0 comments/  7464 views/  0 favorites

Exorcise

By: Ivy_Isley



Amy and Max enter the front door, laden with grocery bags and videos. It's dark and chilly. Max turns on lights, revealing pieces of the wide open floor plan with each. 

Flick – gleaming oak floors beneath a floating oak staircase. Flick – a large wooden dining room table under a hanging light. Flick, a sunken sitting area focused on a flagged stone fireplace. Flick – an open kitchen with a bar to sit at. The back wall of the room is made entirely of large plate glass windows that reach from the floor to the ceiling.

"It's forever wild back there. No one can develop it. It backs right on to the park" He says it casually as they put down their bags.

"It's a beautiful house!" 

"Yeah," Max sounds sad. Amy knows why. It's her house.

"She's an idiot," Amy says 

"It's just hard..." Max trails off.

"I know. Why did you agree to sit the place? I don't think I could handle it," 

"I'm still friends with her mom and brother. They wanted me to. Besides, it buys us a night alone together," Max is smiling down at her, trying to hide the hurt unsuccessfully.

Amy wraps her arms around his waist and pulls him in for a kiss. He returns it, warm but distracted. She makes idle chit chat: work, school, movies, friends. Max listens and responds but is a little distant. His replies come at a delay. 

They arrange their take out dinners on plates in the kitchen area and bring it over to the coffee table in the sitting area, picnic style. He pops in a silly movie that he'd wanted her to see. She retrieves the bottle of vodka and jug orange juice that he purchased with two glasses.

They eat and watch in silence. Neither of them are really paying much attention to it. Max's eyes catch on places around the open space. Amy's follow them. He's remembering, she thinks. She feels so sad for him. She knows exactly how he feels. Scooped out and hollow. Empty. Not real. 

It's written on his face as much as it is on hers. They seem to be the only ones that recognize it in each other. They both mention their friends' helpful comments ruefully. Max's least favorite is, "Still?" Amy's is "You're doing so well!" They agree that people can be really stupid sometimes.

Max mixes two drinks and hands one to her. He sips absently. He hasn't touched much of his food. He looks lost and far away. Amy takes a big gulp and decides she's going to make him feel better.

Amy pushes the coffee table back and kneels before him. Max starts to speak, probably to tell her she doesn't have to. He always says that. He is so kind. She shakes her head and smiles at him. 

Her hands glide up his thighs to his belt. She undoes the buckle deliberately. Slowly she unsnaps and unzips him, gingerly pulling everything down. He's completely hard, the anticipation was enough. 

Max shifts slightly to aid her progress but makes no other move. His hands are on either side of him; bracing himself. His breath comes fast and he shuts his eyes. 

Amy licks, playful and light, tracing the tip with her tongue. Her hand grazes his balls and he groans. She smiles and continues. She takes her time. 

She licks every inch without taking him entirely in her mouth, gently caressing with her hand all the while. She's learned by now that he likes to be teased. 

Max's hands grip the sofa cushions, twisting and kneading the upholstery. When she feels she's done enough preliminarily, she gobbles him up swiftly till he reaches the back of her throat. His body goes as rigid as his sex, poised for more. 

Max becomes more vocal. Complimenting, urging her on, he moans out "Oh God you're so good!" 

Amy sucks and licks with broad, forceful strokes. She's done teasing him and is settling to the task in earnest. Her head works up and down upon him furiously. In very little time her mouth fills with the hot, salty fluid as he yells out his last.

Amy rises from him with a little satisfied smile. She took his mind off it for a while, anyway. He looks spent, relaxed and grateful. This is first time the tension has left him since he picked her up tonight.

"Thank you. You didn't have to..." smiling down at her

"You never make me feel like I have to. It's not your style." Amy smiles back at him. 

"Can I do anything for you?"

"In a bit."

Max rearranges his clothes, zipping back up. Once he sits back down Amy gets up and kneels on the couch next to him, perched slightly above. She opens her arms to him and he leans in. 

He places his head on her breast and his arms wrap around her, clasping her to him. She strokes his hair and kisses the top of his head. They rock slowly together. 

The voices from the movie echo through the cavernous downstairs. They don't pay attention. Max's eyes are closed. Amy's are on his face, it's drawn with pain again. She comforts him as best she can. Its no more that what he's done for her. They've been consoling one another since they began this, whatever it is. They take turns.

Max's hands start to roam. His face turns up to hers and he smiles at her, leering a bit. He's ready for more. Amy smiles back, wickedly. 

He peels her shirt up off of her and tosses it lightly aside. She holds his gaze and takes off her bra, throwing it on top of the shirt he just dropped. His smile hasn't wavered and his face is still level with her breasts. He pulls her into him and suckles lightly, gently. 

Max's mouth is on one breast, sucking and pulling on her nipple lightly with his teeth. His hand is on the other handling her expertly, pinching, rolling, kneading. He sends chills shooting through her. His touch makes her arch her back and suck in her breath. The warm, familiar wetness is upon her. She spreads her knees apart, hoping he'll caress her. 

He stops and pulls her to her feet. He begins to undress and she follows suit. They stand before each other, completely naked. She moves in and kisses him. His lips are insistent, kissing her hard and taking her breath away. 

His hand pushes into the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. The other runs over the length of her body, up and down, front and back. Her skin feels sweetly burned with the impression of it. 

His skin feels soft over his hard body. She presses in to him, her breasts rub up against his chest, the sensitive nipples aching for him to touch her again. His rigid, thickness pokes into her belly, nudging her. 

Max takes Amy up in his arms; one arm under her back, one beneath her knees. She twines her arms around his neck and they kiss deeply and slowly. He lays her out on the couch and continues what he started.

Max kneels beside her, burning her up with his languid kisses. His hands are strong and large. They move confidently over her, spreading her legs apart. His fingers toy with her delicately, slow and light. 

She arches up moving with him to increase the speed and pressure. She is hungry for him and not in control of herself. He is far more self possessed although his arousal is obvious. 

He moves his hand downward, tickling her inner thigh with his fingertips and looks down at her, grinning. She lets out a little mew of disappointment.

"Something wrong?" Max's voice comes in a low rumble, the usual tone he adopts at these times. His smile is devilish, his eyes are warm.

"You're such a tease!" Amy pants out in an exasperated whisper.

"You seem to enjoy it," Het lets the tips of his fingers run slowly back up and just stops short, "but if you want me to stop..." Max trails off.

"Please don't stop, I need you," Amy moans it out.

"Alright," he resumes kissing and caressing her at the same time. Not as voraciously as the pace she tried to set but harder and faster than he was moments ago. She struggles not to rush him. She knows he likes to take his time, knows she likes it more when he does but it's very difficult to hold back in the moment. She thought she didn't have much left to learn. She was wrong.

His fingers slip from her clit down far inside of her and back up again; manipulating her with precision and strength. He keeps alternating, giving her clit most of the attention but thrusting deeper every time he moves downward into her. 

His fingers glide across her ever-increasing wetness. His lips slide down her neck to her breast, licking and sucking in time to his fingers. Every time he thrusts in to her, he sucks so hard, it almost hurts. Her body jolts with pleasure each time he does, locking and releasing involuntarily. 

"You know just how to touch me," Amy moans out to him. 

He stops and moves up to her lips, giving her a gentle kiss. "Thank you." His voice is soft and grateful. He smiles down at her, sweetly 

"Please don't stop." she whispers quickly. 

Max's smile turns impish again and he resumes to her great relief. All too soon she is coming, she's been coming all along, she realizes, she's just reached the point where it's too much clitoral stimulation. She wants him inside her now. He stops and gazes down at her, satisfied with his work. 

"Do you need a min..."

"Fuck me!" she cuts him off and pulls him toward her.

Max laughs softly and kisses her, matching her urgency. One hand rummages for the condom in his discarded pants, the other parts her soothingly. He stops to put it on and then rises above her. 

He enters her slowly, deliberately and she cries out pulling him into her. The friction is scrumptious. He spreads her open and withdraws again and again. Calling his name she thrusts up and hurries the pace. This time he does not stop her but pushes into her hard, matching her rhythm. He's let the rein slip on his control and strokes in and out of her, powerfully, concerned as much with his own pleasure as hers. 

She contracts up against him, feeling her climax build again, deeper, more full bodied than the first. Her blood pounds in every inch of her as she grips and releases him deep inside herself. With a final thrust he moans out and falls upon her exhausted. 

After a time he pushes up off of her, looking down at her, smiling fondly. She smiles back.

"We missed the movie," Amy teases.

"That seems to happen a lot when you're around, not that I'm complaining."

They get up and clean off. They laugh as they search all over the room for clothing that was flung away in the moment. 

"How did that end up over there?" she asks, embarrassed that she has to walk naked halfway across the open and unfamiliar room.

"Well, you see, I was removing it when..." Max begins in his professorial tone. He's staring at her.

"Oh, shut up, I know how," she giggles shyly, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I enjoy the view. Why are you covering up?" he asks, seriously.

"I don't know," she mumbles, blushing. She's not so comfortable in her own skin when there is a lack of action anymore. She's shy with him. She doesn't know why but she is. 

She starts to pull her panties on hurriedly and scrambles for her shirt. She keeps dressing but he doesn't. He just scoops up his clothes and their bags.

"Well, I'm going to bed. I'm awfully tired."

"Aren't you going to get dressed?"

"Why? I don't like to sleep with clothes on and you don't seem to either."

"Good point." She whips the shirt off, shimmies out of her panties and gathers her clothes. He smiles approvingly and heads toward the floating staircase. She follows.

"I'm glad I don't have to take you home at two, we can actually sleep together the whole night."

A little shock trickles through her, like ice water springing up from her belly. It's what she had been thinking since he suggested it. She dared not say it for fear of scaring him off. She's surprised and pleased that he said it.

He leads her to a dark room near the staircase and flicks on the lights.

"Oh God! Not another waterbed." She groans and laughs at the same time. She's been a good sport about the one at his house but she never really liked it.

"Waterbeds are great!" he says, dropping their things on the floor at the end of it.

"It's hard to get, uh, traction." she counters, slyly.

"You seem to manage just fine," he purrs, slipping up behind her. His arms twine up and around her. His hands cup her breasts, tugging and twisting the nipples. His lips are on her neck, languid and wet. 

Amy pulls in a sharp breath of surprise and delight. Max continues to kiss her and one of his hands moves downward, gently exploring the slick flesh. She raises her arm above her head, like a ballerina, to stroke the hair on the back of his neck.

"Are you ready again?" she asks, incredulous and breathy.

"No, but you are." he breathes the words out warmly on the back of her neck and resumes kissing her.

His fingers move across her and inside of her dexterously. He's not teasing this time, he's fast and deep and she's grateful that he can read what she needs so well. 

His thumb rubs her clit wildly as his forefingers plunge in and out of her. Her other arm slides up and she links her hands behind his neck, reclining back into him, swimming in sensation. 

"Oh God!" she whimpers in a high pitch, coming again. 

Her legs buckle and he catches her up as she falters, laughing softly, "You ok?"

"Much better than ok," she exhales, standing back up.

He embraces her, kissing her neck and walks her over to the bed, lifting the covers for her. Once she's in, he climbs in beside her and holds her snugly, rocking her slightly. 

She molds her body to his cozily on her side, pillowing her head on his chest. She looks up at him, he smiles drowsily and gives her a soft kiss on the lips. 

"Go to sleep," Max murmurs.

Amy does, fitfully, aware of his presence. She shifts with him to remain in his arms. He wakes periodically to kiss her gently on the lips. 

At some point she decides she no longer wants to sleep and starts kissing him back in earnest. He responds, kissing her deeply, taking her breath away. 

Amy slips her hand down his chest and belly, reaching down for his already stiffening member. She plays with him, tugging gently but rapidly and soon he is fully aroused. He tries to reciprocate but she pushes his hands away. It's not his fingers she wants this time. 

With her other arm she pulls him around, trying to maneuver him on top of her. He complies without words and enters her swiftly. They usually aren't so careless but it seems so natural, inevitable. They move together rhythmically, slowly. 

Max's kisses move from her lips to her neck and he pumps in and out of her, deliberate and slow. Amy's legs rise up higher and higher with each thrust, grinding back into him, swiveling her hips to feel him all throughout her. She locks her legs around him and pushes back, squeezing him as tight as she can. 

She sucks on his neck and he keeps going. His delicious motion rocks her pelvis back and forth, making her come with gasping, gulping breaths and moans. He shudders to his climax as well, his body locking up tense and hard and then releasing into sweet softness and embraces.

"We seem to have forgotten something," he says, coyly.

"I'm on the pill," she replies, not concerned.

"But you usually want me to wear..."

"Yeah, I do but it was fine this time."

"Just fine."

"Much better than fine," she replies, squeezing him from within. He closes his eyes and shudders again.

Max withdraws from her and they resume their places in each other's arms. She cradled in the nook of his shoulder and chest, one arm around his belly. He with his lips against her head and his arms wrapped around her. They warm each other with their shared body heat. 

Amy drowses for a bit and wakes up an undetermined time later. They shifted into a spooning position at some point. He must have woken before her.

Max's hands are at her breasts and his lips are on the back of her neck. No words pass between them this time. None seem to be needed. His penis is poking rigidly into her buttock and she slides up along him, making him moan and pinch her nipples in return. 

He frees a hand and clasps her around the waist, drawing her tighter to him. She rocks her hips, moving against him for an exquisite interval while his fingers explore her again, rubbing her clit with precision and rapidity. The warm liquid sensation envelops her. 

Amy gently pushes him on to his back. Max moves his hands away from her aching breast and clit to position himself behind her, inside of her. She rides him atop and backwards, sliding up and down upon him. He fills her up and stretches her apart and it feels so good. 

His fingers return to their work, making her cry out and tense up around him, increasing their friction and pleasure. He is immobilized, she is in control of their motion and his moans tell her she's doing well. 

She rocks up and down, impaling herself upon him. From this position he reaches up so far inside. For a dizzying moment her body goes rigid with sensation and pleasure and then relaxes to feel him, still hard within her.

Amy pulls up off of him and he whimpers. She turns to face him and guides him back in to her, they can move together this way. She bends down to give him a penetrating kiss and at the same time grinds herself in a slow rotation. 

Max moans into her mouth and then pulls back, hands on her hips, grasping her. His hot sweet breath escalates, burning her skin as he rocks her back and forth, directing her, pulling her closer. She tightens up around him and he groans loud and long, wrapping his arms around her back. They fall away from each other and go back to sleep. 

This time when she wakes, feeble winter light is straining through the windows. She is slightly sore but a little hungry for more. She looks over at him. One arm is draped loosely around her shoulders, the other rests across his eyes. His chest rises and falls regularly, he is still asleep. 

Amy nuzzles his neck and kisses him there. His arm comes down to embrace her and he turns so they are lying face to face. He kisses her lips softly and looks at her bleary eyed.

"Good morning," Max says.

"Good morning," Amy replies.

"Sleep well?" he asks, coyly.

"Not at all," she laughs back and pulls him close to her, wriggling up on him suggestively.

"Oh my God, you're going to kill me," he laughs in disbelief but kisses her anyway. Their hands roam each other's bodies sleepily. She closes her eyes and buries her face in his chest, kissing him there. 

Max's large hands stroke her back and sides. He kisses her hair and they doze, caressing each other lazily. The smell of his skin and their sex fills her up. It is sweet and musky. Amy tilts her face up and kisses him, softly but exploring. 

His tongue meets hers delicately. They kiss and embrace and she feels the sticky warmth from her center as well as she can feel his hardness poking into her thigh. Gently he moves her on to her back and begins to make love to her again. 

There is a little pain but more than that, a warmth and a tenderness that makes her want to cry. His kisses and his movements within her are so kind and strong and careful with her, like the rest of him. 

This act is not so much carnal as comforting. Balm for her wounded spirit and at that moment she loves him for it. He finishes and withdraws from her.

"OK, um, this was amazing but it IS actually starting to hurt a little," Max says, sheepishly.

Amy bursts in to laughter, "I was thinking the same thing!" 

Max laughs with her and gives her a bear hug. "You make me laugh!" he says, joyfully.

"Gee thanks" she responds, smiling.

"You know what I mean." 

"I do. I love being with you." 

It's the closest she's come to saying she loves him. She's not sure how she feels about him long range, but she knows that right here and right now he's the one she wants to be with.

"I love being with you too," he replies, holding her fast again.

Exorcised by My Classmate



Author's Note: This story was requested by SmashKing on Hentai Foundry.



My story begins with this classmate of mine, a Japanese girl called Rin. She'd appeared in a few of my classes sometime around the middle of the semester, without any explanation. We'd never spoken, since she never stuck around after class long enough to, but I have to admit I'd stolen glances at her quite a few times whenever I'd get bored with the lectures.

She was-- well, simply put, she was gorgeous. She had this cute face with blue eyes, which I bet would look even cuter if she didn't seem so serious all the time. Obviously, she did a lot of exercise, judging by her fit body and her long, toned legs... She had her brown hair held up in this really long ponytail, which went all the way down to her ankles. Still, that wasn't even her most outstanding feature: no, she had those huge tits, the kind I wouldn't have been able to imagine on an Asian girl until I'd seen her.

