Disclaimer: All characters are 18 years of age or older
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A black van lurks along this tiny stretch of California coast, a shark undetected despite its malevolent designs.
They wear military fatigues, each man properly armed with a sharp knife and pistol, a cock-handled whip attached to each belt. Meanwhile, a chest in the back of the van has all the toys and trappings any sadistic rapist could want and more.
Two of the men yell angrily from the back of the van, an insult flung back in return.
"You fucks done complaining, 'cause I won the damn bet -- so eat shit and die!"
"Fuck you, Arnold, this is bullshit! We should be doing this as equals," Mike protests.
A grumbling Max finally admits defeat. "Alright you lucky assmunch, you call the shots on this trip, but Mike and I don't owe you shit after this, capiche?"
Arnold chuckles good-naturedly. "Yeah, yeah, I love you guys too."
Up in the front, Arnold wears no ski mask, though his partners in the back have their faces concealed. They scan the shoreline impatiently.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Krista walks quietly beside her little sister, there for comfort. Eighteen-year-old Jordan sniffs as big sis hugs her close.
"Why do guys have to be such assholes?" Jordan gripes venomously.
"Too many guys think with what's between their legs, sweetie -- but I promise you that in the end things come out the way they should. The universe has its own sense of justice, Jordan, and one day the Gregs of this world will find themselves old and alone with no one to love them."
"It sounds like you're making stuff up to make me feel better," Jordan mumbles as Krista wipes a tear from her cheek.
"One day you'll find a great guy, Jordan."
"You really think so?" Sniff.
Krista hugs her even tighter. "I KNOW SO, babe. Look at you. You're smart, not to mention gorgeous" -- Jordan blushes modestly -- but Krista realizes that her 5'2 sister has blossomed fully into womanhood. Jordan's pony-tailed auburn hair matches big brown eyes so deep a guy could easily lose himself in them. Perfect teeth whiter than ivory have a dazzling effect on all of Jordan's male admirers and the occasional stranger. Her breasts are modest yet perky melons, accentuating Jordan's beauty, and she had truly crossed the Rubicon from girlhood into womanhood.
A year ago the innocent-looking younger sister would have contrasted sharply with her older sibling-mentor. Where Jordan had been their parents' well-behaved little girl, perpetually a model of good judgment and obedience, Krista had been a rebel most of her life -- a drug user, rock band drummer, all the while getting her brains blasted more times than she could remember, let alone care to admit. Yet she'd straightened herself out, replaced all the black lingerie and the giant gold-hoop earrings, on this particular day, for a sky-blue blouse and navy blue slacks, her coffee-tinged hair long and flowing - unlike the mohawk of old.
Now as she walks beside her younger sister, she's glad she isn't busy snorting some god-awful substance into her body, glad she can be around to do what big sisters are put in this world to do -- provide comfort and the benefit of experience to a sibling dearly loved.
Krista wishes she could meet this Greg and give him a rocket-propelled knee to the groin. But as they amble along the road Krista realizes that in her preoccupation with consoling Jordan, perhaps a brain cell or two should have been keeping track of where in the heck they were going.
Krista stops.
"Hey Sis, where are we?" asks Jordan.
Krista's car is parked at the beach -- which is where she'd spent most of the afternoon while Jordan was with her boyfriend. But neither of them know the area well, and she has no idea how many turns they'd made from one road to the next.
"We could probably save ourselves a lot of time and our legs a little anguish if we just hitch a ride back to the beach," Krista replies reassuringly, purposely avoiding use of the word 'lost.'
Down the road they see a van coming their way. It's nearing sunset, so the sooner they get going, the better. Although the van looks a bit ominous, Krista dismisses her irrational misgivings and steps out onto the road to flag down this perfect stranger. Let's hope it's a Good Samaritan, and please let him be a hottie," she wishes playfully to herself.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Damn it," Mike grumbles. "You are one picky son of a bitch. We've seen tons of hot cunts, and you veto 'em like you can get 'em anytime!"
Arnold grunts, clearly amused. "But I CAN get them anytime, fuckhead." Suddenly Arnold's eyes narrow as he sees a knockout brunette in a blue blouse trying get his attention.
"OK brothers, I've got us two nice hitchhiker pussies to fuck, but we do this my way. Stay down in the back until I say so."
"Fucker," grumble Max and Mike in unison.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Hey thanks for stopping," says the I-want-to-fucked-hard brunette.
"No problem. What can a nice guy do for a couple of gorgeous gals?" Arnold asks innocently.
"We're looking to get back to the beach where I left my car. Are you headed that way?"
Arnold jerks his thumb. "You bet. Hop on in."
"Great," beams the brunette. "Thanks a lot." The younger one jumps in after her sister and the two sit up front with the driver.
"My name's Krista and this is my sister Jordan -- " the brunette pauses as she realizes, as the van starts to roll, that her chauffeur is donning combat fatigues.
