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From: One Sick Puppy <nowhere@mars.com>
Newsgroups: alt.stories.incest
Subject: Claire (Mf, cons, pedo, incest)
Date: Mon, 26 Jan 2004 20:17:46 -0800
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Claire (Mf, cons, pedo, incest) by Lester
I am just a poster and not the author Of This Storie!
(Mf, cons, pedo, incest)
Warning: contents are adult erotic entertainment material. If you are a
minor or will be offended by such material, stop right now and delete this
file.
By downloading this material you certify that:
You are an adult, being at least 18 years of age. You are not accessing this
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You believe that such material does not offend the standard of the community
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decide for themselves what they will read and view without governmental
interference,All the standard rules apply. If you are offended
by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is
illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are
under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you
might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove this
text from your computer.
This is purely a work of
fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities or
actions described,
Tom Brown was a boring but pleasant bloke who wanked off every day
because his wife hated sex. This story is about how his meeting with
Claire made him have two wanks in short order and thus changed
everything.
Often he used pictures off the net to help him come off, with his
favourite being a girl of about 12 that he'd found by accident and
whom he called Fiona after his first love. He still dreamt of Fiona
occasionally despite her having only been five when they met and seven
when he last saw her. Mostly though, he just thought about young
women that he had seen on the street.
He had never approached any woman other than his wife, since he
married, and though a few had approached him, he had turned all but
one down. He was just a quiet man who 'loved' his wife and just
wanted a quiet life. Life though has a way of being a bitch and one
of his silly dreams came true quite by chance.
One Tuesday morning, he went to MacDonald's to wait for a friend.
Normally he waited in his car but this time because he'd been to post
a parcel, he was about an hour early, so he went for a coffee. Two
women followed him in, one of medium height in her late forties or
early fifties, and the other, who looked vaguely familiar, was about
twenty, a little solid, had a nice smile and was taller than Tom.
Following on behind was a small girl who was desperately trying to rid
herself of a green coat.
Tom drank his coffee slowly whilst wondering where George was and then
decided that he needed a pee. As he got up he saw the little girl
pushing against the door to the toilet block. He watched fascinated
for a moment by her enormous and totally ineffective effort before
tidying his things, heading to the rubbish shoot and dropping them in.
Then he too headed for the loos. The girl had disappeared and her
mother was coming out, so he held the door open for her as she passed
and then entered a corridor with the ladies and gents on the left and
a large disabled toilet on the right.
He did not notice the long thoughtful look that the girl's mother gave
him for he was already far too occupied to notice anything but the
scene before him. The door to the disabled loo stood wide open and
the girl sat there with her skinny little legs wide apart and her
knickers around one ankle. She did not seem to be doing anything
other than wave her legs. But as her fanny was on full view he
stopped, took a long longing look and then hurried off without even
wondering what had happened to her jeans.
However, once in the gents there was no question of peeing, his cock
would not let him. It was tingling in the old familiar rock hard way.
So, as he was in no hurry, he retired to a cubicle and pulled it
until it shot its load all over the floor. He felt terribly guilty
and tried to hide what he had done even from himself by wiping up the
spunk off with toilet paper. He knew that he should not think such
things but he did not often see a naked fanny and especially not one
like hers: bald and lovely. Finally he peed.
In the corridor he met the most incredible sight he'd ever seen. He
knew that little girls weren't supposed to be sexy but his prick
clearly did not agree for the sight of her stood there with her
T-shirt hauled up so that her tiny nipples were on show and her little
white panties still around her left ankle made him rise to new
heights. She was calling for her mummy to come and wipe her bottom
but could not open the door to make her hear.
"What's your mummy's name?" he asked quietly putting his hand gently
on her shoulder to reassure her. His prick twitched back to life. He
shuddered. He had never been so close to a nearly naked child before
and had to work quite had to resist the temptation to touch her
further. She just stood there smiling at him with her mouth
invitingly open just about enough to take his cock in it. He had
never been sucked off but he sure could imagine what it might be like
with her and it looked all good.
"Jane." She replied after a short pause and with a beautiful smile as
she tried to pull her T-shirt off. Tom pulled it back down for her.
As he did he just took the slightest stroke of her bottom. It was so
smooth and inviting that he stopped for a second to pat her tummy but
rapidly decided that he had gone far enough.
"Right," Tom said, "I'll go and tell her that you want her. You go
back in there," he said indicating vaguely behind him.
He composed himself for a moment, prayed that his erection was not too
obvious and went out to tell 'Jane' that her daughter wanted her.
Then he sat down at his table to read a newspaper but had hardly
opened it when she returned and said, "I am sorry to ask this but
she's gone into the gents and there's someone in there. Could you go
and get her for me, please?"
Tom laughed. "O.K." he said and set off.
"Wipe her bottom for her while you are at it will you?" the woman
added laughingly.
