Peter Rabbit

A story of Romance, cheating wives, cuckolded husbands and betrayal.

Sometimes those fancy door bells that you can respond to from anywhere in the world can be a bugger! On the day in question I was labouring up a steep, muddy, slippery track on my mountain bike, in the pouring rain. The ear bud pinged to alert me to an incoming. I responded as required. I really didn't want to be answering my front door when I was three and a half miles and about twenty minutes away... but, you never know I might have won something or other...

"Hi!" I said much more cheerfully than I felt, "how may I help you?"

"I'm told that this domicile is the current burrow of one Peter Rabbit?" a female voice asked tentatively.

I very nearly fell off my bike in surprise! WTF?

OK, an explanation is required. Simple point -- 'domicile'? Who uses a word like that nowadays? Second, 'burrow'? Now come on! And Peter Rabbit? OK, so my names Peter but not Rabbit.

There has been only one person in my world/life (all 70+ years of it) that would use a paragraph where 3 or 4 words would do. Only one person that routinely referred to my place of residence as a 'burrow' and, last but not least, only one person that called me Peter Rabbit! I haven't seen her in over 40 years and was told some 7 years back that she'd died. That seemingly innocent piece of information broke my heart.

You see that one person was the love of my young life. I'd asked her to marry me, twice. The second time as I was just leaving for 6 weeks away on a contract and told her she had loads of time to consider her answer. When I returned, exactly 6 weeks later, as promised, she was gone! Never to be seen again. There has never been another to properly replace her. Trust me I've tried to find a replacement.

And now she's ringing my door bell?

"Princess?" I said into my earpiece in utter amazement.

"Hello Peter. Yes it is me," she paused, "am I welcome?"

"Silly question, you are most welcome but I'm afraid you shall have to let yourself in and make yourself comfortable. I'm about twenty minutes away, slogging up a muddy hill on my bike. Quicker to carry on than retrace my steps I'm afraid."

"Peter, it's nearly 50 years since we last saw each other. You'll allow me into your house, alone? Just like that?"

"Princess you've always been with me these last 40 plus years. I've just not been able to see or hold you."

"Oh Peter, I'm so very sorry! Please don't tell me the key's under the mat."

"No, a bit more complicated than that... I'm sure we can manage it between us. No need for you to sit in your car until I get back, is there?"

"Err, I walked."

"You walked? In this weather?"

"Well, you're out riding your bike."

"True, but my app said it wouldn't rain until this afternoon. OK, let's get you in the dry. Kitchen is ahead to the right. Aga will start to dry your wet things out. Flap on the wall to your right..."

"Got it!"

"Remember the date of the day we met?"

"Now that's a silly question! Of course I do!"

"Punch it in... DD MM YY YY, don't do anything else except tell me what happens..."

"An orange light has started flashing."

"Press the 'Cancel' button then the 'Reset' button..."

"Green light's flashing."

"Punch in 230653."

"Really? My birthday?"

"Yes, your birthday"

"Green light is on constant."

"When you press 'Enter' the green light will start flashing, you will hear a click and the door will open a little. Push it open, enter and just push it a little to close it. It will close itself."

"OK, door's open. I'll have a brew waiting for you when you arrive."

=== === ===

Peter went into auto mode as he slogged up the muddy trail. Over 40 years! They'd met at Jack and Marion's wedding. Yvonne the Maid of Honour and he the Best Man. A chaste kiss on the cheek of greeting had quickly morphed into a full out snogging session only stopped by Jack telling them to 'get a room' and Marion reminding them that it was HER wedding, not theirs. Even the Registrar had chuckled. Registry Office weddings don't take long. Peter had offered Yvonne a lift. She'd said he didn't know where she lived. He'd said 'wherever it was it was on his way home.' She'd replied SW19. He'd replied then it IS on my way home.

They'd had their first argument on the journey. Would they sleep in his bed that night or hers? He'd won simply because he had off road parking. She had no parking facilities at all. They shared the bath and as they got cleaner so their antics became dirtier until they were positively filthy and, as it turned out, physically impossible, in a bath. They went to bed. It was only 6pm!

They didn't wake in the morning... they hadn't slept. They'd fucked and talked. Talked then fucked. Peter went down on her. Despite having so many virtual notches on his bed posts he'd had to, virtually, replace the wood at least three times he'd never eaten a girl out before. He loved the ways she had reacted. She'd complimented him on his ability. He admitted he'd never even considered doing it before.

