Perverts 'R' Us

Paul

By Shadowscrib ( M/m, rape, violence, nc )

This story is a work of fiction. Enjoy reading it but don't ever try it for real. Questions, comments or suggestions are welcome. Email me at shadowscrib@hotmail.com if you like. Thanks and enjoy!

All the way home from the store I thought of him. My dick was hard in my black uniform pants. I was rubbing myself as I sat stuck in traffic, my prick leaking sticky stuff into my boxer shorts. Good thing I was headed home.

That kid, OK, teen. Not the kind of guy I usually went after. He worked at the big T discount store I had been shopping in. Shorter than my 5 ft 11 inches, his head just about came up to my neck. He had shaggy, thick black hair; soft, dark brown eyes; cute face; thin body; a little patch of dark fuzz on his pale chin; slender, smooth arms with the hint of strong muscle, and was wearing a red tee shirt with a name tag that said "Paul" on it. His nice round ass was just ripe for my hard dick.

Thinking of his butt, so round and I just bet smooth and hairless like I like them, made my dick even harder. I could feel the pre-cum leaking out and soaking my tight boxers. Knew I had to get home soon and stroke off or I'd cum sitting here in my old pickup truck waiting for the light to change.

He was maybe 16 or so. But he looked younger, so young I was surprised he was working at night. But I knew he had to be at least 16 to be working at 9pm, too damn old for my tastes, usually anyway. I like my boys smooth, hairless and young, just old enough to cum. So I could taste their boy-cream after I used them. Not that I hadn't popped younger cherry butts, like that last kid, a sweet little 6-year-old. His tight ass had bled all over my bedspread, the reason for tonight's trip to the big T.

Not that the little slut had been a virgin. Hell, I'd watched his dad fuck his tiny butt first. That sick fucker had been screwing his son since he was like two, but little Bobby wasn't used to a dick as big as mine. Nor was I gentle. Wade, his dad, was yelling "harder, fuck him harder!" had gotten me so horny that I pounded that young ass until it bled. His dad had shot off seeing the blood drip out of his young son.

Paul was too fucking old. But my dick thought otherwise. I knew I had to have him. So I plotted, doubting he would willingly want me to take his tight butt for a ride. I knew one good, rough fuck and I'd be on to the next boy hole. But I wanted him badly.

Two nights later I went back, this time not in my police officer uniform - didn't want my prey to recognize me. My tall, lean, hard muscled body clad in a tight white "wife beater" tank top, tight button fly jeans and sneakers. My short, buzzed blond hair under a Bucs ball cap and dark sunglasses around my neck.

I found the teen stocking shelves. I pretended to be looking at merchandise as he worked, managing to keep an eye on him as he went about his job for several minutes. Just as cute as before, this time his dark work pants rode his tight butt like a second skin. There was a little sweat on his forehead as he worked, and dark wet spots under his pits.

He got close enough to notice me. His eyes widened as they spotted the scars on my left arm and shoulder, revealed by the tight white tank top. His beautiful dark brown eyes traveled to the scar on my neck. He was close enough that I could smell his sweat.

"May I help you, sir?" His quiet, sweet voice asked me.

"No thanks, kid." I replied.

"Shit! Sorry sir." Paul moaned as he dropped the stuff he was trying to put away on the shelf.

"You'll be sorry kid, after I fuck that ass," I thought as he turned back to work. I didn't want him to remember me or anything, so I left. I finished my shopping - it's a hell of lot less suspicious if you do actually buy something when your chasing an employee like Paul - and left.

I sat in my old pickup truck outside the store and waited, stroking my hard dick though my jeans as I watched and lusted. I thought about his expression as he saw my scars and ran a finger over the ones on my left arm. The dark marks of burnt flesh mixed with the thin lines of knife slashes from my time in U.S. Army in the first Gulf War. The burnt flesh, the smell still lingering in my mind after all these years anytime I thought about it. My damaged skin, scarred from the burning oil splashed on me by an exploding enemy truck. The knife marks from the only survivor, a terror stricken Iraqi soldier who fought me to the death.

He came out of the dark smoke billowing from the blazing truck and saw me lying on the hot dessert sand, the burnt remains of my uniform clinging to my left arm and shoulder. He came at me with a dull look in his eyes, the look of one with nothing left to lose. His knife bit my flesh, the flesh of my burnt arm. I fought him off as he came at me, receiving deep slashes on my shoulder and bicep, the deepest on my neck as he tried to cut my throat.

I struggled to pull my service pistol out of my belt and shoot. Finally in my desperation, I did and got the guy right behind his ear. At least he didn't suffer, unlike me. I spent months in the hospital and then out of the army and home with a scarred body and a burnt heart as souvenirs. Along with a Colt-45 pistol I picked up off the dead Iraqi soldier, my disgust at the enemy having a weapon made right here in the good ol' USA!

