep my tears back that I couldn't manage an answer.

--------------

Back at our place, a somewhat more sumptuous pad than I'd had when we'd first met, we walked in, me still in a daze, and paid the babysitter off.

"Well Ken," my loving wife started. "Do you feel up to discussing this honey, or shall we leave it till tomorrow?"

"Will you have changed your mind by tomorrow Cilla?" I asked.

"No!" She replied firmly. "I'm sorry but my mind is made up."

"Then we better talk about it now then I suppose Cilla, but for Christ's sake, stop saying sorry all the time."

"OK Ken," Cilla replied calmly. "I'm sorry."

"For fuck sake stop saying sorry," I screamed at her. "I can't stand it."

"Yes I'm sorry Ken," Cilla flustered, looking at me with concern. "I'm sorry but I can't help it."

"Oh fuck this," I shouted, losing my temper at last. "I'm off to bed --- Do what you bloody well like!"

--------------

Well.

No solution there was there?

All I was doing was putting the awful moment of truth off.

Though Cilla had maintained that essential innocence that had first attracted me, equally I knew that she also had that strength of character that wouldn't stand browbeating.

I had no intention of just standing there and let her walk over me; letting her have her way without a fight.

But I had promised!

There'd been a lot of water under the bridge since then, but a promise was a promise.

My spirit plunged as I realised that my marriage was on a precipice. We had bought our children up to trust, honour and obey and all that stuff, and here I was at the crossroads, being asked by the person I loved the most in this world to honour a promise I had made to her.

Oh damn it. Oh bloody hell!

---------------------

The following morning was a Sunday, and though Cilla still often went to church, she chose not to on that day. I'd spent the night tossing and turning and at some stage my wife had got up, unable to sleep with my constant motion and had gone off to the spare bed.

I knew she needed her sleep as much as anyone, but it didn't exactly encourage me at all.

A full English breakfast was awaiting me when I eventually came down, and that was enough to tell me that her speech the previous evening had been planned. I only got this service on special occasions, and I guess letting me know that she was going to be unfaithful to me ranked as special even in Cilla's brain.

"Where are the kids?" I asked Cilla, noticing an unusual quiet about the place.

"They've gone off with Ted and Andrea for the day," Cilla told me. "They won't be back till early this evening."

I looked up at her, stared at her even, and she dropped her gaze, obviously deeply embarrassed.

"You've been planning this Cilla, haven't you?" I asked.

"Yes," she mumbled quietly. "I'm sorry ---- Sorry, I didn't mean to say sorry again. Oh Christ, I'm sorry Ken."

I gave her a dirty look and she went to open her mouth again to say something, but didn't, simply shrugged her shoulders, lost for words.

"Look Cilla, I know you're sorry and everything, but where do we go from here?"

"I haven't changed my mind though Ken," Cilla continued. "I meant what I said last night. It's something I've just got to do, but I do love you so much honey and I want to make it as easy for you as I can."

"And how the hell do you think you're going to make it easy for me to accept that my wife has been fucked by another man," I questioned her. "What are you going to do? Let me watch or something?"

"If you want to Ken," Cilla surprised me with. "I know some men get off on that sort of thing honey."

"WHAT?"

"It would depend on the guy of course, and I wouldn't want it to be the first time."

"Cilla!" I said firmly, raising my voice considerably. "I don't want you to make love to anyone else, and I can assure you that I certainly don't want to watch you doing it."

"Oh," she replied uncertainly. "I just thought you might want to."

"Well I don't Cilla," I all but screamed back at her. "The thought of it makes me sick."

"Some guys get off on the idea Ken," my wife carefully tried to encourage me. "I've read stories about it."

"Not me," I reminded her. "Are those stories you read where you got this silly idea from in the first place?"

"No Ken, honestly. It's been building up inside me for the last year or more, but I was reading those stories to see if I could find a way of making it easier for you."

We stared at one another for several moments, wondering where to take it from there.

"It might have been better if you'd just gone off and done it without even telling me Cilla," I broke the silence with. "At least that way I wouldn't have been any the wiser and wouldn't have had to go through this heartache."

"I couldn't have done that to you Ken," Cilla leapt back in with, reaching across to take my hand. "I couldn't just cheat on you."

"But what if I say no Cilla. What then?"

"Then I'll just have to cheat on you I suppose," she whimpered, squeezing my hand tightly. "Please Ken, if you love me, don't force me to do that."

"I'm not forcing you to do anything Cilla," I pointed out to her.

