Navigator

I've found a way to make myself a little extra cash. It's called eBay. You've probably heard of it. I use it for both buying and selling. What I do is, I go through the local second-hand and charity shops, looking around and seeing if anything appeals. If I find something that I like and it's cheap I buy it. Once home I check on the internet to see what it is worth and then flog it for a nice price on eBay.

My alternative method is to check things at random on eBay. Once again I find I can get things cheap and resell them at a higher price. I don't know why people don't put more research into the value of things before they sell them.

Every so often I have to arrange to go out to some place to actually get my hands on the goods. I don't mind this as I get a chance to talk down the price. Mind you, I am absolutely hopeless with a street directory. I heap praises on the guy who invented GPS and Navigator systems. I just punch in the address and away I go.

Today, things had gone slightly wrong. I punched in the address and I followed the directions. I really did. Now I was in the middle of the bush at the end of a dead-end road, with the Navigator insisting I go another two hundred yards and turn right.

I fished out the street directory and looked up the map for where I was supposed to be. I eventually found the right map and there was the road, continuing straight ahead of me. The only trouble was, it just wasn't there.

I got out of the car and strolled over to the end of the road, hoping that there was a bend in the road that I hadn't noticed. No such luck. The road just came to this point and stopped. Why the hell would it do that? There were no side paths, no drives, no houses, and nothing that I'd consider to be a walking track. This was just plain stupid.

I was heading back to the car to reset the Navigator to pick a different road when a man called out to me.

"What's up, Miss? You seem a little lost?"

I looked over and there was this man coming out from amongst the trees. He was big and beefy, and not exactly un-handsome. Dressed the way I assumed that a logger would dress. He was also scoping me out, quite blatantly.

Not that I blamed him for that. I'm quite an attractive bundle, even if I do say so myself. Also, I was dressed to negotiate a better price on the stuff I was potentially buying. This meant I was wearing a flirty skirt that showed off my legs to their best advantage and a lacy blouse with a certain amount of demure cleavage showing. It was the sort of blouse that was loose enough to enable a lot more cleavage to be shown if I leaned forward.

Not that I had any intention of leaning forward for this guy. Still, I wouldn't mind a bit of information, like, where has the road gone?

"Ah, hi," I said. "Um, according to the Navigator this road just goes straight on through, but it's not there."

"That would be because of our forward thinking council," the man said with a smile. "You see, they have a number of roads planned, and have had them marked in our official maps. They just haven't got around to building all of them. I believe the last stretch of this road is scheduled to be done in a couple of years, if they can find the money. If not, they'll defer it again."

Stupid council. Stupid Navigator. You'd think they'd make sure that only roads that actually exist were on their maps. Now I'd have to back-track and find my way around, which also meant I'd probably be late for my appointment. I wondered if I should give the man a ring to let him know I'd be delayed or should I see if I could make up time.

What I should have been doing is watching the guy with the wandering eyes. It turned out he also had wandering hands. I mean, there I was, standing next to my car, my mind on how to reprogram the Navigator to go a different way, and I find my boobs are in a man's hands.

I'm, like, what the fuck!? I didn't express it quite like that, of course. Rather I took a step back, out of his greedy clutches, and spoke quite politely, even though I wanted to rant at him like a politician who'd lost a perk.

"Do you mind? I'd rather you didn't do that," I told him. See. I can be polite. Lot of good it did me.

He just advanced a step and I found I couldn't back up any further because my legs were already brushing against the car's bumper bar. Not that he tried to grab my breasts again. Oh, no, not him. Instead, he flicked open the top button of my blouse.

When I say the top button, it was really about the third. I'd already had the first two undone to give that touch of innocent cleavage I wanted. The third button undone meant that my cleavage was now quite impressive and not nearly so innocent.

I gave an annoyed yelp and grabbed for the button to do it up again, but found his hands were in the way, because he was already working on the fourth button.

I slapped at his hands and tried to push them away, while speaking very firmly.

"Stop that. Just what do you think you're doing?"

"I'd have thought it was obvious," he said, with a bit of a laugh in his voice. "I'm taking off your blouse."

"Well stop it. You can't do that."

"You mean I shouldn't do that. It must be obvious to you that I can."

