Monday, October 22, 2007

Betty and the Burglars

By noriko

"A double, without ice," Darren said to the bartender. Yesterday had been a good day for business, and he was going to celebrate. A few weeks earlier, he had overheard a kid talking about his parents going on holiday for a few weeks, and had been savvy enough to find out the family's address. The stuff they had hauled out that night had to be worth at least 3-4 grand, a TV, a VCR, a brand new computer with all the bells and whistles- that family would sure have a shock when they got back. But hey, they seemed pretty well off judging from the apartment- it wouldn't hurt them too badly, and Darren and his mates had the money to have some fun for a while.

As the barman served up a drink, Darren spotted a woman out of the corner of his eye. She seemed kind of oldish, but she had a really nice chest, and from what he could see her ass didn't look half bad either. Seemed worth a shot, what the hell.

"Yo, barman," said Darren. "Send one of your finest over to the lady." If she accepted it, he'd score tonight.

Sure enough she accepted, and without even looking up. There was something strange about her though. She didn't seem at all interested in anything, like she was in a deep depression or something. And she didn't even acknowledge Darren, to his disgust. Her mind seemed just somewhere else.

Darren had wasted his money though, so he decided he might as well follow through. Mustering up an air of male suavity or something of such sorts, he paced up to the table at which she was sitting.

"Yo, baby," he said in a manly sort of way (he thought). "The name's Darren. What's yours?" The woman didn't even acknowledge his existence, and just kept sipping her drink, the drink that he had bought her. Her eyes were blank, as if focused on some point far away. Darren decided to step it up a few gears (hey, what good was she if she wouldn't give some ass).

"Hey baby, it's a cute booty you got there. How 'bout you give me some of that ass."

The lady's head shot 'round like she had just sat on a pin. "What?" she said icily. "Are you trying to chat me up?"

“Ummm…” was Darren to answer to that. “Well, baby, I was just, um, sort of wondering whether you be lookin' for some male companionship, that's all."

"Because I'm not that kind of girl, shorty. So just leave me alone."

Shorty? Yeah, Darren was short, 5 foot 2 when he wore his tall shoes, but he hated being called shorty. That was what people had called him in school, and hearing the word just about gave him a rash. Anyway, height doesn't matter that much in bed.

"I may be short," shot back Darren, drawing himself up to his full height. "But I've got one thing to tell you. I'm proud to inform you that I have the biggest most enormous goddamn Johnson that you have probably ever seen."

The woman just burst out laughing, because that had been the last thing she had expected to hear. She laughed and laughed, until tears were coming out of the corners of her eyes. Darren didn't see what was so funny, and found the whole thing kind of weird actually, but hey, he had somehow made her laugh. Maybe he had a chance after all.

"I like that shorty," the woman spluttered, trying to stop laughing. "That was good. I like that. But listen, I'm just not that kind of girl. Last time I had sex was in the Summer of Love, 1972."

1972??? No way! Sure she looked a bit oldish, but she didn't look THAT old.

"It's never late to get started again," suggested Darren helpfully.

"Sorry, shorty, but that's just not the way I am. I'm an independent kind of woman. I don't have men in my house, and I like it that way. So you can take you big enormous goddamn Johnson and go." She couldn't hold out anymore and just burst out laughing again.

Single woman living alone eh? Darren was beginning to be interested for a whole new reason. Judging from the way she dressed, she didn't seem too badly off either. He didn't need to tell his mates for this one- this was a job he would keep just for himself. He would get some merchandise with which to finally get the money buy the new Toyota 7-series he had always wanted, and he could get some ass too. Her handbag was open, and a purse was gently peeking out. If he could just… Got it! Everything was A-OK. This job would be a pleasure.

* * * * *

Betty Armstrong, age 52, single, no kids. Some nice looking credit cards, a driver's license, a membership card to a gym (so that's where she kept that boobs and ass firm). And she lived on one of the swishiest streets in town- if she didn't have a big Rottweiler or something in the backyard, this job would be a dream.

Darren's wiener was hard as rock at the thought and he could hardly think straight. He would pounce on her while she was asleep, force her legs apart, and ah... pre-cum was just about oozing from his penis. He couldn't wait one more second. He would do it tonight- right now! Hardly able to walk straight because of his erection, Darren got onto his bike. Betty Armstrong here I come! He was far too pre-occupied with such thoughts to notice the eyes following him from the bushes.

Apple Tree Avenue 43 yes, no mistake about it, this was the place. And a nice house it was too - 2 big floors, a nice garden, no dog and what do you know, there was even a ground-floor window that didn't seem properly locked. Edging it open slowly, Darren crept in.

* * * * *

In the bedroom, Betty Armstrong was lying on her back on the bed, naked as the day she was born. On a TV screen in front of her, a self-defense video was playing. She hadn't originally been planning to watch the tape, but her friend Edna from the bridge circle had forced it on her after she had successfully used a technique described there to foil an attempted robbery.

