After the Flood

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The flood had done its damage. The internal walls all needed to be replaced as the plasterboard had swelled and disintegrated. It would be a while before new stocks would arrive, months at least. As so many homes had been flooded there was a big demand and finding new plaster board would be difficult. Jen hated living in the house and constantly informed him. With the unavoidable wait he felt inadequate.

Roy thought a lot about getting the house repaired. His impatience, due in part to her harassment, made him think about other ways of making the repairs. He was familiar with the resources around him and wondered whether he could do something interesting to solve the problem.

There was a pile of old newspapers that seemed, unfairly, to have missed the ravages of the flood. Other things that had value seemed to have been damaged but the pile of newspapers had been waiting to be taken to the tip and were still in pristine condition. It was after Jen had complained again that he had the answer. The old twin tub washing machine would be useful.

On the slab of cement, at the back of the house, he lay down a large sheet of plastic and set out the formwork. Measuring it carefully, ensuring that all the corners were square he was happy. He set the washing machine going, filled it with water and threw newspapers in. He found a tin of alum and tossed in enough to make the newspaper toxic to vermin. He also made glue with flour and water which he measured into the pulp in the washing machine.

Jen was suspicious that he was on another failed project. She’d seen it before. As usual, he didn’t explain what he was doing. He never did and it infuriated her. With each load of pulp he unloaded from the washing machine onto the plastic it looked increasingly ominous. She stood on the back door step, with her hands on her hips and scowled at his efforts.

It took many loads from the washing machine to fill the space on the plastic. She wasn’t happy that her washing machine was being used. She kept quiet to keep the peace though. When he had that plastic filled he started to make another, with careful measurements as before. She let him go, at least he wasn’t bothering her and in the hot sun he would have to stop soon. Slowly he filled the new plastic sheet. As before, with a piece of wood he carefully smoothed it off. His patience with the detail was too much for her.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, with her hands on her hips she advanced towards him. She had watched him all day, as he puddled around in the paper pulp, totally absorbed, with just his shorts on while she endured the heat without so much as an explanation. The house was hot without its insulation.

“It’s an experiment,” he replied carefully.

“Why don’t you experiment with something else?” she challenged.

“Because this is interesting,” he responded.

“You’ve wrecked almanbahis adres my washing machine. ”

“Yes. I have.”

“All that black from the newsprint will never come off.”

“It’s all right. The spin dryer doesn’t work and you need a new one.” She was advancing on him, her belligerence was threatening. She’d had enough.

“When will I get that?” she demanded.

“Whenever you want it.”

“What about now?”

“Can we get it tomorrow?”

“You said whenever I want it and I want it now.”

“I’d need to go to the bank first and it’s closed. It has to be tomorrow.”

“Ha!” she shouted at him.”Promises, promises!” and she stormed off, going the shortest way, stamping through the paper pulp. He reached to grab her but she shook him off. He quickly stepped to her and grabbed her. She turned to face him and with her hand clenched she beat the heel against his chest. He held her to him and kissed her. She struggled to hit him again.

“You’re hot and irritable,” he reasoned.

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I just want my washing machine.”

“You’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Says who?”

“Me!” She had a hand free and threw her fist at him. His head went back as it took the impact, she overbalanced and fell into the paper pulp. He reached to help her up. She caught his arm and quickly he joined her. She was beautiful, her eyes blazing and her body lithe. She took another swipe at him. He caught her wrist. She tried to hit him with her other hand. He caught that too. Her knee rose and hit his belly, it was unexpected and left him gasping.

“You bastard.” she shouted at him, “Let me go!” He let her go and she tried to hit him again. He tried to grab her hand but she was too quick. He had a handful of her tee shirt instead. She glared at him.

“Let me go!” The tee shirt started to tear, he pulled and quickly it ripped somewhere at the back, he couldn’t see. She had a red bra on underneath, he could see that. She tried to hit him again. He pulled the tee shirt, it ripped further and it was off, she tried to cover her tits with her hands. He grabbed her red bra and pulled. It quickly came free, her tits wobbled as they settled. Her hands were occupied now.

He loved her tits, they were beautiful, just the right balance between perky and pendulous. Her nipples were beautiful too, monuments that he worshiped. She kept them covered with her hands. He looked at her, wondering what would happen next.

“Bastard!” she said. She started to struggle to get up. She fell back again to sit in the pulp, her legs outstretched, trying to get her balance. He pushed her back further. She kept her hands over her tits. He grabbed her shorts and pulled. They were quickly down her legs and off. She sat in the pulp with only her panties on.

“Bastard!” she repeated. With a quick movement he had almanbahis adres her panties off. Her hand quickly covered her pussy. She’d shaved last night, he knew that and wanted to see. She stared at him, goaded him.

