Fragile Flower

Have you ever had that yen to do something just because you've been told not to? I'm not talking about anything illegal, just a part of normal everyday life that you're suddenly told you can't do that. It always gives me the irrits when that happens. Why can't I whistle as I walk down the street? Because it annoys someone? Big fat hairy deal. It annoys me to be told not to and I'm someone. Apparently only other someones count.

I'd recently moved into a new unit. Shortly after that I started to get a distinct sense of hostility from some of the residents in some of the other units. Was it because of my bike? Listen, that bike probably costs more than the typical car I've seen parked in the garage. Was it because some people think I look intimidating? When you're six foot plus and around one seventy five, tanned and with a crewcut I guess I probably do look like a bit of a rough-neck. The leathers probably didn't help but what else would the sensible rider wear on a bike? Some people are just nervous nellies, I guess.

After I'd been at my nice new unit for about a week I met one of the residents while I was downstairs checking for mail. Barbara was a cute little blonde. Not much over five foot tall and very nicely shaped. She looked fit, if a bit pale, and was friendly and personable. We chatted for a bit and then we went our separate ways, me with the firm intention of getting better acquainted.

Come to think of it, that was when the hostility started to appear. We'd barely parted ways when I was warned off talking to her. She was a sweet gentle girl, too good for the likes of me. I just naturally assumed that was jealously speaking from a would-be lothario and intended to ignore the advice.

Somewhat harder to ignore was similar advice given by another male tenant, three female tenants, and the postman. The postman really irritated me. What the hell business was it of his, anyway? The others I could understand, to a certain extent, as they were neighbours.

The warnings all seemed to be variations on a theme. Barbara was a sweet, gentle, girl. Sensitive, and not very strong. Someone who'd had a bad time of it recently and needed time to recover. What she didn't need was some uncouth thug (me, I assume) hanging around and scaring her.

In my typical considerate manner I ignored the various warnings, having no intention of snubbing Barbara just because some people were over protective. This natural brought more warnings, with comments about how people were watching me.

I finally put the question directly to Barbara.

"I know that your complexion is a little pale but apart from that you seem quite healthy to me. Why are people trying to tell me that you're a weak, sickly, little girl? Little, I will grant, you obviously weren't watered enough while you were growing, but you don't seem particularly weak or sickly to me."

"I'm not a little girl. I'm twenty."

"I wasn't referring to your age," I pointed out. "I was referring to your height, or I would have been if you had any."

"We can't all be giraffes like some I can name," she grumbled. "A little while back I caught a nasty case of the flu. If that wasn't bad enough it morphed into pneumonia and I finished up in hospital for two weeks. I'm fully recovered and have been for weeks. When summer rolls around I'll get a bit more colour. It's hard to gain any decent colour when there's no sun available."

I nodded understandingly.

"True enough, so I guess I can ignore those requests not to upset you."

"Which you would have anyway," she put in and I nodded.

"Which I would have anyway," I agreed.

As an aside, I'm a computer trouble shooter and do emergency work for several corporations. Despite what you hear computers are generally quite stable pieces of equipment and it doesn't really pay a corporation to have an expensive trouble shooter on full time, sitting around and eating his head off. Far cheaper to pay someone like me a retainer and send for me when a genuine emergency occurs.

Such an emergency had just arisen at a new office and I was requested to look into it. I called the location, went through the obvious steps, and a couple of not so obvious ones, and agreed to run out there and see what was what. That's one reason for the bike. I could get around fast and my tools could fit quite neatly into the bike's storage compartment.

It took me thirty minutes to reach the site and I was escorted into the computer room. The first thing I did, the very first thing, was to check that the machine was plugged in and turned on. I had already been assured twice that it had been. They lied. They'd plugged it into the power socket and turned on the machine and nothing had happened. Why? Because they hadn't turned on the power at the damned wall. I turned on the power and everything was fine, except for my opinion of the operators.

