Pirate Pete

My father is very fond of gardening with the result that we have fine gardens in both the front and back yards. The front yard garden is mainly for show with lots of flowers in bloom almost all year round. The back garden, on the other hand, is rather utilitarian, designed for the family.

Flower beds and bushes are scattered around and the fences have climbing vines on them. There are patches of lawn that we can use for different things. Very useful when we have a party as the various groups can congregate on different lawns.

One side benefit, which I'm not sure my father intended, was that one of the lawns is quite secluded and can't be seen. Bushes and trees shield it from the house and the other lawn areas and the high fences mean it's not overlooked by neighbours. This makes it a great place for me to do a bit of sunbathing in summer. If you're at home and no-one can see you then you have a chance to ensure that you're not getting any unsightly tan lines.

That's what I was doing in this particular afternoon. The parents were out and so was the sun and I was taking full advantage of this little fact. I was lying there, listening to some soft music. In the background I could hear a dog barking. Not an incessant, irritating yap, but a deep and happy bark that would come every so often. From the male voice that accompanied at times I assumed that the guy in the house behind ours was playing with the dog.

When you hear a man call catch, and then hear a dog bark, it's generally safe to assume that the man is throwing a ball for the dog to catch. That's what I thought, but it turned out I was wrong. A Frisbee came sailing over the fence, just clearing it, and landed at my feet. At the same time there was a frustrated bark and a loud, "Damn".

If you're sunbathing nude and a Frisbee lands next to you your immediate impulse is to pick it up and throw it back before anyone comes looking. That's what I did, jumping to my feet and sending the stupid thing sailing back from whence it came. I wasn't fast enough.

I was still in the act of throwing it when a head popped over the top of the fence. Head? Try head and shoulders and most of his chest. The man had simply grabbed the top of the fence and hauled himself straight up. He was now looming above the fence, propped up by his arms, and it wasn't the Frisbee he was looking at.

"Well, damn, again," he said in a voice that was far too happy for my peace of mind.

He couldn't have appeared at a worse moment. I was standing, facing the fence, One arm flung forward from throwing the Frisbee, the other flung back to balance myself. Talk about putting everything on display.

I promptly applied hand bra and hand panties for all the good that did. He'd already seen everything. Something he didn't mind letting me know. He also didn't say thank you and drop back down into his own yard. Nor did he just stay there ogling me. Not this guy. He just swung his legs up and dropped down on my side of the fence. Quite a nice athletic display but I'd just as soon have missed it.

He was looking at me and smiling and I had to admit it was a very nice smile. There was nothing mean or lascivious about it, just a friendly smile from a man who was enjoying what he was seeing.

"The hands are rather a waste of time, you know," he explained. "I saw everything when you posed as the discus thrower. Very nice you looked, too. Now do the sensible thing and just let your hands drop."

So I did the sensible thing and kept my hands right where they were while giving him the evil eye.

"I would prefer you to hop back over that fence and leave me be," I told him firmly.

"What, that fence?" he asked, pointing to the fence he'd just come across.

"Yes, that fence," I said, smiling sweetly.

"Ah, it's a rather high fence. Don't know if I could jump it from this side."

Why not? It's the same height from either side, surely?

"In that case you can walk around the block until you get home."

He looked around the garden and slowly shook his head.

"I'd get lost in here by myself. Would you be so kind as to lead me to the front gate?"

Dressed like this? He had to be kidding.

"Not really. Just follow the path."

I pointed to the path, which was a silly move. Instead of looking at the path he was looking at what I had inadvertently uncovered. Blushing fiercely I covered myself again.

"Goodness, woman, you're being embarrassed over nothing," he told me, and somehow or other me was standing right in front of me. He just took hold of my wrists and moved my hands away from my body, holding them wide and exposing me completely.

"Did I say over nothing?" he asked. "Silly of me, because you are really something."

He pushed my arms down to my sides. At least that's what I thought he was doing. He continued past my sides until my hands were behind me and then he took both my wrists in one of his hands. It seemed to me that he was really a rather large man.

Free from distractions, like my hands blocking his view, he looked me over again.

"You have a very nice figure," he told me. "Very nice, indeed."

"Thank you. Will you please release my hands?"

I was feeling a little embarrassed but not scared. After all I was in my own yard in the middle of the day. If anything, I was a little excited at having him look me over like this and approve. Not that I'd let him see that. I was quite shocked when he reached up and lightly touched first one nipple and then the other before dropping his hand and running it lightly over my mons.

"Do you mind?" I demanded, outraged. "Just go away, Mister, Mister - Mister whoever you are."

He laughed at me.

"Pete's the name," he told me. "They call me Pirate Pete. Your ship," he waved his hand to indicate the garden, "has been boarded and you're my virgin captive."

"What? Are you insane? And you've got no idea if I'm a virgin or not."