The surprise and shock that he felt must have shown all over his face
for Jane laughed. "Go on with you." She said, "She's only five.
She'll enjoy having you do it. Really!"
"But…" he started but she interrupted.
"Get on with you, Tom," she jibed, "I saw you looking at her on your
way in. You enjoyed the sight. Now go and tidy her up and enjoy
that. But … don't be too long!"
Tom fled into the gents' loo. There was no sign of the man but one of
the cubicle doors was slightly open so he assumed that he was watching
from a safe distance cock in hand.
Claire was standing at the urinal peeing. Her T-shirt lay abandoned
in a corner whilst she concentrated. He had a perfect rear view of
the golden liquid cascading between her legs as she leant forward over
the catch-trough with her hands on its top edge. Her legs were
stretched so wide apart that hardly a drop touched her shoes.
He stopped and gaped, and his cock became harder than ever. He
gulped. Her cunt was clearly visible as a perfectly smooth slit. Her
buttocks perfectly sized for taking in hand. He moved quietly up
behind her and when the stream stopped, stroked her ever so gently on
the bottom and said, "Just stand there for a moment. Hold it just
like that."
"Why?" she asked in all innocence and regarding him wide eyed. "Is
mummy coming?"
"Because you look cute," he replied as he went for the paper. She
pushed her bottom out a bit and he winced as his cock tried to force
its way between the elastic of his underpants and his stomach.
He dried her, wiped her bottom and then gently tested the whole area
with his hand to ensure that she really was dry all round.
Lastly he took her to the sink and washed her bottom and fanny so that
they were nice and clean. When she asked he did that, he replied that
he always did so himself so he had done so for her. She never
questioned this. But he felt guilty that he had not told her the
truth.
Finally he pulled up her knickers after giving her a little cuddle
whilst he felt her up a bit more. Then he shuffled her off out to her
mum.
Lastly he went into a cubicle, locked the door, dropped his pants and
had a long slow wank, which was what he assumed the man that he had
never seen was doing. Indeed the sounds from the next cubicle so
inspired him and he came off more strongly than ever, producing a
massive amount of spunk and a lot of noise.
* * *
In the weeks that followed, he almost wore his cock out over Claire.
He imagined just how tight that tiny twat must be. He fantasised over
her bottom for he knew exactly how it felt and the thought always
brought him right to full strength. However he was able to admit that
he had one advantage, his small cock just might fit up her. He tried
to work out how to push it in and decided that he just did not really
know. With a grown woman or a teenager it would be easy but with a
girl that small? He did though decide that perhaps rear entry with
her bent over the arm of a settee might work.
Also his thoughts now often returned to a fourteen year old that he
had fucked in Dalton in Furness about seven years ago. She was one of
the few women that he'd really fancied but it had been her friends
that had picked him up for her, not him. She'd looked super in a
T-shirt and jeans. He remembered those jeans. Her hips were so
narrow that she'd only needed to undo the top button to slide them
off. He'd fucked her over a grave in the Churchyard. It was not
perfect but she been lovely, and tight too, very tight. That worried
him. Claire was much smaller and he did not want to hurt her, he just
wanted to shag her.
The fourteen year old's name had been Jane and she'd be about the same
age as Claire's mum so he took to fantasizing that the two Janes were
the same woman and found that it greatly enhanced his fun. Then one
day he remembered that she had called him Tom and wondered how she had
known. He hadn't told her. Perhaps she had overheard it some other
time when he'd not noticed she was there. Anyway that made it easier
to fantasise her into the girl grown up, so he thought more and more
about Jane.
He saw Claire every week now but never again naked. She just came in
and went off with her mother without speaking to him. The two women,
however, wished him the time of day now and occasionally made small
talk. At such times he did his best to look down Jane's always half
unbuttoned blouse. She had, he decided a wonderful pair of small tits
with big nipples and her bras were always virginal white.
One other fact interested him. That first time, all three women had
been in trousers but now both Claire and Jane always seemed to wear
miniskirts so he occasionally even saw knickers. He only saw Jane's
occasionally but it was always a her string and that fascinated him
for he had only ever seen them in the shops before.
At all other times he stared at Claire, who now always seemed to be
positioned so that he could see her, or so he thought. He ruminated
on this at length and finally decided that he was imagining it.
However, he liked the view for he could always see her knickers and
they were almost always so tight that the outlines of her fanny
showed. He thought that odd, for when he'd first seen her she'd been
wearing the sort of baggy panties that one normally associates with
little girls. However it suited him so he thought no more of it.
His next touched Claire three months later when a fine summer's day
unexpectedly turned into a heavy thunder storm. It was the Friday
before he went on holiday, so he had left work at lunch time and was
driving home. Eventually the rain became so heavy that he decided
that it was safer to turn off into MacDonald's than to run into
something because he could not see it. Unusually there was only one
car in a car park that was normally over half full.
