Moving On

I graduated and left University and began work in Uncle Graham's law firm, but I regularly returned to visit Aunty Olwen, sometimes alone and sometimes with Aunty Joanne and Uncle Graham. She was always glad to receive a visit, even if she still didn't approve of Aunty Joanne's 'potty mouth'!

My toast was long finished, my coffee cup empty. When I looked at my watch I was amazed to see that my reminiscing had taken nearly three hours. It was dark outside, and I had to be up early in the morning to shower and make myself presentable for my appointment with Walter Phillips.

Wearily, I climbed the stairs and went into the bedroom that until recently I had shared with Aunty Joanne. I undressed and slipped into bed and lay there thinking of all the fabulous times I'd had since that fateful day when I'd been caught wanking in my own bedroom. An awful lot of sucking, fucking and buggering had occurred since that day, but now, those days were over, I reflected sadly. I fell asleep with my head on Aunty Joanne's pillow, her fragrance in my nostrils as I drifted off.

The next morning I was awake early. I showered and went down to the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. Then I dressed in my best suit, polished my shoes and jumped into Uncle Graham's vintage Jaguar Mark 2 car and drove to the office.

Aunty Joanne had insisted that I keep the Jaguar after Uncle Graham died, and we had taken some memorable trips in it after his death. I fucked her in the back seat in the car park overlooking the nearest beach to us late one Saturday night, and I also fucked her over the bonnet when I parked in a clearing in the woods when we went for a picnic to a local beauty spot. But now that she was gone, what would happen to the car? To the house? To me, even?

I walked into the office and Jill, the office secretary stood up and smiled at me.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Alun," she said softly. "But it is lovely to see you back in the office. We've all missed you."

"Thank you, Jill. I really appreciate it," I said sincerely. "Um... I have an appointment with Walter. It seems that my Aunt specified that I was to attend the reading of her will."

Jill picked up the phone on her desk and pressed a button. She waited and obviously someone picked up the phone at the other end.

"Alun... um... sorry, Mr Pritchard is here for Mr Walters" she said, and listened for a response. Then she said, "Thanks. I'll tell him."

She replaced the receiver and looked at me in embarrassment.

"Sorry about calling you Alun," she said, but I waved her apology away.

"You've always called me Alun," I smiled, "and I hope you always will."

Jill returned my smile and replied, "I called you Alun when you were a colleague. Clients are to be addressed formally, especially by me."

So that was it. I was no longer a colleague. I had become a client when Aunty Joanne passed away.

My thoughts were interrupted by Jill, who was speaking again.

"Sorry, Jill," I said. "I missed that. I was miles away."

"I said that Mrs Jackson was on her way down to meet you," repeated Jill, looking at me in a sympathetic way. I felt as if she'd been reading my thoughts.

"Bloody great!" I thought. "Not only am I going to be out of a job very soon, I have to be told that fact by Mrs. Pamela fucking Jackson office manager and full-time hard-nosed bitch. And here she fucking comes!"

The door to the solicitor's offices behind Jill's desk opened, and Pamela Jackson appeared. As usual, she wore a designer suit which fitted her like a glove. I found myself studying the woman who had come to deliver my death sentence, or at least the news that I was surplus to requirements at the firm of Thomas and Phillips.

Her jet black hair was immaculately styled, as always, and her make-up (green eye shadow, black mascara, scarlet lips) was perfectly applied. I'd always found her tits fascinating. They weren't big, but they were conical, resembling the bra made famous by Madonna.

Her shapely arse was beautifully covered by her almost-too-tight skirt and her legs were sheathed in black nylon. Whether she wore stockings or tights was difficult to discern from where I was standing. Her outfit was completed by a pair of shiny black shoes with what I guessed to be a three inch heel.

"Good morning, Alun," she smiled at me, ignoring the look of indignation from Jill, whom she had just bollocked on the phone for using my Christian name.

"Thanks for being so prompt. Walter is waiting for you in the briefing room. Follow me, please."

