The Researcher

Hey there. Nice to meet you. My name is ... well, that's not important, and I don't want to say what it is anyway. The story I'm going to tell, you could sure get me in a world of hurt if you knew my real name. So, you like this site too? Yeah, I actually write stories on here. Love this site - it's the best. Well, except for those dickhead anonymous commenters who rip a story without being brave enough to leave their names. Probably don't even write themselves, ya know? It's always easier to destroy than create. Gutless wonders. Wish I could challenge THEM to write, just once - maybe then those wussies would get some clue how fucking hard this is! Man - or woman - up!

Sorry about that - just pisses me off, ya know? But yeah, I write. A lot. I hope someday to be a published author. But this helps me 'polish my craft,' as writers love to say. It also gives me a good reason to do what I call 'research.' After all, if I'm going to write a convincing story, I kinda gotta live it, know what I mean? And my favorite category to write for is the non-consent category. And research for this category is sooooo good.

Lots of potential 'research assistants' out there too. Won't do teenies or kids, although there are some of those teen sluts that make my shaft almost ache. But I don't like virgin or near-virgin meat - I like my 'assistants' to have some mileage on them. Some ... experience. That's why I case out family-friendly places. I look for some really hot MILF and then follow her home. Case the place, check out the neighborhood, the house. Then come back another time, usually during the day, and catch my assistant at her most helpless and alone.

Damn, it makes my cock ache just to think about it. That moment of complete helpless terror, when she KNOWS it's going to happen, and she can't do a damn thing about it. It's so sweeeeet. Make her take her own clothes off, get down on her knees and undress me, fuck her face, her pussy, her ass ... oh god, I'm hard just thinking about it. And when you force them to have an orgasm and then tell them they obviously WANTED it, because why else did they cum? that is the best! And a lot of women, even with experience, still think a woman being raped won't enjoy it. I use that ignorance to my advantage, of course. Geez, even I know a body will respond to sexual stimulus no matter the situation. But do you think I'm dumb enough to tell them that??

I leave after telling the woman if she reports anything I'll kill her kids or her husband - also a plus in raping MILFs; they cave sooo readily when their family is threatened, and of course there is a family to threaten. I don't ever use the same assistant twice, and I clean up very thoroughly after. So far, I've either been very lucky or very good.

I try not to stick to a certain type either. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, any age between 25 to 55, chunky, thin, curvy, whatever. I just want to fuck a female, any female, that I can get. And I don't want to be able to be caught just because I could only fuck a certain type of woman. And really, when it all boils down to it, a pussy is a pussy is a pussy. Same with asses and mouths. Long as the equipment is female, I'll do it.

Like my most recent 'assistant.' She was late 40's, a bit on the heavy side but with a mouth to die for and an ass that made me tent my pants the moment she crossed my field of vision. That ass was just BEGGING to be fucked. Hell, who am I to argue with that? And a generous mouth...I could just imagine that mouth being able to take my nice fat cock and loving it. See, I might only be 7" long, but the girth more than makes up for it - I've had women beg me not to fuck them even when I'm not raping them. My cock can go from 2-3 inches around when I get hard, depending on how into the woman I am.

I watched her wiggle that luscious ass into the local grocery store. The funny thing was, I wasn't actively seeking anyone that day. Hey, even a writer has to eat sometime, and I had gone to a grocery store slightly out of my way, but with a deli so well stocked I knew if I ever got trapped in there I could live high on the hog for at least a week or two - until the food started going bad. See, I like to pamper myself all around - my cock wasn't the only part of my body I wanted to take care of in style. So off to the deli I went - and hit paydirt.

I followed her around the store, careful not to be noticed, not to follow too close. I noted her purchases - heavy on the kinds of foods teens like, so she either had kids still at home or was living her second childhood; my guess was the former - and how she looked at her watch from time to time - for some reason, she was concerned about the time ... considering what time it was, my guess was wanting to get done before spouse and/or kids got home - and thought to myself, Score!

As she checked out, I checked her out from a nearby display, close enough I could hear her chatting with the cashier. They apparently knew each other, judging from the nature of their conversation, and I gleaned a gold mine of information from their talk, including that she was married, had two kids, and lived very close to the store. I decided that she was going to be my next assistant and, foregoing the pleasure of the deli trip, went out to my car ahead of her departure so I would be in position to follow her to her home.

