Naked Came the Stranger - By Penelope Ashe Page 0,52

didn't get his attention, she sighed. With the sigh she brought his hands together in front of her and allowed the knuckles to rest against her breasts. Paddy stopped thinking of the room.

"I can feel your strength going through me," she said, pressing his hands harder against her breasts.

"Oh, missus, Agnes…."

"More," she said, unfolding his hands and placing the palms against her breasts. "More."

His hands were gnarled and stumpy, hands that had been broken and repaired countless times. She rubbed her long fingers over the twisted hands, and Paddy gently rubbed his hands against her breasts. Finally. Gillian sat up.

"I have to feel free." she said. "Undo me."

She lifted the top of her jersey and pointed out the three clips that held the bra in place. Paddy loosened two of them, but the third was more than a match for fingers that had grown thick and suddenly clumsy. Finally he put his hand between her back and the elastic and gave a short tug. The bra was in his hand then and he looked at it wonderingly.

"Not too fast, honey," Gillian said.

But the hands that had seemed so inexpressive a moment earlier were now strong and full of purpose. The protest died in her throat. Paddy lifted her. His left hand grabbed out, covered all of her right breast and part of the other and his right hand grabbed at the top of her beige slacks and ripped them down in one yank. He pulled them off and left them in a tired wad at the foot of the couch.

Then he lifted her up. He looked down at his possession for a moment, and Gillian assumed the glance was one of admiration. However, there were no words to reinforce her belief. Paddy carried her across the room and with his foot pushed open the bedroom door. This time there was no gentleness. He threw her body onto the large double bed. Gillian's initial fear was being replaced by another emotion, an emotion that was becoming increasingly familiar to her. Anticipation of the inevitable. And now she felt a need to hurry it along, to help him get where he wanted to be. To her small surprise, she found herself more than ready for him, eager for him, eager for him to pack some of that muscle into her.

Gillian reached up to his belt and tried to undo it, but he slapped her hand away. Wild-eyed now, Paddy tore his clothes off and fell upon Gillian, hardly giving her time to raise her legs and receive him in comfort. Paddy snorted and gasped. His body strained and convulsed. Then, in seconds, he subsided and, as he subsided, he breathed a low groan from his diaphragm and fell prostrate upon her.

"Oh, come on lover, come on." Gillian could wait no longer. She felt she might climax before he even entered her if he delayed much longer. "Put it in. For Christ's sake, put it in."

Paddy was weeping.

"It was in," he whimpered. "It's all over. It's… all over now."

Gillian sat up and touched herself and discovered that Paddy was as good as his word. He had been in and, dammit, it was all over. She shook her head in disbelief.

"Let me look," Gillian said. She grabbed at Paddy, at the shriveled remnant of his brief passion. She found it and held it firmly between her thumb and forefinger.

Nothing in her past experience, even her recent past experience, had prepared her for the object which she now encountered. Her first reaction was near to awe.

"Someone short-changed you," she said. "You're muscle everywhere, everywhere but here."

Paddy looked away then, and tears rolled down his face onto the embroidered coverlet. Gillian was in an experimental mood. She stretched the tiny member to its full length, and it seemed to shrink even more in embarrassment. She toyed with it, coaxed it, managed to extend it as much as it could be extended – and even then it would have fit nicely into a … what? A thimble, she decided.

The humor of the moment finally overcame her frustration. And she laughed. How could one hope to destroy a marriage that was held together by such a fragile link? She couldn't control the laughter then, and she threw back her head and her body was heaving and her breasts were undulating with each round of laughter.

But Paddy was still crying.

"Please don't laugh," he said finally. "Don't you laugh. Agnes was the only one, she never laughed. Agnes says that