His Father

Johnny has been trying to persuade me to go to bed with him for a while now. I have to say that Johnny has a different interpretation to the word persuade that the one you find in the dictionary. OK, I'll admit that there was some persuasion in his methods but there also seemed to be a touch of intimidation, coercion, blackmail, pleading, lying, promises, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Whatever and however, if he thought it would wind up with me in bed with him he used it.

I suppose I should point out that the bed part wasn't really a necessity from his point of view. Anywhere, anyplace, if he thought he could make me lose my panties he'd be having a go.

Isn't it funny how 'if you love me you would' is considered a reasonable argument while 'if you love you'd wait' is considered emotional blackmail. Things had reached a point where I was going to succumb and go to bed with him or just call it over and dump him. The reason I hadn't done either was because I was sort of torn. Yes, I liked him and didn't want to lose him, but did I like him that much? Add to that a hefty dose of my own hormones, and curiosity about matters sexual, and you can see where I was having a difficult time.

This particular Saturday afternoon I was at a loose end. My parents were away for the weekend and since I turned eighteen they've been quite happy to leave me home alone. There was a concert that I'd wanted to see that afternoon but neither Johnny nor I had been able to secure tickets. That really gave me the irrits as I'd badly wanted to go.

Still, it's an ill wind, they say. Johnny would also be home as with the concert on there weren't really any other major attractions. I'd drop by his place and we could go to the park or something and talk. Afterwards I'd maybe, just maybe, invite him home, and we could have some quality time together. Just him and me. Alone. At my house. I gave a little shiver just thinking about it. The possibilities of that maybe occurring had just jumped somewhat.

I strolled around to Johnny's place. The front door was open and when I knocked a voice yelled out.

"Come in if you're good looking. Go away if you're not."

Well, naturally I strolled in, heading through to the kitchen, which was where the voice seemed to come from. When I walked in Brad, Johnny's father, seemed to be swearing at his stove. Also I noticed that the cupboards above the stove had unexpectedly lost their doors. Unexpected on my part, I might add. Brad seemed to know about it.

"Suzette," Brad exclaimed. "Well, I sure called that one right. Is Johnny with you and what are you doing here?"

At the same time he gave a grunt of satisfaction, and grabbed a screwdriver and stuck a screw into the wall behind the stove top for some reason. It looked as though he'd stuck some sort of bracket on the wall.

"No, Johnny's not with me. I came around to have a talk with him seeing we had a free afternoon."

Brad flicked a quick puzzled look in my direction while he reached for and picked up this big black box. That explained the missing doors and the bracket I realised as he rested the back of the box on the new bracket.

"Yes, well Johnny's not here and I have to admit I'm surprised to see you. Johnny said he was going to the concert with his girlfriend as she badly wanted to go. I had to call in favours to get him those tickets."

I started sizzling. Johnny had tickets and hadn't said a word to me about them. Rather, he flatly stated that he couldn't get his hands on any, no matter how hard he tried.

"Oh, dear," said Bram in a concerned voice while at the same time he managed to balance a screw on a screwdriver with one hand and then rammed the screwdriver up into the guts of the black box. What I found odd was that he didn't turn the screwdriver. The shaft just seemed to rotate as he pushed the screw into place.

"It seems to me that Johnny is playing the field a little. Sorry about that."

He let go the range hood and it stayed in place. He nodded in satisfaction and reached for another screw.

"Tell you what," he said, just as I was about to storm off in a fury, not knowing whether to scream or cry, "stick around until I finish installing this." The new screw went in. "Once I'm done I'll help you to forget all about him and you can drop him for being a two-timer."

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused as he reached for what looked like the third and last screw. I was also confused about how he was screwing in those screws. I'd never hear of an automatic screwdriver but that's what he seemed to be using.

Sure enough, he just rammed the screwdriver up with a funny sound coming from it, and pulled the screwdriver away again, screw fastened.

"Well," he said, sliding open the range hood and nodding approval as the lights came on and the fan started, "what I'll do as soon as I've finished is strip you, ignoring your feeble protests. Then I'll pick you up and carry you down to my room, knowing that even if you do struggle it won't do you any good. That looks pretty good," he went on as he slid the slide closed, shutting down the range hood. "Pass me one of those doors, please."

Now I was a little stunned by finding out about Johnny's perfidy so perhaps I wasn't listening as closely as I should have been. I did hear that bit about the doors and picked one up and handed it to Brad. That's when the rest of what he said started to seep through into my awareness and I straightened up with a jerk. I was out of here, right this instant.

