Taing a Nap

The weekend after Dave's eighteenth birthday he held an 'unofficial' party. He'd had his official party on the actual date but on the following Saturday his father wasn't at home, so Dave let everyone know we were invited along. Dave was actually the last of our group to turn eighteen and that was enough of an excuse for a blast.

When I got there in the afternoon the party had already started. Dave had managed to get a keg from somewhere and everyone was helping themselves. OK. I'll admit it. I had a glass or two as well. Why not? It was party time.

I noticed that although the official guest list was basically for our little group there seemed to be a few extras in the crowd, maybe twice as many extras as official guests, but who cared. We were young and happy and partying.

There was a modicum of food, mainly chips and things, and I was starting to feel those drinks on an empty stomach. Fortunately someone had had the sense to order both some pizzas and some Kentucky and that arrived in a timely manner. I was feeling a lot better with something solid in my stomach.

The trouble was I was tired. I'd been out late the night before and also had an early morning. Not by choice - my mother kicked me out of bed and sent me down the street to buy some groceries. I decided a little nap was in order.

I'd been at Dave's place before and I where the spare room was. I wandered down to it, set the timer on my phone for two hours, kicked off my shoes, laid down, and fell asleep almost immediately.

The alarm woke me or, more accurately, it started to wake me. It's buzzing disturbed me and I half sat up, groping for the blasted thing to turn it off. I always put alarms out of reach so I have to get up to shut them up. That's the only way I can be sure I won't just turn it off and fall asleep again. I was groping for the alarm, not wanting to get off the bed, but knowing I'd have to, when it shut off.

I was relieved. I had a genuine excuse not to get up. I could hear the party still going on but, oddly enough, a lot quieter than I'd have expected. I knew I really should be getting back to the party but right now I was comfortable. Finally the oddity of the alarm turning off got to me and I opened my eyes and looked around.

I damn near screamed. There was this huge figure looming over me in the gloomy room. I was groping for the light when it went on. Dave's father was standing there, looking down at me, smiling.

"You're not supposed to be at home," I told him.

He gestured with a helpless look.

"What can I say?" he said. "These things happen. I do live here, you know."

"I guess," I admitted. "You turned off my alarm."

"I did."

"Why? That was set to wake me so I could get back to the party. I was only taking a short break. Um, is the party breaking up already? It's a lot quieter than I thought it would be."

"No. They're still going strong. I just explained to Dave that if the noise annoyed me then I'd kick his boom-box across the yard. He decided to tone it down a bit."

I had to smile at that. Dave loved his boom-box and would play it awfully loud at times.

"You're Miranda, aren't you? Why don't you call me Jerry?"

He came over and sat down on the bed next to me. I just looked at him, still half asleep. Maybe that third drink I'd had with the pizza was telling on me. I looked blankly at him when he reached down and undid the catch and zipper on my jeans.

"Um, what are you doing?" I asked him, confused.

"Taking these off," he told me. "Ah, lift your bottom a little, please."

Like an idiot I did so, finding him whisking my jeans down and off, just as smoothly as you please.

"B-but you can't go around doing things like that," I pointed out, still feeling confused.

"I know I shouldn't but I wanted to," he told me, smiling cheerfully. "Ah, I suppose I shouldn't be doing something like this, either."

Something like this was my panties going the same way as my jeans, leaving me naked from the waist down, bar a pair of socks. I was horrified, hastily crossing my hands in front of my crotch.

"You can't do that," I told him, knowing I was repeating myself but not knowing what else to say. I'd probably come up with a really cutting remark in a few days but that didn't help me right now.

He just laughed at me. At the same time he took hold of my hands and put them next to my sides.

"Don't you do that," he told me, his own hand now resting where mine had been.

It hadn't even occurred to me that my legs were parted and that I was really exposed until his hand slipped between them and he started massaging there. I opened my mouth to tell him he couldn't do that (talk about being stuck in a rut) but he got in first.

"No," he said firmly. "Don't say I can't do this because I am doing it. Just relax and let it happen."

Well, that didn't leave me much to say. I just lay there, feeling somewhat bemused, and Jerry calmly massage my mound. If it had been hurtful or unpleasant I'm quite sure I'd have found a lot to say about the subject but the problem was it felt nice. More than nice. Quite dreamy in fact. I lay still and he carefully and thoroughly massaged me. There was no frantic pawing at me. No trying to claw my top open to get under my bra. Just a gentle motion as his hand rubbed against me, triggering subtle delights deep down within me.

