Dinner was good, steaks and lobster at a nice little restaurant at the bottom of Park Street, just off College Green, and afterwards we took a walk across the Green to stroll outside the floodlit cathedral, looking, as we had done since we were kids, for the bullet scars and sword cuts in the statues of saints and royalist effigies from when Cromwell’s men had defaced the ‘blasphemous’ effigies carved on the outer precincts of the medieval cathedral walls and porches during the English Civil War in the 17th Century.
I’d forgotten how much there was to see in my home town, or how much history had originated there; just around the corner from the cathedral was the quay where John Cabot set sail to discover Newfoundland, the first European to set foot on mainland North America, outside the church built by The Merchant Venturer’s, and a few hundred yards away was the Red Maid’s School, the oldest girl’s school in England, dating back to the early 17th century; when I was younger, they still wore the red dresses and Red-Riding Hood capes that gave them their name.
Back up at the top of Park Street was the 16th century Queen Elizabeth Hospital School, a Tudor mansion housing the Bluecoat school, the choristers and senior boys still dressed in 17th century navy-blue frock coats, snowy-white neck stocks and Navy-blue knee britches with silver buttons at the knee, with mustard stockings and silver-buckle shoes, looking as though they’d just stepped out of a Van Dyck painting.
Just along from the Green was Welsh Back, an 18th century cobbled quay on the River Avon, with the Llandoger Trow, an almost untouched 18th century inn, where Robert Louis Stevenson used to drink, on the wall a portrait of the original landlord, ‘Long’ John Silver, or another old inn, ‘The Hole in the Wall,’ so called because it was used for smuggling brandy and lace past the Customs men waiting on the quay above…
All this came back to me in a rush, the medieval history and Regency elegance of my home town washing over me, the princes, pirates, dandies, hero’s and highwaymen who’d all made Bristol what it was in the days of Empire, and I was suddenly immensely glad I’d come home, even if it had to be like this.
Lena understood why I had to reconnect with my home, and it was she who led me from place to place around the city centre and Clifton, our conversation peppered with ‘do you remember… do you remember…’ as I grounded again, connecting and remembering how good life had been here, how much my family loved living here, and our roots and deep connections with this city; I had focused so intently on London in my job-hunting before, thinking it offered all the answers, I had forgotten that my home town had just as much, and maybe more, to offer; it would be a good place for our child to grow up, this child and all the others I hoped would follow.
When we got back indoors, I was in the frame of mind Lena had been hoping for; she was back, and mum and dad were fine, in the place they needed to be, we were having a baby, we had our own home that no-one could take from us, and I had a good job. Everything was finally falling into place; even though the one thing I wanted most in the world was not going to happen, weighed against all the good things we had, it was not such a bad trade. Dad was doing it his way, and while I wasn’t exactly doing cartwheels with joy over it, I knew and understood that this was how it had to be, this was how he wanted it to be, and we had no say in it. I was feeling distinctly mellow by the time we reached home, especially as we had a rather special dessert planned…
Lena bustled about in the kitchen, making coffee while I drew all the curtains and checked all the doors and windows were locked, a ritual I replayed from childhood days. We retired to the big couch in the living room, me with my feet up on the coffee table, Lena sitting curled-up next to me, her head on my shoulder as she told me about mum and dad, their home, how dad was. Lena was encouraged; he seemed to be a lot better, adapting well to the dry summer heat, his respiratory distress seemed to have backed down quite significantly, and he was a lot more mobile these days. I was glad, but wistful; I wanted my dad, and mum, it didn’t feel right to be lording it around in their house while they lived in a pokey little place in a small village and waited for dad to die, but this was what they wanted; they were making sure their kids always had a roof over their heads, how could I fault them for that?
We talked about various things, my job, the rest of the family, eventually coming to us and what we were going to do next. I knew what I wanted; Lena, pure and simple. The six weeks she was gone were the longest, loneliest days of my life, far worse than the days immediately after the family had dropped me off at Student Halls and driven away, and I knew I would never let that happen again; she belonged with me, and I belonged with her, to the bitter end. Wherever she went from now on, I was going too, she was part of me now, and I needed to have her with me, and the empathy we shared told me she felt exactly the same way about me. Our conversation soon shifted to the non-verbal. Her lips had never tasted sweeter or more desirable that when I held her close and kissed her like there was no ending possible in this world or the next. She had taken over my heart, my life, and my world, imprisoning me in turn in her heart, and I was never so glad to be in such total captivity.
