Chav Ch. 04.5

Carl couldn't find anything to say. He just stood and stared, wide eyed and aghast. Karen, half smuggly satisfied by his reaction and half demurely embarrassed by having made such an effort for him, started down the stairs with a slow, careful grace.

Carl stood there watching her coming to him, barely thinking to stand back and give her room to walk by him and lead him by the hand into the kitchen. And then it was her turn to react to his efforts over their meal. She gapsed and moaned a little, then turned and kissed him gently.

"It looks amazing, Carl. Thanks." She whispered, their lips millimetres apart.

"You... look, you... You look..." Was the best Carl could manage until he took a deep breath and focussed. "You look beautiful. You look amazing.... I want you again, here and now."

"I might let you... But right now I'm starving! Maybe while I'm doing the washing up?!" She teased.

Conversationally, things improved for Carl as they sat down to eat. But he could barely concentrate. Or eat very much. He was overwhelmed by her, enraptured, distracted, tormented almost. But he managed to get a hold of himself enough to carry a conversation. Afterward, once they've shared slices of Vienetta ice cream (It was the only thing Karen had in) and drank some coffee. The mutual lust took over again.

The meal had been like foreplay. They were both horny. They had been horny for each other all day. And it made them both feel insatiable. Carl was turned on utterly by the way Karen looked, of the effort she had gone through to make herself look amazing for him. Karen was turned on by Carl's desire for her the way he couldn't keep his eyes off her. And not just her boobs, she was used to men staring at her boobs.

But she could see the desire when their eyes met, she could almost smell it coming from the pores of his skin. It made her feel young and wanted and lush. Desireable.

They both knew it was coming, it was the next course. They both wanted it. Yearned for it. For each other. But there was an unnacountable mutual hesitancy.

It was an alien sensation for Carl. He had always followed his cock. If it got horny he'd listen to it and without hestitation, do something about it. He'd just try it on, and if the girl was reluctant or uncertain he'd push that much harder, push until he got what he wanted. What his cock wanted. Whatever his cock wanted.

But again, Karen was no teenage chav cunt. And with her it felt like an all new game with an all new set of rules that he vaguely remembered from somewhere before his adolescence. So carefully, Carl bridged the awkward hesitancy.

"I have to tell you Karen, I want you again. I've wanted you since I saw you, before, at the top of the stairs. No. Before then. I want you all the time. I've wanted you all day. Since I first saw you last night."

Karen actually blushed a little but she laughed Carl's confession off. Though not in a way that disappointed his desire for her.

"I might let you have me again..." She said, shrugging nonchalantly, trying to withhold a grin. "I could let you have a quickie from behind while I do the washing up..."

"You're not doing the washing up. I'll do it in the morning... If you're a good girl that is!" Carl teased.

"You know how good I am." Karen countered with a sly grin. "Well... if I can't do the washing up for you. I won't be letting you have me from behind then."

"A quickie from behind won't cut it babe. You deserve an all nighter looking and dressed like that. And anything less won't satisfy me."

"An all nighter it is then! We'd best take it upstairs to the bedroom though. Don't want Aly walking in on us, do we!?"

"No, that's probably not a great idea." Carl laughed.

He knew well enough not to make a suggestion or even a joke about a threesome. No matter how much the thought appealed to him.

"C'mon then." Karen said seductively, not that Carl needed seducing. "Let me take you to bed. You can fuck my brains out all night. I'll let you. Empty your balls in me as much you can." She laughed.

"That's one thing you won't have to worry about, babe."

<><><>

Aly Williams stumbled giggling and drunk on the doorstep of her house, fumbling the key into the lock. She was giggling about the way her mind made her think of the key as this lad's... What was his name? Didn't matter... This lad's cock. And the tight little key hole was her own young pussy... And soon enough his hard key would be sliding in and out of her tight little key hole and making her cum. At least, if he had better aim than she did in their mutually drunken state, she thought as she struggled with the key.

She could still taste his spunk on her tongue. She'd blown him on the backseat of her mate's car who had dropped them both off after the fun night in Corsairs. It was okay though, he'd gone down on her at one of the little tables at the edge of dance floor and given her a fantastic vodka fuelled climax.

He hadn't lasted long in the car and had pumped a mouthful of spunk over her tongue in less five minutes.

Aly hoped he'd have better stamina in her bed.