That same pistol that was tucked into the jeans of my waist, the one I planned on using to get Paul's tight butt. I ran my scared thumb over the cold steel. My dick got even harder, dripping, lubing itself for the penetration of what I hoped would be a virgin teen ass.

10pm. Paul came out with a couple of other guys his age. I was close enough to hear them bitching about work. About how they hated to have to leave at 10 because they were 16 and how they wanted the cash from working later. The two guys got in their new Mustang and left. Paul hung around until a guy in a Ford Explorer pulled up. I guessed it was his dad.

I followed them home, just a mile or so away. Noted the house as I went by, not daring to stop. I knew from Paul's conversation with his buddies that he was off the next day, and then stuck on for the weekend. Sunday night would be perfect for my plan. I knew it would be raining, just perfect to grab the kid for some fun.

Friday and Saturday night, I plotted. I followed the kid's dad each night when he went to pick Paul up from work. I borrowed a friend's old Dodge Ram van, the kind with no windows in the back. My buddy used it for camping and screwing young chicks he picked up and had it all set with a dirty old mattress and curtains so no one could see in from the front. I'd used it before and he was cool so long as I washed up the blood!

Sunday night. I headed out on the hunt. I was wearing a black sleeveless muscle tee shirt, black jeans and dirty, worn, steel-toed work boots. A black leather skull cap covered my blond hair. The dark tinted windows on the van would hide me as well. First stop, his parents' house.

I pulled up a few minutes before I knew his dad would leave to pick him up. His mom worked nights so I had only one person to take care of. I pulled out my souvenir colt 45 and attached the silencer, found at the local flea market, took aim, and shot out two tires on his dad's SUV as I drove by. No one even heard or noticed as I continued on my way to the big T. (Bet you thought I was going to snuff his dad? I'm not that sick a bastard!).

I got to the store as a light rain started to fall. I waited until the cute teen came out and saw him get pissed as he waited for his dad. I knew he was feeling stupid because his buddy had offered him a ride. I heard his cell ring and saw his face fall as he realized he had the choice of waiting hours for his dad to get two tires fixed or walking home in the rain. Fortunately it wasn't cold so he just took off on foot. I circled the parking lot and parked right where I figured he would have to go to get to the crosswalk to cross the busy street between the mall and the safety of his home.

In the wet dark I got out and waited for my boy. He walked right behind the van, in the dark shadows where I waited. Before his eyes got used to the dark it was too late for him. My fist connected with his jaw, knocking him into the side of the van. He fell to his knees. I stepped down hard on his hand with my work boot, hard enough for him to cry out, but not hard enough to break it.

My boot holding him down, I quickly gagged and blindfolded him. I moved my leg as I yanked his arms behind him and handcuffed his thin wrists. He was crying and moaning softly, making my dick rock hard. A couple of hard back-handed slaps across his cute face and he stopped, a thin trickle of blood running down his bruised chin. The ugly, dark purple mark on his pale jaw made my cock pulse.

I hustled him into the back of the van, threw him down on the dirty old mattress, and tied a heavy rope to his cuffed hands to keep him from trying to escape. That and my three hard kicks to his skinny body left him dazed and hurt.

I drove through the wet night for about 20 minutes, until I pulled off onto an old dirt road. I pulled between some trees where no one could see the van. I climbed in the back and looked down on my boy. I untied the rope and undid the gag. He spit it out along with some of his teen blood.

"Why?" he cried out to me. "I don't have nothing you want!"

"Why?" I said, keeping my voice lower than normal. "You have something I need, Paul."

He was surprised that I knew his name. I could smell his fear. Soon I would taste it.

"What? I don't understand what you want! Please don't hurt me anymore!"

"Paul, do as I say and I won't hit you again. Just be a good little boy and this will be all over soon." I said quietly.

"Don't kill me!" he was pleading with me, begging me.

"Sorry, boy. Didn't mean it to sound that final." I laughed at him. "Just cooperate and you'll be OK."

God, how I wanted to take the blindfold off so I could see his fear! But he was too old. That's one reason I like the young ones, they can't I.D. me after I'm done with them. But with Paul, I had to be careful. I didn't want to have to snuff the kid afterwards.

"OK." His weak answer.

I pulled my 45 out of my belt as I knelt next to him and ran the cold steel over his bruised cheek. My hand lay on his thin chest. His red shirt soaked with sweat, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"Know what this is?" I asked him.

"Yes, sir, it's a gun." was his terrified response.

"You're going to do exactly what I tell you, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy."

