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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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The Deer Hunter
by Purfect 9 (purfect9@aol.com)
***
A guy sets up surveillance cameras on his hunting
preserve to help spot bucks during hunting season. But
what he sees is an illegal act of sexual aggression.
(MF, nc, rp, anal, voy)
***
I'm not your average deer hunter. I own a little land up
north, where I built a sturdy little cinder block
bunker, just for my hunting trips. Not much to look at,
really. Four walls, two windows and a door. A cast iron
stove for heat and cooking, a port-a-potty in the
corner. All the back issues of 'playboy' that my woman
thinks I threw out. But during hunting season, I make
the place a little more comfy by bringing up my portable
generator and a TV, VCR, and electric light.
This year, I had a great idea! Bought 4 used video
cameras at a pawn shop, and I picked up one of those
video surveillance monitors. And a couple of thousand
feet of co-ax cable (brown, so the deer wouldn't notice)
I've got 3 tree blinds on my land, and I secured a
camera under each one(can't use the blinds to hunt from,
'cept during bow season). That way, I could watch from
my bunker for any sign of the deer I was after.
And it wasn't just any deer. I'd seen him on opening
day. Less than 100 yards away. It was the biggest deer
I'd ever seen! A friggin' horse with antlers! I shot,
twice, and missed both times before he disappeared. Me,
with buck fever? Not likely. Damn sights musta been off.
Anyway, now it was personal. That buck would be mine.
And so would the $250 prize the local sportsman's bar
was offering in the 'best buck' contest.
Bright and early every morning, I looked out the windows
as well as checked the surveillance monitor as it
flashed each camera view in rotation. The one by the
stream, the one by the clearing, the one by the road,
and the one on the roof of the bunker(which I could
rotate from inside. Pretty clever, huh?)
Another camera that I had some control over was the one
by the road. It was the only camera that had come with a
remote control, and to my utter surprise, it worked all
the way from the cabin. This camera became my favorite
for one very important reason. Every morning at 6:45 a
beautiful blonde jogger would run by. And she would stop
to stretch in the same spot every day before continuing
with her jog.
I re-adjusted the camera so her break spot was right in
the center of the frame. She stretched, I watched,
zooming in and out at will. What a cool way to wake up.
One morning, just before 7:15, a MALE jogger came along,
stopped in her spot, and turned off the road into the
bushes. This jogger was wearing dull earth tone clothing
(not wise during hunting season) and a ski mask. I
figured it must be pretty cold out, but I couldn't tell
with my stove still warm from last night's fire. As I
watched, curiously, he pulled a nickel plated Colt 45
from his pants, and now I understood why he had hidden
in the bushes.
He wasn't a jogger, but a fellow hunter, and he must
have just seen a deer. I checked to see if my VCR was
recording. It was. (I had it set for 6:40, the noise it
made when it started woke me each morning, and the few
minutes a day of my joggers stretching exercises was
turning into quite an aerobics collection.) I hit the
manual record button anyway, so that it would keep
recording even after its 7:20 shut off time.
If this jerk shot MY buck, on MY property using a
HANDGUN (illegal for hunting in this state) I wanted to
get it on tape. He was looking up the road, his eyes
following his prey as I prayed it would come into camera
range before he shot. I checked to make sure the angle
was as wide as it would go. It was. Suddenly something
came into view, but it wasn't a deer, it was my jogger!
(Sure enough, 7:15) Surely she would have scared away
his deer?
But still he kept his stance, his aim. When she was up
to the bushes he jumped out, startling her. He pointed
the gun at her (a clear violation of handgun safety
rules) and grabbed her, pulling her off into the bushes.
He quickly forced her to her knees, pulling her top and
bra off roughly. He tangled his hand in her long blonde
hair and pulled her head toward his groin. I zoomed in.
He had stuffed the gun in his belt and undone his pants,
and he now wanted her to perform oral sex on him. But
she kept twisting away.
Finally, he pulled the gun out again and tapped the side
of her head with it. She complied. After a while, he
appeared to be coming in her mouth, then he pulled back,
forcing her to lay down on her back on the frosty earth.
For the first time, I could see her breasts. They were
large and lovely, with pink nipples, erect from the cold
air. He straddled her, sandwiching his dick between her
boobs as he struggled to pull off her sweatpants. Then
her panties. He leaned down and began to lick at her
neatly trimmed bush while again inserting his cock in
her mouth. Before long, he was hard again and he quickly
scampered around between her legs. She just lay there,
helpless as he worked his way into her and began
thrusting.
After a while, he pulled out and rolled her over. He
straddled her again, again up by her shoulders facing
down toward her feet. This gave me a clear view of her
buttocks. Nice ass.
Anyway, he pulled a tube of lubricant from his pocket,
squeezing some onto his finger. He parted her buttocks
and cruelly rammed his finger right up her ass! She had
been compliant up until then, but she began to squirm a
bit when he did that. She couldn't really go anywhere
though with him sitting on her shoulders. He scooted
back then, once again putting it in her mouth while he
massaged her buns and fingered her butthole.
Then he was on the move again, suddenly poised to pry
his dick between her ass cheeks. Cruelly, he rammed deep
with one thrust. She tried to kick and squirm, anything
to pull away from him, but it was no use. She tossed her
head from side to side, clenched and unclenched her
fists, but eventually, she was still.
