Car Thief

I have no idea what woke me up but something did. I sat up, listening to see if there were any unwarranted sounds. Generally the night was quiet. I gave a sort of mental shrug and was about to settle back down when I decided a glass of water wouldn't hurt. It was a warm night, after all.

I didn't bother turning on the lights. I knew the way around my own house and there was enough ambient lighting to give me an idea of where the furniture was. (I dislike kicking furniture when I have bare feet. It hurts me and doesn't worry the furniture.)

I strolled out to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and had my drink. I was about to go back to bed when I hear something outside. I looked out the window and there was enough moonlight to show that some kid was working on the door of my car.

I moved back to my bedroom pretty smartly, jammed some slippers on my feet, and grabbed my car keys and phone. I slipped quietly out the front door and around to the drive.

The kid must have been fairly good with his lock-picking because he was in the act of opening the car door when I came quietly around the corner of the house. I stood there, watching.

I couldn't help but think that the kid was both smart and dumb. OK, he was smart enough to manage to pick the lock on the car-door but didn't the dumb kid know that modern cars won't go anywhere without the key? My car had a keyless start but the key still had to be inside the car before it would actually start.

As soon as the kid was nicely settled in the driver's seat I pressed the lock doors button on the remote. Twice. First time is a standard locking of the doors. The second time disconnected the internal lock switches from passenger control. The only way to open the door now was by either using the remote to unlock or by using an actual key.

I could see the kid moving about inside the car. It seemed to me that he was probably looking for the ignition to turn it on, not knowing that it was a keyless start. I doubt that he even noticed the start button on the dashboard.

I watched with some amusement while he fumbled around. Finally he seemed to give up and tried to leave the car. The shock he must have got when he found he couldn't open the doors would have been worth seeing. It was instant panic. He bounced over to the passenger's side and tried that door and then climbed into the back to try those doors. Scrabbling at the back of the rear seat didn't help as the release switch for the seat backs was in the boot. He was trapped.

I walked up to the car. When I reached it he was back in the driver's seat, probably looking for a door release switch. I had my phone switched to camera mode and I rapped on the driver's window as soon as I reached the car. His head swivelled to look at me and my phone flashed, capturing his image, in my car.

The car remote actually had a physical key component that I could use to unlock a door. It didn't free the other locks, just let that one door open. I used it to unlock the driver's door and opened it, smiling at the kid.

"Um, listen, kid. I suspect that you might have got in the wrong car. This one is mine. That's why it's parked in my driveway."

"Ah, I can explain," he said, sounding rather desperate.

He was either younger than I thought or stress was making his voice squeaky. Perhaps his voice just hadn't broken yet.

"Really? I can't wait to hear your explanation. I'll bet the police are going to love it, too."

"Police? You can't call the police!"

"Um, look, phone," I said, holding it up. "Dead easy to call them. Excellent reception here. I just press a few buttons and they'll be here. Out of the car, kid."

My tone for that last sentence changed from amused to commanding.

I stepped back and a couple of long shapely legs swung out of the car, feet landing on the ground. I promptly changed a few of my previous thoughts. She, not he. Not a squeaky boy's voice but quite a lovely contralto. From the look of those legs I'd have to kick the age estimate up a few years, too.

She stood up and I added a couple of more years. Very nicely developed, wearing tights or yoga pants, damned if I can tell the difference, and a top that certainly emphasised the differences in the sexes.

"I am not a kid," she snapped at me.

"Better pretend that you are," I advised her. "The cops go easier on kids and you might get locked up in Juvenile Detention instead of the police holding cells. They might even just call your parents and send you home with a thick ear."

"They'll know I'm eighteen as soon as they see my license," she snapped. "Please don't call the police. I'm sorry."

"Now that you've been caught you're sorry," I pointed out. "Would you have been sorry if I'd come out to see a space where my car should have been?"

"I was going to return it. I just needed to go down the street and it's dangerous to walk at night."

"You mean you'd have returned it, maybe, if you didn't have an accident and remembered which house you pinched it from. Tell you what. You give me your parent's phone number and I'll call them instead of the cops."