Oh, by the way, my name is Dave, and I'm a college student, in case that wasn't already obvious. Sorry for not telling you earlier.

So one day, I was tiredly taking notes for a particularly boring class. It was already dark outside, and even though I hadn't had dinner yet, I was already considering going to sleep once I got to my dorm room. Maybe it was just the fatigue, but after a while I got the feeling Rin, who'd all but ignored me up until this day, had started stealing glances at me, instead of the other way around. She had this serious look she usually wore, giving me this impression she was quietly scolding me for looking like I could doze off any second now. This went on for a while...

...until suddenly, everything went black.

When I came to, it seemed I had been out for a long time, sleeping a restless sleep, judging by how numb I felt. To my surprise, I was lying on the bed in my own dorm room, and while it was dark outside, the lights were on, or wait, no...

"Oh, you're awake?"

Rin's voice, of all people's, immediately shook off my groggy feeling. I still felt numb, and had trouble moving my body, but I raised my head to see her. She was sitting right at my desk chair, wearing a strange outfit straight out of a magical girl anime... It reminded me of a French maid uniform, with a white and crimson red color scheme, all silks and frills, immaculately white gloves and stockings. Her maid headdress had a red rose pinned to it, her lips were coated in a flashy red lipstick, and she now wore her long brown hair untied. It, along with a set of thin red ribbons trailing from the back of her costume, seemed to outright float behind her, either that or they were so unbelievably light as to fall too slowly for me to notice, and instead let themselves be lifted up by the slightest of her movements. Her whole body radiated a warm glow bathing the entire room, and strangest of all? She was smiling.

She stood up, a hand on her hip.

"You're probably wondering what's going on here. Truth is, you've been possessed by a Dark Spirit. These drain your energy and slowly corrupt you. My job, as Holy Maiden Rose Rin, is to exorcise them before their hosts turn into monsters..."

Wait, what? I was going to turn into a monster?!

"...I'm glad I was able to notice you'd been infected so early, so I can extract it before it really does any damage," she went on.

"So how are you going to do that?" I asked, a bit nervously.

"Why, fuck it out of you, of course!" she went on without missing a beat, barely seeming aware that she'd just said something outrageous. "Of course, the Holy Maiden rules state I must get your explicit permission first, so..."

Well, how could I not? Just look at her! Sure, this whole situation was more than a little crazy, and I never in a thousand years would have expected to lose my virginity like this, but I was past thinking about it at this point.

"Huh, yes, yes, sure!" I blurted out.

Before I even knew it, there was a pair of red, rose-embroidered panties crumpled at the edge of my bed, and Rin was straddling my legs, pulling my fly down, then relieving me of my jeans and underwear, then my shirt for good measure. My cock, already stiff, stood proudly as it awaited her.

"This is gonna be great," she sighed with a wistful air as she took my member in her gloved hand, and ran it up and down my shaft. "I've been here for weeks and not a single Dark Spirit in sight... Could you believe Holy Maidens aren't even allowed to masturbate?"

That was it, I thought, I had just lucked out into fucking the hottest girl I'd ever met, and she was wearing this crazy fetish costume, too...! But then...

"Mistress!" a high-pitched, female voice called out, seemingly out of nowhere.

Rin looked annoyed, and I couldn't say I felt much better when she took her hand off my cock to start making some strange hand signs. There was a reddish glow around them, which lingered a bit as a translucent, orange tennis ball-sized sphere appeared in her hand. She deposited it next to her on the bed, and it quickly became obvious that I wasn't done seeing astonishing things that night.

The ball wobbled around, as if possessed, then began to grow and grow in size until it reached the size of a basketball. From then, it expanded in length and molded itself into a basic humanoid shape. It rose up so as to be kneeling on my bed, and its traits refined themselves into that of a cute, petite young woman, baby-faced, big-lipped, all naked and wearing her "hair" (which was really just a lump of whatever slime she was made of) in a bob-cut. Her breasts were quite large, though a bit smaller than Rin's, and her darker orange nipples were large and quite obviously erect. I stared, dumbfounded, at the new appearance, and tried to no avail to get up so that I could get a better look.

"Mistress!" the orange slime girl squealed, "You can't leave me out of this, you can't! It's been weeks!" She pouted.

"Right, right," Rin shook her head then addressed me directly. "This is Bell, my orange slime familiar. Would you terribly mind if she joined in? Maybe you could eat her out or something," she mused, apparently under the impression that this was somehow inconvenient to me.

"Yes, yes, sure!" I cut her off as she looked like she was about to say more.

"Hurray! You are wonderful, sir!" Bell clapped her hands, and in a flash, Rin was straddling my legs again.

Although I didn't see it under her dress, I certainly felt my classmate's warm, moist pussy sliding unto my dick. It lasted a blissful second or two, which felt more right than anything else before in my life. Judging by Rin's ecstatic expression, she shared the sentiment. She pulled down the top of her dress, revealing a pair of magnificent breasts, so firm-looking, so perky, so round. Unthinkingly, I managed to raise a hand to reach for them—

And then I got a face-full of orange slime. Bell had sat on my face, oblivious. She positioned herself so that I could actually breathe, and leaned forward to put her slimy pussy in reach of my tongue. Luckily she was mostly transparent, so that I could still get a decent view of Rin through her familiar's body, although tinted in orange, and slightly deformed by the glossy twin globes of Bell's shapely ass.

Rin began to pump slowly, her muscular legs easing me into it as pleasure ran through my body like electricity, a sensation unlike anything I'd ever felt before. For a moment I thought it was going to overwhelm me and I would pass out like I did earlier, but on the contrary, it felt energizing.

In front of my face, Bell wiggled her orange-scented ass with a whimper, and obligingly, I started to lick her, prompting some loud, high-pitched squeals and ripples running across the slime girl's entire body. She tasted sweet, like freshly-picked oranges, and her (literal) juices trickled down my face as I ate her out, sloppily. Meanwhile, Rin picked up the pace, large breasts bouncing as she slid her entire body along my rock-solid shaft. She moaned and panted almost as loudly as Bell did. At some point, an adventurous idea struck me, and I found my tongue going for Bell's ass instead of her pussy, penetrating and probing through those fruit-flavored depths with ease. Bell didn't object, and in fact began squealing even louder. And then...

With a scream of pleasure from the orange slime girl, I got my face covered entirely in sweet, sticky orange fluid, and the familiar fell over next to me, literally collapsing into a lump.

Meanwhile, Rin and I were still going at it, and finally I could see her in all her splendor, supermodel body covered in glistening sweat while her ribbons trailed around the two of us. She set her hands onto my chest and continued to thrust, rapid-fire, coaxing something out of me...

And finally...

Perfectly synchronized, Rin came with me, squirting some liquid out of her sex, but also, to my surprise, projecting two large streams of milk out of her nipples. Lost in the moment, I didn't wonder about them, instead savoring the feeling washing over me, like waves, with every load of warm, thick cum I spilled into her. Without realizing, I sat up without any problem, and the two of us embraced as we relaxed in the afterglow. Her large breasts still dripped warm milk as they pressed against my chest, but I was past worrying about the mix of fluids on my body and bed at this point. Our eyes met; there was a moment of silence...

I leaned forward, and we kissed.

"That tasted like oranges," Rin said as she pulled away with a mischievous smile.

"Oh yeah, figures..." I glanced to Bell, who was pulling herself back into a human shape, then to my milk-covered chest, "say, what was that?" I asked, pointing at it.

"Oh, that?" Rin answered, nonchalantly, "It's a quirk of being a Holy Maiden. While I'm in this form, I lactate like crazy and my tits get all sensitive, but I can't get pregnant, things like that."

"That reminds me!" Bell piped up, enthusiastically, "is the Dark Spirit still in him?"

"Oh yes, about that," Rin ran a hand over my chest, emitting a reddish glow, "it's still in there, but--"

"Oh! Oh, I want a shot at exorcising you too, sir!" Bell cut her off by throwing herself between us, glomping onto me with her warm, pleasantly gooey arms.

Rin shook her head with a smile as she stepped aside, giving Bell room to slip away from me and set herself on all fours in front of me, thrusting her ass in my direction as she fingered her (redundantly) moistening pussy. She turned her head to eye me with a hungry look, wiggled her butt, which actually seemed to be growing a bit before my eyes...

My lack of energy from before was only a distant memory. Now I was feeling better than ever, in control. What I did next all came naturally. I kneeled next to Bell and grabbed her large ass, then in one move, thrust my dick into her pussy. She squealed in delight and didn't get a chance to stop as I thrust out and in and out and in and out, as if possessed, sending Bell's whole incredibly elastic body jiggling amidst cries of "Faster!" and "Harder!" from the excitable slime girl who was clearly having the time of her life.

Surprising me a bit, Rin got closer to us, and leaned towards my ear.

"Here, have some of my milk," she said, playfully.

She raised one of her huge, still dripping tits in front of my face, and hungrily, I engulfed all of her nipple and surrounding area to suck down on it. Rin yelped and had to set a hand on my shoulder to steady herself, but she was obviously enjoying the sensation as a steady flow of her abundant breast milk ran down my throat.

Bell clutched the drapes as I continued to slam-fuck her like a beast in rut, her cries of ecstasy loud enough to wake the entire dorm but not managing to drown out Rin's moans coming from right next to my ear. I felt a strange warmth spreading through my body as I drank more and more of Rin's milk, and once again, that feeling, rising up, like a tidal wave. I could see Bell was building up towards it, too, even as she ran out of breath. I thrust and thrust, harder and faster, until...

"Sir, I'm cummmIIIIIIING!"

Once again, the lower half of my body got soaked in orange juice, but I didn't care as I sprayed cum into Bell's body, causing white globs to float in the liquid composing her. Like a fountain, my cock sprayed on and on, flooding her entire stomach area with such a mind-boggling amount of jizz that it stretched out in order to accommodate it.

After making sure I had spurted out my very last drop of my seemingly-endless cum, and the overwhelming feeling of bliss clouding my mind finally dissipated, I slid my member out, and while it had gone limp, I noticed that it actually seemed bigger than usual...

"What the hell?"

"Right, that," Rin explained, as she traced a finger across my chest. "As I was about to say before Bell interrupted me, it looks like the Dark Spirit has actually gone dormant inside you. It's extremely rare, but it happens. You're a lucky guy, you know? You don't need exorcising anymore, though, well..." she giggled, "you might still undergo a few changes. The fun kind."

"So... I'm not going to turn into a monster?" I breathed out in relief.

"Of course..." she said in a sing-song voice, "it probably wouldn't hurt to give you a little treatment once in a while, juuuust in case..."

"Sounds good to me," I smiled. "Actually... Have you got any classes tomorrow morning?"

"As a matter of fact, I do not," she smiled back.

"And neither do I!" Bell piped up as she rose, positively glowing as she cradled a round, pregnant belly, inside of which floated about a dozen colored balls, very similar to the ones she had come out of earlier. "By the way, sir, your semen is the most potent I've ever had!"

"W-W-WHAT THE HELL?!"



Exorcising a Demon



I looked at the clock, it was five-thirty, Master would be home in a half hour. I was so excited. I always was when he was on his way home. I glanced around the kitchen, everything was perfect. The table was set, the dinner was almost done in the oven, fresh bread was on the table, and I was finishing a large salad. I hadn't had a chance to speak to him at lunch today and I was wondering how his day had been. I cut the last of the cucumbers and walked into the living room to check on the kids. All three boys were playing a sports game on the Wii. I told them to finish their game and go get ready for dinner. Once they had been sent off, I went to the bedroom to prepare myself.

I removed my jeans and t-shirt as well as my bra and panties. I slid on a dinner dress and brushed out my hair. My Master wanted me in a dress with my hair down and wanted me free from any barriers, so no underclothes. I touched up my eye makeup, the only kind I was allowed, and bit my lips to redden them. I fluffed my hair one more time and left the bedroom to see if the boys were washed and dressed. Master had no requirements when we welcomed him home, I did though. I loved him and adored him and wanted him to know how very much I missed him while he was at work. I required that the boys be dressed for dinner and that they play quietly in the living room or their rooms so Master could relax. I always tried not to pounce on him as he came through the door but always failed miserably. I just couldn't wait to give him a kiss and see how his day had gone.

Five fifty-eight, two minutes. I checked dinner and bounced near the door waiting. I could hear the Wii start back up but I didn't mind, the boys knew I expected them to welcome their stepfather home eagerly. They would without my urging, they loved their stepfather almost as much as I did. He was kind, loving, and while firm with them, he adored the boys and was proud of them. I found myself actually hopping and my eldest came in to tease me.

"Dad will be home in just a minute Mom, jeez." He giggled and hugged me. "It's hard for you to wait for him huh?"

"Yes it is. I..." I heard the crunch of the tires as Master turned into the driveway and the garage door opened. A little squeak escaped my mouth and my son rolled his eyes and went in to play his video game. Every nerve was on fire as the garage door shut and I heard his car door open and shut. He opened the back door of his car and I was curious but a bit annoyed because it was taking so long for him to get inside I thought that I would explode. I heard the back door of the car shut then the trunk opened. I groaned and turned the door knob.

"Can't wait, my dear?" His cool smooth voice was thick with laughter. "You just wait there behind that door." I couldn't help but whimper but we both knew I would do as asked. The door creaked in protest as I clutched it and bounced. The boys heard the door open and rushed into the entryway.

"Dad!" They ran out into the garage to help and all I heard was whispering. I blew a lungful of air out in a huff. I heard Master chuckle and the boys giggle. Finally, I heard the trunk shut and four sets of feet stomp toward the house.

"Go into the kitchen, Love," Master said. I groaned and did as he asked. I pulled dinner out of the oven and set it on the table. I puttered around doing nothing. After an eternity, all of two minutes, Master called me into the living room. I ran as fast as I could and jumped into his arms. I kissed every bit of his face before attacking his mouth. Master laughed into my kiss and held me tight.

"I missed you," I sighed. He made a small noise of pleasure and approval as he recaptured my lips in a deep kiss.

"Mm. I missed you today too, baby girl." He started to say more but I couldn't help myself and I kissed him hard and deep again. He groaned and then chuckled into my mouth. "Why don't you look around and see the surprise I brought for you." He laughed as he broke free and kissed my cheek. I pulled back and looked at him then I forced myself to look away from his face and saw the most beautiful display of flowers arranged around a stack of leather-bound journals. Master squeezed my waist and gave my earlobe a tiny bite.

"Happy Birthday, baby," Master said with a kiss. 

"Happy Birthday, Mom," The boys echoed. I was shocked. I had forgotten it was my birthday. I stood frozen for a moment.

"You forgot it was your birthday, didn't you?" Master chuckled and kissed me again.

"Yeah, I did. I guess I got busy," I confessed with a blush as I walked to the coffee table and picked up one of the journals. It was a blank journal bound with imprinted leather. 

"I know," Master said, his voice had become stern, "You have been working too hard. You are wearing yourself out. I have another surprise after dinner." Master combed through my hair with his fingers and a shudder of pleasure coursed through my body. He placed a kiss on my shoulder and offered his arm to escort me into dinner. I stopped him and picked up a vase of flowers. With a pleased smirk he took the flowers from me and carried them to our table.

Dinner was pleasant and I loved the sounds of conversation and eating from my men. They joked and told stories about their day. I listened with contentment and joy while Master told the boys a funny story and they all started laughing. After so many years of struggle, my world was as perfect as I could imagine. Master lifted his hand to caress my cheek and I flinched. I saw the fire flash in his eyes and I was so ashamed. 

I had been beaten, a long time ago, beaten and abused, and sometimes, I still flinched or winced. Master hated that anything had happened to me and it hurt him when I flinched away from him. I wasn't afraid of Master, not in the slightest. The reactions were a reflex, something instinctive and primal and once excited, something I cannot turn off. I've tried, and the flinching has gotten better, but it still happened sometimes when I was surprised or emotional. The wonderful surprise of the birthday gifts had me touched and happy but it lowered my guard and the flinching was back.

I knew that Master wasn't mad at me, but I was ashamed and upset at hurting him. I couldn't meet his eyes and felt like crying. Master's finger traced my cheek and hooked under my chin. He lifted my face. He held my face up until I met his eyes. The anger was gone and all I saw was his love and compassion. He smiled at me and kissed my eyes. 

"It's okay," was all he said. He returned to his meal with a tense smile. The boys looked down at their plates. Hot tears started down my cheeks. I knew I needed to say something to make them feel better.

"Listen to me." Everyone looked up at me. "What happened, happened. There is no changing it. We survived it. We were strong, smart and we got away. Now we are happy. We have a wonderful life. I'm very sorry that my brain still protects me even though there's no threat, but there is no reason to feel bad. The flinches are a response from part of the brain that doesn't think, it just reacts. I've already flinched by the time the signal gets to my consciousness. I flinched because I am so happy and feel so loved that my brain forgot to relax. It's okay. I'm very happy." The boys' faces brightened and they returned with vigor to their meals and their conversation. Master smiled at me proudly but there was sadness behind his eyes. 

The boys finished eating and though it was not the norm, Master excused them with a nod and the boys each kissed my cheek before they left the room. I looked at Master curiously but he just smiled at me. I watched him take a few more bites and he looked at me.

