At Home

When I turned eighteen I managed to get a job with a large company in the city. I could have gone to work for my father but he wanted me to get some real experience where people wouldn't make allowances for me because of who my father was. It would be a bit hard for my manager to be rude to me or to point out my shortcomings when he knows my father owns the entire business. So my father instructed me to go and find a job.

I was quietly pleased when I did get one. It was an entry level position, naturally, but one with prospects. The only thing against it was the commute to and from work. With this, my father was willing to help. He owned several units a lot closer to the city and one of them was currently vacant. He just told his agent that it was now reserved for family and I moved in a week later. Rent free, which also made things a lot easier.

I'd actually been in the unit several days before I chanced to open the wardrobe in the second bedroom. I didn't need a second bedroom so I'd never actually bothered to go into that room, just glanced in from the door. The only reason I went in this time was because I had a blown light globe.

What I didn't have was any spare globes. Now I have heard that some people always keep a spare globe in their wardrobes so there's one close on hand if one blows. There wasn't one in the walk-in robe in my bedroom but I checked the spare just in case. If not I'd simply pinch the globe from the second bedroom until I bought some spares.

It turned out that the wardrobe was devoid of light globes, but it did contain half a dozen boxes, neatly labelled. Seeing the name on them wasn't mine I didn't open them, but I made some enquiries the next day.

It turned out that the previous tenant had to leave in a hurry and had asked permission to leave the boxes there for a couple of weeks. He'd have them picked up by then. The agent had agreed and had let my father know, who didn't think to let me know. Now that I knew I could expect someone to come past and I'd nobly refrain from opening them.

I'd just finished dinner on Thursday night when there was a knock on the door. I opened the door and promptly sent a message of thanks to my guardian angel as it was plain he was looking after me. The proof was standing right there in front of me.

The man was hot with a capital flame. He was over six foot, solid without being over muscular, handsome as all get out, and in his middle twenties. I don't think I'd ever seen platinum blond hair on a man before but it complemented his sky blue eyes, and the gleaming white of his teeth as they flashed with a marvellous smile.

"Good evening," he said in this baritone that sent shivers down my back. "The name's Jordan. I'm here to pick up some boxes that Barry left when he moved."

Oh, yes. Barry. That was the name on the boxes.

"Oh, right," I said, feeling all flustered and fluttery, butterflies taking up residence in my tummy. "Ah, there's half a dozen or so."

Maybe you'd like to take them away one at a time. On a daily basis. Or one a week. I won't mind.

"Yes, I know," he said. "That's why I have the trolley."

Well, damn. I hadn't noticed that trolley. So much for taking them one at a time.

He wheeled the trolley in and I showed him where the boxes were. He very smartly had them loaded and wheeled them and himself out of my life.

As far as I was concerned my guardian angel could chalk that one up as a missed opportunity.

Come Saturday I spent most of the day doing housework and shopping. At the end of the day I was bushed. If I'd had some friends close at hand I would probably have made the push, got dolled up, and gone out with them. Not having made any close friends yet I just didn't bother. That's not to say I was friendless. I'd been getting quite well acquainted with some of the girls at the office and I suspected I could be proper friends with a couple of them.

As it was I went to bed early and promptly fell asleep. Now normally, once I've gone to sleep, I don't wake until dawn's early light, or later, if I'm lucky. This night I woke up in the middle of the night. I didn't realise that at first. It was light so I thought that it was morning.

Then I noticed it was light because the light was on and I'd most certainly turned it off. I promptly sat up with a jerk and a gasp, looking around. The first thing I saw was Jordan sitting on the side of the bed, regarding me with admiration.

The second thing I saw was that his eyes weren't on my face, but were somewhat lower. I gave a gasp and tried to jerk the covers higher, but that didn't work with him sitting on them. I cursed the fact that since I'd moved into the unit I'd stopped wearing pyjamas or nighties. I wasn't even wearing panties. Seeing the covers weren't lifting up I dived back down under them.

"What are you doing here?" I yelled. "How did you get in? How dare you break in? Get out of here immediately or I'll scream."

