This is a true story, pieced together by me, from small snippets of information given to me by the central character. It came about because her husband had read on of my previous stories, and felt the events in my story were similar to what must have happened to his own wife. I say felt, because although his wife had admitted she'd had sex with other men; he knew by her state, she'd not done it willingly. And on her part, she was so ashamed by her involuntary capitulation, that she couldn't bring herself to explain to him what had actually taken place. Apart from saying through her tears, "They both had me." "No, it wasn't rape." And, "I don't want to go to the police."
So with his encouragement, she contacted me, and gradually the story unfolded. I've changed the names of the people involved and the type of work place where she was employed. (Both of these to protect her identity) The actual conversations are my own words, as she couldn't bring herself to re-live the actual events. But whereas the words used might be different, the meaning behind them and tone in which they were used are authentic. As are the events portrayed.
I am a 5ft 2 inches tall, 23 year old, with shoulder length brunette hair and weigh just under 8 stone (112 pounds); I suppose you would say 'petite', but up here in Glasgow they just say 'wee lass'. I have Smallish boobs but am told I have good legs and, well men whistle if I pass them. Oh and Ken (my husband) says I have a bum to die for. When my story happened I was working in a factory that manufactured flat-pack kitchens. This day I'd been sent by my supervisor up to the works manager's office. When I arrived at his upstairs office, I knocked and waited, fearing what he might want me for. "COME IN." He called loudly. As I opened the door I could see he was sat down behind his big desk. He pointed to a chair on my side of his desk, "Sit yourself down lass." He picked up a glossy brochure, and handed it to me. It was a fitted kitchen and a woman with a big beaming smile holding up a dish dripping with water. She was obviously supposed to be tickled pink with having this wonderful new kitchen.
"What do you think?" "About what? That isn't one of our kitchens, is it?" "No. But the idea of the advert. A woman will pick up a brochure to look at the kitchens. But a man won't. But by putting her on the front, you're just as likely to get a man to pick it up. Then, what's he gonna say he's looking at when his wife asks?" "I see. That's good thinking." "You bet it is."
"I'm thinking about the same kind of thing for our stuff." "What a glossy brochure?" "Well no. I couldn't run to that, but just a single sheet, still a glossy picture, just something to lay on shop counters and the like." "Sounds great. But isn't there some kind of copyright or something?" "Only if we use their idea. But I think a girl with a clip board, all the little check boxes ticked. One of the bottom cupboard doors open, and her bent over, looking like she's just ticking off the last cupboard check."
"Yes, I guess that would work." "It would say across the top, 'we get someone who knows what a kitchen is used for, to make sure our kitchens are going to delight our customers'. "That's really good." "So are you interested?" "Me? Interested in what?" "Being the girl in the advert."
"You are joking?" "No. My brother Max is a professional photographer, we have all the units we need. All we need is a sexy girl. And they don't come any sexier than you. Especially if you're bent over showing that bum of yours." "Oh I don't think I dare." "It's all above board. And you'll be wearing overalls." "I don't know." "You'll get two hundred quid, and the picture will only take two hours at most."
I sat there thinking, what would Ken say (my husband). Then knowing he'd recently lost his job, and money in our house was tight. I said, "Yes, I'll do it. Thank you so much for thinking of me for the job." "That's alright. After all, we couldn't use one of the canteen ladies. Imagine if we got old Gladys to bend down looking into a cupboard, nobody would be able to see the kitchen units." Then he laughed, and I joined in. But in truth I didn't think it funny, just a nasty thing to say. Then he added, "Ok, run along, and once it's arranged, I'll let you know the details."
When I got home and told Ken, he at first looked a little concerned, but once he knew I would be wearing company overalls, and the pictures had to be respectable to appear on shop counters, he suddenly began to show real excitement and I'm sure more than a little pride. The session with Max taking the pictures was done one Saturday afternoon, and it took a lot longer than Graham (Mr James had now told me to call him this) had said.
