Exorcising Brian

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Paula Reardon, hot and bothered, placed the box into the open boot of her Honda hatchback. Most of the furniture was on its way, the rest tomorrow, and the house was half empty, and rather ghostly, now.

Tomorrow she’d be away from here. Away from the abrasive memories Brian the Bastard had left her. Set up and living with his French floozie, wasn’t he? He had been screwing her for months without Paula knowing. But, she should have guessed when his loveless demands on her lessened. Not that she had been getting much thrill out of their meagre moments over recent years.

Cool as you like, he had upped and admitted it all. Smilingly told her he was going to live with her in France. That’s when she’d endowed him with his perfect title, Brian the Bastard.

Paula walked back to the porch. Feeling hot sun on her back, she looked up at the front of the house. A beautiful house, she’d loved it when she was alone there. Yet it was so full of bad memories involving Brian the Bastard, she had felt like burning the place down. Then, lying in bed this morning she had thought of what would have been an ideal way of exorcising all the memories of him, from the house, from her mind, and yes, from her body. It had been an exciting thought, but obviously out of the question now. Deep down, for many reasons, she knew she’d be better off without him. He’d turned into a cruel, thoughtless prick. Good luck, Francoise, or whatever your name is.

Paula looked again at the boxes. Her most important stuff; her computer, containing much of her work, her books, various packs of old manuscripts she’d written. Things she didn’t want to trust to the removal men in case of loss or damage. It was a long trek to Devon. Now, having carried a couple of small boxes she had realised that some of the boxes were going to be too heavy for her. She stood there on the porch steps, hands on hips. Hot, and fed-up.

It was at that moment that a youngish looking man, in white T-shirt and light cotton pants, appeared on the drive, clutching a piece of paper.

Eric Harton wasn’t in too great a mood as he turned into the drive of his last call. Bloody Beryl was still doing his head in. Teasing bitch, letting him get all the way to stroking her pubes, but clenching her thighs when he tried to go further. It had been like that for weeks. Then, damn it, although he’d had the frustrations, she was the one to end it all. Said he wanted too much of her—didn’t respect her enough. Hell, he’d respected her for months.

Posting circulars was a boring part time job, but all the walking helped keep him in trim, and gave plenty of time for thinking. Yet Bloody Beryl was the last person he wanted to think about. Still, just two weeks until he started university. Plenty of women there.

This last house had no curtains at the windows, he noticed. The Honda Civic on the drive had it’s boot lid up and a woman appeared from behind it, walked up to the porch, stared up at the house, before standing there with her hands on her hips. The sun seemed to light up the thin yellow dress that clung to a neatly curvaceous figure. Some rich bitch. No doubt she’d stick her nose in the air at him. He held up the circular advertising a Pizza Palace—not her kind of dining, he bet.

Paula watched as the young man approached. Tall, dark haired, quite a handsome lad, looking too fit and strong to be performing menial tasks. His upper arms bulged tightly against the T shirt sleeves. She was suddenly aware that she was wearing nothing under her thin dress. Intending to shower, she’d stripped off. Then she’d realised she’d likely be all sweated up moving the boxes on such a hot day. Accordingly, she’d pulled this old dress over her naked body, and buttoned up. The man’s eyes, or were they boy’s eyes, were burning through the thin material, as he held out the paper to her. So why wasn’t she bothered? God, he was well built.

Eric felt compelled to say something as he handed over the circular. “Not your cup of tea, I guess.” Hell, she really was a looker. Blue eyes, high cheeks bones, full mouth, and long tawny hair, the colour of late corn. No, tawny like a tigress, because there was a prowling look in her eyes. He had to take a deep breath as his eyes lingered briefly on the curves thinly disguised by her tight dress. Really, she didn’t look like a stuck up bitch—but she probably was.

Paula could tell he was liking what he was seeing. Was it right to feel so good about that?. Glancing down at the boxes yet to be packed in the car she found herself saying, “I wonder, could you give me a hand here.” She felt only slightly nervous about asking.

Eric turned back. Having stepped down from the porch his eyes were level with her waist and he was sure that, with the gentle breeze pressing the dress material against her, there was just a hint of that magical triangle visible through the thin material. Collecting himself he looked up at her face, saw she was indicating a pile of crates.

