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(Taking Liberties, continued...)

You’re alone in the kitchen, tidying the counter after dinner, when Vince walks in. You look up and smile at him. “Oh. Hi Vince.”

“Need a hand, Rachel?” he asks. He tries to maintain eye contact, but you notice his gaze drop briefly so that he can check out your body in your short, tight dress. It’s not the first time he’s done that tonight. You don’t mind — you were actually thinking of him when you chose your outfit. It’s gratifying that he seems to appreciate it.

“No, I’m almost done thanks,” you reply. “I’ll be out again in a second.”

Vince looks behind him to make sure that no-one is coming, then joins you behind the counter, standing beside you. “I think I’ll give you a hand anyway,” he insists, placing his hand on your waist and pulling you to him.

“Vince, what are you doing?” you ask warily. His body feels firm and strong against you and the scent of his aftershave is delicious.

“Just giving you a hand,” he replies as he begins to stroke up and down the side of your body. It’s a bold move, and anyone else had tried it you would probably slap their face.

“You might’ve had a bit too much to drink,” you suggest instead, trying unsuccessfully to push away from him.

“You might be right,” he replies. Then he slides his hand down to your ass and gives it a firm squeeze. You feel a lurch in your tummy and your heart starts to flutter. His action is so unexpected that you are stunned motionless.

“Vince!” you gasp. “You can’t just… just…”

“Just what?” he asks, fondling your bottom through your dress.

“You can’t just walk up to a girl and start” — you fumble for the words — “taking liberties!”

“Why not?” He slides his hand from cheek to cheek, exploring the curvature of your derriere. Your mind is racing, trying to think of anything you’ve done, any signals you’ve sent, that would’ve led him to believe he could just walk up and do this to you.

“What do you mean, why not?” you reply disbelievingly. “You just can’t!”

“Rachel, I’m not sure that I want to live in a world where I can’t grope a beautiful woman. Do you mind if I take a look at your panties?” he asks brazenly.

You’re rightfully dumbstruck. “Do I mind… what?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer that would probably be in the negative anyway. He tugs your dress up around your waist, revealing your pink-striped cotton knickers, riding up slightly between your cheeks.

“Oh my God!” you whisper, still standing facing the counter as your underwear is exposed. You put your face in your hands, blushing furiously. This is getting ridiculous! How dare he?

Vince starts squeezing and stroking your ass through your panties. “You’ve got a nice butt, Rachel. You know it, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been teasing me all night with it.”

“Vince, I haven’t been teasing you!” you lie.

“Oh. Okay,” he replies, sounding a little disappointed. “Sorry. My bad.”

He presses two fingers between your legs and you clamp your thighs together in an attempt to block access to your pussy. In response he shoves his knee between your thighs and forces your legs apart fairly easily, then slides his whole hand between your legs and begins rubbing you through your panty gusset.

“Vince, you can’t!” you object.

“No-one seems to be stopping me,” he replies. It’s true — you’ve made very little attempt to prevent him having his way with you. Why is that? Sure, you like him, but that doesn’t make you his sex toy. Or does it?

“Stop,” you say weakly, but you don’t move as Vince continues to stroke you, feeling your heat and dampness through your panties. He positions himself behind you and presses himself against you. You feel the bulge in his pants poking into your ass crack. Slowly he grinds it up and down.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks, holding you against him with a hand on your stomach.

“Yes,” you whisper, your mouth starting to water.

“What is it?” he prompts.

You wait a few seconds before quietly replying. “It’s your dick.”

“It’s yours if you want it,” he offers, thrusting against you, squishing your buttocks as he pushes his hips against them.

You don’t reply. Of course you want it, but you’re not sure you want it like this.

“Do you want it?” he persists.

You still can’t form words and he takes this to mean assent. You hear the sound of his zipper as he undoes his pants, followed by the rustle of his pants as they fall to his ankles, quickly followed by his underpants. You feel his rock-hard, angry cock as he rubs it against your buttocks, using it to poke your panties into your crack, then he slips it between your thighs and rubs his knob against your camel-toe.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you whisper to yourself, secretly marvelling at the size and hardness of Vince’s member as it prods your nether regions.