Um. I suppose you want a bit of background about me and the situation I was in. Well, I'm Mary-Ann. I'm nearly twenty and currently at Uni doing a double degree and I've nearly finished. I flatter myself that I'm quite good looking, intelligent, healthy and fit. I jog in the mornings, and it keeps me toned up.
The situation. Well, like I said, I'm at Uni. While I'd love to live at home, with all the attendant benefits, it just wasn't on, and so I'd looked for someplace close to the Uni. I finished up in this sort of boarding house. It was a big old sprawling house with lots of bedrooms. It wasn't being run as a boarding house as such, but more along the lines of a shared rental.
I suspect that the guy who handled the rental details was actually in the process of buying the place and leasing out rooms to pay his mortgage, but that's incidental. The way it worked, when someone vacated everyone else would look through the candidates looking for a room and pick someone. That way we weren't having anyone foisted off on us.
The official rules were quite simple. Keep our own rooms tidy, clean up after ourselves in bathroom and kitchen, respect each other, etc.
The unofficial rules were fairly simple to. No sexual liaisons between housemates. No wandering around in the altogether. This was expanded to no wandering around in just your undies for what we all thought was a damn good reason, even if Brad thought we were being rude.
That's the way things stood when the hot weather hit us. I'd like to point out that I had no intention of breaking any of the rules, official or unofficial, so I'm not to blame for what happened.
It was a Saturday, and everyone but me had gone for the day, most of them to the beach. There'd probably be some nasty sunburns and a lot of poor me whining over the next few days. Now I'd had a late night the night before and had finished up sleeping in. That's why I wasn't at the beach. I was just going to bum around the house, do a little generic housework and generally take it easy.
Now I know I said no wandering around the house in your undies, but it was only an unofficial rule, and I was the only one home, and it was bloody hot, and I do have a very nice figure, so I thought that a) no-one would know, and b) if I was spotted, no-one would care.
So I can't be right all the time. It turned out that a) someone else was home, and b) they did care.
The house had this very nice ducted vacuum cleaner. Just plug the hose into any one of a number of points and away you went. You didn't even need to worry about emptying the bag as it was only required about once or twice a year. The hall and front room had been looking a little grotty lately so I decided to give them the once over.
The hall only took five minutes. Up and down with the vacuum and a little dusting and it was fine. I didn't expect the front room to take much longer. I wandered into the front room, dragging the vacuum hose with me meaning to plug it in and get to work. I idly noticed that some lazy sod hadn't bothered to turn off the TV and made a mental note to do so when I left the room.
Did I mention I was only in my undies? Very nice undies, I might add. A matched set. Now the vacuum ducts were installed in the floors at out of the way places so people don't walk on them and break them. The one in the front room was over in the corner near the TV and I waltzed over there, bent over, and was plugging in the vacuum when someone swatted my bottom.
I dropped the hose while shrieking and spinning around to see what the hell? I should say it was my intention to spin around to see what the hell but as soon as I straightened up two bloody great paws fastened around my waist and picked me up.
As soon as my feet left the ground I knew who it was, even though the idea was insane. I haven't mentioned my fellow housemates, except for Brad. Brad is a very nice guy but rather well padded, is the polite way to put it. Gross, was the accepted description the day he waddled around in his undies and caused the rule change.
One of the other housemates was Carl. Now Carl was rather shy and retiring, which is rather surprising for a man as big as him. I mean, he was huge, and it wasn't fat. If he'd been the one wandering around in his undies the women in the place would probably have voted in a compulsory nudity rule. He was a honey, but like I said, shy and retiring. Reclusive, almost.
He was also the only one of my housemates who could pick me up as though I was a child and carry me. But he wouldn't. It's not in his nature. If asked, I'd have said he'd bolt if he accidentally ran into me walking around in my undies. I most certainly wouldn't have said he slap me on the tush, pick me up and settled into an armchair holding me on his lap.
"Naughty girl," he rumbled at me. "You're breaking the rules. Penalties apply."
With that he started kissing me, and his hands started running over me. I squealed and protested, of course, even if he did do a nice job of kissing, and I was so conscious of his hands on me that it took me a few moments to realize he was being perfectly decorous with what he did with them.
His hands wandered at will, but that will seemed to decide that there would be no intruding onto or under my undies. His hands went bloody close at times, tracing the edges of my bra and panties, but he never actually groped me. (Which actually left me a little horny and frustrated. Not that I wanted him to molest me.)
