Bbillings

Into the Trap

I had first seen her while I was driving to a job interview. It was kind of out in the middle of nowhere, but I suppose there had to be a school around there near some of those rural country houses surrounded by trees. She had a backpack, that's how I knew where she was going; a light purple backpack that stood out sharply from the reds and yellows of the forest area around her.

The interview had gone well enough that they had asked me back for a second, at the same time of day, and as I was driving, I saw the same little girl walking home again. I figured she had to be ten or twelve, with a bulky hooded sweatshirt and jeans that were tight on the hips and loose around the calves, and a floppy purple beanie covering her frazzled bleach-blonde hair. She was the epitome of what a middle school girl looked like, in my eyes. Terribly cute, and very self-conscious of her development, trying to hide as much as she could in those two-sizes-too-big sweaters while still trying to emphasize what she thought was her best feature, clearly her legs by the way she dressed. But I didn't do anything then, the second time either. I was still OK then.

The job I was interviewing for was big. Very big. It wasn't a vice presidency or anything, but it was a stable $40K per year at a good company, and my unemployment money was running out fast. I needed the job, and everyone I had met was really open and comfortable with me. By the time the third interview came around, I was sure I had it in the bag. This one was early in the morning.

Driving out, I didn't see the little blue-eyed beauty walking to school; she must have already left. The interview was a long one, with three separate people each talking to me alone in a room. Stressful, yes, but I was still confident. Until I walked out of the third room and saw the owner of the company waiting for me. "I'm sorry," he started, but I didn't hear the rest.

As I left, I started to get angry. I needed that job, and I needed the money that went with it. With a degree from a reputable school, with honors, and two classes away from a masters degree, what was it that kept me out? Two years of experience at a similar company, and I was taking a pay cut anyways? No matter, I still wasn't good enough in their eyes. Ridiculous. By the time I had reached my van, throwing my briefcase in the back, I was angry at the company, angry at myself, angry at life. Angry at everyone, even that little carefree girl walking home from school.

It was 2:34 in the afternoon, according to the digital display on my van's front dashboard. I remember because I knew it was set a half-hour in advance, and I remember thinking that I needed to move quickly if I had any hope of doing it.

I don't really know why, or what triggered in my mind that it was the right thing to do at the time. In fact, I hardly remember how I knew to find the sporting goods store where I went to to buy the duffel, the largest the store carried. I don't even remember driving my van off the road, in between the trees so it was hidden from the main drive into town. But I remember the taste of the autumn air as I walked back towards the road, searching, and finding the perfect tree that was fat enough to hide me from the street, and from the path she took home.

Luckily for me, I didn't have to wait long. This was spontaneous, dangerous, and my nerves were getting the best of me. But within ten or fifteen minutes of standing huddled behind the tree, my anxiety and anger getting the best of me, I had fed it all to my image of her and what I was about to do. She had no idea how much pain I would inflict. In less than twenty minutes, I heard the distinctive crunch of leaves cracking underneath the feet of the little girl I knew was coming.

I took a peek around the corner of the tree, and took another look at her innocent beauty. She walked quickly, yet aimlessly, picking at the leaves of trees that strayed too close to her path, completely oblivious to the world with her pink headphones poking out from under her hat. She was beautiful, with full lips, a small, pointed nose, and blue eyes that were deeper than the depths of the ocean. The long swoosh of hair poking out from underneath her purple hat was just right; it was a bit wild and bushy in the style of modern youth, voluminous, yet hanging no farther down from than the nape of her thin neck. No makeup worn, and none needed. I was the one privileged with seeing the final innocent smile she would ever shine on the world.