"Eat,"was all he said. I took a bite and continued to watch him. He decided I had eaten enough and rose to clear the plates. I rose and took them from him. He gave me a frown but he knew how much I hated it when he cleared the table. The doorbell rang and Master pulled me away from the sink by my hand. It was my sister.

"Surprise! I'm taking the boys for the weekend," she announced and the boys burst into the entryway, each carrying a back pack and a sleeping bag. I got a quick hug and a kiss from each of them and they were gone. I stood stunned for a moment then smiled at Master and gave him a hug. He swatted my butt lightly and kissed my cheek.

"I'll go get your collar." The delight and excitement was evident in his voice. I couldn't help my grin as I went back into the kitchen to finish the dishes.

I was engrossed in my thoughts of the upcoming fun while doing the dishes. I was worried that Master was upset still about me flinching and felt excited for what was to come and wasn't conscious of Master entering the kitchen behind me. A shadow moved from over my shoulder and instinct took over. I ducked and stepped away, turning with my hands braced for a fight. Master's eyes were angry, angrier than I had ever seen them.

I knew Master wouldn't hurt me but I was terrified. Fear had been my ally and my savior for many years and it was where my brain and body went. I could taste the adrenaline in my throat. Master growled at me and grabbed my neck. He knew I had been strangled almost to death and he knew that I couldn't stand to have a hand on my neck like that. I felt betrayed and horrified as my mind prepared me to be killed. Master threw me against the far wall and pinned me with his body. His hand returned to my neck and tightened slightly.

"If I grab your neck, it is to hold you so I can kiss you until you faint," he growled, leaning in to kiss me hard. It hurt my lips, I could feel his jaw crushing our lips into my teeth. The pain was inconsequential to the thrill of Master loving me. It felt so good to feel his passion, devotion and love. "If I pull your hair, it is to expose your beautiful neck to me so I can taste it," he growled again. His actions mimicked his words and a wonderful tension spread over my head as he gathered my hair. He jerked it back and bit into my neck. If felt so good, and primal, and consuming that I moaned. "Ah, Master," I sighed and he slapped my face. I recoiled in fear and horror.

"Listen to me, feel and understand my words," he hissed. I curled my shoulders inward and tried to pull away. "No, you stay here with me. Focus on my words." Reaching down, Master pulled my dress off in one quick movement. He pulled me against him, I tensed but did not fight. He slapped my ass hard enough to burn.

"If I hit you, it is to bring sensitivity to your nerves so you have increased pleasure," another growl, then he rubbed the raw skin of my face gently, making me sigh. He stared into my eyes, anger, pain, passion, love, I saw them all. He lifted me and slid me onto his cock. I hadn't notice him disrobe. I gasped at the sudden intrusion, the momentary burn giving way to intense pleasure.

"If I rape you, it is because you need to be taken hard and fast and I will always give you what you need." Master thrust into me hard and fast. His hand found my breast and he pulled and squeezed while he bounced me on him. My hands found his shoulders and I met his thrusts. He slowed as I came closer to release.

"I will never hurt you. You will have only pleasure with me. I love you so much. You are safe here, safe from pain, safe from fear, safe from the world. I've got you, Love. I've got you." His words pushed me over the edge and I sobbed as I came. He pulled me close to him and carried me to our bedroom. I was still clenching and shaking as he started to move. The sensation of him walking through my orgasm made me wail and keen and the orgasm continued without pause.

He set me gently on our bed and resumed a slow gentle thrust. He made love to me until I lost all sense of anything. I couldn't feel my body, I couldn't feel my soul. I heard my favorite grunt, the one that heralded a strong orgasm in him. He grunted and moaned awhile longer and then collapsed onto me. I wrapped myself more tightly around him.

"I've got you," he whispered in my ear. I started to cry. "That's right, let it go," he soothed. He held me tightly and let me sob into his chest. When I started to calm, Master lifted me and moved us into bed more completely. He wrapped himself around me and held me.

"See? All better," he crooned, nuzzling my neck.

"I love you so much," I started. Master shushed me but I needed to speak. "I need to say this. I have no fear of you. I don't mean to do that. Please forgive me?"

"Shhh, Love. Nothing to forgive. I know you trust me. I know it isn't on purpose. Let what I just said and did sink into your subconsciousness. I'm so sorry he hurt you, baby girl. I wish I could have been there."

"I am not sorry. He gave me those beautiful boys and in his own way, led me to you. I will keep trying not to flinch, I promise."

"Rest, Love, feel my words. Let the complete knowledge that you are cherished and protected fill you." He pulled me closer and I felt his penis getting hard again. I gave a gratuitous wiggle against him and felt his body react.

"Make love to me again Master, please?"

"Hm, are you sure?" He turned me sideways to look into my eyes.

"I'm sure." I stroked his hardening member and opened my legs. Master covered me with his body and I felt safe, possessed, treasured, owned. He entered me slowly and gently, caressing the inside of me with himself. Every nerve was raw and I could feel every dust particle, hear every vibration, I could sense every molecule in his body pleasuring mine. My every thought was full of desire, pride, and love. He pulled up to look into my eyes. I don't know what my face looked like, but Master's face spread into the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. I felt so overjoyed at pleasing him. The pleasure in my body joined that in my soul and I started to orgasm violently. He moaned deliciously and held me tightly while we climaxed together.

"I love you, baby girl. Happy Birthday."



Exorcising Brian



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 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, " 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 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?




Exorcising Brian Ch. 02



A reporter for the county newspaper asked, "Could life be any better for you at the moment, Mr Harton?"

Eric, still a little bemused by the rapid events of the past few months, admitted that he could not have wished for a better outcome. Yet, only he knew he carried a patch of lost wonder that steered him away from total satisfaction. A gap deep inside that he could not lose, no matter how hard he tried.

Still, recent events had been an unexpected form of consolation, even if they had been caused, in a remote sense, by that very lost wonder.

After leaving university with a first class honours degree, he had been lucky enough to be accepted by a London newspaper, for a trial period. After covering minor stories, doing what the mass of pressmen he had met over recent days were doing, he had been offered a full time contract. Bigger stories came his way, big court cases, upper crust scandals, and the like. So, he progressed steadily for the next three years. Always, inside him, something cried out for what was lost.

One weekend, after an abortive attempt at filling the gap, and having an unusually clear schedule, he began tapping out on his laptop, something, he hoped, might become a novel. More importantly it might clear the troubled corner of his mind.. He had little plan, a loose set of characters, some very special scenes, but no real idea of where it would go.

However, once he started writing, the whole thing just took off. His imagination caught fire, and he was guilty of stealing time from his actual work, because he just could not stop. The thing practically wrote itself. He was writing of murder, cruelty, intrigue, vengeance with some vivid----

The reporter broke into his thoughts, "Would you admit that the very graphic sexual scenes are what sold the book?"

Eric had to smile, "You'd need to ask my readers, that one."

"Personal experience, Mr Harton? Or wishful thinking?"

Before Eric could frame an answer, his agent Harry Benton broke in, "I think that a highly impertinent question. And since, as has been well reported, the book has attracted the attention of Harvey Stilling, the Oscar winning Hollywood director, it is hardly just the sex"

Being in Bristol was the fourth stop on this promotional book signing tour. "Exceptional for a first time author," Harry had told him. 

Eric just could not come to terms with the speed of things once the book had been completed. Through the newspaper, he had been recommended Harry Benton, as a reliable agent, and he had certainly proved his worth. In next to no time he had several editors clamouring with offers. The book had only just been published, and already was tipped for the best seller list. So, at twenty five, Eric was looking at an amazing turn around in his circumstances, and the possibility that he was set-up for life. Consequently, he had resigned his post with the newspaper and start a second book. 

A best selling author at just twenty five. It was beyond his wildest dreams. He lay back against the leather of the limousine that was driving them to their hotel.

"Where are we tomorrow, Harry?" Eric asked, his eyes closed.

"Tomorrow, it's a trip to the seaside. Torquay, Devon."

The last word drove like an arrow into that hollow place Eric held inside. Images formed behind his eyelids as though a magic slide show had been switched on. A curvaceous, naked Paula, lying back like a presentation. A .naked back, starkly sensuous. Blue eyes turned up to him as the mouth worked----

No! No! No!

He sat up quickly, rubbing at his eyes. The book was meant to kill off those visions. Yet they persisted. When memory became too much, hadn't he toured around Devon three years ago, looking in phone books, contacting local authorities. But with no firm location to follow, the search had been fruitless. Paula could be anywhere in Devon. If she was, in fact, still in Devon. She could be anywhere. 

Eric had become desperate to know whether the rapture of that time had just been a one-off. If it was just the sex, why, after a goodly number of sexual encounters since, did he still see her face when he closed his eyes and opened his heart. Why had she taken root inside him? Trying to convince himself that he had probably passed out of her thoughts didn't help. She would have a totally new life by now. Dejected by that futile Devon search, he had returned to London, where, out of all his uncertainty, he had started the book.. 

"Something wrong, Eric?"

"No, nothing. Overwhelming circumstances, I guess."

Harry laughed, "Not surprising. I tell you this is going the places. How's the new book going?"

In truth, it wasn't going well. Too much had happened lately.

That night his sleep was invaded by erotic dreams of fingers touching, lips exploring, and when he awoke he was soaked in sweat.

The drive to Torquay seemed to take an age. I am in Devon once again, was Eric's dominating thought. Even though he was forcing himself to bury the significance of that, it kept returning, as the traitor in his head whispered, "Somewhere in Devon there is a certain bungalow." Oh, yes, not many bungalows in Devon, are there? Just a little scout around would trace it. That had been his thinking three years ago. He kept telling himself that he was being absolutely stupid.

In Torquay, the sun was shining, as it should on a July day, and they had a quick lunch before taking a short walk to a large bookshop. As they arrived, Eric could see there were several people already queuing. That was how it had been in London, Nottingham and ---well everywhere.

Inside the shop, Eric was subject to the, now familiar, handshakes, congratulations, and good wishes from management and staff. Soon he was seated behind a white table laden with copies of his book. The garish red cover screamed at him , and, too late, he had thought the title 'Exorcising Brian' could have been better,

The customers, mostly ladies, but with a smattering of men, either asked for a book from the pile or already had a copy which they placed in front of him. Eric had developed a technique in which he kept his eyes down until he had signed a book, and he always asked the name to which he should address his greeting. Then after signing he would hand the book over, and treat the recipient to what, he hoped, was a genuine smile.

After two hours or so, the genuineness of the smile was feeling a bit strained, but, as he signed a book to a 'Roberta,' he vaguely recognised that there were only three ladies left in the queue. 

The next lady placed a book in front of him, already open at the inside cover,. "Who shall I make it out to?" he asked, pen poised.

"Sienna." Came the reply.

The name had Eric's hand freeze over the book Something inside him seemed to lurch, as he raised his eyes over a slender figure in a pink button up dress, to a face that had him all but leaping to his feet. Blue eyes, high cheek bones, full mouth, and the hair, that tawny hair, shorter now, but neatly styled. Sheer beauty, so long lost.

"Hello, Eric." Her face broke into a ready smile. "Have I surprised you?"

Eric's mind was churning. This was what he had longed for, wasn't it? Yet now, he was almost speechless with the shock of it. "Paula! Surprise doesn't cover it."

The lady behind Paula gave a loud clearance of her throat.

Paula turned quickly and apologised, while dazedly Eric wrote into her book. As he handed back the book, Eric quickly told Paula the hotel they were staying at. "Just down the road. The annexe bar. Half an hour?"

"I know it," she nodded, and, giving him a quick smile, she picked up her book, and walked out of the shop.

Very briefly, Eric watched that unforgotten hip sway, before another book was slammed down in front of him, with irritated force.

God, he looks better than ever, Paula thought, as she stepped out onto the sunlit street. That look of maturity suited him. Gone were those boyish features. He'd be twenty five now, wouldn't he? So exciting to see him like this.--a success. Just what she had wished for him. It had given her a sense of pride, when she read the book, to find that she had played some distant part in that success.

She was relieved that he wanted at least to talk with her. When she'd discovered that he had a book signing in Torquay she just couldn't let it pass, even though she had serious doubts about seeing him. Paula was prepared for the fact that she was going to be meeting a person who would be far removed from the hunky, brown eyed, man/boy that she had spent just six hours with, seven years ago. How those six hours, and their consequences, had lived in her mind. She had tried telling herself that it should all be locked in the past. A brief episode that she should be able to call a day on. She had tried in so many ways. But, like the words of an old song, there was always something there to remind her. 

Then, one day, there he was, smiling at her from a newspaper, an exciting new author. More than anything she realised that he probably had a woman in his life by now. Seeing him interviewed on TV, had told her that he wasn't married, but that didn't mean much these days.

Walking down to the hotel, she casually flicked back the front cover of the book to read his inscription. It stopped her in her tracks as she read:

'To beautiful Sienna, who simply brings on the sunshine.'

A long forgotten melting began inside her. Was there real meaning to be taken from those simple, touching words? Why had she used her pen name when he asked? To see if her remembered? Well, no doubt there then.

A few latecomers had lengthened the queue, so it was more than half an hour before a rather bemused Eric was making his way back to the hotel, alongside Harry. Paula filled his mind. Seeing her so unexpectedly had confused him. He had thought so much about her, hadn't he? Had tried to find her, hadn't he? Yes, on both counts. So why this feeling he had now that she had turned up. Hell, he was more nervous than he had been all that time ago when she had first invited him into her house. And he had been a teenager then.

In the hotel annexe, at a table nearest the door, Paula saw Eric come in with an older man. She raised her hand, but he spotted her immediately, said something to the other man, who glanced in her direction before walking away. As Eric approached, Paula's uncertainty increased. What direction could their conversation take? Not old times. They had been brilliant, but too short. Just what was she expecting from this encounter? Certainly nothing like their last meeting. So, why did she build herself up for disappointment, as his tall figure, immaculate in a dark suit, came to the table

Unsure of himself, Eric pushed through the revolving entrance. There she was. So close, hand half raised, still lovely to look at. He told Harry he would see him later, and tried to adopt a purposeful stride to where she sat with a cup of coffee or tea in front of her. On the way down he had tried to invent a smart greeting, but now that she was there in front of him all he could do was bend swiftly, kiss her cheek gently, and murmur, "Paula, you look good." In bending, he had rested one hand on the table, and the rest of the annexe vanished as, for a few seconds, her hand covered his. An electric charge from long ago. He sat down, staring dopily into those blue eyes.

Paula could only reply, "So do you." But how her hand had moved to cover his she had no idea, but it felt so right. How strange that he seemed so lacking in confidence. She had half expected him to be more outgoing, more flamboyant, given his new social standing. It seemed right for her to open the conversation, as she removed her hand from his. "Thank you for what you wrote on the inside cover. That was sweet." 

"It was true," he replied.

Paula liked that. "I was so delighted to follow your success."

"Right out of the blue," he said.

"You might say that," she said, in a teasing tone that Eric so readily remembered, "but a certain part of it is right out of your--our life, isn't it?" 

"So you've read it?"

"That title. Could I resist. It's me, isn't it? Your female character."

"You?"

"I can tell by your smile----your choice of name for her, Pauline. Very close. That section, that one reviewer called the raunchiest writing he'd ever read. You captured that so well." Paula was sure Eric's face had reddened. "You're not embarrassed, are you.?"

Eric hadn't been---until now. Yet he didn't know why. If Paula had read it, she was bound to recognise the setting, not to mention the activities described. "Not really," was all he could say.

"Hair colour, eye colour. Copulation on a kitchen table-----and that shower scene." And she gave him a wide honest smile. "Your description of what pleasure the male character, the cop, Eddy, felt in that scene--I hope that was an accurate recall of how you felt."

Eric was struck by a quick image of those eyes looking up at him, gauging his pleasure, while her generous mouth worked its magic on him. Now, staring into that face, trying to find signs of the passing years, Eric had to admit, there were none. So, to change the subject, he told her that.

"Thank you---the wonders of modern skin cosmetics." Inwardly delighted at his comment, Paula wasn't yet prepared to leave the subject of his book. "But you had me---er, Pauline, murdered---and by Brian, of all people."

"He was a hate figure," Eric replied, knowing what question would be coming shortly.

"Is that why you kept his name the same?"

"Seemed logical."

"Loved the way you got rid of him. But what made you kill Pauline off?"

There it was, the question he knew he could only answer honestly, and he looked into her eyes as he replied, "I thought I might exorcise you."

"And did it work? The book ends with the hero appearing to have found another woman. Did you?" She didn't really want to hear his answer to that one. But she needed to know.

"Several," Eric replied bluntly. "Most of them at university, one or two since." Her hand was resting on the table, and he reached out to touch it with his fingertips. "The book---the women---all massive attempts at exorcism--none worked."

Paula felt her heart thud against her ribs. Was this what she wanted to hear? The touch of his fingers had been so warming, so natural, so genuine. And he was staring at her with such intensity.

"And you?" he asked. "Have you---"

"I got married," she told him, and seeing the fall in his expression, she immediately added, "And divorced---two years only. Mutual agreement. There were reasons, but settle for the fact that he thought I was a cold fish. "

"You?" Eric was astounded at that information.

