4 comments/ 45353 views/ 11 favorites Burglar By: ellynei 'Just one more time.' The house was still completely unlit, and its mailbox was still filled beyond the rim. 'Just one last time, then never again.' He wasn't planning to take much. Just the light stuff. Laptops, cameras, cell-phones, iPods. Stuff like that. Just enough to cover the hole in his budget. Or at least almost cover it. Just enough to pay last month's rent. Ok, maybe enough to pay this month's rent too. 'Never mind. I'll just take what I can get. These people always have insurance. It won't cost them a dime.' It was a low risk endeavour. Whoever lived in the house was obviously on vacation. And the house was sufficiently ordinary not to warrant camera surveillance. Yet he took no chances. Just before slipping into the backyard, he pulled a balaclava over his head. It was the simplest and most innocent mask for anyone to own. His brother used one under his helmet when riding his motorcycle. His brother. 'If only he had agreed to lend me those 500 dollars I wouldn't have to do this.' His jaws tightened. His brother, Mr. Prim and Proper, Mr. Bloody Perfect. He could easily have afforded it. Easily. His brother had never strayed to the wrong side of the law. Had never had trouble finding a good job. 'Fuck it. He has never even been to a good party.' 'Never mind. After this I'll stay on the right side of the law too. I'll watch my budget and I'll kiss my parole officer's ass every time I see him, till he helps me get a better job. One that can pay for more than toilet-paper, rent, and food.' He easily got in. He didn't even have to break a window, the lock on the backdoor was just that weak. He hadn't brought a flashlight. Nothing encouraged anonymous 'breaking and entering' calls to the police as much as a chaotically moving ray of light in a dark house. He simply turned on the lights and closed the curtains of every room he entered. If the house-owner had asked neighbours to keep an eye out, such neighbours would be likely to investigate matters by knocking on the door, giving him a chance to flee. 'Just the light stuff.' Half a carton of cigarettes on the kitchen table was the first item to go in his bag. From the living room: a laptop. It looked expensive. In another room: a second laptop and a camera. 'God bless modern science.' His bag had room for more. The bedroom had a nice king size bed, if only he could have carried it. His own bed was an old mattress. It didn't impress the ladies much He went to the night-stand and opened the drawer, hoping for jewellery. That was not what he found. 'Somebody knows how to party.' He grinned to himself. The drawer was full of sex toys. Bondage tools and dildos. He closed the drawer again. There wasn't much of a market for used dildos. There was a cupboard at the far side of the room. He went to it and was just about to pull out the top drawer when he heard something behind him. Startled witless he spun. A woman was in the doorway blocking his only exit. For a split second he was frozen in spot. His mind preparing his body to charge at the woman, push her aside, and run. In that split-second, the woman took off her robe. His mind somersaulted backwards into a sense of unreality and, instead of charging for freedom, he remained frozen in spot staring at the most pacifying view known to man. Boobs. Naked, round, soft, inviting, boobs. 'I've died and woken up in a porn with a plot.' He blinked. The boobs was still there. Moving softly while the woman folded her robe in front of her. Completely ignoring him, the woman turned her side to him, took a step forward, and nearly tripped over a towel on the floor. Her surprised shriek startled him beyond measure. Without thinking he jumped back a step and his back collided with the cupboard behind him. "Shit," yelled the woman. "Fuck. Shit. Crap." While swearing, she slowly kneeled, one hand holding on to her folded robe, the other hand searching blindly for the towel. 'Blindly.' With his back still pressed against the cupboard, his eyes moved to the woman's face. Her eyes were covered with skin-coloured round band-aids. 'She can't see through those. She hasn't seen me.' Hysterical laughter was building in his stomach. 'She doesn't know I'm here.' He raised a hand to his mouth. Stopping the laughter from coming out. 'I have to get out of here.' Looking very annoyed, the woman picked up the towel. Then, very slowly, took two more steps forward and placed both towel and robe on a chair. 'I'm a peeping Tom.' Terror was still swirling in his stomach yet his eyes were plastered to the woman's rounded butt while she blindly arranged robe and towel on the chair. 'This is so wrong in so many ways.' Though there wasn't really room for guilt in his guts just then. Not while still holding a hand over mouth and nose to keep in hysterical unmanly giggles. 'I have to breathe. Eventually I'll have to breathe and then she'll hear me.' The held-in laughing fit subsided at that thought. 'She'll be terrified when she hears me.' He'd hurt a girl once. But that was different. He had been drunk and on drugs. All sorts of shit. He wouldn't have done it sober. He sure as hell wouldn't do it now. The woman straightened, turned, and with one hand on the wall walked back to the bedroom door. She grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door shut. The door complained loudly every inch of the way. 