She'd given him the most wonderful blow-job AND swallowed all his cum only to admit that she'd never wanted to suck cock before, despite the amount of men she'd enjoyed. They had swapped notes and agreed that neither of them had much in the way of morals. They did however agree that she had probably had more cocks than he had had cunts. Simply on the basis that a girl only needed to show she was willing to get fucked whereas a guy had to prove he was worth putting out for.

They'd staggered out of bed at 3 in the afternoon as much to have a rest as get something to eat. Peter had cooked a full English for them both. They'd driven the half mile to hers where she picked up some clothes and the necessaries for a few days. They'd gone back to his and returned to bed.

Peter worked wherever his clients wanted him to work. Yvonne worked for a London agency as a multi-language secretary/translator and linguist. At that time Peter was working in Bordeaux, partway through a contract. Yvonne was based in London but also worked wherever she was needed. Peter went back to Bordeaux.

Yvonne used his car to move her belongings from her bed-sit to his flat. It was far nicer and nearer to the station, she kept her flat on, just in case. 6 weeks later Peter returned for his scheduled long weekend. Yvonne had booked tickets for the Young Vic -- The Taming of the Shrew. He had playfully asked if she was the Shrew. She'd answered 'probably but you are certainly taming me'. Life was good. They were both very happy. Peter came home every 6 weeks and they had a good time, a mixture of great sex and 'normal' behaviour. Shows, theatres, museums... the usual stuff, when lovers needed a break from the bedroom.

At the end of the Bordeaux contract Peter asked Yvonne to marry him. She turned him down explaining that it wasn't that she didn't love him... she just felt it was too soon to make long term plans.

=== === ===

Peter reached the end of the muddy track. Normally he would stop at the five bar gate, take a swig of water and reverse his track, cycling back down the muddy track and back through the forest. 6 miles to get home. It wasn't a normal day by any manner of means. Hefting his Hard-tail above his head he put it over the 5 bar gate before clambering over himself. Half a mile to the top of the hill but at least it was on a decent road surface not a muddy track.

Once in the saddle and peddling he glanced at the displayed information on his handle-bar. Heart rate 120... not too bad. Cadence 72, not good enough! Watts? Way too low. Peter altered his pedal action and smiled as the wattage began to climb as did his heart rate. The grip that his wide, knobbly, soft tires had given him on the muddy trails now worked against him on the hard surface of the B road. They sucked the strength out of his legs. He dropped down a gear, watched his cadence rise, his power drop and his heart rate stabilise at 125. Peter climbed the hill steadily at a comfortable work rate.

=== === ===

Peter had started a new contract in what used to be called Yugoslavia. A long contract but still with long weekends every 6 weeks. Peter returned home on every occasion. They were blissfully happy. Each home trip seeming like a honeymoon despite there having been no actual marriage.

A year or so after they had first met and just as he was leaving to return to Dubrovnik Peter had again asked Yvonne to marry him. She was about to reply when he had stopped her... 'no need to rush... time to think about it... I'll be back in 6 weeks. I love you and I hope you will say yes this time.'

She had told him that she loved him as much and would have her answer waiting for him upon his return. They kissed, passionately. Peter left for the airport.

He returned 6 weeks later to an empty flat. He assumed Yvonne was out with her friends. He awoke in the uncomfortable armchair at 3am. Yvonne was not home. By 10am he started to worry that her friend was maybe male. At 11am he went to her flat. There was a new tenant. Had been moved in just two weeks. Had no idea where the previous tenant had gone. At noon he rang Marion.

"She's gone!" he was told unceremoniously, "you shouldn't be surprised. You know full well what she was like. She loved sex, lots of it and you weren't around to supply it. She went on holiday with a guy she'd met. Dumped him after a few days and picked up with a German. He was happy to give her what she needed as often as she needed. She went to Stuttgart with him. He drove her home. She packed up everything she owned and returned with him. She's had her fun Peter. Forget her. Move on."

Peter was devastated... heartbroken but there was a ring of truth in what Marion had said. Both he and Yvonne had enjoyed numerous sexual partners and one-night-stands prior to their meeting, maybe it was time to move on.

Far easier said than done!

