Wimp

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Boyfriend is reluctant to seduce her.
1.8k words
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Ashson
Ashson
8,493 Followers

When you start going out with a new boyfriend you never know what you're going to get. About the one thing that you can count on is that he'll chance his luck very early in the relationship. I even had one guy chance his arm on the first date, walking down the path to his car. They all do it, sooner or later. The idea is not to pick a boyfriend who doesn't think NO applies to him.

My current boyfriend is Paul. He's six foot, very nicely built, blond and handsome. He's articulate and intelligent, friendly and sociable. Generous to a fault. Everyone likes him. I couldn't believe my luck when he initially asked me out.

One of the nicest things I found about him was that he wasn't chancing his arm too early in the relationship. He was taking his time and letting us really get to know each other. I'm sure that when we're ready we'll move on to the next stage of our relationship. I can hardly wait.

That was my opinion six months ago. It was also probably my opinion three months ago. Now I'm not so sure. For the last three months I've been giving off those little signals that I'm ready to progress with our relationship, but Paul seems to keep missing the signals. It's not as though I can come out and just ask him to seduce me.

I was finally able to raise the subject of sex with Paul, in a round-about way. He assured me that I had no need to worry. He wouldn't try to seduce me. He'd promised his mother to stay celibate until he was married and he always kept his word.

I discussed my little problem with a couple of friends, asking for suggestions. Was he gay, I asked?

Sophia swears he's not. She knows a couple of guys who are gay and apparently because Paul doesn't talk about girls he'd seduced they thought he might be. They'd both pitched passes at Paul, only to see them go sailing past him, Paul obviously having no idea what they were on about.

"He's probably just got a low libido," Sophia told me. "You're going to the beach with him on the weekend. Wear an incredibly sexy bikini and see if that gets through to him."

So that weekend I wore a very small bikini. I made sure that we set up our stuff in a relatively secluded area where we could have a bit of privacy. We mixed with the others for a while, me wearing shorts while we did so. I wasn't game to prance around in public in that bikini.

After lunch we were relaxing on our towels and my shorts had gone by the wayside. Paul was properly appreciative of the way I looked and paid me some lovely complements. We smooched a bit and my breasts were hard up against his chest and he still didn't even go the grope.

I mean, really! What's a girl got to do?

I was lying back getting a tan and feeling a little disgruntled when George came wandering up. George, like Paul, is a natural extrovert and they were good friends. George is reasonably nice, I guess, but he doesn't have Paul's flamboyant good looks and sense of humour. I've also heard that if you date him, wear chain mail armour and a chastity belt. Sophia said she went out with him once and had to use a chastity belt. In her case it was her right fist on his nose. The bleeding cooled his ardour somewhat.

"How's it going, Paul, Angie," he said. "Enjoying yourselves?"

I just nodded to him but Paul started yakking away. They discussed sport and cars and such and then Paul asked who George's current girlfriend was.

"Between girls right now," George said. "How are you and Angie coping? It's a wonder you can keep your hands off her, even here."

Insulting sod. I ignored him. Unfortunately, Paul didn't.

"Now, George, you know I don't go around grabbing the girls," he said. "I respect Angie far too much to try to lay my hands on her."

"Oh, that's right," said George, nodding. "You made that silly promise to your mother. Do you mean you're keeping that promise with a hot little number like Angie just lying there like a ripe bud ready to be plucked? You're not even slipping it to her in secret?"

Crude bastard. I glared at him. Paul just seemed slightly shocked.

"I wouldn't do that," he said. "A promise is a promise."

"Well, that all very well for you and your mother, but what about Angie. She's all hot to trot and can't get a rider. It's shameful."

My face was burning. It was even worse because George was right and we both knew it. I just rolled onto my tummy so I wouldn't have to look at him.

"I'm sure you're wrong, George," Paul said politely. "Angie is just not that sort of girl. I wouldn't insult her by hinting that she was."

Bloody hell, Paul. I am. If you think I'm a virgin, you're crazy.

"Oh, come on, Paul. You don't really think that a hot little piece like this is a virgin at her age? She's doing everything but send you a written invitation asking you to nail her."

"I think you'd better drop the subject, Paul. Angie is probably finding the whole thing offensive."

"On the other hand, she's probably thinking that where women are concerned, you're a wimp who won't take what's on offer. Never had that problem myself."

George had the whole thing in a nutshell. Paul was a wimp where women were concerned, hiding behind his promise to his mother. If I wanted to have sex with Paul I'd probably have to rape him, and I wasn't going to stoop that low. And I'd lay odds that George never had that problem. Not since he realised girl germs weren't harmful to a boy.

