Mike Gleason was a long-haul truck driver. He’d inherited his old 1998 Peterbilt from his father. Mike was mostly just homeless; in their family, his sister had become a veterinarian; while Mike flunked out of every class he ever took. The last school grade he’d completed was 7th grade. He was now 55 years old. His hair was grey and black, ragged and long. His beard was the same. He basically lived in the truck, hauling compost for a friends’ business; as long as his friend helped him with his drug tests, Mike would drive compost loads seven days a week, making just enough money to buy food and the once-a-week shower at some truck stop. The job also helped Mike keep his parole officer happy. But that’s another story.
Mike was getting older, but he wasn’t getting any less horny. He used his cell phone, his only real possession, when he was in his bunk, scanning young girl clothing ads online and jerking off as he did. It was his only hobby. That and smoking pot now and then. Now that so many states had legalized, it was much safer to buy some now and then. Still, he appreciated the truck; it gave him a place to sleep, a job, some money to eat with. Sometimes, he’d see some young girl at a truck stop somewhere. He usually stared, imagining her naked. Once he’d gotten a quick picture as a teenage girl walked past his truck. He’d jerked off to that for days.
As he drove hour after hour, his mind roamed endlessly. He hadn’t had sex in like twenty or more years. He was always horny, and young girls were often on his mind as he rolled down one highway after another. He thought about raping a girl. How risky was it? Well, it all came down to what the girl knew afterwards. Keep her in the dark, they’ll have nothing to tell the police. Don’t want to kill her; he’s not a murder. Just a horny perv is all. He’d have to be sure no cameras were around. It was always a risk these days. So, he started parking in the shadows; places he knew the camera wouldn’t be pointed. He sat in his seat sometimes, eating, looking around, seeing if some opportunity presented itself. None ever did. He’d put a small rubber club on his dash; perfect for hitting some girl over the head with, without killing her. He also kept a ski mask with it, and a roll of duct tape in the door. The opportunities were never right- too many people; too much lights; other drivers nearby. Always some reason it wasn’t right. Oh well, back to the swimsuit ads.
Then one night, he was just parking for the night, having a last cigarette, in the dark corner of an old truck stop. Next door was a KOA campground. Hmmm. He watched as he smoked. Took a few hits from a roach he had. He watched people sitting outside their tents and campers. He noticed a girl, a young girl, playing with a dog. He quickly grabbed his rubber club, mask and tape. Maybe…
He climbed out of the cab, keeping the light switches off. He moved behind the truck, ducked under the trailer behind the drive wheels in the dark shadow. Sure enough, she was still nearby. He took a cheese stick, broke a piece off, made a sound for the dog. The dog turned; he tossed the cheese his way. The dog sniffed at it, went to it. The girl called him.
“Bucky, come on boy! Come on, Bucky.” He tossed more cheese, drawing the dog closer. When he was maybe ten feet away, he tossed the rest down towards the back of the trailer. The small dog ran down after it. The girl was following him, calling to him. As she went by, still unaware of Mike’s presence, Mike jumped up, hit her on the back of the head with the rubber club. “Uh!” She fell to her knees, almost falling down completely. He grabbed the ski mask, shoved it over her face backward, so she couldn’t see. He grabbed her; one hand over her mouth, one arm around her waist. He dragged her into the darkness under the trailer; dragging her to the other side, constantly looking around. He pulled her up, then moved to the front until he got to the cab. She was starting to struggle now; making some noise. He slammed her head into the handrail on the side of the truck. She grunted again, stunned. He slammed her up against the truck, grabbed the duct tape from the steps where’d he’d left it. He taped her wrists behind her as she resisted weakly. He opened the door, tossed the tape inside. He grabbed her with both arms; lifted her easily up into the cab. She was light; a young girl. He pushed her into the back; she was starting to really kick now, started to scream. He slammed himself down on her on the floor. He grabbed the tape; tore a piece as he straddled her back, his knees on her shoulders. He grabbed her hair, pulled her back. He lifted the bottom of the mask just enough to slap the tape over her little mouth. He pulled the mask down, paused. He looked around. Nobody looking for her yet. He saw the dog walking back to towards the camper. He turned, quickly taped her ankles together, taped her wrists again and then climbed into the driver’s seat. The truck was running; it always was. He released the brakes, put it in gear and drove out of the truck stop. He got on the interstate, heading west again.
Chapter 2: The Prize
Mike was beaming. He’d spent many, many hours thinking over every detail of a plan. Too many variables, though. Yet this time, it had all come together. He was beaming. As far he knew, nobody saw it. She couldn’t scream or fight now, but he could hear her struggling. Man, she was right here! He grinned; lit the joint he’d been smoking when he’d first seen her. He couldn’t stop smiling. Man, it had actually worked. At last, no more swimsuit ads. He laughed, lit another Marlboro.
