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Cathy and Chris Ch. 01

By: Crazeems



This is the first part of a love story that I have been trying to work up into a novel for ages. Trouble is I keep forgetting myself and my two characters just end up in bed. Hope you like it.

*

The door slammed as the teenager left the room. 

"Kids ah?" he said.

"They drive you mad, no rhyme nor reason, just to piss me off." She folded her arms.

"I get cross with my two don't worry."

"Oh yours are only young yet, you've got years to go until you want to strangle them. I sometimes think Brian died just for bloody mindedness."

"It's tough isn't it."

"I do miss him," she said, "not the way that you miss Jenny though," she dismissed.

"How do you know?" He grinned cheekily.

"Oh you two were still in love. I think I miss Jenny more than I miss Brian."

"Well, she was your sister, it's allowed."

"Yeah but I was married to him for almost twenty years, I stopped living with Jenny when she was sixteen. I should miss him more than I do. He was almost twenty years older than me though." She said, "I'm thirty-five and he was like an old man when he died. And Jenny, well..." She let the thoughts of her late sister hang in the air.

"Yeah," he said with a surprising amount of calm, "basically, life isn't fucking fair."

She was surprised by the way he'd almost spat out the expletive, she'd never heard him swear or even raise his voice before.

"Christopher!" she said in mock outrage at her normally quiet brother and pretending to almost drop her empty coffee cup, "anyway fucking fair or fucking unfair, I wasn't getting any at all." She giggled.

"Any what... Ooooh," he said with a smile at her crudeness in response to his.

She looked knowingly at him and shook her head. He looked her up and down, "what not even before his illness?"

"Not that much," she sniffed in mock disgust.

"Nothing since?"

"Nope, just my little plastic pal."

"Your... ooh!" he said with embarrassed realisation.

"The kids never seem to wonder why the batteries in their toys don't seem to last."

"You nick them for..." he wagged a finger, "Shame on you!"

"Oh I know," she said with a sideways grin, "but it's better than me strangling them after all;" Emboldened by the new candour and her own curiosity she asked, " are you... err... seeing..."

"Nothing at all, I'm always too knackered to go out somewhere to find someone, then there's the babysitting, the innuendo, any amount of pity from everyone that isn't single themselves."

"Oh tell me about it," she said with an understanding but very knowledgeable groan.

"Oh, and the whole singles thing, no matter how posh it pretends to be, always seems so bloody sordid and... nasty."

"And don't you just hate it when friends invite you to dinner parties, and absolutely insist that they want you to come and it's not just to make up the numbers?" 

"Oh yes," he giggled "and you get to the party and find yourself sat opposite someone's last surviving single sister..."

"Or Brother!" she laughed, "How does it go now?" she grinned, "This is so-and-so," she chuckled leaning forward,

He joined her on the punch line, "They're on their own too!"

The both laughed. The laughing stopped suddenly both aware of the closeness of the other.

"Perhaps that's why I don't get asked to dinner parties any more." He said.

"Yeah," Although she hadn't made any serious effort in that direction herself she had to agree. Her frustration about her lack of sex was tangible, she had recently finished her period and had been really horny -- so much so that she'd gotten out her vibrator and some of her late husbands pornography; the images that those thoughts created, the nasty phone sex lines adverts, the surgically enhanced eighteen year old actress/glamour models missing both pubic hair and personality, and adverts for toys -- worst of all the ridiculous looking sex dolls had almost made her stop reading the confession stories she found so arousing.

"There should be a phone number in the book you can ring when you're climbing the walls." She said looking into space, "You ring a number and get to speak to a person in the same state, send round a car, no names, no pack drill. Just a good hard shag with no baggage or having to pretend you like the person." She stopped herself, suddenly realising the implication of what she had actually said. There was no visible change in her normally quiet brother. He smiled again, 

"Yeah, what is it with sex that makes it all so bloody complicated."

"I don't know, but it's bound to be the blokes fault." She growled

"Of course, mind you Blokes can do what you suggest already only it costs them."

"Have you ever?" 

"Nah!" he said with a laugh. "Couldn't afford it for one, wouldn't know how to find one anyway." They were looking at each other, he smiled, she smiled; the silence went on for just too long and it was obvious that someone had to say it. "Look, Cathy... I don't want to get weird or anything but if you ever are... like... desperate... you know..." The room was silent, she just looked at him. "Ring me. Somehow... I don't know why but it seems like it would be OK, for us I mean... so long as... we... it didn't get too... " It was silent in the room again. "Sorry Cath, I shouldn't have said that, bang out of order."

"No, not at all."

"Look seeing as I've ruined the ambience I'd better go, I'm sorry about that I don't know what I was thinking..."

"Chris," she burst out, "You don't have to go, honestly. I'm rather flattered actually."

"You are?"

"Yeah," she stopped smiling, and took a deep breath fiddling with her fingers then tucking her hair back behind her ear, "it would be a wasted trip because..." she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "you'd only have to drive all the way back after I rang you..." she paused and brushed her hair back behind the other ear.

"What, you mean..."

"Oh yeah, like a bloody shot. I'm having hot flushes already just thinking about it." She stroked her cheek and turned slightly and he saw her heightened colour. She paused, "Just a shag though OK?"

"Oh yeah. I not looking for... anything either." He looked at her. The room was still quiet, she looked at her watch.

"No time like the present," she said, and with a nod almost to herself she stood up. She knew that if she didn't do it now she never would.

"Really?"

"Really!" she giggled nervously and stood, "To coin your phrase, I'm desperate. The vibrator is OK but it's not... well... Oh you know."

"Yeah," he said with a look that told he knew just what she meant.

She was brushing down her long denim skirt. He stood as well, unsure of what to do next. She held out a hand and he took it and she pulled him towards the staircase. 

"What about the kids?"

"At least three hours, we pick up Colleen and your two at four, Daniel will go to his friends house and they'll listen to some grunge stuff and complain about it all being 'so unfair', doubt he'll be back until he's hungry. So..." she paused at the bottom of the staircase, "We have three hours." She leant across to the front door and moved a button on the Yale, "Three hours, one minute and thirty seconds."

"More than enough time."

She led him up the stairs and into the largest of the three bedrooms. It was nicely decorated with matching curtains and linen.

"Nice,"

"Woman's touch." 

"Yeah," he stood just looking around.

"Well, we can at least take some clothes off."

"Oh yeah sorry."

"You're still OK with this?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah," with the affirmation she undid the button at the side of the dress and pushed it down. Her knickers were white with blue flowers on, the cotton top came off over he head exposing her white bra and its resultant cleavage. "Come on, your turn."

"Oh yeah, sorry, I was enjoying the view." He pulled the sweater over his head just watching as she undid the clasp on her bra giving him a brief flash of her full breasts down the tunnel of wool, before she turned her back and slid under the covers still wearing her knickers.

He sat on the bed and unlaced his shoes and pulled off his socks before standing and sliding down his jeans. He slid under the covers and removed his pants seeing her throw hers aside having just carried out a similar manoeuvre. He was pleased that at least he had a reasonably healthy erection, despite his concern.

"What next?" he said.

"What?"

"I don't know what you like," he said.

"Oh, just jump onboard." She said.

"Oh please," he said, like an insulted professional.

He turned to one side and after the briefest hesitation ran a hand along her soft and smooth torso. She shuddered and giggled at his touch, dropping an arm on his.

"That tickles," she said watching him.

"You'll get used to it, trust me." He touched her again, and she shook and giggled, putting a hand on his, "look, are you really sure about this?"

She controlled herself, "I'm fine," she said, "just nerves."

He brushed his hand along her body again, this time being brave and touching the underside of her breast. He stroked her tummy, thighs and her breasts, softly and slowly and she lay and let him, her arms resting on the pillow above her head to allow his full access for what was becoming a sensual massage.

Finally he ran a hand through curls of dark pubic hair, and she lay a hand gently on his following the movement. He stroked downwards with no rush, gently pushing, the movement encouraging her to raise her thighs and open her legs slightly. The pace of her breathing had increased and he had a desire to remove the duvet, but wasn't sure if that was allowed. OK he was currently masturbating her, but the rules for this session were woolly to say the least. She had stopped looking at him and had closed her eyes. He propped his head on his left arm and got comfortable wondering on where all this would end. He cupped his hand over her pubis using the tip of his middle finger to enter her lips; she gasped. He pulled his finger back and gently stroked the skin around and below the hood at the apex of her labia. Try as she might, her temperature and breathing were both going up. After a few minutes of delightful stroking and caressing, he finally stroked from the small piece of sensitive skin between her pussy and anus, all the way up around the hood before he quickly found her clitoris. She gasped and giggled again. Having worked out the lie of the land he continued his exploration gently fondling lips, clitoris and entrance until she was moaning and gasping almost constantly. Her discomfort at the new situation had almost made her consider calling this off, but the tingling deep in her groin took that decision out of her head completely; indeed if he had needed any further convincing the wetness around his finger was enough.

"Oh shit," she gasped as he pushed a finger inside and felt around the front wall for the G-spot. He found the tiny patch of rough skin and stroked it vigorously and she held his arm, "Fuck!" she gasped as his thumb played across her clit. Before he knew where he was she pushing her pelvis into his hand lifting her bottom from the bed and groaning in orgasm.

She held his hand in place as she came down, and he felt the damp warmth of her on his fingers.

"Bloody hell," he said as she looked up at him with a shy grin, "You were in a bad way weren't you."

"You could say that," she said breathing deeply and turning a heightened pink, shocked and surprised face to him. "I've... I've never come with... someone else before." She gasped in surprise, "I only... I thought just a fuck you know? But that... shit!"

"What?" he looked in disbelief. "Not even with..." she shook her head, "But you married for..."

"Yeah, and it was normally just a grope and swift fuck, never like that." She breathed out ran a hand across her forehead. "Brian knew what a clitoris was because he'd seen one in a book. No wonder Jenny loved you," It was her turn to lay on her side and face him. She ran a finger through the hair on his chest, "Oooh, that was nice," she smiled and pulled her legs up with the tiniest tremble, the glow from her uterus still warm and fresh. "Jenny, did she ever give you a blow-job?"

"Oral you mean? Yeah."

"Did she swallow?"

"What?" it was his turn to be surprised, "Say what you mean Cathy!"

"Did she?" Her finger forced a line through his chest hair from his neck to his belly button.

"No, she always wanted to fuck after so she didn't want to waste it. When she was pregnant she pulled me off over her tits once or twice afterwards." 

"Oh you don't want to believe all of that 'can't waste it' shit, you don't know what you've been missing!" she said and slid under the covers. "Oh I say, this is lovely!" He felt soft hands around his penis and then lips engulfing him. She licked and sucked him beautifully, massaging his balls softly. Finally he watched the duvet move as her head bobbed up and down in a fucking motion, until he felt her tongue stroked along the ridge of his penis while she wanked him.

"Brian loved this," she said matter-of-factly as she broke for air, "better than a fuck he always thought and no one got to sleep in a wet patch."

"What about you," he breathed deeply.

"I always had a finger of course." The voice came from within the bedclothes as she slowly and deliciously wanked him again, "mind you, I wasn't really into sex in those days." She rammed his penis back into her mouth again.

"But you are now obviously... Wow! Cathy..." he gasped.

"What," she said stopping the motion for a second.

"Cathy, be careful I nearly..."

She flung the covers off of their naked bodies and she looked back up at him while mouthing him again. Her shaped eyebrows were raised questioningly. She grinned wickedly,

"You really never have come in someone's mouth have you!" she giggled sweetly, and he shook his head, smiling too. "Well?" she teased licking around his helmet and down the length, "There's a first time for everything - come then." Not only did she bob her head on him, her finger and thumb wanked him furiously keeping eye contact all the time. He tried to hold back, almost not believing that it was OK for him to come, but she put the matter beyond his control by closing her eyes, moaning and generally cooing over his prick like a porn star.

He groaned and felt his release, as his ejaculate poured into her mouth, she sucking and taking his load with a soft mewing sound. After the first few spurts she released him and carried on pumping and squeezing, licking at the dribbles she produced. She licked around the head, squeezing the last few drops out and swiping them with her tongue, before sucking and mouthing him until the tremors faded.

"That has to be one of the sexiest things I've ever watched."

"Thank you," she said, "I have been complemented before. But if you thought that's a good view try this," she said with a grin. With that she swung her body around and lifted her leg across his waist. She pushed at his knees, feeling her still tender clit brush up his body, until his hands found her thighs and she could feel his breath on her tender and expectant flesh.

"Ooh yeah!" he said pulling her groin to his face squeezing her wonderful buttocks, still firm with only a slight trace of orange peel around the dimples.

He licked around her entrance, remembering the tart taste of woman and the places to inflame desire.

She groaned and giggled,

"Oh shit, that is so good," she sighed, "Brian only ever did that a few times. I can tell you've done it lots though."

"Once or twice," he went back to his lapping and worrying of her genitalia.

"Can I take that... ooohh yeah, just like that... aaaaaahh... that Jenny wasn't a blow job expert either?"

"She could do it nicely but she didn't have your... err... style, not sure she fancied the taste of it to be honest."

"It can be an acquired taste," she said pushing herself by his shins into position over his cock, "thanks for the compliment but don't stop what you're doing." She wriggled her hips to reinforce her message. "Awwwwwwwwwwwww fuck! What ARE you touching in there," she gasped in amazement at a finger that had entered into her wet tunnel.

"G-spot and A-zone."

"What the fuck is an A-zone?"

"That bit," he said pushing a long finger to the back of her vagina, "anterior fornix."

"Ooooh," she gasped, "I mean oh yeah."

"Jen used to come with that alone."

"I can see why."

He felt her starting to play with his flaccid member again, as she pumped on him hard in long downward strokes. He forced fingers into her in a fucking motion right to the back of her vagina and she started to writhe gasping louder with each thrust. She came loudly.

She trembled on top of him, exuding a stream of light yellow liquid from her vagina, the kind of thing he'd never seen before outside of a porno film, laying in a pool on his chest.

She slid forward on him and turned around looking over her shoulder at him.

"Oh, sorry!" she put a hand over her mouth in embarrassed surprise, "Wow, I err..."

"No worries," he grinned and reached for the tissue box by the side of the bed. "I suppose you keep these here for when that happens." He withdrew one and mopped his chest.

"What? It would hardly be worth it for the number of times I've come that strongly. Anyway, lets not talk about girly-come, lets have another look at yours..." she slid down his body and sat across his waist pumping firmly on his hardening penis, "Just right," she said and lifting one leg eased herself forward until she let herself down on his erection. "Oh shit," she took a deep breath as her little used vagina stretched to take him, "I forgot quite how good that felt. Whatever they say, a vibrator is NO substitute."

"Ah yes, the stolen battery toy."

"Oh yeah, rabbit one like on 'Sex and the City', Jenny got it for me."

"No she didn't, I did, over the Internet."

"Did she say it was for me?"

"Yup."

"Shit!" she, turned to look over her shoulder at him, giggling and putting a hand to her mouth.

"You've just given me a blow job, you CAN'T feel embarrassed."

"No but I hadn't given you a blow job then had I."

"Suppose not, besides I'd better mention it, it's OK I've had a vasectomy."

"I know," she breathed starting to ride him, "Jenny told me."

"Was there anything you didn't talk about?"

"Not much, vibrators and such were a favourite."

She sat on him for a few moments revelling in the feeling of another person inside her. She reached down and stroked herself and him at the place they met. She continued down stroking his balls, softly cupping and caressing them in one hand while the other went down back onto his thigh to support her as she started to ride him. 

He looked up her wonderful bottom moving up and down before him and reached out to it. He cupped each cheek squeezing gently and massaging, separating and lifting them lightly. He licked a finger and gently rimmed her, massaging her anus gently.

The hands on her buttocks obviously had the desired effect and she moved faster. He sat up and in a swift movement slid to lean back against the headboard pulling her back with him, 

"Oh!" she squeaked in surprise. He took the opportunity to stroke her back and shoulders, then reached forward to cup her breasts. She leaned back against him, at the same time grinding herself down on his erection, enjoying the feeling of his hairy chest on her back and his hands on her boobs.

He raised himself up and made to put hands on her shoulders, "Hands and knees?"

"No," she said softly, "I'd rather not."

"OK, no problem, it's just that was Jen's favourite position."

"Yeah, I can imagine." She stopped shagging and raised one leg, to get off. He was sure he'd blown it until she turned and put her hands on his shoulders and sat back over him again, this time face to face. "It's just that doggie was Brian's favourite position and it doesn't hold that many pleasant memories for me."


Cathy and Chris Ch. 01



"Sorry," he stared into her face, "didn't realise." She put her arms around his neck and settled back onto his penis with a groan. Her breasts were perfectly formed, only sagging slightly but still in full shape, with pert nipples that touched his chest briefly. He put his hands to her waist gently, then slid his arms further around so he was holding her.

"Oh, don't worry, he didn't rape me or anything, it was just he had the ability to make me feel like I was just a pussy he was using at the time, made me feel dirty almost."

"This will do just fine." He smiled and started to push up into her and she responded hugging him tightly.

"Make me come Chris," she gasped holding him tight, "Make me come again, yes," she grunted as he she pushed down and he pushed up into her, "like that, harder... harder... please!" She groaned bouncing and pushing hard oh his dick until she bent her head back as she came, crying out in her throes.

"Bloody hell," he said, "three times in one session."

"Never happened before." She panted, her arms around his neck and her forehead resting on his.

"Look, I know we said no complications or anything, I don't know if this is allowed but fuck it," he took her head in his hands and kissed her. Her mouth opened to meet his and tongues meshed together in shared passion.

She rode him hard again, intent this time on his pleasure and his orgasm. Her hard work was soon rewarded and she pressed her cheek against his as she bounced up and down on him.

"Come on Chris," she whispered, "in me this time, where it should be, come..." He slid his hands down her back to rest on her buttocks, holding her bottom and lifting her, one middle finger straying to the pinpoint of her anus, tickling and teasing. 

"Oh Chris," she gasped as his finger slipped into her back passage tickling the sensitive nerve endings he knew to be there, "You bad boy!" she cried out with a sexy laugh.

He pushed up and groaned into her neck pulling her tight against him as his essence poured into her womb while she gasped.

She took his head this time as he leant back against the bed head breathing deeply.

"It's allowed," she smiled kissing him as deeply as he'd kissed her before.

He smiled at her when they broke the kiss, she smiled too.

"Wow." She said with a grin, "You can phone anytime you want if you are going to do that to me. I can see why she didn't want you to waste it."

"Well a boy has to stay in practice doesn't he."

"Practice on me when you like, I feel I owe it to the women of this great nation to keep you in shape." She kissed him again.

"Why don't we make this a regular thing -- well until either one of us... you know."

"Bloody good idea, your place or mine?"

"Turns eachies?"

"Good for me," he slid down to lay flat on the bed taking her with him until they lay together in a cooling and relaxing cuddle, still joined. "When?"

"Tomorrow?" she giggled into his face and kissed him again. She kissed him again, and again, and again until they fell into a comfortable sleep with her in his arms, interrupted only by him pulling on the duvet to cover them.

He woke later with her still resting in the warm circle of his arms, her head on his shoulder. The bedside clock said it was 3p.m.

"Cathy," he squeezed her gently, "Time to get up."

"Oh already?"

"Come on, Colleen and the kids will be waiting." In response Cathy pulled at his shoulder and half helped-half made him roll over on top of her.

"Take me there once more Chris."

They dissolved into kissing each other, she opening her legs so he naturally slipped between them. His erection was instantaneous and found its home straight away and she gasped as he eased into her very wet sheath.

"Oh shit, welcome back sex life," she gasped raising her knees to grip him with her thighs, "boy have I missed you." He thrust hard into her in the dominant position she had missed most. They embraced and kissed, both forgetting that they were 'only shagging'. When the climax came it was strong for them both.

"Come and shower with me," she said.

"Yeah, why not."

"It's not that I want another shagging, well, of course I do but... anyway, it's just that I want to see a naked man again."

"Oh same here, TV and magazines are OK but not substitute for the real thing."

He towelled himself dry watching her lovely body as she rubbed a sponge over herself.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Bloody right I am, attractive girl like you."

"I haven't been called attractive or a girl for a long time."

"Yeah, well that's just because you haven't been mixing with the right people naked that's all."

"Awww, you say the sweetest things." She ducked her head under the spray and reached blindly for the shampoo hanging from the rail. He reached across and handed it to her. He also took her discarded sponge, rubbed it with soap and lathered her shoulders and down her back to her bottom circling each cheek a few times. She crooned an 'Mmmm' sound and arched her back into his hand ensuring he reached all of the right places. He stopped and she turned into the spray and rinsed her back and the conditioner out of her hair, and blew him a kiss. By the time she'd finished, he was dry and almost dressed, and he handed her a towel that she wrapped around her hair. He took her hand as she stepped out of the bath, and held another towel that she stepped into and he pulled around her. She took the proffered ends tucking them in between her breasts.

"I have a confession," she said.

"Don't tell me, you faked them?"

"Shit, could you tell? It has taken me years to get that whole groaning, body shaking, come juice thing just right; no nothing as deep as that."

"What then?"

"This isn't the first time I've seen you naked," she grinned.

"No?"

"No, when we were all at Mum and Dads taking that wall down."

"Oh yes, I pissed off Brian didn't I."

"Yes," she said, "and he never stopped quoting it to me, said you were a bloody amateur."

"Still papered the room before he got back though didn't I." he giggled.

"Yes," she sniffed, "well anyway, you had just taken that wall down and you were having a shower then too."

"Really?"

"Yes," she smiled undoing the towel and pulling it across her back with both hands, "I came in to use the loo and saw your reflection in the mirror."

"Still look OK?" he asked raising both arms.

"From where I've just been - it looks loads better." They laughed.

"Right, now you've increased my ego I'll go and make the tea shall I?"

"Bloody hell," she said, "Too much more of this pampering and you can move in." He paused.

"Why not?" he said.

"What?"

"You said that you want to move back to the town, I need a bigger place now the kids are growing up, let's go in together, separate bedrooms and separate lives an all that. It's just we neither of us have mortgages since..." he paused, but carried on regardless before he lost his train of thought, "There's a really nice house on the outskirts of town, it's an old Children's Home, been on the market for a year, has a basement, two floors and an attic. We could probably get it if we clubbed together."

"Hmm," she rubbed her hair thoughtfully, "What about the kids?" 

"Oh come on, Karen worships Colleen, the idea of living in the same house would make her year, Robert does whatever Karen tells him so that'll be OK. You know that Daniel will complain."

"Yeah, but it'll get him away from the shower of reprobates he calls friends. Colleen wouldn't mind a bit, specially living out in the 'burbs near Nan and Grandpa as well."

"Those houses have very big gardens."

"Room for a pony?"

"Don't take the piss!" he giggled.

"We're driving down tomorrow to see Mum and Dad, no harm in taking a look," she said making up her mind.

"Nothing to do with what we've just done I suppose."

"Well, if there's nothing else going on of course I might let use my body to practice on, you know, let you have your way with me; for you own good of course."

"Have... have my way?" he threw his towel at her, "I'm an ARTIST!" he stuck his nose in the air and turned dramatically.

"No sugar in mine!" she sang to his departing back. 



Cathy and Chris Ch. 02



The barbecue sizzled and made the kind of smells that only his father was able to produce from the thing. Jeff was one of the few men he knew, himself included, that was actually able to cook food on the things without the usual drama, and with the added benefit of the food actually tasting excellent.

His children frolicked in the garden with hiss' Labradors while he sat nursing a chilled Coke. His relationship with his in-laws had always been good. As she lay slowly dying he had promised his wife countless times that he would maintain her parents access to their grandchildren at all costs – not that his children would have had it any other way of course!

Jen's father, a softly spoken and recently retired schoolteacher, gave the impression of a kind and gentle, home loving man. Chris was one of the few people, his daughters not included, who knew of his military background, first as an Infantry Officer who had seen active service in Borneo, Northern Ireland and the battle to retake the Falkland Islands who had then stepped across into special forces. He had completed his military service with a stint as a training officer with the part-time reserve wing of the elite Special Air Service that Chris had joined while at college. Jeff had spotted the young architecture student because of his almost instinctive response to much of the training and his quiet self-effacing good humour.

For this reason Chris had known Jeff longer than he had known his daughter Jenny and still carried the utmost respect for the man. As Jeff flipped a burger and chatted with his beloved granddaughter, Chris thought back to the hours and days and weeks of training, the self-discipline and self-belief this man had instilled into him.

He had met Jenny while at the local gym training for a three peaks challenge that he and some mates from the squadron were planning. Before the end of the session they had agreed to meet at a local restaurant prior to the cinema. The attraction was mutual and instantaneous; they had a like sense of humour and values, she was training to be a doctor while he was completing his degree course – the nature of his military service meant that he had yet to discuss that with her, simply saying that he 'worked weekends for a security firm' to keep him at college, and she was satisfied with that. They made love after their second date, and it was fantastic for both of them.

In the months that followed she finally suggested that he should meet her parents, he was fine with that and he already knew her father taught – as she opened the front door to the same house he now stood in, she had explained that her Dad taught at the local comprehensive, Highfield School – a familiar name; as she hung her outdoor coat over a familiar looking camouflage jacket he stopped and smiled.

"DAD!!" she called into the kitchen, "This is Chris," she said to the slightly surprised looking face that peaked around the door.

"Oh shit," he sighed to himself, "Good evening sir," he said to his Squadron commander...

"What!?!" Her beautiful, if rather surprised, face stared from him to her father and back again...

"Anyone home?" Dragged from his still painful memories, he looked over his shoulder and saw Jen's sister Cathy and her children walking through the kitchen, the lanky form of Daniel following on behind with shrugged shoulders and hands in pockets while his younger sister Colleen ran forward and hugged her Grandfather.

"Cathy!" said Jeff hugging his daughter, "You look fantastic!" Chris smiled and raised his glass.

"Hi Chris," she walked across and pecked him on the cheek the ways she had always done.

"Hi Cathy, how are you?"

"What, since you saw me yesterday?"

"An awful lot can happen in a day Cathy!"

She blushed and turned her face from him to look at Colleen.

"I'm fine Christopher, absolutely fine," she looked around and seeing no one watching them ran a hand down his arm, "Fucking marvellous," she whispered, "Slept like a log, whatever it was you were touching yesterday is still throbbing."

"I told you, I'm a professional."

"I even brought myself off last night just thinking about it, AND I needed the tissues."

"Bloody hell."

"You got that right, well I suppose I wasn't JUST thinking about it." She giggled coyly

"Batteries?"

"Ok I know I shouldn't nick them but I was desp..."

"What can I get you to drink Catherine?"

"Oh, err... I'll have a Coke too please Dad." With a quick look at the still cooking meat her Father stepped boldly towards the kitchen chatting amiably to the monosyllabic teenager therein. She flapped a hand in front of her face, "Close one," she said. Her mother arrived, being pulled along by both of her Granddaughters and the more intimate conversation ceased.

There was something different about Cathy that he just couldn't put his finger on. He'd known Cathy for almost 12 years, since he'd first started going out with her younger sister. He'd thought she was much older than he was, as her manner suggested a woman in her forties. He was amazed to discover she was a week younger than he was. The reason became evident when he met Brian; a grumpy man in his late forties who acted like someone in his seventies. Jenny told him the marriage was the result of a crush that the headstrong Cathy had insisted was more. She was married in her nineteenth year, pregnant in her twentieth and already acting the older woman to his older man four years later when the second child arrived.

Knees! He could see her knees. He realised that the only time he'd seen her legs was... well the time when he'd seen all of the rest of her. She wore a short summer skirt that stopped inches above her knees. She also had on a low-cut tailored vest top that clung to every curve and he guessed, looking at the visible strap, the same shape-emphasising balcony bra she'd worn the day before giving him a splendid cleavage to look at in the V-neck the top afforded.

She wore make-up, her hair looked good and she exuded more confidence than he'd ever seen from her before. It seemed that overnight she had shed the extra 20 years she had carried all the time he'd known her. She saw him and his appraisal, and pinching some of the stretchy fabric pulled the front of the top down just the tiniest bit to improve his view. He nodded and smiled again.

"It is possible sometimes to improve on perfection."

Innocently she turned her body to him and stretched, forcing her fantastic breasts up and out further than before; she relaxed, licked a fingertip and touched her round pert bottom with a hissing sound.

"Still got it," she said quietly.

"I know," he said brushing past her whispering, "Yesterday I had some of it." A slight tremor coursed through her, part him touching her, but mostly the erotic imagery of their passion and the option that they could do it all over again.

She reappeared with a glass full of ice and poured Coke over it. The barbecue was being served and they slipped easily back into their former relationship.

"Have you thought anymore about the house idea?" he said.

"Yes, I'd certainly like to see it; Mum thinks it's a great idea and I certainly don't want to live on that bloody estate for the rest of my life that's for sure. Can we look at it at some stage? I can come down if necessary?"

He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and jingled them, "You got half an hour?"

She moved closer, looking around her conspiratorially, "For you? Anytime."

"Finish your drink Cathy."

They managed to get the children to stay with their grandparents and the drive across town took minutes until he pulled his long Volvo onto the house's gravel drive. The house was large and Victorian Gothic without being scary. The light bouncing around on the flint, and the carved stone lintels and ledges just screamed class.

"Wow," she said, "it is big isn't it. Bags I the garage!" she said sprinting from the car before he'd even turned off the engine.

She was standing giggling with her back to the garage doors. He walked slowly to the front door and opened it, looking at her. The door opened and he grinned,

"Bags I the biggest Bedroom!" and sprinted in and up the stairs.

"Bastard!" she shouted and chased after him. She found him lying on an old twin bed in one of the upstairs front rooms.

"My room!" he teased. 

"We'll soon see about that!" and she flew at him landing square on top of him. He fought back by tickling her, she tried desperately to fight back but he was stronger and had longer arms, and she was soon helpless... and wrapped in his arms.

She stopped laughing and just looked him in the face. He slid his hands down her back until they reached her buttocks, which he held firmly. 

"Your Dad was so right, you do look fantastic Cathy," he said. She beamed a smile to him.

She took his head in her hands and kissed him while he slid her skirt up to lay warm hands on her bottom. A bottom he found to be almost bare, not finding the lace of the string until his hands reached her waist. 

"Oooh, posh knickers," he said when she broke for breath. 

"I bought them this morning," she said.

"For me?"

"No!" she said startled, "They'd never fit you!"

He grabbed one cheek and squeezed and went back to kissing her again, before his hand was at the back of the tiny panties and pulling them down.

"Why Christopher, are you trying to get my pants down?" she chuckled.

"Oh yeah,"

"Oh, that's OK then, here," she lifted her back so he could pull them over her bottom easier. At the same time her spare hand was fiddling with the belt and fastenings on his trousers. He stopped pulling at her panties when they rested at her knees. He rolled her over onto her back and lifted her legs so they rested on each of his shoulders and, pushing his bunched trousers and boxers down. With her legs in the air she was almost helpless but still reached out for his penis. Finally she just touched the moist crown of him as it slid through her fingers and straight into her sopping wetness. To her it seemed his penetration went on forever until the tip touched her cervix and she moaned loudly.

"Shit," she groaned, "No one's ever done that before." He shafted her with a practised air and she gasped, while dropping her hands to hold his arms supporting him at her sides. The continued penis on g-spot and the occasional bash against the back of her vagina was all too much, and she felt that fantastic rumble begin in her loins. She could do nothing but hang on as he fucked her, the feeling that her legs were trying to push him away while her clenching puss begged him to come closer. The bed squeaked out a protest as he fucked her harder and harder, striving it seemed for that deep penetration that she had never known and was making her come like she never had. As her orgasm reached the multiple stage, he came pushing so hard that she felt his semen splash in new places.

"Oh yeah," he groaned. She just lay there and gasped, "You OK?" he asked pulling her legs out of the confinement of her panties. She could only nod with relief as her legs were able to slide either side of him. She kissed him hard and long pulling him against her, almost hoping that his semi-erect cock might regain some of its former glory and begin again. As they kissed he pulled her vest top over her head and unclipped her bra with a simple finger and thumb movement. He just looked at her near perfect breasts before him.

But for the rumpled skirt at her waist she was naked and the lack of curtains and bareness of the room made her feel even more naked than she had before, and she felt more sexy than she could ever remember. Pulling herself from the clinch she rose above him and turned to face him. She took both of his hands and placed them on her breasts. He started to massage them beautifully, lightly caressing skin before pinching and teasing her erect nipples. She smiled down at him

"I'll start packing," she said looking out of the window at the similar large houses across the road, "And I even like the view." She reached down to his penis still glistening with her wetness and, she figured, some of his. "This is the view I like most of all though," she said bending to take him into her mouth.

"Cathy..." he gasped.

"It's OK," she grinned, "I've always fancied knowing what I taste like." There was a slight taste of his semen that she had sampled the day before, and a slightly tart almost musty flavour of her own lubrication. She guessed that she didn't mind all that much and continued sucking. She had never sucked Brian after her fucked her and couldn't fathom, or perhaps didn't want to, why not.

As Chris came to erection he was waiting for her to climb back on, but instead she just purred like a contented cat.

"Come for me Chris, it's only fair you have a couple of orgasms seeing as I lost count of the number I had."

Finally, in a repeat of the previous day she sucked hard on the end while pumping the foreskin up and down. Despite his earlier exertion his come was a copious one and she felt the wet heat of his ejaculate splash into her mouth and the back of her throat. While he gasped and got his breath she licked and nursed his slowly deflating cock like the same contented cat with its kitten. Finally happy that her work was done she lay next to him, lightly smooching until they slipped into an easy nap.

When she woke it was to find that he had been awake for a few minutes and had hidden her clothes. They chased each other around the empty house for a further five minutes until she cornered him and promised him a repeat of the afternoon's antics if only she could have her knicks back. 

He gave them back as they walked back through her parents' garden gate.

"Put them back on out here," he whispered, "I dare you."

She nodded and smiled to the rest of the family sat over a board game in the conservatory, and turned to face him, the tiny string knicks completely hidden in the palm of her hand.

"Really?" she said bending forward at the waist to arrange the strap on her sandals at the same time as her short dress rose up exposing her bottom and her very pink and inflammed puss to him, "and where would the fun be in that?" 

She took his hand in hers as if they were shaking and he felt the lace in his palm.

"Absolutely," he said with a wicked grin she was beginning to find irresistable, and put them back in his pocket.



Cathy and Chris Ch. 03



The Gods of the housing market were obviously smiling on them and they were both able to sell their houses quickly. The new larger house was duly purchased and a bank loan found the last £20,000 that was needed to complete the purchase and carry out some minor repairs and decorate the house throughout. Chris being an architect meant that all of this was done quickly and at minimum cost. They all had a go at some of the repairs, and each of them irrespective of age chose the paint and paper for their own rooms. 

Although her late husband Brian had been a painter and decorator he had never allowed her or, God forbid, the children to get involved. Chris let the kids paint, paste, plaster and polish – and they all loved it.

The younger female children were installed in the converted attic with a room each, and Daniel and Robert had a large room each on the first floor, next to the two bathrooms.

No one had noticed that the two adult rooms on the first floor had built in wardrobes in the same place against an adjoining wall covering where a door had once been. Its concealment had been completed with few words between them. He'd purchased the Ikea furniture and installed the same in each room after removing the architrave. The hardboard backs of the wardrobes were fitted to some runners instead of being nailed in place. The whole process had been completed with no more than a 'That could be handy,' from her and a 'leave it to me,' from him when their post-coital inspection showed the adjoining door between what had formerly been offices.

On the evening of moving in day he showed her how it operated by the simple expedient of opening the door and appearing from behind her clothes.

"Oh," she said, "you scared me." She was sat on the bed in just her underwear brushing out her hair. She raised the duvet to cover her nakedness.

"Sorry," he said reversing into the wardrobe again, "I didn't realise you were undressing."

"That's OK," she said.

"How are you?"

"I don't know, I spent a long time in that house."

"Don't worry about it. When I pulled that door closed and locked it for the last time I cried my eyes out."

"I didn't."

"But you will do Cathy, in your own way."

She picked up her T-shirt nightdress and looked embarrassed, and went to put it on.

He turned his back, feigning an interest in the workings of the wardrobe while she removed her bra and panties. However, he did watch part of the show in the wardrobe mirror.

"Thanks Chris," she said tucking her feet under the covers.

"You're welcome," he paused. Are you still OK with this?" he pointed to the magic wardrobe, "I'll fit a little lock on it just in case."

"I don't know why I should worry, you have seen it all already."

"And then some."

"Oh Yeah," she smiled at the memories, "Anyway, I just feel a bit... I don't know what it is."

"Me too," he answered, "Look we've both just said goodbye to vast parts of our lives, it's tough."

"But," she tried to find the words to explain, "It was never my house you see?"

"What?"

"It was Brian's house, and I moved in. I may have chosen some colours and wallpaper a few times and made it look nice, but it was never 'mine', least I never felt it was mine. I just moved in and that was it."

Indeed, at the point when anyone else would have moved up the property ladder, Brian had dug in his heels. Daniel and Colleen shared a room until Cathy laid down the law, so Brian just split their already small bedroom in two with a stud wall. She had asked about moving out of the area, but Brian insisted. It made no sense to move, everything they needed was near; Colleen's primary school, Daniels secondary (and all of the reprobate hooligans he called friends), the local shopping centre with its cut price 'pile it high, then sell it cheap' stores that Brian so approved of, but most of all 'the club' – the local branch of the Royal British Legion and the old farts that he seemed to prefer the company of over her. This was the area where he'd grown up, he'd say, and she'd known that when she'd married him. No Major's daughter would ever make him forget his roots and move up the road to snob town.

But now he was gone and that house would soon fade to a memory, even though she did promise herself that she would remember that there had been good times there.

"Don't worry Cath, a night through the sheets will sort it all out for you." He pushed her down on to the bed and, to her surprise, lifted the duvet up to her chin and tucked her in, kissed her on the forehead. "See you in the morning Cath," he whispered and walked back through the wardrobe. She drifted to sleep in seconds.

The next morning found them in all in the huge kitchen, she in just the long T-shirt she'd worn the night before. She looked down at herself and then at him as he came into the kitchen in shorts and a T-shirt.

"Morning Chris," she said with a beaming smile, watching his eyes take her all in.

"Good morning," he smiled back, "You slept well?"

"Like a log," she said, "I think it helped just knowing there was someone else around."

"Knew you would..."

"Please Daddy, can we explore the garden properly?" Karen begged. Cathy smiled; it had been his idea to keep bits of the place a secret, that the younger children could explore and increase the adventure of the new house. Colleen and Robert were behind Karen smiling expectantly also.

"Go on then, have you finished you breakfast."

"Yes Daddy," Karen and Robert crooned, with an added 'Uncle Chris' for good measure from Colleen.

"Go on then," he smiled. With a roar they had gone in a flurry of jackets and Wellingtons, fighting temporarily for who was best placed to unlock the new hardwood door into the conservatory.

Cathy sipped her tea and watched the children disappear into the garden.

"What do they have to look forward to?" she asked.

"Oh, all sorts of cool stuff," he said, "The old shed is still a shed, but the one I had in my garden is now a playhouse with some old furniture. Doubt the Robster will get much of a look in but he has a nice tree house with enough soldiery looking stuff to keep him happy."

"That's why you had the camouflage net from Dad."

"Yep!" he grinned refilling his cup from the pot on the worktop.

"Mind you," she said, "I bet with you and Dad both being super-troopers, the poor mite won't be able to find it!"

"Don't worry," he said, "the bright blue nylon rope ladder up to it is a bit of a giveaway."

"Shame I can't get Daniel out there." She said with a disappointed sigh.

"What? Oh no, not having that; Daniel helped me build the thing."

"He did?" she gasped in surprise.

"Yeah, you don't think I was swinging through the trees with a hammer and saw did you?"

She smiled,

"Thanks," she said.

"What for? For helping kids be kids? Nah, you're boy was well up for it as well, think his fun came fro actually building something."

"Well, yes, that I suppose but..." She fiddled with her fingers again, "For not..."

"For not what?"

"You know."

"No I don't," he teased.

"Chris, you may rapidly run out of chances of doing what you didn't do last night if you don't stop taking the piss."