"Maybe not honey, but you did promise me, and our whole marriage was built on that promise."

I'd had enough --- any man would have had. The woman I loved was planning on making me a cuckold and knowing her as I did, I knew that I would be hard pushed to talk her out of it.

I could have tied her up, threatened her or done any number of things, but where would that get me I ask you?

I was fucked!

"Let me think about it for a few days please Cilla," I requested sombrely. "Just give me some time."

"OK honey," Cilla replied, a tear running down her cheek. "But please don't take too long about it will you."

-------------------

For the next week I tried the old ostrich act, and literally buried my head in the sand, trying to pretend that the problem might go away if I ignored it. Cilla moved gingerly around me being careful what she said. Several times she started to say something and broke off, and it didn't take much common sense to guess what was on her mind.

"I've spoken to someone Ken," my wife blurted out one morning at breakfast, before falling silent.

"Spoken to who?" I responded nervously, hoping she was talking about a plumber to fix the leaking tap or something ---- Anything but the obvious.




Promise



"Another man Ken," she replied, her voice wavering and her hand shaking. "I rang Dave. You remember, the guy I was dancing with."

"You had his number Cilla?"

"Yes, he gave it to me that night."

I sat there staring at her. The love of my life and the woman who was breaking my heart.

"Not Dave please Cilla," I insisted. "Not him. Anyone but him."

"Why not him?" She asked quietly. "Why not Dave? He was kind of cute and I really liked him."

"Well I didn't like him," I lied to her, for lack of any other reason.

"You don't have to like him Ken," Cilla came back a little more spirited. "You don't even ever have to meet him again. Why not just agree and let's get this over with honey."

"Not him Cilla," I snarled at her, my control at last beginning to snap. "If I ever met him again then I wouldn't be able to resist smacking him in the face."

I'm not a violent man and normally very even tempered, but the thought of that bastard screwing my Cilla; of her writhing naked under him was doing my mind.

"So you'd prefer someone else then Ken?"

"I'd prefer it was nobody Cilla."

"But you promised Ken, and it's gone too far now for me to pull back," she went on. "There's a guy at work that I really quite like honey, and he's always chatting me up so I'm sure he'd leap at the chance."

"And how would I stop myself from thumping him then Cilla. It'd be exactly the same."

Cilla sat there thinking for a few moments, before replying.

"What about if I didn't actually tell you which of my colleagues it was then Ken. Then you wouldn't know."

"Oh yes sure Cilla," I shot back at her. "And imagine at your next company party that we go to. I'd be looking at every one of the sods and wondering which one had fucked you. The first one that looked a bit sideways at me and I'd probably take a swing at him."

"Pleased don't use the 'F' word Ken," Cilla admonished me. "You know I don't like language like that."

"Well what do you want then Cilla?" I shouted my temper taking over. "Screwing ---- balling ---- having sex ------ making love? It's all bloody fucking you know. If you want to go off and fuck some other guy then do so, but don't expect me to approve of it, and don't expect that nothing will change"

Leaving Cilla sobbing at the breakfast table, I stood and stormed off, unable to take it anymore.

-----------

Nothing was spoken of about the matter for the next few days but our relationship was beginning to fall apart. Though we never actually had a major argument, we snapped at one another all the time, and it didn't take the kids long to detect that something was amiss.

Something had to give, but I didn't think it was down to me. 

"Can we talk please Ken?" Cilla asked me when I came home from work on about the fifth day. "We can't keep on like this honey."

"Ok," I agreed, hoping against hope that she had seen sense at last.

"The promise that you made me all that time ago Ken," Cilla started confidently enough. "When you made it to me that night I understood that you really meant it."

Cilla stopped and looked up at me with tears in her eyes, checking what my reaction would be, but all I could do was shrug my shoulders non-committedly, my stomach turning over.

"I really believed what you promised me Ken, that if the time arose, that you would allow me one little fling with another man. It took away all the worries I had honey and perhaps for the first time, I realised that you really loved me as much as I loved you. You must have done to make that commitment."

Then came the cruncher!

"Are you now saying that you didn't mean it Ken? Are you telling me that you lied to me in order to persuade me to marry you, and that our whole marriage is built on a lie?"

Oh shit!

"I didn't lie Cilla," I struggled to explain, unsure myself what I'd been thinking of at the time. I could hardly admit that I'd been half pissed that evening after what she'd just said. "I meant it, but I simply never imagined that the time would ever come that you would ask. I suppose I never considered the consequences."

