At Long Last

Wanda called to say that Mike was back and asking after me.

"Can you make yourself available over the weekend, Helen?" she asked. I was actually on duty but I said yes anyway. I would swop duties or pay whatever it cost to have a weekend with Mike. I was eager to re-acquaint myself with this wonderful man, not to mention his equally wonderful cock.

"What's taken him so long?" I enquired of Wanda.

"He went off to the States at short notice to fight in an eliminator. Mike was so keen to be a contender for the world title that he had been in training for the last six weeks. He won the fight in the third round and flew back after a one-day break to unwind. He rang to say he's going to see his folks first, so he wanted me to contact you and make sure you're going to be available," Wanda told me.

It took me no time to rearrange my duties and on the appointed Saturday, I bathed, powdered and scented myself. In spite of what happened to my underwear last time I had been with Mike, I put on my best white satin and lace knickers, suspender belt, petticoat and some new nylon stockings and covered it all with a new very thin black silk dress with a semi-transparent pattern. The dress had a wonderfully smooth feel to it and I loved the slight swishy noise it made as I walked. I went to pack a new diaphragm in my handbag but, remembering what had happened to the last one, I put it back into my bedside drawer with a shrug.

"Che sera, sera," I sang as I left the flat.

Wanda greeted me warmly and gave me a gin and tonic.

"Now this time I really will be a prostitute for Mike," I laughed.

"Yes, you will, Helen darling. A real whore like me at last," Wanda laughed too, "And how does it make you feel?"

"Quite excited actually, Wanda. I'm looking forward to it," I assured my friend. In fact I was getting wet between my legs in anticipation.

Mike arrived early with his trainer and manager. He greeted me by picking me up, whirling me around and hugging and kissing me quite passionately. I loved it.

"So good to see you again, Helen! You look absolutely ravishing," he cried.

"Good to see you too, Mike," I retorted, when I got my breath back. I felt very excited to be about to have sex again with Mike. I was looking forward to it very much.

Wanda had one of her Latin American tapes playing. Mike whisked me into a samba, followed by a rumba. His two companions had already disappeared upstairs with their favourite girls, Sylvie and Veronica, when Mike asked me if I was ready to come up with him.

"I was ready the moment you walked into the place," I told him grinning.

When we got into the room, I saw a large Harrods package tied with a fancy bow and my name on it.

"Go on then, Helen. Open it," Mike urged me.

When I did, I found it full of fine quality satin and lace underwear in a variety of shades. I cooed in delight as I took out petticoats, bras, slips, suspender belts and knickers in white, black, pink, scarlet, pale blue, midnight blue, primrose, orange, turquoise and ivory, all beautifully matching and accompanied by a dozen pairs of best quality nylon stockings and three beautiful dressing gowns.

"I was hoping you'd try them on for me," Mike suggested. He had already hung up his coat and tie and was now sitting on the edge of the bed, removing his shoes and socks. He leaned back smiling as he watched me undress.

When I was naked, I came over and took off Mike's shirt and T-shirt. Then I unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly and pulled his trousers off. We smiled at each other as he pushed his underpants down, allowing his massive cock to leap out like a 'jack-in-the-box'. He went to grab hold of me, but I skipped out of range and wagged a finger at him. I selected the ivory suspender belt, pulled on and attached a pair of the new nylons, following this with matching knickers and petticoat. Mike watched closely, aching to get his cock into me, his lovely young whore who seemed to enjoy teasing him. At last I stepped across to the bedside and allowed him to run his hands over the exquisite material covering my body. He caressed my tits, fondled my arse and stroked between my legs. The smile on my face broadened with each caress. Mike smiled too, as I dropped my knickers, climbed onto the bed and lowered myself onto his cock. In only a couple of minutes Mike had come. He gasped in utter delight as he felt his cum shooting into the cunt of his pretty young whore, who appeared to enjoy it almost as much as he did.

When we had both come a couple of times, I got up, stripped off and put on a change of underwear for him. Mike was delighted with me. I was expensive, but he could afford the best, and in his view, I was worth every penny.

"Sweetheart, you really are a luscious bit of cunt," he told me.

"You told me I was a lovely bit of cunt last time you fucked me, Mike," was my cheerful reply.