"Oh thaaaaat!" He laughed. "Sorry," he smiled, "anyway you don't have to thank me, I don't expect it you know."

"I know but... well it was our first night in the new house and everything."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that I automatically thought I was going to get some. I don't know about you but I was knackered. I only popped through to make sure you were OK."

"Really?"

"Of course, I might be a testosterone driven bloke but I'm not an insensitive shit, well not too much anyway. Besides I didn't buy this house with you just so we could shag all of the time."

"Oh," she said sipping her tea, "Shame that." She drained her cup, "First thing on my mind when I bought in."

"You dirty bitch."

"Yeah, and I haven't had so much as a wank in the last month despite all of the bloody hints I dropped, and you being Mr Considerate and charming is putting me almost over the edge." Her breathing had quickened slightly and her nipples extended through the thin cotton of the nightdress.

"You dropped hints?"

"Duuh!" she snapped.

"What kind of bloody hints?"

"Oh Chris, it would be so nice to see the kids this weekend, when are we back working at the new house again Chris, is there any more work that needs doing Chris? What did you want an invitation?"

"Actually yes, I did. Anyway after our lunch date, you said you'd phone."

"Yeah well, I kind of did."

"What!?!"

After their final session with the estate agents, they had stopped at a restaurant to celebrate signing all of the paperwork for all three houses. This was hastened by the fact she was a legal executive for a large firm of solicitors, her university career and plans to be a solicitor cut short by her marriage and the arrival of Daniel a few years later.

After the excellent sandwich lunch and the excitement and import of what they had just committed to, they shared a look that spoke volumes.

His house was closest, and they hastily drove there, her rush being so extreme that she didn't even lock her car.

"Open the door Chris, for Christ's sake," she gasped holding onto his strong arm. He grinned, and swung the door open for her, bending to pick up that mornings post. By the time he'd followed her into the front room, she was just dropping her black bra onto an armchair to join her camisole, French knickers, skirt and jacket. She stood before him in just her black stockings and suspenders and black heels.

"Wow!" he growled, "Is this so I don't forget what I'm getting into?"

She moved over to him and undid his tie.

"The only thing you should be getting into is me..." she hissed into his ear.

He smiled and dropped to his knees, straight away feasting on her flushed and excited vagina and clitoris. She'd felt his tongue down there before and remembered how great he was at oral. After a few moments, he'd reached behind her, cupped her wonderful buttocks being pinched together by the suspender straps and pulled her to him to stop her bucking and writhing away from his questing tongue and lips. Finally he pushed her back onto the sofa, raised her legs over his shoulders and sated his appetite for pussy on her for at least five minutes and a similar number of orgasms on her part. 

Not thinking on her revelation at their first session he endeavoured to turn her on to her hands and knees, but she resisted in a 'not resisting' kind of way, and he got the message. As she lay gasping for breath on the sofa, he slipped out of the rest of his clothes and, still kneeling on the floor, pulled her bottom level with the edge of the sofa and his rock hard penis. He sank into her in one thrust as she was just about to offer to return the compliment of oral on him. Her shortness of breath re-instated itself and she could only gasp as he pumped into her time and again. 

She desperately hoped they would come together again; this was something that had never happened with Brian. Although part of her still loved him and his odd, rather old fashioned ways, she now realised that she was starting to resent Brian for his lack of ability that was so obvious in Chris. Chris always made sure that she came first, and then eventually when they did fuck, she came as well. 

She felt the familiar tremble in her loins letting her know that today was going to be no exception, and her warbling cry let him know. She reached out and grabbed him pulling him flat down onto her, trapping his left arm that had been rubbing her breasts and teasing her nipples into rock hard erection. His proximity meant that he was able to feed one of them into his mouth – and that was enough.

He cried out, thrusting hard into the back of her pussy and she cried out one more time, calling his name and encouraging him to one more thrust. He did so, pumping his semen deep into her yielding body writhing in ecstasy beneath him. They fell to kissing and massaging as they recovered, and only the call on his mobile phone stopped them going for an encore.

But that had been almost two months ago, and with the work on the house, moving arrangements and the almost constant attention of either parents or children they had been unable to do anything else since.

Standing up from the kitchen counter, and putting down her mug she twirled her finger in her hair and grasped the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it down, "OK perhaps I didn't call as such, anyway, is this a bit less subtle for you?" She raised her T-shirt exposing her breasts, stomach and, he noticed, a groin free from the dark hair that had been there before.

"Oh well, now I know... Quickie?"

"What?"

"You heard, your room three minutes."

"Have I got to wait that long?"

"Fast as you can get into your room then, don't forget to lock the door."

He walked slowly upstairs after watching her bare bottom beneath the nightie dash away before him.

He realised how excited he was by touching the front of his shorts and his iron hard erection. Now he came to think about it hadn't done much in the way of masturbation himself in the last weeks.

He opened his bedroom door and walked in, and heard the click of her bedroom door as it locked behind her.

He took off his T-shirt and walked to his wardrobe. He pushed aside suits and shirts and slid back his side and then hers, coming into her clothes hung in it. This was Narnia in a way that CS Lewis could never have imagined.

He peaked through the gap and watched as she arranged herself on the bed. She had stripped off the T-shirt and lay naked on top of the duvet. She lay flat on her back at first with her arms by her side but then must have figured that this did not make her look that alluring. Next she lay to one side with her leg raised and her hand under her chin, she rejected that idea to and rolled onto her front to look at her watch. This was of course the time he chose to walk in.

"Hey Wow," he said to her bottom. She rolled over and smiled at him.

"Sir approves?"

"Oh yeah, Sir definitely approves. I like the new look."

She looked down, "I heard one of the girls in my office talking about it, thought I'd try it."

"Nice,"

"I think you should take a closer look."

"I thought this was going to be a quickie?"

"Well, be quick about it then," she said as she walked to the side of the bed. He knelt down and began to run his hands slowly across her body and the smooth area he had last seen, and caressed, covered in wiry pubic hair. Her feet were up on the bed and he pushed her knees apart to give him more room. She tried not to look too much like the excited kid that she currently felt like. Both times that he'd gone down on her had been paradise; he'd also been the first person to discover her g-spot and had taken full advantage. At the same time he'd introduced her to her A-zone whatever the fuck that had been. But whatever it was his fingers had brought it, and her g-spot and clit to life in the most incredible orgasms she had ever had. Nothing had come close to the sense of her entire world folding into her loins and bursting out again, and she wanted more. Today though, conscious of her last 'accident' she had a pile of tissues ready to mop up any girlie come she might exude in her passions.

He was kissing his way down her inner thigh, tenderly rubbing fingertips along her soft skin and making every goosebump she had to raise in expectation. 

"Careful Chris," she breathed looking down her body to where his face was getting closer and closer to her vagina. She was pleased she'd scrubbed herself down there this morning when she first got up!

"Why should I be? Worried you're going to come?"

"I want it to last," she breathed feeling his lips touching her.

"Oh, I see," he said licking along the crack of her labia, that were slowly unfolding to meet him, "So you only want the one orgasm then?"

"Well..." she sighed.

"It doesn't matter what you want," he said, "I'm going to make you come as many times as I can." She put both arms across her chest and hugged herself in delight, allowing her hands to fall back across her bobs giving them a gentle squeeze. He forced his tongue along the groove and located the hood of her clitoris gently licking around the sensitive areas, "So there." He squeezed both of her arse cheeks and let his mouth fall on her clit sucking it and flicking it with the end of his tongue.

"Oh Chris!" she gasped in delight, as she cradled his head buried between her thighs and ran fingers through his hair as she trembled to her first proper orgasm since they had made love at his place all those weeks ago. "Christ," she gasped as she felt a finger slid past his caressing mouth and slide between those same labia and gentle massage around her entrance. She let go of his head to grasp her boobs again, this time squeezing them with more aggression, finally mauling and pulling at the teats stretched and pinched under her questing fingers. At last his fingers entered her, and true to form headed for her G-spot again. She could feel his long pointer finger move across the rough, ultra-sensitive area inside her at the same time his tongue ran in long lines from the join with her anus all the way to her throbbing clit. It ran back down in a similar movement, before a final climb back to her pleasure centre where it settled for another orgasm. 

Chris' hard work was soon rewarded and she came again, feeling the wetness spurt and bounce from his face back onto her belly. 

Her bottom hit the mattress after what could have been seconds or days suspended in joy. Not content with this, he went back to her clit sucking gently on an organ he knew would be still tingling and tender. He allowed her to slip into unconsciousness with tender licks and caresses. 

She came round to find him lying next to her gently stroking her pink and flushed body, the look on his face suggesting cat that got the cream. She stroked his face, and mouthed 'thank you' to him.

He leant closer and kissed her, she pulling him over her and into the gap made by the parting of her legs. He entered her strongly, riding high – a position he knew would stroke against her sensitive clitoral region. 

He obviously had the desired effect and she began to gasp and pull him hard into her, thinking of that afternoon a month ago when they had fucked for the second day running, in the room next door. That old bed they had used had been dumped, and the calendars, health and safety executive posters, first aid posters and the ratty old desk had all gone. But that memory of him taking her so strongly, so deeply and in a manner totally new to her still had to power to bring her off. It did so again and she pulled him against her as she came for the third, fourth or fifth time that morning; Chris as usual had made her loose count!

With tears streaming down her cheeks and onto her pillow, she thanked the fates that had brought her brother into her life and, more importantly at that moment, her bed.

"Oh Chris," she gasped, "it's wonderful, thank you... Oh thank you so much... I can barely..."

He groaned and pushed his swollen member hard into her depths before filling her with his gift. They lay together for a few moments enjoying the aftershocks and tenderness that always followed their sessions. He rolled to one side pulling her with him, still maintaining the bond at their centre.

"Now that," she said wiping her eyes and pulling herself over him just enough to keep him inside, "that is what I call a house warming present..."



Cathy and Chris Ch. 04



Everyone was looking forward to the party; the children for the event and the adults because it gave them a few moments to be together alone.

Daniel, not wanting to spend the day in the company of a host of cousins younger than him had gone to stay with a mate to play with computers, games consoles, mixing decks and whatever else they could find between them. Chris had taken everyone to their various drop-off, for once Daniel not suffering with his usual moods.

Cathy was rinsing the last of the things that wouldn't go in the dishwasher, when she felt hands on her bottom.

"Oi!" she admonished, at the same time pushing back into the hands and feeling them massage her.

"What?" he said.

"That's my arse," she wriggled her bum slightly.

"Yeah, and these are your boobs," he let go with one hand and reached around her chest to grasp her breasts with it and lightly squeeze them also, "what is this, biology?"

"Oh no," she said turning in his arms, "I'm sure that you are well qualified in that." She put one arm around his neck and reached down and opened his fly, unfastened his belt and pushed his trousers down with other.

"Hello," he said feeling her pull his hardening dick free from his pants.

She slid down to her knees, and began to pump him, her face level with his hard dick. She rubbed the sensitive head across her cheeks and lips before slipping her tongue out to taste him. Her moist tongue flicked around his sensitive knob until she notice that he had started to pant. Finally she slowly opened her mouth and fed his penis in. She wanted to make him come; since he'd fed on her pussy she couldn't wait for more. His skillfull tongue had given her more pleasure than almost anything else, and she was craving it again. This way, once he came, he would have to eat her while he got his breath back.

She went all out for a fast orgasm for him, pleased to see a slight tremble in his knees every so often. Her rough tongue rubbing over his frenum made him tremble more and more until he held her head in place and let his jerky movements complete the movement as he came, his hot sperm pumping into her mouth. Well used to the taste of man she pumped down hard on him. So hard in fact that he slid from her mouth and shot a rope of come she'd not expected that splashed across her chin, cheek and over one eye.

"Well," he smiled down at her with a gentle humour to his face, "Didn't realise you were into the messy stuff..."

She looked up at him with fire in her eyes,

"Neither did I..." she wiped at the white string with her index finger, drawing it off of her face to loop lazily from her finger tip. Looking hard up at him, she lowered its long ways into her mouth, "Shame to waste it..." she said wrapping the stretching translucent string around her tongue.

He re-fastened his trousers over his still wet and oozing cock. He helped her to her feet, and without a word began to strip her. She watched him excitedly and let him do what he wanted, she knew she was going to get the oral sex she desired most anyway.

Her jeans were pushed below her knees and he lifted her legs out of the constriction of the tight denim. Not rushing he stood and kissed her face in the same places she had removed his come not minutes before. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. She had been lightly biting her bottom lip in anticipation of what he'd planned and her face collapsed into a joyous smile as she held his face and their tongues clashed. 

He broke the kiss and moved his hands to hold the bottom of her well fitted top. He pulled it up and her familiar white bra came into view holding her great tits in place. He dropped her top on her jeans, and gently moved his hands to the back of her bra feeling for a clip.

"I like front loaders," she whispered, barely holding back her giggles.

"What?" he said, almost losing the moment.

"The clip is at the front," she said raising her hands to push at the cups together. Each cup fell away allowing each breast to sit naturally and beautifully for his pleasure. He gently lifted the white cotton bra away from her shoulders and let it fall with the rest of her clothes. Dropping to his one knee, he gently placed his hands onto her hips, lightly touching the lace on her high legged, lace shorts.

"Judging by the underwear, I'd almost think you were expecting me."

"I was kinda hoping that we'd get the chance with the kids being out, anyway," she ruffled her hands through his dark almost black hair, "I only have nice underwear these days." He lightly tugged at the elastic edges and drew them down, feeling the light tug as the gusset pulled from her between her bottom cheeks and her thighs. She spoke in breathy gasps, his hands now making her tingle as she lightly stepped out of her final piece of clothing and the only barrier between his tongue and her pussy. "I've thrown all of my old knicks away," she gasped, as he stood to look her in the face, "now I have someone that appreciates me in them."

They dissolved into passionate kissing, her naked body pressing against his clothed one. As his hot hands pressed first against her bare arse and then at the small of her back she trembled feeling that she might faint with the excitement and anticipation.

He lifted her into his arms and gently placed her onto the temporarily cold kitchen work surface. If the coldness had made her start, she hid it well, she was only interested in his progress and the orgasms she knew would follow.

He lowered his face to her breasts and his hand to her vulva, kissing and stroking alternately. 

His face and hands disappeared for a fraction of a second and she heard the sound of the fridge opening. What next?

Her answer came as chilled yoghurt was poured in a line from her boobs to her crotch. She pulled up in reflex and giggled slightly as he dropped his face to her tits now coated in pale purple black cherry yoghurt, his favourite flavour, and licked luxuriously.

The cool chill of the cream and the heat of his mouth made her nips harden until she was sure they would burst. His mouth licked across them a few times, in agonising tenderness and her lust was only assuaged when his mouth settled first on one then the other, sucking hard and occasionally biting gently making her writhe even more. He licked along the line from her fantastic cleavage past her belly button, until his tongue flicked across her tender midriff that made her flinch at each stroke.

Finally he stopped at the thin line of faint stubble that marked the line of her pubic hair. He tried to pull at the tiny fine hair with his teeth to send her a message that she needed a shave, but it wasn't long enough. He just licked as low as he could, before raising her thigh high so he could lower his mouth to his prize.

He found that much as he struggled with his long tongue and lips he couldn't get to as much of her as he wanted. Lifting both legs he spun her so her head was resting on the window sill and, as she had already known to her extreme pleasure, her legs went either side of his head and onto his shoulders. 

She threw her head back in delight and waited for his attack on her most tender parts.

He did not disappoint, she yelped, cried, sobbed, shouted and cheered as her orgasms swept over her, one by one. Her clit throbbed almost constantly and the glow in her uterus was a constant delight. One night, as Chris licked her to orgasm, he had explained that her come was actually the mouth of her cervix going into spasm to dip into the pool of sperm it expected to be in there. She had panted an 'oh yes, that's interesting, don't stop' at the time but now she was feeling just what he had said. As she lay in bliss, she figured on what was the maximum pleasure a woman could have. Chances are, if Chris stayed around she'd have the chance to find out.

Ten minutes later, and she figured well on her way to sexual exhaustion, he carried her through to the living room and dropped her on the sofa, she wanted to strip him the way he'd stripped her. She rolled onto her side, and found herself on her knees with her elbows on the sofa about to turn and grab his trousers. Instead she heard a faint "oooh yeah," and felt his hands on her hips and his erection resting on between her buttocks. For that moment she forgot her problem with being taken from the rear and was positively panting as she waited excitedly for him to thrust into her. 

There was a pause as he remembered,

"Sorry Cath," he said, before dragging her to lay flat on thick fur rug in front of the fire place, "does me knees in anyway," he grinned as he slid into her sopping and slightly sore pussy. As she felt him swell prior to ejaculation, she hissed, 

"Pull out and come over me..."

He did so wanking gently and sending long white ropes of come across her abdomen and tits. Finally, like a scene from a porn film, she indicated to him that she wanted him in her mouth. She finally let his softening cock free once she was sure he was spent.

A week later, the whole messy thing came back to her in a most public place.

The school Easter play had been like all school plays, mostly dreadful with the teachers favourites in the big parts and everyone else in the choir. Seeing as all three younger children were at the new primary and it was one show to see, he'd driven to her office at twelve and picked her up from work, and they'd had a very pleasant cake and coffee lunch in a Starbucks.

They watched as Colleen played a simple piano tune and Cathy shed just a few tears hoping no one, most of all Chris, could see. Karen and Robert were in the chorus of course and after the show all three announced that they had been invited back to the house of joint friends for tea. The Mum of the other two children said that if it was OK she would take the whole clutch to McDonalds and drop them back for around seven.

The three younger children sorted they had just enough time to pick up Daniel from school.

"We'll have to get on if we're to get to Daniel," said Cathy looking at her watch.

"No problem," said Chris, "I'll think you'll find he's walking home with his mates from the school."

Her face dropped if she really didn't agree with this kind of thing.

"It's no problem," he said, "they're all good kids that he's with – one of them is my boss's son, trying to convince him to take up rugby apparently." Chris dipped into his pocket and pulled out a small mobile, "phone him, he's there under Danny."

"Where did he get a phone from?" she said.

"Old one of mine," he said, "seeing as he's walking distance from home these days, thought it was best he had one while he's making his way back." She still did not look impressed. "Oh come on Cath, it's the 21st century version of making sure you've got clean pants on in case you get knocked over."

"Well..."

"Did you have one to give him?"

"No, but..."

"But nothing, you're happy for him to walk home but not to have something to call for help in emergencies or to leave a message when he's going to be early or late."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." She grinned finally allowing herself to show she agreed. "Brian would have hated it," she said, "mobile phones were the work of the devil and he hated them, didn't like me having one even. He had one for work of course," she said, "but that was a 'tool' he insisted and it paid its way. Not like one for me to ring my soppy friends on and make dinner dates. Like I ever did any of that shit on it anyway, only friends we had were at the British Legion."

"Well, ring him anyway," said Chris. She did so.

"Hello Chris," came Daniels familiar voice slightly raised in pitch from his usual drone."

"Hi Daniel, it's mum!" she said brightly, "are you on your way home?"

"Yeah," he groaned, as if Mum was checking up on him.

"OK honey," she said, "I won't come and pick you up then, can you get yourself a sandwich when you get back?"

"Yeah no problem," he said, his tone suggesting he'd been given the keys to the wine cellar and her car afterwards.

"OK darling," she said, "There's plenty there if your friends come back with you." She could not think what had made her say that. The thought of any of his old friends being in the last house filled her with dread. She knew that descriptions of her TV, stereo, DVD player and everything over £20 value would be circulated by description, price and availability. She'd even found one of them checking the window locks in the kitchen once. Not that Daniel would believe her of course.

"Fantastic! Thanks Mum!" Feeling he was on a winner he added, "Mum, can you ask Chris if I can use his games console?"

"Course you can," shouted Chris hearing the conversation, "Not the over 18 ones though alright?"

"Thanks Chris!" he yelled down the phone and she had to move it from her ear slightly, and after saying goodbye heard his happy chatter to his friends.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked.

"Of course, you have to start the trusting him at some stage; if he lets you down then you have to deal with it, but not until he DOES let you down."

"OK," she said, "he can keep the phone."

The small area of countryside between the school and town came as a welcome relief from the greys and reds of the urban existence. Seeing an ice cream van he pulled into the car park, and got out and walked across, only to return with two of the biggest cones she had ever seen plastered with flakes, nuts, hundreds and thousands and red syrup.

"Don' spill any down that fantastic blouse of yours," he said, peaking down into her cleavage and smiling, "I'd be forced to lick it off." He took a great long swipe at his ice cream with his tongue, licking expertly at the tip of the flake he had pushed down into the cone.

The thought of his fantastic tongue and what he was able to do with it made her want to rub her thighs together. 'Try and tease me would you?' she thought to herself and hatched a plan.

"Here," she said, reaching over to take his ice cream from him, "Drive over there under the shade of those trees."

"Why?" he said in surprise as his cone was snatched away from him. "Alright then, seeing as you insist." He slipped the Volvo into gear and cruised across to the other side of the park that overlooked a gently meandering stream and the path alongside it. 

With difficulty, she held both ice creams in one hand, while with the other she slowly unbuttoned the front of the light grey blouse she was wearing, until the white bra balcony bra that was producing such a splendid cleavage was exposed.

He watched transfixed. Here they were in one of the largest country parks in the county at three in the afternoon and she was stripping off for him. She handed both ice creams to him and slowly reached under each of the cups of her bra and unclipped it, slowly peeling each cup away to expose the pale pink, perfect flesh beneath, each pink nipple already erect for him.

She leant back against the seat and the door, naked from the waist up, and reached out to grab whichever was the biggest of the ice creams. Taking it she too took a long lick at it, catching the runny ice cream from the base of the cone to the top, sucking at the top of the chocolate flake at its centre.

He smiled, she smiled.

Next she took the cone and swiped it across the red flesh of her nipple, swiping the tingly cold cream and some of the red sauce in a stripe over the centre of her breast.

"Oops..." she said calmly, before taking another long lick at the slowly melting ice.

He leant across the car and, starting below the nipple, slowly licked up her breast until it was wet, slightly sticky, but free of ice cream.

"Hmm," she said looking around outside the car and the complete lack of passers by. She raised her right leg against the clinging black cotton of the knee length skirt she was wearing, pulling it up slightly to enable her better movement.

He rubbed a hand across the nylon covered thighs she exposed, rubbing with his hand until the tips of his fingers met the firm but soft cotton of her panties covering what he knew would be the smoothly shaven flesh at the tops of her thighs. Had he looked he would have noticed a definite darkening in the centre of the white cotton band running between her thighs as she prematurely leaked her juices into them in expectation of what they would do next.

The bubbling excitement in her tummy added to the moment, improved only when he shot a hand under her bottom, making her jump slightly in surprise. This made the dragging of the dark tights over her curvy arse and the string from between her bottom cheeks until her underwear rested halfway down her thighs. She momentarily pressed her legs together, her free hand pulled the collection of clothing string down over her knees and until they rested on the floor by her black heels she had kicked off. Her skirt was a thin strip across her belly, her boobs and puss were on display for his attention and her satisfaction. She licked her long tongue against her gradually melting ice cream, not fast enough to catch the drop that dripped from her hand and landed just above her pubis.

She sighed, wanting desperately to say, 'well get on with it then'.

He did so, at one stage insisting she get out of the car to climb into the larger back seat, free of steering wheels, handbrakes and other car paraphernalia. The oral sex the enjoyed she figured to be probably the best ever, with or without ice cream and despite the lunch and the huge cone she still had room to swallow one more treat.



Cathy and Chris Ch. 05



The film had been erotic, but not rude. It suggested more than it showed and they both looked at the other a few times at each of the sexual interludes. But they had sat up and watched it longer than they would normally have stayed up and were both tired.

"Come on then," he said at the closing titles, "Bedtime."

"I thought you'd never ask," she replied with a grin.

They both walked upstairs with him switching off the lights as they went.

"Goodnight Cath," he said, opening his door.

"Goodnight Chris," she answered heading for the toilet.

He had just started to think that she wasn't coming when the door of the wardrobe slipped open and she stepped through, naked. 

"Thought you weren't coming."

"I wasn't sure," she said yawning, "I'm knackered to tell the truth."

"It has been a long day though hasn't it."

"Yeah, hasn't it just."

"Look, I'll set the alarm and we can just have a cuddle..." he stopped in mid-sentence, after all, their relationship was about sex, wasn't it?

She lifted the duvet and slipped in next to him,

"That would be lovely," she said with a grin.

Although they had shared a bed quite a few times now, they had rarely 'slept' together, other than a nap after making love.

She lay down on the bed and he turned off the light on his side. She was quite surprised to feel his lips on hers but kissed him back all the same.

"Night Cath."

"Night Chris." She felt his hands gently roll her to her side with her back to him, then felt strong arms wrap around her above and below as he held her.

She snuggled her back into him delighting at the warmth, tenderness and reassurance the cuddle was having on her.

His right hand held her breast gently while his left lightly lay on her hip and cupped her buttock.

She hadn't felt so comfortable in many years, and kissed his arm before sleep took her. She awoke a few hours later still in his arms and could feel the coarseness of his pubic hair and the thrust of an erect penis on her buttocks. No matter that he was asleep she was still pleased that her body had this effect on him and she wriggled into him feeling the member with the cheeks of her bottom.

He replied by squeezing her breasts and pulling her closer. She tilted her head back and kissed his cheek. He was obviously half-awake too, and the next thing she felt was him sliding down slightly, then the thrust of his penis at the lips of her vagina.

His angle was perfect and she felt his fingers manipulate and spread her labia before he entered her slowly but easily from behind. He was still holding her tight and proceeded to fuck her very gently, conscious of not breaking the spell of the closeness, comfort and warmth that the spooning position allowed them. Her husband had taken her from behind before of course, but this just seemed so unlike anything she had ever done with him. She and Chris had avoided doggie following her rebuke to him at their first session. But now she gasped as he fucked her, and writhed easily with him enjoying the movements that they created. As her body strove for its first orgasm she put her arms over his and squeezed enjoying the restriction that the position gave. He pulled her tight to him sensing her impending climax, and it was enough. She trembled into one of the nicest orgasms she'd ever achieved.

He held her as she gasped and pulled her tight, her reaction bringing him to the edge and causing him to come in her.

The cuddle didn't end and they both slept again without a word being spoken. 

The alarm on his mobile was just enough to wake them both, the clock announcing 0545.

"Oh," she groaned, "I don't wanna get up."

"I do," he said and rolled on top of her, slipping easily between her thighs and pushing himself into her soft, wet and welcoming vagina.

Fancying some extra friction he slid a finger in her sopping quim and then introduced it into her anus.

"Ohh!" she gasped grinning into his face as the new tightness introduced her to new feelings down there. Their orgasms were fast and mutual, and they lay together for a few moments until his alarm went off again and she left him with a blown kiss to walk through the wardrobe for her bedroom.

Over breakfast she watched the younger children dashing around making sure they had the right bags and equipment or books for whichever activities they were involved with, at or after school. Colleen had suddenly wanted to learn the piano, and Chris had surprised everyone by coming home with an electric piano he'd borrowed from a 'mate at work' with a view to buying if she got on with it. Colleen plugged her headphones into it and was away the same night. Her teacher had nothing but praise for her amazing progress. Cathy thought on how great it was to have him and his children in their life to such an extent.

"I slept like a log again." she whispered to him, "You do something to me."

He chuckled, "Glad to be of service, it was lovely I must admit." He sipped more of his tea.

"That bit with your finger up my arse this morning came as a bit of a surprise."

"Did you like it?"

"Oh yeah, it was... you know."

He smiled,

"And I suppose you've never done anal before have you?"

She grimaced,

"No I haven't, Brian asked for it quite a few times, but I never really fancied it -- don't know why."

"Yeah, sure you do," he grinned.

"Do I now?" she answered.

"Yeah, you thought it was going to be smelly, dirty and that it would hurt." He looked around him, then stared wistfully into space, "You've discussed it with some friends when you were either pissed or at a party. While you were pissed the thought of it turned you on the tiniest bit, right up to the point the hangover kicked in, then the smelly, dirty and hurty reappeared."

"How..."

"Because..." he grinned wickedly "Because you're a woman and that's normally what women think before they try it."

"Riiiiight," she sighed, with a look of real disbelief in her face.

"Right then!" he shouted to the younger children, "All line up at the front door with your coats on and with all your bags!"

There were giggles and thundering feet, he leaned close to her and whispered,

"Unless of course you are chicken..." He pointed an accusatory finger at her.

She smiled, "I was married for fifteen years and did stuff that Jen never did with you." She took the finger he had been pointing at her and slowly drew her lips over it, flicking it with her tongue and sucking on it hard closing her eyes, "Not sure that counts as chicken?" She smiled wickedly "I'm sure I'll get around to it one day though."

"Bound to happen," he grinned.

"Have you Mr Braveheart?"

"Yeah, Me and Jen did it loads of times."

"What! My sister Jenny? You have got to be joking!"

"Nope, was in a book she was reading once and we had a go that night."

"Hmm, still don't think I fancy it."

"You'd be surprised! Tell you what; I lend you the book she read..."

She looked out of the window to see her daughter cycling up the path on Karen's bike. It had never happened before yet it still didn't seem anything out of the ordinary; until she remembered that at the old house they never had bikes because they had a habit of being nicked from the garden or shed. She hated that estate, but Brian had grown up near there and had bought the house and moving away wasn't an option. But here she was just ten miles but what seemed to be a whole lifetime away watching Colleen, who had never even sat on a bike to her knowledge, thrashing up and down the garden like a natural.

She walked out into the garden with a pile of washing and started to hang it on the rotary line.

"Look at me Mummy!" shouted Colleen from her place on Karen's bike, "I can ride!"

"Well, you be careful then Darling!" she shouted back.

"Uncle Chris showed me how," she said, as if everything Uncle Chris said was gospel.

"Did he now," she said, trying to keep the inflection from her voice.

"Not a problem is there?" Said Chris from the doorway of the conservatory, his customary tea mug welded to his hand with a warm but guarded smile on his face.

"No," she said.

"By that you mean 'yes there is' of course." He said stepping into the garden.

She snapped back,

"I said there wasn't didn't I?"

"I was married to your sister for long enough to know that that particular type of 'no' means 'there bloody well is'."

"OK then," she snapped, "I let the mobile thing go, but who said you could teach Colleen to ride a bike huh?"

"What?" he almost laughed, "You're not telling me you getting a Mary on just because I spent a few minutes showing your daughter how to ride a pushbike are you?"

"I might not have wanted her to ride a bike." She said, instantly regretting it and realising how stupid it had sounded as she said it.

"Oh for Christ's sake," he said, "promise I won't teach them anything else if it's going to upset you that much." He put his hands in his pockets and walked away turning quickly, "Oh, I assume that you don't want me helping Danny with his maths homework either?"

"His name is DANIEL." She hissed. He gave her an amazed 'whatever' look he might just have learnt from her son. But she was beaten and knew it, and stuck her nose in the air and walked away from him sneering.

"I'll fuck off shall I?" he hissed back.

As is the way with these things, five minutes later she had a half dozen reasons why Colleen would be better off not riding a bike, but he wasn't around to listen. All she could hear was the girlish giggles coming from Colleen and Karen as they careered up and down the garden together on pushbikes, both clearly having a great time.

An hour passed; they had never had a cross word before, as brother and sister in law they had never had need to say those kind of words to each other.

He brooded for a long while; she argued the same way as Jen, and that almost made it worse. He decided that he would make a cup of tea, he wasn't going to hide in his own house and they had to start talking again sometime. He'd make her a cup of tea as well.

In the kitchen, Daniel was sitting over his homework, his ears plugged into his new MP3 player and oblivious to the world around him. Chris filled the kettle and lifted the teapot from the table. Daniel looked up and Chris indicated a time-out signal 'T' and Daniel mouthed a 'no thank you', even going so far as to offer a smile. Chris opened the fridge and indicated one of the cans of cola. Daniel gave a thumbs up and Chris threw it over. Daniel giggled and took the can out of the air. His Father had a fine supply of cheap Belgian Lager in the garage but would never allow Coke in the house except at Christmas to go in Mum's Bacardi, even then it had only been one of the cheap shop own brand ones. 

Chris loved the stuff and always had some in the fridge, and didn't mind him drinking it. Daniel had realised that so long as he took it easy, it would always be OK.

While the kettle boiled, Chris looked across at the papers on the table that Daniel was working on. He looked at the figures, they were all right and he grinned a huge grin at Daniel with a further 'thumbs up' and clapped his hands. Daniel giggled again. It was a look Chris hadn't seen since the boy had been supplanted in his father's affections and attention by his new sister ten years back. Since then Daniel had little to smile about around adults - his tired cross parents especially.

Chris had got on reasonably well with his late brother but did find him to be a bit of an old fart before his time. The only falling out had been when Brian had raised his hand to a very young Robert who had moved something on the dinner table that Brian thought he shouldn't have.

"Don't even think about it," Chris had said.

"Yeah," the older man said to the three-year-old.

"I wasn't talking to him..."

Chris poured the tea and taking two cups headed for the upstairs sitting room, knowing already that Cathy wasn't in the ground floor one or the conservatory -- but she didn't seem to on the first floor at all. He walked up to the girls room and found them in a world populated by dolls while Robert bing'ed away on his games console in his room.

Finally he knocked on her locked bedroom door and heard nothing. Perhaps she was asleep, or had snuck out and gone for a walk.

Finally he went into his own room and put both cups on the bedside table.

"I thought you were never coming," the voice came from the window.

Only his table lamp lighted the room, and he could only make out the figure walking towards him from behind the long curtains.

As she came into the light he saw that she was wearing only a black thong with a matching lace bra and suspender belt, with black stockings all finished with her highest heels. She had gone to a lot of trouble with her make up and hair too. She walked to the door and locked it. She slowly walked back to him as he sipped his tea distracted by the sexy beauty before him.

"I'm sorry I lost my rag, I'm due on." she said, took a deep breath and knelt before him, her head down.

She undid his fly and belt and pulled his trousers and pants down to his knees, and his almost erect penis stuck out from him. 

"Hormones; it's no excuse I know, been having them long enough after all." There was a slight lift, almost jokey, to her voice but it soon stopped, "Anyway, this is my way of saying I'm sorry," she looked up at him, briefly made eye contact and kissed the crown of his manhood. She sucked him into her mouth and moved backwards and forwards over him. This whole submissive demeanour was incredibly erotic, she had never acted this way with him before and he was tempted to allow her to continue.

But the nice man in him rebelled, and he put his hands to her shoulders and made to lift her up. 

She stood up and walked to the bed leading him by the hand. She sat him down on the corner of the bed, bent at the waist and kissed him on the lips gently and tenderly.

"I've been a bad girl," she whispered, and looked into his her eyes, "I need to be punished..." she kissed him gently on his open mouth.

She stepped to one side before draping herself across his lap with her delectable bottom raised.

He put an arm across the middle of her back and held her down lightly -- she moved forward slightly and purred. He stroked hands across her bare flesh, and she gasped at his touch. 

Still in shock he raised his right hand above her bottom, her eyes were closed and her head hung between her arms -- fingertips just touching the floor. He dropped his hand lightly but firmly on her buttocks.

"Aaaah," she gasped, not in pain it seemed. He repeated the act three more times until she was gasping as she breathed.

"Take my knickers down," she hissed.

Although her tiny string was giving her buttocks no protection at all he guessed that she needed it for the erotic imagery it represented and he complied, lifting her groin slightly and pulling at the waist band until they rested halfway down her thighs.

He smacked her now bare right cheek then her left, in succession and she gasped at each slap. Her groans kind of led him to believe that he was doing OK. This wasn't something he'd done before over and above the occasional smack on Jen's arse in the heat of passion; she'd said that so long as she wasn't expecting it the surprise made her tense up and everything got tighter and deeper for a few seconds.

While he smacked he tried to think what to do next. Perhaps she just wanted it a bit... what... rough? She had said that she hated doggie because of the memories it held for her, but she had gone bonkers when they had made love in the spoons position a few nights back and he was sure he should have pushed his luck in the living room a few Saturdays before.

Her buttocks received probably slightly more than they would have because of his indecision, but he figured they were the lightest slaps done with a cupped hand as it seemed she was more turned on by the slapping sound than the impact! Turning his head he noticed a dark shape on his pillow. It was the book he'd left on her pillow the week before, after their discussion about anal. Nancy Friday, 'My secret garden' -- a book Jen had bought off of Amazon and they had both read from cover to cover, sometimes together, taking turns to either read out loud, while the other pleasured the reader and often themselves at the same time.

She was exploring; OK, he thought. He lifted her gently to her feet and guided her towards the edge of the bed. He pushed her gently but insistently, bending her at the waist to rest her elbows on the softness of the duvet. He stepped behind her and entered her from the rear with one thrust.

"Oh Christ," she gasped through gritted teeth, as he withdrew and forced back in again. She was very, very wet and the walls of her vagina were pillowy soft around his erection. He gripped her slim waist with both hands pulling himself forward into her with a soft grunt, and a light slapping sound as his naked thighs touched the warmth of slightly pink bottom. He didn't forget those first words though, 'just the pussy he was using at the time' and made sure he stroked, massaged and generally pleased her as much as possible. It worked.

"Please," she begged, "Keep going I'm almost there, yes, yes, Oh shit!"

Her whole body tensed as she came, and it was enough to set him off. He thrust as hard as he could into the taut woman before him, and came.

He slumped forward over her pinning her to the bed under him, still inside her.

"Wow," she said turning her face so their cheeks touched. She kissed his lips, "And to think I had a problem with being taken from behind..." She closed her eyes, reaching her back with her right hand to hold his.

They napped for a few minutes before the inevitable ten minute snogging session, dressing and the guilty, slightly giggly descent to the kitchen and the kids now waiting for their tea.



Cathy and Chris Ch. 06



The little grey square appeared at the bottom right of his screen. He clicked it. It was from a Hotmail account, named 'The Girl Next Door'. 

He looked and there was no attachment, so chances are it didn't hold a virus. He clicked on it and it opened.

"Dear Sir, I was really taken with the results of our last meeting – so much so that I am authorised by this organisation to confirm that repeat projects (assuming your agreement on this position) will always be welcomed. 

Your ability to grasp the situation and respond to a previously little used stratagem with such enthusiasm and drive was what we have come to expect. You are to be congratulated. With your assistance a new domain, one that we had never considered attractive, now holds some real interest for TGND, and we would like to consider options on exploring other openings that you may consider worthwhile with your greater knowledge and experience in the area.

Please reply soonest so a 121 can be arranged, I suggest the previous venue or if it's more convenient the TGND base would be mutually advantageous.

Catherine, The Girl Next Door.'

He could not stop himself from grinning and set about his reply:

'Dear Catherine, Thank you very much for you message, although as specialists we live by the maxim that the customer is always right, it is always gratifying when our best endeavours provide satisfaction for customers who are venturing into new territory. I am so pleased that you have chosen to continue and again I am glad that you were taken with the more aggressive marketing approach.

Yes, there is another opening that is available in this region that you may wish to consider in more depth. We have discussed this before and although it does hold some fears for the less imaginative, I am sure that TGND will find its exploration beneficial, and with our assistance I trust it will be mutually advantageous.

When one delves into virgin territory such as this, presentation is everything and I feel that TGND will benefit from our full package. Would you like us to arrange the location and the Agenda? Chris.'

He pressed 'send' and the message winged across the ether. He forwarded a copy of her message and the reply to his own private account, deleted both from his machine and went back to the mountain of paperwork on his desk.

Just as he managed to concentrate on his work, his screen flashed into life and the Hotmail address was there again.

"Chris So quick! If we had realised that you were so aware of the district we would have contacted you sooner.

As you say, this is virgin territory and TGND will be easier convinced of the benefits of this new opening if the way is fully prepared. Your personal capabilities are without question and TGND will be more than happy to arrange the venue and visual aids. With your agreement we would also like to cater – anything to ease the way after all.  I will ensure that everything to make the event proceed smoothly will be provided. TGND is keen to see this take place as soon as possible. I believe that tomorrow, although short notice, would be ideal, please confirm. Cathy"

He felt his penis harden at just the imagery the doublespeak was creating and responded.

