An Intruder Ordeal/ the Unexpected

It had been three days since My friend Kay James flew back home to Boston and I was more than happy when she graciously invited Hamari to come up and spend just over a week with her. Even happier when we were able to book Hamari a standby seat on the same flight out. Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy Hamari, but if you've read The Mail Order Bride series, you'll know that she can be a little over doting to the point of smothering.

Anyway, I was looking forward to a the seven plus days of rest while they did their girl thing with Kay's girlfriend Dunbar up in Boston.

It was Friday later than normal when I finally got out of the office after closing a profitable week and knowing I had the evening free, in fact the whole weekend ahead of me, I decided to stop by my favorite Ale House out off of Bee Ridge to relax over a couple of heavy craft drafts that I like and my favorite New York strip.

The minute he saw me walk in, Scotty pulled my personalized stainless steel mug and started filling it: "This is a local IPA we just got in and I want you to try it." He said as he slid it over to me: "Spending the weekend with those two hot little cuties?" He asked.

"Just some quiet R and R." I answered: "Since I'm down this far, I thought I would have a few beers, maybe a steak and run by my house in Colonial Gables. That one young lady that you saw me with stays there occasionally. She flew back home a couple of days ago with my little Asian Princess and I thought I would run by there, check the fridge for perishables, reset the pool filter timer and lock up and stuff. You know the drill." I explained.

About two and a half hours, my meal and some eight beers later I was pulling up in that drive and Matt (the kid next door) was standing in his mothers drive hosing off her lawn mower in the dark and he stopped and said: "Hey Mr. Swiftt, she just left."

Surprised I asked: "Who?"

"Your house guest, or tenant." He answered.

"Matt." I explained: "I drove Kay and my friend to the airport a couple of days ago."

He replied: "No ... The new girl. You just missed her, she walked down Brookmeade Drive that way. She's wearing a tight skirt. I didn't get a close look at her but she looks very sexy."

That really peaked my curiosity. Matt was just a kid but he had no reason to put me on over something like that: "Thanks." I told him, not letting on to him that this had the potential of becoming a real issue.

My curiosity got the best of me, not to mention that I was pissed that anyone would have the audacity to fuck with ME, Peterswiftt, so I got back in my SUV and headed out in the direction that he had pointed.

Not far up ahead in my headlights I saw what looked to be a young girl walking and though she was wearing a skirt, I decided not to stop. I didn't want to risk looking like a pervert if she wasn't the one he had just told me about, and what would I have said to her anyway? So I slowly drove by, kept on going, made the block and headed back to the house.

I parked on the street two doors down, let myself in, reset the alarm and waited in the dark in a great room chair where I had a full view of the front door.

I have always found it odd how you notice that each home has its own aroma when you first walk in. This one was always pleasant in every way, a clean smell like the one I own in Oyster Bay, but yet this one is totally different somehow.

Less than three hours later, just as I was about to doze off in the pleasant feel and scent of that fine leather chair, I heard a key in the door and I watched through the leaded glass as her little form opened it. She stepped in like she owned the place and fumbled with her purse and some plastic grocery bags while attempting to reset the alarm code that I had already programmed to the "Inside Off" setting.

She looked at the keypad for a moment, shook her head, turned on the entry light, took several steps toward the kitchen and the micro second she noticed me sitting there in the shadows, she froze. Her face took on a mask of sudden fear and she turned so pale that her lips went white and she breathed out two quick questions barely over a whisper: "who are you? What are you doing here?" So fast that the words actually ran together.

"I am the guy who's name is on the owner's line in the deed to this house: " I calmly answered with intentionally enhanced arrogance: "Funny, little lady ... Those are the same two questions that you need to answer for me." And I gave her mean look: "Well ... I'm waiting!" I taunted her.

"Look Mister, it doesn't hurt anything for me to stay here, I never touched, bothered or stolen a thing from you." She frantically answered.

"You really insult my intelligence when you lie to me like that." I responded: "The girl that I do let stay here is a dear friend of mine and I've seen her in the very cloths that you are wearing now. Let me get her on the phone." And I picked up my cell from where I laid it on the end table: "And I'll just ask her if she loaned them to you. That should clear this up."

