A Skiing Accident

Some friends and I went skiing one weekend. We arrived early Saturday morning, registered at the Chalet, and promptly hit the slopes. We spent the rest of the morning regaining our form on the intermediate slopes, intending to hit the harder slopes after lunch.

Lunch time rolled around and we ate and then headed for the more expert slopes. There was a black diamond run that I was dying to try. My parents had always forbidden it before but I'd asked them before I left and they'd agreed that I could try it.

"You're eighteen now," my father had pointed out. "As long as you spend some time on the easier slopes first so that you can brush up your form I see no reason why you shouldn't. You're a good enough skier to handle a black diamond."

So I went off to the black diamond, nervously confident. I mean, I knew I could handle it, it was just that I never had. I pushed off and went sailing down the slope and it was wonderful. I handled the run like a true expert, not even coming close to falling. That run bucked my confidence right up.

Back to the top and commiserated with a couple of friends who'd come off trying the run. I watched as they took off and it seemed to me that they were fine. Then it was my turn and I pushed off again.

Everything was sweet until about half way down. I felt a jolt from my left ski but I was still going well so I ignored it. Then I found I was drifting to the left. I tried to correct but my drift got worse and the next thing I knew I was heading straight into a copse of pines by the side of the run.

I was desperately trying to steer clear and slow down and then I was passing the first few trees and it looked like there was a dreadful lot of trees in front of me. I was going to wipe out spectacularly, I just knew it.

Then I collided with another skier. I had no idea where he came from, he just came at me from the right, hooking an arm around my waist and picking me up while he did an expert snowplough stop.

"You looked as though you were having problems," he said, "so I thought I'd lend a hand."

"I was," I agreed. "I truly was. Thank you. I just started going left for no reason."

Even as I replied to him I was snapping my skis off. Angrily I picked up the left ski to examine it. At the front of the ski was a gouge in the surface, currently packed with snow. The stupid thing had been acting like an anchor on one side.

My saviour took the ski and examined it.

"From the look of it you hit a rock rather hard. I'm surprised you didn't feel the jolt. Better let them know up at the chalet and they'll take steps to find it and get rid of it. They don't make money off injured skiers."

I sighed. "I did feel the jolt. I didn't know what it was and I seemed to be doing just fine so I ignored it."

"Doing fine until you weren't," he said with a friendly smile.

I sighed and nodded.

"Ah well, here's something to help you remember the incident," he said.

With that he pulled me up against him and kissed me. I have to admit that he was an excellent kisser. He was also tall, handsome, and muscular. I had no objection to a kiss or two so I kissed him back with quite enthusiastically.

He lifted his head and winked. "Now something to help me remember," he said and started kissing me again.

I have to admit that I'm a bit confused about the sequence of what followed. He was kissing me, that I knew for certain, and it slowly registered that his hands were stroking my bottom. No biggie. I could handle that. Then he had one hand behind my head, holding me while he kissed me, while his other hand was stroking my bottom. Again, no biggie, until it registered that his hand was stroking my actual bottom, not through my ski pants.

I tried to push him away but found that all I accomplished was to clutch at his jacket while he continued to kiss me, and yes, I was still kissing him back.

Then my bottom felt a little chilly. The rotten man had pushed my ski pants down and was fondling me quite intimately. Once more I tried to push him away but couldn't seem to do it. Just how he managed to expose himself was another thing I don't know but it happened as I could feel his erection pressing against me.

Before I could stop him he'd pushed my legs apart and his cock was pushing against me, finding the entrance it wanted and happily invading.

That's when he finally stopped kissing me, lifting his head away from mine. (This didn't stop his cock from invading me though as that certainly continued pushing in.)

Before I could protest or say anything he got in first.

"Yes or no?" he asked innocently as though he wasn't already doing it.

"This is a fine time to ask," I snapped. "You're already doing it."

"Well, ye-es," he admitted, "but until you say no I'm assuming that you want me to. Do you want me to stop?"

Of course I wanted him to stop. This was tantamount to rape. You can't just grab a girl and do it. True, but he is asking, I reminded myself, and do I really want him to stop? I mean, it feels fantastic and it's sure to get even better as he gets into action. If I don't say anything he's going to keep doing it and it's not my fault. I mean, he is forcing me after all. Asking after the fact doesn't really count.

I apparently dithered too long before answering because he suddenly started kissing me again. At the same time his hands clasped my bottom, encouraging me to move with him as he started thrusting into me in a rather energetic manner. His initial entry had been nice and smooth and generally pleasing (not that I'd wanted to be pleased) but that smooth movement was now replaced by a cock that was eager to be exercised.

He drove fiercely into me, repeatedly, and if he hadn't been kissing me I'd probably have been doing a whole bunch of squealing as he set about taking his pleasure, incidentally pleasuring me at the same time. I was once again scrabbling at his jacket, not sure if I wanted to push him away or clutch onto him and hold him closer.

