I'll tell you right now that it wasn't my idea. I got dragged into it protesting all the way. It'll be fun, they said. It'll improve your fitness, they said. It'll be a taste of hell on earth, is what they should have said.
It was a hike up into the mountains. There was this nice trail that included one thousand steps known as, you guessed it, the thousand steps. The idea was that a group of us should walk up it, preferably on a regular basis, to help improve our general fitness levels.
Now I am twenty and consider myself to be reasonably fit. I'm not going to run any marathons, but neither am I going to get tired out and puffing if I have to run to catch the train. I wasn't overweight, having what I considered a neat figure with padding in the appropriate places. My boyfriend sure had no complaints about that padding.
I tried to explain that I wasn't all that keen on hiking up the side of a mountain but was gently derided. Just try it once. If you don't like it you needn't do it a second time. So there I was, hiking up a mountain.
It wasn't too bad to start with. A nice easy trail amongst trees with birds singing gaily, the sun shining, and a gentle breeze blowing. Then we came to the first set of steps. One hundred of them, going up. Do you know how high a hundred steps takes you? I worked it out as I climbed them.
A standard building has about ten steps per flight, with two flights for each level. Therefore a hundred steps was the equivalent of climbing five levels in a building. That meant that the full thousand steps was the same as climbing fifty levels. Any building with fifty levels is a fucking skyscraper and I was supposed to climb it? And there was the sloped trail between each set of stairs. This was going to kill me.
I persevered and finished the first hundred steps without a word of complaint. After the second set of steps I had words of complaint but no breath with which to say them. The third set of steps were behind us and my thoughts were murderous as we approached the fourth set. I felt like whimpering as the fifth set came into sight but I have a backbone. I would climb this damn set.
Toiling up those last few steps I could see a sign indicating a rest area off to the side of the trail. Fine. I could use a rest. Stepping up off the last step and by an unfortunate chance my foot, ah, slipped, and I fell down. I didn't fall hard but it did seem to me as though I had twisted my ankle.
My friends were very understanding and sympathetic, helping me limp off the trail and into the rest area, which turned out to be a nice secluded little nook with a picnic table and a couple of benches. I sat down on the bench, happy to have the load off my feet.
Now came the hard part. I had to persuade my friends that I'd be fine but that it would be unwise for me to continue climbing.
"I'll wait hear and let my ankle rest while you lot go on up," I told them. "That way I won't spoil your walk. You can pick me up on the way back."
There was a bit of back and forth between the girls but I held firm and eventually they went on with the hike. The fact that we had our phones with us helped to ease their minds. They went on their way while I sat back and rested my ankle, smiling bravely.
I gave them a minute or two to get going and then I carefully tested out my ankle, taking a few steps to see if it was recovering. Would you believe a miracle? My ankle was fine, with not the slightest twinge. I'll admit I was tempted to race out and catch up with the girls but decided that I'd better not. I wouldn't want to suffer a relapse, now would I? I settled back down on the bench, reaching for my phone. I would do some texting.
"That," said an amused voice, "is one of the fastest recoveries I've ever seen."
I gave a yelp of surprise, jumping to my feet and turning around to see who was there. Would you believe that there was this guy standing under one of the trees, leaning back against it? He'd probably been there right along and no-one had even noticed him. I was noticing him now, I can tell you that.
He came sauntering out from under the tree, strolling over to stand in front of me, his eyes giving me a thorough once over as he came. I was doing the same to him.
What he saw was me, blonde, pretty, nicely stacked, and reasonably fit. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and they showed off my figure quite nicely, a fact that he seemed to appreciate. What I saw was a tall man, quite solid looking, about thirty. Not unhandsome, but not exactly a knockout either. Your average man, I guess, but he had a certain air to him that made him seem rather more than average.
"Good afternoon," he said, still sounding amused. "I'm Brian."
"Ah, hullo," I replied. "I'm, uh, I'm Susan."
"Your ankle seems to have recovered remarkably quickly. Are you going to race up after your friends?"
"I don't think so," I said. "One has to be careful about these things. I just feel that running up another hundred steps would be just the thing to cause my ankle to give way so I'll stay here and rest it."
"You do realise that it may be an hour or so before your friends return? It's quite a way to the top."
"That's OK. I have my phone. I'll just send messages while waiting."
"Well, fortunately for you I know a way to help you pass the time," Brian said.
That was the only warning I got. He calmly stepped a little closer, flicked open the button on my shorts and pushed them and my panties down to about knee level. I was horrified. My t-shirt, while of a reasonable length, certainly wasn't long enough to cover my crotch. I squealed and reached for my shorts to drag them back up, but he stopped me.
Not only did he stop me but he stopped me from bending down by putting a hand against my chest. Square across my breasts, to be precise.
"Don't try to pull them up," he told me. "If you do I'll just pull them down again. They can stay like that for a while."
With that he took a step back and looked at me, and no prizes for guessing where he was looking.
"If you dare to try and touch me I'll scream," I told him. "There're people on the trail you know and it's not far off."
"Don't worry. I'm not going to touch you. Not yet, anyway. I just want you to stand there with your shorts down while we talk."
"For heaven's sake, why?" I demanded.
"Because I want to look at you, for a start. Also, standing around and talking to a man with your shorts down and your pussy on display is going to get you aroused. Once you're nicely aroused I'll start the touching."
He had to be fucking kidding me. What made him think that standing in front of him would get me aroused? Apart, I realised, from the fact that he was looking at my pussy and I knew he was and I also knew he was going to try to touch me there at some stage.
"Ah, just what do you mean by start touching?" I asked. I mean, just how far did he think he could go?
"I mean that I will place my hands upon your body," he said, and I could tell he was laughing at me. "After I have placed my hands upon your body I will follow up by placing this inside your body."
He patted his groin when he said this and I could see that he had a rather large lump inside his trousers. Just how big, I wondered.
"You mean that you're going to try and rape me?" I asked, shocked. This was a situation I'd never been in before. I'd had to beat off a boyfriend a time or two, but that was more because they were trying it on a bit too hard, not trying to rape me.
"Certainly not," he said, and sounded genuinely offended. "If you consent then it won't be rape. If you don't consent then it will be actual rape, not trying."
Oh, how nice. He wouldn't try to rape me. He actually would unless I gave my consent. What a gentleman he was.
"You must know that if you try to rape me I will scream and people on the trail will come and help me."
"No," he said, slowly shaking his head. "I don't think you're the type to scream. Fancy having all those people looking at you when you're half naked with a cock inside you. Getting a friendly bonk would be better."
A friendly bonk? That's a new way to describe what he wanted to do.
"So, how's your arousal coming along?" he asked.