The reason for this was instead of just the one picture Graham had described, Max took pictures of me doing everything but walking a tight-rope. I stood on a stool reaching up to cupboards. Bent down into cupboards. I sat on work tops; even lay down on the work top. In short, if it was possible for him to pose me with the kitchen units as my background, then he had me in that pose.
Part of getting me into the poses he wanted, involved him first holding my hand, helping me up to the stool or what ever. But gradually I found his hand under my bottom, just guiding me. Or on my waist, turning me this way or that. Nothing as crude as feeling my bust, or groping in between my legs, but touching, never the less. But as this man was a professional photographer, and like his brother a respectable business man in his forties, I assumed it must be a necessary part of the modelling. And, anyway, I couldn't imagine two men about town making a play for me, a married woman, dressed in overalls. So I let the touching carry on unabated. But at no time was there any suggestion of loosening any buttons to reveal any flesh. But I will say this; the overalls weren't the ones I'd normally wear at work. They were specially made, and not only had the company name emblazoned on front and back, but were cut in a styled fashion, allowing my bust, hips and bottom to be shown to full effect.
The results were great, but just one picture was used, out of, I'm guessing, maybe a hundred taken. One of me lent forwards, as he'd first suggested. Clip board in hand, but my bottom was very evident even in overalls. My first reaction was, to think Ken might say it was too sexy, but I couldn't have been wider of the mark. He was so over the moon, he'd show the sample sheet I'd been given to any and everyone who came to our house. And even I have to admit, I was proud when anyone mentioned they seen it and recognised me.
But the next few weeks at work, I did get a bit of mickey-taking. Remarks like, 'Here she comes, the bum that sold a thousand kitchens'. And nearly everybody said something nice, even if some a little cheeky. I ignored any cheeky remarks, but just to be on the safe side, I never went around at work without my overalls. And even in the hottest weather, I didn't follow the advice given me by several helpful co-workers (all men of course). "It's so hot with overalls on, you aught to strip off to your bra and pants, the overalls will cover you up." But hot or not, I always kept my jeans and top on under my overalls. And the overalls fully buttoned up at all times.
Then two weeks after the poster, Graham told my supervisor to send me up to his office, and when I walked in, he was sitting there with his brother Max. He explained that a friend of his had seen the posters, and wanted something similar for his business. I asked what his business was, "Garments. He wants you to model dresses, skirts, blouses, jeans etc. It won't be boring old kitchen cupboards; this is the glamorous end of the market."
I blushed, and then said, "But I don't know if I could do stuff like that." Max butted in, "Trust me Linder; you have a body that could make an old sack look sexy. And I should know, I've taken pictures of hundreds of girls." "But I couldn't just say yes now, I'd have to ask my husband." "We wouldn't expect anything else, but don't forget to tell him, its five hundred quid cash in hand. And as Donald wants to use some of the photos for a mail order idea of his, if that takes off, there'll be additional bonuses."
I was so excited when I told Ken, and after at first a show of concern, he then said, "I'm not saying no, but I think it might be a good idea if I meet these men to make sure it's all kosher." "But you Know Graham, you saw him when you went for the interview." Ken had tried to get a job at the same place as me, but they hadn't taken him on. "Yes, but I want to see all of them, just to be sure you're ok." "Ok, I'll tell Graham." "Graham is it? You used to call him Mr James." "But he told me to call him Graham." "I'm only ribbing you. Don't worry."
When I got to work the next day, I went straight to Graham's office, and told him Ken wasn't against the idea, but he wanted to meet them to make sure everything was above board, and discuss the details. Graham picked up his phone, and made a call, I can't remember all his words, but basically he was talking to Donald, and after asking me my phone number, he gave it to him, and told him to ring my Ken, and explain what was expected of me, and what I stood to get in return.
I then went off to my work area, and continued as normal for the day. I'm not sure if you can imagine the thoughts going through my head, here I am doing manual work, earning seven quid an hour, and only a few weeks ago, for three hours lounging around, I got two hundred quid. It felt kind of bizarre. I know the poster thing was just a local distribution, as would be this mail order catalogue, but it felt to me, like I was on the verge of something big, and there were all these thought going on in my head about how it could maybe change my life.