"Very nice breasts, you have," he said, his voice still just as thrilling. "I thought when I saw you the other day that you would have. You'd pass the pencil test with no problems but still have a respectable handful or two. Um, answering you questions in reverse order. I didn't break in, I used a key. Barry's key. You should always change your locks when you move into a new place. You don't know who might still have a key. What am I doing here? Right now I'm sitting on your bed.

As for screaming, what would that do? These are good units and substantially sound proof and the chances are no-one will hear you anyway."

I glowered at him.

"I would like you to leave. Now!"

"Not going to happen," he said with a smile. With that he grabbed the covers and just stripped them off me, leaving my lying there naked, hands desperately trying to cover my interesting parts with not much success.

"Hey," I yelled. "What do you think you're doing?"

He looked at me with surprise.

"Are you really so innocent that you can't guess my intentions?" he asked, and I gaped at him. I was still a virgin and sex hadn't even crossed my mind.

"What? You can't," I protested. "I don't do that sort of thing," I added primly.

"Really?" He laughed. "Don't worry. I'll show you what you need to do."

"Very kind, I'm sure, but I'll pass," I said with a touch of sarcasm. OK. Maybe more than a touch.

He laughed again.

"Move your hands. You're spoiling my view."

"I will not." The hell with him.

"One of us will move them," he told me. "You may find you prefer it if you do it."

I reluctantly dropped my hands to my sides, face flaming. He reached over and ran his fingers through my small nest of curls and that did strange things to me. I felt that touch deep inside me, stirring me up, heating me up. I shuddered slightly at the effect he had.

His hand now ran up over my tummy, finally closing over one breast. He rolled my nipple around and squeezed my breast, his expression telling me that he enjoyed the feel. I was just terrified that the expression on my face would show that I was enjoying it, too. It was exciting, geeing me up, and I was feeling even hotter.

"Don't," I managed to gasp out. "I'll fight you."

"No, I don't think you will. It wouldn't achieve anything and we both know it. You want a trial wrestle just to make sure?"

I swallowed nervously. I was pretty sure a trial wrestle would lead to sex even faster than not wrestling. I sniffed and didn't answer.

He just continued smiling, his hands roaming freely over me, with me moving restlessly under his touch. If I had any sense I'd just lie there like an insensate lump but I just couldn't do it. All those touches were getting to me, like it or not. Unfortunately, I was liking it, even if I was doing my best to hide it.

Did I mention that he was also using his mouth quite freely? He'd kissed my breasts and sucked on my nipples and he'd even had his mouth doing things to my pudendum. I'd nearly screamed when he started doing that.

He suddenly sat up, and I just lay there quivering. He just looked at me and my eyes went wide as he started undressing. He was just taking his clothes off and tossing them on the floor. When he stood up and dropped his trousers I gave a nervous squeak and looked elsewhere.

"Hey, girl," he said, and when I turned to look at him he was standing there in boxer shorts, smiling. Once he saw that I was looking he grinned and dropped his shorts and I felt this horrible shock run through me. It was a wonder I didn't rick my neck I looked away so fast.

He settled onto the bed next to me. Reaching for my hand he pulled it over to him and forced it to close over his erection. I tried to pull my hand away but he wouldn't let me. I was just lying there petrified, not knowing what to do.

"Just get a feel for it," he told me. "You'll see it's not so scary once you've touched it for a bit."

Fine. If I had to, I had to. I seethed a bit but let my hand wander over his silly cock. My god but that thing felt enormous. It was hot and hard, and I could practically feel his heart throbbing through it.

I finally managed to snatch my hand away.

"It's not so big," I scoffed. "I've seen bigger."

He had the gall to laugh at me again.

"Girl, I'm willing to bet that it's the first one you've seen up close and personal. Your reaction certainly suggested that."

I glared at him but had the sense to keep my big mouth shut.

He was lying next to me and now that I was no longer holding it his erection was poking against my side. It was amazing just how aware of it I was. His hairy leg brushed against mine (not that mine was hairy, I hasten to point out) and then his foot hooked hold of my ankle. He simply tugged at my foot and drew my leg well to the side. I tried to hold my leg in place but it wouldn't obey me. I seemed to have no control over my muscles at all.

