Three Lives, Five people

All characters in this story are eighteen or over and above the age of consent, sex is entered into willingly and is consensual. English (UK) is the prevalent language, if the spellings arse, mum or colour offend you, this is not the story for you.

Happy reading.

*****

"1379281 Johnson P D."

Peter Johnson stood by the entrance to his cell, the door bolted back as per regulations. He held between his arms the bedding material from his bunk. An Officer approached and checked the ID number on his shirt.

"Okay Johnson, follow me, speak to no one, acknowledge no one, understand!"

"Yes Sir!" Peter said automatically, following in the wake of the man, eyes front, acknowledging no one.

"Nonce!"

"Pervert!"

"Kiddy Fiddler!"

"We'll get you you fucking tosser!"

"You're dead meat Johnson!"

A stream of abuse followed him. Whispered or shouted from the line of inmates watching his departure. A stream of spittle hit his back, he ignored it. An Officer stood between two sets of men, he watched but did nothing. Peter walked quickly six steps behind his man, the exit door to the block getting nearer. A huge thuggish form stepped forward, the Officer looked over his shoulder,

"Jenkins, back away, I've a new baton I'm itching to use, don't tempt me!"

The tone was neutral, matter of fact, a warning that the speaker really meant what he said. The shape moved away, muttering loudly.

They passed through the exit door, unlocked from the other side and re-locked as Peter stepped in to the next area, a three story vestibule with huge glassed windows high up. A long low corridor stood at ninety degrees to them, the Officer turned and walked quickly along the passage between the narrow tile lined walls. He stopped at a door, knocked perfunctorily and opened it.

Stepping aside he pushed Peter Johnson in. A long L shaped counter took up the the front third of the room, behind it racks of bedding and clothing stood. Some in plastic bags, others neatly folded in size order. The Officer behind the counter took the bedding from Peter and threw it into a large wheeled laundry basket.

"Number and name," he intoned bending to an old ledger worn and leather bound.

"1379281 Johnson P D." Peter repeated by rote.

The Officer checked the pages, found the entry and scrawled the date and turned the book round, Peter took the proffered pen and signed in the space indicated. The Officer walked to the racks, mouthing the number to himself. Selecting a plastic bag he returned to Peter,

"Change!" he barked.

Peter looked at him, he looked back at Peter quizzically.

"Change!" he repeated.

Peter pulled off his issue uniform and stood naked, the Officer pushed the bag towards him. Inside cleaned and pressed were the clothes he had worn on entry, his pants, trousers, socks, shirt, shoes and tie all there. He dressed quickly. The Officer ticking the ledger and closing it, nodded at him as he turned away.

"This way Mr Johnson," the first Officer said, stressing the first use of the word Mr in five years.

Peter turned and grinned. Outside they crossed to a door opposite. Inside a Doctor examined him perfunctorily, asked a few questions, ticked a form and signed it. He passed the clipboard to Peter, who signed in the box under his name and dated it.

The Officer, eased him out, a hand on his elbow, they approached a reception area. A final check of his ID, then the Admissions Officer opened a small sealed envelope and tipped out Peter's worldly possessions. His watch, wedding ring, wallet and Parker pen slithered out into the light. Peter collected them up and distributed them about his suit, winding his watch and slipping it on his right wrist, checking the time on the clock behind the Admissions Officer. As for the wedding ring, he tossed it a couple of times as if weighing up his options and then dropped it into his pocket.

The Officer then opened a safe and extracted a leather purse, he emptied that onto the counter, credit cards, out of date, sixty pounds in ten pound notes, four pounds eighty seven pence in loose change. Peter signed again. they moved to the exit.

The first Officer stepped back, pulling Peter with him and signaled to the door keeper, the wicket gate in the large double doors opened and Peter stepped out of prison. Peter took a deep breath of fresh air, or at least air not tainted by the smells of the prison. A horn honked and a man in a suit stepped out of a blue Vauxhall Insignia, waving at him. Peter trudged over to the man, as he recognised his solicitor he grinned. They shook hands and Peter moved to sit in the passenger side front seat.

"Alright Pete, how are you doing?"

"Harry, I'm a lot better for seeing you, thanks for everything, I owe you."

"Oh don't worry, my bill's on it's way! Only joking mate, she's gonna pay for this, trust me."

"Thanks Harry, can I go home? Or is she still there?"

