Tripod

It wasn't my fault. I was basically an innocent bystander which is why it was so infuriating when all the shit landed on me. Mary-Beth and I were on a double date with Bevan and Nigel, Nigel owning the car and driving. I'd like to emphasise that we were all just friends -- not lovers or even serious boyfriends, even though we were all in the eighteen to twenty bracket. Just boys to go on a date with and have some fun.

It was fairly late that night and we were just cruising. We'd had a few drinks (except for Nigel) and were just wondering where to go next.

"Hey, Nigel," said Bevan, "I heard that old Tripod is out of town for a few days. Tonight would be a good time to visit."

"Yeah? You want to go through with it do you?"

"Why not? It's simply a case we drop in and then we're gone shortly after."

"Fair enough. Let's do it."

"Ah, Bevan," asked Mary-Beth, "who's Tripod?"

"Oh, this old guy we know. Old as the hills. I think he's a photographer. We, ah, wanted to see some of his work and if he's out then he won't be nagging at us to buy. We can just look around."

"Actually," Nigel chimed in, "he's not that old. I figure about fifty. What he is, is tiny. He'd have to stand on a box to reach five feet."

"Not quite that small," scoffed Bevan, "but certainly only a couple of inches over five foot. A weedy little guy, but harmless. Supposed to be an expert in his field."

Mary-Beth and I just shrugged and let the boys go where they wanted. They took us to this very nice house and parked in the drive. I pointed out that the lights were off. The house then made a liar of me as one light came on and then went out a few moments later.

"Timed lights," said Nigel with approval. "It makes people think there's someone home when there isn't. Anyway, let's go."

The boys marched quite openly to the front door and to my surprise Bevan took something out of his pocket and jiggled with the lock. Just like that the door opened.

"A piss-poor lock," Bevan grumbled. "You'd think a person with a house as nice as this would put some effort into proper security. It's dreadful how careless some people are."

He ushered us all inside, closing the door behind us. Then he and Nigel pulled torches out of their pockets and turned them on.

"Ah, Bevan, did you just break in?" I demanded.

"Well, yes, of course. I did say that Tripod was out of town. It's not as though I'd break in if he were here."

"But that's illegal. We'll get into fearful trouble if we're caught."

"I told you, the old man's out of town. We're ok."

"But if anyone finds out the police will be looking for us."

"Us? Find upstanding citizens like us, all of whom are at college, studying for their degrees? We won't even be on their potential suspects list if they find out there's been a crime. They'll be looking for lowlifes who make a habit of burglary and robbery. We're sweet."

"Now look around and see if you can find his work-room. A top photographer should have a whole bunch of pricey cameras that I can get top dollar for."

"Not me," I said flatly. "I'm leaving. Coming Mary-Beth?"

"Yes, I do believe I am. We're out of here boys. Don't worry about giving us a lift. We'll go call a taxi."

"What a pair of prudes. The man's loaded. He's not going to miss what we rip off and it'll all be insured anyway. The insurance company will probably replace it with even better stuff. Win/win. We get his stuff, he gets new stuff, and it's only the insurance company that loses out."

"We don't give a damn. We're out of here," I said coldly.

Mary-Beth and I turned and headed back to the door.

"Don't call us," Mary-Beth called back to them, "and we won't call you."

They could count on that last bit. They were heading for a fall and we wanted no part of it.

We started walking back down the drive when there was a shout from behind us. The two boys went barrelling past us, knocking me over and dragging Mary-Beth into the car with them. They didn't bother waiting for me, reversing out of the drive and departing at high speed.

"Your friends, they seem to have left without you," said a soft voice.

"Not my friends," I said bitterly. "They tried to involve me in a crime and now they've knocked me over and taken off."

I climbed to my feet and looked to see who had spoken. There was this little old man standing there, a shade over five foot tall, looking as though a strong wind would blow him away.

"Oh. You must be the man they referred to as Tripod," I guessed. "Amazing. Those two oafs are both nearly six foot and probably weigh twice what you do but you chased them away. I guess they were scared of hurting you."

"Yes, that must be it," came a rather dry reply. "Come inside so that I can see if you were hurt when they knocked you down. Perhaps you can tell me their names. I am very interested."

"Not going to happen," I told him quickly. "They may now be ex-friends but I'm not so petty that I'd rat them out."

"We'll see. Come along."

He took hold of my elbow, turning me towards the door. I yanked my arm out of his hold. Tried to, anyway. He just started walking towards the door, towing me with him.

"Let go of me," I insisted, to no avail as he just kept moving steadily along. Damn it, I was taller than him and I was fairly sure I probably weighed more than him. All I had to do was dig in my heels and he wouldn't be able to move me. Fine in theory, poor in practice. He just kept right on going, me the reluctant puppy being hauled along.