"Well, I can't remember enjoying myself with any whore as much as I do when I'm fucking you. I can't imagine why such a nice girl as you works in a brothel anyway," he went on, "you're very pretty, you've got a nice natural way with you and you talk nicely too."

He drove his cock into my cunt with considerable power and I relished it, moaning with pleasure as I came. He took great delight in feeling his cum squirting into my cunt as he came again and again. There were many changes of underwear. I enjoyed stripping and dressing in front of Mike, teasing him and then giving in willingly to his lust. After he had shot five loads of cum into me, I took hold of his cock to give it a rejuvenating lick.

"Helen, would you mind letting me come like that?" he asked.

I just grinned and closed my lips over his rapidly recovering cock, working it gently until Mike gasped and I felt his cum shooting into my mouth and throat. I swallowed and swallowed trying to get it all down but in the end I had to let it spurt out, laughing as my face, hands and neck took their share of Mike's flood of cum.

"Would you like me to do that again for you?" I asked as I got up to go to the bathroom to shower.

"Oh! Yes please, Helen, you little beauty," he cried.

I came back nice and clean and slipped into the only clean petticoat left, a pale orange satin creation that I had saved for last. As I came close to the bed, Mike took my hand and kissed it. Then he ran his hands over my legs, arms, shoulders, hips and breasts.

"I don't know anywhere that you don't feel delicious," he told me.

"Let me suck your prick for you again, and I'll try and swallow the lot this time!" I said smiling.

I took his cock in my hand and closed my lips around it, causing it to swell rapidly. It gave me a thrill to feel it growing so quickly and to know I could give Mike such enormous pleasure by such a simple act.

Once again Mike thwarted my intentions by ejaculating such a torrent of cum juice that I simply couldn't swallow fast enough. And once again I ended up covered with the sticky white mess. I discarded the last of my new petticoats and retired to the bathroom. I came back a little later with a bowl of water and a bar of soap, with which I proceeded to wash Mike's cock and balls. I then went back to the bathroom and returned with a bowl of clean cold water. I picked up a pair of discarded knickers and dipped them in the bowl. I used the wet knickers to wipe the soapsuds off Mike's cock, an action that, despite the cold dampness of the material, gave him a sensuous thrill. I put the bowl away and climbed onto him.

"One last fuck and I'll let you go to sleep," I said as I lowered myself on to his cock again. Mike wondered where I got all my energy from, as I did all the work, making him come for the last time before I placed my head on his shoulder and we went to sleep.

Wanda brought us our coffee fairly late next morning, rightly assuming we would need a long rest. As we sat side by side in bed, drinking it, I said, "You might as well know, Mike, that, when Wanda told you last time that I was just a visiting friend, she was telling the truth. I'm not what you might call one of her 'regular girls' at all. After dancing with you a couple of times, I fancied you, and, when Wanda told me the girl she had lined up for you wasn't coming, I simply couldn't resist the temptation. I just had to go to bed with you."

Mike's mouth hung open. I continued, "I was amazed when Wanda gave me all that money next morning. I didn't expect it."

He got his voice back, "So you let me think you were a whore, call you a whore and treat you like a whore when you're not one after all?"

"Well now! I can hardly say that, can I? I came here quite intentionally last night to get fucked by you, and I knew you'd be paying, so I can't object when I'm called a prostitute. In fact I quite like playing the whore for you," I said, ignoring the porno films I'd made with Solly. I looked at him with a mischievous smile, "even if I'm only a part-timer!"

"And what do you actually do for a living then?" he enquired.

"I'm a staff nurse in the children's orthopaedic ward at St Charles Hospital," I told him.

"One way or another, looking after people comes naturally to you, it seems," he commented, smiling as he tried to picture me in a nurse's uniform.

Wanda poked her head round the door to let us know breakfast was ready, so we dressed and went down to a hearty meal of bacon, eggs, beans and fried bread, of which Wanda herself ate sparingly due to her diet. After breakfast, Mike suggested that he and I go for a walk in Hyde Park.

"You'd better wrap up warm, then," Wanda advised, as she poured us a last cup of coffee. She asked Annette to nip round to the flat and get my topcoat and boots. She lent me a fur hat.

