Chapter 2

As he drove back to his house, it became clear to him that to all intents and purposes his relationship with Celia was over. It was a matter of time really. He felt a sinking feeling of depression. Now a new worry came over him, would he be able to affect ignorance?

He need not have worried. Celia was her usual loving self, and her affectionate hug and kiss when he arrived did not seem to have any reservation. It was enough for him to have a flash of doubt as to whether he had heard her on the phone at all!

She had prepared the evening meal and was eager to go out to the pub to meet their friends in the evening. He could see that she had feelings for him, though now he was not clear what those feelings were.

When they got back to the house after a great evening with their friends, he went to get them a nightcap. When he returned to the living room, he was stopped by the sight before him.

Celia was standing in the middle of the room. The mini-dress was lying on the floor and there she was in her sexiest lacy bright red bra and matching gauzy french knickers, topping black stockings. Above all this was a sexy grin and fluttering eyelashes.

He knew then that at least for the present she was all his. She sashayed towards him and took the glasses from him, placing them on the coffee table. Her arms went around his neck, and she pressed herself against him. She felt his erect cock, giggled and sighed. Their lips met and they devoured each other. All worries were eclipsed for him as they got into it.

She was tugging at his tee shirt, over his head and off. Then she was fumbling at his belt and drawing his zip down. Then his pants and boxers were on their way to his feet. He was naked.

She drew her fingers over his erection lightly, giving a little tug before reaching behind herself and loosening her bra, slipping it off her shoulders. Then her breasts were pressed against him. She groaned.

“Take them off!”

Since there were only three articles of clothing left, and all of them on her, he knelt and went for her stockings, only for her to pull his hands to her knickers.

He slid his open hands down each side of her waist and under the waistband, sliding the garment down as he caressed her buttocks, thighs and calves. She moaned.

He pushed her down onto the sofa, spreading her legs, and applying his tongue to her vulva.

“Put it in me!” she begged, but he ignored her. Her hands were raking his hair as his tongue made its repeated journey up each side of her outer lips, then down her open centre but avoiding her clitoris. In her turn she repeatedly lifted her hips while her hands tried to force him onto her pleasure point. He would not allow this. She gasped her frustration, but he was not listening; she was to be tortured for much longer before he allowed her release.

As he licked from her anus to her mons, tickling her inner lips and her valley, dipping into her hole briefly each time, her moans and groans grew higher in pitch and stronger in their intensity, until she started to beg him. Her legs, once resting on the floor, now straight up in the air, now hanging, knees bent, in mid air, then clasped round his back and neck.

“Please my lover, please!”

He lifted his head, “Please what?”

“Let me come, please, I’m in agony!” her face was contorted in a grimace, and her eyes were wild. He returned to his task.

“Oh, no!” she cried, “Please, please!”

He licked her clit. Bang! Her scream was deafening, her hips bucked and pitched against his urgent tongue as she cried and moaned out her climax, on and on, as he licked and nipped her little bud, until she begged him to stop.

He stood, pulling her bottom off the sofa and lining up his aching penis with her sloppy vaginal entrance, thrusting deep.

“Aah!” she yelled as he bottomed out, and began to pound her as she hung from his forearms. Her orgasm rose again, her hands beating on the sofa seat on each side of her.

Soon her clasping vaginal muscles twitching and gripping his length took him over the crest of his own wave and he came in his turn, setting her off again. He sank to his knees and continued gently to thrust in and out of her satiated sex. She sighed and simpered as she enjoyed the soft sensations his cock was giving her. She pulled him towards her and craned her neck to kiss him, so gently and lovingly.

The stress on her back was too great and she sank back with a blissful smile.

“My darling!” she whispered, “So good! Love you so much!”

It jerked David back to reality. She loved him so much? But was going to ditch him for a footballing playboy? It showed in his face for her brow furrowed.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, all concern.

“My knees,” he lied, recovering quickly, standing and then sitting next to her, taking her in his arms and cuddling her. A near miss. He would have to be more careful.

She used the remote control to put some on some music and they half lay, half sat on the sofa in silence, sipping their drinks until they climbed the stairs to bed.

The next two weeks were spent in pursuance of his plan – or rather Gwen’s plan.

Celia and David usually had sex every other day or so, and it meant that David’s charm offensive did not arouse any suspicion in her. It was however clear that she was impressed with his attentiveness to her thorough contentment.

There was the quickie, taking her from behind in the kitchen on the table while fingering her to orgasm and pile-driving her to his own. There was the prolonged oral ministration to her sex causing her to beg him to stop. There was the oral followed by slow fucking with her legs over his shoulder (after he had relieved some tension beforehand, by his own hand). That time her orgasm rose three times and during the last one she actually lost consciousness. The ‘piece de resistance’ was giving her the two hour massage followed by a gentle fucking in missionary position.

Of course there were the many caresses as they went about their lives in the house, the gentle kisses on her neck, pats on the bottom, little hugs and nuzzles: the works.

He had feared that he would be turned off her; it didn’t happen. He feared it would feel unnatural and forced; that didn’t happen either. It occurred to him that he might be trying too hard to woo her, but it felt just as relaxed as always.

It was on the Tuesday of the second week that he had another brainwave. He had been idly looking through his diaries, reprising their six years together, when he found a significant date. He said a prayer of thanks. Saturday would be the fifth anniversary of her moving in with him. A devious plan formed.

He phoned Celia’s boss and the man was happy to let her go on Friday for a romantic weekend, and to keep it secret as a surprise.

Then on the Wednesday, Gwen phoned David.

“A word to the wise,” she said without pre-amble, “Celia is meeting Gary for lunch tomorrow. Why don’t you turn up and take her to lunch – see what she does?”

David thought for a moment. “Thanks Gwen,” he said. “I might just do that.”

“Did you put the plan into action?” she asked.

“Yep,” he replied. “She’s had a whale of a time.”

“I know,” she said, “I had lunch with her today, that’s how I found out she was seeing lover-boy tomorrow. I invited her for tomorrow and she couldn’t make it. We had an interesting conversation. Tell you about it sometime.”

“I’d like that.” he said.

He took the afternoon off the next day and drove into her office car park five minutes before her lunch break. There, at the end of the car park, leaning against his Porsche, was Gary.

David drove to a position opposite the front door of the building and phoned her.

“Hey, Celia,” he gushed, “My office is closed – a power cut. So I can take you out for lunch.”

“Oh.”

There was a note of uncertainty in her voice. What was she to do? He could hear the cogs turning in her brain.