For all that what he was doing felt nice, this didn't mean that I wasn't shocked all over again when he eased my lips apart and a couple of fingers slipped inside me. I gasped and I could feel my eyes opening wide.

"Oh my god," I said very quickly, so fast that it sounded like a single word. "You're going to try and, uh, try to, um. . ."

My voice trailed off, as I wasn't quite game to say, "You're going to fuck me," in case it gave him ideas, even though I was quite certain he already had that idea.

"Try to extend your knowledge of the ways of a man with a woman?" he asked. "Yes, I am."

I have to admit that was the neatest way to say fuck that I'd ever heard, but boiled down to its essence it meant the same thing. Dave's father wanted to fuck me.

"Ah, I don't think," I began, and he interrupted.

"And a good thing, too," he said. "When women think they always make wrong decisions. Far better for you to just go with what the man wants."

"What?" I spluttered. "You - you arrogant. . ."

Words failed me. He laughed and winked at me.

"Don't mind me," he said, still laughing. "I just couldn't resist."

With that he leaned over me and kissed me. Oh, boy, an older man and the father of a friend or not, Jerry certainly knew how to kiss. He didn't try to hold me down or anything, just using his mouth to tease me. I couldn't help but kiss him back.

I promptly found out why he wasn't trying to hold me in place or anything like that. He'd needed his hands to undo his trousers. He suddenly moved over me and I could feel his cock pressing against me.

I started going, "Mmm, mmm," and hitting his back, and that was a lot of use, wasn't it. I could feel his fingers easing my lips apart and then his cock started pushing into me. I did some louder, "Mmm, mmm," and some more hitting and his cock started sliding deep into me.

Deeper and deeper he went, filling me up, stretching me, taking me. Oh, god, I could feel him so deep inside me, stirring up my feelings. I also found I was now going, "Mmmm," clutching him, holding him, accepting him. Part of me was horrified that I'd surrendered so fast, but another part of me was saying, "Oh, wow, more."

When he finally stopped kissing me and lifted his head his cock was fully inside me and I didn't give a damn. We were already starting to move rhythmically, rocking together, his cock moving back and forth inside me, agitating me, exciting me.

Without losing his rhythm he pushed up my top, first exposing my bra and then pushing that up as well, and then it was my breasts that were exposed. Not for long, as his hands covered them.

I guess you can get better at anything with enough practice and with Jerry being up around forty he'd had a good twenty years plus to practice sex, and I was now getting the benefit of his experience. My own experience was strictly limited. Enjoyable, I'll admit, but limited and over too quickly. I just hadn't realised just how much a man could pleasure you when he's really trying. Or how long he could keep going.

He had me fully aroused in no time flat, following this up with exciting me to the point of a climax. I actually thought I was going to have the world's fastest climax (and shortest sex session) at first, but just before I exploded he changed what he was doing and held me at that point. I was like, oh god, this is all sorts of wonderful, and he kept on going.

I just lay there, his hands blessing my breasts, while he bounced against me, his cock doing diabolically wicked things to me, and I relished every second of it. His cock felt absolutely enormous inside me, filling me with every thrust, leaving me feeling bereft when he pulled back.

I was doing my own share of bouncing, arching my back and pushing up to meet him when he thrust into me, not really believing that this was happening but grabbing it while I could, afraid that I was dreaming it and it would all fade away.

I have no idea how long we carried on together. Too long and not long enough, if you know what I mean. I was way past ready when he finally decided to end it, me helpless to do anything but respond to his driving need. He gave an extra little fillip as he drove home and I just went up in flames, climaxing silently, too out of breath to scream.

We separated and I lay there on the bed feeling slightly stunned.

"Not bad," he said. "I guess I'd better let you get back to the party."

Not bad? Now I was really stunned. What the hell did he mean, not bad?

"Not bad?" I exclaimed indignantly.

He waved has hand in a so-so gesture.

It's just that I feel I could have done a lot better," he told me. "You were magnificent but I can't help feeling I rushed you a little. You go on and have some fun at the party. I'll come and get you later when I've recovered a little and see if I can improve."

Now how was I supposed to take that? Rushed me a little? Now that I thought about it I'd have to say yes, he certainly rushed me a little. Rape was all about rushing you and it had started out as rape if I remembered correctly, even if it hadn't finished that way. Now there's a question for you. If it starts as rape but you're agreeable before the end, is it still considered rape?

That begged the last question. Come and get me so he could try again? Did he seriously think I'd let him? Um, well, yes, I guess he did. Did that mean I would let him? I didn't have the faintest idea. If I said no would he drag me off and rape me and if so, what would it be like? One can't help wondering.