"No, at this moment your ex-wife is in custody charged with perverting the course of justice, perjury and aggravated assault."

"Assault?"

"Man she went ballistic when the fuzz arrived and shattered a coppers jaw when they tried to take her, took eight of them to subdue her."

"Jesus!"

"You were lucky mate, the things she said she'd do to you, what a potty mouth, absolute filth."

"Uh,Huh! So what's the SP then where do we go from here?"

Harry, whilst driving, reached into his jacket and tossed keys into Peter's lap.

"House keys, go home, get some shut eye, see me tomorrow, about eleven thirty, I'll make sure the times free, no worries."

"Cheers, I'm looking forward to a beer and a chicken dinner, and walking around unguarded, going into any room I fancy being in. No screws, no nutters, no mentalers, fuck it's been a long while."

"Want me to drop you outside Sainsbury's, so you can do a shop?"

"Yes that would be good. Does this stuff still work," he grinned and held up the notes he'd been given.

"Well up to this morning when I bought breakfast, yes it still seems to be acceptable. Here," Harry passed a bundle of notes to Peter.

"Take that on account, I'll deduct it from your winnings."

"Cheers ears," Peter riffled the notes and looked at Harry, " fuck me, there's about six hundred quid here!"

"Might take a week or two for your bank to sort out your cards, so this is to tide you over, let me know if you need more of those beer vouchers, it's all going on her bill."

After Harry dropped him off Peter did some shopping and spent an hour in his bank sorting his credit and debit cards out, then caught a taxi home.

Inside the apartment, he saw the hasty signs of departure. After putting the shopping away Peter began to gather the last of his wife's possessions and place them haphazardly into plastic sacks. He swept her cosmetics cheerfully into the bin, then emptied it into a bag of clothing. He tied each bag off and left it by the front door. He popped the top off a bottle of bitter and took a deep draught.

"Ahhh! that hit the spot," he said, wiping the back of his hand across his lips.

He sat in a chair and looked at his old marital home. After five years inside it still looked bright and airy. Probably, he thought, due to the dingy ten by twelve he's spent the last five years in. The doorbell rang and he raised an eyebrow, who knew he was back? He ambled over to the entrance and swung the door open. His face dropped, he looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Fucking hell! Laura, well well, I never thought I'd see you again, what the fuck do you want?"

"Hallo Daddy, can I come in?"

"Are you kidding, where's the film crew or your mother. She gonna leap out on us again?" Peter looked anxiously past her shoulder, watching for the tell tale signs of an ambush.

"Dad! I didn't know a thing about that! Honestly, I never knew. The Bitch turned my life upside down too." she spat out.

"Okay, five minutes, come in."

Peter walked away from the door, which she pushed shut behind her. He sat in his favourite chair and eyed her up and down. Still looking fit at twenty three he thought. She had taken her coat off and the T-shirt she wore accentuated the swell of her firm breasts, the nipples poking out, showed she was braless. Her skirt was short and flared, showing off her long legs.

"Can I get a drink?"

"Beer in the kitchen, dunno what's in the cupboard. If it's tea you're after, I'm not sure if there's any."

"Fuck tea, I need something much stronger!" With her head bent into the cupboard, Peter looked up at her long slim legs disappearing into the gloom of her skirt.

"Ahah!"

Peter jumped slightly thinking she'd seem his eyes on the skirt straightened across her arse. She stood with a bottle of Scotch in her hand. From the small silver salver on top of the low level unit she took a shot glass and poured herself a very large sized drink.

"Fuck her and all who sail in her."

She raised the glass and gulped down half the liquid. Shaking her head vigorously as she swallowed, she let out a gasp, then up ending the glass finished the drink. Peter grinned and took another swig of his beer, watching her pour another stiff one.

"So, what now?"

"I guess an apology, I really had no idea what that bitch was going to do. She dropped me in the shit too, but not as badly as you. How was it?"

"Oh it was great, no really it was, I met some really interesting men and we went to pottery and flower arranging classes. There's a fully stocked library and a gym too. We had daily exercise and a weekly film, not to scabby as it goes. What the hell do you think it was like. I was in prison for sexual offences against a minor and incest, locked up with murderers, killers and feral scum. People who actually thought I was beneath them."

Peter's voice was rising and his face reddening.

