It’s Saturday, Tracy, and your 18th birthday, her mum had said. Go to the beach. You’ll probably bump into some of your friends there.
Too right, she would. She was certain that by an odd coincidence most of her friends would be here today. And by another odd coincidence they would probably all tag along when she went home and was surprised by the party her mother was busy organising now that she was out of the house.
She was going to have a fun day and a fun party, and even if she couldn’t get laid tonight, being the centre of attention, she was definitely going to drop a few pointed hints to a certain party that she expected to be seduced in the near future, so he’d better start making preparations to do it in style.
Tracy pulled into the beach carpark. Only a few cars, none of which she recognises. None of the gang here yet it seems. Very nice little sports car there. Wonder who owns that.
Tracy strolled towards the paths down to the beach, bouncing her keys as she goes. Stopped and stared in surprise when a gull swooped, snatched the keys in mid air and started to leave. Laughed with relief when there was a squawk of disgust and the gull let the keys fall. She watched as they dropped, straight through the open window of that little sports car. What sort of idiot leaves his car windows open?
She hurried over and glanced through the window. Where are those damned keys? On the floor. Naturally. She grabbed the handle and pulled. Locked. Try the inside handle. The car is double locked. It won’t open without the key. No wonder they didn’t care about open windows. No problem. She’s slender. She can reach through the window and get them.
Leaning through, stretching to reach, she didn’t even realise someone was there until she felt the hand reach between her legs and stroke her vagina through her panties. She squealed and tried to stand, but found she couldn’t. She needed space to back away and out of the window and whoever was behind her wasn’t giving her any room to manoeuvre. She wriggled and tried to hit back at him but found she was stuck fast in the window with both arms inside the car and she wasn’t getting out until he backed up. She tried yelling and realised she was shouting at the floor of the little car, her voice completely muffled. And all the time that hand was stroking and fondling her, and she could hear soft laughter from the man behind her.
She kicked back, and felt her hand connect solidly with his leg. Ha! His turn to yelp. Then the hand that wasn’t fondling her pussy came down with a stinging slap on her bottom. A furious scream and another kick (which missed, dam him) and another stinging spank to the bottom. She could kick but would miss. He could spank, would spank, and he wasn’t going to miss. Her pert little bottom was a sitting target for him. She stopped kicking and quietly fumed.
After a few minutes of increasing fury, while the hand fondled and stroked her, occasionally slipping under the edge of her panties, Tracy felt the hand leave her and she breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to back up and let her go now. She’d have a few things to say to him as soon as he moved back a bit to let her extract herself.
Then, to her shocked surprise, instead of moving away she felt him slide the panties down. He didn’t even have the decency to just pull them down, but slid them slowly downwards, brushing the back of his hand against her lips, pulling the panties back up, slowly sliding them down again, finally pushing them down to her knees. Her skirt was pushed up and rucked around her waist, leaving her effectively naked from the waist. And the hand returned between her legs.
This time he was rubbing her naked flesh and slipping fingers in between her vaginal lips, rubbing and stroking her internally. Despite herself she found herself becoming flushed and wet, and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was all against her will she thought she might have enjoyed the sensation.
Then the strangers second hand snaked through the window under her arm and slipped up under her t-shirt, pushing her bra up over her breasts so that they hung loose within the t-shirt, and started fondling her left breast and then reaching further across to gently squeeze her right breast. His hand drifted from one boob to the other, rubbing the nipples and gently squeezing in time with the way he was stroking her vagina.
God! Why wasn’t someone coming to help her? Other people should be turning up soon.
Tracy realised that his hand had left off fondling her vagina again, and she tensed to see if this time he would back off and let her go. She suspected not. Then she felt those fingers, back there again, but doing something different. Instead of stroking her, he was stretching her lips apart, letting them relax and then stretching again. A little wider each time it seemed. What the hell did he think he was doing and why did that stretching feeling both excite her and make her nervous?