Ok so that was silly, but I'm sure if you ever get into this kind of situation, the same dreams will come to you, no matter how unrealistic. Oh, and by the way, although I may have been dreaming about things to come, I'd never have admitted that to anyone, even my Ken. In fact when he made joking remarks about it being the cat-walk in Parris next, I'd just go all shy and tell him not to be silly.
But when I got home, Ken told me about his conversation with Donald, and said they wanted me to meet them on Sunday morning, bright and early. The rest of the week dragged by, but eventually Sunday morning arrived, and Ken gave me a lift to Donald's factory, where he was waiting with Max (Graham's brother, the photographer). I could see straight away, Donald was also in the same age group as Graham and Max, I'm guessing mid forties. As my Ken's car pulled away, leaving me on my own with Ken and Donald, Donald climbed up into the driver's seat of this big white van.
The Van was just a Van to me; I'm not into describing these sorts of things. But as I soon found out, it had a double seat in the front for passengers, and a Drivers seat which as I said, Donald had climbed into. As I turned back from waving goodbye to Ken, Max was stood by the passenger side door, holding out his hand to help me in. As I started to make my climb, I felt his hand on my bottom, and he gave me just a little lift, nothing more. I turned and gave him a look, but he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "What?"
I didn't respond, and soon we were off, me sat in the middle on the long passenger seat. Incidentally, Don, as he now wanted me to call him, did all the driving, whilst I was always seated in the middle of him and Max. As we drove along, and they talked, I looked around, and could see that behind the seats we were on, it was quite a big space. Down each side were racks of clothes, which reached from the back doors, up to about a yard or so from the back of the front seats. On the racks at one side were a few pairs of different coloured jeans and tops, on the other, three or four skirts and two dresses.
We drove for about ten miles to a nearby town, and they stopped the van in the parking area of a little park. Max had spotted an ornamental fountain, and told Don to drive into the gates and park up. It was now the reality of modelling hit me. "Ok love, in the back, and let's see you in a pair of jeans. Oh and one of those white tops." "Do I get changed in the back of the van?" "Well you can get changed out there in the car-park if you want, but I think you'll soon draw an audience."
By now Max was out of the van, and I shuffled myself to the edge of the seat, he took hold of my waist and lifted me down. As I walked behind him to the back of the van, he opened the door, and held his hand out to steady me up. I had to stretch one leg high up onto the van floor, and he just slipped his other hand under my crotch, lifting me in. It was a bit embarrassing, but it wasn't as if he actually tried to feel me, or grope in any way. Then as I walked in between the racks, I saw him close the door. I began to take my own stuff off, and as I did so, I could see both of them through the front window of the van, as they stood outside chatting.
The doors weren't locked, and it felt so nerve racking, stripping to bra and pants in these unfamiliar surroundings. The first thing I noticed was that all the clothes, jeans etc, were tight. Jeans sometimes are, even if the size marked inside is supposed to be your fit. But I wondered if maybe they had made a mistake, and got my size wrong. But after a wiggle and pull, I managed to get into them, and then put the top on. This was also tighter than I'd normally wear, making my average size breasts look bigger than they were. I started walking to the back of the van, but as I approached the door, it magically opened. So I guess either Max was psychic, or they'd been watching me get ready. Again, up came his hands, and he took my waist, lifting me to the ground. I posed in maybe twenty or more different poses, none of them in any way daring, but as I say, we were in a public park, even if there weren't many people around. Then Max said, "Ok let's find a new location."
So we were off again, me sat in between them, while they chatted about this and that. We went about from place to place, stopping several times, each time the same routine, each time me changing into this and that. One thing I did notice, was from about the second stop onwards, Don made sure he got to the back of the van to help me in, and then again once I'd changed to help me out. From then on, it was as if they were taking turns. The other thing was the frequent touching I'd had with Max while he'd done the pictures for the kitchen poster, gradually returned, it was mostly Max who did this, but Don did touch me a few times.
