And anyway, she realised with a terrible sinking feeling, what Monique had cried out in frustration wasn't so far from the truth after all. Perhaps both she and Michael had intended nothing but the restoration of their waning love and desire all along. Perhaps -
But Jean could no longer think clearly. The frenzy of Michael's prick as it coursed again and again into her cunt made her slowly oblivious to everything.
She let her teeth sink remorselessly into Monique's nipple (using her again for a purely selfish motive?) and brought her ankles up around her husband's back — urging him to penetrate her as hard and as deeply as he possibly could.
Her spunk suddenly spurted without warning, and Jean was transported into a fantastic world of blinding white light; unbelievable peace flooded her being — she lived an eternity of bliss during the timeless throbbing of her orgasm…
And then, to make her joy complete, she felt her body being slowly filled with hot, life-giving fluid: and realised dimly, before every corner of her mind was lifted into transcendence, that Michael had reached his climax in perfect timing with her own…
As he spent his semen in an excruciatingly long and sustained shuddering, Michael thought only of Jean. Before he, too, gave himself up to the sweet death of orgasm, his mind recalled a hundred beautiful moments they had shared. He remembered, in a total recall which is granted a drowning man, the way their life together had begun… and the way it should have continued…
But these memories gave way inevitably to a metaphysical, mystic communion with the normally inaccessible regions of his unconscious — and Michael surrendered his last small contact with reality, striving with pure instinct to force as much spunk into Jean's beloved cunt as he could muster.
He fused with her completely; until, at the end, there was no real comprehension in his mind where her body ended and his began… coda
They watched as the train drew slowly to a halt and the doors started to swing open, craning their necks for a first glimpse of their daughter. Michael gripped Jean's arm. “There she is!” he cried, pointing as a pretty, dark- haired girl stepped down and waved excitedly.
She dropped her suitcase and came running eagerly towards them, arms flung wide. Michael caught her up and swung her round, kissing her cheek and laughing.
“Cathy!” Jean struggled to separate them, her hat knocked sideways as the trio embraced, reeling about the platform, arms about each other's necks. “Oh, it's so good to have you home again, darling! We've missed you so much!”
Holding hands, Cathy in the middle, they walked to the car. “There's so much to tell you, Mummy', the girl said. “It seems ages since I went away… We've got two new teachers — oh, and they're having an open-day soon. You will be able to come, won't you?”
She chattered incessantly, trying to talk to both of them at the same time. All the way home, Cathy gossiped about what had happened during her term at school, while Michael and Jean exchanged amused smiles over her head.
She seemed to have grown up during her absence this time. The rather gauche schoolgirl who had left them three months ago in tears now looked remarkably self-possessed and assured. To his surprise, Michael felt a strong paternal pride in her. His daughter was an attractive, intelligent girl, he realised. It amazed him to think that he had scarcely even noticed her before today…
After dinner, Cathy went to bed early — tired by the journey and the excitement of her reunion with her parents. Michael and Jean listened to her footsteps disappearing up the stairs, then turned to each other.
He kissed her affectionately and hugged her close to him. “I love you', he whispered, and felt Jean's body strain sweetly against his.
Linking arms, they went into the lounge and sat together on the settee. The lights were dimmed.
Jean reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. “No regrets, Michael?” she asked, looking up into his eyes.
He returned the pressure of her fingers. “No regrets', he replied softly.
They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, then Jean said: “You don't think we were too cruel to her, do you? She wouldn't do anything silly, like — ”.
Michael put his hand quickly over her mouth. “Of course not, darling”. He moved his fingers to her neck and caressed it gently. “She was very upset by what happened. Naturally — she would be. But she'll get over it. She's very young, and soon she'll look back on it and be glad of the experience”.
Jean shook her head and looked doubtfully at him. “I wonder… I don't think you knew her as well as I did, Michael. She was quite a highly-strung girl really. And I keep worrying that she might — ”. * “Darling!” Michael drew her face next to his and kissed her firmly on the mouth. “Honestly, we've got enough to do getting to know each other better, without concerning ourselves about a girl who only stayed with us for three weeks!
“Come on, stop thinking about her so much. She's all right. Just be thankful it didn't turn out any other way. Look what we would have missed!”
He kissed her again, then nestled her head against his shoulder, stroking her long black hair. Jean closed her eyes and wound her arms about his waist, snuggling as close as possible to her husband. She wished with all her heart that she hadn't stood by while Michael had deliberately told Monique that she was nothing but a little tramp; a whore; a perverted, cheap…
She tried to stem the memory of that horrible outburst but she knew that it would always be present in her mind. Why had he done it? There had been no necessity for him to be so cruel.
And yet… And yet it had given them a completely clean break from her. She saw now that that was the reason why Michael had behaved so terribly. If he hadn't driven her away so effectively there would always be a slight doubt in both their minds that Monique would be an ever-present threat to their new-found happiness.
Only by rejecting her so savagely could they be quite sure that she would want nothing more to do with them — ever…
And by remaining silent Jean had implicitly rejected her as violently as Michael. She understood that now. Even if she wanted to, she could never again enjoy Monique's trust and affection — or her love. The incision which Michael had made with his words had been sharp and deep but perhaps, in the long run, it would prove merciful.
She could only pray that Monique would find some way to heal the wounds they had caused her. If she didn't — then they would be as guilty of her death as if they had plunged a knife into her…
Michael was squeezing her hand. She opened her eyes and he got up from the settee, drawing her with him.
“Let's go up to bed, darling', he whispered. “I want to make the sweetest, gentlest love to you that I can…
He led her to the foot of the stairs and they paused for a moment. The hall light sent their shadows racing ahead of them — twisted, dark, elongated shapes which seemed to stain the stair carpet a forbidding black.
They walked quickly up to their bedroom, holding each other very tightly.
