Mummy reads Jamie’s mind as a matter of course, and had been doing it since he was a toddler; now she was doing it to me; more proof, if any was needed, that she was my mum now. After the usual superb lunch, Markie took Dada Morrison for a tour of the garden and greenhouse, leaving Mummy and me in peace to talk, with Nia, as always, perched comfortably on her lap. Mummy always has this air of distracted attentiveness when she has the grandchildren with her; she looks like she’s miles away, totally absorbed in spooning apricot custard into little mouths, and suddenly she’ll ask a sharp, insightful question, demonstrating yet again that her multi-tasking skills are far superior to mine, or to anyone I knew.
“Why you worry for nothing, Julie?” she asked me gently. “Nguye’t and Jamie not back until Tuesday, she talk to you then, do not fret; if anything is wrong she tell you, do not worry, little girl!”
I couldn’t help worrying though; these people were my family, but they were strangers. What if they were like my mother? What if they were as big a bunch of bastards as my mother had been? What was I letting myself in for? I still had time to grin at her calling me ‘little girl’, though, and she smiled back, smoothing the hair back out of my eyes.
“You think it funny, little girl? I see you today, and you are mother now, but I still see little girl who did not know how to laugh and be happy, just like when I see Jamie now, I see little boy sister give me so long ago; he is still same, still my little boy, and you are still same little girl, still so young, so full of fear and doubt. Do not be; do you think Dada, or me, or Nia let anything happen to you and Mark? Nia my daughter, but you are my little girl, and I say to you now, there is nothing to fear from these people, I promise you!”
I tried again to articulate what was troubling me, but Mummy was dismissive of my fears.
“Julie, I meet this man, he sit where you sitting, he tell me about himself, he not try to lie or not tell whole truth, and I believe him; he have honest eyes, just like Jamie, like Mark, too. Jamie meet him, Jamie like him; trust Jamie, he your brother, he not let anyone hurt you!”
I relaxed somewhat; Jamie may be big and amiable, and fond of silly jokes and daft pranks, just like Dada Morrison, but he also has a mind like a precision instrument, and anyone trying to put one over on him soon learns the error of his ways. Nia’s even less accepting than Jamie, and much more suspicious, but just as perceptive (no surprises there, they both get it from Dada Morrison), so if they were satisfied with this Darryl Morgan I should be as well. But I worried anyway.
By the time Mark came home, I had dinner well under way, both girls were napping in the play-pen, and I was beginning to relax. Mummy had put my mind at ease somewhat, but the curiosity, mixed with trepidation, still squirreled around inside me. Mark could tell I was on edge over this whole thing, and while his solution to calm me down, slipping his hand into my panties and stroking me gently while he nibbled my neck, had a certain appeal, I was still far too highly strung to really enjoy my own Man-tottie groping and feeling me up.
After dinner, we put the children down with their bottles, and once they were asleep, Mark carried them up to their beds, two little golden heads lolling against him as he tip-toed upstairs. I cleaned-up while he was gone, then tried to curl up with him and watch some TV, but I still couldn’t relax.
Eventually Mark got fed-up with me fidgeting next to him, so he clicked-off the TV, picked a book off the shelf, kissed the top of my head, and disappeared upstairs to read while I rearranged the kitchen and cleaned-up yet again.
I finally gave up trying to distract myself and followed Mark, finding the bedroom in darkness as I slipped in. As I began to undress, Mark suddenly slid out of bed, sitting up on the bed and switching on the bedside lamp as he pulled me close.
“My job, Tink!” he murmured, squeezing my bum as he nuzzled between my breasts. I held him close and twirled my fingers in his soft hair as he unzipped my skirt and pulled it down before once again squeezing and massaging my bum cheeks and the tops of my thighs.
“You need to relax, little girl!” he whispered, making me gasp as he gently nipped my nipple with his lips through the fabric of my blouse, sending a sudden wave of warmth through me, making my pussy itch.
Now his hands were doing more than just squeezing; now his fingertips were running up and down inside the cleft of my cheeks, his fingertips making me jump every time they brushed against my suddenly sensitive rosebud. My nipples were stiffening too, rubbing unbearably against the cups of my bra.
“Mark…” I murmured, and he read my mind, his hand sliding up inside the back of my blouse to unhook my bra and release the pressure against my nipples, before slipping around to gently squeeze my breast as his thumb brushed my nipple. For a second I saw stars as all the sensations collided together, then my head cleared as I began to unbutton my blouse, freeing myself so Mark could suck, lick and caress my stiff nubs with his talented lips.
Mark pulled my blouse off, and let my bra drop to the floor as he pulled me closer to lick and flick my nipples with his tongue-tip, sending sharp little jabs of pleasure running through me. As he did, he pulled the waistband of my panties; I thought he wanted to pull them off, then I felt them rip as he tore first one side then the other, literally tearing my panties off.
“If you’d asked nicely, I’d have taken them off, Lost Boy!” I whispered into his hair. His only response was to suddenly yank that torn scrap of cloth from between us, and pull me onto his lap to sit astride him, with that thick column of flesh suddenly rubbing against the lips of my throbbing pussy. As our lips crushed together, I felt him slowly thrusting against me, my pussy seeping and coating him with my juices as he rubbed himself against me, torturing me as the ridged underside of his cock rubbed repeatedly against my tender clitoris, stoking the fires to an almost unbearable level.