An Independent Adult

I was staying up in the mountains for a week. In theory I was taking a break but the actuality of the matter was that I was using my free time to do some nature photography. There was a lake quite near to where I was staying and I'd spotted some swans there yesterday, complete with little trails of cygnets behind the mothers. Today I was going to see if I could catch them on film. (Okay, I know it's digital, but old terminology sticks.)

I'd had some luck over the past few days, capturing some kingfishers one day and a raccoon family on another. I even got a shot of an eagle, using a telescopic lens. I had the raccoons to thank for that. When I saw then suddenly dart for cover I looked around and spotted the eagle. He was just floating above, an easy target.

The way things were going by the end of my break I'd have enough photos to do a photo essay. Whether it would be good enough to sell I'd find out the hard way -- by submitting it to my publisher.

The weather was nice and sunny but I didn't trust it. While I dressed lightly I also put a warm tracksuit in my knapsack. If the cold came I'd be ready.

I sauntered around the lake, looking for a place where I could set up. I wanted a place with no people and a picturesque view of the lake. A couple of landscapes wouldn't hurt, with the swans being the cream when they made an appearance.

I took a number of shots while I waited for the swans to make an appearance. They eventually did and I took a few good shots of them. I wasn't satisfied with what I had, however, so I stopped shooting and just watched what the swans were doing.

I noticed that as they cruised back and forth they regularly crossed an area right in front of me, always at the same distance. I didn't know why but thought I could take advantage of this fact. I set up my camera on a tripod, taking great care to focus on that exact spot where the swans crossed in front of me. Then I stood back and waited.

After a few minutes the swans appeared and passed me just where I wanted them to. I started doing some burst photography, hoping that I'd got all my details right.

When the swans moved on I did a quick check of the photos I had and there were some awesome shots amongst them. I'd definitely be entering a couple of those in wildlife photo competitions, along with my eagle.

I did some more shooting for about another hour and finally decided to call it quits. I turned off my camera and stretched, more than ready to pack it in. That's when my shorts fell down.

Remember that I said I dressed lightly? That meant shorts and a t-shirt, with the tracksuit in my knapsack if required, not that I expected to need it. There again, I fell in the water while shooting the kingfishers and I sure needed it then.

However, shorts are not designed to fall down. My shorts fit me very nicely, displaying my tush to advantage. I'm told I have a very shapely tush and I thought so too. I guess you could say I was a little shocked to suddenly find myself sans shorts, especially as it was through a human agency.

I knew it was via human agency as I heard him laugh and felt his arms brushing against my legs as he pulled my shorts down. My immediate reaction we to spin around to confront my abuser, because that's what he was, an abuser. In retrospect that was probably the wrong move.

With my shorts down around my ankles turning around rapidly meant my legs got all tangled in my shorts and I lost my balance. I was down on my hands and knees by the time I caught my balance, not that that helped me much.

"Good girl," said this deep voice, and a hand pressed against my back, holding me where I was. "Now just bear with me for a moment."

The reason he wanted me to bear with him was because he was industriously pushing my panties down, leaving me bare assed naked, lower half, anyway.

"Now just stay like that," he said, his hand moving from my back and covering my pussy.

He started to rub me quite energetically. For my part, I revolted. I pushed strenuously against the ground, trying to get to my feet again. This turned out to be against his wishes.

"Don't do that," he said, "or daddy smack."

To emphasise this he dropped a hand on my bottom with a godawful spank. I squealed and he laughed.

"Get your hands off me," I snarled. "Might I point out that you're not my father. You're not any sort of relative. I'm not even certain that you're the same species. Just get away from me."

Yeah, like that was going to happen. He continued to massage me very intimately, while I continued to rail at him.

"While you're crouched down like that why don't you take the time to take your top off," he suggested. "It's just a suggestion."

"Not happening," I snapped, and he started patting my bottom.

"Like I said, it's just a suggestion, but don't forget who's making it."

When I didn't immediately respond the patting of my bottom became a little bit firmer. Not hurting, yet, but the implication was there. I took off my t-shirt and the bottom patting stopped. Now the bra strap snapping against my back started. I took the hint and slipped off my bra. The rotten man now had me naked and his hands were all over me.

I knew what was going to happen. How could I not? You don't get to be twenty without learning about men and what they want. For some reason the fact that I knew what was going to happen and I had no control over the matter worked on me, getting me aroused, like it or not. His hands massaged my breasts, my nipples already peaked and sensitive.

The reason both his hands were on my breasts was because he'd dropped his trousers and his cock was resting between my legs, pressing along my slit. He was dragging his cock back and forth against my lips, timing it to match the way he was fondling my breasts. My pussy had flowered, my inner lips protruding and wet, and his cock was rubbing against them, agitating them.

His hand dropped away from one breast and I knew what was coming. He adjusted the position of his cock and started pushing, at the same time his hand returned to grasp my breast again. That done he started thrusting into me.

He wasn't in any particular hurry to start with, taking his time and sliding deep into me. I was matching his stroke, partly because my body simply wanted to and partly because a pat on the bottom warned of retribution if I didn't.

He was demonstrating that he definitely knew what to do once he had a woman under him, whether she would or no. He was thrusting into me, his hands leaving my breasts every so often to wander over my body, touching me in various erogenous places. I felt that he was turning me into a mindless slave, just moving with him, doing as he commanded.

He slowly but surely worked on my arousal, building it up with every touch, every thrust. Not that slowly, now that I think about it. I was lost to everything but his cock hammering into me, driving me wild.

I finally climaxed, something that made him pull out all stops and hammer into me hard and fast, his own climax coming quickly.

"Get dressed, there's a good girl," he said, patting me on the bottom as he disengaged.

With that he simply pulled up his trousers and vanished into the scenery, leaving me to clean up and get dressed.

That evening I was down at the local tavern, having a drink with a friend and complaining about what happened.

"Why don't you report him?" she asked.

"Report who? There're thousands of people at the park right now. How can I be sure I would even recognise him?" I sighed.

"The worst part is the fact that he's jumped me several times already. He seems to turn up when I'm vulnerable and alone and that's it. Remember I said I fell in the water shooting the kingfishers? I didn't fall. He pushed me, apologised, and then helped me out of my wet clothes. The rest you can imagine."

"Why don't you take someone with you when you go out to take photos? Alternatively drive to a different part of the park to do your shooting?"

"What? Let someone like him dictate my movements. Not going to happen. I am an independent adult and I'll decide what I do."