2 comments/ 11000 views/ 6 favorites Not Just for Christmas Ch. 05-06 By: Alwaysraining This is written in British English. Some sex in this part. All characters engaged in any sexual activity are well over eighteen years old. Decree Nisi: the first stage in a British divorce procedure. It's the court's directive that the divorce can take place. After six weeks the petitioner can apply for a Decree Absolute, the actual divorce. Lavatory=Restroom/toilet. Rumpy-pumpy= Come on! Use your imagination! ***** Chapter Five The town in which Mike worked and outside of which he lived was quite large, about 200,000 people, on the outskirts of the City of Manchester. It had long since been assimilated to become a satellite town within the greater Manchester area. When Tom was out looking for women, it was to Manchester City Centre he would go, and it was to Manchester Mike now went to meet Tom in a club. It was a large club, with a very good restaurant, a bar and a large dance area, and it was known as a pickup joint. Many women went there to get drunk without paying anything - in money. They expected and usually seemed to enjoy getting laid later in the evening by whoever paid for the drinks. Tom had made reservations for dinner there, and was already at their table when Mike arrived. Mike made his apologies and Tom immediately picked up his mood. "Someone get up your nose?" he asked as they perused the menu. "Women!" Mike said with feeling, "or rather, a woman." "Not Cheryl?" "No," Mike laughed. "Haven't seen Cheryl in ages." "Claire?" Tom looked shocked, which surprised Mike. Mike didn't think Tom would ever be surprised by a woman. Mike nodded. "Tell all," Tom ordered. So he did. "I just think it was most ungrateful on her part not to tell me about getting the Decree Nisi," he finished, "and thoughtless in the extreme to leave me waiting for a call all night." Tom looked up at him and smiled. "You have got it bad haven't you?" "Um?" "God, Mike," he expostulated. "You're thick sometimes." "What?" "You're in love with the woman," Tom patiently explained. "I told you when you started with Cheryl she was a good fuck but not to get emotionally involved, but you did. "Now you're doing the same thing with Claire. If you were miffed at her staying out late you'd be over it by now, but you were miffed as well by her not telling you about her Decree. You didn't try to find out why, did you? You were too uptight! Face it matey, you're in love with the woman." Mike shook his head but began to wonder. Tom cut that short. "Let's order, and then you need some pussy. You've not had a shag since Claire arrived - significant? You're frustrated old son. Time for some good old fashioned no strings rumpy-pumpy." They ordered. As always, the food was superb and they conversed in grunts and moans of satisfaction. Once they had finished, Tom paid. "My treat," he said. "In return you can do as you're told, and take the girl I select for you to bed for the night. Then see how you feel in the morning. Let's face it, if you are in love with Claire and she's fucking someone else, you need to get her out of your system." Mike shrugged in resignation. Tom, Mike had to acknowledge, was a babe magnet. What it was about him Mike didn't know. Perhaps he had a nose for available pussy, perhaps he exuded the right pheromones, perhaps it was because he was six foot three and blond, had a cheeky boyish face and a body that repaid the hours of the gym work he did. Whatever the reason, it was true: he was a babe magnet. Now Mike would also acknowledge that while he wouldn't know how to use a pick up line, Tom had the gift of the gab. However because Mike was a personable kind of bloke, had the gentlest of Scottish accents and perhaps also because he was loaded and willing to splash the cash, it was true that of any pair of women Tom charmed, the one who didn't get Tom usually ended the night more than happy that she got Mike. Now there is a common joke in films and folklore that when girls are in pairs, you always get a really pretty girl with a rather plain (or even ugly) best friend. Not with Tom. He always made sure both girls were fit. Mike always got a good deal out of being his 'best friend'. That Friday was no exception. They went into the bar area looking for their mates; none were there that night, but there were two absolute stunners sitting at a table for four. Mike got the drinks in and Tom's antennae were active. The women eyed Tom; he eyed them. They smiled; Tom smiled. It would seem that that was all it took. This was reinforced when a couple of other lads went to the women's table and got the brush off. As the two wandered off, tails between their legs, the women gave Tom another brilliant smile. Yes, it was all that it took. Mike and Tom went over, Tom asked to join them and was accepted, of course. Mike and Tom bought them drinks; they drank them. Mike and Tom flirted; they flirted. Both women were wearing the minimally legal party wear, low cut crop-tops, clearly bra-less, the shortest of short pleated skirts and very high heels. No stockings or tights. Knickers? Who knew? Gentlemen prefer blondes. Not blond Tom. He was a dark hair man, so Mike got the honey blonde. At first he could tell she was disappointed her friend got Tom, but by the second drink she had got over it. Mike said something humorous, she laughed and touched his arm. She flirted; he stroked her hand. She moved closer; he put his arm round her. She lifted her face for a kiss; they kissed. And again. While they were all chatting, Mike saw Tom stiffen, lose track of the conversation and then relax. "What's up doc?" Mike quipped, failing in his Bugs Bunny impression. "Seen someone?" "It's all right," Tom muttered. "I think it was Cheryl and a man; she's gone now." Mike looked round but couldn't see her, and promptly forgot about her. His golden blonde was called Bryony, and Tom's brunette was Sharon. It turned out that Tom knew both of them, which made the ease of Tom's pick-up more understandable. Mike needed the lavatory, and when he returned there was a look of compassion on Bryony's face. "Tom tells us your wife walked out on you," she said. "That's right," he said with some acidity. The acidity came from the fact that Tom had told things Mike didn't want to share. "You need to know I'm a boring person." Tom looked briefly uncomfortable, but they all took the hint and they went on to talk of other things. Bryony was a generously endowed young woman. Her breasts were large and firm but well shaped and in proportion, and she assured Mike without any prompting when she caught him looking, that they were natural. Her waist was narrow, and she had a wonderful hour-glass shape. As she repaired to the ladies with her friend, her bottom was rounded, neat and full, swaying under the pleated skirt which swung enticingly to and fro, and her legs were long and perfectly formed. Mind you, four or five inch heels help any girl's legs. "Sorry, Mike," said Tom when the two women were out of earshot. "Bryony doesn't do married men, so I had to tell her you were divorced." "You had to say she walked out on me?" "Sorry," he repeated. "Stupid of me. I know how sensitive you are about it, but she might not have liked it if she thought you had dumped your wife instead of the other way round." When the women returned, Tom suggested going to his place. Mike suggested to Bryony that he book a hotel room. She looked uncertain, until he took out his mobile and booked a four-poster room in one of the largest (and most expensive) hotels in the city. No uncertainty then, especially as he gave his name, knew the receptionist by name, passed the time of day and asked for his 'usual' room. They parted from Tom and Sharon, who now looked a little disappointed she was not getting the hotel treatment as well, got a taxi and had a drink in the hotel bar before the lift took them to their floor. She loved the room. She squealed, and bounced onto the bed, showing her purple lacy boy-shorts, looking behind her and grinning at Mike's appreciation of her underwear and rounded backside. Mike was hard. It had been a while since he had had a woman, and Bryony's enthusiasm showed she would be a satisfying lay. He went to the living area and beckoned her over. She came over and went to sit on his knee. He shook his head. She