At no time did either of them get in the van while I was changing, and after a while, I began to feel a lot more confident whilst doing this. And bearing in mind, I knew by the way they always reached the back door before me, that they must be glancing my way, checking on me from the front of the van. But as I reasoned their view could only be down to shoulders or above, it seamed of no consequence. I guess I could say the nervous feeling in my tummy had about disappeared, when Don said, "The little Chinese number next."
Harmless enough request, you might think. "Ok, do I wear anything with it?" Max replied, "No. Just the dress, and no Bra, the materials too thin, it'll show through." Even this idea seamed reasonable, but just the simple act of removing my bra, knowing they were out the front, got me more than excited. My belly was getting all tight as it does when I get a bit aroused, and I didn't appear to be able to do anything to stop the feeling intensifying. I wiggled my way into the dress, which like most of the other stuff was a real snug fit, and then eased up the zipper. They had a mirror in the van, and as I looked I could tell the excitement I'd been feeling had affected not just my tummy. My boobs may not be huge, but you could see the shape of them and my nipples were sticking out like the proverbial 'Chapel Hat Pegs'.
I was reluctant to step out, but as before as soon as they'd seen me checking myself, they'd made their way to the back doors. The doors opened, and Max said, "My god Don, come look at this. She's a real stunner in that." I remember making some feeble excuse about it being too revealing, but between them, they coaxed me to the open door, and being as the leg movement was so restricted, they both took hold and lifted me down. Now remember, we were still visiting various public places on a Sunday, in a small town, so it wasn't as if there could be any funny business going on. But I lost count of the number of times they both stroked either my breasts or my bottom. And with me being bra-less, this was having a very unnerving effect on me.
I was more than relieved when around one o'clock, they took me to a hotel for lunch, this at least gave the turmoil in my tummy a little while to subside. The hotel was nothing swank, but very nice all the same. We had wine with our meal, just a half bottle, Don didn't drink any, and Max only had one Glass. Between them, they urged me to drink the rest, saying it was a sin to waste it. But as I'm not much of a drinker, by the time we were walking out to the van and the fresh air hit me, I was beginning to feel a bit tiddley.
When we left the hotel after lunch Don said he would like some photos taken with a country view, and maybe even some with a beach background. I asked, "But how long will that take? Ken was expecting me home before tea time." Don replied, "Don't you worry about time, now were out this far we need to get as many shots as we can while we've got a good day." Then as he handed me his phone, "Here, phone the old man and tell him it'll be some time later in the evening by the time we get back. Tell him we'll give you a lift home."
"Hello." "Hi Ken, it's me." "Are you alright?" "Yes. Fine. But were out near Mossblown, and while they've got good weather, they want to take some pictures on the beach." "How's it going? Any problems?" "No. It's been great. We've just had lunch at some posh hotel, and later they say we can have tea somewhere. Will you be ok getting your own tea?" "I guess so. Have you been drinking?" "Well I had a glass or two of wine with the lunch, why?" "You sound a bit slurry. I hope you're not drunk." "No. It was only two glasses of wine." "Ok, see you later, take care." "Bye. Love you."
As Don took the phone from me he said, "Well, it looks like you're ours for the rest of the day." I didn't know what he meant by that, but I just smiled. Maybe the drink was having some effect by now. This time, they headed out of town, and eventually, found a country lane. I hadn't a clue where we were, and I don't think they had either. But it was deserted and Don seemed to think that was okay. They parked up in a little clearing, we were miles from anywhere. Don said "Ok lass. Skirt and top this time."
Again as I changed I could see them standing in front of the Van talking, they were stood up on a raised bank. I turned my back as I took my own top off and quickly put theirs on. I knew they couldn't see past the seats so putting the skirt on was no problem. As before, as soon as I turned to the mirror, they were gone from sight, and seconds later the van door opened. Max spoke first, "Very nice. Come on then." Again, they both helped me down, only, this time, Don walked with me, while Max carried his camera bag and stuff. But as Don was holding one of my hands, helping me up the small grass bank, into the field, he again ran his hand over my bottom. But this time, he'd slipped it up the back of my skirt, meaning I only had my panties for protection.
