An Angry Young Woman

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She seemed perpetually angry.
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Ashson
Ashson
8,505 Followers

I had what was supposed to be a decorative shrub in my garden. It went in as a seedling and seemed to develop quite nicely. Actually, it developed very nicely, growing quickly to hide what had been a vacant section. Then it started moving in on other plants, taking over their space, surrounding and choking them.

As time passed I just kept all the bushes trimmed and didn't really notice how this bush had prospered. It wasn't until I went out one day and saw that one bush had taken over half the garden and was still going strong that I realised that I might have a problem. It was currently taking up an area about thirty feet long and about ten feet deep, standing six feet high, and must have displaced a number of other shrubs and plants. It was only that small because of some vigorous trimming.

I did not want a front garden that consisted of one giant bush so I hired the local handyman to remove it. One bush, and with that gone the front yard seemed almost twice as large. I decided to put some edging around the surviving garden and put down some lawn where the giant bush had been.

I tidied up the soil and put down seed and watered it and the grass grew quite nicely up to the point where it all died. I asked a horticulturist what the hell was wrong. This giant bush had flourished there but now not even weeds would grow. What was going on?

Effectively, the giant bush had totally drained the soil. All I could do was toss down some fertilizer and some decent top soil and keep the grass watered and eventually it would recover. My best bet was some sort of runner grass like couch. It only needed a few areas to settle in and it would spread across the bare patch.

So that's why I was spending some time on a Saturday afternoon hosing down what looked like a patch of mud. If you looked closely you could just see touches of green as the grass struggled to take hold. I was quietly confident that the lawn would develop satisfactorily.

While I was doing this a nice little coupe was driving down the street, top open, and a charming little dear at the wheel. I knew the young lady driving in a roundabout sort of way.

She spotted me as she was driving past and slammed on her brakes. A good thing there was no-one behind her or she'd have been rear-ended. She pulled over, hopped out of the car and came storming over to me.

"You asshole," she shrieked at me. "Do you know how much trouble you got me in?"

Quite a lot, I hoped, but how she knew I was the culprit was something I'd be interested in finding out. To give you a bit of background, I'd been at the local mall, minding my own business, which is my normal practise. When I was leaving I saw this young lady in a coupe, the one currently parked next to my place as a matter of fact, trying to reverse out of the carpark. She managed to clip the car opposite her quite hard, leaving a noticeable dent.

So we have one irate young lady and one dented car. (Two if you count hers.) She changed gears and the engine roared but her little car stayed just where it was. I heard her gears grind again as she sought the right gear and the engine roared again. Partial success, I guess, as her coupe sure moved, but only partial success as it moved in the wrong direction, banging her victim again, harder, this time.

The young lady used a few words that I'm quite sure her mother never taught her, looked for another gear, and managed to move forward and into the driveway proper. There she stopped, got out, and walked back to look at the car she hit. Apparently not satisfied with the damage her car had caused she hauled off and kicked the car, denting another panel. Then she drove off.

I waited around and a little while later another charming young lady came out and almost burst into tears when she saw the state of her car. I approached her and introduced myself.

"Did you do this?" she asked, waving at her car.

"No," I said, holding up my phone, "but I have some excellent photos of the person who did, including the car and licence plate. Do you have Bluetooth?"

I sent her the pictures, along with the advice that she let her insurance company have them.

"I can do better than that," she said with a nasty smile. "I'll show them to my father. He's a cop."

I bowed to her greater wisdom and departed the field.

So at a guess I had a pretty good idea how much trouble the young lady had been in. Several traffic offences and an insurance company wanting her blood. Her money, preferably, but they would accept blood.

The point is I hadn't told the victim who I was apart from my first name. So how did the crappy driver locate me? (Still a crappy driver if the way she'd braked was any indication.)

Back to her question - did I know how much trouble I got her in?

"Ah, no," I said slowly, blatantly running my eyes over her. She was certainly worth having eyes run over, followed by hands and tongue and etcetera, if you know what I mean, and you should. "You don't look pregnant and I'm pretty sure I'd remember if I'd done anything to get you pregnant."

