Expunging Boris free porn video

Emma, hot and bothered, lifted one of the smaller boxes out of her open Honda hatchback. Most of the furniture had been replaced, more would come the following day, and the house was slowly changing, just as she wanted.

She had considered getting away from this house. Away from the abrasive memories Boris the Bastard had left her. With his French floozie, wasn't he? Had been screwing her for months. Then one day he smilingly, told her he was going to live with this bimbo in France. That's when Emma had endowed him with his perfect title, Boris the Bastard.

Emma hefted the box into the porch. She looked up at the front of the beautiful house she'd always loved. Now she had it to herself. Yet it was so full of bad memories involving Boris the Bastard.

Then, lying in bed this morning, a wild idea of a way to clear the house of all those bad memories he had left her. Lovely idea, but it was out of the question now. Changing the furniture, after every room had been decorated, was one major step she could take. She knew she'd be better off without him. He'd become a cruel, thoughtless prick.

Emma looked again at the boxes. Her most important stuff; new computer, large TV, and a small cupboard for old documents, were still in the car. She was over-heating already. Emma knew some boxes would be too heavy for her. Standing on the porch steps, hands on hips, hot, and fed-up, she saw a young man, in a white T-shirt and light cotton pants, appear on the drive, clutching a piece of paper.

Emma watched as the young man approached. Tall and dark-haired, he was quite a handsome lad, looking too fit and strong to be performing menial tasks. His upper arms bulged tightly against the T-shirt sleeves.

God, she was wearing nothing under her thin dress. Intending to shower, she'd stripped off before realising that she'd be even more sweated up hefting boxes. Accordingly, she'd pulled this old dress over her naked body, and buttoned up. How old would he be? Twenty-something was her guess

Emma glanced at the circular he handed her, advertising a Pizza Palace. His eyes were not on her face, were they? Emma could tell he liked what he saw. Should she be feeling so good about that?  

Indicating the boxes still in the car she found herself saying, "I wonder, could you give me a hand here?"

She felt only slightly nervous about asking.

oOo

Eric found nothing to say as he handed over the circular. Eric Harton wasn't in a good mood as he made this last call. Bloody Beryl was still doing his head in. Teasing bitch, letting him get to stroking her bush, but clamming up when he tried to go further.

For months now, nothing. Then, damn it, although he'd had the frustration, she had ended 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 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. There were plenty of women there.

There was a Honda Civic on the drive, and a woman stood on the porch, looking flustered. The sun shone on the thin yellow dress, that clung to a neatly curvaceous figure. Some rich bitch who’d stick her nose in the air at him.

 But, she really was a looker. She had blue eyes, high cheeks bones, full mouth, and long tawny hair, like a lioness, with a matching prowling look in her eyes. Eric took a deep breath as he took in the curves thinly disguised by her tight dress. Really, she didn't look like a stuck-up bitch, but she probably was

Eric turned as she asked for help. Having stepped back from the porch he was sure the gentle breeze pressing the dress against her, marked out that magical triangle visible through the thin material. Collecting himself he looked up at her face, saw she was indicating boxes in the car

Emma 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."

A good time to act noble, Eric thought, as he said, "No need for that. This won't take long," And he immediately lifted a box, moved towards where she was on the porch, giving her a quick smile as he passed.

Emma, half enchanted by his pleasant smile, watched his shoulder muscles ripple beneath the shirt as he walked past. 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. Born of a 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 she carried had pulled her dress taut across her breasts, and the nipples showed prominently. Was she wearing anything under that dress? To disguise the lustful thoughts that came storming into his mind, he gave her another a sweet smile and said, "Look, I'll handle these. No point you getting all sweated up. You must have plenty to do."

“I have,” the lady admitted, rather warily, maybe having noticed the direction of his eyes.

Eric watched her place the box in the porch, a bending movement which emphasised the deep crease in her buttocks. Eric moistened his lips and watched the sway of her hips as she walked away and into the house.

