The Good Ol’ Days

by Jefferson James
Last worked on 05.22.06

I still take them, but not as often as I used to. My appetite isn’t quite as ravenous as it once was, and what’s out there isn’t as appealing as it was twenty-five years ago. Maybe it’s the styles. Women of today just aren’t as sexy as they were in the seventies. I really liked the Farrah Fawcett look. I also liked the fact that there was no such thing as the cell phone and you could count on a woman’s tits being real.

I was always on the lookout for the really hot ones. I’m a hunter, not a gatherer. Waiting for an opportunity to present itself and settling for whatever I got wasn’t my style. It was nothing but the best for this boy. And I was no slipshod operator; I planned everything out. I’d pick a fuck and then figured out how, when and where to take her down.

Occasionally, the take wasn’t that risky or difficult. A girl being in the wrong place at the wrong time is often more a matter of stupidity than a matter of bad luck. And fucks can be pretty stupid sometimes. In some instances, all I had to do was to be in the right place at the right time. They’d have their head in the clouds, totally oblivious when it came to their surroundings, and down they’d go.

Generally, though, I had to be more creative. For instance, one Friday I was cashing my paycheck at a different branch than the one I always went to. The bank manager was a prime piece of meat. The blazer she was wearing accented her narrow waist and big breasts. She had nice, long, legs made for spreading that were just begging from me to get between them. The instant I saw her, I decided I wanted to cross her off of my to-do list before the end of the month. I started working out the details.

When she came out of the bank at the end of each day, I was waiting somewhere nearby. I watched her for a couple weeks learning her routine. She was no bimbo. She was very alert and well aware of her surroundings at all times. A parking lot take was out of the question. There was no way I was going to be able to sneak up behind her. Any trick I might have tried with the average blonde would have more than likely failed, as well. She was as smart as she was hot.

Breaking into a fuck’s home and waiting in ambush generally makes for a good take. Unfortunately, Toni, the sexy bank manager, was married and her husband’s schedule was too unpredictable. I’m not opposed to doing a full home invasion. In fact, having the husband come home first, tying him to a chair and letting him watch while I take his wife down can be a kick.

Or if the fuck gets home first, having her stripped, tired and spread can make the husband real cooperative. They hate seeing their woman that way, but they do as they’re told because she’s so helpless and vulnerable. He gets tied up somewhere with a view, sometimes right on the bed, and then I do her. Most of time she isn’t too sloppy for seconds. If I want thirds, I make him lick her clean for me.

But Toni and her husband lived in a gated community. That would make getting in their home a little difficult. And they sometimes got home around the same time. Having one of them show up before I got the other fully under control could ruin everything. I’ve had to bail out under those kind of circumstances, and lost the fuck. And this particular blonde fuck was one I certainly didn’t want to lose. I wasn’t taking any chances. I wanted to make damn sure nothing interfered with those long sexy legs opening wide for me.

The place they lived was, however, a little ways out of town. That meant that Toni was driving alone on a stretch of road that, while not entirely deserted, had very little traffic on it in the early evening hours. Like most banks, hers stayed open later on Fridays. And like most managers, it was an hour or more after closing before she headed home. I had an approximate location and time of day for the take. The fuck and I had a date for that coming Friday.

I needed a nest; some place I could take her. And it had to be private enough for at least seconds, if not thirds, and maybe more. Over the next few days, I investigated all the side roads along Toni’s route. Most lead to private homes or other gated communities. Two looked promising. The first hadn’t been there long and was part of a new housing development that was still in the early stages of construction. I found a few possible locations for a nest, but none really afforded the kind of privacy I liked.

The other was the driveway of a small, rural church. Further investigation revealed that it was closed for a few weeks while the pastor was on vacation trout fishing. It was perfect. I knew when and where I was taking Toni down. All I had to do was work out the details of how the trap would be sprung. And that was just a matter of a little ingenuity, some basic electrical skills, and about sixty seconds under the hood of her car.

