I Know You 6

I had been invited down for a Comic Con by a friend of mine. Cathy lived with her father, her mother having passed on. Isn't that a mealy mouthed way of saying someone is dead? It's like she's been handed down to someone else. I outgrew that dress and it was passed on to my little sister. Cathy's mother was dead and she lived with her father.

I lived in Bendigo, which was quite a distance away, and I pointed out to Cathy that I really didn't think I could make it because my car had been in an accident. The accident hadn't been my fault. Well, not really. I'm pretty sure I had the right of way, and I'm also positive that he must have been speeding or he would have had time to stop. Cops weren't involved so I guess we can't tell for sure who was at fault, no matter what that man said about women drivers. Statistically, women are safer drivers than men, and I told him so.

Anyway, like I was saying, I told Cathy I didn't think I could get down there to go, which was a pity as I really wanted to. I had a great outfit I could wear. Cathy said that it wasn't a problem. She wasn't working on the Friday so she could come and get me and I could stay the weekend, with her running me home on the Sunday. So I said OK.

Cathy picked me up as agreed and we arrived at her place late in the afternoon. Her father wasn't home yet and we just sort of settled in. It was a stinking hot day and the air conditioner in Cathy's car was a waste of space. We were both hot and sticky and I told Cathy that I was going to have a shower and wash the accumulated muck off. Did she want first shower?

She said no, as she'd just discovered that she didn't have any milk.

"You have your shower," she told me. "I'll just run down and grab some milk and a few nibbles. We don't keep much in the way of nibbles in the house because my father likes them too much. He reckons that if they're not there he can't eat them so he rarely buys them. I tend to buy things and hide them in my room. Have your shower and I'll be back shortly."

She took off and I went and had a leisurely shower. After the shower I was standing in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped loosely around me, tidying up my hair, when the bathroom door opened and a man walked in.

Talk about shock and horror. I squeaked and spun around to tell him to get out. I felt the towel start to slip and grabbed at it, felt my feet start to slip on the wet tiles and grabbed at the towel railing, and everything descended into catastrophe.

I missed the towel and it dropped away, leaving me in the nude. How lovely. I caught the towel railing but it didn't stop me falling, with the result that I landed on my bottom, on the floor, naked, in front of a strange man, with a towel rack in my hand. I'd managed to pull it down off the wall.

"I noticed that Cathy's car wasn't outside and assumed that she wasn't home yet. Am I to take it she's been and gone?"

The man, who I assumed was Cathy's father, was looking at me, his face blank, but I could see the laughter in his eyes.

"Ah, yes, She's gone down the street to get some milk," I said. "Will you please go away?"

"In a moment. You're not hurt are you? I saw the towel rail leap out and attack you. It was going too fast for you to avoid it. Most unfortunate."

What was he on about? I slipped was all.

"Ah, I'm OK," I muttered. "I slipped. Sorry about the towel rail."

"Oh, that's OK. If you move too fast on a wet floor I guess you're bound to have the odd accident. Maybe I should put up a stop sign."

Once again, what was he on about? Why the hell would anyone put up a stop sign in a bathroom? I let the towel rail drop and scrambled back onto my feet, clutching the towel in front of me, face burning.

"Um, I'm Irene," I told him. "Cathy's friend from Bendigo. I'm down here for the Comic Con."

"Ah, yes, I know. We have met before, but I hadn't realised that you knew my daughter."

We had? Come to think of it, he did look familiar, but I couldn't place him.

"We have?" I asked. "I can't seem to recall where we met."

"Oh, it was quite by accident," he said, reaching out and plucking the towel out of my hand. "Let me have that. It spoils my view."

My god. Just like that I was naked again and he was looking me over with appreciation in his eyes. He plainly liked what he was seeing.

"Why'd you do that?" I demanded, trying to grab for the towel and missing. "Give it to me, please."

"Actually, I had been hoping to run into you again sometime," he said thoughtfully. "Hmm. Bad choice of words. I should have said I'd been hoping to meet you again."

Something was nagging at the back of my mind. I knew this guy. Where had I run into him? Then it clicked. Running into him was the clue.

"I know you. You're the guy who ran into my car the other day."

"Who ran into whose car?" he asked.

