Beware the Roasburies! Pt. 04

"So," I said, "You've got to get your trust for people back, and I want to help get you there. Last night we were both fairly pissed. You didn't need another drunken man using you, did you?"

She was silent, thinking.

"Graham," she said deliberately, "I fancied you when we first met. You were gentle and sort of solid - secure. I understand what you are trying to do for me, but from the moment we arrived here I knew I wanted you.

"I didn't want any of those men - except Mike who I went to London with. I did want him before we got there, and he turned out to be shit. Even the doctor who got me the job up here had to have his piece of me.

"But you? I wanted you, and each day I tried to make you want me, and you wouldn't play ball. I wanted you to love me, hold me, hug me, and you did, but then I wanted more and you wouldn't."

"D'you see it now?" I asked.

"Yes, I understand, but that's not how I see it. You're so different from them, it doesn't apply."

She stopped and then had an idea: her eyes sparkled, I could tell something was cooking in there.

"When you started dating Penny, how long before you fell in love with her?"

"About a month, we met in December and got together again mid January. I think that was when I thought I knew."

"OK," and there was that devilish smile, "Count up. How long were you together in that month?"

I counted. "About ten days if that."

"And you knew she was the one you wanted? And you went after her? Ten days?"

I saw where she was going.

"OK, I see what you're saying, but I hadn't been abused for years beforehand."

"Graham, my darling," she said patiently, "OK, I've had a bad time. You've made it clear what you're not. Everything you've done bears it out. I'm sure of you, OK? I'm falling in love after a few days, not even a week. You've done that yourself, so you know I can do it too."

I didn't know what to say. I really could imagine, in a sort of rosy haze, the rest of my future life with Connie: she was everything a man could want. Yes, I thought I was falling for her as well.

However, I was not sure of her. Her sister hurt me badly and to some extent that betrayal still stung. Both women were Roasburies, and Roasburies always turned out to be bad news in the end. Once Connie was really settled, in say six months or a year or two and she found an better prospect, someone she could trust and who was kind and loving, and did not try to use her, where would I be then?

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

I hesitated.

Then she filled it in for me, "You're thinking I'm still suffering, if that's the right word, from the big change in my life. You're thinking that when I get used to living with you, you won't be enough for me and I'll find someone else. You're thinking you might get dumped again like Penny did. Right?"

I think I've said it before, the girl was really perceptive.

"You're right on the nail," I said, "but there's the extra thing concerning Penny. Everything was going well, and we were on the way to marriage after months together, and suddenly without warning it all collapsed. That can happen, it did happen. I'm still damaged, Connie.

"It's not that I don't trust you, it's made me more careful, less confident. I never thought of problems with Penny, but they happened out of the blue. Now I'm wary of committing, and for me sex is about commitment. If we start making love, I know I'll fall heavily for you, and there'll be no reservations. Then, what if..."

"I think you are more damaged than I am," she said, thoughtfully. "What's your reaction to my damaged past?"

"I want to make you feel good about yourself again. I want to help you heal."

"OK, so do I. I want you to feel confident again. I want to help you heal. I know that you and I have something different from what you have with Colette. We have, haven't we? As far as I'm concerned you are home for me, and I want it to stay that way. There's more at stake. I'll wait."

She was so good at turning things round on me. I knew then of course that I didn't want to wait at all!

Then came the final blow. "Graham I do have convictions, and if I commit to you, as I'm doing now, it doesn't matter how wonderful other men might be, there'll be no going back for me. I'm taking a risk here as well, you know."

I reached for her and she came into my arms, and we sat in a tight embrace, kissing each other at random intervals. It just felt completely right. Then I remembered two things and the second put the first out of my mind.

The first was that I did not think I ever felt this comfortable and secure with Penny as I did with Connie. I did feel at ease with Penny, but not like this. It always seemed I was pushing her, wooing her, and there was always a feeling she was in some sense reluctant. Was that just my imagination?

The second was what she said when I put her to bed: " 'Night Daddy'."

"Connie?" I opened.

"Yes."

"I'm not pushing anything here, but when I covered you last night-"

"I wish you had!" she giggled.

"Not like that," I said, "You said something. You said, ' 'Night Daddy.' "

Silence.

