He Wouldn't Stop at First...

I'm battling with a decision, and I'm not very good at those, and the decision I made that night is at the root of my dilemma now.

Should I tell Mark exactly what happened, or should I just pass it over as an 'act of kindness,' because that's all he needs to know?

It certainly didn't seem like an 'act of kindness' when I'd been tied naked to that bed watching my 'saviour' undress in front of me.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, I must tell you a little about myself, before I explain how I came to be in this state of indecision.

My name is Laura, I'm 35, a curvy blonde, a bit too heavy, but I still get chatted up by farmers, and guys in the supermarket.

I've been married to Mark for ten years.

He works for a software company and is away from home a lot, particularly in the US.

We have no children so I have a job in sales for an agricultural feed company, and get to visit farms across the UK.

I've been faithful to Mark thoughout our marriage, but I must admit it's been a strain sometimes during his extended periods away from home. He's often said to me that if I had 'strayed' he wouldn't have blamed me, but I always thought that that was a jokey way of him feeling guilty about his job.

Whether Mark had remained faithful, I wasn't entirely sure. When he is away I shut that sort of thing out of my mind, but occasionally when we speak long distance on the phone, and I can hear that he's in a bar with other people, I have my doubts, and usually go straight to bed with my trusty vibrator.

Anyway, back to the reason behind my dilemma.

Mark is asleep beside me, he is snoring, I am wide awake, and I've just used a tissue to soak up his semen that's been oozing from my pussy.

The sex was good, he was in a hurry, not having had sex for a month, since he flew off to LA. and although I didn't cum it was just nice to have him back inside me.

But did he realise I'd had sex last week with a total stranger, and, indeed, a stranger that had taken advantage of me. If I tell him about it, he will escalate it, and want the police involved, and I don't want all of what will follow, and to be truthful to myself, do I regret it?

And thereby hangs the decision.

I've been over it countless times in my mind, wondering if it might have been different, wondering if I could have made better choices, but circumstances had dictated a lot of what happened.

I'd had to travel to a farm right up in the north of Scotland, miles from anywhere, and I should have realised that I was taking a chance because my company car had been 'playing up' for a few days.

The drive back home was over 350 miles, mostly on highland roads so I'd booked a hotel partway home. I thought I'd take my time, because I'd got a couple of days off, and was going to do some shopping in Edinburgh.

Anyway I'd only gone about 50 miles before there were peculiar noises coming from the engine. It was losing power, and it was getting dark, and it was miles from anywhere.

I pulled into a muddy track at the side of the road, and pulled my mobile out of my bag. No signal!

I remember shouting, "Shit" and thumping the steering wheel. When I tried to restart the engine it was absolutely dead.

The main road, if you could call it that, was empty, until in the distance, from down the muddy track, I saw headlights approaching.

I got out of the car, and immediately lost one of my high heeled shoes in the mud.

Rescuing it, I saw that the headlights belonged to a battered old Land Rover, and as it pulled up, out of the drivers' door stepped a huge Scotsman.

Even now, thinking about him, it sends a shiver down my spine. That was the moment I made a decision that led to what I'm grappling with now, in the dark, in my bed, next to my sleeping husband.

In a broad Scottish accent I remember him saying, "Aww lassie, and what trouble are you in?"

In a hurried explanation, and getting increasingly cold in the night air, I'd explained about the car.

"Och aye, well you'd better come with me, you're not going anywhere with that tonight. Lock it up, I'll fetch it in the morning."

I remember saying that I'd find a hotel, to which he'd laughed, and just as I reached to grab my overnight bag he'd taken my arm and lifted me bodily out of the mud, and carried me to the Land Rover. In a moment all decisions had been removed from me, and we were reversing, and going back up the track.

The Land Rover had smelt agricultural, but I was used to that. He smelt of sweat, and honest toil, and I nervously studied him out of the corner of my eye.

He was a huge man, in his 60s, all of six foot six, with a large bushy beard, and a mop of matted, curly hair.

In the dashboard lights I remember his massively thick, forearms and thighs, his gnarled fingers that were pulling at the steering wheel.

I'd looked at my mobile again, and he had laughed with disdain.

"You won't get that thing working here lassie."

