Our Welsh Holiday

by Lord John Thomas

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Rape, Heterosexual, Fiction, Wimp Husband, Interracial, Black Male, White Male, White Female, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, .

Desc: Fiction Sex Story: This is a story of how a simple young married couple's life is changed for ever. And the catalyst for the change was a traumatised man who had retained the mental age of ten years old.

All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes that could cause offence to some people. Please do not read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual material, or if you are under the legal age of consent for your own country. These stories are pure fiction and are not based on anyone living or deceased.

“It looks like we could be lucky with the weather.”

“Well it isn’t raining yet, so I hope you’re right.” I replied, as our little Morris Minor turned into the pebble drive that led us up to the reception of the camp site. My name is Elena, and my husband is Walter, I’m twenty two, and he’s twenty–nine. Who are we, and what is my story about?

Well I’ve told who we are, but from that description we could be anybody, but how do you describe yourself without feeling like your being immodest. And even more difficult; how can I describe my husband without you wondering why on earth I ever married him? I think I’ll start with how we met; he was twenty-six, and the son of one of my mom’s best friends. They’d just recently moved into a house just a couple of blocks away from my mum’s house. I have always been shy with boys, and even at the age of nineteen, had never had a boyfriend. He arrived one day with his mother, and as they talked, my mom told me to take him to my room and show him my art work. I was still at art school, and had a room full of mostly paintings, but also some other stuff. Well I took him, and he seemed genuinely interested, unlike most people my mom showed my work to.

Then two weeks later I accompanied my mom on a return visit to her friend, and he showed me his collection of model gliders. These were all made by him from balsawood and tissue paper, so they were very fragile, and I thought just how clever he must be to make them. To cut a long story short, we just felt comfortable in each other’s company, and within a year we were married.

My husband is a lovely man, so don’t get me wrong when I say the following. Since we married two years ago, I’ve come to realise, just how feeble he is. I knew before we married, he hadn’t got the body of Charles Atlas; and although he was tall, five foot eleven, he was very skinny. But even though I am only five foot two; if ever there is any problem to be resolved, it is him who stands behind me while I have to be the powerful dominant one.

A typical example would be when a new washing machine arrived, and as the delivery men lifted it from the lorry, it slipped. We were watching them through our front window, “Look, they’ve dropped it. Go and tell them we don’t want that one now.”

But as they started to carry it to our door, he said, “But it might be alright.”

“I know it might! But we’ve just paid for a new machine; you never know what damage that could have done.”

By now the door bell was ringing, he turned and as he made his way out of the room, said, “I’ll go and see what it looks like.”

I followed him to the door, and it was obvious from the crumpled packaging, the machine must be dented, never mind what damage it had done to the workings inside. I looked up to him and said pointedly, “Walter!”

“Err, will that be alright?” He asked the man as he pointed to the damaged packaging.

“Oh don’t worry about that squire, it’ll not be much, and its round the back, so you’ll never see it.”

“Oh. Ok then can you carry it through to the kitchen for me?”

I stepped from behind him and pushed him to one side. “Don’t you dare! Get that back on your wagon, and if you haven’t delivered a new one by five O’clock tonight, I’m cancelling the order.”

“But...”

“Don’t you but me, I’m paying for new goods, not damaged rubbish. Now get it out of here.”

“You’ll not get a replacement for at least two weeks.”

“In that case you’ll lose a sale. Five tonight or I’ll be down to that shop and want my money back.”

So from that I guess you’ll realise, it always fell upon my tiny shoulders to sort out our problems, while Walter was just prepared to go along with anything I decided. But this holiday, was something he had arranged, he’d apparently been going to this camp site with his parents for as long as he could remember.

“It’s only half a mile from a lovely beach. The locals are all friendly. And if we book in May, you can usually get a good week weather-wise, and because it’s out of season, it’ll be cheap.”

