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When I was in my early twenties and living in my own place my younger brother took it into his head to move in with me for a while. This had its pluses and its minuses. On the plus side he was good company and could help pay the rent and utilities. On the minus side he was a bit of a slob who took up my space. I liked being on my own.

Another thing about my brother – I have to admit that at times he could be a right bastard. I’ve no idea where he got that trait from. Personally I’m one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet.

For some reason it seemed that that touch of bastardry appealed to a certain type of woman. Like calling to like, was how I explained it, as a number of his girlfriends seemed to be bitches of the first order. Take Karen, his current girlfriend.

Karen was a blonde, nineteen or twenty, with a really nice figure and a lovely personality. Sometimes. Other times she could give pointers to the Wicked Witch of the West. She also had a penchant for dressing in abbreviated clothing, liking to show off her assets. She had some very prominent assets, I assure you.

That’s where her bitchiness showed up at times. She liked to tease. I think she knew to a millimetre how far she could bend over to expose just so much and no more, leaving the boys panting in frustration, yearning for that extra hidden glimpse.

I was home alone one Saturday when Karen dropped by to see my brother. From her attitude it was plain that she had expected him to be there waiting, but as he wasn’t I invited her in and offered her a drink.

It was a hot day and Karen was wearing a wide belt masquerading as a skirt and a sun top. I was quite sure she wasn’t wearing a bra and her panties, if any, were of the no visible panty-line type.

Now being a normal young man (perpetually horny) I of course manoeuvred to ensure that I could a), look up her skirt, and b), look down her top. Karen on the other hand positioned herself so that I couldn’t see one square inch more flesh than she wanted me to. Not that she didn’t mind me seeing a great deal, just not quite enough. An interesting and frustrating experience.

We were in the kitchen, having our drinks and lightly sparring, when my phone nudged me, telling me I had a message. It was my brother. The message read something along the lines of. “If Karen is there tell her to piss off. I won’t be home for hours so she’s wasting her time waiting.”

That’s my brother. Mister Smooth. Changes his mind about a date and leaves it to me to do his dirty work. Ah, well. His decision fitted in well with my immediate wishes. Not that I’d actually intended carrying out those wishes prior to receiving the text message. That message meant it was a whole new ball game.

I got up and walked over to where Karen was sitting and held out my hands. It’s odd, but when a man hold out his hands to a seated woman she almost automatically takes them to allow herself to be drawn to her feet, which was what happened with Karen. As soon as she was standing I reached for her top and started lifting it up.

An immediate reaction. She batted at my hands, telling me in no uncertain words to keep my hands to myself. Trouble was, as soon as she slapped at my hands I caught hers. It was the work of a moment to push them around behind her and hold them there.

Now, instead of trying to lift her top, I started to undo the catches on her excuse for a skirt. Karen started wriggling and swearing at me, but I suppose that could be expected.

“Listen, woman,” I snapped at her. “No need to get your panties in a bunch. All I’m going to do is have a look at this figure of yours. You’ve been flaunting it and teasing for so long I figure I’m entitled. I’m not going to grope you afterwards. If you behave, I won’t even take a picture. I’ll just strip off your things and admire your curves and then let you get dressed again. Now stop wriggling and be quiet.”

I figured the chances of her actually shutting up and not wriggling were slim so I wasn’t too surprised to have her continue to carry on. She did tone it down considerable, though. She did ask me rather sarcastically if I’d considered asking to see her figure.

“Of course I considered asking,” I pointed out, “but you’d probably have said no and then you would have been warned of my intentions. This way I can just strip you and check you out. Sort of tag and release. A quick slap to the bottom will be the tag.”

She called me another rude name at that comment, but by then her skirt was dropping down and her panties (she did have some on) quickly followed.

“Be a good girl and step out of those things will you,” I suggested. “Saves me having to make you.”

I only got a fulminating look for that crack but she obediently stepped out of her panties, kicking them off one foot. I could see her chalking up another notch in the ‘things to get even for’ mental tab she was gathering.

Now it was obvious that I’d have to let go her hands to take her top off but before I did that I pushed it up and over her breasts. I was right about one thing – no bra.

