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I live out in the country and when I have a day free I like to wander around the back roads in my little car. I’m a good driver and normally quite careful on the roads but on this current day I have to admit I was in a bit of a dreamy mood. It was pretending that I was a racing car driver that got me into a little bit of trouble.

I knew the roads well. I could probably drive them blindfolded if I had to. So I felt quite safe in coming down the old hill road and doing a sliding turn into Millers Lane. I did it quite neatly, too, straightening up and leaning on the accelerator as I did so.

Then it was a case of thank god my brakes are good and my tyres are fair because there was a car coming down Millers Lane towards me and there wasn’t room for two of us on that road. I saw the cloud of dust coming up behind him as he hit his brakes and could imagine the same thing was happening behind me.

He had good brakes and he stopped before I did. Where I was concerned the bit about my brakes are good and my tyres are fair should have been my brakes are fair and my tyres are rat-shit. I’d been meaning to replace them. Time and money didn’t seem to coincide. I wasn’t going to be able to stop completely but he’d pulled well over and I steered well to the other side so I should have slid to a halt next to him without actually hitting him.

The driver’s side front tyre blew, didn’t it, and while it helped slow me down it also pulled my car inexorably across the road. It was just a gentle bump, really, but I could hear the tinkling of glass over the crunching of cars rubbing against each other.

Now I ask you, if you have to hit another car does it have to be a little BMW sports car? Those thing cost a bomb and they probably send them back to Germany for repairs. My insurance company was going to hate me.

The driver was getting out of his car and I had time to wonder how a man that big could get into a little sports car like that? Whatever, I piled out on my poor baby to meet him.

“This was totally your fault,” I told him firmly. “If you hadn’t been speeding we’d have had ample room to stop. Why did you need to hog so much of the road, anyway. And this is a private road, you know. I assume you’re a bad navigator, as well.”

“As well?” he asked calmly.

“As well as a bad driver,” I snapped. “You shouldn’t even have been on this road.”

“Well, for a start,” he said gently, “I wasn’t speeding. You were. I had ample room to stop. You didn’t. And yes, I know this is a private road. It just so happens that it’s also my private road.”

Oh, boy. What a way to meet the new owner of the property.

I grandly ignored everything he had to say.

“Just look at my poor car,” I said, putting a sob into my voice. “It’ll be off the road for weeks getting repaired.”

“I suspect mine will be away for a few days getting repaired as well,” he pointed out. “Due to an accident that was your fault. You might like to get the rest of your tyres replaced when they repair your car. If they repair it.”

“What do you mean, if? Of course they’ll repair it. That’s what insurance is for. You do have insurance don’t you?”

“I do, but they won’t pay for repairs to your car. Neither will your company, I think you’ll find.”

“Why not? The accident wasn’t my fault and I’ll tell them that.”

“Doesn’t matter. The insurance company won’t cover repairs that cost more than the value of the car and that means they won’t bother repairing that old bomb. They’ll just give you a payout figure less excess. From the look of that thing the excess is probably more than the car is worth.”

That was painfully true, which was why I was only covered for damage to other vehicles. My brother was going to have to fix mine.

“This is so unfair,” I grumbled. “The whole thing was totally your fault. Your insurance canlı bahis şirketleri should cover it all.”

“Can I have your details, please,” he asked, handing me a card. He’d written his insurance details and registration on the back of a business card while I’d been venting.

“Why do you need my details? Your insurance should cover your damages. You don’t need my details to get that done.”

“It is a legal requirement, you know. If you don’t want to give them to me we can always call the police and see what their opinion is.”

Oh, yes, they’d love that. They’d hit me with all sorts of fines. I could just see myself up before the judge hearing accusations of dangerous driving, speeding, refusal to exchange details, unroadworthy vehicle, and probably even littering. I shuddered at the thought and capitulated.

I scrabbled around in my purse for pen and paper and wrote down my details. Fortunately my insurance papers were in the glove box so I was able to give those as well.

“Well, my car is drivable so I’ll be on my way,” Ron said. (I got his name off his business card.) “Would you like me to call you a tow-truck?”

“No, fuck you very much,” I said under my breath. “Ah, no thank you,” I said out loud.

He was giving me a rather nasty look and I wondered why. He, at least, was driving away.

