Away From Home Pt 04

Over the years, I've occasionally asked myself why I told Mike about fucking that guy and I can honestly say that I don't really know. I definitely wasn't trying to upset him and I was seriously surprised by how he reacted because we'd only known each other for a few weeks and he knew that I'd be returning home at the end of the season but I must have known that it might upset him or I wouldn't have apologised and said that it would never happen again and, of course, if I hadn't told him he would never have known about it. Maybe it had been so recent that I could still feel the tingling after effect between my legs as I hurried to meet Mike but that doesn't seem right either. Perhaps I was subconsciously telling him that I wasn't a one man woman but, if that was the case, it was definitely subconscious. What I did know was that I really liked Mike and, at that moment, I really didn't want him to walk away.

I suggested that we should go for a drink and Mike reluctantly agreed, probably just to get away from an uncomfortable situation, and we walked to the nearest pub, side by side, without saying another word. We sat in an awkward, stony silence for what seemed like an eternity and I was just about to give it up for a bad job and leave when we started talking. I'm not sure who said what first and It was a few, stilted comments in a really tense atmosphere but, eventually we were chatting away about this, that and nothing at all but not a word about what was obviously on both our minds.

After one drink, Mike walked me back to the hotel and we arranged to meet again the next day although I wasn't at all sure that he'd turn up but I really wanted him to and I got very little sleep that night as my mind buzzed with the events of the last twenty hour hours.

I didn't feel guilty or regret what had happened, in fact, i'd really enjoyed it but I did regret telling Mike about it. Maybe I'd just wanted to share the excitement I'd felt but that couldn't have been it either or I wouldn't have apologised. No, even now, I can't work it out. Maybe one of the amateur psychologists reading this will know the answer. Oh, yes, of course, I'm a cheating slut who needs 'kicking to the kerb' or a bullet to the head. Sorry, this isn't Hollywood and Mike didn't own a gun ( he didn't even own a penknife ) he wasn't a self righteous prick, he was a normal, rational, sane guy.

All the same, when I left the hotel, my stomach was churning, not because I was afraid that he'd be waiting to ambush me with all his ex special forces buddies but because he might not turn up.

I was literally shaking and my heart was in my mouth as I stepped into that same cosy bar near the hotel and, as my eyes grew accustomed to the dim lighting after coming in from the bright sunlight, my sense of relief at seeing him sitting there made me light headed and I knew that I was grinning like a cheshire cat as I joined him at his table.

Looking back, it seems strange because I can't remember ever feeling so happy to see anyone ( other than family ). I'd had two fairly long term boyfriends and a few not so long term but, even after just a few weeks, I'd never felt like this before. No, I definitely don't believe in love at first sight, I believe in lust at first sight but not love and, yes, as a young adolescent, I had read a few Mills and Boon romances, as I'm sure most of the commenters to stories like this have, but I've never believed in love at first sight or love ever after just fallible people stumbling through life without a script or a map. Anyway, enough self indulgent navel gazing.

To my relief, things went back to where they were, perhaps Mike had come to the conclusion that we weren't going to be together forever so he might as well enjoy what we had while we had it. I don't know because we never discussed it.

As I said, we got back to what was normal for us and this is where the sanctimonious bible thumpers are going to reach for their shotguns and pitchforks and come looking for me because, just a couple of weeks later, I went out for another night with the girls and, yes, I did end up in that same shelter on the promenade with a different guy. So shoot me, it's not a crime, I was randy and it was an itch that needed scratching so I scratched it.

Actually, it was a great fuck; the guy knelt down on the concrete beside me and and used his tongue and fingers to bring me to a screaming climax then he mounted me and fucked me as if there was no tomorrow and I howled again as I bucked and shuddered beneath him and felt his hot spunk gushing into me. We lay together for quite a while, totally shattered, and, when we finally recovered, he insisted on escorting me back to my hotel with his right hand firmly gripping my right buttock. When we arrived at the hotel, he asked me if he could see me again and I told a little white lie, claiming that this was the last day of my holiday and that I was returning home in the morning.

I met Mike again the next day and, once again, I told him that I'd had sex with another guy and, this time, although he looked a little sad, he just muttered "Oh" and we went off to the pub.

Okay, I know, I'm going straight to hell but who wants to spend eternity with a bunch of old nuns and priests?

I did have another little slip a few weeks later but I didn't tell Mike about it that time.

As I remember it, it was a long hot summer but weren't they all when we were young and having fun? Mike and I were virtually inseparable, strolling everywhere hand in hand and laughing at the silliest things. We spent a lot of time people watching and inventing lives for them, usually dull, hum drum lives but we were young and shallow. It seemed like this could go on forever or, at least, I hoped it would and then the hammer fell.

