The Stile

It was summer and the day was hot. Too hot. The weather had been like this for ages and it was starting to give me the irrits. Why the hell did it need to be so hot? I know, I know. It's summer. Der. Hot weather is normal for summer, isn't it?

I don't mind the heat nearly so much when it's a dry heat, but that wasn't today. The humidity was so high that I wouldn't have been surprised to see fish swimming in the air. I suspect the main reason they weren't was because they would have been cooked in the steam, providing instant meals to all and sundry.

I live in the mountains. Normally a nice place but right now the air conditioner was out of action (I blame my brother and his stupid rifle. He knows he's not supposed to play with it in the house. Killed the air conditioner with one oops.) I went for a walk under the trees to try to cool down a little.

Please note that there was a method in my madness. Walking about on a hot sweltering day with trees holding the heat in place might seem a silly way to cool down. It all depends on where you walk. I was walking towards a little stream I know of and a very nice pool at a certain bend in the stream.

The cool water of the pool would be just the thing to counter the heat. I strolled along and then cut through the bush to the pool. I checked that there was no-one around, not that I expected there to be, and then stripped off and waded into the pool, lying down where I was basically submerged in cool flowing water.

I know, I shouldn't go skinny dipping, but I considered it safe enough. Very few people knew about this pool and no-one could approach it without making noise. It would take me seconds to be out of the pool and into my dress if I heard anyone approaching.

My confidence was not misplaced. For the hour or so I stayed there, there was nary a sight nor a sound of another person. The only notable thing that occurred was a sudden breeze that sprang up, whistling along the creek, and forming a small whirlwind on the shore near where I was lying. The stupid thing scattered my clothes and then went on its merry way, fading away just as fast as it appeared.

I climbed out of the pool and lay on the grass for a while, letting the sun dry me off. Finally I scrambled to my feet to gather my clothes and get dressed. My shoes were where I left them. The little whirlwind hadn't been strong enough to shift them. My dress was a few yards away, casually tossed to one side. My bra was caught up on a bush. My panties, nowhere to be seen.

Irritated, I dressed with what I did have and then instigated a wider search for a pair of panties. They were precisely nowhere. Logically I knew they had to be somewhere in the vicinity but damned if I could find them. I finally said something rude and resigned myself to walking home commando.

I crossed back to the path to walk home and there was Billy-Joe strolling down the path towards me. A nice guy, Billy-Joe. I quite liked him. At nineteen, he was a year older than me, but he never tried to act all macho and superior, unlike a number of boys I know. Still, I would have preferred to have been wearing panties when I met him. Not that he could tell as my dress came down to my knees.

We said hullo, isn't it hot, what do you expect, it's summer, etc. etc. Then Billy-Joe offered to walk me home. Not that I needed an escort, I knew where I lived, after all. Still it was nice of him to be so polite and we strolled along idly chatting.

Now the path that we were on is more a private track than a public path. Amongst other things it cut across a couple of fields. There were gates in the fences where the path crossed them except for the first fence. For some reason a small stile had been placed there. An easy couple of steps up and down and it served to keep the sheep in. Probably the reason why there's a stile and not a gate. You can't leave a stile open but a gate? Leave it open and the sheep are lost in the woods forever.

It was the stile that undid me. Billy-Joe politely waited for me to cross it first and I naturally did. I'd climbed the first two steps and was about to swing my leg over the top when I remembered my commando state. What, swing my leg over and possibly show Billy-Joe everything? You had to be kidding. I panicked and slipped. I slipped back down the stile while my dress got hooked up on the stile and was lifted clear to my waist.

I finished up bent over the stile with my dress hauled up over my waist displaying everything. I was horrified and I just simply froze there for a moment. Big mistake.

A hand was on my pussy, parting my lips , and a big fat cock was being pressed home.

"Billy-Joe!" I screamed.

"She's right," he said. "I'll take it slow so you can adjust."

With that he gave another little push and he was going deeper. I tried to pull away from him but there was nowhere to go. I was wedged between his cock and the stile and feeling his cock going even deeper as he pushed again.

"You take that out, damn you," I screamed at him.

"Don't be so fucking stupid, Sally," he said. "When will I be likely to get such a generous invitation again?"

Another nudge and he gained a little more. I could feel myself getting wet, my passage reacting to this intrusion, and this naturally helped Billy-Joe. Bit by bit he was taking me and there wasn't a damn thing that I could do. Another push and he was sliding more easily, which encourage him to press harder. With that encouragement he just drove hard, filling me up. Just like that I'd gone from strolling along to being bent over a stile, a cock jammed up me.

I told him he was making a mistake but would he listen? Not so you'd notice. He just started pushing my dress up.

"What are you doing?" I asked in some exasperation. It wasn't as though my dress wasn't already hitched up to my waist after getting hooked on that damned stile.

He didn't say a word, just get pushing it higher. The reason became self-evident once he reached my bust and pushed my bra up as well, popping my breasts out. Now he stopped pushing and started grabbing. With his hands firmly attached to my breasts he pulled his cock way back and then drove it back in, nice and hard.

