Hit and Run

The doctor had his way with me--orally, anally and vaginally. But I
forgive him. I just pray the Lord forgives me for liking it so much.

That beautiful late spring afternoon gleamed under its crystal clear blue
covering. The temperature climbed unusually high for that time of year, to
the high eighties. But I felt so sad and blue. It had been exactly one
year since my first true love, Josh, died so tragically in the accident with
the drunk driver. I had remained totally celibate since that fateful day.
I didn’t even masturbate. Sex seemed so meaningless. My vibrator sat
lonely in my dresser drawer under my bras and panties.

I had just returned home for the summer after my freshman year of college.
My mother noticed I couldn’t stop crying and she kept giving me errands to
do to take my mind off Josh on this anniversary of his death. She handed
me a bunch of coupons and a long grocery list, and asked that I hurry back
because my father had invited friends over for dinner.

Because of the heat, I didn’t wear much, just a very loose tank top and
cut-off denim shorts. No bra, but I didn’t think you could see anything.
Who would have thought? I forgot something--two actually.

I drove to my favorite grocery store which I like best because it usually is
not very crowded, particularly on a weekday afternoon. The prices are
slightly higher than the bigger stores, but hey, I had the coupons. It
took me almost an hour to find all the stuff on my list. I crossed off
each item as I put it in the cart and attached the appropriate coupon to the
list. Very scientific. I am quite scientific, hoping eventually to do
graduate work in forensic anthropology.

I got to the check out and, in front of the cart, I reached into it and
retrieved the items, matched them up with the coupons and gave them to the
clerk as she passed them through the scanner. Once, twice, three times I
bent over to reach into the cart.

The man behind me, quite attractive and professional looking in a very sharp
summer suit, surreptitiously gave me the eye. You know, looking, but
trying to look like he is not looking. Doh! Click, click. So now I get
it. Then I thought, the next time I go down for more groceries, do I just
use one hand and put the other hand on the top of my shirt? If I did, he
would know that I know that he got a great boob shot. But then, I think he
knew anyway. I realized that the look on my face must be, had I been a man
in a similar situation, “What? Did I forget to zip up my fly?”

This guy definitely was handsome and oozed testosterone. You can smell it.
Although probably more than ten years older than me, I might have flirted
with him, except for the fact that the only item in his hand was disposable
diapers. Well, I did sort of flirt with him. I lifted up the front of my
tank top and cooed, “Want a look from a different perspective?” Lucky for
me no one else was behind him and the clerk had walked away momentarily to
check a price. Oh my, he turned five shades of red, but I broke the ice
with, “Hey, no big deal, I don’t mind being looked at. Now help me get the
groceries out of the cart.” I laughed and so did he.

I thought that was the end of that, paid for the groceries, pushed the cart
outside, loaded the stuff in the car and took off. There is a deserted
stretch of road on the short cut I took back to the house. I hadn’t been
paying much attention as I talked to a friend on my cell phone. Then I
noticed the car behind me followed much too closely.

As I slowed down abruptly going around a curve, the car smacked me in the
rear. I pulled off onto the side of the road and so did the other driver.
I got out, shaking my fist and steaming. “Oh, it’s you!” I exclaimed in
surprise to the peeping dude from the grocery store. “Nice Mercedes
convertible and nice dent you have in the front now. And look at my
mother’s car! How did you manage to hit me?”

“I’m so sorry, miss, I was talking on my cellular phone to my stockbroker.
Big deal brewing. And you did brake rather suddenly.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not driving a sports car like yours and I have to slow down
on these wicked curves. Accidents happen, I guess. I had one myself six
months ago. Talking on the cell phone when I rear-ended another vehicle at
a red light. I felt so stupid! But it didn’t stop me from yakking on the
phone while driving. Well, do you want to call the police about this, or
what?” I asked.

“No, no, I don’t want to report it to the police, or the insurance companies
either. I’ll pay you cash, right now, for your damages. It looks like a
couple thousand dollars worth to your car.”

“You’re kidding! Those dents and the busted light will cost that much? I
never would have guessed.”

He nodded and pulled out his wallet and handed me a packet of $100 bills.
“Will this take care of it?” he asked.

I never realized $5,000 in $100 bills was less than an inch thick.
“Well…uh…sure,” I stammered.

Walking over to my car, I reached through the open window of the passenger
side to put the money in my purse that sat on the front seat. He followed
right behind me and suddenly pressed me tightly up against the vehicle.
With me pinned and unable to move, he slipped his hands under my shirt.
“You have exquisite breasts,” he murmured appreciatively as he squeezed and
fondled them. “I loved those large aureoles the moment I first saw them
when you lifted up your shirt in the grocery store. Oh, oh, they are
getting bumpy and the tips of your nipples are becoming erect.” I could
tell he was very hard, pressed up against my backside like that.

