("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
                     `6_ 6  )   `-.  (     ).`-.__.`)
                     (_Y_.)'  ._   )  `._ `. ``-..-'
                    _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
                   ((('   (((-(((''  ((((
                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
		_________________________________________
		                WARNING!
		This text file contains sexually explicit
		material. If you do not wish to read this
		type of literature, or you are under age,
		PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
		_________________________________________




			Scroll down to view text


















--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

Claire
by knobbieknobbs (knobbieknobbs@hotmail.com)

***

The funny thing about time is the way it affects the 
memory. It distorts it. Do I care that my mind might 
have altered the reality of my relationship with 
Claire? Not really. What’s important, what really 
matters, is that she became the most important person 
in my life – so losing her hurt like hell. (MF, rom)

***

We'd been at the same school for five and a half years 
and I’d never noticed Claire. She'd been in a different 
class and I doubt that we’d ever exchanged more than 
two words. 

I’d heard the rumours about the number of guys that 
asked Claire out, and about how she said no to all of 
them. She knocked back even the popular guys. There 
were other rumours too, that explained why she wasn’t 
interested in guys. 

When we were sixteen, after our GCSE exams, around half 
the year group stayed at school to tackle ‘A levels’. 
The rest went of into the real world to find jobs. It 
was a huge change. Old alliances were lost and everyone 
became more open to making new friends. It was like 
starting out all over again, except that old prejudices 
die hard. Despite revamping my image, I was still the 
geeky little egghead I'd always been. Problems with 
homework, ask Mark, he'll know.

Claire had a similar problem. After all, sweet sixteen 
year olds didn't turn down the chance to go out with 
Andrew Aspbury unless they batted for the other side, 
did they?

Two weeks into the new term, my girlfriend dumped me. I 
went through that 'girls are all the same, what's the 
point' period for a while, and it wasn't until the 
Christmas party season that I started to enjoy life 
again. I stopped being the drunken loser that vomited 
down the kitchen sink then got carried home and went 
back to being a relatively normal teenager (that 
vomited down the kitchen sink then got carried home). 

In early January, the school management organised a 
photo session for the whole of the sixth form. We posed 
for a group shot on a stage in the school hall, the 
tall ones at the back, the mid-size ones in the middle, 
and the vertically disadvantaged sitting on chairs at 
the front.

We'd been there for ages when the photographer 
announced that he had a problem with the camera. He 
apologised, but said that his other camera, for the 
individual photos, was fine. He had the first row line 
up on the far side of the hall so that his assistant 
could snap them.

The front row stood up in unison and trooped along in 
single file. The tallest guy in the class, who also 
happened to be the loudest and most brash, called out 
cheerfully, "Hi, Ho, Hi, Ho, It's off to work we go..."

Laughter rippled through the rest of us. Despite 
laughing along with everyone, I sympathized with the 
poor souls being ridiculed. I knew most of them, but 
Claire stood out.

I recognised her from my maths class, and tried to 
place where she sat. Claire and her little group of 
friends sat two rows behind me and my friends. The row 
between us was always empty. She rarely volunteered 
answers, and never asked questions. She always spoke in 
whispers with her friends. I couldn't understand why I 
hadn't noticed her before. She wasn’t a teenage 
glamour-girl, but there was something about her.

I decided to try to get to know Claire. Being in the 
same class helped. Phrases like, "Have you done you 
homework?" or "Could you answer question two, 'cause I 
thought it was hard?" are not chat up lines. But that 
was how most of my conversations with Claire started.

It would get us talking about work, and this would lead 
to other topics. We spent many free periods in the 
library talking nonsense and working. I did most of the 
work. Claire said things like, "Oh yeah, I get it. What 
answer did you get again? That's what I got too." She 
was copying me, but I didn't mind.

There was no question that her looks first drew me to 
her. Her hair was forever changing style, but she never 
changed its colour - night sky black. She had dark blue 
eyes that she tried to hide with make up and she 
avoided looking directly at people.