With my legs spread to his satisfaction he rolled over, finishing up between them, half lying on me. I could feel his cock pressing against my mons and lower tummy and I was close to panicking, biting my lips to stop myself screaming. I could see him lifting his hips, my eyes drawn to his bottom. In other circumstances I might have admired that bottom. A memory rose of watching him walk away with the boxes and thinking trim, taut, and terrific. I hastily turned my head to one side so I couldn't see him.

I couldn't have made a worse move if I'd tried. I was now looking at him in the mirror of my dressing table, and I had a perfect view of the pair of us. I was looking quite tiny beneath him and his bottom was lifted into the air and his erection was jutting out below him, pointing directly at me.

Even as I watched I could see him descending again. I saw his fingers touching his cock, adjusting the position of it slightly, and then he was pushing towards me. Now I could really feel him on me as his cock was pressing against me and then into me.

I gave a small scream as my virginity went by the wayside and he had the gall to laugh at me.

"Don't be such a wuss," he told me. "It didn't hurt that much and now it's over and you don't have to worry about it anymore."

I was quite righteously indignant. How would he know how much it hurt? I'm the one who felt it; not him. Not that I had time to belabour this point because strange things were going on down there. Um, strange to me, at least. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing.

His cock was slowly pushing its way into me. I can assure you I was giving thanks that he wasn't in a hurry. There seemed to be an awful lot of him and although I knew I should be able to handle it, knowing it and actually experiencing it were two different things.

I was no longer looking in the mirror as I just did not want to see that thing pushing its way in. I lay there with my eyes closed, wincing slightly each time I felt him slide a little deeper. It wasn't that it was hurting at all, quite the contrary. It was more a case of nervous anticipation that it might hurt.

Once he was fully in I was so relieved that I found I didn't really mind that he was lying on top of me with his cock inside me. After all, the worst had happened and I was all right, so what else could happen?

I found out when he got down to some serious work. He pulled back and returned and I gave a little squeak at the feel of him rubbing along my passage, sending little ripples of excitement into me. After doing this a few times I found that I was moving with him, pushing to meet him, with each of those small thrusts arousing me just a little more.

He kept on going, taking his own sweet time, and I was starting to feel all hot and bothered. After what seemed like ages he picked up the pace, pulling right back and then thrusting firmly into me, my body simply shrieking to me that this was more like it.

Not knowing what, if anything, I was supposed to do I just kept pushing up to meet him, gasping a little because this was starting to be rather an energetic exercise.

I idly noted that his hands were all over my breasts, and that felt quite pleasant, although it was a drop in the bucket to the feelings his cock was engendering.

He kept on and on and I just couldn't stand it anymore. I was tossing my head about, restless, knowing more was coming and wanting it. I almost screamed when he started thrusting into me even faster.

Then I did scream as I was hit by the most amazing climax I'd ever had. (Naturally. It was the first I'd ever had, but you know what I mean.) He seemed to be throwing some of last moment fit which I assumed was his way of climaxing. Finally he slumped down and rolled off me, lying there and breathing hard.

Would you believe that Jordan then had the gall to reprimand me? It seemed he considered my behaviour to be criminally careless not to have changed the lock and on top of that I'd exacerbated my crime by not engaging the security chain. He was quite firm in his opinion. Really? It was my fault he'd raped me? Get a grip on yourself, man.

He left and I locked the door and attached the safety chain. Then I had a shower and went back to bed. That had been a very unusual occasion.

As far as I was concerned that was the end of the matter. I saw no need to change the locks as a determined burglar would just pick it, or break it, if I wasn't home. I did make an effort to start engaging the security chain each night before I went to bed. A minor effort for a bit of peace of mind.

When the next Saturday arrived it followed pretty much the same pattern as the one that had just passed. Housework, laundry, shopping, early to bed, waking up at midnight because the light in my bedroom was on.

I even did the 'sit up indignantly, remember I was naked, and dive under the covers' thing again.

"What are you doing here?" I yelled at Jordan who was sitting on my bed, smiling. "I had the security chain on, damn you."