" I couldn't sleep properly in case someone decided to pay me a night time visit, the screws were very amenable to that, they despised me as much as the inmates. In the end I went on the wing with the other's, the Pedo's the rapists, the gropers and frotteurs. Banged up with sick kiddy-fiddlers doesn't leave you with a good feeling, trust me. You ought to know that I don't trust anyone now."

"I can understand, I'm so sorry Dad, really."

"Look Laura in the light of events, do you still think of me as your Dad?"

"Of course, who else would I call Dad?"

"Your biological father?"

"Fuck that! Finding him would take years anyway! Seems The Bitch was game for any cock she could lay her hands on. How come you never suspected Dad?"

"Because she was a confident, mendacious, cocksucking liar first class and I trusted and loved her completely."

Peter raised his beer bottle and finished the dark bitter liquid.

"That tasted bloody good I'm gonna have another, and another until I'm completely shitfaced."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Pull up that bottle and fall down."

She sat on the arm of his chair, he felt the warmth of her body as she snuggled against him.

"You're a bit fucking previous aren't you?"

"Dad, I love you, now we know the truth we can love each other properly, I want you in my life, do you want me in yours?"

Peter stood and walked to the kitchen, he reappeared with a another bottle and stood looking at her.

"So what are you proposing?"

She poured another drink, and raised the glass level with her eyes, winked and moved it to her lips.

"How about I stay over tonight?"

"You are fucking joking, I got out at nine this morning, I don't intend to go back at nine tonight."

"But Dad, it's not wrong, I'm not your daughter, you were deceived by Mum. I can live with you openly, there's no shame, well apart from the fact your twenty five years older than me."

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me, anyway don't you want to play with boys your own age?"

"No why would I? Most of of them are tossers anyway. You have maturity and..."

"A criminal record?"

"No! A..."

"Dirty mind?"

"NO! A..."

Big Dick?"

"You wish!"

they laughed and Laura sat on Peter's lap.

"So Daddy, will you take me to bed tonight?"

"I might need to phone my solicitor first, just to check."

"OK. Well you could also check with him it's alright for me to suck your cock and do it doggie style too?"

Peter's hand holding the beer wobbled.

"Steady on young lady, I nearly spilt my beer." He grinned, she laughed.

"Seriously Dad, I want to be with you. Having you in me, well, it was the best feeling ever. I felt so loved, so cared for, it wasn't just a shag, a quick fuck and away. I felt loved." She wriggled round and kissed his lips.

He put his beer bottle down. Laura passed her glass, he put that down too. They kissed. Ten minutes later, he was trying to tear his shirt off as she shucked her blouse and skirt. As he pulled the shirt over his head, her hands unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. Sitting he drew his socks off as she rolled her tights down. His pants joined her knickers on the floor as she uncinched her bra.

They fell on each other and kissed, licked, squeezed, stroked and held the other. Finally surfacing for air, they made for the bedroom, falling onto the bed.

Laura began to stroke his cock as he licked and sucked her nipples, she threw her head back and moaned throatily. He grunted as her hand tightened on his cock. Sliding his hand down her smooth flat stomach onto her bare mons, his middle finger split her lips and slid into her moist centre. He flattened his palm and rubbed her clit between her lips, as his wiggling finger insinuated itself inside her. She spasmed and moaned, her pelvis jerking, her hand on his cock flexing, the other gripping his side. He pushed and squeezed and wriggled his finger, relaxing back he returned to her fold and slid a second finger in with the first. She rocked her head back and pushed against him. He trapped her clit again in her lips as his palm rubbed over her mons.

With a scream she began to gyrate on his fingers, pushing, pulling, swaying pumping. He felt her vagina squeeze his fingers as her hand gripped his cock and pumped. They kissed, tongues dancing round each other. Her breathing became snatched, her motions spastic and involuntary. she screamed into his mouth and collapsed on the bed. Her legs twitched as she lay crying in the agony of her ecstasy. He held his fat erect cock and moved between her legs, pushing them apart. Reaching for her thighs he lifted her hips up and pushed himself into her. She responded by grabbing his hands and hauling herself onto him, burying his fat cock deep inside her.

With her arse in his lap and her legs around his back, he thrust into her, making up for the five year void in his life. She moaned and held him, he bent forward and licked her breasts, finding a nipple he sucked it in and fed on it.

"YEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, fuck me Daddy, fuck me hard, I missed you so much. Fill me up, come in me, make me yours again, Yesssssss. I'M CUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMING. DAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDDDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY."

