Brute Vs. Hero

It was late spring and the day was warm so I went down to the beach to work on my tan as I wanted to have a nice tan before summer and the really hot weather rolled around. It's the pits trying to get a tan in really hot weather. You miss one tiny area with the sunscreen and you turn bright red at that spot and it hurts for ages.

I knew of a couple of nice secluded beaches where I could just lie back and relax and let the milder spring sun do me a good turn. The reason I picked a secluded beach is because I didn't want to be pestered by guys hanging around.

I'm a brunette and I go a really nice golden colour when I have a tan. Suits me no end. However, to get that tan I need time to just relax and slowly cook. For some reason, dump an eighteen year old girl on the beach in a brief bikini and guys are drooling all over her. Last time I went to one of the busier beaches I couldn't even see the sun, what with the guys hanging around.

So I was off on my own secluded little beach, enjoying the sun. Yes, in case you're wondering, I was wearing a bikini, top and bottom. I don't mind a bikini and boys lusting after me but I'm damned if I'll go topless or, worse, nude. With some of these clowns that'd really be asking for trouble.

So I'm in a nice secluded area with no-one else around and up pops a boy. It figures. They seem to have some sort of bikini radar. No need for them to know you're there. They'll be ambling along and their radar goes 'beep, beep, beep, girl in bikini hidden behind those bushes', and they come running over to check.

This guy actually looked quite nice, a couple of years older than me, fit, not bad looking and with a nice smile. He came wandering up out of nowhere and sat down next to me.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Ian. I haven't seen you around before. What's your name?"

"Hullo, Ian," I said politely. "I'm Carol. I don't often come to this beach. I'm just getting an early tan."

"Well, I'm glad you're here. Want to come for a swim?"

"Ah, not really. Like I said, I'm working on my tan."

"That's OK. We can talk here. What do you do? I'm a glazier. Need any windows fixed?"

"No. Um, do you mind moving your hand?"

What is it with men? Is it obligatory that they make a pass as soon as they get within reach? I'd only just met Ian one measly minute ago and his hand was on my tummy. At least, he took it off when told to.

For the next quarter of an hour he made inane conversation with me. I was polite, honest I was, but I was also discouraging. The politeness was probably a mistake. He seemed to see it as some form of encouragement. Still he did finally seem to get the message.

"Anyway, I'll have to get going," he said. "Perhaps I'll see you around again."

"Quite probably," I said with a smile. "I like this beach."

(Like I said, he seemed nice, so I didn't want to chase him off altogether. Just discourage him for right now.)

Half an hour later and another guy turned up. Unlike Ian, this guy looked to be a bit of a brute. If I had to guess his line of work I'd have said professional enforcer for the mob. He looked tough. He was also somewhat crude. And old. He must have been at least thirty, maybe even forty.

"Hi, gorgeous," he said, sauntering up to me. "I'm Nick."

"Hullo, Nick," I said, still being polite. "I'm Carol. Um, I'm not interested in having any company right now. I'm working on my tan."

"You'll get a better one if you take off your bikini," he said. "No tan lines."

"I don't think so."

(Yeah, right. That'd be the day, especially with him there.)

"No, really, you should. I'll bet you look good naked, all pink and white with possible a little black tuft downstairs. Do you shave?"

"Will you please just go away," I said, my voice dripping with ice. I can do the haughty dame with the best of them.

"No," he said. "I bet you're afraid that I'd try and fuck you if you took that bikini off. I probably would too. How about it? There's no-one to see."

"You've got to be kidding," I said, feeling scandalised. That was probably the crudest proposition I'd ever had, and I'd had quite a few.

"Why would I be kidding? I've got a nice cock and you've got a nice body that would feel great wrapped around my cock. Why shouldn't we have a quick fuck?"

"Just go away will you," I snapped. "There's no way I'd agree to something like that. Just go and leave me alone."

Instead of going away and leaving me alone he reached over, grabbed the top of my bikini and jerked it up and off my breasts. I squealed and slapped an arm across my breasts while using my free hand to try to pull the top back into position.

"I wouldn't bother putting it back on," said Nick. "I'll just take it off again. Right after I take these off."

To my horror he reached down and started yanking at the bottom half of my bikini. I squealed again and slapped at him, like that was going to do me much good. I was never so relieved as to see another man turn up.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing," yelled a voice, and turning my head I saw Ian running towards us.

I was thinking, thank god, now he'll have to leave me alone. Ian was standing in front of Nick, flexing his muscles and telling him to take of or take the consequences. It sounded slightly put-on to me.

