I Can Accept No

I was at the beach, sunbathing. I had on the cutest bikini and, even if I do say so myself, I looked ravishing. I'd got to the beach early and had myself a nice spot. I wasn't exactly on public display but there were people reasonably close at hand.

I like a little privacy, but I'm not going to take chances with my safety. I had one close call just before I turned eighteen which made me a little wary about finding myself alone with strangers. I was lucky then, but you shouldn't count on luck where your safety is concerned.

Lying there, enjoying the sun, I felt this shadow fall across me. Opening my eyes to see who was trespassing on my sun I nearly pissed myself. I mean, literally. I honestly thought I would wet myself.

There was this guy looking down at me. From where I lay, he looked as big as a frigging mountain. I'd say that he was at least a foot taller than I was and he had muscles all over the place. He would easily have outweighed me three to one. I'm not saying he was ugly, but the broken nose didn't exactly enhance his looks. Imagine a knuckle-dragging hood trailing along behind some gangster as muscle and bodyguard. That was this guy.

I just stared up at him, thinking that if he wanted to cause trouble no-one would come and help me.

"Do you want something?" I asked politely, pleased that my voice wasn't shaking.

It turned out that he really had quite a nice voice. Not so nice was his choice of words.

"Yes," he said. "I want to peel off your bikini and kiss you all over. I'd like to start with your nipples, kissing and sucking on them until they're standing proud, then kiss you all the way down to your toes and back again. I want to taste your secret spots, reducing you to a gasping creature of need, desperate for me to continue. Shall we start?"

He'd already crouched down and was reaching for my top before I found my voice.

"No," I squeaked at him. "Don't you touch me."

He sat back on his heels.

"Hmm. I take it that this means you're not ready for a little dalliance right now."

"That's right," I said hastily. "Please go away."

"OK," he said. "I can accept no. Catch you later."

With that he was up and gone, leaving me feeling slightly bemused. Fancy talking to me like that, and then assuming that I'd let him actually follow through. I had a sudden vision of that goon tasting my secret spots. A very strange feeling washed over me and I shivered.

Half an hour later he was back.

"You want to be careful you don't burn," said a voice, and I knew it was him. "You have lovely white skin and it would be a shame to burn it. Have you got sunscreen on? I can rub in some more if you like. Catch those places that you missed. I'd enjoy rubbing cream into those long legs of yours. Can't you just feel that sensual touch of my hands caressing your thighs as I spread the cream around?"

"I've got cream on," I said, my voice sounding slight husky. This guy made me nervous. "Thank you anyway."

"You're sure you've put it on properly?" he asked, sounding as though he had my best intentions in mind. "You have to be careful applying it, especially around the edge of your bikini. You should really rub the cream under the bikini as well, or you may find you have some surprise burns. Look how pale your breasts are. I bet they show every little bruise when a lover fondles them."

"I'm fine," I said, trying not to think of those huge hands of his fondling my breasts.

Then he rubbed his chin and grinned at me.

"Fortunately, I'm clean shaven. You won't get any whisker graze when I suck your nipples. Like me to show you?"

I quickly shook my head.

"No. Thanks, but I'll pass. Ah, don't you have things to do?"

"I do, but one of them is you," he said. "However, I can accept no."

With that he wandered away again, leaving me feeling somewhat breathless. A little bit of that man went a long way. I looked down at my breasts, covered by my bikini top, wondering what it would feel like if he did suck on my nipples. Painless, as I wouldn't get whisker grazes. How considerate of him. My nipples actually puckered slightly at the thought of him sucking on them.

On his third visit I was starting to get irritated but, unfortunately, so was he. He rather rudely announced his presence this time, by shifting my bikini top.

"Damn it, woman," he snapped, when I batted at his hands with a squeak. "I thought I told you to put more cream on. Look at those red lines forming around your top."

I was furious with him for shifting my top and even more furious that he was right. I hadn't rubbed the cream far enough down on my breasts and shifts in the way it sat had left some uncreamed skin exposed. It was starting to develop a bit of a flush.

This maniac then grabbed up the cream pushed my bikini top up off my breasts and squirted cream on them. Next moment his great paws have landed on my breasts and are smoothing the cream all over them. I could feel my nipples hardening against his palms. I just froze in shock for a few moments watching, and it twigged as to what was happening.

"Do you mind?" I asked, pushing at his hands. "I can do it."

"Well you didn't do a very good job last time," he said, continuing to rub while I blushed and squirmed and pushed at his hands.

Funnily enough, all he did was rub the cream in. Then he lifted his hands away and looked at my bikini bottom.

"Do I need to check any further?" he asked, and I squirmed, feeling like a naughty little girl.

"No," I gasped, "I'll make sure I'm properly creamed. You may leave now."