"You and he were close, weren't you? You idolised him as a young girl?"

"Yes," she said quietly. I could see she was upset.

"You're not on the run any more." I paused. "He never stopped looking for you, you know." I said it diffidently.

"You're saying I should contact him," her tones were clipped, I knew why - she thought I was pushing.

"No, I'm not saying that. I'm saying exactly what I said, no more. You're not hiding any more, and he loves you and you love him. If you want to see him, I'll do something about it, but only if and when you want to. It's your show."

She sighed. "Now you've brought it up-"

"You brought it up last night!" I laughed.

"OK, since I brought it up, yes. I don't want him suffering any more. Here's the house phone number."

She rattled it off, and I begged for it on paper. She went and brought back a scrap of paper with the number.

"I can't do it," she said faintly, "I leave it to you." She kissed me and smiled sadly. "I'm sorry I did it now - leaving home I mean, but then I'd have met you at home and you'd have been with Penny. You wouldn't have ended up with me. So not all bad." she sniffed and went to the kitchen, probably to make tea.

I phoned home, my parents' home.

"Can you fit another for dinner tomorrow?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"Of course," said my mother, "Are you bringing one of your girls?"

Colette, Zena and Harriet were 'my girls' to her, and I suspected she suspected I slept with them all, which of course was only partially true.

"I'm bringing Connie."

"Connie?"

I felt smug that I'd managed to surprise her. "It's complicated, but she's Penny's sister."

"The one who ran away?"

My mother had the most comprehensive memory!

"Yes. I met her in Bolton, and she's staying with me at the moment. But, Mum, no mention of that or of Penny, OK?"

"I understand. She's very welcome, you know that. Your Dad really appreciates all the pretty young girls you bring home you know!" and she laughed.

I knew what 'appreciated' meant in that context. He couldn't take his eyes of them, and Mum ragged him unmercifully about that. I admired their love for each other that allowed such freedom which was never abused.

"Love you Mum."

"Love you Son."

Then on to the dragon's lair, or at least her phone. Thankfully Geoff answered. I had the irreverent thought that he must have made a special effort to be home for Christmas.

"Geoff Roasburie."

"Mr Roasburie, this is Graham Proctor."

"Graham! This is unexpected." His voice was neutral. "Penny is out at the moment but-"

"Geoff, it's you I want to talk to."

"You want to get back with-"

"No," I said.

There was a pause.

Then he said even more neutrally, "So, what can I do for you?"

"Geoff, you've been searching for Connie, am I right?"

Silence. Then, quietly and not at all so neutrally, "Yes, I have."

"I've met her," I said.

"Pardon? Where? When?" Now there was a mixture of surprise and excitement.

"Listen, do you want to meet her?"

"Of course I do, I don't follow-"

"Can you get away from the family on Boxing Day? Come over here to Manchester?"

"Y-yes."

"She doesn't want the rest of the family to know at this stage," I cautioned. "Let's get this over first and see where we go from here."

"Yes, I understand. How is she?"

"She's well, and a good deal happier than she was. She's had a very bad time, but is getting over it. Here's the address; it's my flat. If you come in the afternoon I'll keep out of your way."

I gave him directions and we rang off.

--

Chapter Nineteen

Thursday 24 December 1970

All day Connie'd been wearing a figure hugging tee shirt and tight jeans, which was very distracting. In mid-afternoon we did the last minute shopping so there was plenty of food in the house. We decorated the Christmas Tree that we bought half price, again at the last minute, and erected when we returned, and I put up the crib I'd made from plaster of paris when a boy. I made some mince pies using the mincemeat my mother had made, while Connie vacuumed the floors of the dropped needles and dusted round, putting up the cards I'd received. Then I told her I was going to 'midnight mass' at nine o'clock that evening.

"Why so early?" she asked with a worried frown.

"No," I told her, laughing, "Back in the old days there was a Eucharist at midnight, but now it's at nine, but it's still called 'midnight mass'."

"Oh," she looked relieved, and I laughed at her expression at which she pouted prettily.

"Can I come?" she asked.

