Beware the Roasburies! Pt. 06

She was still standing there naked, and it was clear I was not aroused. Now she looked thoughtful.

"Oh God!" she said at length. "What can I say? Don't you trust me?"

"Should I? You know what happened with my last fiancée."

It was then, I think, she realised with clarity that it was not just she who needed careful handling. I was vulnerable in my turn and she needed a certain circumspection about her behaviour. Her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm so sorry," she said disconsolately. "I just didn't think. I promise you that nothing has happened or is going to happen with Desmond Franks. Until last night he was thoroughly professional, and even last night, while he did make a pass at me, it was very gentle, asking me to his flat 'for coffee', and I put him right about you and me straightaway.

"I see how it must have looked when I wanted a shower, but it was hot in the club and I felt sticky. You were spark out when I came to bed, and I didn't want to wake you. You are driving today. That's all. My darling, you are all I need. You're my only love."

She looked at me with begging eyes.

"OK, let's forget it, Connie. It's one lost evening and I've got you for the long summer break. I got some work finished while you were out."

"I'll get dressed... unless?" she widened her stance nakedly and the implication was obvious.

"Shall we leave it until we get home?" I said. Somehow I didn't feel in the mood.

"OK," she said, subdued. "Shall we go over for breakfast now, or just get on the road?"

"Let's go for breakfast, but I think you'd better dress first." I smiled, and she looked so relieved at that smile!

We went to the refectory for breakfast so as to miss the rush hour on the roads. It was a silent meal: there was nothing to say, but I don't think either of us was uncomfortable. The rain was gently falling and the skies were universally grey.

The journey home was horrible, with rain and spray everywhere, and we were both glad to sink into the chairs in the living room with mugs of coffee and chocolate biscuits (the biscuits were on a separate plate, not in the mugs). Yes, I'm a pedant, comes of years as a lawyer.

Then, "Come on my lover," she said with an almost shy smile, "I missed you last night, and have a lot to make up to you."

An invitation I couldn't possibly refuse. She ran ahead of me laughing and discarding her tee shirt and miniskirt on the way. She was not wearing stockings, so the bra was unsnapped as she reached my bed, and she leapt onto it and flopped onto her back with a happy, relieved smile. Irresistible! All my worries and misgivings evaporated and I was naked in no time, landing heavily next to her, rearing up at her side, and kneeling, I began to play with her ready breasts, dipping to suck and then stroke. She gave a 'yip' as I nipped her nipple and she pushed my head into her left tit as encouragement to more of the same.

As I nibbled and tweaked the twins, I could feel her pushing down her knickers, lifting her knees to slip them down. I took the invitation and moved over her, kissing down to her ready sex which gaped a little, and then allowed my eager tongue entrance to the furrow.

Her unique aroma, and her slick valley were welcoming me and I gave her my tongue, up and down, in and out and around and around her little clit until she was yelling out her climax, her hips lifting off the bed and then flopping down, only to rise again as the pleasure took her and she cried and gulped and moaned. At her first thrash I lost oral contact, but she didn't notice. I substituted fingers and continued to extract orgiastic bliss until she begged me to stop.

"Ugh! Arh!" she panted, as she began her return to replete indolence. "Oh, you are superman! So full! So intense! Oh I love you so much!"

I was hard, very hard. My response to her admiration was to slip up her relaxing body, my hips spreading out her legs. Then I kissed her hard and at the same time shoved myself hard inside, deep and powerful, pulled back and thrust the full length in again and again.

"Ugh?" greeted my first invasion, then "Arrh!" at each assault on her feminine delicacy. I hammered on and on until she began to moan and groan as her feelings mounted towards another rapture and my gruff grunting signalled my own approach.

She squealed, "Oh my fucking pussy! I'm going over again! Oh you bugger! How d'you... You fuck so good!"

I simply roared, and ploughed onward to my flushing finish, ejecting my seed into her sucking vagina.

"That's it! Give me your fucking cream, cream me, make me sloppy with your lovely juice! Oh, my lover! You fucker!"

We collapsed. I held off her with my elbows, but had to fall off her and out of her, to lie on my back poleaxed next to her, staring at the ceiling. We were both panting with the intensity of it, and I had no words to describe how her body had felt.