"Well the time has come Ken," Cilla said slowly. "I'm so sorry honey but I simply need to know what another man is like while I'm still young enough and attractive enough."

By this time we both had tears streaming down our face, but Cilla didn't back down and nor would I.

"So what has bought it on so suddenly Cilla?" I asked. "Why now after all these years?"

"It's not so sudden honey," she replied wiping a tear from her eye and trying unsuccessfully to smile. "For years I've heard the other girls at work talking about all the men they've been to bed with, and how different they are. All the married ones have been to bed with several different men, and some of them since they've been married."

"And you approve of that?" I challenged her.

"Of course I don't," she shot back. "They were doing it behind their husband's back and that's cheating. Besides, they didn't have a promise like I do, and their marriages weren't based on such a promise."

"What about if I went with another woman Cilla," I demanded, trying to knock some sense into her. "How would you feel? Would you be OK with that?"

"No I wouldn't Ken," Cilla blazed, an angry look on her face. "That would be cheating and I could never accept that. If you cheated on me Ken, then I'd leave you."

"But you want to cheat on me Cilla," I screamed back. "How do you think I bloody well feel about some other guy even seeing you naked, never mind about touching you and sticking his cock inside you."

"It's not the same Ken," my wife screamed back equally angry. "Why can't you see? Why are you being so difficult?"

We screamed at one another for a few more minutes and after I threw the table lamp across the room she stormed off to her room crying, calling me a lying unthoughtful bastard.

Twenty minutes later I heard the front door slam as I was in the kitchen trying to save the casserole that I'd found burning, fairly sure that I'd get no help on that front from Cilla that night.

'That's it!" I thought. "If she comes back and has been with some guy then we're finished. I'll demand a divorce."

My mood hadn't improved an hour later when the telephone rang, and I ignored it for a while, convinced that it would be Cilla mocking me after picking up some guy. Eventually however when it went on and on, I picked it up.

"Hello," I answered abruptly.

"Ken --- It's Anne," came the reply. She was still my wife's best friend.

"Yes Anne what can I do for you," I replied shortly. "Cilla's not here."

"I know Ken," she came back. "She's here with me at my house and is in a terrible state."

"Her fault not mine!"

"Maybe Ken," Anne went on. "But I thought I'd better let you know that she's here and not ..... Well not off doing something else."

I mumbled some thanks and felt the tension and fury leak out from my pent up body, thanking Christ, who I still claimed not to believe in by the way, that Cilla hadn't done anything silly.

"She told me what this is all about Ken," Anne carried on after a few moments. "It must be awful for you."

"It is Anne," I nearly sobbed into the mouthpiece. "Can you try to talk some sense into her please?"

"I can talk to her Ken, but I can see her side as well you know."

"Her side ---- her side? She wants to go off and cheat on me Anne. How can you see her side? How could anyone?"

"It's not how she sees it Ken," Anne told me calmly. "She honestly thinks that your promise was genuine and can't see why you think she's being unreasonable."

"What do you think Anne," was my only possible question. "Do you think she's being reasonable?"

"Well ..... Yes and no Ken," she replied. "But I do know that on her wedding day she was so reassured by your promise. She was so confused the day before that I'm not sure she would have gone through with it poor girl."

"She told you," I asked, completely taken aback by her announcement. "Cilla told you what I'd said the night before our wedding?"

"Yes Ken she did and was so pleased about it. She's often talked about it since and I got the impression that the two of you talked about it from time to time."

"Christ no Anne!" I retorted. "She teased me a few times in the early days and I joked about it as well. But the subject hadn't been mentioned for years till Cilla hit me with it the other day."

"Oh dear Ken," Anne sympathised. "Cilla's talked about it to me quite a lot over the years, and especially this last year. I got the impression she was working up to it, but I had no idea you didn't know, and for that matter, I don't think Cilla imagined you would react the way you did. I think she honestly thought that you would accept it as long as she explained herself beforehand."

"So what am I going to do Anne," I pleaded. "If she goes through with it then I don't think I could get over it. What are we going to do?"

"You know what she's like Ken," Anne reminded me. "With that religious background she had, Cilla has some very fixed, rigid ideas, and for her a solemn promise is a promise to be kept. If she goes through with it then I can understand how you would feel, but if you stop her then maybe she's never going to trust you again."

"So my marriage is fucked whatever I do then," I complained unhappily, not knowing where to go next. "I'm up the river without a paddle."