She had been awoken by a sound downstairs, and when she went down to see what the matter was she spotted some fat kid going through her jewelry drawer. Determined not to be a victim, she had rushed the man, but had thrown her to the ground and pulled a knife out of his pocket. Undeterred, and seeing that the man was in a corner, Edna had stamped up between his uprights. Her short summer nightie, now hiked up around her middle, had given her bare legs all the freedom they needed. Letting out a yelp, the man was forced to drop his knife, and he tried to find a way to get on top of her, or at least around her. At least out of the corner. But there was to be no escape. Edna, who had learnt from her self defense tapes that a man is helpless against a concerted attack to the genitals, even when performed by an elderly lady or a child, and who was incensed with rage at having her home violated, had stamped up again and again- his thighs, his stomach, and as his legs bent and closed and his hands came down to shield his testicles that had been hurt by her first attack, she even got one upward stamp into his solar plexus. As the tape had said, her attack proved more than he could stand, and he collapsed to the ground, being kicked all the way. As soon as the man was on the ground, Edna had scrambled to her feet, and as he had tried to get up she had kneed him in the face. He tried to get off the floor again, this time leaving his legs wide open, and Edna had not missed the chance. Holding her frilly silk nightie up around her middle so that it would not get in the way, Edna had rammed her foot into his weak spot full force. From there on in, the matter was one for the police.

Betty had been skeptical about the whole self-defense industry for a while - she hadn't really believed a woman, especially an older woman like herself, could successfully bring down and defeat a physically much stronger man in a fight, or even offer up enough resistance to deter him from committing a crime. If the man was committed, his superior strength and technique would always show through, and she couldn't believe a poke to his wee-wee or any other technique would stop him if he was serious, and certainly not knock him out. But Edna's story had made her reconsider- after all, Edna was almost ten years Betty's senior, and was not exactly a model of physical fitness- and yet she had completely disabled a younger man twice her size. Something about that made Betty so wet- she could hardly listen to the story as Edna told it, because she was afraid she would cum any second and make a fool of herself in public. But in the privacy of her own home she could be alone with her fantasies of the male penis, male testicles.

On the tape, she watched some expert explain about female self-defense. It was all she had dreamed it would be.

"If a woman gets into trouble," the instructor on the screen explained, "she should never forget that her best friend is the man's testicles. A good blow right between a man's legs, even a not-so-good blow between his legs, can knock any man unconscious. However much muscle-power a guy has, he can never grow muscles on his testicles."

The pictures of male genatalia on screen the though of what was in a man's pants. The hair in between Betty's legs was dripping. "I want balls," she thought, her body bathed in sweat. "I want a penis and balls. I want to touch them, to hold them, even to hit them. I want them right now." Her body was bathed in sweat as she rolled uncomfortably on the bed.

"Women should know," the voice on the screen went on, "that women who know about the male pain centre and who decide to struggle win almost 70% of the time. More than 2 in 3. And often by knocking their opponents unconscious. If a woman decides before a fight that she will focus her attack between her opponent’s legs, her chances of winning the fight are far superior to that of the man."

The picture on the screen was of a naked man walking through a field, his penis and balls gently swaying from side to side. This was too good. This was more than Betty could take.


"If a woman finds herself in trouble," the instructor continued, "she must remember that even a light blow to a man's pain centre will immobilize him completely. Visualize where his balls are, then kick them, knee them, punch them, bite them, grab and squeeze them if you can, slam something into them. Never underestimate how much it hurts a man to be hit there. It doesn't matter how you hit them- there was a thirteen year old girl in Thailand who was alone in a girls' shower and was attacked by a rapist. She remembered what her mother had taught her about the male anatomy, and threw the bar of soap she was scrubbing herself with at the point just below the bulge in his trousers..."

Betty's nipples were as hard as little rocks. A naked actress on the screen was acting out the counter-attack. "And once you've hurt him, be sure not to let up. A lot of women are successfully raped or killed after they think they have already immobilized their assailant. Once you start your attack, don't stop or let up until he's completely disabled and you can safely get away. The girl from Thailand didn't let up. After she had him stunned with her well-placed throw, she pushed her would-be-rapist up against the shower-room wall and kept driving her thigh between his legs again and again until he went limp in her hands. Don't stop after one blow. Hit, squeeze, or twist his testicles until he dies."

Betty couldn't take any more. Her swollen clitoris was pulsating with sexual excitement, and her eyes closed as she reached out to touch it, spreading her legs as wide as they would go. In her mind's eye she could see her friend Edna lying on her back, slamming her feet upwards again and again in the direction of the small balls of flesh that made the robber a man. She imagined him naked, his legs clamped tight shut and his hands trying desperately to catch or at least to block the devastating attack of a woman well into her 60's. She imagined him staring at Edna's crotch as she delivered kick after kick, wishing he had pussy lips too instead of balls. Betty let out a groan, her legs slightly twisting, unable to hold in place because of all the excitement.