'Of course the door has to be creaky.' He couldn't possibly sneak out that door without alerting her. As he lowered his hand from his face, he realised he was breathing again. The sound of his breathing had been masked by the door's whining, but now it sounded like thunder in his throat. 'How can she not hear it?' He made an effort to breathe soundlessly, but it still sounded like heavy wind. Any moment now she would freeze in spot and listen. Alert and afraid. Any moment now. He steeled himself for that moment, ready to charge out the door and run. He'd be far gone before she even made it to her phone. The woman had moved on, along the wall, and had reached her night-stand. She felt her way with her hands, and with a sigh seated on the bed. She craned her neck back, as if staring at the ceiling through the band-aids, and exhaled a long slow ah. Then let her upper body fall backwards onto the bed. She no longer looked the least bit annoyed as she nestled her shoulders into the soft covering on the bed. It looked like she was whispering something to herself. But she made no sound. 'Peeping Tom it is,' he decided and took in this new and improved view of her body. 'What I wouldn't give to suck that nipple.' He'd like to open his mouth wide and find out how much of a breast he could suck in. He remained absolutely still. 'She is obviously preparing to go to bed. If I can remain quiet till she falls asleep, maybe I can sneak out without startling her.' 'He liked that thought. He wasn't a monster. He didn't harm people, especially not women. That one time, it didn't count. He hadn't been himself. His lawyer hadn't been shitting when listing all the chemicals the blood test had revealed. He still couldn't remember half of what he had taken that night. It had been one crazy party. The woman was smiling softly to herself. One of her hands carelessly moved to her left breast, as if a woman fondling her own tits was the most natural thing in the world. He took in a sharp breath, and stopped breathing out of fear she had heard it. The woman's fingers toyed with her nipple. His knees felt weak. and his balls were pounding. 'Breathe. You have to breathe.' Quietly and slowly he inhaled. The woman's hand moved to her other nipple. He slowly exhaled. His eyes never leaving those fingers as they gently circled the nipple, just to change direction and move down her stomach. 'Oh sweet Lord. Thank you. Thank you.' He kept his breathing slow and soundless. Trailing the movement of her hand. Further and further down it went, as if a woman touching herself was the most natural thing in the world. 'It is the most natural thing in the world. and now I get to see it. Thank you.' The hand had arrived. The woman's finger instantly found that spot. The spot on a lady that usually took him hard work to find. Then she just stopped. Just like that. She pulled her hand away and sat up. 'No. Don't stop. Keep going.' He clenched his fists with frustration. His fear and anxiety long forgotten. The woman opened her night-stand drawer. 'Dildo-play? Oh yes, yes. Thank you. Sweet heaven, thank you.' He'd send her flowers. Flowers and chocolate, and she'd never have to know what he'd seen. Just, a secret admirer. The woman took something from the drawer. 'That's not a dildo.' A second he was just disappointed. Then, as the woman, edged to the foot end of the bed, he was puzzled. 'What is she doing?' He frowned under his mask. The woman attached the 'thing' to the foot-end bedpost on 'her' side of the bed. Once it was attached, she carefully stretched out the chain part and put the thing on the bed. It was a bondage toy. A cuff, with a chain attached. His puzzlement increased as the woman, took another cuff from the drawer, felt her way across the bed, and attached it to the foot-end bedpost on 'his' side of the bed. 'Is she preparing for company? Is someone on his way here?' Nervously he glanced at the door. Half expecting a husband or lover to pull the door open. The woman attached a 'cuff on a chain' to a head-end bedpost on 'his' side of the bed too. Lastly, before closing the night-stand drawer, she took out a small dildo. No larger than a finger. 'No, not a dildo, that thing is just a vibrating massager.' The woman laid herself down in the middle of the king size bed. Then reached out an arm and put the vibrator down close to the only of the four bedposts that she hadn't attached a cuff to. He ought to run, ought to get the heck out of there before her lover should arrive. But, he couldn't make himself leave just yet. 'What I wouldn't give for a woman who would chain herself up to surprise me.' He was jealous, envied this man whom he imagined the woman was preparing for. His eyes returned to the woman. She was tightening one of the cuffs around one of her ankles. 'I'll just stay a little longer.' The woman fumbled a bit, feeling her way around the bed, but still didn't take all that long to get both of her ankles, and one of her wrists in cuffs. His cock was throbbing. It would be so easy. So very easy. He closed his eyes. 