The rain is relentless, falling from the rumbling sky with real ferocity. I berate myself for not being organised and forgetting my umbrella. I make do as best I can with a plastic carrier bag covering my head. It does an adequate job for a minute or two, but I am soon soaked to the skin, my thin tee and cardigan clinging limply to my body.
I turn the corner into Archer Street and I see the welcoming sight of my car in the distance. I say mine, it actually belongs to my Brother, who is probably still in his pit. I took the liberty of not bothering to tell him that I was taking it.
As I get closer I see a rectangular object has been stuck to the windscreen. My worst fears are confirmed – a parking ticket. I glare at the road, there are no yellow lines that I can see. I have parked perfectly legally.
My anger rises as I look for the Traffic Warden, I scan the middle distance and spot the ambling figure looking into vehicles and assume that is him. My legs propel me, adrenaline pumping through my veins, I catch him in a minute.
“Hey you! Mr Jobsworth, what do you think you’re doing? You need your bloody eyes testing. You’ve given me a ticket for no reason.”
He doesn’t even flinch. Just carries on walking. My rage boils over, prodding his shoulder with my pointed index finger.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me you ignorant shit.”
He turns to face me. He looks born to be a Traffic Warden; pale sallow skin, sunken, joyless eyes and a mouth which would refuse a smile. His tone is deadpan as he asks me what my problem is. I recount my experience to him, my voice shrill with anger.
“No Madam, there are no yellow lines. There is a sign that clearly states you are not permitted to park there for more than twenty minutes. I timed that you were there for thirty three minutes before I issued your ticket.”
I am speechless. I didn’t see that damn sign. I now have a fine of thirty euro, this is bad enough, but the car is not mine and I’m not insured to drive it. Panic sets in, what am I going to do?
I do what any woman would do...I flirt shamelessly, fluttering my eyelashes, smiling at him, playing dumb. It does not work on the scrawny looking warden.
“I am sorry Madam. I cannot reverse the ticket. The fact is that you have parked illegally.”
I plead with him, almost beg him to rip the ticket up. I am in such serious trouble here. I cannot believe what I am about to do.
I sidle up closer to him, close enough for him to smell my perfume. I give him the baby doll eyes and pouting lips, touching his hand softly with mine.
“There surely must be something
I can do to change your mind, a gorgeous man like you. I’m sure there are so many
things I can suggest to change your mind. What do you think?”
A chink of emotion finally – he gulps as my fingers massage his hand, he stares into my eyes and then at the outline of my nipples which are pushing against my thin cardigan. My oh my, he really is far from gorgeous. He quickly regains composure however.
“Yes, erm well I shouldn’t really let you off Madam, but you do seem genuinely not to know much about parking signs. It always seems to be you ladies.”
He sniggers loudly, sounding very nerdy. I let the women driver jibe go just this once. He pulls a piece of paper from his inside pocket and scrawls down an address and a telephone number before thrusting it into my hand.
“If you call that number tonight, we can discuss your predicament in greater detail. Have a nice day, Madam.”
“Fiona, I’m Fiona not Madam. And you are....?”
“On duty, Madam.”
What a total nerd.
Two days later and I find myself asking what have I let myself in for? I press for floor 27 and the lift starts it’s steady ascent.
I had called him on the evening of my parking misdemeanour. He was as aloof and dreary on the telephone as he was in person. I asked him again what he was going to do about my fine. He told me to come to the address in a couple of days and we could discuss a suitable solution.
“Does the solution involve you having sex with me?”
“Perhaps it does. Perhaps it doesn’t.”
I cannot fathom this man out at all, he seems so cold and unresponsive. I cut the call short and tell him I will be there.
“Oh and Fiona....”
“My name is Keith to my friends. You must address me as Mr Brennan.”
I get the feeling our meeting is not going to be a barrel of laughs.
The lift pings and the doors slide open slowly. With a heavy heart I step out and into the corridor. I am impressed by the apartment tower Keith lives in. It’s a very plush development on the better side of town, perhaps being a traffic warden isn’t such a bad living after all?
I find apartment 274 and press my thumb onto the doorbell. The chime is quiet and unremarkable, a bit like Keith. I hear footsteps getting closer and a chain being removed, I am greeted by a very different looking man. Gone is the dowdy black uniform, replaced by a stylish black designer shirt and dark blue fitted jeans. He smells nice too. A pleasant surprise, I was expecting dowdy pullover and grey trousers.
He greets me with an attempt at a smile and ushers me in. I wish his looks could be transformed in the same way his attire had. He has a tiny nose and ears, that added to his shifty sunken eyes puts me in mind of a rodent. I giggle to myself, wishing I had a giant man sized trap to snare him.