Of course she could, and we did, going as we were, though wrapped in overcoats against the cold, returning home way after ten. As we arrived at the block, snow which had been trying all evening, began to fall in earnest in big flakes, and we looked at each other and smiled as the flakes landed on us and melted.

"Hmm," she sighed. "This is turning into the most perfect Christmas."

We had a couple of hot mince pies each (one is never enough), a few nuts and a few more glasses of Port (one is never enough), sitting gazing at the lights on the tree and those lighting the window decoration, and listening to Christmas Carols on the cassette tape deck of the music centre.

Then we stood with our arms round each other, looking out of the window at the snow which was now falling more thickly than ever.

["Oh yes?" those from my hometown will be saying, "Snowing for a White Christmas on Christmas Eve? Bing Crosby and all? In the North West of England? Don't make me laugh!"

They do have a point. It hardly ever snows until February, if at all, but actually in that year, the North West of England, along with the rest of the country, really did get snow on Christmas Eve - though up here only enough to cover the ground! It was much thicker in the south.]

There is something to be said for standing in a toasty warm flat gazing at snow falling, and knowing that it's so cold out there.

There's also something to be said for being in the same flat's warm bedroom knowing that nakedness will be no hardship at all, indeed an advantage. Connie's nipples were standing to attention under that tee shirt of hers and it wasn't from the cold!

So I got my Christmas present from Connie late that Christmas Eve. I had got cocoa, and had brought it to my bedroom. Somehow I assumed that Connie would be there, and she was, still fully dressed and those nipples threatening to breach her tee shirt and run for freedom.

I put her mug down and turned to find her standing in front of me; I had my back to the bed. She had stripped while my back was turned, so all she had on was her tee shirt, and she rectified the omission by flinging it up and away. leaving her gloriously and brazenly naked. She was breathing heavily, whether from the exertion of stripping or from excitement and lust, I did not know and did not care.

"Tonight's my turn," she said and pulled me in for a kiss. We kissed for quite some time, exploring each other's lips and then, open mouthed, we invited each other in for some mutual tongue action.

It had the reaction I expected and it seemed that she'd hoped for. She stood back a little, reached down and deftly unsnapped my pants, then drew the zip down slowly.

There is something very erotic about a woman pulling down the zip of your fly. It conveys her wish to take your cock and do what she wants with it. Further, you know that whatever she does want to do with it is going to be lots of fun!

Connie pushed my pants down and I kicked them with my slippers off my bare feet. Then she slid her hands into the sides of my briefs and slid them down in their turn, using her thumbs to lift the front over my erection. Then she left them on my thighs and pushed up my tee shirt, encouraging my arms to raise, so she could take it off.

Only then did she return to my briefs, pushing them slowly down my legs and going to her knees to take them off my feet.

"Sit down," she ordered. I sat, legs wide, cock upright and rigid.

She leaned forward and took me in her mouth, her fingers playing with my thighs, then reaching under her chin to fondle my balls.

"Lie back," came the command.

I lay back on my elbows and gave her access to my perineum and anus, which she traced and stroked as she resumed her oral attention to my prick, taking me well into her hot wet mouth, then pulling back with a little suction. It was so intense, I began to make noises. Loud sighs, grunts, moans. The odd 'Yes!' and 'Ohh!'.

It did not take long before I could feel that gathering which presaged a climax and release.

"Connie, sweetheart," I groaned, "I'm close."

Quick as a flash she was astride me, her hand grabbed, aligned, rubbed a little between her inner lips and applied my stiffness to her place, when she pushed down and back and slipped it into her, till she bottomed out on my root, her warm sheath warming and wetting me.

"That's what I wanted," she gasped, her eyes half closed with pleasure. "Oh, you feel so good!"

She lay forward onto me, twisting her body so as to rub those nipples over my chest, while nibbling and kissing my neck, while I made a lot of noise as the feelings overwhelmed me.

It was not a comfortable position for her, since her knees were on the edge of the bed and her legs and feet had nowhere to go for purchase. She lifted off me, stood, and pointed up the bed. I obeyed and she resumed her position, flat upon me this time, and kissing neck, chin, cheeks, ears and throat, as her nips pressed into me.

She did that hip fore and aft wobble thing women do to insert the male within, and my prick was accordingly quickly deep, when she began rubbing her mound against my root, causing a circular motion within her channel, which brought forth a moan from her in turn.