“I heard you the first time,” he said, sounding rather angry now.

Oh god. Maybe I’d said that a little louder than I thought. Either that or he had ears like a bat. Whatever, I just tossed my head and looked elsewhere.

“You know, if you were my daughter I’d put you over my knee and spank you.”

“Well bad luck, you’re not,” I snapped back at him.

“Doesn’t mean that I can’t imagine what it would be like. Why don’t you think about it? The way you’re going someone may just do that little trick to try to teach you some manners.”

My unruly imagination promptly ran away with me. I could just see him sitting down and pulling me over his knee. My panties would be pushed down exposing my bottom. Oh lord, it wouldn’t just be my bottom that was exposed. Then this great oaf would start smacking my naked bottom. I could feel his hand landing on my cheeks. How big were his hands? They’d cover my whole bottom. That would mean that his middle finger would be slapping down along where my bottom was cleft in two, and everyone knows what that cleft lead onto. My god, he could even spank me there with hands that size. I’d be getting all hot and excited while he spanked me and he’d notice. I could just see him pushing me to the ground afterwards, standing over me while he undid his trousers, finally kneeling between my thighs and raping me. I shuddered slightly. Thank god we were in a public place.

I forced myself to concentrate on the here and now. Still I was shocked to find I was breathing slightly harder and there was a pool of heat low down under my tummy. My eyes drifted over to his crotch and then I hastily looked away. I was not going to fanaticise about what he might have there.

“Interesting,” I heard Ron murmur and I looked at him.

“What is?” I asked confused.

He looked around and his gaze settled on this big smooth rock by the side of the road.

“Come here,” he said and strolled over to the rock while I followed, curious.

He turned and sat on the rock, looking quite comfortable.

“OK. Drop your panties and bend over my knee,” he told me.


“You heard. Apparently you agree with me where the spanking is concerned so let’s get with it.”

He had to be kidding. Did he really think I was going to go along with the idea? We were out in public, for crying out loud.

“But it’s not as though there is anyone else around, nor likely to be,” a little voice whispered to me, “and you were wondering what it canlı kaçak iddaa would be like.”

“There’s a big difference between wondering and doing,” I firmly told myself.

“No way am I taking my panties down.” I flatly laid it out to him.

“As you please. Just bend over and I’ll take care of that detail. Now move it.”

He spoke very firmly with that last bit and I found myself hurrying into position.

“Are you insane?” that little voice in me shrieked at the same time as I felt my panties being pushed down. I must be, I decided. I opened my mouth to protest but yelped instead. A hard hand had just landed on my bare bottom.

I couldn’t believe it. I really couldn’t. He’d told me to bend over and I’d just gone ahead and done it. He’d pulled my freaking panties down. My bottom was bare and he was spanking me. Bare bottom hell. He could see my pussy. I was flailing my legs up and down and then it dawned on me that by doing that I was exposing everything. I hurriedly stopped doing that, clamping my legs together.

That didn’t help with the spanking. His hand was all over my bottom, first one cheek and then the other. At least, it wasn’t like in my imagination with his long finger running the length of the split between my cheeks and probing where it shouldn’t. My relief about that came to an abrupt halt when he did precisely that, but worse than I’d imagined. His hand actually slapped down on my pussy, stinging it. Damn it — I was sure I was keeping my legs together. How come they were parted again?

I was twisting about, trying to evade that spanking hand, too scared to throw myself off his knee. My poor bottom was smarting and he had absolutely no right to drop the occasional spank against my mound, no right at all. Come to think of it, he had no right to spank me at all so why was I allowing it?

Oh, god, I felt helpless and excited. He was in charge and letting me know it in no uncertain terms. My bottom was hurting and I felt hot all over. It was as though the temperature had risen several degrees, just like that. On top of that I could feel a pool of heat deep inside me. Oh, hell, I couldn’t be getting aroused by a man spanking me, surely.

I was almost crying when he finally stopped. The only reason I wasn’t was that I was determined not to cry in front of a brute like him. He swung me to my feet and stood up.

“Bend over and put your hands on the rock,” he told me.

He couldn’t be serious.

“Why?” I asked.

