You can make mistakes when you're tired. I mean, these things happen. I'd been sitting for Rachel and Brian Adamson and their kids had been giving me hell, keeping me running for ages before I finally got them settled. Naturally enough, after they were asleep, I settled down on the couch and watched some TV. And fell asleep while watching.
I woke up when Rachel and Brian arrived home. Rachel paid up with no problems, unlike some parents I could name, and then invited me to have a cup of coffee before I left to help wake me up a bit.
So I had my cup of coffee and a chat and then I bade Rachel and Brian good-night and hit the road. It was nearly one am and I was bushed. I don't care what they say about young people being able to stay up all night and still be fresh the next day. I was a young nineteen and I was wiped out. I was nearly home when I received a text message informing me of my little mistake.
"If you're looking for your purse it's on the coffee table in our front room."
Well, shit, was my first thought. It can fucking stay there. My second thought agreed with my first. I sent a reply.
"Thank you. I'll pick it up tomorrow. Just arrived home and am falling asleep."
"No problems. We won't be home until about twelve. Taking kids to my mother's place. They're staying for a couple of days."
My sympathy to their grandmother was what I thought, but I sent "OK".
Then I was home and I was heading for bed.
I slept in the next morning and then stooged around the house for a few hours, doing housework that I'd been putting off. Lunchtime rolled around and I had some lunch and then decided that Rachel and Brian should be home by then and it was time to collect my purse.
Deciding that casual baby-doll pyjamas weren't quite the thing to wear when visiting I grabbed a t-shirt and some tights and slipped them on. The t-shirt was dark so I figured the hell with a bra. My breasts would be fine as they were. They were nicely sized, not so big as to be floppy and if I wasn't going jogging (and I wasn't) then they wouldn't be bouncing about.
I was relieved to see the Adamson's car in the drive. That meant they were back. I rang the bell and no-one answered. I remembered the bell was broken and knocked. It's hard to knock on a flywire door. All it did was rattle and no-one answered. I sighed and walked around to the back door.
The house had two back doors. One door opened directly into the kitchen and the other into the laundry. I naturally enough rapped on the kitchen door, opened it, and stepped through, calling out as I did so.
This, as it turned out, wasn't quite the right thing to do. The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the kitchen was Rachel, stark staring naked and bent forward over the kitchen table. How embarrassing for me.
The second thing I noticed was the large naked man standing behind her with an absolutely humongous erection. An erection that was pointing at Rachel. Even while I was noticing this he lunged forward, totally skewering Rachel, who let out a shriek. More embarrassment for me.
The third and last thing I noticed was Brian, also naked, also with a humongous erection, even bigger that the first guy's, standing at the other side of the table to Rachel, holding her wrists so she was forced to bend over the table. OK. Embarrassment completed. Time to exit.
I yelped out a quick, "Sorry," did a quick about turn and was back out that kitchen door just a little too late. Or a lot too late, I guess, as it swung closed in front of me, helped by Brian's big hairy hand, while his other big hairy hand landed on my elbow and closed over it.
Rachel and the naked stranger were both looking at me, him still buried full length in her but just holding still.
"Oh, dear, you have shown the most appalling timing," Rachel said in a funny sounding voice. Well, I guess I could understand that. I'll bet I'd sound funny if I tried to talk with a big fat cock jammed up me.
"It's OK," I said quickly, looking skyward. "Haven't seen a thing. Not a thing. If you'll excuse me I'll be back later for my purse."
"I forgot she was coming around for her purse," Rachel commented to Brian. "Now what do we do? How the hell do we stop her flapping her mouth off to all and sundry?"
"My lips are sealed," I put in. "Nothing to see here so nothing to comment on."
"Yes, like I can believe that," said Brian with a laugh. "You're a woman and women gossip, even when they say they won't."
"Not if the gossip's about them," said the deep voice. That was the naked stranger putting his two cents in. Stupid comment. The gossip wouldn't be about me. Not that I'd gossip about something like this.
"He's right," put in Rachel. "It looks like this's your lucky day, Brian."
Say what? Just what did Rachel mean by that?
What she meant, it turned out, was that Brian had her permission to pull my tights down. His hand released my arm, both hands glommed onto my tights, and down they went, my panties going with them. I gave a shriek of rage.
"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded, waving my hands around to emphasize my indignation. What I should have been doing was thinking more. Thinking things like, 'if I grab hold of the front of my t-shirt I can hold it down and cover myself, at the same time keeping my t-shirt on'.
As a result of my not thinking and my hands waving around there was nothing to stop Brian taking hold of my t-shirt, but he didn't hold it down to cover me. Not him. He just lifted it straight up, taking my flapping hands with it, then lifting it over my head, leaving me just as naked as the rest of them.
"Oh, look, how cute," carolled Rachel. "No bra. She might have been expecting us."
I did have a bra - a one-hand hand-bra, the other hand now trying to imitate a pair of panties. I was spluttering, not knowing what to say. Brian said it all.
"Welcome to the Saturday swingers club," he said, laughing.
"This is not funny," I fumed. "If you'll excuse me I will take my clothes and leave."
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
"No, we will not excuse you," said Brian. "Why don't you talk to Rachel for a few moments?"
With that he pushed me over to the table and then over the table. I was now lying across the table in the same manner as Rachel, totally naked. The only difference being that I didn't have a cock shoved up me. That's when I felt Brian's hand rubbing my pudenda and I realised that the difference was about to be eliminated.
I can tell you this, I wasn't going to be taking getting raped lying down. All right! Leaning against a table if you must be technical. I still wasn't having it. I started protesting, loud and long.
It's amazing how loud the sound of a hand spanking your bottom can be. It was only one slap but it hurt and I squealed.
"Now hush up a bit, girl," Brian growled. "It's not as if anyone is going to hurt you."
Easy for him to say. Hadn't he seen the size of that thing he was thinking of using on me? I was about to reply when I saw Rachel looking at me. She was still standing there with that guy behind her and she had a funny look on her face. I couldn't help myself.
"Just what are you doing?" I asked.
"Getting fucked," she said calmly.
OK, so now I was confused. My experience, while not exactly broad, was certainly enough to let me know that there was a certain amount of movement involved with getting fucked. Rachel was standing there, breathing hard. The guy who was presumably fucking her was also just standing, breathing hard, and sweating lightly. Why the sweat if he wasn't exercising?
"Ah?" I said, not knowing what to say.