"Fuck you, asshole," she yelled. "I'm not pregnant."

"So was that an invitation?" I asked. "I don't usually fuck on a first meeting but where you're concerned. . ." I was looking her over again.

"What? No. Don't be such an asshole. You know what I'm talking about."

"Ah, no, I'm afraid I don't. Why don't you elucidate."

She mentally skewered me with a burning sword. I could almost see her running me through, withdrawing the sword, and running me through again.

"You told the police about that little accident I had at the mall. Do you realise how much trouble that caused. I got huge fines and a whole heap of demerit points. If I have even a little speeding fine I'll lose my license. And there was the cost of fixing that old heap."

"And undoubtedly the cost of fixing your own car. Accidents are so expensive. Ah, what makes you think I told the police about the accident?"

"They told me," she grumbled. "They showed me the photos you took and said you were willing to come in to testify if I fought the charges. I had to plead guilty and that magistrate was so rude."

She shut up for a moment, fuming over how rude the magistrate had been.

"I'm sorry you've had such a rough time of it but I doubt that the police named me because I haven't spoken to them."

"Well your name and address was on the file as the photographer," she grumbled, "so you must have."

I wondered how the police got that information. My best guess was the victim probably took note of my number plate when I left and told them so they could trace me if they had to. Still, it was very careless to let an offender know witness details. I would certainly be chatting to someone about that.

"Well, it seems to me that if you'd been driving more carefully or if you'd stayed to exchange details you wouldn't have had these problems. Probably wouldn't hurt you to have some more lessons."

I turned away and continued watering my lawn-to-be.

"Listen, asshole," she yelled, grabbing my shoulder.

I'm just guessing but I think she wanted to yell at me some more. Things didn't work out that way. When she grabbed my shoulder I naturally turned to face her. The hose just as naturally followed my movement. Just like that I was watering her rather than the lawn.

She screamed, took a swing at me (she was a hot-headed little thing), and stumbled forward when I avoided the punch. Stepping from a cement path onto soft ground can make you trip if you're not careful. She wasn't and she did, falling face first onto the grass.

I think I mentioned that the lawn was more a lawn in theory than in practice. Right now, more mud than grass, although the greenery was starting to show. The full face plant she did probably made a real mess of a number of seedlings and I was going to have to re-seed that area. Worrying about my lawn was probably why I forgot to let go the trigger on the hose, continuing to water where I was looking. At her.

The scream of fury was enough to remind me and I hastily shut off the hose. She scrambled to her feet, doing more mischief to my lawn as she did so.

"Look at me," she shrieked. "Just look at me."

"I'm looking," I assured her, and I was.

"Ah, did you know that outfit is transparent when wet?" I asked. "Fortunately the mud helps."

The mud might have helped but not all that much. Both her top and bra were transparent when wet and by an odd coincidence the mud on her breasts had been hosed away. Two delightful pink nipples could be seen showing through.

She was bouncing up and down in her fury, which was also doing delightful things to her breasts.

"You, you. . ." She didn't seem to be able to think of anything to call me.

"Geez, you are a mess, aren't you," I said sympathetically.

The burning sword look was produced again. I could see visions of thumbscrews in the background.

"Listen, if you try to drive home like that you're going to make a complete mess of your car. Why don't you come inside and you can get cleaned up. I can even wash and dry your clothes while you have a shower. I'm sure you'll want to get that mud out of your hair as soon as possible. Um, would you like me to hose off the worst of the mud first?"

She just stood looking at me and spluttering, so I tossed the hose down, took her elbow and steered her into the house. We used the back door. I didn't mind tracking a bit of mud onto tiles but not on carpet, thank you very much. My laundry was just off to the side of the back door. I stopped outside it.

"You might as well take those things off now," I told her. "That way you won't drip such a mess through the house."

"I'm not getting undressed in front of you," she flared up at me.

"Ah, listen, kid, you're already effectively naked. Just look at yourself. I can already see everything. Now be a good girl and get undressed. I'll attend to your clothes while you have your shower and wash your hair."

"I'm not a kid," she snapped.