"Cathy, Tomorrow will be fine. Friday? Excellent idea, it's well known that people are always at their most receptive on Fridays. Catering? You are spoiling me! Still 'grease to the squeak' I suppose! 

Fine, will see you tomorrow, same time and same place. I will of course maintain confidentiality on this one. Might I suggest that you do not discuss this until the meeting? 

This is still a sensitive area that remains unexplored by most and we need to maintain the air of normality until the last moment. I look forward to seeing what you do with the venue. Regards, Chris."

He had Colleen and Karen in his car and they could talk of nothing but the swimming club and the badges they had earned.

At home, Danny was still in the kitchen doing the obligatory homework that he did as soon as he got home these days to leave the rest of his weekends free for whatever else he wanted to do, while Cathy and Robert loaded the dishwasher.

"Hi gang," he said, smiling at the domesticity around him. This was followed by a crowd of hello's from the huge kitchen.

The girls showed Cathy the badges, and Danny asked Chris about one of his Maths problems. Cathy beamed as Chris sat with him and they puzzled their way to the solution together, with Chris only occasionally nudging Danny in the right direction. Brian had never done that – he was more likely to grunt at Daniel's shortcomings and his own lack of knowledge, while Chris helped him all of the time. 

She reflected that Brian almost seemed to look forward to his son's failure and always demanded to see the results in his maths book, gleefully descending on the red crosses and ignoring the ticks; these days though there were never that many crosses.

Chris encouraged Danny at every opportunity too, discussed his homework, let him use his computer, printer, his small library of books, even going so far as to drive him into town one Saturday to buy a book that made the project easier to finish. 

Danny had started to loose the sullen teenager thing he'd had when Brian was around, and even the new school had said what a huge improvement he had made in his work and application and found it hard to believe the report that came from the last school.  

Cathy had that day 'found' the receipt for the MP3 player that Chris had given Danny a month back. Allegedly a freebie promotional item from a supplier and 'discovered in the drawer at work', it had hardly left Danny's side these days, Chris even downloaded the music for him.

"Finished Aunty Cath!" announced Robert.

"Oh Darling!" she said bending down to hug him, "Give you Auntie Cath a big kiss." He did so with a giggle.

Tea done, the younger children were levered towards the various bathrooms and hustled into their rooms. Danny, allowed a later staying up time by virtue of his age and increasing maturity, took one of Chris' many CD's and wished everyone a goodnight an hour later.

Cathy had gone up and Chris was packing away the clean crockery from the dishwasher, when his mobile phone rang.

"Hello..."

"Hello, this is The Girl Next Door here." Cathy had affected a squeaky 'office girl' voice, but it was plainly her, "your presentation is booked for nine thirty?" He looked at his watch it was nine fifteen.

"OK," he said.

"The presentation is at our place," said the voice.

"I'll be there." He said and switched off the call and his phone.

The last of the mugs were left on the side for the morning, and he locked the front door and switched of the last of the lights before walking upstairs.

He went into the 'adults' bathroom to find it lit by three scented candles, a towel and a new black towelling bathrobe lay draped over the vanity unit. His razor, aftershave and shower gel was all in place and he guessed they were required. He dried himself wiping around the erection that hadn't gone down since she had phoned him. Finally he put on the robe. It was black and he found to his surprise that it was past his knees and had a large hood. He put it on and belted it before finally applying the aftershave she had picked for him.

He extinguished the candles and took them to his room, and opened the door to find this room similarly lit, He walked to his dressing table and put down the candles, when their was a faint knock at the door.

Damn! Probably one of the kids. 

He opened it with a smile to find that there was no one there. He did notice a piece of paper stuck on the wall though opposite and down a bit, it was a very well produced piece of notepaper headed 'TGND' in coloured letters across the top and he read it; "Please go into the conference room and take a seat,"

He heard his own door shut behind him and lock. He moved to her door and pushed it open. Her bedroom looked like a shrine, with candles all over the place, black satin sheets on the bed and the dressing table covered in a white cloth. There was even music playing.

By the door was a bottle of wine on the occasional table, opened, next to two glasses. He poured himself a glass and sipped, wondering how she had managed to put all of this together when he saw a chair covered in another white sheet before the foot of the bed. He took the bottle and glass and sat down. The flickering of the candles and the darkness of the room added to the air of tension. A slightly muffled but well-spoken female voice came through the music,

"Ladies and Gentlemen," it said, "Our latest convert is about to be deflowered, please cover your heads and stand as she enters."

He stood and flipped up the hood of the robe. For good dramatic measure he tucked his hands into the baggy sleeves. The music came to a crescendo and the wardrobe door to his right opened,

"Bring forth the virgin!" said the voice triumphantly.

A figure stepped through the wardrobe - It was Cathy, head bowed and looking meekly to the ground, her old dressing gown he'd seen so many times sparkly white in the darkness. She walked in to stand with her back to him before the bed.

"You come here of you own free will?" said the voice, she nodded, "You are to be deflowered in the rite and custom you have been prepared for, do you accept this gift?" She nodded again. 

Chris listened to the voice, it was plainly Cathy, but in deeper louder harsher tones he hadn't heard before.

"Deflowerer," said the voice, are you prepared to receive her gift?"

Chris guessed this was his cue, "Yes," he said in deep tones, "I receive her gift." If she had given him a script to follow he would not have been able to keep a straight face but it just flowed naturally.

"Virgin, uncover the instrument of your defloration," said the voice. Keeping her head bowed she turned around and knelt before him, her head tilted down. She undid the belt on his robe and laid soft hands on his penis. He was hard as a rock. "Prepare the instrument," said the voice. She closed her eyes and taking him by the base of his penis licked it all over careful to avoid the sensitive helmet.

"As a proof of your willingness, you will receive the oils of your defloration, uncover them," she stood and turned to her right and bowed to the table, then lifted the white cover off of the dressing table, to reveal a box of tissues, some moist wipes and in the middle a bottle of lube. She picked up the bottle in both hands and stepped forward then turned ninety degrees to stand before him.

"Kneel," said the voice. She dipped to her knees still looking down at the floor, "Declare your obeisance..."

"Brother, I bow to you and ask that you bless these oils, and ask that you allow me to prepare you for the honour you do me." He placed a hand on the bottle of lube and nodded. She took the lube and squeezed some onto the end of his penis wiping it all over. She stood, stepped back and placed the lube back on the tray on the dressing table, and turned to face the bed again.

"Virgin, Your time has come, Uncover her..." she dropped her hands to her sides and the gown slipped from her shoulders to the floor, accompanied by a rush from the accompanying music. "Make your declaration virgin..." She turned to face him and stood beautifully naked with her head bowed.

"Brother, I am ready to be taken, I ask that you prepare my body with oils in readiness for my defloration, to ease my way into the new world." Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"Bow..." said the voice solemnly. Cathy turned back to the bed and put her feet further apart and bent at the waist and touched her toes, then at a change in the music she reached behind her and pulled her buttocks apart exposing her anus and the slit of her swollen vagina. 

"Is she clean?" said the recorded voice.

"She is clean mistress," he said running a finger along the crack of her arse causing her to shudder slightly.

"Oil her," said the voice. He took the lube and poured some onto his finger. He put a hand on the on the base of her spine and held her. Next he held the tip of his finger and toyed with her entrance. Once he thought she could take no more teasing he pushed the finger past her ring and she sighed as he massaged her insides.

"Is she oiled?"

"She is oiled mistress." He could hear Cathy panting now.

"She is a virgin and must be stretched, take up the stretching rod," On the tray was a white plastic vibrator he recognised. Could only be that, he thought and picked it up - with the oil in her anus this shiny plastic wouldn't need any extra. "Insert the stretching rod," said the voice, and added almost with a hint of triumph, "to the second mark!"

He stepped up to the bent over figure, "Please," she whispered, "Be gentle..."

"Silence!" said the tape, "The third mark!" He looked and couldn't see any marks, the thing was really slim anyway and wouldn't cause any discomfort.

He took the vibe and pushed it gently against her anus,

"Aah," she gasped, and a gently weeping moan came out of her mouth as he slid the toy in. "One more groan will deem you unworthy, Virgin!" came the voice.

"Sorry mistress, I will take it deeper," she moaned and looked back at Chris.

He pushed the vibe about six inches in, so that there was as much of it in her as there would be of him. She groaned, and he continued pumping for a moment.

"Withdraw the stretching rod," said the voice, and he did so, "On the altar..." she straightened up and turned and bowed to him, then stepped forward to the bed and knelt on the mattress and crouched down on the edge of the bed with her elbows slightly bent and her bottom well raised. She still kept her head down in submission.

"Virgin, adopt the position." Cathy fell forward so her shoulders rested on the bed and put her arms out to her side and with her hands flat. "Knees further apart," it growled and Cathy moved slightly "The virgin is prepared and in entry position," said the voice, "step forward and do your duty." 

While this had been going on he'd taken the opportunity to add more lube to his already slippery penis, and now he stepped up to the black satin covered bed with his knees resting against the mattress and placed hands on her buttocks, "Virgin, you are to receive the gift, prepare yourself." The music stopped, she grasped the satin sheets with both hands, while he levelled himself at the tiny pinky brown ring awaiting him. He pushed slowly and gently, waiting for the moment.

"I am ready, take me and make me whole... aaahhh," she sighed as he pushed past the restriction of her muscular ring. He paused for as long as he could to let her get used to it. The pace of the music increased. He thrust in and out a few times, 

"She is one of us!" said the other Cathy from a distance, "She needs only to be anointed with his seed to be fulfilled!" He shafted her, enjoying the tightness of the orifice and remembering the feeling of buggery again after so long. "Fulfil me Brother," gasped the real Cathy before him. She kept her arms out to her sides and rocked gently as he fucked her, "Please," she begged, "I'm so close!"

He pumped his hips as fast as he could pulling backwards and forward on her hips, "You... are... anointed!" he gasped as he pushed hard inside her and felt his release, then thinking fast he pulled out and squirted the last of his come in long white streaks across her buttocks and to the small of her back.

"Oh Christ," she gasped as she lay on the bed feeling him gently rub his tool between her cheeks, "That was fantastic," she said sliding down and lying flat on the bed. She lay hands on her wet buttocks and massaged his semen into them as the music slowed and finally stopped. He lay next to her and relaxed as well. "Fucking right," he said, "and besides a great shag, you are now one of the chosen." She giggled. "How the bloody hell did you come up with all of this in a day?"

She snuggled closer, still face down, "Well, the candles, the wine and the sheets we had, the lube and the bathrobes I had to buy of course."

"But the recording..."

"Took the afternoon off. I wrote a script this morning and recorded it this afternoon on one of the office dictation recorders I nicked for the occasion. You have to admit it was better than a simple 'Come on Chris, fuck me up the arse' don't you."

"Bloody hell yes!" he said. He sat up and recovered the wipes and the tissues. "Here," he said, "let me help a new member. There are some stains that are a bastard to get off of satin sheets."

He took a cool wipe and wiped across her back and buttocks and she cooed. Taking another he wiped along the crease of her buttocks removing the last traces of semen and the lube. She giggled.

"You're the first person to do that since I wore a nappy," she said. Freeing her of the fluids, he wiped himself to.

"Come on then," he said, "Lets go through to my room and finish the wine."

Lying in his bed, naked, cosy and warm, they chatted comfortably.

"It came to me this morning," she said, "It turned me on so much I had to go to the toilet twice to masturbate, just as I was writing the words down on the computer. Had to do it on the laptop of course, God forbid anyone would have seen what I was doing. I couldn't concentrate at all once I'd finished it so I took the afternoon off and went shopping for robes and lubrication."

"Why?"

"Well," she almost whined, "That book you lent me, you bastard! You knew didn't you!" "Of course..."

"Oh shit, it was so horny, all I could do not to rape you that night. The book also went on about fantasies, dressing up and everything."

"So that's what the spanking was about," he smiled.

"Yeah, hadn't planned it for that night but circumstances, you know?"

"Yeah, no substitute for good make up sex."

"Took your fucking time though didn't you?"

"Sorry, won't happen again."

"Well, I was talking about the book in work with my best mate Carole, she was discussing that very bit, and..." he looked at her and smiled, "Stop it!" she warned him, "Or you wont do it again! Anyway, in my head it just led from you fucking me so beautifully from behind when we were half asleep, and then the dressing up when you spanked me a few days later."

"Yeah," he growled.

"It was the whole... oh I don't know... letting you be in charge,"

"Submission?"

"Yes... no... sort of... not like the whole bondage and beating thing, it was..."

"It was letting go, letting some else take charge, letting your guard down."

"Yes" she sipped again, "Yes it was."

"Thank you," he said, "that is a real compliment." He touched his glass to hers.

"What?"

"That takes trust, what we did tonight. It's all about trust in the end. Trust that I wasn't going to laugh at you, trust that I wasn't going to beat you black and blue the other night, trust that I would take it easy and be gentle."

"I knew you would Chris," she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, he turned his face and kissed her on the mouth, their tongues clashing. They glasses were quickly and unceremoniously dumped on the bedside table, while she climbed over him.

She pushed his hands over his head against the headboard.

"Do you trust me, Chris?"

He nodded and interlocked his fingers leaving them over his head. She had no need to make him hard as he had long since recovered. She reached the bedside table for more lube, pouring a measure onto his cock. Siding forward over his erection, she reached behind her and manipulated him and wriggled until she had the effect she wanted and she lowered herself down on him, her anus opening to allow him in as her leg muscles relaxed.  He watched her face going through various stages and had no doubt that she was impressed with anal. He fought hard not to come, it was her turn now, her turn to make the moves and the decisions. 




Cathy and Chris Ch. 06



His arms had started to ache and he dropped them to his side. She reached out for them and held them at his side, as she gently rode him. Only after a few minutes of fucking did she raise her hands and let him hold her thighs, then after a time her breasts. Finally she took one hand and pushed it against her shaven vagina, letting him make up his own mind what he did then. He went straight for her clitoris, but gently now. He wasn't going to make her come, he was just going to play and keep the sensations going. This was her time.

She smiled down at him,

"Thanks Chris," She proceeded to ride him hard and fast, and he increased the pressure on her clitoris until she started to come, it was enough for him just to watch and he shed his seed into her bowel for the second time that night.

She collapsed onto him and rolled to one side. They kissed, long and unhurried until sleep took them. The alarm went off in time for her to sneak back into her own bedroom, as the sun rose. Next morning, he came down to breakfast to find her in the kitchen in a black towelling bathrobe just like the new one he had hung on his bedroom door.

"Like the new robe," he said taking the cosy off of the teapot.

"Yeah," she said, "only just earned-" she stopped herself, "got it yesterday, went through hell to get it, you'd never believe it..."



Cathy and Chris Ch. 07



"Happy birthday dear Chri-is/Dad-dy, Happy birthday to you..."

He leant forward and blew out the candle on the cake with some assistance from three children. Chris looked again at the collection of cards, some of them handmade, at the CD from his children and at the book Daniel had bought him and grinned. 

Cathy cut the cake into small wedges and handed it around the table, and he commented on the small piece she had given him. "Your supper is later," she said matter of factly. She had already said that she would cook him a steak.

Cake finished, Cathy asked who was going to help with the washing up. This had the effect of clearing the kitchen in a few minutes. Chris moved next to her,

"You did that on purpose," he said looking at the now empty room.

"Might have done," she replied, running a hand over his bulging jeans.

"Hmm," he looked thoughtful, "could it be that you have a special present for me? Or is it just that the dishwasher has broken down."

"Neither," she said, "I have something for you, oh yes, a special present." She winked and taped the side of her nose conspiratorially.

Once the kids were in bed she came into the room with two trays, both with plates piled high with his favourite things. He devoured the meal with gusto, even asking about pudding.

"You'll get that later," she said, and continued eating. Eventually, she finished too.

"I'm going up," she said half an hour later, and then walked across close to him, "Load the dishwasher and keep your phone on," she whispered in his ear, "You should get a call in a while."

He heard the sound of the shower and guessed she had gone into the bathroom to prepare for whatever was going to happen.

Quickly he turned off the lights, checked the doors and walked up the stairs. She was still in the bathroom, and using the wardrobe entrance, he slipped through to her room. The water was still running and he figured he'd still have at least five minutes snooping time.

On the bed were two Tesco carrier bags. They contained a variety of toppings, a bottle of wine and a large syrupy cake looking like a giant rumbaba, with a hole through the centre. There was also a tin of spray cream. He guessed kind of what was going to happen. 

Having seen enough, he moved to her dressing table and moved the mirror slightly. He had positioned the dressing table so when he looked through a tiny gap in the wardrobe he could see most of the rest of the room reflected in it. 

This was a fact he had yet to tell Cathy, but it did enable him to check she wasn't doing anything embarrassing before he walked in on her. He sat in his wardrobe and sipped his tea, watching as she opened the door and walked in. She unwrapped herself from the towel and threw it on the bed. 

She ran long fingers through her hair and walked to the bed and switched on the bedside table lamps. Naked she leaned forward and arranged the huge towel until it lay just where she wanted it. Her pert bottom swayed gently as she moved around, and his erection started to grow. Christ but she had great tits he thought as they swung gently, what was he thinking, she had a great body, and he never tired of looking at her, clothed or naked. She dressed to show it off these days afyrt all. 

Then she opened the wine and poured two glasses, sitting them on the bedside cabinet. Sipping from one of them, she started to lay the various items from the bags on the bed next to the towel. Next, she took a small pearl choker from her bedside table and clipped it around her neck. Next a pair of black hold-up stockings where carefully slid into place and followed by her favourite black heels, before she sprayed herself with her favourite perfume. She sat at the dressing table and made up, beautifully, the way she always did.

She got her mobile from her handbag and tapped in the number, causing him to hastily switch his to silent vibrate mode so as not to let on where he was sat.

Finally and after all the preparations she lay on the towel full length, then he could see her messing around with the spray cream, various sauces and decorations all hidden within the white box the cake was in. He noticed a large red candle too, no way that would stay in the cake, it must have been a foot long at least.

She picked up the cake with great care and reaching back placed it right on the centre of her delectable bottom. His erection throbbed; she took the candle and slipped a small circle of card around the bottom of it he guessed to catch the wax drips. Next she lit the candle with a lighter which she placed by the wineglasses. She reached back behind her, and pushed the end through the centre of the cake and with a deep sigh at least three inches of it disappeared, he guessed, into her anus. 

The spray can was raised and she proceeded to spray long white strings of cream in the centre of the cake. He slid out of the wardrobe and started to strip leaving the phone on the bed. He splashed on some of the aftershave she liked so much. Naked he stood by the wardrobe and heard the phone buzz. 

"Yes?"

"If you'd like to come through," she said, "I think you'll find that pudding is on me."

He stepped through into her room. Her bottom was raised, with the cake precariously perched on the summit, pinned in place by the candle.

"Happy Birthday to you," she crooned like Marilyn Monroe, "Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday Mr Chrissie..." she sipped with difficulty from the wine glass having to raise her chin from its resting place on her hands, "Happy Birthday to you. Now," she teased, "I want you to eat it ALL UP."

He moved around behind her and put both hands on her hips holding her in place.

"Oh yeah," he said running a tongue through a glob of cream in her buttock crease causing her to shudder, "Just the fucking job. Cream cakes and your arse, does it get any better than this." He chomped a large section of the dough ring out, it was rich, spicy and sweet, his favourite kind.

He made a point of nipping her buttock and she giggled and shook,

"Careful," she said, "Stop when you reach the pink bit."

He licked along the gap his bite had made, his tongue encountering soft vaginal lips,

"You sure?" he said.

"Hmm, well, as long as you don't bite toooo hard," she teased.

He continued licking the cream that was running down her soft bottom, and she purred.

Finally he had made enough room to start playing with her, and as he ate he pushed his long middle finger, back and up into her feeling for the soft pad that was her g-spot.

Still nibbling at the cake, (it was a bloody good cake after all) he gripped the candle and pushed it slightly into her anus and down so he could apply pressure from both sides on her g-spot and the mouth of her womb. She started to groan at the new feeling, and his gentle pressure with the candle became a slow fucking motion.

He licked in long swathes over her backside and between the cheeks, enjoying the sweetness of cake and cream, with the tartness of the woman on her hands and knees before him. His tickling of her g-spot ended and his spare hand snuck between her thighs and found her clitoris and lips, sticky and slimy from the cream and strawberry sauce. He fondled her clit, still rotating and fucking the girl's arse with the candle, and she groaned and fidgeted in her passions. 

He scoffed noisily on her puffy lips and his noise and the manipulations were successful. She came loudly, her legs forcing back out spastically with the contractions of her uterus.

He pulled at her hips lugging her back into position and she groaned, and pushed his iron hard phallus into her soft and swollen vagina.

"Oh shit yes," she cried, "Oh fuck, do it Chris, fuckin' do it now!"

Needing no urging he started to fuck into her, ignoring the sticky mess across her buttocks that would need scrubbing out of his pubic hair tomorrow. He pumped with a regular rhythm, making a point of bashing her buttocks with his loins, knowing from previous experience that this was what brought her off.

"Take me Chris," she gasped, "take me, harder... oh yeah." She was obviously close to another climax. 

As he humped harder, fighting to hold off his own climax, he figured that his late brother Brian really must have been a fucking idiot.

She had confided that Brian liked fucking her from behind and that she hated it, 'like she was just the pussy he was using', but now, here she was in stockings and black heels crying for him to fuck her, after he had eaten an entire cake off of her delicious body with a candle up her arse, working her way up to her... third orgasm?

"Come on then Cathy, this time," he slapped into her harder and harder feeling her womb with his glans as her body expanded to allow him further into her, "or am I going to have to stick it up your arse again..."

She positively growled into the pillow, shaking all over and stretching her neck back as the rigours took her,

"Fucking hell, Chris," she gasped as he shed his seed deep into her climaxing uterus, "I LOVE IT when you talk dirty..."



Cathy and Chris Ch. 09



It was a Monday night like any other; a school night and the kids were in bed, the washing machine and dishwasher rumbled to themselves and he made her a decaf coffee before sitting down with his own tea. She was sat on one of the sofas, a blanket over waist and knees and her body drawn up. 

As she took the coffee from him, consciously or unconsciously, she stretched her legs out on the other large cushion and Chris sat at the end of the sofa nearest her and smiled. She noticed but didn't make eye contact, just smiling noncommittally and thanking him for her coffee with the briefest look. He had been very attentive tonight and quieter than usual. She couldn't begin to think what was up with him.

He guessed what was wrong with her though. Just like her late sister he knew when she was due or actually coming on. She would go quiet and just a bit moody. She would occasionally snap at the kids, even his, and as soon as her back was turned, Dan who knew his mother better than anyone would make the action of turning on a switch. 

His late wife Jen, being a Doctor, had explained to her children why once a month she was moody; Cathy was so impressed that she had Jenny have the same discussion with Daniel and Colleen. Jenny had explained to all four children at various times what she or Auntie Cath was cross about and they weren't to mind. Dan being older kept the 'on' switch as a joke between him and Chris. 

Jenny would become unaccountably upset and burst into tears and need comforting. Chris knew this of course and would be ready with a pocket full of tissues and reassuring hugs. But not Cathy. It seemed when she was down she wanted to stay down.

This was her second menstruation since the move, and Chris would need to play it very carefully he decided, if only for his own sanity.

It was obvious, the last two nights she had stayed in her own room. If any hint was needed, as he slid through the wardrobe he heard the barely audible 'oh no, not tonight' she whispered to herself.

She heard him as he put some things down, tiptoed to the bed, raised the cover and slid in behind her.

"Hey you," he whispered.

"Hey Chris," she said with a groan.

"Take your nightie off," he said.

"Not tonight Chris, I'm really not..." He didn't give her the chance,

"I didn't mention your knickers did I? Do as you're told, trust me."

She grumbled slightly and raised the T-shirt over her head and shoulders, dropping it to the bedside.

She felt a warm hand and then he was pleased to hear the "Oh yeah," she mumbled as she felt the heat of the hot water bottle at the small of her back.

Rubbing the bottle across her lower back he leant forward placing a gentle but warm hand on the slight rise of her tummy barely touched by her knickers. He rubbed with just the right amount of pressure to relieve the pain she was feeling, eventually resting his hand again, allowing his little finger to rest just under the band of her panties.

"Oh that's nice, you don't have to stop doing that." Gently he rubbed again, and she sighed, "thanks Chris, ooh that's fantastic," she gasped and pushed her back into him feeling the hot water bottle squeeze between them. She also felt that he was wearing T-shirt and pyjama shorts, something he had never done before, at least not in bed with her.

The hand that was trapped between them curled under her and gently held her breasts, not mauling, squeezing, just cupping and holding. He continued to rub.

"Bastard," she sighed.

"What?"

"You come to bed and with evil intentions of making me feel better and I can't reciprocate." Her voice raised from a sigh to a definate female 'tone'.

"What do you mean reciprocate?"

"You want a fucking blow job don't you?" she sighed almost like she was forcing herself to be cross.

"I thought I was trying to make your tummy ache go away."

"Oh, that's what you were doing," she said, her raised angry tone replacing the air of sarcasm to her voice, "and you always fucking grab a girls tits when you want to make her feel better do you?" she snapped.

"Oh," he sounded startled and a little hurt, "I'll... err... I'll fucking leave you to it then."

She felt him slide from behind her, the removal of his comforting and warm body and hands leaving her cold for a moment.

"Oh for fuck's sake, don't get all..." she stopped when she heard the familiar click of the wardrobe door closing. She sat up, "Chris?" He wasn't to be seen, "CHRIS?" she said louder. Nothing.

On the bedside table was two cups, one held his usual tea and the other held milky hot chocolate, her all-time favourite made in a saucepan with proper chocolate and everything. A night time relaxer, not the kind of thing he made for her if they were to make love. Next to it was a small foil packet of Ibuprofen.

Shit.

He really had just been trying to nurse her, to make her feel better. She had spent all evening groaning in pain at him in a very real discomfort, it was a really bad one this time, and she'd made sure he knew all about it. Second time she'd pissed him off when he was just trying to be nice.

She tried the wardrobe door and it slid open, quietly. His partition was across too. Not a good sign. She looked at the bed with the duvet undisturbed and with no occupant. She looked at the bedroom door, still closed.

"Don't tell me, the hot water bottle isn't hot enough anymore." She jumped and turned to face him stood in the bay window.

"You... you scared me." She said trying to add a lift to her voice.

"You certainly scared the fuck out of me." He said, still looking out the window.

"You... you left your tea on the table," she stumbled, feeling the embarrassment burning in her cheeks, "Shall I..."

He didn't turn to face her continuing instead to look out across the starry night sky and the rooftops.

"Chris?"

"What." The voice chilled her, devoid of humour and emotion, something she had never heard in him before.

"Nothing," she said, not wanting to make it worse. She really must have blown it with him for good this time. Her pain, discomfort and the added hormones did nothing to help her mood, and suddenly the atmosphere and darkness closed in and she had visions of packing everything back into the boxes again, the impossible task of finding somewhere as great to live as this with someone as great as him. And the kids; starting that decline back to how they were before him... 

"I was only trying to be nice," he said quietly.

"I'm really sorry," she said, "I always get cranky at this time of the month, you know how it is."

"Yeah, all to well, you hardly let anyone forget."

The hormones wouldn't let that one through and she snapped back.

"I'm sorry but I'm just not used to spontaneous bursts of affection OK? Brian stayed out of the fucking house when I was on..." She bit her tongue, Oh Christ, that sounded terrible - what the fuck was she saying!!

She felt cold all of a sudden, and the coldness seemed to radiate from Chris, just stood staring out into the darkness; still he said nothing, and she moved closer. She had to try and make it up somehow, 

"I'm so sorry Chris, I... I don't know what to say, please... please don't let me spoil all of this, forgive me, please." 

She stepped behind him and put her hands on his shoulder, resting her cheek against his neck, her eyes tightly closed, his body warm against her still bare breasts.

In the light of the street lamps across his face, he looked to have aged. She looked closer, the lines on his face weren't wrinkles, the silver traces on his cheeks were the tracks of tears. It came to her in an agonising flash, Jenny, his wife and her sister. 

Her ovarian cancer had appeared from nowhere, thought by all to be just bad period pains and by the time it was found and cut out it has spread its evil poison through her body. Chris had nursed her through it.

On the really bad days she'd had Karen and Robert, so that they wouldn't have to see Mum suffer. The mornings when she'd dropped them back to school Jenny would lie like a ghost in her bed telling of how Chris had a constant stream of hot water bottles and cold compresses. 

He'd held her and caressed her, and given her the painkillers, painkillers that gradually had less and less effect. And as the things gr)ew inside her, he had just held her as she cried out with the pain she could no longer contain. 

At her bedside Jenny had confessed her shame, her own desire of a quick end to it. She said how in the darkest nights her sleep deprived brain had begged for relief and she'd cried and cursed him that he wouldn't help, wouldn't give her the tablets (she even knew how many would do it) and he wouldn't smoother her. He was a special forces soldier and must have known a hundred ways to kill someone. 

She was dying anyway, she'd said, and he wouldn't help her out of the hell she was living. She'd cursed him that he was thinking of himself and not of her. 

He had held her all the way through and until the end, in the hospital, the house, and finally the hospice. 

Cathy herself had driven the twenty miles from her house to the hospice when her tearful Father rang to say that if she was coming at all she had to come now. None of her friends could or would take Daniel and Colleen for what could be a very long night, and Brian was halfway through a building job and wouldn't leave until it was finished, which added an hour to the wait, he even had the temerity to complain that she hadn't left him any tea as she ran from the door.

"OK, she's dying," he'd said, "You knew it had to happen;" She wanted to punch him for his insensitivity. Not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, she grabbed her coat and made for the door, he threw a final comment in for good measure. 

"If I took so bloody long, why couldn't you have put a pie and some chips in the oven while you waited?"

When she got there it was to find her distraught aunt being driven out of the hospice in a taxi, she abandoned the car in the car park and ran. Her tearful father sat on the steps of the hospice, her kind, wonderful, strong, gentle father, a man she had never known cry, head in his hands and completely inconsolable.

She couldn't find Jenny's room, some of the staff too were in tears and Cathy simply followed the trail of crying nurses. 

Her mum was the other side of the bed holding Jenny's lifeless hand. And there, in the room that Chris had filled with flowers and bright colours he was sat, eyes closed, with Jenny wrapped in his arms for one last embrace. That hand holding hers across her swollen abdomen as if he was still trying to take the pain away. 

At the last it had worked like they always said; in that final sleep the pain and the years had all gone, her sister looked free at last.

And here he was now, trying to help her, doing what he knew best to calm her and relax her and help her through the pain she had so vocally and visibly demonstrated to the whole house, and that he knew so well and with so much hurt. And she had thrown a tantrum worthy of the very worst spoilt teen, because he had dared to be nice to her and want a cuddle when she had a strop on and wanted all the attention. 

She thought of that long drive through the spring rain, seven days after Brian's birthday, which was...

Fucking hell, it was two years ago; to the day. 

No wonder he'd sat close to her all night and had tried to be nice and make conversation and all she could do was remind him so visibly and so often of his beloved Jenny's last days - on the anniversary of her death no less.

"Oh Jesus - Chris I am so sorry," she said turning him and putting her arms around his neck. "Oh Chris, please, I'm... I forgot," in desperation she started to kiss his face, his cheeks, his chin, his mouth, anywhere just to make loving contact with this man in such pain that she had done nothing to ease. She pulled him tight, feeling his head rest on her shoulder. Still he said nothing,

"Chris!" she wailed, "please..." needing him to say something, even if it was just to tell her what a thoughtless heartless bitch she was. The hug had been to comfort him, until the hand that went around his neck was across her face clasping her own closed eyes. Tears flowed down her face now. 

"I'm so sorry Chris," she wept, "I didn't realise, I'm so sorry, I won't be like this again I promise..." There was something there; something that her brain had hidden and had been hurting her since Jenny's death. 

Finally in that dark misery filled, starlit room it finally struck home and she gasped, "I... I never got to say goodbye..." she hissed, "I never got to tell her I loved her Chris," she warbled with a thin voice that almost crackled, "my own baby sister and I never got to say goodbye. Daddy said I was to look after her when she was little and... and I couldn't..." Her voice finally petered out as she pushed her face into his neck.

She hadn't noticed his strong arms were now hugging her, supporting and comforting her now abject misery. They held each other and she cried into his strong shoulder.

"OK, Honey," he was whispering through his own tears, "it's OK, she knew you loved her and that was all that counted. I don't think she knew who was there at the end."

"That old bastard," she growled, "He didn't want to leave that house with the room half done. Cared more about the fucking customer than he did about me." She almost screeched.

He picked her up and carried her to his bed and sat her down. She slumped to her side weeping inconsolably, crying and calling her dead sister's name. He held her tighter, letting her get it out of her system, and they both wept.

"Please," she begged too emotionally drained for hysteria, "Please tell me I haven't ruined it all Chris, please, forgive me, I'll do anything, don't send me away, I can't lose you too..."

She woke some time later with the duvet pulled over both of them. He was laying flat on the bed, and she was lying half on him her face resting on his shoulder, hugging him. His eyes were red even in this light, and she felt a soreness to her face as well. She brushed her hand down his chest, softly rubbing through the rough hair. She looked over him slightly at the large illuminated timer on his radio alarm, it was four o'clock.

The curtains were still open and the rest of the room was bathed in the hazy light of the street lamps. Looking down the bed she saw a distinctive bulge at his groin, and slid her hand down from his chest to his loins where she found his erect penis. It was iron hard, as hard as she'd ever known it. Without any further thought she slid under the cover beside him, gently sliding his hardness through the loose cotton fly of the shorts. 

Taking him in her right hand she fed the purple head between soft lips. She wanted to make him come.

Many times when she'd been miserable or feeling down, he'd taken her to bed and had made her come. Sometimes she'd sat on the sofa and looked grumpy just because she knew that he'd just grab her and fill her night with ecstasy.

Her mouth massaged his sensitive knob, caressing softly, doing all of the things he'd explained to her once she had given him that first blow job at the beginning of that first session those few months ago. They'd learned together of course. 

He had spent hours playing with her genitalia, her breasts, her bottom and its sensitive anus finding the parts that lit her fire and for her she had to confess it was everything he touched. She hadn't slacked either - she had sucked him and licked him, caressing his balls and his bottom, even going so far as to investigate what his anus had to offer, falling with delight on the pleasures available to him via his prostate.

He stirred slightly, and she slowed. She didn't know if he was dreaming or not and where his subconscious might take him, if he was dreaming about Jenny then this was one special favour she could do for her late sister that few other women could.

She tried to think of the right strategy, she could slowly bring him to it, which hardly ever worked with them because he had really good control. Alternatively she could suck and blow him like a Bangkok hooker and get him to come as fast as possible. In her fantasies, she'd always fancied herself as a Bangkok hooker. 

He came around with a start, "Hey," he said whipping off the bedclothes to see Cathy leaning over him with his penis in her mouth. She withdrew it and carried on pumping it.

"Thought you might need one." She said not looking him in the face.

"You don't have to Cath, honest."

"Yeah but I want to," she said, "I was unbelievable shitty to you, just because I was on."

"Well, I can't argue with that," he smiled a second later, "I shouldn't have bitten honey, I'm sorry too."

"Yeah well, I started it and you deserve a blow job by way of an apology."

"And you don't want a fuck then?"

She pointed at her panty-covered groin and the bulging pad evident at the front. "D'uh," she said, "got the painters in?"

"And precisely what difference does that make?" The look on his face let her know that he was serious, 

"Well, I have to wash the sheets and even though this is your bed I still..."

"Oh for heaven's sake, you 'dark age' girls, you won't go blind if you fuck when you're on you know."

"Yeah, what about all of the guck,"

"What guck?"

"All of that guck that comes pouring out of me every 28 days?"

"If any 'guck' does come out of you I will personally throw these sheets away and buy some more." He smiled at her, "Come here." She slid up to him and he swung her around. They kissed, gently and tenderly. Looking into his big blue eyes, she stroked his strong masculine face feeling the bristles of his day's worth of beard growth. She held his face and kissed the redness of his eyes. He pulled her into his strong arms, a place that she was increasingly coming to love and rely upon. They kissed and each kiss seemed to make it just a bit better. 

He laid her down and pulled at her panties, she raised her bottom to allow this, until finally they were all the way off. She reciprocated and tugged at his T-shirt until it was off also. 

Finally that wonderful penis of his was free of his shorts and she could only stare knowing it was coming for her.

Kissing her, he climbed between her legs,

"Chris, are you sure... Oh I say." She crooned feeling him slide between her soft and spongy lips to sink and slide in an altogether new way. Even though her brain had been saying no her body had prepared the way and he slid in easily. 

His weight on her was so reassuring after what she had done, and she clung to him. He began to kiss her again and she kissed back, part of her thinking that this could just be a revenge fuck and it could still be all over between them. She couldn't let that happen.

She fucked back at him enjoying the passion after the upset, and it felt wonderful in there. "Oh Chris," she whispered in his ear, "it's so lovely." He squeezed her in response. "You're lovely," he whispered back and she purred, pulling him tighter.

They writhed together, both trying to get closer and closer to the other until they came together, each gasping with relief into the neck off the other. He rolled slightly to take his weight off of her, but she pouted pulling his gorgeous and reassuring body that could give her such delight back where she wanted it. They smooched for a while until he felt his softened cock slip free --she pouted again. He moved a bit, one arm feeling on the floor.

Still half over her and reaching down, he slid her panties over her feet and pulled them into place, the protective pad still there. She looked at his cock, just the slightest hint of red around the base and on his pubic hair. This disappeared with a wipe of some tissues.

"There," he said "no damage done."




Cathy and Chris Ch. 09



He lay back on top of her holding her close and stroking her face and her hair.

"I haven't fucked it all up have I Chris?" she said looking up into his face, "I really am so..."

He kissed her lips

"Course you haven't you silly bitch, come here," he rolled to one side pulling her to him, "Take more than your hormones to ruin what we all have here." 

She snuggled her back into him and felt his hands lay warmly over her bosom and tummy, gently caressing, where they had been all that time ago, or so it seemed now.

"Thanks Chris," her choked up voice barely managed and she kissed his arm, and settled onto the pillow feeling lucky and unworthy all at the same time, and made a mental note to be a lot more grateful and a lot more careful what she said under the influence of hormones!



Cathy and Chris Ch. 10



For the next few days she was really attentive, cooking him his favourite meals, and always sitting next to him on the sofa once the kids were in bed. She would bring him cups of tea and lift his arm to slide under it and into his embrace, something she had seen her late sister Jen do with him all the time. Brian would be sat in his narrow armchair of course; any attempt to sit on his lap would have meant him not being able to see the TV. 

Perhaps with a mind to their new closeness, on the Thursday evening as she turned to ask him something he smiled at her, such a wonderful warm smile that stopped her in her tracks,

"I have an idea," he said.

"Careful," she grinned back at him. 

"Why don't we have a weekend away?" said Chris, "the TV weatherman promised a sunny and warm weekend".

"What? Just you and me?" She giggled.

"Yeah, we'll leave the kids with enough Coke, crisps and cake to last and order pizza for tomorrow..." she giggled at his ridiculousness, and he added, "Yeah and like they'd let us go without them."

"What kind of weekend away?" she asked sipping her tea.

"Camping," he said.

"Camping?"

"Camping. What's up, you never been before or something?"

"Nope, well not since was Robert's age at least."

He smiled,

"The kids have sleeping bags don't they?"

"Yes,"

"So you need to get one then."

"Why?" she moved closer to him putting a hand to his cheek and giving him a very knowing look, "Can't I just get in with you?"

"I'm not sure the children would approve," he said, "Look, I've got all of the gear, all you need is a sleeping bag," he picked up the cup. "I'll pop into the garage and load all of the stuff into our cars, we both come home as soon as we can tomorrow night and we can be eating fish and chips under the stars by half seven. What do you think?"

"What clothes do the kids need?" she said, her mind thinking like a mother and not a lover for the first time since the conversation started.

"Oh, jeans, shorts, T-shirts and sweatshirts – pyjamas of course - nothing to go mad with, only two nights"

"I'll do the clothes, you do the cars." She said.

Other than the pile of gear in the boot of her hatchback covered by a blanket, the car didn't seem to have changed much.