I returned home and I have to admit that I wasn't in the best of moods. I mean, a one hour round trip because some idiot didn't know how to flick a switch? Ridiculous. I was in no mood for neighbours to make some nasty remarks about my relationship with Barbara and how I'd better not try to develop one. I stalked past not deigning to notice them and got into the lift.

As chance would have it Barbara was in the lift. She must have been coming up from the basement carpark. The two of us were the only ones in the lift which would probably have given the old hens heart palpitations if they knew.

"Barbara," I said. "How nice to see you. I feel I should warn you about my intentions."

"Ah, your intentions? I take it the mouthy brigade has been sounding off again?"

"They have. Accordingly I am going to yield to their worst imaginings where you're concerned."

"Do tell," she said, smirking.

"I intend to. What I'm going to do at some stage, not today but at some stage, is to drag you into my unit, strip your clothes off leaving you completely naked and lay you on the rug in my front room. It's a very soft rug, by the way. Once I have you on the rug I'm going to place your ankles next to your ears so you're completely doubled over, exposed and defenceless. Then, while you watch, I'm going to slowly penetrate you, ignoring any pleas to the contrary, and have my wicked way with you."

"All of that, uh?"

"All of that."

"My struggles and protests will be useless?"

"Totally."

"Interesting. Ah, I believe that this is your floor?"

It was and I departed, still feeling irritated. The laughter following me out of the lift left me bemused.

It was a Saturday about a week later when I once again found myself in the lift with Barbara. I just nodded and didn't say anything. When we reached my floor I held my finger on the open door button and indicated that Barbara should exit the lift. She raised an eyebrow in query and I sighed.

"Oh, ye of short memory. It's Saturday, I'm not working, and I have time to carry out my promised assault upon your quivering body."

I again indicated that she should leave the lift and she gave me a look and did so. She seemed intrigued by what I had in mind. I opened the door to my unit and ushered her in, closing the door behind me.

"Feel the rug," I told her. "See how soft it is."

She gave me an amused look, crouched down, and ran her hand over the rug.

"You're right," she said. "It is. I didn't know rugs could be this soft."

"It's jute, blended with chenille. One of the softest rugs around. My parents picked it up in India. I've always liked it. Now that you know I wasn't kidding about the soft rug will you please take of your clothes, or would you like me to do it for you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your naked body, the soft rug, then my license for licentiousness. The only question is who undresses you."

"Oh, come on. You can't really expect me to get undressed just so you can take advantage of me."

"Good point. I guess it's my duty to proceed with the stripping."

"You're not serious, surely."

I simply shrugged and started undoing the buttons on her blouse. She protested and slapped at my hands but that was all she did. I simply peeled her blouse off and tossed it to one side. That she did protest about a little more loudly.

"Hey, you can't just throw my things about like that."

"Watch me," was my reply. "I'm just going to drop your clothes anywhere I want to."

I showed her what I meant by undoing her bra and tossing it over my shoulder. She was blushing now, hand covering her breasts. Bad choice if she wanted to retain her skirt and panties but a reasonable choice if she was only giving faux protests and pretending to be modest at the same time.

Her skirt and panties dropped away. She didn't try to stop them from going down, just dropping one hand to cover her groin. I went down onto one knee, lifting her feet and stripping off her shoes at the same time as I finished stripping off her clothes.

"Like I said," I softly told her, "completely naked."

I took hold of her wrists, moving her arms away from her body, forcing them behind her back, where I found I could quite comfortably hold them in one hand. I used my free hand to stroke her body, breasts, tummy, mons. She twisted about a little, blushing and protesting.

Pushing her down onto the rug was simple. Some pressure on her shoulders and she had no choice but to sink down. I settled on the rug next to her, hands busy wandering over her body. Deciding that hands weren't enough my mouth also started wandering, starting with her breasts and then moving down.

"Argh. What are you doing?" she demanded.