She drove directly home - luckily for me; I've had to trail promising prospects all over some towns before and it is a pain - and pulled into the driveway of what I like to call an "upwardly mobile" neighborhood - not too rich, but definitely not for people living paycheck to paycheck. There might be a security system, but that would be the extent of the protection they'd have. I grinned to myself as I drove by at a reasonable speed, maybe a bit on the slow side, but damn, I had to see that ass in action one more time. I knew about security systems, had even worked for a security company before, and was confident I could get in to the house without any problem.

The next week or so was spent in casing her house. I got to the vantage point I'd chosen - a nice wooded hill in a park a couple of blocks down from her place - and pulled out my binoculars. These were military-style ones, with infrared and zoom, so I could watch day or night from an impressive distance from the subject of my surveillance. I was enjoying watching her, going about her day, completely unaware that she had a predator on her trail.

See, I may say stuff like this is research and that the women are my assistants, but I really know deep down what I am and what I'm doing. Let's face it, there's only two types of people in the world - predator and prey. You're either the wolf or the sheep. And depending on who is the most powerful in any given conflict, a wolf can turn into a sheep pretty damn quick. I try to make sure I am never the sheep. And since I am very hetero, I pick women as my sheep. It's easy to do, also - women are so nurturing, overall, that they fall into my traps so easily. Who wouldn't want to do women? They are made for fucking, with three holes and no waiting. During my observations, I noticed she got regular package deliveries, nothing too big, mostly envelopes or small boxes. Courier service, I decided - she apparently worked from her home and got assignments, etc., from her work. I was ecstatic. This would make everything so much easier - all I had to do to get in is ring the doorbell. I also had noted that the neighborhood seemed to be mostly deserted during the day. Man, I thought to myself, this was too sweet for words! Easy entry and no observers. My prick was practically trying to rip through my fly from the anticipation of the event. It knew it was going to have a date with Ms. Fuck-My-Ass, and it could hardly wait. For that matter, neither could I. Once I get a victim in my sights, I won't have sex of any kind, not even masturbation, until I complete my research. I find it makes me get harder sooner, stay harder longer, and be able to get it up more often. I like to be able to enjoy my work.

The day I chose to have my fun was an average, dull Wednesday. I picked Wednesday because she usually didn't get packages after 11:00 am, which meant we'd be totally uninterrupted. I had bought a uniform off the internet with a stolen credit card and sent to a post office box I rented with fake ID. I resealed the box the uniform came in - never hurt to have a genuine package in your hands, it will allay her suspicions and make it easier for me to get into her house, plus it would have all my tools of the trade - got into my car and drove to her house, all the while rehearsing my plan in my mind.

When I arrived, I got out of my car and strode confidently up to her door. The next part of my plan depended completely on projecting the right attitude and making everything seem as if it were completely legitimate. I rang her doorbell and waited, schooling my face to look bored and a bit irritated. She came to the door and opened the inner door, a puzzled look on her face.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. ...," I said and then paused, as if trying to read the name on the package. She jumped in and said, "Mrs. Scott. How can I help you?"

"I apologize," I said in a very professional voice, "but the delivery driver forgot to include this package for you, and so I thought I'd bring it by on my way to lunch - I understand how important it is for you to get your packages on time."

The way I said it, and the attitude I projected, obviously worked, as her face became instantly less suspicious and a smile lit up her face. "Oh, thank you!" she said as she opened up the outer storm door and put out her hand for the package. I grabbed the door and pushed her in to the house, following her amid her startled protests. I shut the door behind me, ripping off the flimsy tape I'd 'sealed' the package with and pulled out my gun and gloves. Slipping on the gloves, I leveled the gun at her and her protests died as she gasped and went dead still.

"Good, " I said in a soothing yet authoritative voice. "Then you know the drill. Show me where your bedroom is, please." I wanted her to be under no illusions whatsoever - the sooner she got it through her head that I was going to fuck her, whether she wanted me to or not, the sooner she would get over any dumb ideas about fighting me. She began to beg me not to do anything, not to hurt her or kill her, but I cut her off with a wave of the gun. "Move it," I said in a more sinister tone of voice. She started shaking, hard, but turned and, sobbing, led me to her bedroom.