"They don't have a phone."

I just plain sniggered at that one and she glared at me.

"I don't live at home anymore," she said. "What I do is none of their business."

"So what do you suggest?" I asked her. "I just let you go and forget about it?"

"Yes," she said, nodding earnestly.

"Fat chance," I scoffed. "You broke into my car, damaged it, and tried to steal it, and I'm just supposed to say Que Sera, Sera, and let you walk away?"

"I did not damage it," she protested. "All I did was unlock it."

"Without a key which means you probably scratched up the duco around the lock and I may have to have the door repainted. You may have busted the lock which means I have to get a new lock fitted. You certainly got dirty footprints all over the seats, what with your climbing back and forth on them. That means getting the car detailed. I can't see much change from a thousand dollars after I've had all that done."

She started spluttering indignantly.

"Oh. Oh. You liar," she gasped. "I haven't scratched it or broken the lock. At the very worst there might be some scuff marks on the seats and they'll brush out. A thousand dollars my ass."

"So you don't want the cops called and you don't want your parents called. At least, you're not trying to suggest you did nothing wrong. Hmm. I have a possible suggestion. I wouldn't have mentioned it but you are eighteen and you did raise the subject."

"What subject?" she asked, all feminine suspicion.

"Your ass," I said with a smile. "I'll take you inside and paddle it and then toss you out. I suspect the cops would only see you as only being a small fish in a big ocean and more trouble than you're worth to have to process you."

"What?"

She was speaking very carefully, not really believing what I had said.

"Outrageous, I know, but the cops do have more important things to do than to attend to a two-bit wannabe thief."

"I wasn't referring to the police," she snapped.

"Oh, you mean that bit about the spanking? I just thought that maybe a good spanking will make you think twice before you try this sort of stunt again. And if you're thinking of turning and running go right ahead. I won't bother to chase you. I'll just give the cops your photo in the morning and let them look you up."

I saw her remembering the flash from when I took the photo and she did not look happy. She settled down again, having been about to take of running.

I waited to see how she would grovel her way out of the situation. I had no intention of handing her over to the police but giving her a good scare wouldn't hurt her. I could see she was furious and her mind was racing, looking for the next diversion she could throw up. She came up with one and I had to admit it was a doozy. Totally took me by surprise.

"OK," she said.

I blinked. OK what?

"Excuse me?"

"I said OK. I'll take the damned spanking. Satisfied?"

Well I'll be damned. And I'd have to carry through with it or look like an idiot. Why couldn't the fool girl have gone on protesting?

I indicated that she should precede me into the house, turning on the lights as we entered and steering her into the front room. I pointed towards the couch and she sat down, giving me nasty looks.

I looked her over and believe me, she was worth looking at. I'd thought she'd looked good in the moonlight but in proper light she was sensational. She wasn't super-model material but Playboy would have been quite agreeable to showcasing her wares.

I actually recognised her now. Her name was Janine and she was one of a number of girls sharing a house further down the street. Nicely blonde, her hair had a sheen to it, her skin was clear, her eyes hazel. A lovely oval shaped face with enough liveliness to give it some character.

"So, Janine," I said, letting her know I knew who she was, "what was so important that you had to rush down the street in the middle of the night to get it?"

"It doesn't matter," she mumbled, not looking directly at me, a slight blush on her face.

"Yes, it does," I contradicted her. "It was obviously important enough to send you out into the night and pinch a car to make sure you got it. You don't do drugs do you? You look far too healthy to be a drug addict."

"We don't do drugs," she said indignantly. "That's stupid."

I just kept looking at her, letting her know I wanted an explanation. I was curious because she was starting to look really embarrassed. Trying to pinch my car hadn't embarrassed her but this did.

"Coffee," she mumbled, not looking at me.

"Coffee?"

"Yes, coffee," she yelled. "I used the last of it. If we don't have some available for breakfast they'll kill me so I was running down the street to get some."

"I can understand the importance of having coffee on hand but one thing puzzles me. If there was only enough coffee for you to have a cup then why would everyone have expected to have coffee in the morning?"

