. 01

This is the cross-over piece between 'Lost Girl' and 'Big Girls Don't Cry', and it's really two chapters in one, which is why I've had to split it, otherwise it would be far too long to read and take in. Hopefully this will finally link and draw a line under both stories for all those readers who asked that the two original stories be combined to make one narrative.

Thank you for your patience and forbearance, and I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

BB1958

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JULIE:

Mark came back from his monthly two-day visit to the Bristol office today looking more tired than usual, so for once, instead of leaping frenziedly on him, as is my usual ploy whenever we've been apart more than 12 hours, I kept Markie and baby Nia quiet, allowing their poor daddy a few hours rest before fatherhood and family once more became a part of his life.

Mark had to go and see his team members in Clifton every month; with promotion had come responsibilities, but the trip always tired him, as all the problems that had no pleasing, easy solution were obligingly piled on his desk; all the nice, easy issues with easy solutions were sorted out lower down the tree, leaving him to try and organise his team, motivate them to meet their targets, write appraisals, and formulate solutions for problems that had no solutions; all the 'buck-stops-here' problems, in fact. It's a wonder he still had all that lovely bright gold hair of his...

When he came in, though, tired as he was, he'd kissed me gently, looked around to make sure Markie wasn't in the room or anywhere in sight, and pulled me close for a long, hot kiss. The growing bulge in his trousers rubbed deliberately, pleasurably, across my slit, making me gasp, and his hands found their way under my skirt and into my panties, cupping and squeezing my bum-cheeks while a finger somehow managed to snake its way into my tight bum-hole. That alone left me in no doubt what he'd been thinking about on that tedious train journey back from Bristol, then all the way across London from Paddington!

I giggled into his mouth at that, squirming delightedly against him; my Mark knew exactly how to heat me up in the shortest possible time, and he'd just hit the jackpot; if the girls had been with Mummy-Anh, I'd have yanked his pants off there and then and climbed on that big cock of his without a moment's hesitation; he wasn't the only one missing a little one-on-one! Mark kissed me one last time and, still holding me by my bum, pulled back a little to look into my eyes.

"God, I missed you, Tink," he grinned, "and I missed these as well!" he whispered, his hands squeezing me again as he spoke, and I knew just from the movements of his hands inside my panties as he squeezed my cheeks that what he wanted to be doing right now was pounding me through the mattress. I grinned and clenched my bum-cheeks, letting him know I knew what was going through his mind, but not making a move to drag him into the bedroom and de-bag him, as I would normally have done by now; I could see the exhaustion in his eyes, and for what I planned on getting from him, I needed him wide awake and raring to go.

"Get some sleep, Peter Pan," I smiled, "You look like you've had a bad night on the varnish. Get a couple of hours rest. I'll call you for dinner, and then, when the girls are asleep, I have plans for you! If all goes according to plan, I'll be waking up in the morning bow-legged and rubbed-raw; how does that sound?"

For answer, he pulled me close again, grinding his crotch against mine, letting me know just how much he wanted me. After more than two years, my Lost Boy still needed to touch and hold me as much as the first night we ever got together; believe me, the feeling was entirely mutual; whenever he went away, I felt a peculiar, ragged sense of loss, an emptiness and almost physical pain that didn't go away until I was running my hands through his soft, golden hair once more, congratulating myself again and again on hooking and landing such a beautiful, sexy, truly wonderful man.

Mark had been forced to reject me by our lunatic mother, her price for not destroying me; she'd driven him to the brink of suicide, she'd made his life a living hell, and yet he'd kept me safe the whole time; he'd taken a beating to ensure I never had to, and I owed him for that. It was a debt I was glad to repay, with every breath of my body, every beat of my heart, and every stroke of his thick cock deep inside me.

Mark, too, hated to go anywhere without me; I think he felt the same separation anxiety I felt when he had to go away, and I didn't blame him, not after what he'd been through. That loony bitch kept the threat she'd crush me with the law if he didn't toe the line constantly dangling in front of him, and so she'd kept him dancing on a short leash, sick with fear, for almost three years while she went slowly ga-ga.

