Celine

"Celine, I want you to drop this package off to Bruce this morning. He's expecting it. I'd go myself but I have to run."

"Yes, dad," I said, running on automatic pilot.

"I'll leave it on the kitchen table so you won't forget it," he continued.

"OK. I'll remember," I called, and totally tuned him out while I continued with the messages I was sending.

An hour or so later I decided that I should really go and get some breakfast so I put my phone away and wandered into the kitchen to see what I could find. What I found was this whacking great parcel sitting in the middle of the table with a note standing on top of it. As my name was on the side of the note I just naturally picked it up and read it.

'Celine, if you'd been listening you'd know that you have to take this parcel over to Bruce this morning. Morning means before twelve o'clock. I do hope you're actually reading this before that time. Love Dad'

A hasty look at the clock assured me that it was only eleven. I quickly had some cereal, rushed through a quick shower and threw on some clothes. Seeing I was in a hurry and it was a warm day I just tossed on a t-shirt (no bra) and some tights (yes I wore panties, you pervert). I mean, I was only seeing Bruce, our neighbour. He was fortyish, not eligible boyfriend material for an eighteen year old like me, if you know what I mean. Who cared what I looked like for him?

I grabbed the parcel, finding it a lot lighter than it looked, and waltzed out of the house and over to Bruce's place. When I got there the front door was open so I just kicked the door and yelled out. (I couldn't ring the bell. My hands were full with that stupid parcel.) Bruce stuck his head out of a doorway and called to me.

"Hi, Celine. Just bring it here and dump it on the kitchen table," he called, and promptly vanished again.

Muttering to myself about rude men I hiked on down the hallway and into the kitchen, quite happy to dump the parcel onto the table. Delivered -- a quick glance at the clock showed it was only eleven forty five -- as per instructions.

I looked towards Bruce to say goodbye (I, at least, have some manners) but found he was turning to look at me at the same moment. Before I could say anything I was startled into silence by first, the odd look on his face, and second, the way his eyes ran over me from top to bottom and then back up again, stopping at my chest.

All of a sudden my tights felt really tight. They're a lovely pale lime green, and my favourites, but perhaps they were a bit old and worn rather thin in places, and they weren't called tights for nothing. As for my t shirt that was white and also old and although it was fairly baggy generally I couldn't say that applied where the bust area was concerned.

Glancing down at where Bruce was so blatantly looking I was shocked to see that I could see the nubs of my nipples pressing against the t-shirt and I also realised that it was thin enough that you could see the darker area around the nipple.

Ok. I was now officially uncomfortable. Time for Mr Hoskins' little girl, Celine, to be heading elsewhere. I opened my mouth to say goodbye (being a polite little girl) and suddenly all I could see was white and my arms were jerked up into the air.

Normal sight came back and my mouth stayed open in shock as I watched Bruce toss my T-shirt over onto the table. He'd just whipped it off without a qualm. (That is, he didn't have a qualm. I had a bunch of them.)

My hands flew up to cover my breasts and since my mouth was already open I prepared to give him a serve. I'd have been better off with my hands flying down to grab hold of my tights and yelling stop. As it was my tights (and panties) were what went down and the only sound I made was a startled scream.

Really, you'd scream too, finding yourself naked in front of a man without any warning. I was totally confused. Things like this just did not happen and now that it had what was I supposed to do?

Bruce's hands were now on my breasts, rubbing them, while he was telling me how lovely I looked and felt. I opened my mouth (again) to tell him to lay off, and he promptly covered it with his own, kissing me rather ferociously. Totally against my will I found myself responding, not really believing that I was, but I was.

Ok, so he could kiss. He also seemed to know how to make my breasts perk up and pay attention, because the way he was fondling them was actually quite pleasant. Still and all, this would never do. I managed to wrench my mouth away from his, turning my head to the side. Yeah, so this was another mistake.

He bent his head, his mouth latching onto one of my breasts, and he started sucking and teasing it. I could feel his tongue rolling my nipple around and then his teeth were rubbing against it. I tried to push his head away and succeeded for all of one second, which was the time he required to latch onto my other breast.

"You stop that," I managed to gasp out, and heard him chuckle.

"Problem? Not quite what you want?" he asked. "No worries. I can accept that."

Maybe he could and maybe he couldn't. What I knew was that I couldn't accept his hand sliding between my legs and rubbing my mound. I gave another squeal of protest, trying to push him a way, but he just lifted his head and started kissing me again. I don't know why but his kissing me while his hands were rubbing my pussy was a whole nother level of what-the-hell.

I couldn't tell him to stop (his mouth was on mine), I couldn't move away from him (somehow or other I was hard up against the wall, and when did that happen) and I couldn't push him away because my body was plastered against him. All I could do was ineffectively slap my hands against his back.

He kept on kissing me and touching me, fingers going where they had no right to go. I was wriggling about, trying to get some distance between us but I was having no luck there. (Contrary to what he later claimed I wasn't rubbing my body against him in a provocative manner.)