Thanks to our repositioning the imminence of an ejaculation had receded, and as she sat up on me, I began to thrust from below. She began to rise and fall in her turn, her tight breasts swinging a little with each movement. Her face was vacant, her eyes unseeing as she became lost in the sensual excitement that was growing in her.

Then she stopped, and began to pull me to the side in an invitation for me to get on top for missionary style.

"Please," I begged, "not that way, stay on top please!"

She looked surprised, but stopped her effort and resumed her position, bouncing faster and faster, as her tits bounced and swayed. I grabbed them, held them, tweaking the nipples, and with a loud cry she came. Her movements became erratic, her body's ecstasy overruling any control.

I was so close I continued to push, feeling the pulsing which pushed me over the edge and I released my spend deep into her hot core, spurt after spurt splashing into her insides. It was wrenching and sucking my life out of me into her, and it was exquisite.

She lay limply on me panting with the effort, her head resting on my shoulder, her legs either side of mine.

I was still inside her when she raised herself a little.

"Happy Christmas," she said breathlessly. "I had nothing to give you, so I thought I'd give you me."

Her head dropped back onto me.

"Thank you," I said, feeling and sounding quite touched. "Best present."

My spent penis slipped from her, and she reacted. She slipped off me to my side and cuddled up, pulling me onto my side to face her.

"You wanted me on top," she said after a moment or two. "Why?"

"How often have you come on top before?"

She thought. "Once or twice with Mike, the guy I went to London with."

She understood immediately, and hugged me hard.

We sat up, drank our now lukewarm cocoa, settled down and went to sleep, she spooning me.

Christmas Day, Friday 25 December 1970

The snow didn't lie deep and white and pristine, in fact it didn't really lie much at all, but there were many thin patches of white on grass which reflected the light of the rising sun and took on a rosy hue, and at least it had snowed and we had seen it falling the night before and it had made our day perfect. More snow was to fall next day and the day after, and that did lie some inches deep.

I made her a cooked breakfast that Christmas morning: bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes (pronounced tomahtoes - they taste different said that way), fried bread and a poached egg. With, of course the ubiquitous tea. I put the tray down on the dresser, and kissed her awake, revelling in her blissful smile, which rapidly turned into excitement as she smelled the food.

"Ooh, breakfast in bed!" she crowed. She sat up, I gave her the tray and went back for my own, climbing into bed beside her.

"Happy Christmas!" I kissed her eggy mouth, then screeched a warning about the tray as she tried turning to kiss me back. She righted herself and the tray in time, and pouted.

After the meal we put the trays down and made gentle love. No frills, just a lot of kissing touching, stroking and then joining towards a gentle climax apiece. It was immensely satisfying for both, and we smiled into each other's eyes. Peaceful. This time I was on top but was very gentle which had an intense effect on both of us.

Then out of bed. I nipped to the Church to ring for service - how could I miss Christmas Day? I did not stay for the service though, for we had to be at my parents' by eleven for coffee and presents. I had gifts from the three girls as well as my own, and more for the family. We put the gifts into six carrier bags and Connie carried two and I four. We walked: I knew I would not be fit to drive by the end of the day. Twenty-five minutes in the sunshine under a deep blue sky did us no harm at all.

Connie began to look more worried, even fearful as the walk progressed.

"Connie, my love," I reassured her, "They will love you, and you'll have a great time. Just do what comes naturally."

"You think so?" she asked, uncertain of my certainty.

"I know so," I emphasised. "You will be one of the family in the first thirty seconds. I speak as one who knows!"

We entered the house and my mother met us in the hallway.

"Connie!" she exclaimed with the biggest smile. "Welcome! Happy Christmas!"

She then did what she was so good at, she hugged Connie thoroughly. Then she hugged me.

"I don't know how you find all these lovely young girls," Mum said, "but you've done it again! Dad will be delighted, Connie will make his Christmas!"

Connie blushed crimson and smiled happily.

She was then introduced to the family, Dad, who had watched the exchange in the hall, felt entitled to hug her in his turn, then each of my siblings did the same. Connie looked quite dazed by the end.