The Hedge

Ever noticed how there is always someone who has to be different? Take the street I live in for an example. All the houses have similar sorts of front gardens. Typically, a low or no fence, a lot of lawn and flower beds running around the edges. There's a lot of variation between them, but they all seem to follow the same generic plan.

Except one place. This guy has a hedge. It's not your standard privet hedge or anything like that. From what I can see, the guy planted a series of different bushy type trees and then just let them run into each other. The result has been this dense hedge of bushes all running into each other, and no way to tell where one bush finishes and another starts. Some of the bushes are actually intertwined with each other.

I'll admit the owner keeps them trimmed, but the final result had been a hedge about six foot high and six foot deep, except for one lone yucca that has been allowed to grow, sticking up out of the thicket like a sentinel.

Recently, one of the bushes carked it. It didn't just die and have to be pulled out. It just fell over, out onto the footpath. The owner removed it pretty smartly but the hedge now looks as though some passing animal had taken a big bite out of it. There's this gap about four feet wide and four feet deep. Lazy sod hasn't bothered to plant anything new; he seems quite happy to let the remaining bushes spread out until they fill that area.

Walking past this morning, on the way to work, I saw that some wag had placed an old chair in the gap so anyone who wants to take a break can sit down for a while. Ha. Good luck with that. I'll lay odds that the chair is stolen before the week is out.

Now you're probably wondering why I've been rabbiting on about this hedge and its missing bite. It's like this. . .

I work night shift as a checkout chick down at Big W. Our Manager has always insisted that the night shift girls be adults. He apparently feels that if the girls on at night are under age he has to spring for a taxi voucher if they go home after ten. Adults he doesn't, as they usually have their own cars or they can take public transport.

Being an adult I don't rate a taxi, but there's an excellent bus service with a stop right at the end of my street. I disembark, trot down the street, and I'm home, and I don't have to worry about crazy drivers on the road.

On this particular night I'd knocked off and found that my normal bus wasn't running. It had been involved in an accident and I had to wait for the next one. It was pushing eleven when the bus dropped me off at my stop and I was five minutes from home. I just ambled casually down the street, heading home, the way I've done a hundred times before.

I was passing that damned hedge and had just reached the bite out of it when it happened. An arm reached out of the hedge, grabbed me and pulled me into the bite. One moment I'm walking along, the next I'm sitting on the knee of someone who was sitting on the old chair that someone had put in the bite.

"Speak quietly if you're going to say anything," a soft voice advised me. "Screaming would make me very nervous and I'd have to take steps to stop it. You don't want duct tape on your mouth, believe me."

I believed him. I knew very well that I didn't want to have my mouth taped shut.

"Who are you and what do you want?" I hissed at him. "Let me go."

"Who I am doesn't matter," he replied. "As to what I want, what the fuck do you think I want when I drag a woman off the street and into my temporary lair? I'm going to fuck you. If you cooperate, fine. If you don't, still fine from my point of view."

To add to this assertion, his hand was running up my leg, sliding under my dress and already pressing against my panties. I started struggling, trying to push myself up away from him, but the arm he had around my waist was like a bar of iron. I couldn't budge it.

"It's going to happen," I was told. "You might as well just relax."

Yeah. Easy for him to say. He wasn't the unwilling victim. I considered screaming and actually took a deep breath. A finger promptly poked me in the side so I lost my breath.

"Remember the duct tape," came the warning. "No more chances."

So I resorted to struggling some more. After all, there was no guarantee that anyone would hear me if I screamed or would do anything if they did hear. I tried clawing at his wrist, and found myself cursing the fact that I played netball and had short nails. I was so going to grow some decent claws.

To my intense irritation, my attempts at clawing him didn't even seem to register. What did register was the fact that he was already pulling my panties down. I kicked and squirmed and my panties went down anyway.

With my panties down as far as my knees I found myself being turned over so that I was bent over his knee. One hand held me in position while the other finished stripping off my panties and then went exploring. My skirt had been pushed up out of the way and his hand was freely roaming over my bottom, trying to push down into the gap between my legs. I kept my legs tightly closed, but he still managed to ease a finger into the gap, gently poking my softer flesh.

"Move your legs apart," came the request.

"Fuck you," I sweetly replied.

"That is my intention. You know, I bet if I smacked your bottom hard, no one would hear it."

This threat was followed up by a sharp slap to my bottom. Not really hard, but enough to sting. On landing, his hand slid back to the gap at the top of my legs.

"Your choice," he murmured. "Spread them or I keep spanking until you do."

Muttering rude words under my breath I relaxed my legs a little, feeling his hand take immediate advantage. His hand closed over my mound, squeezed, and started massaging, rubbing and probing. He just kept on doing it, working over my pussy, kneading it and sliding fingers in where they should not go uninvited.

"What the hell are you trying to prove?" I demanded.