She wasn’t tall, not that that mattered to me, nor did 
she have the huge chest that was the fantasy of many a 
teenage boy. But to me she was perfectly proportioned. 
Many people thought of her as cute but to my mind that 
wasn’t the right word, I would have used ‘pretty’ 
instead. She was very, very pretty. 

The way she carried herself added to her appeal, I 
couldn’t say why, and her shyness added to the whole 
image. There was a mysterious air about her, something 
I found sexy.

She dressed well too. For the younger kids in the 
school the uniform was uncompromising, but our dress 
code had a little latitude, as long as we stuck to the 
colour scheme. Guys didn't have much choice, grey suit, 
white shirt and silly tie. The girls, on the other 
hand, could get away with anything. Skirts of varying 
lengths, trousers, blouses, low cut tops. You name it, 
someone wore it.

Claire always wore dark grey, mid-length skirts, white 
blouses and dark grey cardigans or sweaters. It doesn't 
sound special, but everything about Claire, taken 
alone, seemed ordinary; but she put them all together 
in such a way...

I can't do justice to her aura of quiet sexuality. Hers 
was an understated beauty.

Weeks passed and Claire and I became good friends. We 
even flirted, but I flirted with most of the girls I 
knew, so thought nothing of it. We found more things in 
common than just maths homework. We played pool in the 
social area, and talked about politics in the library. 
She showed me little glimpses of the true Claire, the 
one she kept hidden, and I liked what I saw.

In free periods, we knew exactly where to find each 
other, at a table in the children's corner of the 
library. We were never alone; someone else was always 
working at the table or relaxing in the comfy chairs 
with a newspaper. I liked to be first to the library, 
and first to get hold of the paper. Then I could share 
it with Claire.

I hated people reading over my shoulder, but I always 
shared the paper with Claire. It meant that we had to 
get close to each other, into each other's 'personal 
space.' If I was at the table, she would come up behind 
me, one hand on the back of my chair, the other on the 
table, leaning over me. If I was on one of the low 
comfy chairs, she would kneel down beside me. Whichever 
it was, it drove me wild. I could smell her; the heady 
mix of her own scent and her perfume. But I kept a cool 
exterior, kept my desire hidden.

About halfway through that first year of 'A' levels, 
the friendship groups shifted. I was pulled into a 
group that included Claire. We went out as a group - to 
the cinema, bowling and to nightclubs. Claire and I 
flirted even more, and it became obvious that I fancied 
her. But with my confidence low, I was convinced that 
there was no-way she could fancy me back. I never 
considered asking her out on a date alone; I contented 
myself with the relationship we had. 

Homework sessions in free periods became so regular 
that others in the class joined us. We played badminton 
together and formed a deadly partnership, and we played 
pool. With each activity, we found ways to flirt. We 
would arrive at school early to play pool and I’d offer 
her advice on the best shot, stepping up close behind 
to help her line it up. When on the badminton court, we 
would slap each other on the behind after winning a 
good point, and homework sessions were riddled with 
innuendo.

But I knew I couldn't ask her out. All the most popular 
guys had asked her out, and she had turned them all 
down. Was there any reason she wouldn't turn me down? 
They were better catches than me, and she wasn't 
interested in them. Besides, she was one of my best 
mates, and I couldn’t jeopardise that.

I took a long holiday with my family that summer and 
spent most of the time sunning myself, and reading. It 
was relaxing and just what I needed. I went back to 
school a changed man.

One of the reasons that Claire and I had become such 
good friends was that we both carried the stigma of our 
recent history. No matter how hard we tried, or how 
unwarranted it was, we both retained the image and 
reputation that we had always endured.

In reality, I was no longer the wimpish, teacher's pet 
that always got everything right. Yet my classmates 
still saw me that way. Claire had ditched the hideous 
glasses for a combination of designer specs and contact 
lenses as long as four years ago, but people still 
referred to them. And she was very flirtatious, but 
there were still guys that made the odd dyke remark, 
particularly if she had knocked them back.

