OK Ch. 13-18

He nodded again, and she sent him off while she cleared up and locked the house.

Once she arrived inside the room, John took her in his arms and kissed her gently. At which she opened her mouth and her tongue pushed into his. He moaned and pushed back.

He pushed the spaghetti straps off her shoulders and the flimsy nightdress sank gently to the floor, leaving her in her minimal lacy string; her nipples were hard and erect.

She undid the buttons on his shirt, pushing it apart and away from his chest, over his shoulders and off, sliding her hands over his shoulders and down his chest.

She pressed her cheek to his breast murmuring. "I love your bod, so hard and warm." Then she went for his trousers, unfastening them and taking the zip down. She pushed them along with his briefs down his legs allowing his hard cock to spring up and out at her.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "You're ready!"

Now he was naked and she was still in her underwear, what there was of it, but he dispensed with it swiftly, pushing the flat of his hands inside the waistband and sliding her minimal knickers over the tight round mounds of her bottom, and down her slim thighs, feeling her legs all the way down, until she was standing nude before him, allowing him to take in her perfectly proportioned breasts with their pencil hard nipples, her exquisitely tapered waist and hips and her shaved pussy.

She pulled him to the bed. "Come on, push that monster in me!"

He reared over her widespread thighs, aimed, and thrust. She gave a loud moan as she felt him stretch and fill her, and urged him to do her hard. So he did, burying the length of him until his root slapped against her mound again and again as she grunted and gasped with each shock.

Her wordless moans and groans, rising in pitch, got louder and louder as he stroked his cock with vigour in and out of her tight pussy. He too began to make deeper, masculine noise as his own climax approached. She raked his back with her fingernails, and wrapped her legs over his back, squeezing his waist as his buttocks clenched and relaxed, plunging him deeply within her again and again.

Then with her signature "Whoo - oo - oo!" she came, and he could swear he felt her contractions. It sent him over and with a reciprocal series of grunts he erupted.

Tracy, gulped as she eventually came down.

"You do it for me every time," she exclaimed, "Every time! Fucking fabulous! Fabulous fucking!" She giggled.

John gave a smile of agreement breathing heavily after his exertions. She was a superb lover.

He pulled out, then began the journey down her supine body gently nipping her nipples before kissing down to her navel and further down.

"You've just come in my pussy," she warned him.

"I'll cope, now let me get to the matter in hand."

"Not your hand I hope" and another throaty giggle from her. He'd heard that line before and from her. She knew it.

He admired her tidy groove, then spread her outer lips wide with the fingers of one hand, while stroking featherlight with his index finger along one inner petal, stopping short of her clitoris before doing the same with the other petal. This time he simply touched the head of her clit and rested it there.

"A-a-h!" came the tortured response as she raised her hips to move the finger.

He did not stroke, he tapped. She gasped. He tapped again and she groaned.

"Please!" came her complaining moan.

He drummed a tattoo on the little organ and she began to breathe quickly, to gasp.

"John! You're killing me!" she cried in her anguish.

John removed his finger and plunged it into her vagina and out again, then his tongue took one agonisingly slow lick from anus upward. A pause short of her clit then a gentle brush over it, as he re-inserted his index finger and pressed the rest of his hand hard into her anal crease.

This time she screamed as she came. Now his tongue danced on her nubbin as she writhed under him, his other hand now tweaking a nipple and bringing further spasms which wracked her body, threatening to throw him off. Now he held her hips while she squeaked and growled.

"No more please, John, please no more!"

He stopped, now lying beside her and running his finger lightly over her crease again and again which had the effect of calming her as her orgasm melted away, until she was quite still.

"Oh, sodding fucking buggery!" she vouchsafed at length. "You do that so fucking well!"

"No buggery," he vouchsafed.

She pulled his head to kiss his wet face, and her obvious relish at her own taste on it hardened him sufficiently for her to straddle him and insert his cock once more in her gash, where it slithered across her slit towards her anus.

"You can bugger me if you want," she offered.

"Not this time," he said. "I want your cunt."