He knew he had to get finished and get away before he did or said something foolish. The last large box was the heaviest and he had to heave to get it suitably placed on his shoulder. He slammed the lid down and turned towards the porch. She was standing there, a grateful smile on her gorgeous face. He asked her where this box should go.

Emma 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, "In the room first left please.”

When he came back, he simply nodded his head,

Emma genuinely pleased to have the job done said, “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 heat," Emma 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 noticed, a certain opulence around him, everything expensive, but his eyes also tracked the sway of her buttocks. 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 bent at a fridge door. Once again Eric could see the groove of her buttocks.

Emma was thankful that there were two cans of beer left in the fridge. 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.”

As she took the other chair opposite him, Eric sensed her uneasiness as she fumbled to open her can. Was she regretting asking him in? He clicked open his can and poured the beer carefully. He saw that she was not used to this activity. Watching her struggle with the tag, he stood up, saying, "Let me," he flipped open her can and poured the beer.

Emma 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 saw her sip gingerly at the liquid. There was a slight film of perspiration on her brow. He felt bold enough to ask about all the boxes.

Emma was glad of the opportunity to talk. It helped her relax. There was no reason why she should, but she told this stranger about Boris the Bastard.

"Married when I was twenty-two. Nine 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 told him hers in return.

Emma felt compelled to ask, "Is there a woman in your life?"

Eric was silent for only a moment and then thinking how open she had been, he 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.

Emma told him she was a writer.

"Hey, that's what I'm aiming for. I start university in a fortnight. I 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 Emma, 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 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.

Emma knew she was being too deliberate with the washing up. Why had she become so nervous? Not because of the young man but 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.

She raised her hand to point at the bin, but her fingers touched his upper arm and lingered there. She had lost control of her hand, as it traced down the muscles of his arm to mingle with his fingers. Helplessly, Emma 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 claim assault. 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, Emma stepped in to press herself against him, raising her face to receive his kiss. Instantly they were clinging together. Emma's lips parted to welcome his tongue, while her thighs pressed to feel his hardness. Oh, she wanted it so badly. She was wildly aware of his hands searching over the thinness of her dress, stroking and squeezing her buttocks, tracing deep into the crevice.

Eric was overwhelmed by her eagerness to squirm against him. Their probing tongues, and the way she went on tiptoes, wriggling her hips to press his bulge between her thighs, left no doubt of her desires. He happily fed her needs with his fingers probing into her crack. 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 shoulders where the dress slipped away. He tried to get at her breasts, but their bodies were clinging too closely. Then she took a slight step away and her hands were wrestling at his belt.

It had to be this swift, Emma 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. Immediately she groped inside, eager to reach his erect cock. It took no seeking, within seconds she had her hand clasped around it, freeing it from the confines of the pants. Lovely to hear his groan of pleasure. God, it felt so good, so smooth, huge and demanding.

She longed to look and 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, he was happy to favour her breasts. Despite his raging excitement, he tried to be gentle with them. They were exquisite, firm and rounded under the thin material.

Squeezing them more firmly, he made the top button pop and his hand slid inside to savour the incredible smooth slope, and his fingers tickled at the swollen nipples. He felt Emma 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."

Emma 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 pussy. Then he was in her, filling her, massive, a thick, warm pole, reaching up into her deepest core in one plunge. Had any cock ever been so fulfilling? Oh, how she had longed for this. Her legs wrapped around him. How good it was, how eagerly her inner 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. Looking down into her face, he saw 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.

Emma, enraptured by this gorgeous cock, immense 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 cock 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, but to no avail. His weight pressed down on her and already she felt the swell of him subside.

The best ejaculation he'd ever had faded and Eric began to realise that he had left Emma 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.

Emma struggled to sit up, as his limp cock dropped out of her, and she pointed to the bench.

"Pass me some of that kitchen roll.”