The following Friday night is was cold and raining. It couldn’t have been much better. Those with a choice would be staying home and the rest were much more likely to mind their own business. As I waited undercover at the side of the road, very few cars went by. And the drivers of those that did never knew I was there. Finally, I spotted Toni in my binoculars and pressed the button on the garage door remote in my pocket. The switch I had wired into her car’s electrical system tripped, the headlights went out and the engine died.

I had estimated her stopping distance almost perfectly. Before her car had even come to a complete stop, I was at Toni’s door pointing a .357 Magnum at her head. There’s nothing quite like the look on a woman’s face when she’s staring into the barrel of gun. The fuck was just the way I like them – absolutely terrified. I tried to open the door. It was locked, but we both knew the thin piece of glass between us was doing little to keep it that way.

“Open the door,” I yelled.

Again and again, Gwen turned the key trying frantically and futilely to start the engine. Even with the rainwater running down the window I could see her shaking with fear. I pulled back the hammer of my gun and yelled a little louder, “Open the door.”

There was a soft click, the lock’s button popped up and the door opened the tiniest amount. Yanking it past me, I thrust my arm inside and stuck the barrel of the gun right in Toni’s pretty face. She gasped and stammered for a few seconds and then whispered softly, “Please don’t hurt me. You can have the car and my purse, just let me get out.”

“Move it!” snarled.

I shoved her hard with my other hand. The console between the seats made it difficult, but she moved as quickly as she could to the opposite side of the car. As I slid into the driver’s seat, I switched the gun to my left hand. Toni’s hand shot for the door handle just like I expected. The fuck was smart and taking her down wouldn’t be easy. Unfortunately for her, I was on familiar ground and she wasn’t. She was quick, but I was faster,

My fingers grabbed a healthy amount of her full blonde mane, and I yanked her toward me. She was too surprised to let go and inadvertently closed the door she had just opened. I jammed the gun to the base of her skull and was rewarded with the most wonderful gasp and pitiful whimper. She was still tensed, though, and prepared to fight if she got the chance. She hadn’t surrendered and I knew it. A lost battle didn’t mean a lost war, and I couldn’t claim the prize in her panties just yet.

I learned the hard way that it isn’t easy to drive a car while keeping an eye and a gun on a fuck that hasn’t given up yet. A lot of women would have sat there too scared to move or even think straight. Toni wasn’t one of them. I’ve also found that the best way to control a fuck with brains is to make her think I’m totally psychotic. Giving Toni my most twisted grin, I cocked my head to one side and said, “The pretty lady shouldn’t try to get away. It makes us angry. I don’t like us when we’re angry.”

“She’ll behave, or else,” I growled in a totally different voice. “Apologize to the kid, cunt!”

Toni cowered. And then, in a soft voice, she said, “I’m sorry.”

An intelligent fuck will try and reason with you while looking for every opportunity to get away or gain control of the gun. If, on the other hand, they think you are a complete whack job, they will almost always elect to humor you. They’re still watching for a chance to escape or gain control of the situation, but they are more likely to do the small, seemly innocent things you ask them to do, and that can be very useful.

I placed the gun on my lap. With her back more or less toward me like it was, there was no way Toni could make a grab for it. Closing the car door, I pushed the button on the remote control in my pocket, turning the car’s lights and windshield wipers back on. Realizing that she hadn’t actually broken down and that she had somehow been shanghaied caused Toni to swallow hard, and she looked at me over her trembling shoulder.

It was a look I’d seen before. Fucks always want to ask in their own little way what you have planned for them without inviting more than what you’ve already got in store for them. They hope they’re not going to be raped, but they know they will be. The fact that it’s when they first starting getting wet makes it even harder on them. Their mind doesn’t want to accept it, but their pussy is already preparing for the stiff one it knows is its getting.

