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  • Manipulated Male Ch. 01: The Neighbour

Manipulated Male Ch. 01: The Neighbour

I lost a bet...

My partner supplied random information... a person, a setting, etc... and demanded a story to approve for publication here

This is my third attempt.

Purely FYI: For each failed attempt there have been consequences...

*****

"Hi."

She'd caught up with me, at the communal mailbox. She being Sylvie, my neighbour from a few doors away since earlier in the year. We'd been sort of circling each other from some time now. "Hi." I leafed through the, well, snail mail spam...because that's all it was. "I wish they'd just leave a garbage can here, save us packing this stuff home."

"Good idea." She was leafing through the contents of her own box. Hot lady this one. Nice and tight. Well maintained. Stuffing it all back in her box, she locked it and said, "Care to go for a drive?"

No point in delaying it. I mean, well, it was a lovely summer evening. Pushing the junk back in my box and locking it, I said, "Sure..."

We made some desultory small talk about her new car. It was a few months old now but I'd not been in it. She was still very pleased with it.

I should say here that I wasn't avoiding her. I'd actually wandered down the road a few times over the past 2 or 3 days but I just never seemed to run into her and it wasn't something, well, how do you explain?

"Any particular destination in mind?" I asked, turning slightly on the seat to watch her. Yes, she was good looking...petite brunette. Nice, bare, legs emerging from the slightly rucked up summer skirt - good cleavage highlighted by the scoop-neck top.

"How about if we just head up the coast a few klics?"

"Sounds good." It was a lovely night, going to be a spectacular sunset. I said so, in those words, almost adding, 'to be out with a gorgeous woman.' But that wouldn't have done.

The elephant in the room, well, one of the elephants in the car, to be accurate on all counts, was the sexual tension. It did exist. We'd been in each other's respective places for tea. She'd started that touching-the-arm thing females do and the parting hugs tended to stretch just a little. And I can't say she didn't create that certain stirring and tingling. Moreover, from where I was sitting there were nipples at least in some relief within the scoop-neck top.

But we were both too long in the tooth to simply leap. Not with someone living on the doorstep. I mean, when it goes sideways, and experience for both of us indicated it likely would...well, we'd have to sneak to the mailbox for god's sake...

Which brought the other elephant into the vehicle. Or rather she did. She'd pulled into a turnout- layby, for a mailbox strangely enough, but it was ideally placed to look out at the sunset over the smooth calm water. There was no one else around. I was wondering how to raise the topic, really, I was, when she simply slipped a hardcopy face up on the dashboard.

To say I snatched it up was understatement. I hadn't expected a hardcopy!

Read photo. Hard-core bondage.

"My account was hacked."

That was what I'd planned to say when I wandered around looking for her. It didn't fly.

Cocking her head, disbelieve etched in her mouth and eyes, she said, "Must be terribly embarrassing. Did it go out to your whole address book?"

My palms were sweaty and my hands shaking. I slipped the hardcopy photo on the dashboard, the only place to put it actually...but face down! Who prints full colour hardcopy photos these days? Since I also had a bulge starting, I nonchalantly dropped my hands to that area. Only to have her eyes follow every move.

To say something, as much as anything, I said, "It's not me."

Unfortunately, the colouring was right. Exact actually. So although she hadn't seen the equipment prominently on display ( very prominently on display as it happened! In the pic that is!) she was going to take some convincing that it wasn't the younger, well, 'me'.

And I had no idea how to even begin...

Interrupting my reverie, she said, "Tell you what. I'm going to give you an either or. Some of the girls have suggested..."

"Some of the girls?!" I gasped, stunned.

"Some of the girls have suggested something," she repeated, "so I'm going to suggest you remove your shoes and put them on the road beside the car and we can begin."

My mind was still reeling. As you might expect. 'Girls?-how many?-which girls? 'Etc etc etc. It might have been a moment before it registered, giving me another jolt. "Shoes?!"

"Yes." She was flushing a bit but clearly had rehearsed the spiel and worked herself up so on she went. The short version is the 'girls' hadn't actually seen the photo, nor did they know who had emailed it, and they had only the vaguest description of the contents - although it was horrifyingly late in her little speech before she got to any of that vital info - but what had been suggested was a game of 'truth or dare' and she had refined into something she thought might be both, quote, 'well, a watershed one way or the other in our relationship' and, quote, she had the whatever to shrug-blush faintly at this point, 'maybe even a bit of fun,' unquote.

From what I could gather the fun would be

entirely hers. I'd be crazy to go along with what was suggested! Absolutely barking mad. So no way. Period. "So what's the or?"

She looked me straight in the eye. "You can get out of my car and walk home."

