Chapter 9

Our return to the Ferry was pleasant, though unremarkable. I was very taken with the Norton, though I saw little point in trying to buy a similar machine; Oscar suited me quite well, had an adequate performance, was economical to run, and spares were readily available.

Clara had a casserole ready for supper, with new potatoes cooked in their skins. She was quiet, pensive. The food was good, though, and Jessica seemed not to notice how quiet Clara was. She did become more engaged as the evening wore on, and she concentrated on a few hands of cards. But, earlier than usual, Jessica said she was tired, and would go to bed.

She paused next to me and rested her hand on my shoulder. “Thank you for a lovely day, Rob. I really enjoyed the ride.” And left.

“I suppose we may as well go up too,” Clara murmured, frowning a little.

“Okay.”

I followed her upstairs. There’s something about the way a woman walks. Some women, that is. Some walk like a man, if you know what I mean. Clara’s walk wasn’t ... blatant, but she moved – I’m guessing, unconsciously – in a very sensual way.

“After you in the shower,” she said.

But I’d barely got in there when she followed me. By the time we’d finished washing each other I was hard. Very hard. She stopped me getting out of the shower, and began stroking my dick. I came after very few strokes, and painted the wall with several jets of semen. It was the work of a few moments to wash that away, then we were out and drying off.

“You’ve been very quiet all evening,” I commented, as I patted her dry. “Are you okay?”

“You love me, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Good. I’ve been thinking. Come on. I want you to do what you did last night. Is that okay?”

“Very okay.”

In the bedroom, she flipped the covers back and lay back, spread wide, without pulling the covers over. I lay beside her, kissed her. Her response was amazing; it was almost as though we fused together. But as before, I kissed my way down her body until I reached the tantalising aroma of her pussy. She came, and came again. After her third she got a grip of my hair and dragged me away from her centre.

“Stop! Rob, that’s ... I don’t want to crash out again. Come here.”

I laid myself beside her, and we kissed some more, during which she pushed me to my back. I wasn’t going to complain that she was on top of me, or even that I was hard again. When she sat upright, my dick trapped between us, I was happy to caress her, the position emphasising the spread of her hips and the curve of her waist.

I was enjoying myself, and not really thinking much, so when she raised up, positioned my erection, and dropped, it came as a shock. I was briefly aware of slick heat, of her barrier, then I was in her about half way. Her cry of pain wrenched my heart.

“Oh, Baby...” I sighed as she held still.

“It’s okay, Love.” She took my hands and pressed them to her breasts. “Squeeze them, please.”

That I could do with pleasure.

It took some time, of Clara moving in fit and starts, before I was fully embedded, and even then she didn’t move much. In fact, she lay down on me for several minutes. That was good, actually. I was able to hold back from coming. “This is wonderful, Clara, but I probably should not come in you.”

She wriggled. Stretched up and kissed me. “My period is due tomorrow. I saw a doctor today and got some pills.” She kissed me again. “I want to take a small chance right now.” She sat up and began moving her hips experimentally. “Mmmm. I think ... if I ... yeah...” Her pussy clamped down on me. Oh my, it felt good. She began to move again and, well, it was just too good. She sighed. “Oh, yes...” and laid back on top of me. “We’re married,” she said.

“I suppose we are,” I smiled. “We’ll still have a wedding, though.”

“Yes, please. Are you wondering why? I mean, why I didn’t want to wait any longer?”

“I suppose I am.”

“It’s a mixture of things.”

“That sounds pretty normal.”

“Thank you. Well, I was getting so I didn’t want to wait. Then, I thought If I did wait, I’d get nervous, and maybe spoil things for both of us. Then, there was what the Vicar said, about a wedding not making a marriage, that it’s a public sign of something inside that’s just between us. But mostly, it was about you.”

“Me?”

“You. When I’m with you I feel safe. It was hard, when you went back to Sheffield and left me here. Knowing you’ll be here when I get back from town, that’s fine. But now, I feel ... bonded. That’s the word. Am I making sense?”

“I think so. Sweetie, I just want you to be happy.”

“What about you? Are you happy?”

“As long as we’re together and you’re happy, I’m happy.”

She wriggled on top of me. Stretching to kiss me again, my mostly soft dick fell out of her.