"Irrelevant," he said. "For this scenario I have proclaimed you to be virgin. You are now trembling in fear of the terrible pirate. That's me. You're terrified and praying to the saints that he won't molest you, preferring to hold you for ransom, all the time knowing that your prayers are futile and that he intends to cruelly ravish you."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He had to be kidding me. He was most certainly laughing at me. Then he put his hand on my breast and cupped it, rubbing it slowly, and I wasn't certain what to think.

"You don't seriously think you can molest me in my own garden, do you?"

"That depends. Do you expect the navy to sail up and rescue you?"

"What?"

"Use your imagination. Is there anyone home who is going to come charging out and chase me away?"

"Ah, no," I said without stopping to think. Damn it. I should have said yes.

"Honest to a fault," he murmured, his hand sliding across to my other breast and continuing with his massage.

"Will you please just leave me alone?"

"Ah, why would I do that?" he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. "How often do you think I find a beautiful young thing like you to tease?"

So he was only teasing, which was a relief, but his hand was now rubbing my mons, which most certainly not a relief.

"So tell me, my little virgin captive, how you will react when I get down to the ravishing business? Are you the type to cry, "Unhand me, you brute," and daintily faint, the sort of woman who will resist and must be forced until her virginity has been wrested from her, or will you passionately meet my lusts with lusts of your own?"

I just stared at the nutcase, speechless.

"Before you answer," he went on, "I believe that in all the best pirate stories the maiden rises to the occasion and meets the pirate's lust with a lusty performance of her own that causes the pirate to fall madly in love with her. Either that or the dashing naval captain arrives in the nick of time. Ah, you're not expecting a dashing naval captain any time soon, are you?"

If he hadn't been holding my wrists I'd have been doing a double face palm. I just couldn't believe this guy.

"I am quite convinced that you are certifiably insane," I told him firmly.

"Not so," he said, sounding indignant. "I have a psychiatrist's report that states quite plainly that I'm sane. Can you say the same?"

Now I was worried. He was under a psychiatrist?

"Just kidding," he said. "I read that line in a book once. Guaranteed to make the average person think you're touched. Effective, isn't it? Am I to understand that you don't like my little pirate game?"

"Not really. I have no desire to feature in your game as the virgin sacrifice."

"Not a sacrifice," he protested. "What a waste of a perfectly good virgin. Would you like to be the rancher's daughter, captured by an Indian brave who uses her to count coup?"

I was feeling all hot and flushed. That hand down at my groin seemed to be getting into places that it just should not. Why did he have such long arms anyway? I'm sure he'd be a much nicer man if he had really short arms.

"I don't want to play any games," I said desperately. "I'm not into games and role playing."

"You are a grave disappointment," he said softly, "but I'll survive. So, moving right along, have you any particular position you want to use?"

"Excuse me? I said no games."

"I know. I heard and understand. You want to get right to the sex. I can't say I blame you with a body as sensational as that one. I just want to know if there's a position you prefer to be in when getting fucked, if you pardon the crudity."

"But I don't want to have sex with you."

"And this information is of interest to me because?" he said, hand circling in a tell-me-more sign.

"Do you mean you intend to have sex with me anyway?"

"You seem to be a trifle slow but you do reach the right conclusion eventually," he observed. "I'd have thought I made that abundantly clear all ready."

His hand squeezed me, which was quite a telling argument as it was covering my mound at the time.

I didn't know what to say and just finished up saying, "Oh."

"I believe we were discussing your preferences," Pete said, smiling.

As noted earlier, he really did have a charming smile. It was his intentions that were not so charming.

"Ah, I believe self-gratification would be my choice," I told him, wondering if his name really was Pete. "That way you won't need my participation and I can go."

He was slowly shaking his head, his smile broader, if anything.

"Nice try, but not an option I'm afraid. Why don't you lie down and we can discuss this in greater detail?"

Like I was being given any choice in the matter. I didn't even see how he managed it. One moment I was standing there arguing then his hands were on me and I was flat on my back. Actually, his hands were already on me, in all the wrong places; he just shifted them and seemed to flip me.

I gave a startled squawk and wanted to call him names. The trouble was I couldn't think of anything bad enough.

"The way I see it," Pete told me, "is that you have two choices. You can lie back and watch me slowly penetrate you, marvelling at the size of my magnificent erection, or you can roll over and look elsewhere, sweating out the unknown as a monstrous cock engages you from behind. Now I know you're not going to choose either option so just tell me which one you don't want most."

Certifiable, I told myself. Well and truly certifiable. What sort of options were those. And just how big did he think he was? My eyes flicked to the bulge in his pants and I decided I didn't want to know.

"If you think I want to see anything of yours you are sadly mistaken," I sniped at him, knowing even as I said it he'd take it as a choice. I should have just kept my big mouth shut.

Damn, but that man was strong. I have wrestled with my boyfriend in the past but that left me totally unprepared for Pete's actions. He had me flipped over onto my tummy before I'd even finished speaking. I could feel his hands on me in various places and then the world just spun around me and I was looking at the grass from up close. I'm not saying he hurt me, because he didn't, but I would really like to know how he managed that. It's obvious that I should have taken self-defence lessons.