"Please Don." "What you like it?" And then as he pushed his fingers under my crotch and tried to probe with them, "In that case we'll give you some more." I squirmed, and struggled myself free, and as I stood there facing both of them, "Enough! You don't need to do that. I've put up with your roaming hands, giving you both the benefit of the doubt thinking maybe some of it was part of the photo taking. But the next time you touch me like that, I'm going home."
Don turned to Max, "What got into her? I only stroked her bum." "She'll be ok. You're just coming on too strong too quickly. She's had all lunch time to cool off. You'll see, once she gets back into the swing of it, she'll come good." I scowled at Max, "What do you mean, come good?" "Don't get your knickers in a twist. I don't mean you're going to cum as in have an orgasm. I mean you'll get back to how you were earlier this morning, you obviously felt sexed-up, and it was showing in both your posing and your facial expressions. The camera can pick that up. It's not dirty or anything, it's just how we need you to be, to get the right shot."
Then as Don again took my hand and led me over to a tree, and began to put me into the pose he wanted, he said, "That's all I was doing love, trying to get you back on the boil." Max took several shots; they both handled me several times, putting me in various poses. Making excuses about smoothing the skirt I had on or the top. Several times I just had to say something to them, but what ever I said, didn't reduce their touching and stroking. But neither of them tried to get their hands up my skirt again. Then after about twenty shots of this same skirt and top, Max said, "It's just not working." Don chipped in, "I know, she's really gone down hill." "What if we try it without the bra?" "Could work. Ok Linder, can you slip your bra off."
I didn't like the sound of this, but as I'd posed bra-less in the Chinese dress, I thought I'd have to go along with it. As I started to walk back to the van I said, "Ok, I won't be a minute." Don spoke in a very nasty tone, "Don't be silly, you can get that off here. What are you a school girl or something?" I walked around behind the tree, and facing away from them, reached up under my top, and removed my bra, placing it carefully on the ground.
They started again, at first just simple poses as before, and then as they posed me they were touching me. As soon as I lifted my hand to Don's wrist to stop him, he made some excuse about smoothing the skirt. Then Max stroked my breast, and again, tried to pass it off as making sure the top wasn't creased. They took a load of pictures, with me in every conceivable pose, and then Don said, "Ok, I think you can swap the skirt for a pair of jeans, leave the top."
As I made my way to the van, Don walked across, and reached out his hand, "Come on, I'll help you down the bank." "No. I'll manage." But he didn't take no for an answer, and he took my hand. We reached the slope back down to the road, only a drop of a couple feet about four feet long, and I stepped carefully down. But Don, who was stood on my left, brought his right arm around me, slipping it under my left arm, and landing his open palm on my front, just below my breasts. I turned and looked at him, "There's no need for that." "Just making sure you don't slip."
I reached the road, and I hadn't slipped, but as Don withdrew his arm, he let his fingers stroke the underside of my breast. I gave him a look, but didn't say anything. He just said, "Well. You can't blame me. Now hurry up and get those jeans on." When I was changed, again the doors opened for me, and Don was waiting. He took my waist, and out I came. His first words were, "My god you've got a sexy bum." Then as he escorted me back to where Max was waiting, he kept stroking his hand from the top of my leg, and up over my bottom. Each time I'd grab his wrist, and when after the first dirty look hadn't had any effect, I said, "Look! I've had enough of this. Either you pack it in, or." "Or what?" "Just pack it in."
He didn't, and by the time we reached Max, he'd stroked my bottom several times. As he again posed me up against the tree, Max came across. Don said, "We need some sexy shots of her bum." "To right. If a bum like that don't sell the goods, nothing will." But as he said it, he put his hands on my shoulders, and turned me so I was near the tree, but facing away from where his camera was set up. Then with one hand placed in between my shoulder blades, he said, "Bend over, as if you're hiding behind the tree, and looking around it." As I bent down, his other hand began to rub all across the cheeks of my bottom.