Suddenly I wanted to slap myself. Right after I slapped Ian. Talk about a corny scenario. The villain (Nick) menaces the heroine (me) and the hero (Ian) runs up in the nick of time and chases the villain away. The heroine melts and rewards the hero with a grateful kiss, although I suspect that Ian had more than a kiss in mind for his reward.

Nick just laughed at Ian while Ian took up a martial arts fighting pose. He looked quite impressive. Then the fight started and it was over, just like that.

My hero (Ian) was flat on his back, out cold. One punch, that's all it took. Ian had gone to swing at Nick and Nick had provided a straight right that landed on Ian's jaw and Ian went bye-bye.

Ian, I decided, was an idiot. He hadn't needed to start a fight. Just his presence would have been sufficient to stop Nick. There was no way he'd molest me with a witness standing right there.

"Now, where were we?" asked Nick, turning back to me.

I knew where we were. We were at the stage where Nick had been trying to pull down the bottom of my bikini with what I could only suppose were evil intentions. I decided that was not a place I wanted to be again. I rolled over onto all fours and started scrambling away from Nick, my intention being to get to my feet and run.

My intentions didn't match the actuality of events. Nick pounced on me, catching my foot. That jerked me to a halt, still on my hands and knees, and a hand pressing down on my back held me in place.

With me held in place like that it was dead easy for Nick to pull down the bikini bottom. I couldn't even reach back to try to hang onto them. Also, I found my position gave Nick free access to the fasteners of my bikini top. They didn't stay fastened long. Just like that I was naked. Well, not really naked, but a bikini bottom rolled down around your knees doesn't really count.

I started squealing and protesting and the next thing I know was a sharp spank on my bottom.

"Stop squawking, you big baby," Nick rapped out. "I haven't really done anything yet."

He promptly gave the lie to that statement by poking me with a finger in a very sensitive place. I took a breath to scream and Nick said, "Smack," in a nasty sounding voice and I let the air whoosh out again.

"Good girl," he said. "I can see we're going to get along just fine."

With that he started to play with me. There was nothing I could do but just kneel there and take it. He had one hand rubbing my mound, teasing it, massaging it, probing into it, all the things that men like to do. His other hand was cupping a breast and playing with that. You know, squeezing, rubbing, pinching the nipple, things like that. To keep me interested he'd switch hands every so often, his breast hand becoming his pussy hand and vice versa, with the new hand assaulting the other breast.

After a few minutes of this he took time to drop his trousers, bringing his little friend into play. I knew this because he told me to look back at him. He wanted to show off his pet. I took one look, said, "Oh my gawd," and looked resolutely away.

"Would it help if I point out that I'm a virgin?" I asked.

"Not really," said Nick. "It would only show that you're a liar."

"What? How can you say that? You have no idea if I'm a virgin or not." I was quite indignant. Didn't he trust my word?

"Listen, girl, didn't you feel my fingers inside you, exploring you?"

I could hardly miss them. With digits like that, why did he need a cock?

"So?" I asked cautiously, wondering what he was driving at.

"So if you were a virgin don't you think I'd have felt your hymen? Hmm?"

Oh. I guess he would have at that.

"Um, would you believe almost a virgin?"

"That I'd believe. You seem delightfully naïve, not knowing how to respond, especially when I do something like this?"

The most amazing sensation raced through me. I literally bounced up off the ground, slapping a hand to my mouth to stop myself screaming.

"What, what? What did you do?"

"This," he said, and that same sensation had me bouncing again.

"Well don't do that," I yelped. "What the hell was it?"

"That, Miss Near-Virgin, was me touching down near your clitoris. You'll have to ask your boyfriend about doing it and teaching you what it's like. Just remember, this is what it feels like."

Oh, god, he touched me there again. I was starting to get panicky. I couldn't bear it when he did that.

"You seem a little upset. Maybe this will help."

Upset? Why would I be upset just because some brute was molesting me? And just what was he going to do to help?

Oh my god. I found out damn fast. I could feel his erection pressing against me. Oh god. Not against me, into me. I could feel him there. He was coming into me and he felt huge. This was supposed to help me? I was going, "Ah, ah, ah," and he was still coming into me, driving into me, filling me up. Oh, no, not filling me, over-filling me. I couldn't handle that thing. It was just too much.

"Ahh. Stop that. You can't do this to me. What are you doing? It's too much. Just stop."

The miserable swine just laughed.

"Don't worry," he said cheerfully, "you'll find that you'll cope. Just relax and let it come."