About twenty minutes later, he came to a rest area; drove through. No place to park away from others. He drove on. He’d been tired before, but now he was wide awake. The next rest area had one spot open; next to a trailer with no truck. Nobody liked parking next to compost trucks. Perfect. He parked it carefully, set the brake, turned the AC temperature down and turned off the lights. He pulled the side curtains around the side and front windows.
He turned to his prize. Mike climbed in back, quickly got undressed. He put on a ski mask so she couldn’t recognize him. He had baby oil on the shelf, so he put a little in his hand and got his now hard dick all slicked up. It got even harder, longer as he did. He reached down, pulled the girl from the floor up onto the bed. No cell phone this time. He turned on the bunk light, pulled the mask off of her. She looked to be about twelve, fourteen maybe. A little chubby, but not much. Long, straight, brown hair. She had on a t-shirt with some sort of church symbol on it. Some shorts; one sneaker. She had big glasses, and they were all askew, so he fixed them. She was very cute; a real cutie alright. He tugged off her one shoe. She kept kicking; struggling, yelling into the tape over her mouth. He suddenly grabbed her face, slapped her twice hard, then gripped her head tightly.
“Listen up, little girl. You keep quiet, no screaming, not a word! Understand?! You do what I say, you can go home real soon, real soon. You don’t do what I say, I’ll fuck you up but good. I’ll make you hurt. You understand me!?” He’d read that somewhere. First, put the fear of physical injury into them. They’ll cooperate better. He glared into her eyes. Make them think you’re crazy.
“Rule number 1: You always, always keep your eyes wide open, and your mouth shut.”
She stared at him, eyes wide, scared, trembling. Big tears streamed down her face. He leaned down, licked her tears. Nice. He took the tape and pulled it from her mouth. She started to say something but he slapped her quickly. “Not a word!”
Susan Brickall was twelve years old. She stood 5’ 2” tall, weighed 115 lbs. For her age, she was well into puberty and it showed. Her breasts were already growing. She wore a training bra since she was eleven. Now she actually needed one size bigger. Her butt was bigger too. She thought it was fat, but the truth was, it was perfectly shaped; soft, round, showing off her hips. Tonight, she wore her t-shirt, shorts, bra and underwear. She had suddenly found herself taped and crammed into a truck or something; she couldn’t see; she couldn’t speak; she couldn’t hardly move. She was scared to death. They’d warned them in girl’s gym class last year about things like this. Bad men. She struggled to remember what they’d said. Make noise. But she couldn’t. Run away. How? She was panicking, crying, struggling to get free. Then the truck had stopped.
A man climbed in back, kneeling on her as she lay on the floor. He grabbed her; lifted her up onto some kind of bed. He pulled the mask off of her. She quickly looked around. A man leaned over her wearing a ski mask. He obviously had long, grey hair and a long, shaggy beard stick out. He fixed her glasses. She saw she was in some kind of bunk bed. The man was big, old. He smelled horrible. The bunk smelled horrible. What did he want? What…?
Mike took out his big hunting knife, mostly for show. He cut the tape from her ankles, then from her wrists. As soon as he did, she quickly curled up.
“What, what, what do you want? Just let me go….” She said quietly, not wanting to be slapped again. He stared at her, like he was looking at a birthday cake. He said, “What’s your name, girl?”
“Sue, Susan Brickall,” she sobbed.
“How old are you, Susan Brickall?” he sneered.
“I’m twe, twelve, please, just let me go, please, I won’t tell anyone…”
Susan glanced down and saw the man was naked; he had his penis in front of him, big and long, and was rubbing it with his hand. Her eyes got even wider. Her whole body was trembling. He told her take off her t-shirt. She shook her head, but he lifted his arm like he was going to hit her, so she said, “Ok, ok….” And slowly peeled it up and off.
Mike watched that little training bra come into view. She was just a little bit chubby, and boy, did she ever have some titties. He stared at them, bulging out the top of the too-small bra. He told her to lose the bra. Slowly, she did, keeping her young girl breasts covered as she did. He told her next to take off her shorts. She began really sobbing, pleading,
“Please, no, please, I don’t want to, I don’t want to….”
Mike yelled at her again. He finally had to slap her again; this time on her bare thigh. He grabbed her throat, leaning into her, acting very, very angry. He growled at her,
“Take off them pants and panties, little girl. Now.”
Slowly he released her; she gasped for air. With shaking hands, she slowly slid her shorts down to her ankles. Then she even more slowly slid her panties down, then took both completely off. He told her to lay flat on her back; put her arms down by her side. She did, shaking, crying.
Mike stared at the twelve-year-old. Wow, twelve fucking years old. What a face. Nice tits; cute nipples that were jiggling slightly as she shook. A soft stomach, a bald pussy slit. Twelve-years-old. He ran his hand from her lower leg up to her thigh, right to her crotch. He slid his hand between her chubby little thighs. She squeezed them together as he tried. He bent down, began to suck really hard on her one tit. She turned her head away as he sucked and licked that little girl’s soft, warm tit.