This was his sales pitch to me, and although I’d never been camping before, our meagre budget didn’t leave us much choice. So two years into our marriage, and our first holiday was to be at a camp site. Once I’d sent for the information, I found out they had a choice of renting facilities. You could supply your own tent and just rent the plot. Or you could hire a tent, a caravan, or even a chalet. These chalets looked so nice in the brochure. Little wooden buildings, and they had a living room, toilet, and bedroom. The cost was slightly more than the caravan, but when I said that was what we were going to book, he just agreed.

I guess that was him all over, if anyone suggested something, he’d just back down, to avoid the conflict. Even our marital relations were governed by this attitude. I’d have to make the first move, and when he penetrated me, it was only just the first inch or so of his cock. I’d tried to get him to push deeper, but just because on one occasion, I’d squealed or let out some kind of yell, he’d taken this as a signal he was too big for my Marylou; as he called it. So although I’d heard of women having an orgasm when having intercourse, I had no idea what one was. And even this pathetic form of intercourse, was something I’d only get once or twice a month after me making the first move.

So back to the actual story, or at least the beginning of my sexual education. Now what you have to realise is that as we entered this camp site, I hadn’t even considered our sex life was in anyway abnormal, it is only now with hind sight, I can see just how tense and frustrated my body must have been.

We rumbled along the gravel drive, some hundred yards or so up to what was a very large house. This had a large extension built onto one side, which by its signs, was obviously the club house and entertainment facility. The state of the building was shabby to say the least, and looking to my left, the rows of chalets; one of which I’d been looking forward to spending my next two weeks in, were just as bad if not worse. And then I saw him, the man who would ultimately bring about such an earth shattering change to my life.

Kinga.

How do I know this man’s name? A man I’ve never seen before. And this is before anyone has pointed him out to me.

Well in the course of Walter talking about his previous holidays, he mentioned this man; Walter had known him since they were boys together. It appears the couple who ran this camp site had adopted this lad of ten years old, through some Christian society they belonged to. He was an orphan, from somewhere in one of the many African countries where a tribal war was taking place. His father and mother had been killed in front of him, but not before he’d witnessed his mother being violently raped by a gang of marauding soldiers.

Walter had explained that back then when they first met and they were both just eleven, Kinga had seemed normal to him. But as the years went on, he soon began to realise Kinga never got any older in his mind. There was also some kind of problem about five years ago, Walter didn’t know what the problem was, but the last two times he’d been to the site, Kinga hadn’t been there. His father had just said he was away from home, but not explained why. Walter did find out that Kinga’s adoptive mom had died around five years ago, and he thought this might have some bearing on Kinga’s absence. He also said the last time he’d seen him; his mental age was still no more than he’d been back all those years ago when they first met. But of course, he was physically now a man, and what a man. He stood six foot six plus, big broad shoulders and a body rippling with muscles.

This last part of the description of him was mine, not Walter’s. You see as he’d seen our car pull into their site, he’d recognised Walter. And then like an excited ten-year-old who’s just seen his favourite uncle arrive, he’d ran the length of the site; and was now no more than a few feet from our car. He wore a pair of loose torn jeans, a ripped tee-shirt, brown leather sandals (no socks), and a big beaming smile showing a mouth full of pearly white teeth. Oh; and yes he is black, so the white teeth stood out all the more in contrast.

As the car stopped we climbed out and Kinga threw his arms around Walter’s neck, and went on like an excited child, which I guess with his mental age, and considering they hadn’t seen each other for over five years, was an understandable reaction.

Walter was plainly embarrassed, but he just stood there until Kinga had calmed down. Then he pointed to me, and said to Kinga, “This is my wife; Elena.”

Kinga dashed to me and took hold of my hand, “She’s pretty. I wish I had a girl like her.”

He was holding my hand using both of his and my little hand was so small and soft in comparison. But his grip was so gentle; it didn’t feel in any way threatening.

I told Walter to go and sort out the registration, while I found the toilets. Water did as he was instructed, and Kinga pointed to a sign for the ‘Ladies’. When I returned, Walter was still in the reception, but Kinga was at the back of our car with a small hand trolley.

“I’ll take your cases to your chalet. Daddy doesn’t allow cars across the grass, it’s too wet. When we’ve got your cases out, Wally can park the car over there in the car park.”