She turned to me and crawled over me, her sex resting on my thigh, and her breasts pressing my chest, her face nuzzling into my neck. I could feel her leaking onto my leg, but I did not care, indeed it was strangely erotic in its own way.

Her eyes were closed, and there was a look of peace on her face. Eventually she spoke.

"That was... I came like a train! What happened? You've never done me so violently before. Always so gentle, as if afraid I'd break. It was so erotic, so intense."

I did not know what to say. She did not seem upset. So I said nothing, instead I stroked her side and back. Then she was talking again, in a reflectively thoughtful monologue.

"I've had my share of being fucked hard, and it was always horrible and it hurt, but when you did it, it did hurt a bit at first, but I wanted more not less. I've never come like that before, it tore me apart it was so good. The harder you did it the better it got, and now I feel so full, to complete. I feel your love so deeply."

I felt I had to say something. I just let the words come.

"I don't know why I went at you like that, it just seemed to be what had to be done. I wasn't angry or anything like that, I just needed to do you hard. It was an intense feeling and I haven't felt anything like it before. I came harder, much harder than I ever remember. I wanted to get right up inside you, deeper and deeper. I don't know what's going on."

"It's not last night is it?"

That threw me. Was it? Was it resenting her father always taking her away? Was it the arrival of this tutor out of the blue, spending the evening celebrating with her where I should have been, and instead I was sitting alone in the flat? Was I in some primitive way taking her back – owning her?

"I don't know. I felt a lot of conflicting feelings when you were out, but once we were here at home everything felt OK."

"What were you feeling last night?"

I had dreaded that reaction. I didn't want to lie, but I wasn't sure of the truth.

"I didn't know what to make of your behaviour, and after Penny and Martin I had a sinking feeling you might be falling for someone else as she did. I know it's different in that you don't suspect me of cheating, but the fear was just the same."

There was a pause as she assimilated what I'd said and left unsaid: her suspicious behaviour when she returned.

"Graham, I know you can't help feeling unsure of me, but I promise you solemnly I will not let you down. You are all I need, and you have all my love."

I knew she was being completely honest and was touched by her protestation of love. I was choked up, and could only squeeze her to me.

"I don't understand Daddy," she went on. "I told him you were coming, but he was so keen on taking me out. He said he had a reservation at the restaurant, and we'd be late. He said if you were coming you'd be there by now. And he had Des in tow. That was odd, now I think about it."

She paused in thought.

"All night he seemed to be pushing Des my way. It reminded me of home before I left."

"How?" I asked, intrigued, since I now suspected Geoff, like his wife, did not want me as a son-in-law.

"I remember at home the parade of 'suitable' girls that Mother and Daddy put before Derek, and the rows about Ingrid being foreign.

"Then there were similarly 'suitable' boys for Penny, but she wasn't interested – she had her heart set on university and teaching, and she never brought boys home. In fact she hardly went out on dates at all – until you.

"Of course mother never even tried to fix me up with a 'nice' boy, I was too wild, too much the slut in her eyes.

"I thought it was all Mother's idea, but Daddy never rejected what she was doing, in fact he always backed her up. How strange! He never struck me as a snob."

She lapsed into silence.

"Let's not worry about it," I said. "I think your Dad is just delighted to have you around and wants to see as much of you as he can. Can't blame him for that! Perhaps that's the only reason."

Neither of us were convinced, I could tell, but we let the matter drop. Our own lives were more important.

We went to Keele to pick up her results and of course she came out near the top in both departments.

There was no sign of her personal tutor, or of her father, for which I was grateful and relieved, but found the absence of interest in celebrating her results somewhat puzzling.

----

Chapter Twenty-five

Looking back on our lives, how much do we really remember? Certainly not the minutiae of every day. We remember the routines we tend to follow day in and day out, after that it's special occasions and life changing events.

So in July and August we fell into the patterns we would follow during all her vacations. A run most mornings, breakfast, work, evening meal. Connie would keep house, shop for food, and voraciously devour book after book on her courses, making copious notes as she went. There were evenings in the pub, evenings in restaurants, ringing at church which she eventually tried herself and enjoyed.

