Sophie is God's gift to mankind and I am the lucky sod who snapped her up to be mine but to be honest, at eighteen years old she had not yet blossomed into the glorious creature that she was to become. Right at the start she admitted to having slept with two guys before me. I was glad about this because I had been told that girls who marry as virgins, ten years further on invariably begin to wonder what they have missed and start playing around. Her background was genteel but impoverished and because of this further education was just not on the cards so she started working in a supermarket straight from school and was still in the same job (but not the same place of employment) right up to the start of this story.
I am five years older. I am not at all stupid but I have not done very well at all educationally. My mind can accommodate vast amounts of trivia and detailed conversations from long ago but it is no damn use for storing the kind of data needed for exams. I went through a succession of jobs but eventually finished up in the accounts department of a medium sized firm and there I stuck. My early hobby was motor bikes (the off road kind) and for a very long time I was more preoccupied with chasing the bike in front rather than girls. Then I had a nasty accident that made a mess of both my legs. It took over a year in hospital for my legs to be sorted and it took far longer to repair the damage to my self confidence. So by the time that I met my future wife, although I knew my way around a woman's body, I was a long way from being able to claim vast experience. My other sporting passion was football.
My dad had started me off supporting the local team as a kid and although bike racing is now a distant memory my fanaticism for the beautiful game is as strong as ever.
As well as looking like a wet dream fantasy, Sophie is a natural for sex - she loves it. I used to suspect that she was over sexed - not that I was grumbling. Insatiable - many is the time that her motor has still been ticking merrily when the battery driving my tool has gone extremely flat. She read all the books Kama Sutra, Perfumed garden together with sex articles in Cosmo and other similar magazines - and everything that she read she immediately wanted to try with me. Not that she depended on outside inspiration because she was very innovative. Sometimes when she would do something completely new, I would look at her suspiciously and ask who had taught her that trick. "Nobody taught me," she would say, slightly offended, "Sitting at the checkout this morning I was thinking, and it just seemed to me that it might feel rather nice."
Throughout the marriage we have bonked at least twice a day more often than not and also spent many pleasurable hours in other sexual activity. We are both heavily into oral. Sophie would sit with legs spread and cunt gaping like a split ripe fruit, content to allow me to spend a blissful eternity sucking the nectar from within. She reciprocates by spending ages patiently milking my cock and as they appear, scooping up each globule of pre-cum with her tongue and often saying, "I love it so much Simon - it's like a very special kind of honey." She is also devastating with the full blow-job. Until I started reading porn stories I never realised that there was a technique to giving deep throat because right from the start she has swallowed my reasonable sized equipment without the slightest sign of trouble. Sophie has swallowed my cum loads of times but she does have a predilection for removing her mouth at the last second and letting it squirt on her chest. Recently after doing this, she enthused, "God I do like the smell of spunk, especially if it smeared all over my tits. The trouble is that it makes me so randy that I want a cock back inside me immediately and you are always out of action."
I laughed, joking, "What you need is two blokes, one to fuck you while the other recovers."
"That would be lovely," she agreed but then, looking guilelessly into my eyes she asked, "But wouldn't you mind?"
"Too damn true I'd mind," I said and then she laughed too - but it disturbed me that I had actually found the idea far more attractive than I should.
Even before the wedding we had agreed to buy a house as soon as possible but started married life in a flat. To rent a decent flat would have left little to put in the building society so we took a really grotty flat and started saving like mad, hoping that it would not be for long. We were actually there four years because every time we nearly had enough, the price of houses jumped up again. As a couple, we lived simply and seldom went out, for a time we didn't even hire a TV but as mentioned above, we were happy to make our own entertainment. My only real outside indulgence was to try to get along to the terraces whenever my team had a Saturday home game.
The office where I worked is split into three teams, each including a team leader. There are seven man credit and purchases teams and a four man ad hoc team - I am in credit. As it happened, the office manager Bill was also an avid football supporter and even though he could afford an expensive seat for a match, he often came to stand with me - so even though he was far superior to me at work, we struck up a kind of friendship. He knew that I spent a lot of time perusing estate agents windows and one Saturday told me "There's a nice house for sale not far from me and it is going really cheap. The guy selling has to work abroad so he is going for a quick sale."
I listened with interest to a description of the house but as soon as I heard the price I shook my head saying that I could not afford the repayments. "I shouldn't really tell you this," Bill confided, "- but Joan your team leader has just found out that she is pregnant. She's going to work as long as she can but then she's leaving for good. When that happens I am going to promote you to her position and that will mean a 30% increase in salary for you." Bill also went on to say that he would tell enquirers that I was already on that pay scale, if it would help me to secure a mortgage.
Three months later we moved into our own house and happily set about furnishing it. That happiness was to last for just less than a month before the world started to collapse around us. The start of the sequence came when Bill was involved in a horrific motorway pile up. He was not actually killed but it would have been far kinder if he had been. The team leader of the Ad Hoc team was promoted to replace him and the remainder of that team split between the other two. A month later when Joan left, the new manager chose one of his old group to lead the credit team instead of me and a week later an identical house across the street was put up for sale at a price £5000 less than I had paid. A quick trip round the estate agent windows showed that all houses were being drastically reduced and over the next few days every newspaper was running articles on how the bottom had dropped out of the property market with a vengeance. At the end of the month the standing order mortgage payment reduced our bank account to zero and we were in desperate trouble.
I did loads of calculation and having concluded that there was no escaping the truth I gave my conclusions to Sophie. Phrasing it more jocularly than I felt, I said, "We can just about scrape by if we stop eating."
Just before bedtime, Sophie came up with a possible partial answer saying, "Some of the other girls at the supermarket have got little fiddles going and I can start doing the same. We aren't meant to let family and friends come though our checkouts but nobody at work knows you are married to me. If you do the shopping on Friday evening and come to me, I will push some things through without scanning them."
It was a matter of survival so that is what we did. At first, very nervously she skipped just one or two items, but that was like baling a sinking ship using only a teaspoon. So it escalated as we got bolder and soon we were only paying half of what we should - and later a mere third. We developed several different scams. For instance, I would group eight identical cans, Sophie scanned the first and then following procedure, typed the actual number on the till - but instead of typing 8 she hit 2 and pushed the whole lot through to me. More complicated, we removed the bar codes from several low priced items we had at home and constructed a little flip file. Using this, whenever I had put something expensive on the conveyor, she would scan in one of the dummy bar codes instead, being careful to hide what she was doing from the overhead CCTV camera.
I hated the Friday evening visits to the supermarket because like Sophie I had no previous experience of being dishonest. Even before I got to my wife's checkout my nerves were stretch to breaking point, then when putting the items onto the moving belt I had to grit my teeth to stop visibly trembling. Usually as I walk away having paid I heave a sigh of relief but this time I almost collapsed with shock seeing Derek, Sophie's supervisor standing nearby partly concealed behind a roof supporting column. Despite telling myself that I was imaging it - I knew that he was definitely surveying the volume of my purchases with more than a passing interest.
I went home feeling more than simple unease. I did manage to make myself a hot drink but then paced the floor, unable to relax for the hour before Sophie got home. When she came in her face was very drawn - but then she always did find Friday's more tiring than other shifts. "Was everything all right?" I blurted out the moment that I saw her.
