Doubtful Bride

Doubtful Bride

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


On the eve of her wedding a young bride to be is having serious doubts about whether she is doing the right thing. A chance meeting with an old flame only serves to increase her uncertainty.


On the eve of her wedding a young bride to be is having serious doubts about whether she is doing the right thing. A chance meeting with an old flame only serves to increase her uncertainty.


Submitted: November 26, 2012

A A A | A A A


Submitted: November 26, 2012



Sexy bride

Could you do me a favour Phillip please, and take this wage packet round to Alf Hollinsworth's house and get someone to sign for it. Mother and me have to go out early.” my Dad had said, not knowing the simple request would kick off one the craziest experiences of my life. Alf was an excavator driver for the construction company Dad worked as office manager for.

No problem,” I told him, wondering why the name Alf Hollinsworth seemed significant.

It was Friday night, my usual night out drinking with the boys, Saturday was for copping off at the dance hall for those who did not have a girlfriend, so I expected to be heading for the pub about eight thirty. Most of us still lived with our parents and young people tended to in those days, the idea that we should sacrifice our fun years as soon as we were in regular employment in order to 'get on the mortgage ladder' had not caught on. To me the words mortgage ladder have always conjured up images of a kind of treadmill. The ladder reached into the sky and infinity and each time you stepped up a rung the one below disappeared so once on there was no getting off.

My late teens and early twenties arrived a decade before the mortgage ladder however, in that all to brief golden age when the social revolution of the nineteen sixties had jerked us out of the era of master and servant mentalities and repressive religion and the establishment had not yet figured out a way to reassert control.

Well that's how it was for young people like me anyway, the affluent and well educated. Lower down the social scale, but not much lower, the old morals and traditions still held on. Among the working class a lad would expect to go into the same trade as his Dad and often the same factory, and work there most if not all of his life and for the girls the only aim was to catch a 'steady sort of boy' with 'good prospects', which meant a secure job, and get a ring on her finger before her man got any further than a hand inside her bra.

Westattley, the town we lived in, had two parts; our side was urban sprawl, newish developments that had sprung up as the conurbation of Manchester spread outwards, swallowing old coal mining and textile industry towns in the process. Alf Hollinsworth lived in the old coal and cotton town, neat terraced houses that provided no frills homes. As I walked to town my route would take me close to his house.

Alf's house, I could picture it by then. Clean, well maintained because like so many construction workers Alf had picked up the basic skills of several trades, a small conservatory, and the self built extension that had provided an extra bedroom and upstairs bathroom.

I also remembered with fondness the little porch where I had kissed Shirley Hollinsworth goodnight two or three times a week for almost six months, hoping to one night invited through the front door, on up the stairs and all the way to the gates of heaven. The era of sexual liberation had not reached down to the working class at that stage and Shirley had been brought up to believe nice girls don't, at least until there has been talk of engagement rings and wedding plans have been discussed. And so, three and a half years before our love had run aground, beached on the shoals of social difference.

There had been no contact since, we were very different people and the new town did not mix much with the old town. It crossed my mind that I might see her; petite, with her pretty, inquisitive face framed by its dark hair and her hazel eyes by thick dark lashes, would she perhaps be looking older and worn out, with a snotty little kid hanging round her neck. No sense worrying, we had not ended on bad terms but rather drifted apart so there need be no embarrassment.

It was a good thing I felt so easy about seeing Shirley, it was she who answered my knock on the door.

Hello Phil,” she said, “Fancy you coming round tonight of all nights.”

You're … um … you're looking great, I brought your Dad's wage packet round, can you sign for it please?” I handed her the book Dad had left for me. “So what's special about tonight?”

I'm getting married tomorrow.”

Wow, congratulations. Anyone I know?”

She gave me a brief biography of her boyfriend, I did not know him but it would be impolite not to show interest.”

Are you looking forward to married life?” I asked

Do you want the polite answer or the honest one?”

You have doubts? I think there is nothing unusual in that, it's a big step, a leap into the dark.”

We started to talk, what worried Shirley was that her boyfriend Andy had changed after they became engaged, started making decisions about how their lives would be, she had to give up work he had told her, no wife of his was going out to work, people would think he could not look after his family. I recalled Shirley had been an office worker in one of the newer businesses in town a soft drinks company. It was easy to see how she felt there was a problem, Andy was a coal miner, his Dad and Granddad had been coal miners, his mother came from a mining family too. The coal mining communities tend to be people apart.

As soon as I had expressed sympathy and made the right noises to assure her everything would work out I said it was time to leave.

Must you,” she said, “I'm on my own tonight, Dad has gone on Andy's stag party and Mum is at bingo and will go to the club to meet up with Dad after. And I really need to talk to somebody.”