So, she had begun the Boris cleansing. This had seemed an unlikely thought when it struck her in bed that morning. To cover all the bases where Boris the Bastard had used her body, expunge them from memory. He'd taken her on the kitchen table back many years ago.

Eric had replaced him 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 consider where else should be exorcised?

Reaching for the kitchen towel, Eric had a brief glimpse of the tawny triangle he had just invaded. He handed over the kitchen towel and watched as she stood up, dabbing at herself. Wiping himself, he flopped onto a chair.

"Tired?" Emma asked.

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," Emma 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."

Emma 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 before. Believe me. Boris 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." He eyed 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.”

Emma had made up her mind. 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 last time?

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

"No. Not if you’re the alternative."

Emma wondered if he thought he'd found some crazy nympho. Feeling like this 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."

Emma led a stunned Eric up the broad staircase. Her head swimming with confused thoughts, but so keen to see how her plan might develop, she opened the first door at the head of the stairs. This wild idea that had so unexpectedly formed could 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.

Now where to cleanse? To be sure, the deep pressure inside her 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 had Eric gulping. Was this where they were going to start again? But he feared he wouldn't be ready. Emma had led him into an impressive en-suite. What was going to happen here? If only he could be more positive, take a leading role.

Emma moved across to the shower cubicle and reached in to turn it 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. A cubicle that was built for six people and to share it with just one woman. Emma had turned her back and was unbuttoning her dress. Eric gawped, as it fell to the floor, revealing the wonderful curve of her, the lovely swell of her buttocks, and the hint of tawny hair as her legs parted to kick the dress to one side.

Having dropped her dress, Emma realised that being completely naked in front of a stranger would be a first for her. The 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, she kicked her dress to one side, turned to face him, her arms spread wide to emphasise her willingness, and found her uncertainties disappear as she enjoyed his eyes roaming over her body, from head to toe, hair, face and down over her curves and intimate parts. She smiled at the look on his face. Oh, surely this would be all right.

"Are you going to shower fully dressed?" she teased, almost hungrily, watching as he hauled his T-shirt over his head, threw it to one side and unbuckled his belt. She just stood there, arms lowered, waiting. He pushed his pants down and stepped out of them.

Emma took in his wonderfully muscled and proportioned body. The right choice, she thought again. And the cock wasn't exactly flaccid, half-mast maybe, and as big as she had thought. She laughed, holding out her hand, "Come on. Let's get wet."

Under the semi-cool spray, Emma 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.

Water, cooler than he had expected, briefly checking him, Eric took the soap from her. Soap her? That meant running his hands over that luscious body. An old joke struck him. A tough task, but somebody had to do it. Most willingly, hands lathered, he began rubbing gently on 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," Emma murmured, lathering her own hands.

She sensed Eric's caution, and that was nice. He shuddered as her hands slid over his upper chest and shoulders. In her mind was the thought that there was some other cleansing 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 allowed 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 gentle tugging motion, led him to finger the nipples.

Certainly, he was rising down at 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, Emma’s fingers clipped 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 cock and down onto his balls and between his legs. A gargling sound escaped his lips.

Her touch on his cock had Eric mesmerised. He could have just let her continue. When she had briefly 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, Emma 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."

Emma 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 moving along her pussy 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 her action on 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, " Emma 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.

Emma took his arm and led him back to the bedroom, and, 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 stroked her belly and up to her breasts.

They kissed, a cool, almost formal, coming together, before Emma 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."

Emma nodded. The pressure told her that shortcuts had to be made. 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."

Emma revelled as Eric did exactly as asked, kissing her breasts, circling the nipples with his tongue before sucking them gently, making them swell. His hand moved down over her belly, over her bush, onto her parted inner thigh, before returning to finger along her soaking pink folds. One finger probed for her inner depths. 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.

Emma 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."