He dashed the few yards to the restaurant as quickly as possible but
nevertheless got very wet. Once in the porch he rang his wife on his
mobile and was told firmly to stay put until it cleared. He breathed
a sigh of relief.
Inside his spectacles misted up immediately and he staggered half
blind to the counter to order a hot chocolate and a muffin, a
blueberry muffin.
Whilst he waited for the server, the only one, or so it seemed, he
cleaned his glasses and looked around. The first thing he saw was
Claire standing on a chair with her back towards him and leaning so
far forward so that her backside was raised high and on full view.
She was wearing white teddy bear panties. They had been plain white
before and he was sure that they were cotton. They were those loose
ones too, what he expected to on little girls. She…
He only just caught himself in time to stop the gasp that rose in his
throat but failed to react when the server asked him for the money and
then started when the request was repeated. He paid.
"Sorry." He muttered, fumbling for the coins and dropping several on
the way. "Here," he said and handed them to the young man.
As he collected his stuff, he looked over the counter and noticed that
the server's pants were just as tented as his must be. He smiled and
nodded knowingly at the boy and then left for a window table. So
there were others who liked Claire's backside. He was not alone.
He never reached that table for as soon as he got close, Jane motioned
him to sit with them.
"Come and join us," she said, "We are having a little party for
Claire's sixth birthday."
He muttered something incoherent and sat down as indicated next to
Claire. Her bottom was almost on the end of his nose. He looked
round and smiled, and then he turned back to his real interest and
found that they really were teddy bears. He had always liked teddy
bear knickers. They had always turned him on. He had had a
girlfriend years ago who'd worn them for him but that was before Jo,
his wife.
He realised that she was bent over the chair because she was colouring
a picture book in that strange way that seems perfectly logical to all
children but completely illogical to all adults and which any sensible
adult leaves alone because it keeps the child quiet.
"Aren't you going to give her a kiss for her birthday?" her mother
asked innocently. "Every girl should get a kiss for her birthday."
Tom made kissing sounds at Claire.
The girl turned her head sideways and made kissing sounds and motions
but otherwise did not move. Tom tried to imagine what sort of game
she was playing but could not.
The kissing sounds came again.
He leant forward but had to hold onto something so that he could reach
her without toppling. By mistake, and it was a genuine mistake too,
he grabbed her bottom instead of the chair. She gave him a big sloppy
kiss and then squawked, "Oww."
He sat up. The older woman, he noticed was heading for the loos.
Claire pouted at him. "Kiss it better." She demanded.
"Err… what? … I didn't …" he blustered confused, not thinking that he
had hurt her in any way.
"Here." She said pointing at the top of her visible bum almost in the
crack.
"You dug your nail in a bit when you grabbed her ass, I think," said
Jane. "You better do as she asks."
"I can't do that in public," he gasped, "I'd get locked up for it."
"No you won't," Jane said, "Angela's gone to the loo and that always
takes her ages, so the only witness is the lad over there and he's
been ogling her for the last hour. He'll probably come in his pants
when you do it."
Tom looked worriedly round. The lad looked tense and flushed. The
kissing sounds were racing through his ears. His prick was beginning
to ache.
He looked at Claire. She scowled. "You hurt. I think you're mean.
Gimme a kiss," she said, "right there. And I wanna proper one."
She repeated her demand for a kiss-better, so he gave it to her.
TWICE!
The first was just a peck on her left bum cheek just below the leg
elastic but then his now super hard prick got the better of him and he
gave her a long hard kiss on the inside of her bum cheek just where
she had pointed not two centimetres from her fanny. However to do it
he had to pull the crotch of her pants aside. The actual sight of her
crack resulted in the lad's breathing becoming ragged and audible even
from where they were sitting, ten feet away. They looked round. He
went bright pink and ran into the loos. Jane laughed hysterically.
Tom noticed that Claire too was flushed.
He saw his chance and asked her if he could rub her 'sore bit' better.
She agreed by nodding her head solemnly. So he ran his hand over
her small smooth backside, examining every bit of the material and
then of the skin between her legs and up as far as her crotch. Here
he hesitated for a moment before moving his hand further in but
eventually he ran his finger tips over the tight material ever so
gently, with the lightest possible touch. Claire breathing got
harder. He felt the imprint of the cleft between her cunt lips.
Finally he moved his hand without any further hesitation up and under
the inside of the right leg hole. He touched her actual cunt lips.
They were quite damp and he realised that her clitty was hard. So was
he! He rubbed it very gently and she climaxed. He had to hold her
with one hand whilst the other moved up and down inside her white
teddy bear knickers fetching her off.
