THE LEGEND: With enduring legends there is more than one version and there are claims that each version is the correct one. The cartoon 'Kilroy was here' emerged as a symbol of a super hero for US troops during World War 11. Whenever military personnel arrived in a sticky situation they would find, so it was said, that Kilroy had already been there, paving the way. As one report states about the Kilroy phrase: 'It was often accompanied with the image of a face with a long nose and two big round eyes with small dot eyeballs peeking over a wall or a line representing a wall. Everything else, except sometimes his fingers gripping the top of the wall, was hidden behind the wall itself.'

ONE

Veronica Ross was born in the late 1950s and a cheeky cartoon - Kilroy was Here - hung over her cot. She was, of course, not up to reading at that stage but in later years her maternal grandmother told her about the cartoon when the young girl asked about her deceased parents, Bob and Betty-Lou. Initially the disclosures were part fact, part fiction but when Veronica turned eighteen Grandmother Rose, believing she was on her deathbed, told Veronica the truth.

Veronica's father Bob stormed into the house carrying a shotgun one dark stormy night when he was supposed to be on night shift and killed Betty-Lou and her lover Mason Kilroy as they lay in bed; he then killed himself. Veronica, still not a year old, became the ward of her maternal grandparents.

At the age of 20 Veronica, a former teen Beauty Queen, married the high school hero of her class, Seymour Barrington, who became a hack sports reporter on the Cable Creek Echo and Veronica became a receptionist for a law firm, and there they stuck - not much in love, keeping their heads above water financially and managing to buy a new house thanks to a hefty bank loan. They were like thousands of other couples except they were without children. There were problems and no solutions: Veronica wanted to adopt; Seymour didn't; Seymour suggested vitro-fertilization but unfortunately it was not successful so that was that.

Late at night Veronica occasionally had very realistic dreams about her mother and they 'talked' and she found comfort in that. The dreams began on the eve of Veronica's 16th birthday and she knew it was her mother because Betty-Lou told her she was. Betty-Lou finally came through at her baby's darkest hour when Veronica was copying with the finality of knowing she'd never have a baby.

TWO

Tired of weeping, sick of watching crappy late-night TV on this lonely Friday night Veronica padded to the kitchen to make a sandwich, wishing Seymour had not gone away for two nights with the football team for the play-off final. The kitchen lights were on and there waiting for her was a chicken sandwich and mug of hot chocolate. A stranger was sitting at the table. "Hi," said Veronica, knowing the doors and windows were securely locked. But she also sensed this wasn't an ordinary intrusion.

Are you Mason Kilroy?" Mason nodded. "Yep, your mom sent me, and she was right. She said you'd be smart enough to guess who I was although you've never seen me, not even as a photo." "But she described you to me several times, as grandma had done - curly brown hair, green eyes, quite handsome with a dimple under your left cheek. Mom even told me I'd know you when I saw you.

Sorry I never got to know you." "Or her, really." "Quite." Mason looked serious. "Are you angry I was responsible for you becoming an orphan as an infant? If you are, I'll disappear immediately." "No, I've long accepted what happened and mom has told me many times she truly loved you whereas dad was a stuffed-shirt moron." "She said that?" "Yes, aren't you two communicating?"

"Well yes, but only when we are together. But she never talks to me about her relationship with you - she still feels so bad about what she did to you. But now she can make amends." "Really, how's that?" "She's send me to impregnate you." Veronica choked on her sandwich.

"Shyte!" "Quite," Mason said solemnly. "Drink up and then get ready." "What for?" "We're going out to get revved up; you wouldn't want me humping you stone cold sober - you wouldn't have the nerve to go through with it." "Er…" "Quite." "Wear your tight silk dress, garter belt and stockings, no bra or panties. You mother says that is my fetish."

"And still is?" "Oh yes." "God, I think I'm getting wet already." "Then let's get a move on, huh!" "I've never gone out without wearing knickers, but must admit I've come home without them a few times, especially prior to marriage." "What young woman doesn't?" "I wouldn't know. You stay here, I don't want you watching me dressing as it could be embarrassing." "Nothing compared with what we'll be doing in a few hours time."

"God, tell me about it. No - don't!" Seymour who looked 24, the age he was when he died, drove them to their first watering hole in Veronica's battered Japanese compact. She noticed he didn't stop at red lights yet they never appeared in danger, nor did cops come chasing after them. When they were seated Seymour ordered a whisky and her favourite champagne cocktail.

That didn't surprise her but when he said to the waitress that the whisky was for his companion, Veronica blinked as she tended to only have a whisky late at night: then she realized it was late at night, very late indeed. "This is crap," said Seymour, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Want to swap drinks? They did. As he reached over he cupped one of her breasts and rolled his fingers over her nipple. "Hmm, very nice."