“Ok, I’ll get the key for the boot (Trunk).”

I opened the boot and as I lent inside, he said, “I’ll get that.”

And as good as his word, he proceeded to lift the cases from the boot onto his trolley. Then as I looked inside the boot, I could see a small wash bag right towards the front end. I lent right over, and had just taken hold of it when I felt something on my bottom. I instantly lifted my head and attempted to haul myself out, but all I succeeded in doing was to bump my head on the underside of the rear parcel shelf, and the hand, for that is what I now realised it was, prevented me from pulling back. For a second I wondered what I should do. It was obviously Kinga’s Hand, and it was on the outside of my ample length dress, so it wasn’t as if I was in imminent danger of some kind of sexual molesting.

I didn’t want to overreact, knowing his mental age, and trying to make as many allowances for him as I dare, I said, “Ok Kinga. You’ve had your joke, come-on let me out now.”

“Wally’s girl has a nice bottom. I wish I had a girl with a bottom like yours.”

“Come-on Kinga. You know Walter will be angry with you if he sees you doing that.”

“He won’t mind. Walter and me share all our things.”

“I’m not a thing! I’m Walter’s wife; now that’s enough. Let me get out; otherwise I’ll get annoyed.”

I now felt one of his big hands on the back of my neck, and as his fingers encircled it from one side, his thumb gripped around the other. I attempted to shake my shoulders from side-to-side to free myself, but the big hand held my neck firmly, and even began to push my head lower down in towards the boot floor. And then the hand that had been slowly circling around my bottom, slipped up under the back of my dress and touched my inner thigh.

As it slid up towards my crotch, I let out a cry for help, “WALTER! WALTER! For god sake where are you WALTER? SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

I was now calling at the top of my voice; so much so, the sound echoing around in the little boot was almost deafening to my ears. But I guess from outside, the sound was not carrying a great distance, and even if it had, I guess there was nobody else in sight. But Kinga wasn’t fazed by my shouting, as his fingers reached my crotch, he just began to slowly stroke the gusset material, as he said calmly, “I like Walter’s wife. You wear shiny knickers.” And then as his fingers slipped into one of the leg openings, and resumed their slow stroking, but this time in the valley of my Marylou, “Your fanny is soft. Can I shag you?”

“KINGA NO! GET YOUR HAND OUT. HELP ME, SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME.”

Then I heard Walter’s voice. “KINGA! Hey stop it.” This shouting from a distance had absolutely no effect on Kinga, and he just kept up his leisurely stroking until Walter reached the back of the car; which was maybe up to half a minute later. Then as Walter put his hand on Kinga’s back, and was able to talk calmly to him at a normal level, “Come-on Kinga let her get out now.” I felt Kinga’s hand withdraw from my neck.

But as I raised my head and attempted to back myself from the boot, one of the fingers inside my knickers found my hole, and up it slipped. I gave a weird involuntary shudder as it glided effortlessly in to its full length. It was so big and fat, and penetrated me so deeply, stretching virgin flesh, which had never been touched before. For a split second, I was rendered helpless, not able to move. In fact, I think I might even have let out an involuntary sigh.

But then as the reality of the moment hit me, I kind of leapt sideways, off his invading hand, swung myself around, reached as high as I could and landed an open palmed slap across Kinga’s face. “SLAP!”

Kinga didn’t even flinch, but Walter grabbed my wrist, “Hey, that’s enough. He didn’t mean anything, he was only playing.”

“PLAYING! Yes he was playing with your wife’s...” I hesitated; the rude word I was thinking just wouldn’t leave my lips. “Oh god Walter, I’ll leave you to sort this one out.” And with that I stormed away back to the ladies.

This first encounter with Kinga, you might have thought would have frightened me off him for life, but no. I was just annoyed that he would not do as he was told. So in the ladies room, I first washed my face to remove the sweat and the dust it had collected from the floor of our boot, and maybe I’d hoped it might cool down the angry mood I was in.