Well wrapped up against the cold, Mike and I strolled round the park in the grey dullness of a winter's day. Mike chatted about his childhood in the sunny Caribbean as a youth and how he had hated the weather here when his parents brought him to Leeds at the age of nine. He had tried to run away twice and only the threat of a children's home had made him stay. His frustration was taken out by fighting in the playground and he had got into trouble at school. Fortunately the headmaster had seen something more than just another young black troublemaker. He had been put under the care of the school's PT teacher. His boxing talent had been discovered and he had been trained to fight properly from his early teens. He had boxed for the school, then during National Service, he had boxed for the army. When he was twenty-two, he had turned professional and was lucky enough to have secured the services of a good manager. He had been brought on carefully, only four or five fights a year, his opponents always carefully selected, until he had been able to tackle the big names. Now he had become the national champion.

"What about you, Helen?" he asked, "You haven't told me anything about yourself."

"There's not that much to tell really," I replied. I spent the next hour telling him about my childhood, my family and went on to tell him about my nursing career. We found a small restaurant in Paddington where we had lunch, then went to the flat. Sophie was out and the lure of my bed proved too great for either of us to resist.

Mike was enraptured by the smell of me everywhere, the untidy way I left stockings, bras and knickers strewn about, the air of femininity around the room. We hurried to undress and got onto my bed. As he thrust his cock into me, the willing, laughing girl beneath him, he said he was the most fortunate man alive. The whole world was his and this was the very best part of it.

"I'm coming!" he cried as he squirted his cum juice into me.

"Oh! Yes, please, Mike. Come and shoot all that lovely spunk into me. I love it," I pleaded, as I came myself. After another two hours of sleep, interrupted by bouts of love making, we rose, showered and strolled round to Wanda's place arm in arm.

Wanda and Annette had prepared an evening meal for us and the four of us sat eating and chatting until Mike and I decided it was time to go back to bed. We started with a bout of oral sex in my favourite position sixty-nine. After we had both come several times, Mike got on top for some more energetic fucking. We were resting, lying side by side on our backs, when Mike said,

"Helen, I have to leave for the States in just over a week's time to start training again. I haven't got long here. I'm going to visit my folks again for a few days before I go. I'd like it very much if you could have a few days off and come up to me in Leeds. Would you like to come, and do you think you could manage it?"

"I'd love to visit you in Leeds, Mike. I'm pretty sure I will be able to get the time off. But it will take a day or two. Can I follow you up there, say next Wednesday?" I replied.

"That would be great. I'll give you a number to phone before you leave and I'll make sure you're met at the station."

I duly arrived in Leeds at seven o'clock on the Wednesday evening and was met by Mike himself. He drove me out of town to a sumptuous house in a leafy vale. His two younger brothers and three sisters lived there with their mother and father. Mike introduced them all and I sensed the admiration and respect they all had for him. After Mike's father had taken me round the garden, we sat down to a lavish meal, which went on for a couple of hours. It was a noisy talkative meal and the conversation lingered for another hour. Then Mike rose and said, "Helen's tired, so we'll be off to bed now."

He took my hand and led me up the stairs to his bedroom. I told him I felt odd going to bed with him just like that in front of his whole family.

"Don't worry, Helen, in this day and age things are not so strict as they were. I don't think we will have caused too many surprises among the family."

We undressed and got into bed like an old married couple, but within a few minutes we were kissing and petting. Mike was soon inside me and I forgot the rest of the world until after daybreak, when Mike's mother brought us tea and biscuits on a tray.

The three days we spent together were full of laughter and happiness for both of us and I couldn't hold back a tear when Mike saw me off at the station on my way back to London. It had been wonderful to get into bed every night with Mike and take the sex unhurriedly; wallowing in a sensuous hedonism that ended all too soon.

I felt a surprising sense of loneliness back in my own bed at the flat. I wanted to feel Mike's shoulder under my head, his arm round my shoulder and his warm body against my own. I was, I realised, missing him.

The World Championship

From his training camp, Mike wrote regularly to me. It was just a week before his big fight when he summoned up the courage to write asking me to marry him. I got the letter two days before the fight and had no time to reply by letter so I sent a telegram with just three words, "Yes, yes yes!"