stood before him. He leant forward and traced a finger up the outside of each of her legs at once. She leant forward and put her hands on his shoulders. As he passed her knees he strayed behind them, and she shivered, her head back and her eyes closed. His fingers traced her thighs, still on the outside, under her skirt until they reached her knickers. Then it was round the twin orbs of her bottom, round and round, until she began to squirm. Quickly he hooked her panties at the waist and began to pull them down until they reached her knees, where he left them at the top of her calves and again caressed her knees. She buckled and fell onto him, then went down on her knees before him. He slipped off her top. Your tits are brilliant," he whispered, "so firm and natural, and your nips are to die for." The girl actually blushed. "What's the matter?" he asked, laughing. She shook her head, but thrust her tits out, and giggled. He lifted her up, and unclipped her skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, and then pushed her knickers down from their place on her calves, until she delicately stepped out of them. Now she was naked except for her high heels. She opened her stance so he could see her sex. Not shaven, though it might as well have been; her downy blonde pubic hair, already sparse, was trimmed short. "You like?" she asked. "I like," he said, pulling her towards him. Thanks to her heels, her pubic mound was at tongue height and she widened her legs even further, before taking his right hand and putting it to her sex. He allowed his third finger to slide under her to her anus, parting her cheeks while he traced through the cleft over her rosebud and perineum, then with the lightest touch over her outer lips, feather-light over where her clitoris lay hidden. "Yes," she groaned in frustration. "Touch me baby." "I have," he said, straight faced. "You know what I mean." "I know exactly what you mean my sweet, but I have other plans. Bed." He wondered if she liked being dominated. She turned and walked away from him, swaying those agonisingly wonderful buns, while he followed. She kicked off her heels, lay down missionary style, legs wide open inviting him. Her hand strayed towards her mound. "No!" he said sharply. "Leave yourself alone. Your pussy is mine tonight." She laughed softly, pouted and stretched both arms over her head to grasp the bed-head. It did wonders for her tits. "Come on then!" she invited, rather impatiently he thought. He undressed slowly in front of her, turning his back as he slipped down his boxers. Then he turned to show her his erection. She did not gasp in wonder. Mike was not hung like a horse, but he had often been told that his penis was well made and big enough. It was certainly thick. Cheryl had always said it was the prettiest one she'd seen, and he suspected she'd seen quite a few, even when they were married; and she probably said that to all the guys. No. What Bryony did was to smile; it was a smile of anticipation, and her tongue lasciviously traced a pattern over her lips. He crossed to her, crawled onto the bed and kissed her. Her arms went round him and she pulled his face against those wonderful tits, her hands roaming over his back and attempting to pull him over her for a coupling. "Not yet," he said, sliding off the bed and pulling her with him. She gave a puzzled cry, until he positioned her near the edge of the bed, spread her legs from his kneeling position and tasted her for the first time. Then she was quiet, with a look of concentration on her face. He tongued her vaginal opening, swirling round and round, then the inner labia, finishing with the lightest touch on her clitoris. She jumped and then humped her pelvis to push against his tongue, but he pulled back keeping the light touch all the while. So it continued. Hard licking at her vagina, feather touches on her clitoris, while her moaning became complaining, and eventually she gasped her plea. "Please, Babe," she whimpered. "I can't stand anymore. Please - do it!" At which he flattened his tongue and dragged it hard against her clitoris, with the desired result. She exploded. He continued with the treatment as far as he was able with her hips leaping and diving about on the bed. Eventually she began to quieten, she had been excessively vocal though wordless, her squeals and yelps being most expressive. Her final comment seemed to be 'erg'. He crawled onto the bed and lay beside her, gently fingering her satisfied sex and then stroking her back as she came down. She snuggled into his arm, her head on his chest. He was hard, very hard, on edge and ready. And she fell asleep! He always thought that that was what thoughtless men did after they orgasmed. He pulled the bedclothes over them and fell asleep in his turn, ignoring his rock hard cock. Mike was woken by the sun shining into the room and found there were the two of them in the bed, and they were back to back, at a distance: it was a very wide bed. He remembered Bryony and the night before. He got out of bed carefully and used the bathroom, before filling the kettle and going to the window to look out on the sparse traffic of early morning Saturday Manchester. The hotel opposite had all its curtains closed; no one up so early on a Saturday. Remembering he'd not shut the curtains the night before - he rarely did at this hotel - he wondered if he'd unwittingly given a show for folk across the road. Too late to change that now. His next thought was of Claire. In the light of an already warm morning, the anger and jealousy of the previous day were muted. They were still there, but severely muted. Taking centre stage instead was a feeling of depression and defeat. Perhaps he was too reserved; perhaps he should have made a more of a play for her, though she displayed little more than gratitude and warm friendship, itself fuelled by gratitude. He had to face it, he was not her type, she was just being nice to him. It didn't stop him finding her very attractive, and he had to agree with Tom that he had fallen for her. That was life. Oh, well. At least he'd done her a good turn. His conscience was clear; he had never tried to take advantage of her gratitude, and he resolved he would remain reserved with her. They would have a friendly but strictly business arrangement; it was what he had promised her, no more than that. He looked over at Bryony. She had seemed so glamorous the night before; now she seemed rather ordinary. It was a classic one-night stand feeling. He switched the kettle on. As is the fashion with hotel kettles, it took an age to take hold, but when it did, its loud noise was enough to wake her up. She turned over, a puzzled look on her face which resolved into recognition and then dawning guilt. "Oh, Mike, I'm so sorry. Come back to bed." He looked at her lying there and realised he didn't want to just take his pleasure. In fact he didn't feel like sex at all. "I'm making tea," he said. "Want some?" "Is there some coffee?" He changed plan and made her a cup of coffee, then made himself some tea. He took it to the bed and sat on the edge. They drank their drinks slowly: they were hot. He was obviously not going back to bed. "Mike," she said plaintively, "are you upset with me? I didn't mean to fall asleep. You were so good; you wore me out. Come back to bed and I'll make you feel good. You deserve it. You can have my bum if you fancy it." John was impressed at her offer, though anal was not his bag. "It's good to hear you had a good time and for my part I enjoyed giving you pleasure, but sorry sweetheart, I'm not in the mood this morning. As they say, it's not you; it's me." He laughed. She smiled, and he could see she was disappointed, though she didn't push it. Neither did she hide herself from him but walked about nakedly. He thought she was tempting him but his heart wasn't in it, so she dressed. "Breakfast?" he asked. "No thanks, Mike," she replied, gathering her things. "I couldn't face food at the moment. I'll just go." He stood, and went to her. "Thanks for a lovely evening Bryony. You are very beautiful and you've been a great companion." "Thanks for that!" she said wryly. "I think you've got someone else on your mind, haven't you?" He nodded. "She's hurt you," she said. He nodded. "Well it's worth trying to make up, you know. It's