I've always been a sane and even-minded man, reasonable, careful, the all-around nice-guy. But sometimes, just sometimes, I get tired of being that kind of guy. Sometimes, just sometimes, I don't want to be the nice-guy, the one that all the women turn to for a shoulder to cry on. Sometimes, just sometimes, darker thoughts cross my mind.
I'm in my car, driving down a rarely used road. Not many people know about it, its way out in the boonies, it's my shortcut.
So I'm driving down the road when I see the flashy orange of a hazard triangle glinting in my headlights about fifteen feet ahead of me. A woman, slim, her hair dark, steps out onto the road as I slow down. She waves her arms, signaling for help and being me, I pull up behind her and get out. She comes over to me. I'm surprised she's so willing since its late and we're in the middle of nowhere. I get out.
"Hi," she says, not shy at all. She's half a foot shorter than my six feet, her body lanky, almost boyish from her short cropped hair, to her small A-cup breasts, down to her lean hips. Her hair was brown, and her face angular and almost severe looking in the headlights. She's handsome, not pretty, handsome. Her clothes are even a bit masculine, a man's dress shirt over a wife beater, blue jeans, boots. I wonder if she's a dyke.
"Hi," I said to her, "What seems to be the problem?"
"My car," she said, "It died and I can't start it back up. It has gas, and the battery isn't dead. I don't know what's wrong." She bites that full lower lip, sucking it into her mouth and sticks her hands into her back pockets. She lets her lower lip pop out of her mouth, its wet and shiny, red and succulent like a ripe cherry. I felt my cock stir. "Do you mind taking a look? I don't know much about cars and I really don't know the area."
"You visiting someone?" I ask as I reach into my car and pull out a flashlight. It's a Maglite, the heavy duty one that has a shaft that's a foot long. I had plans for this flashlight.
"Actually, I was just driving through," she says, leading me over to her car, "I live, like, five hours away but I think I'm kind of lost."
"Oh," I say and look under the hood, which was already propped open. Under the glaring light of the flashlight, I study her car's engine. I don't see anything out of place. When I start to poke around, I find a loose wire, easily patched up with some duct tape, which I have in my car. "You just have a loose wire," I say, "I can fix it up easy enough." I look up at her. She's smiling in the light, her hands back into her rear pockets, thrusting her small breasts out. I can tell she has big nipples, they're hard, pushing against the material of her wife beater, poking against the material of her shirt. I was glad for the dark, so she couldn't see the bulge in my pants.
"Thanks," she says with a giggle.
"I got some duct tape in my car that should fix it good enough until you get to a mechanic," I say, already heading to my car. She watches as I open up the back door of my Toyota Land Cruiser. The back seat was down since I had been moving some boxes, and my tool kit sat just behind the front passenger seat. I flip open the catch and lid, and take out the roll of duct tape. I stood there for a few seconds, feeling the weight of the roll in my hands, my fingers seeking out the torn edge and I pick at it with my short nails till I can pull it loose. I turn back to her, flashlight in one hand, tape in the other and we both walk back to her car. "Now, I can't get both my hands down there to fix up the wire," I say, "Your hands are small enough. I'll hold the flashlight so you can see." She nods, eager to fix up her car and be on her way. I hold the flashlight up as she bends over the car. She's distracted, focused on getting a strip of duct tape and doesn't notice me raise my fist.
The blow comes fast and she crumples to the ground, dazed. I look down at her, hey eyes half open, her hand going to her aching head. I set down the flashlight and kneel down beside her and roll her onto her back. I make quick work of taping up her wrists, three times around and twice between before tearing it off from the main roll. I tear off a second piece and put over her mouth. By the time I yank her to her feet with one hand, flashlight and tape in the other, she begins to realize what's happened and starts to struggle. But she can't get loose, my hand is clamped about her wrist as I drag her to my car, toss the flashlight and the tape in and I open up the back hatch.
She's crying now, her body shaking, tears running with black lines of mascara down her cheeks, over the tape. Her voice muffled behind the tape is probably voicing words begging me not to hurt her, begging me to let her go. I won't hurt her, much, and I'll let her go, eventually. My cock gets even harder as I force her to bend over, her cheek pressed against the carpeting of the car. I reach under her, undoing the button and zipper of her jeans, yanking them down her slim legs. She's wearing a pair of blue sports bikinis. Her skin is so soft and when I've shoved her jeans down around her ankles, I run my hand up between her thighs, feeling that soft, soft skin. She gives a shudder, whether it's from pleasure or from fear, I don't know. I secretly wish it's from both.
I cup her crotch in my hand, rubbing my middle finger along her slit. I feel the bud of her clit between her lips and I start to rub it. She gives another shudder and I press down on the tender bit of flesh, grinding it against her pubic bone. She gives a muffled cry of shame as she starts to get wet. I can't help but smile as I yank down her underwear, bearing the smooth globes of her ass.
.... There is more of this story ...