Angela had still not returned when he had totally finished and Claire
was sitting down. He thanked his lucky stars, drank his coffee
quickly and then left without saying another word. He was horrified
at what he had done. Almost worse, he too had come in his pants as he
moved his fingers over her clitty. Her mother must have seen him come
for he had visibly shaken and tensed, he was sure she must have seen
but she had said nothing. He was confused.
Then he dashed back inside and picked up his jacket which he had left
on the back of his chair. This time he said good-bye to the women,
for Angela was back from the loo now, gave Claire a quick kiss on the
lips and fled. Back in his car he checked the money in his wallet, it
was all there. He put his wallet in his back pocket and then took it
out again and checked his credit cards. They were too. Relieved he
went home.
* * *
Again his prick did over time as he wanked and when he fucked Evelyn
on a Friday she became Claire and thus much more interesting. He
always saw her as he had last seen Claire, sitting at the table in a
blue blouson style shower-proof jacket, a blue pleated school skirt,
white blouse, white ankle socks and black Start-rite shoes. The oval
of her face pierced with bright blue eyes and framed by blonde
pigtails turned him on as no other thought could.
Then by chance he met her again six months later.
He was driving along after going to a 'French House Fair' in Hastings,
when he saw a girl tramping along the road in heavy rain not far from
Eastbourne. He recognised Claire immediately for she was dressed
exactly as before except that the white socks were now blue tights and
looked soaking wet.
He pulled into the side and called her over.
"Hello Claire, do you remember me, Tom? We met a couple of times at
McDonald's."
She giggled. "Yes," she said almost inaudibly, "You kissed my
bottom."
He laughed. "Yes I did. I kissed it better. And I liked doing to.
Can I do it again?"
She went a little quiet, so he changed the subject, "I stopped because
you look wet. Can I give you a lift home? Then your mummy would not
be worried."
"She'd be worried if I got in with you. I'm not allowed to."
"You look awfully wet."
"I am. Even my knickers are wet." She replied in mournful voice that
Tom realised meant that she was close to tears. He turned up the
heating in the car.
He opened the door but said nothing. After a short pause, she got in
and sat on the front seat. Tom leant over her and pulled the door to.
As he moved back he heard a familiar noise: kissing sounds. He leant
towards her and her tiny arms wrapped themselves around his neck and
her thin lips gave him a big kiss.
His prick burst out from under the elastic of his underpants but
luckily not out of his trousers though he was afraid that even that
might happen.
As he came up for breath, he found himself staring straight at her
crotch. She had teddy bear knickers on again, this time to hold her
tights up. His cock started to hurt.
When he got there, Jane answered the door and invited him in.
She stared at her daughter and shouted, "And where the hell have you
been? I have been worried sick. I 'phoned the school four times and
I've been out searching the roads."
"She got lost and I found her walking along the main road. She's
soaked to the skin and tells me that even her knickers are wet."
That broke the ice: Jane laughed. "And I'll bet you checked that one
out with care didn't you?" she quipped.
He coloured. "Yes," he admitted, remembering the softness of that
plump vulva through the damp material, "and I made her take them off
so that the car seat did not get wet."
"Pull the other leg. It's got bells on it," she retorted acidly but
then she added in a more friendly tone, "Would you like a coffee?"
"Please."
"Well in that case take her upstairs and change her clothes and coffee
and biscuits will be down here waiting for you in about twenty
minutes. Oh! And don't leave any wet stains on her clean clothes."
His mouth dropped open. He did not know what to say. He froze.
"Well I owe you more than you know," she added, "So go and have a
little gentle fun. Show him the way Claire and look after him. He
needs you more than he knows."
And with that a small hand found his and led him up the stairs.
"I'm glad you came back to us," Claire piped up. "I was sorry when
you ran off last time. Mummy wanted to talk to you but you just ran
away."
He put his arm around her shoulders and cuddled her only to find that
she really was wet. So he sat her up and pulled down the zip of her
jacket, undid and removed her blouse and finally took off her skirt to
reveal her in a vest only. She had her teddy bear pants in her left
hand and, to his inexperienced eye, she looked frail.
Suddenly she pulled the vest over her head and he saw her nipples
again for the second time. His eyes took in every bit of her spare,
now totally naked, body.
He could easily have touched her but he froze again. He had never
been so close to a little girl with nothing on and never in such a
setting. It was perfect. All he had to do was to stretch out and he
could touch any bit of her he wanted to but he did not want to. He
knew now that he truly loved Claire and could not harm her despite an
erection made painful by there not being enough room in his pants for
his now huge cock.
She went to the wardrobe and pulled out a long blue dress with light
blue and white flowers on it.
The performance that followed had to be seen to be believed. At first
he thought that she needed some help but then he realised that she was
playing around. She laid the dress out on her bed next to him and
smoothed it down, just as her mother would have done he supposed, then
she went to a drawer and selected a pair of plain white baggy little
girl pants which she put on the bed on the other side of him.