"Next door," called Brad and I automatically picked it up and passed it to him, startled to see the first door already back in place. How long had I been just standing there? Only a few seconds, apparently. Brad pressed the door against the hinges on the cupboard and flicked a couple of things and the door was attached.

"What? How?" I went and Brad laughed.

"Modern cupboard hinges are designed to snap into two parts, allowing for easy detachment and re-attachment of the door. Put the two halves together and snap on the catch and you have a perfectly operable hinge."

He stretched and for some reason that little action made him look extra big. I'd never thought him to be particularly large but suddenly I was rethinking it. Time for me to be leaving, anyway.

"I'm glad you stayed," he said, one long arm reaching out and capturing mine. "I was afraid you might chicken out."

With that he just hauled me over to him. I now knew beyond a shadow of doubt that yoga pants had been a mistake. If I'd been leading Johnny on to a point where he wanted to rip them off me, that was one thing. To have Brad just casually pick me up, tucking me under his arm and peeling both my yoga pants and panties down and off was something else again.

I couldn't believe a man could undress me that quickly. He swung me back onto my feet and before I could do anything he was lifting up my top, pulling it firmly up. I could splutter and yell but that accomplished exactly nothing with my top land on the table next to where he'd tossed my yoga pants. And my bra, I belatedly noticed. He hadn't even bothered to undo it, just lifting it up and off along with the top.

He moved back a little and I could practically feel his eyes running over me. He gave me this big smile, clearly delighted with what he was seeing, then scooped me up and carted me out of the kitchen, presumably heading towards his bedroom.

I wriggled and protested quite vigorously and to absolutely no benefit. No benefit to me, that is. After a few moments it dawned on me that he was actually enjoying the way I struggled, probably because it meant my naked body was rubbing itself all over him.

I managed to take firm control of myself. I stopped wriggling and yelling and just looked him in the eye.

"Put. Me. Down," I said, slowly and distinctly.

I almost died when he did. Just like that he let me go and I was falling. All the way down to his bed, which I hadn't known was under me. He was still smiling and looking at me and, worst of all, undoing his trousers. His trousers went down, his cock seemed to leap into the air, and I went scrabbling backwards away from him.

"Oh, no. No way." I was being very insistent. "You're not going to rape me. You're just not. I'm not going to let you."

"You know what? You're right," he said, still smiling.

"What?" I couldn't believe I heard him say that. If he wasn't going to rape me then what was with the stripping and dragging me up to his bedroom?

"I'm not going to rape you," he repeated.

I was feeling a little indignant and almost demanded why not but common sense prevailed.

"While I wouldn't mind enjoying your lovely body rather intimately, it wouldn't be fair to you, so no rape. I will just take a totally unfair advantage of having you here naked and pet you for a while. I mean, a body as lovely as yours need to be petted on a regular occasion and if I didn't do it I'd feel guilty of leaving you unloved and deprived."

"No, no, that's OK," I assured him. "Feel free to leave me unloved and deprived. I won't mind."

He just laughed and, grabbed my ankle, and pulled so I was lying flat on the bed.

"Don't worry. I'm just going to taste you a little. You can always say stop if you think I'm going too far."

"Stop," I said and he just laughed.

"Wait until we've started and then you can pick your time."

Oh, Lord, and I'd thought Johnny was a bit free with his hands. Brad made him look like a one-armed infant. He started off by stroking my breasts. Not really surprising as they were my, let's say, most outstanding feature. From there his hands roamed freely and I had no clothes to obstruct them. I was twisting about under his touch, trying to tell myself I didn't like it, but it was really quite erotic how he always seemed to know how I was going to react to any specific touch.

The matter wasn't helped at all by the fact that where his hands weren't, his mouth was. He started off by kissing my breasts but then his mouth started following his hands and his hands went everywhere. It was one thing when he cupped my chin in one hand and brushed my lips with his thumb. The brush of his lips across my mouth was actually quite nice.

For all that it was something else entirely when his hand massaged my vagina and the moved on, leaving his mouth to take over. I was apparently making funny sounds as his tongue dipped between my lips and explored me internally. The reason I say that was because he lifted his head and laughed at me, and then he did it again.

Another problem I ran into was that because he was moving all over the place and as he still had his trousers off his blasted cock kept poking me in unexpected places. I had no choice but to grab hold of it and try to restrain it.