After a few minutes of kissing me and playing with me Carl pulled back a little.
"You should know that if you're going to break a rule, you don't just bend it slightly. You go right ahead and break it."
I was about to apologise and say I'd go and get dressed when the son-of-a-bitch just tucked me under his arm and proceeded to pull off my panties and bra and toss them to the side. Then he whirled me around and I was sitting on his lap again.
"See. That's the way to do it," he said.
Then he was kissing me again, and his hands were all over me again. And this time they were ALL over me. There was no underwear to stop him so when his hands wandered towards my breasts they just wandered right on over them, squeezing them and fiddling with my nipples.
Then he decided to stop kissing my mouth and started on my breasts instead. The only reason I wasn't protesting about him chewing on my breasts was because he had a hand in an even more intimate spot doing things it shouldn't.
I tried to close my legs, really I did, but his hand just pushed between them and closed over my mound and started teasing it. All my wriggling and struggling were just ignored. I've never felt so helpless, and the feeling of helplessness wasn't helped when his fingers actually pushed between my lips and started doing things inside me.
Through me squirming and struggling I found myself pressed rather hard against Carl at times and his abiding interest in me was easily detected. It was standing tall and seemed to be pressing so hard against his shorts I expected a certain something to just rip its way free from his clothes.
When he drew back and looked me up and down I just knew what was about to happen, whether I wanted it or not.
I was wrong again.
"OK, sweetheart," Carl said. "I just heard a car drive up. If you don't want to be found here like this, you'd better scoot."
I was halfway up the stairs, frustrated and furious, on the way to my room before I remembered my undies, but there was no way I was going back for them. I just vanished and got myself decent.
I went back down to finish vacuuming the front room and found both Carl and my undies were gone. I was not going to ask him for them, I assure you.
I didn't need to. When I went into the kitchen later there was this neat little parcel on the kitchen table, all wrapped up in fancy paper with a ribbon on it and a card addressed to me. A couple of the girls were there and they wanted me to open it on the spot. Carl was also there, just hanging around in the background.
It's odd. Previously when Carl was in the background I'd barely notice him, but after that little episode every nerve I had seemed to be pointing and saying over there. There he is.
As for the parcel -- No way was I opening that in front of the others. I knew what it was from the evil look in Carl's eye. I just fended of everyone's curiosity and took the parcel to my room.
As you might guess, I tended to avoid Carl for the rest of the day.
The next morning I was up early. Because I'd been up so late the day before I hadn't done my jogging, so I slipped into some sports things and headed down to the park to do some pavement pounding. The only thing I don't like about the local park's jogging track is that at one point it goes through this copse of trees. When you're under those trees you're just a little secluded and a sitting duck for muggers if you don't keep your eyes open.
I was still thinking of that little contretemps with Carl and perhaps I wasn't looking out hard enough. I was halfway along that little copse when these two characters stepped onto the path in front of me. I stopped and was about to head back the way I came when another guy steps onto the path behind me, and I was quietly crapping myself.
These three creeps were edging towards me when another jogger turned up, coming the other way. He saw what was happening but he didn't even slow down. The two guys between me and the new jogger turned to face him and one of them pulled a knife. You've probably already guessed it was Carl. Now that I thought about it I realised I'd seeing him out running before this.
Like I said, he didn't even slow down. Carl is big and he hit those two guys like a run-away train. One went right and the other went left and Carl was thundering past me, aimed straight at number three. Number three wasn't interested in meeting Carl and he bolted.
Carl came trotting back to me and indicated I should continue. I picked up my pace again and Carl just ran alongside me, and he stayed with me with no effort whatsoever.
I glanced back at the two muggers. One of them was still down while the second one was standing and holding his arm in a funny way.
"Um, Carl, I think you might have broken something," I told him.
Carl was totally dismissive of the idea.
"Don't be silly," he told me. "I know how to run through someone. I doubt I've even got a bruise."
"Ah, Carl, I meant on them," I pointed out.
He didn't even look back.
"That's their problem," he said. "They could always have stepped back and yielded right-of-way. Do you come jogging much?"
"Almost every day," I said. "I think I've seen you here before as well."
"You probably have. Don't come here by yourself in future. Wait until I can join you or arrange to get someone else to accompany you."
Excuse me? Giving me a helping hand did not give him the right to dictate what I can or can't do.
"I don't think that will be necessary," I said airily. "I don't think those three oafs will be back."