Peter returned to Dubrovnik. He went sightseeing for the next two long weekends returning home for the third. He rang Marion for an update. Yvonne was pregnant and a wedding was scheduled. He returned to Yugoslavia and remained there until the end of the contract. He went straight to China on a new contract without returning home. He returned home after his contract was completed to be informed that Yvonne was married, had a son and another child on the way. Marion again told him to forget and move on. She then asked if he was free for New Year's Eve? She had tickets for a foursome but her friend had split with her boyfriend. Would Peter like to make up the four? Maybe a start to move on?

Sandra had been very friendly and attentive. Peter drove her to her flat afterwards. She invited him in. Almost before the front door was closed she was on her knees working to get his cock out of his pants and into her mouth.

Peter hadn't been with a woman since Yvonne left. He fucked Sandra's face like there was no tomorrow. He fucked her, face and cunt for the rest of the holiday week. He left for the cold of Poland in the depth of winter on a new contract. 6 weeks later he returned to the welcoming warmth of Sandra's mouth and cunt.

She didn't want to move to SW19... her work was where she was, her home town and all her friends were around her. Peter rented out SW19, moved in with Sandra and started looking for a place of his own. He quickly picked up a 3 bed terraced house, a mortgage repossession, for a song and moved in.

On his fifth long weekend he was greeted with the immortal words 'hello Daddy!' Peter was stunned! All girls that took a length were on the pill, weren't they? It was the 70's after all. He put the point to Sandra. 'Well one long session of cock every 6 weeks isn't very dangerous, is it?' she then added 'I can get rid if you prefer?'

Peter didn't. His mistake, his responsibility. He chided himself for laughing when Jack had made Marion pregnant and had had to marry her.

Tentative arrangements were made and he returned to Poland.

He returned every 6 weeks to find more baby preparations had been made. Poland finished and he moved to a new contract in Norway. Sandra was too tired for lots of sex but made perfunctory efforts. The date was set, the long weekend before the baby was due. 'No need for you to hang around with nothing to do' Sandra had told him, 'as long as you're here on the day'.

Registry office, nothing fancy. Peter's parents didn't approve of Sandra... felt she'd trapped him into marriage, a very worthwhile prize. They didn't attend the ceremony.

Sandra hadn't wanted a big Hen party so she and an equally heavily pregnant, for the second time, Marion had gone up to town for a show and a night in an hotel the week before. Marion's Mother looked after Marion's first born.

After the wedding Peter and Sandra would go straight to his house. No honeymoon, she wouldn't look very nice in a bikini. He would return to Norway. In the event she didn't want to fuck... too uncomfortable. He settled for a blow-job. As he was leaving for the airport the following day Sue, his next door neighbour called to him. 'You are leaving? Sandra's due any day now!'

'Sandra says two weeks yet.'

'I don't think so. I've got three, I know these things.'

She had spotted Judith from across the road and beckoned her over. The experienced mothers went into discussion. Peter gave each of them his hotel number and office number in Norway together with £20 each to cover the costs of international calls. They would call him as soon as the situation changed. His clients had been made aware of the situation and Peter could drop everything and run when the time came. Peter caught the plane to Norway.

48 hours later Sue rang the office. Sandra's waters had broken and a friend had taken her to the hospital. She added that there was little point in rushing back that night as he'd only spend the night in the Dad's waiting room. Better to sleep and catch a morning flight. He'd spoken with the clients. They arranged a seat on the early morning flight with instructions to 'take as long as you need'.

At the hotel another message, from Judith. 'Sandra had been taken to hospital by her brother. No need to rush home tonight. Tomorrow will be fine.'

Her Brother? Sandra had never mentioned having a Brother! Inconsistencies and suddenly too many of them!

Peter's job was to look for inconsistencies, any discrepancy in documentation, and discover what was going on and why. He was good at his work. He considered the altered situation, the current discrepancy. First his new wife had absolutely assured him that everything was on schedule and that her size was due to her carrying twins. His neighbours had disagreed and they were very experienced. The neighbours had subsequently been proved correct. Now her Brother had taken her to hospital. No previous mention of a Brother. There had been no Brother at the wedding but he just happened to be in the right place at the right time? Peter took out his work log and double checked the dates. The twins were seemingly 2 weeks early. He slept, surprisingly well that night.