Over breakfast he'd said that she should leave work as soon as she could and meet him at home.

She arrived a few minutes before him and was changing into the new jeans she'd bought that lunchtime. 

Since they'd all lived together, the choice of food had improved; basically, now there actually was a choice, and the stodge that Brian had insisted upon was now the occasional rather than every meal. Chris was a great cook along with everything else, and included lots of vegetables and fruit and he hardly ever used the big heavy frying pan that had been a permanent fixture in her last kitchen preferring the grill.

To add to this she was also taking exercise; Chris liked to walk and had encouraged her and her children to join him and his. She'd bought a bike, her work was a lot closer now and on clear days she used it, and she'd also started an exercise class on Wednesday lunchtimes with some of the girls from her office. 

Because of this, she'd gone from a baggy size sixteen down to a form fitting 10 and the hipsters one of the girls had bullied her into trying on in 'Next' looked fantastic.

She had started to go out with the girls as well, they had of course noticed, with approval, the change in her personality and appearance that widowhood had brought. They had asked her out once the move was completed but said she was too tired. She told Chris – he grinned widely,

"Go!" he grinned, "I go out with my mates and you babysit for me, you go, it'll do you the world of good."

Without her late Husband's influence her clothing choice had become so much more confident and age appropriate. 

Perhaps conscious of their age difference, Brian had always balked at the idea of her showing flesh and looking attractive. Her low cut cleavage exposing tops would have given him a heart attack, her skirts had to be pleated and not pencil and, well, she could only guess at what language he would have called her at the sight of her walking out of the house with such a shapely denim clad arse that she now possessed.

Clothes aside Brian was totally against a married woman going out without her husband. She could come down the Legion with him any time she wanted if it was just for a drink, and the kids could come as well.

Nights out, like a lot of things from her past, didn't hold good memories. God forbid Brian would have babysat while she went out, and had lost count of the hen nights and wedding receptions she'd had to turn down because he would invent a hundred different reasons why she shouldn't go or he couldn't babysit – unless they were at the Legion or the kids were invited as well of course.

All of those Tuesdays or Thursdays or Fridays he had disappeared down the Legion on his own 'because the bloody club don't run itself', only to invite her on Saturday. 

Eventually she learned to feign a headache or something, because she didn't want to sit in the Legion trying to keep two under stimulated, over-tired children occupied while trying to make small talk with women she didn't understand or have anything in common with, most of whom had at least twenty years on her. He never seemed to argue.

If she did go with the kids, and occasionally she had to, she had to make sure they didn't go near yellow lines painted around the bar or get too close to the pool table, or snooker table or dart board, or committee room, or function room, while he stood with his mates oblivious to the fact that Daniel was bored rigid with the football on the widescreen TV that no one was watching. Once Daniel asked the barmaid to change the channel to one with music, and she had done with a smile.

Daniel had started to dance with his mum and sister, and some other bored mums and kids had joined in. 

Only until Brian noticed; he snatched the 

controller from behind the bar and turned it back to the football. The barmaid remonstrated with him demanding to know what right he had to do that and pointed out that she had turned it over for the boy as no one was watching the football, and he should let everyone dance.

Brian simply pointed at a hand drawn, badly photocopied poster and growled that the bloody children's disco wasn't for another three weeks and smacked Daniel across the back of the head for his trouble.

The room went quiet, the barmaid snarled about hitting children until Brian eventually picked up on the terrible atmosphere he'd caused and apologised rubbing the back of Daniels head with a smile – Cathy had tried to disappear into the chair she was sat on. 

Another of the committee members turned the TV back to the music but the last thing anyone wanted to do was dance again and Daniel sat hugging his mother, while his father looked on crossly at them.

With Dan almost a man and now safely ensconced in his room, or playing on Chris's games console, or listening to his music or out at one of his many friends' houses, she felt she could put that part of her life behind her.

So for a few Fridays, wearing something smart she and the girls took in a movie or a restaurant in the same complex that was by day an outlet village. More often than not this was followed by a few drinks and a dance. Mind you, with Chris at home she still hardly wanted to go out. 

The girls would occasionally spark at any attractive man looking in their direction, especially at Cathy and her new sexy figure and outlook. 

A few of the girls knew or had met Chris the 'Brother' and had suggested, or in the case of her best friend Carole who had guessed, that Chris could be more than just a nice chap she shared a house with. 

Carole had known Cathy since she left college and could read her like a book. She was the only person that Cathy had confessed to, even going so far as to describe how fantastic he was in bed. 

If one of the girls would semi-jokingly recommend a possible lover near to her, Cathy would simply smile at Carole and shake her head, thinking of that moment in an hour or so that she could slip through the wardrobe wearing just make-up, perfume and a smile and slide into bed with the most fantastic lover she'd ever known.



She heard him calling to the kids to hurry up and put on the gear she'd left out for them all and smiled as Chris pushed the door open and walked in on her backside bisected by the tiny white line of the string of her tiny panties.

"What a view," he said.

"Shut the door Chris, the kids?"

"Oh yeah sorry, I keep forgetting. You ready to go?"

"Yep," she said zipping the jeans with a 

satisfying flourish, "I've made a flask for each car."

"Oh, you've thought of everything."

She turned and wiggled her bottom at him, 

"You've seen something I thought of already," she patted her crotch, "I finished yesterday."

He thought back on the flatness of her groin, lacking the bulging towel that had been there all week,

"Oh yeah," he grinned and walked towards her. "I love the jeans," he said putting arms around her and grasping her arse.

"My jeans or my arse?"

"Your arse in general but in those jeans in particular, he growled rubbing gently after the initial grope.

"You can have some later Chris," she said waving an admonishing finger.

"Promise?"

"Ooooooh yeah," she said nodding her grinning head. "Here," she said slipping hands around his neck, "this is the first installment." Their lips and tongues clashed warmly and wetly until thundering feet on the stairs disturbed their fun.

It was hard to coax the children into the two cars, but the excitment was infectious, even for Cathy who was thinking not only of a fun weekend away but the thorough screwing she was going to get after her abstinence - almost - for the last week.

She drove behind him for about an hour and a half stopping once for a drink and a snack and to relieve bladders.

They parked in a large field with groups of trees around it, and he unpacked a huge tent from his car and within minutes it seemed to her, the thing was up, staked out and they were all throwing things into it. A smaller tent was erected and Daniel was really pleased when Chris told the teenager it was all his.

The rooms inside the tent were both split in half making for four bedrooms. Both girls announced that they would share one and Robert happily dumped his small bag of clothes into his half.

Within minutes Chris, with Dan's help had all of the airbeds blown up and distributed, and a kitchen and lights set up just as the sun set to a wonderful red-skied dusk, promising a good day for the morrow. 

Chris was good to his word and fish and chips were on the menu.

Daniel was like a new boy, and had matured and relaxed. He was almost never snappy with his younger sister or cousins, tidied his room because he liked it tidy and was storming up the charts with his teachers – just in time, they'd said at his last parents evening.

Having met Uncle Chris, Dan's form tutor had said that with family support he was confident Daniel could reach the next class up and he was willing to give him the help he needed.



Dan threw himself into his work and his SAT scores had surprised everyone, everyone that is except for Chris. Chris spoke to him like an adult, treated him like another man in the house, and Daniel responded. Chris had been the one that always called him 'Danny', (he knew it annoyed his brother Brian of course) before shortening it to 'Dan' once they had moved in.

Brian had named his first born son after his Father, and would never have any shortening of it by Daniel or his friends. Apparently there had been Irish in the family a few years back and Brian's Father had made a point of it, giving all his children Irish names although none had been anywhere near the place. 

At first Cathy had cringed out of habit, but one day, after her son has sorted his laundry, washed it along with some more he'd found and distributed it around on the airers and on radiators even she had said 'thanks Danny'.

The chips and fizzy drinks finished they sat around the entrance to the tent on folding chairs just chatting quietly, the three younger children dragging Danny to the woods with them to explore using the new torches Chris had bought each of them lunchtime. He went with a good natured giggle, eventually chasing them all. Cathy almost burst with pride and pleasure.

Danny had retreated to his bed with his torch and a goodnight. Robert, who had fallen asleep on Daddy's lap, was in bed asleep while Colleen and Karen arranged their half of the bedroom again and again before they eventually gave in to the drooping eyelids and rolled into their sleeping bags.

Colleen and Karen, although separated a year or so by age, were closer than sisters. They had always been close friends and would speak on the phone whenever possible. Brian's outright objection to the microchip, unless in the television or video or course, had put pay to a five year old Karen's innocent request for Colleen's email address. 

They talked clothes, pop music, toys and television, rarely argued over which of the 160 cable TV channels they should watch and had become confidants to each other in the big moment of changing schools. 

Colleen had lost weight, cheered up, would cuddle her mother, uncle, brother or cousins and had gained more confidence than Cathy could ever believe she had. She was learning to play the piano and had picked up on Karen and Robert's assumption that she, like them, would go to 'University' after 'A levels'.

Chris slid his chair closer to Cathy's and filled her cup with tea from the pot.

"Thanks," she said, beaming a smile up to him. "Thanks for all of this," she waved a hand around the tent. "How much of this did you have already?"

"Almost all," he said sipping his own tea, "Had to buy some more airbeds but none of this stuff is expensive anymore, most of this came from Walmart. Danny's tent was a bit more expensive of course, but..."

"You bought that for him?" she said stunned.

"Of course, where should he have slept, in the car?"

"Well no, but..."

"No, bless him. He's worked bloody hard in the last few weeks, it's a 'well done on your mocks, best of luck with your exams' present."

"Oh Chris," she beamed again, "That's so lovely!"

"He's a good kid and he deserves it. Besides when he has his year out from Uni' or wants to go to festivals and stuff..." 

"University?" Cathy said in a pleased but slightly shocked whisper.

"Of course University!" said Chris with a slight smile, "I was discussing A' levels with him the day before yesterday when I picked him up from school."

"My Daniel! A' Levels!"

"Of course your Daniel, what has he to loose?" He leaned forward, "That boy is as sharp as a pin, he only needs encouragement; you saw his last report."

She thought on the almost institutional disappoint that had been Brian's... no THEIR way with her son.

"I can't believe how well he's done since..." she paused.

"Don't say it Cathy," said Chris.

"I was going to say 'since you came into our lives'," she said, "But I suppose it was a bit to do with it." She looked down at the small ridge tent, "Brian hardly had a good word for him. Poor mite."

"No good for self esteem," said Chris breaking in, "Before you can get the rest of the world to like you, you have to like yourself first. All I did was tell him how good he is. Just you watch, we'll have our Danny in University before I finish."

Cathy bit her bottom lip with a huge grin, then excitedly put out a hand and took his. 'Our Danny' she thought, if only Brian had spoken about him like this.

"Thank you for everything Chris," she squeezed his hand. Biting back some tears, she looked skywards, "I haven't done this in years," she said.

"What? Cry?"

"No," she dropped his hand in mock admonishment, "Gone camping, I was Robert's age when I last came, remember?"

"Jen loved it," he too looked up, "I was going to take us all to America on a big last holiday once they said that... err... that there wasn't long left." He wiped his hand down his face and brightened, "But you know your sister."

She looked at him and smiled.

"Oh yes."

"Insisted that we took the kids camping, I even brought the gas and air tank."

"That was Jenny." She turned to face him, "Chris, are you OK with this, I mean..."

"Oh yeah, I've been camping since I was tiny. It's in my blood." 

"So," she said finishing the last of her tea, "What shall we do now?" she stood, turned and pointed her bottom at him.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something." 

He grabbed her hips and pulled himself up by them.

"Hey!" she giggled. He shushed her, pointing around at the thin sheets of nylon and cotton separating them all.

"Bedtime Cathy," he said pointing the open door of the tent.

"OK boss, I'll need a wee first though," she wandered off into the darkness towards the illuminated glow of the facilities block.

As for him he didn't need to go and folded the chairs and moved them back into the tent. Cathy came back in and zipped the door closed. She slipped off her fleece jacket and her shoes, the latter stuck with dew wet grass.

"It's just turned chilly," she said, "Do you think the kids are warm enough?"

For an answer he pulled down the top of the bedrooms and she could make out the three forms curled up in pyjamas and sleeping bags, absolutely sound asleep.

She started to unfasten her new jeans, and skinned them down her legs,

"You not getting undressed?" she said.

"Not for a minute," he said, "I'm admiring the view."

"Cheeky," she chided him.

"Oh, I expect the rest of the camp is enjoying it too." He pointed to her shadow on the wall of the tent, standing and holding her trousers at her knees. Her beautifully curvaceous body and the lines of her clothing picked out beautifully.

"You!" She made to hit him but he stopped her with a single finger to his lips. She settled to turn off the light. In a moment they were both undressing, each climbing into their own half of the large bedroom, separated by a tied in sheet.

"Night Night Chris," she said.

"Night Cath," he answered, and slid into his own sleeping bag.

He lay quietly for a moment listening to her movements as she got into her sleeping bag. After a while, he saw the separating sheet move and, in the ambient light of the tent saw a pale pink bottom appear.

"Well," she whispered, feeling warm hands on her bum, "I DID promise."

He threw back the flap of his sleeping bag and slid up behind it, cradling his already erect penis into the split of her arse. In a second he was pushing himself into her wet pussy, silently and slowly enjoying the secrecy of the act and the need for complete silence. 

He could hear her breathing quicken and also her attempts to moderate the noise of her rasping breath. Her hand grasped his hand that clutched so tightly to her waist as he pulled himself into her again and again, and the long intake of breath and slow sigh let him know that she'd made it. He contented himself with a swift orgasm that had him emptying himself into her.

He heard the rasping noise of the bedroom door zipping open and he quickly pulled the cover over himself, without checking whether Cathy was still decent. Fortunately, the separating curtain was down and he guessed she was curled into her own sleeping bag and their nights work was still a secret.

Robert piled into his Dad's bedroom full of the joys of spring, laughing and giggling as he tried to get his feet into Chris's sleeping bag.

The bedroom curtain raised a bit, and Cathy's tired face appeared.

"Excuse me," she said with mock solemnity, "isn't it a bit early for this kind of thing?"




Cathy and Chris Ch. 10



"Morning Aunty Cath," said Robert with a beaming smile and dropping down to kiss her kips.

"Morning Darling," she returned the smile and the kiss, she moved back saying, "Must be my turn to get the tea in, need the loo as well,"

The sun rose, forcing them all out of the heat of the tent bedrooms but into its shade to sit around a fold out table. The younger children, still in pyjamas but stood on grass thrilled to the experience, a totally new one for Colleen, and the delight that their adults had for them and the situation.

While Cathy dragged children, toothbrushes and towels to the facilities block, Chris went into action. Dan had returned from the shower with Robert in tow and leant a hand to lay the table.

By the time all of the females returned Chris was plating up bacon, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and some of the larger chips left over from the previous night's meal. They just had time to eat the bowls of cereal that Dan had laid at each place next to beakers of orange juice.

Nothing was left other than a pile of washing up, and everyone except Chris (who was heading for the shower) leant a hand to wash up.

By the time Chris returned, 'going out' clothes were being put on a straightened, hair was being brushed and bedding and bedrooms tidied and zipped up.

They piled into the cars and headed out into the Cotswolds, stopping in quaint country villages and finally a large town were Chris suggested lunch. A sandwich bar was ample following from their large breakfast, and the waitress come over and asked if they wanted anything off of the sweet trolley. 

Colleen begged Mummy, while Karen and Robert begged Daddy. Large slabs of carrot cake, fruitcake and iced buns appeared on the table and just as soon disappeared.

Afterwards Cathy dragged the girls while Chris took Robert to the bathrooms. Cathy came out in the café and asked the waitress for the bill. Chris had paid for most things so far and it was only fair that she got this particular bill.

"Your husband has already paid m'dear," said the lady behind the cash desk.

'Your husband' she thought, and looked at her left hand where her wedding and engagement rings used to be. They now sat in her jewellery box next to a small key ring picture of Brian from when they were first married and he seemed so different, much as she had a moment of sadness for their love it was tinged. Chris and Jen had invited them camping many times, and he'd refused preferring self-catering holiday lets. Why couldn't they have had fun like this, it wasn't that hard? 

Chris came back from the toilet with Robert, his T-shirt soaked by a difficult wash hand basin, followed by a smiling Dan tickling his cousin to hurry him up. 

She thought about it and yes, they did present the image of a prefect family. 

And, she thought to herself with the biggest grin, as far as she was concerned they WERE a perfect family.



Some food shopping and browsing later they headed slowly back out to the car park, the younger children starting to flag at the length and excitement of the day.

Chris had one more surprise for them, announcing that if they all kept on yawning, he'd have to take them all back to bed and they'd miss the restaurant and dinner. He pulled into the hotel car park, and they all bundled out.

Dinner was fantastic and an altogether new experience for Daniel and Colleen. 

They were experts at bucket cooked curries and overcooked rice stuck together, with plates of raisins, chopped tomatoes and dried coconut to spread over it; or worse; cold, curly sandwich buffets, next to over pink, under cooked chicken legs. 

This was the usual fair at 'the club', but this whole menu choice concept was new to them. Dan tried desperately to hide his excitement and be cool about the whole thing, but failed miserably when the vast sweet menu was brought out.

On the journey back to the campsite the kids all nodded off in the cars, Dan with his headphones in. 

At the tent, the same perfect red sky was telling of the fantastic day they could expect tomorrow. The kids took no convincing to get into their pyjamas and sleeping bags, and were soon out for the count. 

Cathy and Chris sat, sipping at glasses of wine chatting with Dan about his school, rugby, squash, his new fashion sense and, with Chris on the defensive over his new male protégé, his dramatic rebirth out of grunge and the interest he created with girls. Eventually, as Cathy headed for the amenities again, Dan backed into his tent smiling at Chris,

"Thanks Chris, it's been a great day."

"You're welcome mate, we can do this anytime."

"I mean for Mum," he said, and Chris could tell the boy had struggled to say it, "See, Dad never was one for holidays, we did some holiday camps sometimes but only ones he picked through the club. Really cheesy and really cheap, and Mum still had to cook and look after us, It was basically the legion but with bloody chalets..." he sighed wistfully.

Chris laughed, "Yes mate, I can imagine."

"Anyway" said Dan, "I haven't seen Mum enjoy herself like today for years, back before Colleen was born. Was like Dad didn't think entertainment was allowed, not even for him."

"No worries Dan, your Mum is one in a million and we're all going to look after her and make up for all the stuff she missed, that alright?"

"Yeah," said Dan with a huge grin wishing Chris good night.



Her mobile buzzed, and she struggled to place herself and why her phone was going. She peered at the screen in surprise.

"step outside of the tent," it read.

She was still in her nightwear, a second look at her phone told her it was almost three in the morning. 

She scrolled down the message, "walk to your right," it instructed. She peaked under the curtain and saw that he wasn't there. She grinned.

She slipped on her tracksuit bottoms, and pushed the covers to one side. The bottom of the bedroom zip was still undone and she crawled out without too much noise. The same thing happened with the main tent flap and soon she stood up in the moonlight.

She walked to her right as instructed and saw a sheet of paper with an arrow, pointing up the small path into the woods which she followed, each turning marked with a piece of paper that glowed against the leaf litter. 

At one of the arrows, the paper had a message,

"Remove your top," it said. She looked around and could see no one, so, bravely she slipped off the top. Her naked boobs tingling in the cool night. There was a small holdall under the notice, and she put her T-shirt in it. She walked on, taking the holdall, starting to get an idea of what was going on, she smiled at the next notice.

"Take off your trousers," She looked around again and skinned them down, slipping off her flip-flops, standing naked in the moonlight.

Some twenty metres away Chris watched through his binoculars. Much as he wanted an exciting night for her, he didn't want her bothered by anyone else, plus he also needed to keep an eye on the tent – the baby alarm in the bag by his head sat quietly for the moment.

All of that was forgotten as he watched, stunned by the vision of her as she walked naked through the woods like some vision from a dream. She walked slowly and carefully, her ivory pale skin almost incandescent in that mid-summer hazy, crazy moonlight.  

She saw him lying on the fleece blanket from his car, spread out over the collection of twigs and branches in what had yesterday been the children's den. He was naked already and lying on the ground, a single candle hidden in some branches. He held out a wineglass, and she took it.

"Greetings Mistress Titania," he said, "welcome to the woodland bower of sweet Oberon," she smiled, "and I must say that I am completely enamoured of that ass..."

She knelt next to him, brushing hair behind her ear in the way she always did.

"So, Oberon," she said, "why am I in your woodland bower?"

"What? We have spent the day in Shakespeare country, and are just a few weeks short of mid-summer?"

"Shakespeare?" she said with a soft smile, "really?"

"Really," he said, "Chances are these are the very woods Will chased Ann Hathaway through, and probably knocked her up into the bargain."

She giggled, he was such a fun guy, and this made him seem so much more sexy!

"Anyway, thought you might like to make love beneath the stars," he waved a hand around him. She looked up, although the trees and bushes hid them from view of anyone else, the sky was dappled with millions of stars and lit by the moon slowly descending to the horizon. "After you went to all of that trouble with your recent deflowerment, thought I ought to make the effort."

She looked around, still smiling,

"Yeah, but three O'clock in the morning?"

"Would you rather have come earlier?" He sipped his wine.

"OK, I give you that one," she replied sipping her wine, "while we are on the subject of giving you one," she downed her wine and made to lie down.

"No," he said, "not for a minute, I'm still trying to take you all in."

"What?"

"You look like something out of a dream Cath," he said with an honest smile.

She grinned bashfully,

"What with my hair in a mess and no make up? A nightmare perhaps!"

"Nah," he said, lifting the edge of the rug to his shoulder, "A genuine fucking dream; come here." He ordered. 

She walked on her hands and knees the few feet to where he was, and lay on top of him. His order to 'come here' had made her toes curl and she could no more of disregarded it than stop breathing. He pulled the fleece rug around them both and they started snogging.

Eventually her desire for him overcame the passion and she straddled his erection, fitting it easily into her and she started to ride him. She never ceased to be amazed by the wetness he could inspire in her. They would just kiss and cuddle and she would dampen enough to mark her panties, even if making love wasn't necessarily on the cards. Shit, she could sit at her desk in work and think about him and what he could do to her, and she could get wet. The number of times she'd had to go to the staff bathroom and wipe her slightly swollen puss, and put on her suit jacket to hide the erect nipples poking through the lace of her bra and into the soft white cotton of her blouse.

Here in the woods though, their activity had generated enough heat that she pushed the fleece blanket off of her shoulders and she could place her feet to the ground and ride him more efficiently, feeling the shaft of his penis ride hard against her clitoris. Looking down she saw the look on his face, he was just smiling up at her.

She stopped bouncing,

"What?" she said.

"Nothing," he carried on grinning.

"What are you smiling about?" she stopped and sat across him and folded her arms across her breasts.

"Oh I dunno, do you think it could be that I've got a beautiful naked girl making love with me in the middle of the night in an enchanted forest?"

She giggled self consciously, tucking her hair behind her ear again. She lay down on top of him and rolled, the momentum pulling him over on top of her.

Still joined together it was simple for him to continue with their lovemaking, thrusting hard into her riding high to continue the pressure on her clit she craved most. She cried out with the intensity of her orgasm, actually shaking with the emotion and energy. Their mouths sought each other, in an all too familiar conclusion of their very special business, her tears dampening his cheeks confirming how special it had been for her. 

Kissing had been... well, the odd occasion during and after the throes of passion. Now it seemed they were kissing all of the time, like two love struck teenagers. He could just look at her and smile, and her tummy would turn cartwheels, the kiss that followed just seemed inevitable. 

A few weeks before they had sat on the sofa locked together snogging for at least an hour separating only when Dan came down stairs to get a drink before bed and she pulled down her T-shirt over her unclipped bra with her breasts not actually in the cups. She folded her arms in embarrassment, but Danny did no more than stick his head around the door and say a second sleepy goodnight to them both.  She smiled back at him keeping one hand innocently over her chin, reddened by Chris's end of the day stubble in such close and passionate contact.

Now though, there were no interruptions and they kissed passionately, so much so that his erection, still embedded in her soft warmth, hardly reduced from its former glory. He started to very gently fuck her again, bringing forth a gasp of delight from her.

"Again?" she whispered into his ear.

"Just for you," he said fucking her properly.

It was the first chirps of the dawn chorus that brought them round. He kissed her awake,

"Hey sleepy, we'd better be getting back," He unwrapped them from the fleece blanket and stood, helping her to her feet. He picked up the blanket and folded it into the holdall.

"Chris," she whispered, "clothes?"

"Come and get them!" With that he ran, naked as was she, back along the path she'd used a few hours before.

There were no signs of life in the campsite other than a single light in a small back packer tent across the field. They stopped by the tent breathlessly giggling as they struggled to get under the flap and into its warmth.

She stood panting, grinning, facing him. He held out his arms and she fell into them, kissing him they way she had a few hours before.

"Cathy," he whispered, "I'm sorry, but I... I think I'm in love with you..."

"Oh, I love you too Chris,"

"No Cathy, I'm in love with you."

"Oh," she said.

"Is that a good 'oh' or a bad one?"

"I don't know Chris," she said.

"Hmm," he said, "sounds like it could have been a bad one, sorry, won't say it again."

"I..." she stuttered, "I need some more time Chris, sorry."

"No problem mate," he said with a smile, "Heart on my sleeve kind of guy."

They both slept fitfully for what was left of that night. His revelations had surprised her that was for sure, but love? 

The next day was as nice as the first had been. Cathy had always hated the last days of the holiday as Brian would start packing ages before they had to leave and it seemed that the holiday was already over. 

As they sat in a large country house garden eating cream teas she looked at her watch.

"Ages yet mate," Chris said with a smile, not being rushed in the slightest.

They got back to the site for three, packed away into cars and after a final run through the woods and a promise to return during the summer holidays they left, getting home in time for tea.

With the rush to get everyone into one of the two bathrooms, school bags checked, uniform laid out for the morning, by the time ten thirty came around, she was ready for her bed. 

There had been none of those silent but meaningful looks that were the prelude to what would happen once they retreated to their rooms. 

He was busy with something and didn't seem to want to be around. She could only imagine how embarrassed he must have been by her... her what?

It's not like she had refused a marriage proposal, she hadn't even refused to sleep with him - so what was his problem?

At eleven o'clock she heard the wardrobe open and he came through.

Lifting the duvet from beside her he slid into the warmth of the bed.

"Thanks for your help back there." He said with a giggle.

"I'm sorry?"

"I had to pack all of that camping stuff back in the garage single handed." He said, "didn't Dan give you the message?"

"Oh!" she turned to face him, her hand to her mouth, "yes," she said, "But I was err... loading the... ahem... washing machine?"

"Good one, suppose I'll have to let you off that."

"I did wonder where you had gone!" her grin spread across her face cheekily and, it seemed, onto his.

"Look," he said, "about what I said last night, I'm fine honest, just the way we are."

"Really?" she grinned.

"Yeah really," he said, "think it must have been you being so nice to me after our little err... falling out the other night, and that fantastic day we had on Saturday. Don't worry, I'm over it."

"Good," she said pulling him onto her, "you can get over me..."

"Does that mean getting up you as well?"

"Ooooh fuck yeah!" she growled feeling his erection grow against her thigh as he pushed her legs up and slid between them.

They fucked; it was great Cathy thought, but did lack the tenderness of the last few sessions and she had to admit she missed it – a bit. Tender or no, boy could he fuck and she lay beneath him gasping as his rock hard penis powered in and out of her wet and willing puss, stopping only to flip her onto her hands and knees, screwing her from behind into paroxysms of feminine pleasure. 

His hands alternately caressed breasts and buttocks, squeezing her perky nipples, strumming at her clitoris or gently stroking her anus until they both gasped in a final orgasm, before drifting gently into a perfect dreamless slumber.



Cathy and Chris Ch. 11



The relationship had been about sex; that was what they had both understood – 'until we both... you know' he'd said, meaning 'find someone new', not 'until we end up falling in love with each other.'

She thought of how awful it would sound, the younger widow, Husband only dead a year, falls for the smooth talker that chat's and woo's his way into her bed less than three months after moving in together...

Suddenly her mind was back in the club, and all of the women. Looking askance at the first poor unfortunate widow that dared to 'shed the black and the weeds' and get back on with their lives. The general age of the clientele meant that this was more often than in an average situation. She thought of her 'friend' at the club, Linda; husband a former Navy man and sentenced to death by Asbestosis he'd contracted on board old ships before he'd even reached his 25th birthday. He'd died in same hospice that Jenny had – a shadow of the man he had been.

Almost two years later, and she had started to 'see' a man from work. Those appalling harridans of a temporary virtue given weight and life by their need to bitch about someone, would pronounce 'see' with such a hateful venom that you could almost smell the leather and hear the crack of the whip and the disgusting grunts and groans of two disrespectful people that should know better at their age.

She shuddered slightly thinking back to her own thoughts at the time. Those other women, content that they wouldn't be sat on their own every night missing the content of companionship, tearing the absent Linda to strips in a frenzy of reality TV nastiness.

But that was a crock of shit, she had no contact with any of those miserable bitches any longer and she couldn't use that excuse anymore.

She had admitted to him and herself that she had moved in because of the sex. OK it happened that she wanted to move out of the area she was in and desperately so. Doing the legal work that she did, meant that she knew house prices in the immediate vicinity and a two bed on that estate, even paid for, wasn't going to fund much in the way of a replacement for a late thirties, part-time working single mum. So when the opportunity to share bills and babysitting with someone she trusted was ideal, it just so happened that they also clicked in bed and were incredible together, both having an instinctive response to the other's needs. 

And it wasn't just in bed, domestically they were a great team too, all of the children were happy and settled; the loss of either a mother or a father was understood and accepted. He didn't try to replace Brian and she didn't try to become Jenny to her niece and nephew. 

One day, Robert had walked over to her and was chatting through some of his homework with her, moving closer as they talked. Out of the blue, he pushed his nose into her neck and breathed in.

"You smell like Mummy," he said, breathing in the perfume Jen must also have used. She was stunned by his statement and thought quickly.

"That's OK isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes," he said with grin, "it's a lovely smell."

"Well, everything about your mummy was lovely wasn't it." She said reigning in her emotions. 

"Yes." He said with a grin, "Nanny says Mummy is with great nanny and baby George that died just after he was born. Do you think she went to look after baby George?"

With tears straining at the backs of her eyes, she quickly put pay to doubts that were set, however innocently, in his young brain.

"No darling," she said, "Mummy would have given everything to stay here with us; but in the end she was just too ill." She gave him a hug and pulled him onto her lap. "But knowing your mummy I bet she is looking after baby George along with great nanny Rose," she bent closer to him and whispered conspiratorially "Actually, I bet mummy and great nanny Rose are arguing over who gets to have the most cuddles, while the other one makes the tea."

Robert giggled and she gave him a squeeze, and they sat together chatting until Chris got home, neither of them in a rush to move.

Chris came into the kitchen to find all of them together while Colleen and Karen where playing camping in the large garden. She could feel the satisfaction pouring from him to see her so close with Robert.

Her emotions pulled again. He'd been in love with her sister not her! Her feelings for him were very close, she knew that. After all it must have been almost impossible to be that close to him in so many ways and not love him. But 'in love' with him?

Was she?

They'd all moved in together and they had all clicked into place. There had been a few problems at first, while boundaries were established and people got to know each other. The younger kids were all at the same school, and he dropped them off in the morning on his way to work. The atmosphere in the house was fantastic, better and warmer than it had been even when she had first married Brian and there were no kids to tire them out. 

Chris could work an eight hour day, go to the gym, be home at half five or six and still have a smile on his face as he helped with the housework. 

He insisted they have a dishwasher, washing machine, tumble dryer, in fact any machine that could possible make life easier for them all; insistence was necessary as for some reason she found herself repeating Brian's twin mantras of 'a little hard work, and soap and water never hurt anyone' and 'it only takes a few minutes'. Chris's reply had been, 'well you can do as much washing up as you like, I'm having a dishwasher'.

And that had been that; Karen and Robert automatically put there crockery and cutlery into it and Dan and Colleen followed suit. Soon even she got used to the sudden automation of another part of their domestic world.

Brian would have hated it, and would have grumbled about the waste and laziness of such a thing. Chris didn't even consider any other option, and it did free up more time, and as she got to know him and their children, not forgetting herself all over again, she began to realise what a fantastic thing free time was.

Chris would help when asked to help with homework without Brian's customary snarl, didn't balk when asked for a lift somewhere and was kindness and generosity itself. On occasions he even read stories to the little ones when he put them to bed at night – Brian had never done that, he might have missed Coronation Street or Eastenders. 

Once the kids were all in bed she had snuggled up to Chris and they cuddled, even to the point of falling asleep on his shoulder in his arms, or with her head on his lap; even after 16 years with Brian she could count on the fingers of one hand how many times he'd let her do that. Once the kids came along, he'd retreated into an arm chair by the fire and the cuddles disappeared – not in front of the children. 

In this new house they only had sofas, and they had christened two out of the three of them.

One evening, she woke to his coughing, and realised that he too had nodded off. Her face was on his thigh, his hand resting gently and lovingly on her shoulder. She felt his erection through his jeans and decided she should help him with it. Tugging gently at the zip she slowly, so very slowly, eased the sensitive tip of him out and wrapped her lips around it, gently sliding her mouth up and down the small exposed area.

It was enough to wake him, and he sat up with a slight start, enough to force the rest of his erection out into the open, and her grasp. She rolled onto her front and carried on sucking until she gratefully received his come in her mouth. He of course said it was only fair he reciprocate and did so, and being Chris, managed to strip her completely and wonderfully naked into the bargain, warm skin against the cool leather, using his long and skilful fingers, lips and tongue to prolong one orgasm into a stream of multiples that left her gasping yet wonderfully and achingly satisfied.

No matter how much they pleased each other sexually and emotionally her mind would always go back to Brian and how different these two men in her life had been.

Chalk and cheese. Brian was a only a few years younger than her Dad. But while her Dad stayed young and contemporary, Brian seemed to age both mentally and physically from the fun man she had fallen for, and at great speed once he had his required 'wife'. 

As Brian got 'older' he became a committee member at the Legion Club in town, one of his regular haunts since his youth and leaving the Parachute Regiment. He had kind of wandered into the painting and decorating/jobbing handyman trade and had regular work from many of the local builders and some well off regulars that could afford someone else to look after their homes. Brian had even come home one day with an offer for her to be housekeeper at one of them; pin money he'd said, no need for her to go to that nasty office with all those solicitors. Her advocacy training had taught her to ignore stupid questions like that.

They'd met when he was employed to repaint the office she was working in as part of her degree course during the summer break. She had just broken up with a bloke who she thought was the one, and it had hurt her.

Brian was older, wiser, smoother than the boys at university and just 'had a way about him'. His was tall, rugged and had that 'squaddie' sense of humour she had grown up with. As she sat in her room sixteen years on she thought about it as a solicitor and not lover. He was a father figure, Freud would have been proud.

But at the time, she convinced herself that he was the one for her. He promised to take care of her, support her and see to her every whim. He owned his own house, mortgage free, but it was in the part of town she recognised as being where most of the legal aid clients came from. It was a two bedroom, but when the children they spoke of came along they would have to move up surely. They got engaged.

She finished that years tough exams and decided to take him up on his advice and take a year out of study to get married. Even her normally passive father had advised her not to and to finish college – even for just a year. Jennifer her younger sister still studying A' levels with a view to a medicine said not to, this bloke was ages older than her, almost as old as Dad, it was a rebound thing, live together for a while but not marriage.

Head strong and easily led she moved in to his house as the college year finished, her exams in the bag, with a promise to return in a year's time, two possibly.

Marriage followed, for her a fairy tale; for her parents and family who were far from being snobs, cheap, rushed and not even half of what they would have done for her. Brian had booked the local British Legion Club hall for the reception, and little did Cathy realise the place in her life it would hold from then on.

But now, thanks to Chris, so much of that was behind her...

She picked up the phone,

"Hello?" said a voice, "Can I speak to Mrs Brian McMahon please?"

She snorted just the tiniest bit.

"Cathy McMahon speaking,"

"Catherine?" said the voice with some hint of recognition.

"Yes,"

"Hello there, it's Mike," he paused, waiting for her to respond, but it was unforthcoming. "Mike Stafford, Treasurer at the Legion."

"Oh," she said, as noncommittally as possible, "How are you."

"I'm very well Catherine, very well, I was just calling to check that you are OK, we were a bit concerned when you disappeared off of the face of the earth like that!" He added a giggle to his final comment.

Shit, those old farts had managed to track her down. Someone would get a bollocking for this.

"Yes," she said, "I must have forgotten to give the Legion a forwarding address, silly me."

"Yes well," he said, "we never forget one of our own, just a welfare call to check all is OK with you."

"Yes all fine thanks, you..."

"Would it be OK if I popped round sometime?"

"There's no need really," she said. Last thing she wanted was one of those old fools dragging her back to the club so they could buy her a Bacardi and coke and stick her in the corner of the room, as Brian used to put it, like one of the ol' gals who sat with their drinks, hats and handbags only to be sent home at ten thirty in a taxi.

"Well we'd hate for you to be sat at home every weekend on your own, feeling sorry for yourself."

She snorted.

"I certainly don't do that Mr Stafford,"

"Mike please,"

"Mike, I have two young children, a new house and lots of friends, please don't think I'm going to be rotting away in doors for lack of company."

"Oh well, I wasn't suggesting that you were of course," he chuckled to himself, "only we can't find the harness or the white gloves for the standard bearer. Brian was the last standard bearer we had and we needed them for the Remembrance Sunday last year and no one knew where they were."

"Oh," she said, "well, I still have a few of Brian's boxes to unpack, I'll set to it this weekend and see if I can find them. If I do, I'll drop them over to you."

"No need," he said, "we'd be only too happy to come collect them." Shit, that would mean they'd know her address as well.

She tried to remember which one Mike Stafford had been; at Brian's funeral many of them had been there in their blazers and Berets. She seemed to remember someone saying it was a shame that they couldn't have had a standard bearer there now she came to think about.

She was sure he was the overly friendly one; the more she tried to remember, the more the image of the slightly younger, overly touchy man with awful combed over hair and only the one suit that smelt of mothballs and nicotine every time he wore it.

"No problem Mr Stafford I'll drop it round to you. Can I ask how you got my number, I'm ex-directory."

"Oh, must be on file somewhere," he said after a pause.

"No, it's brand new, and I didn't give it to anyone at the club, so the Legion wouldn't have had it on file," with a hint of malice she added, "Try again."

"Catherine," he said blustering, "I'm only trying to track our stuff down, I have no idea how someone got your number, I only know it was here with Brian's things."

"OK." She said, "once I find the harness I'll..." she paused, "I'll have it delivered to the Legion."

"We'll come..."

"I'll have it delivered Mike," she said firmly.

That night she explained to Chris what had happened.

"You sure you hadn't given the number to one of your friends there?"

"Didn't have any." She said thinking back to Brian's crowd of Legion cronies, and their strange wives, many of whom seemed as bored with it as she did.

"What about the girls at work?"

"Nope, I work with solicitors, we don't do that kind of thing."

"Hmm," he said, and snapped his fingers, "Kids!" he said, "perhaps Dan or Colleen gave the number to a friend or someone at the Legion, did they have mates there?"

"Colleen did," Cathy said, "not sure Dan would have done."

"Oh well, we'll ask her later." And they thought no more of it.

A week later, Chris pushed the door open and smiled at Cathy; there were at least three 'family' rooms in the huge house they occupied but the whole family tended to gravitate towards the kitchen. Their was no TV, a radio tuned to different stations at different times of the day, a kettle that never seemed to get cold and a wonderful warm feeling that people just responded to.

"Hi Chris!" said Cathy then indicated with her eyes across the room to where an older man was standing by the table, mug in hand. The other man smiled.

"Hello," said Chris, "I'm Chris." He reached out a hand to shake the other mans.

"Mike," said the man, "Mike Stafford, I'm an old friend of the family."

"Nice to meet you," said Chris as genuinely as he could, despite the other man's proprietary attitude to the room, "See you must have 'found' our new address as well then, how lucky."