It was only then as the anger subsided, that I became aware of an unusual sensation in my crotch. I went into a cubicle, lifted my dress, and began to lower my knickers. My pussy was saturated and glistened with what I at the time thought looked like the raw white of an egg. As I touched it and drew my finger away, it stretched in long sticky tendrils. It was slippery and warm to the touch. And when I touched, I couldn’t believe my eyes. My Marylou seemed to open and close, as if it was blowing me a kiss. It blew my mind, so much so I just sat there for what must have been ten or more minutes, in some kind of trance. When I eventually came to my senses, I cleaned myself down, and made my way to the chalet that Kinga had pointed out to me earlier.

As I entered, there they were, both sitting at the table drinking a cup of tea. “Are you alright? Kinga has told me he’s sorry. Aren’t you Kinga?”

This big giant of a man stood up, and with a pitiful look on his face, as he walked towards me he said, “I’m sorry Mrs Walter. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” And then before I could answer he’d bent down and hoisted me in the air. He carried me like I was a feather, and put me down on a chair next to Walter. “You sit there; I’ll make you some tea.”

As I looked across at Walter, I was still at a loss for words, when I saw Kinga pouring the water from the kettle into a cup to make my tea. Now this might not be significant to any of our American cousins reading about my experience, especially if they are used to instant coffee. But even most ten year olds in England will know, you can only make tea with water that is boiling. A kettle off the boil and left standing for only a minute will not make tea. It again hit me this was not a grown man who’d just molested me, but just a hormone driven and very confused adolescent. The next hour passed without incident, and when I told Walter I was about to prepare our evening meal, he told Kinga it was about time he made his way back home.

Once he’d gone, I sat down with Walter and attempted to determine just how we were going to deal with what I could see to be a potentially serious problem. “Did you say anything to him?”

“About what?”

“God Walter! He had his hand up my skirt!”

“I told him he’d frightened you, and he shouldn’t do it again.”

“And what was his reaction?”

“He began to get a bit upset, he said we’d always been like blood brothers, and shared everything. I told him it was different with girls, and that he couldn’t share you.”

“So do you think he’ll keep his hands to himself now?”

“I’m sure he will; he didn’t touch you when you came back, did he?”

“No. But I’ll feel safer when we get off this site.”

“What? You want us to leave?”

“Look I know he’s your friend, but he scares me.”

Now whether this was true or not, even looking back at that situation now, I’m not honestly sure. I did know that unlike my Walter, Kinga took absolutely no notice of me, and as the experience in the boot had demonstrated, his one hand could overpower my whole body. But there was also a deep rooted worry in the back of my mind, being aware of the reaction I’d encountered in my Marylou, and not knowing if this could in any way leave me vulnerable.

“Please, I’ll make sure I never leave you alone again. You know he won’t touch you while I’m around.” This was the first time Walter had ever attempted to get his own way, so I knew it must be something that meant a lot to him.

“Ok, but if he ever attempts anything like that again...”

Again Walter surprised me by butting in before I’d finished my sentence. “He won’t. Come-on, it’s been a long day, let’s have an early night, and then make an early start in the morning.”

“Ok, you’re right, an early night makes sense. But you can keep the early start to yourself, I’m on holiday, and I don’t intend to get up before ten in the morning.”

“Are you sure, its great down on the beach first thing.”

“No thank-you, I get up early for work six days a week all year round. This is my two weeks to be lazy. I’ll get up late, and then take a nice hot shower. I hope the showers are working.”

“If you don’t come to the beach, that means I can’t go, I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Then go and see Kinga tonight, and get him to go with you. That way, I’ll be safe, because he’ll be at the beach with you.”

“Good idea, I’ll go now before it’s too late.”

“Oh and while you’re there, tell him to make sure there’s some hot water in the shower block tomorrow morning.”

“Will do.”

By the time he’d returned, I had gone to bed, and I was fast asleep. In the morning, I heard him get up, but didn’t let on; I just lay there pretending to be asleep. Then as he left the door I dashed to the window. I was just in time to see Kinga running like an excited school boy, with Walter chasing behind, and the distance between them getting greater all the time. As they disappeared out of site, I turned and looked at the clock, it was six-thirty, and so back off to bed I went. And again; I dropped off almost as soon as my head touched the pillow.