I had mere moments to take her, and mere moments were all it took. As the crunch grew louder, I crouched, ready to pounce. When the first sight of the gray, pink and black fabric of her hoodie's arm came into view, I leapt at her, dragging her back behind the wide trunk of the tree in case someone saw us. My adult body would have been no match for her even had I not been in very good shape. She let loose a yelp of terror, but my arm around her neck clamped her jaw shut, and the duct tape I deftly wrapped around her mouth stifled any other noises she considered making. Another piece of tape to cover her eyes, and one that went around the top of her head, and under her jaw to make sure she couldn't get anything free. Oh, she scratched and clawed at me, even broke the skin on my arm and hand, but with her face covered, and her flailing body hidden behind the tree, it was only a matter of time before her hands and feet were bound together. Cutting her backpack free from her shoulders, and delivering a sharp punch to her gut to put an end to her struggling, I stuffed her helpless body into the duffel bag, which fit so closely that I couldn't even zip it tight, and made my way down through the trees to my van. It felt like it had taken an hour to get her packed up and ready, but probably took no more than a minute when all was said and done. When back doors of the van opened, I grabbed an old ski mask I had left there and slipped it on. It was bright green rather than black, but the fabric was nice and warm in winter, and it covered my face, so it was perfect. The girl came willingly free of the bag, and even worked with me to free her legs from the duffel. Carefully, not wanting to mar the beautiful face of the girl I was about to rape, I removed the tape from around her head and her eyes. Since I knew I was pretty deep in the wooded area, I figured I could take off her mouth tape as well, but it was fun to watch her struggle for a little, so I left it.

As the tape slowly peeled off her temples, she clenched her eyes shut as though the light hurt, but she quickly started to adjust, her deep blues growing moist and widening with fear. I could see her breathing was rapid and deep as her hoodie was rising and falling with the cadence of her respiration. A single tear streaked down her cheek as she laid on the floor, unwilling or unable to right herself, and I could see that more were coming. I traced it's path up the side of her face, feeling her warm, smooth skin for the first time. "Don't cry," I said soothingly. "I promise you that I'll let you go home after I'm done."

She sniffled, and tried to scoot back, more afraid, suddenly, as if she realized that this was more than just a kidnapping. Two more tears, one from each eye, fell to the van's wooden floor. I started unbuttoning my shirt, revealing a muscled landscape of sparse chest hair that covered my entire front, and a rotund belly that still needed a little work. Shirking the shirt off of my shoulders, she had the opportunity to see my biceps and thick forearms. I flexed a bit for her as she watched me, knowing that all of the shirtless teenage heartthrobs had athletic builds.

It didn't calm her in the least. As she wiggled back, away from me, and her body touched the plastic that molded the interior sides of my vehicle, she thrashed once, and the back of her heels cracked a rear storage box. Her eyes clenched again, this time in pain, and her face started to flush. "Fighting won't help you girl," I said, my voice still calm. "I'm still going to get what I want from you, and what I want is to ream your little virgin pussy."

She tried to say something then, but all that came out was a muffled, garbled mess. Shaking her head back and forth on the floor, arms and legs still bound, she was the picture of beauty even in pain. That familiar feeling started creeping down my back; no longer was this a deed of anger or rage. This was turning me on. It was time to get this party underway.

Reaching into my coat pocket, I withdrew the boxcutter I had used to cut her backpack free. Slipping a hand gently inside the neck of her hoodie, I held it away from her delicate body as I sliced down the front, using a back-and-forth sawing motion to get through the thick material. Ripping the final third away with my bare hands, I stared down at a wonderfully flat chest covered by a thin white undershirt similar to what I usually wore underneath my business attire. No sign of baby titties; I edited my guess on her age to be somewhere around eleven, before they would usually start appearing.

Using the same technique as before, I made short work of the undershirt and turned my attention to the bare-chested beauty in front of me. The tears had stopped, but her blonde head was shaking back and forth still, repeating the same muffled mantra. "Mmnhhhta Phhhr," she shrieked behind the duct tape. "Mmnhhhta Phhhr, Mmnhhhta Phhhr, Mmnhhhta Phhhr!"