His apartment is sparse and minimalist in decoration, this is no great surprise, as his personality is the same. He leads me through to the lounge and gestures me to sit.
“Would you care for a glass of white wine, Fiona? I was just about to pour myself one.”
I nod my head in acceptance, thinking a little alcohol may make things a little more bearable. He returns from the kitchen with two large glasses, he pushes one into my hand without any grace. I gulp back the chilled wine and instantly wish I hadn’t. The wine is sharp and sour. His face breaks into a half grin.
“You don’t like my home-made Gooseberry wine then?”
He stares at me, looking stung by my critique.
“I’d open a bottle of good stuff, but to be honest, Fiona I just don’t think you’re worth it.”
Ouch, that hurt.
I rise from the seat, temper simmering and move my face inches from his. He can see the rage in my eyes. It doesn’t move him. I decide to get on with things, this shouldn’t take long. I’ll have him coming in no time at all.
Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes I move in and kiss his thin lips, my hands draped around his shoulders. I love kissing but this is not great, he is unresponsive and cold. I redouble my efforts but to no avail. I feel his hands pushing me away from him.
“I don’t quite think you understand the rules here, Fiona. I am in charge, I dictate what happens, not you. I know what you were thinking; get him turned on with a kiss, get his cock out and let him fuck you for two minutes before he gets over excited and spills his load in you and boom, job done.”
“No, no that’s not what I thought, Mr Brennan, honestly.”
He isn’t interested in my protests. He knows he has the situation measured up exactly. I feel that I’ve underestimated him greatly.
He crooks his finger, beckoning me to follow him as he walks towards a magenta coloured door and opens it, allowing me to walk through first. No shock that we are now in the bedroom, the minimalist theme continued. Just basic furniture and a King sized bed.
“Get undressed now please, Fiona.”
“Can you close the blinds first?”
“No, I want anyone who happens to be looking to see you.”
Although we are in a high tower, there is another equally tall building in close proximity. I don’t like the idea of being watched, but it doesn’t look like I have a choice.
I’m all fingers and thumbs as I slip my tee off, and then followed by my denim shorts and pumps. I stand before him in just my black bra and black silk panties. I can see that my thick pubic hair is poking out from the seams. I can tell he has noticed, his eyes are glued to my crotch.
“I didn’t tell you to stop.”
I gulp deeply; my mouth suddenly dry. This is not what I was anticipating.
“Take the bra and panties off NOW.”
His sharp tone makes me jittery as clumsily undo my bra and push the knickers down my legs and off over my feet. I stand there naked for the world to see. His eyes flicker as he takes in my naked frame. Being exposed like this makes me strangely aroused, my heart racing and a tingly feeling rushes through me.
He suddenly moves towards me, eyes not leaving mine until he bends down to retrieve my panties. In one swift movement he scoops them up and places the crotch to his nose, inhaling hard for ten seconds before smiling, yes actually smiling.
“Nice body, Fiona.”
I smile shyly and thank him. There is no acknowledgement on his part.
“Turn and face the window, Fiona. Show the world just what kind of girl you are.”
I have to do ask he asks, turning a half circle toward the opposite building. If there is anybody staring out of the window in the adjacent building they are going to see all of me. The thought of this shocks me, but a small part of me is also quite turned on by the thrill of it.
The room is silent for what seems like an eternity, I feel like an undressed mannequin in a shop window, standing statue like, and stark naked. I feel terribly self conscious.
“Turn around now Fiona and stand in front of me.”
His presence seems to be growing. He is brooding and intense, suddenly not the nerdy weed I first took him for. He places my panties over his fingers like a glove and slowly starts to run the material over my collarbone and down over my breasts, the sensation sends shivers through me, my nipples suddenly stiffening as he caresses them through the material, first the left breast and then unhurriedly onto the right. I gasp inwardly as his hand moves lower.
“You like that don’t you, Fiona?”
“Mr Brennan, I think you mean.”
His fingers are soon working their way over my pubic hair and probing my outer labia, and then rubbing the silk over my little clit with gentle circular strokes, before adding greater pressure and increased pace. It feels so delicious that I cannot stop myself letting out a grunt of pure pleasure. My legs feel weak and jelly like.
“Don’t stop, Mr Brennan.”
He must realise my legs are buckling as he pushes me back onto the bed, spreading my legs wide as his fingers work me, my pussy awash with my flowing juices. He is fingering me hard and licking my clit with real purpose, I know I cannot last much longer, the intense sensation of orgasm is so near.
“Don’t stop, please don’t stop. I’m going to come.”
The words had barely left my lips before I buckle and orgasm shudders through me hard, leaving me gasping for air, hands gripping the duvet tight as I Iose control. I don’t know how long I was in this daze for, but when I come back to my senses I find myself staring at Mr Brennan, dressed just in his white boxer shorts, an impressive looking diagonal bulge across the front.