Gradually we worked our way from kissing to more serious touching and caressing, our kisses punctuated by the occasional giggle, gasp, or soft moan. We surfaced long enough to decide that we needed a bed for what we wanted to do, so we made our way up to the master bedroom on the first floor, losing our clothes along the way.
Once in the bedroom, I was able to admire my girl again, to drink in the sight of her naked body, tall, lithe, perfectly formed, her breasts crowned with tempting pink nipples, already beginning to darken as her body changed to nurture the life growing inside her. Her long glossy black hair was even longer now, brushing the small of her back as it tumbled down to contrast perfectly against her fair skin and vivid, cornflower-blue eyes.
My reaction to her was, as always, immediate and obvious, and her eyes twinkled as she took me in hand, her grip warm and achingly sensual against my throbbing cock.
“I told you earlier, you owe me, Darryl Morgan, and I always collect! You know what I want, I’ve been waiting weeks for this, do it to me, make me scream!”
I held her to me as we kissed, my painfully hard erection pressed up against her soft white belly, pressing against that place our baby was beginning its life, and the thought of that made me want her even more, arousal blazing through me as I stiffened even more. As I backed her toward the bed, she squeezed and rubbed me, thrills running up and down my spine at the exquisite torture of her hands on me. I backed her up to the bed and turned, meaning to pull her down on top of me, but she got there first, grinning impishly as she pushed me over, to land on top of me, her legs straddling me as her wetness rubbed along the length of my aching cock.
She grinned again, biting her lip as she began to rub herself more deliberately along me, her hot pussy dragging up and down the length of my cock, driving me crazy as she coated me with her juices, her breathing becoming ragged and uneven as she worked herself up. At last, she raised up and took hold of me, aiming me as she slowly lowered herself down onto me, impaling herself on me. My cock felt bigger that it had ever felt in my life, and I could have sworn it was longer than the seven or so inches I knew it was, I was so worked-up by the thought of what we were doing here.
As she lowered herself onto me, Lena hissed in satisfaction, gasping as I slid deeply into her. When I was all the way in, she began to rock and gyrate her hips, rolling herself up and down on me, pleasuring herself while her pussy squeezed and released me in time to her movements, alternately sucking and relaxing its hold on me.
She gasped as she climaxed, her pussy squeezing me rapidly as she convulsed, her hands resting on my chest as the waves of orgasm rushed and surged through her, until she slumped down on me, her heart beating rapidly and her pulse fluttering in the hollow of her throat. I thought she’d passed out, she lay so still on me, then she pushed herself upright and grinned down at me.
“You’re not finished yet, Darryl, we have unfinished business!” she smiled, squeezing my cock again as she slowly rocked on top of me. Without warning, she sat upright and raised up, letting my cock pull out with an almost audible pop, and taking hold of it, began to rub her vulva, her perineum, and the tight pucker of her back hole, slowly working my head into her anus, using her own vaginal juices and the clear liquid running out of my cock to lubricate and ease my penetration. She worked the head in until the ring snapped around the shaft, giving a loud, gasping “Oh!” as it popped in past her barrier, then gasping softly as she slowly slid down me, burying me to the hilt in her hot, tight, sinewy rectum.
The pressure on my cock was unbelievable, part of me wanting it to go on forever, another part wanting to just come and keep coming endlessly, flooding her with my spunk. As she rode me, I began to push back against her, fucking her tightest hole as she ground away on me, her rectum squeezing and massaging my cock delightfully.
The end was quick in coming; I’d been too long without her, and the sheer sexual charge of what we were doing here, the smell and closeness of her, all of it was too much to contain, and I came in what felt like endless jets of spunk bulleting out of me and deep into her, bathing her insides with my essence, and triggering her own massive, shuddering orgasm.
We shook and quivered together, gasping and sobbing in the intensity of our release, gradually descending from that peak into the calm on the other side, to lie in each other’s arms, bathed in sweat, but sated, fulfilled, completed. As my erection abated, I slowly slid from her, Lena pulling herself against me to once again nip me lightly, teasingly on the chin, her own signature gesture, thanking me and letting me know she was back at last, this time forever.