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It’s always hard to describe yourself. You tend to see yourself through flattering eyes that quite possibly hide your flaws. This is not a problem for me. I’ve been told rather pointedly what I look like. Often enough for me to believe most of it’s probably reasonably close to fact, so I’ll just pass on what others say.
I’m big. Not fat, mind you, just big. Well over six foot and with a solid bone structure and I’ve always kept myself fit. That’s the first impression people have of me.
The second thing that they note is I’m hairy. If I was any more hairy, they’d skin me and use my hide as a rug. I’m clean shaven, but that doesn’t really help as people can see the line of fur around my throat where I stopped shaving.
The third thing people notice is that I’m ugly. I’m not talking un-handsome, or rather plain. I’m talking downright, run away screaming, ugly. If a mugger bumped into me in the middle of the night, he’d give me his loot, instead of demanding any from me.
What people tend not to notice until they know me better is that I’m highly intelligent. I’m not of the genius level, but I’m not far from it. I’m smart enough to own and run a successful business, despite my looks.
I also have what I’m told is a peculiar sense of humour. I don’t think that one’s fair. It’s not really my fault if I have a fine sense of the ridiculous.
One last thing. Children, cats and dogs all like me. They seem to think I’m a teddy bear and just made for them to play with. I actually make an amazing Santa Claus.
Anyway, in a nutshell, that’s me.
The incident that happened came about because I trusted the weather forecasters. I know that everyone heaps scorn on them for being wrong, but have you ever noticed how often they’re pretty near the mark? They may be out in their estimate of low and high temperature for the day, but if they say no rain, or only a slight chance of rain, they’re pretty well spot on.
This day they’d said no rain today, but they expected some the next day, so I went hiking. I was well up in the mountains, hoofing along and scaring other hikers who thought the sasquatch was passing, when I realised that the weathermen had been caught short. I could see the storm clouds that were supposed to arrive the next day had found a short cut and were sneaking in between a couple of mountains and heading directly towards me, fast.
Not wanting to get soaked I quickly assessed my chances. Back was a no-go area, but I seemed to remember a nice hikers hut further up the mountain. I picked up the pace and managed to reach the hut moments before the storm reached me.
So there I was, nice and dry, while the heavens let loose all around me. The hut was equipped with some oil lamps and a gas stove and someone had supplied firewood. I lit the lamps, built myself a nice little fire and put some water on to boil. I always carry powdered coffee and some instant soup, so as soon as the water boiled I could have a meal.
And there were some magazines in the cabin, so something to read.
Furniture wise, there wasn’t that much, just the table, a couple of chairs and a bed, which was really nothing more a stuffed mattress.
Compared to what was happening outside, I had all the comforts of home.
So the situation was that I’d had some soup and was drinking my coffee and doing a cryptic crossword in one of the magazines, totally at peace with the world.
Then the door crashed open, what looked like a large drowned rat hurtled into the cabin, turned and slammed the door and then leant back against it with a sigh of relief.
By this time I could see that the drowned rat was actually a petite young woman, a hiker who hadn’t got out of the rain in time, and was damned lucky not to be stuck out in the rain still.
She finally looked around the cabin and then she spotted me sitting there. It was funny really, from where I was comfortably sitting, but probably not so funny from her point of view.
She took one look at me, went even paler than she had been and jerked the door open, apparently intending to bolt back out of the cabin. With the door open, instead of her leaving, a very bitter wind and some really cold rain came crashing in, causing the young woman to slam the door in a hurry, still inside.
Now she just looked around in an obvious state of consternation, which was really quite insulting. I just can’t find it in myself to believe that I look that mean and ugly, but that lass had no troubles doing so.
“Coffee or soup?” I asked politely. The water was already hot and I had some to spare, so why not be a gentleman.
She flinched and backed away, sort of sidling around the walls until she was crouched near the fire, trying to get warm while still keeping one eye on me. OK, two eyes on me. It was obvious that I was the danger in the room.
“The water’s hot, and you really look as though you need it,” I told her, trying to project some sympathy.
This time she nodded, and whispered “coffee, please,” but as she didn’t move from the fire illegal bahis I assumed that I’d have to get off my blot and make it. So I did.