"Perhaps you got the best of me, Eric. Marriage couldn't eradicate that."

"Is that what you were trying to do?"

She shrugged, "I had been here just two years, and he was the first man since our encounter. Just a mistake."

They sat looking at each other. Words seemed superfluous now, as they each wrestled with the implications of what had been said so far.

"Excuse me, Mr Harton. You are Eric Harton, the author, aren't you? I wondered if you would be kind enough to sign my book."

The hurried voice, words sputtering out like rapid fire gunshots, broke into their silence. Eric looked up to see a diffident middle age lady standing over them, holding out his book. Collecting his sensibilities, and with a little shrug towards Paula, Eric nodded , and managed a smiling, "Of course." Taking the lady's pen he scribbled a quick greeting and signature.

"Oh thank you," the lady gushed. "I've enjoyed it so much." Then spotting the book beside Paula she added, "Oh, to find a man like that Eddy, eh?"

As the lady moved away, Paula gave Eric a wry smile, "I wonder where you can find a man like that?" 

Eric felt it was time to test the water and he said, "What now?"

"What now, indeed," Paula responded. Deep inside, her body was telling her exactly what she would like now. The unbidden wish to have him inside her once again was surfacing. Yet the more rational part of her brain was telling her it just couldn't be as easy as that..

"Are you still in the bungalow you were moving to?" Eric asked. His 'what now' question had been an attempt to clarify his own tangled emotions. To have and hold what still looked like a most delectable body, was so appealing. The tightening in his groin told him that. More rationally he could tell himself that just being near her felt like some kind of release.

"Oh, yes, it's a delightful setting. You must see it--" She paused, "sometime." There was a very good reason for her adding that last word. If this was just a casual once only encounter, then it was almost over now. Is that what she wanted? 

Eric had told her of his situation. Now he had to ask, "Is there --? Have you got--?"

"There's no man in my life, if that's what you're asking?"

"Then we can meet again?" He sensed that there was something else she hadn't told him. That hesitation about him seeing her bungalow had puzzled him. 

Paula glanced at her watch, "I have a meeting arranged with my agent in Paignton shortly, but tomorrow---"

"Tomorrow I'm in Plymouth, the last signing. Your agent, you say---so you're still writing."

"Have to keep the wolf from the door."

"I did read a couple of Sienna Gold books." he admitted. "Very romantic. But well written. You should try something more adventurous." Eric shook his head, " Listen to me--the wise old first time author."

They laughed together before Paula told him," I did start one book, written in my own name---But gave it up. Glad I did when I read yours.."

Eric felt that they were circling the real situation. "Could we have a meal together, day after tomorrow, say?"

"Thursday? Should be fine."

"Why not here? Food's very good, they say"

"I'll look forward to that," Paula said, getting to her feet.

"Seven thirty?" There was a boyish thrill for Eric in making this particular date. He would have been back in London by Thursday. So he would book himself in here for a couple more nights.

Paula stepped round the table and stood close to Eric. She raised her head without committing herself, but immediately Eric bent and kissed her full on the lips, warm, gentle and short. Her eyes held his for a moment, before she said, "Until Thursday then." And very deliberately she walked away, out through the revolving doors, without looking back. 

Eric stood and watched her trim figure moving away. She never looked back, and her response to his impetuous kiss had been cool. Had today just been a polite gesture on her part? Yet she had found him, had agreed to meet again, had said he could see her bungalow in a sort of begrudging manner, and what about the way she'd covered his hand as he sat down? 

For Paula the time up to Thursday evening seemed to crawl. But it gave her a chance to clarify her own thoughts. There was no doubt that Eric had been pleased to see her, had admitted not being able to erase her from his memory. He had even made her a major character in his potential best seller. But were his intentions just a pursuit of a long ago sexual memory? 

God, hadn't she found herself wanting him so many times over the years? Was she just wanting to relive the dream? It could never be just like that again. She needed to clarify so many things before she could allow him totally into her world. There was something he needed, no deserved to know, but she had to see signs of commitment before that could be resolved. That was the key word; commitment.

For Eric, the Plymouth book signing had been a major distraction, almost an irritation, and he'd never imagined that he would think that. Having seen Paula again was all that filled his mind. 

He told Harry that he would not be returning with him to London.




Exorcising Brian Ch. 02



"The lady?"

"A very good friend," Eric had replied.

"With tawny hair, and vivid blue eyes----where have I read that? Interesting," Harry said with a gentle smile. "Just don't make any mistakes."

"I don't intend to."

Thursday produced a warm evening, a fitting end to a red hot day. Eric wore a dark grey lightweight suit, with blue shirt. Throughout the day he had found himself deciding just how this meeting should go, and respect was a key factor. 

When Paula appeared, any resolutions he had made might have gone out of the window. In a blue silken dress that emphasised her figure and revealed just a hint of the valley between her breasts, she looked stunning. Eric tried desperately to control the aching in his loins.

Paula enjoyed the look on Eric's face as she approached, admiration mixed with uncertainty. There was still the element of the boy in him. She liked that. They exchanged a brief cool kiss before proceeding to the dining room.

At the table, she asked Eric to choose the wine, and he said he would like her to choose the main course for both of them. "Decisions, decisions," she laughed, but readily chose the beef bourguignon for two.

The meal was delicious and Eric realised that it was the first time he'd observed her eating a proper meal. Fascinated he watched the delicate way she consumed her food, like a tentative sparrow.

Over the meal they talked easily of their early days. Paula's parents had been killed in a road accident in France when she was nineteen. Eric told her of his father's fight with cancer before he died when Eric was fourteen. "Mother is still going strong. Dad left her comfortable." And the small talk went on to their writing. Since their last meeting she had published four more books under her pen name, Sienna Gold.

As they were finishing their sweet, pavlova for her, profiteroles for him, Paula felt it time to get some clarity on their situation, and putting down her spoon she asked, "Where do we go from here, Eric? What do you expect of me?" She feared that had sounded just a little too abrupt.

Eric was slightly taken aback by the question. Although he could have addressed her in not dissimilar terms. Testing her expectations, he said flatly, "I have a room upstairs." And watched her reaction with trepidation. Please, back away. 

Paula's cheeks reddened, "I was afraid that is what you might suggest. But, Eric, the situation now is so different from what it was back then. Don't get me wrong I still have a deep feeling for you---but it can't be resolved by a quick---how do they put it----roll in the hay?"

Eric felt all the tensions that had been building inside him suddenly relax. "Paula, you may not believe this, but you're reaction is exactly what I hoped it would be."

Paula, so relieved, gasped, "Really?"

"God, I want you so much. If you'd said yes to the room I know I wouldn't have been able to resist. But I want to know you in so many other ways. What makes you laugh, what upsets you, the name of that perfume you wear, Do you like cinema, theatre? What's your favourite colour? All those things and so many more."

Paula reached her hand across the table and their fingers interlocked, "Yes, oh, yes, I want to know all about you. I'm looking for permanence, Eric. I'm fourteen years older than you---what kind of barrier will that be? These are things we need to find out."

"Good as the sex was --and could be again," Eric responded, delighted that they seemed to have a level of agreement. " I know there is more if we are to justify our time together."

Paula felt just a little giddy. Was it the wine? No, it was the promise encased in that recent interchange. There could be a future.

"So how do we proceed?" she asked.

Eric had no doubts, "We meet, we go places, we do things together---regularly."

That night, in the car park, they kissed a little longer than intended, but as they broke from each other, they laughed----with hope in both their hearts.

Eric extended his room booking and hired a car. And for the ensuing weeks Paula would drive to the hotel car park, leave her car there, and Eric drove them all over the county. They took in little village fairs around Devon and moor land walks. They went to a show or two in Exeter, and Torquay, where they found they had similar tastes. And there were so many beaches and cliff tops where they walked, hand in hand after the first week. They laughed a lot, looked at each other silently, hungrily. Over a four week period, they spent as much time together as possible. There was just something that bothered Eric, not just the fact that he never collected her from the bungalow

In all of their meetings, there were few days when they had a full day together. Paula appeared to .be available mornings into the afternoon but insisted being home before five o'clock. Generally her reason was that was the time her agent or publisher tended to call. Evenings, she liked to know in advance if they were going out for a meal or a theatre visit. Up to a point, and because he was so enjoying her company, Eric was prepared to go along with her strange time demands. But he was compelled to ask on one occasion, "When do I see this mysterious bungalow?"

Paula had tapped the side of her head sagely, "I'm saving that for a special occasion." And couldn't resist adding, "A double special occasion."

Eric guessed, and hoped, what one occasion might be, but the double reference puzzled him. " You like your little mysteries, don't you?" And his mind leapt back seven years, and their first shower together, when she'd hinted at what the second shower would do. 

They kissed frequently, long amorous kisses in the car, under a tree, or on the open moors. Occasionally, Paula, sensing the pressure of his erection would ask, "Am I torturing you?" In asking the question she had to admit she was also torturing herself in feeling how ready he was for her.

Even though he did feel heavily constrained, he honestly replied, "It was my idea too."

Paula was becoming more and more certain that they were really compatible. The fact that he had stayed at the hotel for all the time, paid some testament to his commitment to her. Then one day, after receiving a worrying phone call from her Aunt Sarah, who lived in Barnstaple, Paula rang Eric to tell him, and he offered to drive her north. "To keep you company."

The instant Eric met her frail, distressed aunt he declared, "Hospital." And they sat for hours in a busy waiting area until a doctor came to give them the good news. "Just a viral thing. She's in good shape for her age. Antibiotics should do the trick." 

On the drive home Paula laid her head on Eric's shoulder, "Aunt Sarah thinks you're gorgeous," she said, with that teasing tone in her voice. "Of, course, she does have those very thick lenses." Another laugh together. Then, more seriously, she told him what had been in her mind even before his wonderful patience on that day, "I think you should come to see the bungalow tomorrow. Get my full gratitude."

Eric almost drove off the road, "Sure?" he asked, and a quick glance at her face told him exactly what that 'full gratitude' would be. The very thought of it caused that so familiar stirring in his pants.

Back in the hotel car park, they shared a passionate kiss, and Paula whispered, "Thank you for today. You were marvellous." And she groped in her handbag and pulled out a slip of paper she had kept there for over a week. "That's a little map showing how to get to me."

Eric took the paper from her and chuckled, "I think I remember how to get to you." And as she squeezed his hand, he opened the paper to find a roughly drawn map.

"Just before Brixham," she said, holding on to his hand, wanting him, happy that they had become this close. "Just a narrow road leads to it. Ten thirty, say." 

"Nice and early."

"We've got a lot to get through," she said, with that alluring smile, and with a quick kiss, she was out of the car, and hurrying to her own. Eric just sat and watched until, with a little wave, she'd driven away. 

After a bumpy night of waking and drowsing, dreaming and hoping, Eric was up, fed, showered, dowsed in manly spray, dressed in blue sports shirt with matching trousers, and on the road by ten past ten. It was going to be another sunny day. That dedication he had written in her book wasn't far from the truth at all. He had estimated it would be a ten to fifteen minute drive. With the map placed conveniently within his sight, he drove and relaxed, despite the tremors building inside him. 

Paula went through her normal weekday morning routine, before showering and gently scenting her body. Then, very deliberately, she chose exactly how she would dress to greet the man who had imbedded himself very firmly into her life. As ten thirty approached she hurried down the drive, to open the wide gate, before returning to the front door porch to stand and watch for him.

With each stage of her preparation she had felt her anticipation rising inside her. This was the day she'd thought might never arrive. But how right they had been to withhold the passion. Now this day could be perfect for both of them, so long as the climax to it was as she'd hoped it would be.

Standing there in the sunlight, she thought of his body against hers, and already felt herself moisten under her dress. A car appeared on the lane and she drew in a sharp anticipatory breath.

Eric found the map very accurate. He was sure he'd hit the correct narrow turn off, but just for a few minutes he wondered if he'd been wrong. The lane seemed so long. Then, the bungalow was there, off to his right, bright red brick in the sunlight, and on the front steps-----

He might have driven into the gatepost of the open entrance, when he saw her standing there. The yellow dress showing off that body that he so desired. Obviously, not the same yellow dress, but having exactly the same effect that he'd experienced years ago. His erection started before he'd stopped the car.

As he stepped out of the car, for one mad moment, Paula thought she would orgasm there and then. All in blue, tall, so masculine, his appearance had her clenching her thighs together. She had planned to run to him but was unable to move. All she could do was hold out her hands to him as he hurried towards her. And God, his pants were bulging.

Eric got out of the car trying disguise his swollen state, but knew it was hopeless. All he wanted was to have his arms around that wonderful figure in the yellow dress. He tried to define the look on her face. Was it pleasure? Happiness and just a touch of lust? She was holding her hands out, and he took them, so that she could draw him back through the doorway, into an ample hallway, with wide corridors branching off in three directions, and as their bodies came together he managed to kick the door shut. 

They stood there, locked in a frantic embrace, kissing feverishly, tongues meshed, bodies so tight together that water couldn't have passed between them. Paula, gasping as she felt his erection rolling against her lower body, went up on tiptoes to try and get it lower and between her thighs. She broke from the kiss, "I'd intended to show you around the place but--"

Eric had been luxuriating in running his hands over the curves under her dress. Deciding that, just like before, there was no underwear, he said, "There's nothing under this dress, is there?"

Paula widened her eyes in mock anger and gave him a playful nudge in the chest, "Nothing? Nothing?" And she grabbed him by the arm and bundled him onto the wide centre corridor, where she pushed open the first door, entered, and dragged him willingly after her.

A lovely wide bed took Eric's eyes immediately. Although the duvet cover was different he was sure the bed-head looked familiar. It was a very feminine room done in lavender, with the odour of it all to match. Paula had stepped away from him, and as he went to follow her, his senses reeling, she held up one hand to hold him off, while the other hand unfastened the buttons of her dress. Eric stopped and watched in wonder as the dress slowly slid to the floor, revealing her in all her voluptuousness.

"Is this the nothing under my dress?" she growled seductively, as she reached towards his belt buckle. "Come on. What are you hiding?"

As he felt her fumbling with his belt, Eric pulled his shirt over his head., "Have I been in this bed before?" he asked.

" I kept it specially." 

That body already had his tumescence raging. Her breasts looked larger than he remembered and there was just the hint of a droop that he could not recall. Her belly appeared less flat, more seductively rounded. Hell, who cared? She was here, wanting him. He aided her eager pushing of his trousers to the floor, and Eric flinched as the tips of her fingers teased over his erection..

Paula knew that she couldn't wait long, as she turned away and flung herself back on the bed, "No time for foreplay, Eric. Not for you and certainly not for me. Let's get the pressure out of the way."

Her voice had been more like desperate grunts, and Eric was on top of her and into her without any preamble. His cock felt good and solid as it glided into the sucking, soaking warmth of her.

Paula had an orgasm on the very first plunge of his metal hard penis. She had suspected this might happen, as the dam, holding back the pent-up emotions of recent weeks and months before, burst, filling her with a lightning bolt ecstasy, that had her thrashing and groaning against his penetrative thrusts. It was so swift that she quickly realised that Eric was still delightfully active, and she lifted her hips to match his every thrust. Her vaginal wall was red hot, and she wanted more and more of this immense pole that plunged along her channel in order to assuage her burning sensations. Then she felt the rising volcano of another orgasm taking her away out of herself. She heard her own cries as she heaved at the heavenly intruder inside her, and every nerve end glowed, shone and tingled.

Eric, so taken with being where he had wanted to be for so long, realised that Paula had come as soon as he'd entered her. He had expected that, after the frustrations of the past weeks, he would be pretty rapid himself. So his ability to enjoy his plunging up to her cervix for several beats pleased him. There was no thought of reaching for her breasts, or moving his hands over her body, as he might have done normally. There was only the deep untapped need to ride into her, to reach her innermost parts, and to have her as ecstatic as she had been. And, even as he thought this, she began heaving up to match his own rhythm, and he sensed his own pressure reaching a crucial point. So that as he realised, by the sounds she made and the reckless thrashing of her body, that she was experiencing a second orgasm, he was able to release, and heave himself up, up into her, his semen spurting as though it would never stop and the sounds from his own mouth mingled with hers, as he collapsed over her. Spent, and overjoyed.

Paula only became aware of Eric's ejaculation as she slowly rode down from whatever planet she had been on. It was a delight to feel his final almighty thrust going deep to the heart of her. Now he lay with his face buried in the side of her neck, and for a few moments they remained beyond speech, each enjoying the enraptured breathing of the other. Paula felt his limp penis slip across her thigh, and she even loved that.

At last Paula was able to say," Oh, God, Eric, I'm so glad we didn't rush into this. It's still there, isn't it? That special delight we shared."

Eric raised his head to look down at her perspiring face, strands of tawny hair pasted across it. "Do you remember the last things you said to me?"

"Only vaguely," Paula admitted.

"You told me to go out and become a successful writer. I've done that."

"And I'm so pleased for you."

"But you also said for me to find a good woman--and you'll be pleased to know I've just done that as well."

"Do I know her?" Paula chuckled, and they hugged and giggled together.