She looked straight down at the floor and reacted: "Ok, ok, what are you going to do? What do you want from me?"And from her changing expression I could immediately tell that she wished she hadn't asked that last question, but both of us knew it was too late to take it back.

"First of all, I'll be the one doing the questioning." I told her: "I am curious as to how far this thing actually goes and I need to know if your acting alone. Where did you get the key and how do you know my alarm codes?" When she didn't answer I added: "Mike Shipley is a good friend of mine, a Sarasota police sergeant, maybe it would be easier for you if he asked you these questions." And I looked at my phone.

"I worked for the cleaning service you use. I cleaned this house once a month or so." She answered: "You always contact the office with a schedule of when your guests will arrive and when they leave. I would tidy it up for them prior to arrival and clean it again after they've gone."

"Cleaned, as in past tense?" I shot back: "What, did you do, get fired for stealing cloths and using the homes of the other people you clean for?" I taunted.

"Laid off." She replied. "The owner of the cleaning company that you contracted is a Cuban and he had some relatives come over and one of them took my job. Mister, Please won't you just let me go?" She begged.

I looked at her and thought, Matt was right, she is real pretty, but in a sexy Floridian dirt leg sort of way, a real little Redneck girl and the scent of her warm sweaty and now nervous flesh added a certain dimension to that appeal. She had short unpainted fingernails, a short dusty blond hair cut and she was just a tiny bit plump in the right places, but somehow that made her even more arousing. Before I knew it: "How old are you?" Rolled right off the end of my tongue as if I intended to ask that.

"Nineteen." She answered: "Why Mister, what are you going to do with me?"

The instant I heard that last question, I got that familiar strong twinge up behind my nut sack deep in my prostate. The one that always sends the electric-lust charge to my balls through my shaft that explodes in the head of my dick and I replied:"Fair question." Then I answered her's: "Right now, my buddy Mike is the only safe bet for me. Unless, that is, you are willing to agree to so some other terms for settlement. But you might want to consider that you are probably wearing over twelve hundred and change in someone else's clothes and In my book that makes you a felon." And she sucked in a big breath of air.

"Have you ever been arrested before?" I played her: "Do you have a record?" I inquired, and she looked down and her paled complexion started to blush: "Show me some I.D: " I demanded and she looked through her purse and handed it to me.

As young as she looked, I wanted to verify that she was at least eighteen but my hormone induced adrenaline kicked in and the fact that I was getting aroused, made it difficult to do the math in my head, so I bluffed: "How old did you tell me?"

"Ok, ok, I'm eighteen ... But as you can see there, I'll be nineteen next month, so I wasn't lying to you."

"Amanda is it?" I read her name, then asked sarcastically: "If you're not willing to tell me if you have a police record or not, I might as well call my buddy Mike and have him run this State I.D."

"Twice for shoplifting." She blurted out in a shameful voice: "Look Mister, I'll put the cloths back and you will never see me again ... Honest, I don't need any more trouble." When I didn't immediately answer, she got anxious and pleaded: "Ok?... Please? ...Mr. Please?"

"Amanda, I'm curious, what would possess you to break into someone else's home and live in it? And to steal their clothes?" I interrogated: "You look like you should be much smarter than that." I continued to taunt.

"My Mom is a drunk and a druggy. Even with me doing my part, she went through our rent money and I didn't know that we were behind in our trailer payments." She explained: "Now she is in jail and I came home after being laid off to find all of our things thrown out at the curb and all of my clothes were gone." And she started to tear up: "please, just let me go, I'll put these clothes back, I promise."

"I'm afraid it's not going to be that easy ... Really? You expect me to just let you walk with no consequence, no accountability? I poked: "First of all, get out of those clothes." I demanded: "They're not yours to wear."

When she sat her purse and bags down on the counter and started heading toward the back bedroom, I knew I was totally in control and I asked in a cruel and antagonistic tone: "Where do you think you're going?"

