Chance Encounter

It was a warm day in late spring and I was hiking in the mountains. Not that they were very mountainous but they were officially mountains. I had recently turned twenty and was feeling like getting some exercise. I’m a bit of an introvert and I liked being outdoors with nature so as far as I was concerned a solitary stroll through the forest was just the thing.

I’m an experienced hiker and I had a backpack with the essentials, including a smart phone (with a charged battery). I had both a map and a compass included in my essentials and, together with the GPS on the phone, I knew exactly where I was at all times. If something went wrong and I need assistance I could phone in a request and tell potential rescuers exactly where I was.

Right now where I was, was following a burbling brook upstream, slowly making my way up towards the source of the brook. Did you know that following a stream is the shortest way down a mountain? It is, with one little catch. It’s generally the steepest way down the mountain, what with water always seeking the lowest level. That made following the stream uphill rather an arduous task at time.

I didn’t worry about the difficulties going up. If I decided to worry about them coming down that was another matter and easily resolved. The stream did cross several paths on its journey, and I could always switch to one of those paths heading homewards.

I had a camera with me, a proper camera as distinct from the camera built into my phone. The phone was for communication in an emergency and I wasn’t going to have my emergency only to find I’d flattened the phone battery taking pictures. I’d taken some shots already, mainly some panoramic views but also some birds I’d spotted. It’s surprising how many creatures you can spot if you move quietly.

I was following the stream along a reasonably flat stretch of ground when I heard some splashing from up ahead. Now I know what you’re thinking. A free running stream can be expected to make splashing sounds as it bumps over rocks and things. Hence the term burbling brook. This, however, was the wrong sort of splashing.

I slowed down as I approached where the stream curved towards me, wanting to spot what was making the splashing before the splash maker noticed me. I wasn’t expecting any dangerous animals but I had no intention of running into one if I could help it.

Good thing I stopped to look as I was confronted with a very dangerous animal. As I hadn’t been noticed I made haste to take a few shots of her, enjoying watching the beast disport in a pool where the brook had filled a hole at some stage.

Seeing I was still going unnoticed I moved closer and settled quietly onto the ground, getting a couple of more shots. Then I leaned back against a tree and admired the view. I knew I’d be noticed sooner or later as I was sitting right next to her clothes.

The dangerous animal was a lovely young woman in her late teens. As far as I was concerned there were few animals more dangerous, not that that prevented me admiring them. I was especially willing to admire one who was dancing about covered in water. When I say covered I guess I mean wet. The pool was only a couple of feet deep. Enough to lie down and enjoy but standing? Not very much of her was actually covered by the water.

After a few minutes of just idling about in the pool she tilted her head back, looking up at the sky. I have to admit that that did amazing things to her rack. They didn’t sag in the first place and when she tilted her head back they seemed to leap into prominence. I took a very hasty shot, but that was probably a mistake.

She must have spotted the movement because her head snapped back down and she was looking directly at me. At first the look on her face was surprise, tinged with disbelief. Then the reality of me being there, combined with the knowledge of what she wasn’t wearing, hit her. She face turned an interesting shade of red, then white, then red again, and her hands snapped into position to cover her privacy.

Ok, the hand in front of her mons covered her to some extent, but the arm across her breasts? That one was fighting a losing battle right from the word go. Too much breast and not enough arm.

“Be reasonable,” I called to her. “I’ve already seen everything and you’re just making yourself look silly.”

“Go away,” she shouted, glaring at me. She also accepted the logic of my argument, which is rare in a woman, and stopped trying to cover herself.

“I’m comfortable,” I told her. “I’ll just wait here for a bit longer while I rest up. Strenuous work climbing the mountain, you know.”

She muttered something that I didn’t hear but the expression on her face indicated that I was probably better off not hearing it. She also seemed a little sceptical about how strenuous a climb it was.

“Please, just go away. I want to get dressed.”

“Well I’m not stopping you,” I pointed out. “Your clothes are right there. Feel free to put them on.”

“If you think I’m going over there while you’re sitting there you’re crazy,” she snapped.

“Why? All you have to do is walk over and put your clothes on. It’s not as if you’d be showing me anything that I haven’t already seen.”

“And am still seeing,” I added thoughtfully, watching her face flame up again.

“I’m not an idiot,” she said scornfully. “As soon as I got close enough you’d grab me.”