He gave me a superior looking smirk, but rose and left me to make sure I wasn't going to burn in any other unprotected areas. I decided not to put my top back on. After all, my breasts were now creamed so they wouldn't burn and this way I could avoid tan-lines.

After fixing the cream I lay back down, muttering nasty words about do-gooder thugs with execrable manners. And my nipples were still erect, blast him.

Of course he came back again, ruder and pushier than ever. The first I knew of it was when my bikini bottom went down, leaving me lying there naked. I squeaked and clapped my hands over myself, looking at my friendly thug in horror.

"What are you playing at?" I squeaked. "You can't do that sort of thing."

"Just making sure you've put on the cream properly. I wouldn't want you to have a sun-burnt mons when I get around to massaging it."

"You're not going to get around to massaging it," I hissed. "I said no, remember?"

"Ah, that's right. You did. But that's OK. I can accept no."

Then he sat on the sand a little away from me, whipped off his shorts and lay back to enjoy the sun, naked.

"Will you go away?" I hissed at him. "You can't just lie and sunbake naked. People might come."

"Why not?" he asked me. "You are."

I could now understand why people commit murder. I'd been concentrating so hard on him that I'd forgotten that I was now naked. I was getting angry, which is the only excuse for my rudeness.

"Maybe, but I'm worth looking at, and I'm not waving a bloody great semaphore around. If you're not careful you'll find seagulls perching on it."

I wasn't entirely joking either. He had an erection and it was certainly waving at the sky. I pointedly looked elsewhere. I'd put my bikini back on when I was good and ready. Not just because I was scared of him, because I wasn't.

Then he was talking again.

"The time has come", the walrus said, "To talk of many things: of shoes - and ships - and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings."

"What?" I said, turning to look at him, not believing I'd heard correctly. I immediately looked away again because his erection was still rampart. God, I hoped no-one came past.

"It's poetry," he said. "By Lewis Carroll. Don't you recognise poetry? Women are supposed to love having men recite poetry to them."

"Do you often recite poetry to women?"

"Um, no, not really. This would be a first."

"Then why are you reciting it to me now?"

"It's all part of my strategy. I've fondled your breasts, and they are amazing by the way. I've managed to get your bikini off, you're feeling aroused, the nipples are a dead giveaway, and now I have to get you to relax and lower your guard so I can seduce you. The poetry will make you relax. I was going to recite Jabberwocky next. You'll love that one."

I couldn't decide if he was a genius or a simpleton.

"I thought you said you could accept no for an answer?"

"I can. It doesn't mean I have to like it. It just means that I try to change the question so that the answer becomes more acceptable. Watch."

A whacking great hand just reached over and closed over my mound and squeezed.

"Do you want me to take my hand off?" he asked before I could say anything.

"Yes," I squeaked.

"There you go," he said. "No would have been a highly acceptable answer."

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

"Don't you ever give up?"

"Not when it's something I really want, and I really want you."

"For how long? Like the song says, 'is this a lifetime treasure or just a moment's pleasure'?"

"Don't knock a moment's pleasure," he replied. "Are you a virgin?"

"None of your business," I snapped.

"You're not. A virgin would be all blushing and nervous facing a naked man who's sporting an erection. You're not. You know how to handle one. Wasn't that a moment's pleasure?"

I refused to answer that on the grounds that it might incriminate me, but I had to count it as a win for him.

"You're going to keep pestering me until I yield aren't you," I accused him.

"Probably," he said. "If I was sure you were saying it and meaning it I'd probably move on, but you don't, so I'll keep going for a while."

"I said no. How much more definite could I be?"

"Would you believe a girl who says no while lying there naked with her nipples standing tall? When she knows I'm also naked and my erection is waving to her and she keeps looking at it, even though she pretends not to?"

"But you're a complete stranger. People just don't have sex the first time they meet."

"Now you're being a little naïve. It's holiday time. There are probably a hundred women on the beach who are going to find themselves lying underneath a stranger at some stage of the day, getting their brains screwed out. Some of them will even repeat the experience."

Now that I thought about it I realised he was right. I knew several girls who'd admitted to having sex on holiday, and those men were probably strangers until then.

"That doesn't mean I have to be one of them," I pointed out.

"True. Are you going to be? I'm quite sure you want to."

"And what makes you so sure."

"Um, my hand is still on your pussy and you haven't objected."

My face must have looked as though it had the worst case of sunburn ever. He'd cupped my mound and asked if he had to remove his hand and I'd said yes, but he'd distracted me with his talk and I hadn't noticed that he hadn't moved it.

Now I did, and my face burned with embarrassment, because I seemed to be unconsciously pushing my mound against his hand. If he'd laughed I'd have hit him and that would have been the end of it. But he just smiled in sympathy and gave a little helpless shrug.