"But you didn't change the lock, which I believe I also recommended. I suggest that when you do you also organise a better security chain. All I had to do was slip my fingers into the gap and slide it off again. You really do need to be more careful."

"If you think I'm just going to lie here and let you. . ." I waved my hand around to indicate what I wasn't going to let him do.

"Don't be silly. I can't do that again," he said, sounding incredibly smug.

"Really? Someone castrated you, perhaps?" I asked hopefully.

"No," he said with a laugh, "but I can only take your virginity once. No this time we're going to do something that you wanted to do."

"So castration is back on the menu?" I asked.

"No. It's just that I noticed last week that you were fascinated last week about the scene in the mirror. This time when you're ready I'll have you get on your hands and knees and I'll kneel behind you. You'll have a ringside seat to what is going on."

With that he just stripped the covers off me again. I was going to start wearing a yashmak to bed. That would fix him.

As soon as he reached for me I went for him. I wasn't taking this sort of thing lying down again. (Or on all fours as he wanted.) The miserable man simply caught my wrists and flipped me over onto my tummy. I started getting my legs under me into an attempt to get up and wasn't that a big mistake. As soon as my bottom was up in the air he dropped a firm spank on it.

I squealed and dropped flat on the bed again.

"How dare you?" I gasped.

"It was easy," he said. "Now just relax and I won't have to do it again, unless you want me to?"

Was he kidding? Want him to spank my bottom? I flicked a glance at his face and he seemed perfectly serious, waiting for an answer.

"No," I said quickly. "I want you to go away."

"I will, eventually."

His hand, which was still resting where it landed, glided across my bottom and between my legs and he started massaging me. I started trying to close my legs and he growled at me and I hastily relaxed them. I was prepared to bet the brute had left a red handprint on my bottom.

He kept rubbing me, his fingers dipping in where they shouldn't go, and despite my personal wishes I could feel my body responding. My body had had a taste of this and wasn't objecting to a repeat. I squirmed around and he fondled me. He slipped a hand under my chest and it closed over my breast. Apparently he wanted the full experience.

He finally stood up and stripped and it seemed to me that he stripped a lot faster this time. He practically ripped his clothes off, his erection springing free, looking even bigger that I remembered, and it had been large enough in my memory.

"On your hands and knees, there's a good girl."

I'd have dearly loved to say no but I wasn't going to. I was almost twitching in anticipation of what was coming and it would probably be a severe let-down if it didn't happen. Once he was satisfied I was in the right position he climbed on the bed behind me. I couldn't help but look at myself in the mirror. I had an excellent figure, although I'd never looked at myself like this before. I could see the curve of my back with my bottom high in the air. My breasts were swinging freely below me and it seemed to me that they were just as shapely that way as when I was standing.

What was making me a little nervous was Jordan kneeling behind me, his cock pointing straight at me. I wanted to protest, to yell at him, but all I did was crouch there, staring fascinated into the mirror as his cock approached.

Then he was driving into me and even while I was feeling him thrusting into me I could see his cock disappearing, merging with my body. There was no careful entry this time. As far as Jordan was concerned I was ready and he was providing.

I heard the slap of his groin hitting against me and at the same time Jordan was reaching around me to take hold of my breasts. And then he got going.

No need for any warm up thrusts, apparently. I could see his cock coming back out even as I felt it dragging against my passage, saw the pause, and was ready when he came driving back in with a lusty disregard for what I might want.

I could hardly believe this was the same man who had been so careful when he'd initiated me. Now he was taking his pleasure, banging away just as hard as he could, and I was watching it all with a sort of horrified fascination, finding it hard to believe that was me in the mirror, bouncing so frenetically on the bed.

I was gasping and carrying on, pushing to meet him, twisting about so my breasts were grinding against his hands. That wasn't me, I was sure of it. It had to be an erotic dream. He seemed to be getting faster and faster, and I was working overtime to keep up with him.

I could see in the mirror when he had his climax and then I forgot all about it as I had my own, announcing it with a scream.

He just gave me a wink this time as he left. I closed the door, put on the chain and jammed a door wedge under the door. No-one was coming through that door until I was ready. Pity I didn't think of the door wedge before.