He was right. He already had my buttons undone and was pushing the blouse down off my shoulders. I was clutching at it and protesting and he was just peeling my hands away from it and taking it off. I couldn't believe that a man would do such a thing. In public yet. I took a swing at him.

Big mistake that. I gave a small scream, thinking I'd broken my hand. Mr Suave promptly took hold of my hand, rubbing it gently.

"No damage," he said, "but you'd probably be better off not doing that again. You could have broken a finger doing that."

"Just leave me alone and go away," I hissed. I could feel tears in my eyes from that slap, and he'd just ignored it. Brute.

My blouse was now dangling from his finger and he tossed it onto the hood of the car. Stupid me turned to grab for it, presenting my back to him for all of two seconds. Apparently two seconds is ample time for a man who knows what he's doing to reach out and unclip a woman's bra. I was reaching for my blouse and then found my bra was sliding down my arms, leaving me exposed. I squealed and snatched my arms (and bra) up across my breasts.

"What is your problem?" I wailed at him. "Just what do you think you're playing at?"

He caught my wrists and quite effortlessly pulled them away from my breasts, bringing the bra with them (naturally). His eyes were all over my breasts, checking me out like a politician looking for new taxes.

"Very nice," he told me. "Don't try to cover them."

He pushed my hands down to my sides.

"If you don't mind?" I grated. "Why are you doing this?"

"I can tell you're a blonde," he said.

I'm like, say what? What had my being blonde got to do with things? He must have seen my puzzled look.

"I'm taking off your clothes and you're dumb enough to ask why? Why do you think a man is going to take off a woman's clothes?"

Come the dawn. It honestly hadn't occurred to me that he was going to rape me. Why would it? It was the middle of the day and we were on a public road. I mean, traffic could come past at any moment.

That's when I remembered. Why would any traffic come up this road? There were no houses or paths to anywhere. The locals knew it was a dead-end. It was only idiots, like me, who trusted their Navigator who came wandering up here.

"You lay a finger on me and I'll scream," I threatened.

Finger hell. I should worry about a finger?

"Scream away," he said, sounding indecently happy, and cupped my breasts, rubbing his hands over them and quite plainly enjoying the feel of them.

I tried to pull his hands away, with zero effect. He just kept playing with my breasts, massaging them and teasing my nipples until they peaked. That's the point at which he let my breasts go, taking hold of my wrists and pushing my arms to either side of me, pinning me against the car. With me like that, it was a simple matter for him to bend his head and start tasting my breasts.

I squirmed and squawked and he kissed and sucked and nibbled and generally had fun with my breasts. Now I'm not saying I don't like having my breasts touched; I do. But only with my permission and by a man I know reasonably well and intend to get to know better. Not by chance met strangers. I will admit, though, that he knew what he was doing. His touch was, interesting, is the best way to describe it, I guess. The helplessness I felt seemed to add a little fillip to the occasion, which made me seriously wonder if I was slightly perverted.

When he stood up and took a small step back I was feeling dazed and confused and a little bit relieved. Maybe that was all he was going to do.

"Do you mind if I go now?" I asked hopefully, only to have any hope dashed when he simply laughed and pointed downward.

I looked down and oh, my, god, he'd dropped his trousers and shorts and it was obvious that he wasn't finished. Very, very, obvious.

I was shaking my head and muttering something along the lines of, "Oh, no. No way. Not going to happen," when he interrupted me.

"Now I wouldn't like to think that this is totally against your will, so why don't you slip off your skirt and panties before we go any further? Save me having to take them off."

He had to be freaking kidding me. He could not have meant that. I just stared at him, not moving, shaking my head. Not in refusal, as such. More in blatant disbelieve at his unmitigated gall. He took it as refusal.

"If you insist," he said softly, and promptly undid the catch on my skirt and let it drop. I made a grab to hold onto my panties and he took a firm hold of them.

"Lacy and delicate," he told me. "If you hang onto them they'll probably get torn in half which would be a waste. Now be a good girl and let go."

Infuriatingly, he had a point. I like sexy and expensive undies, and those panties were both. I couldn't bear to have this oaf tear them in half. Reluctantly I let them go, watching them sail southwards, stepping out of them when commanded, leaving me naked.

He reached down and ran his finger through my littler tuft of fur.

"Like I said," he murmured. "A true blonde."