As I followed her, I gave Jill a wave of support. The briefing room? That was only used when solicitors met the barristers whom they wished to engage, or brief, on behalf of a client. Why the hell were we meeting there?

I soon found out. Pamela led me into the briefing room and waved me into a chair. I sat down and looked at Walter Phillips who was sitting directly opposite me. When she was satisfied that I was seated comfortably, Pamela walked around the table and sat next to Walter.

I looked at him in astonishment.

"I thought we were going to read my Aunt's will," I protested. "Does Mrs Jackson need to be present? She's the office manager, not a solicitor."

"Your Aunt, Mrs Joanne Thomas, specified that I read her will in the presence of you and Mrs Jackson, and no-one else," replied Walter, in what I thought was a very uncharacteristically subdued voice.

He cleared his throat, and began to read.

"This is the last will and testament of Joanne Thomas. 'I, Joanne Thomas, being of sound mind, do declare this to be my last will and testament. I hereby leave all my possessions, including my house, and everything situated within it, my cars and my portfolio of stocks and shares to my adopted son, Alun Pritchard' "

Walter looked at me but I was staring down into my groin, to try and prevent either him or Pamela seeing the tears in my eyes. My nose began to run, and I sniffed loudly. Suddenly, I was aware that Pamela was by my side, proffering a box of paper tissues. I took a couple and smiled my thanks.

Walter cleared his throat again. I looked at him, tears still rolling down my face.

"Mrs Thomas was adamant that you hear everything," he said with a sad smile. "Which is my cue to hand over to Mrs Jackson."

I looked at her and she smiled. I wasn't used to seeing the hard-nosed bitch smile, but now that she had, she really was quite cute looking. I smiled back encouragingly at her.

"There's no subtle way of putting this, Alun," she began. "So here it is, just as Joanne instructed me to relay it to you."

She took out a piece of foolscap paper from a folder in front of her, and began to read.

"My darling Alun. I've left everything to you in gratitude for the pleasure you gave both Graham and myself whilst we were both alive. I have arranged with Walter that you are now the senior partner in the firm. Graham saw to it before he died, and I am carrying out his wishes. You stood in for him in so many ways whilst he was alive. I wish you to carry on doing so now that he's gone."

"As to your dedication to me personally, I want you to know that I had never been so fulfilled and happy before that wonderful morning when I walked into your bedroom unannounced."

I felt myself starting to blush, and I fidgeted in my chair, causing Pamela to stop reading and Walter to look at me with a huge grin on his face.

"Are you alright, Alun?" asked Pamela in a concerned voice. "Would you like a glass of water?"

"Um... no thanks. Ah... um... why don't you carry on reading, if there's any more to be read," I mumbled.

"Oh, there's plenty more!" grinned Pamela, and Walter chuckled.

"Now that I'm dead and gone," Pamela resumed in a business-like manner, "I am tormented by the thought of your beautiful cock going to waste. So I've chosen a new lover for you. I've told Pamela all about your prowess and she has enthusiastically agreed to be my replacement."

I looked at Pamela, but she studiously avoided my stare and continued reading.

"And just in case you feel that something is missing, Walter has agreed to step into your Uncle Graham's role. He won't be a cuckold in the strict sense of the word, but he does like to be told what he can and cannot do, and he assures me that he is quite adept at fluffing, cock sucking and clean up."

"So your needs, as well as those of my dear friends Pamela and Walter will be attended to. That's all my darling boy. Thank you for everything. Now please do me a very final favour and allow Walter to fluff you so that you can give Pamela a really good fucking over that table."

Pamela folded the piece of paper in half, and looked up at me.

"Those were your Aunt's final instructions," she said with a huge grin on her face.

In the deathly silence that followed this statement, the sound of my trousers being unzipped sounded like a rasp of machine gun fire.

"Walter, Pamela, you've heard Aunty Joanne's last instruction," I said, "what are you both waiting for? Let's get fluffing and fucking!"