Using light touches, I traced the area around her left nipple, and it started to respond as my circle gradually reduced in size, skirting the edge of the pink and white divide separating chest and nipple. She shuddered under this attention, but was adamantly trying to deny the pleasure. I worked slowly but surely, covering the one inch [2½ cm] distance in as small of increments as I could. By the time my forefinger had brushed the tip of her cute nipple, it was standing well at attention, and goosebumps peppered her whole torso. Looking over at her right hand side, this other nipple was starting to harden as well, but this one was given a more rough treatment, with three sharp pinches I had pulled away from her body, each accompanied by a yelp, it was fully perked. This was a rape, after all, and she needed to be reminded that it could be both pleasant and painful.

Since she was responding so beautifully to my touch, I spent more time on her chest, first licking carefully around each nipple and then bridging the gap between with soft kisses. Her breathing started to get heavier now, and as the kisses turned into a soft biting on her fleshier areas she shuddered again; the response was highly stimulating even if she wanted to deny it. More tears started flowing as I made my way up to her neck, caressing and tasting each and every centimeter of flesh. She had a smooth berry aroma, probably her shampoo, and her skin was soft and supple, tasting mildly of the salt of her sweat. It was a taste as pure as the ocean, refreshing and divine in it's own way, and as I moved to kiss above each eye, I felt my cock start to pulse inside my pants.

"You're so beautiful," I whispered, removing my socks, shoes and my watch. "I will enjoy this immensely."

Before I continued, I laid out a small picnic blanket which was stashed underneath my seat, and rolled my beautiful victim onto her stomach to finish cutting her bulky shirts away from her body. "All these clothes," I said as I worked my knife down the hem and across her pale, thin shoulders and arms. "They just won't do. When you go home to your mother, promise me you'll make her buy you something that…clings, or maybe shows off your budding breasts when you get them." She twisted her head off to the side, and straddling her like I was, I was able to feel the rise and fall of her breath as she drew deeper and deeper in. "Girls should never be stuck in these," I finished, which resulted in a more strained version of her mantra from before.

Rolling her back over onto the blanket, giving her a full view, I finally started undoing my pants. I worked slowly, as I took off my belt, watching her eyes as they stared, fixated on my crotch. As I revealed my dark grey briefs, saying nothing as I worked the button, I then slowly drew down the zipper, letting the pants hang as they would. I slowly turned out the flaps, and drew them down off my ass at a snail's pace, letting her see the pulsing rhythm of the creature waking below. That made her eyes wide, and she started squirming back again, though I allowed it since I needed the room to remove my pants completely.

"I suppose you've never seen a penis before have you?" That got a definite reaction, through laying as she was it was difficult to tell whether she was shaking her head in a yes or no. "I suppose you have a brother then," I continued, thinking about the possibilities, "or maybe you saw your dad's once? I certainly hope he never fucked you like I will," I said with a cocky smile. "I'll know if he did." It made me remember my first fuck, a drunken little fourteen year old girl at Jim's high school graduation party. That feeling of pushing, and pushing, and then finally breaking that barrier…it had been the most glorious feeling in the world.

There was no denying what came next. Kneeling there in the back of my van in my undies with a beautiful, shirtless eleven year old bound and gagged for my pleasure helped harden my growing member considerably, and by the time I started sliding this last piece of clothing off, the tip of my manhood was starting to wrestle it's way out of there anyways.

Mine wasn't a particularly impressive dick when it was soft, but it is a good inch or so [3 cm] above average when I'm turned on, which I certainly was, about to rape the school girl I didn't realize was haunting my dreams. In reality, it was probably the perfect adult dick for her since it's kind of thin, at least compared to what I've seen in the gym showers and pornos.