"Yeah, I can see that," I said, which seemed to make her even angrier. "Perhaps if you gave me a name to call you by?"

"Vivian," she snapped, "and I'm not getting undressed with you standing there."

"Actually, Vivian, you are. Enough nonsense. Either strip off or I'll do it for you."

She looked as though she was going to explode but must have realised that I was serious.

"Fine," she said, the way she said it heralding a just vengeance in the near future. With that she calmly stripped off, leaving a sodden, muddy, pile of clothes. I picked up a towel from the cupboard behind her and handed it to her. (See. I can be a gentleman.)

"This way," I told her and led her through to the bathroom and left her to have her shower. I returned and tossed everything in the washing machine, excluding shoes, and set it going for a quick wash. Then I spent a few minutes cleaning up her shoes.

As I have only myself to please my hot water is set to not too hot. Hot enough, but I could shower with the water directly from the hot tap. This saved me money on heating water and I never ran out. A shower takes me five minutes. Ten tops. I figured the hot water would flow for a good twenty minutes which meant I had a good idea of when she'd be out of the shower.

Fifteen minutes later it seemed as if I was going to be right as the shower was still running. I took her clothes out of the washing machine and tossed them in the drier and then wandered down to the bathroom.

"You're going to lose hot water in a few minutes," I yelled through the door. "Better start rinsing off."

Something rude came floating back in answer. A very evil tempered girl, that.

She must have heeded my warning because when the hot water did run out she was ready to hop out of the shower. She came out of the bathroom a couple of minutes later, a towel wrapped around her.

"My clothes?" she asked.

"Still in the drier," I informed her. "Step into the front room for a moment while we wait for the drier to finish. Can I get you a drink?"

"Might as well," she grumbled. "I'll have some scotch, please."

"You won't. You're driving. You can have tea, coffee, or a soft drink."

"Who made you my father?" she demanded. "I can have alcohol if I want it. I am over eighteen, you know? Driver's license and all that."

"You have got a license, have you? You surprise me. You won't have it for long if you take a scotch and then get in the car. Tea, coffee, or Coke. The drink, that is."

"I'll have a glass of coke," she said with a very put upon air.

I'd guessed that was what she'd prefer and I had a cold can waiting. I split it into two glasses and handed her one. She skulled hers down quite quickly.

"While we wait for your clothes to dry there was something I wanted to discuss with you. You were very rude outside when you first stopped. Nor have your manners improved noticeably since then. Don't you think you should apologise for your rudeness."

"Are you for real?" she asked. "I see no reason to apologise just for calling an asshole an asshole."

"Yes, I'm for real. Would you like me to explain why you should apologise? I'm sure you'll understand my reasoning easily enough."

"Oh, please do," she said. "I'm all ears."

She hadn't bothered to sit down since entering the room. Understandable when you consider the fact that she only has a towel covering her. But she was standing in easy reach of me, so I reached. I also sat down on the couch at the same time, pulling her down and across my lap. A jerk on the towel and I tossed it aside and I had a squirming naked lady bent over my lap, squawking furiously.

"Be quiet," I told her, my hand coming down firmly upon her bottom. "How do you expect to hear what I have to say while you're making that noise?"

I proceeded to explain what I thought about poor driving, rude manners, name calling, attempted assault, and failing in your civic duty after an accident. There was nothing sexual about what was going on. I was just bouncing my hand off her bottom hard enough to make it smart. The facts that it was a very cute little tush and that she was also flashing certain other parts of her body were irrelevant. Appreciated, but irrelevant.

I swung her back onto her feet and she just looked at me, shocked and furious, tears on her cheeks.

"Alright," she screamed, "I'm sorry. Are you happy now? I'm sorry."

With that her whole posture changed, relaxing, a defeated look in her eyes

"I'm sorry," she said in a voice that was just above a whisper.

That was the cue for the floodgates to open and she started to cry in earnest. She looked complete woebegone and totally cute. I had no real choice over what came next. I pulled her back down onto my knee, and she buried her face against my chest and cried.