Mike's trainer told me about what followed. Preparations for the championship match was long and arduous. His trainer was unsure of Mike's stamina in a long fight. He was too good as a boxer to have ever been put to a really gruelling test in the ring. No one had ever finished the fourth round on his feet in a fight with Mike. His manager and trainer were determined to make sure Mike had the ability to go the distance if he had to. They knew Mike had the speed, agility and sheer hitting power to win. They knew the world champion, Rocky Sidolio, was no boxer. He was a brawling, clinching, butting, bruiser of great strength and endurance, who specialised in body punching, in clinches and hitting on the break. He had seldom been knocked down, and never out, in a very long fighting career of more than sixty professional bouts. Mike's manager and trainer argued about whether the champion was at the end of his career. After all, he couldn't go on forever and nobody had held the ultimate boxing crown for so long.

The first two rounds were quiet, Rocky boring in, clinching, breaking but landing only a few blows on Mike's ribs. Mike was surprised at how good the covering and blocking was. His trainer had said the champion had a habit of occasionally dropping his right as he came in for a clinch. There was no sign of that tonight, which left Mike puzzling at how he was ever going to get through the man's guard. In the third round, Rocky bore in with his head low as he had done several times before. But this time he suddenly straightened up and caught Mike's left eyebrow with his head. As Mike flinched with the pain, three hammer blows landed in quick succession on his ribs before he could dance away. The forth round was another endless series of clinches and body punches which had Mike wondering if his stamina would hold out. Just before the round ended, Rocky switched tactics and landed a heavy punch on Mike's damaged left eyebrow. His trainer and second worked hard to stem the blood and managed it before the bell for the fifth. More clinching, more body punching and the same careful covering and blocking.

It happened in the sixth round for Mike. As Rocky advanced, boring in for yet another clinch, his guarding right hand dropped just an inch and Mike drove a left hook through the gap like a cobra striking. The champion went down flat; the referee started the count. Rocky dragged himself up painfully, more by instinct than conscious intent. He managed to get on his feet on nine. Earlier in the fight, before his strength had been sapped by the mauling, butting and clinching, Mike knew that blow would have knocked his opponent out till tomorrow.

Rocky never gave him another chance. The style of the first two rounds continued until the twelfth, by which time Mike's footwork had been reduced to a shuffle. Then Rocky began a systematic demolition of his opponent, starting with a fierce barrage of blows of the damaged left eye. In the thirteenth round, he switched suddenly back to the body. In the next round he landed a series of blows to the head, including one to the jaw that had Mike on the canvas for an eight count. It gave him time to clear his head. He realised that the fight was as good as lost as far as points were concerned. He needed a knockout. As he got to his feet, he deliberately swayed, and looked uncertain. Rocky came in for the kill. He was met by a left feint, followed by a wild right cross that almost lifted his head off. Rocky had no chance at all of beating the count, but on eight the bell went for the end of the round. Feverish work by his team got him up for the start of the last round.

The fifteenth was a formality, Rocky taking no chances and Mike having shot his bolt. Rocky was a clear points winner. Later in the dressing room Mike collapsed into a coma. He had a fractured jaw and three broken ribs.

Next morning the American papers were full of praise for Rocky, who had fought the greatest fight of his long career, the last round with a broken cheekbone. Later, Rocky announced he would be retiring as unbeaten champion.

Mike was still semi-conscious when he was flown home four days later to Manchester and taken to a private sanatorium in Leeds. I travelled up by train and was warmly received by the family. Mike was dozey and had not recognised anybody, even his mother. He relapsed back into a completely comatose state and died three days later. After the funeral, Mike's mother took me aside, " Helen, dear, what will you do about Mike's baby?" she asked.

I was astonished. I hadn't mentioned it to anybody, not even Sophie or Wanda; or Mike himself, for that matter.

"It's all right, I'm not a sorceress," I was told, "I heard you being sick at six in the morning when you came up here to see him in hospital. I just kept an eye on you since then, and I'm right, am I not?"

"Yes, " I admitted, "I think I am carrying Mike's baby. But I haven't had any tests yet so I'm not absolutely certain."