"Not proving anything," came the reply. "I'm just making sure you're juiced up before I take you. Seeing you're the one getting the cock, you shouldn't be complaining about it."

But I didn't want to be juiced up, as he so eloquently put it, and neither did I want the cock, and I told him so in no uncertain terms. In reply he just kept on teasing me and, although I hate to admit it, getting me aroused.

I was twisting and squirming while he fingered me, taking his time and plainly enjoying his work. While he was doing this a couple of cars drove past. Were the drivers blind? Couldn't they see what was happening? Probably not, I realized, as we were in the bite taken out of the hedge. They'd only be able to see something if they stopped dead opposite and shone a torch into the darkness. Who'd have believed that you could be jumped in the middle of the street without anyone noticing?

I found myself swung back onto my feet, facing him. His hands were on my bottom, drawing me closer, forcing me to straddle him. It suddenly registered with me that I could feel his erection pressing against me.

"Sit down," came the quiet command, while at the same time his hands increased the pressure on my bottom, pulling me closer and down.

"Are you mad?" I hissed at him. "Do you really think I'm going to sit on that?"

The hell I would. What did he take me for, an idiot?

Apparently the answer to that was, yes, he did think I was an idiot.

"You might as well sit," he said. "You're going to have to take it sooner or later, so why not now and get it over and done with?"

He might have had a point, but I was damned if I was going to admit it. I tried to pull back but the man seemed to have a gorilla's strength. He just kept pulling me closer. It wasn't long and I could feel the head of his erection pressing firmly against my slit.

"Sit down," came the firm order. "If you do, you can guide me into place. If you don't, you take your chances on where I stick it first. It's going to happen and we both know it."

Unfortunately, he was right. It was going to happen. I didn't see any way to prevent it. I groaned and let myself settle slightly, feeling his cock easing between my lips. From there on it was all downhill. I slowly settled onto his lap, feeling his cock sink deep into me, sliding deeper all the time. Then I was sitting astride him, his cock well and truly inside me.

"Well done," came the congratulation. "Now just stay like that for a few moments."

With that he started pushing up my top, lifting it clear of my breasts. My bra joined the top. He didn't even both undoing it, just dragging it up and over my breasts, scraping against my nipples as it went. His hands closed over my breasts, squeezing them.

"Feel free to start bouncing," he told me, and I could feel his groin pressing hard against mine and relaxing again.

My first inclination was to just sit there like a lump. If he wanted movement, let him provide it. Then I changed my mind. Left to himself he might keep going for ages. If I started bouncing I should be able to get him off in double quick time.

I started bouncing, moving up and down his shaft, making sure I clung tightly as I sank down onto him, hoping to maximise his pleasure and minimise his time.

It half worked. I certainly seemed to be maximizing his pleasure from the way he was gasping and pushing up into me. The trouble was that it was also getting to me, and it didn't seem to be minimising his time. I bounced and he pushed hard to meet me, apparently relishing my movements and not wanting to finish any time soon.

My own excitement was rising rapidly, and I was having confused feelings about ending this little episode. While I was quite happy to have things finished and him gone, I'd just as soon they not finish until I'd come, and even as excited as I now was, I wasn't ready yet. Not having much say in the matter, anyway, I just kept on bouncing, feeling the long hard length of him driving up into me with every bounce.

Mind you, the fact that he was showing a good degree of expertise in stimulating my breasts didn't help my general feeling. I found myself resenting the fact that he could do this while enjoying the way the stimulation was adding to my overall pleasure.

And he kept on going. I was starting to tire as bouncing up and down like that was quite strenuous, but there was no way I'd admit it. Let him think he'd outlasted me? He could rot before I'd admit it. I just continued bouncing merrily away, with one little difference. I was starting to squeeze and gyrate a little as I bounced, wanting to push myself up over the edge. He, I was fairly sure, was due to blow his cork at any moment. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't left behind when he did.

Eventually it dawned on me that the son-of-a-bitch was cheating. I'd be breathing hard, gasping even, all ready to finish, and he'd do something that seemed to make me cool off a little, letting him continue on his merry way. No way was I letting him get away with that. I bided my time, waiting until I was right up there and on the edge. Then I clamped tight hold of his cock, driving myself hard onto it, and I was climaxing before he knew I was ready.

It was just a pity that my climax was enough to make him shoot his load. I could feel his seed splashing deep in me as he groaned and jerked under me, his hands clutching tight to my breasts.

I was out of it for a few moments at that stage. I was vaguely aware of him lifting me off his lap and sitting me on the chair. When I finally got my act together I was still sitting on the chair, breathing hard and with a silly smile on my face, feeling really relaxed. He was nowhere in sight.

I just sat there for a few moments, trying to get my thoughts in order. There wasn't really much I could do or say. He came, he saw, he fucked me good and hard and made me enjoy it. Now all he had to do was make sure I never find out who he is.

I got up off that silly chair and headed on home - pantiless. The brute had taken a souvenir.