'I wouldn't do that.' The thought was alluring but. 'I'd never do that.' He opened his eyes. 'Would I?' His breathing had become fast and shallow. 'Of course I wouldn't.' But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the sight. 'Whenever he comes, I should be able to hear his car entering the driveway. Plenty of warning. Plenty of time to get out of here.' The woman reached for her small vibrator. After a few fumbling tries, she found it. 'Oh yes. Thank you. Thank you.' He smiled under his mask. This would be a sight worth waiting for. He was thrilled. Thrill faded into disappointment as the woman didn't do anything with the vibrator. She just kept her free hand still, as if it too had been cuffed. 'Show's over.' It was time to stop thinking with his cock. If someone was on his way, he needed to get out of there. Again his eyes went to the door. The very creaky door. "Please don't hurt me." His heart jumped into his throat at hearing the woman's voice. 'Oh shit, she's heard me, she knows I'm here.' He opened his mouth to say something. 'No. Don't let her hear your voice.' The woman was writing in her bondage. Her head swaying from side to side. "Please don't hurt me," she repeated. He held his arms forward to signal at her not to worry, then took his hand to his forehead at being so stupid. 'She can't see you, you idiot. You can't signal at her.' "No, don't touch me," whined the woman, while moving her free hand, vibrator still in it, up her stomach to one of her breasts. Dumbstruck, he stared at her. "Stop," said the woman, and toyed with her own nipple. "Stop it. Don't touch me." She pinched the nipple between two fingers and pulled at it. "Stop it!" His knees weakened again. "Get your hands off me," said the woman, then let go off the nipple and moved her hand to the other. "No. I don't like it. Stop touching me." 'Oh sweet Lord.' His mouth was watering and he swallowed loudly. The sound was drowned by the woman's monologue. 'She doesn't know I'm here.' "I don't like it. I don't." The woman turned on her vibrator. Its bussing sound filled the room, washing away his every fear of being heard. She moved it down her stomach, protesting every inch of the way. "No. No. Stop. You have no right. Don't." Her legs pulled against her self-applied bondage. When her hand and vibrator reached her v, she squeezed her legs as tight as the bondage allowed. As if fighting the stimulation. 'She is pretending.' There was no doubt what she was pretending. He pressed a hand against his crotch and sank to his knees. His whole body was on fire. 'She wants someone to abuse her. Sweet lord. She wants it.' It took everything he had not to tear his pants off and jump on the bed. 'It's just pretend. She doesn't really mean it.' He managed to stay still, but couldn't move his eyes off her. Her breathing was heavy. Loud. No longer fighting her stimulating hand she was rubbing against it, and the vibrator in it. Her monologue had faded, but her body talked louder than ever. 'Please hurry.' He silently begged. 'I can't hold back much longer. This is too much.' With every second, his resolve not to violate the woman was growing weaker. 'Hurry,' As if his pleas had been heard, the woman's breathing changed to rapid whining huffs. Within seconds, her stomach and thighs contracted in rapid spasms. She let go of the still buzzing vibrator and pressed her free hand against her v, slowly recovering. 'Finally.' His cock was still throbbing. His body was still burning. But, he was slowly rebuilding his self-control. 'That has to be the hottest thing I ever saw.' He was glad it was over, though. Glad it had ended, because he wasn't the kind of man to hurt a woman. That other time, he had been drunk and on drugs, had acted under the influence. He would never do something like that sober. Thinking about it helped him keep his cool. The woman fumbled for her vibrator and turned it off. 'Soon she will untie herself. Then she will go to sleep. And then I'm out of here.' He closed his eyes. "You had no right to do that,'" whispered the woman, resuming her monologue. "No," she whimpered. "I didn't like it." 'Go to sleep already.' "No. Don't do it again. Please, don't do it again." 'Again?' Under the mask he bared his teeth. 'Don't you dare do it again. Don't you dare assume I can hold back a second time.' The woman's hand was again between her legs, the vibrator was still off, but she rubbed herself with it. Teased herself. "Stop," she whimpered. 'She knows you're here.' It was a ridiculous thought, but it was also a tempting thought. 'She is egging you on.' "Please, don't do it again." The woman turned on the vibrator. The buzz filled his ears. 'So you like being taken by force, do you?' The woman gently dabbed at herself with the vibrator, her body jumping at each touch. 'So you fantasise of being brutally taken by a stranger, do you?' He opened his pants. The buzz of the woman's vibrator drowned the sound. 'Don't do it.' Somewhere deep inside a voice was screaming at him. 'Don't do it. Don't.' But the blood pumping through his veins was far louder than that insignificant voice inside. 