I didn’t try to hand it to her. I just reached over and placed it within her reach, as though I was offering something to a lost kitten, and she was reacting the way the kitten would, ready to arch her back, hiss and scratch.
Insulting behaviour or not, I must admit I was starting to find it amusing. From her point of view, she’d just escaped from a storm only to wind up locked on a tiny cabin with a potential ogre.
Unfortunately for her, I couldn’t let her sit there cowering in front of the fire for much longer. She was cold and wet and those saturated clothes weren’t helping. She was going to have to take them off, wring them out and hang them up to dry. There were several hooks in the wall around the fire that would serve.
“I’m Alexander,” I told her. “And you are?”
“Melody,” came the quiet reply, barely heard she was shivering so much.
“Well, I have some good news and some bad news, Melody,” I told her. “The good news is that you are now safe. The bad news is that you’re going to have to take off those wet clothes or you’ll catch pneumonia. You can use the blanket on the bed to wrap yourself in.”
A look of sheer horror crossed her face. There was no way she was taking off her clothes in the same room as me. Unfortunately, there were no other rooms, and gentleman or not, I wasn’t stepping out into that storm to give her a little privacy.
Melody politely indicated that she was fine. The fire was warming her up, thank you very much.
It would have been a nice little speech if she hadn’t been shivering so much when she gave it.
“Melody,” I said, speaking quietly, “for your own good I’m going to have to insist. Now stop being silly, strip off and wrap yourself in the blanket.”
Now why didn’t it surprise me when she shook her head, a look of determination on her face. I was going to have to damn well strip her myself, making me the bad boy in the act. Sighing I got to my feet.
Fortunately, Melody had finished her coffee, otherwise she’d have thrown it at me. She fought like a wildcat, but the issue was never in doubt. I just handled her as effortlessly as I would a small child that didn’t want to get ready for bed. In two minutes flat Melody was stripped naked and I was hanging her clothes on the hooks.
While I was hanging her clothes on the hooks, Melody was frantically lunging for the blanket, wrapping it around herself. Finished hanging things up, I tossed a couple more logs on the fire, turned to Melody and pointed to the floor just in front of the hearth.
“Sit there,” I snapped. “I’ll make you some soup, and you will drink it.”
Rather sullenly (and nervously) she sat where indicated, watching me closely as I reheated the water and made some soup. Handing it to her, she took it without a word, and sat huddled by the fire, drinking it.
I returned to the table and sat down, picking up the crossword from where I’d left off.
As far as I was concerned, the next hour passed peacefully. I read, found another cryptic crossword in one of the magazines, had another cup of coffee and relaxed generally, enjoying the warmth of the fire.
Melody, on the other hand, seemed increasingly restless. The cabin was quite warm now, and the blanket was just making her hotter. She’d moved away from the fire, initially intending to sit on the bed. Then she’d hesitated, flicked a glance at me, and finished up sitting uncomfortably on the second chair, clutching the blanket like a shield.
Several times I thought she was going to say something, but she always caught herself and stayed shut up. Finally she snapped.
“Will you just hurry up and get it over with?” she hissed at me.
“Excuse me?” I didn’t have the faintest idea what she was driving at.
“I’m tired and I want to go to sleep,” she snapped. “So will you just hurry up and do what you’re going to do so that I can?”
“Ah, the bed’s right there,” I told her. “There’s nothing to stop you going to sleep right now.”
“But then you’ll wake me up when you want me,” she pointed out sulkily, “and I just want to get the whole thing over with so I can sleep.”
I shrugged, baffled.
“I must be missing the point here,” I said, speaking soothingly, as Melody looked as though she was on the edge of tears. “What whole thing do you want over with?”
“The rape, of course,” she snapped. “I don’t want to spend the rest of the night wondering when you’re going to jump me.”
“Rape? Are you nuts?” I demanded. “Why on earth would you think I’m going to rape you?”
“Ha,” she snorted. “I suppose it’s just by chance that the first thing you did after I came in is strip off all my clothes and leave me with only this blanket. It’s not as though someone like you would be able to meet someone like me normally. Of course you’re going to move on me.”
“Have you any idea how rude and insulting you’re being?” I asked. “The illegal bahis siteleri only reason I took off your clothes was because you were being stupidly stubborn about it. Would you rather be warm and dry in that blanket, or still wet and shivering in your clothes, which you can see have still not dried.