Nine-thirty saw me making my way across to the shower block, wash bag in my hand, and towels over one arm. The other arm wrapped around a bag with my clean clothes in. I’d put all my things down in the ladies shower room, just outside the actual shower cubicle and I’d stepped inside the shower. To my surprise and delight, the water was piping hot, and the fresh feeling it gave me was marvellous. I’d just finished wetting myself from the front, when as I turned around to get the water on my back, I saw a spider.

I hate spiders; even typing the word sends shivers down my spine. Now for me to see this monster hanging from a thin thread not more than an inch from my breast; I instantly freaked-out. And within a split second, I’d leapt from the cubicle, letting out a shriek as I grabbed my clothes and towels. I’d just about managed to wrap the towel around myself, and had all my other stuff under my arms as I ran head long out of the shower block. As I was just about to pass the end of the building, Kinga appeared from around the corner, and stood there like a mountain in front of me.

The shock and also trying to stop myself crashing into him, caused me to slip on the dew-wet grass. As I went down everything went with me, and all my stuff scattered across the grass. As I hurriedly rose to my feet, I’d inadvertently trapped the towel with my foot so as I stood up, it just peeled itself from my body, and dropped to the floor. I guess I stood there naked in front of Kinga for only a micro-second, but it was as if time stood still, and I could feel his eyes burning into my body. I made a dash to the side, grabbing my towel as I ran, and trying to wrap myself up as I sped back to the chalet; I left all my belongings where they’d landed on the ground.

Once inside I turned the key in the door, and ran into the bedroom closing the door behind me. I must have sat there shivering with fright for a minute at least. Then as I sat there thinking, I realised Kinga wasn’t actually chasing me, and in fact he hadn’t even done anything to make me afraid. But why was he there? Surely he should be with Walter on the beach? If they’d come home, why wasn’t Walter here?

“KNOCK. KNOCK.” The sudden noise shattered my wondering mind, and I again froze, not daring to answer or even leave my bedroom. “KNOCK. KNOCK. Mrs Walter. Its Kinga, I’ve picked up your clothes.”

I ventured to the bedroom door, opened it, and as I called, I felt the sharp edges of the key I’d locked the door with, it was cutting into my palm as I’d gripped it subconsciously, “Put them down out there, I’ll get them in a minute.”

Then to my horror, I heard the lock opening. He must have his own key! As he stood back up to his full height after stooping to come through the door, a big beaming smile spread across his face. “Here they are, I’ve collected them all for you.”

“Thank you. You can put them down there, and I’ll see you later.”

He put the bag down, and lifted out my white bra. “This thing will need to go back in the wash, it landed in some mud.”

“That’s ok. Just put it back I’ll check them all later.” But instead of leaving, he walked across to the table, pulled out a chair and proceeded to sit himself down. “I’m sorry Kinga, but do you mind leaving, I want to get myself dressed.”

“I’m waiting for Wally.”

“Where is he?”

“Coming. We raced from ‘Ynyslas Head’. But I knew I’d win.”

I wanted some kind of idea how long it might be before Walter returned. “How far away is that?”

“About eight miles.”

“You haven’t run all that way?”

His face again lit up, and as proud as punch he exclaimed, “I have, I run the beach every morning.”

Eight miles! It could take Walter all day to cover that distance on foot. And if he attempted to run, he could be in hospital now with a heart attack; he isn’t the fittest of men. I had to get Kinga out; it would be no good waiting for Walter to rescue me.

“I think you’d better be going home now, I’ll tell Walter to come and see you when he gets back.”

“Nah. If I go back dad’ll have me working, while he thinks I’m with Wally, he’ll leave me to play.”

“But I need to get myself dressed.”

“That’s alright, I like girls; can I watch you?”

“No. You know I’m Walter’s wife.”

“But Wally won’t mind. He told me it was ok to be your friend, so long as I don’t touch you.”

“Look Kinga. You can’t stay here while I change. Now you go and wait back at your own house.” This was my most severe and dominant voice, and I just prayed he’d leave.