I glared at him and he laughed. He also slipped his hand slightly further down and ran it along my mound. Not just putting his hand on it, but rubbing it and massaging it as he went.

I wanted to scream and shout and hit at him, but what would be the use?

Screaming and shouting were useless, with no-one around to hear, and would probably amuse him. As for hitting him! My hand was still stinging from where I'd slapped him. Basically all I could do was stand there, leaning back against the car while he touched me.

I have to admit that he was pretty good at what he did. He seemed to know all the places to touch to get an involuntary reaction from me and I was soon almost quivering with arousal, and hating him for it. Could things get any worse? Why, yes, yes they could.

He sank to his knees in front of me and pressed his face up between my thighs. Any other place and man I'd have had to beg if I wanted a little oral attention. How dare this monster assume that he could do this without so much as a by your leave? It would have served him right if I'd just collapsed on top of him. It was only the fact that I was leaning against the car that stopped me.

He must have practiced his tongue work. No man could do the sort of things he was doing without practice. I pitied his poor partner. She must be exhausted from his attentions. His tongue dipped and swirled around, seeking out the hot spots and pressing against them. I nearly screamed out loud when he brushed against my clitoris; deliberately, I'm sure.

Eventually his mouth came trailing up over my tummy, dropping little kisses as he came, until he came to a breast and captured the nipple. Then he was pressing against me as he nuzzled my neck.

On his way from kneeling to standing his cock came rubbing against me, pressing between my thighs, then moving higher, and I could feel him pressing lightly against my lips. Not so lightly, I found. He was pushing past them, ignoring my feeble protests, and I could feel him moving inside me, sinking deeper, a sense of urgency seeming to hurry him along.

Quite frankly, I couldn't help my response. I found myself pushing against him, absorbing his thrust and pressing myself hard against him, helping him sink deeper. I was quite surprised when I found that his groin was rubbing against mine, his cock fully engaged with me, nailing me against the car.

He leaned away from me a little, smiling. His hands were on my breasts while mine were behind me, pressing against the car, supporting me. All I could do was look at him. He continued smiling, watching me, and started to move. He pulled back and thrust forcefully into me, giving me a nod of satisfaction when he found that I automatically moved with him.

That seemed to be the signal he was waiting for. My god, but he went to town, pulling back and thrusting in hard and fast, his hands massaging and playing with my breasts as he moved. I was working hard to keep up with him but it seemed to me that each time I matched his rhythm, he increased the tempo.

I swear, I have never been fucked so industriously in my life. I was reduced to a bundle of nerves, each nerve screaming for release, my bottom bouncing up and down on the car so hard I probably dented it, and try explaining that to an insurance company.

In hindsight, the actual love-making didn't go on for all that long. It just seemed to last an age at the time, with my whole awareness being that cock and what it was doing to me. I was making incoherent little noises, having no control whatsoever about what was going on, as he busily pounded away at my poor pussy. (Actually, I'd had no control over my life from the time he popped that first button, let alone now.)

I know I said my poor pussy, but that was just a figure of speech. My pussy actually loved everything that was being done to it, a willing accomplice in this assault upon my person. Heat and lust and pleasure were radiating out from my groin in equal measures, happily dragging me along with them.

I don't think I spotted any difference between his end game and his normal actions. I mean, it's a bit hard to go faster and harder when you've already got your foot to the floor and are going full out. I could hear myself yelling and then I was screaming as I climaxed, feeling him shuddering as he climaxed and flooded me.

I was left leaning back against the car, feeling stunned and dreamy. He just calmly disengaged and pulled his trousers up.

"If you go back down this road, take the first right, go a kilometre and take a right at the main road, you can reconnect to this road on the other side of the unbuilt section after about another kilometre. You'll find that your Navigator should work out where you are when you turn onto the road that's parallel to this one."

"What?" I said, not knowing what the hell he was talking about.

"I assume you came down this road for a purpose, the purpose being to continue further down this road. To get to the other side of the break you have to. . ."

He repeated the instructions and this time I listened. I also decided that I'd have to ring up the man I was meeting and tell him I'd been delayed. I also had an etiquette problem. Did I thank him for the directions or reprimand him for jumping me? I finished up doing neither, as he simply turned and walked back into the woods, leaving me standing there. Still naked.