They lay for a while just idly stroking each other. Paula found renewed sensuous pleasure in the way Eric's fingers stroked gently over her skin, circling her breasts, teasing at the nipples, sauntering teasingly across her belly. She wondered if he'd noticed how she'd slackened a little across there. Maybe soon she could tell him why. But in the meantime, it was a joy to run the flat of her hand over his muscular arms and shoulders.

For Eric, this afterglow was simply wonderful. Just the feel of her skin under his fingers. The fullness of her breasts, the curves at waist and hip, that roundness of her belly, all of it was exquisite. For half a second his fingers trailed along the edge of her pubic hair. That was when she pulled his arm back.

"Hey, take your time," she ordered. "There are things to do."

"Like?" he asked, kissing her cheeks.

"Like getting cleaned up. Me showing you around and then lunch."

She slid off the bed to a door on the side wall which Eric had guessed was an en suite. "Shower first. Then clothes on and a guided tour---see if you approve."

As Eric followed her into the en suite and she turned on the shower, Paula turned back to him and grinned, "And just a shower---no treats."

But Eric found treat enough in their soaped hands running smoothly over skin. Enough of a treat to have him feeling a slight twitch down below.

It was while they towelled each other, that Paula went onto her knees, and very briefly showered a range of kisses along his semi erect penis. Then she was up, giving him a seductive wink, before going into the bedroom to pick up her dress and put it on. Eric followed and pulled on his pants and shirt.

The bungalow was very impressive. Two other bedrooms, with their entrances along the same wall. Paula showed him into one of them, plainer than her own, but neatly furnished in tan shades. 

"The other one is much the same, " she said, and Eric nodded. A bedroom was a bedroom. Paula showed that the two doors opposite the bedrooms hid a large bathroom, tiled in white and turquoise, and ---"My study," Paula said, swinging the door open with a grand gesture. A large desk in front of a picture window through which Eric admired a superb view of the sea. The desk held a large computer and a laptop, together with piles of papers. Another table held more papers and there was a swivel chair and an easy chair.

The open door at the end of this corridor showed a kitchen, but Paula steered him back towards the hall, where they turned left into a short corridor and a door that opened onto a huge living area that stretched from front to back. Maroon leather sofa and chairs, thick beige carpet on the floor. A large television was set into one wall, and there was a small bar in one corner with a glass fronted drinks cabinet behind it. All very impressive, Paula watched his reaction as she lead him to the large French windows at the rear.

Pushing open the doors Paula led him onto a wide covered porch area with a decking floor, a bench seat and two patio chairs. Then there was a large lawn with simple bright annuals trimming the outer edges, and beyond a low hedge, a fantastic outlook to the sea.

"Torbay on your left," Paula said, and as Eric turned that way he saw a metal framed swing, and he looked at Paula curiously.

"There when I bought the place. Haven't had the heart to move it."

All in all, Eric was very impressed and certain thoughts began to impinge on his brain. As if reading his mind Paula asked, "Think you could live here--with me? Share the studio for our writing."

He put his arms around her, "I'm positive I could share anything with you." 

She smiled, "Then you need to cancel your hotel room, and let your agent know you have a new address."




Exorcising Brian Ch. 02



"You're sure of this."

"I've never been so sure. Now let's have a quick light lunch and think how we might spend the afternoon."

"Any ideas?"

"A couple," she replied, treating him to a wicked grin. Paula was looking forward to how she saw the afternoon panning out. There was just a little apprehension about later, but she suppressed it, and sat close to him as they consumed eggs benedict, which was one of her cooking specialities.

Eric sat back, and sighed, " If the cooking's going to be like this I might just stick around for it."

Paula smiled, as she stood up. "Haven't I got anything else to tempt you.?"

Within two minutes they were at the bedside, naked, and clinging to each other in a hungry kiss. Paula felt his erection along her belly, and she pulled away and eased Eric onto the bed. "Lie back," she ordered. "This is my party."

Eric closed his eyes as her tongue ran along the underside of his hardened cock. "Eric the Erect. That's what I'll call you----in private." He smiled at her words and then shuddered as her lips closed around him and her tongue dabbled at his warhead. Then she was moving her head back and forward, taking him to the back of her throat, sucking and releasing, withdrawing then taking him back. Eric was sure he wouldn't be able to take much more of this lavish attention.

Paula felt a long lost comfort in having him in her mouth, adoring him like this was something that just hadn't occurred with either of her husbands. But on this occasion she had no intention of taking him all the way with her mouth. In her mind was something she had longed to try with him.

Hearing his breath become harsher, she drew back her head, took his penis in her hand, and climbing onto the bed, she straddled Eric, holding his rigid member under her before lowering herself so that she was ecstatically skewered on it. That first movement went so deep that there pubes met and mingled. He was so good inside her, and she began heaving up and down. Riding him.

Eric had been in a daze from the attentions of her mouth, counting down to spurting into the back of her throat. When she released him, he was a little disappointed. But almost immediately as she held him with her hand he defined her intention, and within seconds he felt his pounding cock, riding up the heavy moisture of her vagina. It was fantastic having her up above, where he could see her beautiful face and that generous body. As she rose and fell drawing him back and forth into her wet warmth, he reached up and caressed her breasts, stroked the curve of her waist, the incredible smoothness of her thighs that gripped him. Then she leaned down to kiss him and he felt her adjust herself slightly so that he seemed to be entering her from a different angle. 

What Paula was doing was ensuring Eric's erection was gliding along her clitoris on each stroke. And the feeling was exquisite. She looked down into his face and saw that he was close, as he tried to heave up under her. The new position was lifting her up and beyond. She sensed herself opening wide inside as though all her lower organs were hungering to share this moment. Then Eric gasped, "Paula, Paula." And with one hard, solid grinding action she brought herself to that release point and she was gone, away on that mad elation, as she felt him, huge inside her, straining and emptying beneath her. 

Eric could not recall a coming as powerful as this, and he was sure as he spurted inside her that she was climaxing with him. The air seemed full of their mutual cries, grunts and gurgles. She collapsed on top of him and he was stroking his fingers through her moistened tawny hair.

"We were together then, weren't we?" he murmured.

Still panting she whispered, "We'll always be together."

They lay quietly with Paula on top, until she felt his weakened penis slipping out of her, and she reached across to the bedside table to snatch a handful of tissues. She rolled to one side of him and wiped between her legs, handing him a few tissues.

Rolling on his side to face her, Eric asked," Was that the double you talked about?"

"Double?"

"You said my first visit would be a double special occasion. That time. Did it make it the double?"

She laughed, "No, the double aspect comes later." And although she laughed she still had that uncertainty. Surely now, it would be all right.

After a while she said, "Come, let's shower."

Eric followed obediently, and even as he watched her beautiful rear as she reached in to turn the water on, a lovely idea came to him. A reversal of a previous shower experience with her.

Soon they were standing face to face, lavishing each other with eager hands, each trembling when the washing took their hands to their intimate areas. Eric, for his part, knew, as his soaped fingers ran through the thrilling sensations of the grooved bush between her legs, that this was a precursor to what he intended.

Paula enjoyed feeling the tenderness of his flaccid penis. She had begun wondering when it might rise again. But even as she handled him, stroking, squeezing, she was sure there was a flicker of movement.

Then they were rinsing under the steady stream, and Paula was recalling that seven year old incident that he had written about so vividly, his penis immense and warm in her mouth. As the recall came to her, Eric moved his face down to her breast where he licked and sucked at her nipples, before moving swiftly down over her belly. She heard his whisper, "My turn, Paula. My turn." Oh, God, was he going to---- Oh, yes. And as his flickering tongue touched at the beginning of her cleft, she murmured his name. 

Eric's tongue licked gently at the subtle groove, heard her soft call of ,"Oh, Eric." He sensed her thighs parting, so she was standing astride, offering him full access. On his knees, he leaned into her, pushing his tongue deep along her moist labia. His hands gripped the back of her thighs, before making slow, searching movements, so that his fingers tickled around her anus, slipping inwards to her vaginal opening.

Eric was aware that Paula's thighs were beginning to tremble, as his tongue found and flicked at her clitoris. As it swelled under his ministrations he closed his lips around it and sucked gently. 

Paula had her head flung back, knew her mouth was agape, and between her thighs she was on fire, as Eric's fingers promised to pierce into both her lower orifices. But her legs couldn't be trusted. They were trembling. Desperately she grasped at Eric's head, and cried out, "Enough, Eric--My legs will collapse."

Enjoying the whole sensation of plying his mouth in the mixed moisture of her, Eric rose reluctantly at Paula's plea, allowing his hands, lips and tongue to trace upwards over her curves, until they were face to face once more. Her blue eyes were clouded with repressed passion. Having this kind of effect upon her gave Eric such a lift, and he was aware, as they came together, that his cock was semi-erect.

"Let's get dry," Paula whispered.

"I don't want you to be dry everywhere," Eric laughed, and Paula joined in, murmuring, "I never am when you're around."

They were quickly dried and as they cast the towels onto a chair, Paula knelt to kiss at his rising penis. Eric instantly put his hands on either side of her and grunted, "No, Paula. This time it's my party."

Paula looked up into his resolute eyes, and as she stood up, she thought how good it was going to be to have a man who could be dominant when the situation called for it, but equally, would be submissive when she desired him to be.

As he laid her back on the bed, Eric could not prevent the memories of the last time he had performed this very act, on this very bed, all those years ago. Only now he was a much more mature and experienced person.

Slowly he lowered his face down into her bushy heaven, as his fingers traced back between her thighs. Her clitoris was already up and eagerly awaiting the lavish lapping of his tongue. Exhilarated by the creaminess, by the muskiness, Eric licked and sucked at her spot, while he moved his fingers to spread, introducing the index finger into her vagina and his middle finger into the rim of her tight anus. Already infused he was overjoyed to hear Paula's almost agonised whimper of pleasure.

Paula knew that after the shower, it wasn't going to take much to set her away. The lapping of his tongue was pure joy. Fingers at her two orifices were raising her feverish move towards ecstasy. Then she felt his finger enter her anus, harsh only briefly, then amazingly delightful as he pushed deeper, making her want to open up. That and the other finger circling inside the inner walls of her vagina held her in a triple thrall. Clitoris, anus and vagina were flaring, her thighs were trembling, her whole body was aflame. She was so near.

Eric was very aware of the his effect on Paula. His face, lips, fingers and ears were recording every nuance as her body absorbed every application he was making. And he knew exactly what direction he wanted to take her, the joy he wanted her to experience. Accordingly, he continued his licking and probing, his fingers plunging, withdrawing and plunging again, faster and faster. Her heavy breathing became harsher, as guttural sounds escaped her lips. Her hands flapped feebly at his head, as she squeaked, "Eric, Eric. I'm--I'm--"

Eric's only response was to plunge his busy fingers ever deeper and harder. And he knew she was gone.

Paula, in a state of euphoric frenzy, expected Eric to come up and enter her. She longed for his hot metallic hardness inside her, but he wasn't stopping. He had to. She pleaded. She was going to be over the edge, and he would lose her. Then his fingers seemed to be searching for her very soul and she couldn't stop herself. Her body slid into that cavern of joy, and she was heaving against his face, wriggling on his fingers, as her mind fled, and the noises she heard, all the sensations that rocked her, were all hers.

Eric had to ride her orgasm, like some skilful rodeo rider, loving the facts of what he was giving her, but gaining pleasure himself from thrilling her like this. And he continued, as her body rocked, threatening to dislodge him, before he sensed her slowly calming. But now it was time for the second stage of her pleasuring, although it could surprise her.

Paula was slowly coming down to earth, as she realised that Eric was continuing his tonguing and fingering. Then he wasn't. His head came up, slack mouthed, his eyes on her face. His head nodded as though telling her something, as he settled between her thighs. Paula knew that he must be going to enter her. She reached down to guide his loaded penis. He had to be able to expel that load, and she was genuinely hoping he would enjoy it, now that she was finished.

Hardly needing her guidance, Eric had his cock delaying at her vaginal opening, wet and wide. He guessed that she was probably thinking that her release was completed. Eric's intention was to prove her wrong, in the nicest possible way. Now he slid into her depths with one long stroke.

Paula loved that first long glide inside her. The immensity of his erection never ceased to amaze her. His next three driving strokes were so vigorous, so deep. He must be trying to ejaculate quickly. To aid him in this she heaved her hips up at him, trying to match his pace which was getting quicker and quicker. And, oh, it felt so good.

Eric knew exactly what he was doing. He eased the fast, hard thrusting, to a slow, long retraction, and equally gentle glide back to her cervix. This he repeated five or six times, always gauging Paula's reaction.

When the pace changed, Paula thought he was slipping out of her, and she felt a wave of disappointment. Then that slide up into her again, ever firm, ever strong, and repeated. Suddenly the thrusts speeded up again, plunging into her vigorously. God, this had her tingling and she was beginning to hope that he didn't expel too quickly.

Eric's tightening scrotum told him he didn't have too long. Time to move to stage three. He shifted his position over her slightly, so that his erection instead of heading directly up into her, slid initially over her clit. By continually adjusting his hips he was able to accomplish this slightly awkward entry. But he heard her sharp intake of breath, drew back his head to see her eyes closed, lips parted. He placed his mouth against hers and her tongue came at his like a viper. Finger nails dug into his back.

Paula had been quietly enjoying the lift shaft sensations in her lower body. But her intention to aid him had been quickly forgotten. Then she felt another change as his body lifted higher, and instantly she felt his shaft tease over her clit and she gasped with the sheer pleasure of it. That thrust was coming again. Suddenly she was all a-tingle, all aflame in her vagina, her limbs, all over. Surely she couldn't be having a second orgasm. But with each renewed stroke from Eric's controlled penis she knew she was slipping over that delicious edge once more. More than that, it was going to be massive. She stopped any logical thinking, as she skipped out of body, onto a different plateau of bright lights, electric sparks and sheer, sheer erotic gratification.

Eric knew it. He had her. Her gasps, her threshing about, told him. Now was the time to release. He changed to direct thrust right into the very heart of her. On the third thrust his warhead struck something inside her and he was spurting once again, locked deep inside her, as their perspiring bodies clung and rocked together. He moved out of himself as his lips found hers in a grateful kiss. Grateful for both of them.

Lying side by side, they began to calm slowly. For Paula it was like coming from a sublime place, somewhere she had never been before. Could it be that being with Eric gave her this journey every time? 

At last she found her voice, "That's the second time I've floated twice. I didn't expect that."

"That was my intention. Mind you, can't expect that every time."

"You're definitely a more experienced fellow."

" I've just realised, if I hadn't written that book, our meeting again might never have happened. You are the best royalty of all."

Paula kissed him and they were silent for a while. Then she remarked, "Do you know, there have been only two separate days when we've had sex, and on both occasions it has been three times in a few hours. Do you think we'll do that often?"

Eric laughed, "If we do, I'll be dead by the time I'm twenty seven"

Paula nudged him, laughed and yawned.

They lay silently.

Suddenly Paula raised her head. Had she dozed? Glancing at the bedside alarm she saw that it was quarter past four. God, she had to move. What if she had overslept? She slid from the bed and looked down at Eric. He looked to be sound asleep. Just as well for the time being, and she hurried through to the en-suite, quickly showered, and went to a wardrobe to select some underwear, a white blouse and a pale green cotton skirt.

Dressed, she quietly left Eric sleeping and closed the bedroom door tight behind her.

Eric wasn't sure what woke him up. He lay for a moment. Somewhere he could hear pans, and dishes. The sounds of a meal being prepared? He smiled and went over to the window. The bedroom faced out of the side of the bungalow, and he could see the curve of Torbay coast. 

Eric had a shower, put on his pants and shirt and moved barefoot out of the bedroom. The thick carpet felt delicious under his feet. He walked towards the kitchen. Paula was at the sink, and Eric could see that the outside door led out onto the porch area.

Paula turned as he entered. Now was the telling moment. She resisted Eric's attempt to embrace her. "Time for the double surprise." she whispered, and guided him to the back door, and out onto the decking. God, please let this work out well.

"Ah, at last," Eric said with a smile, "What is it? An outside barbecue?"

The decking felt smooth under his feet. The sun was still bright and the sea beyond was silver. But Eric's eyes were immediately drawn left. A little girl was playing on the swing. She was wearing a fresh blue dress, with a wide brimmed sunhat.

Eric's eyes widened, "Who's this then?"

"The reason why my timing has been erratic. I have Mrs Bourne collect her from school. She looks after her when I need her to. That is my daughter," Paula said, watching his face nervously.

"Your ---"

His surprised question was cut short by her calling across, "Erica, come here, darling."

"Erica?" Something pinged inside Eric.

"She was six years old in June," Paula told him meaningfully. The girl was letting the swing slow down..

Given his initial shock, Eric was compelled to do the maths, counting months forwards and backwards he came to the mind shaking answer---one hot September afternoon. He looked at Paula. Her face had an bland Mona Lisa look. He found his voice, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Paula held out her hand to take his, "When I first realised I was pregnant I thought to tell you. But I had no idea where you were. Then I had to consider how much it might disrupt your studies, your life."

"But when we did meet, weeks ago--?"

Paula nodded, "The temptation was strong, but can you see? I had to know. Had to find how committed you were--- I didn't want any dutiful response from you. I'm sorry."