never irreversible." He nodded again. They kissed and she went. He went down to the crowded restaurant and had breakfast. As he ate he realised Bryony was right, he had over-reacted and he needed to reverse things. Mike got the bus back home. Once it was a few miles out of the centre the bus emptied itself of the other five passengers it had contained and he was the sole passenger. The journey was leisurely and peaceful. He had made a decision and he always kept his word even to himself. He walked up the drive to the house, walked in, disabled the alarm and went to the kitchen. There was no one awake so he made himself some tea and took it to his room. He had showered at the hotel but he needed to change his clothes and shave. So when the noise of the family reached his room he was relaxed, clean and freshly dressed. Fifteen minutes later there was a knock at the door and Claire entered on his invitation. "Hi, Claire," he said quietly. "Come in. Sit down." She did. So they sat a while looking at each other. She was agitated. At last she broke the silence. "You got your revenge then?" she said, and he could see resentment in her eyes. "Pardon?" "You got your revenge for me staying out late by staying out all night." "If that's what you want to believe." "It's true isn't it?" "No, it isn't true," he said patiently. He felt peaceful and aloof. "I was upset because you didn't let me know when you weren't coming home. That's why I was annoyed; you kept me waiting for hours and I had work the next morning. "Then I was disappointed that when you got your Decree Nisi you chose to tell your College friends and go celebrating with them and not tell me. I was concerned because Gary threatened to kill you if you divorced him, and I've been involved in offering you protection. So I was worried about your safety that night. OK?" "I want to tell you that I didn't sleep with-" "Stop there," he said sharply. "When you first came here, I said you had your own life to lead. A number of times, when I've tried to help you've told me to keep out of your life. I agreed with your wish and I honoured it. So I don't want to know what you did with your boyfriend. It's your life; I am to keep out of it on your instructions. "In the same way, I have my life to lead and I'm telling you to keep out of my life in exactly the same way. Like for like. So you have no right to ask me about last night. "I employ you to do a job; you do it very well and I pay you well for it. On a number of occasions you have shown me affection out of gratitude and we have, I hope, become friends. So I will be a friend and support and protect you as and when you ask for it." He sat back and waited. She looked upset. Then she came to a decision. "OK," she said, gathering herself. "I know you are my good friend, so please listen to me as a friend, not an employer. I want to apologise for not contacting you on Thursday night. My mobile ran out of juice but I should have phoned you with someone else's. In the excitement I forgot. No excuse; that was wrong of me. Not Just for Christmas Ch. 05-06 "The last call I got on my mobile was from Victor as I was on the bus going to meet the others. He only had time to tell me the Nisi had been granted before my phone packed in. I wanted to turn back and tell you but I would have missed the others, and well, now I wish I had turned back. None of this would have happened. "Jim, the man who brought me home, has been after me since we started going to the pub after lectures. I told them about the Decree Nisi and they all wanted to celebrate. "I think Jim put something in my drinks, or added vodka or something, 'cos I was really getting out of it far quicker than I should have. I think he thought I'd sleep with him if I was drunk enough now I was a single woman, except that I'm not single for another six weeks. "We went on to this club and danced, I mean all of us. Then I realised what time it was, and that I hadn't told you. I felt guilty and asked Jim to bring me home straightaway, which he did. I was completely out of it. "Anyway, when we got here he started kissing me and in my stupor I liked it, but then he started undressing me and he got my blouse open. I then realised in my drunken state what was happening and tried to stop him. He's a big man, Mike; he got my jeans undone and I fought him off. I got the door open and fell out of the car and ran for the house and he drove off. I was shaken and relieved. "I was terrified in that car, he was so forceful. You of all people should understand about me and violence, but when I got in I needed a friend and you shut me out. So he's not my boyfriend. OK?" She had gradually become cold and angry. He immediately knew that not only was she cold and angry, he knew that she had every reason to be angry. He had been a fool. He should have listened. He should have waited instead of sulking like a little boy. It was too late now. She was upset and distant. "So I need to apologise in my turn," he said humbly, "for not waiting for you to tell me the story, and for not being there for you after a frightening experience. I'm very sorry Claire. Can we start again?" "I don't know. I hope so." "By the way, since we're baring our souls, Tom did fix me up with a girl last night but we didn't have sex. OK?" "Um, OK," she mumbled. And that was that. - For Mike the week was uncomfortable. Claire was 'nice' to him. She smiled. She joked. She was thoughtful, bringing him cups of tea in his study and his room. It heaped coals of fire on his head. He knew now that he was in love with her and he was equally certain that she had no feelings in that direction at all, but in being such a good friend she made things worse. He was stuck; he had employed her and because of her complete efficiency she alone had the power to end the arrangement. He in his turn hid himself away. He ate with the family as he always had. He chatted with the children and with Claire, but now she was free from her studies she would shoo him out of the kitchen where he used to either wash up or dry the pots with her. So he retired in solitude to work or read, or rather it was solitude until one of the children came for a chat and a hug. But never Claire. He went to see the folks at the Home practically every night for an hour or so. Claire never asked him where he went and he didn't enlighten her. By the end of one week he knew this couldn't go on but he had not the slightest idea how to end it. It was, however, taken out of his hands. Trouble arrived. It was a disaster in the making and it was just after lunch on Saturday. He usually left the double gates open during the day when he was at home, especially at weekends, which meant that visitors could get to the front door without anyone in the house having to let them in through the pedestrian gate. The family were doing their own thing and Claire had decided to have a bath. Then the front doorbell rang. Since he was nearest, Mike answered the door. There stood Cheryl, his ex-wife. "Hi, Mike!" she said brightly. How would you answer your ex-wife who has not spoken to you since dumping you, leaving the note saying you bored her? Well Mike didn't know either so he stood open mouthed, gormlessly staring at her. "Aren't you going to ask me in?" she pouted. "Cheryl," he found his voice. "What are you doing here? What's all this in aid of?" "It's been too long!" she replied with a bright smile that he could not read. "It was rude of me to leave you like that so I thought I'd come and bury the hatchet." She sidled past him into the Hallway. "Where's your bloke?" Mike asked. "Oh," she said airily, "it didn't work out. He went bankrupt. As it happens I'm looking for somewhere to crash. I thought you might..." The words died on her lips as Claire came down the stairs in a bathrobe. Claire stopped and looked at Cheryl. Cheryl glared at Claire. "Mike!" glowered Claire. "Kitchen. Now!" "Wait here," Mike growled at Cheryl. "Stay there!" he shouted over his shoulder as he followed the furious woman into the kitchen. He was hardly in the kitchen when the onslaught began. "You said you wouldn't bring your women here! What's she doing coming to the house?" "I'm his wife darling," came a voice behind him, heavy with false syrup, before he had a chance to speak. Cheryl had followed him; she never did as he