He was not quite hard but the sultry look she gave him as she worked her lithe body on him, combined with his own coarse language, completed the hardening process, and he lay in indolence watching her breasts bounce and swing, and her facial grimace as she concentrated on the sensations his thick tool was giving her.

The sensual vision gradually led his body to full sensitised arousal and before long he was thrusting upward against her downward fall, and she felt him harden still more and smiled triumphantly down at him.

That smile was enough to get him off, and she felt his contractions as he came in her, and she saw his face grimace and his eyes squeeze tightly shut in his climax. It gave her a little come, and she laughed. His eyes shot open and he laughed in his turn at her celebration of triumph and her slight loss of control.

"Again?" he asked wickedly.

"Ha! You haven't got it in you!" she scoffed, calling his bluff.

"But you've got it in you!" he rejoined, with a grin.

"And very good it is too," she said, "Though I sense a certain softness developing."

"And I sense a certain something dribbling down my balls," came his reply.

She pulled off him and immediately dived for his groin, where she began to lick his balls and crease clean, finishing with his cock.

"Better?" she asked knowingly.

"Much," he said, pulling her to him for a wet kiss.

Then they settled down for the night and soon fell asleep.

On Sunday morning they slept in, had a leisurely breakfast and then he took her into the hills for a walk. The weather stayed dry though cloudy and after a pub lunch they returned home. As the car came to a halt outside the front door, Tracy's hand wandered over his thigh and over his quiescent penis.

John looked over at her, but she had her eyes closed as she gently pulled his zip down, found the slit in his boxers and fished out his cock, which by now was half hard. He closed his own eyes and then he repeated her actions on her jeans, unzipping then pushing his hand down the front of her knickers. She hitched forward to the edge of the seat to allow him entrance to her damp crevice, all the while stroking his cock to full mast.

She then began to stroke intensively, pulling his foreskin to and fro, masturbating him. He grunted his pleasure while his two fingers pushed into her vagina up to the knuckle, then, suitably coated with her juice, began to rub her clit in circles, which brought forth a moan from her in turn.

The two sat facing forward in the car, legs apart, eyes closed and fingers busily at work on each other. They both began to squirm and writhe as their climaxes approached, their breath coming in gasps.

"Ah! Shit!" she cried as she crested her wave and her legs scissored on his wrist as he continued to play her though her orgasm, her own ministrations in abeyance. Now he was watching her, watching what he was doing as her mouth hung open and her lungs sucked in the air. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him with utter lust through her eyelashes, and then vigorously pumped him and sent him over.

His whole body tensed, rigid, his bottom coming off the seat as he came. His cock spewed creamy semen into the air in all directions, onto the floor between his legs, over his trousers, up against his shirt, everywhere, as she crazily milked him until he fell back onto the seat and she looked down to see her hand covered in the last glutinous drops of his emission.

She looked into his eyes with sultry intent, and licked and sucked her fingers clean.

"You dirty boy," she chided, "Look at the mess you've made!"

"You little slut," he spat back, "That's your doing waving it about like that. Come here!"

He pulled her to him, the seat belts having disappeared early on in the encounter, his mouth devoured hers and he tasted the sourness of his come on her tongue. The wet patches on his shirt now dampened hers, and she felt the coldness of the spunk on her chest.

They parted, grinning at each other.

"Come on," he said, "Let's get inside and get out of these clothes."

"Oh, yeah, let's," she replied eagerly. "You mean there's more?"

"More fun," he agreed, "I don't know how much mess."

They ran up the stairs, shed their clothes in the bedroom and dived for the shower, lathering each other up, front and back, arms and legs. Gasps and moans, grunts and sighs as the body wash ran down shiny bodies until both were clean, wet and ready.

They towelled each other, and made for the bed, where a now rigid penis sought and found a ready vagina without further foreplay.

John dominated her, rearing over her as he plunged his rampant cock into her open pussy, eliciting a squeak of surprise and pleasure from her, and a roar from him. Then it was hell for leather, every ounce of his effort reinforced by her hips thrusting up in time.

It lasted a long while, and Tracy found herself cresting to her second twitching orgasm, then her third doubled it in intensity, finally a mind numbing, blistering, star-seeing climax when she felt his own muscular spasms deep down inside, and knowing at least some seed was spurting into her welcoming womb.