She stopped. turned to face me again and with total surprise in her shaky little voice, she answered: "To go and change like you said."

"I didn't tell you to change." I responded: "I told you to get out of those clothes."And she just stood there for a moment and when my intentions finally sunk in, she shook her head "no" backed a step away and I started to dial my cell phone.

"Please stop Mister! There has to be some other way!" she pleaded: "Any other way?" And I could actually see her nipples start to harden under Kay's soft thin cotton blouse from the very thought of what was now inevitable.

And I cruelly reasoned: "Look, there are only two ways. I call the police, or you get undressed." And I stared her down.

When she finally broke eye contact, she defiantly responded: "Well I'll just tell them that you ..." And I cut her off.

"What? ... Tell them I did what? You are obviously homeless, admittedly unemployed, a vagrant, with I might add, a police record for stealing. You're a big girl, your call ... or mine." I reasoned: "But mine will be that phone call to the police and with this being your third offense, you WILL do time." I explained.

"And if I say yes. what is it you will want from me?" She asked and I could tell she was starting to tremble and I knew that she would concede.

"Everything." I immediately answered: "Everything and anything."

"Will you at least let me go to the bathroom first?" She asked and she started to tear up a little more.

Now here I have to stop writing and ask: What is it about women and spontaneity when it comes to sex? Even in less hostile situations, unless they have totally prepared for the experience, or are the ones who initiate, they always have to go to the bathroom, "first." Do they have to see if everything is in order, take personal inventory, check the condition of themselves? That always takes something from the mood and it is definitely a buzz kill. Anyway back to my intruder ordeal.

"Later ... I want the pleasure of experiencing you just as you are." And with a look of defiance she started to unbutton Kay's blouse.

"No," ... I commanded: "Start with the panties." When she looked at me all confused, I clarified: "Take off the panties first and do it slowly, I want to enjoy this ... That is if you're wearing panties." And I reached over and turned on the table lamp.

She bent over toward me, reached up under the close fitting skirt and while making every attempt to only raise it as little as possible, I watched her pull a light blue thong down inside out, over her thighs, over her knees and down her calves where she let it drop to the floor around her feet.

The second she looked at me seeking approval, I instructed: "Now hand it over to me please."

She bent to her right side, reached down with that hand, took hold of the part that was on top of her little right foot, stepped out of it and just stood there in front of me holding that tiny garment close to her.

"Please?" I nodded as if asking again and I extended her my hand. She took a half step toward me, bent forward and while fully extending her right arm, she finally handed it to me.

"Look Mister, do we really have to do this?" She asked in a low and trembling voice.

"No, you're right, we can stop now and I'll make the call. Like I told you, it's your choice." And as I put my hand out holding that thong, offering it back to her, she started to slowly unbutton Kay's blouse from the bottom up.

With her looking directly at me, I turned that thong around in my fingers, located the darker wet part of the thin satin crotch, held it to my nose and intentionally took in a long loud sniff and I watched her face uncontrollably grimace from my actions.

Now it is quite a walk up Bee Ridge Road to the nearest grocery and if you consider the moderate distance from this house to Bee Ridge, it makes it even that much longer. Though I have never clocked it, I would guess that it had to be over four miles each way. Even though she was smart enough to leave right after dark to avoid the heat from direct sun, Southern Florida at this time of year still has unpleasantly hot and muggy nights and this one was no exception.

Even with the effects from all of that on her young body, the scent of her moisture was wonderful. It was floral and feminine, warm and buttery and apricot-like and it caused my dick to start repositioning itself inside my briefs. The sheer pleasure of experiencing it like that directly in front of her, became total arousal. Without losing eye contact with her, I heard myself say: "Niiiice." And she just stood there holding the unbuttoned blouse closed.

When I nodded to her saying: "Now that," she slowly opened it and let it fall off the back of her solders and it came to rest in the bends of her elbows.

Her breasts were young and firm, not too long but large around and plump and with ample areolas that sat up more on the top third of each with long nipples pointing all up firm and high and I remember how beautiful they looked glistening in the entry foyer light from her sweat.