And I’m sorry to destroy your infantile fancies, but I can meet women when I want to. You might as well go to bed as I have no intention of raping you.”
“Why not?” came the resentful reply. “What’s wrong with me?”
Women. You can’t win. If you rape them you’re assaulting them. If you don’t rape them, you’re insulting them.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. From what I saw when I stripped you, and I must admit I saw everything, you have a very nice body. But I’d just as soon pass on having forcible sex with a timid, screaming, virgin if it’s all the same to you. So be a good girl and go to bed.
Oh, you might also like to check my backpack,” I added. “There’s a hair brush and comb in it, and you’re hair looks like a rats nest. You’ll probably sleep better once you’ve brushed it.
And I should warn you I’ll also be sleeping on the bed, but you’ll have no need to panic. It’ll be strictly hands off.”
“I am not a timid, screaming, virgin,” she screamed at me. “I have every right to not want to be raped by some guy who looks like Quasimodo on steroids.”
“Uh huh,” I murmured. “Fair enough. Now go and brush your hair.”
Melody badly wanted to yell at me some more, but what could she say about being offered a hairbrush? I’d already seen her tugging at her hair with her fingers and trying to straighten it. She sulked her way over to my backpack and delved into it to find the hairbrush and comb.
She promptly found them and my spare t-shirt, which she produced with a flourish.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a spare t-shirt I could wear?” she asked indignantly.
“Several reasons. I wanted you warm and dry in that blanket to start with. When you were warm and dry, I hesitated to offer it to you as you would have had to drop the blanket to put the t-shirt on, and I couldn’t see you doing that, in case I saw your nice naked body again. Finally, I was afraid that you’d be scared to accept it in case you got contaminated. Boy germs, and all that sort of thing.”
The poor woman was almost hissing with fury, but she struggled to be polite. She really wanted that t-shirt.
“I wouldn’t have refused your kind offer,” she said. “May I wear it?”
“Be my guest.”
I waited, and she suddenly saw the hook she’d landed herself on. She couldn’t put on the t-shirt while holding the blanket, and I was looking at her expectantly.
“Do you mind turning your back?” she finally asked me.
“Certainly,” I said and turned back to the table and the magazine I’d been reading.
I heard the rustle of material and then she was walking over to stand in front of the fire while she brushed her hair. I debated whether to tell her that the fire behind her made the t-shirt effectively transparent and finally opted to be discreet rather than continuing to stir her up.
“Why don’t you just sit down in front of the fire and I’ll brush your hair for you. I’ve had practice brushing hair for my sisters and my nieces. You’ll find it’s a lot easier if I do it.”
She plainly didn’t want me that close to her, but she couldn’t come up with a polite way to turn me down, so she reluctantly settled down and passed me the brush.
Brushing a woman’s hair is something that they find soothing. A man who is doing your hair has no evil intentions towards you, or something like that. Melody’s hair wasn’t really too bad, just tangled from the rain and rough drying she given it. It wasn’t long before the brush was gliding through her long tresses as smooth as silk, all knots gone, and Melody almost purring with pleasure.
Finally finishing, I put the brush and comb back in the backpack.
“That will do for now,” I told her. “The rain has stopped for the moment, so I suggest that you take advantage of it to put some shoes on and step out of the cabin for a moment for a nature call.”
What was wrong with that suggestion, I ask you? It seemed perfectly reasonable to me. It’s not as though we had internal toilets in the cabin. Whatever, I ignored the nasty look she gave me and indicated she should go, which she did. I did the same as soon as she returned. I did not want to be caught with a bursting bladder at two in the morning while the rain was thundering down.
Back inside, I told her to go to bed and catch some sleep. She looked exhausted. Still flinging nervous little glances my way as though not sure I wasn’t going to pounce, she settled down.
“I’ll be joining you on the bed later,” I told her, “but you needn’t worry about it. When I say I’ll be sleeping with you, I mean sleeping, and only sleeping. So if you roll over in the night and find me there, calm your little virgin nerves and go back to sleep.”
Again I’d managed to irritate her.
“Why canlı bahis siteleri do you insist on calling me a virgin?” she asked, a hint of petulance in her voice. “Is that why you didn’t rape me, because you think I’m a virgin?”