I just lay still, legs held firmly together. No way was I going to cooperate. There again, I decided, as a hand spanked my bottom, I suppose I could give a modicum of cooperation.

My cooperation didn't really consist of anything other than not resisting when he put me in the position he wanted. Basically, head down, bum up, and let's see how we go.

Now I have to admit that physically I was somewhat aroused. A bit hard not to be when he'd been talking about sex and touching my breasts and pussy ever since he jumped the fence. It wasn't as though I'd been in a position to stop him, what with him holding my wrists. Now that I was 'on-display', shall we say, I was even more acutely aware of what was coming. His hand was back to rubbing my mound and I could tell that my lips were puffy and pouting and waiting.

There came that point where protesting and arguing and non-cooperation all became irrelevant. His cock was there, nudging my lips, knocking on the door, so to speak, wanting to come in. There was nothing I could do but wait, Pete having effectively opened the door already. Sure enough, I could feel him entering.

There was I, waiting, and there was Pete, doing nothing. I mean, he'd barely got the head of his cock inside me and he stopped. He wasn't worrying about my virginity or lack thereof. I was quite certain that he'd already determined that I wasn't. Hell, he should have been able to determine that from my reaction to his telling me he was going to fuck me. A virgin would have been frantic whereas I was only pissed off. So why wasn't he doing something? It's not as though I could ask him.

Slowly it started to register that he was doing something. I could feel the pressure of his cock pressing at my passage and I finally realised that he was pushing into me, just not in a hurry to do so. Bit by bit his cock was coaxing my passage to yield and let him in. If it had been my boyfriend doing this I would have blistered his ears and pushed firmly back against him, forcing him to get a move on. As it was I had to just kneel there, feeling him sliding slowly in and getting more frustrated by the moment.

Pete was, I decided, trying to set new records for the slowest rape in history. I was practically quivering with need. Five minutes, at least, I swear, five long minutes, and he was still coming in. Now, not only was I wondering when he'd finally stick it right in, I was also starting to wonder just how big was that thing. I was quite certain he was in deeper than I'd ever known a man to come before (not that I'd had much experience, one man being it), but he was still coming, and I was about ready to scream.

Up until then his hands had been on my hips, probably holding me steady so I couldn't escape while he nailed me. Now his hands came forward and around me, covering my breasts. He pressed them firmly and then his hips gave a jerk and he drove that last little bit very firmly into me. I gasped, but I was also relieved that he was finally getting going. I was also, I decided, very full of that man's cock. Maybe I should have checked on how big it was.

I have to admit that from that point on things got real interesting. Now that Pete had prepared me in his own stupidly slow fashion he assumed that I'd be able to handle anything he threw at me. I assumed that he would slowly work up his act, giving me time to adjust as we progressed. His assumptions won.

He pulled back and then his cock came charging back at a great rate, storming my passage as though this was the only chance he had to get there. It patently wasn't as he was withdrawing and charging home again before I time to scream from shock at that first thrust.

My god, I'd never felt anything like it in my life. He had half a dozen strokes in before I was able to start moving with him, and that movement was in sheer self-defence. If I hadn't cooperated I was scared I was going to be beaten to death by a cock.

It was strange but the fact that I was now pushing to meet him meant he was coming in faster than ever but it felt so much easier and better. (Not that the action was helped by him laughing and giving me a spank on the bottom and crying, "You go, girl," when I finally got going.)

Go was the operative word. It was all go. He felt to me like one gigantic cock having its way with me. It was sliding back and forth, filling me constantly, the rasp of it against my passage sending thrilling little sensations through me, rippling in increasing waves as he continued. I was hot and getting hotter, each thrust raising the heat by a fraction of a degree, and those fractions were adding up fast.

OK, it wasn't just his cock. His hands were still on my breasts and he seemed to know just what to do to please me. I was writhing under his touch, helpless to do anything but feel, my whole body involved in his torments.

I could hear myself speaking but I'm damned if I knew what I was saying. All I knew was that this whole thing had to end, and it had to end soon, as I was going out of my mind. When he finally speeded up for his end run I couldn't really accept it. I hadn't thought it possible for him to actually go any faster.

I literally screamed when my climax hit me. That was so embarrassing. I've never screamed before. There again, I don't think I ever had a climax like that before.

Afterwards I just lay there, flat on my back, unable to move. Well, I suppose I could have moved, I just didn't want to. Pete was standing up and looking down at me.

"Better be careful out here," he told me. "The sun is hotter than you think and you could get a nasty burn. I'll see you around."

Not if I see you first, was what I was thinking, but I didn't say anything. I did give him a nasty look but my heart just wasn't in it. He sort of waved to me, ambled over to the fence, and did that lift and twist again, this time landing on his own side of the fence.

His head popped back up over the fence for a moment.

"I know," he called to me. "Next time I'll be the wicked Baron Black and you can be the helpless village maiden he traps in his castle."

With that he vanished from sight. Certifiable, I was sure of it.