I asked him his name, trying to relax myself.

"Douglas, lassie, just call me Douglas."

A building appeared, and from the moonlight I could see a cottage, near some water, on the edge of what seemed to be a wooded area, or forest.

He ushered me inside, gripping my arm as we went. I definitely felt a foreboding, and once inside I said again, "You can drive me to a hotel in the village, I can stay there..."

He'd been very assertive, "You're here now lassie, you're my guest, have a wee dram, it'll warm you."

I wasn't a whisky drinker, but I felt I didn't want to upset him, and I was, very obviously, in Scotland.

He'd poured a large tumbler full of malt, and after just one sip it had gone straight to my head.

"You'll sleep in the spare room next to mine lassie."

I recall putting my glass down and blindly following him upstairs, into a very simply furnished bedroom, with just a single bed, a dressing table and a wardrobe.

"The bathroom's next door, I'll drive down to the village and see the mechanic first thing, I'm up early so you do as you want."

He was so tall, and towered over me in the tiny room, and he was standing right up close to me. His huge hands suddenly grabbed my shoulders, holding me firmly, turning me round, examining me like an animal that he was considering buying.

In a considered way he said, "You're a sturdy woman, straight back, good haunches. You'd do well on the land."

l remembered not replying, but shivering, thinking that I should have insisted on going to a hotel.

"I'm off to bed, got work to do in the morning."

And then he was gone, he went back through the door, and went into his bedroom.

I'd poured the rest of the whisky down the bathroom sink, and although the basin looked rather tired and dirty I washed my face and went to bed.

I had a fitful sleep, and the singing birds had woken me. I lay there and I heard Douglas moving about.

I slipped out of bed and pulled the curtains slightly apart. The window looked out onto a path that led from the front door down to a loch about 50 yards away, and the sun was just rising.

But what had grabbed my immediate attention was Douglas swimming in the loch. Looking more closely I could see that he was swimming naked.

I couldn't take my eyes off him as he swam powerfully away from the shore, then back again and repeated it. I must have watched for 10 or 15 minutes, until he began to walk out of the water.

I remember taking a deep breath.

His naked body was impressive for a man of six decades. His hair was actually auburn, his chest covered in a lighter gingery down. Lower down it became darker again, but my eyes were drawn to his cock swinging from side to side as he walked back up the path to the house. It was bigger than I'd ever seen on the occasional porn films Mark had shown me.

"Fucking hell!" I heard myself saying that quietly, and I remember thinking how powerful he looked.

As he approached I stepped away from the window, the curtains fell back into place, I knew that Douglas had seen me watching him.

By the time I'd got dressed Douglas had gone, and I found some breakfast, albeit stale bread, and some cheese, with milk from the fridge.

I tried my mobile again, but it was still useless, and as the morning passed I felt increasingly helpless, until Douglas reappeared in a towtruck with my car hitched up on the back.

He was accompanied by a mechanic who took great delight in telling me that he thought he knew what was wrong with it, and that it wouldn't be ready until next day, he said that it needed some part or other.

They had driven off back up the track and I was left wondering if I ought to try to walk up to the main road and seek refuge in the village hotel.

The loch, the forest, the hills were magnificent and something made me want to stay and enjoy it all.

Yes, I had wondered about Douglas's forcefulness, and his brashness, but I thought maybe it was just a woodsman's lack of social contact, and certainly lack of contact with women.

In the sunshine I had decided to walk off round the loch, and found a rough path up a nearby hillside. The view was wonderful, and I was surprised when my mobile 'pinged' several times, and texts appeared, all from Mark. Briefly, I had found a signal.

The texts were asking if I was ok, and why I wasn't replying, The signal was weak, but I managed to send a fairly comprehensive explanation of what had happened, and that a generous man had rescued me, and was putting me up until my car was repaired.

No reply came back, either because of the signal, or because it was between 4am and 5am in LA.

I'd lost track of time, the countryside was so beautiful, and when I looked at my watch it was almost 5pm. I made my way back to the house and when I entered, Douglas was in the kitchen, and the smell indicated that he was cooking some sort of stew or hotpot.

I remember him casually saying, "I thought you'd run off lassie, I'm cooking a rabbit stew, you ok with that?"