He was fucking gorgeous, looked a bit like Ronaldo tanned, gym-toned muscles, short spiky dark blonde mohawk. Lovely deep brown eyes. She'd been disappointed that his cock was only a six incher. After sampling Carl the night before, she'd been hoping to find this lad (what was his name?) just as well hung and just as good a shag. Well he wasn't as well hung, but she could still hope for the under the covers talent, couldn't she?

She finally managed to get the door open, drag the lad into the house and shut the door again. He leaned against her, licking at her neck and pawing at her boobs through her tight cotton v-neck top. If she let him he'd probably pull them down onto the stair carpet and shag her right there. She took one hand off her bosom and used it to lead him toward the stairs.

But it wasn't until she was taking the first few that she realised through her booze fogged mind that she could hear noises from upstairs already.

"Oohh! Ohh! Ohh! Oh God! Oh Jesus! Oh Fuck! Ohh! Ohh! Ohh! Oohh! YES!!"

Aly giggled a little, thinking - insanely - that it must be her, Aly, making those noises, that she must be up in her loft bedroom with this lad (what the hell was his name!?) and that they were already shagging and by the sounds of it she was having a fucking great time... Getting fucked... She giggled again, but then it dawned on her that it was stupid, they were still at the bottom of the stairs and that it couldn't be her having the orgasm of her life. Mum. She thought. The dirty bitch! Who's humping her this time?

"Oh Carl! Oh Jesus yes! Do me Carl! Do me! Do me! Harder! Ohhh, that's it! Oohhh! I'm coming! Ohhh! Yes! Yes! Yes! YESSSS!!"

Carl?! The cheeky bitch! Pinching one of my ex's...! She almost stamped her foot at the injustice and bare faced cheek. But then the bare arse images that came with 'bare faced cheek' had her giggling again and she tossed her jealousy aside. Oh fuck it! This lad's shit loads better looking than that Carl Devlin. Mum's welcome to him. And he is good. I suppose she deserves a really good fuck... So, good for you mum!

"Ohhhh! Ohhhh! Ooohhhh! OOOOOOHHHHHH! Fucking Hell! Lad! Jesus! You're so fucking gooood!! FUCK!!"

Aly waited with anticipatory annoyance, fully expecting the lad she'd brought home to suggest joining in and making it a foursome (it wasn't the first time that particular perversion had been suggested to her). But he swayed drunkenly and then abruptly sat down on the stairs. Aly looked down at him and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"This gorgeous hunk of man has a little dick and can't take his ale." She muttered to herself. "I'm starting to get a feeling I'm gonna be dissapointed tonight..."

"Oooooohhhhhhh! Oooooohhhhhhh! Ohhhh! Ohhhh! Ooh! Ooh! Ohh! Ohh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ohhhh God!!"

"Unlike mum... Fer fuck's sake..." She grumbled and then tried in vain to get her nameless twenty something Adonis onto his unsteady feet again.

<><><>The next twelve days<><><>

Carl couldn't believe how much things, life, can change in two weeks. It was like his luck had been turned on its head. As though, suddenly, nothing could go wrong. Ignoring all the little titbits of good fortune - finding a forgotten tenner in his wallet, missing his alarm clock but still getting to the Gym on time, beating his all time pull up record - he fell in love. Properly, for the first time and absolutely head over heels. He had never felt anything like it.

He and Karen spent every possible moment together. They went out for day trips, they ate together, they slept and bathed together. And, of course, they fucked like bunnies, insatiably, whenever they had the chance, usually four or five times a day, or a couple of long multiple-hour sessions.

Carl also managed to ingratiate himself with Aly, who he befriended and got to know as a friend as well as the daughter of his girlfriend. He found once he looked past his own lust, he actually liked her and they often made each other laugh.

It was like happy families and he loved every second of it. It was a weird feeling. He hurt when they were apart. It was like having an arm or his cock sliced off. He missed her that much. And the sex just got better and better and they got hornier and hornier for each other. Karen turned into a filthy nympho whenever they found themselves alone, much to Carl's enjoyment.

On more than one occasision in the last two weeks they lay in bed together, usually panting and sweaty, lying side by side, after a heavy session of fucking, and talked about their possible future together. They made plans, talked about finding somewhere else to live.