Mmmmm...my favorite, those expensive sheets that you know cost an arm and a leg and feel soooo good when you're giving it to a hot mamacita. This day was looking better and better all the time! I came up right behind her, pushing her slightly so she would go into the bedroom and closer to the bed. A whimper escaped her lips, and my lips twisted in a sardonic sneer. As if that was going to do anything but turn me on! I pushed the gun into her side, pulling her close to me with my other arm and grinding my hips into her fabulous ass. She gasped again and began to sob harder as my rigid state made itself known to her. I shoved her so that she fell onto the side of the bed; she grasped the bedspread in both her hands and began to cry and beg me to please, please not hurt her!

I almost laughed. Seriously? I told her, the amusement evident in my voice, that I wouldn't kill her ... if she behaved. She audibly gulped and nodded, aware by then that all she was doing was providing me with a good laugh and nothing more by pleading with me. I ordered her to strip her clothing off and be quick about it. I wanted to get on with the show, and frankly I don't find a woman taking off her clothes to be all that sexy. Naked is how I prefer women. If I ran the world, all women would have to run around naked from puberty on. It's what they do best, that and getting fucked.

She obeyed, the tears continuing to run down her cheeks, dripping onto her generous cleavage. I was pleasantly surprised - she must wear bras that practically cut off her circulation. How else did she hide those gorgeous, huge knockers? She finally stood before me in all her naked glory, and I got another thrill from looking at her hairy pussy. God, I can't stand a shaved pussy - looks too much like a fuckin' kid's pussy. I want a goddamn woman, not some overgrown kiddie-porn star.

I told her to then kneel in front of me and undo my pants. She did, with shaking hands and a face redder than a tomato. I love humiliating the women. Makes them off-kilter, easier to control. She then was made to pull my pants and briefs down; the look of shock on her face when my stiffy sprung from my clothes was priceless. It nearly hit her in the face, but I don't think that's what shocked her. She began to protest when I took advantage of her mouth being open and, grabbing her hair, shoved my cock into her mouth.

Ohhhhhhhhhh, yeah. I had been so right when I thought her mouth would accommodate my cock. It looked amazing, so hot. She was struggling, but I ignored her as I fucked her face hard, shoving my cock down her throat, making her gag. Between her crying and gagging on my cock, her nose was running and she was having trouble breathing. Too bad. That amazing feeling of her throat squeezing and loosening around my cock was too good. I did make sure, though, that she didn't suffocate to death - I sure as hell don't need the trouble a corpse brings. Besides, knowing they have to live with the fact that I was able to penetrate them, take them, do whatever I wanted to with them for the rest of their lives is HOT. I often replay my favorite times in my head and the scene that always makes me go over the edge is thinking of the moment they realize I'm letting them live. It's a combination of gratitude and hopelessness, gratitude that I'm letting them live, hopelessness as they realize they get to live with what I've done to them the rest of their lives.

I was ready to shoot into her wet, hot mouth, but I didn't warn her of that. So when the first glob of cum slammed into her throat and down her pipe, she tried to jerk back. But I held her head against my cock, shoving it down her throat and pumping what felt like a ton of cum into her belly. She tried to scream, but between blocking her throat and her mouth, I pretty much prevented that.

When I finally pulled back, she sagged in relief, thinking probably I was done with her. Ha! She could only wish! I told her in a stern voice to get back up straight on her knees and keep sucking my prick. Her eyes widened; could she really have been that dumb, to think a blow job would do the trick? I shook my head. The sheer stupidity of some people truly amazes me. She shook so hard, I wondered if she'd even be able to hold my shaft. But she managed and gave me a decent-ish blow job, considering it was completely coerced.

Fat Man - my inside joke name for my dick - was certainly rising to the occasion. I loved how he was making her mouth stretch as he got fatter and fatter. As he attained his full girth and length, I pulled out of her mouth with an audible pop and told her to bend over the bed. She did, crying afresh as she realized she wasn't going to escape - I was going to fuck her pussy. Now, even though her ass was my eventual goal, I always fuck a victim in the pussy. It's psychologically shattering to a woman in a way even the ass and mouth aren't. And that's my goal, to leave her in pieces mentally and emotionally when I get done with her.

