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by Cristiano Caffieri
Mary McCabe could best be described as a Mother Hen. She took in strays, well not strays exactly but three male workmates shared her little house in Belfast. There was Andrejs from Latvia, Chris from the Philippines and Walter, who nobody was quite sure about.
Even in her white coat splattered with chicken guts you could tell she had a great figure. Add to this a mop of red hair, green eyes and a lilting accent and you had a typical Irish beauty.
Life in Mary’s house was very joyful, well it was until young Walter returned from a medical appointment with a sorrowful look on his face. He flopped down on the chair that day and told them that the specialist said he had just weeks to live. Smoking, drinking and junk food had caught up with him and he was only twenty four.
Walter, who at last admitted he owed his origins to a London public toilet, where his mother had abandoned him when he was a baby, said they were the only family he’d ever had.
“I’ll have to rely on you to dispose of my remains,” he told them, “I have five hundred pounds saved up so you can use that and if there’s any leftover you can have a few beers on me.”
None of them had ever had the responsibility of disposing of anyone before but they tearfully nodded their heads in agreement.
“Where would you like to be buried,” Andy asked, with his chin trembling and a tear trickling down one cheek.
Walter said that when he was nine the orphanage where he lived in London took a trip to Westminster Abbey. “It’s a beautiful church,” he said, “They bury the people under the floor and other people can look at you and take photographs I don’t know if it’s possible but I’d sure like to be buried in a place like that.”
“Don’t you worry,” Chris piped up, as though he was a personal friend of the Royal Family, “I’m sure it can be arranged.”
Mary, who was now sniffling into her handkerchief managed to sob, “Have you any other requests.”
“I know this sounds silly,” Walter replied, “But I’m 24 years old and I’ve never had sex with a woman, it doesn’t seem right to die a virgin – does it?”
“Good god,” Andy exclaimed, “A fine looking man like you and you’ve never actually had a piece of tail?”
“I wanted to save myself for the right woman.”
“Big mistake,” said Andy, “But don’t worry I’ll go through my little black book and make a few phone calls. I’ll have you fixed up in no time.”
There was a somber mood in the house for the next couple of days. Andy sat at the phone furiously phoning all his contacts asking them if they’d do him a favor and sleep with his friend. He did not have much success.
His contacts covered everything from a dumb blond to an expectant grandmother. And the replies ranged from, “And I suppose you want to watch you perverted bastard,” to a simple, “Why don’t you go and fuck yourself.”
In the end Andy has to admit defeat. He then tried taking Walter to a bar, after coaching him on how to pick up a hot woman. Walter’s clumsy efforts lead to a fight breaking out and Andy, trying to protect his sick friend, ended up with a broken nose.
In the wake of Andy’s failure, Chris, with no experience of picking up prostitutes, decided that might be the only way out. His efforts to find one ended up with him being arrested and his friends paying his bail.
Later that same evening, after Walter had gone to bed, Mary, and the other two guys sat to have a few drinks. Andy seemed to be in deep thought but after a few minutes he chirped up.
“Mary, you’ve always made it a rule that there was to be no hanky-panky in this house. I think I can truly say that I have always treated you with respect and so has my friend here, and of course Walter. However, in the circumstances I think…”
“Stop right there,” interrupted Mary, “I don’t like where this conversation is going.”
Chris just looked from one to the other trying to figure out the gist of their discussion.
“The poor bastard’s dying,” pleaded Andy, “You’re a woman of the world, surely just a one more fuck wouldn’t hurt – would it?”
“We’re not talking about a game of cards here, we’re talking about something personal, something that can only be shared by two people in love.”
“Really? I’ve never thought of it that way.”
“Because you’re a vile insensitive man who only wants to satisfy his primeval urges.”
“I have to admit – that’s part of it.”
“Part of it – that’s all of it – you look at every woman as if her vagina is some kind of toy, created for you to play with.”
“I never had a toy when I was growing up,” said Chris wandering off the subject, “We were too poor.”
“We know Chris, you lived in a thatched hut with nine siblings, two roosters and you never had enough to eat. But we’re not discussing conditions in the third world at the moment we’re talking about my honor. Something that means a lot to me.”
“And it will mean a lot to Walter,” said Andy, with a wistful look on his face, “Just think that lucky little bugger will have his first experience with one of the most beautiful women in Ireland.”
“You are so full of shit,” yelled Mary, and guzzling the remainder of her drink she took off to her room.