asked. "EX-wife," Mike corrected her. "Yeah, wha'ever!" Cheryl had lost none of her charm nor her glottal stops. He turned his attention to a red-faced Claire. She was very angry, yes, definitely. "Cheryl here," he said quietly, "came to 'bury the hatchet'. Oh, and as an afterthought she wants to 'crash' here." He turned to Cheryl. "That's right isn't it?" Cheryl nodded, beginning to look hopeful. "Well, sorry, Cheryl. You left me because I bored you. I seem to remember you said your new boyfriend was better in every way than I was. Now you come waltzing back as if nothing has happened. "Well it has. One, we are divorced. Two, as you see, I've moved on. Personally I've never been happier. Claire here and her family, yes family Cheryl, have made me happier than you ever did. So, sorry, there's no room for you here. D'you need a handout for a hotel?" There was silence. Then, "OK, point taken. No really, it's OK. He left me with some money. I just-" "What?" "Just that I've been stupid, didn't realise what I had. Too late now obviously." "For what?" "To try again?" "You're right. It was too late when I got the note. You were never coming back." Suddenly Cheryl changed tack. She was good at that, he remembered. If one door closes try another one. "Hey," she said looking at Claire, "you're that missing woman with the family! Big news last Christmas! I work for the local rag, you know, the Echo. You made quite a splash. We nearly missed the story what with the holiday and all that. You've just got your divorce I hear." Mike was dumbfounded. How could Cheryl have remembered about Christmas, and where did she get the information about the divorce? There was something suspicious about that. "Yeah," Cheryl said, getting the knives out for Claire. "Enjoy living here?" she asked with some venom. "Yes," said Claire with remarkable restraint, Mike thought, "Mike has been very good to us." "I bet he has!" Cheryl's malevolence was now manifest. "No doubt you're paying your way on your back like his weekend girlies! Good in bed, isn't he? Have a good time, Mike, at the Majestic? Last weekend, you remember, with Bryony? Bet you booked 'our' room didn't you?" "Get out Cheryl!" he shouted, "and don't come back." "Ooh! Hit a nerve there didn't I?" she said making for the door. Then she stopped for there were three children standing looking at her, the oldest malevolently blocking her way. "What did you say about my mother?" snarled Siobhán. Now Cheryl was not a tall woman though very pretty, shapely and in proportion, but Siobhán was tall for her age, and she was just a little taller than the older woman who was not wearing her heels. Cheryl was worried. No, Mike thought, actually afraid. "Leave her be," said Claire. "She's not worth you using your martial arts on her." Cheryl flinched. "I think you have something to say to my mother," persisted Siobhán, taking a step towards her. "Sorry," said Cheryl to Claire unconvincingly. "I shouldn't have said that." Then she turned, pushed past the younger children and made for the door, slamming it behind her. Claire and Siobhán collapsed with laughter. "Mum you're the limit! Martial arts? Where did that come from?" Mike was not laughing. First he had been attacked by Claire in front of a visitor she did not know. Second, he knew how vindictive Cheryl could be. Everyone would now have to watch their backs, especially if Cheryl worked at the Echo. The two younger children were looking puzzled, so he shepherded them into the living room and they settled back to their play. Claire and Siobhán followed, and came giggling into the living room. The giggling stopped when they saw Mike's face. "Claire," he said coldly, "I want a word in private. Please return to the kitchen." She turned with a worried frown once she was inside the door, "What is it Mike?" He closed the door. "Claire, never attack me in front of a visitor again. I will not be ordered about in my own house. She could have been a neighbour, a woman from work, a client, or a friend. You have no right to insult me or a visitor like that!" She realised immediately what she had done. In a sense it was understandable, she was protecting her children but in ignorance. What Mike had not expected was Claire's reaction, or rather over-reaction. She collapsed onto a kitchen chair and broke down in tears. He was mystified. For months now she had been assertive, happy and secure. Now suddenly she broke down like a child. "I'm so sorry!" she cried. "Please it won't happen again! I don't know what came over me." She buried her head in her hands. It frightened him. He remembered that Catherine had told him at Christmas how near the edge she was but he had thought that was all behind them. There was a knocking on the door. "Mum!" It was Siobhán. "Are you all right?" "Yes," Claire replied, struggling to sound normal. "It's all right. Mike and I need to discuss something." "Claire," Mike said, "you corrected me last weekend; now I'm correcting you. It's the way people get on together. It's normal. You know your place is secure here." She looked up gratefully. "But," he added, "Cheryl bears grudges. She may just forget about it, or she may resent that I've turned her away, or that you're here, or that Siobhán threatened her." "What could she do?" "No idea," he answered, "Forget it." They both did. Bad move. Chapter Six People can be too grateful, Mike thought. The rest of the weekend and the whole of the following week were once again filled with Claire's gratitude. She couldn't do enough for him - again - bringing him the inevitable cups of tea, asking how he'd like the chicken cooked for Sunday lunch the following weekend, inviting him for a walk with the family (except Siobhán who had better things to do) in the parkland surrounding one of their local stately homes. The last of these was a tussle. At first he refused and then saw the disappointment and pleading on her face. He was beginning to feel persecuted. So it was that they were in the park early. The July morning was very warm and while the children were in jeans and tee shirts, Claire was in a very fetching sundress. It was sleeveless with a 'V' neck and well above the knee. A pair of sandals was the only other thing she wore, apart from a bra and sensible knickers which were just visible through the brightly coloured fabric of the dress. Claire and Ryan were walking ahead, and Ginny and Mike were a distance behind. The sun shone through Claire's dress and outlined her body clearly. She was truly a beautiful woman: her shape was captivating. Ginny was chatting away but he didn't hear her. He was jolted when there was a sudden silence. "Mike?" she asked. "Yes?" "D'you like Mum?" "Yes, Ginny," he said, "your Mum is very special." "You love her?" Oh dear. With Ryan, he thought, he could get away with a bland answer but Ginny was a girl, and was nine now (he remembered the riotous birthday party and felt residual fear; she invited the whole class and most of them came). He knew what she she was getting at, but was unsure how to answer. "I admire her very much," he began. "She's brought you all up wonderfully. Look at the three of you! You're each one of you a real credit to her. She's strong and caring, and she looks after me wonderfully." Did he really expect to get away with it? Fool! "Yes, but do you love her, I mean really love her?" "I'm not sure exactly what that means," he prevaricated bravely, "I care about her very much, I want her to stay here with you all. I'd be very sad if you all went, as I suppose you will one day." "Oh." She was disappointed; it showed in her voice. He wondered what she was driving at but the silence that ensued, coupled with her taking his hand in hers stopped him from asking. It would only provoke further embarrassing questions. They ended up at the adventure playground, where the children ran off and began their own workout. Claire and Mike sat together on a bench. She sat close, and he could feel the warmth of her arm against his. She sighed. "This is so wonderful," she said. "I can't remember when I've felt so relaxed and so much at home as when I've been with you. You know the children adore you?" "Don't know about that," he said, "but we get on fine." "Ryan was asking were you going to be their new dad. You're always there for them, you take them out; you listen to them. You