Susan was gripping her legs together as he tried to touch her down there. He’d suddenly started to suck on her left breast; God, why did she have to have these boobs now? She wondered if this was all he wanted. Maybe he just wanted to touch her, like Uncle Peter had the other day down by the lake. Uncle Peter was a creep, and he’d cornered her by the girl’s room. He’d pulled his penis out of his swim trunks; made her touch it with her fingers. He’d even touched her boob with his hand. Then he let her run off, telling her to keep quiet. Now, though, this was much worse. Much, much worse. She was completely naked, in this smelly old truck, while some smelly old guy molested her. She thought if she let him do what he wanted to her, maybe he’d let her out. Then she could run away.
Mike sucked on her tit, then the other one. He forced her over; began to lick and suck on her butt cheeks. This was when he first got a finger into her. She was tight alright; all dry too. So fucking small! He looked to make sure; yep, her little cunt, with her tight little butthole close by. He grabbed his oil; put some on his hand, turned her over again, then rubbed it on her little girl slit, all over her pussy lips, wiggling a finger, then two, into her little vagina. She squirmed a lot, kept whispering,
“No, don’t, not there. Please, don’t, no, don’t, don’t….”
He leaned up, grabbed her knees, forced her thighs apart. He got between them as she struggled; she was breathing very fast and hard, almost screaming. He grabbed his dick. Time to fuck this little girl. He pushed himself to her crotch, holding the head against that little pussy of hers. Even though it was oiled up, it still took a lot of work to get himself into her. Finally, after much struggling, he felt his head slide between those little pussy lips of hers. She gasped loudly, arched her back, her legs kicking about, but in he went. A couple of inches, then four inches. She gasped for air heavily, going “Ah ah ah ah…” as he went in deeper. Soon he was at least halfway into her. She was freaking out now. He felt that little virginity; slid back and forth a couple times, then brutally rammed himself deep into her as he gripped her body, his hands under her back, holding her shoulders. Wham! He felt himself break though; she actually let out a scream then. He felt her baby cunt squirming all over his cock; he pushed even farther, going almost all the way into her.
Susan cried out; the pain was intense. The oil stuff seemed to help, but the pain from having something so big inside her little vagina was insane. She kicked her legs around, spread them wide, trying to ease the pain somehow. She felt him start moving back and forth. In and out of her he went. Holy cow, he was actually having sex with her now! She could hardly think as he slammed into her again and again. She grunted with his every thrust. “Uh! Uh! Uh! Uhhhh!” Her whole body shook as he began doing her faster, then faster still. Suddenly she felt him press in and hold it; felt his penis pulsating, cum flooding into her vagina. Oh God, what if she got pregnant? She desperately tried to get him out.
Mike sat up, exhausted. He had time. He had lots of time. He grabbed some handcuffs he’d bought; tore open the package. He handcuffed her hands behind her, then handcuffed one ankle to the corner frame post so she couldn’t go anywhere. He put tape on her mouth and put the mask over her face. He lay down on the bunk; took his own mask off. She squirmed to the back, trying to stay away, her back to him. He reached an arm around, grabbed her soft tit, and fell fast asleep.
The next morning, Mike played with her a little, then got to work. He did his logbook, then drove down the road. He drove to a truck stop; went inside, got breakfast for two at McDonald’s. Back at the truck, in the very back of the lot, he dragged the girl out. “You got two minutes to use the bathroom here,” he barked. He handed her some paper towels. She finally knelt, took a long pee, then he forced her back inside. He gave her food, a soft drink. He secured her again, drove on. He drove to his destination; made the delivery. Nobody ever came close to compost truck. He dropped the load, then they filled him up some finished mulch. He signed the paperwork, drove off for another town. Nobody ever knew the young prize he had in the back.
For over two weeks, Mike kept little Susan. That night we went crazy making her give him a delicious blowjob. The next day at lunch, he’d showed that indeed, his cock could fit inside her bottom. She’d begged him not to. He told her to suck him deep then. So, she did, or tried to. Before he’d cum, he pushed her down and raped her little asshole anyway. Every day was more disgusting sex acts for her to do. Lick his penis; lick his ball sack. He made her push her little tits in his mouth from above. He fucked her doggy-style, missionary, sideways. She was forced to get on top often, either for sex or to rub her chest in his face. He’d suck on her young tits. He French kissed that cute little mouth of hers a lot. He’d fed her fast food; let her use rest rooms only when he could go in with her, otherwise she did her business beside the truck. After the second week, she was getting ragged. He’d used her little twelve-year-old body for a long time.
One day he decided to dump her. He’d get something fresh. He only thought of this because he was driving down State Highway 62, past where some of his old homeless friends camped. He pulled in, honked. They were mighty grateful when he pulled little Susan out of the truck. “She’s all yours,” he’d said, shook hands and drove off. For Susan, the easy part of the nightmare had just ended. Now it got even more brutal, even more kinky. Every day she would be taken by three men at the same time; sometimes these old women would join in. She never even struggled anymore. She just waited for it to end… Then it was three at the same time again…. And again.