"You could try a counsellor of some sort," Anne suggested. "You know, one of these marriage guidance people."

"And where the hell do I find one of them at short notice Anne? I don't get the feeling that Cilla is going to hang around very long."

"That's right Ken. Cilla is just about climbing up the lampposts over this. She still loves you dearly but feels you're not being fair. It's almost as if you are cheating her out of something."

Jeeeeezus!

I couldn't win could I?

"Maybe I could help Ken," broke in Anne. "I've known you both for some time."

It was grabbing at straws but I took her up on her offer, agreeing that Cilla would stay at Anne's place for the night and that the pair of them would come back to our house the next day for a sort of council of war.

I was not looking forward to it I can tell you.

----------------------------------

"Hi Ken," called out Anne the next day as the pair of them walked in.

"Hi honey," added Cilla, much more subdued.

The pair of us hesitated, unsure whether to give one another a welcoming embrace. In the end I took her in my arms to kiss her only to find that she turned her cheek to me.

"That's a damn good start," I remarked angrily, pushing her away from me.

"Sorry honey," she replied. "I don't know what made me do that. 

"Stop fighting you two," Anne told us taking charge. Ken you sit there and Cilla you over there."

Anne then ran briefly through the situation as she saw it, while Cilla sat there looking miserable but perhaps not as miserable as me. Then she let both of us have our say.

Cilla told us that she had taken the promise seriously and that bearing in mind that I was virtually the only man that had ever so much as kissed her before, I should realise how important it was for her. She thought that it was unfair of me to renege on my promise just because she had left it so long. She still loved me dearly though my attitude over the last few days had shocked her somewhat, and she was having doubts whether I really still loved her.

"It's only sex after all," she finished with. "Just to see what another man feels like. It wouldn't effect how I feel about my husband in any way."

"Your turn Ken," said Anne. "Try to keep it short."

"I will," I retorted trying to keep my cool. "I admit I made the promise but I never really believed that it would happen. But that's not my point. The thought of another man making love to my wife just makes me sick to my stomach. I've changed my mind if you want, and I will not stand by and accept what you want to do."

Then I shut up before I said something stupid, immediately regretting that I hadn't told her that I did still I love her.

"So I'm just some sort of possession am I," Cilla argued back. "You can't stand the thought of another man using your precious bloody possession."

"That's unfair Cilla," butted in Anne before I had a chance to put my oar back in. "I think you ought to apologise to Ken."

"He doesn't want me to say sorry. He told me so," she responded, the whole thing getting out of control again, as I was unable to avoid calling her a silly cow for her silly remark.

"Shut up you two," Anne quietened us down with. "If you're going to keep on like this then you might as well get divorced."

"Divorced .... Divorced?" Sobbed Cilla leaping to her feet. "I don't want to get divorced. I love Ken and I don't ever want to leave him."

"Well sit down and shut up then Cilla," Anne told her. "Or that's where you might end up."

Calm at least partially restored, Anne carried on.

"Is there any way that you could agree to this Ken?" She asked me. "Anyway at all just the one time?"

"I can't imagine one Anne," I told her. "How would I know that once would be enough for her anyway?"

"Good question Ken," Anne responded. "Have you thought about that Cilla?"

"No not really," she mumbled back. "But it would be just sex and just the once, like he promised me."

"What about if you developed feelings for this other guy Cilla?" Anne went on.

"But I wouldn't Anne. It would be just the once and just for sex."

"What --- No evening out beforehand with a candlelit dinner Cilla," continued Anne. "No holding hands or kissing and no touchy feely stuff? Doesn't seem very appealing to me Cilla."

Cilla put her face in her hands and thought a little before she replied.

"Well ...... Yes I guess I was expecting a bit of romancing before hand, and I can't imagine having sex with anyone without at least kissing them and things. That wouldn't be very nice at all."

"So it's a quick dinner, a grope in the car park and then back to his place for a romp in the bed is it?" I threw it sarcastically, twisting the knife in.

"No. No." sobbed Cilla. "Not like that at all. I want a man to romance me and take his time seducing me."

"You've read too many bloody magazine stories you stupid woman," I retorted.

"That's not fair Ken," Anne interrupted. "Women don't think the same way as men. If Cilla is going to do this just the once, then it's her only chance and she wants it to be like a fairytale."

"And then come back to boring old me afterwards you mean." I shot back at her angrily, and we all sat there glaring at one another. "And carry on with our boring old sex life like before."

"Is that your main problem Ken?" Anne asked pensively.