I let go her wrists and used both hands to jerk her top higher. Karen didn’t really have much option but to let it go. She stood there afterwards, giving me a nasty look. Far from trying to use her freed hands to cover herself, Karen placed them on the table behind her, leaning back onto them.

She was really quite lovely, all luscious curves. Her breasts were high and firm and most definitely didn’t need a bra to hold them in position. She was nicely tanned, apart from where some interesting patches of pink and white showed the type of bikini she favoured.

I stood back a little, enjoying the scenery. Karen just stood there, really sort of leaning back against the table, I should say, hands behind her, effectively presenting her figure to its best advantage.

“If you’ve seen what you wanted to see, do you mind if I get dressed again,” she asked. The sarcasm was so thick you could have spread it on a piece of bread and eaten it.

The question was, did I mind if she got dressed again? Of course I minded.

Karen had been so busy flaunting what she had (and, yes, she had deliberately flaunted it once she had accepted the fact that she was going to be naked) and glaring at me that she hadn’t noticed what I was doing. The sound of my trousers hitting the floor seemed to come as a real shock to her.

She looked down when she heard the noise, then her head jerked back up and she was looking at me with surprise writ plain on her face. My intentions weren’t exactly hidden. Rather, they were standing out for all to see.

“You can’t,” she said, speaking almost in a whisper. “You said you were just going to look at me.”

I just moved closer to her. Like I said, she’d been deliberately flaunting her figure, leaning back against the table, legs parted. She couldn’t have been better positioned if I’d arranged her myself.

A little closer and my erection was brushing against her. I pressed it down slightly and eased forward, letting it slip into the gap between her legs. With that I started rubbing it back and forth, just dragging it along her slit, teasing her labia with its presence.

“Just look and then I can get dressed, you said,” she protested.

I continued gently rubbing my cock against her.

“I lied. You know what’s going to happen,” I pointed out. “Why don’t you help steer me into position?”

“You expect me to help you?” She looked shocked and indignant at the suggestion. “After you lied to me?”

I considered it from her point of view, then smiled.


She flushed. She was so mad I almost expected her to spit.

“No way. Anyway, your brother will be home soon. Let’s see what he says about this.”

“Sorry. That text I had was from him, telling me he won’t be home and to let you know.”

I reached over and took hold of her arm, pulling it forward and pressing her hand down against me.

“Come on,” I coaxed. “You know you want to.”

And she did want to, I was quite sure. She hadn’t tried to resist or protect herself, being content to give a few feeble protests. I was even more certain when she didn’t jerk her hand away, leaving it where I had put it, up against my cock.

We stayed like that for a short while. Karen’s hand resting on my cock, feeling it slide back and forth as I gently rubbed her labia. Her face was flushed and her eyes were hot. Standing naked with a man’s erection rubbing against her pussy was having an effect on her, like it or not. I could almost see the level of passion rising within her.

She finally gave a frustrated groan and took hold of my cock, changing the angle slightly so that it pressed up into her. Then I was sliding home. She was hot and wet, slippery and welcoming, and I drove fully into her with that initial thrust. She gave a groan of relief to feel me settling home, while I gave a sigh of satisfaction.

I held against her for a few moments, just enjoying being within her. Then I started moving, pulling out, only to firmly return. Karen’s arms were back behind her again, bracing her as she took my onslaught, her hips moving to meet me. With her breasts on display before me it would have been criminal not to take hold of them.

Karen was gasping and making little love noises as I took her, while my hands massaged her breasts and my erection showed her the delights of being a woman.

I took my time. I’d established a nice rhythm and I just kept it going, Karen happily moving in unison. Back and forth we swayed, our passions raised but controlled, enjoying the rasping of flesh against flesh. It’s not the sort of thing you can keep on doing, however. The body has needs and wants complete satisfaction, no matter how enjoyable the lead up might be.

I could feel my gonads demanding relief and I started moving faster. Karen kept up with me, her face flushed with excitement. I moved even faster, driving in hard, my need welling up with increasing urgency. Karen was gasping, hanging on by a thread, and I drove in hard for a tumultuous finish, venting deep inside her and feeling her contract around me, shuddering with her own climax.

I disengaged, breathing hard. Karen was slumped back against the table, eyes closed. I pulled the chair I’d been using earlier over to me and sat, watching her. Fairly soon she showed signs of getting her wits back together. I reached over and took her arm, drawing her to me. She was lying across my knee before she fully understood what was happening.