There were nights out 'with the girls' from which I was excluded. The girls were my three and Penny. While alarm bells might be ringing in your ears, my girls were very moral and I had no qualms about them spending evenings together and looking after Connie's virtue.

I had struck up a friendship with Martin, now Penny's intended, and we'd have our own night out in the local pub, sometimes with Ian who it seemed had ceased to play the field, had lost a lot of weight but none of his humour, and was courting a very pretty girl called Mina. Bridge nights were Thursdays until we gave it a rest during July and August. Connie went to Penny's on those Thursdays.

In September, after the schools opened, Connie and I took a holiday together, this time to Scotland. We toured the West Coast, and apart from a few sunny days, got thoroughly doused with rain most of the time. Hotel rooms varied from ultra traditional to sleek almost clinically modern, but the food was always good and often superb. I got to taste a good number of whiskies of which I'd never heard, so no matter what else happened, I was a happy camper! Connie eventually began to enjoy shopping without feeling guilty – after all it was Dad's money she was now spending and he had plenty!

Sex? Plenty on the holiday, each new hotel bed seemed to bring out the randiness in both of us, and for the rest we fell into a relaxed affectionate coupling three or four times a week. We always hugged, touched, kissed and stroked each other as we passed in the flat. We always sat together and cuddled while watching TV.

We both enjoyed reading our books of an evening, content simply to be in each other's company. Morning and Night we always kissed our greetings and goodnights with caresses, which often strayed into erogenous areas and turned into more, making us tired in the mornings through lack of sleep, or morning enthusiasm.

All too soon the university term loomed and a return to our previous life, commuting from home to that tiny flat. We packed up her belongings, her books and clothes and set off for Keele.

It's strange how I was affected by this new term. I was now ill at ease about Connie. Looking at it logically I had no need for worry, but emotions don't work like that. As we drove down I wondered what was the cause of this distrust. There was the shadow of Penny's behaviour in a similar situation, then there was her father and a concern that he was up to no good where we were concerned, and finally her night out with her tutor, and her blithe 'See you next term'.

When looked at like that, should I feel worse or better about her second year at Keele? Certainly there would be a difference from last term: this year she would have more time on her hands to socialise, and therefore more opportunity to find someone else, perhaps nearer her own age. That was unsettling, and it gave rise to a suspicious attitude, and a search for evidence of her straying.

We journeyed down on Saturday morning and found the campus chock full of doting parents installing their offspring in their various accommodations. Cars were parked all over the place and we could not get near her flat. We parked in the large car park and walked to the refectory and grabbed coffee and toast, then returned. Connie spied a space near her front door and stood in it until I brought the car. Then we unloaded.

Thereafter we relaxed in her bed for an hour, if relaxation is the appropriate word. As we recovered from the excesses of our 'relaxation', she stumped me again. How did she know?

"Graham, you don't need to worry, you know."

"About?"

"About me. I'm your fiancée, I know you suspect Daddy of trying to wreck things. If he is, and I don't think so, he's not going to succeed. If I'm going out with a group I'll phone you. I can't see myself wanting to go out with anyone else, but again I'll phone you first. If I can't get through I won't go. I know you've been hurt by Penny when she was in Liverpool, I won't hurt you like that, I promise. Now, d'you feel a bit better?"

She'd summed up everything perfectly, and had seen my problem. How could I have any doubts after that?

"Thanks Connie," I said, hugging her. "You're wonderful."

"Yes, I am rather!" she giggled. "I made a mistake last Christmas, and it still makes me squirm at how I behaved. I won't make that mistake again."

So there it was. My mind was at rest, and we settled into a routine. The weekly phone call on Wednesday, and weekends together. In fact she wanted to come home every other weekend, and since she had no lectures that term on Friday afternoon, she could travel up by train and arrive mid afternoon.

Christmas came, which we spent at my parents'. There was no trip to Chester, though we did send a card but did not receive one. Her father rang her on Boxing Day.

After he rang off, I had a thought. I asked her, "I know divorces can take a long time, but what's going on there? Is he getting a divorce? Do you know?"