On returning to school, we were both determined to shed 
this baggage. A new headmaster had taken over the 
school from the previous 'Thatcher-esque' incumbent, 
and there was a more relaxed atmosphere. I had my 
confidence boosted by the news that there was a crop of 
girls lower down the school that had the hots for me. 
So what if they were four years my junior, at least 
someone found me attractive.

It was about that time that we applied for university. 
The Staff did everything they could to try and convince 
us it was worthwhile, including organising a trip to 
the local university open day. The trip left early and 
we spent the whole day on campus. I spent the day with 
some lads who were interested in doing the same degree 
as me. I didn't see Claire except for lunch in the 
Student’s Union.

I was shattered when I got back on the coach for the 
return journey. I found a seat on my own and settled 
down to get some kip. My sought after solitude lasted 
barely a minute. Claire and her friend Melissa were in 
the seat behind me. As soon as we left the campus, 
Claire leant forward through the gap in the seats.

"Mark," she said, in a voice just louder than a 
whisper. "Look at these."

She handed me some postcards. They were arty prints, 
apparently famous paintings by an artist that I had 
never heard of, featuring ladies in various states of 
undress.

"Never heard of him.”

"No! Really?”

She scrambled around to sit next to me and unloaded all 
her knowledge of the pieces and the artist’s colourful 
history.

"I've been studying him this term, and my next piece 
has to be in his style."

"Does that mean you're going to need a semi-naked 
model? I know a few girls who jump at the chance to get 
their kit off."

"Actually, since we have to do our own version of his 
style, I was thinking of doing semi-naked men."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." she grinned wickedly. "I might even ask you to 
model for me. I know you'll look good with your shirt 
off."

"What makes you think that I'd do it?"

"Because when I'm rich and famous you can say that you 
sat for me. Who knows, maybe your image will grace the 
halls of the National Gallery one day."

She put the postcards away, but stayed where she was. I 
didn't mind, and certainly didn't complain. We sat in 
silence, looking out of the coach window, until she got 
hold of an Italian phrase book from a friend. We looked 
up all the dirty words, and then spent half an hour 
chatting each other up in Italian, then later in 
Spanish.

I knew then that she might be interested; what had 
happened on the coach was more than just innocent 
flirting. I decided to ask her out as soon as the 
opportunity arose. But I had several opportunities over 
the next few days and didn't take them. The words 
seemed to get lost somewhere between my brain and my 
mouth.

That year I stood for vice-chair of the student 
committee and won. The principal job of the committee 
was to organise entertainment for the students. Most of 
our activities were for the kids lower down the school 
and took place on school grounds, where the staff could 
make sure that there was nothing untoward going on.

Attending discos for thirteen and fourteen year olds 
wasn’t my idea of fun, but it was in my job 
description. I had no choice. Claire, who wasn't on the 
committee, did have a choice, and stayed away.

My new high-profile position had apparently built me 
quite a fan base amongst the younger girls. It was my 
solemn duty to dance with as many of them as possible 
at the disco. I even had to snog one of them, imagine 
that! It caused quite a stir in the common room the 
next day; Mark-the-Geek had become the school 
heartthrob. I took some stick over that.

At the disco the following week, a great deal more of 
the sixth form turned up. The boys clearly thought that 
if I could pull at one of these parties, then they 
would too. But Claire had shown little interest in 
finding a boyfriend before now, and boys are 
notoriously less mature than girls are at fourteen, so 
I doubted that she was on the pull. Or was she?

For the whole disco, she was never more than a few feet 
from me. When I got up to dance, so did she; when I sat 
down again, so did she. I should have made the 
connection, but I was eighteen, had a low self-image, 
and in all honesty was probably just too stupid.

The committee also organised parties for the sixth form 
students only. As older, more mature and more 
responsible students (yeah, right), we could have our 
parties off site. We hired a function room at a local 
pub, got a local semi-celebrity DJ to provide the 
tunes, and promised the landlord that he'd be out of 
beer by the end of the night.