The girl, Erica, was running towards them, her hat had blown to the back of her neck, and Eric was taken by the tawny hair that flared out around her delicate face, which as she came closer, made her a clone of her mother. "Don't be sorry. You were thinking of me. I appreciate that."

Little Erica was in front of them, looking at him curiously, and Eric saw that the only features that stopped her being exactly like her mother were the eyes---brown eyes. "Hello, Erica," he said, his voice croaking with emotion..

"You notice the eyes?" Paula said quietly. "I've seen them every day. Every day, reminding me."

Erica took a step closer and pointed down, "Haven't you any shoes?"

Eric smiled at her. He had a daughter. She was beautiful. His breathing eased a little as he said,. "My toes like to say hello to people."

Erica frowned and looked up at Paula, "Toes can't speak. Can they, Mum?"

"But they like to wave at pretty girls," Eric said, and he waggled his toes. "See?"

Erica giggled again, "He's funny, Mum." She gave Eric a long hard serious stare before adding, "Is this one going to stay?"

"This one is your real daddy." And Paula laid a hand on Eric's shoulder, so relieved at his acceptance of the situation.

"Like Jennifer has a real daddy?"

"Exactly like that."

Erica came closer to Eric, and he sat down on the step to be level.

His daughter reached out and, as though to prove he was real, touched Eric's hand---and his heart. "I've never had a real Daddy."

"Would you like me to stay?"

"Can he stay, Mum?"

"If he wants to."

Erica turned her blue eyes back to Eric, "Do you want to?"

Eric drew in a deep breath, "Only if you give me a big hug."

With amazing haste, Erica threw her arms around his neck. Eric felt them tighten as he held her close, and he thought his heart would burst. Paula's hand on his shoulder, gave a gentle squeeze, as Erica stepped back.

"Why are you crying?" Erica asked.

Eric brushed at the tear that trickled unbidden on his cheek, "Because I'm very, very happy," he said, and Paula leaned down and kissed the top of his head.



Exorcising Brian



Paula delighted at the startled look on his face, "Are you pushed for time?"

"No. Only I didn't think you'd---"

Paula wondered if he thought he'd found some crazy nympho. Feeling the way she did maybe she should be wondering that herself. But she asked him. 

Eric hated the very idea "No--no-- You're---you're---" Struggling for the right word. "--special." 

"Then, come on," she said, holding her hand out to him. "Let's go upstairs. I need to get cleaned up."

Stunned, Eric allowed himself to be led up the broad staircase, where he noticed the carpet had not been removed.. As though divining his thought, Paula said, "Leaving this carpet behind. I'm moving into a bungalow in Devon."

Her head swimming with confused thoughts, yet fixed on seeing how her plan might develop, Paula opened the first door at the head of the stairs. This wild idea that had so unexpectedly possessed her might have been highly dangerous for her. Yet she was certain that, luckily, she'd found a safe, and, yes, attractive man to help her intentions resolve. It was just a case now of where any exorcisms were needed, most of tem in her own mind. To be honest, the deep pressure inside her still remained, perhaps heightened.. The bed, of course, was a must, but for now she led Eric through the bedroom, and into the en-suite. 

Seeing the large bed in the centre of the room, had Eric gulping. Was this where they were going to start again? But he feared he wouldn't be ready. Then he saw that the bed was the only furniture in the room, apart from a large fitted wardrobe, and there were no curtains. Paula had lead him into an impressive en-suite. What was going to happen here? He just wished he could be more positive, take a more leading role. 

Paula moved across to the shower cubicle, drew back the sliding door, and reached in to turn the shower on. "I'll just adjust to lukewarm," she said. "No point in overheating on a day like this" She gave him her warmest smile as she added, "Especially if we're sharing."

Eric could only nod stupidly. Sharing the shower? He had to admit the cubicle was the largest he'd ever seen. It would take six people. Paula had turned her back and was unbuttoning her dress, and, as he gawped, it fell to the floor, revealing the wonderful curve of her, the lovely swell of her buttocks, and the hint of tawny as her legs parted to kick the dress to one side.

Having prepared the shower, Paula had suddenly realised that stripping off in front of Eric would be a first for her. Totally naked in front of a stranger? In any normal circumstance she would have shrunk from the idea. Next second she was chiding herself. Idiot, Eric's erection had been up inside her. Being naked now was just a reversal of the order of things. With that thought, she kicked her dress to one side and turned to face him, her arms spread wide to emphasise her willingness.

The sight of that delectable body in its full glory had Eric open mouthed. He had glimpsed her triangle, and, briefly, the roundness of her pink tipped breast, but here it was all in one wonderful, breathtaking package. From head to toe, hair, face and down over the curve of shoulders, breasts, flat belly to the tawny pubes and sensuous thighs, everything was perfect. And the urge to run his fingers over every inch of her delectable skin was almost unbearable. Was that a stirring in his pants? Already? Surely not. But, God, she looked so desirable.

Paula found her own inhibitions disappear as she enjoyed his eyes roaming over her body. She smiled at the look on his face. Oh, surely this would be all right. "Are you going to shower fully dressed?" she teased. 

This was a living fantasy. But her words shook Eric from his stupor and he quickly hauled his T-shirt over his head, threw it to one side and unbuckled his belt. She just stood there, arms lowered, watching him. But by now he was way past any modesty, and he pushed his pants down and stepped out of them.

Paula took in his wonderfully muscled and proportioned body. The right choice, she thought again. And the penis wasn't exactly flaccid---half mast, and as big as she had thought. "Looks like he's waking up earlier than expected," she laughed. "Come on. Let's get wet." And held out her hand.

Eric glanced down. Hell, that was a surprise. Definitely a rise there. Then he quickly moved to follow the naked Paula into the shower.

Under the semi-cool spray Paula picked up a bar of soap, and handed it to Eric, standing uncertainly, his hair plastering over his brow, rivulets running all over his fine body. "Soap me, please," she asked him.

Momentarily shocked by the water being cooler than he had expected, Eric took the soap from her. Soap her? That meant running his hands over that luscious body. An old joke struck him. It was a tough task, but somebody had to do it. Most willingly, he lathered his hands and began rubbing gently at her shoulders and arms, noticing how her head threw back at his first touch.. The silkiness of skin under lather was pulsating, and he felt responses down in his cock. 

"Everywhere," Paula murmured, taking the soap from him and lathering her own hands. She sensed Eric's caution, and that was nice. He shuddered as her hands began scudding over his upper chest and shoulders. In her mind was the thought that there was some exorcising to do in this cubicle, but given her own pent up state, that would wait. Her breathing faltered on intake as his hands soaped smoothly over her breasts.

Eric took the instruction to wash everywhere very much to heart. The feel of her skin was intoxicating and he had rubbed under her armpits, before allowing his hands to slide down over the delicious mounds of her breasts. Delightedly he heard her little gasp, and sensed maybe a slight tremble. Circling each breast, then caressing with his fingers in a gently tugging motion, led him to just fingering the nipples. There was no doubt he was rising down in his groin. Leaving one hand lavishing her breasts, he moved the other one to move in gentle circles over her flat abdomen. Her own hands moved down stroking his belly. 

As her hands dropped lower, Paula felt her fingers clip his rising erection. "Ah," she whispered to him. "The phoenix is rising earlier than we thought." His hands on her breasts were a delight. She took her hands away from his belly to soap them more thickly, before reaching down and rubbing over his near erect penis and down onto his scrotum and between his legs. A gargling sound escaped his lips.

Her touch on his cock had Eric mesmerised. He could have just stood there and let her continue. When she had momentarily taken her hands off him he had feared it was over. But the vigour with which she returned to enclose his balls and beyond was mind-blowing, and reminded him that he had to reciprocate. He re-soaped his hands, ran them down her slim waist, and up the slope of her hips, before bringing them together where her thighs parted. Helpfully, encouragingly, Paula parted them further, and he was able to caress and lather between her legs where all her secrets were hidden. She whispered a hissing, "Yes." But then added, "We need to keep our excitement for later."

Paula had revelled in rubbing his erection, but something was winding up inside her, tighter and tighter, a pressure that had been there all day and had been heightened with the kitchen activity, was now screaming for release. Yet she didn't want the sudden burst that had hit them then. Now she wanted to slow things down just a little. Good as the sensation of his hands and fingers working avidly between her legs were, she felt compelled to whisper, "Rinse time."

Eric had been lost in the thrill of his hands between her legs, the silkiness of her, multiplied by what she had being doing to his cock. So he was a little disappointed at her decision to rinse. Still he was sure something special lay ahead. It was exciting the way she moved in close to him as the water washed over them and their hands continued smoothing intimately over soaking skin. .

"Bed's the place to carry this on now, " Paula whispered, surprised at her own huskiness, as the tensions in her lower belly became more demanding. His hands searching over her were driving her into a frenzy which needed to be subdued----for now.

In no time they were taking equal pleasure in towelling each other dry.

Paula took his arm and led him back to the bedroom, and, quite deliberately, lay back on the duvet, her legs slightly parted, looking up at him expectantly.

For a few seconds Eric just stood there looking down at the voluptuousness of her. It was like having some sumptuous, unexpected feast laid out before him. As he eased down beside her, one hand stroking her belly and up to her breasts.

They kissed, a cool, almost formal, coming together, before Paula drew back and asked him, "We need to be slower than before. But will you follow what I ask of you?" His hands were already fondling her breasts. 

Wrapped up in the feel of her, Eric said," Of course I will."

Paula nodded. The pressures told her that short cuts had to be made. She felt as though a massive spring was holding back a flood of pleasure for her. That spring was pressed almost flat, and had to be released.. Now she told him, " Mouth my breasts, and your hand down between my legs."

No problem, Eric thought, and eagerly he began kissing her breasts, circling the nipples with his tongue before sucking them gently, feeling them swell. His hand moved down over her belly, over her tawny bush, onto the silky smooth of her parted inner thigh, before returning to finger along her soaking labia. One finger probed for her inner depths. He heard the harshness of her breathing, which excited him even more. Then her hand began stroking his erection. The excitement was rising .

Paula revelled in what Eric was doing. She boiled inside. Needed more. His fingers were so good, but she wanted them somewhere else. "Bring your fingers back," she gasped, and felt them move deeper. "No, no. Towards the front. My clit." The fingers came back, seemed to be groping, then hit. "Yes, there, that's it. Oh, yes." The sensation was an electric shock through her lower body.

Eric was surprised by her request and had moved back towards her anus before she corrected him. It didn't take long to find the little nub, and he was quick to gently stroke and finger it exulting in the sounds and twitching of her. He was giving her pleasure.

Paula knew for certain that she was on the verge of something big and knew exactly what she wanted next. "Now your mouth, Eric," she panted, feeling the perspiration start on her brow. "Down there."

Kiss her down there? This was something he'd never done. Kissing a woman there. But his own exuberance led him to leave the breasts and move his lips and tongue down over her belly, hesitating only a moment at her triangle, before moving his finger and letting his lips and tongue lavish her clit. Even the musky odour of her was stimulating. His fingers moved back to probe at the vaginal opening 'her cunny' as he'd heard it called. He spread his fingers, and while his index finger probed into the lusciously moist cavity, and his lips pampered her clitoris, Eric found that his middle finger came in touch with her tight little anus. 

Paula was now almost out of control. There was now no more sensibility to her given instructions, as every fibre of her body screamed for release. His lips and tongue were lifting her away out of herself. That spring wanted to burst. It was going to happen. For a brief moment her swaying head turned in the direction of the wardrobes. Oh, God, how she wished she could have Brian the Bastard strung up there somehow. Watch this, you prick. This is how it should be. 

That's when she felt Eric's daring finger gently touch her anus. That was like pulling a trigger and her whole body heaved, as the spring inside her threatened to release. She was only able to squeal, "In me, in me, Eric," while grabbing at his penis, as he came up and rolled between her throbbing thighs.

Eric had been enjoying the licking and groping but was quite willing to plunge into her. Had touching her anus set her away? Her jerking and grunting had told him that this time he would surely satisfy her. As soon as the tip of his engorged cock touched the lips of her vagina he plunged upwards, hard. Drew back and plunged again into the delicious wet warmth of those heaving walls. He felt okay. He was going to be able to keep plunging, as, on his third stroke, he heard her gurgling squeal. She began to shudder more than ever, heaving her hips up at him, her head tossing uncontrollably from side to side. 

Paula knew, before Eric entered her, that she was away. His huge erection ploughing upwards inside her, filled her. So enormous as her vaginal walls pulled at it. Immediately the spring holding back all her frustration and pressure began to uncoil. As the penis drew back, her breathing seemed to seize up. Then he plunged again, then again, and now it all burst. An uncoiled spring that spread agonising pleasure throughout her system She was gone out of herself, floating, sailing, drifting on a cloud of ecstasy. There was nothing but this wild infusion of tingling nerve ends and her vaginal walls went from warm to red hot. A blazing explosion inside her, spreading, ever spreading, through belly, breast and limbs..

Eric felt almost triumphant as Paula jerked, shook and yelped, strange sounds from a mouth that appeared locked open. Her tawny hair swung across her face, as her head swayed helplessly from side to side, and strands glued to the perspiration across her cheeks. His own pleasure was high, and mainly because he was feeling all the sensuality of her feverish burst. That extra heat. Yet, he was still strong, although pressure was rapidly building in his balls.

Paula, elated, felt herself calming, like coming down from a lascivious high that she couldn't recall ever being on before. Her mind began functioning. Could this have been her best orgasm ever? With a complete stranger? Her memory threw nothing up. Then she felt the piston still moving inside her. God, Eric was still totally erect. Breathless, sated, she was still able to raise her hips rhythmically to match his lunging. Her vaginal walls began to glow again as they contracted round this delightful rod that was pleasuring her. Looking up into his contorted face she knew he was close. She wanted to be an important part of his coming, and ground her hips against him, enjoying his warhead touching her cervix.

Eric had been happy with the slow grind he had developed, but as soon as Paula began reacting, he knew it was time. The pull of her glorious vagina, the heave of her hips, were like a great suction pad on his cock. He plunged once more and it poured out of him like an erratic fountain, as he strained up against the pressure of her. The release was enormous and his full weight collapsed on top of her. His face buried into her damp neck.

How lovely was this after-cosiness? Paula didn't mind his weight pressing her down into the softness of the bed. Everything was still aglow. This bed had been well and truly exorcised. It would go with her to Devon, and when she lay in it, it would be this orgasm she'd recall, and nothing that went in the years before. 

"I must be heavy," Eric mumbled, as he rolled his body to one side, and she felt his limp penis slide across her thigh, leaving a trail of wetness. She didn't mind. To hell with everything outside the joy of the past minutes.

"Was it all right?" Eric asked. He was feeling completely spent. As weak as he'd ever felt.

All right? Was it all right? A giggle burst from Paula's lips. "Oh, Eric. If there is perfection in being fucked, then that was it. I've never--" She stopped. What had made her use that word? Not a word she ever used, had always thought it cheapened the act. But there it was. Maybe that experience had broken the ice for her in more ways than one.

Eric too was a little surprised to hear the word from her lips, yet he was flattered at what she had said. He just felt so good, so lucky, so---

They lay silent for a moment before Paula asked, "Feel the need for a coffee?" There was no reply, and looking sideways she saw that his eyes were closed and there was a slight burring sound issuing from his lips. She smiled. He was asleep. Giving him a kindly peck on the cheek, she hurried through to the bathroom to mop herself up, before donning a thin silken robe and going downstairs. She would make the coffee while he rested. Would it be fair to have him help her exorcise somewhere else?.

As she prepared the coffee, her mind worked on just what other places needed the memory of Brian the Bastard eradicated. Just as well the settees and carpets had all gone. Maybe she'd replace them. Otherwise there was only the shower cubicle, her own mind, and body. 

Be careful, she warned herself, you need to know just how much more Eric could give. Still he was young---and vigorous. Oh, yes---so vigorous, and she felt herself moisten. Harlot, she smiled to herself. This day had been so fulfilling, and she'd found out just how frustrating recent years had been for her. If she hadn't been moving, she might have found herself a toy-boy. 

Finding she only had ham and cheese available, she made a couple of sandwiches before carrying a tray with coffee and food up the stairs.

Entering the bedroom she saw Eric was still sleeping, light snoring noises issuing from his throat. Naked, flat on his back, she fancied he could be some Greek god. His flaccid penis lay across his thigh, and even limp, it was more generous than any she'd experienced.

Not wanting to waken him, but unable to resist the impulse, she placed the tray on the floor, sat on the edge of the bed and gently ran her fingers down his cheek, over his chest and belly until she was tenderly touching his penis, knowing what she would like to do for it next. She jumped when his head suddenly jerked up. "What---?" he groaned dazedly.

Eric had been dreaming. No clear faces, but erotic things were happening to him. Fingers of a hundred angels seemed to be gently soothing him until his senses told him that the fingers on his penis were real. Startled he raised his head. The first thing that struck him was that it was real. Paula was there, beautiful as any angel. "I must have dozed off," he said apologetically.

Paula smiled and turned away, "You certainly did. Could you eat now?" Standing up, she picked up the tray, and placed it beside him. As he scrambled to a sitting position, she sat alongside the tray.