20 kilometers! "Where I'll find you've sent out the photo?"

"Don't worry, I'll blind cc you. That way you'll at least know how many people have seen it, if not who they all are."

She could well have been bluffing, of course. But I didn't know her that well and couldn't be sure. However, I can categorically deny that the involuntary erection I was casually obscuring with my left hand in my lap had anything to do with me dropping my shoes out the car door just before she accelerated out of the layby in a cloud of dust.

We were on backcountry roads so there wasn't much traffic. Some, but not a great deal. In fact, we could go a klic or so sometimes before passing anyone else - whether that was a vehicle, a bike, a cyclist or a walker, or of course the plurals of any of those. She used the time to elaborate on the rules, "The original suggestion was stop signs but since we met at a mailbox, and there aren't that many stop signs out this way...I hope you don't mind I added mailboxes."

"Like I have a choice."

"Of course you do. You could opt for truth." She pulled into another mailbox turnout. There were some bikers a bit ahead, going in the other direction. Slowly. "So, truth or your socks. Why did you send me that email?"

"I didn't send.."

Snapping her fingers, she interrupted. "Socks."

Judging from the glint in her eyes she wasn't going to listen to an explanation.

It had been an accident, for god's sake. One of those too-quick-on-the-mouse-flat-out-errors we all commit. An air-sucking, stomach-churning catastrophe that couldn't be taken back. But she wasn't going to listen while I tried to explain. So I opened the door and tossed my balled-up socks into the deepish grass on the verge of the turnout.

"You are writing down the locations," she pulled out of onto the narrow winding road. "Because if you remain recalcitrant once you're naked I'm going to drive around according to my own whim for as long as I like, asking you any questions I like, and then you're going to have to remember the locations..."

"In reverse order, " I took a pen and piece of paper out of the glovebox, interrupting to show I'd been listening, and jotting scrawled notes with a shaky hand, "and if any pieces can't be found, or have been collected, moved or whatever, than you're going to drive me home stark naked."

"Well, more or less. You'll be naked all right, but where and for how long..." She shrugged, and pulled up to stop sign. And looked over at me, eyebrow cocked, the car idling in park.

"Ummh, those bikers are right behind us. You couldn't, you know, whatever, under the circumstances?"

"You could simply tell the truth. Alternatively, it'll be either pants or shirt, you decide, and you can wait until these two have passed before getting out to stash the item."

"Look, I didn't send..."

Another snap of the fingers. "I should just charge you for that. But that's not the question. Answer only the questions I ask, or I will charge you an item for jumping the gun. Understood?"

We were getting farther and farther away from home. Walking barefoot wasn't going to happen. Trapped. And now she was changing the rules. Of course.

"Do you like me at all?"

Now that's a loaded question. Typical female to make a guy squirm, put him under pressure. Make his situation bloody impossible. Jesus. "Well..."

She was getting good at snapping fingers. "No hedging. That was in the original rules."

The two bikers went by, slowly, as they had been traversing the whole route. When they had gone around us, curiousity encouraging them to have a good look in passing, and moved off...I undid and removed my shirt. Took a bit actually. Tiny buttons and stiff awkward fingers. At least she seemed to enjoy the spectacle of me struggling, her eyes twinkling. I had to jump over the wide country ditch to find a suitable stash. A little hard on the bare feet going both ways, in fact, a sure sign that 20 klics wasn't feasible. And she was blatant. Overtly comparing the photo model's upper torso to mine as I climbed back into, and settled, in the seat .

"Younger version?" she murmured. "Could easily be. Easily." And she pulled the car out and crossed the deserted intersection...Where she stopped the car, reached over, and undid and opened my belt and the little clasp. "Think of it as interest on the loan...for me being so sympathetic about the bikers."

"Thank you," I muttered, sarcastically.

"You're welcome," she replied, starting us forward then chuckling as she pulled, almost immediately, into another mailbox turnout.

Shirt off was okay because it was not a convertible and it was a warm summer evening. But anything more would be starting to get very iffy indeed.

Turning to me, she tapped the photo, now forgotten and left face up on the dash. "Are you this big when hard?"

Shit. I blushed, no doubt crimson across the entire visible area and beyond. I had to swallow and exhale... and inhale. "Yes."

"So it could be you." She'd set a trap of course. Females do that. Pulling out onto the road again, she said, "that better be the truth by the way. Because if I find out it's not, well,..." She left the consequences unsaid.

I picked up the photo, on the pretense of turning it face down so it couldn't be seen by any passing motorist, cyclist, biker, whatever - but I took a quick peek to refresh my memory. This guy was at full sail and then some - but yes I did compare favourably, on a good day.