Just at that moment, she felt an enormous penis sliding right in between her legs, deep into her vagina. Darren had just come into the room, and seeing what was before him on the bed had been unable to resist. And he had succeeded in creeping in so quietly that she hadn't noticed his presence until that moment.

The orgasm hit before the realization. "oooouuuuuaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!" cried Betty, unable to take it anymore, her whole body going into spasm out of sheer pleasure. A split second later she realized that there was something on top of her. It felt unbelievable. She felt a mouth slowly close around her right nipple, and hairy skin rub roughly against her big swollen clitoris. It was a feeling she had never felt before in her life. The pleasure was so intense that she was just losing all muscular control.

As Betty opened her eyes she began to realize there was a man on top of her, in her… and he had no business being there. She had to push him off but the feeling was so intense. There was so much friction right where she needed it between her legs. She curled into another orgasm.

"I'm..." she tried to say, but it was swallowed into another "aaagh!" It was Darren now she realized - why it was him she still could not fathom. Could it be that he was raping her? Either way, when he had talked about his big enormous Johnson, he had not been exaggerating. Darren's technique was superb. She was hardly down from one orgasm when her body was already writhing with the next.

"I'm… going to... Ooooh… kick your… Haa… oo… aaaa… balls…" Betty panted between waves of incredible pleasure.

Darren wasn't even listening. Goddamn it this chick might be old, but she was hot! He'd never been in bed with something like this before.

Betty wanted to fight back, at least she thought she did, but the orgasms were too powerful, and they kept on coming. She hadn't felt this way since 1972. No, 1972 was nothing compared with this. Out of the corner of her eye she could see forms on the TV screen of girls hitting guys where it hurts. This was like a dream. The next orgasm was so hard that she felt she was blacking out. Her whole body was shaking; she could take no more of this. Why wouldn't he cum? Gathering all her strength, Betty squeezed her vagina tight as hard as she possible could, wrapping her legs right around him. She couldn't afford to black out; this guy had broken into her house. Who knows what he might do to her if she were to fall unconscious. But the feeling was unbelievable. The incessant wriggling of the small body on top of her.

The powerful squeeze on his penis was more than Darren could take. He didn't want to come; this was just too good, and he didn't want it to end now. But his penis was being squeezed so hard inside Betty's warm wet vagina that it was no use - the more he tried not to come, the more futile it became, and in the end the muscle wall behind his testicles just gave way and began to spasm, shooting his full load deep into Betty's vagina. His mouth opened into an, "Urgh!" He experienced one of the most powerful orgasms of his life.

The frantic squirming and wiggling of sex slowly gave way to a feeling of total relaxation, as two sweaty bodies slowly relaxed into one another. The circumstances, the world around them, it all became irrelevant. The self-defense tape was still playing in the background, but nobody was listening. It didn't matter anymore that one was a burglar and the other an older woman, all there was now on the bed were a man and a woman, who had acted out in their own flesh the purpose for which god created two sexes in this world.

Betty was the first to talk. "That was unbelievable," she panted from underneath.

"Yes," agreed Darren, his intentions of rape and robbery replaced with a feeling of utter peace. "You've got an unbelievable body. I've never had sex like that before."

"Your penis," panted Betty, her vagina dripping with warm, sticky fluid. "Your balls. Your sperm. I want you so much."

"Your pussy, your breasts, your legs," responded Darren. "I would marry you."

Everything was so peaceful, so pleasant, Darren would have wanted to lie there forever, but the sex had somehow stimulated his bladder, and he had to urinate.

"Where's the bathroom?" he asked.

"Just down the hall, on the right," answered Betty, rolling out from under him. This was like such a dream; she could hardly believe any of this was really happening.

* * * * *

"Hum, hum, hum, hum," whistled Darren to himself as he relieved himself into Betty's toilet. Holding his still swollen penis in his hand as he peed, Darren thanked god for having given him Willy and the twins. Today they had performed sterling service. It had all been so incredible. It was good to be a man.


It was lights out for Darren.

"Sorry old bean," hissed Redge from behind. "You wanted to steal a plum job for yourself, eh? Forget your boys? We'll deal with you when we're done with the bitch. Boz!"

"I can read your mind, Redge," said Boz, clicking the handcuffs onto the unconscious Darren. "We don't wants him getting' away, does we now? I guess it's our turn to taste some tender pussy."