"What?" I snapped back.

"That Cilla will compare you with someone else. That she might by chance find someone better in bed than you are."

With a sinking feeling, I realised that Anne had put her finger on what was maybe the main problem. Not the only one of course, but a big one, a huge one for any guy to handle.

"It had occurred to me," I whispered my admission.

"How would that make you feel Cilla," she rounded on my wife. "If this new guy made you orgasm more times than you ever had with Ken? If he gave you an evening of sex the like of which you could never have imagined. Could you forget him? Could you go back and be as happy as before with Ken?"

That knocked me back, I can tell you. But before I could say anything, all hell broke loose.

"Now you're both ganging up on me," screamed out Cilla in anguish, leaping to her feet. "Neither of you understand what I'm going through. Neither of you understand how much I need to know what another man's like. I thought you would understand me Anne. I thought you were my friend."

"I am Cilla," Anne protested. "I'm just trying to....."

It was as far as she got before Cilla shouted at her, the pair of them going at it hammer and tongs.

"SHUT UP THE PAIR OF YOU!" I screamed at them both, leaping up. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS NONSENSE."

The two women fell silent and stared open mouthed at me. Neither of them had ever seen me react so angrily in all the time we'd known one another.

"I've made my mind up," I told them, my voice falling back to a reasonable level.

"I won't be put off Ken," Cilla sniffled. "You promised."

"Yes I did," I confirmed looking her in the eye. "And we've always brought our kids up to keep their promises, so if it's that important to you Cilla, then I'll keep mine."

There was a stunned silence as they both looked at me in astonishment, hardly believing what they had just heard.

"Oh shit!" Anne mumbled hardly audibly.

"You mean it honey?" queried Cilla cautiously. "You really mean it."

"Yes Cilla I really mean it," I replied with far more confidence than I felt. "You want to go screw some other guy Cilla, then go and do so. Enjoy yourself. Make the bloody most of it."

"And you don't mind?" Cilla asked haltingly.

"Of course he damn well minds Cilla," Anne broke in before I could respond. "He hates the idea. Stop torturing him."

"But you'll let me do it?" my wife looked for reassurance.

"Yes, I said I would."

"And you'll forgive me afterwards honey?"

"That's what I promised you isn't it?"

"But why Ken," she questioned me. "Why the change of heart so suddenly?"

"Because I suddenly remembered how much I love you Cilla."

That caused her to sit up a little.

"You really love me enough to let me have sex with another man and forgive me honey?" Cilla wimpered, a new tear running down her cheek. "And you'll still love me afterwards?"

"I've promised to forgive you Cilla," I replied, choosing my words carefully. "Whether I'll still have any love for you afterwards will have to be seen."

"I don't understand Ken."

"I promised to forgive you all those years ago Cilla," I reminded her. "But I didn't and couldn't promise to continue loving you. It's simply not possible to promise a thing like that. How the hell do I know how I will feel when you come back to me after screwing some other guy?"

There!

I'd played my trump card and would have see how it all played out. But Cilla hadn't yet realised that.

"I'll make it quick Ken I promise you honey," she said softly. "Just the once, I promise you."

"Don't rush it Cilla," I replied calmly. "Take your time. Maybe look up that guy Dave that you fancied if you want to. Have a proper affair. Take as long as you want and get the whole thing out of your system.

"And you don't mind?" Cilla demanded, her face creasing up. She was beginning to sound worried. But not yet that worried.

"I didn't say I wouldn't mind. Just that I'd forgive you, but don't you dare tell me about it, who it is, where you're seeing him, how good the sex is. I don't want to know anything about it. Not ever!

Just tell me when it's finished, however long that takes, and we'll see how we feel about one another and whether we've got a future together. After I've formally forgiven you that is of course."

"But I'll still love you honey," Cilla cried out. "You're the only man I'll ever love."

"You don't know that Cilla," I told her sadly. "Neither of us knows how we'll feel."

With that, I stood up, picked up my coat and walked towards the door.

"Where are you going honey," Cilla cried out.

"To get the kids Cilla," I replied. "I'll keep them out till late this evening. Give you a chance to make a telephone call in private if you want."

Cilla simply slumped back in her chair with a vacant look, but Anne leapt up and grabbed me as I left the house.

"You're either an unfeeling idiot or a bloody genius Ken," she gushed out at me.

"Perhaps I'm both," I grinned at her weakly.

"I hope it works out for you." Anne grimaced. "I can see what you're up to, trying to frighten her with the consequences, but I don't know if it will work."