=== === ===

Having crested the hill Peter looked at the descent ahead. He would loose the height he had gained in a little over half the distance. At the bottom of the valley a tricky double bend under the railway bridge then a shorter but steeper climb up the other side. No point in peddling hard down the gradient. Let gravity have it's turn leaving him to recoup in preparation for the steep climb ahead. He moved a couple of gears up and adjusted his cadence such that he was just pushing the pedals a little. Wattage dropped to almost nothing. Heart rate dropped below 100 and kept falling as Peter effectively freewheeled down the hill.

=== === ===

On the flight back to the UK Peter had double checked his calculations and re-examined his deductions. His only conclusion was that the babies were two weeks early or they were not his children. He hadn't purchased any flowers on arriving but took a taxi from the airport straight to the hospital.

"I'd like to see Mrs. Browning please?"

"Mrs. Browning is in the maternity ward. Her Husband is with her at the moment. It's a bit early for visitors, could you come back in an hour or two?"

Another inconsistency. Peter didn't correct the nurse.

"Erm, I'm her Brother and I fly out in two hours, won't be back for at least six months. She's a bit early isn't she? She told me another two weeks? Said I should pop in on my way out to Georgia. Just a couple of minutes? Just to let her and her husband know I stopped by to wish them luck?"

The nurse picked up her clipboard.

"Two weeks early? Nope, bang on time! Textbook pregnancy. Five minutes, no more! Leave your bags here."

The obliging nurse led Peter to the door of the maternity unit.

Peter always carried a small camera with him, it was an essential tool in his job. There she was, straight across from the doorway. One kid plugged into her tit the other over the shoulder of William Peacock, Mr. Browning! Looking for all the world like a proud father. Peter took a couple of quick photos and strolled in.

"Morning Mrs. Peacock, Mr. Peacock," he said as he picked up his wife's handbag from the side table.

Upending it over the foot of the bed he picked up her cheque book, house and car keys. It was so quick neither had a chance to respond.

"Don't bother to go home. You'll need the time to find somewhere else to bring up your bastards!"

"Blimey! That was quick," said the Nurse, "you didn't have to make it that short!"

"Textbook pregnancy? I was working abroad when those babies were conceived. I'm Mr. Browning, Peter produced his passport, "the man with her is William Peacock, the father of the poor kids. Thank you for your assistance. I'll not be back."

Peter had taken a taxi home, changed into fresh, casual clothes and drove across town to William Peacock's house. William cleaned his windows and he'd known him since school days.

"Peter Browning? Never expected to see you again. What can I do for you?"

"Your husband is currently in the Maternity Ward with my wife and making a fuss of his new children." I said bluntly.

"Oh FUCK! The slut Sandra is your wife? You'd better come in."

She led Peter to a very comfortable lounge and pointed at an easy chair.

"Get yourself settled, this might take some time. I'll make us a quick cuppa. Are you in a great rush?"

=== === ===

Peter navigated the double bend at the bottom of the hill and was already changing down the gears to get the one he needed. He worked the pedals hard. The watts rose rapidly. Cadence dropped like a stone and heart rate started to climb. He went for the granny gear, earlier than he wanted, and started to measure his pace. Watts? Steady. Cadence? High but manageable. Heart rate? Not too bad. Peter settled in for the short hard slog up the hill.

=== === ===

"You don't remember me do you Peter? Helen Young as was. You were helping out at Mr. Golightly's Church youth club while at college. I had a crush on you when I was twelve. Girls of 12 shouldn't crush on 18 year old men but I did! Don't suppose you even noticed me?"

"Oh I noticed you Helen. Every male in the club noticed you, the prettiest girl for miles around despite your young age. I also recognised you as soon as you opened the door. Very surprised! What on earth are you doing married to that scumbag Peacock?"

"It's a long and complicated story Peter but yes, I am married to the scumbag, as you rightly call him. I have his child, Jenny, this one," she pointed to her swollen belly, "is not his child. Do you want to talk about me or how to get rid of your slut wife?"

"The latter first... your story later?"

Helen Peacock nee Young smiled happily.

"You'll need to know a little about me to understand the situation I'm afraid... I was married to an older man. I prefer older men. He abused me mentally, refused to consummate our marriage. Made me perform sex acts for his pleasure. Don't mind admitting that they pleased me as well but he didn't follow through. He never fucked me! Not even once despite insisting that I spend my entire time totally naked, at home... even when he was at work.