'It's worth it. Whatever happens. No matter what happens next. It's worth it.' He pulled out his cock. 'You should have stopped when you had the chance, Lady. Now, you're gonna get it.' He was past sense. Sense was past. The woman was writhing again. "Not again," she said, in a pleading tone. "Please not again." The scent of her arousal reached him even through his mask. He pulled it off and inhaled deeply through his nose. The scent was primal. Priceless. The woman was holding her vibrator steady. No more dabbing. She seemed ready to come again. He paused. There was some reason why he shouldn't plunge his cock into her. There had been some reason. He looked straight at her entrance. Her juices were flowing out of it. There had been some reason... He jumped onto the bed, one hand around his cock, guiding it. That smell of lust. Feel of lust. Wet and struggling. Screaming. Her hand was pushing at him. It didn't matter, all that mattered was getting inside. He had to get inside where it was warm and wet. He had to. He pressed his whole body down on her, holding her still just long enough to... There. There! He had found it. He pushed all the way in, in one blow. Wet and warm. Her insides accommodated him perfectly. That smell. It drove him on. That sweet smell of a woman's arousal. The whole world was his cock and her juices around it. Her sweet soft flesh. Her screams. He pounded. And pounding was all. Pounding and the imminent release. Nothing else existed. Except for those screams. They tore into his ears, distracted him. He put both hands over her mouth, stopping the sound, resting on his elbows. Pounding with his lower body. He was close. Already so close. Her hand was pulling at his hair. Distracting him again. He stopped pounding, took his hands of her mouth and caught her annoying one. Her naughty one. "Bad girl," he said, pinning her wrist to the mattress. "You are a very bad girl." He resumed his pounding. "Don't you dare scream at me. you bad girl," he huffed. Pounding away. "Don't you dare." "Please don't hurt me," she sobbed back at him. "Yeah, that's right," he said. "That's more like it." His lower body was completely past his control. It moved at a speed he hadn't thought himself capable. Now he was the one on the verge of screaming. It was just too good. 'Too fucking good.' Coming inside her was bliss. Pure and utter bliss. Extreme satisfaction, perfect completion. He went absolutely limp on top of her. She could tug at his hair now, if she wanted to. She could pull all his hair out for all he cared. She'd earned it. She didn't though, and that was ok too. For a few seconds, everything was perfect. Then reality returned. 'What did I do?' The woman was sobbing below him. 'What the hell did I just do?' He closed his eyes. His breathing was still heavy from exertion. 'What have I done?' Burglar I am a burglar by trade. It's not a bad job. You pick your hours, working as little or as much as you like. No boss to tell you what to do and, as long as your careful, no hassles. Mind you, I have more sense than to put down burglar on my tax returns. I'm a registered second-hand dealer and I do a lot of buying and selling over the internet. As long as I pay my taxes no-one bothers me. Now while I'm a big man, I'm not violent. God, no. That sort of thing leads to trouble, with cops wanting answers to questions and things like that. What I do is slip into an empty house or apartment, remove a few choice items that won't be missed for a while and then slip quietly away. Do it properly and people don't even know that I've been and gone. They just find themselves scratching their head and wondering where their camera disappeared to, trying to recall if they lent it to someone. Being very good with locks I can unlock a door and walk in faster than most people can using the correct key. (Digital locks are a bastard. I just skip those places.) If by some mischance I've made an error and someone is home I'm all humble apologies. Sorry. Come to the wrong place. I was expected and your door was unlocked so I just walked in. I say all that while quickly backing out. It always works. Who's going to try to stop a very large man who is all apologies and leaving anyway. They prefer to think it was an honest mistake and they left the door unlocked. They promptly forget about it. There's only one instance that I can think of where I came slightly unstuck when hitting a place. I'd picked the lock and walked in bold as brass. I turned into the first room I came to. It was the lounge room, and a young woman was in it, walking across the room towards me. We both sort of stopped and looked at each other. What she saw was a very large rough looking man of about thirty. What I saw was a luscious little blonde of about twenty. She had that really white hair, you know the sort I mean. Add a pair of big blue eyes and cherry red lips and a very short diaphanous nightie that did nothing to hide a quite sensational figure. Man, oh, man! She was really something. I didn't even get a chance to start my humble apologies. I was too stunned by what I was seeing. She recovered first, which is not surprising, my ugly mug not having anything like the stopping