With the slightest hint of shame and humility on her face, she let the blouse slip off down her back and while holding it behind her in her left hand, she placed it over the back of the desk chair and stood in front of me wearing only the skirt.

When she looked down at my lap, her look of humility turned into one of fear and concern and she seemed to be unable to take her eyes off of the giant lump in the front of my slacks. But I didn't give her any time to ponder from fear she might back out.

"Now come over here to me." I ordered: "Step in between me and the ottoman and face the desk." And as she tearfully complied I instructed her: "Bend over at your waist, put your palms down flat on the leather and arch your back." And as she complied, I just sat there for a moment looking at her plump little teen age ass covered in Kay's skirt.

As she remained in that position, I took a moment and just sat there reveling in that view and the sweet inviting smell of her warm flesh, until she turned her head and asked: "After we do whatever you want, how do I know that you will let me go?"

"Look little lady, I'm not holding you here now." I answered and my left palm found her warm smooth moist lower belly and my right hand was on her firm right breast and it was warm smooth and definitely much more than a handful.

As I firmly tweaked and pulled her nipple straight down, her head came back she took a deep, deep breath in through her nose and asked: "You're not going to hurt me are you?"

I replied: "No, I am going to do my very best to share some pleasure with you. Somewhere along the way if you start to enjoy it, just relax and go with it, it will make it a lot easier on you."

"Can we just get this over with?" She asked as she started to cry.

And I rhetorically responded: "Why, do you have somewhere else to go? And she huffed out a loud disgusted sigh.

When I stood up behind her and started inching up that skirt, there was no sign of reluctant resistance and I looked down on one of the prettiest plump little asses I had ever uncovered: "Relax." I told her and my hands were on her soft plump cheeks and my thumbs went in between them and as I slowly spread her open I watched the warm moist flesh from the inner entire length of her crack kind of peel away one side from the other and the scent of teenaged ass actually made my dick jerk in the confinement of my pants.

I watched a single drop of sweet summer sweat run down the center of her lower spine, under the waistband of that bunched up skirt, then down over her tailbone where I lifted it out of the crack of her ass with the tip of my tongue. It was smooth and savory and sweet and I found myself longing to taste more of it.

The heat of her flesh in the cool air of the room caused her scent to be so overwhelming that I went to my knees and buried my face between those soft smooth cheeks and as my nose found her sticky little anal bud, my tongue went over the warm creamy folds of everything in the valley of her crack and instantly I was enjoying the flavors of young feminine ass. The ones I haven't tasted since my football days back in high school and suddenly I remembered each and every one of those encounters.

The woman's body is a marvelous creation. Even in the most adverse circumstances such as this, if played right, it just cannot resist showing all the signs and results of being pleasured. Even in a reluctant or a non consensual act, if you take your time, it can still be dialed in to receive and display ultimate sexual grandeur, whether the inhabitant's mind wants to succumb to it or not. And try as they may to hide it, they just can't cover up the results of being pleasured ... And Amanda was no acceptation.

Though my heightened excitement was demanding me to jump on and fuck the living shit out of her, I played her like a fine string instrument. I lapped the little rounded flat parts of her plump outer lips, down and in the creases between them and her soft smooth cheeks and thighs. As my nose continued contact with her little brown eye, the tip of my tongue ever so gently parted her creamy inner lips and I slowly worked it deep within her.

Her natural inner moisture was thick and it was smooth and her flavor paramount as it coated my tongue and the knowledge of her age and the empowerment that her helpless situation afforded me caused my hands to shake and my heart to beat so loud that I was sure she could hear it.

When the cleft in my chin felt the firm spiny point of her clit she actually started to instinctively raise and lower her ass and push back a little against my face, and I sucked it into my mouth. I worked it with the top and sides of my tongue and as it continued to swell between my lip covered teeth her breathing became deep and fast and when she actually started panting, I'd stop ... Wait for her to come down and then I'd start in ... All over again.

I teased her like that over and over to what I knew was the very brink of her orgasm, allowing her to get a little closer to the climax each and every time.