He stared at her. Her bones stuck out just as they were supposed to
but her bottom was so smooth and plump that he could not help stroking
it. He was ever so gentle. He was so careful not to spook her. And
she for her part stood absolutely still for as long as he moved his
hand over her tiny body.
He was totally lost in delight and thus it was not until he looked up
that he realised that she was looking round at him with a look of
expectancy. Then he realised what he was thinking of doing and got
hastily to his feet.
"Put your dress on and then come down," he said rather sharply.
Jane realised quickly what must have happened as he galloped down the
stairs.
"Well?" she asked, "How did it go?"
"I must have been stupid ever to go up there with her. I don't go
round attacking little girls. I love Claire. To me she's the
daughter I've never had. I could never do her any harm. All I want
is to stroke her and cuddle her and protect her. I don't really want
to fuck her though I admit that she turns me on."
Jane gave him a very funny look.
"Oh well then," she said in an offhand sort of way. "Your coffee is on
the kitchen table. Go in and sit down whilst I go and get Claire but
don't run away this time as you did on each of the previous three
times that we've talked. I want you to meet someone; someone that you
know but not properly." And with that she went upstairs.
Tom watched her go. That she was going for Claire was obvious but why
and what had she meant by running away three times? Then he realised.
It was true, he had run away, he admitted that even to himself, but
only twice. Then a nagging feeling came back but he thrust into the
recesses of his mind telling himself that it was wishful thinking.
Dalton in Furness was three hundred miles away.
Then his mobile phone rang.
He answered it and just seemed to repeat the word yes ten or twenty
times without seeming to take any real part in the conversation. Then
he clicked the machine shut and looked up. Facing him were Jane and
Claire.
"What's wrong?" Jane asked. "You look as if you've seen a ghost?"
"I don't know," he replied hesitantly. "The police want to see me at
home as soon as possible. They were quite insistent that they would
only tell me why when I got there and not before. I must go."
Jane shut the hall door firmly. "Not until I have said my piece." She
almost shouted, "I've waited too long for this and I am not letting
you go now."
"I … I …" he stammered but stopped.
"No Tom," she interrupted in a voice so serious that he stopped dead
in his hesitant tracks. "I have waited seven years for this. Come
here Claire. I want you to meet Tom, Claire."
"But I've met him, mum," she replied in a surprised voice.
"Yes, I know, dear, but this man is your daddy."
Tom sat down in the chair behind him with a thump.
"I am the fourteen year old girl that you fucked over an old
gravestone at Dalton in Furness seven years ago. I am Jane Andrews.
Where the hell did you go? I've been looking for you for five years,
ever since I was sixteen."
Claire's face changed from slightly bored to that sort of totally
amazed expression that only a little girl child with curly blonde hair
can have. Then when her mother stopped speaking she launched herself
in his direction and grabbed for him. Tom was not expecting her, so
she basically landed on his lap and then slid straight off again in
such a way that her skirt ended up around her waist. Tom
instinctively grabbed her to stop her falling which meant that he
ended up with his hands round her crotch which, as she was still
knickerless, he enjoyed.
Finally she got her arms around his neck and kissed him
enthusiastically several times, whilst yelling repeatedly, "Daddy, oh
Daddy, I love you."
"And I love you too, Claire," he replied, "And don't worry, I will see
you a lot more often now."
He looked up to see Jane looking, almost hopelessly, at him. "Do I
get a look in all this fondling of fannies," she asked. "No one has
fondled mine since you did. I want my due. Understand?"
He nodded.
"Don't worry I'll be back in a few days and then I'll fondle both your
fannies quite willingly. I really will, but I must go, the policeman,
no policewoman, was most insistent. I can't think what has happened.
I must go. I…"
Jane shut him up with a kiss, a big kiss, a real woman's kiss, unlike
the pecks that Evelyn gave him, and a quick fondle of his crotch. He
started to ooze precum, he could feel it rising but knew that he had
to go. He cursed the woman that had phoned.
"Don't worry, everything will turn out alright but give me your
address and telephone numbers," Jane insisted.
An hour later he got home to find two police officers waiting for him.
Once he was sat down they told him that his wife had been killed in a
road accident that she had caused by overtaking another vehicle on a
blind bend at about 100 miles per hour in pouring rain on a road that
was bordered by high hedges and shadowed by trees. There was no
question that it was her fault but as the other driver had suffered no
more than a good shaking there would be no recriminations.
They then told a tale that he found unbelievable. She seemed to have
been in a very bad temper. She had driven like a maniac all the way
from Manchester, collecting 4 speed tickets, two tickets for light
jumping and a complaint that she'd threatened restaurant staff with a
knife at Watford Gap Service Station. They also suggested that the
cause of this might be a request for her detention by the Greater
Manchester Police for trying to bigamously marry an elderly man the
day before.