Odd the details you remember. Snapshots in little sequences of an event are clear and lucid whereas most of it is a blur. I recall, very clearly...a mental process for this time period of the evening. To wit, 'the good news is the car is not a convertible...does not have one of those silly sun or moon roofs...and the road is narrow so no one is likely to drive along beside us for any time...the bad news is she's getting the bit between her teeth... and judging from the faint smile she's truly relishing whatever thoughts are flitting through her devious mind...'

The damned stop signs were everywhere suddenly. This one breaking unceremoniously into my attempts to bring some order to the experience.

Glancing around, returning to the place and time, I noticed there were people about. A cyclist a few hundred metres away, a woman on a horse in a nearby field, an SUV of uncomfortably high vantage point approaching the intersection, the 4-way stop to be precise - from the passenger side, of course...

"Did you intend to send it to anyone other than me?"

Bloody woman. "Look, I didn't mean for..."

The fingers snapped. "Not buying it," she said simply. But her eyes were positively twinkling so she was enjoying it. "You don't get to hedge."

Of more immediate importance, the SUV was waiting for us. She was waiting for me. THIS was really really bad. An impasse to my complete detriment. What could I do? Trying to slip off my slacks would be noticed. Trying to slide under the dash was impossible. I certainly wouldn't fit. She, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying...no, relishing, with mustard and mayonnaise...my predicament.

"What can I do?" I whispered. Why do we whisper when no one else can hear?

She replied anyway, at full volume. "Tell the truth. Get out and walk home. Remove your slacks. That's the options."

"Okay , I sent the pic to turn you on. Did it work?"

"You really really don't want to challenge me. I should've thought begging would be better." She arched an eyebrow, but couldn't contain the twinkle in her eye.

"Sorry."

"That's a start. "She waved the SUV through. Then, as they were creeping through the intersection, she turned sideways in the seat - to the intense interest of the couple in the SUV - who I was watching watch us as Sylvie said, "Look at me. This is double or nothing. Literally."

I turned to make eye contact. Thinking that dignity was important in all this. Somehow.

"You can answer, truthfully," she emphasized, "without hedging," she emphasized, "any of the questions you've refused to date to answer."

Shit. The questions, as you might recall, were (1) 'Why did you send me that email?'...not 'did you?', 'why did you?' (Which of course I didn't, intentionally - so she was never going to let me reply to that one properly)... (2) 'Do you like me at all?'...as if there was a reply you could make to that one, in these circumstances (certainly anything along the lines of 'gee, hun, note the hard-on...' would not be taken with grace and equanimity)... and (3) well, if I hadn't intended to send the email then I hadn't intended to send it to her, let alone anyone else (but replying in the negative would only bring us full circle to 'why me?'...and I'd wind up naked at the next stop sign or mailbox anyway)

That, I think, was the logic. That my erection felt every bit as trapped as me may also have factored in the decision. Regardless, I simply said, "Pass", while hefting my tush from the seat and peeling down my pants and briefs in a job lot.

She was focused on my erection. As I would be focused on certain anatomical regions were the roles reversed. But she was, at least, a bit gracious and suggested, "if you separate those two garments, I'll put them in two different places out there for you," she nodded toward the side of the road, her twinkling eyes still fixed on my quivering hard-on, " that way you can make a note of the intersection and we can make a quick getaway...from here anyway. Okay?" Her smile came up to my face, and she winked.

So I gave her one garment with each hand and off she went. Straight across the ditch to the fence enclosing the woman on the horse - and she spoke to the woman, chuckling, and dropped my clothes over the fence...

The good news is it's growing dark.

Quote, 'saves gas coming back out here to look for them later,' unquote.

The bad news is it's a small car and she's already demonstrated a willing to reach over- if you recall the belt, etc...( so I was a bit twitchy wondering when it would happen again).

"It's called kidnapping and blackmail."

Quote, 'ahh, poor baby, should I phone a cop', unquote.

The worse news is she's a deceitful bitch who can't be trusted.

Silence seemed the best policy.

Quote, 'look on it this way...now it's just you, me, and all night to get to the bottom of a few things', unquote.

The even worse news being, given the clear evidence to the contrary, I could hardly argue I wasn't enjoying at least some facet of the experience.

Quote, ' why don't you put the seat back a little and tuck your hands under your butt...like that, good,' unquote. "Now I have a good few ideas so just relax and let me take care of everything. But if something that may add to the entertainment does come to mind feel free to pass it along." At which point she reached over, chuckling, and dipped a finger in the pre-cum... smiling broadly as she tasted it.

Quote, unspoken, 'I own you and all things you', unquote.

And I shivered involuntarily, realizing abruptly how much I liked that.

And her mischievious smile told me she did too.

So it was game on...full on...

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