The party was great fun. When my friends and I weren't 
in the function room drinking and dancing, we slipped 
into the bar for a few games of pool. Claire and I 
teamed up for a couple of games against our friends.

The focus that night was Andrew Aspbury, the most 
popular boy in school. He and his girlfriend, Vicky, 
had been having a torrid time; she had accused him of 
cheating on her. He had denied it, but we all knew it 
was true - after all, we'd all been at that disco too.

She hadn't spoken to him for days but he was determined 
that she'd be back in his arms by the end of the night. 
There were just six of us in the bar, around the pool 
table, when Vicky burst through the door, followed 
closely by Andrew.

"Vicky, listen to me."

"Why should I?" She stopped in her tracks and turned 
around. "You're still denying doing anything with that 
girl." She was right by the pool table, preventing me 
from taking a shot.

"That's because I didn't."

"Liar! And these all know 'cause they saw you. Didn't 
you?" 

None of us answered.

"Well?"

"Alright. We saw him. Now can you move, I'm trying to 
line up a shot," I said, wearily. We'd all seen this 
too many times before.

"Oh thanks, Romeo," Andrew said. "And you should know 
all about snogging little girls. At least I've got a 
proper girlfriend."

"Had a proper girlfriend," Vicky corrected.

"Oh, really? Well, maybe I think it's time for a change 
anyway." Andrew slid up to Claire and put his arm 
around her. She looked disgusted when he touched her.

"You're welcome to him, Claire," Vicky said, and 
stomped out of the pub.

Claire tried to push Andrew away, but he held her to 
him, probably hoping that this display would carry some 
weight with Vicky.

"Andy, let her go. She doesn’t want you to do that," I 
said.

"Shut the fuck up, Romeo. I don’t know any girl who 
wouldn't want me to hold her. Isn't that right, 
Claire?"

"No," she said firmly.

"Aw, come on, don't struggle."

"Andy, let her go. Now!” I was angered that he thought 
he could get away with this.

"Or what? You'll make me. I'd like to see that, Romeo."

"Maybe. But there's five of us and only one of you."

"Let me go," Claire said and pushed him away with all 
her strength.

"Fine," Andrew said. "I didn't really want some lesbo 
anyway. Sure, it might have been fun turning you normal 
again. But would it have been worth it? I don't think 
so." He marched back into the function room, no doubt 
to tell everyone how he'd dumped Vicky and fought off 
the attentions of the lesbian.

We relaxed once he was gone, and I finally took my 
shot, which I missed. When I stood back to let my 
opponent shoot, Claire pecked me on the cheek and said 
softly, "Thanks for sticking up for me."

"No, problem."


The following weeks at school were difficult for Claire 
and me. The school normally ran on Asbury’s law, so if 
he didn't like you, then nobody did. It put a strain 
our friendship. People's conversations fell to a 
whisper whenever one of us passed, and stopped 
altogether if we were both near. Then Claire told me 
she couldn't make it to my belated birthday party. 

"It's my own party the following weekend," she 
explained. "I can't get both nights off work."

"But Claire, I really want you to be there. You’re one 
of my best friends"

"I know, and I want to come, I really do. It's just not 
possible."

"I suppose."

"Look, I promise that if you come to my party, I save 
the last but one dance for you."

"Why the last but one?"

"I've already promised my big brother the last dance."

"Do I get a birthday kiss as well?"

"Only if I get one too."

"Bed of Roses" by Bon Jovi was Claire's favourite tune. 
She requested that song for our birthday dance. The 
music was loud and slow, sensual and sexy. We clutched 
each other tightly; tightly enough to leave her in no 
doubt how turned on I was. We swayed in harmony to the 
music, our bodies fitting together like jigsaw pieces. 
My hands rested in the small of her back, and she 
draped hers around my neck and rested her head on my 
shoulder. I leaned my head against hers. I was in 
heaven. I could feel the heat of her body, and her 
scent flooded my nostrils until it was all I could 
smell. I remember being thankful it was a long song, 
but wishing that the music would never end. After she 
had spent most of the evening with her family, or 
dancing in a group, this was our time. When it ended, 
we kissed. A "Happy Birthday" from both of us, to each 
other.