It was just an ordinary day, the breakfasts had been served and the beds had all been changed when all of us live in staff were called into the dining room where we were all sacked. The couple who owned the hotel claimed that we'd been sneaking men into our rooms and that, those that hadn't, had known and done nothing about it. It was true but it was still a shock to be fired and it had obviously been pre-planned because, by mid afternoon, they had a whole new set of slaves from all over the country.

Most of the girls moved on; Lillian got a similar job in another hotel and Mary and Anita got jobs in a local supermarket and rented a flat above the doctors' surgery. They wanted me to join them but I decided that it was time to go home. I wanted Mike to go with me and he almost did but his mother, desperately not wanting him to quit college, managed to persuade me to move into her house. It was a disaster from the start; I felt unbelievably uncomfortable and she was barely civil to me which I quite understand but it didn't make for a happy atmosphere and, when Mike returned to college, I left the house at the same time as him and spent the day with whichever of the girls that I knew who weren't working that day then I'd return to the house once Mike was back. Of course, most of that time was spent in the pub and I was returning to the house later and later and drunker and drunker and I'll confess, once or twice I did fuck someone else. Okay, how many times can I say this? I'm only human with normal human wants and needs.

Anyway, the situation was untenable and, once Mike's grant came through ( yeah, do you remember grants? ) we rented an out of season holiday let in the middle of nowhere. It was two enormous rooms in a large manor house or small stately home and it had definitely seen better days. The main room had huge floor to ceiling windows on two sides and it was freezing. The electricity meter ate coins almost as fast as we could feed it so we spent most of our time snuggled up in bed watching our 14 inch portable tv or playing records. Oh, yes, we also spent a lot of time exploring each others' body and perfecting our oral skills.

Mike would go off to college in the morning and I'd be totally content in our own little world and spent most days naked apart from a nylon slip, reading, daydreaming, watching a little daytime tv and waiting for Mike to return.

The building was in a caravan park at the edge of a wooded hillside and, at the weekend, if the weather permitted, we'd explore the woods and each other. We'd make little nests amongst the bracken and lie there totally naked, basking in the autumn sunshine or just follow winding little paths, trying to sneak up on squirrels before they darted out of sight behind a tree trunk. We'd stand at the top of the hill above the tree line and gaze out to sea or watch people like ants scurrying aimlessly around far below us. I can honestly say that it was one of the happiest times of my life but it ended far too quickly.

We were haemorrhaging money, I wasn't working and, despite trying to live as frugally as possible, Mike's grant and the money we'd saved from our summer jobs was pouring away like water down a plug hole and, in just a few short months, we were forced to give up our tenancy, pack up our things, collect our deposit and go. It was totally devastating but I wasn't prepared to go back to Mike's mother's so, instead, we headed to my home but we weren't going alone because, deep down in my belly, our baby was growing.

I was really nervous about going home; I'd kept in touch with my daddy by letter but I hadn't told him about Mike and definitely not about being pregnant and I hadn't parted with my mother on good terms so I was understandably nervous.

I was so worried about this prodigal's return that, probably unwisely, we went to the pub and had a few too many drinks before presenting ourselves unannounced at the front door. My father was overjoyed to see me and hugged me and shook Mike's hand but my mother just said "Oh, you're back" and wandered off into the kitchen.

My mother, being a good catholic, made up a bed for Mike on the sofa which I thought was ridiculous because I was obviously pregnant so I took him up to bed with me which didn't make things one bit easier. My father tried to be a peace maker but my mother ignored Mike to the point of acting as if he wasn't there and, fair play to him, he told me that he fully understood her shock at being confronted with him on her doorstep.

Three of my brothers still lived at home and, every friday and saturday, they'd return home at closing time with at least half a dozen of their friends in tow. It had become a bit of a ritual and my mother would always prepare a huge pan of homemade ham and lentil soup with stacks of bread for everyone to help themselves. There'd be a lot of laughing and singing and my mother really revelled in it although my daddy and I would both head to our rooms, him because he was quite frail and no longer drank and me because, quite honestly, some of the 'friends' were absolute creeps and made my skin crawl as they stared at my legs and passed sly, sleazy comments that were supposed to be compliments.

However, on the first friday that Mike was there, I suggested that he should join the company so he did. I knew that my brothers liked him and I thought it would be good for them all to get to know each other better but, after an hour or so, Mike came.into the bedroom and, without a word, began gathering up his belongings and stuffing them in his duffle bag ( remember them? ). I asked what was going on and he just replied "I'm going". He was heading for the door but I stopped him and said that he couldn't just walk out in the middle of the night and that he needed to stay till the morning so he got into bed beside me still wearing all of his clothes and lay with his back towards me. I tried wrapping my arm around him but he just lay there as stiff as a board and I know that neither of us slept a wink that night.

In the morning, I tried to get him to tell me what was wrong but he just replied that nothing was wrong, he was just going home. I tried delaying him by offering him breakfast that he refused and by insisting that I needed to see him off and taking my time to get ready but, by midday, we were walking away from my house with me continually asking what was wrong and why he wouldn't come back but he was adamant and, after a couple of miles, I turned back and he carried on, determined to hitch hike home.