"Be-ah, the guy who opened your lock said you should be ashamed for having such a poor lock on your door. He was quite scathing, saying it was an invitation to thieves."

"Interesting. I guess he would know. I'll take steps to improve my locks."

He dragged me into the front room and pushed me down onto the couch.

"Their names?" he said in a suggestive voice.

I shook my head. "What sort of photography do you do?" I asked in turn.

"Photography?" he asked, sounding puzzled.

"Yes, photography. They said that's how you got your nickname. You're a well know photographer."

"A little confusion on their part. They really are a poor example of thieves. I have a brother who is a photographer. He is currently out of town at an exhibition. Myself, I'm a jeweller, and as well known in my field as he is in his. I will admit that I'm the one with the Tripod nickname but my friends don't use it."

"I'm a little confused. If you're not the photographer why do they call you Tripod?"

"A poor joke. Now if you've finished changing the subject and scattering the red herrings around, the names?"

I simply sat there with my mouth closed. He'd get nothing out of me. Not even my own name. Fortunately my purse and phone were in the car.

"You realise I can have you arrested for breaking and entry and burglary?"

"Not me, you can't. The only time you saw me I was lying on the ground outside. I wasn't in the house and I wasn't even in the car that the others came in. I just have to tell the police that I found myself stranded and walked into a place where there was a car to ask for the use of a phone. You can't prove otherwise."

"I see. So you think you're getting away with it."

"Me? I'm not getting away from anything. I saw a potential crime and moved to distance myself from it, together with my friend. Those two idiots dragged her into the car with them or she'd be here backing up my story."

"And a fine story it is," he admitted. "Still I'm fairly sure that you did come into my house and I don't like to see you getting away with it scot free. A penalty is called for. Let me think."

He could probably tell from the blush on my face that he was right about me entering the house, but I did get the hell out of there as soon as I realised what was happening.

"I still can't believe that you chased the idiots off," I remarked, trying to distract him.

"When you're my size you take steps to even the odds. I learned to run very fast but I also learned martial arts and am quite good. Now that does give me an idea."

I didn't like the sound of that and I was regarding him nervously.

"Hmm. Yes. I think I'll just spank you and send you on your way. Maybe that'll give you a hint that you should choose your companions more wisely."

I had to bite my tongue at that one. Spank me? Come on, who did he think he was kidding? He was at best half my size. I decided that I was out of there and if he tried to stop me I'd hit him so hard he'd be seeing stars next week.

"I'm out of here," I announced, rising to my feet.

"Not going to cooperate, I take it?" he said, sounding amused.

"In your dreams," I replied, smiling sweetly.

I made for the door, not really surprised when he grabbed for my arm. I was a lot more surprised when he caught it, even though I'd been ready and dodged. I tried to jerk my arm free but it just wasn't happening, so I sighed and punched him.

That was the theory. My father taught me how to throw a punch and where to aim. Apparently he should have taught me how to connect. I punched again, and missed again. I was already irritated with this oaf (if you can call a little man an oaf) and this being unable to punch him was getting me really annoyed.

"Stand still so I can hit you," I snarled at him and he laughed.

To my surprise he stood still, waiting. I promptly punched him hard on the jaw, then screamed, as that hurt. Not him. Me. He didn't even flinch but I thought that my hand had broken.

He had hold of my hand and was checking it out, touching it gently.

"Not broken," he assured me, which was a relief, "but probably a bit bruised. It'll be sore for a few days but no real damage. Now, where were we?"

"I was leaving," I was quick to point out.

"Ah, no. You were about to be spanked," he contradicted me.

With that he settled down on the couch and dragged me over his knee, completely ignoring any struggles I may have had.

"How do you man-handle me so easily?" I yelled at him.

"Part of that martial arts training. It includes knowing how to handle prisoners. Now, as to this spanking," he said, flicking up my dress, "I was just going to do it like this," and he brought his hand down very firmly upon my bottom. My eyes popped wide open because until then I hadn't really thought that he'd dare.

"However," he continued, "seeing you showed such a propensity to violence I decided a stronger lesson was required."

"What propensity?" I demanded. "I've never been violent in my life."

"You punched me."

"Well, yes, but you deserved it."

"Maybe, but you deserve this."

And without any more ado he pulled down my panties. I was shocked. I mean really shocked. My bottom was bare and he could see everything, and I don't just mean my bottom.

"How dare you? Pull those back up immediately."

"Now why would I do that when I've only just pulled them down? Pulling them up should wait until after the spanking."

