The Beach Bum
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2010 by Just Anybody

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Jeremy is a sexual predator, raping young teen aged girls exclusively. His belief is that virgins were put on earth for him to rape. He works on the beach during the days and rapes at night, getting away with it for years. But then, forces from three directions begin to close in on him. Can he get away with it? There are more than two dozen DNA samples in the evidence room waiting for a match. There is much sex but no other violence.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft   Consensual   NonConsensual   Rape   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex  

And so, after seven days of traveling and sightseeing the historic areas of Philadelphia and the District of Colombia, Christie, along with Sylvia, her mother, and Rob, her step dad, managed to arrive at their final stop, house number 63 on the beach of Virginia Beach, Virginia. After registering at the central office on the main street, they picked up the keys, received directions, and headed for their haven of relaxation. After a quick survey of the house layout, Sylvia suggested that Christie take a first floor bedroom while Sylvia and Rob would take the larger, master bedroom on the second floor. As soon as Rob carried in her suitcase, Christie had it open and was retrieving a swimsuit. She passed her dad bringing in the last suitcase as she headed out, towel in hand, to the beach. Rob, sensing an opportunity as Sylvia stood naked in the bedroom bent over her suitcase trying to locate her own swimsuit, moved quickly behind her, dropped his pants and proceeded to fuck her, pushing himself into her without warning or warm up, pushing her down onto the bed, and simulating a stranger's assault. This was something that they both enjoyed from time to time and it always produced strong orgasms for both partners. Twenty minutes later, they joined their daughter in the surf, grinning with the knowledge that Rob's cum was still draining from Sylvia's cunt while she swam.

Shortly after nine o'clock Sunday morning, Sylvia and Christie entered Captain Jack's Closet. "Distinctive beach apparel for discriminating men and women" said the sign on the door. On duty that morning, and happy to serve them, was none other than Mr. Jeremy Mitchell, salesman extraordinaire and a genuinely charming hunk of masculinity. He met them, welcomed them to the beach and to the store, made small talk with Sylvia for a second and then winced convincingly as he said, "Oooh, I'll bet that stings," when they showed him their sun burns. He walked them past the swimwear as he steered them toward the tops and cover-up wraps. And as usually happened, the pause that he made at the swimwear aisle was just long enough for each of them to spot new suits that they both agreed they just "had to have." Three hundred fifty dollars and a complimentary tube of sunscreen later, they left the shop, headed for house 63. Once they were gone, Jeremy went back to the closet in the back store room and replayed the dvd recording that had been secretly made of the two women while they tried on their new swim suits. It was a very secure system that he had set up during the early spring, unknown to the owners or any other employee. Sylvia managed to keep her back to the camera the entire time she was in the fitting room, but Christie, by chance, faced directly towards the camera, giving Jeremy his first look at his next victim, completely naked.

The Zimmer family spent the next five days doing absolutely nothing. Of course, the women spent most of the days on blankets in the sand or on a chaise lounge on the deck of their house, and Rob did try surfing one afternoon, but decided it was futile in the minimal surf that day. In the afternoons, they all took part in one of several beach volleyball games that took place about three houses down the beach from theirs. And Christie, of course, dressed in swimwear that was probably more appropriate for a woman in her twenties, attracted numerous young men with whom to flirt and innocently tease.

Thursday night the Beach Property Owners Association sponsored a beach party and cookout for the guests of that week. The Beach Owners had been doing this each Thursday during the summers for the past several seasons. The party started at 6 p.m. and went until 2 a.m. and each was considered to be quite successful. Attendance by locals was considered a "no-no" and was monitored pretty closely by the Association.

The party itself was down the beach from House 63 somewhat, about a ten minute walk, towards the center part of the "official" beach. Besides the cookout, and it was some kind of cookout, too, there was a live band, a dance floor, of course a full bar, and a hundred other things that make a party great. The Zimmer family was not going to miss out on the party and they were one of the earliest groups to arrive. They quickly saw the arrival of another family that they had met earlier, and the two groups secured a table for dinner and the evening. Several times young men invited Christie to dance, and she naturally accepted their invitations, dancing through most of the early evening until she was just to tired to continue. About ten o'clock, she returned to their table, kissed her mom and dad good night and headed back to the house to go to bed. Sylvia told her daughter that they would be home later, but they had a key too, so she could lock the door behind her when she went to bed. Twenty minutes later, Christie, wearing only the most lightweight summer negligee that she owned, climbed into her bed and turned out the room light. Sound sleep came to her quickly, and within minutes, she was so deep in a dream that she did not hear the front door being unlocked...

Jeremy had watched her dancing from afar. He always made it a point to stop by the Thursday evening beach parties, and although barred from attending, he was always able to observe his intended victim of the week, if she was there. He knew, based upon her level of exertion on the beach all day and the dance floor in the early evening, that Christie would be quite tired, and he correctly anticipated her early departure from the party. Jeremy had a hiding place already selected, hell, he had one for nearly every house on the beach. He was able to clearly see into the windows on the first floor of House 63, yet remain concealed from the vision of any stranger walking up the beach. Jeremy knew when Christie got home, when she went to the bathroom and when she finally climbed into bed and turned out her light. He looked at his watch and allowed her a full twenty minutes to fall asleep.

He quickly made his way to her bedroom, entering and closing the door behind him but leaving the light off. Christie lay on her stomach on the top of the sheet, not even between them, with her arms extended to either side of her head. Jeremy's first move was always to press a length of grey tape across both cheeks of the girl, covering her mouth but not her nose. This allowed her to breathe but prevented her from screaming effectively. She could make muffled noises, but that's it! Before she was awake and alert enough to understand what was happening, Jeremy had used another piece of tape to secure both of her arms behind her back, taping her wrists together. Once that action was accomplished, he pulled a thick, closely woven ski mask over her head, blindfolding her and preventing her from seeing his face. Leaning forward, he switched on the small table lamp at her bedside. He was now free to "look over the scenery" as the advertisement suggests. He rolled Christie onto her back and tore the nightie from her chest with one hand, leaving her body exposed to his view, and ultimate pleasure.

 
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