He evidently knew what he was doing as he brought me to a climax at the same time as he cut loose and had his own climax. Or maybe that was the other way around, with his climaxing being the driver to me having mine.

He pulled free and I hastily straightened my clothing, him doing the same.

"By the way, I'm Adrian," he told me.

How nice. I now knew the name of the man who'd jumped me.

"Oh. I'm Gloria, which I consider a dreadful name. Call me Ria."

"Right. Pass me your scratched ski."

I passed him my ski and he produced a small tin from his pocket, opening it and then packing the gunk in it into the gouge on the ski, smoothing it out.

"Give it a couple of minutes to set and you'll be good to go," he assured me. "It'll hold up for the rest of the run, though you might want to wax the ski again before you do a full run."

With that he stepped into his own skis, grabbed me and kissed me yet again, and then took off down the slope. I waited a few minutes, tested the repair and found it set, and headed on down the slope. Once I was all the way down I found a place to sit, grabbed my own wax out of my pocket, and carefully waxed the ski again.

My next run was on one of the intermediate slopes, wanting to make sure that the ski was behaving normally, relieved to find that it was. After that I ran the black diamond with no problem, smiling happily at my success.

I had dinner with my friends and we stopped by the games room for a while. I found that running the black diamond had left me a little tired so I decided to retire. Before I headed to my room I stopped by the reception area and told the receptionist about the rock on the black diamond, indicating roughly where it was. The receptionist smiled and assured me they'd look into it. Then I wandered off to my room.

I was walking down the corridor when an arm went around my waist.

"Hey, Ria, fancy meeting you. How'd the rest of your afternoon go?"

"Oh, Adrian. It was fine. I ran the black diamond successfully a few more times. Thanks for fixing my ski."

I mentioned my black diamond success as I didn't want him think I was a duffer who'd gone down a slope above my grade.

"Well, done," he said, opening a door and ushering me inside.

I came to an abrupt halt, looking around.

"This isn't my room," I exclaimed.

"No. It's mine. If you'll excuse me for a moment..." His voice seemed to just trail off as he took hold of my ski pants and started lowering them for the second time that day.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" I demanded indignantly, clutching at my pants.

"Undressing you. I want to see you completely naked on my bed. Once I have I'm going to make love to you much more thoroughly than I did earlier."

"If it's all the same to you then I decline," I snapped at him.

"It's not all the same to me," he said, smiling at me even as he managed to twitch my pants out of my grip and push them down, leaving me very much exposed.

"Stop it. You don't get a say in it," I pointed out, only to find myself being given a push that landed me sitting down on the bed. He took advantage of this to draw both my pants and panties right off, tossing them to one side.

I tried to argue with him and found my jumper being removed. I tried struggling and my shirt went by the way, leaving me there tastefully clad in a bra and shoes. The bra didn't last long. He didn't seem interested in the shoes.

It was occurring to me that instead of arguing I should have been screaming, or at least yelling my head off. Too late now as there was no way I wanted anyone coming in while I was naked. The other mistake, I guess, was to struggle genteelly, in a ladylike fashion. Maybe I should have emulated a pro wrestler and fought with more determination. The trouble with that though was that my clothes might have got torn and that was another thing I didn't want to happen.

He pulled me up from where I was sitting on the bed, leaving me standing in front of him, naked and embarrassed. He then slowly turned me around, making me do a full turn, talking softly the whole time, telling me how lovely I was.

I didn't want him saying any of those things and I was trying hard not to listen but it's hard not to hear when someone is flattering you outrageously. Why I found what he was saying pleasing is beyond me. I mean he had grabbed me and stripped me and I should have been fighting mad. He'd already said that he intended to make love to me and as I wasn't agreeing that meant he was going to rape me again. (I was pretty sure that the afternoon session could be considered rape.)

"I am not making love to you," I said forcefully, deciding to get my stance out there right from the start.

"That's okay," he said. "I'll be making love to you and you'll find that that's what counts."

"I'll scream," I threatened.

He cocked his head a little to the side, giving me a considering look. Then he waved a hand at me, effectively saying go for it. I didn't. There was no way I could explain being in a man's room and not screaming until I was completely naked.

He took a step towards me and I backed up. I promptly found the bed was behind me and I couldn't back up any more. His hands came up and cupped my breasts, and he smiled, winked, and pushed, and I was flat on my back on his bed. He lifted my feet and swung me around until I was lying on the bed properly.

Then, to my great indignation, he pushed my legs wide apart, and if that wasn't enough slipped his hands under my knees and lifted them. The way I was positioned was a blatant invitation for a man to hop on board, if you know what I mean.

I was totally embarrassed now. I'll admit that I hadn't been a virgin even before his earlier assault but I'd never actually been totally naked in front of a man (shoes don't count). Yes, lost my panties a time or two and my bra a bit more than that but full nudity? This was a first.

It turned out that Adrian was a quick change artist, or at least a quick strip one. He just took off all his top clothes with one motion and then the bottom half with another. Just like that he was naked, looking at me with a smile, his erection standing out and swaying from side to side, drawing my attention with a snake's hypnotic sway.