"Well, technically I suppose I hit your car, but you were speeding."

"Keep telling yourself that. We both know I wasn't. We also both know who ignored the stop sign and failed to give way."

Hum. I'd sort of been hoping that he hadn't noticed the stop sign. I blushed.

"I slowed down," I pointed out. "And may I please have the towel?"

"No. I like having you at such a disadvantage. Slowing down is not stopping. How long before Cathy is due back? Do I have time to drag you down to my bedroom and play with you for a while?"

"What? No! She's due back anytime. She's just getting milk. I'm not playing any games with you in a bedroom," I said quickly and firmly. I knew what he meant by games.

"Pity. Still, it would be a shame to waste this quality time we have together. You were dreadfully rude to me after the accident. I think a little penalty is called for."

"Yes, well I'm sorry about that but I'd been having a bad - what are you doing?"

I had started to apologise, because maybe I had been a little rude after the accident, and maybe there had been a stop sign that I'd sort of overlooked, but before I could complete the apology he turned and sat on the side of the bath. Hey, it's his bath. He's entitled to sit on it if he wants to. What he wasn't entitled to do was to just grab my arm and pull me over his knee. Damn it! I was still naked.

Then I found out what he was really doing. His hand came down and spanked me on my bare bottom. I was, like, totally shocked into silence. I couldn't believe that he'd be so crass.

"I really wanted to do this after the accident," he told me, speaking in a friendly manner. "Your attitude was just begging for it, but I thought it would embarrass you too much to be paddled in public. Here we're nice and private."

He wasn't just lecturing me. His hand was coming down steadily, absolutely bouncing off my bottom, and every one of those spanks stung. I finally managed to get my voice back.

"You can't do this to me! Stop it. Stop it immediately."

He didn't stop. He just let more time go between each spank.

"I've slowed down. That's as good as stopping isn't it?" he asked.

He had to be kidding, pulling that hoary old joke while spanking me.

"No. You know damn well what I meant. Please. Just stop," I wailed.

His hand came down one last time and rested on my bottom.

"Poor little girl," he murmured. "Smarts, does it?"

He was gently rubbing my bottom and I have to admit it felt nice after the spanking. Then his hand slid a bit further around and he was rubbing where he hadn't been spanking.

"Are you sure Cathy is going to be back soon?" he asked. "We could always lock her out."

"No. I mean, yes. I mean she'll be back soon, damn it. You know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean," he said with a theatrical sign. "Damn it, she'll be back soon, is just how I feel, too. Perhaps another time."

I had not being saying damn it because she was coming back and he knew it. I didn't bother to protest though. He'd just twist my words and I'd get all confused.

"May I get up, please?" I asked.

"Certainly," he said. "Don't let me delay you. Ah, you might want to grab a towel, though. You are still naked."

He swung me back onto my feet and I hastily snatched up the towel I'd been using, wrapping it around me. I wanted to look at my bottom in a mirror but damned if I would while he was there. I left the bathroom in high dudgeon, heading into the guest room Cathy had given me. Checking in the dressing table mirror, my bottom was red and sore looking. It was also sore feeling but not, to my surprise, overly painful. It stung but I could put up with it easily enough.

I hastily got dressed, putting on my Comic Con outfit. Cathy arrived home before I'd even finished dressing. I wanted to go and tell her what a brute her father was but there was no way I was telling anyone he'd spanked me. I wouldn't even be able to confess that he was the other driver involved in my accident as I'd said some pretty nasty things about him to Cathy when we were discussing it. She would not be amused to know it was her father I'd been talking about. I kept silent, although I did send her father a killing look the next time I saw him.

So we went to Comic Con and we had a good time. We met old friends and made a few new ones. Our costumes didn't win any prizes but they were generally admired, as were we, because we filled those costumes very nicely. It was the wee small hours before we started home. We actually caught a taxi home, courtesy of Cathy's father. (His name's George, by the way.) He'd given Cathy the money for the taxi along with threats of what would happen if we spent it on anything but a taxi. I think they were only threats, but my smarting bottom hinted that he might actually mean them. Anyway, we kept that money separate and got our ride home.