"You know what you should be doing, Paul?" George was saying. "Watch and learn."

What the hell did George mean by that I wondered, and then my bikini bottom, what there was of it, was just peeled down. I squealed and started to scramble to my feet, which was just what George wanted. As soon as I scrambled onto my knees George clamped onto my hips and held me in that position.

One hand switched to the small of my back to hold me in place and the other clamped onto my pussy. Only for a moment though. Just long enough to spread my pussy lips and start in on me. I gave a horrified squeak and George's cock was pushing firmly into me.

"What are you doing?" I squealed.

"Yes. Just what do you think you're doing, George?" parroted Paul.

"Geez, what the hell do you think I'm doing?" muttered George.

He didn't need to tell me. He was already deep inside me and starting with the action. And I was so het up and needy I didn't give a damn. I was already moving with him, pushing back to meet his strokes.

"I'm doing what you should be doing, Paul," George said. "I'm attending to the poor girl's needs. Women need sex as much as men you know, excluding yourself, of course."

George was putting some real effort into it now, banging me in fine style. I had finally remembered that this was actually rape and I was making the requisite formal protests, confident that George would ignore them. It did occur to me that Paul might take offence at George coming up and banging his girlfriend like this but he seemed bemused by the whole thing. Wimp!

"Ah, George, Angie is telling you to stop. Don't you think you should?"

Say no, George, blast it. Say no.

"Nah. A lot of women like to make a formal protest, but they'd be real upset if you stopped too soon. Don't worry. She'll be right."

George was taking me harder and faster. It was belatedly occurring to me that we were at the beach, only semi-private, and someone could come along at any moment. That's probably why George was driving hard to finish me off. Just too embarrassing all around if someone else did turn up.

I was tossing my head about now, whimpering slightly, while my bottom was bouncing up and down frantically, taking everything that George could throw at me. He was coming harder than ever, building up to a finale, and I was busy stuffing my towel into my mouth. I'm a screamer, and I didn't think that would be appreciated on the beach.

Then George drove home for a final time, pumping his fluids into me while I was screaming a muffled scream, only little squeaks escaping from around the towel.

I collapsed down onto the towel, breathing hard, my mind spinning. I could hear George giving Paul advice, telling him that what he, George, had done was just a start. Paul should do the same daily to keep me happy.

Screw the bikini. Once I had myself together I pulled on my shorts. I wasn't wearing that bikini ever again.

I looked over at Paul. He was reassuring. He wouldn't hold what happened against me. It was George's fault and Paul knew it. And I needn't worry about Paul following George's example. His promise to his mother help firm.

I made the rotten wimp take me home.

The next day was a Sunday and I wanted to sleep in. Until Monday, if possible. I was still feeling a little disgruntled about the previous day's debacle. I really wasn't happy when my doorbell rang at eight am.

If it was salesmen, I'd kill them. If it was Jehovah's Witnesses I'd really give them something to witness. I made sure the chain was on the door and opened it slightly. Bloody George was standing there, smiling.

I just glared daggers at him.

"If you've come to apologise, don't bother. Just go away."

"Hey, cool down. I'm not here to apologise."

"Then why are you here?" I asked, ever so sweetly.

"Well, I couldn't help thinking about you most of last night and you were the first thing I thought of this morning, so I thought I'd come around and take you to bed and we could do the whole exercise again, but taking our time about it. Now take the chain of the door and let me in."

My mind went sort of blank. Take the chain of and let him in so he could ravish me with more time in which to do it? Was he crazy?

Probably not. I was. I was already taking the chain off, even though I knew it was a bad idea. Why do girls like bad boys?

Ashson
Ashson
8,493 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymousalmost 7 years ago
Paul's No Wimp

A promise is a promise. Just because Angie's a slut, that doesn't mean Paul has to change who he is just to please her.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 9 years ago
please don't write any more. quit it

You are a wimp wannabe

AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
When are you going to write something erotic?

I don't think you can.

AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
Good writing-a little too fast

keep writing! Your style is refreshing. Most stories in this genre lack personality-the narrator of the story has a breezy way with words.

If you write another story on this theme, slow it down some-have the narrator's frustration build. Give the wimp more chances to fail. And make the seducer a bit more interesting. I really liked your starting line "when you start going out..." I think having a narrator who did that throughout a story (letting you feel you were in on a conversation with her) would make a great read.

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