Finally Tom got a word in. "What time did she die?" he asked.
"Five to nine this morning, on the A21."
Tom looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was six fifty five.
She had died nine hours ago. "And when did you learn of her death?"
he asked.
"Just before nine thirty, I believe."
"Isn't nine hours rather a long time to leave it before telling me?"
"Well actually it was eight and a half hours but, yes, I agree, it is
a long time but we were asked by CID to carry out some enquiries
before reporting to you and that took most of that time. They want to
see you in two days time at nine o'clock here and have asked me to ask
you to dig out any documents that you can find that relate to your
wife … please."
He nodded and they then went on to brief him on procedure and to ask
him to do certain things, the next day if possible. He agreed.
Lastly they suggested that he contact his solicitor and when he told
them that he did not have one, they suggested that he go to Carsten
and Hale in the High Street. He agreed. Then one of them added, "Ask
for Mr. Carsten himself, he's a good criminal lawyer, and tell his
secretary that Sergeant Plant suggested him."
The next day he saw the bank manager, notified various businesses that
she was dead and finally went to the undertakers, who rang the police.
Surprisingly the Police were prepared to release the body immediately
so the undertaker rang the Crematorium. They had a space on Friday
but not again for two weeks. Two days seemed a bit short but why not?
He opted for Friday.
Mr Clarke, the undertaker, asked politely if two days was really a
long enough time for him to notify everyone who needed to know and he
said yes without hesitation for he had, as far as he knew, no one but
the next door neighbours to notify.
The next day two fraud squad officers appeared as arranged at nine
o'clock prompt.
Their first question threw him.
"Do you know where your wife's address book is, Mr Brown?" DC Taylor
asked.
"She always took it with her, I think."
"It was not on her when we found her and it was certainly not in
either her fiancé's house or the hotel room that she occupied the
night before, so we think that it must be here."
Tom thought for a moment and then said, "Then it is probably in one of
her desk drawers. Though I have no idea which for I've never been in
them, she always kept them locked."
"Locked?"
"Yes sergeant, locked. I have no idea what's in them. She used to
sit at her desk and work for hours on end. 'Working from home' she
called it. I called it avoiding me but then that is how our marriage
was. We lived separate lives in the same house. We slept in the same
bed and had sex every Friday and that was it. I never even found out
what my wife did at work or who she worked for."
The conversation then turned from the address book to his wife and how
often she was away from home. Tom listed all the occasions when she
was away for more than one month and then all other absences. He was
a pedantic man, so all that sort of thing had been noted in his diary
ever since he was eighteen. He had recorded where she had been for
every day of their 35 year marriage. This was to prove very important
later, for curiously, she had never lied to him about where she was
going.
His first shock though came when they discussed bank accounts. He
explained that he banked with Natwest and her with Barclays. He added
that she might have a savings account as well and then they looked at
his statements before telling him that she had three accounts at
Barclays, all of them in joint names and with a lot of money in them.
The biggest shock though was in her drawer. It was not the list of
names of her other 'husbands', all of which were named Brown, but a
part used packet of contraceptive pills with a use-by-date of just ten
years previously. He had held them up to the Sergeant and said, "What
the hell would a woman of sixty seven have needed these for?"
The man smiled as he replied, "Oh, I don't know. She just might have
needed them. Some women on the pill remain fertile quite late into
their fifties."
"She was sixty seven then."
"No, Mr. Brown. She lied to you about that. She was actually ten
years younger than she told you; she was fifty seven at that time."
"The Bitch!" he screamed, "She accused me of being to blame for us not
having kids and all the bloody time she was on the bloody pill, the
fucking cow!"
"I'm sorry," said the sergeant, "I should have told you earlier but it
never came up."
"No, it's alright," Tom replied, "I never really liked her. It was
just that when she asked me to marry her, I was twenty and had never
really been out with any woman but her. So I accepted and got some of
the sex I craved. The rest remained do-it-your-self. I was stupid
really but in many ways it suited both of us. We were both loners, so
we ended up being alone in the house with her. Even alone in bed
though we slept together. What does the song say? 'All the doors are
closed at night.'"
The detectives left.
On Tuesday afternoon, his dreams came true. The door bell rang to
reveal Jane and Claire both standing on the step each with a suitcase
in hand. He was still in his dressing gown, so she did not stand on
ceremony.
"I saw this in the paper this morning," she said, waving the Brighton
Argus in his face. "Why didn't you ring me? It must have been
terrible. You need some help, so we've come." And with that she
pushed passed him and plonked her case down on the hall floor. She
was followed directly by Claire who managed to copy her actions
perfectly; something that always annoyed Jane but which only amused
both her and Tom this time.
