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-in-law 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-in-law 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 in law 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 in law 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.