Fine for him. How would he like it? I bet he'd squeal like a little girl, the pig. And he was still pushing into me. How was I supposed to cope with something like that?

I squealed and protested and Nick happily pressed deeper into me, stretching me and widening my passage, probably permanently deforming me. I couldn't believe it when I felt him finally smack up against me, fully inside me.

"There, you see. No worries," said Nick, sliding his hands along my sides and closing them around my breasts. "Now all you need to do is move with me and we'll get along splendidly."

With that he started moving. I was frozen stiff, not knowing what to do. When I'd said I was almost a virgin I hadn't been kidding. A single unhappy experience did not make you an experienced woman. I could feel him, sliding along my passage, dragging against me as he pulled back. Then he stopped and came back in, moving firmly, but not too quickly.

It felt strange. Nothing like what I remembered. Then he was doing it again, pulling back and sliding in deep again. Not too bad actually. It didn't hurt and I was taking him easily enough (Which surprised the hell out of me. I had seen what he was sticking in me, after all.).

Memory and instincts kicked in when he came sliding in for a third time. I found myself pushing back against him, meeting his thrust. He made an approving noise which cheered me up, and I then promptly felt resentful that I was encouraged by his approval. I didn't want his approval, damn it.

He kept on drilling into me, moving at that nice easy pace, and I was matching what he was doing. It was actually quite nice and restful with the sliding scrape of his cock doing pleasant things to me and his subtle massaging of my breasts feeling nice and exciting.

"OK," he told me. "You seem to be getting the hang of things. So how about we get down to some serious fucking?"

"What are you on about? What do you call this if it isn't fucking?"

"Foreplay," he said. Before I could answer he demonstrated what he meant.

I gave a squeal of shock when his cock went whipping back until it was almost out of me and then came crashing back into me. My god, I'd suddenly gone from peddling along on my pushbike to sitting on a Honda 1000cc motor-bike racing around the track.

He was banging into me at a ferocious rate, each stroke following hard on the previous one, although how he managed to pull back so fast without friction burns is beyond me. I was gasping and panting, frantically trying to keep up with him as his cock rammed into me again and again and again.

Something else changed as well. While he was taking me so easily, a warm glow had been building, the heat slowly spreading through me. It had felt wonderfully relaxing. With the ridiculous acceleration Nick was forcing upon me it was no longer a glow. I was now feeling the full heat of passion and it was burning hotly, starting to rage through me.

Nick took his pleasure in a veritable storm of fucking. It wouldn't have surprised me if he'd started driving me across the ground he was hitting me so hard. The really terrible thing about it was that I was loving it. It was exciting. He wanted me and he was taking me, treating me as a woman, using me as a woman, pleasuring me as a woman.

The whole experience was absolutely exhilarating. Nick was thundering into me and I was bucking against him, driving myself hard against his rampart weapon, daring it do its worst, because I could defeat it. I was making urgent little cries as Nick hammered me, but they were coming so fast it was as though I was giving one long keening note. (And an enthusiastic note at that.)

It all finished remarkably suddenly. One moment I was being fucked in a most energetic manner, the next I was climaxing, shuddering and shaking and squealing as Nick spent all his accumulated seed into me.

I sort of sagged down onto the ground, head on my arms, bottom pointing at the sky, feeling absolutely spent. I could feel Nick disengaging and standing up and I turned my head to look at him. I promptly felt incredibly smug. If it came to a pinch I could get fucked again, but it sure wouldn't be by Nick. His cock had totally collapsed. He was done. I couldn't help but feel that I had won. A strange feeling for someone who had just been raped most comprehensively.

Nick pulled on his shorts, winked at me, the oaf, and went on his way, whistling. I started getting my bikini back in order. Fortunately it was warm enough to warrant a quick dip in the water. I needed one. I was hot and sweaty and very sticky in all sorts of places. Standing, I grabbed my towel to head down to the beach. A quick swim and then home, I thought.

I then had a sudden thought. Where was Ian? Nick had knocked him out, but he wasn't where he'd been lying. He was gone. Son-of-a-bitch. He must have come to while Nick was molesting me and instead of staying to help he'd done a runner. What a lowlife. Leaving a poor young virgin to be raped by an older man. (I say older rather than old based on his performance. I couldn't see an old man doing that to me.) (OK, so I wasn't quite a virgin. Ian didn't know that, even if he does know it now. He should have rescued me.)

At least, I now knew a little more about the practical side of sex. I sure didn't learn much on my first experience. Maybe I should recommend Nick as a teacher for wannabe lovers.