power her body did. She gave a small scream and bolted. At least, I think she intended to bolt. What happened was that she managed to trip over her own feet, winding up flat on her back, looking slightly stunned. Slightly stunned was how I was feeling, too. That miniature excuse for a nightie flew up when she went down, giving me ample proof that her blondeness was entirely natural. Being naturally worried that the poor woman had hurt herself when she fell I bent over her to make sure she was OK. She was just lying there, blinking, more from the shock of the fall than from any hurt. I was greatly relieved. She was much too cute to be allowed to be hurt. I inhaled with relief, catching the clean woman scent of her. I swear, what happened next took me completely by surprise. I hadn't even realised that I'd unzipped until I found my cock was in position and driving quite forcefully into her. Her mouth open in surprise and her eyes popped wide open. She looked absolutely astonished that I was doing this to her which was fair enough, because that was the way I felt. Now as you can see, I just didn't think that apologising and backing away was going to quite cut it this time. The only thing I could think of to do was to make the best of things. I pulled back and gave her another vigorous stroke. It turned out that my day of shocks hadn't ended. As I was driving in with that second stroke I found little Blondie pushing up forcefully to meet me. There was a look of consternation on her face as though her own actions surprised her as much as they surprised me. To make sure that it had happened I gave another powerful thrust, watching her face as I did so. Sure enough, her hips flexed and she pushed firmly up to meet me, the consternation on her face being replaced by a momentary look of pure lust, then hastily straightening to a smooth blandness. Another thrust, which she also met and I gave a mental shrug. I reached for her nightie where it touched on her breasts and with one heave I split it, uncovering her breasts. She gave a small squeak at that and I slapped my hands down onto her breasts. Yes, I said slapped. I didn't gently fondle them or cup them or stroke them. I slapped my hands down, glomming onto them. Her reaction to this was to squeal and buck her hips upwards as though I'd given her another thrust. I'd heard of women who are hot to trot, but this verged on the ridiculous. Still, as she wasn't protesting, I set to work. That's not to say she never got around to protesting at all. She finally managed to come up with a few faux protests, rather undermined by the way she was reacting, bucking fiercely beneath me. Quite frankly, I rode her hard, and she responded, obviously enjoying being driven. I wasn't giving her any consideration as I took her, just driving in hard and often while my hands made merry with her breasts, as did my mouth, biting down on her and sucking on her breasts and nipples. I bounced on her and she reacted strongly, pushing up to meet me, apparently relishing every moment, her excitement coming out in little gasps and squeals, a feeble protest escaping every once in a while. I rode hard and long and when I hit the final gallop I was feeling rather smug to find that she was climaxing right along with me. It was a real relief to just let go inside her, thumping away with complete abandon. For a while there I just lay on her, savouring the feel of her body under me. When I did finally disengage and roll off her I didn't get dressed and do a runner. I politely waited, wanting to make sure she was OK and not going to get all hysterical and do something stupid. She finally seemed to be getting things together. She stretched then abruptly sat up, looking me. "You raped me," she accused, and there was so much smug satisfaction in her voice I felt like slapping her. "How could you?" Quite easily, as it turned out. Then she started her little tirade. "You break in here," she began, but I interrupted. "Ah, walked through the door, actually. You should keep it locked." "It was locked," she retorted. "Sorry, it wasn't," I lied. She glared at me and continued. "You come barging in and knock me down. . ." "Ah, you tripped over your own feet and fell. I didn't touch you." She ignored that. "Then you tore my nightie off and raped me." "No," I corrected. "I actually stuck my cock in first. I didn't tear your nightie until we were already in action." "Whatever," she says. "It still comes down to the fact that you raped me." There was that smugness again, and I really had to do something about that. "Twice. You can't seem to get anything straight," I murmured. "What?" she said, blinking and looking puzzled. "Twice," I repeated. "You know, the second time makes it twice." "But you didn't rape me twice." "Yes, well waiting for you to recover and then listening to you talking about it so much I've had a chance to recharge. And the way you keep saying rape me is just plain making me horny. Now be a good girl and get on your hands and knees, I'm ready for seconds." This time she did protest and the protest even sounded real. It didn't help her much. I made her roll over onto her tummy and hump her bottom up into the