I tried to straighten up, but his hand in between my shoulders, prevented me. "Please Max." "What's wrong?" "You know I don't like you doing that." "I told you, we need that sexy look you had this morning, I'm just trying to get your juices going. I'm not on your naked flesh, and I haven't touched your pussy. Now just think sexy." At that moment, Don said, "That looks good." Max asked, "What?" "Her facing that way, but looking back up at you. All we need now is for her to put that face right."
At this, Don took a step towards me, and cupped my breasts with his hands. I tried to get up, but Max still had me pinned down, "Get off me Don. I'll scream." He didn't stop, and as he began to tweak my now hard nipples, he said, "We're not hurting you, just calm down. Hey its working, her nipples are getting hard." "Her bums beginning to react as well; just give her tits another minute, and I think we can try a few shots."
I struggled, but they were far too strong, and they both just kept their hands working, each at different ends of my body. Now I didn't like what they were doing for several reasons. I was a happily married woman. I know I was being paid, but only to model clothes. Even if I'd not been married or going with anyone, what right had they to touch me, it wasn't as if I was romantically linked to either of them. But my most pressing fear, the one I almost dare not mention, they were getting me aroused. And even though their attention wasn't welcome, I knew the feelings they were generating, would soon make me vulnerable.
"Ok Don, stand out of shot, and I'll get some pictures." The second they both let go, I sprang to my feet, and ran. "What the bloody hell is she doing?" "HEY! DON'T BE SILLY. COME BACK HERE." They both followed, but I climbed back in the van, and sat there, trembling with fear, and almost sobbing. I heard Max outside, "Come on. You're being childish." "I want to go home." Again Max spoke, "Let's just get these last few shots. We won't touch you. Come on quick, before your nipples go soft again. If you don't come soon, we'll only have to work you up again."
Gradually, they stopped talking to me, but I could hear them talking to each other. But as I couldn't hear what was being said, I assumed they'd moved away from the doors. I rapidly got changed back into my own clothes. While I was mid-way through doing this, I heard Don speaking from right outside the door, "If we go now, before all the clothes are done, you won't get paid." My head span. How could I explain to Ken why I'd not been paid? He was out of work, and between us, we'd allocated the five hundred pounds, so those plans would now be scrapped. And, there were friends and family; Ken had told everyone, as if I was someone famous. What excuse could I tell them?
Then Max spoke, "Look here Linder; all we did was get you ready to take a picture. Nobodies touched you. If you fuckup on this, you won't get any more easy numbers like this. And when I tell Graham how stupid you've behaved, it wouldn't surprise me if he doesn't drop you, and find someone else. There's always plenty more out there looking for a job."
I knew I'd blown any chance of good times and easy money, but to loose the pittance from my job as well, that would be a disaster. But as soon as I was re-dressed, I banged on the door. And as soon as they opened it, I sprang out, before either of them got chance to lift me down. As I hit the ground my ankle gave way, and it was only Max's quick reactions as he caught me, which saved me from ending up in a heap on the ground. I shrugged myself free and stormed around to the front, saying as I barged my way past Don, "Take me home."
They both took their seats, and to my surprise, they both apologised to me, but not for the touching. As Max put it, "I shouldn't have held you. But, it's getting late. Once the sun turns we've only a few hours before the light is useless for taking pictures. We were only trying to get you worked up that bit quicker. Its nothing out of the ordinary, I'd say the majority of models need a little bit of hand stimulation at some time during a shoot. Heck, I even know one girl who can't get them hard unless she gets someone to suck on them. You're lucky; at least you work up easily." Don then said, "Look I'm sorry as well, but unless we get the rest of the clothes done, I won't be able to pay you."
I sat there in silence, mulling over the pros and cons, and then Max said, "Come on. There's only a few more." Don then said something, that again reminded me about the threat to my job, "I'll be having a few words with your brother Graham when I get back." "Well if she's not gonna play ball, I think he'll have a few words to say to her. And I'm guessing they'll be something like, 'Collect your cards'."
"What else do I need to model before we've finished?" With a surprised tone in his voice, Max asked, "You're gonna carry on?" "Maybe." Don snapped, "Fuck the maybes. Are you or aren't you?" "How many more, and what are they?" Don again replied, "We still need to do those jeans, and then if you do one more dress, we'll call that it."