Arnold laughs. "I'm sorry, Jesus H. I probably scared you two. I'm on my way back from a good hunting trip with my brothers."
"What did you hunt?" Jordan asks.
"Mostly pheasants. There's a little game preserve back a few miles. Have you guys ever fired a gun?"
"Nope."
"Too bad -- it's quite a rush the first time, ahh I can see by the look on your face that your hearts just melt for those cute little pheasants, don't they?"
That dredges up mild but genuine laughter from both girls. "Sorry," says the short and younger brunette. "We're just a bunch of city gals, so I guess it's in our nature."
"Not a problem -- not you fault," Arnold replies. "Some of those pheasants are fine catches -- but you shouldn't get the wrong idea about hunting. It's not about hatred for these animals or anything like that -- it's actually appreciation of the animals that drives it."
"What do you mean?" asks the younger one, interested.
"Well, after a good catch I always appreciate that they're magnificent creatures, and I never forget that, and I go on catching them with that sense of respect. Someone on the outside might say that I'm just using the pheasant for my own amusement, but the truth is that it's just the stuff of life -- hunting, I mean. It's like a never-ending dance that doesn't need a purpose but just IS -- There have always been predators and prey. There's just something fitting that creatures are divided into these two types, always in interaction with one another. It's the job of the predator to take down the pheasant, in all its magnificence. There's no point in questioning that."
The two brunettes look a little amazed at him, an awkward silence ensuing.
"Damn, I must sound like a lunatic," he admits with a laugh.
The please-fuck-me brunette smiles at him. "Not at all. You just sound like someone who's passionate about what he does -- there aren't a lot of people like that.
"I appreciate the compliment, Krista, but it's okay to admit that I've made a fool of myself," he replies with a good-natured chuckle.
"Speaking of names," she replies, "you haven't yet given us yours."
Arnold grins. "Arnold."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Krista estimates that their Good Samaritan is in his thirties, but his boyish look makes him look almost ten years younger. Her prayers have been answered.
She finds his strange fascination for hunting sort of attractive despite herself (she has never hunted a day in her life and usually thinks of poor Bambi if anyone brings up the subject).
"Hey, I know this is going to make me sound like a complete weirdo, but it's getting dark and if you've got a long drive ahead of you, you could stay the night at my mansion."
Krista is about to dismiss the guy as a weirdo, alright, until her brain catches the word 'mansion.'
Jordan, on the rebound from her past boyfriend and clearly also more than a little attracted to their kind Samaritan, has eyes that implore 'please sis.'
"How can you afford something like that?"
Arnold laughs. "My father was the CEO of a brokerage company. In addition to inheriting his money I inherited his financial acumen."
The man is nice, sexy, and now SMART?! That sealed it.
"Well, we do have a long drive back to LA. But there's no set time we have to be back."
"Awesome. You guys are going to be treated like queens, I have to tell you."
Soon they are driving up to a huge, sweeping estate with a gate that requires an access code to open. They drive up to the front door along an impressive drive lined with shrubberies and flowers of every size, color and shape. Arnold stops the car and opens the passenger-side door for the girls like a true gentleman.
"Thank you," Krista purrs.
"Here, you can take the keys and make yourself at home. I've got to unload the hunting rifles and some other pain-in-the-ass items, but I'll just be a moment."
"Swear to God?" deserves-a-violent-pounding brunette asks, eyes narrowing playfully.
"Swear to God, heck you name the deity I'll swear to it, him, or her," he replies with a grin.
The two girls go inside.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US WITH BOREDOM? You owe us now motherfucker!" That from Mike.
"Fine, fine!" Arnold replies, irritated. "I'll owe you guys if you do this one more thing for me."
"Shit, now what," Max gripes.
"I'm going to go in there. Let me break out some moves on them, help them relax a little. I want you guys to get into the black fatigues and barge in like a couple of home intruders. Then I want you to force them to fuck me at gunpoint and whatever the heck else you want to do to them while I'm forced to watch like I'm another victim."
"Does this mean we get to whip your hairy ass?" That from Mike.
Max intervenes. "Alright Brother, whatever floats your boat, I guess. Damn, that's kind of hot, I'll admit. We'll give you a good half hour."
* * * * * * * * * *
Jordan and Krista each take a shower in the immaculate, marble-lined bathroom on the mansion's third floor. Smelling of soap and perfume they descend the polished onyx stairway. To Arnold's satisfaction Jordan is wearing a black tank with a dark mini-skirt and matching socks of ebony. Krista is wearing a white-as-starch tank top with tight jeans and matching white socks.
Jordan twirls seductively. "How do you like it?" asks the little cock-tease.
Arnold shakes his head in disbelief. "Well, I said I'd treat you like a queen, but now you look the part more than ever!" He grins and Krista flashes him a smile in the background that says 'Don't forget that I'm the real eye candy, and this is the body of a real woman!'