I think it was about three in the morning when we arrived home and we both headed straight to bed. We were bushed. Personally, I intended to sleep until mid-day and I suspect Cathy had the same intention. My head hit the pillow and I was out like a light.

It was bright sunshine when I woke up. Very bright. The bedroom faced the east and I hadn't pulled down the blind the previous night. I'd just staggered in, changed to my pyjamas, and hit the bed. I muttered rude words at the sun but they didn't help at all. Not only that, now that I was awake bladder pressure was letting itself be known. Looking at the clock I could see it was nearly nine, and I just knew I wasn't getting any more sleep.

I got up and visited the toilet and then had a quick shower, making sure that I locked the door this time. Stupid oversight to make. The towel rail was back in place with a little note suggesting it not be used as an exercise bar. George probably felt that was funny. Dried, I peeked out of the bathroom to make sure he wasn't around and then dashed to my bedroom, towel firmly wrapped around me. Then it was a simple matter to get dressed and be ready to face the day.

I strolled into the kitchen and found George sitting there, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. He nodded politely to me.

"Morning. You're up earlier than I expected. Can I make you some breakfast or do you want to fossick and see what there is? Coffee is already made."

I thanked him and settled for some cereal and coffee. I never eat much in the morning. George asked me about how our night had gone and I found myself relaxing and telling him all about it. He was quite a charming man when he put some effort into it. I was putting my dirty dished in the sink when he had to go and spoil it all.

"I trust a smarting bottom didn't spoil your fun?"

"Did you have to bring that up?" I demanded irritably.

"Well, yes, I did. I might have been a little hard on you so I thought perhaps I should take steps to kiss it better."

It occurred to me that instead of wearing a nice dress I should have worn jeans. Tight jeans. Jeans that would take half an hour to remove.

"Ah, there will be no need for that," I mumbled. "I'm fine."

He'd twisted his chair away from the table and was now facing me. Before I could move away from the sink he'd reached out and taken my arm and was pulling me closer.

"I think there is," he said, nodding his head slowly. "I'd feel terrible if I didn't at least check to make sure everything is alright."

Just like that he was lifting my dress and pulling my panties down. I'm thinking he can't be doing this, but my denying it didn't hold my panties up. Then my panties were around my knees and he was holding my dress up again, nodding in satisfaction.

"Yes. Looks fine to me," he murmured.

"You're not looking at my bottom," I told him. Choked it out, really. I seemed to have trouble speaking.

"You're right. Turn around."

Even if it did mean showing him a bare butt it was preferable to having him looking where he was currently looking. I hastily turned around. There was a feather light touch as his fingers drifted over my bottom. The smarting had long gone and I was quite sure there was no redness either.

His light touch drifted down and a hand slid between my legs, pressing lightly against my mound. I snapped out of my frozen state and took a step away, turning to face him as I did so.

"Are you mad? Cathy could come out at any moment. What would she say if she saw you pawing me?"

"Knowing Cathy, she'd probably say go for it, dad," he said. "But Cathy is in bed asleep and I don't think she'll budge before noon. Quite frankly, I didn't expect to see you until about that time."

"The sun woke me," I grumbled. "I didn't pull down the blind."

"I see," he said with a small laugh. "Bad luck."

While he was talking he reached over and snagged the hem of my dress and drew me closer to him. He wasn't trying to lift the hem or I'd have automatically resisted. As it was I let him pull me closer. His hand dropped away from my dress and I discovered his evil plan. I hadn't pulled my panties up and now he was pushing them down around my ankles.

"Stop that. What do you think you're doing?"

"Helping you out of these. They're going to be in the way and they might as well come off now."

"They are not going to be in the way. Leave them alone. Have you forgotten that Cathy is just in her bedroom?"

He gave me a lovely smile, while running his hands up under my dress, one in the front and one in the back. I had his hands cupping my bottom and my pussy.

"Cathy is not going to wake up for ages. You, on the other hand, are wide awake and have time to fill in. I'm just going to take you down to my bedroom and help you fill it."

Both his hands were now cupping my bottom, holding me against him. My dress was up so my bare groin was pressing against him. I could feel the hard length of him under his clothes and a flash of heat surged through me. I suppose I should say another flash of heat. It was dawning on me that I could already feel heat stoking itself deep within me and this new flash just heightened it.