"Ok, let's get it over with." I was soon at the back of the van, and Don took great delight in placing his hand under my crotch, as he lifted me back in. And just before he closed the door, he said, "Don't forget. No bra." As soon as I was ready, the doors opened, and again, Don mauled my bottom all the way out to the tree. Again, the same pose was repeated, and they both took up the same groping, Don on my breasts. Or as he called them, "These are a cracking pair of tits."
And Max, rubbing this time, not only the cheeks of my bottom, but also the tops of my legs. The main difference this time, was that I wasn't being held. It took no time before my tummy was tight, my nipples hard, and I even had to stifle sighs and gasps, as my arousal grew stronger. I tried to plead, "Please stop now. You've got me worked up. No more, please." Don's reply was short and to the point, "Stop your whining. You're getting paid."
I resigned myself to letting them get on with it, hoping they'd soon start to take the photos. My strategy worked, well partially, Max said, "Ok, move out of shot." And then he began to take pictures. But after each couple of clicks of the camera, Don would move in, and not only re-pose me, but also re-kindle my arousal, with a quick ten or twenty second feel of either breasts or bottom. The poses were all bum and boobs and things like that. And I suppose me not saying anything, their talk got more open too. Telling me to push my tits or bum out. Before long, they were really, more or less touching me up. And to my shame, I was letting them.
Then I was told to put a skirt and top on, and Don not only took me to the van, he came in and showed me the skirt and the top he wanted me to wear. This was the first time this had happened, before he would just say blue jeans or black ones etc or skirt and blouse, not identifying any specific one. Also, this time, when he climbed out of the van, he left the door open. And he and Max who had walked back, stood by the door talking. I asked them to shut it, but Don snapped, "Nobodies looking, just get on with it; we haven't got all day."
Well, although I didn't like it, I turned so my back was towards them, and got changed. So as I was facing away from them, I really don't know if they looked or not. The skirt was a very tight fit and the top the same. But I went to the door, and they hauled me out. Again I was groped and fondled, all the way back to the spot where they posed me. And again they moved me about a lot, with their hands everywhere. Also, their comments got cruder, first about the shape of my Bum and then about how the top showed-off my tits, as they liked to call them.
And like the poses in the last jeans, the poses didn't look like you'd see in any Catalogue. Then, Max slipped his hand into the top of my blouse. He tweaked a nipple, "That'll make the little bugger stand to attention." As his hand pulled out, Don stepped across, and repeated the same to the other nipple, "There you are, his mates on duty as well." They took a couple of pictures, and then they both slipped their hands in and stood there playing with me. This they did for a good couple of minutes, until I said, "Ok, that's enough!"
Max could see I was getting upset, and took me in his arms. My head was spinning conflicting thoughts; I hated them and what they were doing. But, I knew I wasn't trying to stop them, so I felt guilty. But more I was ashamed that I was so turned on, I was enjoying it. I couldn't work out why, and this frightened me. As Max hugged me, he began to kiss me. I struggled free, and ran back to the van.
I knew they were following me, but not running as if to catch me, just following and calling me back. Saying things about not being a silly girl and the like. As soon as I'd pulled the van doors shut, unlike last time, this time I didn't hesitate to get changed back into my own clothes. I guess being as last time when I'd chickened out and run back, they'd just stood around out there discussing tactics, I stupidly thought this time would be the same. I almost ripped off the top, and threw it on the floor. Then I unzipped the skirt, slid it down my legs. But I'd instinctively; kept my back to the doors, I guess just in case they took a look inside. So maybe this is why my reactions to what happened next might have been slower than they would otherwise have been. But thinking back, the end result would probably not have changed.
Anyway, as I'm bent forwards, lowering the skirt and about to step out of it, light floods the back of the van as the door opened, and seconds later, Max is taking hold of my shoulders. He turned me around, and I stood there, one hand holding the skirt I'd just stepped out of, the other pressed against his chest, in a futile attempt to push him away.