They even, though only half seriously, talked about marriage and kids and Carl liked the idea. It didn't frighten him or make him want to run away as fast as he could. It excited him. He could see their future together, could see them happy. He even brought the subject up himself once or twice.

Everything with Karen felt perfect. Or as perfect as reality ever could be. Perfect enough. Even Aly accepted him as a friend and more or less her mum's live in boyfriend. Carl guessed he spent more time in Karen's house than Aly did.

And then there was the letter from his Uncle's solicitor.

It sat on his bedside table in his little cheap bedsit. A covering letter and a last Will and Testament. He had been hesitant about opening it. Offical mail always made him nervous. He often wondered if he'd been caught out doing something he shouldn't have. Or been reported by someone he'd pissed of, cheated or beat the shit out of. But it didn't loook like Police or court mail or from the council. He had opened it and read through the covering letter with a degree of shock and surprise. Apparently, his Uncle Aaron had died from cancer a month earlier, and it had been a shock to read.

Uncle Aaron had been Carl's only Uncle. A man he had fond memories of, a man who he remembered having fun with as a kid. And, though they hadn't been particularly close and though Carl hadn't seen him in years, or that his dad and Uncle didn't get along and hadn't spoken to each other since Carl was ten or so.

Uncle Aaron had left his nephew one hell of a generous gift in his will. Uncle Aaron had apparently died alone without any wife or children. And, though he'd left nothing to Carl's parents, he had left a substantial sum to Carl.

According to the solicitor's letter, Uncle Aaron had amassed a 'tidy sum' from a couple of successful used car garages he had built up over the last twenty years or so.

Once he had learned of the cancer and that it was too advanced and deemed inoperable, he had sold everything off as quickly as possible. His businesses, his personal, though small, collection of classic cars and his large three storey detched house in Leeds.

The Will stated that he split the money in half, putting half toward the Macmillan and Marie Curie cancer charities that had helped him through to his end and the other half, inexplicably, he had put aside for Carl.

And stapled to the rear of the covering letter was a printed cheque for: £231,138.00.

Two hundred and thirty one thousand quid... Two hundred and thirty one thousand quid! That was almost a quarter of a million!! He felt like he should be dancing around with bug eyes, laughing his head off and going out and getting royally pissed and high. But instead he was quiet and controlled. He was shaking and his heart was going ten to the dozen. But this was something else altogether. This was huge. Life changing. The money felt like a Godsend. The opportunity for a new start. The chance to change everything. The chance for a life.

<><><>

The complications began the day he came back and went straight over to Karen's to tell her the good news. He was buzzing, already thinking up plans of getting away from Oakfield, and moving away with Karen and Aly and starting afresh somewhere more peaceful. Maybe opening his own gym or something.

First of all he made an appointment with a solicitor in town to draft a will of his own. His Uncle's unexpected demise had had a sobering effect on Carl's view of life and now that he had money, he wanted to be careful about who would get it if something unfortunate happened to him.

Then he took his little white 206 straight around to Karen's house.

It was a dull but dry day, as though winter was coming, but Carl couldn't be brought down by the weather. He was buzzing and he had been every one of the last fourteen days. The only times he was less than ecstatic was when he was either on his way home from Karen's or on his way to her house.

The way home was always tainted with a touch of loss, as though he missed her already, but the loss was always outweighed by the elation that she had conjured in him that day. His happy memories of being with her, of their fucking and chatting and laughing.

Of being in love he supposed. And the other time, on the way to Karen's like now, was full of happy anticipation of what they would do together. Of holding her in his arms, the look and taste and smell of her. Her incredible body and what she did to him with it.

Love again, he said to himself.

There was an Audi parked outside so Carl had to park a little further down the street and walk up to her front door. He had his own key by this time and had been told, of course, that he was welcome to drop in day or night, that he was one of the family. So he let himself in.

Aly was sat on the stairs, head in her hands. Slender shoulders trembling. In fits of tears.

"Aly? What's up?" He said, going over to her to put an arm around her shoulders.

"Dad...." She managed to say through her tears and sniffles. "...He's drunk again...."

Her hair was falling around her face, so Carl gently slipped his palm up the side of her cheek to draw her hair back. Aly flinched. And Carl saw the red mark on her cheek, the beginnings of a bruise. He moved back so as not to frighten her any more, but she reached out to grab his hand with hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"...Stop him Carl." She sobbed. "Don't let him hurt her."

