I first met Belinda (if you could call it meeting her) in the parking lot at the mall. I'm sure you all know how hard it is to park at times. I spotted a woman with a shopping trolley full of goodies heading into the parking area so I sort of stooged along behind her. I was lucky as she stayed in the row I was in, opened the back of her car and started loading.
I just settled into a comfortable position so I could take her spot as soon as it was vacated and flicked on my indicator. The woman driving (not Belinda) noticed me there, smiled and held up a finger to show she'd only be a minute. Mind you, it was a woman's minute, which is the equivalent of three or four normal minutes, but I wasn't in a hurry. She unloaded and then ran her trolley over to the trolley bay and headed back to her car.
She was actually getting into her car when another car (Belinda's) turned into the row, spotted the woman, and hurried over to wait and take the spot, completely ignoring my prior right. The trouble was, I didn't think I could do anything about it. The car already there would be turning in my direction and would temporarily block my access, something that this intruder could take advantage of.
I was muttering unkind words about people who jumped other people's spots and was prepared to move on once both cars had gone. I was given a nice surprise. The woman backed out but, instead of driving towards me and letting the intruder in, she propped and indicated that I should go ahead and park.
I waved, smiling, and took my parking spot. The woman drove off with a pleased look on her face (probably had her own spot pinched at times) and the woman who was the would-be parking thief (Belinda) went spare.
I kid you not. She wound down her window and just screamed abuse at me. How dare I take the spot she wanted? Had I no manners? I could see that she wanted that spot. Yes, well as far as I was concerned she could see that I wanted the spot and was there well before her.
I ignored her tirade, putting it down to PMS. Some women get that way. I started strolling towards the mall while she took off on her hunt for a parking spot. Now I was cutting between the cars, just making a beeline for the doors. Two rows over I had to make a very fast step or two as a car came cruising down the lane at what I considered an unsafe speed. You guessed it. Belinda. I won't say she was trying to hit me but she didn't seem to be trying to miss, either.
Anyway, I made it safely to the mall, did my shopping, made it back to my car, and went home without further incidents.
The second time I met this sweet young lady was a week later, in the actual mall itself. I was standing outside a shop, looking at the window display, wondering who on earth would want to but a toothbrush holder shaped like a minion. The operative words in that sentence are standing, hence not moving, and window, with a window by no stretch of the imagination being a doorway. In other words, I was stationary and in no one's way.
It didn't help me. This woman came charging out of the shop, turning into the passageway, looking at her phone instead of her surroundings, and crashing into me.
She promptly dropped all her stuff. I was about to bend down and help her pick it up when she gave me a serving. I recognised the language before I recognised the woman. It was Belinda, livid that I'd bumped into her and knocked her things down.
She finished up with, "You could at least consider giving me a fucking hand to pick it up."
I promptly looked thoughtful and rubbed my chin. She glared up at me from where she was crouched, picking up bits and pieces.
"Well?" she snapped.
"I'm considering it," I replied. "Ah, I think the decision will be no."
I turned and walked away. A very long PMS, I decided, listening to her opinion of me.
Several days later I was taking a walk on the beach in the evening. It was still quite warm but for some reason no-one else seemed to be around. Probably too late, as it would be dusk soon. There wasn't really enough sun for anyone to be out tanning and there was a coolish breeze starting to blow in from across the water. I expected that the temperature would drop significantly over the next hour.
Considering the fading of the sun and the cooling breeze I was quite surprised to find one last sunbather catching the last few rays. A very nicely shaped young woman in a not very big bikini. She must have heard my steps as she looked up at me in irritation.
"Can't you be more fucking careful," she snarled. "You're kicking sand all over me."
How about that. My old friend Belinda, complete with mouth.
I just gave her an indifferent look, then smiled.
"Grass," I said, pointing down. "Sand is the yellow stuff over there." (Pointing towards the beach proper.) "I think you'll find that the wind is the culprit, picking up the odd grain and totally careless about where it throws it. Perhaps you should speak to the weatherman and arrange that he doesn't schedule wind on the days you want to show off your figure."
I received a dagger look and a clearly and furiously enunciated, "Get fucked."
I had totally had it with Belinda. If you're wondering about how I know her name a friend spotted me getting a mouthful at the mall and stirred me about it. He actually knew Belinda. For some reason she just seemed mad at the world, he told me.
Two long strides and I was standing next to her. Bending down I just grabbed the bottom of her bikini and stripped it straight down and off, leaving her lying there with just a skimpy top barely covering her breasts.
What I expected was for Belinda to rear up, fighting mad, furious and screaming, willing to have a go at me. I was all set to take off running, waving my captured bikini pants as I went.
What I got was a total shock. She just went to water, cringing away from me. I'm like, "What the hell?" and she's looking at me as if I'm the reincarnation of the Marquis de Sade crossed with Attila the Hun. For some reason that really narked me. Standing there, looking at her quivering at my feet, I casually dropped my own trousers. Even though scared she truly had a lovely figure.
She didn't put up any resistance as I pushed her legs apart and knelt between them. All she did was shake her head slowly from side to side, muttering, "No. Please. I don't want to. It hurts."
Why would it hurt, I wondered? If the woman's not a virgin a man would have to be a bit of an animal to hurt her, unless she wanted it, of course. BDSM has never been my thing but some people have weird tastes.
I caressed her pussy lightly, and she did nothing, unless you call quivering slightly with fright something. A bit of gentle stroking and I could feel a reaction from her body, even if she was still shaking and saying no. Actually, she hadn't stopped saying no since I'd started to touch her.
She put up zero resistance as I spread her lips and placed the head of my erection against her. She was just watching, waiting for something, apparently expecting something fearful to happen. I shrugged mentally and pushed very lightly.
She was damp and getting wetter as I sank into her. I was moving at a pace slightly below dead slow, barely easing into her, waiting for her to panic and scream. (Which would have been my cue to panic and run.) Instead she just kept on giving fearful little protests while I sank smoothly in, her body (non-virginal, I might add) yielding to me with no problems.
Before I knew it I was firmly sheathed inside her, filling her passage to the brim with rampart cock. And she was still shivering in her shoes, dreading what was to come. Damned if I knew what was going on.
One thing I did know. I wasn't going to give a full-blooded fucking to a woman who was petrified with fright. I stayed right where I was, cock in place but not moving. Instead, I reached up and freed her breasts from her bikini top. Then I idly played with them, waiting.
I lightly teased her breasts, caressing them, stroking them, squeezing softly, teasing the nipple, and repeating the lot. Sometimes I'd concentrate on one breast, sometimes the other, sometimes both.
Belinda was lying under me, apparently scared rigid. With nothing happening but her breasts being teased she started to lose that trapped mouse look, opting for annoyed irritation. From there she moved by stages to resentful frustration. My cock was in her, causing the resentment, but not doing anything, which she found frustrating. After that it was a relatively short step to angry indignation.
"If you're going to rape me do you think you could stop mucking around and get on with it," she suddenly demanded.
"Please," I replied. "It's my rape. I'll handle it any way I want to."
