Prologue
I can still remember the time I first fell under Ben's spell.
My daughter, Jodie, had been out celebrating her eighteenth birthday in Sheffield. The next day she'd gushed endlessly about a young man she'd met, and she refused to go out for two days because he'd promised to call. He did, despite the number of times her father and I said he wouldn't. But he did, and she met him for a couple of dates before we got fed up of hearing about him and demanded that she bring him home for us to meet.
It was when he walked through the door and smiled, a boyish smile from beneath a blonde fringe. It was the intensity in his eyes that I remember most from those first few seconds. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Young," he said in a quiet but purposeful voice. I had to stop myself from telling him to call me 'mum' even then. I think I managed to stammer out, 'call me Caitlin, please' or something to that effect. But there was a sparkle in his eyes that couldn't be hidden by any amount of shyness, or his fringe, and it was that sparkle that took my breath away.
After the accident I watched their wedding video endless times. It was the only video I had with Jodie and her father on. Ben looked so handsome in his pale grey suit, his arms encircling my only child with such strength and such tenderness. I'm sure I must have thought about what it would be like to be in those arms even then, to have those scintillating eyes locked on mine.
The only time that I've seen those eyes without their trademark glitter was at the funeral, when I buried my husband of 20 years and he buried his wife of just one. The car accident that killed Jodie and her father brought Ben and I closer; we were all we had. My family is all in Ireland, where I am from originally, and Ben's family are scattered around the country. We're both only children though, so without siblings or parents to draw comfort from we helped each other.
It's been a year since the funeral, so although we both still miss our partners, the pain has eased and life returned to normal, as people promised it would through those difficult months. They told me to keep a diary, record my thoughts, so that I could acknowledge them and move on, and that helped too. I didn't feel like working after my husband's passing, and as the insurance more than provided for me I mostly help out in the community, at the church and fundraisers for the local hospitals, and so on. Ben stayed in his job, knowing he was helping others even though he was going through a rough time; he works with young offenders, in particular helping their rehabilitation.
My problem now is my sex life. My husband was never that adventurous, and once we had Jodie it dwindled to once a week, lights off, missionary position. I can't remember the last time I had an orgasm with him before his passing. I'm cursed with a high sex drive and an active imagination; it's a good thing that I learnt how to masturbate when I was young. It's not the masturbation that bothers me, I'm not one of those people who thinks that masturbating (particularly at my age) is wrong. It's just that whenever I feel the need, no matter what I start off thinking about, I never orgasm until I start thinking about Ben.
One
It was a Saturday morning in early May, and Caitlin could see the sun streaming through a crack in the curtains. Her alarm clock told her it was just after nine. She smiled and stretched out her arms above her head in an effort to shake a little of the lethargy out of her body. She knew she should get up, but she did like a lie-in at the weekend. She thought she'd give it five more minutes, and curled up in a ball with her hands between her knees.
She tried to work out her itinerary for the day. She was going to have to go shopping at some point, because she knew the freezer was all but empty. She'd recently over-come her fear of getting into a car again, a problem since the accident, and she was going to find herself a runabout. Her son-in-law Ben had promised to help with that when he'd been to football, and she was looking forward to their shopping trip together. She smiled at the little white lie.
She was just looking forward to seeing him, full stop. She'd seen him most days since the funeral and when she wasn't actually with him, she spent most of her time looking forward to seeing him. They had become very close, like best friends. They talked all the time. She knew, for example, that a couple of times he'd been asked out on dates since the funeral, and each and every time had declined the invitation. They told each other everything. Oops, she though, there's another lie. I've never told him how crazy about him I am.
Since the first time her daughter brought him home she'd suspected she had a crush on him. There was something in his eyes that made her want to give herself to him totally. She would be with him, staring into his eyes, and she would realise he'd stopped talking and was waiting for an answer, and she'd have absolutely no idea what he'd just said.
It would be about one when he got back from football, and he'd promised to take her to look at cars straight after. There was an element of planning in that, because she knew he would literally come straight after football - still in his shorts and needing a shower. He had the most perfect legs she'd ever seen. More than once she'd masturbated in her bedroom while he was in the shower next door. There was never a danger of getting caught, because she only needed a couple of minutes to bring herself to a shuddering orgasm at the thought of him. Whether she dreamt of joining him in the shower, or surprising him with a blowjob the second he stepped in the door, the result was always the same.