Carl's guts turned to ice and he turned to look at the door to the living room. It was closed. A block of granite formed itself into the pit of his stomach. He felt his teeth champing hard together and his nostrils flared.

"They're in the kitchen. Don't let him hurt her anymore, Carl." She said with a little more control.

Carl turned and went through the door to the living room. His muscles bunching in readiness.

The living room was empty but the door to the kitchen was closed. Carl saw blood on the parquet floor, not a lot, but it was still worrying. He also saw Aly's phone broken on the floor and a large ceramic vase, that belonged on the fireplace, in pieces near the blood.

He heard voices in the kitchen, Karen's was angry but controlled. Aly's Dad, who's name was Paul, he remembered, was louder and more crazy sounding, aggressive.

He could see them through the frosted glass in the door, they were face to face but there was a couple of feet between them it looked like. Seeing the blood had him afraid and enraged that it might prove to be Karen's. If that was true he'd beat this Paul to fucking death. But something about the sound of their voices allayed his fear. Karen was relatively calm, though angry. Paul sounded off his head and drunk (as apparently he nearly always had been).

"Forget it Paul, you're still that same fucking psycho bastard!"

"We're meant t'be together. I fuckin' tol'ja that, you cunt! Marriage vows're supposed to be f'rever! You GAVE yourself to me!"

"It's never gonna happen! EVER! It was never gonna happen before you HIT your own DAUGHTER in the face! And now..."

"She HIT ME with a fucking VASE the little FUCKING SLUT CUNT!"

"Don't you call her! She's the only good thing you've done all your life and you're even trying to fuck that up!"

"She's a little tart! Takes after you dun'she! Look at you! You'd still be a dumb fucking barmaid if I hadn't come an' spurted Aly into your belly. I did you a fucking favour! You're still no different though are you. Still a cock tease whore! Still got them big fuck off udders on display as always! Used to fucking worship them udders! Used to fucking worship you! You ungrateful cunt!"

"Worship?! All you ever did was hurt me you ignorant fucking twat! No matter what you did! You married me and went out on the lash with your mates right after! Ten minutes after the service! And you were so pissed on your wedding night you could even make it back to the hotel room, never mind get it up! Remember that?!" Karen spat.

Her rage was beyond anything Carl had witnessed or heard about. Paul just laughed.

"You hurt me every time you put your hands on me! EVERY FUCKING TIME! I...You nearly had me in hospital that night Aly was conceived! REMEMBER THAT YOU FUCKER?!"

"IT WAS A GOOD SHAG IS ALL! You played it up! You fucking know you did! Fucking sympathy vote an' all that crap!"

His anger shifted back and forth between drunken, hurtful, amused, chastising and dry, hard, cruelty at random. "Sayin' that, you always were a good shag... C'mere..."

"Fuck you, you sick freak! Ged'off! Stay the fuck away from me!" Carl saw Paul's shape move toward Karen's and she appeared to lash out at him to push him away and then raised something that she was holding in her hand.

"All you're gonna get from me is the fucking police after you, you fucking bastard!" She spat.

"BITCH!" Paul snarled.

His hazy visage lurched forward and his arms came up. Karen appeared to recoil.

That was it for Carl. He went straight through the kitchen door, his mind a blaze of red hot rage. Paul had his back to him, with one hand at Karen's throat, his other hand ripping at her top and clawing with wicked cruelty at her partially bared breasts. Karen was trying to fight back. One hand trying to lever his hand from her throat, while she tried to pull at his other hand at the same time. Her face was beetroot red as his fingers sank deeper into the flesh of her throat. Her eyes bulged but she looked more angry than afraid. There was a rolling pin on the floor at her feet.

"FUCKER!" Carl shouted, throwing himself to Karen's aid.

He launched an arm of bulging muscle hard across Paul's throat while he threw a concrete body jab as hard as he could into the older man's kidneys. Paul went down like a ton of bricks with a wheezing moan of pain.

Carl maintained the tight grip across his throat and went to the floor with him, throwing another all-his-might punch into his kidneys and then brought his other arm up to Paul's slumped shoulder, using both arms to lock the other mans head in a choke hold, then he hefted the older man up a little and bashed him face first into the edge of Karen's kitchen table, cracking his eye socket, nose and jaw and splitting his lip.