“Oh!” Disappointed sound.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be back soon enough.”

“Goodie!” Wriggle. “Should I...” Kiss.

I was responding already. “Sweetie, you might be sore...”

She relaxed. “I suppose. We’ll have plenty of time, won’t we?”

“Of course.” She made to roll off me. “Stay where you are. This is perfect.”

She hummed in her throat and sprawled atop me. The nearest I can get to a description is a cat I used to know, which seemed almost boneless when she relaxed. Not long after this I realised that her breathing had settled and she was asleep. I wasn’t far behind.

Waking in the morning, I was happy with the tousle-haired, gently smiling woman snuggled up next to me. After a morning shower, dressed, we entered the kitchen together. Jessica looked at us and smiled – a knowing smile. “Good morning, Clara, Rob. Cooked breakfast?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble, just a few minutes to wait.” She bustled around the stove and soon we heard the sizzle of bacon frying. We got ourselves bowls of cereal, and mugs of coffee appeared at our elbows. “Not wanting to get rid of you,” Jessica started a little later, “but you were thinking of going to Sheffield for a week or so before the wedding...”

“Yes,” Clara said, “I want to take a look round, look into transferring credits and finishing my course there. See what the place is like.”

“Good idea.”

“Actually,” I put in, “tomorrow would be a good time to go. Middle of the week, weather looks good.” I watched her face. There was no trace of relief ‘at last, I get my house to myself again’ or even angst ‘oh dear. Alone again.’ “Are you doing anything today? Like to come with us? I’m told Christchurch Mansion’s worth a visit.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Thanks, but no. Won’t you need to check that bike over?”

I shrugged. “Half an hour or so. It’s pretty simple.”

Most motorcycles require more attention than cars, at least, modern cars. Cables need oiling with a light oil. Chains need lubricating, usually with a spray-on, non-fling lubricant. In Oscar’s case, checking the oil isn’t straightforward. It’s necessary to start the motor and let it run for a few minutes, then switch off. The bike needs to be upright on a level surface. The oil level is visible in a little window in the side of the casing. Oh for a dip-stick, or even as on the Norton, the ability to peer into an oil tank. Anyway, Clara followed me around as I checked and explained. The tyres were a little low, especially as there would be two of us and our luggage, so I borrowed a pump from Jessica. We checked the lights, which were all fine, and the horn. Mine is a replacement for the original equipment which was a pathetic beep. It did take more than half an hour, but it was done and we cleaned up, then took Jessica to the Victoria for lunch.

She seemed cheerful enough, though she did say we would be welcome any time. Actually, she specifically mentioned my using her guest room if I wanted peace and quiet to write. While we were still sitting with coffee after our lunch, Jessica took a call on her mobile, frowned, and stood.

“Sorry, Clara, Rob. I need to go into Ipswich. It seems an old client wants to see me, and it sounds fairly urgent. I’ll see you this evening.”

Which left us on our own.

“Rob?” You know that tone, that makes three letters into three separate sounds?

“Yes Sweetie?”

“Would you be disgusted if I said I wanted to go back to bed? With you?”

I looked at her with a frown.

“You would!”

“Hang on. Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m just trying to assimilate the implications of your question.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Can I assume you don’t want to go back to bed to sleep?”

“You can.”

“Can I assume you don’t want to snuggle while watching t/v?”

“You can.”

I paid the bill and we walked along the beach to Jessica’s and went to our room. As I watched, she peeled the thick sweater she’d been wearing over her head, her eyes (when not obscured) on mine. She undid and pushed her jeans down over her hips and stepped out of them before beginning to unbutton her blouse.

“You’re staring.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Okay. If you say so.”

“I do say so.” I managed to remove a layer of my own garments, by which time she was standing in bra and panties. Long, tapered legs. Wide hips and a sweet curve to her waist. Perfect breasts. A sweet face wearing a slight, puzzled smile. I achieved nakedness myself, Rob junior at attention. Well, of course! She reached behind and unhooked the bra, let the straps slip off her shoulders, but held the garment against herself demurely. I realised that this was the first time she’d actually undressed in front of me; she stood straight, took off the bra, dropped it, and slipped the panties down. Deliberately, she turned, went to the bed and laid back on it, spread for me.