Now that mad bitch is dead; she died alone, almost two years ago now, a victim of her own fondness for the booze, unwanted and ignored, and if there's a hell somewhere, she's probably burning in it. I have my Lost Boy back; I will always be his 'Tinkerbell'; we found our own Never-Never Land, and we love each other even more strongly now, because of what we had to endure to win through.

And we even have a new mum! My best girl Nia, (who I think is possibly the most beautiful girl I've ever seen) has the loveliest, smartest, most loving mum in the world, and now she's mine as well; before Mark ever came back to me, Mummy-Anh became for real the mum to me that she'd always been in every way that counted; I can't even remember when she stopped being 'Mrs. M' and became just 'Mum', and it doesn't matter; she's there, that's all I need to know.

When I was a little girl, it was Nia's mum who made sure from the earliest days that I was always treated like one of the family, someone who belonged there; it was she who tended me and kept me safe when my crazy, drunken bitch of a mother assaulted me, and it was she who taught me what growing up, love, compassion and family was all about. I owe my family to Mummy-Anh, Nia's mum, my mum. When Mark finally came back, she took him into her heart too, and made him hers as surely as she had done for me, showing him what a real mother was, and giving him all the love and care a mother showers on her son.

Mark feels about her the same way; growing up he was shamefully neglected by our mother, who spent all her time drinking and never had any time left over for him. He never got to be a little boy because he had to be the grown up and raise me, when he was just a little boy himself.

Mummy-Anh understands this, which is why she makes an especially big fuss over him, constantly letting him know in a million small ways that there's a place he belongs, and a family who cares about him. We named our second daughter 'Nia', to honour my best friend, but also to honour Mummy and link them together in a special way; when we told her, it was the first time I'd ever seen Mummy cry.

(There's a special bond between my babies and Mummy, a genuine grandmother and granddaughter connection, as deep and loving as the bond between her and little Jamie and Laura, and Bethany's two, Ryan and Jodie, who looks so much like Nia it's uncanny. My own little Nia knows when she's going to Mummy-Anh's house; she won't settle-down until she's cradled in the hollow of her nana's neck, or perched on her hip, and once she's with Mummy-Anh, she'll sleep the day away; she knows she's safe and with family.)

I herded Mark into the bedroom (without too much resistance, I have to say; poor boy really was exhausted...) and watched him shed his clothes and climb gratefully between the sheets.

"You'll wake me for dinner, promise?" he asked, and I nodded. I had already cooked dinner; it was keeping warm in the oven, so he could snooze as long as he wanted, which should take the edge off that exhaustion I could see in his eyes. I kissed him and watched him slide under the covers with a grateful sigh; 10 seconds later he was out like a light.

The girls were in their room, supposedly having a nap, but after a while I got to wondering why one of them hadn't come wandering out looking for something or other; my two little girls seem to thrive on a night of broken sleep; it seems like every hour they're waking me up for something, but I hadn't seen hide nor hair of them for nearly an hour now, and when I looked in, their cots were empty.

I immediately checked our room, and there they were, fast asleep, Markie cuddled up against her daddy, lying on her tummy with her little bottom stuck in the air, and Nia lying in the crook of his arm, with their daddy's arm wrapped protectively around both of them. I paused to wonder how, at only 13 months, Nia had managed to climb up there as well, but when it came to snuggling with her daddy, no barrier was too high.

I smiled, and, I'll admit it, my eyes welled-up at the sight of my perfect family; three bright golden heads in a row, all sweetly asleep. We took the long way round, and we both took a lot of hurt, but we got here eventually. I went back down to the kitchen and turned off the oven; Mark was so deeply asleep it would be cruel to wake him, and the girls had their daddy, so they'd stay quiet all night. I grinned wistfully at the lost opportunity and got a duvet from the airing cupboard; it looked like a night in the spare bedroom for me...

A finger gently tracing the outline of my nipple woke me up, and there was Mark, looking young, tousled, delicious, and wide-awake, with that beautiful, sexy grin of his, the one that used to make all my work colleagues go weak at the knees, that bang of golden hair falling down over his eye, and that light in his eyes.

"Hello, my golden-haired little sex-elf!" he whispered, running his finger down my abdomen and back up between my breasts to scratch my chin. I smiled at his private nickname for me, and he knelt down by the bed to kiss me.

"I put the girls back in Markie's bed; they're both sound asleep; so, Tink, you wanna play?" he whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers up and down my spine. Did I? What a stupid question!