air. Then I knelt behind her, placed my cock so it was pressing against her pussy, and waited. I played a little game with myself, trying to estimate how long she'd wait before saying anything. I was way off. She didn't even make it to the five second mark. "Well? What are you waiting for, you rapist?" she demanded when I didn't immediately push home. "I was having a philosophical moment," I told her. "I mean, is this really the way to get acquainted with a lovely young lady? Shouldn't I be treating her with more respect? How does she feel about this sort of behaviour?" "You have got to be kidding me," she said, enunciating every word slowly and clearly. "Yeah, I am," I said and drove fiercely in, grinning when she squealed with the shock of it. Having recently, ah, unloaded, I was able to take a less frenetic approach this time. I was still driving in hard, arms wrapped around her and playing with her breasts, but I wasn't in such a hurry, taking more time between each stroke. This sort of approach can really extend your efforts, letting the pleasure drag on. It soon became apparent that my little blonde friend wasn't used to this approach. She was squirming under me, pushing back hard against me, trying to make me go faster. I ignored her petty complaints. What I was doing felt good to me. Well, being a gentleman, I didn't totally ignore her complaints. "Don't worry about it," I told her. "You'll get there. They say getting there is half the fun, anyway." She gave a groan and persisted in her efforts. Why can't women be satisfied with what they're getting instead of always wanting more? I just continued on my merry way, enjoying myself, knowing I was bringing pleasure to her no matter what she was saying. She was just being greedy. A typical now, now, now, person of the younger generation. She was almost crying before I decided that I was ready to hurry things up. She was making these funny little noises, seeming to indicate that she thought I was being incredibly selfish for not attending to her immediate needs. I drew back, paused, and then drove in really strongly. Man, it turned out she was more on the edge than I had thought. With that first hard thrust she just went up in flames, shrieking her silly head of and shuddering under me. I had to give another half dozen good hard strokes before I came, each stroke seeming to incite her climax to even greater heights. This time my climax had been almost gentle, a nice refreshing easing of my tensions. I felt fit and victorious. A real winner. She was just oozing down onto the carpet, head resting on her crossed arms, bum still stuck in the air. I didn't wait for her to get her act together this time. I thought she'd be fine and I didn't really want to have to listen to her describing everything I'd done to her. Why should I? I was there and knew what I'd done. I gave a parting spank to her bottom, seeing it was sticking up and departed, making sure the door was locked behind me. After all, she wouldn't want intruders while she was like that. And you will be pleased to note that I behaved myself. I didn't take a thing, even though her purse was in plain sight. - - - There was an odd aftermath to this little incident. Normally I don't give a second thought to those people who have inadvertently contributed to my life style, but I will admit that I recalled my time with Blondie with some pleasure. A couple of weeks after the little episode I was strolling through a park. Now this part of the city was new to me. I'd been out for a drive, not going anywhere in particular, just taking a break. I'd seen the park and decided to take a stroll and so there I was. Blondie, I'll have you know, didn't even cross my mind. She lived on the other side of the city. So when I see this sweet young thing walking towards me I just gave her a look of honest appreciation. Unfortunately, so did some young punks that were lounging around, taking up space that could be better put to use by almost anything else. They came lounging forward, putting the hard word on the young woman. She just kept walking, trying to ignore them, and then one of them snatched at her bag. Idiots, the lot of them. Fancy trying that in a park in front of witnesses. Especially a witness like me who was right there. I gave the chief idiot a clout alongside his ear which sent him staggering away. A couple of the other idiots promptly drew knives and turned towards me, and I just laughed at them. They looked at me, standing there laughing, looked at each other, then backed off, warning me volubly about what would happen if I crossed them again. The sweet young thing was stammering her thanks and I turned towards her, nodding and smiling. She promptly stopped trying to thank me and snarled at me. "You," she snapped. "You're the man who raped me." "I beg your pardon?" I said, scandalised. Really, how could she just up and accuse a complete stranger of something like that. "I mean, really, Miss. I've never seen you before in my life." "Ha. Perhaps you don't remember me now that I have clothes on. It was you." Of course I bloody recognised her. That blonde hair (platinum blonde - I looked up that shade of white afterwards) and those