kick a ball around with Ryan. You make time for them. You tell them off when they're naughty. You might as well be." "I only try to support you. You know how much I love having you all. I can't imagine life without the house full. The children are precious to me, you know. I'll always be there for them. "Umm. Good." She sighed again and it was a relaxed happy sound, and it gave him a warm feeling. He wanted desperately to put his arm round her and tell her his feelings for her, but there was something stopping him and he didn't know what it was. He felt it strange for he was never one to be reticent. People, both at work and socially, knew he spoke his mind but somehow he felt scared to do that now. Perhaps, he thought, he was afraid of being rejected by Claire of all women; perhaps afraid of ruining what relationship there was between them. It mattered to him more than anything to keep her. Nothing had ever mattered as much to him as to get this relationship with her right. On Monday morning Rosemary took her coffee break with Mike as she usually did. They talked shop for a while then chatted about the previous weekend. He told her about Cheryl's arrival, and she agreed it was unusual and even suspicious, but they couldn't think of a reason she could have for finding him again. Then it came, a change of tack. "It must be about five weeks to go now." "Pardon?" he said. "To Claire's Decree Absolute." "Yes, I suppose so," he said, wondering where this was leading. "She'll be a free woman." "Aye." "Thinking of doing anything about that?" One eyebrow was raised as she asked. "I'm sorry?" "Mike, I've seen the way you look at her. You know what I mean." "Rosemary!" "You're in love with her. When are you going to do something about that?" "Look," he said rather sharply. "She's a good friend. I don't want to ruin that by making a move on her." "Faint heart never won fair lady, you know." "D'you think this weather will last, Rosemary?" "OK, point taken!" They smiled knowingly and affectionately at each other, and got back to work. On Tuesday Tom rang him mid afternoon. "How's it going old son?" he asked. "Fine." "Said anything to Claire yet?" he asked. "What do you mean?" "Come on, Mike," he laughed. "I met Bryony. I hear you turned down a fuck." "She's not upset is she?" "Oh no," he said. "She reckoned there was someone else. She had a very knowing look. So have you done anything about Claire?" "No." "Once she's divorced, she'll be on the market again. You need to get in there first, or you'll find her gone." Mike now suspected there was some sort of plot. And his suspicions were reinforced the next evening, when Siobhán sauntered into his room, after a perfunctory knock. He was sitting in an armchair, so she went and sat down in the other one. Something was up; she normally contributed to the demise of the arm of his own chair. He sensed his reading time was over and reluctantly marked the place and put his book down and waited for this young girl with a thirty-year-old head on her shoulders to tell him what she wanted. "Go on," he said. She smiled; he quailed. "Dad - I mean, Mike," she grinned demurely. She did this a lot, calling him Dad. She knew it embarrassed him. The second time she did it he told her he wasn't her Dad but she countered by saying he was more of a dad than her own, and anyway after what Gary did to her she didn't have a real Dad. "Ginny and I have been talking." She stopped and smiled at him. "Oh dear," he said with a grin. "What about, and how much is it going to hurt me?" She pouted. When do girls learn to pout, he asked himself. "No, it's not going to hurt." She paused, and he sensed she was about to spring a trap. "Question: do you fancy Mum?" It was certainly direct, that question. Not, do you love her, admire her, but fancy her! "Your mother is a very beautiful woman, Siobhán. Any man would be attracted to her." She sighed in exasperation at his avoiding the question. "And you like her?" "Like? Yes, of course I like her. She's strong and clever and funny and decisive and hard working. I admire her immensely." "So why haven't you asked her out?" Here we go again, he thought. "We live in the same house, Siobhán," he said patiently. "She works for me. We're good friends. I'm her employer and it's not fair for an employer to hit on one of his employees." "Well," she said, with a defiant almost angry stare at him, "that's daft. It's bloody stupid." She saw his face cloud. "Sorry, but it is." "How?" "You both behave like our Mum and Dad. You chat together like ordinary married people do. You like her, admire her, let's face it Dad, you love her don't you?" He started to feel he was losing his way in this argument and he capitulated. "Yes, I do Hen, but I don't want to spoil what we have by trying it on with her. So don't tell her." "Dad," she said, "Mum loves you. She has loved you for ages. She doesn't think you love her; you've never shown any sign that you love her." "I've told you why." "Sometimes she cries because you don't seem to fancy her." "She told you that?" "No, don't be stupid!" she said, exasperated. "I know it's true though. We women know about such things. Now please, will you take her out? We children want you two to get together; we fancy you as our Dad." "Are you behind the campaign that's gone on all this week?" She had the grace to look embarrassed. "Thought so," he said smugly. Well, he thought, it seems she loves me; I know I love her. "OK," he said. She jumped up and made for him. "But!" he said holding up his hand. She stopped in mid leap. "I do this my way and you say nothing about this to your mother. Understand?" "Yes," she said, then came over and hugged him. "And don't tell the other two either," he admonished her. "They'll never keep it to themselves." Not Just for Christmas Ch. 05-06 "Ok... Dad!" Then she flounced out. Well, more of a happy skip really. He made a phone call, asked a question and got a positive answer. Once the family were in bed, or in Siobhán's case her bedroom, Mike went downstairs and found Claire in the study where she was doing the household accounts. "Hello," she said, smiling up at him. "Claire," he said tentatively, "I wonder would you like to have dinner with me on Friday, and perhaps a few drinks afterwards?" She started, clearly shocked. "Mike? What's brought this on? You've never asked me out before." He knew before he said anything that he wouldn't get off easily, but he had his answer ready. "Claire," he said, "last week you got your Decree Nisi. Before that, you were a married woman and I don't date married women, but in a few weeks you'll be a free woman. I've wanted to say more for a long time, but as I say..." "You're asking me for a date?" "Aye." She smiled warmly at him. "That's what I like about you, Mike. You say little and mean a lot. Yes, I'd love to go with you for dinner. Perhaps some dancing? You don't mind me asking?" "No," he smiled. "I know just the place." Rosemary came home with Mike on Friday, prepared to stay the night and as much of the next day as needed. She loved children and they naturally loved her. Claire left the children's dinner for Rosemary to sort out. The younger two were all smiles and Siobhán looked satisfied with her machinations of the previous week. There was certainly a conspiratorial air about the place. He showered, shaved and changed into an open-necked shirt, tan trousers and a navy blazer, and then left his room and made for the stairs. Out of the room at the other end of the landing came a vision. Her hair was up, showing how long her slender neck was. Her 'little black dress' was in fact a deep, deep red. It was demure, v-necked and low at the back; short, just above the knee. Bare legs; strappy, medium heeled shoes, but no jewellery. It struck him she had none. "Stop there!" he cried, and ran back to his room. He fished out a necklace and earrings, gold inset with diamonds, but not too showy, that his grandmother left to him. 