After sleeping on it Mary decided that maybe she could make the sacrifice. She told Andy the next day as they were gutting chickens together.
When the little group got home that night she sent Andy and Chris out for some fish and chips and a movie. Then she just walked into Walter’s room and took all her clothes off.
The poor guy was spell bound, he thought it was the most beautiful sight he ever seen, with the possible exception of Westminster Abbey.
“I think you should probably take your clothes off as well Walter because I’m going to give you the best fuck a man ever had,” she paused, as he quickly slipped of his pants revealing an enormous big schlong, already erect and ready for business.
“Has any one ever sucked you cock before?” she asked.
“I once spent a week on a farm in the country and …”
“I don’t think I want to hear about that,” she interrupted, and dropping to her knees she slipped her luscious Irish lips down his shaft. Walter took one hell of a deep breath and closed his eyes.
Taking it way into her throat and maneuvering her tongue around it, she worked up and down it until his whole body started to tremble. Usually she didn’t take it in the mouth but for this poor little bastard she decided to make an exception. It tasted better than she expected and so she milked the whole lot out of him and swallowed it.
When it was over he innocently asked if he could kiss her ‘thing’. She really wasn’t counting on him attempting foreplay but she was beginning to feel a bit horny and so she lay down on the bed and opened her legs.
He stood there for a moment admiring it before kneeling before her and timidly placing his face between her thighs. When his tongue touched her pussy lips it sent an electric shock throughout her body. And once he got a taste of it he couldn’t seem to get enough. He licked it up the sides and down the middle, and he did it so gently she was starting to moan and getting more than anxious to cum.
It happened when the tip of his tongue made contact with her clit and everything suddenly exploded. Her body shook as though she was on a vibrating bed and now she was desperate to feel that big cock of his sliding inside of her.
“Put it in,” she cried, “Put it in.”
Walter climbed on board and rammed that over-sized salami right into her twat.
“Holy god,” she yelled, and grabbed onto his ass as he started to thrust it in and out of her well lubricated crack.
He wasn’t quite as gentle as he was before and he was crashing against her pubic bone like a sledge hammer. As he continued to pound her pussy Walter’s temperature was rising and his balls were beginning to tingle.
When he felt is cum moving up like a seminal tsunami he started to yell and so did she. Even though he pumped every drop he’d got into her love canal he couldn’t stop driving it in and out. Eventually she patted his ass and said, “Walter, I think that’s enough.”
When they others returned Mary was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a coffee.
“Well – how did it go?” asked Andy, sitting across from her anxiously wanting to know all the gory details.
“He was great,” she said, dreamy eyed, “It was amazing – that’s all I can say – it was amazing.”
Andy looked a bit taken a back. He couldn’t remember when any of his conquests described him as amazing.
Chris inquired where Walter was and Mary said he had fallen asleep and was still in his room. When he went to check on him he ran back into the kitchen screaming, “He’s dead!”
“O shit – I killed him – I killed him” screamed Mary.
“I should be so lucky,” said Andy with a glazed look on his face.
After a short service at the crematorium, where they all whistled Walter’s favorite tune together, they arranged to pick up the ashes in a couple of days. Andy took a couple of hours off work to look after that.
Even though Chris was unable to persuade the authorities to let them arrange Walter’s burial in the Abbey he did have an alternative plan. It took a couple of months for them to get the money together for their trip to England, then they caught the ferry to Holyhead and then took a train to London. After booking into a cheap hotel they quickly caught a cab to the Abbey.
Chris was carrying the ashes in a sock tucked in his pants pocket. As they took on the appearance of a group of history buffs reading all the grave stones, he began to release Walters remains. Trying to look as innocent as possible, he just dribbled them a little bit at a time over some cracks in the old stone floor. Then he bent down as if to tie his shoe lace and quickly scraped them into a sizable cavity.
On the station platform the next day, having fulfilled a dying friend’s wishes, the three were waiting for the train to Holyhead. At one point Mary became a little dizzy and had to sit down. Chris asked if she was OK to which she replied,
“Yeh – I’m OK but I’ve got to expect this sort thing now I’m pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” chorused Chris and Andy.
“Pregnant,” she smiled.
Andy managed to stammer “You mean….?”
“Yes it’s Walter’s”.
“My god this means we’re both going to be uncles,” shouted Andy, giving her a big hug. “We’re going to be uncles.” THE END
Copyright 2015 Cristiano Caffieri