"Well," he grinned, "can't shirk my responsibilities to an old comrade's family can I?" he chuckled but with little humour at Chris's arrival and intervention, "I was a very good friend of Brian's, best man ah Catherine?" Chris saw that the funny little man was edging close to Cathy, as if trying to stake a claim to her and her family, over and above that of his.

"Yes," Cathy said with a smile, burying her smile in her mug.

"Yes," breathed the man, "One of the finest was our Brian, we were mates for donkeys years." He smiled almost sadly and shook his head.

"At the Legion club," said Danny walking in the room after Chris, in the first display of bad humour they'd had from him in months.

"Oh, hello Daniel," said the man with a rising, almost admonishing tone to his voice, "pleased to see you've had your hair cut." He snapped, and looked Dan up and down. Looking critically he added, "Would have made your father proud, shame you never did it when he was alive." The older man folded his arms as if in triumph. Much in the way Brian would have, Cathy reflected.

"Yes well, him being proud of me would have been a first too wouldn't it." Dan's new confidence started to appear and he smiled at Mike. "Mind you," Dan gave an exaggerated look of thoughtfulness, "If he'd spent less time drinking at the Legion and more time with me, his son, he might have had more reason to be proud of me don't you think?" Dan pulled out a dinning chair and sat next to his cousin Robert with a smile.

"How dare you!" said the man straightening up, Dan stood up in response, his chair flying back with a squeak. The man was surprised at how much taller Danny was than he remembered him, how much he had broadened and tried to step back. "He was proud of you, he told me, said he was looking forward to the day her could bring you to the club and buy you your first pint."

"Oh, well," said Dan, "that almost makes all of the rest his bullying worth it, him wanting to be my mate and buy me a pint when I was eighteen." Said Dan derisively.

"He was..."

"Yeah," said Dan standing, "finest bloke you ever cooked sausages for, you always used to say."

"Now look here," said the older man, "I promised your father..."

"You promised my father what?" said Dan, "You'd see I was brought up right by someone just like him? You going to try to give me a slap and make me sit in the car if I don't behave?"

Dan raised his eyebrows in the tiniest, almost imperceptible challenge.

"That'll do Dan," said Chris with a flick of the eyebrows that said 'don't bite, don't rise, sit down, the old fart isn't worth your energy' – even Cathy could read the look and she tried to hide the pride and love for how he watched over them all.

Danny looked down his nose at the older man, and sniffed.

"Going to use the computer to check something for my homework, nice to see you again Mike, really it was." He added just the hint of a chuckle.

"OK mate," Chris said with another smile, "don't forget to check your emails."

"Cheers Chris." Danny looked down his nose at the older man again and walked to the door picking up a bulging sports bag, "do you have that copy of 'Catch 22' I can borrow?"

"On the second shelf mate," said Chris, "Red cover."

"Ta." The door clunked shut softy, the laughter settling on the boys lips could only be about one thing.

"Computers," the man sighed and shook his head, "practically do the homework for them."

"Oh really?" said Chris, jumping in to defend the both the boy and personal computers, "He's doing English Literature, never found a computer that can write a book report for you."

The man shook his head again, 

"Takes the skill out of a job," he said folding his arms again "just the same as when they introduced pocket calculators into my industry."

"And what was your industry?" said Chris pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Engineering," said the man proudly.

"And I suppose that buildings were taller and straighter when you used a slide rule and a note book and pencil."




Cathy and Chris Ch. 11



"Not that kind of engineering," said the man, talking as if Chris was an idiot, "Light engineering, lathes, milling machines, precision engineering, accurate to half of a thousandth of an inch."

"And I suppose that CNC machines can't do that."

The man put his head to one side, "Not as well as a time served machinist can."

"Yeah, but a CNC machine can turn out a thousand a day, makes things a lot cheaper doesn't it?"

"Yeah but it isn't the same," said the man with derision, "look at these modern cars."

"Yes?" Chris left it open for the man to venture forth.

"Nasty cheap rubbish not built to last," he said shaking his head. 

"Yeah but if I can buy ten nasty but cheap and reliable seven seat Renaults for the price of one spectacular four seat Rolls-Royce then it doesn't need to last does it."

The older man shook his head, looking down his nose.

"And what do you do?" said the man, still talking as if Chris was an idiot.

"I programme CNC computers for Renault, get paid thousands for it." Chris downed his tea and plonked down his cup, "Well it was nice to meet you Mike, I must go and get changed, sitting behind a desk does bring on such a sweat sometimes. Come on you three," he indicated the youngest should follow him and left the room with a smile.

"I'm not sure I like him," said Mike.

"Oh Chris is great," said Cathy, almost as if she'd only just realised it, "He's doing great things for Dan, for all of us in fact."

"What's this 'Dan' nonsense," said Mike with a tone, "His name is Daniel. Brian was very insistent about that." As if Cathy might have forgotten.

"Yes Mike, and this is the 21st Century," said Cathy wearily tiring of his attitude at everything Chris said.

"Brian wouldn't have..."

"Brian died more than a year ago Mike. He knew he shouldn't smoke and should have drunk less and ate better and taken exercise but he chose not to. He knew he had a heart condition but ignored the Doctors advice and died because of it leaving me to raise two children on my own. Chris is my late sister's husband and is great with the kids and has time for everyone..." she stopped herself from saying 'which was more than Brian ever had'. Mike looked abashed at her outburst.

"I'm sorry Catherine," he said, "I didn't realise it was so bad between you and Brian."

"It wasn't!" she said with a raised voice, "just don't run away with the idea he was a saint and everything he said was gospel that's all."

"Sorry," said Mike, keen to change the subject he added, "This Chris character, was he in the Army?" as if it was an essential sign of good character.

"Reserve." She said.

"Hmm," said Mike, "Not a real soldier, Brian and I..."

"He was in the Special Air Service in London with my Dad; had his wings and everything. He only left when my sister Jenny became ill."

"Oh well," he said, slightly taken aback as were most people when they found out about Chris's hidden military past. Not happy to let it lie, he added with a sneer, "still not regular army though," he said with a lopsided grin and shaking his head almost in pity.

"No," said Cathy, "that he most certainly isn't."

"And what does that mean, precisely?"

"Mike, it means he spend his life swinging the lamp about his army days, doesn't spend every other Thursday talking about parties, every Friday night on the piss with his friends and invite us all out Saturday to watch him drink and play darts and snooker in a room full of people I didn't know while I virtually had to confine my two young children to their chairs."

Mike looked sternly at her,

"Brian's death really upset you didn't it?" he said.

"Of course it bloody did!" she looked at him incredulously, "the same as him living and dying at the Legion upset me."

"Well," he sighed, "I went to all the trouble of seeing if you were still OK and I find that you are insulting the memory of one of the finest men I ever served with."

"You never served with him, you were only in for three years, he told me. Chris may 'only have been in the TA'," she snarled, "but he served for nine, including two tours in Bosnia and actually fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. He has five medals, one for gallantry, so please don't start telling me about reserve and regular and how long people have served."

Mike went quiet while he tried to think of a way to follow her final outburst.

"We... were Cold War soldiers, and they didn't give medals for that. I might not have been lucky enough to get where... this... this Chris did, but me and Brian," she could hear some emotion in his voice, "we served on the committee and we made a difference, for a long time Catherine; that counts."

"Mike, thanks for coming out and everything. I'm fine, I grateful that you are concerned for my welfare but that's it. Please take me off of the books. I'm not a soldier or in the Legion, never was."

"Ok Catherine," he said coming to where she sat and resting a hand on her shoulder, she tried to shrug it away, "perhaps it's a bit early for this kind of visit. I'll see myself out." He left the kitchen, but walked back in again. "Sorry Catherine, that wasn't how that conversation was meant to go," he scratched his head and smiled, "I don't think I realised how much Brian's death had affected me, look," he moved to where she was sat. "We're going to put on a fundraiser at the Legion for charity, in memory of Brian, which ever charity you think, the British Heart foundation perhaps."

"That would be nice," said Cathy, actually moved, "He would have approved of that."

"Look, come down to the Legion one night this week, we'll explain the whole thing and you can be guest of honour and accept the cheque at the end of the night. I'll even buy you dinner."

"OK Mike, but don't worry about dinner," said Cathy softening, "How's Thursday?"

"I'll pick you up, you can have a drink then."

"That's alright, I don't drink these days."

"Not when it's on me!" said Mike.

"I'll DRIVE Mike," she said raising her tone. She hoped that he got the message that she wasn't coming 'out' with him. "I'm just coming out one time to find out about Mike's night." She thought about his awful smelly suit, "don't dress up Mike." He almost looked disappointed.

She saw him to the front door and held out her hand for a shake, and kept her face well away from his.

"I'll see you Thursday at the club – seven?" he said.

"I'll see you then Mike." She smiled pushing the door shut watching him walking to his tiny car parked next to Chris's large shiny people carrier

In the first floor study/library/rec room, Chris was helping Dan with the last of his science homework. It seemed to Dan that Chris was able to explain maths and science problems in a way he could follow, something that many of his teachers never seemed to manage. Chris would put stuff into context, make those numbers and formula mean something and draw pictures in the air that would make the answer pop into his head. Dan folded his books and chatted easily with Chris.

"I do hope Mustafa doesn't hang around for to long."

"Who?"

"Mustafa," said Dan, "Mike Stafford. It's what Colleen used to call him when she was little and it kind of stuck. He then kind of adopted it into things like he 'must have a cup of tea' or he 'must have a bacon sandwich' or he 'must have a fag'. Dad didn't seem to mind him that much, I always thought he was a fuckin' idiot... oops, sorry Chris."

"Don't worry about it Mate;" said Chris, looking out the window at Cathy bringing in washing from the garden, "for the record I think he's a fuckin' idiot as well."

"Creepy twat, never liked being in the same room as him for too long."

"Can't say I'm that struck on him mate." Chris turned, "was he airborne like your dad?"

Dan laughed, "No!" Dan burst out, "he was an army chef, Army Catering Corps, Dad always ribbed him about being a REMF, a 'rear echelon moth..."

"Yes," interrupted Chris, "I know what REMF's are," he giggled, "Better than that though" Chris whispered, "You know the other meaning of ACC?"

Dan smiled and shook his head,

"Any cunt can cook!"

Dan dissolved into hysterical giggles. Once he got his breath back he looked seriously at Chris,

"Look Chris, if you and mum ever want to go out, you know, I'll watch the kids for you, no problem."

"Thanks for the offer mate, but you're not old enough, in a few years though mate, I'll take you up on that one."

"Am I old enough to walk them round to me Nan's though?"

"Oh, yes I suppose."

"Well I can do that and they can all stay round with Nan and Gramps."

"Yeah, that could work. Let's save that one."

Once children were in bed and Dan was in his room plugged into his music, Chris turned from ironing his shirt and hung it by the one he'd already done for Dan.

"Cath," he said with an easy grin, "What are you doing on Friday?"

"When Friday?" she said

"Evening."

"Nothing," she said with slightly raised eyebrows.

"Why don't you come out with me, just a meal and a film or something." He said with a smile. "Well we both seem to go out, but never with each other."

"I'm not sure Chris."

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready that's all."

"Ready? Ready for what?"

"I..." all she could think of was imaginary old women sat in the corner of the Legion bar with a drink talking about poor old Brian's wife who was carrying on with a younger man, her own brother for heaven's sake can you believe... "It's just I... I'm not ready for everyone else to recognise our special relationship, so few people seem to be able to follow our living together as two families, and I don't..."

"Who?" he said simply.

"You know what people are like," she said trying to smile.

"Yes," he said, "But who are they, and why should you be worried about what they think."

"Everyone!" she said with emphasis.

""But..."

"No 'buts' Chris, you're a bloke, you're seen out with someone and it's 'well done Chris, about time you moved on'. I'm seen out with someone and it's 'it didn't take her bloody long to find a new man did it'. It's different for women."

"At the club it might have been, this is the 21st century Cath."

"I'm not talking about the club, I have not and will never go back to that; there's my family, Brian's family, your family – what about them hmm? What about their feelings and what they might say."

"It's been almost eighteen months, you don't have to dress in black for the rest of your life."

"I know Chris, but... but I feel I owe something to... to all of them, you know?"

He smiled, "And what about me?"

"What do you mean?" she said defensively.

"Me and my battered emotions, OK we're in the same boat and everything, but I can't just switch everything on and off. I can't just 'have sex' with you, you know? We've shared so much, so many wonderful things, more than most married couples." She returned his smile, her eyes still slightly sad. "We live together like a family, to all intents and purposes we might as well be husband and wife, everyone outside of our immediate circle thinks we are."

"I know," she whined, "and part of me loves that." Her eyes filled with tears, "when we were away for the weekend, we were all just treated like that and it was soooo wonderful and warm, the kids have never been so happy, but..."

"but it's fine to sleep with me but not OK to be seen out with me, is that it?" He regretted his statement as he said it.

"No it isn't and you know darned well it isn't. Don't you dare start on me!" she pointed a finger at him challengingly.

"Cathy, I'm sorry, that came out all wrong, look I just want to go out with you one time, just for a meal. I want to take you out just once in something stunning, an expensive dinner; a slow dance with you in my arms and then bring you back here and yes, make love if that's the way the evening goes. I... I just want to take you out, I want a beautiful woman on my arm again, that's not too much to ask is it?" He smiled, "Cinema, it'll be dark and no one..."

"Babysitting?"

"Dan has said he'll take them out for a burger then to your mum and dad's."

"Sorry Chris," she said, "It's just... that, that whole concept; you and me going out and the kids, Mum and Dad, your Mum and Dad, Daniel, everyone knowing. OK it's been eighteen months, but think about it from my perspective – it's only been eighteen months..."

He smiled, reached out and took her hands, "Sorry Cath, I keep forgetting, raw wounds." She smiled at him, "How about we forget the dinner and dancing and just go to my room and make..." he paused, "beautiful music together."

"You've talked me into it," she said. 

She went up first and got ready. Mindful of the slight shift in emphasis of their relationship, she quickly put on some make up, grabbed a rather sexy looking teddy and matching panties set she had bought a few months back and slipped it on.

She hadn't bought it for this reason, but when she had been shopping for new nightwear for her and the kids, seeing as they were moving in with a new people, her best friend Carole had picked it up and put it on the top of the pile of clothes, already being party to her special relationship with Chris. It had been a bit small, but now the black satin, lacy, sexy ensemble was form-fitting and cropped in all the right places. She went to spray his favourite perfume on her neck and behind her ears but stopped, instead unconsciously picking up another of his favourites and using that instead

She turned on the bedside lamps and switched off the main light. He'd be here any moment. She walked across and closed the curtain, happy that no one from the street could see way up into her room, and she knew she could make a long slow languorous walk towards him when he finally came through the wardrobe.

When he eventually appeared he was carrying two bottles of water, normally he only brought the one.

He put them down and turned to face him, full on sexy,

"Hey wow!" he said watching her stalk towards him, hips thrust forward, boobs pushed up by the tightness of the teddy, "where did all this come from," he said.

"Oh this old thing?" she stroked down the neck of her teddy into her own cleavage, "had it lying around, know how it is."

"Sure I'd remember something like that," he said.

"Yes," she smiled, starting to undo his shirt buttons, "you normally just have the pleasure of stripping me naked from my day clothes, these are PLAY clothes..."

She dropped to her knees and started to undo his belt, button and fly. Dropping his trousers and boxers, his erection exposed and before her mouth. Cradling his balls, she began to caress his length with her mouth finally allowing the bell end to enter her lips and to suck him properly. She played around with him until he patience was exhausted and he took hold of her head and fucked her mouth in short but strong stokes. This was what she wanted, him to come first, then to feed wonderfully on her pussy with all of his skill, by which time he would have recovered enough to fuck her in a frenzy.

But not tonight it seemed; just as she was beginning to feel the slight swell in him that normally meant he was about to come, he stopped and kicked off the rest of his clothes, pulling her back to her bed, and pushing her back onto it.

She giggled as he laughingly pulled at her panties dragging them down to her knees, while she wriggled her feet to kick them off. He lay over her, kissing her neck while at the same time pushing her top up to expose her tingly boobs and rock hard nipples, which he greedily suckled, lightly tugging at them with his teeth.

She felt his erection nudge at her opening, and she spread her thighs fully, until he was pushing into her wetness. She gasped as he powered into her, his pubic hair scratching at where her tiny patch was, feeling his arms circle her and reciprocating with her own.

He hammered into her, his face at her neck and her ears. She realised what was missing and letting go of his firm body took his face in her hands, making their lips meet and mesh, automatically opening to allow tongues to snake around each other.

She was waiting for him to pull out and turn her over, instead he relentless screwed her, stopping the kissing for a moment to catch his breath.

Finally, she felt that swell of his penis and knew he was on his way, his thrusting increased so much so that the pressure on her clitoris and G-spot brought her to the brink of climax. Finally she joined him as he came, gasping into her and holding her tight, as they both relaxed into a gentle cuddle, him gently pushing into her until he was sure she had finished.

"Wow," he said slipping gently to one side, "that was very nice."

"Oh yes," she said, still faintly feeling the aftershocks from her cervix.

He rolled from her lying flat on his back, grabbing the bottle of water from his side of the bed. She waited for him to pass it to her, instead he replaced the lid and put it on his bedside table. Still she could not complain, it was a great fuck, and her orgasm was starting to work its magic and she felt herself starting to doze, him gently holding her.

She woke to him gently sliding from next to her and she groaned in disappointment. He kissed her lightly on the forehead,

"Night Cath," he whispered, and in her semi-sleep she heard the wardrobe doors close.

She grumbled to herself thinking that it must be five thirty and time for him to go back to his bed. She hardly felt like she had slept at all. A bleary eyed gaze at her clock told her why. It was only half past midnight.

He'd gone back to his own bed early, and he hadn't done that since they had started sleeping together. Admittedly, they didn't sleep together every night but pretty much. She could almost count the number of nights that he hadn't, and the reasons for most, which generally involved one of their younger children coming to their rooms and wanting to sleep after a disturbed night.

Only Robert had ever found an empty bed but went instead to Aunty Cath's room not noticing the wardrobe door slowly close.

The sound of the flushing toilet made the little boy turn in Cathy's arms to see his father, now in a dressing gown, standing at the bedroom door.

And she had come; but only once, and that had to be the first time ever. She could only guess that Chris was trying to punish her for her rejection? No, she knew him too well to even consider that as an option, she knew him... like a wife.

Shit, what else could she do to fuck up this relationship she thought as she rolled to the side of what now felt like a very large bed. She woke at five twenty five, waiting for the second alarm to go off. Any other night would have had them roll together for a cuddle or even sex prior to returning to their own rooms. Many mornings they just lay together warmly, perhaps just kissing, holding each other, sometimes just holding hands and chatting about the day to come or plans for the weekend. Again, it struck her, probably in the same way other couples did.

Shit.

She lay quietly, thinking about damage limitation. How far was this going to go, would he insist on telling the world? What then?

She got up as usual and climbed into the shower, her mind in five different places. By the time she got downstairs it was to find him surrounded by children and lunch boxes and bags, all under control. He threw sandwiches, crisp packets, juice cartons around as if he lived for the process, all to the delight of his audience. He looked smart, and sexy for all that. Whatever her other feelings might have been she knew full well that she still fancied him.

It was a normal day in all other respects, until she sat in Starbucks with her best friend Carole, and a half way down her skinny latte her friend had to ask.

"Come on then, what is it?"

"Sorry?" said Cath.




Cathy and Chris Ch. 11



"You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders Cathy, tell your Auntie Caz what it is."

Cathy took a deep breath,

"He told me he's fallen in love with me," Cathy said.

Carole smiled, "Oh how awful for you Cathy, a gorgeous, attractive, available man that is fantastic in bed and, if I'm any judge, worships the ground you walk on has declared his love for you. How will you manage?"

"Thanks," said Cathy not impressed by her best friends apparent humour at the situation.

"Oh fuck off Catherine, if you so much as hint that you aren't head over heels for the bloke, I may have to call you a bloody liar."

"Wh... what?" Cathy spluttered over the rim of her mug.

"The same Cathy that goes bleary eyed when she talks about Chris, the Cathy that can't wait to get home on a Friday night, even from a night out, the Cathy that was floating on air when she came back from a weekend holiday?" Cathy's mouth bobbed like a goldfish, "yeah thought as much, you can lie to yourself Cath but not to me Darling. You're in love with him but just too scared to admit it."

"I don't know Caz," she grinned, "I just think..."

"Always been your problem hun," said Carole, "you don't think, you then spend the next ten years putting up with the consequences. Has he said he doesn't want to live together?" Cathy shook her head. "Sex still good?"

"Good but not AS good," Cathy replied.

"Right, when it was wonderful, and that is a direct quote I might add, it was before you had to admit that you were in love with the bloke. So what's missing?"

"It's hard to explain," Cathy said, "Before he was so tender and loving, last night it..."

"Last night Catherine McMahon, it was 'just sex' and you know it deep down and that's what you are afraid of." Carole drained her coffee, "To quote the band James, my all-time favourite rock and roll philosophers, 'now you've come back down again it's worse that it was before, if you hadn't known such riches you could live with being poor'."

"Yes," said Cathy with a grin, "very deep, I don't suppose the Smiths or Teardrop explodes have any idea what I should do, do they?"

"Oh shit, any pop band can do that, go fall in bed, then in love with the guy, it's only you that can't see it."

Cathy grinned, but Carole held up a restraining finger.

"If he can't be in love with you, then who know's who he might fall in love with, huh?"

That night she was so tempted to go through and join him, but she also wanted to see if he would come through and join her but she fell asleep, not knowing either way.

Next morning at five twenty nine, she jumped out of bed naked, slipped through the secret entrance and found him in bed as she had been, gradually waking up.

"Hello sleepy," he said, throwing the covers aside, "what can I do for you this fine morning?" She noticed he had a very fine, healthy erection.

"To start with," she said, "That..."

His bed squeaked just the tiniest bit as he powered into her, resting on her elbows and knees, fucking her gloriously. Much as she'd had no sex the night before and had only come once the night before that, she was on her way up to her third this time, and as if to add the fun he smacked her exposed right buttock with a loud slap. She groaned.

Her mind was in turmoil, she was getting what she hadn't got the nights before, or at least not enough, yet still there was something missing. It was that tenderness they had shared before, the kissing and cuddling, the love she wanted, but on her terms. He leaned forward grasping her boobs and squeezing them, enough to put her over the edge; OK it wasn't perfect, she thought as she was led through her third orgasm and well on the way to her fourth, but it was pretty fucking spectacular until she could work out how to get it back to the way it had been.

The impromptu shagging had been wonderful but had made them a bit late, that morning's routine was slightly more rushed. Explaining that she had to go to the club tonight to talk to Mike about the fund raiser she told Dan that she wouldn't be able to drop him off at his friends house as usual.

"What?" exclaimed Dan, "You're going out with that Tosser Mustapha? Jesus Mum!"

Cath turned to see Chris carrying armfuls of coats, his normally smiley face struggling not to show the disappointed anger bubbling beneath the surface ready to blow.



Cathy and Chris Ch. 12



That evening she was extremely quiet as she cooked and served the evening meal, and while the children were around Chris was his usual animated self and full of fun and bonhomie. Before she knew it, it was half past six and time to leave for the Legion club. She had searched some of Brian's boxes in the garage but had yet to find the standard bearer's things Mike Stafford's visit had been about. 

Driving into the club car park was not a new experience, in the old days she did it all the time on club nights so Brian could have a few drinks. On Party nights, he'd insist on a taxi so Cathy 'could enjoy herself too'. Hmmm.

She sat in the car for at least ten minutes, having been rather early. Much as she knew the length of the journey, she had left early not wanting to sit through Dan's sullen look of betrayal and Chris's forced air of everything being OK. 

Early she might have been but she didn't want to spend one minute more in the place than she had to.

She walked to the front entrance, which was locked. She remembered that Brian had a swipe card in his wallet that unlocked the door, apparently to keep out the undesirables. Many of them seemed to be in there already.

Her quiet entry was not to be, and she had to ring the bell. "Hello?" said a croaky voice from the intercom.

"It's Cathy McMahon," she said, "I'm here to speak to the entertainment committee."

"Really," said the voice, "Well the entertainment committee ain't here, they don't meet on a Thursday no more, they meets on Wednesday, you'll have to come back next week."

"Right," she said with an air of exasperation, "but I'm expected."

"Not by me you're not," said the voice.

"Is Mike Stafford there?" she said feeling like getting back in her car and doing all this by phone.

"I'll ask, who's calling,"

"Cathy McMahon, I already said,"

"Who?"

She had no other option, "Brian McMahon's wife?" Barstards. This last bastion of the X chromosome had finally made her admit defeat.

"Oh!" said the voice totally changed and now animated, "why didn't you say!"

"I fucking did." She said taking her finger off of the button as the door catch clicked open.

Once inside, she walked through those corridors with a cold feeling. Over the last sixteen months, the last three in particular, she had grown out of the woman that used to come here and she really resented that person and this place.

She looked around, it was a week night so no kids, the widescreen was tuned to Sky Sports again with no one watching, two teams of ladies were playing darts, with a few men around just close enough to remind them that while this was ladies darts league night, it was still a male shrine and they shouldn't try to get above themselves.

The yellow lined 'child free' area was still there and she thought back to the old farts that would stand either side of it just waiting for a child to so much as approach it with intent, one of the worst culprits was the man she was here to see. She walked to one side of it and perched on a bar stool, something she remembered Brian would never let her do, Bars were man territory.

"Catherine!" boomed a voice, it was Mike Stafford and he was wearing that fucking suit.

"Cathy please, Mike,"

"Sorry Catherine, but Brian..."

"Mr Stafford," she said, "As I said on Monday, Brian is dead, I like people to call me Cathy. You can call me Catherine if you wish MISTER Stafford."

"Oh," he spluttered, "Cathy, yes right," he tried to chuckle, "That might take a bit of getting used to. Right," he rubbed a hand through the sweat on his forehead, rubbing that hand on his trousers, then with a grin he rubbed his hands together, "What can I get you to drink?"

"Diet Coke please," she said.

"A little something in it?" he grinned.

"Ice and lemon if you have some," she smiled in a no nonsense manner.

"Sure I can't slip you a Bacardi in there?" he grinned like an idiot and Cathy got her first whiff of that appalling suit of his.

"Mike, I told you I'm driving," she said.

"Oh I know that," he tried to swell with importance, "but we have any number of taxis leaving here tonight, if you wanted to have a drink..." she followed his hand to the corner where the 'old gals' were sat mostly dressed in black and cackling to each other. 

"Mike," she groaned, "I TOLD you, I don't drink on school nights, I have to drive to work tomorrow, you know to the SOLICITORS OFFICE I work in?" She took a deep breath, "Just a Diet Coke, thank you."

"Sorry," he tried to make up for his obvious lack of knowledge around women, "keep forgetting that kind of stuff being a committed old bachelor."

The diet Coke arrived and the barmaid, a new girl, favoured her with a smile. Mike indicated one of the tables further into the magnolia painted room.

"Won't you sit down?" he said.

"No, this is fine," she said picking up the glass and sipping.

She laughed inside at the internal struggle that Mike the old fart was having with the concept of a woman sat at the bar.

"Right," she said with a smile, "about this night for Brian, the old boy on the door tells me that the entertainment committee doesn't meet on a Thursday anymore?"

"No," said Mike almost guilty, "I... forgot..."

"So..." she said coaxing him to continue.

"So," he had to think, "So we carry on and arrange a really spectacular night in memory of my old mate Brian." He grinned.

"Right," she said, "spectaculor. And..."

"Oh well," he said realising that she wanted more, "we'll just do our usual thing," he grinned, "Bit of a disco, lay on one of my special buffets, then present a cheque to you at the end of the night to the charity of your choice."

"Oh," said Cathy, "Oh OK, nothing about heart disease and healthy lifestyle promotion then."

He scowled, "Oh no," he said, "I don't think so, they wouldn't like that at all,"

"Who?" she was genuinely surprised.

"The members," he said proudly, "we are a members club after all, and I don't think they'd want anyone preaching to them about not smoking and all of this nonsense about cutting all of the good stuff out of your diet." He stopped and adopted his smug expression, "My father smoked 40 a day his whole life and went to the pub every night, except Sundays of course, and ate meat and two veg every day and lived until he was 85, THAT'S healthy lifestyle Catherine... sorry Cathy." 

"Yes, but this night is supposed to be about Brian isn't it? He smoked 20 a day, ate meat and two veg every day, came to the club three nights a week and didn't even make it to fifty five, what do you think?"

Mike's insufferable smug attitude didn't change, she tried again, "Don't you think he might want someone to learn from his early death, get something in the local paper about heart disease?"

"No," said Mike confidently, "Brian would have just wanted a proper branch send off, like he used to organise himself."

"But he had one of those," she said, "If you're just going to have another legion piss up and pass the hat round with Brian's name on, then you don't really need me involved do you. If there's one thing this club is good at it's that."

The irony was totally lost on him and he smiled, supposing it a compliment. "No...no..." he said, "No Cather... Cathy sorry, you'll have to be there, as the widow I mean and little Colleen, I'm not sure that Daniel will want to come, not after what I heard the other night."

"No, I'm not sure that I blame him," she said, "You must admit that this place probably doesn't hold that many fond memories for him."

"Yes, well, he could do with learning some priorities. A few years in uniform..." Cathy couldn't that one pass.

"No fucking way!" she announced, "my son is going to college and then University!" she said, swelling with pride.

"Really," said Mike in humerous disbelief, "If what Brian said was true, that I find hard to believe." He took a long pull at his pint as if to reinforce his special inside knowledge, smiling as he put his glass down.

"What did Brian say?" she said, a fire in her eyes.

Mike's single bachelor status did not allow him to see the flame nor pit he was already in, and he carried on digging. He affected his 'best mate' smile,

"Brian said Daniel was so thick, he'd be lucky to get him into a job on the bins, let alone get into the army, didn't even think the infantry would have him."

Cathy fumed. Mike finally realised that his attitude may not have been quite the thing to get his best mate's wife to like him, let alone get a second date. "'Course," said Mike going slightly pale, "He was joking, I expect."

"And you wonder why my Danny doesn't particularly relish thoughts about his father or coming back to this place?" She pushed her almost full Coke to one side.

"Mike, you do what you like in the name of your best mate, why don't you have some proper do's like in the old days, you raise some cash for him, give it to whoever you like; right now my feelings towards Brian aren't exactly sunny or charitable." She stood up taking her handbag from the bar, "thanks Mike, as I said on the phone, please take my name and my phone number off of your contact list..."

"Yes but..." he said, a real look of panic in his eyes.

"No but's Mike, don't make me get all legal on the club, 'cos right now I'm minded to do all sorts of nasty bloody things."

"But..." Mike was struggling to find something to say, something to keep this attractive woman here with him.

"When I find the standard bearer thing, I'll bring it back, PROMISE!" she almost growled, before turning on her heels, "Job as a dustman," she hissed, "like Brian was a fucking brain surgeon... slapping paint on a wall was the best he could fucking do..." she grumbled, storming away from the bar towards the exit and her car.

Mike watched after her, in part shock, part panic but his eyes betraying some anger -- anger he couldn't find a reason for quite yet.

She drove back to the new house, thinking about the undoubted atmosphere there would be between her and Chris, and probably Danny if he was still up.

She got onto the ring road and put her foot down. The crappy old Vauxhall Astra estate that was part family car, albeit paint spattered, part works van for Brian was long gone, the day after his funeral in fact, traded up to a nice Ford hatch. Thinking on it she realised it was the first tie that she cut with him and his memory. 

He had loved that car, while she hated it. If she ever discussed its replacement, or the purchase of a smaller one for her, she got his 'it's part of my tool kit, it earns it's living,' spiel in the same way as his mobile phone. The fact she was actually on a better hourly rate than him passed him by. 

It broke down and he had it repaired, the seats were starting to wear but she stopped complaining when he showed her the silver duct tape he proposed fixing them with.

Shopping trips, the very rare days out and holidays all flavoured with the smell of gloss paint, white spirit and those stinking cartridge tube guns of gripfil or decorators caulk. The shopping had to go in the boot with it, any newly bought clothes had to be double bagged against something touching it; she even shuddered at the thought of one of Colleen's nursery friends pointing out that the tiny girl in her best party frock 'smelled of petrol' at the very first birthday party she attended.

And the dust. Those fucking dust sheets he used time and time again, brought home, shaken out in the garden or on the drive and refolded back into the car. It took months for her to stop inspecting the kids' dark school trousers for signs of pale white plaster dust that had so much been part of her life for so many years.

She of course traded it at the first opportunity, but once she had moved away from that estate, she could finally do what she had always wanted and get something much more sporty, something that wouldn't have lasted the first week without being 'keyed' and once the local hooligans had enough chance to glare, would have been nicked, driven around the estate and ring road at top speed to turn up burnt out in one of the recreation ground car parks.

It was a BMW five series estate her Father had helped her buy and tonight it came into its own. 

She put her foot down and the thing pulled away beautifully, topping off a comfortable, controllable 100mph. That time of the evening there was almost no traffic and she slipped into the fast lane to pass the few cars and vans there were, growling all kinds of oaths at Brian, Mike, the legion and anyone within 100 yards of her. So angry in fact she used the fact this was a ring road to her advantage, and went round again, finally pulling off at her junction on her second pass.

Calmed slightly, she headed home. The gravel crunched reassuringly as she slowed to a halt. The blip key locked it, and she stepped into the hallway, hanging her coat on one of the many pegs there.

Danny was there and looked at her under his eyebrows.

"Look," she said, as Chris walked in with some tea, "I was just there to organise a charity night in your father's memory OK? I wasn't on a date, I wasn't doing anything other than loosing my temper with anyone within 50 feet of me, OK!?!"

Dan looked at her and nodded, Mum was WELL angry, and he figured he didn't want to be any part of that, especially as some of it could be his fault. After a suitable period, he kissed his mother on the cheek, grabbed all of his books and made for his room, away from the storm clouds floating across the room from her in particular.

"Want to talk about it?" ventured Chris.

"No," she said with a growl.

"Fair enough," he said; being better educated in female moods than Mike Stafford, he knew not to even pick up the shovel, let alone dig some more.

The film he had been watching had finished, and taking a glass of water, bade Cathy goodnight and headed for his bedroom, unhappy to leave her like this but knowing that she wasn't ready to let go just yet.

He was re-reading Joseph Heller's 'Catch 22', after proof reading Dan's book report on it, and was so much into it that he didn't hear her come through the wardrobe. Next thing he knew both book and duvet were sailing across the room as she jumped astride him, naked and with fire in her eyes!

"Fucking men," she growled, "What is it with you lot, is just Englishmen or the entire fucking species?" Before he knew it she was grasping his semi-soft penis and wanking it fiercely, "How fucking dare they," she growled pushing his growing erection into her puss that was just starting to get wet, "How fucking DARE THEY!!". she snarled pushing her self down hard on his cock, closing her eyes as he filled her.

"Who?" he said, surprised he could get a word in.

"Fucking Mike fucking Stafford and the late fucking Brian fucking McMahon!" she growled, bouncing on his penis, and feeling it now erect and doing what she wanted most. "Oooh yeah," she growled taking both of his hands, using them as leverage and to assist her in lifting her bottom from his groin. He started to push up as necessary.

"Do you know what that old bastard used to say about my boy?" she hissed, "She used to tell everyone he was thick! Now that is the fucking pot calling the kettle fucking charcoal grey if I ever heard it, the old cunt was barely fucking literate himself." She snarled pushing down so hard she could feel the tip of him touching her cervix. "Oh shit," she hissed in another voice, and he pushed up feeling her grind down on him. "A fucking paratrooper! A fucking paratrooper questioning someone's intelligence! Who the fuck..." she snarled reaching down a hand to push up on his chest.

"I bet that old fuck wanted my boy to join the army," she snarled again, still maintaining enough concentration to continue the sex, "My Danny, in the army, not while I've a breath left in my body," she pounded down again and again, using her venom and aggression as a tool to reach her orgasm. Chris could only lie back and enjoy himself, although his hips were starting to feel slightly pained from her bashing her bottom and thighs against them.

"And that fucking idiot Mustafa," she said, grinding down hard on Chris's penis as if in revenge, "He only wants to put on a party in aid of heart disease, can you believe it!?! Fat chicken legs and stale warm sandwiches spread thick with butter and shitty beer to raise a few quid to kid themselves they are doing something for heart disease? Not in my fucking name, they can kiss my arse..." she said, not noticing him moving a hand free from hers.

"If there's any arse kissing to be done, I'd rather it was me," he said with a grin, pulling her down to meet him, their lips clashing at the same time as their joint giggling.

She fought back, joining in the half-hearted wrestling. He was much stronger than her but was enjoying this interesting addition to their sex life. Starting to tire slightly, he used one arm to pin her to him, freeing the other one which he used to great effect, smacking her lightly on her exposed left buttock.

The slight but surprised jump she gave made her push and squeeze down on his cock still embedded in her moistness and she purred.

"Oww!! Now then Chris," she purred, "That's taking advantage," she pushed herself back over him and pushed her pussy back down."

"Yeah," he said, "and so it that," she rose off of him only to push back down on him hard. "Go easy Cath, if you're not careful, you'll break it off."

"Oh poor Chrissy sore is he?" she baby talked to him.

"Not as sore as you're going to be if you don't play nice," he said, playfully slapping her other buttock. She gasped, giggled and cooed again, lying flat against him her perfect and as yet untouched breasts pushed against his chest.

"What if I don't want to play nice," she said running a hand through his hair, but still moving up and down along his rock hard erection.

"Perhaps, I'm gonna have to spank yo' ass!" he hissed into her face, while still easing her body up and down on his.

She grinned and tried to stop herself laughing, he joined in with the laughter knowing exactly what she was going to say.

"OK Cath," he said, "On three, one, two, three..."

They both said, "You wouldn't dare," and collapsed into fits of giggles, restarting the wrestling match from a few moments before, this time only interrupted by his occasional well placed smack on her beautiful bottom, totally exposed by her legs clamped either side of him, his penis still tightly held inside her. Eventually he was allowed to roll her over on to her back and get into the dominant position. He could only guess at how annoyed she was this evening, but if Brian was involved then he had to be careful with how they did this. Much as she writhed under him in a gasping, groaning joy, he knew that he had to make it a bit different if it was still going to be enjoyable for her and not bring back bad memories. 

"That bastard," she groaned, gasping into his neck and pushing up into him, "That rotten, rotten, hateful bastard," she trembled. Chris recognised her tone and thought the only way to bring her down was through orgasms, lots of orgasms, no stress and only tears of pleasure.

He rose up slightly, and raised her legs pushing them over his shoulders, and knowing what to expect grinned at him in delight.

"Oh yeah, go on Chris," she gasped as he pushed into her pussy, with the deepest penetration possible.

She came almost straight away, as his cock stroked at all of those places she loved so much, her G-spot, cervix, A-zone, all feeling the hard thrust and pulse of his weapon.

Her arms and hands could only reach out for him, stroking his body and his arms that trembled at each thrust, supporting his weight and part of hers as her muscle contractions from her orgasm pushed her legs down onto his shoulders. 




Cathy and Chris Ch. 12



He continued fucking, struggling to keep his cool against the pulsations of her muscles and cervix around his sensitive bell end. He smacked her arse again, this brought the desired response, her opening her eyes to look into his face and grin. This was a time for fucking, not for emotion, and he tried to separate those thoughts, hard for him as he made love to the woman he had fallen in love with, almost without noticing.

He pressed a thumb against her anus, and she groaned out loud, he hoped not loud enough to wake Robert, and hoped that Dan would be asleep or, better still, would have his headphones on.

He slid his thumb up and into her sopping pussy, she knew what would happen next, "Go on Chris," she gasped trying to reach through the mess of her legs and his arms to reach his face, "Do it, aaah," she purred in that way he found most sensual as his thumb eased into her arse pushing up into her bottom.

Knuckle deep, there was nothing else he could do to hold off his own orgasm. "Aaaaaaahhhh!" she gasped feeling his semen splash around in her, deep down and warming.