I just groaned and laid back against the sand, feeling his hands run over me. As well as rubbing my mound he was now also teasing my nipples.

His hand drifted away from my pussy, running along the inside of my leg and stopping at my knee. He gently pressed against it. If I moved my leg, I was history. He would move between my thighs and take me, I just knew it. My eyes flicked over at him, looking at his erection. I closed them again, and my legs yielded, parting at his gentle pressure.

Sure enough he moved between my legs, kneeling there. I tensed, waiting for him to take me, still totally unsure about this.

"Open your eyes," he gently ordered. "You need to see and agree."

Bastard, I thought. Why can't he just ravish me? Why do I have to agree?

I opened my eyes and looked down at where he was poised, ready to strike. Then I really opened my eyes. His erection had looked large while he was lying down and it was sticking up. Now it was hovering over my tiny body and it looked enormous.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said weakly, looking at where he was waiting.

He just smiled and his hand was moving my lips apart. Then his cock was pressing against my inner flesh and he moved his hand away, letting my lips close over him. Your vaginal passage will stretch to accept the man's erection we were told in sex ed. My passage had better be made of elastic was my current opinion.

The head of his cock was inside me and all that was left was the shaft. Too bad it seemed to continue into the distance. I could feel that hard ball pushing deeper, my soft passages yielding and stretching, parting to let him in. In he went, and I could feel him, really feel him deep inside me. It just seemed to go on and on.

Ever seen those comic graphs on the internet. I saw one for penis size as stated by the girl friend the first time she tries it, when she's in a regular relationship, and after she's broken up with him. The sizes range from twenty inches for the first time, down to two inches at break-up.

I was just wishing that I was breaking up right now rather than at the first time stage.

I was gasping now, watching it descend. I could see it sinking into me but I could feel it rising up inside me. Rather an odd disconnect. But I was still taking it and still stretching so I wasn't going to be the one to cry enough.

I can tell you I was relieved when he finally sank into me completely. I could hardly believe that I'd taken the whole thing without something breaking. I was about to tell him to just take it easy for a few moments while I adjusted. I mean, the guys who say size doesn't count haven't been on the receiving end of something like this. Like I said, I was about to tell him to take it easy when a horrible thought struck me.

"Um, excuse me. Wait a minute," I said quickly.

He looked down at me, slightly surprised, perhaps wondering if I was going to say stop. Not bloody likely, having had to lie there and take his cock. Now that it was there it could do its job.

"Um, what's your name?" I asked in a small voice. It's one thing to have a stranger talk you into having sex, but not even knowing his name?

"I'm Gabriel. Call me Gabe. And you are?"

"Bethany. They call me Bets."

"And what can I do for you, Bethany?" he asked.

I'd adjusted now. I was feeling a lot more comfortable with him in me. What could he do for me?

"Anything you like," I said, and pushed up firmly against him.

He gave a little snort of amusement and pushed back against me. For a moment we just pushed hard against each other, letting each other know we were ready.

Then he started in on me. He was big and strong and he hammered me. I was small and athletic and I just rode his cock, feeling it slide in and out of me, pushing hard against it as it rose up inside me and then letting it go as he pulled back.

The entire time our flesh rubbed together, the constant massaging sending ripples deep inside me, touching all sort of places that seemed to be eagerly waiting for those signals.

Damn it all, we were on the beach. Somewhat secluded, yes, but if I started screaming or squealing people would come to see what was wrong.

It was horrible. I didn't want to make a sound while my whole body was shrieking in delight. And it was getting worse. Gabe had hold of my breasts and was tormenting them. My whole body was writhing under him as he took me, sending me higher and higher.

I was practically whimpering with the need to scream and I didn't know what to do, and all the time that damn cock of his was crashing into me, multiplying my torments while increasing my delight.

I finally solved the problem by biting Gabe. I just sank my teeth into his shoulder and held on, while my body was almost vibrating under him. Gabe gave a small yelp when I bit him but didn't try to stop me. He just banged me harder than ever.

Then his climax hit me and my climax hit me and I let go of Gabe's shoulder and I was going to scream but he clamped a hand over my mouth and I bit that as well.

I was so embarrassed afterwards. I'd drawn blood from both his shoulder and his hand.

"Would you rather have had an audience checking out the screams?" he asked, and I had to admit that an audience would have been superfluous to requirements.

Fortunately, I had my bag with me and I have all sorts of thing in it. Including antiseptic cream and sticking plasters and wet tissues I could use to wipe myself down.

A little repair work and then I was back in my bikini and sun-bathing, but feeling incredibly lethargic while glowing internally. Gabe was sporting a couple of Minnie Mouse sticking plasters, much to his disgust, but I'd insisted. I can just imagine if his bite got infected and he had to go to hospital. I'd never live it down.

Isn't it amazing how some people can accept no for an answer.