Promise



"Well I just hope it does Anne," I replied grimly. "I just have to hope so."

----------------------

Cilla and I carried on with our life trying to pretend that nothing was different. But it was and sometimes the atmosphere was stifling. I didn't treat her any differently and I never checked up on her, determined that it was her decision to start something, though it could well be mine to finish it. At least we weren't sniping at each other, but the lack of discourse between us was almost as bad.

I relaxed just a little in the unsure knowledge that I knew my wife well enough to know that she hadn't started anything. But my hopes were dashed when my so called knowledge proved right!

One evening when I came home from work, though I couldn't put my finger on it, I simply knew that something was different. She wasn't more confident, happier, sadder whatever, but she was different, almost more remote.

I guessed she'd made a date with someone, but of course I couldn't ask her, though as Friday night approached it all became too obvious.

"I thought I'd go out tomorrow night," she informed me on the Thursday, pretending to be cutting up some vegetables while she spoke, so that she wouldn't have to look at me.

"Fine," I replied without looking up either. "Enjoy yourself."

"Aren't you interested in where I'm going Ken?" She demanded.

"Not really," I replied, looking up at her this time. "Unless it's something that I need to know about."

Cilla put the knife down, stood there silently for some moments, then turned and silently left the room.

Shit!

It didn't seem to be going to plan.

-----------------

Friday passed in a cloud, and I argued about nothing with several colleagues at work. Wasn't their fault of course, but then the situation wasn't my fault either. 

Except that it was partly of course. Maybe it was all my damn fault.

When I got in that night Cilla was already home and my dinner was all prepared to be popped into the microwave later on. There was even a bottle of decent red wine on the table, already opened and breathing. 

The term, 'The condemned man eat a hearty breakfast' came to mind, and though I doubted that I would be able to manage to eat much of the meal she had prepared, I didn't doubt that the wine wouldn't last very long.

"Hi honey," Cilla greeted me as she descended the stairs. "Did you see the wine I left for you? Was it the right one?"

"It'll do," I responded grumpily.

By Golly she looked lovely. Not too sexy or slutty or anything like that. Her dress was short but not too much so. Cilla simply looked lovely, and I had to turn my head away as I found myself choking up.

"I'll be going then Ken," Cilla announced quietly. "I'll be back before midnight."

"You're sure you want to go through with this Cilla," I asked, though it came out as little more than a croak. One last attempt to dissuade her.

"I've got to honey," she whispered back to me. "But don't worry sweetheart I'm not planning to go all the way tonight. Just seeing how comfortable it feels going out with another man first."

"That's supposed to make me feel better is it?" My anger beginning to mount again.

"I guess not honey," Cilla mumbled back, bending down to give me a goodbye kiss. "I have to go now."

"Save the kisses for lover boy," I growled at her, turning my face to avoid her embrace. Cilla snapped her head back up in surprise, stared silently at me for a few moments, turned and made for the door.

"Enjoy yourself," I cried out to her sarcastically.

----------------

I sat there and wondered where I had gone wrong. What else could I have done? This was the twenty first century and the days of a man dragging his woman about by the hair and physically bending her to his will were long passed. 

It was her decision, but what I did afterwards would remain mine. I'd forgive her, at least formally though I knew in my heart that I couldn't in reality. 

What was it to be? A quick divorce or a slow descent into some kind of married hell?

I didn't know, but I was sure that I would seek out that bastard Dave, and if was indeed him that had accepted her overtures, then somehow or other the bugger would pay. What would I do to her? Lord knows --- Probably nothing. She'd go into shock when she discovered that one day soon, I was no longer there, though deep down I knew that I still loved her so much that it would hurt me just as much it would hurt her.

Then of course there were the children!

Damn it! Damn and blast it!

How could life be so cruel?

The sound of the front door closing bought me out of my misery and I wondered why she had taken so long to leave the house. But the door closing signified that she had indeed gone. Gone off to her meeting with another man. 

I felt the black cloak of misery descending again.

Then I heard the lounge door open and I looked round to see Cilla standing there with tears in her eyes.

"You did promise to forgive me didn't you Ken?" She half sobbed.

"That was the promise," I answered carefully, wondering why she hadn't left yet.

"Then can you forgive me for being such a stupid, inconsiderate, bitch of a wife please Ken?"

"I ..... That is I ....." I stumbled over my words. "I guess I could."