I safely put the weapon out of the way and bent over and kissed his startled mouth. I shoved my tongue in as my hand yanked his shirt out of his tight pants. I felt my way up his tight chest as he fought me. His mouth closed tight after the initial invasion of my tongue. I pinched his nose closed to get him to open up. That trick always works. He held out for a few seconds than let out a loud gasp.

"Baby, either relax and enjoy this, or it's going to be painful." I laughed again.

My fist slammed into his jaw, his head flying back. A second punch in his thin chest left him struggling to breath. A third in the stomach and he tried to double up from the pain. More blood ran out of his hurt mouth.

"Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

This time he didn't fight my tongue. I kissed his bruised lips and tasted his blood. My hands took his red tee shirt by the collar and pulled. The cheap fabric held for a second then ripped. I yanked the shredded remains of his work shirt off. I ran my rough hands over his smooth, pale body. There were dark, nasty bruises on his chest and soft belly from my fists. I squeezed his bright pink nipples until he moaned. I kissed my way down his neck, stopping to lick the hot black and blue marks I had given him.

"Fuck!" he cried in pain as my teeth found his little pink nips.

I bit and chewed on them, hard enough to hurt but I didn't want him to bleed. His young body shook as I snacked on him. His nips got hard and pointy as my hand moved under his belt. His flat stomach tensed as I felt his sparse pubic hairs with my fingers. I smiled as I found his soft teen dick. So the little slut boy wasn't enjoying himself, not yet anyway.

I undid his work pants and pulled them down to his ankles. His boxer briefs went along for the ride, and tangled around his legs, helping to keep him under my control. Paul's teen cock was maybe 3 inches soft, uncut, surrounded by a few curly dark hairs. His balls still smooth, his crack peaking out from between his tangled legs just as smooth - just how I like my boys.

I paused from my molesting of his young body to pull off my tee shirt. Then undid my jeans and slid out of them as he squirmed on the mattress awaiting his fate. My nine-inch, wet dick was ready for him, dripping pre cum, driving my lust. I rolled the teen on his stomach, exposing his hot, pale, tight ass to my desire. I pushed his legs apart as far as they could go, tangled in his pants. I knelt over him and rubbed my horny cock up his tight crack.

"No, please, no!" he begged me. "Don't fuck me! Please, I'll do anything sir!"

I humped him for a few minutes, and then pushed the head of my dick to his tight hole.

"No!" he screamed.

"Baby, I told you not to fight me. It will hurt less if you don't." I whispered into his frightened ear. "What's the matter, boy, you a virgin or something?"

"Yes!" Paul cried out. "Please don't do that to me."

"Baby, feel that big hard dick rubbing your butt? It wants you; needs your hot body; needs to fill you full of my sperm." I told the shaking teen.

"No, please, anything but that!" he begged.

"My big hard dick needs to cum, boy. But I'll be nice. You can take it up the butt or you can suck me off. Give me a good blow and I'll spare your virgin butt."

"OK, anything but that." he agreed, the dumb kid.

"No teeth, no biting or I'll put I bullet between those beautiful dark brown eyes, kiddo." I snapped at him. "After I fuck your ass, that is."

"Yes sir."

I got up and pulled him to his knees. I do like a boy kneeling at my feet! His mouth opened and my dick entered him. His hot lips and wet tongue licked me good. Then he gagged as I forced it down his throat. I pulled back and did it again. He settled into the rhythm, my cock pushing down his tight throat, then running over his bruised lips. The kid gave a decent blow. I started doubting his virginity. He sure could handle my long dick. One long, deep push and I was choking him with my sperm. I shuddered as I came into his hot mouth. He struggled as I fed it all to him, keeping my dick in him until he swallowed every drop.

I looked at my cum as some of it ran over his hurt chin, the pale white sperm against his black and blue bruises was so damn hot-looking. I sighed, then pulled my fist back and cocked him in the jaw again. He sprawled at my feet, more out of it than aware.

I bent and kissed his limp mouth again. I kissed my way down his sweat-covered pale body, enjoying the taste of him, the salty sweat from his fear and pain. I lifted his arms over his head and tied them to the back door handles with the rope hanging there. Not mine, I didn't tie it there, guess my buddy likes to play rough too! I kissed my way down his thin arms and bit his bicep hard enough to leave teeth marks. The pain caused him to moan and become more aware of his surroundings. I found his sweat-soaked armpit and rubbed my nose through the sparse hair. I tasted more hot boy-sweat and sucked it from his body.

I stopped to bite his right nipple again, this time until I tasted blood. He moaned louder, still somewhat out of it. The sharp taste of his blood was heaven on my lips. I kissed it until the blood stopped. Then I struggled to get his pants off. I tore his shorts off in pieces. I got between his legs and spread them wide and went down and kissed his boy prick, gently sucking it, softly rubbing his balls.

