By the River

I was feeling rather disgruntled. I'd recently got married and at first everything was fine. We had a nice honeymoon and when we got back home things were just fine and I had no complaints.

My husband is reasonably well off and we own a very nice property that abuts to the river. We even have our own little jetty and a motor boat. The property is easy to keep maintained. I'm an efficient housekeeper and both my husband and I are keen gardeners so the yards were looking good.

Recently my husband's work entered a busy period and I found I wasn't seeing him. He'd leave early for work and come back late and always seemed too pooped to pop, if you get what I mean. Now I could put up with this for a short while, but he had to work weekends as well. He assures me that the busy period will slacken off soon but I've barely caught a glimpse of him for two weeks now. I'm sure that you can see I had some reason for feeling a bit disgruntled.

My old friends work, so I can't see them during the week. I wouldn't mind going back to work but George won't have a bar of it. His wife doesn't need to work so she doesn't work, is his philosophy. (He doesn't count housework and gardening as real work, no matter how much effort it takes.)

Right now it was a lovely sunny day and I had nothing to do. The housework was all done. The garden was fine. I didn't want to watch TV and I didn't feel like shopping. If you're going shopping you really need someone with you so you can discuss your choices. You can't really discuss a new dress with the sales staff. They just say it looks fabulous, even though you know it looks like a rag rejected from a second-hand shop.

So there I was. Sitting on the grass at the bottom of my yard watching the swans swimming along the river. Well, the river was there. The swans were missing. So were the ducks and every other type of water fowl. Really, a lovely broad river, a slow current, insects and fish laid on, what more did the birds want? Some other river, apparently.

In fifteen minutes of watching the river all I saw was one little canoe go paddling by. Not only was I disgruntled, I was bored.

Seeing I wasn't going anywhere, all I had done to my hair was bunch it up and put on a tie to hold it. My boredom came to an abrupt halt when a hand took hold of that bunch of hair and yanked me backwards, changing my sitting position to a lying flat on my back position.

Seeing that I was still being held I couldn't really turn my head to look but the amount of movement I did have gave me a view of my assailant. There was a half-naked man kneeling next to me, and it was the bottom half that was both naked and ready for action. Past him I could see further down the river and there was a canoe pulled up on the bank. The one I'd seen go floating past earlier, I guess.

Now when a half-naked man pounces on you while you're all alone it doesn't take a genius to figure out what his intentions are. Especially when his intention was sticking out the way his was. My first inclination was to scream and I took in a big breath, preparing to do so.

"No," he said firmly, his free hand covering my mouth. "Believe me you do not want to scream. I get all nervous when people scream, so don't do it."

I believed him. The look on his face told me I should. I let out my breath again and just lay there, looking at him. He smiled and, reaching down, he started pulling the hem of my dress up. There was nothing I could do about it. He just kept easing it up until my panties came into view, then pulled it all the way up to my waist. That accomplished he started pushing my panties down.

I was going, "No, no, no, no, you don't want to do this," and he just laughed.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, I do," he mocked, his hand coming up away from my panties and stroking my pussy.

I tried to jam my legs together and he shook his head.

"Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be," he told me. "Kick your panties off and then open your legs a lot wider. If you think I'm threatening repercussions if you don't, then you're right. Just do as you're told."

Reluctantly I did so, parting my knees to encourage my panties to slide down to my ankles and then kicking one foot free. I felt so horribly exposed. I was now naked from the waist down, same as him, with my legs spread, giving him access to everything. Was I feeling nervous about what was going on? You're damned right I was feeling nervous. I'd never been with anyone except my husband and now a stranger was going to trespass.

You're probably also wondering if I was close to panicking. Oddly enough I found that I wasn't. For some reason I was feeling excited. Exhilarated, almost. Rather a weird reaction for a gently raised young lady such as myself, I know, but consider it from my point of view. I was totally helpless and this man was going to take me. I couldn't stop him and all I could really do was wonder what it would be like. That was rather a formidable piece of equipment he was sporting and he was going to use it on me.

