I sighed and tried to ignore my depressing situation.
I needed to get laid. That was the problem. I couldn't think straight because it had simply been too long since I had seen any action. Between the lockdowns and the vaxx issue, my reliable sources of sex had evaporated like rain in the desert and I was a thirsty man.
My time alone had had a noticeable effect on my desires. Things were getting... more extreme. I'd never thought much about my sexuality. I liked to fuck hard, I liked to be in charge. It's pretty simple.
I liked to tease, too, and put a girl off balance, play with her mind a bit, but I'd never taken it far, just a moment here and there of backing up my physical dominance with a touch of mental... it adds a charge. But in my deprivation, the urge for control was getting both stronger and more complex. I didn't just want to pin her down and fuck her for a few hours. I wanted to pin her down in her mind and fuck her senseless for months, maybe years. And, increasingly, there was an edge, a line I never thought I'd cross, even in fantasy.
Alone in my Jeep, night after night, jerking myself off like a reject, I found my thoughts straying into scenarios where I didn't give her a choice. Just took control, like I'd never admitted I wanted to. Just chose a girl from a distance; studied her, hunted her, captured her. Restrained her and teased her till she couldn't help needing what I'd never given her a chance to want but just forced on her. Forcing not just sex, but a relationship. The kind of relationship I wanted, one where I was fully in control. I wanted to force my way inside her mind, not just penetrate her body, till she surrendered and submitted herself to me.
Scrolling the personals had made me feel depressed, but now my mind was on my recurrent dirty fantasy, my cock was hard as a rock, and it wasn't for any of the pretty girls I'd just scrolled past. I pulled my sweatpants down and grasped my shaft, closed my eyes and abandoned my depressing reality for a better scene.
I can see her through her window. She doesn't close her curtains; she lives out in the middle of nowhere, where no one can hear her scream, and it never occurs to her that someone might be watching. Who is she? I don't know, I don't care, I just know that she's mine and I'm going to claim her.
Getting as comfy as I could, I spat into my palm and fondled myself, imagining the moment of truth, that fateful moment when I changed her life forever and took control. In the dark, pressing her against the wall, my chest relentless against her back. My hand over her mouth so she couldn't speak as my words worked their magic, eroding her defenses and leaving her vulnerable to my touch.
I loved imagining that moment: grabbing her swiftly in the dark, shoving her up against the wall in a way that told her not to fuck with me, then, once I had her pinned, switching to seduction, teasing her with my voice and the lightest of touches until her resistance melted and she dissolved into a wet, fuckable ragdoll. My boner raged in my hand, angry at being denied soft, yielding female flesh for yet another night. It wasn't right. I needed it, and I was going to take it. My breath was coming hard now. I replayed the moment again: grab her, stifle her scream, throw her up against the wall.
Jerking myself, I was on the edge. She was frozen in terror in my grip, begging me with muffled cries to stop. Intoxicating me with her fear and goading me on with her pointless struggling.
No time for the slow tease now. I didn't care, I was in fantasyland. Sure, I'd done the foreplay, I'd seduced her into it, whatever. She was putty in my hands. Now the little beauty was soaking wet for me, gushing around my cock head, mewling deliriously against my firm palm.
Pressing her head against the wall, "Stay still", forcing myself between her slippery thighs, my cock head at her pussy lips - my cock jerks and I spray all over the seats.
Deep breath. I am not a loser. I didn't just jerk off to a rape fantasy in a parking lot. No one ever has to know.
***
Another night, parked up at a rest stop, the darkest spot I could find. Trucks thunder past not too far from my head as I try to get comfortable for the night. I am fiercely debating whether to increase my chances of getting some sleep by indulging in my sick fantasy or whether I should cut these thoughts off now before they get out of hand. You can't just force a girl to have sex with you, I remind the more primitive parts of my brain. That's not cool.
"What if she wants it?" that primal hunter in me responds, and my dick twitches. Lots of girls have rape fantasies, right? My mouth goes dry. My hand slips inside my pants. Of course I'm thinking twisted thoughts, I tell myself. Everyone's mind goes to dirty places at truck stops. Tomorrow I'll be out by the lake and I'll think healthy, pure thoughts. One last night. Just pretend she's one of those girls who wants to have it done to her, and it's ok.
My inner predator grinned. Yeah, one of those girls who wants it, but would never have the guts to ask. One who's always had submissive fantasies but never had even a taste of the real thing. I'd give her more than a taste, much more. And the pooling wetness between her legs would betray her true desires to me, no matter how much she protested.
My dick ached to dip itself in that wetness, but the blaring of a truck horn ripped through the night, jolting me out of my fantasy. I sighed in frustration. Get a grip, I told myself. You don't need to get laid, you need a home. Admit it. You hate living on the road.
It was true. I pulled my hand out of my pants, brought back down out of my dirty fantasy and into my grimy reality. I'd sold myself on the idea of freedom, but I didn't feel free. I felt homeless.
I should be hunting a house, not a girl.
It was like a light had switched on in my head. Of course. It was the solution to all my problems, nicely tied up with a pretty little bow. A girl. With a house. A needy, lonely, submissive girl. Just sitting there, defenseless, miles from anyone down a deserted country road. She couldn't stop me from watching her through the windows. She couldn't stop me from walking in there and taking her hard up against the wall. She couldn't stop me from taking up residence and turning her into my fuckdoll.
It was a sinister and perfect logic that my predatory mind presented to me, one I could not ignore. I didn't need sex once; I needed sex every day. I needed to find one of these girls and force her to accept this logic too.
So many women living alone, desperate to be fucked senseless by a stud like me. How many, right now, all alone in a comfy double bed, each touching herself between her legs at the thought of waking up to find a stranger's weight crushing her, his hard cock forcing its way in, claiming her before she could even understand what was happening. So many women who'd be better off with a man like me, who would be grateful to have me move right on in and take control of her life.
Well, maybe not grateful right away - my cock stiffened - she'd fight my control at first, of course, she'd protest that she wanted her independence, but between the force of my will and the waves of pleasure I would subject her to, she would soon come to see that she was happier with me. She would accept me as the dominant force in her life, a force of nature that she was powerless to resist, and in time she would see that she'd never wanted to resist and she would surrender herself to me completely as no woman ever had. Because I had the guts to force the issue and assert my right to her unclaimed body. I'd show her that I understood her needs far better than she herself did, and then she would be mine.
Now I was rock hard, and the traffic noise was a million miles away, because I wasn't in my Jeep any more: I was in her house, in her bed, in her head. And there was nothing she could do to make me leave.
I had her up against the wall again, struggling futilely against the bulk of my muscles, but this time it was so much better, because I wasn't just taking her body. I was taking everything, and she didn't even know it yet.