He lay over her, the fluttering beat of her vagina calling forth an answering palpitating kick from his prostate, now empty of creamy gift, but still sucking. He held off her on his elbows and eventually rolled aside, when she came to his arms, her sex dripping over his thigh.

They caught their breath and then napped for half an hour, before kissing their way to full consciousness, a consciousness of hunger. They rose, put together a ham salad, cheese and bread, which they ate at the kitchen table in the nude.

Then after some mutual hugging and fingering, John went to his study to start reading the tomes of material, while Tracy cleared up, found her romance novel and settled to an evening of reading and later of television.

She did not resent his absence for she knew, if he was to go away for months, there was serious planning to be done. She admired his dedication, and resolved to show the same from the next day, when much would be asked of her.

They went to bed together, cuddled and stroked, kissed and nibbled, up and down, then settling to sleep. Monday tomorrow and a busy week ahead.

The next two days were very busy indeed. There were meetings with Tom, and the pages and pages of information John needed to digest before his trip. These were contained on CDs and flash drives, which took up little physical room but contained volumes of text. Tracy for her part was immersed in her new sales manager role, getting some orientation and establishing a working relationship with her 'partner' and the sales team.

They ate together in the evenings and made love both nights. It was comfortable for both of them, unlike the athleticism of Sunday, for John's imminent departure was hanging over them and giving an urgency and intensity in their gentle intimacy. The orgasms were smooth and deep for both.

"Last night tonight," said Tom on Tuesday, "Got anything planned?"

"No."

"How about the Griffin tonight? Come for dinner with Tracy and we'll all go on afterwards."

"Thanks, it'll be the last English beer for a while."

"It's serious then."

"Oh yes. Very."

John packed all afternoon to be ready to go, and once Tracy returned from work and changed into a light summer tee shirt, skirt and sandals, they headed out for Tom's place.

The meal was, as always, superb and afterwards they sat and chatted, waiting for the baby-sitter to arrive. Then the four strolled to the Griffin. It was a warm sunny evening so they took their drinks outside into the beer garden. Children played on the playground and somehow made the place more homely. They chatted and joked the evening away, and soon it was time to leave.

They passed through the pub, chatting and laughing, and did not see the watchers observing their departure, but the watchers saw them all too clearly.

The foursome made their way to the point where their paths diverged.

"Well," said Tom, "Best of luck with whatever it is you're doing. Send us a postcard!"

Ann hugged him.

"You be careful," she admonished him. "Come back to us safe and sound." She kissed him and patted his arm. Tom shook his hand. Tracy stood by, realising this was a farewell between old and trusted friends from way back.

Once home, John and Tracy made gentle and prolonged love, as if to memorise each other's bodies, and share their souls, and next morning they hugged and kissed at some length before she had to go to work.

"You've got my credit card," said John, "You said the house needed a woman's touch. Do your worst!"

"I'll do my best!" she answered with mock anger. Then with a worried look, "Take care, won't you? This job you've got sounds dangerous."

"I don't think it is," he said, "but I will be careful. It may be some time before I am allowed to contact you, but you know I'll be thinking of you every day."

They embraced and pressed themselves together, kissing long and sensuously until they mutually forced themselves apart, and Tracy left.

John collected his bags and in half an hour the taxi came and he left in his turn for the station. The first of August; he would not see his place again until the end of November.

It was while on the train, when he had the time to reflect on the past week, that he realised he had not tried to contact Carol. He felt guilty. Tracy had somehow filled his life and every waking moment, and the intensity of the preparations had filled his mind.

She had not contacted him either, though he realised she might not have known he had returned. What about her? As the train sped southwards, he found all his sharp emotions concerning her had dulled. He was now resigned to losing her. He thought again about the night of the party, and saw it in a different light: the light of Carol's character.

The man Ronson had been described as an old flame of hers. Both John and Carol were no virgins when they met: both had had a number of partners before they fell for each other. Who was to know if Ronson was in fact the love of her life, perhaps her first love, and that their relationship was somehow thwarted long before John came on the scene.