She struggled harder now, singing her little tune, knowing what I had to do next. It was time to finally get her naked. Getting down on all fours, I slinked along like a cat, trying to intimidate her further, and she scuttled back to the door in a vain attempt to stay away from me. Tears were falling faster now, and the whole of her beautiful face was flushed a deep crimson. I reached my hand out, grabbing right around the waist of her tight jeans, my fingers brushing the inside of her hips, I dragged her forward as she tried bucking back, which was turning me on even more than stimulating her nipples had, and I was ready to strike. "MMMMMmmmmmmmAAAAAH!" she belted out as I sat on her chest, my balls draped across her solar plexus and the tip of my seven inch [18 cm] monster brushing along her belly button. I ripped into the button holding tight her pubic region, rushed to force open her zipper, and tore at her pants when I ripped them down.

And that's when I saw it.

Not panties, but a pair of stark white briefs shone back at me, with a little dimple poking through the fabric right underneath the elastic band.

My mind racing, I grabbed the little girl's lavender backpack and upended it. Her pink iPod and headphones tumbled out, as did a math textbook and a few folders. Opening one of the latter, I looked inside to find a worksheet full of shapes and sizes. "Computing Areas and Volumes" it said on the top, and in the name field, "Bryan Adam Inverary". Bryan? Roughly grabbing at the girl's thigh's I took a handful of fabric in my hand and pulled, rubbing roughly on the skin of her thigh. The whole handful of cotton broke free, tearing off right along the elastic band, but as I ripped, the tear followed along a path towards the middle of her body, that dimple I saw resolved itself into the head of a tiny, but fully erect cock starting out at me from the broken clothes.

This was no girl I had captured.

I looked back on his face, which was just behind my ass now, and his long hair started to shift in my mind. I aged him mentally in my brain, saw him growing older, and I saw him. Him, not her. And he was gorgeous.

This was no girl I was about to rape.

Before this day, I had always considered myself to be straight. Boobs were awesome. I loved the musky aroma and sweet honey taste of a pussy, well-shaven of course, and I had plowed many a hot chick in my bedroom. In high school, no less than four different girls graced my sheets, and in college, I couldn't even count the number of hotties I hammered. Yet here was a small boy, graceful and girlish in build, and I was going to fuck him. It wasn't even a choice at this point.

I slid forward and forced the boy's pants and what was left of his underwear down to hang at his ankles since his feet were still bound. His legs had only a modicum of hair, and I took my time feeling them up and down before turning my attention to more important parts. Before I began, though, there was one thing left to do.

Getting up and off of the boy's chest, I knelt beside him and slowly peeled away the tape covering his mouth. The boy started sobbing, his eyes no longer wet; he had cried himself out. "I…I tried to tell you…" he started, and that was when I realized that it wasn't "Mmnhhhta Phhhr," it was "I'm not a girl".

"Bryan, right?" I asked, and the boy nodded, his eyes were pleading now more than anything, and I nodded in response. "How old are you, young man?"

"Twelve," he replied. "Twelve, sir."

I thought then about what I had looked like at twelve, and I figured that I was probably in the same boat as little Bryan. A few inches of cock, no pubic hair, and practically a little girl's body. I couldn't remember when my voice had cracked, but his certainly hadn't yet, and he still had an androgynous face to match. He dressed ridiculously, or so I thought, but then again, that was the fashion these days.

"Alright, boy," I started, but that was as far as I could get before the boy launched into a tirade of "No, please don't kill me, I'll never tell," and so on. I let him continue as I released his other bonds, and he sat up, and regained some of his composure as he went, imagining that he was getting away unharmed. By the time he quieted down, he looked almost like a normal kid again, although he was still naked and bound. I took one last look over him, from the tips of his feet, up his athletic calves tickled with blonde hair, to his hairless little dick stuck hard and fast to the top of his hips, balls drawn in tightly, and no larger than the raspberries I had bought at the supermarket earlier that week. I scanned the taut skin covering his belly, his bright nipples still slightly stimulated from my earlier efforts, and up his neck, which I had kissed so delicately. "My boy, I was never going to kill you."

He looked relieved. It lasted only a moment.