After that, Claire and I were closer than ever. Aspbury 
was back with Vicky and the whispered conversations had 
stopped. One Wednesday, in early November, I was alone 
with Claire in the library after school. We were 
working on some extra maths problems. There was a test 
coming up and I thought I could get more work done 
after everyone had gone home. When Claire found out, 
she joined me. We worked for an hour then walked home 
together until our paths diverged. We parted, but 
before I had walked more than a few feet, I had a 
sudden impulse. I turned around and ran after Claire.

"Claire," I called. "Claire, Wait up."

She stopped and turned around to see why I was shouting 
her.

"What is it, Mark?"

"Urm, I was just wondering… I... urm... nothing. 
Doesn't matter."

I turned to walk away but she called me back. "No, 
wait. What is it? What were you going to say?"

"Nothing, it doesn't matter. I was just... It doesn't 
matter."

"Yes, it does. What was it?"

"I was just gonna... I was gonna ask you if you were 
doing anything later.... I thought you might want to... 
Look, I really like you and I was gonna ask you to go 
out with me, okay. It was silly. You'll say no, I'll 
get embarrassed, and we won't talk to each other for 
weeks, which would be really bad with the test and 
everything. Let's just forget it, okay?"

"So then ask me," she said.

"Why? So, you can laugh in my face. Since I've known 
you, all the best guys in school have asked you out. 
All the really popular guys. And you've turned them 
down. What chance has a nerd like me got, eh? I mean 
look at you. You’re sweet and kind and the most caring 
girl in school. And by far the most beautiful. What 
would you want with someone like me, huh? So let's just 
forget I said anything. I've said what I wanted to. 
I've made a fool of myself, so now I'm just going home 
and locking myself in my room."

It all came out, everything I felt. The floodgates 
opened and I couldn't stop it. By the time I realized 
what I was saying, I'd already finished. I turned to 
leave but Claire reached out a hand to stop me.

"Have you ever thought why I turned them all down?" She 
didn't give me time to think of an answer. "It was 
because I was waiting for someone. Someone special. 
Someone I really liked. One of my best friends.”

It took a while for my feeble brain to assimilate this, 
and I gazed blankly at her. She came closer to me, 
taking my hands in hers. I was still looking at her as 
our faces came closer. She tilted her head as she 
approached. I reached out to her, and we kissed. A 
long, slow kiss.

We started out with just our lips touching, holding 
hands, bags abandoned on the floor beside us. I parted 
my lips and she parted hers in response. We let go of 
our hands and embraced, pulling each other close.

My tongue snaked its way into her mouth and found hers, 
wrestling with it. My hands were on her hips, then in 
her hair, then back on her hips, moving slowly, tracing 
the curve of her body.

The whole thing must have lasted less than a minute, 
but it felt like forever. I didn't ever want it to end. 
We stared at each other; stared into each other’s eyes. 
She smiled at me, which lit up her eyes, and I smiled 
back.

"How long have you wanted this?" I asked.

"About as long as I've known you."

"Me too." I sighed. "God, we've been so stupid. We've 
wasted so much time."

"Best make sure we do things right from now on then."


We walked back to her house, arm in arm, and kissed 
again when we got there, agreeing to meet up later that 
night. I didn't walk home that night; I floated.

We met up later and talked for ages. The next day at 
school, the common room was buzzing with the news. 
Evidently, most people had been waiting for this. My 
friends all had a good word to say. Claire’s friends 
likewise. People I hardly spoke to were coming up to me 
and saying, "It's about time." Even some of the 
teachers commented.