We had been standing in the small hallway at the bottom of the stairs, now I took her elbow and guided her to sit on the bottom step, dropping myself down beside her.

We could go out for a drink, it would be more comfortable,” I said.

“You know Phil, from somebody who is supposed to be clever that is a really stupid idea. Going out drinking with an ex boyfriend the night before my wedding in a town full of gossips like this. I'd have to be mad.” She laughed.

“Sorry, wasn't thinking,” I said.

“Well at least you made me laugh, I haven't been doing much of that recently. If you want a drink we've plenty in, people will be coming here tomorrow between the church do and the evening reception at the club.”

“A beer later maybe,” I said. “You seem really troubled. Are you sure you are doing the right thing”

She shrugged and sighed. “How did I ever let you go Phil. I've often daydreamed about meeting you and being able to tell you how often I think of you.”

Where would I start on that one. The sex barrier? I was intimately acquainted with her nipples but had never managed to get my hand inside her knickers. Probably not a good idea to mention that, nor would it be good to remind her she had thought I was vain and stuck up.

“Well there was the small point that I fancied myself as a James Bond type, thirtyish, sophisticated, with women falling at my feet.”

“And I was a straight laced little virgin?”

“A very attractive little virgin. And I was nineteen, hard up and naive. Really. I always thought you were great but I was not ready for marriage, not then. And I'm still not.”

“And I thought it was the only thing I wanted and now I find I'm not either.”

She laughed again but this time it was a bitter, humourless laugh.

“You don't have to do it Shirley, if you feel this bad.”

“And what am I going to do, are you saying you'll run away with me?”

“Don't tempt me, you would hate me inside a month.”

“Better than hating myself and my life.”

I suggested she pretend she was ill or something, buy some time and I would try to think of a way out. Shirley thought that idea was as bad as going to the pub with an ex boyfriend. We talked around various ways she might delay things but it was too late in the day.

Somewhere in the exchange my arm had crept round her shoulder and hers round my waist. And we were kissing, gently and comfortingly at first as I tried to salve her raging emotions then with more passion. Then I was kissing the Shirley I had known, tongues working, hands caressing .

She raised her arms and draped them round my neck so that I could feel her small, form boobies pressing against me. It seemed like an invitation and without a conscious effort my hands moved up and enclosed the two mounds. Shirley drew in her breath sharply. The kisses became stronger, tongues probed more deeply. Putting one arm around her back to draw he closer I moved the other down and then up inside the thin sweater she was wearing and with a well practised move unhooked her brassiere.

Pulling my lips away from her for a moment I said, “Do you really want to do this.”

I'd forgotten how good kissing you felt, yes Phil, I want to do this. I should have done it three years ago,” she said fumbling with the buttons of my shirt as my fingers found the hardened button of her nipple. We were still sitting on the stairs and now as I shrugged out of my jacket and let it fall the two steps to the floor we lay back to let our bodies get closer. Shirley pulled her sweater over her head and slid the unhooked bra off her arms. Lying on wooden steps ought to be uncomfortable but neither of us was paying attention to comfort.

Why did we not do this Phil, I was so hot for you, did you not know?”

Lots of reasons, like finding somewhere to be alone. It's only by luck that I came round tonight when you are alone ...”

And feeling sorry for myself?”

If you say so.” Now she was naked to the waist, I had never seen so much of her before. My hands caressed and gently squeezed her boobs while rolling and flicking the nipples between my busy fingers. Then, arching my back as far as possible to get my mouth to the right level I set my tongue to work, rolling the tip around each hard bud in turn as I sucked gently. Elsewhere my hand was cupping the mound of venus and feeling the heat being generated under her pale pink panties. Shirley was ready for me.

Right now Phil I feel better about myself than I have in ages. Do it.” She spoke between gasping breaths.

What if someone comes ...”

Then being shamed I'll have to run away with you.”

I did not know whether it was lust or desperation talking but she had pulled down the zip of my jeans and was fumbling inside. I was not in need of arousal and we had probably both passed the point of no return. As my hands hoisted her skirt up to her hips she pushed her tights and panties down, arching her back to let them pass the hard wooden step that must have been sticking in her back. I saw for the first time the dark triangle of hair that had filled my fantasies on so many frustrated nights and caught to sweet, musky scent of her arousal.

Then she was pushing my jeans down past my knees and I shook one leg free.

My fingers explored the triangle of hair and felt beads of viscous moistness along the neat seam of her love lips. She opened to the pressure of my fingers and I found the third pleasure bud, the concealed one. She sighed as my fingers caressed around either side of it, exerting the kind of gentle pressure I knew worked so well.

Shirley had taken hold of my prick and was doing very pleasurable things. She was not an expert but had an instinctive touch.