* * * * *

"Darren is a long time, isn't he?" thought Betty to herself. "It's been five minutes already. I wonder what's keeping him in the bathroom for so long…"

Slowly, her body still shivering from the sex she had just had, Betty rolled out of bed, and slipping on a short frilly nightie walked out of the room to check. Slowly she opened the door to the bathroom, he wasn't there either. Could it be that he had just left her? Like Santa Claus, had he just slipped into the house, given her a present, and then disappeared never to be seen again? Stranger thoughts yet floated through Betty's mind, as she was an old-fashioned kind of person. Maybe he had been an elf, who, seeing her sexual desire from the land of the faeries, had…

Strong hands suddenly seized Betty in a bear hug from behind. It was Boz. Waiting patiently in the shadows, he had found his perfect moment, catching the older woman completely off guard.

"NO!" screamed Betty, realizing she was being attacked. "I WON'T LET YOU!" She had to stop him; she wouldn't allow herself to be raped. She had to attack backwards. She tried to find his face with a backwards head slam, but she failed. His testicles, she had to get at his testicles. Screaming with all her might, Betty tried to wiggle her hands which were pinned by her sides backwards, feeling for his nads. Even his penis was okay. If she could get it she would just pull and pull.

Boz understood what she was up to, and tightened his grip. This woman might be old, but goddamn it she was struggling hard. If she could get his testicles in her hands it would be the end. Boz suddenly felt vulnerable.

Realizing that she was getting nowhere, Betty struggled even more desperately. Scenes from the video she had just watched flashed through her mind. "Remember that even a light blow to a man's pain centre will immobilize him completely. Never underestimate how much it hurts a man to be hit there. It doesn't matter how you hit them, once you've hurt him, be sure not to let up. Hit, squeeze, or twist his testicles until he dies." Mustering up all her strength, Betty bent forward, lifting Boz's feet off the floor. Her first thought had been to somehow throw him over her shoulder and then dive down at his crotch, but when that didn't work, she charged backwards, ramming him into the wall, her desk, the edges of her cabinet. He was bent forwards leaving his balls undefended from a blow from behind. Anything she could ram him backwards against, if she could ram it into the right place.

Wham! Wham! The corner of the desk-table in the corner smashed first into Boz's upper thigh, then into the tender point between his legs and buttocks, right near the place his balls were vulnerably dangling. It hurt like hell, and would probably bruise badly too. He had thought he had her- but she just wasn't giving up, and he couldn't believe how vulnerable his balls were making him as he was trying to stop her from getting free. He kicked backwards hard, pushing the table out of the way, but almost allowing her to slip out of his grip as she bent forwards all the way. One more inch and he felt he would lose his grip, sliding over her back and landing on the floor. In an attempt to regain his footing, Boz released his bear hug, trying to get his feet back onto the ground. He had to control her- and he had to stop her screaming, before one of the neighbors called 911.

As Boz released his grip, Betty was able to use her arms again. She needed a weapon - there were some scissors on the dressing table. She charged for them, but Boz was right behind her, seizing her again as she reached the table. One arm wrapped around her slender middle, as the other grabbed the wrist of the arm reaching for the scissors. Betty was almost there. She touched the scissor handles, but her arm was violently turned away as Boz, lifting her feet off the ground, swung Betty 90 degrees to one side. The dressing table came crashing to the ground and with it the scissors.

"I've got you at last," panted Boz, clamping his hand over her throat to stop the screams. Goddamn bitch, she had tried to kill him. She deserved to be strangled.

Betty's thoughts got more and more desperate. No, this could not be happening. She could not breathe. She would die. She couldn't even scream for help. She began flailing around for all she was worth. She suddenly felt something soft against the back of her heel.

“Aaaaaargh!” A man's scream filled the room. The grip on Betty's neck was released, and her feet landed back on the floor. In an instant she realized what had happened- during her desperate flailing, she had for some reason been cycling in the air with her feet. Her mind had not been functioning clearly, but some primal female defensive instinct had taken over.

Betty didn't even bother rearranging her nightie, which had been hiked up almost up to her breasts by Boz's lifting motion. The only words that flashed into her mind were from the cassette "once you've hurt him, be sure not to let up." Boz's hands hadn't even had time to come down to cover his hurting crotch yet when Betty ploughed into him full force, smashing him backwards hard into the wall. She had him in a firm forward bear hug, and this time she wasn't going to let go. Forcing her head right into him to avoid counter-attack, she squeezed his rib-cage as hard as she could, making it hard for him to breath. One good shot and it would all be over. Betty violently pulled Boz to one side, forcing him to open his legs in order to keep his balance. She rammed the upper half of her slightly chubby female thigh it there as hard as it would go.

Boz screamed out in pain. Whack, whack, whack, whack! Over and over again she kicked him, squeezing herself into him as hard as she could in order to keep his body under control. With her squeezed into him like this, he could not bring his hands down to shield his balls, or even fall to the ground to somehow protect his nads. Her thigh came in again and again until he stopped struggling.

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