1. This story will read better if you've already read 'Jason - My Sister's Boyfriend'
2. The story features an adulterous wife, so all those whose panties get in a knot at the thought of such heresies would be well advised to stop reading now.
This encounter happened following my daughter's wedding, though the foundations had been laid at her Hen-Night a few days earlier. Julie had insisted on the wedding taking place in early January, those of her friends who were at college would still be home for their Christmas vacations; I would have preferred an earlier date, when Julie's pregnancy was less obvious.
Julie too should have been at college, but had relinquished her place at Bristol University, before she even got there. Julie had intended studying for a degree in biology, so she perhaps better than anyone, ought to have known how procreation worked! I was livid, but unable to say too much; I'd been two years younger than she when I'd fallen pregnant with Sarah, my elder daughter and Julie did at least know who'd fathered her child.
That was Thomas; a nice enough lad, but a bit... wet. They'd been dating for a year, though I'd assumed - or perhaps hoped? - that Julie would find someone a little... better, once she'd got away to Uni. On the upside, Tom was a sensible lad who worked in his family's successful electrical business; Tom's family had found them a small house and I envisaged them enjoying a... contented marriage at least.
Julie had got pregnant on the night of their School-Prom and claimed that this had been the first time she they'd made love; her too recently acquired contraceptive pills having let her down. Whatever, Julie was now six months pregnant and it showed; it was with consideration for Julie's pregnancy that her Hen-Night was at least planned to be a low-key, early-night sort of affair.
Besides Julie and a dozen friends, were myself, my elder sister Karen and my elder daughter Sarah. We'd started at a local Chinese restaurant before moving on to a local and reasonably upmarket pub, which offered a DJ and a small dance floor in the rear. Julie's outfit was embellished with the obligatory bridal veil and a pair of L-plates; though perhaps a little too late for those?
It was upon arriving at that pub that things became a little livelier than expected; we walked through the doors to be greeted by rousing cheers and the sound of champagne -- or at least prosecco -- corks popping. This we discovered was down to Sarah's boyfriend, Jason; he'd put money behind the bar for a half-dozen bottles of prosecco for our party, along with a round of drinks for the whole pub to raise a toast to Julie.
Typical Jason and one of the reasons I wasn't enamoured by him: Far too... flashy! He made good money but he knew how to spend it too, fancy cars, exotic holidays and wardrobe full of designer clothes. Jason was easy on the eye, in fact very easy, but at twenty-five I felt he was too old to be with Sarah; but as with Julie's pregnancy, I had to bite my tongue with regard to that age difference, my own husband Danny was twelve years my senior.
Julie had stuck to soft-drinks and I was fairly abstemious too, but with Jason's contribution, the party quickly livened-up. As ever at such events, the bride's friends offered advice on how to handle her wedding night, not that I could see Sarah... swinging from the chandelier when she was six months gone. And as Sarah's friends were all only eighteen or nineteen too, they didn't have much... first-hand knowledge to offer anyway.
I stayed silent; my own daughters were there for Christ sake! But Karen and as the night progressed, Sarah too, were far more loquacious; the younger girls hung on their every word, most especially their anecdotes. Karen cast me sly glances whilst relating some of those and yes, I did recall those episodes too, indeed some of the escapades which Karen described had been mine rather than her own. Our teenaged years had been... naughty.
I found Sarah's contributions the more intriguing, perhaps in part because I knew Jason too and it was only he that would've been her partner. Sarah may have been playing things down -- her mother was listening after all -- but I didn't think so, she'd had too much to drink by then. I was actually rather surprised by how... pedestrian Sarah's sex life sounded to be, there was quite a list of things she adjudged 'Yucky... I never do that!'
Fast-forward to the wedding day and it was a similarly low-key affair: The happy couple and close family went to the Registry Office, then adjourned to a nice restaurant for a late lunch. Then Home to have a rest and change, before regathering for the evening, for a much larger party in the pub where Julie's Hen-Night had concluded; my husband Danny and I were long time friends of the Landlord.