He didn’t even bother to reply, just stood there, patiently waiting, as though he knew I was going to do as I was told. I wanted to rant at him, tell him what he could do with his demands and his spankings. Instead of that I swallowed nervously, turned around to face the stupid rock and leaned over it, using my hands to support myself.

I damn well knew it. He was a monster. A lecher. A despoiler of innocents. (Well, nearly innocent. I hadn’t been a true innocent since shortly after I turned eighteen and that was a couple of years ago.)

His hand closed over my mound and I damn near jumped over the rock. He started massaging me, rubbing my mound, sending sensual little signals deep into me. That little pool of heat was hotter now and spreading. His fingers slipped between my lips, dipping into my slit, probing the inner me. I tried to keep calm and just stay still, but it was hard. It proved impossible when he probed around my clitoris. I made a whiney sort of gasp, and he immediately did the same thing again.

His hand was lying along my mound, his fingers parted, parting my lips the same way. I knew what was coming. If I said no, would he listen? For some reason I thought that he would. I made sure to keep my mouth closed.

I was right and wrong about what was coming. Right in I knew what was firmly pushing between my lips. Wrong canlı kaçak bahis in that I’d underestimated how much of it there would be. He felt enormous. I was lucky he didn’t want to rush things — he’d have split me in half if he had, I just knew it.

He eased between my lips, stretching them apart (way apart, it felt like) and then sauntered down my passage, having all the time in the world to reach his destination. I was just leaning over that rock, my mouth hanging open in shock, feeling myself slowly stretching and accommodating him. I did make a sort of groaning noise when I felt his groin slap against me but that could be called a groan of relief that I’d managed to take him with no problems, assuming my passage recovered from this assault.

He eased himself back and forth a little. He wasn’t what you could call taking me at this stage, rather familiarising himself with me, making sure he could move smoothly inside me.

“Right,” he said, finally pulling right back and plunging back into me. “You were being very rude, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped. “I’m sorry.”

“You need to learn to mind your manners,” he said, his cock thrusting hard into me.

He proceeded to read me a mini-lecture, punctuating each point with a hard deliberate stroke of his cock. I’ve heard of people driving their point home, but not like this. (The spanking, by the way, had been lecture free. He had apparently saved it for this.)

All I could do was agree with every point he made, at the same time pushing hard to meet his onrushing cock. His lecture finished (he actually said the lecture was finished) he decided to get down to business. The slow timed drives used to make each point now settled down to a faster tempo, his cock banging in hard. I was gasping and found that I was still saying yes every time he thrust into me. I tried to shut up but didn’t seem able to.

God, the man was driving me insane and part of that insanity was not wanting him to stop. I’d gone from arousal to passion to pure lust faster than I could believe and I was wanting more and more. I found myself wanting to tear off my dress and bra so that he could get at my breasts and fondle them. I suspect that the only thing that prevented me was the knowledge that if I took my hands off the rock I’d fall flat on my face.

I was still saying yes but there was a touch of desperation in my cries. I needed something more. It was with a sense of wonder that I found him providing it. He started moving faster, hitting me even harder, and then that fire in my groin just roared up, setting fire to me, blazing high and sweeping me away. I was vaguely aware that he was having his own climax, but like I cared about that. I was just stunned by the force of my own.

I almost collapsed face down on that stupid rock. My legs were distinctly wobbly. He seemed to find it amusing. After a while I managed to collect my thoughts (and my panties).

“Why did you do that?” I demanded.

“Because you wanted me to,” he answered, calm as you please. “You’d better hop in my car and I’ll take you home or run you into town, whichever you prefer.”

“There’s no need,” I said somewhat huffily. “I can change the flat tyre and me on my way.”

He strolled over and walked around my poor little car, then came back, shaking his head.

“You’re not going anywhere in that car in its present condition,” he stated flatly. “The back tyres are so worn they could blow at any moment. The surviving front tyre is even worse. Also, your mudguard is pressing against the wheel.”

He opened the passengers door of his car and just stood there waiting. Grumpily I got in. He climbed in and raised an eyebrow.

“Home, I guess,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll get my brother to come and take my car home.”

“Right. And home is where?”

“Your place,” I said with another sigh. “My father is your foreman. My brother also works for you.”

He nodded, did a very neat little three point turn, and belted back the direction he’d come from. Oh, boy. My father was not going to be happy about the way I met the new owner.

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