She looked everywhere but at me, still blushing.

"Oh, I get it," I said. "There was plenty of coffee available until you lost it somehow."

"It wasn't my fault. The lid came off the jar and the coffee went everywhere. I couldn't exactly scoop it up and put it back in the jar so I had to go and get some more."

I manfully refrained from laughing.

"I'll tell you what. As a special, one-time, offer, I'll run you down the street after I've spanked you and you can get your coffee."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

It didn't take much to cheer some people up. She was all smiles and relaxation. Then the 'after the spanking' bit kicked in and her spirits dipped again.

I sat down on the couch next to Janine and, taking hold of her elbow, I guided her into lying across my lap. The word guided is probably a bit of an euphemism. Where I say 'guided' meaning, she bent over my lap of her own accord and I just gently steered her into position, Janine might just as easily say I grabbed hold of her and dragged her across my lap forcibly. All in your perspective, I suppose. She didn't resist at all so I think reluctant guidance is probably best, with the reluctance being on Janine's side.

She had a very shapely bottom, very nicely defined by those tights or whatever she was wearing. It seemed to me that I'd have an even better view of that bottom if I removed those tights, so that's what I did, hooking my thumbs into the waist and pushing them down on a brisk manner.

That little piece of action Janine did protest about. Only protested, though, as she was way too slow to stop me.

"My tights," she wailed. "You had no need to push them down."

"Yes, I did. It's only reasonable that a spanking should be on your bare bottom," I explained. "Besides, I like looking at your bottom. It's a very cute little bottom."

To emphasize how cute I found it I ran my hand lightly over it. That might have been an error as it made Janine realise that her panties had gone south with her tights.

"You took my panties down!" she exclaimed in a horrified voice.

"Ah, yes. Bare bottom for spanking, remember?"

She didn't say anything but I could sense her thinking a lot of things, all of them nasty and all of them about me and my soon to be mutilated body. Fortunately I could ignore things she didn't actually say. She did make sure her legs were pressed firmly together to ensure that my view was impeded as much as possible. I thought it would be just plain mean to point out that the gap at the top of her legs meant her pudendum was on display anyway.

My intention was to give her a short sharp spanking, more to embarrass her rather than actually hurt her. I figured half a dozen sharp smacks on her bottom would give her a better understanding of what she should and should not do. As long as she learnt to put 'pinch my car' in the should-not-do list I'd be happy.

My hand came down smartly on her bottom and she gave a yelp. The second spank was met with silence. I guess she didn't want to give me the satisfaction of knowing that it stung. It was after that that things went a bit skew-whiff.

When the third spank landed I noticed that her legs were drifting apart, resulting in a greater exposure of her more tender parts. By the time the fourth spank landed there was a noticeable flush to her lips (slightly swollen lips, at that) and they seemed to be moving apart.

A fifth spank and I could see her inner lips starting to protrude, all puffy and curious. Janine was also breathing a little harder.

The sixth spank landed on her mound, cupping it neatly. She didn't let out so much as a peep. If anything her back arched slightly, pushing her bottom higher, almost offering herself to me.

At that stage it occurred to me that half a dozen spanks was a bit light for a proper punishment. A few more wouldn't hurt. At least, they wouldn't hurt me. I delivered four more spanks, taking my time, dividing them between her cheeks and her pussy. That done I swung her to her feet.

She stood in front of me, face flushed, eyes wide, biting her lip. Her hands were hovering over her smarting bottom and she seemed oblivious to the fact that she was giving me a nice frontal view.

"OK," I said, trying to keep my voice warm and gentle. "Spanking complete and I'll take you down the street shortly. Before we go, however, would you mind taking your top off?"

"My top? Why?"

"I'll give you three guesses," I told her. "The first two don't count."

While speaking I also reached out and started rubbing her mound. Her eyes opened even wider and she was almost stuttering when she spoke.

"You can't do that," she protested. "You said a spanking. That's all. A spanking."

