Consent

On the year I turned eighteen I explained to my mother that now I was legally an adult I wouldn't bother to go with them to the country for our annual holiday. I'd stay home for a change. I could look after myself so there was no need for her to worry.

My mother looked at me thoughtfully and told me to make sure I packed a decent jumper. I'd forgotten the previous year.

On the year I turned eighteen I explained to my father that now I was legally an adult I wouldn't bother to go with them to the country for our annual holiday. I'd stay home for a change. I could look after myself so there was no need for him to worry.

My father looked at me thoughtfully and asked me if my mother had reminded me to make sure I packed a decent jumper. I'd forgotten the previous year.

So once again I was heading off with my parents for two weeks of tedium, which would be interspersed with periods of screaming boredom. We got to our little home away from home and the parents settled down to relax and I settled down to sulk.

After a couple of days I'd had it. Long walks that didn't take you anywhere. A cute little village that you were leaving as soon as you entered it. A small general store. A very small, very general store. The place was a shining example of how to store lots of useless things in a very small space.

After three days the parents were starting to think that they'd have been better off leaving me at home. Dad, in sheer desperation, came up with a suggestion that made a modicum of sense. I used to like riding. Why didn't I visit the local riding school and rent one of their horses?

Anything was better than nothing, so I did just that. They had a couple of horses that they hired out, and after I'd proved my proficiency they produced this lovely little mare for me to ride.

I soon found out why this little sweetheart was their renter. She had two gaits. Slow and slower. Still, it gave me a chance to amble around without having to expend my own energy. So that day and the next were relatively pleasant.

It would have been about the sixth day of our holiday when I rolled up to the riding school to hire my horse again. Settling onto her we trotted off, heading down a path I hadn't yet explored. Alright. I'll correct that. We ambled slowly off, heading down a path, etc.

After I'd headed down this path for a while another path joined up with us, and so did another rider, his horse also not in any great hurry. He pulled up alongside of me and introduced himself as Barry. Fiona, I let him know, and we ambled along together just chatting and flirting a little.

Barry was older than me, probably in his early twenties. He was blonde and tanned and seemed to be reasonably fit and healthy. And while I was subtly checking him out I could see he was doing something similar.

All of a sudden we seemed to run out of path. The track we were on just seemed to peter out, leaving us facing this great big meadow. It must have covered several acres, and was just rolling grass, except for a small clump of trees in the middle of it.

Barry and I pulled up and looked at the expanse of grass. I remembered the woman at the riding school telling me they had a large training area down one of the tracks. This must be it.

Barry looked at me, grinned and tossed down the challenge.

"Race you to those trees," He said. "On the count of three. One, two, three!"

And we were off. Barry surged a little to the lead in the first few steps then kept increasing the lead with each additional step. I wasn't on a horse. I was on a blasted slug.

Barry was waiting when I finally arrived. He'd dismounted and was standing there, laughing.

"What kept you?" he asked.

"I had to wait for the blasted horse," I said, dismounting and looking at the animal with disgust.

"That's Black Star, isn't it?" Barry observed, indicating the black blaze on her forehead.

I nodded.

"Thought so. She's got the reputation of being the slowest horse in the state. A well deserved reputation I believe."

I just gave him a look. If he knew the horse then he knew that it hadn't been a race. It had been a farce.

"Well," said Barry. "Seeing the mighty snowdrop won the race for me, you have to pay a forfeit."

"Snowdrop?" I queried, looking at his horse, brown without a single spot of white. "And what's this about a forfeit?"

"He likes to eat them," explained Barry. "And if a challenge is made and lost then a forfeit applies. Everyone knows that."

"Oh, do they just. And just what sort of challenge are you proposing?"

"Drop your panties and I'll show you," came the smooth reply.

I'm like "What?!?"

"I said, drop your panties and I'll show you," repeated Barry.

"You're not seriously suggesting that I should have sex with you?" I asked, scorn dripping from my words.

"Why not? You lost the race."

"Why not? I don't even know you. This is the first time we've met. Why the hell would I want to have sex with you?"

"Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to be alone with a mysterious stranger and have him remove your clothes, stretch you out naked upon the ground and make love to you. Knowing that this might be the only time you ever met. This one moment of naked passion living forever in your memory with the feel of my hard cock slowly penetrating you a measuring stick which you will use to grade any future lovers.

All you have to do is consent and this daydream will be yours. You'll feel my lips on yours. You'll feel my teeth biting lightly on your breasts, teasing the nipples and lifting you to heights undreamed of. And all this will take place before my hot cock plunges into you, taking you to paradise. Say yes."

I felt deliciously squirmy low down. Of course I've dreamt of romantic interludes, but there's a hell of a difference between a day dream and letting some bozo pull down your panties and fuck you. I'd give it a pass.

"You make it sound almost irresistible," I murmured, "but the keyword is almost. I'll pass."

"OK. Fair enough, I guess. Perhaps you'd rather go with no consent, where the handsome stranger pins you to the ground and peels off your clothes while you wriggle and struggle in vain. Then once he's got you naked he pins you down, and all you can do is watch helplessly as his mighty cock descends upon you, penetrating you and slowly ravishing you, having no regard to your feelings but bringing you to a climax anyway. So, would you like me to force you?"

"No," I shrieked, aghast at the idea, and trying to ignore the squirming that had intensified deep inside me. God, he made rape sound attractive.

"Anyway," I said, picking the flaw in his logic. "If I said I wanted you to force me I'd be giving consent, now wouldn't I?"

"True," Barry said, still smiling. "So why don't you consider the options. Consent and allow me to have my wicked way or don't consent and don't allow me to have my wicked way."

Really, the choice should have been an easy one. I didn't even know who he was. Barry, he had said, but that doesn't mean that was really his name. To allow an anonymous stranger to have sex with me? It didn't bear thinking about.

But I was and I'll admit it. The idea of a little wildness was so horribly tempting. I could just see it. Me lying on the grass with no clothes. Naked beneath the sun while he slowly stripped, exposing his manhood and then gently taking me. Or taking me not all that gently, for that matter. I felt a little shudder run up my spine.

Before I could tell him no, Barry tossed another firecracker at me.

"Before you say no, you should realise that when you do I'll just go ahead and take you anyway. It will just be without your consent. The handsome stranger will still divest you of your clothes, and then inflict his unwanted attentions upon you, driving you to despair at your sheer helplessness beneath him."

"Hey, wait a minute," I protested. "You're saying that if I agree you're going to have sex with me, but if I don't agree you're going to have sex with me anyway?"

"Correct."

"What about option three? The one where I don't have sex with you?" I snarled at him.

"Oh, that went by the boards when you challenged me to a race and lost. One must pay the forfeit or all would be anarchy."

"I didn't challenge you. You challenged me."

"Same principle. After all, if I'd lost I'd have had to pay the forfeit. I'd be the one who'd have to consent to you making my body your plaything. Think of how I'd feel, being ravished by a pretty young woman, helpless to resist."

He had to be kidding. Win or lose the silly race and I'd have had to beat him off with a stick. But there weren't any sticks. So what did I do now? Say yes, and go for it? Say yes reluctantly, and put up with it, or say no and have to try to stop him ravishing me anyway. I ran my eyes over him again and promptly decided that I might try but there was no way I would succeed. No meant getting raped. Full stop.

I closed my eyes, holding my head, trying to think. Almost as soon as my eyes closed they popped open again. There'd been a tug at the front of my jeans. Bloody Barry had just popped the stud and was now sliding down the zip.

"Cut it out," I snapped, pushing at him. "What do you think you're doing? I haven't said yes or no yet."

"Helping you," came the innocent reply. "It doesn't really matter at this stage what your answer will be. Either way we're going to have to take your clothes off so I thought I might as well start."

With that he pushed my hands away from my jeans and started tugging them down. If I hadn't grabbed my panties they'd have gone with the jeans.

"Will you just stop that?" I yelled, furious.

"No," says he, as casual as you please.

He grabbed the bottom of my top and just lifted it up. It was either lift my hands and let it go or see it get torn. It was a well-worn old top, one of my favourites, and any rough treatment would be sure to tear it.