He rose to his feet, and a massive sigh of relief welled over me. Then instead of turning to go, he began to walk towards me, “If I promise to go, will you give me a cuddle?”

“Now stop right there. You’ve just said that Walter told you no touching. If you don’t go I’ll tell Walter you’ve been a bad boy.”

“Wally lied about you, he said if I made sure you had hot water for your shower, you’d let me be your friend.”

“You are my friend. But you know Walter doesn’t like you touching me.”

“But friends share secrets. That’s how you know someone is a true friend. Me and Wally have secrets that nobody else knows about. If you give me a cuddle; that could be our secret.”

I knew there was no way I could force this giant of a man from the chalet, and I pondered the option of giving a boy of ten a cuddle. Would this really be out of the question, but I was still plagued with the worry that he wasn’t actually ten. Was his request simply a childish need for some kind of motherly affection? After all he had lost his second mom five years ago; this had to be hard for a ten year old mind to understand.

“Listen, if I give you a hug, you promise you’ll go and leave me to get dressed?”

The big beaming smile returned to his face, “Oh yes.”

“Ok come here.”

As he approached I opened my arms and wrapped them around his back. But with my lack of height, and his excess of it, my arms only just wrapped around above his waist. Then his hands took hold of my wrists, and as he peeled my arms from behind him, and began to stoop, “You put your arms around my neck.”

And with that he guided them up until I clasped both my hands together at the back of his head. He then stood back up to his full height, taking my weight with one of his large hands under both the cheeks of my bottom. And I do mean Bottom! His hand had gone under the towel I’d draped around my naked body.

“No Kinga, I said just a cuddle. Take your hand off my bottom.” By the time I’d spoken, he’d opened the bedroom door with his free hand and was striding towards the side of our double bed, where he just stopped.

We were staring face to face, and he did as I’d told him, the hand left my bottom. “Now lower me down.” I was clinging onto his neck, hanging there, now taking all of my own weight. I wanted to let go and drop to the floor, but you have to realise, he was so tall and me so small, it felt like I’d be falling from a great height. Then I felt his hands pulling the towel open from either side at about my waist height. I imagine a look of horror came over my face as I said, “No. Kinga no.”

My pleas didn’t stop his hands pulling, and as he replied, “I’m only going to lift you down like you told me to.” I felt his hands slip inside the towel and encircle my naked waist.

“Ok I’ve got you, you can let go of my neck.”

From fearing something catastrophic was about to take place, I suddenly felt things were going to be alright. I’d given him his cuddle, and now he was about to lower me back to the floor.

There were a couple of things however I hadn’t realised. Well three actually. One without me knowing, my Marylou was covered in the same sticky juices it had been yesterday; I can only assume all this built-up tension had excited my libido. And also, maybe for the same reason, Kinga’s dick was rock hard and standing to attention, and his bell end was wet with pre-cum. And the third thing; as he’d lifted me in the other room with one of his hands; he’d used the other to pull the buttons open on his jeans. So as he’d walked me into the bedroom, they’d dropped to the floor and he’d stepped out of them. And as he doesn’t wear any underpants or shorts, that rock hard cock was nestled in between the tops of my legs, only inches from my glistening wet Marylou.

So here am I looking at this mixture of African warrior and helpless school boy, and thinking how kind I’ve just been to give him what to me was such a simple gift, thinking to him that simple cuddle probably meant so much, when the reality of the situation made itself known. At first I couldn’t understand what was pushing up into my crotch. Then I felt myself being stretched, and I knew it was his cock, and it was actually entering my Marylou. But as he just kept easing me down, it was like some kind of out of body experience.

I heard my own voice, “Oh god. Ohh no. Ohh Yes. Ohh Oooooh GOD!” His shaft kept sliding in, and the pain was frightening. I know I was a married woman, but as my Walter had never penetrated me more than a couple of inches, this monster cock was in effect exploring virgin territory. Looking back, I can’t really be sure if the extreme pain was greater than the extreme pleasure. But I do know, much as I didn’t want, and wouldn’t have agreed to him taking me this way, I’m mystified and ashamed to admit, I did nothing to stop him. No scream, no struggle, no kicking, no scratching, or biting. All I did was let out a continuous stream of sighs, moans and other incomprehensible noises as my body was subjected to a bombardment of sensations it had never before encountered.