'Give them to the girl you are going to marry,' she had said. He wasn't going to give them to Claire just yet but she could wear them. He brought them to Claire, "Would you like to wear these tonight?" he asked. Her eyes glistened and she admired them. She nodded, turned her back and waited for him to fasten the necklace round her lovely neck. Then she fixed the earrings. "Perfect!" she whispered and looked at him over her shoulder with a dreamy expression before taking his arm and walking him down the stairs. The children were lined up in the hallway. There were gasps and murmurings from the girls at the sight of their mother and each wore broad smiles. Ryan just grinned. They all hugged and kissed their mother and then came to Mike and did the same. The taxi was waiting and they were off. Claire had her arm tucked in his all the way. They went to the same club Tom and Mike used. Tom wasn't there, having gone to some convention or other. Claire got her share of admiring looks from many of the men there. The meal was excellent as usual and they chatted away through it, laughing and joking. Then they went into the club area and danced. The first dances were quick upbeat numbers and after three they were both out of breath. Out of practice too. So they had a couple of drinks. Then Mike got a surprise. "Hi, Mike!" said a female voice behind him. Claire looked up and stiffened. He turned. It was Sharon, the girl that Tom took home the night Mike had Bryony, or rather didn't have Bryony. "Sharon! Lovely to see you!" he said and he meant it. He stood and they hugged. Then to Claire he said, "This is Sharon, she's Bryony's friend, you know, the girl who I was with that weekend. Sharon this is Claire." "Hi!" Sharon said brightly. "You're Mike's housekeeper aren't you? He looks very well on it! Hey Mike, Bryony was disappointed you didn't bed her properly. She said you had someone else in mind?" "You could say that," he was now very embarrassed but Claire's grin got wider and wider. Sharon kissed him long and sensuously on his lips until Claire cleared her throat meaningfully, but she was still smiling. "See you!" shouted Sharon as she sashayed away laughing, looking for fresh prey. Claire looked after her, appreciating what he had given up if Bryony was half as good looking as Sharon, then looked back at Mike. "Well?" she asked him. "Why didn't you 'bed' this Bryony? Who's the 'someone else'?" "You know perfectly well who," he shot back. "I've loved you for months. I couldn't go with anyone else, even though we were at odds that weekend." "That true?" asked Claire her eyes shining. "It's true." "Since when?" "Oh," he said, "I think it was when you said you were going to see Gary. You were resolute and told me to keep out of your business. You were strong and independent." "Let's dance," she said. It was a slow dance and she came into his arms, her arms round his neck and she pressed herself against him. He put his hands low on her waist and pulled her to him. He felt her breasts, she his growing erection and she laid her head against his chest just underneath his chin. Nothing was said as they moved gently to the music but after a while she lifted her face and her hands pulled his head down. They kissed. It was very gentle, very soft and it didn't last very long, but it said 'I love you' as clearly as if she'd shouted it to the room. Then she sighed; a quiet sound of satisfaction and contentment. As the dance ended, she said "Let's go home." So they did. The journey in the taxi was passed in silence. She was in the crook of his arm, her head against his chest and his arm round her shoulders. From time to time she lifted her head for a kiss and smiled beatifically which made her pretty face radiant. He was sure that at that moment there was no woman more beautiful in the entire universe. They arrived home at one o'clock to find the house quiet. Everyone was asleep and Rosemary had also gone to bed. He got them their drinks, set them on the coffee table and they sat down together on the sofa in the living room. Or rather he sat down on the sofa and she knelt straddling his lap and started kissing him. The hem of the dress had ridden up, displaying her firm slim thighs, while continuing to hide her panties. Before long they were both moaning as their kisses became more and more intense. "Mike," she said breathlessly as they came up for air. "Can we use your room? Mine is a little too near the children." "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. "This was only our first date." She kissed him again. "Mike we've lived together for seven months. For most of that time I've been frustrated as hell seeing you everyday and wanting you so badly." "Me too," he said, "though I tried to deny it. I didn't think you thought of me like that." "Come on," she said, taking his hand in a firm grip, and leading the way. They climbed the stairs and went to his room. "Undress me," she commanded, turning her back to allow him to unzip her dress. He pushed the garment off her shoulders and down her lithe body, until it fell away and pooled at her feet. "And your lovely necklace," she ordered, with the back of her long swan-like neck still facing him. He kissed her neck and she shivered. She then took off the earrings. He thought how intensely erotic a woman removing her earrings was. Then she turned to face him and stepped back. "This is what you bought me for Christmas," she smiled with a hint of shyness. The bra and bikini knickers were in coffee. Under the breast the fabric was translucent, giving the faintest hint of her nipple, while above the nipple was the finest lightest lace. The straps were scalloped. The knickers were very brief with scalloped edges, of the same translucent material, tightly hugging her vulva and outlining it and the valley between her lower lips, with a panel of fine lace on each side. Her body! There was perfection in the proportions of her waist and hips, and her legs were wonderfully slim and shapely. Above there was the perfection of her pretty face, looking apprehensive as his gaze travelled all over her. He briefly recalled her face when she had arrived, so damaged. She was beautiful then, but now... Her hands went up to her hair and she shook out her auburn tresses, as they fell down over her shoulders. His lustful expression was obvious, and she smiled more boldly. "I love it when you look at me like that," she said and did a slow turn so he could see her tight bottom, the exquisite curve of her back and the valley of her spine. He held out his arms as she finished her turn, and she came into them and they kissed again gently and at length, before she stepped back a little and pulled up his shirt. He bent forward to help her and she pulled it off. Then in one fluid movement she undid his pants but slid the zip down so very slowly. He wasn't sure about other men, but the sensation of a woman drawing his zip down was among the most erotic feelings he knew. A woman who did that was issuing an invitation. She slipped the garment down, kneeling as she did so. She removed his shoes and socks and then he obediently lifted each leg in turn so she could remove his trousers completely. He stood back and she gazed at him. "Oh, yes!" she breathed, then stood up and reached behind her to unhook her bra, allowing it to fall forward and off her breasts. They were medium sized, perfectly in proportion with the rest of her and he could see no sign of any droop; the nipples stood out proudly and slightly elevated, and showed her arousal. With a sensual smile and fixing her eyes on his, she hooked her fingers in her bikinis and slowly slid them down her legs, bending over at the hip but all the time holding his gaze, then standing erect. She held his eyes until he could not any longer stand the temptation to gaze on her sex. Her pubic hair was closely cropped, and auburn, like that of her head, though more reddish. At this she laughed a guttural laugh and he reddened, feeling caught out. She stood before him brazenly naked, legs apart, hands on hips, and nodded at his boxers with a smile he could only think of as predatory. He mimicked her action, sliding them down and over his straining erection. They fell to the floor and he stepped out of them. She made a twirling motion with the finger of one hand and he obediently did a slow turn as she had. "Nice buns," she whispered. "Lovely arse!" and she giggled. She stepped forward and as he turned towards her, she reached out both hands and traced the contours of his chest, feeling his pectorals and six-pack, then running her fingers over the muscles of his back as she pressed herself to him and moaned. She kissed his nipples, then held out