I was saying things like, "Get off. No, go away. Leave me alone. Get out of the van." I even remember saying, "I'm married." He was saying things like, "Calm down. Stop being silly. It's gonna be alright. Come-on, we were doing great." I'm not sure what else either of us said, or the order those words were spoken. We were both talking to each other, but both at the same time. I was of course standing in just my knickers, and then as part of his efforts to calm me he tried to kiss me.
This did exactly the opposite, and I took my fighting him off to a new level, but as I'm only eight stone, and he was a big man of around six foot tall, I couldn't get free from his grip. But although I couldn't escape, I was moving my head about violently, so he couldn't actually get his lips to mine, to force his kiss upon me. This little tussle went on for maybe a minute or so, all the time he was telling me to stop struggling, and be sensible.
But as his words weren't having the desired effect, I then heard him call Don, "Hey get your arse in here and hold her still." In seconds, Don was behind me, he took hold of my arms, allowing Max to then use both his hands either side of my head. Try as I might, it was to no avail, my head was almost stationary; Max pulled my face to his, and began to kiss me. His kisses were hard, and in seconds, he began to force his tongue into my mouth.
But now, as Max had a good hold of my head, I felt Don's hands loosing my arms. I again tried to struggle free, as my verbal resistance had been thwarted by Max's kissing. But between Max's hands on my head, and just one of Don's arms which by now was around my tummy, they had me completely restrained. It was then I felt Don's fingers as he slid his other hand down the back of my knickers. His fingers touched my bottom, and he even pushed his finger tip into it very slightly.
It was then I heard him say, "Jesus max, this bum of hers not only looks good, but by the feel of the way it's fighting my finger, I think it's still virgin." Max momentarily took his tongue from my mouth, and I again started telling them all the things about stopping and please no etc. But while I was pleading for my release, Max was replying to Don, "Well her bum might be virgin, but she's no newcomer to sex. Her tongue is trying to taste that Scampi I had for lunch."
Once he'd made his little remark, his lips were back on mine, and when I'd processed what he'd said, I realised he was right. Without even knowing it, as his tongue danced in my mouth, my tongue was intertwined with it. I made a conscious effort to pull my tongue back, but as I felt Don's fingers working from my clit to my pussy, I think the distraction must have allowed my natural body actions to resume their instinctive response to Max's tongue.
I squirmed my hips around, trying in vein to dislodge Don from my crotch, but as his finger worked deeper and deeper inside me, my will was ebbing away. As Max was mainly glued to my face, ninety percent of the remarks came from Don. And like before, in what order I can't remember, but he was saying things all the time. Mainly about how sexy I was, and giving up-dates to Max, on my state of arousal.
It went something like this, "God max, her cunt is so tight. My god, she knows when I touch her clit." I'm not sure, but somewhere around now, Max must have let go of my head, and now just had one arm wrapped around my shoulders holding me to himself, but this left his other hand free, this hand now began to fondle from one breast to the other, and he was tugging at my nipples.
Then Don said, "Look at the way this makes her squirm." I assume he thought my squirming around was due to his fingers on my clit. But I'm sure the squirming was at least partly, fuelled by Max's kisses, and nipple tweaking. Don again, this time very excited, "I I. It looks like we're getting somewhere. Yep, look at this." I don't remember Max taking his lips from mine to look, as when I'd seen his hand coming up in between our faces, I'd diverted my eyes the other way. But I guess Max must have looked at what I assumed was my wet juices on Don's finger.
His finger returned to my pussy, and he continued to work it in and around, but for only a few second. Then he asked, "Have you got a tight hold of her?" Max's hands again took hold of my arms at shoulder height, and as he gripped tightly, "I have now." "Ok, knickers coming down."
I felt him pulling and they slipped over my hips and bum, and started to drop past my knees. I kicked, I screamed. I cried, "Please don't." What else I said I don't know, but whatever I said, it made no difference. Now his hands were on my knees, and he spread my legs wide. Then using his feet placed between mine, and his hand once again around my tummy, holding me to him, his other hand had totally free access.