As he stepped forwards, he lowered me back onto the bed, lent forwards so that his body loomed above me, and with me still impaled on his cock, he asked innocently, “Do you like Kinga’s cock?”

I couldn’t answer in any kind of intelligent way; the tumultuous flood of sensations attacking my body blocked all normality from my mind. I heard myself reply, “Yes. Oh god yes. Oh no. Please yes.”

These might not have been the actual words or order of my stupid ramblings, and I don’t think that matters. Because although I heard the words amongst my gasps and sighs, and I knew it was me speaking them, I had no control over whatever was driving them.

He was now on the bed with me, his shaft pumping slow and long strokes. Each entry into my body swelling and stretching my flesh until his scrotum collided with my crotch. And then withdrawing, giving the feeling he was sucking my internal organs with him. There was no distinct point in time when the pain stopped, but it couldn’t have been long after he’d laid me back onto the bed, because all I was feeling now, were wave after wave of sensuous pleasure. As I lay there, legs high in the air, with this big muscle bound chest heaving before my eyes, I revelled in the bliss of what I thought was my first orgasm.

I don’t know how long he’d been pounding himself into me before I heard the chalet door open, and even when I heard Walter calling, I didn’t attempt to halt Kinga’s action.

“Elena. Are you there?”

And then I guess not hearing any intelligible reply, but hearing my gasps, moans and sighs coming from the bedroom, he must have dashed in to find out what was going on. The view that greeted him was Kinga’s bottom pumping up and down with my lily-white legs pointing skywards either side of his massive body.

“Elena! Kinga! Kinga, get off her!”

His words had no effect, and then I saw him at the side of the bed raining blows down on Kinga’s back, both his hands clasped together to make a fist. But for all the notice Kinga took, it might as well have been a fly buzzing noisily around his back. Walter kept up this onslaught for maybe a minute, before giving up and running for help. I heard him shouting at the top of his voice as he left the chalet.

“MR JONES! MR JONES COME QUICKLY! KINGAS GONE WILD! HE’S RAPING MY WIFE!”

As the noise of his shouting disappeared into the distance, I heard another voice, somewhat more frail. “Is everything alright? Hello, are you there?” Then in the doorway, an old man, maybe in his sixties appeared looking very shy and timid. As he moved in through the door, I could see a frail old woman clinging onto his arm, and almost hiding behind his body. They didn’t say a word to Kinga, but were muttering in whispers to each other.

What happened next as far as my ‘rescue’ is concerned, I have no idea, because although I’d interpreted the sensation I’d so far been receiving as my first orgasm. This was now the point at which I realised what a real orgasm is and how powerful it can be. Kinga began to ram me with such force and purpose; I thought the bed would collapse beneath us. And then after just a few seconds of this fierce thrusting, and as his cock was rammed fully inside me, he momentarily stopped, and I detected a sudden shudder in his body.

That was it; I now know it was him shooting his cum, but this first time, I had no idea. Walter has never cum inside me, he has always used condoms. But as I noticed the tremor in his body, I felt the warm cum as it was injected deep inside me. Then things went very strange; I felt my tummy tense up, kind of like the first time Walter had lay on top of me on our wedding night, and I’d tensed as I feared the pain of my first penetration; an event that looking back and comparing with today, was not really a penetration at all. As my tummy tensed this time, there was some kind of release from deep within. I find it difficult to put into words, but I thought I was wetting myself. The feeling wasn’t in my bladder, but deep up inside my tummy.

As his cock withdrew to make his second ram, I could feel my tummy filling. Then as he thrust his second bolt of cum, a flood of juices flowed out and around his incoming cock. My tummy tension then stepped up a gear, and I lost my conscious thought process. I was aware of my body being rammed, and it in turn bucking and heaving, but my eyes were closed and my mind was somewhere in paradise.

