Naked Housework

I'm a bit of a closet naturist. I'd never go nude in public, not even on a nude beach or at a nudist camp, but at home I have a tendency to shed my clothes. Why not? There's no-one there to see me and I find it liberating. I do all my housework nude.

I'm not careless about my nudity. A certain natural modesty prevents that. I keep a slip-on housedress available on a peg next to the front door. It's the work of a moment to put it on before answering the door. If I have visitors who are actually going to come into the house I take a moment to slip into my bedroom for some underwear.

Currently I was in the kitchen doing a bit of cooking, listening to the radio and trying to keep one ear peeled for the door-bell. I've been expecting a package for several days now, and I've been bugging the postman about it. He has to deliver it to the door because he needs to get a signature. I have stressed several times that the package is important and that I need it.

Truth to tell, it wasn't need, but greed, that was making me impatient. My parents are abroad and they said they'd sent me a present by registered mail. I'm dying to see what it is.

I nearly died when Ron, the postman, walked into the kitchen. There I was, naked, and my dress was up next to the front door. I was thinking, "Oh god, I'm naked and there's a man in the house. This is it. I'm about to be raped." He was complete blasé about it.

"Hi, Kelly," he said casually. "I have your parcel. Your doorbell isn't working and you didn't answer my knock, but I thought I'd better bring it in anyway. I know how desperate you have been to get it."

I'd heard some banging but thought it was just kids out in the street. Noisy little tykes they are at times.

I'm like, "Ah, yes, um, thanks," while inside I was screaming, "Get out of here. Can't you see I'm naked?"

Apparently not. He just passed me this silly little computer toy for me to etch my signature on. Still dithering I signed it and took my package, clinging to it. (Not that it was big enough to hide any of my charms. Where Ron was concerned it seemed to be a case of what charms? I wondered if he was gay.)

Ron took his little toy, tapped it a couple of times with the stylus and slipped it into his belt. He nodded to me and turned to go and I was so relieved that I opened my mouth and stuck my foot in it.

"Oh," I said, "this means that you're not going to rape me?"

I'd been a little worked up over his unexpected presence and my own nudity. I thought I sounded relieved. Ron apparently thought I sounded disappointed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said softly, turning to face me again, "I hadn't realised that you wanted me to. You have to forgive me. I'm a little slow picking up on things like that. No problem, though. I'll be happy to oblige."

"Wait," I gabbled quickly. "I didn't mean that I wanted you to rape me."

"Of course not," Ron agreed. "That's the essence of being raped, isn't it? I fully understand that you have to say no. Don't let it bother you."

Oh my god. He didn't believe me. He thought I wanted this. Even while I was protesting and he was saying soothing nothings, he was turning me to face the table and pushing me to bend over it.

"Seriously, Ron," I assured him, "I don't want this, and don't touch me there."

That last was added on when his hand went sliding across my pussy, rubbing me. I squirmed and tried to move away but to actually get anywhere I'd have had to climb up onto the table. I gave a squeal as I felt his fingers probing between my lips, pushing inside me.

"My, my, what a surprise," he said. "You're already nice and wet."

He certainly didn't sound surprised. He sounded downright smug. Me, I was astounded. How could I possibly be wet from just wondering if a man was going to rape me and if so what would it be like. I hadn't been aroused by the thought, not really.

"Come on, Ron, cut it out," I half-wailed at him. "You're not serious about this are you?"

Then I gave a sharp gasp as I felt his answer pressing against me. Not only was he serious about this but he was actually doing it. I couldn't believe this was happening. My disbelief was very swiftly shown to be nonsense as Ron's cock started pushing its way inside me, moving smoothly into me.

I protested, loudly. Ron metaphorically patted me on the head and said there, there. He didn't believe me. He thought I was putting on an act and wanted this and I couldn't convince him otherwise. After all, everything I said was part of the game.

He took me. No muss, no fuss, he just slid smoothly in, his cock sinking all the way in with one long slow thrust. He held it for a moment while his arms came around me and his hands covered my breasts.

"Now let's get this show on the road," he whispered softly in my ear, at the same time pulling back.

Then he put the show on the road, slipping easily back into me, starting to arouse me. He moved slowly at the start, just softly moving back and forth, his every action a soft encouragement for me to start moving in time with him.

God help me, I did. I found myself pushing back against him as he took me, moving almost dreamily. He'd come sliding in, bringing pleasure with him, and I was moving towards that pleasure, accepting it and wanting more.

His hands were rubbing my breasts, teasing them while he plundered my body, and it was exciting. There was nothing I could do but go along with what was happening, my body being used by a man for his pleasure, my pleasure being incidental to his needs.

Despite that, my pleasure was a real thing, flooding through me, exciting me, building on the arousal that had been engendered by his invasion. I couldn't control my reactions, my body moving with his, moving faster as he stepped up the pace. I was gasping and sounding off with little cries of pleasure.

You know, those little cries I was giving were actually a real source of annoyance to me. I couldn't help them they were just there, coming out of me while I gasped and moved against him, but I knew, I just knew, that Ron was listening to them and taking then as approval of his act of rape.

If I'd had any spare breath I'd have sworn, but all my efforts were going towards helping my rape reach a proper conclusion. Ron was thrusting into me really hard, having a whale of a time, pounding his cock back and forth inside me, cheering me on as I bounced under him, desperate to keep up.

It was all too much. I couldn't keep going. Everything was spiralling out of control and there was no way I could do anything to stop what was happening. It turned out that there was one way - I climaxed. My orgasm hit me like an express train and I just screamed and went with it. Ron took my enthusiasm for my own climax as the cue to really let fly and I could feel him jerking about inside me as he ejaculated into me.

I slumped forward over the table, feeling Ron withdrawing. The next thing I knew I received a firm spank to my bottom.

"It's been fun but I've got to go," Ron said cheerfully. "Mail to deliver, you know. I'll see you around."

With that he wandered off, whistling. What was I supposed to do? Two things I could think of that needed immediate attention. First, lock that damn front door. Two, fix the doorbell. This would never have happened if I'd done either of those things.

Oh, yes. A third thing. Learn when to keep my big mouth closed.