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More cocks than she can count
"As far as I'm concerned you've been told what will happen if you remain, so if you remain you're tacitly giving me permission to take you. You can always rescind that permission by leaving."
I just gave him a look and sat down quietly while he went back to watching some silly football match. Who cares who can kick a ball furthest?
Time passed, the bikies partied and the football match finished. The man turned off the TV and stretched. Then he got up and walked into the bedroom without saying a word to me. I assumed that he was going to bed and just leaving me to sit until the damned bikies shut up.
I assumed that right up until he came back into the room, stripped down to his jocks. If I had thought he looked large just sitting down, now he looked enormous.
"You leaving?" he asked, jerking his thumb towards the door.
Dumbly, I shook my head.
"OK," he said and then he just bent down, picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder and walked back into the bedroom. I was hitting at his back but he gave a slap to my bottom and told me to cut it out. That slap stung, so I did cut it out. Next thing I was dumped on the bed.
"What do you think you're playing at," I snarled at him.
"Told you earlier," he said. "If you stay, I play. Last chance. Either get up and walk out the door or get on your hands and knees. Penalties apply if you do neither."
Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. If I walked out the door those bikies would probably rip me to shreds. If I stayed, it'd better be on my hands and knees. My bottom still smarted from that casual smack. What it would be like if he really spanked it didn't bear thinking about.
Considering my options, it seemed to me that he was really a nice person trying to be mean, but not quite carrying it off. It occurred to me that he was bluffing and all I needed to do was call it. He'd probably grope me a little to scare me and then leave it go at that. I did have one last try at talking him out of trying anything, however.
"You can't just take me because you want to," I explained. "It's not right. Besides, I'm still a virgin. I just don't do that sort of thing."
"Probably why you're scared shitless about those bikies," he said crudely. "And don't worry about your virginity. All girls suffer from that condition at some stage. It's easily cured. Are you leaving or staying?" Decision time. If I left I could easily find myself being ravished by dozens of drunken horny bikies. If I stayed, this guy might, but only might try to ravish me. If it reached that stage I could probably fight him off. With an internal groan I got on my hands and knees.
I was right about the groping part of it. He settled on the bed next to me, ran his hand over my bottom and then cupped my mound. Thankfully, he wasn't trying to take my bikini off.
"It occurs to me that seeing we're this closely acquainted, perhaps we should exchange names. I'm Michael. Call me Mike."
"I'm Tracy," I said, not really caring what he called himself. Still, I suppose it didn't hurt to know who I was going to scream at if he went too far.
Then Mike got down to it, stirring me up. He massaged my pussy under my bikini, running his hand back and forth, pausing and squeezing, and then more rubbing. At the same time he was playing with my breasts, squeezing them, feeling for my nipples beneath the cloth and pinching them, making them hard, poking little tents against my top.
I'll admit I let my guard down a little now. The fact that he hadn't tried to pull down my bikini seemed proof to me that he had no real intention of doing more than touching me up. I could put up with that, I reckoned.
And he kept on going. He'd rub my bottom, then my pussy. He trailed his fingertips up the inside of my thighs and I could feel myself tensing, waiting for him to touch me more intimately. Then there was the letdown when his hands turned aside and slid back over my bottom. Which made the following sudden cupping of my mound somewhat startling.
It took me a while to work it out, but Mike knew