a hand and drew him to the bed. "Can we just lie together for a while?" she asked. He could only agree. They climbed into bed together and entwined their legs, his hard erection between them on her stomach, one breast against his ribs, his arm around her and her head on his chest, her hair tickling his face. A deep sigh escaped her lips and she moved sinuously against him more as a cuddle than an erotic invitation. He made a sound, a sort of hum of contentment, and she did the same. "Happy?" he asked. "Never more so," she answered, her tone dreamy. "If you knew how long I've waited for this, imagined it, ached for it, to be in your arms. You happy?" "I feel as if I've come home at last," he whispered, "and I never want to leave home ever again." She made a happy noise and nuzzled into his chest. "I married Gary," she said after a pause, "and I thought I loved him, but what we had was nothing like this. I really didn't know what the word intimate meant. I do now. I love you so much." "With Cheryl it was pure lust," he responded, "or rather, it was impure lust on both our parts. I thought it was love as well, and I did love her after a fashion, but she wasn't a soul mate. I think that you and I can be, no we are, soul mates." "Mike?" she raised her head and looked into his eyes. "Yes, my love?" "I want you to make love to me. It's years since Gary made love to me. It was always violent." He knew what she meant. They stroked each other all over. As he touched the back of her knees she closed her eyes and stopped her ministrations; it was a surrender to his touches. The backs of her thighs, the cross-shaped creases of her bottom, the small of her back all received careful attention. As he moved to her shoulders, she turned onto her back and presented her breasts. He could have teased her, but she was breathing urgently, so he passed his palms over her nips as he cupped and caressed their fullness and she groaned. She took one of his hands and led it to her bush, spreading her legs widely. He began to move his face downwards, but she stopped him. "No games Mike." "Claire," he pleaded, "I want to taste you. I want to kiss and lick you. I want to know every part of you." She relaxed and he moved off the bed, gently pulling her with him, to take what was his favourite way of eating a woman, kneeling on his haunches on the floor. It was relaxed, and her vulva was at exactly the right height so there was no twisting of his neck. He looked at her body, then held her outer lips apart revealing her inner folds. This was not the time to tantalise, to give a huge orgasm. This woman simply wanted to be loved gently to a conclusion, so that is what he did. He revelled in her taste, her smell, all woman. It did not take long. As he licked along her inner folds and stroked her clitoris with the flat of his tongue her bottom began to rise and fall. There was no intensification on his part, he simply continued gently tonguing her to and fro until she pulled up his head. "I'm near," she panted. "Please, Mike!" She scrambled to the middle of the bed, took hold of his stiff cock and pulled him onto the bed towards her sex, and once he reached her opening there was no going back. It was quite tight even after three children, but slick, and he slid into her effortlessly and moved with her. She groaned. She moaned. Her breath came faster. She grabbed his bottom and pulled him further in each time he pushed into her and she thrust upwards more and more quickly, which he echoed by speeding up himself. She may have had the idea of a gentle and quiet love-making at first but now she was wild. He began to thrust harder and was rewarded each time with "Yes!" Then she came, convulsing under him, but silently. He came immediately after, the spasms releasing the jets of his semen powerful in the extreme; his grunts and panting not so silent. "I thought it was supposed to be gentle?" he asked as they both came down and once more lay in each other's arms. "So did I," she laughed contently. "I sort of got carried away, and anyway that was quite gentle. Really!" Mike felt angry. If that was gentle what must Gary have been doing to her? How could anyone hate or abuse someone so beautiful? "Don't get angry," she said. She knew him so well. "If he hadn't been so violent, I would never have met you, and would never have known... "I remember how angry you were when you saw me for the first time," she mused. "You used it to put a wrong right." There were no more words. He felt her hands tracing over his back and sides, gently stroking. He must have fallen asleep, and when he woke up she was gone. He dressed and went downstairs. It was seven o'clock. No one had stirred. He made his usual tea and sat in the kitchen. He was about to pour it when Rosemary, fully dressed, wandered into the room. "Well?" she asked. He knew better than to plead ignorance. "Perfect," he said. "I love her; she loves me. Couldn't be better." "Well," she said with a wide smile. "It's not often you can make four people the happiest on the planet all at once, but I think you're about to do it!" "I hope so." he said, and they drank their tea. - Saturday was a strange day. Claire couldn't keep her hands off him nor could he off her. Each time they touched, kissed or embraced briefly in passing there was a daughter grinning smugly at their intimacy, though Ryan did not seem to notice - that's boys for you! That evening, however, Claire said she'd have to talk to the girls before coming into his bed again. Sunday was the same. They all went for a walk, including Siobhán which was a surprise, and Claire and Mike held hands. The giggling from the girls seemed to go on forever and even Ryan caught on, but they eventually got used to it. The interesting thing was that neither of the girls actually said anything. There was a certain shyness about them. Everyone got used to the new relationship during the next week, but Mike and Claire decided to cool their bedroom activities until Claire had talked to Siobhán. After a Friday early evening visit to the pub, with Julie next door babysitting, the rest of the weekend approached the normality they had before they got together. On Sunday night once the children were in bed Claire and Mike sat in the living room. "I had a chat with Siobhán," said Claire out of the blue. "About?" he asked. "Well, us really. She's very mature you know. She wanted to know if we were going to move in together." "And are we?" "I'm not sure. I think I'd need to tell Ginny and Ryan before we did anything." "Ryan's a little boy: he will just accept it and never think about it. Ginny is more aware I think. Siobhán is definitely aware of the implications of sleeping together. I think the younger ones will just see it as the normal thing parents do - they sleep in the same bed. You slept with Gary for most of their lives, you know. "Kids adapt. They've seen us working and even parenting together; they've been on the receiving end of our team effort. Surely they'll expect us to move in together now?" "Mm," she murmured, unconvinced. "Why not talk to Siobhán again? She's a clever girl and a lot nearer their age." She brightened at that. "Yes. Good idea! But we can't do it until they know." "We've 'done it' already sweetheart," he grinned, "or have you forgotten the Friday night?" She nudged his ribs. "I'll never forget that!" and she smiled lovingly at him. It was time to prepare for the coming week, lunch for Siobhán and Mike and snacks and drinks for the younger children who had school dinners. Then Claire came to him, kissed him long and hard and pressed her body to his so that his interest became obvious to her groin region. She took an exaggerated look at his pants and then said goodnight, leaving him to set the alarms and reset the video surveillance hard drive recorders. Then he trudged upstairs ready for a good night's sleep. Which happened later than he expected because when he entered his room there was a naked woman in his bed. "I thought fun was out until you talked to the children?" he enquired, though he shed his clothes quickly enough and revealed his enthusiasm to her. "I said I'd have to talk before we moved in together," she said slyly. "When you've performed to my satisfaction I'll be leaving for my room!" "Well," he growled, "I'd better get on with it then." He did