“I would? Why would I do that?” Hopefully I sounded genuinely interested in her answer.

“Because I’m naked. You’d probably take that as a chance to pounce on me and rape me.”

“Oh. That never occurred to me, actually.”

I tilted my head to one side as I gave her the once over and then shook my head.

“Nah. Not worth the trouble,” I told her.

Now you’d think that a young lady who had just been assured that she was safe from unwanted carnal attentions would be relieved. Not this young lady. She sounded narked.

“And what do you mean by that?” she demanded.

“By what?” I asked, confused.

“By me not being worth the trouble.”

“Oh, that. Well you are rather young, aren’t you? I’d hate for anyone to think I’m a paedophile.”

“What? I’m nineteen, damn you. Do I look like a child?”

“I’ll admit that you don’t, but nineteen?” I sadly shook her head.

“As good as,” she snapped.

“In other words, eighteen, and probably only recently turned eighteen.”

From the look she gave me I was spot on.

“Still and all you’re probably a virgin and would get all upset about being raped. You’d probably scream and cry and have hysterics and make a terrible scene. Even if you didn’t, you’re a teenager, barely eighteen. You wouldn’t really know what to do so you’d probably just lie there like a lump, wondering when it would be over. Nah, I’d prefer a partner who would be willing to work with me rather than lie there like a sex doll.”

Then it was a case of ‘what did I say’? The fool woman looked as though she was going to explode.

“Anyone would get upset over being raped,” she yelled, “but that doesn’t mean I’d scream and cry and get all hysterical. And what do you mean I wouldn’t know what to do? Just because I’m only eighteen doesn’t mean I can’t fuck just as well as the next girl. There’s no way I’ll just lay still like a stuffed doll. I know how to respond to a man.”

“See what I mean? Just the thought that I might jump you has got you all worked up into near hysteria. Just listen to yourself. You’re practically inviting me to have sex with you. Shameful in such a young girl.”

“You’re mad! I did no such thing.”

“Um, yeah, you did. Quote, there’s no way I’ll just lay there. I know how to respond to a man, unquote. Pretty much an invitation if you ask me.”

“No-one was asking you and you’re deliberately misinterpreting what I said.”

“Sorry,” I said, rather tongue in cheek. “Perhaps if you explained what you really meant.”

“I meant that if you raped me I’d, uh, I’d, um. . .”

Her voice trailed away as she realised the hole she was digging for herself.

“Got it,” I said cheerfully. “You’re saying that if I was going to rape you, which I’m not, you wouldn’t chuck a tantrum with tears and everything but would get down to it and respond the way a woman should, right?”

“Right,” she snapped, apparently feeling a little better about my summation of the situation.

“Now that puts me in an awkward position,” I complained.

“What? Why?” She gave me the evil eye at the same time.

“Well, you’re saying that if I was to rape you then you’d do your enthusiastic best to make sure that I would be properly satisfied. It kind of makes it hard for me to stand by my no-rape policy when I know you’ll greet me so eagerly.”

“You’re doing it again,” she said, sounding distinctly aggrieved.

“Doing what again?” I asked, puzzled.

“Putting your own twist on what I say. What are you, a lawyer or a politician?”

“That was cruel,” I protested, my hurt feeling evident in my voice.

While we’d been talking she’d been edging closer to me, still keeping what she considered a safe distance between us. She was partly correct in her assessment as if I’d tried to grab her she’d have had room to take a step back. She was also partly incorrect as she was close enough for me to be able to reach out with one leg and hook my foot behind her knee and pull. Her knee bent, her leg folded, and she was pitching forward onto her face.

Being a gentleman I prevented any injury. I simply reached up as she fell and caught her, cushioning and directing her fall so that she collapsed onto me. She finished up flat on her face lying on top of me, her legs straddling me.

“You’ve changed your mind? I’m flattered,” I said in a soft voice.

Ensuring that she didn’t change her mind again one of my hands was placed firmly on her back, holding her in place. The other hand just sort of drifted between her legs and started rubbing her rather intimately.

“I slipped,” came the protesting cry. “Let go of me.”

“Are you sure you slipped? From where I was it looked like you pounced. Rather like a cat pouncing on a mouse.”

“I think you mean a rat, in this case. Let go.”

“Let me consider that suggestion for a moment. Hmm. No, I think that would be an inappropriate course of action.”

