Billie was tiny, less than 5' tall, maybe 4'10" , weighed maybe 100 lbs., and cute as she could be. She was wearing a short-skirt skating outfit like ice skaters wear, but it was a roller-rink. Jay, John and I had been watching her and her boyfriend from High School (they'd enrolled at the Baptist College in town together) whirl around the floor, her like the little acrobat she was, him stumbling along with her. He was almost as clumsy as she was adept.
I'd checked them both out through the college records, which I had access to because I both taught part-time computer classes there, and because our little IT company did their programming. John, Jay, and I, Jim, all High School nerds, had our own little IT company we'd started right after high school, (3J) and it had grown into a profitable business. We'd gotten some college, and training at the Vo-tech, had our Microsoft certificates and were licensed operators, programmers and technicians. We ran the business out of our big apartment, with computers installed in each of our bedrooms, so we could have privacy, and networked together, along with the computer in the "office" as we called our 4th bedroom, so we could help each other. It was a nice little business, and we made good money.
Billie and her boyfriend were both 18, freshmen, and she was on the gymnastics team. We'd picked her out at a gymnastics meet we'd attended as the first of our new girlfriends. She was very pretty, and for a gymnast had bigger boobs than most, that bounced in her leotard. She had long brown hair, usually in one long braid for competition, but loose and flowing down between her shoulder-blades that night. Her little face was pixie-like, but with full, rich lips, and a little button nose. Her eyes were almost exotic, and almond-shaped, like she had an oriental background, and big and brown. Her legs were slim and muscular at the same time, with tapered thighs, rounded knees, tight calves and slim ankles.
Billie and her boyfriend Wayne were having an argument. She wanted to skate, and he wanted to go hang out with his buddies. It was a Friday night, and there wasn't much to do in our little town of 30,000. There was the roller-rink, a bowling alley and three movie theatres and a new mall. Besides that, unless you drank or did drugs, there wasn't much, unless there was something going on at the VERY conservative Baptist College (they didn't even have student dances there), so the few athletic events they had were about it, except for "Cruisin'" -- driving endlessly around town to see who was out and who wasn't and who-was-with-who. Boring! We confined our Cruisin' to Cruisin' for good-looking women. Billie was our first choice.
Wayne was complaining his knees and butt hurt from falling, and Billie was telling him she didn't want to go hang with his loser friends, and accusing him of thinking more of them than he did her, and... on-and-on. Finally, she stomped a tiny foot and told him to just go on and go with his friends, that she was going to skate awhile and then she'd walk back to the dorm. Fool that he is, he left. We looked at each other and nodded, time to put the plan in action! We knew each other so well, most of the time we didn't even have to talk; we almost knew what each other were thinking.
We watched Billie skate awhile, and she did some amazing moves, spins, skating backwards on one foot, little jumps, she was very good. Finally, she got tired and went to sit down and take off the skates. We went out the door and got Jay's van, and waited outside. It was just getting full dark when she came out and headed back toward the campus, slim legs flashing under her short skirt, with the skirt-tail swishing back-and-forth. Since this wasn't one of the main, "Cruisin'" streets, there was no traffic. Jay pulled alongside her when she reached a dark stretch, and I called her by name. She turned, puzzled, because she didn't recognize the voice, and came over to the van. "Want a ride?" I asked. As a good little church-girl, who didn't take rides from strangers, she just shook her head and started to turn away. I opened the passenger door as John opened the sliding door of the van, as quietly as possible, and I slipped a plastic bag over her head as John grabbed her arms and clicked a pair on fur-lined handcuffs on her tiny wrists. We picked her up bodily, put her in the van, slid the doors shut, and drove away. Just as simple as that.
She was screaming into the plastic bag, but not much sound came out, and she was kicking and wriggling, but John and I held her tightly between us. After several screams she was running out of air, so I took the bag off her head. "We're not going to hurt you," I said, as she gasped for air, "But if you scream or fight us, I'll put the bag back on." She didn't give this any consideration, but started to scream again, so I pulled the bag back over her head.
After just a couple of screams this time, she settled back down, gasping. I took the bag off and repeated what I'd said earlier, "We're not going to hurt you, but if you scream or fight us, I'll put the bag back on," and added, "Is that what you want?"
Her big brown eyes were wide as she gasped for air, but she managed to shake her head, and finally whispered, "No."
"Good," I said, "but remember, if you scream or fight, the bag goes back on." She nodded, still wide-eyed.
"What... what do you want?" she whispered.
John laughed, "We're gonna have a party, and you're the guest of honor."
Her eyes got bigger. "Y... you... you won't hurt me?" she quavered.
"Word of honor," I said. "We wouldn't hurt a pretty little thing like you,"
John assured her. "We want to be nice to you, and you to be nice to us." So saying, he leaned over and kissed her full on her luscious lips. She gasped, made a little yelp and tried to pull away, but John kept his mouth pressed to hers. After a couple of seconds, she relaxed. A few more seconds and her eyes closed.
When John pulled away, I turned her chin to me and kissed her. She didn't fight, but at first she didn't respond. Then I felt her lips moving against mine and she kissed me back. I pulled back, and she looked dazed.
John and I got her up and between the seats and took her to the back of the van, where we had a bed. We sat her on the edge of the bed, lifted her arms, and hooked the handcuffs through a hook we'd installed on the ceiling, leaving her with arms up-stretched. John kissed her again, softly, and I could see her responding. After a couple of minutes he withdrew and she turned to me, and I kissed her again. We kissed her back and forth a couple more times, and then I saw John's hand capture one of her boobs as he was kissing her. She gasped and tried to pull away, moaning, "NNnoooooooo...." John ignored her and continued kissing. When he pulled back, he continued caressing her tit. She was gasping when I put my mouth back on hers and gently caressed the other boob. She squirmed a little, but didn't fight much.
When I pulled my mouth away, she gasped a couple of times, then complained, "My arms are going to sleep, can't you take off the handcuffs, please?"
I looked her right in the eyes, "You won't fight us?" I asked. She shook her head. "Say it," I pursued.
"I... I won't ... fight you," she finally whispered.
"Louder," I insisted," say it again, louder."