Chapter 9

I paid the taxi and followed Clare into our house. She had not said a single word to me on the way home. I was ashamed of myself, ashamed that I had been so insensitive. She had done nothing to deserve such a crass remark. How could I profess to love her and yet come out with something like that? She did not deserve someone like me. It was more than that; I did not deserve someone like her. I caught up with her in the kitchen.

"Clare, I am really sorry. I can't take the words back, but believe me, I would if I could."

She looked at me though red-rimmed eyes. "How could you say such a thing?"

I tried to explain, but my explanation was puerile, utterly puerile. In essence I was blaming her for Ray's over-familiarity with her, blaming her for my own impotence. I looked at the floor, knowing full well that if I were to look at her, I would also break down in tears.

But it was to no avail because I no sooner felt her arms envelop me, than I too, was silently weeping. I had set out to comfort her, but instead she was now comforting me; comforting me even though I was responsible for the whole thing in the first place. I looked into her eyes. What a sight we must have been. Both of us in tears, yet each trying to console the other.

I embraced her, my wife and the embryonic life form growing within. We kissed and I felt for her backside. It was an instinctive movement to lift her skirt and to caress her beautiful bum through her panties.

But of course she wasn't wearing any! They were still in my pocket. The wispy item would have afforded her no protection of any kind, yet she seemed so vulnerable without it. I felt her fingertips on my neck. We kissed and I again tasted her salty tears. I caressed the cheeks of her pert behind before pressing her against my erection. Erection? I had not even realised I had one.

We sank to the floor. Of all the rooms in the house we chose the kitchen, the one room that had no carpet, only a cold, hard, unyielding, ceramic floor. She was now on her back on this unforgiving surface, her skirt hooked up on something, her femininity fully on show. I positioned myself so that I could kiss her sweet little box, could kiss her opening, could lick her cleft, could suck her clitoris, could bring her relief, and in so doing, atone for my sins. I tasted her divine wetness, cupping her buttocks as I forced my tongue in her. I could so easily have bruised this fragile beauty, but she seemed to be oblivious.

I felt her hand on my zip, and a moment later my rigid cock was enveloped in her hungry mouth. Now she had both hands on my backside, and was forcing me down, forcing me further into her mouth.

She was close to her climax and I renewed my oral ministrations on her clit. I was doing my best not to come just yet, but it was not far away. She suddenly tensed and pushed herself hard into my face. Feeling the intense heat and wetness of her orgasm was the trigger for mine and we came into each other's mouths. It was a wondrous moment of blissful sexual release, but it was more than that; it was also one of unalloyed love.

A ceramic floor is nice to look at and easy to clean but it leaves a lot to be desired as far as its suitability for mad passionate sex. And it is certainly not a surface for those languid post coital moments. In fact it was so uncomfortable that we had to stand up the moment we had finished.

"I do so love you, Tom."

"You mean more to me, Clare, than anything else in the world. I am sorry about..."

I did not finish my words. She placed her fingers to my lips and stilled them.

"You should have told me before, Tom. I did not have to keep going with him, you know. I thought you liked me doing it. I could have stopped much earlier, if I had known."

But that was the trouble. I had not wanted her to stop. We went to bed and I held her in my arms as I nodded off.

I heard the bedroom door open. I looked at the bedside clock. It was just gone eight.

"I've made you some tea." Clare, wearing a white camisole and tiny briefs, was standing next to the bed, holding a tray on which were two mugs. Her hair was tousled, but it gave her a sleepy sensual appearance.

"You're up early, Clare.