"Quite correct and the spanking is now complete. Over and done with. I didn't tell you to take your top off. I asked if you would. You are perfectly free to tell me to get fucked. Oh, wait, that might be a bad choice of words in the circumstances. Um, you could just ignore my request and hitch your tights up. Alternatively, you could go ahead and take your top off. I know what I'd like you to do."

She dithered but seeing she wasn't trying to move my hand away from where it currently was I wasn't too surprised when she slowly reached for her top and lifted it up. She was quite aroused and I was right now the dominant personality so she was willing to yield. She was probably selling it to herself as having no choice but that was OK.

Her top and bra both went by the wayside and she looked sweet. I slipped a hand around onto her bottom and pulled her closer, drawing her down until she was sitting on my lap.

She was breathing harder again and her face showed her excitement. She knew what was going to happen and her agreeing to it was making her feel that she was doing something wicked, and that was exciting her even more. I was a good ten years older than her and quite solid, with muscle, not fat. It hadn't even occurred to me until this moment that I was also half naked. All I had on was some pyjama trousers. I was starting to understand just why she was so aroused. Getting spanked by a dominant man who was also muscular and half-naked just might contribute to that sort of thing.

I nuzzled her breasts tasting and teasing. At the same time my hand slipped between her legs, once more rubbing her mound, coaxing her, teasing her arousal. She seemed helpless, at first, just sitting there while I did what I liked. I decided that one of the things I would like was a little action from Janine. I grabbed her hand and dragged it between us, leaving it pressing against my pyjamas and what was hiding there.

Her fingers closed over me, through the pyjamas, and then started tracing me, trying to estimate the size of her hidden present. She seemed to give a little shudder and her hand moved, slipping through the open fly and closing over the prize, which she promptly dragged out into the light.

We stayed like that for a little while, just touching each other, building on each other's arousal. Play-time had to finish though and I decided that the time had come. I twisted about and eased her backwards until she was lying on her back on the couch. I pushed one leg off to the side, right off the couch, kneeling in the space provided.

Janine's eyes were open wide as she watched my cock moving into position. As soon as I was nicely lined up I drove forward, hearing her give a shriek as I drove fully into her, taking full advantage of her aroused state to sheathe myself completely with that first rough stroke.

Janine, it turned out, wasn't backwards about taking advantage of what had just happened. Her legs came up and wrapped around me, holding me tightly. I couldn't back off now even if I'd wanted to. (There again, who on earth would be stupid enough to back off at this stage?)

I just grinned at her, hands on her breasts, and started moving. I saw no advantage in taking it slowly and building up to the crescendo so I just went for it, trusting that Janine would be able to cope.

She coped. Eagerly and lustily, she coped. I bounced on her and she bounced just as enthusiastically under me, pushing up hard to meet my thrusts, cute little sounds of appreciation pouring out of her as she bucked and bounced and cheered me on.

Quite frankly I was so hot and hard and ready that it wouldn't have surprised me if I'd been premature. Disappointed me, maybe, but not surprised me. Fortunately I wasn't. I bounced and thrust, enjoying the feel of her wrapped around my cock. Also enjoying to the fullest the appreciation she was showing. It's nice to be told when you're doing good work.

I have to admit to being a little surprised at the language that Janine came up with. She'd always struck me as a fairly demure young lady and even when we had that little argument about my car she'd been perfectly polite at all times. Not even a single swear word when her bottom was smacked. Now - my goodness, gracious, me. If I hadn't been so involved in what I was doing to her I'm quite sure I'd have been blushing from the language. Shocking, it was.

It didn't stop me from giving my best, I can assure you. I just drove into her, building up her excitement, doing my best to just sweep her away. Not that it took much. It seemed all her inhibitions were discarded along with her clothes and I was getting the benefit of it.

I was coming up to my own climax at a great rate of knots, finally letting loose with a yell. Janine responded with a scream, her own climax finally hitting home.

Afterwards I was good with my word. I ran her down to the supermarket where she nipped in, returning triumphantly with some coffee. I dropped her off at her place, went home, and went back to bed.

The big question that bothered me was would I have to wait until she transgressed before spanking Janine again or could I suggest that a preventive spanking before she did something wrong might be a good idea?