He allowed her legs to drop down either side of him to rest, his dick retreating slightly but still inside her, and she flexed her pelvic floor to grip him, as if she was trying to keep him inside. He slid off of her removing his whole weight, but she would not let him go too far.

He looked at her expression of calm, the previous anger sated by their joint efforts.

"Better?" he said.

"Much," she whispered, hugging him tighter. If there had been any explanation required regarding her exploits this evening, it seemed that it could wait or was no longer needed. Her naked body moved against his slightly, just enough to make them both comfortable enough to allow sleep to take them at last. 

She wondered whether he would get up and leave her in the night like the last time, but then as she saw his large screen beside radio alarm, she realised this was his room, and she wasn't going anywhere! She remembered him dragging the duvet over them.

At five twenty five next morning she told him about how awful her evening had been, even going so far as to talk about her foot down exploits on the motorway directly afterwards.

"You silly bitch," he giggled, brushing a stray hair from her face. He withdrew his hand thinking about boundaries again.

"So I've told Mike in no uncertain terms that I don't want Brian's name used as an excuse for another piss up. At least not with me involved."

"Cool," he said lying almost face to face with her, "what was all that about Dan joining the army?" he whispered, "I heard that amongst all of the foul language."

She giggled, "Apparently Brian thought Dan was stupid, and it seemed he told everyone so. I can't believe he'd do that." She sighed.

"When you lack confidence or intelligence, all you can do is mock its apparent absence in someone else. He was never going to let Dan believe he was better than him was he?" said Chris, not cruelly but honestly. "Was Brian's dad a mean bastard as well?" 

"Yes," she said with a sigh, "never had a good word for him either, knocked the buggery out of him apparently. Although he did say it made a man of him."

"Yeah but was that so he could justify giving Dan such a hard time?"

"Probably," she said taking hold of Chris's hand lying next to hers.

"There you go," he said, "it goes in cycles."

"Yes," said Cathy, "that makes sense. Right," she said kissing him hard and grasping hold of his penis, "We getting up or what?"

Chris smiled, "what?"



Cathy and Chris Ch. 13



Half an hour later and following two orgasms, she lay on her stomach supine and lacking enough energy to move after being well and truly fucked - doggie style. As she moved she felt the semen he had ejaculated along her spine move a little bit. 

She had grasped his penis, thinking she might make the running as she had the night before; she was sadly mistaken.

He flipped her onto her front and knelt across her, quickly grabbing her by her hips and pulling her up to meet his hard prick that rested in the split of her arse. He wasted no time in fucking into her, pushing hard against the slight resistance of her labia, all thoroughly moistened by his third or fourth stroke.

She loved being fucked on her hands and knees, and played with herself, in body and mind. While she reached down to stroke her hard clit and rub across their joining, her mind would go places with the exchange in control. In her head she told herself that the most wonderful thing about Chris was that 'they' made love - not him, not her – both together. 

But however she might think, she just loved it when Chris threw her down and fucked her. She thought about being taken, snatched, pirates, Captain Jack, Captain Sharpe, being watched, a second penis in her anus; whatever and wherever her head would take her and was going to increase that orgasm count.

Whatever his reasons for 'fucking her' this morning, it didn't trouble her as he stayed still and pulled her up and down his penis in the sexiest rocking motion, she occasionally dropping from her elbows down to her shoulders to improve the g-spot contact. 

Finally, following a couple of resounding slaps on each cheek, he pulled out and wanked his wet cock just a few times to spray his come across her back and bottom, stopping only to wipe the few remaining dribbles across her anus.

"You dirty bastard," she said as he walked back into the room from the main door, "I'm going to have to run to the bathroom like this and shower your come off of me." She sighed, still languid and lacking the necessary drive to recover from her well fucked torpor.

"Bastard ah? Oh well, I'll drink your coffee as well as my tea then if that's the case."

"I forgive you," she said dragging herself to the edge of the bed and her steaming mug of life renewing coffee. She eventually ran to the shower naked with a large, red, hand-shaped mark on her bottom, with him laughing as he headed to Dan and Robert's room's to wake them.

With his great coffee doing its work and the effects of the shower, she came to. 

She hoped that was the last she would hear about Brian's charity event. Part of her knew that it wouldn't be the end of it, there was something in Mike Stafford's desperate talk and his dogged resilience in continuing to stay in contact with her. It came that night, and through a totally unexpected route.

"Hellooo, might I speak to Mrs Catherine McMahon please," said a voice that Chris would never be able to forget.

"Hello Maureen?" he said.

"Aww, is that yourself there Christopher!" replied the most affected English Irish accent he had ever heard. In the same way that her late brother Brian liked to remind people of his Irish ancestry by the naming of his children, his younger sister pretended a link by the simple expedient of dropping in words and little vocal mannerisms in a soft southern Irish twang that anyone with half an ear for accents could tell was plainly false. If questioned, she would simply tell people it was a hangover from her spending time on the Emerald Isle as a child. 

It was as much an exaggeration as her accent. She had travelled to Dublin for a week's holiday when she was nineteen and so fell in love with the life, culture and language, she immediately cultivated the accent. She listened or watched Terry Wogan, the famous BBC broadcaster and in her opinion, speaker of the most perfect Irish accent and started there. Any programme that featured an Irish accent was recorded and she would practice at home.

Brian pretended not to notice of course, and kept up the lie that it was a hangover from a visit. Cathy got the truth from him one night when he'd had a little too much Bushmills single Malt.

Maureen's obvious delight in talking to Chris again was tangible, and he knew why - she was nasty, scary and unpleasantly attracted to him! 

Almost straight into the wake for his late wife Jenny, Maureen began to tell people about how important it was to 'get straight back on the ol' horse the second ya fell off'.

She started to explain to a shocked audience of Jen's still grieving family, that she had started dating the night her decree absolute arrived from 'that bastard.'

'That bastard' was Paul, a quiet unassuming man that had been subject to a whirlwind romance, and quickie wedding to a woman who, over the next three years of marriage he found to be rude, bossy, aggressive, unpleasant if not downright abusive to his family and most of all was someone that was not used or prepared to hear the word 'no' – at least that's what his divorce papers stated.

He had stuck the relationship out for as long as he could, and he did try; occasionally seeking support from Brian and Cathy. Brian would simply agree with whatever Maureen had said to begin the argument suggesting he buy chocolates or flowers to placate her. Cathy would suggest that he perhaps didn't give her the opportunity to argue in the first place. This he did, eventually in the most extreme way by leaving her and asking for a quickie 'no fault' divorce.

Maureen was most upset by this demanding that her ex-paratrooper brother 'go round and beat the shit out of the spineless little bastard to learn him not to mess wid' the McMahon's.' Brian refused, instead shifting the emphasis to Cathy who, working for a solicitor, could take the spineless little bastard to the cleaners financially instead.

Cathy knew better than refuse but did suggest that she should let her take a look at the papers he had served. His claims were after all true, she knew that and she knew that she could not in all conscience fight them. 

Sat at her desk the following morning, she found the pre-nuptial agreement that Maureen had insisted he sign seeing as she, like her brother, owned her own house.

This also meant that he was able to walk away with his money, because the pre-nup was a good one in both directions. Maureen was incensed. She knew that he had a substantial amount of money left him by his parents and she was disgusted that Cathy, with all of her so-called knowledge, couldn't work the oracle and get her 'what she deserved' past the same document she expected to stop him from getting at her house. Even Brian threw in the occasional 'surely there must be something that you can do, you're not really trying are you' into the mix.

Common to people with no understanding of the law, they didn't want to understand the bits that didn't go in their favour. Eventually she threw the papers on the tiny dining room table, declaring that if Maureen thought she could find someone better, then perhaps she should, suggesting that it would cost her some of her precious money she was so keen not to let her husband anywhere near.

Maureen, emotional expert as she was, turned on the waterworks and Brian took the bait, hugging his sister who's Irish accent had suddenly disappeared leaving a plain, if slightly harsh standard south-east England accent.

"How can you be so heartless," hissed Brian, as Maureen gave in to even more desperate sobbing.

"Because evidently neither of you thinks I'm bloody good enough," she snapped. 

The next morning, a slightly apologetic and chastened Brian without his sister's assistance asked if she couldn't get one of her solicitor buddies to cast just one more look over the thing, 'just to make sure'. She snatched the papers from him with bad grace.

Eventually, one of the new barristers looked at the papers and Cathy's stressed face and rang the other firm of solicitors, and both parties agreed to walk away from the marriage with, as near as made no odds, everything they had taken into it.

Cathy rang Brian on his mobile and told him what the Barrister had done and that was as good as it was going to get. He accepted and rang Maureen, seeing as Cathy had refused to do it outright.

Now that was long forgotten and Maureen popped up every now and again, a few times a year. More so now that Cathy's doctor sister had died and that sexy architect husband of hers was on his own now.

After the embarrassing stall-setting at Jen's funeral, they met again at Brian's fifty-third birthday party. It wasn't a normal birthday to have a large celebration, he hadn't even celebrated his fiftieth other than a few pints, but Brian absolutely insisted Chris should come to his big party apparently so Colleen and Karen could meet up. Chris said that he might pop along for an hour or so.

He did and spent most of the night stood or sat between his parents or Cathy while the large and voluble, heavily busted, flowery dressed earth mother Maureen slowly spent the evening trying to monopolise him, and squeeze next to him, breathing Irish Whiskey fumes over him. When she started singing partially learned Irish folk songs to him, he'd had enough.

It even got to the point that his father Jeff, who had been giggling at his former trooper's discomfort, suggested that perhaps Chris should call it a night before 'this mad bitch threw him down and raped him'.

Chris left.

Then barely a year later, they were burying Brian, who despite his myriad warnings from many health professionals, had died quickly and without fuss one early spring lunchtime. 

The wake had been in the club of course, and Maureen moved around the place leaning on people and wailing loudly that her 'only protector and strong right arm gone to be wid' the darlin' daddy leaving me al' alone, no one in the worl'.

She headed for Chris, then stood with Jeff his father and threw herself at him.

"Me ol' mate Chris," she wailed, sipping from what Chris knew to be an empty hip flask, "You'll look after us, won't ya. I'm all alone Chrissie, so I am."

Chris manoeuvred her towards a large table and a clutch of the ol' gals allowed out of their corner for Brian's funeral. Chris escaped again, insisting he had to collect his children from school. Maureen begged him to come back 'for the evening part of 'the do' where we can get to know each other'. Chris figured the chance of her being on her feet for much longer was a long shot so said he doubted he'd find a babysitter, but if he could he'd see if he could come back. 

He tracked down Cathy in the crowd, took her to one side, gave her a hug and promised to bring the kids over to see her and hers that weekend.

For the first time that day she let the tears come to her eyes, as she stared into the blue eyes of this man who knew exactly what she was going through.

Maureen wailed in the background and Jeff sent him on his way, 'before the mad bitch sobers up and gets her second wind'.

That had been the last time he'd seen Maureen, and didn't relish the idea of seeing her again.

"Ah me Darlin' Chrissie," she said, "I'm after speaking wid' me girl Catherine, is she around?"

"Err... no..." he gasped, "She's out with Dan, she shouldn't be long, I'll have her call you back," he said, adding "honest." He didn't want her to come near him or his new family. She promised to ring, "in an hour or so," and put the phone down.

He texted Cathy about the call and said that she might want to get the weekly shop that night rather than them all going tomorrow. 

She replied that she'd come back, she'd have to face the mad old bag sometime and it might as well be sooner rather than later.

Cathy smiled at Chris as he cleared the plates from the evening meal, loading them into the dishwasher. He pushed the washer door closed and it beeped, and she heard the rush of water. He winked at her deliciously and she felt warm inside, same as she always did.

"Chris," she said, "sorry about all of that last night," she looked down in pleased embarrassment, "And this morning, but it's not what it seemed. I wasn't 'out' with Mike; I get the feeling that was what he wanted but..."

"Don't worry Cath," he said, "I'm sorry I gave you the evil eye, we are..." he checked to make sure the kids were in the front room and wouldn't hear him over the TV, and moved closer to her, "We're fuck buddies," he whispered with a smile, "I know that is all you can give right now, and trust me, if I didn't like it, I wouldn't join in - honest. I had no right to give you that look, what you do with your life is up to you," he said smiling back at her.

She smiled back at him, hiding the part of her that still wanted him to have a say in her life.

"But thinking about it," he said, "we have to decided something, if either of us... find someone, someone new, and we decide we are going to make love with them, not... like if we are still 'buddies', do we use protection with them or do we use it? I mean it could be academic, if that person is... like..." 

Her mouth went bone dry, she could only nod.

"Oh," she gasped trying to make her lips work and to stop his explanation, "Oh them definately," she tried to smile.

"Look, I'm not planning to or anything," he grinned looking relieved, "I'm really pleased you said that; somehow, making love to you and wearing a condom would be like getting invited to the Ritz, and being given a cheese sandwich."

She flushed bright red, in part from the great compliment but mostly from this idea that there could even be the consideration of someone else in their... relationship? No it was way more than that, it was their... life - wasn't it?

She turned and paid close attention to the cupboard door before her. She didn't want to sleep with anyone else, she just wanted him, and she just wanted him to want her! As she waited for the heat to leave her face, there was a thump at the door.

She went to the door,

"CATHERINE!" the overly animated sound of her sister could be heard before she was able to turn the hall light on.

"Oh," she said, "Maureen, what a surprise."

"Well, I rang earlier on but you was out with the wee boy." She said, "Chrissie said you was due back so I thought I'd just pop round."

Cathy stepped back, so Maureen could step in. "Come through to the kitchen," said Cathy, leading the way from the long hallway.

"Lovely place you have here Catherine, Ah, t'anks me Chrissie!" she said in her ridiculous phoney accent as he took her coat.

"No problem," he said, trying desperately to think of a reason to get away. It was too early for bath time for the kids and he didn't want to send them off to bed just because of the visit of an insane great aunt.

"Tea Maureen?" he asked.

"Ah thought ya was never goin' ta ask." She said smiling and at home obviously.

He filled the kettle and plugged it in. Colleen and Karen came into the kitchen from the living room and the large TV. 

"Auntie Maureen!" said Colleen, rushing up to the big woman for a hug.

"Aww me fair Colleen!" she cried out dropping to her knees and hugging her niece. She chatted for a few moments with Colleen, her accent actually getting slightly less believable.

She stood, took her mug from Chris's extended hand and stepped back to sip it. She looked around the kitchen.

"This is fine kitchen you have going on here Catherine," she smiled.

"Don't look at me," said Cathy indicating Chris, "All down to the architect." She indicated Chris just opposite. He raised his mug in salute.

"Just changed the doors on what was there Maureen," he grinned sipping his own tea.

"Nicely done, I must say, sure but living with Brian must have rubbed off on ya', it's decorated a charm."

Cathy was again about to indicate that Chris was the person, when Chris stood and said,

"It was if he was here all the time Maureen," 

Cathy had to hide her smile in her mug.

"Sure, it's got him written all over it." She said with the faintest sigh, "He'd probably forgive you for selling his darlin' little place to buy it."

Chris and Cathy's eyes met, over their mugs. His signal said, 'let her have that one – don't bite.' Cathy's didn't.

"That was the problem Maureen, it was waaaaaaaay to little. I have two rapidly growing children who were trying to grow up in a box room split in two."

"Brian and I shared until he went off to join the para's," she said, "wid' only a curtain between our beds."

"Yes," said Cathy, "in the old days you could get away with that kind of thing. I doubt social services would think much of it now. Anyway, Brian and I were talking about moving before he passed." She grinned. That was a downright lie, Brian would sooner have slept in the garden shed than move from 'his' estate.

"Really?" she said, "Aww, well stranger t'ings have happened I'm sure. He loved that town."

Chris decided he should chip in,

"It's not everyone's cup of tea though is it." He said, "My car was damaged twice parking near their place."

"I never had a problem," she said, not pointing out that her car was older even than Brian's.

"Must have been the age of the car," said Chris. 

The children had ambled off to the big TV in the front room, and Maureen looked around conspiratorially.

"It's Brian I want to speak to you about," said Maureen.

"Really," said Cathy, and she started to consider in her head what this could be about.

"I understand that you're refusing permission for the legion to run a night in his memory." She said.

"What?" said Cathy genuinely surprised, "No," she growled, "Not at all, if you check BACK with Mike Stafford," (it must have been him who told her), "you'll find that what I actually said was they could run all the piss-ups they wanted, but if they weren't going to actually try and do something about the disease that killed him, I didn't actually have to be there."

"Well, apparently there was so much foul language, I'm not surprised that Mike perhaps didn't get the message." she smirked.

Chris grinned, he had known Cathy for over sixteen years and she had never uttered any foul language other than when they making love or preparing to do so.

"Yes," said Cathy not rising to Chris's grin, "That was probably after Mike told me how stupid everyone apparently thinks my son is."

"And I suppose he's not then?" said Maureen with a grin and with the first Irish questioning inflection Chris had ever heard.

"Look for yourself," said Chris and stood and reached up to the huge kitchen pinboard. He took down Dan's last, and best ever, school report. "If you look closely," said Chris, "You'll see that he's expected to get A's or B's in eight of the ten GCSE's that he's taking." Chris stood behind her and pointed at each one, turning pages where necessary. 

"English, naths, physics, chemistry, biology, history, media studies, art, the boy is a border-line genius, I expect either Mike is misunderstanding what Brian said, or is err... trying to make trouble."

"Oh, well, I'm sure I don't know, I don't have my glasses with me." She looked away from the perfect school report, as if it was inconvenient truth.

"I don't lie Maureen," said Chris with just enough of a tone.

"And I never said you was did I?"

"No," said Chris resuming his smile, "just so long as we understand each other."

"Oh, Well," she said brightening, "I suppose that means that perhaps he might get into the army with a trade or something."

Cathy flushed, and Chris butted in,

"Maureen, what is all this about Dan joining the army? Dan has never expressed an interest in joining the army."

"That he probably hasn't, Mike told me what a nasty little reprobate he's turning into," she flapped her hands, "Ah well, Dat's what happens when you loose yer daddy so young," Cathy almost levitated with anger, "Lucky for Brian though he got into the army at 16." She smiled with a proud recollection.




Cathy and Chris Ch. 13



"Reprobate?" It was Chris's turn to get angry, "how dare you, that boy is a model citizen and a credit to his family. Who's called him a reprobate?"

"Steady Chris," said Cathy, "Was it Mike?" Maureen took too long to answer, "Maureen?"

"Mike was worried about how things were going," she said, "he asked me for your new address so he could check that you was all still OK."

"Maureen!" Cathy snapped, "I specifically asked you not to give it to anyone didn't I? I remember sitting in your living room and telling you NOT TO GIVE MY DETAILS TO ANYONE!!"

"The man was worried!" snapped Maureen in return.

"I don't care!" she snapped, "so if the milkman says he hasn't seen me in a few months you going to give him this number as well?"

"Don't be daft," said Maureen, "Mike is like family,"

"Not my bloody family." Said Chris acidly, "I think he's bloody strange; and the only reason he thanks Dan is a reprobate as he calls it, is because he was talking down to Dan like he was a bloody idiot and Dan wasn't having any of it and stood up to him."

"All of this aside," said Maureen sitting up straight, "My only concern is for my Brothers children and makin' sure that they are brought up in a way he would have wanted."

"For instance?" Cathy put down her mug and folded her arms. 

"I happen to know Brian wanted Daniel to go into the army."

"Really?" I lived with Brian every day of seventeen years, funny he never mentioned it to me."

Maureen sipped her tea, making no answer, and Cathy continued, 

"Well if Dan wants to join the army I will of course let him, BUT at the moment Dan wants to go to university. Even if Brian was still alive, it would still be Dan's choice."

"Well," said Maureen flapping her hands again, desperately trying to regain some ground added with a fluster, "Well Daniel is lucky that Mike never called the police on him, I think he's minded to call them or the social services after the abuse he got from him." Maureen folded her arms.

"ABUSE?" Cathy and Chris said together? Chris carried on,

"We were both in the room, Dan didn't say any kind of abuse to him. He didn't agree with what Mike said but then neither did I, and Mike couldn't stand anyone not agreeing with him, least of all our Dan."

"Well, all that aside I still want..."

Cathy had listened enough,

"Maureen, I pleased you a so worried about the kids, they both have a stable home here and are in a great school..."

"Yes," Maureen butted in, "You dragged them away from..."

"I moved them to a better school that is rated 'outstanding' by Ofsted and doesn't need barbed wire and CCTV on the roof, and where the teachers don't have to keep an emergency, and quite illegal, supply of Ritalin in their desk drawer." 

Chris looked at this appauling almost elderly woman sat at his kitchen table and didn't feel half as scared as he had two hours ago. Cathy glowered a protective she-cat look at her sister.

"I moved them with the full support of the council and both schools."

"I promised Brian..." the older woman would not let go, but Cathy had heard enough.

"Maureen," Cathy sighed, "I'm bored with this now; I am Dan and Colleen's remaining parent and legal guardian. I have Brian's Will and it doesn't say anything about you having a say in his children's upbringing." Maureen sniffed, and Cathy and Chris both waited for the waterworks. 

Cathy had one more try and moved to Maureen's side. "Maureen," she said, "I do want you in Dan and Colleen's lives, honestly I do but please don't think for a second that I'm changing anything. End of story."

Maureen's face had a pained expression, and Cathy held up a single peremptory finger, "You can report me to whoever you like, even the social services. I have their phone number on my work Blackberry if you want it, I deal with them on an almost weekly basis, I'm absolutely sure that they'll want me to take them back to that squalid little two bedroom house on that war zone that passes for a housing estate, rather than live here in this six bedroom mansion in its own grounds, what do you reckon?" 

Maureen started to wail; Cathy and Chris both rolled their eyes, and folded their arms. Chris closed the living room door, wincing.

"There," said Cathy shouting over the noise, "knew we'd get to the hysteria as soon as she couldn't get her way."

"Mike was right," she snapped looking at both Cathy and Chris. Then she jabbed an accusatory finger at Chris, "You are fookin' trouble sunshine, I can't believe I ever thought about gettin' together with you."

"Ah well," said Chris, "My loss." Cathy looked away hoping that her sister wouldn't see the smile creasing her face, "Maureen, like Cathy said, please don't let us fall out over this, you're family."

"I was," she snorted, the wailing stopped as quickly as it started, "until you got your nasty claws into us." She turned on Cathy, "My Brian must be turning in his grave after your abandonment of him. I bet you two are at it like fookin' knives, I bet you were fookin' at it before he..." Cathy's face went from anger to pain.

"That's it," said Chris, "I've had enough, Get out!" he growled.

"Part of this place in my brother's house and I won't be..."

"Maureen, get out of my house or so help me I will call the police and they'll fuckin' drag you out," said Mike picking up the kitchen phone, even though his mobile was still in his shirt pocket."

Cathy hadn't recovered and didn't want to give Maureen the satisfaction,

"Maureen, Brian was my life for seventeen years, and I think about him every single day." She didn't point out that it was to compare his shortcomings with the wonderfulness of Chris, "but he has gone, and I can't bring him back, even by staying in the old house. I know you must be devastated, but that is no reason to pick on me because I'm trying to move on."

Maureen stood up and clutched her handbag to her chest protectively.

"Oh yes," said Chris, "can I suggest that you don't take Mike Stafford's word as being gospel? The man has no idea, if he was that worried I'm sure he would have tried to speak to Cathy while she was still at the old house."

Maureen stuck her nose in the air, and headed out of the kitchen at Chris's indication. Cathy followed,

"Maureen, I'm sure after a while you will see it from my perspective."

Maureen spat out "I'd rather burn in hell!" and snatched her coat from the hook. 

Chris was stood next to Cathy in flash,

"Ah well, I'll wish you luck with that!" he said and slammed the front door on her angry face.

He held the internal door open for Cathy, 

"Always nice to see family, innit?" he said with a grin.

Cathy laughed and made to slap him with her hand.

"Yes," she said, "and if I know Maureen, we haven't heard the last, not by a long way."

"Come on," said Chris, slipping a hand into hers, "We've got kiddies to get showered and into bed."

And like that, the moment was temporarily forgotten. Children were bathed, brushed and put to bed, not before Chris read them more of the current bedtime story, 'The Hobbit,' with all three of them temporarily removed to Middle Earth and dwarves, dragons and gold. Chris always read a few pages, stopping at a bit he knew would keep them interested until the next night.

At the allotted time, he saw his wardrobe open, and a beautiful naked woman stepped out of it, a smile on her face and a glow to her body that made him want to kiss it all over.

Cathy lay by his side and in his arms, sleeping soundly, her steady breathing calming and relaxing him. 

Tonight they had made love - simple, passionate, missionary. As he lay there waiting for sleep to take him he started thinking about the last few days and the ups and downs.

Brian and Maureen; what a fucking pair. She was mad and he had encouraged her. 

He hadn't even realised that Brian had been ill let alone might die. 

Brian had always had a bit of a beer belly on him for someone of his age, but then Chris could never get over what Brian's actual age was.

Chris confessed himself surprised when Jen had told him of Brian and Cathy's real ages all those years ago. Chris could not believe the old boy wasn't in his early sixties but was actually mid forties. Chris had also been convinced that the lady in the clothes that lacked colour, shape or style, with no make-up other than lipstick, was his wife's Aunt and not her sister.

Brian, it turned out was very overweight, took no exercise and ate badly. He was on watch for type two diabetes, had high blood pressure, angina he had failed to tell the doctors about, and was heading for a heart attack and/or a stroke. As Brian wouldn't be told what to do by a solicitor, the same went for Doctors it seemed.

Once Cathy found this out, she changed his diet, reducing as much of the fat, sugar and salt as she could without him noticing, begging him to stop smoking or at least cut down. 

When he finally noticed she was using sweeteners in his tea and had stopped making his sandwiches with proper butter, instead opting for an olive oil spread, he lost his temper and threw into the old galvanised rubbish bin much of the good quality, low-fat foods she had spent a small fortune, and a considerable amount of internet research time, on.

He insisted it was his life and he wasn't going to be ruled by a bunch of no-nothing smart arses that weren't long out of bloody school, dropping in the mantra that his father had lived until he was eighty and had smoked fifty roll-ups a day... etc... etc... etc...

He flew out of the house in a rage, returning home that night from the club late and extremely pissed, reeking of the Irish whiskey he liked so much, with a large doner kebab and chips, which he ate in front of her, laughing and feigning chest pains every few minutes, even following her to their bedroom when she walked out on his ignorance. She complained that the rank smell of kebab stank the house out for days.

She still tried to reduce the whole family's fat intake, but it was an uphill struggle. Finally, two months after a Christmas of one huge meal or party after another, she received a phone call at work to say that her husband had been admitted to hospital and she should come straight away.

Carole drove her to the hospital, Cathy fearing the news but not the worst. At the accident and emergency reception she was taken through to an office, while Carole parked the car. A very tall, young, female doctor came and invited Cathy to sit down then sat down and introduced herself. 

Brian had been working in a large house it seemed, and was having a disagreement with the builder he was working for. The builder said that Brian had gone almost white and stopped talking halfway through his sentence, then fell to the ground. The builder and some of his mates had tried to bring him round and had called an ambulance.

The doctor said that she was so very sorry, but Brian had suffered a massive coronary embolism which had killed him. As the doctor asked if there was someone she could call, Carole arrived. The doctor said that Brian's death would have been almost instantaneous and painless, probably before he even hit the ground. 

A paramedic on a motorbike with a defibrillator had been there within minutes, and tried to bring Brian back and was joined by another paramedic in a car and then an ambulance.

He was brought to the hospital in the ambulance where the A&E doctor declared him dead on arrival. Again, she said that she was so very sorry and said that if Cathy wanted to come through and see him, they had prepared a room.

Cathy said she would like to see him one last time, and with Carole was taken through to where Brian lay covered by a white hospital blanket. She had very little recollection of that moment, other than talking quietly to Brian reassuring him that she would be fine and promising to look after the children above all else. The one thing she could remember was straightening his hair in the style he always wore, and then breaking down. He had been a month short of his fifty fourth birthday. She was thirty two.

Carole, her best friend, former bridesmaid and confidante, had her gently kiss him and they both covered his face with the blanket and went home to tell the children, who had still to be collected from school. She rang her parents on her mobile phone on the way, and her mother insisted she go and get the much younger Colleen.

Dan and Colleen of course were both inconsolable, and were given compassionate leave from school. Working where she did, she knew better than most what to do, and both she and Brian had written wills. 

A funeral was arranged, and she gave the directors the number of the legion club, knowing well that this was what Brian would have wanted. She told the funeral director that she had set aside £500 for the wake, but the funeral director reported back that the branch chairman had said the legion would cover the cost of this as Brian was 'one of their own'.

Carole was back at work and promising to see her on the day of the funeral. She went to the house Brian had been working on, and collected the car. Driving it home, the smell of cigarette smoke and all of the smells of his trade finally drove her to tears. Passing a local car sales place she pulled straight in and part exchanged it for a Ford Focus, taking the salesman's first offer on the Astra, and to pay the balance in cash. He promised to tax and MOT the Focus for her by tomorrow; the next day would do, she said, she was busy tomorrow.

Chris made sure he was there for her, first by coming to her parents place as often as he could, with his two children Karen and Robert who played, chatted and sometimes just sat with Colleen. 

Chris talked to Daniel, the way he always had, and sometimes took him out for tea in the evening or to various sporting events. Dan responded to his gentle kindnesses but was still very withdrawn. Not that Chris had ever said at the time, but he and his father Jeff were concerned about how Brian, and Cathy sometimes, treated the boy.

Both he and Cathy were like best friends with similar issues, and would regularly babysit for the other – often they would meet in town on a Saturday as they both shopped for similar things at the same time. They had a few 'days out' - glorified shopping trips really, but enough to get everyone out of a rut. 

Colleen and Karen were best friends and always on the phone to each other and met for tea at either house at least once a week.

Nearly a year after Brian's death, all three children had been invited to the birthday party of another young relative, which found Cathy and Chris at her house, on their own, lonely and horny. The rest was history. 

He reached over and turned off his bedside light, pulling the duvet further over the beautiful naked woman lying in his arms; she sighed and snuggled into him, her arm across his chest. He kissed her forehead,

"Night Cath," he whispered.



Cathy and Chris Ch. 14



Chris was sat at his desk, drinking a large coffee, happy that he had finally put a very large contract job to bed. The job was one that he'd had on the back burner for many years. 

During a quiet spell, he'd gone to a large site ripe for development and measured, took photos and spoke with planners he knew in the town council. He spent free time working on this job until after about two years it was near perfect; even the town planners said so.

His background work meant that when the site was finally bought for development, he contacted the new owners and and asked for his partnership to be considered for the design. They agreed to his suggestion, and two days later he had presented them with his plans. They wanted a few alterations, which he did the same day. They were most impressed and that day he received an email confirming that he would was in line for a bonus. He had to reread the email four times to fully take in how much the bonus was. 

It would be more than half his... no their mortgage plus leaving a little bit for a holiday or something.

He sat back at his desk, clicked the 'send' button as his multi-million pound business park design disappeared off into the ether. He sank the last of his coffee cheerfully, and stood, deciding it was a good day to have a half-day.

He sent Cathy a text message that he had just played a blinder and would buy her lunch to celebrate. He added that if she REALLY wanted to celebrate then she should get the afternoon off as well and start her long weekend early.

Her reply said she would see what she could do.

He drove across town parking in the visitor bay to her office building. He wore his dark suit, and slipped on his sunglasses against the early summer glare, and walked into reception. 

The blonde behind the desk looked up at him, smiling in recognition. It was Cathy's gorgeous relative that she shared her new house with. She automatically checked his ring finger and saw it was empty, and without thinking pushed her boobs up and out, stretched out her neck to elongate her cleavage, and stretched her hands out on the keyboard so he too would notice the lack of any rings on that finger.

"Hello," she said softly, "are you here for Cathy?"

"Yes," he said, "She is expecting me."

"Won't you take a seat?" she indicated the large brown leather sofa, "The coffee is not long brewed if you'd like a cup," she pointed to a large percolator that she refilled at least four times a day.

"Thanks," he said, taking a polystyrene cup and filling it.

"I'll ring Cathy and let her know you're here." She pressed a button on her keyboard and spoke into a small earpiece headset Chris hadn't even noticed. "Hi Cathy? Yes, there's a gorgeous guy down here -- waiting to take you out to lunch I expect, you lucky bitch." She smiled at Chris, "yes, he already has one," she said, "Nope the donuts have all gone -- Oh trust me, if I knew he was coming I'd have saved him one."

Chris grinned into his cup, knowing what Cathy's reaction to her outrageous flirting would be.

But for him it had the desired effect and Cathy was in the foyer before he'd finished his second cup of the excellent coffee.

"Sorry Jeanette," Cathy said, "When you said a really gorgeous guy in the foyer, I didn't realise it was just Chris," she folded her arms and stared at him with an accusatory grin.

"Thanks," said Chris, "aren't you legal types banned from lying?"

Cathy thought about it, "Yes." She said with a smile that illuminated her whole face.

"That is a wicked slander McMahon, and you should hang your head in shame." Chris looked round and saw Cathy's best mate Carole.

"Hi Carole," said Chris walking over to give her a peck on the cheek.

"Hi Christopher," said Carole, "about time you took this skinny bitch out and fattened her up a bit; my office is like a bloody cat walk with all of these anorexic mares walking round showing off their perfect arses, and sticking their tits out."

Cathy poked out her tongue at her best mate, "See you Monday Caz," she smiled. Chris smiled too, this boded well that she had the afternoon free.

"See you hun," said Carole have great weekend now." He held the door for her and she walked through winking to Carole, hoping that the receptionist didn't notice.

The receptionist did notice, "So Carole," she said, "you're like, Cathy's best mate right?"

"I like to think so," said Carole.

"What IS going on there, is she getting it from him or what?"

Carole smiled, "I don't know," she said keeping the secret to herself for the time being, "If she isn't, she bloody well should be," Carole looked wistfully at the pair as Chris opened the car door for Cathy to get in. "she definitely should be."

"Well that was one 'getting it' smile she gave him," said the blonde Jeanette, "and if the wink was anything to go by." Carole managed to contain her own smile. It was true, her best friend was too fucking stupid to admit she was crazy about the guy she was sleeping with. "So are they brother and sister or what? 'Cos that could get weird," the other girl said.

"Brother and sister in law, his late wife was her sister. Their kids are all of a similar age, and when her arsehole of a husband died they sold their houses and bought one of those huge Georgian Flint places over on the outskirts of town, got it for a song because it had been on the market for about three years. He did a shit load of building work on it apparently."

"Ooh he's almost perfect," said the other girl.

"Yeah, well look but don't touch," Carole said, "they both have enough problems on their hands without you coming along and getting in the middle.

"Getting in the middle of what?" said the girl with a cheeky grin, "Actually now that Cathy is dressing her age and has lost all of that weight, I wouldn't mind getting between them!"

"You dirty bitch," said Carole with a chuckle, "make some more coffee before I throw a bucket of cold water over you."

They sat in an Italian restaurant, sipping chilled Coke, with her eating her favourite pasta al forno and him working his way through a large calzone.

"So what are we celebrating?" she asked.

"You know that big business park project I was working on?"

"The one you've had in your bottom drawer for a couple of years?"

"Yep, I contacted the new owners and said I had something ready to go, they've accepted with a few alterations, which means they are about four or five months ahead of schedule, I even had the planning application completed for them."

"Great!" she said, "Why am I celebrating then?"

"The developers have paid me a bonus for finishing early."

"Oh that's super," she said, "you're not blowing it all on this lunch are you?"

"No," he said, letting her get a mouthful of food, "I'm blowing it on reducing our mortgage by half."

The fork hung in the air, her mouth stopped chewing. "How much?" she said in astonishment, through a mouthful of pasta.

"Fifteen grand," he said, "The taxman wants his bit or course, but there should be enough left to take ten off of the mortgage, we'll be home free in five years rather than ten."

"Oh Chris, that is fantastic!" Her face erupted in a most genuine look of delight, and she leaned across the table and kissed him without thinking.

"It means the mortgage will finish as Colleen, Karen and Robert start that whole college and Uni' thing." He grinned.

Cathy was barely used to the idea of Dan going to a university, suddenly she had visions of all four of them in various graduation photos and she flushed bright red,

"Oh just think," she said "all of our babies at University, how wonderful!"

"Yeah," he could only beam back her ecstatic face. She was beautiful.

They continued their meal chatting pleasantly, day to day conversation the same as thousands or other couples that lunctime. He wondered why she could do this during the day but couldn't at night. He was minded to point this out, but she looked at him and smiled, and he didn't want to lose the moment.

They finished their meal and he drove her back to her office and collected her car, "Let's go to the country park," he said as she made to get out of his car. 

"Why?"

"Because the sun is shining, we have two hours before we have to pick get the children from school, and..." he paused, "I'd like to blow the cobwebs out with a walk in the woods, it's been a hectic few weeks." He avoided the suggestion that they were 'going out'.

"I thought you wanted to go home and blow some cobwebs off of something else."

"I could always be persuaded," he said, when his heart wanted just to go for a walk and hold her hand.

He followed her home, and they went into the kitchen, rather than the standard rush to the bedroom undressing each other on the way, he stopped in the kitchen and made two mugs of tea, asking her if she wanted something to eat.

She noticed.

"We've just had lunch," she said, watching make tea, "Something I said?"

"Oh, no, sorry," he said, "No," he tried to think of an excuse, "No, have been drinking coffee all day and fancied something different," he walked over to her and took her face in his hands. 

Kissing her long and passionately enough to take her breath away, he said, "Wont you step this way?" He took her hand and pulled her slowly to the bottom of the stairs. She giggled and went with him, her head to one side, grinning at him.

He speeded his walk, pulling her behind him, she stopping at the bathroom. "I'll be right in," she said, opening the door.

She did what she needed and headed into her bedroom, stripping out of her suit and hanging it in the wardrobe. When she lived with Brian her work clothes had been boring and frumpy. Since the weight loss she had invested in several black suits. 

The first one was from a chain store and had been less than £20. Once she realised how good and how hot she looked in it, she lashed out on some more expensive versions that showed her slimmer figure, even going so far as to buy suspender belts that matched her bra and panties sets. She loved the fact that the tiny studs could be seen through the tightness of her pencil skirts, and they made a nice change from her usual pantyhose. 

After a particularly great session one morning she had chosen not to wear panties at all instead hiding a pair in her hand bag just in case. She attended meetings, met clients, everything she normally did feeling her the air around her bare puss. Only after an hour long meeting with her male colleagues did she put on her tiny thong to prevent her wetness marking the back of her skirt.

Today was a pantyhose day though and she removed them leaving them on the side of her bed. As she made to open the wardrobe, her Blackberry rang. Shit, she should have switched it off at the restaurant and set a temporary answerphone message saying to ring back on Monday.

Looking at the number she recognised it and took the call. It was client wanting to back out of a court hearing, and she worked hard to convince her not to. Eventually, the tearful woman rang off grateful for Cathy's kind words and Cathy disconnected the call, making a couple of notes that would automatically update a file back at the office. She set her temporary greeting and happily switched off her phone.

She went through to his bedroom, to find him lying flat on his bed, sound asleep. His bedside alarm clock told her she had been undressing and on the phone for twenty five minutes. At first she wanted to be annoyed with him, but then she thought about the long days and nights he'd been working on this job, which had, as he said, halved their joint mortgage. 

Whatever he'd said in his text this morning about taking the afternoon off, and the suggestion of a few hours shagging, taking five years off of a mortgage kind of did for any complaints she might have had.

He was lying across the centre of his bed, and there wasn't enough room for her to get under the covers at either side. He was still dressed, which was strange, while she was naked and although warm she didn't want to sit in his room naked, so slipped back through into her bedroom, and slipped under the covers of her own bed. She relaxed into the mattress and pillows, the duvet up to her neck and before she knew it was sound asleep, waking only when Chris gently shook her to say that he was going to the primary school to collect Colleen, Karen and Robert and that he wouldn't be long.

She shook the sleep from her eyes to notice that he had changed into jeans without taking the opportunity while naked to slip into bed with her. 

She heard the front door close, and lay slowly coming too. Her waking mind considered his not coming to bed with her. Two months ago, a month ago even, he would have run into the house with her and they would have starting stripping, kissing and caressing each other before the front door was even shut. 