Her frenzied thrusting and her vagina's constant pulling took him over the edge, she milked him dry, sucking the gobs of spunk from his cock, until he was pushing and emitting nothing, His balls, ached and he fell back exhausted.

They awoke later, much later, sweat stained and aching, he grinned, she smiled, they embraced and kissed lazily.

"You gonna buy me dinner then?"

"Oh so that's what this was, a dinner fuck."

"Well usually it's dinner then a fuck, but hey you'll get the idea eventually."

"Cheeky cow, OK, you're on, we'll go out to dinner. Anywhere in mind?"

"The Dorchester, The Ritz, The Savoy?"

"Chaz Angel's Pie and Mash Palace?"

"I don't think so Daddy."

"OK, seriously, how about that Italian place, Franchetti's, by the Station."

"Better. OK yeah, that'll do."

"So I guess we better wash up and go, I'll phone ahead and book a table."

"Is that The Bitch's stuff in the bags?"

"Yeah why?"

"Well as she's not going to have the opportunity to wear them for a few years I thought I could pick through them and find something appropriate."

"Yeah go for it, mind you I just scrunched them up, so they might be a little creased."

"Now here's a little trick from a seasoned traveler, find a hanger for it, stick that in the bathroom on the coat hook behind the door and presto the steam will make the creases fall out."

"You genius, will it work for trousers and shirts?"

"Don't see why not. go for it."

Later they sat in the Restaurant and talked after a superb meal. Laura's mobile rang she answered, grinned and passed it to Peter,

"It's Harry, said he thought I'd know where you were."

Peter grinned and held his hand out.

"Hallo Harry, what can I do for you? What?.. sorry I can't hear you, hang on I'll go outside."

Mouthing sorry to Laura he stepped outside and twisted round, moving to the edge of the pavement, trying to get a better signal.

"Harry yes, I've got four bars now, what's the probl..."

The phone fell to the floor as two burly Police Officers, stepped either side of him and pulled his arms round his back. They steered him towards a patrol car, where he was handcuffed and pushed into the back seat. Laura came out attracted by the flashing lights. Stooping to pick up her phone she shouted at Harry.

"Harry, it's Laura, the cops have arrested Dad again, no! Wait."

She ran to the car as the cop took his hat off and sat in the drivers seat.

"Excuse me where are you taking my Dad?"

"Duke Street, but you won't be able to talk to him for a while, he'll be helping us with our inquiries."

He grinned and slammed the door. Pulling on his seat belt he spun away from the kerb, a burst from the siren stopping cars around him. The car sped off lights and siren disturbing the peaceful rumble of traffic.

"Harry they're taking him to Duke Street and they say he'll be helping them with their inquiries and isn't contactable. Yes OK, I'll wait for you. I better go and pay the bill before I get arrested too. OK Fifteen minutes."

Laura went back in and apologised, noting the waiter hovering by the door. She retrieved their coats and her bag, paid and went to wait outside. Five minutes later a familiar blue Insignia pulled up. She walked to the passenger side and slid in, noting Harry's eyes on her legs as her dress slid up to her thighs.

"Eyes on the road perver, or I'll tell Dad."

"Sorry, but you look fantastic, right let's go spring your old man."

The drove steadily to the Police Station, parking in a spot reserved for the duty solicitor. As they got out Harry slid a professional looking card onto the dashboard. Outside the car Laura read,

Metropolitan Police, Duty Solicitor, On Call.

She grinned at Harry who shrugged and led her towards the entrance.

The desk Sergeant frowned and looked at them.

"Harry Fowles what brings an old bugger like you into my Station at this late hour?"

"George, how are you, the wife and kids okay?"

The Sergeant grinned and nodded, "Fair to middling, yours?"

Laura looked at Harry, her expression saying, "You're allowed to breed?"

"Fine George, all tucked up and cozy in bed, which is where I should be, except you've arrested one of my clients by mistake."

"Harry, they all say that, what's his name?"

"Peter Johnson, arrested by a couple of your woodentops outside a restaurant in Station Street not twenty minutes ago."

"We were having a quiet meal when they descended on him and dragged him off, for no reason."

"And you would be, miss?"

"Laura Johnson, he's my Father."

"Right, OK, well Mr Johnson has been detained on some rather serious charges, which will require him to remain here overnight until we can get a senior detective to interview him."

"I wish to see my client, and I'd like to know what he's been charged with?"