When I'd gone into the tiny kitchen he'd already got his glass of malt, and was pouring one for me.

Again I didn't refuse, and as he handed me the glass, he reached with his other hand and ran his rough fingers through the length of my hair, down to my neck.

Whether he saw me shiver, I'm not sure, but when he added, "You've got good locks, a fine head of hair," I realised that this was actually him trying to pass a compliment in his rough, uncultured way.

I was sipping my whisky slowly, and the rabbit stew turned out to be surprisingly tasty, although the turnips and potatoes that accompanied it were a touch undercooked.

"You do the dishes, I'm just going out to lock up."

It had been an order, not a request, but it was only fair that I did something to help, so after my second whisky, I unsteadily made my way to the kitchen and did my best with the very worn and rather dirty kitchen sink.

By the time Douglas returned it was getting dark. I was just hoping that my car would be fixed in the morning, and I could get back to civilisation.

Douglas poured yet another glass of malt for both of us, and at that point I knew I was getting quite drunk. I tried to sip more slowly, but I could see that Douglas was watching me closely, and I'd begun to feel rather uncomfortable.

It was then that the evening started to unravel, and I remember the stab of fear I felt in my stomach.

"You'll sleep in my bed tonight, lassie."

I froze momentarily, and tried to look puzzled, "Why, I'm quite ok in the single bed, there's no need?"

"I've decided, and that's that." His eyes had drilled into me across the room.

Trying not to panic I'd quietly said, "But where will you sleep, you're too big for the single bed?"

The dreaded reply came back which I knew was coming, "With you lassie, with you!"

I stood up, I had wanted to get outside, but the whisky had taken effect, and as I stumbled, Douglas stood up and caught me as I fell.

"Oh no young lady, you're going nowhere, you're coming with me."

Douglas was suddenly gripping both my wrists, and I had tried to wriggle free, but he was far too strong. I tried kicking, but I had no shoes on, and in an instant he had lifted me clear of the ground, and in a bear hug he carried me towards the stairs.

I was shouting, "Douglas, don't do this...no, please no...let's talk about this."

In his arms I felt the heat from his body, and I could smell his sweat.

Still struggling I'd tried to reach out and grab anything, the bannisters, the door frame, but once inside his bedroom I really knew the game was up.

There had been absolutely no point in screaming, the nearest road was two miles away, and on my walk I'd seen no signs of habitation at all.

I made one more plea.

"Douglas there's no need to do this, I'll pay you for your generosity, look, I won't say anything about this."

The look in his eyes told me it was useless. He wanted me and was going to have me.

"Get undressed...do it!" he had shouted.

I played my last card. Tears!

But by now Douglas's lust was beyond control, beyond all reason.

I had sobbed as he took the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it up over my head, When he saw my boobs overflowing in quite a small bra he became even more impatient. Tugging at my jeans he'd managed to undo the button and pull down the zipper. At that point he pushed me backwards across the bed and began pulling them down over my ankles. Finally I was lying there in just my skimpy bra and tiny panties.

He'd grunted in appreciation, but I made one last attempt to escape.

As I rolled off the opposite side of the bed Douglas just said, "Lassie, you're not getting away."

He stood between me and the door, so I jumped onto the bed to try to beat him to it, but a combination of the soft mattress, and the effects of the whisky made me stumble again.

This time he grabbed me and stripping his belt from his grubby trousers, he looped it around my wrist, pushed me back on the bed and tied the other end of the belt around the bedpost.

And that was it, there was going to be no way out, and whatever Douglas wanted, he was going to take.

I had watched as he went to a drawer and took out what appeared to be a couple of scarves. He walked around the bed and took my free arm and tied my wrist to the other bed post. Walking back he replaced the belt with the other scarf and I resolved in my head that I was done for.

"Douglas there's no need, I won't tell, just let me go...please!" I was pleading and pleading.

But Douglas had wanted me, and so he leaned over and his hand felt for the clasp on my bra. My body was twisting, my legs were still free, but I couldn't prevent my boobs being freed, and he gave a grunt of appreciation as his hands ran over them, squeezing them, pinching my nipples.

The feeling of his rough woodsman's hands had made me shiver.