I was trying to tell him that what he was thinking was a bad idea but my tongue seemed to be getting tangled and I was stuttering a lot. Not that it mattered. I don't think he was bothering to listen to me. One of his hands had left my bottom and was undoing the buttons on my dress. Then my dress was coming off and I just couldn't seem to stop it. Ridiculous I know. I should be able to stop a man taking off my dress, but when he'd finished I was standing there in a bra and my dress was on the table.

"Will you stop this," I protested. "What if Cathy comes out?"

"Already discussed that," he said laughing. "Turn around."

He was turning me around even as he was speaking. Why was I not surprised to find my bra undone and being taken off?

"Look, you don't seriously think I'm going to let you have sex with me, do you?" I demanded.

"Yes," was all he said.

With that he just scooped me up and walked out of the kitchen, carrying me. He had, I noticed, even managed to scoop up my clothes as well. He carried me down the hall to his room and I, well, I just let him. I didn't struggle or complain but just let myself be carried, feeling very small and helpless and female. I was feeling very female, let me tell you, with quite a pool of heat inside me, hinting at what was to come.

He carried me into his bedroom, closing the door behind him, and laid me on the bed. He started stripping, never taking his eyes off me. I suppose if I'd tried I could have rolled off the bed onto the other side and started making a scene. The thought never occurred to me. I lay there, watching him undress, my eyes continually wandering down to his groin, waiting for what was to be revealed.

Oh, my. He was certainly ready for action. I gulped nervously, but didn't protest when he settled on the bed next to me.

Now I knew, to put it bluntly, that I was about to be screwed rotten. I also knew that if I really protested he'd back off. I also knew that I wasn't going to protest. Not really. I'd make the regulation "Oh, no, you can't do this to me" and the "I'm not that sort of girl" protests but I could do that knowing he was going to ignore them. I just wasn't sure about how he'd approach the affair.

Once he was on the bed he leaned over and sucked lightly on a nipple while his hand captured my other breast, lightly rubbing it. I pushed at his head but all I achieved was to push it from one breast to the other, with his hand drifting down to start rubbing my mons.

I gave a startled squeak when his hand slipped between my legs and his fingers started intruding. This was the point where I used the "You can't do this to me," line. As expected, it was ignored, his hand rubbing firmly against my pudenda, stoking up those fires.

His mouth was moving back and forth between my breasts, moving up along the side of my neck to drop little kisses on my face and then back to teasing a nipple. His free hand caught hold of mine and pressed it against his erection, closing my hand around it.

"Oh, please, I'm not that sort of girl," I pointed out, giving the lie to the statement by holding onto my prize. I felt it only fair and reasonable that I get a feel for how big he was. His cock felt very large when held in my small hand, hot and bumpy as I ran my hand up and down the shaft. I felt a thrill of victory when I closed my hand over the head and started polishing it. He actually said a rude word before hastily removing my hand. Too much, too soon, perchance?

He grabbed my wrists and pinned my hands to the bed, either side of my head. At the same time he rolled over and loomed above me, his thighs between mine, his erection pressing lightly against me. Not actually trying to press into me, but leaning against me, its length running along where my flesh was cleft. I could feel that my lips were pursed, my inner lips protruding and lightly kissing his erection.

He adjusted his position slightly. I was quite impressed. I was of the understanding that the man needed help lining his cock up, either holding it in his hand or expecting the woman to steer it into place. George didn't. He seemed to twist slightly and then the head of his cock was pressing at that soft mushy spot that was waiting for him. A gentle prod and he was pushing past my lips, driving into me.

As soon as I felt his cock coming in I gave a soft squeal (of protest, naturally) and lifted my lips, pushing up to meet him. He just kept on coming, sliding fully home with one long firm thrust. It was just as I expected. All my protests had been ignored. What was a poor helpless girl to do?

Well, I knew what to do all right. He started bouncing on me and I was right there with him, bouncing between him and the mattress. I guess I'm exaggerating when I say he was bouncing. What he was really doing was coming into me with a series of long slow thrusts, taking his time as he drove forward, and I was lifting my hips to meet him, letting him sink in as deep as possible.