For a moment the air hung tense between Jane and her man. It was, of
course, Claire who broke the ice. She threw herself at him and
grasped him round the waist from the side, pushing the door closed as
she did so. Tom fell back against the door. Claire saved herself
from falling by grabbing his robe with her left hand. Her right one
ended up firmly wrapped around his cock.
Jane almost died laughing.
Claire noted seriously, "Oooh. It's hard." Then she kissed it better
on the top.
As she did so, Jane pushed her to one side and bent forward in front
of him. He stared almost uncomprehending for about ten seconds at the
almost bare backside that was on offer to him as Jane pulled the
string of her thong to one side. Then he plunged into her wet fanny
with a deeply satisfied, "Aaaargh!"
Less than two minutes later he came to a crashing climax as Claire
squeezed his balls enquiringly in wonderment.
Jane led him silently into the kitchen and pushed him into a chair.
Luckily he was sufficiently untidy that there were enough cups and a
half full jar of Nescafe on the side for her to make two cups of
coffee. She found the milk and some Coke in the fridge.
Claire, however, managed to top the whole scene by lying back in the
only comfortable chair in the room and masturbating herself to a
fairly comprehensive climax and then when she had finished, she threw
herself on Tom with a cry of, "Fuck me, daddy. Fuck your little girl.
Do me like you just did mummy."
Her wish though was not granted, for instead her mother's hand landed
firmly on her almost bare backside and her stern voice demanded,
"Where the hell are your knickers?"
Claire slid off Tom and slumped in a heap on the floor, her expression
one of pure pout, sulk and hate.
"She … she put something in … in my pocket as you came in." he
stammered and with much shuffling around produced a pair of teddy-bear
knickers.
As he looked for them, Jane took the whole scene in. Her daughter was
sitting cross legged on the floor in a yellow skirt so short that
everything she had to offer was on full view. Tom was slumped in a
chair, clearly worn out, but with his manhood still standing out like
it belonged to a much younger man and she was standing facing him with
her mini round her waist but surprisingly with her thong in place.
She started to laugh as she pushed her skirt down.
"Get up, Tom," she said, "and we'll go upstairs with our coffee. She
can go to bed for an hour; she's overwrought."
Claire wanted to object but this time Tom picked her up and spanked
her bottom. It was a rather gentle spanking which caused Jane to
wonder if perhaps it had more to do with him wanting to touch her than
with chastisement. However, it did keep his pecker up as the girl
panted noisily to yet another climax. Then Tom tucked under his arm
and carried her upside-down upstairs to bed. Jane heard him say
sternly, "That's your bedroom. Now you just stay there whilst I talk
to your mum and then I'll look after you." Jane was not sure quite
what to make of this statement but she could guess.
She took the coffee upstairs and got into bed, minus her skirt.
Tom took his dressing gown off and joined her.
She started talking immediately. "I'm sorry we were so early Tom.
Claire's school starts at eight, continental day they call it, so I
collect several kids and take them to school. Anyhow when I got there
Jenny, another mum, had this morning's Argus with that article in it.
So I come straight here: after packing a case each that is. I hope
you don't mind, so soon after your wife died."
Tom looked at her in astonishment. "Does it look as if I mind?" he
said, "I always knew that I never loved the woman but now I realise
that I never even really liked her."
Jane giggled. "O.K. then," she continued, "then perhaps you might
like to sign this form."
Tom looked surprised and as he started to read it he burst into hoots
of laughter. It was a form for a marriage licence. Jane's face fell
but it soon lifted when he asked, "Will you marry me, Jane?"
"Not unless you ask properly," she retorted; at which he leapt out of
bed and proposed on his knees.
Once she had accepted he flung the bedclothes on the floor, grabbed
her feet and shoved her legs up high above her head and then drove his
dick into her waiting fanny with an urgency that he'd never before
felt. As it was the second time that he had made love that day he
took much longer than before to come. She came violently for the
second time that day but not quite as strongly as he did. Neither of
them noticed Claire watching. They would have been quite surprised at
how expertly she wanked herself off at the sight: her tiny hand moving
back and to over her clit until she too brought herself to a climax.
When they had finished Jane turned serious. "Tom," she said, "I have
to tell you something."
"O.K." he said taking a bite at a nipple. She smacked his hand. "No.
Stop that. This is important too."
He sat up, folded his arms and looked so serious that she burst into a
fit of giggles. "Please be serious, Tom. This matters to me."
"O.K."
"I was a foundling baby. I was found aged two days in a toilet on
Oxford Street in Moss Side, Manchester on 1st February 1983 which is
why my birthday's on 30th January. I've no idea who my mother is or
where I was born. I grew up in childrens' homes until I was sixteen
when I left school with eight As and two A+s at GCSE. I was then
placed in a Council Flat here in Polegate, next to a school with a
nursery where I studied for A level. And I'm still in that flat."
"How many A levels did you get?"