Finally, we were together, and we were happy. We spent 
as much time as possible together. We even applied to 
the same universities and went to the open days 
together.

Day turned in to weeks, which became months. As the 
time passed, we knew that we wanted to be together 
forever. We would kiss, and fondle each other, but 
despite animal-like urges, we refrained from going 
further. We talked about what it would be like to make 
love, and where we wanted to do it. 

Then we decided that the time was right. We wanted our 
first time to be special, and decided to make the whole 
weekend something to remember. Friday night we rented a 
video, ordered a pizza and spent the night in my room 
just like so many times before. The difference was that 
Claire didn't drive home at the end of the night. 
Instead, she went into the bathroom and changed into a 
short nightshirt. While she was changing, I put on some 
jim-jams and turned back the covers.

We climbed into bed together. It was a single bed, and 
we lay close to each other, holding each other tightly. 
We kissed, and our hands roamed, but this was not the 
night, as much as we wanted each other. We eventually 
fell asleep, with me tucked up behind her, my arms 
wrapped around her. She held onto my hand as we slept.

We spent the whole of the next day together. We woke 
early and went shopping. We had a pub lunch then went 
to the football, something I had always loved and 
Claire had come to enjoy. We followed that with a trip 
to the cinema and a McDonalds. We went on to a club and 
met up with some friends. Most of the music at that 
time was for solo dancing but by request, the DJ played 
some bump-n-grind. Claire and I got very close on the 
dance floor. The club was open until 2am, but we were 
desperate to get home. We bid farewell to our friends 
at midnight.

My family was asleep when we got home. Claire and I 
went straight upstairs. Everyone else was asleep, so it 
was too late for soft music, too late for talk. I 
closed the door behind me and Claire leapt on me. Her 
lips pressed against mine and she wrapped her arms 
around my neck.

I responded to her kiss, slid my tongue into her mouth 
and entwined it with hers. I put my hands on her hips 
and traced a line up her back with my fingers. She wore 
a thin blouse, and I could feel her skin through it. My 
hands worked their way up her body; hers traced a 
similar path down my back.

"I've always liked your bum." She gripped my cheeks 
firmly and squeezed.

She let go and moved her hands to the top of my jeans. 
I didn’t have a belt on, so it was easy for her to 
slide her hands under my jeans and shorts, and grab my 
arse again. All this time I ran my hands through her 
hair and we kissed.

While Claire kneaded my bum, I moved my hands between 
us to get at her breasts. I was gentle with them at 
first, but then on impulse I squeezed one of them hard. 
She flung her head back, and there was a mixed look of 
shock and pleasure on her face. 

I fumbled with the top button of her blouse, with 
little success. She pulled away from me and smiled. We 
exchanged no words; there was no need. We both knew we 
were about to cross a line and there was no turning 
back.

She stood before me and undid each button in turn, slid 
the blouse off her shoulders and let it fall to the 
floor. She stood silently for a moment, then reached 
around her back and unclasped her bra.

She brought her hands around to the front and her bra 
fell forward. I stood motionless, drinking in the 
figure of beauty before me. I sighed, stepped forward, 
and reached a hand up to each breast, gently kneading 
them, squeezing the nipples and rolling them between my 
fingers.

I kissed Claire until she tipped her head back. I moved 
on, kissing her neck, working my way downward. Claire 
had the presence of mind to sit down on the bed, which 
was just behind her. Sitting down next to her made it 
easier to bend and kiss her. I tried to cover as much 
flesh with kisses before I got to the deep red nipples, 
which were sticking straight out, hard and proud.

Still massaging one breast with my hand, I reached out 
to the other with my tongue. Slowly at first, and then 
with increasing tempo, I flicked the nipple.

Claire’s head went back even further, until it almost 
touched the back of her neck. She sighed, and I tried 
to suck as much of her into my mouth as I could. I 
switched breasts and started over. When I was finished, 
Claire lifted my head up to kiss me.