His body is incredibly scrawny, he has no muscle tone to speak of and child like drooping shoulders. If we were on a beach, he would definitely be getting covered in sand. So how come I want this man? All I want is for him to fuck me hard.
He removes the boxer shorts and exposes the only part of his body that isn’t weedy in any way. His cock is simply beautiful, not incredibly long, but thick and veiny. His circumcised purple head is huge, and to top it all off, his shaft has quite a curve to it, all in all it’s magnificent and I need it.
“You are a dirty girl Fiona.”
“Tell me you are a dirty bitch and that you want, no need my cock inside you.”
I repeat him word for word. Dirty talk doesn’t always work for me, but right now I mean every syllable of that sentence.
“Beg me to fuck you, Fiona. As I said earlier, I just don’t think you are worth it.”
I beg him, beseech him to take me. How did it come to this? A girl like me wanting and needing this geek. But I do
want him, no make that need
Mr Brennan approaches me, taking me unawares and flipping me onto all fours, pushing my peachy bum high in the air.
“Oh yes. Please fuck me hard, Mr Brennan.”
My hands grip the mattress tight as he eases his throbbing penis inside me, his girth satisfyingly spreading me, stretching me.
His strokes are slow and precise to begin, not getting too deep, just allowing me to accustom myself to his size. This doesn’t last long before he is soon in his stride, fucking me with more and more of his length and thickness. My pussy is absolutely saturated, I cannot remember ever feeling so on fire, so full of need for cock. He penetrates me deeper still, making me yelp with pleasure as his cock feels rock hard inside me.
The curve of his cock is hitting me in the right spot now, and he knows it, keeping on hitting me again and again as wave after wave of satistaction fills me. He is a good lover, skilled in fact. We have been making love for seven or eight minutes now and no sign yet that he is close. Suddenly he pulls out completely, leaving me feeling desperately empty.
“Don’t stop, ple....”
I don’t get chance to finish that sentence. Mr Brennan grasps my hips and pushes his full length deep inside my walls in one go, making me holler. He means business now, giving me fast, deep strokes. He begins to manipulate my clit in time with his fierce strokes. I cannot begin to describe how dirty and turned on I feel as he uses me as his fuck-toy. This weedy little man is rocking my world and is going to make me climax for a second time.
I spread my legs wider, wanting him deeper and deeper. He is breathing heavily himself now, the sheer effort he is putting in is remarkable, truly fantastic. I have never felt so full, so satisfyingly fucked. He slows a little now, I can tell he is also close.
“Please come with me, Mr Brennan. I’m so close.”
My words seem to spur him on and within seconds he is back to fucking me manically. I manage to move his finger aside and strum my clit hard back and forth allowing him to concentrate on his stroke.
He grunts loudly and I know he is coming. My finger works hard on my bud and I feel the rush of a second climax rocking me hard, my head feels light and fuzzy as I yell at the top of my voice that I am coming. I feel him withdraw and splash the tail end of his ejaculation over my bum cheeks and lower back.
It takes me a few minutes to come to my senses. Has this really happened, or is this some bizarre dream that I am going to wake from at any moment. I feel gentle hands stroking my hair and a soft kiss on the nape of my neck. I know it’s for real.
I smile and enjoy the afterglow of great sex. Sadly, it is not allowed to last.
“Okay, get yourself dressed and be on your way. I have a chess club meeting to attend in an hour.”
Talk about down to earth with a bang. I look at his face, hoping to see some kindness, more of the gentle kiss and hair stroking man. Mr Brennan seems to have gone back to default setting, human emotion has been deleted.
I try to kiss his cheek as I leave, but he pulls away.
“Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself, Keith.”
“Mr Brennan, Fiona. You keep forgetting I’m Mr Brennan to you.”
I fight back a tear as I push the button to call the lift.
A week later and I still flash back to the afternoon we spent. I’m thinking of him as I sit in my lounge, replaying our sex as I had done dozens of times. My daydream is shattered by the letterbox yielding to the assortment of junk mail and bills.
I get to my feet, ready to collect the mail but I’m beaten to it by my eager brother. I follow him into the kitchen to see if there is any mail for me. My hopes of something exciting don’t come to fruition, just the usual array of people who want to separate me from my hard earned cash.
I look to my brother who has just opened his solitary letter, his face screws up and looks bemused.
“I don’t understand, I haven’t had a parking ticket for years.”
I grab the letter from his hands and scan the content. It confirms that a parking ticket was issued by a Mr K Brennan. My temper rises instantly. I grab my coat and make for the door.
I think it’s time I paid Mr Brennan a visit.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/an-afternoon-with-mr-brennan.aspx">An Afternoon With Mr. Brennan</a>