That party too kicked-off as a result of Jason's largesse: Another stack of his cash went behind the bar and prosecco bottles began passing around like water; even I got a little tipsy. Aside from Julie, I suspect that the only person not indulging was Jason himself; he'd borrowed a mini-bus from somewhere and was providing transport to and from the party for anyone who wanted a lift.
It was almost one in the morning before the party wound down - it'd been memorable! Jason and Sarah lived only five minutes walk away, so to allow space for others living further afield, Sarah, along with Karen and Ted who were staying overnight with them, walked, or at least staggered home, while Jason made his last bus-run of the night.
Danny and I were amongst his passengers and while the logical route perhaps didn't dictate it, Jason deemed it 'only right' that the bride's parents should to be the last to get dropped off. I was a little squiffy myself, but by the time we eventually reached our house, Danny was comatose; Jason had to not only help him off the bus, but into the house and upstairs into our bedroom.
Jason left me to 'sort him out', saying that he was going downstairs to get himself something to drink before heading home. I assumed that Jason had meant a tea or a coffee, not a problem, but I still enquired about his wife and guests expecting him home. "You've got to be kidding Annie; all three of them were paralytic, they'll be in bed and sound asleep already"
With Danny settled and a bucket beside the bed! I went downstairs to thank Jason for his contribution to the day and perhaps join him for a cup of tea before he left. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the kitchen to find Jason, glass in hand, with a second -- presumably mine -- sat on the breakfast-bar, along with yet another open bottle of prosecco! Did Jason own a bloody vineyard?
It would've been rude to decline and we were soon working our way down the bottle as we chatted about the day. When Jason poured us both a third glass I queried his driving the van home, but he waved away my concerns saying he could "walk it in twenty-five minutes and provided that I get home before dawn, nobody will notice what time I arrive."
I suspect that it was right then when I got my first suspicion as to Jason's intentions. We split the last of the prosecco a few minutes later; I swallowed mine promptly and announced "Well that's me done; time for bed."
In response Jason threw me a very salacious look, emptied his own glass and replied "Now that certainly sounds like a plan Annie."
Full realisation must have been evident in my expression, Jason read it and reacted before I could move; he was I suppose a good deal more sober than I. An instant later I was pinned between Jason and the breakfast-bar and more germanely, Jason's hand was on my pubis. Not some casual stroke or brush which might be passed off as an accident, but grasping it firmly, with his fingers pressing into the soft centre of my womanhood.
We stared into each others eyes from six inches apart, mine wide as saucers as I strove to recover my breath and quell my racing heart beat. It was several seconds before I spoke and I was aware of Jason's fingers flexing, biting through the fabric of my dress and panties and into my vulva. "What the devil do you think you're doing Jason? I'm not that sort of woman."
Jason's assault continued, while his face split with a Cheshire-cat grin; that grin dumbfounded me completely, comprehension only arriving when Jason replied: "That's not what I've heard Annie. I had a very... enlightening conversation with your sister Karen earlier; is she always so indiscreet when she's had a few drinks?" I now trembled, what the Fuck had Karen told him?
"You always come across as such a strait-laced member of the moral-majority nowadays, but it sounds as if you and Karen were a right pair of scrubbers when you were younger; did you really fuck seven guys in one night at the Knebworth Festival?"
I suppose that Jason saw the answer to that question in my expression? "Fuck me Annie, seven guys, two of them apparently 'black and hung like stallions' with a spot of lesbian incest thrown in to keep the party going while those guys got their breath back; you really were a sleazy whore."
My heart rate was off the scale and my complexion must've been beet-red; I could feel the perspiration trickling down between my breasts. "Y...you... you mustn't say anything Jason... Not to anyone!"
"And why would I want to do that Annie? I'm thinking that your secrets are worth far more to me if I keep them to myself."
Jason's Cheshire-cat grin morphed into a smile, a very wicked smile and that smile told me exactly what his silence would cost. In almost the same moment, I once more became aware of Jason's hand on my crotch, or more specifically, I became aware of its effect; Jason may not yet have felt it from the outside, but my pussy was leaking so much that my panties were damp.