Gradually I was aware of voices, shouting, and some kind of banging noise.

As I opened my eyes, Walter and the old lady were lifting my shoulders and helping me to a sitting position. “Come-on; let’s get you sat up. How are you feeling?”

“She’ll be alright now. Me and Albert will look after her till you get back. You go and find a policeman.” With that Walter just turned and was gone. I now had the old lady one side, and the old man I’d seen in the doorway, came and sat on the bed the other side of me.

“Where’s Walter going?”

“To fetch the police.”

“But...”

“Don’t you fret my dear. We’ll make sure you’re ok until he gets back.”

“What about Kinga?”

The man answered this one. “He’ll not bother you again, his dad has got him. And the beating he was giving him, he’ll be lucky to be out of hospital in time for his trial.”

“Beating? Why is he beating him?”

“Don’t you know what he’s just done to you? He raped you. His dad came in here with an old bit of three by two, and he laid into him fit to break his back. I’m amazed the old man dare. I don’t mind telling you I was scared to even go near the big animal.”

It started to become clear that Kinga was now suffering some kind of brutal form of punishment for what he’d just done. But was it deserved? I know I’d not have let him, so it was rape. But I didn’t fight him either. And as I searched my mind, I began to piece together the event. He had asked me if I liked his cock, and I think I’d said yes. So was this consent. Well consent or not, I don’t believe in the use of violence. Punishing someone with a beating will, only make them more violent.

I got to my feet, but my legs were so wobbly, if it hadn’t been for the old man catching one of my shoulders, I’d have ended up in a heap on the floor.

“Come and sit back down, you’ve had a nasty experience.”

I thought, Nasty. That was the most meaningful experience of my whole life. If I never go to heaven when I die, at least I now know it exists. I’ve been there already!

“No, I have to go and save Kinga.” As I struggled to the wardrobe to get something to put on, the old man took my arm to support me. As it was, by the time I’d selected a dressing gown, put it on, and tied the cord, I was now able to hold my own weight, although my tummy did feel very strange. Then as I waddled my way from the chalet I said, “Thank you for your help, but I have to go and see if Kinga is alright.”

With that I left and made my way to the big house. The door was unlocked so I opened it and as I walked in I called. “Is anybody there? Mr Jones, are you there?” There was no reply, but I could hear noises, so I walked down the hall, and I opened a door, from where I thought the noises were emanating. Behind the door was an old wooden staircase, that led downwards, I assumed to a cellar. I descended as rapidly as I could, my tummy feeling for all the world as if I still had Kinga’s big cock still inside me.

At the bottom I could see them, over by the side wall, Kinga sat on an old wooden box and a frail old man of similar age to the other man, was stood alongside him. He was wielding a big piece of wood, maybe four or five feet long. This was the bit of three by two the man had mentioned, a solid length of timber three inches by two inches with sharp edges. It would have been bad enough being hit with a piece of timber this stout if it was a round piece, but this was cutting the flesh on Kinga’s back so severely, it was as if he was actually red, not black. Even the box he sat on had a pool of blood where it was running down from him.

I ran over, and grabbed the wood, “STOP IT! YOU’LL KILL HIM!”

I’m only small, but this man was not much bigger than me, and we began to tussle with each other for control of the wood. We had only been struggling for a few seconds when I lost my footing, and slipped to the ground. Kinga got to his feet, took hold of his dad’s wrist with one hand, with the other he took hold of the piece of wood and just peeled it from his dad’s grip like he was plucking the head off a dandelion. Then as he swung it in the air his dad cowered down and called out. “Don’t hit me.”

Kinga brought the wood down, and on its way, his now free hand clasped the free end of the wood. “CRACK!”

He’d brought the wood down onto his own leg, just above knee height, and snapped it into two pieces, as if it was just kindling. Kinga then threw both pieces the length of the cellar. He then lent down towards me and his big hands lifted me to my feet, and back to sit upon the box he’d only just gotten up from. Then as he turned to his still trembling father, “Don’t you ever touch Wally’s girl again.”

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