Then it was her turn. She undid my top three shirt 
buttons and ran her hand along my chest. Then she 
tackled the remaining buttons. She kissed my chest the 
same way I had hers, except she kept going. When she 
reached my navel, she dipped her tongue into it, 
sending a shiver up my spine.

My cock was rock hard and straining to get out of the 
confines of my jeans. It caused a visible lump. Claire 
placed a hand on it. She fumbled with my fly, and I 
tried to kick off my shoes and remove my socks with my 
feet. At the same time, our lips locked together, our 
tongues fighting each other.

When my fly was open, I lifted my bum off the bed so 
that she could ease down my jeans. She slipped a hand 
into my shorts and took hold of my dick, wrapping her 
delicate fingers around it. I flinched, and she broke 
away from the kiss to smile at me. A calming smile, a 
loving smile.

She kissed me again and gently stroked my cock, moving 
the foreskin back to reveal the shiny purple knob. I 
masturbated, of course I did, but it was never like 
this. Claire’s hands on my dick heightened the 
sensations. I kissed her harder.

I placed a hand on her leg, just between her knee and 
the hem of her skirt, rubbed gently, and then slid my 
hand upwards, underneath her skirt and towards her 
panties.

I stroked her thigh, inching closer to her knickers. 
Claire suddenly let go of my dick. I panicked, thinking 
I had done something wrong. My fears we unfounded, and 
she reached around to undo her skirt.

She lifted herself off the bed and I pulled down her 
skirt and panties in one swift movement. I flung them 
across the room, where they hit the door, and fell in a 
crumpled heap. I wanted to get at her exposed pussy but 
Claire tugged at the waistband of my shorts, and it was 
my turn to rest my weight on my hands while she removed 
them.

With one hand stimulating her nipple, I moved the other 
back to the top of her leg. No more teasing, I decided. 
I rubbed my hand across her pubes. The wiry hair 
tickled my hand, and the warmth of her pussy beckoned. 
I stroked one finger along its length, resulting in her 
pumping my dick quicker. I stroked a couple more times, 
and then slipped a finger inside her.

Her whole body stiffened, and she stopped pumping. I 
tried to pull my finger out, but she forced it back in. 
I tried again, and again she forced it back in. I got 
the idea. I fucked slowly with first one, then two 
fingers. I found the nub of flesh just north of her 
slit, and rubbed it with my thumb. Her moans left me in 
no doubt that she was enjoying it, but we both wanted 
more. Claire lay back on the bed and I reached over to 
the bedside cabinet for a condom.

She looked up at me and said, "Have you ever put one of 
those on before?"

"And when would I have done that?"

"I don't know, playing about, experimenting."

"No. I’ve never...”

"Well," she said with a glint in her eye, "can I do 
it?"

"Are you serious?"

She nodded and I handed it to her. I knelt in front of 
her and she sat up, condom in hand. She looked at the 
condom then at my dick, and then did something I wasn't 
expecting.

She leant forward and planted a kiss on the end of my 
knob. I nearly came right then. She looked up at me 
again, her pretty blue eyes still glinting, and smiled. 
She took the head of my cock into her mouth, and sucked 
in as much as she could. I can't describe how she 
looked, her eyes closed and her lips wrapped around my 
cock. Or how she made me feel. Her tongue was tracing 
patterns on my dick, but outside there was no sign of 
the movements that were driving me wild.

Without warning, she pulled away. She examined the 
condom once more, looked up and a flashed me a cheeky 
smile, then slipped the rubber covering onto me, 
rolling it all the way down to my balls.

Then she lay back, spread her legs, and beckoned me to 
her. I fell forward onto her, eager to kiss the lips 
that had just been around my dick. We kissed and she 
reached down, searching for me. It was time.

I took hold of my dick. She gripped it too, and 
together we guided the missile home. We found the warm, 
wet entrance to her body. I pushed forward, the end of 
my cock forcing her lips apart and entered her slowly.

