Walkabout

Brushing a lock of hair from her brow, he moved higher and kissed her forehead and temple. Peggy rotated her hips, encouraging him to plow deeper, and with each stroke, she felt his balls land on her ass.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pulled him down, kissing him passionately, deeply, breathlessly. Each thrust was slow and deliberate, but he pushed her into the mattress with each downward stroke, forcing his dick deep into her. Each time she felt her ass forced down, Peggy whimpered and dug her heels into Jim's ass harder.

She whispered in his ear, "Fuck me harder, Jim. Make me yours. Cum in me. I want you. Please."

He lifted himself off of her, continuing to thrust and drive her ass into the mattress, and with his arms straightened, he looked down at her, pleading, "I want you. I want you to be mine. I feel like a teenager falling in love for the first time."

"Then kiss me and cum in me," she said.

His lovemaking was no longer tender. He dropped back to his elbows and kissed her, tongues intertwined, grunts and whimpers filling the room as he pounded her ass into the bed. Kissing gave way to chewing, and she clawed his back with her nails. Burying her head on his shoulder, she began shouting, "Oh! Oh!"

Jim's balls boiled, sweat fell from his brow, and he straightened his back and came. She scratched his chest, and he felt her pussy squeeze him as he emptied his balls into her. When his orgasm had passed, he dropped back to his elbows and kissed her gently. Her heels continued to dig into his ass, preserving the coupling.

She stared into his eyes. "I almost said it," she said.

He nodded. "Me, too. Those three little words. Are we crazy?"

"If it means I can keep you, maybe I don't care," she said, holding him close.

Jim arranged transportation while Peggy ran errands and packed. They would take a train to Glasgow, catch another train to London and stay in the city. The next morning they would take a train to Heathrow and take a flight to Boston.

Peggy came through the front door with her shopping bag. "I made a stop at the chemist. I think I have enough for three months. I guess that's my limit," she said.

Jim was still seated at his computer. "I wouldn't mind coming back here in three months. The weather would be warmer. We could ride the trains and be tourists."

"Well," she said with a wink, "we know you like the trains."

He explained their itinerary. Within minutes she put the last items in her bags and locked the front door. "Ready?" She said.

"Sure. Let me take one of those," he said after adjusting the straps on his backpack.

They walked arm in arm to the train station. The sun was out, and it felt warm on the skin. Jim realized he had forgotten his hat but said nothing.

The train to Glasgow was mostly empty, and they had the car to themselves. Jim sat by the window, and Peggy threaded her arm under his and held his hand. She would lean against him for a while, then look up at him and smile.

"We almost said a lot of things this morning," she said while not making eye contact. "Are we fools? Am I setting myself up for heartbreak?"

He hung his head so his quiet voice would still be heard by her. "I can only tell you how I feel."

"It scares me to think how close I came to saying--it," she said.

He turned slightly and met her eyes. "One of us might slip, and I promise not to do or say anything if it happens. In the throes of passion, shit, when I'm cumming my brains out, who knows what I'll say."

She leaned to him and smiled, her other hand rubbing the two that were merged.

"But," he continued, "there may come a day when I mean it, and there will be no doubt. On that day, if you're not ready to say it, too, I'll understand. But if I feel that way and want you in my life forever, I'm not waiting."

He released her hand and put his arm around her. She snuggled to him and watched the Scottish countryside roll by.

Glasgow to London is six hours by train, and their arrival in Kings Cross was late. They walked to a hotel in Bloomsbury that Jim had reserved.

"I'm tired," she warned him. "I'll not be much fun tonight."

He walked to her, held her in his arms, and said, "I just want to kiss you and hold you and have you fall asleep in my arms. That would make me very happy."

Chapter 8: Boston

The early morning train to Heathrow was crowded, and the two travelers were still sleepy but happy. Peggy snuggled against Jim and slept for most of the trip. Once the bags were checked and they passed through security, they sought the first coffee shop that could give them a caffeine fix.