big blue eyes were stained in my memory. "You're mistaken, I assure you. There's no way I'd forget a woman as lovely as you," I said. "As for assaulting you, god forbid. Only a swine would do such a thing." "Then that makes you a pig," she snapped. "You knocked me down and ravished me." "I did not knock you down," I snapped. "You tripped. I mean you probably tripped when it happened because no gentleman would dream of knocking you down." "Ha!" she snorted. "Even if I did trip, which I doubt, you're still the man who raped me. Twice." "Thrice," I snapped. "What?" "Thrice. Haven't you ever heard the word. Once, twice, thrice. The same as one, two, three. Once on your back, once doggy style and once behind those bushes." With that I had my hand on her back and was escorting her firmly towards the bushes I'd indicated. She was protesting, but not running. "You can't do that. It's the middle of the day and we're in a public park. You wouldn't dare assault me here. Get your hand off me. I'm not going with you." She did, though, walking in front of me and around behind the bushes, still protesting. They were quite nice bushes, hiding us from public view. "This looks like a very nice spot," I told her. "Now please lower your panties, bend over and put your hands on your knees." "You can't do this," she protested. "I damn well can if you'll just shut up and do as you're told," I pointed out. "Now stop stuffing around and get ready to be stuffed." "You are crude," she snapped at me. "I know," I said, unzipping and letting her see what was coming, "and I'm about to be a lot cruder." Her eyes didn't leave my cock while she lifted her skirt and started pushing her panties down. When her panties were at about knee level she turned slowly around, bending over to put her hands on her knees, head turned to look behind her to see what I was doing. What I was doing was moving up behind her. I pushed her skirt up, leaving her bottom shining nice and white in the sunshine. A hand between her legs to help position myself and I started pushing in. I'll swear that this woman was born ready. She was already wet and, although she swayed a little under that first firm thrust, I slid full length into her with no problems. With that I placed a hand on each hip and went to work. The reason for my hands on her hips were twofold. I didn't want to knock her over when I banged into her, and that was a distinct possibility seeing she had nothing to brace herself against. The other reason was so that I could pull her towards me while I thrust, as she would have trouble doing it herself. I don't know why I bothered. She started gyrating around on my cock almost before I had it in her. I hadn't appreciated how versatile and athletic a young woman could be. She was practically doing a dance without moving her feet, while my cock slid in and out, an integral part of her dance. I gave up any semblance of controlling what was happening. I just happily banged away, giving my all, while her bottom seemed to bounce and twirl, managing to take me deep within her every time I drove forward. Through all this performance she was silent, breathing strongly with her exertions but, other than that, not a peep. I, I can assure you, was also breathing strongly from my exertions. I was putting a lot of effort into this, driving in as hard as I could as often as I could, doing my best to remember that I was raping her, not the other way round. Maybe it was the position that helped me hold off my climax. There again, maybe it was because I was unused to a woman actually dancing while my cock was in her. Whatever it was, I seemed to be able to go on for quite a while, enjoying the unexpected exercise. Finally I knew that I was going to have to call finish. I delivered a nice round swat to her bottom, telling her to hold still for a moment. (I'd been wanting to do that right from the word go, but had held off. After all, who am I to tell a woman how to act when she's being ravished in a public park.) She froze when my hand landed and I got to work. I drove in hard, moving right into it, eager to finish off. I was busy squirting her when she suddenly gasped and started shuddering and shaking as her own climax swept silently through her. Not wanting her to fall flat on her face on the grass I held her afterwards, holding her against me. After a while she shook her head to clear it and looked at me. She promptly pushed me away and yanked up her panties. "Brute," she snapped. "How could you do that to me? I hope I never have the misfortune to see you again." "I'll make myself scarce," I murmured. "Before I go, could you answer one little question?" "What's that?" "How often do you get raped? I'm curious." She glared at me. "You're the only one who has ever dared to brutalise me like that," she snapped. "I normally go out with gentlemen." "Hey, I'm a gentleman," I protested. "What you meant to say is that you normally go out with wimps. Anyway give me your phone number. I'll take you out somewhere." "Oh, yes, I can see that. Dinner and a show and a rape." "Don't be silly," I chided her. "There's nothing to say I can't rape you before I take you out to dinner. Now give me your number."