For some reason the weather must have been heating up because I was feeling hot. Too hot for comfort. I was also feeling most peculiar, with Brad's hands and mouth doing weird things to me, completely destroying my peace of mind. Not that I'd had much peace from the moment he pulled my panties down. It seems that there's something about losing your panties that also helps you to lose your mind.

I must have lost my mind because when he pulled his cock loose from my hold and moved between my thighs I just lay there watching and wondering what he intended doing now. I mean, he had used one hand to spread my lips apart and his other one was guiding his cock into position and I was just watching. It wasn't until his cock was actually brushing against my lips that it occurred to me to ask what was going on.

"Wait a minute," I said quickly. "What are you doing? You said you'd just be touching me."

"I am touching you," he pointed out. "Can't you feel me touching you here?"

For emphasis he pressed his cock against me and by lifting my head I could see that what I thought I felt was exactly what was happening. His cock was already pushing past my lips and into me.

I could now feel it getting ready to surge ahead and I was quick to pick him on this.

"You swore that you weren't going to rape me," I rapidly put forth and he had the gall to nod.

"That's right. I also said that you could tell me to stop at any time. Have you told me to stop?"

"Well, no." I had to admit it because I hadn't. "But. But. . ."

"Then there're no problems," he said happily. "I mean, you can still tell me to stop if you want me to, can't you?"

I gasped at that point because he moved just a little further into me. Just a little but the operative word there was into, as into me, inside me, his cock was sinking into me.

I hastened to agree that I still had the right to tell him to stop and he nodded in satisfaction.

"There, you see. No problems. When you're ready. Until then I'll just continue your education a little."

I gave a small squeal at that stage because he'd pushed in a little bit deeper and something inside me seemed to give way. He was no longer just teasing me at the surface but was starting to move down my passage. I had this dreadful suspicion that my cherry was no longer there to be popped.

I was still watching, seeing and feeling his cock sink into me. (Oh, boy, was I ever feeling it.) A little voice was talking to me, pointing out that he wasn't stopping. Why wasn't he stopping? Perhaps because you haven't got around to telling him to, came slowly to mind. Far too slow a reminder because he gave another little push, or maybe not so little, and his cock was now well and truly inside me, and I couldn't say stop now. I mean, if I said stop and he stopped it would be with his cock inside me and that wouldn't do. I'd have to wait until he took it out again.

Well, that was my thinking and the logic seemed sound to me at the time.

The flaw with logic is that it only works if you consider all relevant information. I totally forgot to consider that now he had started work in earnest he wouldn't need to take the damned thing out, now would he. I guess he was also at liberty to assume that my not saying stop meant I agreed, not that I did, mind you.

When he pulled back only to reverse direction and push back into me I found myself automatically pushing to meet him. Big mistake. He switched to a 'she's right to go' mode and his movements became a lot more vigorous. Just like that I had this enormous cock making free of my body, plunging in only to bounce back so it could plunge in again.

I was gasping and crying out each time he drove into me. Don't ask me what I was crying out because I can assure you that I had no idea. I wasn't listening. I was just concentrating on what he was doing to me and it was marvellous. (Not that I wanted him to do this, I kept reminding myself.) But, oh, the sensation of his cock sliding along my passage, coming to a sudden halt when his groin slapped against mine. I was fully aroused and my excitement was increasing at a steady pace.

He kept on going and I was totally lost to everything but what he was doing. I could hear the excitement in my voice and there was a furnace within my groin, burning fiercely and spreading through me. When he suddenly upped the tempo I just totally lost it, climaxing and screaming and shaking.

He finally pulled loose and I tried to scrabble a bit of self-possession together.

"I was going to say stop," I said accusingly.

"Were you?" he said, sounding highly surprised. "I didn't hear you. That particular word must have been drowned out by the flood of 'oh, yes's' and 'god, do it, do it, do it's,'" he told me.

"I wasn't saying any such thing," I said. I mean, I wouldn't, surely? From the amused smile on his face I guess I must have.

"I'll tell you what," he said in a kind voice. "Your first time is always a rather traumatic experience. What say we wipe you down so you're feeling better and then we'll do it again, but this time we'll take it more slowly? You'll find that the second time you'll be able to appreciate what's happening a lot more. Come along."

With that he was helping me off the bed and ushering me into the en suite. What the hell was I supposed to do now? Having no idea I took the line of least resistance and just went along with him. After all, I might actually learn a bit more and the first time had been interesting.