"We have an hour before the flight," he said. "Are you doing OK?"

She sipped from her coffee. "Just tired," she said. "I hope I can sleep on the plane."

"I have a room in Copley Place for us. We can shop on Newbury Street after we drop off your bags. I want to treat you if you'd let me," he said.

"And what are we shopping for?" She asked.

"I thought some lingerie might be fun. Maybe a couple of dresses." Then he leaned in. "Bras?"

That raised eyebrows. "Bras?" She said.

His voice was barely above a whisper. "You said you were either ashamed of the girls or too lazy to shop for bras. I think it just became too much trouble to find a bra that felt comfortable. I want you to be comfortable. We'll be in a great place to look, and we should take advantage of it."

She smirked and said, "So, this is not just you being obsessed with my boobs."

"Well," he said, shrugging, "I am obsessed with your boobs, but I also want you to be comfortable, happy, and proud of your body. I'm so sad about people shaming you about your boobs. It's heartbreaking."

She reached for his hand and held it. "You are a charming man."

The two napped for part of the nearly eight-hour flight, and their ordeal at immigration was limited to Peggy needing to explain why she had not been in the US for the last five years. A UK passport and a death certificate helped allow her to pass.

"You OK?" He asked.

"You know," she said, filing her paperwork away, "I love my country, but some aspects of our government suck."

The Weston at Copley Place accommodated their early check-in request, and they settled their bags in the room. A quick shower to wash 3000 miles of jet lag from their bodies and changing clothes rejuvenated them.

Jim stretched out on the bed and said, "Hungry?"

"Not really," she replied, "you?"

"No," he said. "I guess we can go shopping. I found this place on Newbury Street that might fit the bill." He handed her his phone, and it showed an intimate apparel shop.

She rolled her eyes. "You want me to get some bras, don't you?"

"We go and ask for help with the fitting," he said. "It costs nothing to ask."

She broke from him and looked away. "I'll go, but I need to do this alone. It would be too stressful with you there. Is that selfish?"

He shook his head and said sympathetically, "No, of course not. I'll walk you there and return in an hour, and I'll give you privacy if you give me something in return."

She was taken aback. "Like what?"

"You let me treat you this whole trip. Not just this stop, but the whole time you're my guest. No backtalk, no haggling with me, just be happy. I want to take care of you for a few days. Please let me," he said.

She hung her head and smiled. "OK. Thank you."

An hour after he had left her in the boutique, he returned with a bag of his own from Boston Garden. Peggy and the store clerks were laughing when he popped in the door.

"Speak of the devil," said Peggy. She went to him and kissed his cheek. "Doing a little shopping of your own?"

"It's a surprise," he said, grinning. "How did we do here?"

"Very well," the store manager said. "I believe we found several items with a great fit."

He handed his card to the clerk who ran it, and they were on their way back to the hotel in minutes, walking arm-in-arm, each with their bags in one hand.

When the door closed to their room, Peggy turned to Jim and said, "We know what's in my bag. But what's in yours?"

"I hope you like it," he said, pulling out a Boston Bruins sweater with the number 63 and Marchand on the back. Jim winced and looked at her expectantly.

She pulled it from his hands, lifted it, and grinned. "I love it!" She said. She held it to her chest to check the size.

"It can be cold in parts of the house this time of year, and I wanted you to have something to keep you warm," he said.

She nodded, then winked. "A hockey sweater like this also does a good job hiding the girls. You suspected there'd be times we would be out where I might want to be less conspicuous."

He shrugged. "That thought had crossed my mind." He looked her in the eye. "I want you to be comfortable here with me."

Peggy hugged him and kissed his cheek before pulling the sweater over her head. "Ta-da!" She said.

"Brad Marchand never looked better," said Jim.

They agreed that an early dinner, perhaps four o'clock, would be best, but that left three hours to kill. "I could use a nap," said Jim, and he began stripping.

