The Lady at the Bus Stop

We rode the lift to the sixth floor in silence, then she followed me down a short corridor, round a corner and up to a door marked "N S Armstrong -- Solicitor". I opened the door and stood aside.

'Welcome to your new job. Let me show you around.'

There wasn't much to see -- a lobby, two offices with desks and filing cabinets, a toilet, a cubby hole for tea and coffee stuff and a cupboard for cleaning equipment.

'And you're not to lay a finger on that,' I warned her, indicating the mop and broom. 'We're having a proper cleaner in, now.'

'I was a proper cleaner,' she smiled.

'Yes, but that was then. Now you're secretary to a dynamic young lawyer and trainee conveyancing clerk.'

I showed her into her new office, where I'd arranged for some flowers to be left on the desk. Carol looked around, saying nothing. She walked to the window and looked out over the city centre, her back to me. Then her shoulders started shaking and she turned and I saw with dismay that she was weeping, great fat tears rolling down her lined cheeks.

'Oh Nick!' She ran into my arms and I held her tightly. 'Oh Nick, is this all real?'

I'd had the idea since shortly after meeting Carol. It was obvious that, despite her lowly circumstances, she was a clever, literate and articulate lady, if a little shy. And I needed a secretary. She protested at first that she'd be hopeless, couldn't do shorthand and had only basic computer skills. So I enrolled her on an eight-week intensive secretarial course and she passed with flying colours. Furthermore it boosted her confidence tremendously. The day we went shopping for new clothes to suit her new position was as special for me as it was exciting for her.

It had later occurred to me that, with training, there was no reason she couldn't do reasonably straightforward tasks like house conveyancing. It was good bread and butter work for a solicitor's practice and a useful string to the company's bow. So next Monday she was starting a part-time course in the legal mysteries of buying and selling houses.

But what of Carol and me?

Well, our sex life is nothing short of stupendous. I cannot get enough of her. I want to fuck her morning noon and night! She turns me on like no other woman ever has. And as her self-confidence has grown, so has her lust for sex and her generosity in giving herself to me.

We make love every night, some mornings and at least twice on high days and holidays. I kiss her and lick her all over -- I've even licked her little pucker, feeling the rubbery muscle with my tongue and pushing in just a half-inch or so. I come in her cunt, her mouth and her arse and she comes with me, a lot of the time. She says that her biggest, most powerful orgasms are when I'm in her arse and she's masturbating herself with her right forefinger.

She's started lubricating a finger and sliding it into my anus while she's fellating me. I come like a fucking express train!

We live together now, for all intents and purposes like a man and wife. The neighbours are incredulous. Well, fuck 'em! My parents are disappointed. Same to them. I don't know what's to become of us. Carol is slightly more than twenty-six years older than me so to marry would be folly. But I love her to distraction! And she says she loves me very much, too. What are we to do?

Any suggestions?