"It's called oral sex," I pointed out, lifting my head for a moment. "It works like this."

I dropped my head between her thighs again, tongue darting out to touch down around her clitoris. She made a horrified sound, clutching at my hair, although I wasn't sure if she was trying to hold me in place or push me away. I don't think she knew either.

I drew back a little, taking a few moments to drop my trousers. Her eyes opened wider and she started shaking her head.

"You're kidding. You don't really intend to use that thing on me, do you? Are you trying to kill me?"

"Don't worry. I'll only use enough to get you interested," I assured her. Silly question. Of course I was going to use it. I had no worries about whether it would fit. She'd adjust. I just needed to take it slowly to start with.

It was now time to continue on with my promise. I took hold of her ankles and lifted them high, effectively bending her in half and in a position to admire her own pussy. I moved between her legs, my shoulders pressing against them to stop her lowering them again, my erection already pressing lightly against her entrance.

I stretched her lips apart, pressing into the space revealed. Barbara was shaking her head and muttering small protests, something about too much, too soon. I ignored this, removing my hand and letting her lips close around me.

"There, you see. It fits quite nicely," I pointed out.

She promptly pointed out that it wouldn't go all the way as it was just too big. I shook my head.

"You're just being flattering," I told her. "Wait and see."

She was wet and hot and tight. I just leaned against her, watching my cock slowly making its way into her. I wasn't the only one watching. Barbara's eyes were glued to the scene of the crime, and she seemed about ready to protest if she though that things were getting out of control. Silly girl. Things got out of control before her clothes even came off.

I moved steadily deeper, accompanied by little gasps, and squeaks, and what sounded like muttered abuse. She was starting to breathe in a much heavier fashion, almost panting. She was also starting to look more and more excited the deeper I went, as though she couldn't really believe it but was willing to see what happened.

When I finished pushing in that last little bit her eyes finally switched from my now hidden cock to me.

"Oh my god, you did it. I didn't really think you would. How could you do something like this to me?"

"With a great deal of pleasure," I replied. "How are you taking something like this from me?"

She blushed and looked elsewhere.

"Now it was my intention at this point to start banging you like a big bass drum," I explained. "However, as the recipient of the banging it occurs to me that you might rather a slow rhythm in keeping with your fragile state of health. So which is it to be?"

"Fragile state of health, my eye," she snapped indignantly. "I keep telling people I'm fully recovered but do they listen to me?"

"I do," I said happily. "I take it a big bass drum is all the go then."

She didn't deny it so I got to work. I didn't go straight into some lusty banging, wanting to build up to it by degrees. I just pulled right back and then thrust fully into her, smiling at her soft squeal. I continued like that, taking long full strokes, trying to make each successive stroke just a little harder than the previous one.

Barbara was sounding of continuously now, squealing happily (I assume they were happy squeals -- they didn't sound like protests), and pushing eagerly to meet me.

After a while I pushed her legs off my shoulders, finding that they promptly wrapped themselves around my waist. My hands were fondling her breasts and I just kept on giving my all.

I reached a point where I was going to explode and I wasn't going to be able to put it off. Not knowing if Barbara had reached that stage yet I slipped a hand between us, gently adding a few touches to her clitoris. Her eyes opened wide when I did that and it was all that was needed to push her over the edge. We had mutual climaxes and I was quite happy with the outcome.

After she had cleaned herself up and dress Barbara gave me what I think was supposed to be a repressive glare.

"That is not going to happen again," she stated firmly.

"That's fine," I said agreeably. "I never like to repeat myself, anyway. No, next time I'll just push you down onto your hands and knees, pull down your panties, and take you most enthusiastically from behind. We'll see how it compares."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Maybe, but it's what I mean."

I smiled as I escorted her to the door. She gave me a frustrated look, apparently not sure how to respond. It was simple really. If she didn't want to do anything then she could just not accept my invite to enter my unit. I was willing to wager that she would.