They ate and drank, talking little. Paula delighted in watching him ravenously devour the sandwiches. Finished, they began talking. She told him all about her writing career, the thrill of her first acceptance. His hand lay on her upper thigh and seemed to naturally spread warmth through her lower body.

Eric felt a little insignificant as he told her of his first realisation that writing was what he wanted to do.

"You'll make it," she said, giving his hand a little squeeze. "I'm sure of it."

"I'll look out for your books in the shops, " he told her.

"You won't find them. I have a pen name. Sienna Gold."

"Sienna," he breathed. "What a beautiful name. It suits you so well."

"In what way?"

"It has an earthy quality."

"Is that a compliment?" she laughed, and he joined in.

After a little spell of talking and casually touching, she glanced down. Eric's penis was just a little more than flaccid. She looked up into his face, "Should we get cleaned up in the shower?"

He had no objections, and soon they were stroking and soaping each other with the same pleasure as earlier. Eric was pleasantly surprised to feel his penis give a little surge.

Paula had also noticed that Eric's penis was semi erect. Good enough to start with, she decided. She took Eric's hands in hers. "Time to rinse off," she said quietly, seeing the little frown of curiosity on his face. He'd know soon enough. For Paula, this was a key area for expunging a memory. An unpleasant one. Not too distant either.




Exorcising Brian



Late one evening she had taken a shower after a busy cleaning up day. Enjoying the water, she jumped as the shower door burst open and Brian the Bastard stepped in, his rotund belly jutting over the erect penis beneath it. He had been drinking, heavily. A hefty man, he pressed his erection against her and told her what he wanted. She had refused. Using his superior strength he had forced her down to her knees and jammed his erection into her mouth. Paula had avoided such contact with him for a while. Given little choice, she aimed to finish him as quickly as she could and, as she had learned, get him to pour into the back of her throat so she could swallow swiftly. But Brian the Bastard had other ideas. As he was about to come, he drew her head back and to one side so that his stuff spewed around her inner cheeks and over her tongue, so she had to endure the salt/acid taste of his so bitter seed, before he released her and she was able to spit it down into the shower tray, where it drained away with the water. Laughing, he had left her there with a sarcastic 'Thanks.'.

Now, she and Eric were completely rinsed and he was looking at her, wide eyed, as though awaiting instructions. Paula gave him a smile, reached behind him and turned off the water. "This is special," she murmured in .his ear.

Puzzled, Eric just stood there, dripping, his hands stroking at her breasts. It didn't shake him as her lips traced along his shoulders, although he did wonder why they weren't stepping out of the cubicle. Then her lips and tongue continued down his chest, not stopping as she bent lower, and Eric guessed her target. She was going to kiss his cock, even though he wasn't fully erect.

Sure enough, Paula started by just kissing the half-mast erection, holding it with one hand while she ran her lips to his scrotum, and her tongue back to the purple tip. The organ quivered in her hand. Good enough to take, Paula decided, and trying to keep her eyes on Eric's face to gauge both his surprise and pleasure her lips completely enfolded the smooth head. Her tongue tickled at the little hole at the end. There was much joy in looking up and seeing his eyes widen and his tongue licking nervously over his lips.

As soon as she took his whole length in, she felt his legs tremble, heard his grunt. It felt so good to have his warmth over her tongue. She so wanted to give. Eric's penis was now rock hard again. I wish you were watching this Brian, you bastard. This is my pace, my choice, and I'm going to kill my memory of you. Eric's tip touched the back of her throat, before she drew back to halfway.

Eric just stood there, shocked, amazed and just a little nervous that he might shoot into her mouth. That would be awful for her, wouldn't it? But she seemed to be enjoying sucking at him, looking up at him, with bright shining eyes. Hell, he felt himself touch the back of her throat. She had drawn back her head, and her eyes were on his face again. Now she turned her head slightly and he saw the bulge in her cheek as she caused his tip to invade there. He was building up with the sheer eroticism of this new experience. There was already a familiar burgeoning in his balls. He had to warn her when he was ready to shoot. 

Now her head had driven up to the root of his cock, pulled back quickly, then drove over it again. How different this was from being in a vagina. Her lips found different pressure points. Her tongue could produce so many varied actions. Firstly, as she sucked her tongue and upper palette gave a great heaving pull, or her tongue would simply roll around the tip as she drew back to half way. Her lips found different pressure points, a new selection of sensations. Paula was doing it all, and he was gasping with the sheer generosity of her.

Paula was overjoyed at the pleasure she was finding in this. Eric's face was a picture of doubt and pleasure whenever she drew back. Pushing his penis against her cheek had been fantastic, gave her whole mouth a tingle. Well, she thought, let's see how long you last with this onslaught. With that, she sped up her gobbling along Eric's length. Each time she drew back she viewed his face, loving his expressions, while her tongue worked on the tip. Forward, back, deep to the back of her throat back.

Eric had to warn her. The pressure had moved from his balls to somewhere back beyond the root of his cock. Paula's head was pushing her mouth so fast now. He felt her hands tighten on his buttocks and pull him further into her. No, no, he couldn't-- he felt the release of floodgates was imminent. "Paula." he gasped. "I'm coming." He tried to pull back.

Paula heard his warning, and, if her mouth had not been full, she would have laughed joyously. Sensing his efforts to pull his penis away, she edged one hand between his buttocks and one finger stretched to touch his tight anal ring. He jerked forward sending his heaving penis back to reach her tonsils and she knew he was coming as she heard his desperate, "Oh, God." Immediately she was aware of fluid in her throat. She swallowed.

Eric touched her head with both hands as he held back from the urge to thrust, but he couldn't stop his balls from emptying into her mouth. Quickly he realised that there wasn't so much output, and he was thankful for that.

Paula also realised that there had been only a small discharge of semen. Not surprising really. Contentedly she let what there was glide down her throat. Hoping it had given Eric some satisfaction. It had surely cleared her head of what Brian the Bastard had done to her. This had been enjoyable. He had been eradicated. 

Eric's penis was softening quickly, so Paula drew her head back to allow it to slip from her mouth. A thin trail of semen ran from his drooping tip to her lip, and she wiped it away. The trail must have left residue on her tongue. She smacked her lips, noticing the vague taste, which, surprisingly was not so unpleasant. Standing up, she put her arms around him, and he bowed his head to kiss her. 

Eric was in a state of confusion. He couldn't believe she'd really wanted to swallow his cum. Yet all her actions had shown that was her intent. It had been a fantastic experience, though. A first for him. Later he might analyse just what the sensation had been like. For now, he kissed her gratefully before breaking away to say, "You did that for me."

"Didn't you enjoy it?" His face looked so forlorn that Paula h.ad to think that he hadn't.

"More than just enjoy---I've never had that before. But you can't have got much out of it."

"You'd be surprised. I'm glad it was a new experience for you. It was almost all for you. Come on, let's take a rest." 

They dried quickly, and then lay side by side on the bed. Hands and fingers, lightly caressed, wherever they could reach, and their mouths came together in warm brief kisses. In between kisses they talked small talk. Paula eventually decided she had to make a confession. "In truth, Eric, I've used you."

"Treated me, you mean," he replied with a laugh.

Paula squeezed his arm, "I've enjoyed it more than I deserve, but I had a motive." Openly, she went on to tell him how bad Brian the Bastard had been for her. She didn't shrink from telling him about the shower incident, and his attempt to have anal sex in this very bed.

"He failed, I'm pleased to say. But there were other things---his drunken satisfying himself on me when I wasn't in the mood. So you taking me in this bed has been an exorcism. When I'm away and lie in this bed it will be you I'm remembering"

Eric had listened with some horror, yet felt highly gratified by her last remark. "That's a nice thought. I can see why you gave him the title. Why didn't you leave him?"

Paula had often considered taking that course of action, "But I loved this house, and he started paying me less attention. Some French bird. Then, doesn't he tell me he's leaving me? Ironic eh?"

Eric's hand had been circling her breast with gentle strokes that spread down over her belly. Hearing her story, and following his treatment to this point, there had been a growing compulsion in him to give to her. He wanted to treat her as she deserved, to say thank you in the only way he could. Up to this point she had been the leader. 

Now could he take control? It would all depend on how much strength his cock could muster. He leaned over her, kissed her warmly, his tongue searching hers, and he let his fingers slip between her thighs. She was still fairly moist down there and he rubbed gently at the front of her closed cleft.

Paula had enjoyed the talking, and the settled closeness. The touching and intimacy had been a bonus. The sheer luck of someone like Eric turning up to assuage all the frustrations astounded her. Poor Eric must be drained now. His hands on her were so comforting, so soothing. The fervour of his kiss took her by surprise, and when she felt his fingers stroke along her labia she was both thrilled and uncertain. Could he accomplish anything now? She reached down to feel for his penis. Her fingers encountered the beginnings of a recovery. Certainly it was a degree or two better than flaccid. Now he had drawn back from the kiss and looked down at her. His look, warm but with a firm determination in his eyes.

He had no resentment of her touching his soft cock but he was going to be in charge. "This is for you," he whispered. "Please let me try to be the leader."

Paula's heart skipped a beat. In her present unreal state of mind the idea of him being in charge was fascinating. "I won't stop you. I promise." She lay back, the work of his fingers already warming her down there.

For a moment, he removed his hand from between her thighs and just sat back letting his eyes caress up and down her body.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing's wrong," he told her. "I'm taking a photograph. To store up here." He tapped the side of his head, before returning his hand to her soft, moist cleft. After kissing her face, her neck, each lip separately, he slid his tongue down her neck, her shoulders, and slowly licked along the edge of her breast. Under his fingers her labia opened, and the clit came up like a small seedling. He was determined to be all gradual, even slightly teasing. 

The utter gentility of his approach was a joy to Paula. She felt almost sad as so many 'if onlys' filled her mind. She was so relaxed by his ministrations. He made her feel sensually lazy. Take, just take, she was telling herself, absorbing every movement of his fingers over and around her clitoris, every caress of his tongue and lips over her breast and nipples.

Eric spent a long time on her breasts, sucking the lovely pink nipples until they swelled. Under his fingers her clitoris felt erect. He moved his fingers away from it and then back, loving the responses it provoked, hearing her breathing become heavier and more rapid. Playing for time, that's what he was doing, actually. He was waiting for the signs from her breathing, from the movements of her body, to tell him when to start the last stage. No last minute entries this time. But time was also dictated by the condition of his reluctant penis. There was some feeling down there but he wasn't sure. Maybe Paula could help if there was too slow a response. At the moment he was lying so that his penis was out of her reach.

Paula was feeling guilty, all warm and tingling down below, but unable to do anything for him except ruffle his hair and stroke his back. Once she had reached down but could not get near his penis. Oh God, he was going down on her now, as she saw his head drop away from her breast, and felt his tongue tracing a line down her belly. 

Eric had it all planned like a general on the battlefield, but had there ever been a more delectable battlefield than this. Deliberately, his tongue moved down to replace the fingers, which moved back into the luscious wetness of her. The muskiness of her filled his senses, as he licked and probed. 

On impulse he drew his head back from the exciting operation, and, placing a hand on either upper thigh, he parted her labia with his thumbs, opening her like some ripe fruit. What lay before him was more the delicate pink of layered rose petals. Delectable. In these few hours he felt he had experienced a complete lesson in the geography of a woman's body. Readily he returned to the task in hand. But, how ready was he?

Paula was in a high state of rapture. Nowhere near exploding, not wanting to explode. Just wanting all the sensations that coursed through her lower body to go on and on. His body had shuffled round and she found she could reach out a hand, touch his belly and slide down to find his penis. Oh, yes, it was growing---he was amazing. She gripped the organ and pulled at it, feeling it grow in her hand.

Her hand had clearly done the trick. Had confirmed that at least he was ready. He sucked on her clitoris and his fingers went into action on something he had been close to earlier. His index finger explored her vaginal opening, and he spread his fingers so that his middle finger, found and circled her anus. Last step, he told himself. Didn't want her to be driven too far, but, as his index finger continued its probing, he pushed his middle finger into the tightness of her anus. For a brief ten seconds or so he thrust both fingers back and forth, enjoying the way Paula stiffened and groaned.

Paula couldn't believe the trembling that his fingers brought on. Her whole body was his in whatever way he wanted. The invasion of her anus was surprisingly rousing. Her breath was coming in little gasps, and her earlier confidence that she wasn't near exploding was fading. 

At that moment, Eric removed his fingers and lips from her femininity, and he had turned to roll between her thighs, so that Paula had to release his fully erect penis, which was suddenly thrust at her entrance..

Perfect timing, Eric told himself. His penis was in a good state, and Paula was clearly ready for it. Looking into those lovely eyes, a smile on his face, he whispered, "Thank you for letting me lead." And plunged his penis into the now familiar deepness of her. Oh, how deep and welcoming she felt. Her vagina was a series of clawing rings, accepting his plunge.

Paula had been just a little disappointed when Eric's intimate caresses had stopped, but now she was able to read his intention. Suddenly she was a lift shaft taking this full solid penetration, the wonder of his penis inside her. She raised her hips to meet him as he began to hump at her with increasing pace. Her whole being was becoming a mass of tingling nerve ends.

This was the conclusion Eric had intended. Treating her with pure coitus. Nothing else but the thrust of him and the pull of her. So in charge now, he was able to tease, and he allowed his penis to fall back towards her entrance.

No, no, no. Paula couldn't believe that he had gone. Rising on a great head of steam, she had felt no desperate pulsing from him, yet he was slowly coming out. Then, even as she despaired, the solid length of him was tearing up into her once more, the head hitting against her cervix. The thrill of that followed by just two more mutual thrusts, and she was being lifted out of herself. Heat spread like a wildfire from where they were joined together, to her lower limbs, up and everywhere. She heard herself scream out at the force of the orgasm. It had never been like this. She squealed again as Eric continued to heave back and forth into her, until every nerve end in her body was sending out flashes to the surface of her skin. 

Hearing those sounds from her, drove Eric on. The exultation of knowing he had driven her to such heights was only shaded by the fact that they hadn't come at the same time. But, oh, it was close. It was so close. One easing back and a final mighty push deep to the heart of her and he felt the release, the gush, not a massive deluge, but enough to have him grunting madly, but delighting to hear her give an extra squawking gurgle.

Lying side by side, they gradually came down from their high. She turned her perspiring face to him and said, "That was a wonderful farewell gift."

Her words lifted him, but instantly came the depression of what those words inferred. He was going to have to leave. Home in time for evening dinner with his mother. Like a nervous schoolboy. Looking at Paula's face he could tell by the pull on the corners of her mouth that her thoughts were dealing with the same unavoidable conclusion.

They lay for a while, kissing gently, and then she said, "One last shower--you can't go in that state."

Minutes later they were standing in that familiar cascade of water. Paula picked up a sponge, soaped it and rubbed it over his flaccid genitalia. No, she needed to be closer to him than that, and she cast the sponge aside and caressed the soap into the limpness of him with her hands. Not something she would have done for any man. But his softness was a tribute to what they had accomplished. She bent to give her final gesture of gratitude. .

For an unsettling moment Eric had thought she was trying to arouse him again. Yet the soaping and the touch of her hands on him made him so thankful. And as the water washed the soap away, and she bent to kiss him quickly on the penis, Eric felt such a warmth towards her, so that when she stood he kissed her deeply.

A few minutes later she stood watching him climbing into his pants, the sadness pressed in against her. "I'd better go and put something on."

"No," Eric said. "Would you do me a favour and wear the same dress. That's how I first saw you."

Paula had no objections, loving his reasons. All too soon they were at the front door, where Eric held her at arms length, and let his eyes wander up and down the shapeliness of her in that dress.

Paula leaned in, kissed him and expressed something that had been playing in her mind, "I've thought that we could exchange phone numbers, but, Eric, I think it would only add to any frustrations."

Eric was about to object since it seemed like a good idea. Then as he thought about it, he realised that she was right. Just talking would have been such remote contact from what they had experienced together.

Paula squeezed his body close, "Go out. Get your degree and become a great writer. Then find yourself a good loving lady."

Despite the heaviness inside him, he gave a light laugh as he said, "She will have a lot to live up to."

As she opened the door she asked, "Will you talk about this?"

He chuckled despite his sadness, " Who on earth is going to believe me?"

In spite of herself she laughed, kissed him, and he stepped away 

Eric's eyes were fixed on her as she stood there on the porch. This was where it had all started. That tight yellow dress with nothing underneath. He sighed, and turned away.

"Be happy, Eric. I'll never forget you."

He turned back, "Think I'll ever forget this day?" And to ease the ache inside him he added, "Maybe the fates have a plan that out paths will cross someday"

"That's something to hope for," Paula replied, but her heart telling her how unlikely that was, caused her eyes to moisten.

"I'll be looking for your books, Sienna." He saw her wipe at her cheek, and then he turned away, deliberately ignored the heaving urge to rush back into her arms. One glance back, a wave towards that adored figure in yellow, before the hedging blocked her out.

When he called her Sienna, Paula felt tears start, and run on her cheeks. This one, all too brief, episode was over. Yet it was stored so large inside her. She wiped away the tears again, as he disappeared from sight. She turned back into the house, slammed the door behind her, stood in the hallway facing the staircase, held her arms in the air and yelled, "You're out of me, out of this place, out of my mind, Brian, you Bastard!"