So it could have been that she was not inviting him to laugh at him, but gently and lovingly tell him face to face that another man had her heart - had always had her heart. In that case he had no business interfering, she should go with Ronson. John would not be able to stand living with her, knowing he was second best in her life.

Impulsively he took out his laptop and wrote her an email. If he had been less impulsive he might had written differently, but he didn't. He wrote it from the heart and when he reached the company flat, sent it, smiled a sad smile and thought of Tracy.

--

Chapter Seventeen

Susan saw the look of distress on Carol's face as they sat in the Griffin that Tuesday evening. It was Kathy's birthday but there was a late floodlit cricket match that night, so it was a girls' night.

Susan swivelled round to see the cause. What she saw were Tom and Ann, and John and a woman. The woman was very pretty with glossy black hair, a perfect figure, tall: five foot nine inches at least and long legs, was Susan's appraisal. So John was back and had a girlfriend.

"Shit!" Susan exclaimed as Carol's eyes filled with tears and the women watched John and Tracy laughing as they left the pub arm in arm. Jessica and Kathy were puzzled, and turned to look in their turn. All now understood, and damage limitation swung into action.

"That's it then," Carol said disconsolately. "He's found someone else."

"No it isn't!" Kathy answered sharply. "You don't know that."

"Yes, she could be a colleague from work or a visitor," added Jessica.

"Look, Carol," said Sue earnestly, "He can only have got back this week, and he's been incommunicado while he's been away. Go and see him!"

"No," Carol said dejectedly. "You saw. They were in a relationship, surely you could tell?"

"Not necessarily," Sue replied doggedly. "She's probably one of his flings from London. He's bound to have been there to report back. Don't forget, he still thinks you're with someone else. He needs putting right on that. Wait until she's gone back to wherever she's come from, and go see him next week."

"I don't know whether I can," Carol said. "I think he's moved on."

"Don't give up!" Kathy was almost shouting. "You don't know where he's at. Find out!"

"No," said Carol, "I can't. He's come back and hasn't been in touch, and we've just seen why. He's moved on." Tears began tracking down her face.

"But he must only have been back this one week!" Kathy was doggedly insistent. "If she's a colleague, perhaps there's still something big going on at work. Go and see him, please!"

Carol shook her head. Her face looked bleak.

"Well, if you can't or won't, I can and I will," said Jessica. "I'll go round tomorrow evening. I'll find out what's going on. You've sworn off men the whole time he's been away, in fact since you found out about Liam. You deserve to know the truth."

It was true. From that meeting at the hotel when Liam's treachery was discovered, Carol had lived the life of a recluse, waiting for John to return from his mission. The other women saw to it that she accompanied them to the pub, but she would not go clubbing, or to parties where men might try to pick her up.

Carol shrugged.

"I can't stop you," she said with resignation, and as if by common consent they let the matter drop.

Next evening Jessica was ringing the doorbell of John's house, and getting no reply. Tracy had driven back to London to collect more of her stuff, now that she knew her stay was for the long haul. John could have travelled with her, but he found the train easier for working.

Jessica was not easily put off and was there on Thursday and Friday only to find the house deserted. She was busy at the weekend, so it was early Monday evening before she had any success, but when the door opened, she was in for a surprise. It was the dark haired woman she'd seen in the pub and not John.

"Oh, er, Good Evening," Jessica began. "I wonder is John in?"

"I'm sorry," the woman replied, with a noticeable London accent, "You've missed him."

"Will he be back soon?"

"You are?" the woman asked gently without aggression.

"Oh, sorry," Jessica said with embarrassment, "I'm Jessica Thompson, John and I go way back to school days. I know he's been away, and thought I'd call to see how he was."

"Tracy Rushton," said the raven-haired beauty. "I got to know him well when he was in London, and now I've been moved to the Manchester office, we've hooked up again. I'm staying here house-sitting while he's away."

"Has he gone for long?"

"No idea, really," she said, leaning against the door jamb, "but it will be months. He's on some secret mission abroad - I reckon to the far east. Troubleshooting. I'm filling a space left by his second in command who's doing his job while he's away, you know Tom?"