"A nap?" She asked, eyeing him.

"Well," he said, "eventually."

They snuggled in the bed, kissing for some time before Peggy said, "Make love to me and talk to me."

"Which do you want?" He replied.

"Both," she said, "I want you to fuck me while we talk. I want to feel close to you."

He rolled her on her back and straddled her stomach, dropping his cock in her mouth. She sucked it to life, jacking and licking it while he played with her tits. When he was hard, he slipped down her body, lifted her knees, and slipped in easily. His strokes were slow and shallow, gentle, rhythmic, and graceful. He kissed her, brushing locks from her temples and nibbling her neck.

"Jim, will you tell me about her?" She said.

He stopped moving.

"Please," she said, digging nails into his back, "keep fucking me."

His motion returned, but he looked wary. "Her?" He said.

"Your wife, Joni," she replied, looking into his eyes.

He stopped his motion again, but she dug her nails in further and said, "Please."

His strokes became longer, and they bumped with each downward thrust.

"I loved her," he said. "She was smart, funny, generous to a fault, and beautiful, at least to me. Like all couples, we had good years and bad years, but mostly good. She was my best friend."

"Kiss me," she said, and he complied. She ran her hands along his arms. "You're so strong."

"And you're digging your heels into my ass again, and it feels amazing," he replied.

"Why no children?" She asked.

"Jesus, Peggy, now?"

"Slow down, kiss me, and talk to me," she said. "It's OK."

Jim slowed his pace, dropped his head, and kissed her gently. She raised her arms and encircled his neck, cooing when the kiss broke. "You feel so good inside me," she said.

"What's this about, Peggy?" Said Jim while he was grinding himself into her.

She chewed on his shoulder before replying. "I think I'm falling in love with you. I want to be close to you. God, I want you inside me. And I want to know everything," she said with a gasp as he began fucking her harder.

Jim slowed his pace again before replying. "We tried for children, but we both had fertility problems, as it turned out. After her initial disappointment, she took it as a sign that we belonged together. She could always spot the silver lining."

Peggy was near tears now. "I'm so sorry you lost her. I loved my husband, too. But if we can't have them, maybe we can have each other. I'll never be jealous of the time you had with Joni. She's a part of you, and you are amazing. You are the man I'm falling in love with because she was with you first. I believe that."

Jim was distracted by all this talk. His pace increased, and he began fucking her hard, driving her ass into the bed, the springs squeaking in protest, the headboard banging against the wall, sounds echoing off the walls.

Peggy's heels dug in deeper. "Yes, Jim, fuck me harder. Make me yours. Please. I could never be her, but I could love you just as much. Please."

Jim growled, dropped his head, and came. When he had finished, he slipped his arms beneath her and pulled her into an embrace crying into her shoulder.

Chapter 9: The Berkshires

They rose early the next day. Jim left the room to fetch coffee, and Peggy finished dressing and applying her makeup. He returned to find her wearing the Bruins sweater.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," he said. "That looks fabulous on you."

She sidled up to him and kissed his cheek. "The girls are very comfortable with the new gear we got yesterday. Thank you."

He shook his head and smiled. "I just want you to be happy," he said.

Jim's car was in long-term parking back at Logan Airport, and once it was located, they packed it and aimed for the Massachusetts Turnpike.

"How far is it to your house?" She asked.

He entered the flow on the Pike and said, "It's only about two hours, but it's on the far end of the state. We're going against traffic, so it should be an easy drive."

He turned on the satellite radio, and they fought over which oldies station they would listen to during the drive. Once they hit the 60's hits, they smiled at each other. That was the one.

"Groovy," she said.

"I can dig it," he replied.

They drove in silence for a while, then she said, "I'd forgotten how beautiful New England can be."

He nodded and smiled. "We get four seasons, which is nice. Fall is the best, especially after a hard freeze, so there are no bugs."

"I don't think I could leave Scotland forever," she said. "Can we share? Can we spend time in both places?"