or rather she did. As he approached the bed she climbed out of it. "Sit on the bed," she commanded. He sat on the edge, legs wide apart while, naked, she knelt on the floor between them on her heels as he had done the previous time, this time with her face level with his penis. He sensed her reluctance. "Claire, darling," he said gently. "You don't have to, you know." Not Just for Christmas Ch. 05-06 "Yes, I do!" she replied with some fervour. "You wanted to know my intimate places and now I want to know yours. I've waited long enough." She kissed him up and down his length, kissed his balls then kissed the head. He stroked her head but did not push as she took him further and further into her mouth until she gagged then withdrew a little. "Please don't come in my mouth," she requested as she removed her mouth for a moment, then returned to her task gazing up into his eyes as she did so. She sucked him in, let him out, then sucked him in again. Then she worked him faster. She was not the greatest blow-job expert in the world, but she performed it with such a loving and lustful look that he began to feel an orgasm approaching. "Claire," he said urgently, "I'm coming!" and he tried to withdraw but to his surprise she continued until he erupted into her mouth and she swallowed and continued to swallow until he relaxed and the outflow finished. "You told me not to-" "Yes," she interrupted, getting up off the floor licking her lips and sitting next to him, "but when it came to it I wanted you to. "Gary used to make me blow him and held my head to be sure he came in my mouth. I hated it. I thought I'd hate it with you but you told me I didn't have to, and I wanted to repay your oral gift. "Then I found I didn't hate it at all. You looked down at me with such love I wanted to. You taste better than him!" She laughed out loud and began playing with his tool. It had no time to wilt completely and obligingly returned to something approaching full mast, whereupon she pushed him down on the bed. "Can I go on top?" she asked. "Be my guest," he replied, smiling. She straddled him and lowered herself onto his now resilient member. "O-o-h!" she exclaimed. "Gary never let me do this. He always had to be on top. It's bloody fantastic!" "You have total control," he grunted with some effort. In this position she felt tighter and was leaning back rather further than was comfortable for him. She giggled, leant forward a little and began to rise and fall. Her firm breasts bounced slightly. It was a turn on. "You never did it this way - ever?" he asked with some surprise. "Never," she asserted. "He only did it on top. Sometimes he'd stand at the side of the bed. Oooh! Sometimes he'd push my legs over my shoulders. Aaah! He was always on top." She was obviously enjoying it, exhaling with each new sensation. "Claire, try going in circles." She did and her eyes opened wide. "Oh f-u-uck!" she exclaimed, that's incredible!" She incorporated the move into her routine: up, down and round and round. She kept eye contact the whole time; she was looking down on him as she rose, fell and rotated, biting her lip while he cupped her breasts giving them gentle squeezes and pinches to the nipples. Then there was the signal she was near: her eyes closed and her movements became more intense; her strokes were longer and faster and she rotated and ground her pussy hard against his pubic fuzz. She was out of control, so he pinched her nips hard, her eyes flew open and rolled in her head as she came hard. She was not quiet; she squealed and cried out and made those wordless noises as the spasms hit her again and again. She fell forward onto him continuing to move her buttocks to and fro, feasting on the feeling of his hard cock within her, panting and catching her breath. "Oh! So good! So complete! God you're good. God I love you!" were a selection of the epithets with which she praised either her Maker, Mike or her orgasm, it mattered not which to him. He tended to think it was the orgasm since it was all her own work and he did little to help apart from the final pinch. Perhaps also she was also praising the Creator of their private parts which gave such pleasure. Then she suddenly sat up, her hand over her mouth. "Oh bugger!" she cried in horror. "D'you think they heard?" Mike was amused at her coarse language which he had never before heard from her lips. He was still impaled and enjoying the feeling of her relaxing sheath. "They sleep like logs," he reassured her. "Mind you, I think half the local area heard." She laughed and then looked perplexed. "You didn't come?" "I came in your mouth darling. Once is enough." "No it isn't," she argued. "Your turn. How would you like me?" "Kneel on all fours," he said. She disengaged and presented her backside to him. He grasped her hips and drove his cock into her. She grunted and gave a little yelp as he bottomed out. "Sorry, did that hurt?" "Surprise, that's all, go on!" she urged. "Really do me!" So he did. The term in general use, he thought, was 'pounded'. He thought it was apt in this case. He kept his strokes long and hard, bottoming out and feeling his balls slapping the front of her mound, where she had begun to finger herself, resting on her other elbow and forearm. Thanks to her previous athletic manoeuvres, the feel of her fingers on his balls each time he bottomed out, the magnificent view of her sinuous back, her supremely curved backside and the sight of his cock appearing and disappearing as it invaded her pussy, her nether lips seeming to suck it in each time he thrust forward, he came quite quickly, and she brought herself off again almost simultaneously, her finger a blur on her clitoris. "I thought you hated rough sex," he gasped as they lay in the afterglow. "Before I had no choice; now I do," she murmured. "Before I was being used; you would never use me like that. Tonight I did what I wanted. You've no idea how free that makes me feel. It's just as well I didn't know what I was missing before now." "Claire, my darling, you are a fantastic lover and you know I've had some experience. Making love with you really means something much more to me, it's better than anything I've known." They lay together wrapped round each other, until she reluctantly left for her own bed and left him lying in a wet spot. He smiled, and moved over to the 'other' side of the bed. - Another week passed. Mike was extra busy at work and there were a number of late nights. On Saturday Ryan was attending a birthday party, and Siobhán was staying with a girlfriend during the day but needed a taxi service from Claire or Mike later that evening. Mike took Claire and Ginny on a shopping trip to Manchester. He was bored during the experience but enjoyed their enjoyment. Mike and Claire spent a few happy hours in Mike's bed on Saturday night, but Claire once again returned to her own bed afterwards. Both of them felt this would have to change and soon; they wanted to sleep together all night and wake together in the morning. On Sunday the family went for a long walk and ate at a pub in the country. They were all tired that night and Claire did not come to his bed. Monday. Another ordinary day. It rained and it was windy, if warm. The children went off to school. As was usual on rainy days Claire took Siobhán in the car to the nearest bus stop with a shelter, nearer the town centre, while Mike walked with the younger ones to the primary school and then came back and drove into work. As he entered the building, the sun came out and he looked up to see plenty of blue sky. The day was already appreciably warmer. It would be hot and humid after the rain. It was at ten eighteen precisely - he had just looked at his watch - that the world changed for him and would never be quite the same again. Mike was reading a specification sheet and the phone rang. Normally phone calls went to Rosemary, but Mike had a special number. He was half paying attention when he answered it. "Mike Stewart." No voice at the other end but the sound of people shouting. "Gary no-o-o!" "Shut up, you whoring bitch!" The sound of a slap and a squeal of pain. Then, "What's this? You cunt, you phoning him?" and it cut off. By the time the 'conversation' ended Mike was fired up and really paying attention. "Rosemary! We're going home, Claire's being attacked!" *****