Licking her ear which was now close to my mouth I said, “Fair warning, do you really want to do this?”

Forget tomorrow, she said, tonight is the last night of my life.”

Spreading her a little wider I pulled Shirley's slim body on top of me and with no effort at all we were joined. She was in control, it had seemed gentlemanly to take the position that would put the stairs in my back, but we managed to find a rhythm and move together, to complement each other and gain a deep penetration as we kissed, nuzzled and nibbled and whispered the sexiest gibberish imaginable to each other.

She said to me, “My quim is on fire, you bastard, what did you have to come round tonight for, now for the rest of my life I will know what I missed.”

Look at it this way, at least you will not die wondering. Shirley, I was there for the taking, but you can't climb up and pick the high fruit if you insist on keeping your knees together.”

Bastard. For that you are going to have to perform again before I let you go.”

I can handle that. Oh for fuck's sake, how did I let you slip between my fingers.”

You were too impatient to wait while I found the nerve to reach up for the high fruit,” she said.

Noticing that a sheen of sweat was forming between the boobies that were bouncing in front of me I pulled her body towards my mouth, stretched my neck up and licked it, tasting the sweet saltiness of her.

By then our rhythm was quickening, my thrusts were getting shorter and harder and she was stretching her legs wider as her hips rose and fell above mine. Words were replaced by grunts and we drove each other to climax, me slightly ahead.

It was no problem staying fully aroused for another minute until she caught up and a Richter scale orgasm shook her body. Then Shirley collapsed, head on my chest, gasping and giggling. I let go too, deflated quickly and felt completely drained.

Was it good for you then?” I asked flippantly, adding “the offer is still open, I'll hide you in my room tonight and tomorrow we can have an embarrassing breakfast as we try to explain things to my family before catching the first available train to anywhere.” And at that time I really meant it though I had no idea where we would go or how we would live.

You're too late Phil. Why weren't you here three months ago, a month ago even. I felt as if I was on a train and nobody would help me get off.”

I thought that if she had lain naked in my arms three years ago things might have been different but I was lying to myself, I had only been nineteen then, full of crazy plans and wanderlust, she was eighteen and we had both been too young to commit, probably still were.

We lay still for a while, talked in whispers, she cried a little and berated me for being an immature, irresponsible idiot because now I had made sure she would always know what she was missing in her passionless marriage bed and also set up another torture because she would always wonder if things could have worked had she run away with me on the eve of her wedding.

I thought it had all turned out like the story in one of those old folk songs, where the randy knight snatches the bride as she is on her way to the wedding and rides off with her to his castle. If only I'd had a castle but where can you get one these days, there isn't a castle shop in any town I know. We talked rubbish like that for a while then I asked if her threat to make me perform again had been genuine because it was half past nine.

Shirley lifted herself off me, grabbed a couple of beers from the kitchen and then my hand as she passed on her way upstairs. Shirley started to drag me towards her bedroom. I hooked an arm around her thigh and gave her a love bite on the bottom.

She squealed, “What are you doing idiot, how am I supposed to explain that tomorrow night?”

Tell him you were running downstairs, slipped and banged your bum on the edge of the step.”

And the step would leave tooth marks would it?”

Let's grab your stuff and do a runner then?”

Don't be stupid.” She started to pull me upstairs again and into her small bedroom, a typical girl's room with floral wallpaper, posters of pop stars and romantic landscapes on the wall and a dressing table full of make up, perfumes, creams and lotions, hairbrushes, jewellery and female things.

The second time, as always, was less urgent, less hungry, slower, better. Time was limited but I tried to do enough to suggest to her there was much more pleasure to be had from me. This time I was on top, controlling the pace and I went slowly, gliding into and out of her with languid strokes as I caressed her thighs, breasts and the soft, smooth skin between her lower ribs and hips. Shirley responded as before, I guessed what she had been used to had not been very fulfilling for her but my ego was secure enough and her responses to me articulate enough to make affirmation of my triumph in this area superfluous, the little squeals of joy, the faraway look in her eyes, they way her lips, flushed red, were slightly parted told me more than words could. Afterwards we lay, holding each other, sipping warm beer and saying things we ought to have said when we were dating. We had both been too young to understand our feelings but our wanting still to say those things meant we both should have tried harder to understand the other, been more patient in my case, more adventurous in hers.

Having stayed like that for only a few minutes it came as a shock when we started to hear drunken voices in the street outside.

Bollocks, it must be closing time,” Shirley jumped up and looked at the clock. “Phil, it's gone eleven, what have we been doing for an hour? Mum and Dad could be here any minute, we have to get dressed.”

We bother gathered our clothes which were scattered around the small bedroom and started to pull them on hastily.