He was still rubbing my mound, fingers dancing around and examining me, actually sliding between my lips and entering me.

"My, you're a hot little number, aren't you?" he observed, continuing to massage. I suppose I was. I could feel the heat building inside me, the moisture beading inside me.

He twisted himself around until he was kneeling between my legs, his big hand still firmly closed upon my hair, holding my head down. Until then I'd never realised just how helpless you are to move if someone is holding your head.

"OK, take a hold of me and steer me into position," he ordered.

"What?" A marvel of clarity and economy that word, conveying, 'what, are you kidding?', 'you want me to what?', 'what makes you think I'm going to even touch that thing?', all in one little word.

"Just do it," he said, taking my hand and closing it around his erection.

Oh my god. I was holding his cock in my hand and he wanted me to put it into place. It had looked large and, with my hand curled around it, it felt enormous. I ran my hand along it, trying to assess just how big that thing was.

"No," he snapped, through gritted teeth. "If I wanted a hand-job I'd have told you. Just stick it in."

Well, pardon me for my curiosity. Giving him a nasty look I moved his cock down, wanting to squirm away from it as I found myself dragging it along between my labia until it was in the right place to enter me. Duty done I hastily snatched my hand away.

"You're not done yet," he told me. "I don't want it just hovering around. Part your lips and put me into place."

I was outraged. If he was going to rape me he should be doing the work, not expecting me to do it. I opened my mouth to give him a serve and he tugged on my hair in warning.

"Fine," I said, snatching hold of his silly cock again. "Fine," I repeated, parting my lips with my other hand and pressing his cock between them. "Fucking hell," I gasped, as I found his cock was not only pressing between my lips but pushing in quite energetically.

"Oh my god!" I squalled, not quite screaming, as his cock descended, sliding easily into me, filling me and stretching me. He didn't slow down at all, just continuing to push until I could feel his groin rubbing against mine while his cock was tapping itself against my backbone, it was in so far.

"Now that we've got acquainted," he said softly, "why don't we see what your breasts are like?"

He finally let go my hair, not that that helped me at all. So what if he wasn't holding my head down? He was certainly pinning the rest of me to the ground. With his hands now free he started undoing the button on the front of my dress, peeling the top away to expose my breasts, currently covered in a lacy bra.

"Sorry about this," he told me, "but I can never undo these silly things properly."

With that he grabbed each bra cup and pulled hard in opposite direction, resulting in the strap between the cups just snapping and leaving my breasts exposed to his greedy eyes and hands. His hands closed over them and began fondling them.

"Right, now let's move," he said and promptly started doing so, pulling out and thrusting back into me.

Much to my chagrin I found myself moving right along with him, pulling back slight as he withdrew and then lifting my hips and pushing quite vigorously up to meet him as he came thrusting back into me. He didn't worry about setting a slow pace and working his way up. He started hammering me hard right from the word go, driving in firmly, squeezing my breasts each time he charged in.

This was, I assure you, not something I was accustomed to. My husband took care to make sure I enjoyed myself when we made love. This was just pure lust manifesting itself and I could do nothing but ride the storm. The whole thing was totally wild with him just doing as he liked to me, with me responding madly, lustful passion simply raging through me.

Thinking back over it I can't understand what happened. All I can remember was this frantic excitement that kept building while I was ravished with intense delight, all my senses seeming to be on a knife's edge, even the slightest touch of his hand on my breast sending additional thrills through me.

I was panting and gasping and making funny little sounds and he was going his own way, taking his pleasure from my poor body. When he finally decided to finish off I was already hopelessly lost. I could sense that he was changing his rhythm slightly and then I was climaxing, trying to scream but finding his hand covering my mouth while he jerked in a frenetic motion, spilling his seed inside me.

I collapsed back onto the grass, staring at him, while he calmly got off me and reached for his trousers.

"Not bad," he told me. "You just need a little more practice and you'll be doing OK."

With that the insolent swine was pushing his canoe into the river and paddling away. Not bad but need more practice? Sometimes you just want to scream.