“What the hell do you expect when you are pulling on them like that, and
quit it!”

“I want to fuck you,” he proclaimed matter-of-factly.

“But, but…I don’t even know you,” I protested. “You won’t rape me. You
don’t look like the type.”

“What type is that? You never went on a blind date? Call this a blind
fuck.”

With me still jammed up against the car face first and unable to free
myself, he unbuttoned my shorts with one hand and slipped the other hand
down my panties. Oh shit! Just my luck; I was wet. Well, I couldn’t
help it! This had started to get a little exciting in a scary kind of way.

“You’re not going to murder me or anything, are you? I have to get the
groceries home or my mother will be pissed. We are having guests for
dinner.”

“I’m having you for dinner young lady. You are on my menu.”

“Okay, you asked for it,” I stated as assertively as I could. “No wait,
you didn’t ask for it, you are just going to take it, or try anyway.” With
that I pulled away from him with a sudden lurch. Facing him then, I tried
to knee him in the groin. He deflected my aim somewhat as he moved
quickly. I flailed punches at him with both hands. He barely flinched.
I raked my nails across his face and drew blood, kicked him in the shins and
stomped on his foot. None of that seemed to faze him either.

“Why are you doing this?” I screamed, beginning to cry and sob.

“Hey, you’re not turning soft on me are you? You seem like one tough
cookie when you want to be. I want you to fight. That’s half the fun.
There is no part of ‘no’ that I understand.”.

“What, you do this often?” I asked incredulously.

“Only when I encounter a beautiful young bitch in heat who is just dying for
some rough stuff. Who knows, you might even learn something, Little Miss
Smarty Panties.”

“I would have given you my phone number if you had asked,” I whined.

“I don’t want your phone number. I don’t want to date you. I want to
fuck you, I want to fuck your pretty mouth, I want to fuck your cute little
ass, and I want to fuck your hot wet pussy--and without all the preliminary
bullshit.”

“Couldn’t we talk first? Couldn’t you tell me a little something about
yourself? Do you like sports? I’m kind of a sports nut.”

“I’m a gynecologist. I look at and touch pussy all day long. Hundreds of
women have quite willingly let me explore their innermost physical being and
have discussed everything with me, including their orgasms or lack thereof.
I only like sex when women are unwilling participants. I only like it
when I make them cum even though they don’t want me to, or at least they say
they don’t. Putting it in a woman’s every orifice against her will is
extremely erotic.”

Again I started screaming and scratching and punching and biting. “Now
you’re cooking, babe!” he squealed in joy. He threw me over his left
shoulder and walked to the back of his Mercedes, opened the trunk and took
out a blanket and rope. He carried me off into a wooded area near the road
and dumped me on the ground in a clearing. “Don’t bother running,” he
warned, “I’m very fast.”

I did run anyway, and he was very fast just like he said. He tackled me
within twenty yards and as he laid atop me, quickly pulled down my cut-offs
and panties, unzipped his pants and entered me quickly. It happened so
fast. His penis loomed large and menacing and he hurt me and he knew it.
But he only thrust deep inside me once he pulled out. “No, he said,
“that’s not how I want it. You already fought, now I want you to beg.”
When I got a good look at that big cock I thought to myself he just might be
right. I hadn’t had any for a whole year.

The good doctor pulled my shorts and panties the rest of the way off, lifted
my tank top shirt over my head and tossed it aside, and carried me back to
the blanket. Then he tied me up in some strange contortion with the rope,
made of nylon material that didn’t bite into my skin at all. My abductor
tied my hands behind my back and my legs loosely to my hands.

“Before I take care of your hot little snatch, darling, I’d like you to suck
my cock,” he insisted, pulling me to my knees by the hair.

“No!”

“Yes, you cock sucking spoogeslut. It’s not like you really have a choice,
what with your hands tied behind you, now do you? Not to worry, I’ll help
you blow me.”

“You fucking sick psycho pig!” I screamed at him, shaking with fury and
fear.

But he shut me up quickly, pulling me onto his throbbing pulsating manhood.
There wasn’t much I could do but open wide and let him fuck my mouth and
get it over with. Back and forth and up and down he jerked my head on him.
When he was really going good he had one hand on the top of my head, the
other under my chin, lifted up my face and just rammed that big cock as far
down my throat as he could.

When he finally exploded down my throat he let out a yell that sounded like
somebody being tortured. I’m glad I’m not the only one who screams bloody
murder when they get off. He pulled out when I started gagging and shot
his spunk all over my face and rubbed his gushing penis on my lips. When
he got down to the last few little spurts, I opened my mouth again and
slurped on his cock, sucking and licking up every last drop. I hoped that
if I pleased him he would let me live so I put him all the way back in my
mouth until the swelling went down and I felt him shudder and quiver as he
came down from his orgasm.