Finally holding my legs down he'd attempted to tug my tiny panties down, but my struggling had frustrated his attempt and impatiently he just ripped them from my body and tossed them aside.

Douglas stood for a moment, appreciatively looking down at my naked body.

For a brief moment our eyes had met, his in lust, mine in apprehension and fear. My mind had gone back to Mark, by now getting up in LA and going to work, I wondered if he had any inkling of what I was about to go through. He knew I'd met a good samaritan, but had he wondered if it was as it seemed in my text?

My brief thought process ended as Douglas stripped off his shirt, revealing the reddish hair on his chest, and his powerful frame bent over, as he unzipped his trousers and stepped out of them.

Discarding his socks he was left standing in rather faded baggy underpants, which I remember were showing the beginnings of an erection.

When he tucked his fingers inside the waistband and let them drop, he saw my eyes widen, and all I could say was, "Oh god...no Douglas...you can't...you're too big...please...I'm pleading...please."

He'd given a gruff chuckle, and he seemed to delight in just standing there as his cock became engorged and seemed to grow visibly, raising itself upwards.

When he finally put his knees on the bed I'd twisted my body away from him as much as my bonds would allow.

Again I had pleaded, "Please Douglas...it's not too late...I won't tell...please...be reasonable...please think..."

But any reason had long gone.

Reaching down he'd forced a hand between my thighs and found my pussy. One of his fingers found its way between my labia and pushed inside.

I actually felt guilt because I knew that I was quite wet down there, and when he felt that, he grunted something incomprehensible, but I knew what he was thinking.

Douglas then grabbed both my thighs, just above the knees and forced them down on the bed. As he clambered onto the bed, he pulled my thighs apart and knelt between them.

He was now able to look down at my pussy, which although I'd shaved it a few days before, it was now showing a soft downy covering.

By now a lot of my strength had gone, it had been futile to resist, but I could see the thickness and the hardness of his cock pointing upwards just above my pussy.

I recall making one last attempt to reason, and I spoke softly.

"Douglas...I know you want me, untie me, I won't run, let's just talk sensibly about this..."

And then everything happened in slow motion.

I saw Douglas reach down and grab both my breasts, feeling them, kneading them with his gnarly palms, and then I'd heard him snort at the back of his throat and he'd spat a huge wadge of saliva into the palm of his hand, and spread it over the head of his cock. I'd watched as it glistened and he ran his hand up and down until the whole of it was encased in his spit.

He pushed his cock downwards and I'd felt the head against my pussy.

I was pleading, and there was absolute panic in my voice, "No Douglas...NO!...please don't hurt me...you're too big...PLEASE!...oh god...please...oh god...OH GOD!"

I don't know how loudly I had screamed, it didn't really matter because no one could hear me except Douglas.

Douglas pushed, and I prayed out loud, "OH...GODDDDDD!...HELP ME...!"

And suddenly I was aware he was inside me, not all the way, but inside me, and thankfully he stayed there, still, for just a few seconds.

I was still desperately asking him. "Slowly...please Douglas...slowly."

We'd gone beyond the point of no return. My arms were aching outstretched, my wrists were sore from the ties, and I just wanted for it to be over.

Douglas had ignored my plea for him to go slowly. He was pushing harder and it was feeling like I was being ripped apart. When he was deep inside me I'd felt another pain as his cock rammed against my cervix. He was just enormous.

And then he was like a man possessed. His enormous weight had pressed down, his bearded face was coming closer to mine, and he kissed me, and I remember his whisky laden breath was almost suffocating me. His tickly hair was between my lips, but more importantly his hips were starting to drive his cock back and forth inside me.

I was now just trying to survive the onslaught, and I wondered if any pleasure from it would arrive.

My pussy did begin to accommodate him better, and I felt my juices making it a bit easier, but suddenly it was all over.

With a grunt and an arching of his back he'd lifted his head away from me, and I watched as he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes,

In my pussy his cock had seemed to swell and fill me even more, I was feeling his jerking and that intense heat from being pumped full of semen.

I gasped as suddenly his whole body weight collapsed onto me. My arms were desperately tugging at the ties, and Douglas was realising I was struggling to breathe.

"Get off please..." I had felt I was in real danger of suffocating.