Eric’s 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 that magic opening. He spread his fingers, and while his middle finger probed into the lusciously moist cavity, and his lips pampered her clit, Eric found that his index finger could touch her tight little anus.

Emma 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 moment her swaying head turned in the direction of the wardrobes. Oh, God, how she wished she could have Boris 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 cock, as he came up and rolled between her trembling 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 entry he plunged upwards, hard.

He 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.

Emma knew, before Eric entered her, that she was away. His huge erection ploughing upwards inside her, filled her. So enormous as her inner walls pulled at it. Immediately the spring holding back all her frustration and pressure began to uncoil. As his cock 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 welcoming channel 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 Emma 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 the pressure was rapidly building in his balls.

Emma, 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 stranger? Her memory threw nothing up. Then she felt the piston still moving inside her. God, Eric was still fully erect. Breathless, sated, she was still able to raise her hips rhythmically to match his lunges.

Her inner walls began to glow again as they contracted around 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 cumming, 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 Emma began reacting, he knew it was time. The pull of her glorious cunt, 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 in her damp neck.

How lovely was this after-cosiness? Emma 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 cleansed. Next time 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 cock 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 Emma’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.

They lay silent for a moment before Emma 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 Boris the Bastard eradicated. 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.

She made a couple of sandwiches before carrying a tray with coffee and food up to the bedroom, where 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 cock 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 cock, 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 limp cock were real. Startled he raised his head. The first thing that struck him was that it was real. Emma was there, as beautiful as any angel.

"I must have dozed off," he said apologetically.

Emma 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. Emma 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 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, squeezing his hand. "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 further spell of talking and casually touching, she glanced down. Eric's cock 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 cock give a little surge.

Emma had also noticed that. Semi-erect, it was. 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 Emma, this was a key area for expunging a memory. An unpleasant one. Not too distant either.

One evening she was in the shower, when Boris the Bastard stepped in, his rotund belly jutting over the erect cock. He had been drinking, heavily, had pushed her to her knees and jammed his cock into her mouth. Emma had avoided this lately, but aimed to finish him quickly, get him to pour into the back of her throat and swallow swiftly.

But he had other ideas. Cumming wildly, he drew his cock back, ensuring his cum filled her mouth. Emma endured the salt/acid taste before being able to spit it into the shower tray. Laughing, he left her with a sarcastic, "Thanks."

Now, she and Eric were completely rinsed, and he was looking at her, as though awaiting instructions. Emma gave him a smile 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. Her lips traced along his shoulders, and he wondered why they weren't out of the cubicle. When her lips and tongue continued down his chest, not stopping, he guessed her target. She intended to kiss his cock, even though he wasn't fully erect.

Sure enough, Emma kissed the half-mast erection, holding it with one hand while she ran her lips to his balls, Then she tongued back to the purple tip. His organ quivered in her hand. Good enough to take, Emma 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, his tongue licking nervously over his lips.

The moment she enveloped his length, she felt his legs tremble, heard his grunt. So good to have his warmth over her tongue. She was so eager to give with Eric's cock being rock hard again. 'I wish you were watching this Boris, you bastard. This is my pace, my choice, and I'm going to kill all 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 cum into her mouth. That would be awful for her, wouldn't it? But she seemed happy sucking on him, looking up at him, with brightly shining eyes. Hell, he felt himself touch the back of her throat. She turned her head slightly and Eric saw the bulge his hardness made in her cheek. There was already a familiar burgeoning in his balls. He had to warn her when he was ready to shoot.

Now her lips had driven up to the root of his cock, pulled back quickly, then consuming it once more. So different from being up her lower channel. 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 halfway. Emma was doing it all, and he was gasping with the sheer generosity of her.

Emma 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 cock against her cheek had been fantastic, giving 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.

Eric had to warn her. The pressure had moved from his balls to somewhere back beyond the root of his cock. Emma'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, as he felt the release of floodgates was imminent.

"Emma." he gasped. "I'm cumming." He tried to pull back.