Paula wrongly defined gaziemir escort his hesitation as reluctance. While making her request she was trying to guess his age. A manly body with a boyish face that was just reaching out for manhood. “I’m willing to pay for your time.”

What a good time to act noble, Eric thought, as he said, “No need for that. This won’t take long,” And he immediately hefted up the box that held her computer and, with a quick smile at her, he turned towards the car.

Paula, half enchanted by his pleasant smile, watched his shoulder muscles ripple beneath the shirt as he walked away. And those firm buttocks. God, what was wrong with her? This was a stranger, a complete stranger. But she couldn’t deny the physical ache deep in her belly. Engendered by long term celibacy, it had been there for months, buried, but occasionally craving attention. This appeared to be one of those occasions. Shaking her head, she picked up a smaller box, and carried it to where he was just turning back towards her.

Eric could see that the box the woman was carrying had pulled her dress taut across her breasts, and the nipples showed prominently. Hell, was she wearing anything under that dress? To disguise the lustful thoughts that came storming into his mind, he gave her what he hoped was a sweet smile and said, “Look, I’ll handle these. No point you getting all sweated up. You must have plenty to see to.”

Paula had noticed the first direction of his eyes. But he was being so considerate, she placed the box in the rear of the car and told him, “I’m just about ready.”

Eric disguised the grin that came with the thought, “Ready for what?” Oh, if only! And he watched the sway of her hips as she walked away and into the house. He got on with the task in hand. The last large box was the heaviest and he had to heave to get it suitably placed in the car. He slammed the lid down and turned back towards the porch. She was standing there, a grateful smile on her gorgeous face.

Paula had watched his final efforts with some interest. He was so good to watch, lightly tanned, muscular, but still a boy, she feared. All she was able to say as he approached her was, “Thank you so much. I’m very grateful.” But, almost unbidden, she added, “You must be hot. Could I offer you a cold beer?”

Eric could hardly contain his excitement but he was able to say, “If you’re having one.”

“Come on inside out of the sun,” Paula said, and almost on the same stroke she was chastising herself. What am I doing? Inviting a stranger into my house when I’m alone? But she turned and led him into the hall and through to the kitchen.

Eric followed, and heard her apologise for the state of the place. Certainly, the hallway was bare of furniture and there were no carpets on the floor, he noticed, when his eyes were not tracking the sway of her behind. The kitchen was large, richly appointed, with a table and two chairs in the centre. He sat on one of the chairs. and watched as she stooped at a fridge door. Eric could see the groove of her backside as she bent.

Paula was thankful that there were two cans of beer left in the fridge, and lucky to have kept two glasses back from the packing. There was no way she could have foreseen this. Hell, her hands were shaking. What was the matter with her? But she knew only too well, and was trying so hard to bury the feeling. She placed a can and glass in front of Eric.

“Like to pour your own?”

“Thanks,” Eric said, as she took the other chair opposite him. He could sense that she was uneasy as she fumbled to open her can. Was she actually frightened of him? He flipped his own can open, and poured the golden liquid down the inside of the glass to prevent frothing. Immediately he saw that she was not at all used to this particular activity. He watched her struggle with the tag and then stood up and said, “Let me,” flipped open the can and poured the beer carefully into her glass.

Paula could only sit there, her body tensing as he stood over her. Turning her head towards him her eyes were level with his crotch, and she took a deep intake of breath at the bulge there.

Mission accomplished, Eric returned to his seat and gulped at the beer gratefully. He hadn’t realised how thirsty he was. He saw her sip gingerly at the liquid. There was a slight film of perspiration on her brow. He felt bold enough to ask why she was moving.

Paula was glad of the opportunity to talk. It helped her relax. There was no reason why she should, but she told this stranger about Brian the Bastard. “Married when I was twenty two. Eight years of very dubious bliss.”

“Do you always call him that?”

“I only think of him with that title. And it was in my head long before he left.”

Eric, laughed at her openness and was delighted when she laughed with him. He had made the rapid calculation that she must be thirty two. She asked his name, and he told her.

Paula felt compelled to ask, karabağlar escort ” Is there a woman in your life?”