Maybe she was trying to relax to ease the pain. Maybe
she had finally gone into shock. Maybe she had passed
out cold from the mental and physical anguish brought on
by the savage anal rape. But he didn't seem to care. He
reached around her with both hands and palmed her
crushed boobs. Then he thrust harder, each buttock
flattening thrust burying his boner balls deep in her
bowels. Finally, he came.
He got up, adjusted his clothes, looked both ways and
began to run back up the road in the direction from
which he came. She began to stir. Then she too got up.
Pulled her clothes on and walked back up to the road, to
her stretching spot. She did pause there for a minute,
but did not stretch. Then, she simply continued on her
route.
This is a true story. And some of you manly-men and
outraged women may ask, rightfully so, WHY THE FUCK
DIDN'T I DO SOMETHING?!
Well, I'll tell ya. The thought did cross my mind. But
at any given time, in the time it took me to get from my
shed to the site of the rape, he could have been
finished and walking toward the road, toward me. I could
have lost the advantage of surprise at any time without
knowing it. And he might not like the idea of my being a
witness. True, we were both armed, but he had the
additional advantage of being crazy.
Had gunplay erupted, I was dressed in orange and had to
pump between each shot, he could blend in with the
bushes and shoot repeatedly just by pulling his trigger.
And what if that was 'buck fever' I had on opening day.
How much more likely would I be to miss when shooting at
a man (even if he was a beast). And if he killed me, he
might as well go back and kill her. Why leave any
witnesses. No, the best place for me to help was right
here, manning the camera.
If he had taken off his mask, I could have zoomed in on
his face. If he had shot her, I could have recorded that
for evidence (If they did catch him, the jury would
surely convict upon actually seeing a murder.)
And speaking of evidence, I planned to do the right
thing with the tape. Turn it over to the police, just as
soon as I erased the part of it up to where the rape
began (It wouldn't do to have all this footage of me
watching her stretch on those previous days. They might
think I had something to do with her rape.
After all, the rapist must have had her under some sort
of surveillance too, to know just when and where to
strike.) So I rewound to the beginning of the rape, and
hit 'counter reset' so I'd know when to stop erasing.
Then I rewound all the way, and hit 'record'. This would
take a while. As I watched the erasure begin, I set my
monitor to rotate between the cameras once again.
HOLY SHIT! There, by the stream! My buck was getting a
drink!
I grabbed my gun and lunged out the door. I got as close
as I dared, being up wind of him. I took aim, but my
left arm began to tremble. DAMN it's chilly out here.
STOP SHIVERING. He suddenly looked right at me. SQUEEZE.
nothing! Fucking safety. Bastard wasn't even moving yet,
but I couldn't keep him in my sights. There. SQUEEZE.
BANG! And he was on the run. BANG! BANG! BANG! ... Dang!
I must have at least nicked him.
No blood, anywhere. He had beaten me again, and I began
to walk back toward my cabin. Shot at a couple of
squirrels that were looking at me funny. Missed them
too. Then I remembered the tape, and began to run. But
it was too late, I had fucked that up too.
Later at the sportsman's bar, I ran into a drinking
buddy Sonny Gunther. (When his dad wasn't around, we
called him 'Son of a Gunther'.) Sonny he was buying
everyone drinks with the prize money from the contest.
Even though the contest wasn't officially over until
Friday, he was showing a Polaroid to everybody in the
bar, and all the other hunters had conceded to his
obvious victory.
Sure enough, I recognized his trophy, but I just smiled
and took a healthy swig of the beer he'd bought me. 'So
tell me, Sonny. What'd ya bring him down with?'
"You're gonna laugh. And you gotta swear not to tell the
guys. But you know that new shotgun I got this year?
Well, I'd left it back at my camper. I was drivin' back
from town, down your street in fact, the son of a buck
came runnin' outta the woods at me, and ran right into
the side of my truck. So I grabbed my nickel plated Colt
'45 outta the glove box, and just when he was startin'
to get up, I put one right through his heart from point
blank range. Big fuckin' dent in my truck though. Had to
wait 'till a couple more guys came cruisin' along 'cause
it took 3 of us to lift that beast into the back of my
truck."
Now I'm a card carrying member of the NRA, and it pains
me to have two different guys in the same town on the
same day breaking the damn handgun laws. (And what a
weird coincidence, eh? They both had nickel plated Colt
'45s!)
"Hey everybody!" shouted Sonny. "What's a woman for?
Life support system for a pussy!"
All the guys laughed. And, wanting to be one of the
guys, I laughed too. It was eleven o clock, and the news
was just coming on the bars' old Magnavox. The lead
story, LOCAL MAN BAGS RECORD BREAKING BUCK. In other
news, POLICE HAVE NO CLUES AS THE DEER SEASON RAPIST
STRIKES AGAIN, THIS TIME AGAINST A LOCAL MINISTERS WIFE.
If it did turn out that the rapist was a deer hunter,
how would that minister's wife feel every November 15th.
Like a scared deer, I wonder. Could it be that a rapist
is to a woman exactly what a hunter is to a deer? Just a
predator looking for meat? Sonny invited us all over for
a cookout the following Sunday after church, but oddly,
I found I had lost my appetite for venison.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 70