She could feel that familiar heat from between her legs. She thought she would have plenty of time to take care of herself, so she rolled over onto her back, sliding her white silk nightdress up as she did so. She cupped her pussy in the palm of her hand as she decided which fantasy to select...
She went for the kitchen fantasy, always a favourite. In it, she is doing the washing-up at the kitchen sink when Ben comes in from football. He has on his shorts and a baggy sweat top. His legs are muddy and he reeks of sweat, but he is elated because the team he is captain of has won.
He walks in the back door and shouts a greeting. She shouts one back and announces that she is in the kitchen. When he walks in, he is smiling broadly. His blonde hair is matted with sweat and she can see blood above one eye. He greets her with a kiss on the cheek as he would normally, before fetching a carton of orange out of the refrigerator. She asks about the blood and he laughs, saying that he had a good tussle with the opposition's centre-forward, which he won.
When he kisses her she can smell the sweat on him. She loves the smell of sweat; it's so masculine. They exchange pleasantries for a few minutes while he drinks the orange juice. When he's done with it, he walks over to put the glass in the sink where she is still doing the washing-up. She turns her head when he comes over and their eyes lock. It's at this time he realises how hungry she is for him, how desperate and frustrated she has been. Her arms, still in rubber gloves, go around his neck and their lips meet.
She is smaller than him and has to stand on tiptoes to return his embrace. Their kisses are deep and passionate, and very soon his tongue is freely roaming her mouth and she id delighted by the intrusion.
He breaks from the kiss, turning her away from him. Her eyes close as her head goes back against his chest. He leans in to kiss her neck, but the kisses are rough and soon turn to bites. She loves it, loves the pain, loves it when he is rough with her. He grabs at her skirt, hoisting it up before starting to rub her pussy through the gussets of her knickers and tights.
She feels her hole moistening at the attentions of his hand. He uses the other to start pawing at her breast, pleasing himself, hardly considering her needs. She opens her eyes and looks down at her body, but he pulls her hair sharply and drags her head backwards. She starts making noises that become quiet pleas to be taken. Somewhere outside her fantasy, she is aware that she is making the same noises out loud. She used two fingers to spread open her pussy lips, allowing clear access to her clitoris. She used two fingers on her clit, roughly, like she imagined he would in her fantasy.
With rising urgency she puts a hand behind her back to try and grab his cock, when she can feel stiffening against her bum. He is indifferent to her attentions and he pushes her head down low over the foamy water in the sink. She has to brace her arms to avoid being pushed face first into it, but as it is her shoulder length her still dangles in it, turning the tips from their customary chestnut brow into a glistening black.
Squatting behind her, he starts to rub her roughly through her clothing. She is sodden, and he can feel it through her knickers. He makes out that he is disgusted, which she loves. He takes two handfuls of her tights and stretches the material apart, quickly reaching breaking point. She hears the tear of the material and groans with pleasure as he pulls her knickers to one side. Quickly he puts his face into the space between her legs and she can feel the roughness of his short beard on her thighs and bum cheeks. His tongue seeks out the hot, wet slit of her vagina, but he is frustrated by the angle she is standing at. Without missing a beat, he transfers his attention to her bum hole, roughly licking all around it.
Too late she realises that he is not trying to stimulate it so much as lubricate it, and her breath is taken away as he roughly works a fingers into her anus. He licked all around his finger as it worked in and out of her whole. The pain she felt was beautiful, and she found she was even sticking out her arse to try and take his finger further in. When he realised she was enjoying it, he quickly withdrew it and replaced it with his tongue, which went straight inside her hole. He moved it around in a circular motion while his thumb started to flick away at her clitoris.
Her breath quickened as he masturbated her. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the feeling, before opening them in surprise as he harshly thrust his thumb into her hole. He searched for the g-spot with the ball of his thumb, while his middle and index fingers continued stimulating her clitoris. She could feel an orgasm rising rapidly.