"I couldn't do it Ken," the words tumbled out. "I opened the front door and I physically couldn't step over the threshold. It suddenly came to me what I would be doing to our marriage, and what I would be doing to you honey. I don't want to go out with another man Ken and I can't believe how stupid I've been behaving. All I want is for you to love me. You do still love me, don't you Ken?"

"More than ever," I gasped, leaping up and taking her in my arms. "More than ever darling."

"And you forgive me honey?"

"Completely sweetheart. I told you that night before our wedding that I would love and adore you for ever, and I meant it."

"Do you remember what else you promised me that night honey," Cilla whispered huskily into my ear. "That you'd keep me so happy in bed that I'd never be tempted?"

"Rings a bell Cilla."

"Then why don't you take me upstairs right now and keep that promise to me," she went on. "And I'll promise you never, ever, to mention the other promise again."

I grinned at her, took her hand and led her towards the stairs. Cilla and I were about to start the first day of the rest of our lives, and all was well again in the Thompson household.

Thank you God!

Oh! --------- I forgot --------- I wasn't supposed to believe in him was I?

++++++++++++ 

I do like a happy ending!

Apologies to all those who like to see the woman boiled alive, but this story was simply never going there.

No doubt some of you out there will let me know what you think.



Promise



It had been years, but I recognized her instantly. The black hair still styled the same as 25 years ago, by now she must be 60, I figured.

It was three in the morning, and she was wobbling as she approached my cab, on heels that were too high for a sober woman. The blouse was unbuttoned, showing all that cleavage, and I hopped out to help her in, being as gentlemanly as I could.

"Can I sit in the front, Honey? I hate it in the backseat."

I thought, you didn't mind it back in 1986, when I was 20 and you were 35, and you thought I was the cutest thing you saw all night. It had been a quickie, and she promised to meet me the next week, but never showed. All those years ago. 

I said, "Sure, let me help you in."

She plopped in the seat, gave me a crooked smile as her skirt rode up to her panties. She didn't seem to notice or care. Some things never change.

I climbed in next to her, told the dispatcher I had my fare, and he said I could call it a night after this run.

I smiled. "How are you, Kathy?"

She peered into my face. If she remembered me, I would be surprised: it was long ago, and she had been in similar condition. But she gave me a big smile. "Ohh, hi, Baby! I didn't see you at first, this lighting! What's your name again?"

"Jack," I said, lying. She wouldn't remember anyway. "Where are we headed?"

As we drove, I kept glancing at her legs, so much white thigh showing. The memory of that night and the flesh showing now were getting me to think about how I hadn't gotten laid in weeks.

She had a sexy way about her. She probably figured we fucked at some point, but didn't remember it one bit. I'm sure I wasn't memorable to a woman who drank like she still did. Not after all those years. But, she sure seemed to be acting pretty seductive right now!

We got to her place. She opened her bag. "What do I owe you, Baby?" she purred, looking up without raising her head.

"The ride's on me, for old time's sake," my eyes taking in those huge tits, still looking good after so long, with that bra holding her up, anyway.

"Aww, that's so sweet! Thanks, Doll, really! You don't have to do that."

"My pleasure, you need a hand to the door?"

"Oh, sure, Baby, thanks so much! I feel like royalty!"

I shut the cab off, opened her door, and she offered me her hand, with the skirt still riding high. I helped her out, asking whether there was someone home who might get the wrong idea. 

"Oh, no, Baby, I got rid of Larry years ago. You remember Larry, right?"

No clue, but I nodded and smiled as she leaned against me for the short walk, and I slid my arm around her to steady her. We got to the door, and she fumbled with the keyhole, cursing, "Fuckin' things never fit right!"

"Let me help." I found the right key easily and it slid right in, unlatched the door and handed her the keys. She seemed smaller, but still the same makeup, crow's feet around the eyes, jaw in a perpetual smile.

She looked up at me. "I forgot how tall you were, Honey! You still look great! Really."

"Thanks, Kathy, so do you, as sexy as ever."

She tilted her head, cocked an eyebrow, as if suddenly aware that I was horny. "You think so, Baby? I don't hear that much anymore."

"Well, you should," laying it on thick, figuring that she still had that itch that needed to be scratched, even at her age.

"Hmmmm," she smiled. "You know, I've always been nervous coming home this late, worried if somebody broke in or something."

Picking up on her line, I said, "I'd be happy to make sure you're in safe."

"Yes, that would be so helpful."

I pushed the door open, lights were left low. It was your basic small house. She followed me in, saying, "The bed room is where someone would hide."