The whole time we stared into each other’s eyes. 
Claire's face contorted in pleasure. I bent down to 
kiss her softly, and began long slow strokes, 
pleasuring both of us in a way neither thought 
possible. With each stroke, she lifted her hips up to 
meet me.

I started picking up the pace; building towards my 
orgasm, and Claire matched every beat. All too soon, I 
came. Every muscle in my body tensed, and the condom 
filled. Spent, I collapsed on top of Claire.

I was unable to speak as I got back both my breath and 
my senses. When I had recovered, I kissed Claire's 
forehead and spoke softly to her.

"I'm sorry."

"What for? That was really lovely."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she said with a smile. "I liked it. I liked it 
a lot."

"But it didn't last very long."

"So, we can do it again later. Can't we?"

"And you didn't have... you know... you didn't cum."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "I'm sure I will next 
time, or the time after that."

And she did. We got under the covers and fell asleep. 
The next morning we did it again, and Claire came twice 
before I did, making so much noise that I was scared my 
sister in the next room might hear.

A few months later, we sat our exams, after which we 
took a holiday together. When the results were 
published, I did very well and got a place on a degree 
course at the local university. Claire didn’t do as 
well, but then she didn’t expect to. Instead of 
continuing her studies, she went to work for a bank. So 
much for becoming a famous artist.

The three years I was at university were tough for us. 
I had to live on campus, and with Claire working, we 
only ever saw each other on alternate weekends and 
holidays. But we made it, and at my graduation ball, I 
proposed. A year later, we were married.

Another twelve months on, Claire gave birth to our 
first child, a healthy baby girl. Our lives were 
perfect. I was earning good money, and Claire took a 
career break to look after Mary. She even started 
painting again. We had a little home of our own, and to 
our delight a second child was on the way just a year 
after the first.

Then everything changed.

I was at work. Reception rang, which was nothing 
unusual, but they said there were two policemen to see 
me. A detective and a constable. I went down to greet 
them and showed them into the conference room.

The detective did all the talking. The constable stood 
by the door looking solemn.

"Mr Tasker, I have some rather upsetting news. Perhaps 
you should sit down.”

"What…What is it?”

"I’m afraid there’s been an accident. Your wife. She 
was crossing the car park at Tesco’s in town. There was 
a young, and it turns out drunk, driver.”

I knew what was coming. I sat down and braced myself

"We’re not sure how yet, we’re still investigating, but 
he lost control. Mrs Tasker managed to push your 
daughter’s buggy out of his path, but…”

"Is she…” I couldn’t fight back the tears, even before 
I’d heard the answer. There were coming whatever he 
said.

"She’s alive, and at the hospital now.”

"And our baby?”

"We don’t know yet. The doctors will be able to tell 
you more when we get there.”

I was in no fit state to drive. I rode to the hospital 
with the police. I have no idea how long it took us to 
get there, or how long I waited for news or how many 
cups of god-awful coffee I drank from polystyrene cups.

Each time a doctor or nurse came through the door, I 
jumped out of my seat, only to be told nothing. When it 
came, the news was…

"Doctor?”

"Mr Tasker?”

"Yes.”

"Your son is out of danger.” I nearly collapsed in 
relief. "We had to perform an emergency caesarean, but 
he’s alive and doing well. He’s in an incubator, but 
that’s precautionary. He should be fine.”

"Oh, thank god. And Claire? She’s okay?”

"Mr Tasker…” The doctor delivered his news with grace 
and tact. Although I didn’t appreciate it at the time, 
it’s something I will always be grateful for.

Adam’s birthday has always been a difficult time for 
me. I rejoice that my son was saved; that he was 
granted life. But at what cost? My children lost a 
mother; I lost a wife, a lover and a friend.

Adam’s ten this year. I tell him, and his sister, all 
about their mother every chance I get. About how 
special she was, and how happy we were. They have 
picture of her by their beds, but they never knew her. 
In the end, all they have are my memories.

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 33