I fingered her velvety pussy, loving how wet I was able to force her to get, especially when I used my thumb to rub circles around her clit. I kept stroking and circling until I felt her stiffen up and fluid ran all over my hand. In case she thought I might have missed it, I was only too happy to tell her I felt her cum on my hand and that she was a dirty whore for liking me doing this. She cried even harder, and I was enjoying her suffering, but my prick was letting me know it was ready for action. I lined up with her cunt, telling her the whole time what a filthy slut she was, how she wanted this to happen - and as usually happens with my victims, she didn't argue; after all, I had the evidence! I even shoved the fingers I'd used on her in her mouth, telling her to lick them clean and how nasty and perverted she was for doing so.

It took a bit longer than I thought it would to get into her tight little snatch; I guess she and Mr. Scott weren't exactly bumping uglies a bunch. She screamed the entire time - thank god the neighbors weren't home! I started pushing in and pulling out as hard as I could, what with things being so tight in there. But it felt heavenly - I sure as hell wasn't going to complain! After a bit, it got slightly easier, and I began to slam into her in earnest, making her lose her breath a bit and giving me a break from the screaming every once in a while. I guess I could have gagged her, but the screaming kinda turns me on as much as it irritates me - it just so reinforces how helpless the bitch is.

After a long while, I decided it was time for me to ratchet up the torture level a bit more. So I leaned over my fucktoy's back and murmured, "So, I'm going to shoot into this heavenly pussy of yours, bitch - get ready!" As I knew she'd do, she panicked and begged, "Oh God, no! Please, no! I don't want to get pregnant!"

I slowed down my rhythm as if her pleas had got to me. In truth, I already knew how I wanted this to play out and she was falling right into my trap. "OK, then - but I gotta shoot somewhere. So, how about you pick - your pussy or your ass?"

As the light dawned and she figured out how I had tricked her, she moaned and begged me to again stop what I was doing - she wouldn't call the police, blah blah blah. I let her wind down as I pulled my cock out of her cunt and then before she could react shoved my fingers into her snatch instead. She hissed in a sharp intake of breath and I took advantage of the pause in her whining to coldly inform her that, since she couldn't decide, I would for her. I then pulled my fingers out of her pussy and shoved them brutally up her ass. If I thought she had screamed before, it was nothing compared to what she let out then! I rammed my fingers in and out repeatedly as she tried to get away from me. I then grabbed her tits, squeezing and mauling them so hard she stopped moving and just wriggled from side to side, still crying up a storm. I lined up my cock with her little rosebud back door, and then I shoved myself into her ass as hard as I could. My hands then went back to her tits - I had long ago put the gun on the nightstand, close enough I could grab it, but I knew I didn't need it any longer. She was completely under my control.

Ohhhhhhhhh, fuck me to hell and back, but her ass was so damn tight! I loved how it felt to violate her so thoroughly. I ripped that slut's ass so bad, I doubted she'd be able to walk right for weeks. I shoved in and out, transfixed by my cock violating that gorgeous piece of anatomy. She had stopped screaming, had, in fact, stopped responding at all except to sob quietly. I think she was in shock. Whatever. I liked her a lot better this way - that incessant screaming had been driving me nuts.

I felt my balls begin to tighten up and then the familiar rush of seed shooting up into her hot little chute. She whined out, her voice too hoarse from screaming earlier to manage anything else, as my cum burned her passage like acid. I pumped in another ton of spunk, loving the release, the ecstasy of having completed another successful 'research session.' I shot so much, it leaked out around my cock and down her asscheeks. It was fucking beautiful.

Of course, I added one final dose of humiliation - I forced her to suck my dick clean and although she nearly threw up from the nastiness of it, she did it. Especially since I'd recovered my gun by then. I made her get into the shower and clean herself thoroughly, then take all her bedclothes and wash them. Then I gave her The Threat - and let her know that I knew exactly where good old Mr. Scott and the little Scotts spent their days. She turned white and almost fainted. I grinned cruelly and went out to my car, wiping the door knob with my gloved hands and stowing the gun in my pocket. A trip to a deserted culvert, swollen with recent rains, and the gloves and wiped-down gun went into the dark, fetid water. And that, as they say, was that. I went home and slept like a baby, then wrote down all the details I could for my next entry for this site. God, I love being a writer!