He hopped up on the bed, settling between my thighs naturally. He leaned over me and I could feel his erection pressing against my stomach. Then he kissed me, his hands going wandering while he did so.

I couldn't help kissing him back. It was the same as this afternoon, his kiss drawing me in, hypnotising me, making me lose sight of the fact that I was supposed to be resisting him. His hands settled lightly on my breasts, gently rubbing them, teasing my nipples, coaxing a response from them.

As soon as he persuaded my nipples to peak he stopped kissing me, transferring his mouth to my breasts, sucking lightly on my nipples, teasing them once more, but this time with tongue and teeth.

Seeing his hands weren't occupied by my breasts he moved them to where they could be occupied. One closed over my vulva, rubbing it, fingers exploring, stroking and probing, slipping between my lips and teasing me internally.

I was gasping and squirming about, trying to push him away, and for a moment I thought I'd succeeded. His head moved away from my breasts. And then to my horror I could feel his hot breath against my skin as his head followed the path that his hand had revealed.

His mouth close upon my vulva, his tongue darting about. I made a very funny noise, the result of me swallowing a scream. I was once more pushing at his head, trying to dislodge it and having zero effect. Then I was jamming a hand against my mouth to prevent another scream as the most shockingly delicious sensation swept through me.

"What are you doing?" I managed to ask in a strangled voice.

"You mean this?" he asked, and the same thing happened again, complete with me nearly swallowing my hand.

"Yes, that," I softly wailed.

"Ah, you like that. OK."

"What? Wait," I yelped but it was too late. Whatever he was doing he was doing it again. It didn't take him long to reduce me to a state where I had both hands jammed against my mouth as I tried not to shriek my way through a climax.

He returned to looming over me. Looking down the length of my body I could see his cock hovering close to my slit. Then it wasn't hovering but touching, pushing firmly into me, with my passage apparently eager to accept what it offered. I'm sure I didn't intentionally hump my hips up, trying to take him fully right from the word go, but it happened anyway.

"Now we've started I think we should take things nice and slow," Adrian said. "You seemed a bit rushed earlier so now's our chance to make up for it."

I was a bit rushed, I thought indignantly. I didn't even get any say in what happened. Well, admittedly he gave me a chance to say something once it was too late to do anything, but then he didn't even wait for an answer. And just what was I supposed to say this time? It's not like he giving me a choice. I finished up not saying anything (again) and he started taking things nice and slow.

By nice and slow he simply meant that he started thrusting into me at a much slower pace than this afternoon's effort. You couldn't really call it thrusting, for that matter - just a slow easing in and out, each movement sending exciting little ripple deep into me. At the same time his hands were all over my breasts, stroking them and teasing them generally.

He just went on and on, steadily stirring me up, stoking my internal fires, apparently quite happy to bask in the warmth of my loins. I won't say I was happy with what he was doing but I was certainly finding it exciting. (I have to admit that I wouldn't say I was unhappy, either. I was too excited for unhappiness to get a grip.)

He kept going and going and soon I found that I was starting to get irritated. It was time, and past time, for him to get with the real action. What he was doing was all well and good but I was starting to need something more. I told him so.

He ignored my hints. Typical male. Unless you put it in plain language they just don't get it. I growled to myself and put it in plain language.

"No rush," the great fool said, and he could consider himself lucky I didn't bite him.

"Adrian," I said, trying to sound sweetly polite, "if you don't get a move on I'm going to reach down and snap your damned cock off at the roots. Might I suggest that you take that as a serious warning?"

"Oh. Why didn't you say something?" he wanted to know and I damn near screamed.

Still, he did started getting serious, his cock driving into me with a lot more vigour. Now it was thrusting into me properly, and a much faster tempo. I was bucking under him as he rode me, my arousal peaking and holding steady at that peak. He finally gave a little gasp and cut loose, jerking frantically against me as he ejaculated deep inside me, just the thing I needed to climax myself, in a very noisy manner.

I hastily tidied myself up, making myself fit to be seen in public. He just lay back, naked, smiling happily.

"Hey, Ria, I always wake up in the morning with a morning wood. Do you want to stay here overnight and take care of it or would you rather drop past first thing in the morning?"

"What? Neither," I snapped. "It isn't going to happen."

Really, the gall of the man. How could he even suggest a thing like that? I mean he effectively raped me twice and he wanted me to come and service him of my own free will? (Okay, maybe a bit of reluctant seduction rather than rape, but I'm sure there was a touch of rape in there.)

"You have to be kidding. I'll take option three, neither of the above."

"That's fine," he said. "Your choice, after all."

"Right. My choice," I affirmed, as I left, not really sure that it was.

As I headed back to my room I couldn't help wondering about the smile in his face when I said no. Had I been too smart saying option three? Would he take that to mean he should come to my room to have his morning wood attended to? Surely not. Then again, after today's performance I wouldn't take a bet that he wouldn't.