He then took the whisky replacing it with the cocktail while she fended off the urge to ask how her breast compared with her mother's. It was not fair to compromise the man like that. "Your tits are as good as your mother's and hers are really swell." "Thank you," she said, wondering if that had been an involuntary response or could he read her mind? "Involuntary, actually," he grinned. Oh, fuck me, she thought. He can read my mind and she watched fascinated as his grin changed up to a wolfish version. The bar room lights dimmed and the background music sweetened. "Like to dance?" Veronica looked at the tiny dance floor, tempted. "No thank you."

Seymour ignored her and taking her arm she just seemed to float up from her chair and on to the dance floor when he took her deeply into her arms. As they moved languorously to the foxtrot she could feel his hardness moving up and down over her lower belly - he only had to flex his knees at little and she'd feel it…and Veronica suddenly felt his cock at the entrance to her vagina.

A small orgasm danced through her lower body and registered in her brain. Wow, was this man hot! "Don't be mad at this but your mom is visiting Seymour tonight. The real purpose of being with him is to empower him into uplifting his game as a sports journalist - within six months he'll be a celebrity with you at his side.

The don't-get-mad bit is she'd also decided to teach him tonight to become a more considerate lover to you, adding variety and lifting your emotions to new heights." "That's excellent," Veronica said vaguely. "Can we go somewhere for a steak - I need to get my energy levels up.

THREE

Two hours later Seymour was thrusting in an out and slipping back into Veronica's vagina with gusto. She was screaming and almost ripping the sheets with her grip, sweat pouring off her as she thrashed about on her hands and knees. He called for a temporary halt, wiped her face with a towel and said, "This time, let it rip."

Seymour lay on his back and lifted her to straddle him. After holding his long cock steady for her to lower on to, he cupped her cheeks and helped Veronica build up momentum. As she heated up, moaning and almost sobbing, he removed one hand off her ass and began gently stroking the skin between her front and rear orifices.

"Aaaaaaagh!" screamed Veronica as he lifted up his head and bit her greatly enlarged nipple, painfully but not drawing blood. She could feel him pumping bursts of cum into her as she dumped two big releases, soaking his cock, balls thighs and the sheets.

"Fucking fantastic," she crowed, collapsing on to him. The last thing Veronica remembered that night was watching Seymour approach her carrying a small black box. He removed something from it and plugged it into the wall socket and then began wiping her outer labia with something smelling like methylated spirits. "Everything is okay, go to sleep," he said.

Veronica slept though all of Saturday, waking only to go to the bathroom and to change the sheets, thinking she must have been masturbating like crazy during the night. Sleepily grabbing a sandwich late afternoon she went back to sleep until dawn on Sunday.

She showered and then went about the house singing and at times skipping, something she hadn't done in years. Seymour arrived home mid-afternoon, looking exhausted, but still managed to make Veronica squeal with delight when he made a space on the kitchen table, ripped off her knickers and spreading her wide on the table licked her until she was screaming then plowed her like a veteran.

"God, you were brilliant," she said as they lay in the bath drinking a champagne cocktail. It's rare for you these days to hump me anywhere but in bed and then only in Missionary."

"True, but it's time we changed up a gear and returned fun to our sex. I really liked that and have something else in mind for later tonight." They kissed and Veronica said she thought he was lovely, something she'd not whispered into his ear for yonks.

They had late dinner after Seymour emailed the last of his reports and interviews from his football team. He said, "You know, although the team lost instead of the usual kick in the butt approach, I've lauded them like fallen heroes, acknowledging they gave their best - and even more.

Something's come over me. I think my game report and the interview of captain Peter Rossa are the two best pieces I've ever written." Seymour suddenly tensed. "Oh hell. Look darling, you're not going to like this but I have a confession to make. On Friday night…" But he couldn't complete what he has saying. Veronica had jumped up and pressing her breasts against his face was saying, "Darling, what you do on your trips out of town is your business. Let's rumble!"

FOUR

The old gynaecologist Dr Fred Shanks removed his gloves and eased Veronica out of the stirrups. "This is miraculous, Veronica, but you definitely are pregnant; Dr Moses was correct, as he always is." "Yes, and he couldn't believe it either. It happened I guess when Seymour came back from that football trip and wrote that report that won him a national award for the best report of the year about any team failing in its title bid.

He seemed to be reinvigorated and super sexy." "Oh Veronica, I see you've had a tattoo since I last examined you? " "No, there must be a mistake." "Another miracle?" said Dr Shanks grinning, putting on his glasses and bending over her vulva. "It's very small - these a tiny graphic and the words say, 'Kilroy were here'. "What have you been up to, Veronica!"

THE END