A Demonstration

I was, to put it mildly, feeling somewhat irritated. I was visiting my putative boyfriend, feeling it was reasonably safe to do so as he’d assured me that his father was also home. I say putative boyfriend as I was having serious doubts as to whether I wanted Charles as a boyfriend at all, in any manner, shape or form. The reason for this is the second qualification in that first sentence, notably reasonably safe.

The reason I wasn’t feeling safe and secure in the loving arms of my soul-mate was quite simple. Some boys are a bit grabby when they’re with a girl. Others are a veritable Handy Andy, quite capable of giving an octopus lessons on how to grab hold of things that don’t want to be grabbed. Charles, however, was in a class by himself.

If he hadn’t assured me with the parental presence I wouldn’t have stopped by at all. Also, if he’d let me know that his father would spend all his time sequestered within his office behind a closed door I would have had second and third thoughts and probably not come around.

As it was I’d been beating Charles off ever since I’d arrived. Quite frankly, after I’d had to tell him to stick his dick pack in his pants because it wasn’t getting anywhere near mine I was ready to snap it off and stick it up his ass. I offered to do that if it made another appearance and Charles had just laughed.

It wasn’t that I was a nervous virgin, I wasn’t. Neither nervous nor virgin. It was more of a case of me feeling that I had the right to decide if I was going to sleep with someone and I certainly hadn’t decided to sleep with Charles and the way things were going I never would.

I’d finally decided that just as soon as I got out of this house I’d be sending Charles a drop dead and goodbye for ever message when he made his serious move on me. Apparently everything he’d been trying up to that point had just been his idea of foreplay. Now he was serious. He had the gall to tell me that it was time for me to put out and if I didn’t like it, bad luck. It was happening anyway.

He lunged at me and my knee took him right in the testicles, dropping him to the floor while he gave out with a horrified shriek. I looked at him writhing on the floor, frantically clutching at his testicles, and decided I’d save myself the cost of a text message.

“It seems to me, Charles, that we’ve come to the parting of the ways. There’s no need to see me out. I’m sure I can find the door without help. You just stay right where you are and moan.”

I spun around to head out and damn near crashed into Charles Sr, or Mr Wayland as I knew him.

“Um, ah,” I said, not quite knowing what to say.

“Let me guess,” said Mr Wayland, sounding mightily amused. “Charles came on a bit too strong and you felt it incumbent upon yourself to discourage him?”

I nodded, blushing.

“He certainly looks discouraged,” observed Mr Wayland. “Not just for right now but probably for several days to come. Such a pity.”

I didn’t know what else to say so I didn’t say anything.

“Did you know that the pain for a man having his testicles flattened rather forcefully is worse than that of a woman in child birth?”

“What? It is not,” I snapped, feeling insulted for all women.

“It’s true,” he insisted. “I mean consider the logic. A woman has a child and bitches like crazy about the pain, but a year later she’s having another one. You ask a man who’s had his balls crushed if he’d like to go through that again in a year. The answer’s no, every time.”

I just gaped at him. He couldn’t be serious. Could he? I decided he was just having me on.

“Well, it wasn’t my fault,” I said a trifle sullenly. “He forced the issue. You will tell him I said goodbye, won’t you?”

“Oh yes. I heard your little farewell speech. By the way, I quite agree that it wasn’t your fault. Charles should have known what might happen and taken precautions. Heaven knows I’ve told him often enough. Charles, I’ve told him, if you’re going to rape a girl take care to keep your balls out of her reach. You never know what an angry girl might do to them. Well, I guess he found out the hard way.”

We’d been in the front room when this little contretemps took place and there was a well stuffed sofa in the room, probably incredibly comfortable for sitting back and watching TV. Charles had been trying to force me onto that couch when my knee connected to his balls and he was now curled up in front of it, moaning.

I was still trying to digest the sheer chauvinism of Mr Wayland’s last statement when he grabbed me arm and spun me around to face the couch. A little push on my back had me lurching forward so I was bent over the end of the couch.

“I suppose I should give the lad a demonstration,” said Mr Wayland. He’d moved up close behind me, his hand on my back holding me in place.

“It’s hard to defend yourself from someone who’s behind you. We’re geared to fight what is in front of us, not behind. Observe.”

With that he simply lifted my skirt and pushed my panties down. Then his hand was between my legs, rubbing my vulva. And there was nothing I could do about it.

I did of course, protest, loud and long, and it had zero effect. He just kept on rubbing me very intimately, pointing out my total helplessness at the same time.

“Of course, in some places this would be all we had time for,” he said, “but seeing we’re in a private residence we can go quite a bit further.”

He very easily undid the fastenings on my skirt and pushed that down and then his hand went up under my top and unclipped my bra.

“You now have a decision to make,” he told me cheerfully. “Are you going to let me push your top and bra up and off or are you going to resist, putting up with the spanking that will follow until you are ready to lose them?”