When I felt one of his fingers starting to intrude rather rudely again I ignored it for a moment. Well, not exactly ignored it, but what could I do? It suddenly dawned on me that unless he had fingers that were bigger and fatter than a gorilla's that wasn't a finger he was sticking in me.

His cock started on its merry way while I did a lot more squirming about. I was wedged against that blasted wall, he had one leg holding my legs apart, and he had one hand firmly clutching my bottom, holding it still, while he slowly pushed his cock into me.

I gave a cry of fury, muffled by his mouth on mine, screamed when I felt the sting of my cherry being popped (also muffled), and finally got him to stop kissing me when I tried to bite his lip. He jerked his head away at that, I can assure you.

"You stop that," I howled, now that I could speak. "This is rape."

"Um, yes, I know that," he calmly admitted, "but think about it. If you pay attention you'll realise that I'm already fully inside you. Not so?"

I didn't actually need him to tell me that. I could feel him, deep inside me, and it seemed to me that there was a lot of him. He was long and fat and hard and hot and inside me!

"I know that," I snarled. "Take it out."

"Why?"

"Why!?"

"That was my question. Hmm?"

"Because I don't like it and don't want it. Take it out."

"Why don't you like it? Stop and think. Doesn't it actually feel rather nice inside you like that?"

Now that he mentioned it, it didn't really feel that uncomfortable. It felt different, it's true, but all things considered a pleasant different rather than a nasty one. Not that I was going to tell him that.

"Just take it out," I reiterated.

"If you insist," he said quietly.

I could feel him slowly withdrawing. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but it was the proper thing to do. What wasn't the proper thing to do was for him to stop before he was right out and reverse directions, driving quite firmly into me.

"What are you doing?" I demanded in a very high pitched voice.

He sighed and shook his head.

"Really, Celine, you can be rather slow at times. I thought you'd already come to the conclusion that I was raping you?"

I just stared at him, dumbfounded. I'd genuinely thought that he was going to stop. Not to be. He took his own sweet time and was sliding in and out, his hands on my breasts, massaging them in a matching rhythm to what his cock was doing.

I tried to protest, honestly. The trouble was that every time I opened my mouth he'd thrust into me again and all that I'd say was something like, "aa-ah." I wasn't signifying pleasure or approval, although I can see where he might think I was.

As he got on with his work I went through several stages. At the start it was how dare he, but it isn't that bad. This moved on to okay, I can put up with this quite easily because I'd have to say it feels quite good if I was forced to comment. The final stage was oh-my-god-this-is-bliss. He was sliding smoothly back and forth and I was moving with him, pushing to meet him as he thrust into me, relishing the feel of his cock inside me, totally enjoying the whole experience.

He seemed to keep going for ages. He's raping you, a little voice whispered. I don't give a damn, another little voice replied. If he asked if I wanted him to stop I'd quite honestly have said no, don't you dare! I'd reached a point where I wanted this, needed this, and I was, so help me, going to get this.

Heat was boiling up inside me and every thrust he made was simply stoking the fire. I was the fire, getting hotter and hotter, and I had no idea where this was leading. (Okay, if I'd stopped to think about it I'd have known I was heading towards a climax, but any chance of calm cogitation sort of fell by the wayside right from the moment he stuck it into me.)

He started moving faster, plunging in harder, really driving into me. I could feel that internal fire flaring up even higher and then it exploded through me, and I gave a soft scream as I climaxed, the climax just ripping through me, rippling back and forth through my body, leaving me shaking with the aftershocks.

He pulled away from me, grabbed a cloth from somewhere, and calmly wiped me down. (A necessity as I had unmentionable juices over my legs.)

"You were marvellous," he said, before I could say anything.

I glared at him (rather a feeble glare, I'll admit) and snapped, "You raped me!"

"Nonsense," he replied. "You really wanted that so I was just obliging your secret desires. No need to thank me."

If that sort of gall wasn't bad enough he had a hand back on my breast, stroking it. All I could do was splutter wordlessly, bend down to grab my tights (and panties) and pull them up.

As soon as they were in place I found Bruce handing me my T-shirt. I snatched it out of his hand and put it on. He jerked a thumb towards the parcel I'd brought over.

"I'll have these done in two or three hours," he said. "Why don't you come back about three o'clock and collect them?"

"Excuse me?" I said, not believing the man's incredible audacity.

"Come back about three o'clock and you can collect these for your father."

"Oh, really? And I suppose you'll give your word that you won't try to touch me if I do?"

"Now, Celine, stop being childish. What I'll do is undress you again and give you another lesson. I suspect that you'll find you'll be in the right frame of mind to try it again. I'll even show you a couple of positions that you can try before we get down to the real stuff. Consider it part of your education. I'm happy to do my part."

Like I said, incredible audacity. Does he really think I'd come over again? Yes, he does, a little voice whispered to me. Are you going to?