"Four and two AS. All As."
"And you didn't go to University?"
"No money."
"Well you can now. I will send you if I have to pay every penny
myself."
She hugged him and then ran them a bath. Tom had never felt better.
Two days later they married by special licence. They talked to the
detectives again about the times that Evelyn's absences from home with
an emphasis on the period from 5th May 1982 to 3rd February 1983, the
one really long absence. Tom explained that she'd nursed her married
sister in Manchester and had telephoned every day. She'd not, he
insisted, left him for another man, but also said that he did not
understand why she had married four men before him and that she'd
always rung him everyday when she was away. The sergeant said that
he'd check that and Tom thought no more of it. Two days later the
sergeant rang to say that what he said had checked out, she had rung
every day and that it had enabled them to trace her steps through all
her absences.
The next Tuesday, they went to see Bill Carsten, the lawyer, again.
"Sit down." Carsten said brusquely. "I have quite a lot of news for
you two, some good, some bad. First, I have come to an agreement with
the lawyers of the other 'husbands' to allocated whatever monies are
in joint accounts to the man whose name appears on that account and
any that are in your name only or her name only go to you, Tom."
"That's just the three in Brighton, I suppose."
"Oh no! No, No, Tom. There are more than that. Indeed it's your all
too obvious naivety that's prevented the police from charging you as
an accessory. Plus the fact that they found no documentation for the
five accounts in your sole name anywhere in your house but they have
made some pretty searching enquiries into why the banks accepted her
word that she had enduring power of attorney for you; but got nowhere.
There are also five accounts in your joint names other than the one
that you use.
"We've settled that you are the legal husband on the basis of 35 years
cohabitation even including the nine months that she was in Manchester
in 1982/3 with James Brown, who was to marry her because she was
having his child but who repudiated her just before the birth when he
realised that she must have been two months pregnant when he met her
but she collected £200 000 in cash from him nevertheless and that is
still missing.
"Also we had, I repeat had, no idea what became of the baby. She
stopped for a four days in a hotel on Oxford Road in Moss Side using
an address in Nantwich, Cheshire. During this time she gave birth
with a doctor and two nurses in attendance. She left two days later
and proved untraceable. A baby girl was found in a ladies toilet
nearby on the day she left. Her mother was never found, so she was
named Jane Andrews after the woman that found her. Her DNA is
peculiarly like yours Tom and from the timings, based on your diaries,
that girl was probably your child.
"Now we come to the money. I have a court order to consolidate your
holdings and have arranged to transfer the lot to your account with
Crédit Agricole in Lôches. I hope that such is to your liking."
Tom looked shocked. "Why?" he gasped.
"Because you and Jane are going to live there, where no one will ever
know that she's related to you. I have booked Up-and-Off House
Removals to move you and they will cross by ferry in four days time.
You will, I seriously hope, leave tomorrow. Here are the tickets."
He pushed them across the desk. "If you stay here then the police
will be forced by the present climate of public opinion to prosecute
you for something you cannot help."
"But what will we live on?"
"I imagine on the interest on the slightly over two million euros that
I transferred to France for you and the profits from the sale of your
house here, which I will handle. You speak perfectly good French Tom
and so does Jane."
Tom turned to her. "You do?"
"A+ at A-level." She replied.
"Send her to the Université Fançois Rabelais at Tours, Tom. It's a
good university and good luck."
The next evening they left in Tom's car. He booked a cabin and they
settled down to sleep for the four hour crossing. Then, just as he
was dosing off, a little body got into bed with him. Claire, unlike
Jane, was small enough to fit in the bunk beside him.
Ten minutes later Jane knew that Claire had got what she wanted. Tom
later told her that Claire had stripped down to her vest and had
seemed to doze off with her bottom touching his stomach. He'd tried
to turn over but couldn't without pushing her out, by which time his
prick was touching her crack. She'd sighed contentedly as it touched
her and then pushed down. His arm had pulled her to him and he had
dreamt of a sensation that was tighter than anything he had ever known
but still soft and sensuous.
When Jane whipped the duvet off them in the morning, with a brisk,
"Wakey, wakey, rise and shine!" she found them still cuddled up and
fast asleep. She could see from the expressions that they had both
found what they wanted. Claire had a daddy and Tom had a daughter
that he really loved.
Whether he ever fucked Claire would be at the behest of fate which
only time would tell. She knew that he hadn't yet and Claire was
obviously much happier just for being in his arms. It wouldn't matter
much either way. Claire loved her daddy!
Jane was happy too, for she had a husband that she loved and two
parents. Her mother was a bit iffy but then at least she now knew who
she was. Their set up was a bit odd but it seemed fated. That her
husband was her father was an accident of fate that could almost be
ignored though it would add a degree of spice in the years to come for
she had already discovered that he really got going when she called
him 'daddy'.