Eric was silent for only a moment, and then thought how open she had been with him, and burst into the whole sorry saga of bloody Beryl.

“She must be crazy!” The moment she said it, she knew she shouldn’t have.. She had revealed part of herself and he was staring at her.

Eric was thrilled by her reaction, but couldn’t think of anything to say for a moment. Then to ease the situation he asked what she did for a living.

Paula was relieved to change the subject, and told him she was a writer.

“Hey, that’s what I’m aiming for. I start University in a fortnight–want to get into journalism—-then see how that develops.”

She smiled, so he was turned eighteen. Somehow that eased her mind, yet that low ache seemed to flare, but she said, “I wish you well with that. Mine’s romantic fiction mainly—plenty of kissing but no sex.” For Paula the word seemed to hang in the air between them, and she felt awkward again. “You like writing?” she asked.

“I won a local essay competition last year.”

“Good for you.” Noticing he had finished his beer, she stood and reached for his glass. “Too much for me,” she said, taking both glasses to the sink.

As she leaned over for his glass, the front of her dress sagged, and briefly Eric was looking at the rousing curves of the valley between her breasts. There was a stirring in his pants. Standing, he picked up the empty cans from the table, “Where should these go?” he asked, thinking how she was being far too busy rinsing those glasses.

Paula knew she was being too deliberate with the washing up. Why had she become so nervous? Not because of the young man. It was because of the feelings bubbling up inside her. Feelings that she could not shake. But, as she turned to his question, her eyes could not avoid the added swelling at his crotch. And she knew she was gone.

Paula raised her hand to point at the bin, but her fingers touched his upper arm, and lingered there. She seemed to have lost control of her hand, as it traced down the muscles of his arm to mingled with his fingers. Helplessly Paula raised her eyes to look at him.

Eric stood absolutely transfixed. Was he misreading this? The touch on his arm had been like a charge of electricity. His cock felt totally restricted in his pants. He wanted to touch her. But he feared she might suddenly cry rape. As their eyes locked and he saw the clouding in hers, he knew for certain that wouldn’t be the case. His fingers closed gently around hers and he drew her slowly closer.

The moment she felt the pull of his hand, Paula stepped in to press herself against him, raising her face to receive his kiss. Instantly they were clinging together. Paula’s lips parted to welcome his tongue, while her thighs pressed to feel his hardness where she wanted it. Oh, she wanted it so badly. She was wildly aware of his hands searching frantically over the thinness of her dress. They stroked and squeezed her buttocks, tracing deeply into the crevice. That had her trembling.

Eric was overwhelmed by her eagerness to squirm against him. Their mouths meshing together with probing tongues was the natural progression, and the way she went on tiptoes, and wriggled her hips to have his bulge press between her thighs, left no doubt as to what she wanted. He happily followed her needs by squeezing at her buttocks. It roused him even more to have his fingers probe into her crack there. Christ, his balls were fit to burst. Rising passion gripped him. He shifted his mouth from hers, to kiss and tongue all over her face, to rage over her neck and her shoulders where the dress slipped away. He tried to get at her breasts but their bodies were clinging too closely. But at that moment she took a slight step away and her hands were wrestling at his belt.

It had to be this swift, Paula was sure. Edging backwards towards the table, she looked up at his startled face, as the belt loosened and her hands pushed at his pants and shorts, at the same time groping inside, eager to reach his erect penis. It took no seeking, within seconds she had her hands clasped around it, freeing it from the confines of the pants. Lovely to hear his groan of pleasure. God, it felt so good. Smooth, huge and demanding. She wanted to look at it to confirm its size, but she could only stroke and pull it gently to ensure he followed her. Breathing heavily she gasped as his hands floated over, then gently squeezed, her breasts, as her upper thighs struck the table, making the legs scrape over the floor. .

Her speed and directness in finding and freeing his cock had Eric almost bursting. Those delicate fingers clutching him made him feel he was hardening even more, and his balls felt swollen. But now, because she was moving back, his hands were able to reach her breasts. Despite his raging excitement, he tried to be gentle with them. They were exquisite kemalpaşa escort firm and rounded under the thin material. As he squeezed them more firmly the top button popped and his hand slid inside to savour the incredible smooth slope, and his fingers began to tickle at the swollen nipples. He felt Paula stop as she struck against the table and she began to lie back, one arm behind him, pulling him on, the other guiding his, now pounding, cock between her raised thighs.