"I was going to lift your legs high in the air, spread them apart, and use my tongue to carve open your delicate virgin pussy." He started back, looking shocked at my language. "Then I was going to pull you in closer," I grabbed his wrists and yanked. The boy slid along the blanket, his ass fitting neatly between my thighs, my cock resting on his. "And I was going to fuck you with this bad boy." I picked up my manhood and slapped him hard on the belly. It made a resounding smack, and the boy shifted his way back an inch or two [5 cm]. "Then I was going to fill you with my cream, and send you on your way," I said, knowing I probably would have done far more than just that, but it wouldn't do to scare him too much. "Maybe I'd come back in a few months to see how my baby was doing. But since you are a boy…" I slowed down, allowing hope to alight on his innocent little face. "I think I'll have to do pretty much the SAME DAMN THING!"

I slapped the boy hard across the face, pushed his chest back, and dropped down, taking a mouthful of the flesh around where his pubes would one-day grow into my mouth, and I clamped my teeth down hard. The boy convulsed, a shrill yell piercing the air; just the sound I always imagined a young girl making when I first stretch her hymen to it's breaking point. Tasting blood, I released my grip, and wandered my mouth a little to the left, where I had felt the boy's dick brushing lightly on my cheek. The tip was sticky, the shaft smooth, and I took the whole thing in my mouth at once, then squeezed it tightly with my lips as I slid it out again. Bryan gasped in shock, but I did it again, this time using my tongue to better lubricate the underneath side. I could feel the urethra bulging along the bottom, and a vein or two pulsing as I worked, and I spent a little longer on the tip, swirling it around in my mouth before releasing, and then diving down again, this time concentrating on the right side. I was very careful with it, delicate even, molding each side to my tongue in the same way, moving slowly to avoid stimulating him too much.

I took his whole dick in my mouth again, and this time, I sucked in to vacuum up his tight scrotum, and then his balls. I massaged them gently with my tongue and they started to come free as his body adjusted to the warmth of my mouth. The boy shivered as I caressed each one with my lips and let them drop out, and I turned my attention towards making him orgasm. He deserved it after all he'd been through, and all he was going to have to endure.

Starting with the simple up and down motion that most of my previous girlfriends had employed, I paid special attention to making sure to eat the whole shaft every time I went down, tickling his ball sack with my tongue for a moment before returning. If only a woman could do that to me. As he started to breathe faster, I sped up to match him, and soon I was bucking my body faster than I ever had in fucking a girl. He convulsed one last time, and a single droplet of liquid gold sprung forth from the tip of his cock, now dripping with saliva. It had the taste of a salty honey, the true taste of him, and I treasured it.

"Oh," the boy said, releasing his hands from my head, which I had never noticed him grabbing. "What…oh god." Speechless. His first blowjob was a raging success.

"You think you can do that to me?" I remember asking, and the boy didn't hesitate. He couldn't even fit the entirety of my cock's head in his mouth at first, but I gave him gentle suggestions. "Grab it, now pump," "yeah, use your tongue," "get it in there boy," "lick my balls," "one at a time, then," "Good, faster," "OK, stop, stop, yes." I never let him make me cum, but I had him bring me close. "See, this isn't bad at all yet," I said, as he wiped some spittle away from his mouth. He wasn't smiling, but he had done it willingly.

"One more thing to do," I said, grabbing him underneath his thighs, and sending his body crashing down. "Then we'll get to the real business."

Then I rolled the boy over to get a look at his backside. His butt was rather plump, but well-defined. I licked my index finger and dragged it down his spine, and while I did it, I watched a shiver course through him. Lifting it up to add more moisture, I propped his body up and warned "This might tickle" as I slid the juicy finger down his buttcrack as it opened to my touch.

As he bent to my will, his two cheeks parted, opening outward and allowing his tight pink anus to see the light of day, as well as showing off three little hairs decorating the underside of his body, the only sign, other than his sweet droplet of cum, that he was even close to puberty. Fondling his now floppy cock and reinvigorating it with one hand, I drew my finger along the median, circling once or twice around his well. Tight didn't begin to describe it. Re-lubricating my finger, I slid it along and pushed in on his sphincter, which barely moved. Slapping the boy's ass cheek, I commanded "Relax!" and he acquiesced, moaning and clenching tighter as my finger slipped slowly inside. His dick was hard again, and I felt his own hand touch the one I was using to feel him up.