She looked puzzled and rang back, asking her father if she could talk to Derek. After greetings and good wishes, she asked about the divorce. She listened, put the phone down and looked at me wide eyed.

"You'll never guess."

"They're together and they're not going to divorce?"

She looked surprised, but nodded.

"Derek said Daddy couldn't face it after all these years together. He does love her and she makes him happy I think. He's still away from home a lot, and he told Derek that she's his anchor. It's only Penny and I who are at odds with mother."

"I think that it's she that's at odds with you both," I said. "Derek is a peacemaker, and you need one of those in every family, though I doubt he'll ever get through to her."

In fact Derek called on his way back home to Durham. We bedded the boys down in the living room and Derek and ingrid had Connie's old room: Connie was now fully ensconced in my, now our, bedroom. Derek told us that the parents seemed happy enough, 'rubbing along together' were the words he used, I think.

So the Spring Term began (I don't remember 'semesters' being in existence in those days) and once again we settled into our semi-comfortable routine. This term she had tutorials on Friday afternoons so her weekends were shortened, though she kept coming every other week. In fact she 'came' every week, but in different beds.

It was the week before Easter, which I think was the last week in March '72, we decided on announcing the date of our wedding. We had talked it over and Connie desperately wanted us married as soon after she got her degree as possible, so we agreed on July the following year.

I collected her on Maundy Thursday for the Easter break, though as usual she spent most of the time reading and studying. There were also a number of phone calls from men and women fellow students passing the time of day with her. She had made friends this year, though at that time I knew few of them.

Back at work on Tuesday of Easter week, a new face arrived at my office, a pretty teenage girl, who I thought must be in sixth form. I was right, she was in upper sixth and mentioned that she was now able to vote, so she was eighteen. She was interested in law as a profession, and was using some of her holiday time gaining some insight into how a lawyers' office worked. She was spending a fortnight with us in the city, staying with an aunt, and had already booked a month in summer with a solicitor in general practice in Chester. Her name was Caroline Gresty.

I learned all this from snatched conversations when she brought the post each morning and collected letters for posting in the afternoon. She was a very pleasant and cheerful girl and certainly very easy on the eye. She had the shape of a teenager on the cusp of womanhood, with every pore of her body primed for life.

I wondered out loud to her about neglecting her revision to do this work experience so near her 'A' levels, but she seemed confident she had everything under control. Ah, the optimism of the young!

Now at the beginning of the second week, there was a change in her attitude. She became positively flirty, making comments about Colette and Zena and how they fancied me, and she could see why. Then wondered how many girls in the practice had 'had' me, and said she knew about Colette, Zena and Harriet. How? I wondered. Needless to say I remained tight lipped.

She hinted that she might be available outside office hours, an invitation I pretended not to hear. Her skirts became shorter, and they had been pretty short before. She would drop letters on the floor and pick them up straight legged, showing her knickers, which were far from demure. Yes, of course I got hard, but remained behind my desk.

Mind you, as soon as I noticed the beginnings of this change, and being suspicious by nature (that's solicitors for you), I told Zena, who suggested I should press her intercom button so that she could record the conversations.

It seemed obvious that the girl had a crush on me, and equally obvious both to me and to Zena what she wanted. However she did seem to be unusually forward. The last thing I needed was a complaint about sexual aggression (from me, not her). It was just as well I did, because that was what I got.

Friday 14 April 1972
On the Friday that Caroline was to leave, Zena organised a little collection on our floor and bought her a necklace and earrings set. I was deputed to make the presentation when she came for the afternoon post.

She arrived with a broad smile (read 'the smile of a broad') in a very tight top clearly outlining her young breasts, being as they were unencumbered by a bra, and the shortest skirt to date, more a pelmet really.

As usual, since she had been to Zena first, Zena was ready when I pressed her button on the intercom. I said how much we had all enjoyed her stay with us; our floor would miss her and would like her to have 'this little memento' of her visit. She opened it, gasped and said I shouldn't have, putting on the earrings and asking me to fix the necklace, which I did with the minimum of contact, but which nevertheless elicited a sexy gasp from her.