Emma heard his warning, and, if her mouth had not been full, she would have laughed joyously. Sensing his efforts to pull his cock away, she edged one hand between his buttocks and one finger stretched to touch his tight anal ring. He jerked forward sending his heaving cock back close to her tonsils and she knew he was cumming 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.

Emma also realised that there had been only a small discharge of cum. 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 Boris the Bastard had done to her. This had been enjoyable. He had been eradicated.

Eric's cock was softening quickly, so Emma drew her head back to allow it to slip from her mouth. A thin trail 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 bent 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 Emma had 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. Emma eventually decided she had to make a confession. "In truth, Eric, I've used you."

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

Emma 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 Boris the Bastard had been for her. She didn't shrink from telling him about the shower incident, and a Boris attempt to have anal sex in this very bed.

"He failed, I'm pleased to say. But there were other things. Like his drunken efforts at satisfying himself on me when I wasn't in the mood. So, you taking me in this bed has been an exorcism. When I 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?"

Emma had often thought about that, "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 moist down there and he rubbed gently at the front of her closed cleft.

Emma 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 pussy she was both thrilled and uncertain.

Could he accomplish anything now? She reached down to feel for his hardness. 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 was warm, but a firm determination shone 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."

Emma'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, her lips, he slid his tongue down her neck, her shoulders, and slowly licked along the edge of her breast. Under his fingers, her pussy opened, and her clit came up like a small seedling. He was determined to be all gradual, even slightly teasing.

The utter gentleness of his approach was a joy to Emma. She felt almost sad as so many 'if only's' 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 clit, every caress of his tongue and lips over her breast and nipples.

Eric spent some time on her breasts, sucking the lovely pink nipples until they swelled. Under his fingers, her clit felt erect. Moving his fingers away from it and then back, he loved the responses it provoked, as her breathing became heavier and more rapid. Playing for time, that's what he was doing. 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 late entries this time.

But time was also dictated by the condition of his reluctant cock. There was some feeling down there, but he wasn't sure. Maybe Emma could help if there was too slow a response. He was lying so that his cock was out of her reach.

Emma 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 cock. 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 lower lips with his thumbs, opening her like some ripe fruit. What lay before him was more the delicate pink of layered rose petals. Delectable. Today he felt he had experienced a complete lesson in the geography of a woman's body. Readily he returned to the task at hand. But, how ready was he?

Emma 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 hardness. Oh, yes, it was growing. He was amazing. She gripped the organ, feeling it grow in her hand.

Her hand had clearly done the trick. It had confirmed that at least he was ready. Eric sucked on her clit and his fingers went into action on something he had been close to earlier. His index finger explored her entry, 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 Emma stiffened and groaned.

Emma 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 arousing. 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 turned to roll between her thighs so that Emma had to release his fully erect cock, which was suddenly thrust at her entrance.

Perfect timing, Eric told himself. His cock was in a good state, and Emma was clearly ready for it.

Looking into those lovely eyes, a smile on his face, he whispered, "Thank you for letting me lead."

And he plunged his stiff rod into the now familiar deepness of her. Oh, how deep and welcoming she felt. Her cunt was a series of clawing rings, accepting his plunge.

Emma 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 cock 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. This was pure fucking. 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 cock to fall back towards her entrance.

No, no, no. Emma 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. 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, alive with the exultation of knowing he had driven her to such heights. So, 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 some nervous schoolboy. Looking at Emma'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. Emma 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 cock, Eric felt such a warmth towards her, so that when she stood he kissed her deeply.

A few minutes later she stood watching him dressing, 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."

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

Emma squeezed his body close, "Go out in the world. 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."

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

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

Despite 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 our paths will cross someday."

"That's something to hope for," Emma 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, Emma 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. She turned back into the house, half wondering if she could stay here, slammed the door behind her.

Emma 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, Boris, you Bastard!"