“Now, Eric—Oh, please now.” Paula heard her own pleading voice without even framing the words deliberately. He leaned into and over her, as her fingers guided him to her soaked labia. Then he was in her, filling her, massive, a thick, warm pole, reaching up into her deepest core in one plunge. Had any penis ever been so fulfilling? Oh, how she had longed for this. Her legs wrapped around him. How good it was, how eagerly her vaginal walls drew at him. Drive me over the edge, Eric.

For Eric it had been all too sudden. One second his cock had been in her fingers, and then instantly it was coursing upwards into that wet, warm cavern where the walls seemed to be contracting to urge him on. He was looking down into her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth twisted in a kind of anguished expectation. Such elation was beyond his meagre experience. Desperately he tried to suppress the mounting pressure in his balls. He concentrated on the marvellous sensation of her naked breast under his hand. But with only a partial second stroke he felt himself erupting, pushing his spewing erection deep into her, making her sigh, as surge after surge poured into her.

Paula, enraptured by this immense penis inside her, longed for the piston action that would bring her to a final ecstasy. His hand caressing her left nipple added to her delight. Unaware at first, she was thrilled by his second lunge, before she sensed his penis pulsing and realised that he was voiding his seed inside her—all too quickly. She looked up to see his mouth agape, his head thrown back. A couple of thrusts of her own hips were a vain attempt to get more from his presence inside her. No avail. His weight pressed down on her and already she felt the swell of him subside.

As the thrill of having the best ejaculation he’d ever had faded, Eric began to realise that he had left Paula stranded. Too exciting, too much build up. As he felt his shrinking cock begin to slither down out of her, he raised his head, to look at her. Her lovely face looked crestfallen.

“I’ve let you down,” he said.

“It was good having you inside me.”

She was just being kind. Eric felt like a schoolboy who has just failed an important test.

Paula struggled to sit up, as his limp penis dropped out of her, and she pointed to the bench. “Pass me some of that kitchen roll, before your stuff leaks all over the kitchen table.”

She watched him pull back, saw the droplet on the end of his shrinking penis. So, she had begun the exorcism. This had been the extremely unlikely thought that had struck her in bed that morning. To cover all the bases where Brian the Bastard had used her body, expunge them from her memory. He’d taken her on the kitchen table back when they’d been in the early throes of passion. So he had now been replaced there—not wholly satisfactorily, but it had been good. Eric was a decent replacement. Now that she had crossed the barrier of her own inhibitions, could she now consider where else should be exorcised.

As Eric drew back to get the kitchen towel, he had a brief glimpse of the tawny triangle that he had just invaded. He handed over the kitchen towel and watched as she stood up, dabbing at herself down there. Then he wiped his own rebellious cock, before flopping onto a chair.

“Tired?” Paula asked, and Eric looked at the fascinating valley of her breasts where the button had come undone, and said, “No, just disappointed that I couldn’t give you some satisfaction.”

“Ah, but you did give me—-some,” Paula said, with a laugh, and was delighted to see him laugh back. Now she had to see where they might go from here.

“What are you thinking about me, Eric?”

Eric was only slightly confused, but he knew he could answer that one honestly. “When I first saw you I thought you were a high class lady. I still think that.”

Paula took a step, leaned down and kissed the top of his head. Bless him, even if he was just being tactful.

“I’ve never done anything like this in my whole life. Believe me. Brian the Bastard was only the third man I’d ever—” Be discreet, she told herself. “—-been with.”

“Then I’m lucky,” he sighed. “Pity I couldn’t be better.” His eyes were looking at her frankly. “Before Bloody Beryl I’ve only gone all the way with one girl and that was a pathetic quickie in a doorway after a party—quicker, and not nearly as good as what we’ve just done.”

Paula had made her mind up. Despite the passion of recent minutes, she still had that ache low down inside her. “Don’t worry about that. Only your second time—you’re going to be better next time.”

“Whenever that might be,” he moaned.

“What about in half an hour?

Eric felt his heart jump. What was she saying? She wanted to do it with him again? After his failure for her last time?

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