“Coward!” she taunted. “I married a coward.”

He caught her hands and pushed her back. She watched him as he looked at her; splashes of paper pulp littered her body. He collected both of her hands into one of his and with his free hand he brushed some pulp off her breast.

“Coward. I bet you don’t fuck me.”

“Is that what you want?”

“What do you think I want?” He leaned forward and kissed her. She squirmed, trying to escape. He kissed her breasts, one nipple and then the other, both erect. He could see the little bumps in her areolas, they were prominent in their excitement.

“Why don’t you fuck me? Like a man!” He kissed her again. He trailed his hand down her belly and fingered her slit. She was wet. He pushed two fingers inside her. She was flooded.

“Be a man!” She hissed at him. He picked her up, walked to the other paper pulp pond and at its edge let his pants drop. He walked to the middle of the pulp where he put her down.

“Go on.” She dared. He lay beside her and as he trailed his hand around on her belly she clamped her legs closed. On his knees he walked, he pulled her legs apart with his hands and got between them. His legs were folded under him. He pulled her towards him so her bottom was elevated on his upper legs. Her legs were wide apart. He explored her with his fingers and brushed the pulp away. She lay there waiting, watching him. He found her cervix and rubbed it with his fingers. He took his fingers out and teased her clit. He opened her and looked at her folds. They presented her hole like a doorway to a church with her clit like a keystone at the top. It was his holy place. She waited.

“You think you’re the only one depressed? I am too, but I can still fuck!” He looked at her with the paper pulp in her hair and splashed all over her. She looked feral, wild and maddeningly attractive.

“Yes, I know.”

“If you don’t fuck me soon, I’ll find someone who will!” She arched her back to raise her pussy to him and pulled her lips apart to show him that she was serious.

“It’s all yours if you want it! Or is it going to be someone else’s?” She touched her clit and shuddered. He put his arms under her and lifted, put his mouth over her pussy and sucked. His tongue pushed into her and then he lashed her clit with it. She was panting.

“Are you going to help me find someone else?” He sucked again, her soft tissues were beautiful in his mouth. His lips fondled and stretched her lips to fill his mouth. He loved the feel of them on his tongue and palate as he squashed them between. He loved the tang, the rawness and the soft elasticity of it. Her tits rolled lazily as she squirmed. She almanbahis adresi moaned. Her legs opened further, he took advantage of the increased access and sucked up more. Then she closed them, trapped his head between them and he swished his tongue around her flesh. She shuddered and gushed. He lapped at her and drank, he raised her higher to drink it all.

She moaned, as her body responded with small jolts. He fought for air as he drank from her. Her legs opened slowly. He was able to see her pussy again, its smooth pink engorgement. He lowered her. She sighed. He thrust his fingers inside.

On his knees he walked back a few steps. He lay on top of her and on his elbows kissed her as his cock probed. It quickly found the entrance and he thrust deep into her. She wrapped her arms around him and together they fucked. They kissed. It was quick. They both thrust to their release with moans and a tighter grip. Then they lay there, still, as they felt their bodies change and recover. She pulled him to her and kissed him.

“Love you.”

“Love you.” They got out of the paper pulp and went to have a shower. Together they went to bed and continued their explorations.

Next day they looked at the frames of paper pulp. He’d hoped that the impressions left by their activities would look good, an artistic touch to the smooth blandness but in places he could see the plastic underneath. He wet the pulp again and smoothed it carefully. She watched as he worked, incredulous that she was again being ignored. She was about to say something when he stood and asked whether she was ready to buy her new washing machine. Together they got ready and went. Being in the air conditioned shops was heaven and they took their time. When there was no longer any reason to stay they left the shops with a washing machine to be delivered later in the day.

On return they looked at the paper pulp again. It was dry and he carefully took away the form work. When he peeled the plastic off the bottom the surface was smooth. He didn’t explain anything to her but asked for her help. Together they carried them into the house and he butted them up against the framework of the house.

“How do you like your new walls?” he asked. She stood and looked at them, surprised by the simplicity and effectiveness of it.

“It’s beautiful. But is it strong enough?”

“I think it’s stronger than plaster board. It’s thicker too which means the house will be cooler because of the extra insulation.” She said nothing, but was thinking of how long it would take to get the other walls done.

“There are more memories in these than in plasterboard!” he said with a smile. She giggled while he maneuvered the paper pulp walls into position to be nailed on. As he swung the hammer she held the boards in place. With the last nail he was beside her and he hit it into place to leave a small dimple that could be plastered over. They kissed when the job was done.

With the arrival of the washing machine it was awkward. They’d found other dimples to be filled in. The delivery man was kept waiting as they quickly pulled on their clothes.

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