I gave a small scream as that ultimatum was accompanied by a firm spank to my bottom. I promptly decided that I would permit him to take my top off, a decision I passed to him quite volubly. He simply laughed and pushed them up and off without me trying to stop him.

With my top gone Mr Wayland had one arm around me while he stroked my breasts and the other between my legs while he stroked me even more intimately. For my part I get up a stream of abuse and protest, telling him just what I thought of his behaviour.

“You know,” he said, breaking in my diatribe when I stopped for breath, “it occurs to me that you might think that I was actually going to rape you. It might ease your mind if I tell you I’m not.”

“You’re not?” I asked, disbelief oozing in my voice.

“Well, yes, I am, but if it will ease your mind I’ll tell you I won’t.”

I told him he was a freaking asshole and then my language degenerated from that point. Thinking back I’m embarrassed and surprised that I even knew some of those words, let alone used them.

From the way he was laughing at me he thought that the whole thing was a joke. That didn’t stop him taking full advantage of my effective helplessness, touching me all over in the most intimate of ways.

“You seem good to go to me,” he suddenly announced and the next thing I knew I could feel his cock pressing against my entrance.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I screamed at him, screaming once more with rage as I felt him daring. His cock started moving into me, having no problems whatsoever, and I yowled with rage, feeling it taking control.

His groin slapped firmly against me and I gave another angry yowl.

“You take that out,” I yelled at him. “I meant it. You take it out right now.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

If he didn’t, nothing. There wasn’t anything I could do. All I could do was stand there, bent over the end of the couch with his cock jammed up me as far as it could go and seethe, which is what I did.

The man then proceeded to demonstrate that he knew exactly what to do once he got his cock into position. He started sliding back and forth, hitting all the right points, bringing what had been a reluctant arousal to screaming life. Screaming was precisely what I was doing, but not necessarily in protest the way I wanted to. Instead I was giving out with astonished cries of “Wo-ah. Wow. God. What are you doing?” all intermingled and repeated as his cock plundered my sweetness, enjoying itself to the full and trying to drive me insane.

I would like to point out that I was also telling him to cease and desist while he was doing this but somehow a cry of stop ceases to have much meaning when you’re also giving a little scream of pleasure seconds later. I swear, I never knew that sex could be this exciting.

Mr Wayland seemed to be able to perform for ages. He just kept going and going, completely ignoring anything I might have to say, thrusting into me in a happy-go-luck, I can do this all day kind of way.

He might have been able to but I couldn’t. My arousal was complete and still he kept going, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. My various screams now just degenerated into an ‘ah’ sound, with each successive ah being higher pitched than the previous. He must have taken that as some sort of signal as he suddenly picked up the pace, his cock really ramming home. A few thrusts like that were enough to send me over the edge and apparently the same applied to him because he was climaxing almost as soon as I was.

Mr Wayland disengaged and I hastily drew up my panties and skirt, looking around for my top.

“You may as well have left them down,” came Charles’s sneering voice. “They’re going down again anyway.”

I turned and Charles was standing up, his cock once more on display. Not erect, I noticed, just on display. Apparently he was recovering faster than expected and still had ambitions. He was also still wide open and my foot came up between his legs as I punted his testicles back up inside him and he collapsed with another strangled cry.

“Geez, girl,” grumbled Mr Wayland. “It appears the boy is a slow learner. It might pay for you to stay well away from him. I do want grand-children someday.”

I turned to glare at him, decided he was within range and my foot came up in another smooth arc. Unfortunately things went a little south at that point. He dropped his crossed arms in front of his crotch and my foot went into the cross. His hands promptly close over my foot and he twisted and pulled, falling back to sit on the couch at the same time. I finished up sprawled across his lap.

My skirt and panties went down again and he say there with me sprawled across his lap while he rubbed my bottom with one hand and my breasts with the other.

“It’s against my principles to rape a girl twice,” he said in a soft voice, “but if you’re up to a second round I’m ready, willing, and able.”

“Are you kidding?” I shrieked.

“Why would I kid about a thing like that?” he asked, continuing to rub my bottom. “It’ll be fun. I’ll even throw in a little spanking to help get you in the mood.”

To show he meant it he dropped a stinging little spank to my bottom. It didn’t really hurt but it certainly startled me.

“I don’t think,” I began, and another little spank landed.

“That’s a good start,” he said. “No thinking, just reacting. I’ll show you what you can do when you’re on top.”

I’m pretty sure I was going to tell him no but those little spanks just kept getting to me. I squirmed about, losing track of what I wanted to say each time his hand came down, trying to refuse and somehow or other choking on my words.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “You seem a little unsure so I’ll just assume that you’re trying to say yes. If you change your mind let me know.”

With that he twisted so he was lying on the couch and I was lying face down on top of him. One thing he hadn’t been lying about was that he was ready, willing, and able. I could feel the length of his erection pressing against me.

“Just ease yourself onto it and then I’ll demonstrate a few things for you,” he said, absolutely cocksure. I finally understood exactly what that word meant.