I cried all the way home and, when I got there, my brother Hugh asked where Mike was so I told him what had happened and he replied that he wasn't surprised after the way that my mother had spoken to him last night. I was furious and, when I finally saw my mother, I let her know just how I felt and, later that evening all three of my brothers told her that they thought her behaviour was atrocious but no one ever actually told me what had been said.

I was devastated, there was no such thing as a mobile phone so I had no way of knowing where Mike was or how he was. He might have been lying in a ditch for all I knew and I might never see him again.

Mike's older sister had recently got a land line so I waited a full day before heading to a phone box with a stack of coins and calling her and she told me that Mike had arrived back in town just before ten in the evening and had gone straight to the pub. He'd hitched three hundred miles in less than ten hours which, apparently, was very good although I wouldn't know because I've never hitched in my life.

I told Kath that I'd phone again the next day and, when I did, to my huge relief, Mike answered. I apologised for whatever my mother had said and he brushed it aside and said it was ok but I knew it wasn't. We arranged for me to phone at the same time every other day but I missed a couple of times, once because, the nearest phone had been vandalised, twice because the next nearest had a guy in it with an enormous stack of coins and once because I forgot all about it because I was fucking a guy that I'd met in the pub the night before. Like I keep saying, I wasn't a saint and I had needs.

I'd only been home a few weeks and I was window shopping in the town centre when I heard someone calling my name which is fairly unusual in a city centre and, when I turned around, I found that it was Dave, my ex boyfriend. Apparently, he'd visited my house several times while I'd been away to see how I was and had been told that I'd moved away and no one knew when, or if, I'd be back.

It was great to see him, I'd been feeling lonely and down and it was so good to see a friendly face. We went to a cafe to catch up then he invited me to see his new flat ( he'd been living with his mother and sister the last time I'd seen him ) and, of course, I accepted. It was a nice flat with a nice living room and a nice kitchen and a nice bathroom, a nice bedroom and a nice bed and, of course, we had a nice fuck for old times' sake.

He was surprised to find that I was pregnant and immediately asked me to marry him and for some reason that made me feel really uncomfortable but I still met up with him every day for old times' sake. I told my family that I was returning to Mike at the weekend but, in reality, I moved in with Dave on the friday and he took the next week off work so that we could spend ten days together. We spent all ten days fucking, only leaving the flat to get something to eat to keep our strength up and, of course, as always,

I wasn't allowed to wear knickers.

It was great fun but it was ruined by Dave once again asking me to marry him and, after a week, I decided that we were done, I missed Mike and I wanted to be with him.

I returned to Mike but things between me and his mother were no better and, after four days, I returned to my parents' house. It seemed like there was nowhere were we could be together.

Somehow, being pregnant seemed to make me feel even randier, I constantly had an itch that just couldn't be scratched. I did manage to soothe it a couple of times but, eventually my belly grew huge and, although the itch never faded, the urge and the ability to scratch it definitely did.

Mike had repeatedly asked me to marry him but I repeatedly told him that a piece of paper meant nothing and that I'd stay with him because I wanted to and for as long as I wanted to and a marriage licence wouldn't change that either way but still he asked saying that he agreed but, although it might not make a difference to me, it would to him and those around us so, at eight months pregnant, we got married just me and him, two witnesses and a registrar and, you know what, I was glad we did.

Mike stayed until our son was born but he had to return to take his finals and I was left on my own again with our son but, unexpectedly, my mother came to the rescue. Being a good catholic, she was totally embarrassed and ashamed by her neighbours seeing her apparently single daughter with a baby and she told me that a wife's place was with her husband and effectively threw me out. I had nowhere to go other than back to Mike and he was delighted but I felt absolutely sick as I arrived at his mother's house with our baby.

I was surprised to see a beautiful high pram outside the front door and, as I approached, Mike's mother came outside with a huge smile on her face and, holding out her arms, she said "Oh, there he is, my baby" and I felt a sudden flash of anger; he was my baby, not hers and why should she be so happy to see my baby when my own mother was obviously ashamed of him. She invited me in and made me a cup of tea but we had too much history for me to feel any form of affection for her.

No matter how resentful I felt, she was a godsend and, apart from cooking all our meals and doing all our laundry, she was more than eager to look after Mark whenever we needed her to so that, when Mike got a job in a local factory, I was able to get part time work in a nearby hotel and we were able to start seriously saving money towards the deposit on a house and, in just over a year, we had the ten per cent deposit that we needed to get a mortgage on a small, modern two bedroom terraced house.

Moving into that house was another wonderful time in my life; to be able to lock our own front door and to know that everything we saw was ours. I was blissfully happy and I swore to myself that I was going to be the best wife and mother in the world.