"I've been thinking about that," he said. "I love the UK. That's why I did my walkabout there. And I have very fond memories of that little bungalow." The last bit with a smile.

The drive went quickly, with the two singing to the radio most of the way. When he exited the Pike, the scenery changed to old New England towns, signs pointing to Mount Greylock, music venues, and parks.

"This is exciting," she said. "There are artsy things to do in the summer here."

"It's a quiet place," he said, "but still lots to do."

After another twenty minutes of driving and a trip up a long, winding driveway, the car stopped before a modern house.

"Jim! This is amazing!" She said. "What a nice house."

He pulled suitcases from the back and began walking to the door with Peggy in close pursuit. The grass was overgrown, but the place was in good shape. He kicked off his shoes and walked her bags to the guest room.

"Everybody needs a moment of privacy once in a while. I'm putting your stuff here, and this is your room whenever you need a break, but, of course, I'm hoping you sleep with me," he said.

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "You are so thoughtful," she whispered in his ear. "I think you may have earned a reward. Where's the bedroom?"

He walked across the hall to the primary bedroom. The king bed dominated one wall, but the sliding glass doors leading to the three-season porch won the day.

"Oh, my," she said, gazing at the distant mountain and the valley below. She turned to him and began to ask a question, but he caught her eye.

"Mount Greylock," he said. "It's a beautiful place to hike."

He dropped his pack as she moved to him, and they kissed, his hands in her hair, then over her breasts hidden within the Bruins sweater. Breaking the kiss, he smiled and slid a hand under the sweater to feel the new bra.

"Are the girls comfortable?" He asked, rubbing a thumb over the front of a cup.

She grinned and undid his belt, pulling it free and tossing it aside dramatically. He removed his hand from her sweater and brushed her hair. The button on his jeans and the zipper were next. With a quick pull, his jeans were about his ankles, and he stepped out. She dropped to her knees and threw the jeans aside.

His cock was already straining against his boxers, but instead of pulling them down, she threaded his cock through the flap and began jacking it. Before he could speak, Peggy had engulfed his cock with her mouth, sucking, licking, dragging her teeth on the shaft, and teasing the head with her tongue and hot breath. Her hand stimulated his balls trapped in the boxers.

"I think I know what your reward should be," she said with a wink while jacking his hard cock.

Her mouth returned to his dick with her hands pulling on his ass cheeks, driving him deeper into her throat. She gagged once but kept the pace, forcing his hips forward, fucking her throat, and giving him head. As if by reflex, his hands when to her hair, grasping her ponytail, holding her head while his cock assaulted her throat. She vibrated and hummed with approval.

Her tits held still and covered by the bra and sweater dangled before her, and his gaze switched between her eyes, mouth, and tits. She pulled off and said, "Give me a big fucking load, Jim. I love you. I want to make you happy. I want to make you mine. Cum down my fucking throat!"

She then swallowed his cock again and pulled his hips with even more intensity. The dirty talk did him in. He came, and she sensed it just in time to pull back, jack his cock, and take the load on her tongue. When his dick had been milked dry, she showed him her tongue, then swallowed, licking her lips.

Exhausted, he sat on the bed, and she joined him, pulling him on top of her.

After a kiss, she asked, "Did you like your reward."

"Fuck," was all he could say. Then he chuckled and looked at her with love in his eyes. "I love you, too, Margret."

She smiled and said, "Only people who love me can call me Margret. I guess you qualify."

Jim walked through the house, inventorying food and making lists of things to do for the home. When he finally returned to the bedroom, he found her reading on the three-season porch, and she looked so peaceful. He returned to his office, rummaged through a drawer, and returned to her.

He held out a ring while on one knee and said, "This was my mother's ring, but I want you to have it if you'll marry me. Margret, I love you. Marry me."

The book fell to the floor, and she cried while shouting, "Yes! Yes!"

The ring slipped easily onto her finger, and they embraced.

The End