She led the way down the hall and pushed open the door, turning, "No, it looks safe here, what do you think?"

The bed was unmade, King-sized, with dark sheets in a red room. All I could think of was how many men had passed this way? "Hmmm, it looks safe, but you never know. Anytime you need someone to stop by and inspect the place, let me know, any hour day or night. Let me know." I gave her my best lecher grin and she laughed.

"Well, since you're here, and so helpful, I have an itch that needs scratching, and I just can't reach the spot." She was swaying her hips seductively, looking me up and down.

My cock started pulsing as blood rushed to the head. This old slut was gonna get the fucking she deserved and wanted. I grabbed my crotch and said, "I have my special scratcher for hard-to-reach spots."

She bit her lip as she stared at my hand holding a lump of flesh. "Hmmm, yeah Baby, now you know what Mama needs."

I released my crotch and her hand immediately replaced it as I felt those mammoth breasts and she cooed.

She clutched me firmly and I grew quickly in her tugging hand while I undid the last few buttons and ripped the straps off her shoulders, pulling the black bra down, exposing the flesh. She seemed to like it rough, with exaggerated gasps, and growls. I twisted her nipples and she yiped in mock pain while she tugged at my belt.

For an old broad, she still had the lust. I left the bra around her chest, which kept the tits from sagging too much. Looking at her with that fire in her eyes, she was so sexy to me, and my raging hard-on demanded release.

I kicked off my sneakers and stepped out of the jeans as she pulled my shirt over my head, telling me how hot she was, how she needed to scratch so bad!

Her skirt was loose now, and I worked it over her thick hips with the panties in one motion. She clung to me, trying to hide her body from my eyes, but I pushed her back on the unmade bed, and I could smell her sexy juices as she spread, and through the clump of hair, her pink innards came into view, shiny with moisture.

Neither wanted foreplay, there was an urgency we both felt. I climbed on and held my head to her slit, and the old drunk stared up at me. "Yeah, Baby, give it to Mama. Make Mama feel good, baby, give it to me!"

I plunged in, pressing my full 7 inches past those pink gates where many have traveled. She growled at me, as if in pain, but I knew she loved it.

She moved beneath me like a woman half her age, rotating her hips, while reaching around my waist, holding me inside her, mouthing something about "Fuck me, Baby, fuck Mama!"

What Mama wants, Mama gets. I began humping, slowly, then increasing speed and power, thrusting my hips down into her. She cried out in delight. "Yeah, like that, yes!"

With each slam she would say a word: "Fuck-me-fuck-me-Fuck-ME-FUCK-MEEE! 

The journey back to being a 20 year old in the back seat with an older woman was complete. I was there again, fucking this woman who didn't have a clue, and having the time of my life. And she seemed to be enjoying it too, now trembling with each pounding.

My hips arched and rammed until my cock ached. I didn't want it to end, but it was time. My balls tightened and I gasped for breath, knowing it was coming, and then I held on to her, pushing as hard as I could and staying there, our eyes wide at each other.

She let out a low moan, like a howl as I spasmed and let loose, the air forced out of my lungs by the effort.

I held it deep inside her as wave after wave left me, and she seemed to twitch with each shot, still clinging to me.

I felt her kissing my neck as we laid there, gasping. We hadn't kissed once, and I had no desire to start now, even though still horny! My now-limp cock slid from her oozing hole, our juices staining those wrinkled sheets where many men had cum before me. 

I slid off the bed, dressing, trying not to rush too much, telling her I had to return the cab, since my shift was over. That I really enjoyed our seeing each other again.

She sat up, pulled a robe from the floor by the bed, tying it at the waist as she watched me. When we left the bedroom, she stopped and wrote a note with her number on it. "Call me, Baby, it was so good to have you again, really."

I wrote a phony number on her pad, and said I'd keep in touch. So now she had the wrong name and number, making me hard to trace. The cab company has a lot of drivers and we're easily confused for one another. And it's not like I was afraid of knocking her up! 

At the door, she opened the robe, pressing her big tits into me. Her hand was on my crotch again, and I felt myself rising. "You know, Baby, after you finish, you can come back. I can make you some breakfast in bed?" She rose up on her toes and kissed me, with tongue. This sexy old harlot! 

I was tempted. "I gotta be up early, Kathy, but I'll call you, okay? Promise." 

I drove away wondering if she would remember tonight any moe than she did all those years ago. I doubt it, but I got my rocks off!