Today, he'd stopped to make a cup of tea and, worst of all, he'd fallen asleep while she was sat naked and almost ready for him. She tried to figure if he was bored with her now, didn't find her sexy anymore or worse -- had she upset him?

The walk; he had asked her just to have a walk in the spring sunshine through the woods. It would have been very romantic, and of course that was it wasn't it. Hadn't she been avoiding anything that suggested romance, especially outside of the house? Wasn't everything he did for her romantic in some way? Even their love-making... shagging... sex... however she could describe it, had become the most glorious, passionate, romantic expression of... Shit, it was love wasn't it? What else could it be for fuck's sake.

She rolled to her side, and considered that most of her friends and close acquaintances were still at work, her place of work and wouldn't have seen her. It wouldn't have killed her just to have held his arm or his hand and walked through the woods with him for an hour, to have stopped for an ice cream or cold drink and just sat chatting in the sunshine; it might have been quite lovely. But then his falling in love with her, what about that? He said that he was OK with being a fuck buddy but then what did Cosmopolitan have to say about 'fuck buddies' taking romantic walks in the woods.

Whatever her concerns, when he came into his bedroom at eleven that night it was to find her sound asleep in his bed, already naked and looking amazingly peaceful.

He'd slid the covers to one side waking her from her light doze, "Well," he said, "what a pleasure, a beautiful naked woman in my bed."

She grinned her special Cheshire cat grin, which she seemed to save just for him these days. He slid in next to her and pulled her close, they kissed and cuddled for a while, their tongues melding and washing over each other, as hands fondled, caressed, stroked and gently held. They didn't have sex, but it was still lovely. Just the comforting feel of another person's skin in such close contact was enough, she felt his erection and he felt her wetness, but for both it was wonderful just to lay with their lover, to hold and be held.

The whether that moment could be considered 'romance' was lost as she lay in his arms warm, comfortable, safe and content; more so than she had ever been in her life before.

Adding to the feeling was the knowledge that she now had four days off of work. She'd had two days of leave to use by the end of the month so she'd taken the Thursday and Friday.

In the morning she'd watched him load the kids into his car. She waved them off, happy to be in jeans and a sweater for once, with the pressure off about getting to work on time. She made a coffee and slid onto the big sofa with a magazine, warm and cosy.

This house was three times the size of the two-bed semi she'd occupied with Brian and she was initially perturbed that she might not settle here. But Chris was no fresh air freak like Brian was, Chris had no problem with closing windows and putting the heating on whatever time of the year, even going so far as to get all architectural and show her the sums that said it worked out cheaper to keep the house as at constant temperature rather than up and down with the timer. Mostly though, it was that he cared and said that if she was cold then that was enough reason to have the heating on. She'd hardly put the heating on though. The place just felt warm.

She started to feel horny, being at ease and with all of the pressure off and time to spare for herself and figured she would go to bed. She would dig out her trusty old vibrator which, thanks to Chris, had only seen the light of day twice in the months they'd all lived together, both of those times had been with him though.

They had been lying in her bed, talking about orgasms. She'd said that his tongue, fingers and penis were the greatest stimulation, while he said that there was no way he could compete with the mechanical marvel of her rabbit vibrator.

Much as she tried to convince him, he would have none of it and would only be convinced when she got her rabbit and tried it. He spent that evening making her come so many times that she lost count and lost track of what was oral sex, his fingers or the rabbit ears of vibrator. If truth was told he was enjoying himself so much he actually used all three. He was so impressed he repeated the same thing the next night, until the vibrator batteries ran out.

Now, the rabbit was in one hand and the Nancy Friday book he'd loaned her in the other, her pussy was tingling and her nipples were so hard they ached. She was going to spend the morning pleasuring herself.

Deciding that she wanted to be in his bed to do this, she went through the wardrobe into his room with her toy, she could have walked through the real doors much more easily but the wardrobe was 'their' entrance, the one for passion, for sex. Slowly she began to strip out of her clothes, a piece at a time. She watched herself in the long mirror on his wardrobe doors, narcissistically admiring her body that had shed the pounds and shaped up because of the excellent diet they now consumed and the extra exercise they all took.

The sweater came off first, revealing her white bra. It gave her a cleavage that she was proud of and showed off when she felt like it. With Brian, she'd never bothered because he was so funny about it. Chris on the other hand loved it, and told her so.

"Fuck no honey, you worked bloody hard to get a body like that, show it off, you won't find me complaining." He'd said as he lay on his side watching her appraisingly as she dressed in his room.

Next, she slid the tight figure hugging jeans down her thighs, choosing to stand and to bend at the waist rather than to sit down. Her bottom now; she was really impressed with how her bottom had turned out and she marvelled at sexy film star look of the thin strip of white cotton that separated the cheeks and the tiny white bulge of her labia she could see between her closed thighs. She had a gap between her legs now too, before they had touched almost all the way down.

The bra was next and she rubbed her breasts through the material, following the same patterns that Chris did, even closing her eyes and imagining his hands at work rather than her own. Her nipples sprung to her touch and she gasped at the tingling from them, and she pinched them and rolled them between thumb and forefinger. 

Whenever Brian did it just hurt, when Chris did it, she just wanted to melt in his arms.

She weighed them in her palms, squeezing down them towards the nipples before slowly strumming their length gently.

Finally, she turned her back to the mirror to take down her knickers, staring over her shoulder and sticking out her bum like a pole dancer as they slowly descended. 

She had done this in the past for Chris half jokingly but this time it was all for her, and with her panties at her knees she turned back to face the mirror. Putting an arm across her breasts modestly, she slid her other hand down to the slight rise to her belly. Her hand trembled slightly as she finally reached for her vagina.




Cathy and Chris Ch. 14



Sliding her index finger between her thighs, the wetness she found amazed her. She had swollen enormously, and her touch on the tiny piece of skin around her clitoris had her weak at the knees. She looked at herself in the mirror, playing with her image in her head. The hand that had played moved slowly back up her body, stopping to spread wetness around one nipple. 

The arm that had covered her breasts slid down to take the place of the other at her vagina and slowly, almost before she'd realised it herself, her finger was between her lips tasting her own slightly salty tang for the first time not from his face or his penis fresh from fucking her. 

The hand cupping her groin squeezed hard and she almost fell back. The spell almost broken she moved her legs, allowing her panties to fall to the floor before she daintily stepped out of them. With hands and arms half covering -- half fondling breasts and pussy, she stepped across to his bed and lay down to continue her personal self-exploration.

Toying with her breasts and her clitoris meant that she was at a very high point of arousal and she knew that it wasn't going to take much to make her come. Pulling the duvet over herself added to her warmth and security and with visions of Chris fucking her, Chris taking her from behind and his final declaration of love in the forest in that magical night, the first few strokes on her ivory clitoral nub was enough and she crashed to an enormous orgasm, writhing and rolling on the bed, gasping and groaning as she continued to stroke herself in the same way he would, helping her to extend into a second climax.

She lay and basked in the afterglow, falling into an easy sleep. When she awoke, she felt more relaxed and more at peace with herself than she had in years.

She reached over for her mobile phone and wrote a text message. "I'm naked in your bed after masturb8ing myself to a fantastic cum. Any chance U can cum home early or for lunch?" After a few minutes she received a reply,

"Hello Darling, this is Mum, who did you want?" She flushed scarlet at the thought that she might have sent that to Mum, but on checking the number to reply to saw it was him. That kind of practical joke was just like him.

She replied, "Bastard!"

"Sorry m8, some of us have to work these days. Might be able to get 2morrow afternoon off tho."

She looked at the message, he couldn't even come home for lunch? She thought back to the last time they had made... had sex.

It was almost a week ago. She had slept in his bed every night though, naked, with her either coming through after they had all retired for the night, or going through to his room before he had gone to bed. Each night they had kissed and cuddled and held each other, before falling into an easy and most wonderful sleep from which she awoke totally rested.

She realised that he must think her the most awful coward, wanting the benefits of a lover and a husband, without the drama or commitment. She picked up her phone again and started to press buttons.

"You OK?"

He replied, "just busy."

"Sorry I'm still a bit wishy washy about all this."

"?" His reply to her generalisation was minimal.

"In what we are doing and how we are doing! Our 'special' friendship!"

"Particularly like being 'friends' with you. Sadly can't get back today, some of us have to work remember! Will see you tonight."

The vibrator stayed where it was and after a very thoughtful few minutes she got up, freshened up, dressed and went downstairs. She prepared a light lunch, got on her bike and cycled down to the town and walked around the shops.

She'd stop at Tesco and get some steak, the thick one he liked. Some baked potatoes, mushrooms, tomatoes and something sticky and sweet for pudding; something he could spread all over her and eat like he had done when she became an integral part of his last birthday cake. Shit but she needed some; at least that was never a problem these days, at least not until recently.

She dashed home, excited by the prospect of what they might do tonight, she locked her bike in the garage, and carried the goodies she had bought into the kitchen, beginning to wish she had got some special underwear for the evening.

The answer machine had a message on it, and she pressed the 'play' button.

"Oh... one of these things... err... Hi," it continued in the voice heard the whole world over that said the speaker didn't like talking to a piece of equipment that was probably sat between a toaster and electric kettle, "it's Mike Stafford here, hello Cath... Catherine," he stuttered, "I was wondering if you'd, that it is if you'd been able to find the standard bearer things we spoke about," she sighed. 

She hadn't bothered to so much as look for them. "Only we err... we need them for..." his pause was just too long and even made her think that he was making it up as he went along, "for a special event... this... this Sunday. I'm in your part of the world Friday night if it's OK for me to come round and collect it."

His slow pace and delivery started to pick up the same tone as Brian, and common to those without any experience of real authority placed into a position they felt gave them some. Now sure of what he was saying he got his second wind, 

"You see, Catherine, we really need the gear back you understand, could you ring me back and let me know if you have it? If you want to drop at the club tomorrow night that we would be OK, let me know and I'll have a diet Coke with lemon but no ice waiting for you." She could hear the lift he tried to give his voice. "Anyway, give me a ring and let me know. Bye."

With a sigh, she stood and went back out to the garage; the sooner she got this done, the sooner he'd be out of their lives.

In the garage were the brooding mass of 'those' boxes -- Brian's bits and pieces that she had still to get around to sorting. His clothes and shoes had all gone to the charity shop before his funeral, as did some of his less personal bits and pieces; an unused electric razor still sealed in the box, packs of playing cards, humourous gift items from the kids, friends and family, but these boxes were 'his' things, things that he'd treasured and she didn't want to throw them away from the old house as it seemed disrespectful.

But in this new place without the memories, good or bad, they just presented a reminder of Brian. 

OK he had died, and in sudden, tragic if avoidable circumstances, but she had to move on and she wanted it to be with Chris. 

She ripped the first strip of brown plastic tape off of the first box.

Ornaments; his mother's collection of nicotine stained china animals, sad clowns, a cottage with matchbox holder built in, a Blackpool Tower holding a thermometer, tiny porcelain dogs and comedy cats carefully wrapped in newspaper. She knew it wasn't in this box. She moved it to one side, and reached for a second. That box first could go to the charity shop. 

On second thoughts though, she thought she really should give them to Brian's sister Maureen.

She didn't want the grief and the accusations of disloyalty to the man Maureen would think she should still be wearing black for. But the nice person in her just thought it would be a nicer way of doing it.

The next box was a collection of fishing magazines that Brian had every month and read page after page religiously; which was strange because he never went fishing, ever, didn't even have any rods or reels. The sudden, and almost forgotten reek of cigarette smoke that had disappeared from her life almost made her want vomit. Slapping the box closed she marched straight out of the garage door to the recycling wheelie bin and dumped the magzines, box and all, straight into it. A second and a third box of fishing magazines went the same way. The fourth held his 'files'. Boxes of trade journals, instruction books, and pieces of wallpaper of all things, and a few receipts. She did his tax return each year and it suggested that they barely made a living. There was a lot of 'cash in hand' work, which she hated, but that was how Brian operated. He had been dead over a year, and she had sent the last of his paperwork back seeing as he had the sense to die right at the end of the financial year. That box went in the bin as well.

Finally, in the fifth, smallest and last box she found it. The box contained his maroon beret, with his medals and their boxes - one for Northern Ireland and his long service and good conduct medal. She would keep those, he had always been proud of them and so in a way had Dan. 

His maroon blazer he wore so proudly, with the Parachute Regiment badge on the pocket; and wrapped in the centre of that the highly polished leather standard bearers harness and white gloves.

She pushed the rest of the stuff back into the box, the emotions of all of this coming back to her. Her eyes watered and it wasn't from the smell of cigarettes. 

She went back into the house, and put the harness on the table, then as if she didn't want its dark, sad presence and what it represented in her favourite room, she picked it up, and took it out to the hall.

There was a mess of coats, fleeces, hats, gloves --all representing her 'new' family; it couldn't go there. She trotted upstairs and left them on her dressing table, the one she'd brought from the old house, and had been a gift from Brian.

She did a 'last caller' check on the phone, and pressed to re-dial. It was a mobile number and went straight to answer phone.

"Hi Mike, it's Cathy, got your message and I've found the standard bearer harness." It was her turn to stop and think, "OK, you can come round this evening if you are able, can you do between five and six? Only it's the best time for when the Chris is dropping off or collecting the children... OK see you later." 

It wasn't just that, she knew that Chris and Dan would be in late, Chris at the gym and Dan rugby training. She didn't want her two favourite men in the world, still psyched and pumped with adrenaline from their work-outs, arguing with him!

She picked up the three little ones from school and when she got back found another message from Mike.

He couldn't do this evening but as he had said, he was free tomorrow night, and asked in what he must have considered a jaunty and cheeky tone, what time he should come round.

She rang him straight back, and got HIS answer phone again.

There was nothing for it, tomorrow they would all be in early, so she said for him to call after half six when she knew that Dan at least would be out for a burger and trip to the cinema.

At least it meant that her special meal with Chris would go unaffected. Daniel arrived a little later and was surprised to find his tea on the table ready for him. Dan, although showered at school still had that after-glow on him from his exercise.

Tall, but light and muscular, Dan could move across the pitch or the court like lightning. Brian of course had tried to bully the boy into a man's sport like boxing but Daniel had rebelled like all teenagers are supposed to. 

But here, he had taken to physical exercise in a way Brian would never have given him credit for. In the months since his Father's death Dan had become his own person, not a child sat in his father's shadow, biding his time until he was old enough to be the man Brian wanted him to be. 

Chris had just helped him grow both physically and in maturity. Chris had got Dan a membership at the gym close to his office as his 'son' at a reduced rate. Their closeness gave added evidence to this. Chris also encouraged him occasionally playing racketball against him and more often than not loosing to him. 

Danny's shoulders had broadened, his face had lost the puppy fat and his improved diet and the showers they had in new house rather than the old bath at the last one, had done for the mess of flaring red acne spots that had afflicted him for the last three years and his dark eyes were looking more and more like Chris's each day, although she couldn't think for a second how they could do. His high cheek bones and square jaw line were to die for and, in the nicest way, reminiscent of Brian. For the final touch, and something she had NEVER been able to do, Chris had ignored the local barber or the electric clippers that she had previously cut Dan and Brian's hair with, and had taken him to a hair stylist in town. 

They had gotten rid of the grunger's mop he'd insisted on, taming his thick, dark brown almost black locks into a short, snappy but most of all easy to manage cut which, with addition of some gel, overnight turned her baby boy into someone with the looks of a performer in a boy band. 

Add to that clothes shopping with Chris for style rather than fashion, he was becoming a totally new... boy? No, MAN!

Twice this week she'd answered the door to some of his new friends. In the last house this was normally the start of a long argument about why he shouldn't hang around with the three hoodie wearing, baseball-capped hooligans that she had at the door, at least two of which she knew had criminal records for stealing cars while the third probably had just never been caught. 

That school and those boys were miles away; now the callers were either smart young men like him picking him up for a sport of some kind; racketball mostly or, amazingly, rugby practice. 

Brian would have loved Dan's new found like for the sport, which was of course why Dan had previously hated it.

Chris had sat with him through some of the six nations championship matches on the TV, explaining and more often complaining about how the particular player had messed up. One evening Chris had announced that he'd been given some tickets for to see the County team playing, and Dan cheered as loud as the regulars for a game he now understood. 

Once Danny found out that his football boots could be worn for rugby, he was hooked.

If not one of an ever growing list of nice friends playing sports, playing music or doing homework then those awful tracksuit wearing, car-stealing villains had been replaced by very attractive girls looking much older than their 14, 15 or 16 years, bashfully asking if Danny, or occasionally 'Dan-Dan', was in and likely to come out tonight. She had smiled, stepped back to allow them into the huge front room, while she called him from his homework, resisting the temptation to grin knowingly at him, just saying, "Hi Dan-Dan, these young ladies are here to see you, don't stay out too late.

Chris arrived and had big smiles for everyone. The oven was lit, potatoes baking and the surprise dinner was in the fridge ready for the off. 

He headed upstairs to change, reappearing half and hour later, looking and smelling great; splashed with her favourite aftershave and wearing the jeans he looked best in, she wondered if he was horny too. She smiled a huge expectant smile to him that he returned fully.

"I'm out tonight," he said looking at his watch, "just some mates from work." She tried to hide her disappointment, "no need to cook for me, I'll grab something while I'm out."

"Oh," she said.

"You haven't started anything have you?" He said looking around, worried.

"No," she said grinning as best she could, "No I haven't, what time will you be back?"

"Not too late," he smiled, "Still got work tomorrow after all."

"Driving?"

"No, only popping into town, so I'm walking."

"Oh," she said as her balloon burst within her, "I'll make myself something later then."

"Sorry mate, you hadn't planned to go out had you?"

"No," she tried to smile it off, while still leaving some indication that she wasn't totally OK.

"OK then." He grinned, picking up his mug of tea and heading out to the Hall.

He helped the three young ones with homework, read stories, helped her load the dishwasher, put the three to bed, said goodnight to Danny and was putting his thin jacket on when the door bell rang.

"I'll see you tonight," he said, "don't wait up."

"Night Chris." She called after him, and walked to the dinning room and the large bay window.

Far from seeing the group of men, 'mates', she had expected and that her experiences with Brian had prepared her for, there was three men, and four women; the couples were evident. 

The 'spare' woman was blonde, very pretty and smiled at Chris in a way that set all of Cathy's alarm bells ringing. She said something to him and wagged a finger for some reason, her body was fantastic! She was late twenties, had a cropped fitted black top that showed a flat stomach and fantastic full breasts with no apparent bra, and her jeans fitted like a second skin. Even her high black heels made her shapely legs look even longer. They turned and headed along the road she guessed for the small village centre.

He was going out with a woman! She was worked up to the point of wanting to go out and remonstrate with him -- didn't he realise how much this would hurt her? How dare he! That bastard! That rotten, cheating... 

But she couldn't. She had given up that right on the few times he'd asked her to go out with him, and when he'd expressed his love for her and she had continued to turn him down.

Shit. What now?

She fretted her evening away, not concentrating on the TV that played to itself in the front room. She ate one of the baked potatoes, with cheese, and left half of it.

Should she go out with someone else too? The only bloke that had shown any interest had been that awful Mike, and it was obvious that he had the same kind of attitude to women that Brian did, and she hated that.

But here was this gorgeous thing, younger than her, blonder, prettier, no kids to follow around and with a figure that made Cathy green with envy.

She tried to tell herself that it could be nothing, just a few work friends and he was there to make up the even numbers. But that smile, that thing that had flashed across her face and illuminated her pretty features the second he made eye contact with her; nothing matey about that, she was sure.

She went to bed, her bed, first time she had slept in it in days, and tossed and turned for forty minutes, desperately seeking sleep. She must have managed, as she heard the front door being locked and the gentle creak of his footsteps on the old oak stairs. She wanted to jump out of bed and run to him, to tell him she was sorry, to beg him not to get married to this new girl, not to start a family with her (She didn't stop to think how that would be possible after his vasectomy), not to chuck her (not her children her subconscious missed out) out on to the streets to fend for herself, she'd go out with him any time he wanted if only... 

She stood up and tiptoed to the wardrobe, and opened the door. She was naked and trembling ever so slightly. She was horny, hot and cold at the same time; she had a damp pussy, hard nipples and mind of total turmoil and as she made to slide the wall open a thought struck her. 

What if he'd brought the new woman back with him? What if he was stripping her out of her clothes and massaging her to an orgasm the same way he'd done to her so often?

Shit. 

Well, gloves would have to come off, she resolved as she walked back to her bed. She felt sadder than she had since Brian had died. 

They were everything to each other, how could he just stop loving her and turn to this other woman. He had just halved the mortgage; he couldn't bring someone else into their home surely?

At last she stopped feeling sorry for herself. Her weeks living with Chris had proved to her that she could do anything she wanted and that anything was possible. 

She would have to fight to keep him, keep him on her terms of course, but she could not give up all of this, the great days and fantastic nights. She had it all now and wasn't going to give it up for some blonde bimbo with sprayed on jeans and a fake tan!




Cathy and Chris Ch. 14



Next morning, after an unaccustomed night of sleeping badly and on her own, she was in the kitchen doing lunch boxes, naked under her black bathrobe.

"How was your night out?" she asked without their customary warmth.

"Oh great fun, we ended up playing pool in Wetherspoons."

"Go with anyone I know?"

"No, not really." He said, "Office people, we decided it had been ages since we had all gone out socially, boss thought we should celebrate the business park job."

"Any couples?"

"Yeah, luckily all of the attention is on young Colin and Jane. All over each other the pair of them. Couldn't get so much as a fag paper between them all night."

"Were they the pair that came to the door?"

"Yeah," he said with a grin.

"Who was the other girl."

"Victoria," he said picking up his glass of juice and grinning over the lip, "works in the Project planning team, a right little fireball and no mistake."

"Very pretty isn't she." There was a pause.

"I'm not going to answer that question on the ground I might incriminate myself."

"She... err... wasn't with you then?"

"What do you mean, 'with' me?" he said matching her lack of warmth.

"Did you shag her?"

"Might have been a bit difficult in Wetherspoons don't you think?"

"She was all over you." Said Cathy looking at the lunchbag in front of her.

"You didn't have that much of a good look obviously." He said and folded his arms.

She smiled,

"Alright, I was interested, that alright?"

"Not checking out the opposition then?" he said without humour.

She paused, "Of course I'm concerned that you aren't going out with the wrong kind of women," she said, "and I was just checking that you..."

"And was she?" said Chris.

"Was she what?"

"The wrong kind of woman."

"How would I know," she answered.

"Very diplomatic honey," he said, his smile returning, "She might let you find out if you asked her. Anyway, it's academic, she isn't interested in me."

"Yeah," said Cathy just seeing that smile, she had been all over him like a rash. That smile she had given him was enough to loosen his trousers surely.

"Look, come out with me - tonight; just for a drink, and a meal nothing more than that." He sounded tired and disappointed.

"I can't," she said, "I have plans."

"Is he the right kind of man for you?" he asked with an edge to his voice.

"What?" Cathy struggled to think what 'plans' she could invent in the few seconds before he'd expect his answer, "I'm not going out..."

"It's with that fucking idiot Mike again? Surely not?"

"What?"

"I've listened to four messages on the answer machine," he said, "each one seems to be the answer to a message he's been left."

"Chris," she said in a panic, "honestly, I've only spoken to him a couple of times."

"Really," he cut her off, "Have you taken that stuff back he asked for?"

"Not yet, but..." she said, still sidetracked by his sudden attack.

"Right," he looked really cross, "So when he comes round tonight, ARE you going to have a meal and drink with him? He seems to think so!" he growled, his eyes darkened and he snarled across an kitchen thankfully empty of children, "what the fuck do I have to do before I get that honour, age by thirty years? Join 'the club'? Take your car keys off of you? Make you wear your grandmothers clothes and chain you to the fuckin' sink?"

"Chris..." she said, but then Dan appeared with the three young ones all giggling by coat rack and it was time to be off.

"Look, don't worry about it, I'm sure you'll have a lovely time with Mustapha; I'll go out on my own tonight, don't worry about cooking for me or the kids."

"What about the kids..." she said to the door as it started to close.

"Dan's taking them all out to the cinema, then for a burger, then your Mum's place for the night, it's in the diary." she heard him shout down the hall. Not being at work she hadn't looked in the family diary that listed all of their comings and goings.

She looked in the diary and saw Chris's handwriting; Danny had arranged to take all three out to the cinema and for a burger afterwards, taxi booked to take them back to Mum and Dad's; night off. 

No cooking, or anything, and there was nothing for them to do but go out - or stay in - and relax. He'd arranged it all, and he'd be thinking that she'd thrown it all back in his face, only to meet a strange middle aged man they both disliked. She heard his car engine give a bad tempered roar as he started it, and in her mind's eye she saw him phoning the dazzling blonde.

He knew she didn't even like Mike, so why the fuck; what gave him the fucking right to get so precious about it, after a night out on the piss with some slutty blonde with big tits.

She looked over at the answer machine and saw two more messages; shit.

"...Hi Catherine, yeah it's Mike, No problemo! I'll come round at that same time, and... look are you sure that you won't come out for a meal? Just so I can apologise? I've spoken with Maureen a couple of times and it seems we all might have got the wrong end of the stick, I never meant to suggest that Daniel was... well... look... call me we'll sort something, TTFN!"

The second message was him again,

"Hi Catherine! Had a missed call on my phone, figured it might be you, look, I can come round anytime if you don't want your brother and the kids around, honestly, call me soon, byeee!"

FUCK!! Mike bloody Stafford! That man was still in a fantasy world. She rang Chris's mobile, a recorded voice said it was not possible to connect the call and suggested that she try later.

She thought about why she hadn't just taken the bloody stuff to the club as soon as she found it; even she had insisted to Mike that she'd drop it off, but somehow that whiney voice of his had got through to her.

It struck her. It was because she felt obligated, almost as if Brian was telling her from the grave; she could almost hear his voice, "Go on love, go out with my old mate, there's a dear, Go on! DO AS YOU'RE BLOODY TOLD!!" 

She shivered, she didn't have to listen to that voice anymore; No more.

She showered and felt slightly better; she'd drive to the club and drop the harness off, then to Chris's office and take him to lunch. Explain the whole mix-up, come clean about her confusion, her emotions, everything, ask him just to give her more time. 

When she arrived, it was to find that the club was locked and bolted, no sign of any kind of life, and no where to leave anything.

She arrived at lunchtime at Chris's office, make-up carefully applied, his favourite of all of her outfits - her hipster jeans that clung to her perfect arse and a low-cut fitted top that showed just the right amount of cleavage from her shapely bust.

The receptionist at his office said that Chris was out at a meeting all day about the new development he'd been working on, and was unlikely to be back or contactable as it was contract signing day.

She asked the girl to get him to call Cathy as soon as possible about a misunderstanding and changing tonight's appointment. The girl wrote down the message.

Out in her car she sent him a text saying that it was a misunderstanding and he should call her so she could explain, she found herself close to tears as she finished.

She collected Colleen, Karen and Robert from school and got them washed and dressed in jeans and T-shirts ready for the cinema trip. To her surprise Dan had already packed an overnight bag for them all.

Dan arrived, showered and changed in a flash and was getting them all into the car for Cathy to drop them all off at the multi-plex.

There was still no word from Chris, her nerves were at straining point.

There was a knock at the door! 

Shit, Chris had a key, it had to be Mike.

He arrived, smelling of a day old wash and shave, with too little soap, and too much deodorant and aftershave. Just the same as Brian did on a weekday.

He had a strange look on his face, contentment almost.

"Mike," she said, showing him into the kitchen, "I'm afraid I..."

"It's alright Catherine, I know." He said quietly.

"Oh," she said, unsure of what he knew, "Right I'll go and get that flag thing you wanted and... that'll be that." She felt that this could at last be an end to the problem, at least the beginning of the end.

She stood and walked upstairs, the harness was still in her bedroom of course. She cursed herself for not bringing it down and leaving it by the front door once she had dropped everyone at the cinema. That would have shortened the whole thing even more. 

In her room, she picked it up stopping abruptly when she heard the door close behind her.

"Well then," he said with an inappropriate glare in his eye and a look at her still exposed cleavage, "it's been some time since I've been in lady's bedroom unaccompanied."

"Here's the flag thing Mike, I'll just..." she made to open the door behind him and he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her. She pulled away from him in shock, wiping her mouth.

"What are you doing?" she said.

"Isn't it obvious?" 

"Mike?" she felt shocked and a bit scared, "What?"

"What do you bloody think I'm doing."

"Look Mike, I think you'd better leave."

"Leave, but what about... what about... what we just spoke about? Our feelings?" He looked at her like she was an idiot, same as he did to Dan, same as Brian used to look at her.

"I was trying to tell you that whatever you think there is between us - isn't. There isn't anything between us, I don't have any feelings for you to disuss."

"Oh yes, well that's not the message I was getting over the phone, and downstairs just now."

"What?"

"You were coming on to me," he had that old man trying to be smooth head wobble, "it was all I could do to keep you off of me, with your tits hanging out an' all."

"Mike, I was trying to let you down nicely." She shook her head, "I don't want you in that way, I never have."

"And what, I suppose, was you plan in bringing me up here precisely?"

"I didn't bring you, you followed me." She backed away from him, momentarily afraid of him.

"And I suppose you didn't want me to follow you?"

"Of course not. Why would I?" Smack! She put a hand to the redness of her right cheek, feeling the burn from his slap.

"How dare you," said Mike, his face a picture of fury, "don't you dare talk to me like that. You've been leading me on for weeks, all for what, so you rub my face in it with the bloody 'weekend warrior' out there? Huh!"

"You..." she stutterred in fear backing from him, her hand held to her face, "you leave Chris out of this."

"You tart," he sneered, "My best mate ain't even bloody cold and your shagging your own brother, that's fuckin' SICK that is!"

"He isn't my brother..."

He swung at her again but she cried out and stepped back, making for the door. He stepped in front of it blocking her path, turning to twist the latch and lock the door from the inside.

She was trapped.

"What was the reason then TART!" snapped Mike, "You just leading me on were you? Playing with me, letting me get to know the family just so you could snatch it all away from me? Oh yes, Brian told me how to deal with the likes of you, and the likes of Mr bloody SAS superman out there." Mike put his hands on his hips, and tried to look reasonable, "Brian, see? I told him, I said if anything happened to him, I'd look after you and the kids, shook hands on it we did."

"Mike," she wept, trying to think of a way out, "I don't know what you are talking about, we were just friends." He struck out at her again, this time catching her a blow to the face a second time, sending her flying back onto her bed.

Her thoughts raced, the door was locked, Danny was out with the kids and not due back, happy in the knowledge that his Mum was due to be out with the guy he probably hoped would marry her, not this psycho. 

Chris had stormed off as well, probably out with that gorgeous Victoria. 

She was alone, terrified and going to get beaten and probably raped.

The lights came on and she saw Mike standing over her, hands on hips.

"I didn't want to do that Catherine, but I won't be lied to. Right from now on things are going to be a bit different round here..." it was like Brian was back in the room and a kind of terrified calm came over her.

Even Mike picked up on her terror. "Catherine, don't worry, I love you, always have, I'm not going to do anything to you, not until after we are married of course..." he chuckled.

"Don't... don't touch me..." she gasped. Mike's hand came back, and she flinched unable to look away. She looked up at Mike in time to see his shocked face as he seemed to fly into the air and land with a thump on the floor, face down.

As Mike made to stand there was Chris, like a night in shining armour, his back to the slightly open wardrobe door, stooping to punch the other man square on the jaw sending him flying back to the floor again.

"Sorry Mike," said Chris with fire in his eyes, "I didn't want to do that but NO ONE hits ladies in my fuckin' house!"

Mike rubbed his cheek, starting to glow red. He looked at the locked bedroom door, to Chris then back to the locked door again, shaking his head slightly. Chris looked at the door, obviously noting the locked catch, and Cathy's red cheek and absolute terror.

"I..." he gasped in total shock, "I think you broke my jaw."

"Want me to give you another one just to make sure, you fucking animal." Mike backed away, "who the fuck are you to storm in here and start hitting people, what gives you the right, you fucking savage!" The perfectly calm Chris had turned caveman as he protected his territory and his woman!

"Brian..." Mike gasped through trembling lips, "Brian..."

"What? Brian left you something in his will that said you could beat his wife up after he'd died did he?"

"I promised," Mike said shakily, as if he saw perfect sense in what he had just done, "I promised Brian I'd look after them," he said making an effort to control his trembling. "Look after little Colleen," he said with a proud smile.

Cathy looked at the man, this insane man, and her cavewoman kicked in this time, "You," she screamed, "YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY BABIES!

"But..." he stammered, "But I was going to look after them, Daniel... in the army, sort him out; not this university nonsense, not what Brian would have wanted, no!" he shook his head, "Daniel will join the army, infantry, not clever enough for a trade, no."

Cathy was trembling, Mike had started to talk like a robot.

"And I'll look after Colleen, be like a father to her, will be once I marry Catherine... I promised Brian I'd look after them, and I will. Shook hands on it." He looked at Chris, "You'll have to move out," he said oblivious of Chris's greater strengh, youth and training, "you're the one messing everything up. YOU!" he said, "You should have married Maureen!" he shouted like Chris had committed a deadly sin.

"I'm calling the police," said Chris looking at the now shaking Cathy

"But..." he gasped, "but she was lying to me, had to put her straight didn't I? Didn't I?" he said indignantly.

Chris picked the little man up by his shirt collar and pinning him against the locked door.

"Nothing, repeat NOTHING gives you the right, gives ANY man the right to hit a woman, End of fuckin' story!"

As he set Mike on his feet, and reached for his phone, noticing that it was still switched off from the days meetings and endeavouring to switch it on, and keep an eye on Mike.

"Don't you start on me, I was a soldier," said Mike trying to be brave.

"You were a fuckin' chef," Chris growled trying to look at the keypad on the phone, " a fuckin' slop-jockey, go open some tins of food," sneered Chris using the term of derision commonly used against army cooks, "Right cocker, you stay where you are or so help me I'll break something else on you, and give what's left to the police."

Mike gave a little squeal of indignation pointing to Cathy like he had ownership rights.

"But Brian," he gasped pointing at Cathy, "Brian would have wanted..."

"Be quiet!" growled Chris, "Before I really loose my temper..."

"No!" shouted Mike, a new firmness to his voice. Chris looked up from his phone and found himself staring down the barrel of a small revolver.



Cathy and Chris Ch. 15



"Oh not so bloody clever now are we," said Mike waving the revolver around the room, but at Chris mostly. Cathy trembled, Mike was insane and insane people are extraordinarily dangerous, especially when they have old looking guns.

"All right Mike, I think you've made your point." Said Chris watching the gun and not Mike.

"On your knees," said Mike with a quite evil grin, "Yes... yes," he said sniffing and waggling the gun to reinforce his point, "Knees!"

"Fuck you," said Chris, "If you're going to shoot me, you shoot me where I stand and while I look you in the face."

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," shouted Mike, "Catherine..." said Mike with a twitch, "Yes, there will be none of this Cathy nonsense anymore, your name is Catherine, yes, Catherine... he wagged the gun at her wardrobe, "get something to tie his hands."

She looked at Mike and at Chris, seeing what Mike had missed, Chris pressing buttons on his phone without having to look. The cavewoman in her had still to lay down.

"Mike?" she said standing and walking from the bed to stand by Chris, "Fuck you, and the club and my mad fucking sister, fuck the lot of you." She thought she could just hear a tinny voice from Chris's phone, and put an arm around Chris, "If you're going to shoot Chris," she said loudly, "then you might as well shoot me too, I won't want to live in a world without him."

"No... Nooo," Mike whined, "You've got to marry me, ME! I promised Brian! Brian would have wanted it, we look after Colleen, Daniel joins the army. Don't worry, I'll by him his first pint when he's eighteen, Brian would have wanted that."

Cathy looked at Mike with the kind of hatred in her eyes that Chris had never seen before. If she had any kind of sympathy for the man, it was hard to see it now. Cathy sighed. "Mike, this is over now, put the gun down and go home."

"Noooo," he whined, "we're going to get married! We're all going to live together - wasn't going to be in this house mind, but I'll manage," His hand began to shake a little bit.

"Mike, put the gun down before it goes off by accident, you could hit Catherine." Mike swung the gun across to point it at Chris again, shaking even more. "Mike, take your finger off of the trigger, along the side of the trigger guard, you remember the drill."

Mike slid his finger out from around the trigger and alongside the weapon. Evidently this reference to his army days was something he could respond to. Chris and Cathy both breathed a sigh of relief, and Mike picked up on it.

"I know what you are trying to do," said Mike his finger back on the trigger, "Get me off my guard, I don't know what they taught you at SAS school but I ain't falling for any of it."

"Mike, I didn't do any of the bursting through doors shit, I was long range recon and pretending to be a tree for six weeks, I was taught to escape and evade, not dressing in black and embassy doors nonsense. Please, put the gun down, neither of us wants Cathy hurt do we?"

"Her name is Catherine!" Mike snarled, starting to feel more confident.

"Mike, why do you have the gun," Cathy asked.

"Just in case," said Mike with a grin, "good job I had it wasn't it? Huh?"

"Just in case of what Mike?" said Cathy, "Did you come out planning to shoot someone?"

Mike stared at her crossly, but couldn't answer, only managing a hasty, "Be quiet or you'll feel the back of my hand again,"

He looked at Chris with real anger in his eyes. "My gun; got it from Brian, might not have left me anything special, but he gave me this, so I could get what's mine! On... your... knees!" he slowly growled at Chris.

"Fuck... You..." said Chris equally slowly and with derision.

Flustered and confused, Mike pointed the old revolver at Chris, Cathy closed her eyes hugged Chris's arm tighter. Mike's hand wavered slightly but then raised, his arm at 45 degrees.

It was the moment Chris was waiting for; Cathy felt Chris's arm whipped from her as he grabbed Mike's forearm keeping the gun pointed to the ceiling while at the same time head butting the sadly deluded man on the bridge of his nose, before driving his right knee hard into the other man's groin.

Mike collapsed to the floor straight down, and Chris had only to slip the revolver out of his weakened hand as he fell.

Mike could not speak, and blood poured from his nose onto the pale carpet. His shoulders heaved as he sobbed hard, from both the pain of his face and testicles, and of his shattered dreams.

"In the British Army don't they say you should never to kick a man while he's down? Well, in the regiment we never went by the rules..." With a cruel look on his face, Chris pulled his foot back and hefted a vicious kick into Mike's stomach. Mike wept louder, and Cathy gasped.

Chris put the phone to his ear,

"Hello Police? Did you get any of that?"

Evidently his 999 call had gotten through to the emergency operator who had passed the call straight to the police and they were all busy trying to trace the location of the call having heard the talk of guns and shooting people. They were two streets away so Cathy unlocked the bedroom door and ran down the stairs to wait at the front door. She heard the whoop of the sirens and seconds later saw the cars and their flashing blue lights. 

Upstairs Chris was knelt by Mike's weeping, bloodied face,

"And if you ever come anywhere near Cathy or any of our children, so fucking help me I will kill you. I will tear you limb from fucking limb, and rip out your worthless heart while it's still beating if you ever come close to my family again!" Chris could feel the tears of rage on his cheeks and stood, stepping back from the sad little man before he hit him again. To his relief, seconds later he heard the police sirens, and running feet seconds after that. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

The officers hoisted Mike to his feet cuffing his hands in front of him so he could still hold his agonised balls. A sergeant held up a clear evidence bag, "I'll take that if you don't mind, Mr..."

"Morris sarge, Chris Morris," Chris handed the gun to the sergeant, pistol grip first, who clicked a lever and the revolver's chamber popped out to the side.

"It's an old Webley," said the Sergeant, "Early World War two vintage I would say, Oh look, only got empty .38 cartridges in it." The sergeant pushed in a pin and three brass cases fell into the bag, he then let the gun, still broken, drop in next. "OK Mr and Mrs Morris, we are going to take Mr Stafford to the hospital, then to the police station. It might be worth you popping along to accident and emergency yourselves, just for a check-up you understand. Are you going to be at home tomorrow? Only we'd like to take a few statements, OK?"

