Terror Vacation

by

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Rape, Heterosexual, Light Bond, Humiliation, Torture, Interracial, Oral Sex, Size, Violent, .

Desc: Sex Story: A young couple at the mercy of sadistic killers.

"Tell me this is real," said Tanya, reclining lazily in the van's passenger seat. "It's been so long."

"It's really happening, Babe," replied her husband, Greg. "Our first vacation together in three years."

"Nothing but you, me, mother nature and lots and lots of sex," she added with a smile.

Greg glanced over at the pretty, long-legged brunet and then stared as she began to unbutton her shirt. Beneath was a lacy white bra that contained her luscious breasts, yet barely covered her nipples.

"Not that she actually needs it for support," he thought.

"My hair is going to be in tangles before we get there," she complained. "Why didn't you get the air-conditioning fixed?"

"Because I wanted to see you take off your clothes," he replied, leering at her cleavage.

She opened her shirt and covered her lovely brown eyes with a pair of sunglasses, saying, "Don't tempt me, you know I'll do it."

Greg had to force himself to watch the road. There was a diesel ahead pulling a tanker and the grade was slowing it. He moved over to the next lane and eased past. As they came even with the cab, he heard the truck downshift and the motor roar, but it neither increased its speed, nor slowed. When both vehicles crested the hill, he expected the truck to race ahead. It remained dead even. After a mile and a half, he knew something was up.

"What's this gear-jockey doing?" he asked Tanya.

She turned her head to the side and replied, "He's staring at my boobs."

"Then cover them so he'll go away," Greg suggested.

"Highway's empty ahead," she said. "Blow him off."

"This is a four-cylinder, not your sports-car," he reminded her.

"Oh. Right. I'll take care of it."

She reached to the back seat for her sketch pad, took a marker from the glove compartment, wrote something on the large sheet and held it to the window. She nodded and dropped the pad beside the seat. Before Greg knew what was happening, she shrugged out of her shirt, slipped her bra straps from her shoulders and peeled the cups away to rub and squeeze her lovely mammaries. Replacing her glasses, she relaxed again. After a couple of minutes, the truck accelerated and left them behind. Greg grabbed the pad and read it.

"If you will get lost, I will show you my tits," it read.

"You know he's on the CB telling all his friends about the free skin-show?" he asked.

"That's just like a man," she sighed. "Give him a thrill and he has to go brag to his buddies."

Before Greg turned off the interstate into the North-Georgia mountains, two more truck-drivers had paused beside the van to ogle Tanya's melons.

Greg took deep breaths of the fresh country air as they cruised through the winding side roads. He tuned the radio to a local station to listen for the weather report. When the news program began, the anchor reported a prison-break in which two inmates had escaped. A local pastor had been arrested for running an illegal gambling establishment and there was a multi-vehical pile-up on the interstate they had just left.

"I hope you didn't cause that," Greg remarked.

She gave him a three fingered salute.

"I'll hold you to it," he said with a grin.

The weather report suggested no change in the beautiful sunny climate for a few days. Just before they turned onto the dirt path that led to the cabin, Tanya checked her cell-phone and groaned.

"We won't be calling out for pizza," she said. "No service."

"Good," replied Greg, "That's what we're here for, a little peace and quiet."

Stopping in front of the cabin, he watched as she replaced her bra, but didn't button her shirt. He knew from past experience, she would strip completely as soon as the food and clothing were put away. There was a pool of clear mountain water about a hundred yards from the cabin, perfect for skinny-dipping.

While she was organizing the groceries, he hung a duffel from each shoulder and walked to the front door. It took him a minute to unlock the entrance, then he walked inside. He had time to blink a couple of times before something struck him in the face and everything went black.

As he climbed slowly from the darkness, he could hear voices that sounded far away. His head ached and he tasted blood. His wrists hurt as well. Greg became aware that he was sitting slumped forward in a wooden chair. When he sat up, the pain in his wrists eased somewhat.

"He's awake," someone said.

Greg felt something round and cold pressed against his temple. He opened his eyes. Directly in front of him, Tanya was sitting, also tied to a chair and looking very frightened.

"Are you all right?" she asked anxiously.

"Head hurts," he answered, licked his dry lips and asked, "What happened?"