“You said you weren’t going to rape me!”

“You can’t call this rape, surely,” I pointed out. “All I’m doing is petting you a little. You do realise that a bit more is involved where actually having sex is concerned.”

“I know that,” she said, her voice rising somewhat. “Look, just let me go and we’ll forget about this.”

“You might forget about it. I admit that I’m not the most memorable person that you might meet. However, on my part I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of you standing in the stream splashing the water. That scene is forever branded into my memory.”

I stopped my intimate massage to make an adjustment to my own clothing. My trousers were feeling rather constrictive in the front and I needed to loosen them. That done I returned to the massaging.

“Will you just stop touching me like that,” she demanded, and I sighed.

“If you insist,” I grumbled. The hand that had been on her back holding her in position slipped further down and cupped one side of her bottom. I also stopped the massage to cup the other side of her bottom. A little adjustment to her position and my erection was between her legs, pointing at its destination. I had no doubt whatsoever that she could feel it pressing against her inner thigh.

I could tell by the way her eyes widened that she knew what was brushing against her. She started shaking her head, while I pressed lightly against her, seeking, but not forcing entry.

“No,” she protested softly, while I pressed a little more firmly.

“Yes,” I told her, and at the same time her lips yielded, letting my erection enter. Not all the way, just parting a little and closing around the head. That done she seemed to clamp down on me, resistant to me coming in any deeper.

I brought my hands up and between our bodies, covering her breasts.

“Sit up,” I told her, rubbing and pressing against her breasts.

“I can’t do that,” she insisted. “If I do you’ll, ah, you’ll. . .”

“No, I won’t,” I assured her. “You will. You’ll be able to control things, taking charge, as it were. Now up you go.”

I started pressing a little harder against her chest and she started sitting up, protesting the whole way. It was a case of, “Oh my gawd, you’re doing it. You’re raping me when you said you wouldn’t. How big is that thing? Too big if you ask me. How can you do this to me?”

“Hey, be fair,” I protested. “I’m not doing it to you. You’re doing it to me. I’ve given permission so it’s not rape as far as I’m concerned.”

As she moved to a more upright position she relaxed a little, not much nut enough to let me sink deeper into her. She protested and complained all the while until she was finally sitting, straddling me, with my cock firmly in place inside her.

She just sat there, muttering softly to herself. Finally I asked a question.

“Is this where you show I’m right and you’re just going to sit there like a lump?”

She gave me a furious look and started rocking in place, not very strenuously but sufficient to start some proper skin on skin action. Being a well-meaning young man I started moving with her, again not strenuously but enough to increase the action.

She continued in the same vein for a while, not eagerly making love but acting in an ‘I’ll show him’ manner. I was quite happy to be shown. It turned out that the problem from her point of view (not mine) was that the light friction was starting to get to her. After a while she was no longer acting but reacting, starting to become more fully involved in our little encounter.

My hand had been on her hips, a subtle way of discouraging her from suddenly dismounting and fleeing the scene. Now I let them drift up until they were covering her breasts, with me teasing them, helping to build on her arousal while she started rubbing her breasts against my hands.

It wasn’t too much longer before she wasn’t controlling things although I suspect she thought she was. I was pulling back further and driving in harder, watching and enjoying her reaction just as much as I was enjoying the actual action.

At some stage she’d put the way things had started aside and was just enjoying herself, giving herself over to the ride, and I was happy to help her in this.

She was quite a responsive little thing and I could see that it wouldn’t be too long before she had a climax. I was good to go for a while yet but I had no objection to her having a nice orgasm to keep her happy.

She climaxed and I relaxed, letting her have her happy time. Once she calmed down after that I’d roll her onto her back and really get to work. I figured I could give her a second orgasm before I fired off.

She gave one last little shudder and I smiled at her.

“That was for you,” I told her. “Now we can get down to it and see just how well we get on together.”

“I know how well,” she said with a smile. “Badly.”

Before I had time to register what she’d said she’d rolled off me, grabbed her clothes, and darted around a bush and down a track I hadn’t even realised was there. The old saying that a woman with dress up runs faster than a man with trousers down was still terribly true. By the time I’d scrambled to my feet and hitched my trousers up she was gone. Not knowing to where or whom the trail led there was no way I was running down there after her.

I said a few pithy words, tidied myself up, and continued up the mountain, just me, my erection, and a pair of blue balls.