I was halfway downstairs when Shirley, ahead of me, held up her arm to tell me to stop.

Mum and Auntie Doreen are outside talking. Lucky Dad isn't with them. Go out the back, when she comes in. I'll get her sat down in the front room and put the kitchen light on when it's clear for you to go down the front path. Make sure nobody is about before you go out onto the street.

I grabbed my jacket which was hanging over the newel post and headed for the kitchen. Shirley unlocked the door and said “When you hear her come in sneak out but don't leave the garden until I put the light on.”

I took her face in both hands, kissed her and said, “You know where I live, I'll wait for you in the morning, if you haven't turned up by two o'clock I'll know you have gone over to the dark side. I love you Shirley, see you tomorrow I hope.”

I love you Phil but it's too late, I'd be letting too many people down.”

I kissed her again and then we heard a key rattle in the front door. Shirley shot of into the main room to emerge a second later in the hallway, I heard her say “Oh, hi Mum. I must have been dozing in front of the television, go and sit down and I'll make some tea.”

Dozing, you look as if you have been dragged through a hedge,” Mrs. Hollinsworth said. Thinking of the mess we had made of her hair and the smudged mascara I had to bite my finger to stop myself laughing. As soon as thy went into the lounge it was time to slip quietly out of the back door. A minute later Shirley put the kitchen light on. Seeing she was looking out through the window I blew her a kiss and mouthed “Tomorrow.”

She laughed, returned the kiss and waved me away.

The next time I saw Shirley was four years later. I had been away two years, first in India on the hippy trail then in Australia. Before deciding to see the world I had leaned to drive an excavator of all things knowing those guys could get work almost anywhere. Returning with money in the bank and an Australian girlfriend on my arm I was spending a few weeks with my folks while deciding what to do next.

Rachel was at the hairdressers leaving me free to wander round town and enjoy the nostalgia. For a few seconds the girl who said “hello” as if really pleased to see me did not register. She looked older, worn, disappointed with life, her clothes were shabby and the child in the buggy she pushed was clean and well looked after but poorly dressed.

Shirley, great to see you,” I said just before my hesitation became embarrassing, “It looks as if you are well settled into married life.”

She laughed, that dry, bitter laugh I had heard before. “Well I suppose I'm still married legally Phil.” Seeing my questioning look she told me the whole story, her boyfriend Andy, had changed very quickly after the honeymoon. He went drinking with his mates, she stayed at home. On Saturdays he watched football with his friends, on Sundays he went fishing. And Shirley stayed at home. He earned good money so why did I need to work, he bullied her into giving up the job because in his family a woman's place was at home.

It was not so much a marriage as a prison sentence Phil,” she said.

Shit, her marriage had been falling apart before I left Britain. I thought of that Saturday I had waited in until two p.m., sitting near the window in the hope of seeing her walking along the avenue with her life packed in a holdall. But would life with me have simply been a different prison. Four years later I still did not feel ready to settle down.

We talked for a while, I congratulated her on becoming a mother and said it looked as if Andy had not wasted much time in that department. She gave me a look I could not read in response. I described my travels but in a subdued way, her life had obviously not been full of fun and NDwild adventures.

When Shirley told me how she had to get out of her relationship and her life had fallen apart after she had, it prompted such an enormous surge of guilt I wanted to run away with her again. Mr and Mrs Hollinsworth had taken the news of their daughter's marriage collapsing within two years very badly and she'd had minimal support from the family. First she had gone into a hostel for homeless people and then a small flat in a rough area.

My mother knew I'd had someone in that night we … you know. She's still disgusted with me.”

Why didn't you go to see my parents, they could have got in touch with me, I would have helped.”

Oh yeah, a scruffy little bird with a kid turns up and says she needs to get in touch with Phillip urgently. They going to phone you and say “Don't come home son, stay out of the country.”

You should try to think better of people.”

I'll try, when someone gives me a reason to. How long are you here for and what are you doing next?”

A few weeks, I haven't decided what's next yet.”

It would be really nice if we could see each other while you're here.”

Yeah, um, the problem is I'm with somebody, an Australian girl who fancied coming over to see a bit of England.”

I see, sorry. If our paths keep crossing every few years we might meet when we're both available sometime.”

I'm sorry too. Give me you address and when I get the chance ...” She recited her address and finding a pen in my pocket I wrote it on my hand.

You're little girl is lovely, what's her name?”

Jasmine, beautiful flower, not so beautiful life.”

I squatted down to talk to the child. “Hello Jasmine, I'm Uncle Phil,” She looked at me suspiciously. To her mother I said, “Cute little thing, she has her mother's looks.”

Shirley said, “Yes, but she's got your eyes don't you think?”


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