I wanted boy-juice, Paul's boy-juice. Still half out of it, his body responded to my hot mouth. His dick hardened to about 6 inches. I licked under his foreskin until his moans got loud. I tasted his leaking juices, sucking down his teen pre-cum. I licked a finger and gently inserted it up his tight hole. I could tell he wasn't lying, that teen ass was tight like a virgin boy should be. I gently massaged him from the inside as I sucked.

"Oh, fuck, no! Stop, please, I don't want to…" he cried.

Then his body betrayed him as it shot his tasty teen cum into my mouth. He growled as I sucked him dry. Hot sperm shot into my sucking mouth, feeding me, giving me what I wanted. I gently sucked the last drops of his salty sperm out of his softening cock, and then moved my mouth over his. I pinched his nose closed again forcing him to open up, then spat his used cum back into his mouth.

"Please, you said all I had to do was suck you off!" he cried as I got back between his legs. "No!"

I ignored his pleading. Hell, it turned me on even more. His crying and begging made my dick hard enough to screw him in a flash. I spread his legs and lined up with his tight ass.

"No! Please don't!" He screamed as he felt the head of my cock against his virgin hole.

My dick wet with my pre cum, the only thing I was going to use as lube on that virgin hole, I pushed hard, hard enough for his tight ass to hurt my cock. I kept pushing, forcing his body to surrender to me. The sweat ran down my back from my straining muscles. His body resisted me; his virgin ass didn't want to open up for me. I shoved harder as he gasped.

"NO!" His scream driving me on to rape his virgin ass. "Please!"

Then with a shudder his body surrendered to me. His ass opened and I slipped in. His young teen body shook with pain and screams. Screams that faded into silence as he went limp. Unconscious from the pain of my cock ripping his virginity away for him, Paul was out of it.

I was balls deep in the passed out teen. Damn, I hate that. I love to hear them scream, to beg and whimper. But his body had relaxed enough to for me to fuck him. I started riding his hot tight hole. The teen was tighter that a lot of kids half his age.

I fucked him hard, my excitement building as I saw his virgin blood leak out of his raped hole, lubing my dick along with my leaking juices. I bent over and grabbed him hard by his slim shoulders, digging my fingers in until I left bruises. I fucked his virgin butt, making him mine as I kissed his face, the heat of his bruised flesh on my tongue. My nine inch dick drove deep into his unconscious body.

I slapped him awake. I wanted him to know the moment I planted my seed in him. His tears ran down his face from under the blindfold, tears that I licked, my tongue tasting his pain.

"Daddy!" Paul suddenly cried. "Daddy! Help me!"

"Don't worry baby, I took care of him before I grabbed you." I tormented the boy.

"No! God, please, no!"

"Fuck yeah, I did, kid." I moaned as I got close.

With one last violent thrust, I seeded his torn ass. My cum flowed into his abused body, filling his tight hole and overflowing onto the dirty old mattress. My cum, his ass juices and his virgin blood. More came out as I pulled my tired cock from his no-longer-virgin hole.

Not too much blood for a tight-assed virgin. Not like my first time when I was not even half his age. Poor Paul lay there in tears, his body shaking and his mind reeling. He looked so cute. I wanted, hell, I knew I couldn't have what I wanted. I forced myself to deal with the reality of him and how to get rid of him.

I got dressed, pulling my jeans on over my blood and cum-soaked crotch, and then my shirt on over my sweaty body. I bent to get him dressed, but he wouldn't sit still. I thought about smacking him again, but figured the little guy had had enough. My violent needs met by his deflowered ass, by my orgasm in his tight hole, I was calm and peaceful - worn out, actually.

"Paul, stop struggling, let me get you dressed so I can drop you off, OK?" I asked him.

"What, where?" the confused teen said. "You killed my dad, and now I know you're going to kill me!"

"No baby. I'm not. And I didn't hurt your dad. Let me get you dressed and I'll drop you off. Sorry, but I have to leave you a couple of miles from home, but you'll be OK."

I knew he didn't believe me. Not even after we drove back to town. I pushed him out on the side of the road after I removed the handcuffs from his raw wrists. I pushed him face down and told him to count to 100 before he got up. I reminded him that I had my pistol and if he didn't want me hurting him or his family, he'd behave and not tell the cops about me.

Of course it was in the news the next day. And all over the squad room at the police station I work in. His dad had freaked when he found Paul battered and abused. But there was no mention of who did it or that the teen had been raped, nor any description of the van or me. I guess he's too scared to talk. Smart kid!!