I'm standing there in bra and panties with my jeans bunched at my knees and Barry is looking me over. With approval I might add. A little frisson of excitement ran through me as he checked out my figure. Then he grabbed my jeans and jerked them even lower.

Ha! You try to move with jeans wrapped around your ankles. I tried and the next thing I was falling. I finished up sitting on my bum while Barry promptly took advantage to haul my jeans over my feet. He couldn't do it and it serves him right. The ankles of the jeans were far too narrow to fit over the shoes I had on. The jeans were jammed until I could get my shoes off.

I sniggered at Barry's frustration, which might have been an error. He just looked at me, smiled, shrugged and reached for my panties.

"No way," I squealed, holding on tight. "Just leave me alone."

"Ah. Does that mean that you've made up your mind?"

I hadn't, but now I did. I wasn't going to roll over and play dead just because some guy was attractive and wanted me. Uh-uh. Not me.

"It does," I stated firmly. "I am not going to give you my consent, as you so formally put it. The answer is no and will you please go away."

Bastard just laughed at me. Then he planted a foot firmly on my jeans, right next to my feet. I wasn't going anywhere while he was standing there and we both knew it. He stripped. Fast, too. He peeled his top and singlet off with one motion and tossed them to the side. That's when I realised he was wearing tracksuit pants. A jerk of the bow in front of them and they slid down, along with his undies. And they didn't get caught on his shoes, either. I was a little surprised that they didn't get hung up on that great big dong he had sticking out in front of him.

I took a single look at his erection and wanted to scream for mother. I will concede that there was the possibility that I wasn't exactly a virgin, but I'd never had a cock like that threaten me before. And it was a threat, rather than a promise, I assure you.

He knelt next to me, and I was horribly aware of that cock bobbing up and down next to me as he moved. And I was feeling excited, but just a little bit. I was trying to concentrate on Barry and what he was doing, what he was saying to me but a little voice was whispering to me, saying things like, "Did you see the size of that? This is going to be interesting, isn't it?"

Then a couple of fingers snapped in front of my face. Startled I looked at Barry.

"If you can drag your eyes away from my cock for a second, I'd like you to take off your bra. I could do it myself, but they're fiddly things, so you'd better do it."

Cheek! I hadn't been looking at his cock. Not really. OK, I'd glanced at it, but what girl wouldn't when something like that was waving at you. I hadn't been staring at it.

Almost snarling at Barry, I reached around and undid my bra, and then reluctantly let the straps slide down my arms as I took it off, spilling out my breasts.

Barry was all smiles as his hands covered my breasts and then he pushed me back, making me lie on the grass. Then he dragged his hands away from my breasts, moving them slowly along my body, moving really slowly, right up to the moment he grabbed my panties and jerked them down. I didn't have a chance of stopping him and he knew it, the smiling jackass.

I was lying there, naked. You could really count a pair of jeans and panties connected to my ankles as clothing. Barry had one hand on my mound, massaging me, his fingers already trespassing where they shouldn't. His other hand was playing with one of my breasts while he was busy chewing on the other one. Well, if not exactly chewing, kissing and sucking and teasing the nipple with both tongue and teeth.

It slowly dawned on me that I was supposed to be fighting him, trying to stop him from doing the things that he was doing. Not just lying there, feeling all those odd feelings that were surging through me while I kept one eye on his cock, wondering when it would strike.

OK, already. I admit it. I was looking at his cock. Be reasonable. He was going to put that thing inside me. No wonder I was watching it.

His fingers touched certain spots inside me and I felt this wild rush of something rushing through me. I bucked and squealed and decided the time had come to fight. I hit out at him, but about all I could do was bounce my fists off the top of his head. I wanted to punch his nose but his faces was buried in my cleavage as he suckled on my breasts. I did get one round-house swing that got him on the ear, but that was it.

That was the first and last punch that I got in. He gave a yelp, sat up and rolled me onto my tummy. Then his hand came down very firmly on my bottom. And I mean very firmly. This time it was my turn to, not so much yelp, as shriek. That spank had hurt. He calmly rolled me back onto my back and said, "No hitting," very firmly. I can take a hint.