In an attempt to ignore the growing dampness in her panties and involuntary stiffening of her nipples, Toni turned slowly, righting herself in the seat. She was very careful to make sure her hand got nowhere even close to the door handle. She was playing acquiescent and cooperative, but I wasn’t fooled. Her eyes remained glued on the gun and they opened a little wider as I picked it up with my left hand and pointed it in her direction.

“We want the pretty lady to be our friend,” I said, giving her another sick grin. “Maybe she will like us if we give her a present. Would the pretty lady like a pretty necklace, and will she wear it for us?”

Toni watched intently as my fingers tightened on the pistol grip and my lip curled. Her hands folded in her lap and pressed downward and she made a futile attempt at calming herself. Reaching into my right jacket pocket, I pulled out a long string of dime store pearls. Hiding her distress as well as she could, she nodded slowly and whispered, “Yes. Thank you.”

A pretended to be a little embarrassed for a split second and then sneered at her and said, in my scary voice, “That’s better. I hate people when they’re not polite.”

“I love pearls,” she said, giving me a forced smile. She tried again to calm herself by taking a deep breath, and leaned forward a bit, allowing me to slip the necklace over her head.

Her patronizing expression, however, vanished quickly and was replaced in rapid succession with surprise, comprehension and terror as I yanked her backwards and she realized the white plastic beads encircling her neck were strung on a thin, but very strong, wire. As I twisted it off behind the headrest of her seat, she started breathing harder, gasping as she inhaled and shuddering as she exhaled.

Her wide eyes shifted from the gun to my face, and she gave me another familiar look. She was further entrapped and wondering if she could have prevented it had she recognized the snare for what it was. Regret and dread are an interesting combination. She was more sure than before that it was her I wanted and not money or the car, and the odds of escaping were much worse than a moment ago. I knew her vagina was getting wetter in a mocking, I-told-you-so sort of way and her nipples were starting to ache. But she was strong willed and she still wasn’t ready to give up hope yet.

In the rearview mirror, I saw headlights approaching. I started the engine and waited. The other car went by without even slowing down. Watching helplessly as the taillights disappeared into the distance, Toni sniffled and finally decided it was time to confirm her suspicions. She closed her eyes and asked, in a quaking voice, “What do you want?”

We had reached the moment I look forward to the most. Having absolute control over a woman is a real kick in itself. But when things turn sexual, it isn’t just better, it’s the best. The intense rush I get is the reason I do what I do. Fucking is nice, but I rape women more for the taking than the stroking. And like anything, going slow makes it last longer. Getting them as worked up as possible is sort of a game of hints, leaving them with less and less doubt without actually letting the cat entirely out of the bag.

“The pretty lady is our new friend and we want to play fun games with her,” I said, giving Gwen a boyish smile. “The pretty lady wants to play fun games too because she’s our friend. Isn’t that right?”

Gwen closed her eyes and shuddered. She was a little more certain now.

“That’s right,” I added, speaking with a harsh tone again.

“Button, button, who has the button?” I asked. “There’s a button.”

Picking up the gun, I touched the tip of its barrel to the top of Gwen’s blouse, and asked, “Is that the button?”

Gwen gasped, valiantly holding back the tears I knew would be running down her pretty cheeks before long. She hands clenched into fists and she swallowed hard, trying to answer but not knowing what to say.

“We found the button. Give us the button.”

Gwen sniffled and swallowed again. I could tell from her expression that she felt her worst fears had been confirmed. She knew. There was no longer a doubt in her mind. Before long, she’d be losing her panties and parting her thighs unless she could get free. I wanted in her and I was getting in her if she didn’t find some way to escape. Unfortunately, for her, I wasn’t going to let that happen.

The spreader bars and cuffs that would keep her restrained and accessible once I got too preoccupied to hold a gun to her head.

The End for now… A work in progress to be continued, changed, etc.

(c) Copyright May 2006 by Jefferson James. All rights reserved. No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except for a single copy, per person, for private reading.