"These guys escaped from a prison bus," she replied. "They want to hide here for a few days."

"Shut up!" someone shouted, next to his ear. "I'll tell you when to speak, Bitch."

Greg turned to look past the large caliber handgun to focus on the skinny, blond, acne-faced man holding it. The man looked nervous and Greg didn't like the way his finger trembled on the trigger. His eyes were wild and Greg could tell he would go off at the slightest provocation.

"Ease up," a deep soothing male voice cautioned from the opposite direction. "He's tied and half-conscious."

Greg turned his pounding head toward this new threat. A tall, stout, black man in prison-orange stood leaning against the cupboard as calmly as if he were waiting for a train. Greg felt the gun move away from his face and the blond chuckled.

"Yeah, you're right. No use wasting ammunition. I might have to kill some more cops."

Greg and his wife exchanged glances.

The tall, cool black said, "As long as we're going to spend some time together, we might as well be introduced. I'm Samuel James. My dangerous friend over there is Moody Hays, but prefers to be called Bill."

"Big Bill," the blond added and walked over to squat by Tanya. He raised a dirty hand to brush her cheek and she turned away. "Who's the stuck-up bitch?" he asked.

"My wife, Tanya," Greg answered. "She's not stuck-up. She just doesn't like being pawed by guys with dirt under their fingernails."

"Well she'd better mind her manners, or she'll have a new hole in her fucking face," Bill threatened.

"I'm Greg," Greg said, addressing Sam. "I'd shake your hand, but I'm a little tied-up at the moment."

Sam chuckled and said, "Don't bother, we've already made ourselves at home. If you'll continue to be hospitable until the heat dies down, we'll borrow your van and be out of your hair."

"You can have it now," Greg offered. "There's nearly a full tank of gas and the keys are in the ignition. I might even have clothes to fit you."

"That's a very kind offer," Sam replied, "But I'm afraid it's a bit too soon. Don't worry, we'll be gone before long. Now, I'd like to know if we should expect company?"

Greg considered lying and telling him friends would show up later, but there was something about the man, something that told him he was a shrewd judge of other men.

"No, we planned to be alone all weekend," Greg admitted.

The look in Tanya's eyes said she thought he'd lost his mind.

"Good," replied Sam. "So we won't have to take your wife as a hostage and brave any roadblocks in the area."

The light of understanding came to Tanya's eyes.

"How did Greg know?" she wondered.

"Right now, I think my friend and I could use a decent meal," suggested Sam.

"There's canned ham in one of the bags," said Tanya. "And bread. I think I brought cheese and some other condiments."

"Thank you Tanya," he responded as he walked to the counter and began emptying the grocery sacks. As he prepared sandwiches, Bill continued to stare at Tanya. He was intrigued by the sight of her lacy bra showing between the labels of her open shirt. After a moment he pulled the shirt back on her shoulders and down her back to her tied wrists.

"Take your hands off me, you nasty fuck!" she shouted.

Bill pressed the gun between her breasts and held it there, his face livid, his hand trembling.

"Tanya," Sam called, pausing in the act of applying mayonnaise to a slice of bread, "Bill is a very sensitive individual, and he has a history of homicide. He has a gun. I would suggest you speak calmly to him, or not at all."

Greg hoped she understood she was heartbeats away from death.

Tanya looked into the cold eyes of the killer and said, "I'm sorry Bill. I didn't mean to make you angry. You just surprised me."

Bill held the gun there for a moment longer, then slowly withdrew it. Greg took a relieved breath. His wife was as brave as she was beautiful. He was glad to see she wasn't foolhardy with it.

Tanya thought, "We're not going to live through this. Sam has no control over this man."

"How about a sandwich?" Sam called.

"Yeah, give me a sandwich," growled Bill, tucking the gun into his coverall pocket.

He took the meal and a warm soda, to sit in a chair, staring at Tanya while he ate. Sam leaned on the table and watched her as well.

"You are a very beautiful woman," he remarked at last. "I'm sorry to have met you under these circumstances."

"I doubt we would have met otherwise," she replied.

He grinned and said, "Of course you're right, but now that we're together, we should all try to relax and get along."

.... There is more of this story ...

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