With that his hand came down again, this time on my bare bottom. I was shocked. I was appalled. I was furious. I was in pain because his hand hurt. Worst of all I was excited. How could I be excited over an old man spanking me? It didn't bear thinking about so I didn't.

I did yell and squall and carry on, all of which was ignored. That rotten man just happily spanked me, my bottom heating up and probably turning bright red. I was beyond furious but there was nothing I could do.

I did notice that he showed restraint and his hand didn't wander into more, ah, erogenous zones, but for some reason that didn't stop me getting even more excited. I was heating up in those, ah, erogenous zones and I had no idea why.

He finally stopped spanking me and I thought that that was that. Instead he swung me to my feet (he really was incredibly strong for such a little man) and made me bend over the end of the couch.

He was going to rape me, I just knew it, but for some reason I wasn't particularly worried about this. Probably a combination of not being a virgin, being oddly excited, and him being so small. It didn't mean that I wasn't going to protest.

I turned to glare at him, starting to deliver my protest, even as he was dropping his trousers.

"You said a spanking," I snapped. "You said nothing about oh my god."

My voice sort of trailed away at the end, seeing what his equipment was like. I was struck by the blinding realisation of just what a tripod was. Something with three legs, and that explained exactly how Tripod got his nickname. Compared to the rest of him his cock was enormous. I'd say it was eight inches long but had a feeling that if I did I'd be short-changing him. And fat. I hadn't seen many cocks to this point in my life, no matter that all the boys seemed willing to show theirs, but this was the fattest I'd ever seen.

"That things a lethal weapon," I protested. "No way can you use that on me. Grievous bodily harm at the very least."

His hand was rubbing me very intimately, finding I was already hot and wet. He seemed pleased with this.

"Don't worry about it," he said in what was supposed to be a soothing voice. "You'll find that you adapt without any problems."

With that he started moving. I could feel his cock pressing against me and then it was entering. I tensed up slightly, aware of the size of it, but Tripod just stopped moving.

"Just relax," he told me. "I won't be forcing you. Nice and easy, you'll find, is what does it."

I managed to relax a little and he started easing into me. The few previous times I'd had sex the boy always seemed to get it in as fast as possible, and I was slightly nervous of what would happen when Tripod started to do the same. I found myself pushing back against him, willing to risk it just to get it over with. Oddly enough that made him pause once more.

"No. Don't try to press against me like that. You're rather small, you know, and could hurt yourself. Like I said, just relax and I'll take care of it."

Small? I was small? Said he who had to stand on his toes to reach five feet? There again, feeling what was once more pressing into me there was small and there was small. He only met one of those categories.

I was prepared to swear that his initial entry took longer than the entire act the first time I had sex. He was finally all the way home and I could feel his groin pressing firmly against mine. My passage was absolutely crowded with cock and stretched beyond belief. After this I wouldn't be able to have sex for weeks, waiting for my passage to shrink back to its normal size. I'd probably be walking funny for a while, as well.

He held himself steady for a few moments, waiting to see if I was comfortable with what he was doing. I wouldn't call it comfortable, but I was certainly totally aware of what he was doing. Quite frankly there was nothing in my mind but the awareness of him.

He slowly pulled back away and then returned. It seemed that I was now wet and slippery enough to allow this, even though he felt like a tight fit to me.

"Feel free to move with me now," came a soft voice, and I found myself automatically responding.

I had never had such slow sex before and I suspected it would be a while before it happened again. Tripod just slid easily back and forth with me moving in unison with him. It was an absolutely dreamy sensation, going on and on. The start-up may have been slow but the main act seemed to be stretching out forever, and I had no objection whatsoever.

I was totally lost in a haze of sexual delight, the movement of that cock just fast enough to keep my arousal at a peak but not fast enough to drive me over the edge. I didn't want it to drive me over the edge. This incessant hovering on that peak had captured me totally and having it give way to a climax seemed to me as if it would be a retrograde step.

I almost denied it when he eventually picked up the pace but I didn't really get a chance to. I'd been so close to the edge for so long that when he decided to sink in his spurs and push me I just exploded, my climax tearing into me while I screamed, the climax seeming to just roll on and on.

Afterwards Tripod was ushering me out the front door.

"Just wait by the gate," he said. "An Uber will be here shortly and take you where you want to go. I noticed that you didn't have a bag or phone with you and assume they were in the car. Don't worry about paying for the Uber as the fair and tip will be charged to my account."

With that the door closed firmly behind me and I trotted out to wait by the gate. As I stood there I had a nagging feeling that something was wrong. It wasn't until I was getting in the Uber that it dawned on me. My panties. I hadn't put them back on. That swine had had the gall to pinch my panties.