I was, to put it mildly, feeling somewhat irritated. I was visiting my putative boyfriend, feeling it was reasonably safe to do so as he’d assured me that his father was also home. I say putative boyfriend as I was having serious doubts as to whether I wanted Charles as a boyfriend at all, in any manner, shape or form. The reason for this is the second qualification in that first sentence, notably reasonably safe.
The reason I wasn’t feeling safe and secure in the loving arms of my soul-mate was quite simple. Some boys are a bit grabby when they’re with a girl. Others are a veritable Handy Andy, quite capable of giving an octopus lessons on how to grab hold of things that don’t want to be grabbed. Charles, however, was in a class by himself.
If he hadn’t assured me with the parental presence I wouldn’t have stopped by at all. Also, if he’d let me know that his father would spend all his time sequestered within his office behind a closed door I would have had second and third thoughts and probably not come around.
As it was I’d been beating Charles off ever since I’d arrived. Quite frankly, after I’d had to tell him to stick his dick pack in his pants because it wasn’t getting anywhere near mine I was ready to snap it off and stick it up his ass. I offered to do that if it made another appearance and Charles had just laughed.
It wasn’t that I was a nervous virgin, I wasn’t. Neither nervous nor virgin. It was more of a case of me feeling that I had the right to decide if I was going to sleep with someone and I certainly hadn’t decided to sleep with Charles and the way things were going I never would.
I’d finally decided that just as soon as I got out of this house I’d be sending Charles a drop dead and goodbye for ever message when he made his serious move on me. Apparently everything he’d been trying up to that point had just been his idea of foreplay. Now he was serious. He had the gall to tell me that it was time for me to put out and if I didn’t like it, bad luck. It was happening anyway.
He lunged at me and my knee took him right in the testicles, dropping him to the floor while he gave out with a horrified shriek. I looked at him writhing on the floor, frantically clutching at his testicles, and decided I’d save myself the cost of a text message.
“It seems to me, Charles, that we’ve come to the parting of the ways. There’s no need to see me out. I’m sure I can find the door without help. You just stay right where you are and moan.”
I spun around to head out and damn near crashed into Charles Sr, or Mr Wayland as I knew him.
“Um, ah,” I said, not quite knowing what to say.
“Let me guess,” said Mr Wayland, sounding mightily amused. “Charles came on a bit too strong and you felt it incumbent upon yourself to discourage him?”
I nodded, blushing.
“He certainly looks discouraged,” observed Mr Wayland. “Not just for right now but probably for several days to come. Such a pity.”
I didn’t know what else to say so I didn’t say anything.
“Did you know that the pain for a man having his testicles flattened rather forcefully is worse than that of a woman in child birth?”
“What? It is not,” I snapped, feeling insulted for all women.
“It’s true,” he insisted. “I mean consider the logic. A woman has a child and bitches like crazy about the pain, but a year later she’s having another one. You ask a man who’s had his balls crushed if he’d like to go through that again in a year. The answer’s no, every time.”
I just gaped at him. He couldn’t be serious. Could he? I decided he was just having me on.
“Well, it wasn’t my fault,” I said a trifle sullenly. “He forced the issue. You will tell him I said goodbye, won’t you?”
“Oh yes. I heard your little farewell speech. By the way, I quite agree that it wasn’t your fault. Charles should have known what might happen and taken precautions. Heaven knows I’ve told him often enough. Charles, I’ve told him, if you’re going to rape a girl take care to keep your balls out of her reach. You never know what an angry girl might do to them. Well, I guess he found out the hard way.”
We’d been in the front room when this little contretemps took place and there was a well stuffed sofa in the room, probably incredibly comfortable for sitting back and watching TV. Charles had been trying to force me onto that couch when my knee connected to his balls and he was now curled up in front of it, moaning.
I was still trying to digest the sheer chauvinism of Mr Wayland’s last statement when he grabbed me arm and spun me around to face the couch. A little push on my back had me lurching forward so I was bent over the end of the couch.
“I suppose I should give the lad a demonstration,” said Mr Wayland. He’d moved up close behind me, his hand on my back holding me in place.
“It’s hard to defend yourself from someone who’s behind you. We’re geared to fight what is in front of us, not behind. Observe.”
With that he simply lifted my skirt and pushed my panties down. Then his hand was between my legs, rubbing my vulva. And there was nothing I could do about it.
I did of course, protest, loud and long, and it had zero effect. He just kept on rubbing me very intimately, pointing out my total helplessness at the same time.
“Of course, in some places this would be all we had time for,” he said, “but seeing we’re in a private residence we can go quite a bit further.”
He very easily undid the fastenings on my skirt and pushed that down and then his hand went up under my top and unclipped my bra.
“You now have a decision to make,” he told me cheerfully. “Are you going to let me push your top and bra up and off or are you going to resist, putting up with the spanking that will follow until you are ready to lose them?”
I gave a small scream as that ultimatum was accompanied by a firm spank to my bottom. I promptly decided that I would permit him to take my top off, a decision I passed to him quite volubly. He simply laughed and pushed them up and off without me trying to stop him.
With my top gone Mr Wayland had one arm around me while he stroked my breasts and the other between my legs while he stroked me even more intimately. For my part I get up a stream of abuse and protest, telling him just what I thought of his behaviour.