“What are you doing?” she finally asked, puzzled.

“You’ve been a naughty girl,” I explained. “You just cheated on my brother. You need to be punished.”

“Cheated? What do you mean, cheated? You forced me.”

“And you’re making excuses,” I said. “That doesn’t help your case. Too bad, but that’s the way it goes.”

I brought my hand down hard on her bottom, and didn’t she yelp.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she shrieked.

“Spanking you. You were naughty, remember? You must be punished.”

My hand came down again, leaving a matched pair of red handprints on her cheeks. Karen was not impressed. She flailed her legs and said some very nasty things to me, but that didn’t really stop me. I spanked her some more, my hand bouncing nicely off her bottom.

She’d swear and I’d spank. She tried to hit and I’d spank. She kicked her legs up and down and I spanked. It was really quite a bit of fun from my side of the spanking, while poor Karen had a bottom that was developing a nice deep flush.

“Are you sorry for cheating?” I asked, giving a final spank.

“Yes,” was the reply, and I could hear the tears behind her voice.

“And you’re not going to cheat again?”


“OK. I assume your bottom is smarting?”

I got a sniffle and a little nod as answer to that one.

“No worries. I know how to take your mind off that.”

I eased her to her feet, turning her towards the table, gently encouraging her to lean forward over it. I ran my fingertips lightly over her bottom, down to and along her pussy. By a happy coincidence, the spanking had got me aroused again and I had an erection just waiting to be used. I eased her lips apart and sank deeply in, my hands coming around her to capture her breasts.

Karen gave a shocked protest. You’d think that she was a virgin she became so indignant.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, starting to move gently within her. “I’m just taking your mind off your bottom.”

“You’re fucking me again. That’s what’s wrong,” she gasped, already breathing hard, her hips moving with me. “You just made me promise not to do this and now you’re making me do it.”

“This doesn’t count. You can consider this a continuation of your first seduction of me.”

She made a very peculiar noise at that point. It sounded as though she was trying to say something but didn’t know how to express it forcefully enough. I squeezed her breasts.

“Don’t worry about it for now,” I told her. “We can discuss it later if you want to.”

This time around the edge was off my need. This meant that I could put more effort into what I was doing without having to worry about firing too early. Accordingly, I drove in hard and fast and frequently, happily letting rip with all my energy. Karen bucked under me, proving that whatever I dished out she could take and return for more.

It seems a contradiction to say that I was able to take it easy while hammering into her a lot harder and faster than the first time, but that’s the way it was. I could take my pleasure while slowly recharging, and I did so.

Karen had no complaints. Well, actually, she did, but they were mainly about the fact that I was a liar, a brute, a sadist and a rapist who enjoyed attacking defenceless young women. She didn’t have any actual complaints about the sex, taking time off from her tirade to encourage me to go harder, go faster.

What she seemed to resent most was the fact that I had told a little white lie at the start. Had she seriously thought that once she was naked I wouldn’t even touch her? Apparently.

As the loving continued the diatribe diminished. I guess her sense of outrage couldn’t compete with the passion and lust rising within her. She was reduced to desperate gasping as I drove into her, her bottom bobbing frantically under me, helping to drive me deep into her.

For a while there I thought she was going to climax well before me, but a late surge brought me up to scratch. She climaxed and her clamping hold upon my erection was the trigger I needed to let loose, which I did with great relief.

This time when I disengaged I got dressed and gathered up Karen’s clothes so that she’d have them on hand when she was recovered enough to know what she was doing.

When Karen did get her act together she snatched up he clothes and stalked off to the bathroom. I followed along behind, watching and admiring while she took a shower.

“Do you mind not watching me?” she demanded when she got out of the shower.

“I was thinking,” I said, “that if you’re going to hang around waiting for my brother, you might like to skip the getting dressed part for the time being.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Well, I thought you could sit next to me while we watch TV. It won’t take long to put on your clothes when you have to and in the meantime I can pet you and admire your lovely curves. And if I come over all lecherous again, you’ll be ready for immediate ravishment.”

She gave me the strangest look. It seemed an eminently reasonable suggestion to me.

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