“I’m implying you’re a virgin because it irritates you,” I said blandly. “The reason I didn’t rape you is because I’m not a rapist, and you’re being very insulting suggesting I am. That’s your second warning about the insults you’re handing out.”
She blinked at that, wondering what a third warning might mean. I let her wonder. Then she rolled over and went to sleep.
I waited until Melody had been asleep for over an hour before I stripped of my outer clothing and joined her on the bed. I figured that after being asleep that long, she would be so deeply asleep that she wouldn’t even notice me joining her.
I was nearly correct. As soon as I nestled under the blanket she zeroed in on me, snuggling up close to my warmth and wrapping her arm around my waist. A bit disconcerting, as I could feel a very nice pair of breasts pressing against my back, with only a little bit of flimsy material separating us. What can you do? Enjoying the feel of her nestling against me, I went to sleep.
Come the morning, things had changed. The storm was gone, and the sun was shining. It looked like it would be a great day. Also Melody was no longer snuggling up to me, holding me by the waist. I was lying on my back and she was snuggling up to me, but that certainly wasn’t my waist she was holding. Something seemed to have escaped the confines of clothing and was waving about, craving attention, and Melody was thoughtfully soothing it.
What to do? Try to withdraw and have her come awake crying rape? Leave her hand there and have her come awake and accuse me of taking unmentionable liberties? Try and gently remove her hand, which would be my least favourite option? It seemed to me that her hand knew just what it was doing, even if she didn’t.
“Melody, are you awake?” I asked quietly.
I thought I heard her breathing hesitate. No, I was damn sure that her breathing hesitated for a moment.
I thought it only fair to warn her.
“I know you’re awake,” I stated confidently. “If you continue to do what you’re doing, I’m going to find out personally if you’re a virgin or not.”
She gave a gasp, snatched her hand away and rolled onto her back, away from me. To an unsuspicious mind, one would have thought that her touch had been entirely accidental. I guess I have a suspicious mind, as I was damned sure it had been deliberate.
“I’m sorry,” Melody said, her voice seeming to shake slightly, “I didn’t realise what I was doing. My hand must have just sort of drifted down while I was sleeping.”
“It happens,” I said, nodding my head sagely. “I mean, you can see how my hand is drifting right now.”
And drift if did, over to her tummy, which was bare, the t-shirt having ridden up over her waist while she slept. Then my hand drifted further down until it was drifting across her pubic mound and heading south.
I could feel a slight scratchiness as my hand brushed her, indicating that another shave was required. As my hand dropped lower and finally came to a rest, gently cupping her pussy, I asked her a question that had been bothering me.
“Tell me,” I said, “does it feel different when a hand rubs you while you’ve got a little bristle here, compared to when you’re smooth shaven?”
To emphasise what I meant, my hand returned to that fine bristle, rubbing my fingertips back and forth across it.
Melody gulped. “I haven’t really experimented to find out,” she muttered. “I think you should stop doing that.”
“As you wish,” I murmured, and again let my hand slide back south until I was cupping her pussy, and started gently squeezing it and relaxing.
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, gasping slightly. “Please just take your hand away from there.”
“Sorry,” I murmured. “My mistake.”
My hand started moving north, again scraping across her fine bristle and moving back up to her tummy. Somehow or other I forgot to stop there, and my hand just kept going up, under the t-shirt and settling on one of the globes that I found there. Again I started doing a little squeeze and release, while my thumb idly rolled her nipple around.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Melody demanded.
“I’m not sure,” I told her honestly. “What I’m hoping to be doing is seducing you. Am I succeeding?”
“No, you’re not,” Melody snapped at me. At least, it sound like she was trying to snap, but I accidentally flicked her nipple as she was talking, and she sort of choked on her reply.
“Pity,” I told her. “Maybe kissing would help.”
Giving her ample time to protest, I leaned up and slightly over, lightly brushing my lips against hers. It was pure coincidence that my erection also lightly brushed her hand, and it was her own choice to close that hand around it.
At that stage I started deepening the kisses I was giving her, the light brushing of lips against lips giving way to mouth actively seeking mouth. Also my hand, which I had forgotten to remove, started wandering around her quite lovely chest, getting further acquainted with both the globes hidden under the t-shirt.
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