He saw the answer in my eyes, so picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me into our room, where he laid me down on our bed, at the same time sliding off my panties as I tugged off the T-shirt of his I was wearing. I smiled happily at the sight of his shapely, muscular body, all the weight he'd lost from his ordeal with our crazy mother now back on him, and he looked fit, tanned and gorgeous. He went to slip off his shorts but I batted his hands away; this was my job!

I slid his shorts down, and his thick cock sprang out, thicker than I could get my whole hand around, nearly eight inches of solid, meaty goodness, all ready to take me to the best places in the world. I felt my pussy twitch in anticipation, a sense of warmth pervading that whole area, and I knew my labia were swelling and engorging, ready for him to shove that big thing of his into me!

First things first, though. Mark pulled me up to kiss me again, then gently pushed me back down, slipping his hands under my thighs to urge them open and then squeeze my bum-cheeks as he lowered his head to kiss and lap at my seeping slit. I writhed and sighed as his probing tongue licked me from my bum-hole to my clitoris, still hooded but I could feel it stiffening as he sexed me up, and when he slipped his finger into me while licking my clit, I nearly passed-out with the sensation. Mark knows exactly what to do to turn me into a sexed-up, quivering mass of jelly, and he proceeded to do just that.

His fingers and tongue probed and rubbed, licked and kissed, while I literally saw stars as waves of pleasure raced and crashed through me, each one bigger than the last, battering me with increasing pleasure, until at last, the tension building inside me couldn't contain itself, and when he pushed his tongue between my labia and simultaneously rammed his middle finger up into my bum, I came in a supernova of pleasure, pulling a pillow over my face to muffle my shriek as Mark once more took me to the heights, his tongue and talented fingers doing things to me that I could never describe, only ever crave.

The thunder of blood in my ears finally died away and I relaxed my death-grip on the pillow, allowing Mark to pull it away and pull my naked body against his.

"Jeez Tink, you must have really needed that!" he grinned, bending forward to kiss me, his tongue twining with mine as we kissed hard enough to leave bruises. Making love to Mark is, for me, the pinnacle of achievement, my reward to myself for having lost him for so long. The only man for me, the only one who could ever be for me, is my big brother, my darling Mark.

As we kissed, I could feel his hardness bumping me, so I nipped his lip while grabbing that thing, squeezing him to watch the expression on his face, the look in his eyes.

"What are you planning on doing with this thing, then?" I taunted him, knowing full well what I wanted to do, and Mark, playing along with that beautiful grin on his face, straddled me, shuffling up along me until his cock-head was level with my face.

"You know what we both want, Tinkerbell, don't leave me hanging!" he grinned, so I grinned back and slowly, lingeringly licked the slick, glossy tip a couple of times, enjoying his soft gasp, then sucked the bulbous head into my mouth, savouring as always the saltiness, the musky tang, and the faint background sweetness that was so much a part of my man. As I sucked him, his smell wafted over me, that scent-complex unique to him, not sweat, or soap, or cologne, but the clean smell of his skin, the warm freshness of his own bodily oils and secretions, and the faint, salty, ozone tang of the lubricant pouring from the tip of his cock. Mark always smelled fresh to me, like a gentle sea-breeze, and I was addicted to that scent.

As I sucked, I could feel his body tensing and relaxing as he fought the urge to ram that thing in my mouth, to face-fuck me; Mark wouldn't do that to me, which is why I loved giving pleasure to him. While I suckled on him, my hands alternated between squeezing and fisting that gorgeous cock of his, and gently squeezing and stroking his scrotum, urging him to give me what I wanted now. I could hear his breath shortening, and his pulse, drumming in that wand of flesh in my mouth, was rising as his own climax approached, so I sucked harder, wanting the finish, wanting my man to have what he'd just given me.

His breathing was becoming louder, and beginning to hitch as he struggled to hold himself back, prolonging the pleasure I was giving him, and as I squeezed his scrotum I could feel the change as it went from loose bag of skin to tight, ridged saddle under the base of his cock. One more suck and a healthy squeeze of his shaft as I pumped him, and he gasped explosively as his fat cock jumped and twitched in my mouth.