All I could do was hold her, rubbing her back and murmuring words of comfort, letting her cry as much as she wanted.

When she finally stopped crying she just stayed where she was, snuggled up to me and being comforted.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked her, as there was plainly more on her mind that having her bottom smacked or being fined by the cops.

She shook her head. "No," she mumbled into my shirt. "He's just an asshole, like you. I'm not giving him another thought. He's not worth it. It's none of your business anyway."

For someone who didn't want to talk about it she certainly had a lot to say. The gist of it was that she caught her fiancée in bed with someone else, resulting in a broken engagement. The little spanking I'd given her had acted as a catharsis, giving her an excuse to cry and let it all out. As she talked it out I could feel her cheering up. She was better off without a cheating boyfriend, she decided. Better before than after the wedding. On top of the cheating boyfriend there'd been the accident and the police and now me.

"And you spanked me. How could you do that?"

She wasn't angry any more. Just rather indignant.

"Quite easily," I told her, my hand softly rubbing her bottom. "You have a very nice tush, you know."

I think that was the moment that she remembered that she was naked. She sat up straight with a squeak, which resulted with a lovely pair of breasts being presented to me for my delectation. Before she could do anything about hiding them again I leaned down and kissed one. It reacted so nicely that I had to kiss the other, just to make sure things were balanced.

"Very nice breasts, too," I observed.

"You can't do that," she protested.

"Why not?" I asked. "It's easy. Watch."

I proceeded to repeat the experiment, kissing first one breast and then the other, my lips managing to close over her nipples and tug lightly on them. Seeing that she was sitting on my lap and her legs were parted slightly my hand just sort of drifted down onto her legs, sliding between them and investigating.

"I really don't think you should be doing that," she gasped out, not doing much else to prevent me.

"Yeah? Well let me know when you make up your mind one way or the other," I murmured, my hand gently rubbing the interesting places it had found.

I kept playing, finding her body delightfully responsive to my touch. She kept on with her protesting, but they were all hedged about with words like 'you shouldn't'. The truly magic words like no and stop didn't seem to occur to her. Neither did a physical protest. It would be hard to claim a slap on the face or a punch on the nose indicated acceptance.

A little time passed and I heard the dryer stop, indicating she was now able to get dressed, I'd have to remind her sometime. Just not yet.

When she was nicely flushed, hot and wet, I made a more determined move. I eased her off my lap and onto the couch, on her back with her legs nicely parted. I let her see that I was undoing my trousers but apart from a slow shaking of her head seeming to indicate denial of what was happening she didn't react.

I was leaning over her and her eyes were flicking between my cock, watching it come closer, and my eyes, watching to see if I was serious. I guess she must have thought I was when she stopped watching my face and concentrated on watching my cock as it first butted against her and then started pushing into her. She gasped and pushed up urgently against me, forcing me deep inside her, where I'd been envisioning a long slow entry.

This was not a problem. I could still do a nice slow loving. That was, I could up until she wrapped her legs around me and started moving under me. Suddenly I was playing catch-up, which was not where I'd seen this going.

She screamed something along the lines of, "Oh god, yes, I needed this," and was bucking hard under me, getting the most out of me before I had a chance to really give her anything. I persevered, naturally, rallying gamely and managing to get a steady rhythm going, even if it was a lot more animalistic than I expected.

I must say that even though things weren't working out the way I expected or intended I was having an incredible experience. Vivian was literally wrapped around me, kissing me for all she was worth, while our bodies played the mating game as if we'd invented it.

Perhaps we were a little too enthusiastic as it seemed hardly any time at all passed before she was going into a climax, dragging me along with her. She shrieked and shook and clung to me even harder, relaxing ever so slowly afterwards.

When we finally separated she gave me a nasty look.

"You need to adjust your hot water," she told me. "I'm going to have to have a cold shower now."

With that she vanished into the bathroom again while I went and got her clothes out of the drier. I tapped on the bathroom door and went in, to her great indignation.

"Your clothes are warm from the drier," I told her. "I thought you'd appreciate them if you're having a cold shower."

Ashson
Ashson
8,505 Followers
12