Exorcism



She didn't know why she couldn't talk to men. Didn't know why she couldn't even look at them. Yes, she had led a sheltered life. She had spent almost all of it in a Catholic school; first as a student, then as a teacher. But it wasn't as if she had never had any contact with them. There were plenty in her family with whom she had no problem interacting: father, brothers, cousins, brothers. She had never had any bad experiences. It wasn't even as if she was still a virgin. She had been engaged once, to a loving man to whom she had given herself, knowing that they would become husband and wife. His death in a car crash 15 years ago had been a shock, for certain. She had felt as if she had been punished for such impure behaviour. Her grief had mingled with her guilt, and perhaps she had shut herself off from any more temptation. She didn't know.

As she walked down the street, she wondered if she was missing out. She didn't feel unhappy. She looked at other women in their mid thirties as she walked past them, and she didn't think they looked any happier than she felt. Of course, she'd had offers. By all accounts she wasn't unattractive, even if, according to her friends, she didn't make the most of herself. But what was the point? She'd even let some 'suitors' take her out for awkward and, invariably, short dinners, but she had never found anyone who could inspire anything in her, enough to bring her out of her shell.

One evening, she was invited to celebrate a friend's birthday at one of those restaurants where you dine in the dark. She found the thought rather exciting: The idea of not being able to rely on your visual sense, of having to trust to your body's automated movements to find and cut your food, to raise it to your mouth. The idea that your sense of taste was concentrated by your lack of sight.

Apparently, the wait staff were all visually challenged, most of them legally blind. The server that took charge of their group took hold of her hand and placed it on his shoulder to guide them to their table. Her immediate reaction was to pull her hand away, and she had to exert some self-control not to. Her friends stood in line behind her, each with their hand on the shoulder of the person in front, as they slipped through the blackout curtain and into the dining room. Here in the dark, she became acutely aware of the server's strong shoulder under her hand, of his soft touch holding her hand in place. In the dark, she found the sensations amplified, in fact, that she was unable to block them out as she usually did. She thought she should feel uneasy about it, but in fact, she found the experience strangely liberating, and she wondered at the butterflies she had begun to feel in her stomach.

Reaching the table, the server told her group to stop, and then took her hand in his to help her seat herself. This new touch, more intimate than the last, caused the butterflies to flutter more agitatedly, and she found herself breathing harder. As she sat and moved her chair closer to the table, she felt his warm breath on her neck, smelt his clean, soapy scent and heard his velvety voice asking if she was all right. The butterflies had turned into flying fish doing somersaults, but she managed to stammer that she was okay. He squeezed her shoulder gently before helping the rest of her party to their seats, and she closed her eyes and quivered at his touch.

As she waited, she tried to remember what he looked like. It wasn't something she normally paid attention to. She could usually say roughly what colour someone's hair was, or how tall they were, but she never usually paid attention to physiognomical details. She had always been glad that no crime had been committed against her because she was sure she would never be able to provide the police with any particulars. This man was average height, maybe 5'9". His hair was dark, short – that was all she remembered. She couldn't say whether he was attractive or not. But then she realized that it didn't really matter. If she was thinking along these lines, it was because she already found him attractive, and what had attracted her were his touch, his smell and his voice. These thoughts surprised her.

Thereafter, she found she seemed to be more aware of his presence than her dining companions. Each time he poured more wine or brought a new dish, her breathing increased. After the next couple of times, she felt his breath against her neck again, solicitously enquiring whether she needed to get some air, explaining that some people found the total darkness oppressive, claustrophobic. She assured him that she was all right and was certain she heard him smile when he told her to just let him know if there was anything he could do for her, anything at all.

This last statement replayed in her mind, and she found it difficult to concentrate on the conversation around her. In some way she was panicked, her old reflexes fighting the new feelings that had stirred in her. She tried to rationalize, telling herself that she had imagined any intentions he might have, that she was simply disorientated from the darkness. But the guilt and the fear continued to war with what she realized now was her arousal.

At some point, she became aware that she needed to use the bathroom and mentioned it, embarrassed, to the server. He asked whether anyone else needed to go but, worryingly, she found she was alone. He took her by the hand once more, placing it again on his shoulder, and she let him lead her. The bathroom, lit with a dim, reddish light, was hidden from the main dining area by a well-placed wall. As she washed her hands, she used the meagre luminosity to examine the server quickly. Yes, an attractive man by any standard. He asked her if she was ready to return to the table and she acquiesced. As he took her hand again, he raised his other one to her face, tracing gently the contours on one side, brushing the edge of her hair with his fingertips. Her breath caught and his hand dropped away as he apologized. She caught it up again with her own hand, unable to speak, but squeezing his hand gently to let him know that she was not averse to him getting to know her better. He asked her for her phone number, and repeated it twice when she gave it to him, memorizing the digits.

***

In the several weeks that followed, she dined with him at the restaurant on his nights off. He had invited her elsewhere, but it was only here that she felt comfortable. It was only here that she could manage to stave off her demons and allow her new feelings to rise to the surface. They always sat next to each other, not opposite, which allowed them to hear each other better above the ambient noise, but also to touch hands, to feel each other's bodies in close proximity.

As the weeks passed, she began to feel more comfortable in his presence, and to find her thoughts turning to him in the privacy of her own bedroom. At first she thought of their conversations, forming a more complete picture of him in her mind. But lately, she found herself thinking of the caress of his voice, the way his fingertips felt on the back of her hand, the scent of his body and the heat that radiated from it as he sat next to her.

One night, in the darkest hour before the sun rises, she awoke from a dream that she vaguely recollected was about him, to find her hand between her legs, coated like the tops of her thighs in a slick wetness. Her immediate and gut reaction was of guilt, closely followed by fear of the feelings he could inspire in her. But then she realized that her body felt strangely at peace; in fact, that she was more aware of her body than she had been in many, many years. Succumbing to these new feelings, she drifted off to sleep.

The next time they met, she was aware that her attitude towards him had changed. She felt closer to him, more connected to him, more responsive to him. The darkness accentuated the feelings once more. She knew he felt it too. She could sense it. And when, for the first time, she felt his fingertips caress her neck and shoulder, it confirmed her thoughts as well as igniting her senses. She felt her body relax in a way that she had not consciously felt in a long time. She knew then that she was ready to go that step further, ready to know him more intimately. But the thought still filled her with anxiety.

The backs of his fingers gently stroked her cheek and then she felt his forefinger slide under her chin and his thumb come to rest below her bottom lip. He turned her face towards him and she felt his lips brush hers once. As they passed a second time, she opened her own ever so slightly, making firmer contact with his mouth. His hands cupped her face and, as he pulled her closer to him, she found her hand on his knee, her fingers squeezing it just as her lips squeezed his. Some part of her brain railed against the contact, against its implications, but she tore free of its grip and took a step further towards emancipation.

The tips of their tongues met and a rush of energy invaded every corner of her body. She wanted to melt into him, to become one with him, and her arms embraced him as her mouth opened more fully. Some minutes later, his mouth pulled gently away from hers and moved across her cheek and up and down her neck, his tongue finally trailing up to her ear where he whispered to her that he wanted her, that he wanted to feel her skin against his, to discover every inch of her body with his hands and his tongue and his lips, to savour the scent and the taste of her, to make her feel alive and to experience the pleasure of her pleasure. As she absorbed his words into the depths of her being, she moaned softly into his ear.

She would have preferred the known territory of her own place, but she understood that he needed his own environment more. As they entered his apartment, his hand went automatically for the light switch but she stopped him. The dark made her feel safe. He led her into his bedroom and she realized that there was only a thin lace curtain at the window, the lights from the city streaming in. Of course, he didn't need to block the light, only indiscreet eyes. Suddenly, she was uncomfortable, and the demons threatened to engulf her again. Total darkness was what she needed. She had to recreate the security of the restaurant, the ambience that made her feel closer to him.

Asking him to wait, she fished her silk scarf from her purse. She placed it in his hands and told him what she wanted. He knotted it carefully around her eyes, asking if it was comfortable and whether she could still see. She relaxed again as she found herself in darkness once more.

Still behind her, he began to run his hands across the tops of her shoulders, then over her shoulder blades and down her back to her waist, coming to rest on her hips. His touch was firmer than she had expected, but she realized that his hands were also his eyes. The touch of his tongue on the back of her neck was softer though, intended not to visualise but to taste. And to arouse. Her breath caught. A shiver ran down her spine. A wave swelled under her ribcage, rolling down her abdomen inside and out. And like the ocean, it left a dampness to mark its passage.

As he continued to massage her neck with his lips and tongue, his hands rose to her shoulders once more and traced down her upper arms, slipping beneath them at her waist. They danced across her belly and rose up to cup her breasts. Her back arched and her breathing made her chest swell beneath his palms. He pressed her against him, crushing her breasts, and her head fell back against his shoulder. His mouth began to work its magic on her throat as his fingers started to undo the buttons of her shirt. She took in breath sharply when she felt his fingers slide beneath its fabric and into her bra, searching for her nipple. His tongue trailed up the side of her face to her ear, and he whispered to her how soft her skin was, how good she smelled, how beautiful she was.

He clasped her firmly by the shoulders and turned her to face him, pulling her into a strong embrace and kissing her deeply. She was surprised again by the strength of her response, how her need for him overwhelmed her, making her hands roam his back and pull him closer to her, pressing him against her so she could feel the firmness of his desire. Breathless, she pulled away from him so she could unbutton his shirt and feel his skin beneath her hands. As she pulled the garment from his pants, she felt her own blouse fall away from her stomach and his hands against the skin of her waist and then the small of her back, now wandering higher to unclasp her bra. She pushed his shirt from his shoulders then allowed him to remove her own clothes quickly so that, finally, their naked torsos could come into contact. She sighed forcefully as her nipples and breasts squashed against his chest and her stomach touched his, their mouths locking again in a passionate kiss.

The touch of his bare skin against her own had crumbled another wall. At this moment in time, she felt as if she had left her demons struggling in some swamp as she lightly tripped over the stepping-stones he laid before her. She was ready now to take that final jump and reach solid ground. His fingers unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She stepped out of her shoes and clothing, carefully kicked them to the side where they would be no danger, and lay back on the bed as he had asked her to do. She heard rustling and assumed he was removing his pants, and then she felt his knee press between hers and the weight of his body come to bear on her own, his cock hard against her thigh, the fabric of his shorts damp from his own anticipation.

His lips and tongue began to trace every contour of her face, her neck, her collarbone, her chest and breasts and nipples and abdomen, from the middle to the edge, from the outside working in – scanning her body completely. He sank to the floor and worked down the outer thigh of her left leg, raising it up to continue kissing and licking down her calf to her ankle, her heel, her foot, her toes, before ascending once more, circling her knee, discovering the crease behind it, and slowly moving up her inner thigh. As he approached the top, nearing her most sensitive parts, her breathing became more rapid and her muscles clenched. She felt him blow a stream of air across the crotch of her panties, her hands gripping the bedcovers and her hips rising upwards, wanting him, needing him to lick her there. But he continued to her right leg, repeating his exploration from top to bottom and from toe to thigh.

Finally, finally, she felt his mouth encircle the moist fabric where her thighs met. She gasped and arched her back. His fingers felt beneath the elastic, hooking upwards, and he began to pull her panties down her legs, taking his time to remove them completely. She had almost stopped breathing with the expectation. And then she felt him place his hands upon her knees, pushing them apart and up, sliding down the backs of her thighs to raise her buttocks slightly from the bed, and then his warm breath approaching the hottest part of her own body. She moaned long and loud as his tongue stroked the entire length from bottom to top, and she heard him moan too. Her hearing was somewhat impaired by the sounds of her own breathing coming hard and fast, but she still heard him tell her how wet she was, how amazing she tasted, and how he couldn't get enough of her.

Each stroke of his tongue, each nibble of his teeth, each suck of his mouth made her writhe more and more. He gripped her hips, holding her in place, as her feet struggled to gain purchase on the bed and push her pelvis closer to him. She invoked the names of her entire divine pantheon, not caring about the consequences as she climbed higher, higher, higher, higher and peaked, screaming the name of her lover and clamping her thighs to his ears.

***

He lay across her once more and they kissed tenderly. She became aware that the silk covering her eyes was damp against her cheek. Confused, her brain searched for what it meant, and slowly it dawned on her that she was crying. She was crying for her lost love, for her lost youth, but they were also tears of joy for the redemption of her very being, for her rebirth. She clasped him to her with arms and legs and began to sob. The release of her orgasm had punched out the keystone of the final wall, and now the dam was bursting.

Alarmed, he stroked her face and asked her what was wrong, begged her to tell him how he could help her. She managed to sob that he should hold her, and he did until the waters quieted once more. Lying there, nestled in the safe embrace of her lover, she revealed to him the demons that had haunted her for 15 years and confessed that meeting him in the restaurant had opened up the possibility of defeating them. He listened carefully, attentively, kissed her lightly on the cheek when she had finished, and apologized. She was puzzled, not sure whether he was commiserating with the loss of her fiancé, the anguish she had been through, or something else. But he was thinking of their first meeting and had realized that he had most certainly scared her with his forwardness. He expressed his happiness that she had told him and, tentatively, not wishing to over-emphasize his role, he told her that he was glad that he had played a part in her new awakening and that she had been able to break free.

She caught his head in her hands and kissed him hard. Her emotions were overwhelming her again. Here was this man who had not only inspired her to enfranchise herself, but was supporting her through her struggle. He held her close, stroking her head, and their embrace continued until, overcome by the late hour and the exhaustion the flood of her emotions had left in its wake, she succumbed to sleep.

She woke again some hours later. The silk had slipped from her eyes and she could see that day was breaking. Wrapped in her lover's arms, she felt more secure, capable of going yet another step further. She raised her hand and removed the scarf, letting it drop to the floor beside the bed. She was ready now to confront her final fears, to look into the face of the man who had made it all possible. She turned in his arms and began to stroke his cheek. She could not say that she felt love for him, but she certainly felt affection, warmth and gratitude, as well as a need to be closer to him, to join with him.

She placed her lips on the tip of his nose, brushing her fingers down his neck, tracing his upper arm, his side and his hip. She saw his eyelids flutter, heard him breathe in more deeply, felt his fingertips begin to slightly caress her back. She kissed him gently on the lips, felt them respond to her, lazily at first, and then more firmly. He clasped her tightly to him, the length of their bodies coming into contact, his need for her already growing. His fingers began to trace her body also; a feather's touch enlivening her nerve-endings, intensifying her desire for him. As his hand stroked down the curve of her buttock, raising her thigh across his hip, she breathed in deeply and pleaded with him to make love to her.

Closing her eyes, she let her body dominate her mind, the sensations drowning out thought. She saw – no, felt – her aura merging with his in the places where their bodies met: where his lips touched her areola, where his fingers stroked her leg, where his abdomen pressed against her own and against her inner thigh. His weight pushed against her, rolling her onto her back, and she raised her other leg to wrap it round his waist. His fingers softly stroked her pussy, spreading the moistness all over, bringing her to a heightened state of arousal. She surprised herself again when she heard her voice plead with him to enter her. Then she felt him shift and the head of his cock push gently against her opening. As he slid a little inside her, she moaned. He held himself there, enquiring after her comfort, and she begged him for more.




Exorcism



Slowly, he buried himself inside her, and she exhaled, delighting in the sensations that rippled through her body. She felt his hand on the underside of her right thigh, pulling it up and pushing against it as he began to move inside her, long and slow. Her moans kept time with his inward strokes, her breathing at a faster tempo. She could hear him breathing, moaning softly, murmuring how good it felt, how good she felt. Some part of her brain marvelled as she realized that his words excited her, and she urged him to tell her more. His angle changed slightly, igniting new nerve-endings, causing her to gasp, and he picked up the pace, acquiescing to her request.

He told her how her pussy felt amazing wrapped around his cock, how soft and warm and wet it was. He gasped as she expanded around him, clasping his length, and he told her how tight she was, how he loved how she squeezed him. His words drove her into a frenzy, and she ran one hand through her hair, the other grasping the sheets, and her left foot pushing into the mattress as she bucked against him, desperate for him to go deeper. The loudness of her voice taking the Lord's name in vain startled her momentarily; it was almost as if her voice were not her own. And then she heard it yell at him to go faster and harder.

His thrusts grew shorter and more urgent. Her breath quickened and rasped. Her arms flew around him, her nails digging in to his buttock and the middle of his back. She heard him moan and felt her body tense ever more tightly at every slam of his cock against her cervix. A low growl began to build in her, growing louder and more high-pitched with every passing second, mirroring the climax rising within her. And then she heard him shout that he was cumming, and stars exploded behind her eyes as he grunted and thrust hard again and again and again, unloading his own orgasm deep within her.

He collapsed on top of her, sweat trickling from his forehead onto her own, and kissed her deeply, his arms framing her face. He called her "baby" and told her how amazing she was, how beautiful and how sexy, and how good it had felt. She revelled in the feeling of oneness with him, marvelled at how completely unfettered she felt, wished that the moment could last forever. 

The sun began to stream through the window announcing the new day. As they kissed and caressed the other, they each whispered of the happiness they imagined together and the dawning of something new and powerful.