Deciding that there were no two ways about it, I lowered my face down, and starting from the base of his baby dick back up, I traced a line up his buttcrack with my tongue. Stopping just before that tender bit of muscle that made up the gateway to his insides, I lifted up, and traced another line from the small of his back down. He was shivering, muttering "come on" under his breath, and I knew the time was right. Abandoning my hands and fingers for stimulation, I dove my tongue down deep into his anus, and felt the muscle stretch, strain, and slowly give way. He had a sour taste, like lemons, which I lapped up as I circled his hole, pushing deeper, farther, and wider with every pulse. Bryan was coaching me now, "Yes, more, off to the left…oh god, yeah, now up….oooooooh," I felt his loose balls slapping against my chin and I realized that he was masturbating for the first time, and I helped him ride his way to a dry climax.

Without allowing him any time to rest and recover, I drew myself up, hit him hard on the ass cheek with my hand, and slapped his wet hole with my cock. "Time to get fucked little boy," I said, as I plunged my dick into his soft, wet anus.

I managed to get only half of the head in the first time, before the boy flattened out, accidentally running his face straight into the chair in front of him. It hurt, there was no doubt about it, but the boy would learn to take it. Using my arms to reposition him quickly, I pulled out, and dove right back down, refusing to let him squirm out of the way. He had a little more gape now, and I could get the entirety of the head through the void. He kicked and screamed, but I pushed harder now, until I was rubbing dry skin on dry skin. I pulled out, and watched the tight hole slowly reform itself, quickly at first, and then slowly finishing it's natural motion. He was crying again, but this time it was for good reason, at least.

It took two more plunges and a little more spit before I felt myself pushing against the walls of the little boy's rectum, with no more than half my manhood inside him. I continued going all the way in and all the way out, pumping him hard and getting more and more turned on with every yelp, squeal and squawk the boy made in protest.

Eventually, the feeling just took over, and my balls slapping against his, I started increasing my speed, not taking the entire thing out before re-entry, and in just moments, I found myself pulling it out, yanking on the lad's copious amount of hair, and shooting a thick, greasy load all over the boy's pristine face.

I dropped him then, and he made little effort to hold himself up. He was every bit as tired as I was, and he had to have a burning pain in his bum from the experience. I managed to roll over, throw my underwear and pants back on before he started stirring. Most of his clothes were in tatters, but he grabbed onto his too-tight girl jeans, my cum still stuck on his face, and starting to drip. I had already opened the van's back doors. With a sharp kick to his back which he hadn't expected, I launched his small body off and into the dirt, face first.

"I'd move if I were you," I said callously, and I meant it. Crawling my way past the torn clothing and schoolwork that had spilled out of Bryan's backpack, I took just a moment to repack the blanket before getting into the driver's seat. That should give him enough of a chance to get out of the way. Checking the mirrors to be sure of the trees, I backed around, facing forward to make it easier to dodge trees all around to make my way out of the woods.

Standing 30 feet [10 m] away from me, naked as the day he was born, Bryan stood with his pants in his hands. His face was smeared with dirt and my leavings, but it looked as though he had used a fallen leaf to wipe off some of the detritus. The boy could certainly describe the van now, and even read my license plates if he wanted to, but instead, he just looked at me, right in the eyes, and waved goodby.

A sad sort of expression colored his face as he watched me drive off. I never knew what would become of the boy after that, but I knew as soon as I saw him standing there that he would never report me, and he never did. I never made that drive again to check on him, but I thought of him often, especially when watching other little boys and girls on the playgrounds near my home.

I taught him something that day. Something he would never forget, and something that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't want to, either.

The End