"Yes sergeant, no problem," said Chris, "what time?"

Photographs taken of the room, Cathy's red cheek and the blood on the carpet, the police cars pulled away, Mike Stafford safely caged in the back of a large Ford Transit. Chris walked back into the house and trudged up the stairs.

Cathy was on her knees in her bedroom trying to mop up some of the blood from Mike's nose before it stained the carpet, but more than that her happy memories of the room. He could see the tears dripping from her cheeks to add to the mess.

"Well I don't know about you, but I've had better Friday nights. Do I take it your evening didn't go so well?" He had that eternal grin on his features. She shook her head, still kneeling on the floor by the blood stain. "Oh come here you silly bitch," he opened his arms and she ran into them hugging him.

"Oh Chris," she sobbed, "I was so frightened. I thought he... I thought he was going to..."

"S'all right," he cooed into her ear still hugging her, "He's gone now, it's OK. You're safe, I've got you."

She just rested in his arms - again.

"Why do I seem to spend so much of my time being looked after by you?"

He just looked at her,

"Because I love you. I will always be here for you." He squeezed her tight and she felt wonderful in his arms.

"I was trying to dump him you know," she sniffed into his shirt collar.

"Yeah," he said, "didn't seem to take the hint though did he?"

"No." she sniffed, "he had some idea that Brian left me to him in his will, after some pissed up oath session at the club." She broke down in tears again, "I was trying to tell him not to come round again Chris really I was, you have to believe me, nothing happened I swear."

"It's OK honey," he breathed, "I'm sorry I stormed off, if I'd had more patience and came back earlier I would have been here and he might not have got so brave and slapped you."

Her sobs subsided and she pulled together a bit. She looked into his face and tried to smile. He kissed her. She kissed back, a hard impassioned kiss that had her mouth opening, and her tongue slipping against his.

She pushed him back against the bed, and he fell on it,

"Cath, are you sure you want to, in here?"

"Yeah," she said pulling her sweater over her head and unbuckling the belt to her jeans, "I've got a ghost to lay in this room and if I don't do it now I might never". He started to undress barely reaching his shirt before she pushed him back and climbed onto him in her matching white string panties and bra, still wearing her short white socks though.

She ripped at his shirt sending a few white plastic buttons ricocheting across the room, finally dragging it from his body. His trousers came next, his boxers going with them.

Finally, they were mostly naked and he began to do all of her favourite things. He busied his lips on the nipples he had dragged out of her bra, while his other hand wound down from her chest, down her flat stomach to her strip of pubic hair before his strummed his virtuoso hands across her pubic mound, cupping the whole area and gently squeezing, as if taking possession of her. She responded gasping,

"Oh yeah, please Chris," she said, feeling his long middle finger stray through her damp flesh and worm between her labia, stroking up in search of the pleasure centre he knew to be there. He strummed, she groaned. He pinched her hard nipple between his teeth and squeezed, and she almost bounced off of the bed.

Laying along her to one side, he began his quest for her first come. He was quickly rewarded and she pulled his head down so his mouth could meet with hers as she came.

He continued stroking, this time reaching his long middle finger into her and straight to her g-spot. After so many months, he could find it so easily, and she knew it, gasping with a shocked 'oh!' as he started a strong massage of the rough patch of skin.

He started to slide down, happy to relinquish her boobs for the chance to feast on her pussy again; he hadn't done this in some time, and felt that now was the perfect time to reintroduce himself to that part of her.

After ten minutes of groaning and gasping as she came, he climbed over her and slipped his penis into the hot, wet depths of her puss, feeling her so closely against him, in the manner he loved most, bare skin against bare skin, close, personal, sensual contact.

"Oh Chris," she gasped feeling the tenderness that had been missing from their love making of late, "Thank you, thank you," she gasped in her throes, "Oh darling Chris, thank you..."

He heard the term of endearment and tried not to let her know that he had; chances are she wouldn't remember what she said,

"I'm so close, don't stop," she gasped, and he didn't; not until she had slipped down the slope of her last orgasm, coming in waves as his ejaculate shot into her.

They gently kissed through the last of the spasms, and he smiled, noticing her eyes were closed.

"Thank God you are OK," he said stroking her hair and her face, "I was terrified something was going to happen to you," she could hear the tremble in his voice. "I only came back... to check... you know? Make sure you weren't on your own, I was going to my Dad's place, I almost did, Jesus!! He could have..."

"Hey Chris it's OK, you saved us, you rescued us both."

She saw a single tear, form in the corner of his eye,

"Seems I just can't let you out of my sight for five minutes," he said, "One moment you're speeding through town with a temper, next I'm having to fight off armed loonies, what am I going to do with you."

"Well," she said, using her little finger to catch the tear just moving down his face, "What you did just then was good for me."

"Yeah," he smiled again, "Right, let's go to the carpet place and get this bloody thing replaced, they don't close until seven on a Friday. I still have the measurements on the pad in my car, same colour?"

"Yeah," she smiled, happy that the one memento of Mike Stafford would be gone.

"Tell you what," said Chris, "Let's go down to the town afterwards, just me and you, like I planned." She looked up at him.

"You still want to take me out?" her voice wavered.

"What? Of course I do, come on, get your gear on, grab your make up and you can fix your mascara on the way." 

He took her hand and gently led her out of the house to his car. Before she knew it she was repairing her war damaged make up and trying to lessen the redness in her cheek, as his Renault headed towards the carpet showroom. 

The salesman confessed himself confused that they should be back so soon after it was first installed, but their 'really bad stain' story was enough. 

At a little after eight o'clock he drove through the barrier to the converted canal side development that was now full of designer shops, pubs, a bowling alley, restaurants and a cinema. 

When they arrived, the place was full of life, colour and people, and brought her out of any sadness she might have felt almost straight away. He raised his elbow and she slipped a hand under it. 

He pulled them towards the restaurant, Frankie and Benny's, and while he turned sideways to ease through the crowd her hand slid down his arm until she held his hand. As the reached the small queue for the restaurant, she looked up at him and smiled, and squeezed his hand. He leant forward and kissed her on the lips, in full and in public. Her heart raced but she decided that she really didn't mind all that much, and returned the kiss, slipping her hand to the back of his neck and sliding her tongue between his lips.

"Oi!" said a young woman behind them in the queue, "What's up love, not had your tea?"

She stopped kissing him, red faced and giggled along with Chris.

Another girl with her said, "I thought all of that had to stop when you got married," said the girl. Both Cathy and Chris held up their left hands to show their bare ring fingers.

"OK," said Chris, "but does that count if we're married... but not to each other?"

"Yeah right," said the other girl, as if the older man in his thirties couldn't possibly do something as risqué as that.

"Come on then dear," said Cathy pulling him into the restaurant as the waiter indicated that they should, "let's get some dinner, then you can get home for your Ovaltine and an early night."

"The early night I can manage," he whispered, "but Ovaltine tastes like shit."

Chris held her chair while she sat down she thought back to the winter nights when she had to make Ovaltine for Brian. Always had it the same way, half milk half water, always started drinking it first week of October, even when it was still mild weather.

"OK," she said sipping the glass of water the waiter had filled for her, "just the early night then."

They ate their meal, listening to the great music and chatting about his project, the end of the mortgage, Dan's choice of GCSE's, the 3 youngest and university. He ordered a huge ice cream sundae to share and they ate it with gusto, ending with some great coffee.

After a couple of hours, she began to wonder why she had never gone out for the evening with this totally charming, sexy, funny, kind, generous guy before. This was the first time, and as she sipped her coffee she smiled at him over the cup, promising herself this wouldn't be the last.

She took his arm and held him tight as they walked through the retail park with its good natured Friday night crowds and he pulled her into one of the quieter bars, for a last drink.

He ordered a Coke for himself and asked her preference, she went to say 'Bacardi and Coke.' She'd drunk it in the past, and it was pleasant enough, but that would always be 'that' drink, which she used to drink in 'that' place, because it was an appropriate drink for a lady.

"I don't know," she said, "you chose one for me."

He looked across the bar, and at her,

"Long drink," he smiled, "but with class, Stella Artois," he said, "very cold, and very nice."

"That's a bit strong isn't it?" she said, knowing full well that it was.

"Yes, proper electric soup, Stella," he said.

"Chris," she said sliding forward slightly on her stool, "you don't have to try and get me pissed," she pressed her face against his to whisper in his ear, "trust me, I'm a sure thing, you've pulled." She brushed her lips against his face, as she sat back again.

They drove back to the house in a companionable silence, her laying back in her seat, content after a lovely night with a lovely man. He parked on the drive, coming round to open her door for her, something he always did when it was just them.

She got out of the car and he closed the door, pushing her back against it and wrapping his arms around her to kiss her. She kissed back putting arms around his neck. The whole teenage 'night out with a great guy – snogging in the car and at the door' thing came back to her, and she felt truly young again. Her two children, her dead husband, her worries about her relationship with Chris, the rest of her family, all disappeared in a flurry of first date nerves and butterflies in her stomach; after all technically it was their first date.

They had, to all intents and purposes, lived together like husband and wife for almost four months since both families had moved in together. Many of their children's friends and their parents just thought that Cathy and Chris were Mum and Dad – and again, technically they were. 

Some of the older teachers would regularly confuse the whole McMahon/Morris link and wondered how come Colleen and Karen lived at the same address, looked and dressed, and did their hair to the point they looked identical, were dropped off and picked up with 'goodbye Daddy/hello Mummy', yet answered to different names. The school admin ladies just dubbed the jolly little trio 'the McMorrises'.

They got to the front door, and he sensed her anticipation, and played on it, pinning her to the door frame within the covered porch.

"Are you parents in?" he said breaking for air.

"No," she whispered, without even smiling at the silliness, "Would you like to come in... for a coffee or something?"

"Oh yeah," he said with a grin, letting her fish through her handbag for her door keys even though he still had his in his hand. She opened the door and both tiptoed in, enjoying the little two actor – two audience play they had entered into without a word being spoken.

At the bottom of the stairs he grabbed her again, pulling her back into his arms, 

"Let's not worry about the coffee," he said, and in the pale light thrown by the street lamps he saw her shake her head and smile back at him.

She took his hand and slowly led him up the stairs, stopping momentarily at her bedroom door and the bloodstain reminder that was there. She pulled him into his room switching on the bedside light, dropping her handbag and keys on a sideboard.

She sat on his bed not trying to think what those first dates had been like in the old days. Chris sat next to her and kissed her, gently with no contact other than lips. 

Timidly she stretched out a hand, which trembled just perceptibly, and stroked his cheek. He reached out to her waist and gently laid a hand there, resting, not moving, not stroking. Her other hand reached up and laid on his shoulder, at the same time his arm snaked around her pulling them closer together as their lips finally crushed together at last.




Cathy and Chris Ch. 15



The fell back onto his bed, the speed and urgency of their caresses increasing with their passion for each other. They had soon stripped each other of clothes and slid under the duvet to carry on their exploration. Playing his part, he didn't jump straight in and interfere with those parts of her he knew from experience would bring her to ecstasy fast as he had early that day, he explored, gently stroking and caressing as a new lover would. She gasped in expectation, almost believing herself that this was new, a first time.

"Go slow," she whispered to him as he climbed over her, "please; be gentle."

For Chris, the imagery was perfect. He knew that he wasn't going to do anything she didn't like, but tonight had been the most wonderful meeting of minds and passions, and he had every intention of going slow, very slow and very gentle.

She lay replete in arms, in the most wonderful state of sexual exhaustion from the number of orgasms she had reached before he shared his with her.

When he said "I'd like very much to spend the night with you," it fitted well into the unspoken romance they had played out, plus it got through any concerns they may have had since the night before and her sleeping on her own.

Perhaps the knowledge that this was Saturday, the children weren't due to be collected until later that evening and they weren't expected at the police station until after lunch snuck through into their shared subconscious as they woke within minutes of each other at a little after eight thirty.

They kissed, a delightful, warm, loving kiss that seemed to last for ages. They chatted about who should get up and prepare breakfast, finally agreeing that they would do it together. Even then, they joked and both attempted to get the other out of bed first.

By nine o'clock they had finally made it to the kitchen, both wearing their black towelling robes, naked beneath. This was a luxury not normally allowed them because of the four busy children running around the place.

Chris switched on the electric grill, first laying on sausages, then strips of bacon, adding mushrooms and tomato halves, as she loaded sliced bread into the toaster. For the final touch he dropped four eggs into a poaching pan already on the boil.

The toast popped and she buttered each slice, before standing next to him to tempt him with a half that she had already taken a bite from. Hungrily, he pulled her to him with his free arm and she lowered what was left of the toast into his mouth almost whole. He snapped at it, making her pull her hand back giggling at him. For Cathy, it was the kind of stuff that couples did on TV adverts for kitchens but she had to admit there was nowhere else in the world she wanted to be at that moment.

Finally after the whole meal was plated, they sat down to breakfast in a room bathed in early summer sun, just the two of them. Much as Cathy had enjoyed the meal she'd had with him the night before, this had to count as one of the most romantic moments in her life, if only for its simplicity.

As they sat sipping the last of the juice and just smiling at each other the mood was temporarily broken with a thump at the door.

Chris went, and Cathy poured and then sipped her tea luxurious, she heard raised voices; she recognised the female voice straight away.

"And you've fookin' beaten him up, yah fookin' savage! A big fookin' man loik' yerself." Maureen's accent was even worse than usual.

Cathy finished the last of her tea, and stood, resigned to trying to calm this insane woman down. The walked towards the hallway but stopped. Unbelting her gown, she pulled up a wad of the cloth, so the gown stopped mid-thigh and pulled the top half of it open slightly open so her boobs were well on display.

Walking into the hallway, she affected a yawn and stretched cat like, and with great pleasure and mock surprise.

"Oh Hi Maureen!" she smiled, "And how are you?"

"Oh you don't want to fookin'..."

Cathy stalked to her sister and placed a finger on her lips to quieten her, and for once it actually worked.

"Maureen, it was a rhetorical question love," Cathy was about to fold her arms but instead, leant against Chris, sliding an arm through his.

"Did Mike phone you from his prison cell did he? Use his one phone call? Hmm, thought he might. Now listen, the next time you set your insane friends on me, Chris won't be so nice, he let him off nicely this time. Nicer than I fucking would have done." Her face became stern, "I have a compromise for you; you promise to leave me and Chris alone," she smiled up at him sickeningly sweetly, and then continued, "and we won't tell the police were Mike Stafford got a pistol from." Maureen's face dropped. 

"How..."

"I was married to your brother for almost seventeen years - do honestly think that Brian and I never talked?" Cathy did fold her arms this time, and Chris stepped behind her and put his arms around her waist, part support but mostly to annoy Maureen. "Brian could never find out where his Dad's old Home Guard pistol went from under the floor boards of his house after he died, I have a fairly good idea where it went though."

"Supplying a firearm is a big thing Maureen," added Chris, "that's a five to ten stretch at the very least,"

"Especially when that person you gave it to is as mad as a box of frogs," said Cathy. "OK, this is how it's going to be, you can still come and visit, Colleen and Dan still love to see you, but no 'yer mother betrayed yer darlin' daddy nonsense. If you can't live by that then I'm really sorry. I will get all legal on you, I do solicitor stuff for a living and I'll have a restraining order on you before the day is out. I have a box of stuff in the garage for you, some of your..."

"Fookin' poke it," said Maureen, "I don't want..."

"Maureen!" shouted Chris, "For God's sake, save yourself the effort of the pretend Irish accent! It's fucking terrible! Offensive to the ear! I know, you know, even Colleen knows you're not Irish, a week in Dublin doesn't mean you can join the Corr's." 

"I'm..." she stuttered, apparently more taken aback by this than the threat of imprisonment.

"Oh, and one last thing," Cathy leant back into Chris and tilted her neck up to kiss his cheek, "your suggestion that we were 'at it', as you so nicely put it; Well we weren't, but after you said, well, it seemed like such a good idea we tried it out."

"That night," said Chris. Maureen snorted, but Chris butted in "Two or three times," adding, "and twice again after tea, and again after supper." added Chris watching her mouth open goldfish like.

Cathy's cheeks were about to implode, but she controlled her humour, "Thanks, we'll both be eternally grateful to you." 

They both smiled and tilted their heads with cheesy, simpering coyness. "On that thought," said Cathy, "don't let us keep you," and she slammed the front door shut with her foot.

Staring at each other and straining to control their laughter, they ran back to the kitchen, their suppressed laughter finally breaking out, and them falling on each other.

He wiped his eyes and switched on the kettle.

They laughed, joked, chatted, and he smiled at her.

"You know, talking about solicitor stuff, we could probably afford for you not to work for a while," he said.

"Why?" she said, "I enjoy what I do,"

"Yes, I know" he said, "I'm not suggesting you stay at home, I'm suggesting you speak to the senior partner and see if you can get an internship with your firm and finish your degree."

She looked surprised, but pleasantly so.

"Could we afford it?"

"I reckon," we could do some sums and see at least couldn't we? The partnership might even pay you during the holidays. At least we could pay less for longer."

"Wow," she grinned, "finally a solicitor," she said, "after all these years."

"Yes," he said "Mrs Catherine Morris, LLB."

"Oooh yeah," she said, "That would piss off Caz that I'd finally caught her up... what did you say?"

He knelt on the floor by her chair taking her hand,

"Mrs... Cathy... Morris... L... L... B..." he kissed her hand after each word. "Cathy, you would make me the happiest man in the world... If you'd marry me."

"Wow!" she said, still floating high on her thoughts of getting that elusive qualification, "I..., Oh Chris, I..." 

His head was full of words but he knew that, even after everything they had done and been through, she might still need time.

"It's OK, take your time, I can wait for your answer."

She leaned across and kissed him, "Thanks Chris, I just have a few things I have to get straight in my head, I won't make you wait too long for your answer, I promise."

Their statement taking at the police station was an interesting one. Separated, they were both taken to different rooms and a uniformed officer asked them to relate what they remembered of the incident.

The sergeant was interested in how Chris had managed to get into a room locked from the inside. He explained about him and Catherine, their strange set-up and stranger relationship, and the wardrobe.

"Clever," said the sergeant while in his head he thought what a lucky bastard Chris was, "And it meant the difference between and few slaps and a good beating, perhaps worse, to your... partner." The policeman struggled for a simile

"Pleased it was there, sarge." Said Chris, "even more pleased you guys turned up when you did."

"Yes," said the sergeant, "Mr Stafford says that you kicked him while he was down and threatened to kill him."

"Sorry, lost my temper Sarge, can't explain, crime of passion; I thought the mad bastard was going to kill me and the woman I love."

"Oh don't worry," said the sergeant, "the mad bastard is pleading guilty, no come back on you; surprised you didn't rip the mad little cunt's heart out after what he said." The sergeant leant back in his chair, the statement forms before him. "He really did think that your late brother meant for him to have Catherine didn't he?"

"Yep, listening to him, I think he'd been fantasising about for a few years, he was always a bit creepy around the whole family according to my nephew."

"What about you being in the SAS?"

"Yeah that's true," Chris said.

"Well, none of us believed him, we thought he'd made that up. What gallantry medal do you have?"

"Oh, I don't; I have the Queens commendation. it's a silver laurel on my Operation Telic medal," he grinned, but sensed the sergeant wanted more, "big fuck-off gun battle, I kept on shooting, they kept on dying, fuck all really." The sergeant smiled as Chris passed off one of the most significant moments in his life.

"Yeah right," said the Sergeant, "they give QCB's away for 'fuck all' I'm sure. Anyway, whatever you had it was scary enough for him to go get a gun."

In the other interview room, Cathy blushed to her knees as she explained to the woman police officer the nature of the wardrobe and what they used it for.

"And was he really an SAS man?" said the officer.

"Oh yeah," said Cathy, smiling at the policewoman, who smiled back thinking about the tall, attractive man being interviewed next door.

"Mike Stafford says he got the gun from your late husband, do you remember him owning a gun?"

"No," said Cathy, true to her word and not actually lying, "and I would have known, he had no hiding places for anything, the house was too small, I emptied every draw twice a year, I would have found it."

"Shed or garage?" 

"We had a shed, but it was totally insecure, we couldn't even leave a bike or a paint brush in it without it getting nicked."

"Yes," said the woman officer, "I know that estate well. OK," she said, "That'll do for the statement, I get the feeling that he might be trying to dump suspicion on your late husband, but so far he has told us nothing but the truth. It's a bit strange. Still, he's pleading guilty and hoping to make a deal with the crown prosecution service." They stood and policewoman showed her out.

That evening, when they went to pick up the kids they chose only to tell her parents about the incident the day before. Alone with her father in the conservatory, while the others ordered their evening meal, pizza, online she leaned back in a cane peacock chair.

"Chris asked me to marry him Dad," she said. Her Father's grin broke across his face

"Oh Darling, how lovely! And not before time." he said reaching out and taking her hand, genuine delight in his face.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," his smile relaxed, "Oh come on Cathy, you're not telling me you refused?"

"I didn't say much of anything." She said.

"Why ever not!" He said. His visage changed to that of a concerned parent. 

"Cathy, Chris is one of the nicest men I've ever had the pleasure to know, and I'm really pleased that he's still in our lives since we lost Jenny. I was proud to have him as a son then, and I still would be."

"But..."

"But what hmm?" He smiled, "It's obvious to the rest of the world that you two... erm... shall we say, get on like a house on fire?"

"Is it?"

"Bloody hell Cath, I may be getting short sighted but I've still got eyes to see how you two look at each other sometimes, if you aren't in a relationship already then I've never bloody seen one. The man is crazy about you isn't he?"

"Yes," she said after a short, slightly embarrassed, pause.

"He's got eyes in his head too, I see, - and please don't bother trying to tell me you don't feel the same about him."

"Oh Dad, I don't know," She leant forward to rest her head in her hands, "He's so brilliant to the kids, you only have to look at Daniel..." she smiled almost to herself wistfully, "my Danny... to see the effect he's had on him."

"I'm talking about you!" he said, "Cathy, don't be cross about this but Danny sees things you know?"

"What things?" she said, her cheeks starting to redden.

"He's already said to me that he thinks you two were... well... that there was more to the pair of you than met the eye. He said," the old man put a hand on his daughter's shoulder, "He said that he really hoped you two were going to be an item because Chris was so good for you."

"My Danny said that?"

"Yep."

"On his own?"

"Cathy, he is already looking at which course he was going to study at which University he goes to after he's passed his A' levels. God rest his soul but that was none of Brian's doing. Now even I know two years ago he was getting warnings from the police. Now look at him!" said the man revitalised, "More importantly, just look at you, You've lost weight, you're thirty years younger in outlook as well as dress," he put a hand on each arm of the chair she was sat in, "And you've lost the bloody miserable old woman attitude that I have SOOO hated in you for the last ten years!"

"Miserable... old..." she gasped.

"You've been walking around like a bloody pensioner, all that was missing was the shawl for Christ's sake. That old fool even used to take you to the British Legion on a Saturday night!"

"Old fool?" Her father had final let slip his dislike for his other son, and Cathy's mouth hung open.

"Catherine, Brian was a nice man, I really mean it, but he's gone now. You've turned back in to my daughter again, I'd lost..." the man sniffed, "I thought I'd lost both of my girls, but... but now I've got one back; and I think Chris is responsible for it." He straightened, then dropped to one knee before her. 

"Whatever you do stay away from old men for God's sake, promise me. You're not even forty Darling." he said, and stood, "Simple question: Do you love him?"

"Yes..." she said, quite simply.

"Can you imagine life without him?"

"No," she said, "yesterday, I told that mad man that if he was going to shoot Chris then he'd better shoot me as well; I meant it."

They ate their pizza and just before ten headed home. Once back, they all headed for their own bedrooms, tired after a fun day with inexhaustible grandparents and two retrievers.

She came through to his room, for the first time using the door and not the wardrobe.

"Hi Chris," she said, liking his surprise at her newest form of entry, she was wearing a long black T-shirt, one of his.

"Bloody hell, using the front door and not the tradesman's entrance, now there's a first," he said, rolling onto his side to watch her.

She walked towards him, "Well, if anyone knows about using 'the tradesman's entrance,' it's you."

"Now then," he said, "don't start anything you can't finish,"

"Who said I can't finish," she grinned.

"Depends what you want to start."

"I might just want to fuck," she said, moving next to the bed, as he threw the duvet back.

He looked at her,

"What's the matter?" he said reading the change in her moods.

"Nothing," she said, sitting down on the bed.

"Cath, look don't worry about what I said this morning, I can wait for your answer, I'm not going anywhere, trust me." 

"I'm OK really," she said, "I just fancy a fuck; a nice old fashioned 'throw me down and take me from behind' fuck."

"Oh," said Chris, "Well that's all right then."

"Is there a problem with that?" she said.

"No,"

"Get on with it then," she breathed.

It's not that easy," he said, "Blokes don't work like that."

"You've never had a problem fucking me before," she said.

"What is it with all this 'fuck' stuff all of a sudden," he said surprised at this change of character.

"I just want a fuck!" she snapped, her voice breaking just a bit at the end.

"We don't fuck!" he said with incredulity.

"Well, I'd like to know what it is they call it then," she said.

"We haven't fucked or shagged or rutted or screwed or any of that, not in months; we make love and don't tell me that we aren't."

"What..." she knew precisely what he meant but struggled for an answer.

"We are way past shagging honey," he said stepping forward to run a finger down her cheek, "we are lovers, and we have been for months now."

His comment hit home and she could do nothing but know he was right.

"I think we should split the house," said Cathy stepping away from him and breaking eye contact.

"What?" Chris sat on his bed.

"It's not going to work Chris, I just can't do it," said Cathy, "the sex..." she paused thinking on what he had said, "is... Christ... the sex is the best thing that's happened to me after my children, but that can't be all. And I'm afraid I can't give anymore."

"Is that all I mean to you then, sex?"

"Of course not!" she snapped, "you... you and the kids mean the world to me..." she burst out tears running down her cheeks.

"So what is the big thing stopping you..." his frustration was becoming evident and even the normally placid Chris had a heightened colour. He stood up from his bed and he saw her flinch away from him, just the slightest movement and it started something in him. He had seen it once before and he stopped in mid-sentence.

"I don't fucking believe it," he said with incredulity.

"Well, I'm afraid that you're going to have to..." she sat on his bed and crossed her legs.

"No not that," he dropped to one knee before her. He stared into her face.

"I am soooo sorry," he said, "I must have been fucking blind - I know what it is," he said, "I know why you can fuck me... sorry make love to me, cuddle me, snog with me, not hold my hand by day but hold me all night, but most of all why you won't marry me."

"You do, do you?"

He smiled the tiniest of his triumphant smiles, and shook his head.

"That old bastard," he said.

"What?"

"Brian," said Chris coldly, "that bastard used to hit you didn't he." It wasn't a question. She couldn't maintain the eye contact.

She played with her finger tips.

"He did didn't he, I bet he used to slap your face, not punches because they bruise; no, just a little slap every now and again, just to keep you on the straight and narrow. Old school; keep the bitch in hand with the back of your hand - domestic discipline the old fashioned way." She cast a furtive glance at his face and saw his expression. She didn't see anger, she didn't see derision; she saw only the straight pity of someone that really cared.




Cathy and Chris Ch. 15



"Catherine, it's OK." He took both of her hands in his and squeezed just a bit. Her eyes started to water.

"Don't call me Catherine..." she sniffed managing her tears, "he used to call me that when he was cross with me, like a cross parent." She smiled a bit and fished a tissue from the pocket of her jeans.

He smiled,

"Sorry Cathy," he looked back into her eyes.

"Every now and again," she said, "just the odd one as you say, to keep me on the straight and narrow." She unfolded the tissue and stretched it between her fingers. "He'd start to get cross you know? Over a few days, he'd build up to it slowly like, and that was the worst. A one-off slap I could handle but all of the rest of it, making me guess when I was going to get a smack across the face, when he was built up to it. It was torture, come the end I used to wind him up just to get it over with. Friday night so the redness would be gone by Monday, never in front of the kids though."

"Is that why you used to get so stroppy with me so quickly?"

"Could be," she said with half a giggle, "or it could have been hormones, but anyway, I have previous for it. That wasn't the worst though,"

Chris looked scared.

"Worse than that was... well he didn't just treat Dan like he was stupid, probably for the last ten years I was treated like an idiot. I did his books, I had an arm full of A' levels and half a degree, but I was stupid because just because I was a woman, Mike Stafford talked to me like it as well, you remember?"

"Yeah he did like talking down to people,"

"Same as Brian, probably were he learned it." He saw her lips start to shake, "He took my soul Chris; and he tried to make me just like him, my poor Danny..."

"Bastard," said Chris. And that was all, for the first time in her life she was just being allowed to talk, to get it off her chest. And she did and he listened, no advice, no commiseration, no justification. He figured that if she wanted him to say something she would ask him.

After fifteen minutes, big tears where running down her face and he figured she'd had enough. He'd put his strong arms around and just held her, rocking slightly. 

"Are you OK now?" he asked.

"Better," she said.

"Cath, I promise on all that I hold dear and holy that I will protect you from harm. No one will ever lay a finger on you I swear, me included."

"Thanks Chris," she said.

"I promise that if you marry me I won't start hitting anyone. If I you marry me I'll be able to hold you all night, and no one has to get up at five thirty in the to go back to their own beds. I promise that we can still be the big huge family that everyone loves so much. Whether you marry me or not, I will still live by that promise. You, Danny, Colleen, Karen, Robert, the whole family. 'Cos that's what we are honey, whatever you and I say, we are a family. And I won't let anything bad happen to you or any of them ever again, I promise. And what the rest of the world thinks? Fuck 'em."

Her bottom lip trembled slightly.

"Come on Baby, bedtime." he said. As she stood, he added, "your room if you want, you know where I'll be."

She shook her head and lifted her legs tucking her feet under his duvet.

"It won't change Cathy," he whispered, "because I want it like it is now, with the bonus of being married to you and all of this being in the open, your timescale, I can wait."

He lay next to her waiting for the sound of her rhythmic breathing to tell him she was asleep. It never came, he was still struggling to get back into his book when Cathy sat up.

"Can't sleep?" he said. She shook her head, "Nah, me neither."

She moved closer to him and he automatically put his arm around her.

"Are you going to see that Victoria again?" He smiled and shook his head, "No," she said shaking her head, "she wasn't the right girl for you."

"No, I realised that,"

"Did you now."

"Yeah."

"Was that before or after you screwed her."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh come on you must have shagged her, she was over you like a rash."

"Did you think so? Funny that, I didn't think she was, what with her being a Lesbian an'all." Her pretty features dropped, "Nope, not once, to be honest you had more chance of screwing her than I did, in fact she does go for brunettes, she told me."

"Surprised you never tried to set me up with her." She smiled for the first time since she came into his room.

"Only if I could have watched, I would have supplied the custard and the spanking paddle." He rolled to one side, "When will you get it into your head, it's you, it's only ever been you since... that wonderful Saturday when we fond each other." She smiled at the recollection.

"But..."

"I knew she wasn't the right girl for me..." he paused "Because she wasn't a bit like you."

"What?"

"Cathy, you are the right girl for me. You know it and I know it. It drove me crazy watching you going out, even with your mates, looking so fucking gorgeous. I could barely stand it,"

Her mouth hung open, Chris had always seemed so cool and in control.

"You know how you felt about me and even the possibility of Victoria, multiple that by ten."

"What?" she was amazed, "you were worried about me?"

He laughed and shook his head,

"I had this major irrational fear that you'd come back one night and say that you'd met this really nice bloke, got his phone number and was going to meet him; and Mike – well;" he sighed and ran a hand across his forehead, "Even though I knew you hated the objectionable little fuck, he was just so much like Brian and... you'd fallen for it once. Those answer phone messages, you going to club to talk about the event, just talking to him, so much so I went out with Vicky and everyone, but it just made it worse."

"Yeah," she said, "I think I knew it too, but I just couldn't say it." Her bottom lip trembled and she gasped out, "The only thing I knew was that before Brian and I were married it was wonderful, you know? He was the nicest, sweetest guy; we were so happy that six months we lived together and... then we got married and... it changed, I... was too scared to admit I'd fucked up, what everyone else had said had been true. Then I tried what all women try, to make the man into what you want rather than what he is." 

More tears coursed down her cheek to drop to her lap. "I'd made my bed, and I had to lie in it. The occasional slap I thought I could live with, shit it's not like I've never dealt with domestic violence before but... I was just... well..." She let her thoughts rest on that.

She brightened, "But what we have here, it's perfect, you know?" She dabbed at her cheeks with the bottom of her nightdress, "Everything was wonderful again, we were all so close and so happy after so many said times, then you said you loved me;" his face creased, part happy memory - part guilt, 

"It was wonderful. I knew all along, in my heart. I knew you loved me and I was sooooo in love with you, everyone saw it but me."

She sniffed and blotted her cheeks again, "I was terrified, I already knew what it was like to jump in, how people change. I should have trusted you, but I've always gone with my emotions – badly sometimes I'll admit." She giggled. "I risked everything, just to get through each day, just as it was. I didn't want to think about tomorrow or the next day or the next, it was just to get through the day so I could be with you, be around you, and climb into bed with you, sex or not, it was always you."

He sat up, and looked into her face, "Chris, I know that I'm not the easiest bitch to live with, I have a bit of a temper every 28 days, and I always want my own way but," her bottom lip wobbled, and her voice broke, "give me another chance... please." Misinterpreting his stunned but pleased silence she reached a shaky hand out to his cheek, "please ask me again..." her voice was a whisper, "I'll do anything, please." He put a single finger to her lips.

"You silly bitch," he said with a big smile, "Did you think I could ever have walked away from you? Cathy, I love you, truly, madly and deeply; marry me... please?"

She nodded her head, her face creasing into a huge smile.

"Yes," she breathed barely in control of her voice, "Please." She suppressed a sob and hugged him, "Shit, but I thought you wouldn't ask me again!" she burst out, and he hugged her back.

"I just needed you to see what everyone else did... I love you Cathy."

She put her hands to the side of his face and held him.

"I... I never thought I would ever say this again, at least not to anyone I wasn't the mother of." She closed her eyes, for a moment, as if she was making her mind up about something, "I love you." She kissed him, long and slow with tongues clashing, "thank you Chris, for everything you've done for us, do for us, but mostly for sticking with me."

"Aw shucks Miss Cathy," he said, his own eyes misting slightly, enough for her to notice, "I'd stick with you through the next ice age, and beyond."

"Will it still just be about the sex though Chris?" she said with a badly hidden smile.

"Oh Yeah," he grinned grasping the bottom of her nightdress and pulling it up, "All about the sex..." His mouth closed on hers and he rolled over on top of her.

Epilogue.

Michael Stafford was charged with assault, unlawful imprisonment and possession of a firearm without a license and with intent to endanger life, to which he pleaded guilty due to diminished responsibility, only ever saying he found the gun in the house of old army mate that had died and intended to hand in at the police station under the amnesty. 

He received two years imprisonment reduced to eighteen months if he undertook counselling and therapy while inside. He was told he was never to go within 100 metres of Cathy, Chris or the children.

For Maureen though, there was no going back; she still blamed Cathy for everything. Her statement to Mike's defence solicitor said that Cathy was a 'dorty slut' and was responsible for leading him on, probably to get her hands on his money too. For heaven's sake how could the judge believe such a filthy whore that was screwin' her own brother and had sold her darlin' brother's house before he was even cold; a brother what was a genuine fookin' war hero wid medals an' all and dragged his kiddies away from her and a family what loved them and the schools they were settled in.

The defence solicitor chose not to put her in the witness box. But the defence solicitor was given the box of china ornaments to be passed on to Maureen, who had wailed loudly in the solicitors office, stopping just once to complain that her darlin' Mammy had always promised them to her and that her brother, God rest his soul, must have nicked them.

The morning after she told him she loved him, Chris presented Cathy with an engagement ring (having already got the size from her last one) on one knee in everyone's favourite room of the house that they all loved so much.

They asked all of the children if it was OK for them to get married; Robert, the youngest, seemed to sum up and express all of their feelings in one sentence, saying,

"Well you are a Mummy and a Daddy anyway aren't you. So you probably should get married."

Cathy cried. Colleen and Karen seemed equally unfazed and did nothing more than ask to be bridesmaids, and Dan just smiled a big and very relieved, but still quite soppy smile. He looked at them both,

"You took your bloody time didn't you?"

Cathy walked over to the boy now taller than she was and put her arms around him, hugging him.

"Thank you baby," she whispered in his ear, "thank you for sticking with me."

"No worries," he said, sounding just like Chris, "not like I could have left you on your own without my wise guidance was it."

She hugged him tight and they laughed; laughing long and loud in way they never had before and left them both with tears in their eyes.

They married on a summer Saturday in a very cute church walking distance from the house. 

Robert was part best man and part ring bearer, in a dark suit like his daddy's and looking even more outrageously cute than he normally did.

They turned to see Cathy walking up the aisle in a cream lacy dress that looked fantastic, on the arm of her son Daniel, tall, elegant and head-turningly good looking in a dark suit like Chris and Robert wore.

Her father had said that he'd given her away once before, and much as he was just as proud, more so in fact, he felt that Dan was much better placed to hand his mum over to the man she loved.

Behind them came Colleen and Karen, in cream lace, looking for all the world like twins and as if they were the real stars of the whole show.

Everyone was there; both of their families, Carole and her family, most of her office, and most of his, including the dazzling Victoria and her partner Sarah, another dazzling blonde. 

Chris introduced Cathy to Victoria as they circulated around the evening reception. Cathy, now wearing the most gorgeous designer created dark blue velvet off-the-shoulder dress, with lots of leg and just enough chest, was in good company.

"I have to apologise Cathy," said Victoria, "That Thursday night that we all went out? I did dress up especially; Chris seemed so happy, but none of us could understand why you two weren't 'a couple', so, on the instructions of the rest of the office I put all the slutty and skinny on especially."

"Thanks," said Cathy genuinely, "it was just the nudge I needed. He only told me about you and Sarah a few weeks back, the sneaky bastard."

"Yes," laughed Victoria, "he told me all about that too," Victoria looked behind her seeing her equally sexy partner Sarah talking to someone else from Chris's office and added, "Oh and by the way," Victoria looked the brunette Cathy up and down, "he was right, I definitely would have done; girly, you are hot!"

"Thanks!" Cathy grinned, and leaned in to kiss Victoria's cheek, "That is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me on a wedding day!"

Her parents moved into the house for a week to babysit. Cathy and Chris honeymooned in New York, promising the kids they would all have a holiday as soon as the school summer holidays started in just a few weeks.

She delighting in finally allowing herself to show the world, and him of course, how much she loved him, and she got used again to walking hand in hand or arm in arm with her lover. It was like being a dreamy teenager again, but she loved every second of it. 

As they slowly strolled through a sunny Central Park hand in hand, he said,

"You realise we'll have a spare bedroom," he grinned.

"Yes!" Cathy said, "We could invite Maureen to come for the weekend... no?" She raised her eyebrows at his pained expression, "your loss; still it might be nice to have somewhere for friends or family to stay over."

He stopped by a bench and perched on the back of it, pulling her into his arms, "Yes we could do that or, if you'd like, we could always make another baby to put in it."

"But..." she perched her sunglasses on her forehead and looked quizzical, her arms around his neck, "you've had a vasectomy?"

"For you, I'd have it reversed," He pulled her tight and stared into her face, "I'd do anything for you." He kissed her.

Her face creased into a smile, and she bit her bottom lip.

"Chris,"

"Yeah?"

"Whenever I think I've got my head around you, and I couldn't possibly love you more, you prove me wrong; Darling Chris," she sighed holding back her tears, "you are perfect."

She tucked an arm through his and they walked towards the hotdog vendor.

"Yeah," he smiled, "I know,"

She opened her mouth wanting to say something to his now beaming grin.

"Christopher Morris, you are sooooo going to pay for that." She stalked towards him unscrewing the cap of her water bottle and lifted it high.

"Hang on, save the water, do you take..." he grabbed her waist bending her backwards dramatically, "orgasms?"

"Well, the exchange rate is extremely high?" she said doubtfully.

"I have plenty,"

She slipped her sunglasses back onto her nose,

"That'll do nicely sir..."

The End.