With hitting out I was reduced to just wriggling around, trying to remove my body whenever he touched me. He seemed to consider it a great joke and I could hear him laughing softly as I wriggled. What was even worse was all that futile wriggling was exciting me, getting me all worked up. I eventually sagged back and just let him get on with his touching. That was just as bad, as he seemed to know all the right places to touch to have me squirming again.

Finally he seemed to decide I was ripe for the plucking. (Over-ripe if you asked me. I was practically at boiling point.) Barry pushed my legs further apart and then he was lying between them, his cock finally menacing my innocence. (And no-one asked you to wonder on how innocent was my innocence. I was innocent enough to be menaced.)

Barry started easing his erection into place but I now had some leeway. I jerked to the side. He tried again with the same result. He glared at me, telling me to stop fooling around and just hold still for a moment. I smiled and continued to wiggle away from his treasure.

I couldn't win, and I knew it, but I could cause him some frustration. He finally made a growling sound and just lay on me, pinning me to the ground. I could feel his hand resting on my mound, a pair of fingers holding my lips apart. I tried to wriggle but couldn't move, and the head of his cock nudged against my lips and then squeezed past.

Now that he had his edge, Barry relaxed a little. He lifted himself up off me, and I was free to wriggle and try to shake him. I couldn't draw back away from his cock but I did my best on clamp down on it so he couldn't move. I found out that a steady pressure will overcome tensed muscles. Barry wasn't trying to force his way into me as such. He just leaned into me, his cock pressing firmly into my passage. And my muscles couldn't sustain the pressure. I'd be squeezing, and he'd be pressing forward, and I'd relax for just a moment and he'd slip further in.

All things considered, it was probably the best way there was for him to take me. I think I've already hinted that I considered him a little large in that department. As it was this slow edging advance gave my passage plenty of time to stretch to accommodate him. I'd relax, he'd advance, my passage would stretch that little bit more and then I'd be trying to stop him once more.

We were both watching each other's face, and we probably looked equally determined. Barry was almost fully inside me, much to my frustration, when he suddenly gave me this evil looking smile and held up one finger. I probably looked puzzled, but I wasn't puzzled for long. He reached down and jammed that finger under my ribs, right where I'm ticklish. I gave a squeal and a spasm and relaxed and he gave a hard push and he was home, smirking at me.

That effectively put paid to any resistance I could put up. All I could do now was wait for him to do whatever he wanted. It turned out that what he wanted to do was drive me crazy.

He started doing these tiny little strokes inside me, his cock barely moving. But that barely moving was still enough to stoke the little flames of excitement already burning within. I tried to just lie there, but it wasn't possible. Slowly but surely my body was starting to resonate with his, moving in time to those tiny little rocking motions.

I was squirming and writhing under him. Barry still wasn't taking me the way I had expected him to, and all this soft movements he was making were busy fanning the flames he'd ignited. Damn it all, I was burning up and it was his fault. He should be doing something about it. I could hear myself muttering rude words as I squirmed under his exquisite little touches, none of them doing much by themselves, but adding up to a storm of need in me.

I groaned with relief when I at last felt him give a full bodied thrust. He suddenly pulled right back and then drove down hard, with my whole body jerking eagerly up to meet him. So much for struggling or passive resistance. He started on me, using me as his toy and I responded, wanting to be used. For the duration I was his, and we both knew it.

Seeing I had no choice in the matter, I reluctantly cooperated. By reluctant cooperation, I mean I made no suggestions as to what he should do. I didn't suggest that he try a different position, but that didn't stop him rolling me onto my tummy and re-entering me from behind. I didn't tell him to place his hands on my breasts and slowly massage them until my nipples were so tight I thought they'd burst. Neither did I try to make him move faster, but merely met each and every thrust he made with the same driving need to take him deep.

None of this reluctance seemed to get through to him. Barry was like the blasted energiser bunny. He just kept going and going, and I was almost screaming as he ravished my reluctant body. Let's not kid ourselves. I was screaming. I was also gasping and swearing and squealing. The only thing I wasn't doing was telling him what to do.