This was what I'd been waiting for. I clamped my lips around him as a stream of thick creamy spunk jetted out of him and hit the roof of my mouth, then another, then another, filling my mouth and barely giving me time to swallow before I was filled again. Mark's spunk tasted, as always, salty and creamy, with a delightful background tangy sweetness, delicious and wholesome, and though I'd only ever had one other sample for comparison, when I'd thought he was gone forever, I knew this was the taste for me, this was what my man had for me, and it was what I wanted from him, and only him.

The jets of sperm stopped, until only a trickle ran from the end of his cock, but I sucked every last drop out of him and polished the head with my tongue before grinning and sticking my tongue out to show him I was finished. Mark, as always, grinned when I did that.

"You dirty girl!" he smiled, climbing off me to slump down next to me and once more curl his hands around my bum, pulling me closer so our bellies were touching, his still-erect cock sandwiched solidly between us. I raised an eyebrow and grinned at him.

"You love it, Mark Jameson, don't you come it with me!" I retorted, leering at him as I rubbed myself against him, rolling his cock between us and making him gasp. Mark leaned down and kissed me.

"Every time I go away from you and the babies it feels like I'm in free-fall, I feel so lonely and lost, and it doesn't go away until I walk back in the door; coming home always feels like Christmas; promise me it'll always be like this, Tinkerbell!"

I swallowed the suddenly enormous lump in my throat, love for this beautiful boy-man flaring huge and possessive inside me.

"I promise you, Lost Boy, it will, oh it will!"

I couldn't help the tears that spilled down my cheeks as once again the little boy who needed to be held and loved re-surfaced, all the lost days of his stolen childhood showing in his eyes. I'd nearly lost him once; he'd nearly been taken from me forever; he'd even thought the unthinkable, and that fear for him still lurked deep inside me.

"I love you Tinkerbell!" he murmured, wiping my tears away with his thumbs, then pulling me close to kiss me long and tenderly, showing me with his lips what his heart was feeling.

I eventually surfaced for air, my body tingling with the impact of that kiss, aware, too, of the hardness trapped between us. I grinned and reached down to give it an experimental squeeze, seeing the laughter in his eyes as I did.

"What shall we do with this, Peter Pan?" I grinned, the need to have my husband inside me, locked away deep in my body, suddenly rearing up inside me.

"Are you ready to take me back to Never-Never land, Peter?" I asked him softly, seeing the smile spread across his face, like a new dawn rising.

"Always and always, Tinkerbell!" he breathed, kissing me again as he rolled me onto my back and reared above me, his cock prodding and nudging at my swollen labia, teasing me, torturing me even as I squeezed and fondled him, massaging his balls and making his cock rear up even stiffer, harder, and more angrily engorged. Every time I tried to guide him into me, he grinned and pulled back, instead sawing the ridged underside of his penis against my sensitive, swollen labia, torturing me even more.

"Mark!" I hissed, and once again that smile flowered as he slowly pushed forward, once more stretching me as he slid into me, filling me as only he could, lights flickering in my peripheral vision even as he began fucking me, prelude to the orgasm I knew he'd give me. I began to move against him, meeting him as he thrust into me, those lights flickering brighter now as wonderful feelings uncurled and spread through me, taking me with him as he sped up, pounding into me as I humped madly back up at him, until, with a searing, soundless explosion inside the very centre of me, my orgasm flared through every fibre of my body, all my senses fleeing as the pleasure overtook me.

Dimly I heard his groan as I tightened around him, but the sensation of his cock swelling inside me and pumping me full of his own special tribute was real, and present, the feel of his body-heat pouring into me cutting through all and telling me that my man was here, with me, making love to me, because he loved me. That knowledge alone was enough to send me off again, Mark groaning as I tightened around him again and again, milking him of every drop of his male essence, wringing him dry.

We lay in the afterglow, Mark next to me, holding me close against him, while I rested my head on his chest, rejoicing in the nearness of him, the warmth of him against me and the sound of his heart beating, the realisation of the dream I'd once thought gone forever. I was drifting away, warm and comfortable, when Mark stirred restlessly. I know his moods and manners intimately, so I knew he had something to say, maybe not important, but it was bugging him, so I rolled onto my side so I could look into his lovely, dove-grey eyes and maybe get him to share.