I protested again. Well, of course I bloody protested again. He politely heard me out, then pulled back again and straight back in, just as hard as you please.

I'd run out of protests. All I could do was wait while he had his fun and hope for a premature ejaculation. It turned out that wait was the operative word. He'd drive his cock in nice and hard and then wait for a while to see how I responded. It was so frustrating.

Consider having sex. Willing or unwilling you can reasonably expect the man to be going bang, bang, bang with his cock and if he's got any skill at all he'll arouse you and, hopefully, give you an orgasm. What you do not expect is for him to go, bang, look around to see if he can spot a rabbit or a bird, bang, count the sheep, twice, bang. How the hell are you supposed to get aroused like that? Any excitement created by any individual thrust just drains away before the next thrust starts. I was almost ready to scream with frustrated fury.

"Ah, Sally, any time you want us to start going at it properly, just let me know," Billy-Joe drawled, leaving me speechless. What the hell was I supposed to say to that?

"Like, a little response from your pussy might give me a hint," he added.

Oh, the poor boy. I wasn't responding properly to his attentions. My heart bled for him. "If you don't start responding, you're going to be here all afternoon," a little voice whispered, and I have to admit that the little voice spoke true. That rotten pig was stubborn enough to give me a single thrust every five minutes until I got the message, no matter how long it took.

"I sort of gave you a hint that I didn't want you to do it at all," I responded hopefully.

Another slow thrust was his reply. I sighed and when he eventually got around to poking me again I lifted my hips and pushed towards him.

"About time," he grumbled, and finally settled down to doing the job.

Oddly enough, now that I was being raped properly I was able to relax and enjoy it. Ah, scrub those last two words. Of course I wasn't enjoying it. I did find that I was a lot more relaxed now that the suspense was gone. Instead of wondering what the hell Billy-Joe was playing at I now knew what to expect -- his cock thumping in with a good deal of oomph behind it.

With the relaxation and my responding to his thrusting and the fact that he was now taking me properly I was finally in a position where I was getting properly aroused and excited. That man seemed to have a lot of cock and he was sharing it with me in a manner designed to please, my opinion on whether I wanted to be pleased not being considered.

After that initial irritating start Billy-Joe had settled into a nice rhythm, not too fast or too slow but steadily building up. Each thrust was adding to the excitement of the one before. Maybe the increments in excitement were small but, given enough of them, they built rapidly, making me more and more aware that there was a cock inside me, working on me.

It quite quickly reached a point where I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from crying out my approval as he drove in. I was, to be honest, finding my ravishment to be exhilarating. I didn't have to second-guess myself about whether I should be doing this with him (or at all) and there were no guilty feelings about having sex with someone. All I could do was respond in the time-honoured tradition, yielding my all.

Oh, but he was good at what he was doing. I couldn't help but wonder where he was getting his practice. (Useful ammunition if I knew who he balled on a regular basis.) As it was, I was getting the benefit of his finely honed abilities, my excitement, now officially sparked, rising in leaps and bounds. It had reached the point where I was breathing hard (gasping for air, actually) and I knew I was going to meet the Big O.

I climaxed. I screamed as I came, but I think that's permitted. I lost track of what Billy-Joe was doing, shivering again and again as my climax rolled through me, tearing me apart and putting me back together again. I slowly gathered my wits together, finding Billy-Joe still inside me, pumping.

I relaxed a little, waiting for him to wind down and withdraw. The rotten swine just kept going. I'm like, "What? What?" and he just continued driving happily in as if nothing had happened.

"Billy-Joe," I wailed.

"What," he demanded, without losing a stroke? "It's not my fault if you go off so easily. Try and keep up will you."

SON-OF-A-BITCH. I wanted to scream at him but what good would that do? It sure wouldn't get that cock out of me. Without consciously working at it I found I was once again responding, humping my pussy in answer to his demands.

I was so sensitive now that my arousal and excitement were very rapidly building to pre-climax levels. Well, what could you expect? They had a head start this time. What's more, I was so drained by that explosive climax that I was losing control completely. I could no longer keep my mouth shut and was giving little grunts of appreciation as Billy-Joe repeatedly drove home.

I was a little surprised that I didn't climax again almost immediately, but I seemed to be suspended in that delirious state that just precedes a climax. Billy-Joe seemed to be able to hold me there effortlessly, which made me wonder (in those odd moments when I was able to put two thoughts together) why he had permitted (forced) that first climax because I just knew it had been deliberate.

I was ready to start screaming when I felt a subtle change in his action. Maybe not so subtle. He started thrusting into me as though his cock was a jack-hammer and he had to make a breakthrough. He made a breakthrough all right -- right through my resistance, sending me screaming into a second climax, this time aware that he was going with me.

Afterwards, Billy-Joe, gentleman that he is, helped me over the stile and insisted on walking me home. He also had a word of advice for me.

"You know, Sally, you really shouldn't throw yourself at a guy so blatantly. You'll find that a gentle hint is all that's really required. The way you went about it, some people could take it the wrong way and you could find yourself in real trouble. Just saying, as a friend, as I don't want you getting yourself hurt."