Sandi was the last of our group to turn eighteen and as a sort of celebration we all decided to go to a night-club. This wasn't her birthday celebration, we'd had that on her birthday, but more a 'let's have fun' sort of thing. Being well aware of the type of danger lovely young things like us could get into we used a buddy system, the buddies sticking to each other like glue. Where one went, the other tagged along. There would be no whisking one of us away in secret.
Because of this little scheme you can imagine it came as a complete surprise to me when I woke up and found that a), it was morning, b), I had been sleeping on a couch in a strange room, c), Sandi wasn't around, and d), I still had all my clothes on, less my shoes which were sitting next to the couch. That last was a definite plus as opposed to the three minuses.
I got to my feet and considered the situation. I could remember arriving at the club and having a drink. Only the one that I could recall and that seemed to be borne out by the fact that I was clear headed without even the trace of a hangover. After that drink, nothing.
That was the stage I'd reached when a bear walked into the room. A nicely dressed bear, but a bear for all that, in my humble opinion, and right then my opinion was the one that counted. He was big (well, bears are, aren't they), and hairy (another plus for bears), with a magnificent set of fangs (I could see them because he was smiling).
"Good morning," he said cheerfully. "I'm glad to see you're awake."
"Gods above, a talking bear," I thought. It turned out that I must have been thinking out loud because he laughed.
"A bear?" he scoffed. "Please. When did you ever see a bear with threads as fine as these?" He gestured grandiloquently at the clothes he had on.
"I guess that depends on how much a circus is willing to pay a talking bear," I grumbled. "Um, where am I, why am I here, who are you, and where is Sandi?"
"Where you are is in the humble abode of Beauregard Anthony Jackson Woodrow Smith the Third. That's who I am, although I normally go by Andy Smith so just call me Andy. Sandi? Would that be the cute little blonde you were with last night?"
I nodded, not sure what to say.
"In that case she's in the office, lying on the couch there, snoring her pretty little head off. In case you're wondering still fully clothed and unhurt."
I matched answers to questions and came up one short.
"That still doesn't explain why I'm here," I pointed out.
"Ah, that. Some person of ill intent spiked a bunch of drinks. All the girls at your table keeled over as if shot. A very panicky management called emergency services and ambulances carted most of your friends away. It seems that you and your friend weren't at the table at the time you all went nighty-night and got over-looked in the panic. I and Miles, my brother in case you're interested, came to your rescue and brought you here to sleep off whatever you'd inadvertently taken. How are you feeling now?"
"Why didn't you just let the management know that we needed assistance?"
"Now why would we do that? We were ready, willing, and able to help you so we did. Besides, if all we did was help you get carried off to hospital then you wouldn't be in a position to thank us."
"Thanks, I guess," I said doubtfully. "Ah, I'd like to see Sandi now."
"No, no. First I'll collect my thanks in the traditional way and then you can see Sandi. She should be awake and thanking Miles by then."
I'd gone past doubt, waved to suspicion as it went by, and stared directly into the face of certainty.
"What do you mean, the traditional way?" I demanded.
"You know. The heroine loses her clothes and the hero takes full advantage of this fact. Would you care to take your clothes off now?"
"No way," I snapped, daring him to try and push the matter.
"I thought you would," he said agreeably, totally ignoring what I'd said.
He reached over and grabbed me and I immediately discovered that I'd ascribed the wrong animal to him. I should have called him a gorilla. He was as strong as one. I wriggled and struggled and swore at him and he unzipped my dress and took it off.
I started protesting even louder, interspersing the protests with some pithy curses that I heaped upon his head. He calmly bent me over and gave me a firm slap on the bottom.
"Hush up, you," he said. "If you keep making that much noise you'll find that Miles comes in to watch what's going on, and he'll probably bring your friend Sandi with him. Of course, if you'd like to have them watch by all means carry on."
I shut up. Bad enough that I might be raped but to be raped while others watched, and one of them a friend. No way.
Andy just kept on taking the rest of my things off. My wriggling and attempts to stop him were simply ignored. He outweighed me by probably double my weight and out muscled me by an even greater ratio. A babe in arms would have had a better chance, mainly because it would cry and I'd be damned if I would.
As soon as he had my clothes off he pulled me up against him, not facing him as I'd half expected, but facing away from him. His arms reached around me and he was stroking me, one hand on my breasts and the other down and rubbing against my mons. And lower, damn him.
I continued wriggling and struggling until finally it dawned on me that he was enjoying it. He didn't need to rub my breasts. I was doing the job for him with all my twisting and turning. I froze and he laughed.
He kept me plastered against him with one arm while he went ahead and stripped off himself. I could feel his erection pressing against my buttocks as soon as his trousers dropped away and I almost screamed in fright. That blasted thing felt awfully big.
As soon as he finished stripping he turned me around and now I was pressed against him face to face. I have to admit that his erection felt even bigger this way. I promptly started struggling again and to my surprise I actually broke free from him.
My mistake. Not only had I not broken free but he was using my supposed escape to guide me down onto the floor. I was flat on my back with him settling over me before I fully caught on to what he was doing and by then it was far too late. His body had mine pressed firmly against the rug that was there, one hand holding my arms above my head.
His free hand stroked my breasts, rubbing my nipples and generally making free of my body. It was actually a bit of a relief when he slipped his hand down between our bodies. My breasts were feeling really sensitive by that stage.
He lifted his hips slightly to give himself room to start stroking my pussy. Or so I thought. Being totally inexperienced at this type of thing I hadn't known he was simply making room so that he could steer his cock into place. The first I knew of it was when I felt him trying to push his way into me.
I was wedged between a hard floor and a hard body, unable to move while an even harder cock started moving into me. I snarled and protested and he pressed a little harder. I knew what was about to happen and had just enough time to say, "No. Don't." and he popped my cherry just as neat as you please, with me giving an indignant squeal when it happened.
"I rather thought you were a virgin," he said softly. "Now that you're not you might as well relax and enjoy."
In a pig's eye I'd relax and enjoy. I continued struggling, for what it was worth, which I suspected was nothing. I'd wriggle about, stop for a second to catch my breath, and he'd promptly push deeper during that second. Bit by bit he sank deeper into me until he reached a point where the only freedom of movement that I had would have been to press directly onto his cock, something I chose not to do. If he wanted it in he was going to have to do all the work himself.
It was a case of he did, and he did, pressing firmly into me until he was fully inside me, something that I'd suspected he wouldn't be able to do. Either he was smaller than I thought or he'd stretched me more than I thought. I suspected the latter because I had a pretty good idea of how big he was.
He released my wrists and both his hands settled on my breasts, just fondling them while he remained pressed fully into me.
"At this stage the idea is that you lift your legs and wrap them around my waist," he advised me.
"You're kidding. What makes you think I'll do that?" I demanded.
"Two reasons," he said, smiling. "First is that you'll probably find it more comfortable. The second is that if you don't I'll feel free to spank your bottom until you do."
