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"Where are you going?"

She was hurriedly putting on her jacket, her hair and makeup faultless. Perfume clung to her skin, pervading the surrounding air. She looked surprisingly hot. Sexy even. Not that he was about to tell her; he couldn't have her feeling good about herself.

"Are you going to answer me, piggy?"

He stood behind her; she could feel him glaring at her. Spinning on her heel, she returned his steely gaze, hands on hips. "It's none of your business. After what you've done today, you don't deserve any answers."

"Hey, I already told you that was your fault!" Poking her soft belly with his index finger, he emphasized his point.

She shook her head, exasperated. "Every time you make fun of me, you make it less and less of your business what I'm up to. Now why don't you go and set your derriere down in there and make yourself comfortable. The kids will be back in an hour, so relax while you can!"

"My derri what? You think you're so bloody clever don't you?" She didn't answer, brushing past him to get her bag from the kitchen. "You're not going anywhere porky, this is my Friday night out. I've got it marked on the calendar." Standing in her way in the corridor, he folded his arms across his chest. "What you going to do now? Use your weight to knock me over?" He laughed at his own joke, closing his eyes and arching backward until he was facing the ceiling, rocking on his heels at his own hilarity.

Taking a chance, she gave him a swift kick to the balls. Surprise was etched all over his face as he doubled over, tears forming at the corner of his eyes, his hands at his crotch, his mouth shaped in a formless 'O'.

"Don't wait up," she hissed, walking past him and opening the door before turning back to look at him. He was panting for breath, leaning against the wall. "Oh and darling, your dinner's in the trash can." With that, she turned and strolled out the door, slamming it behind her.

Mary Jo felt a sense of freedom as she steeped outside, the cool night air brushing her glowing cheeks. She climbed into her red Plymouth Sundance, smiling, happy that her poor excuse for a husband was missing his precious poker night.

Starting the engine she pulled out of the drive, not entirely sure where she was headed. She had nothing planned. Her friends would already have their own agendas and she quickly dismissed the idea of visiting her sister, deciding that she needed something more than a quiet night in with a sympathetic ear.

So what could she do? Stopping at a red light, her eyes focused on the poster tied to a lamppost. The Chippendales! Now there was an idea. Tonight was their big night in Scanton. Hell, why not? It would be the perfect escape from her tedious existence in Wilkes-Barre, and more importantly, from her nasty-ass cheating husband. She shoved her 50 Cent tape into the player and made for the highway, her head nodding in time to the beat.

As she drove, Mary Jo thought about Scanton's reputation for housing more than its fair share of shady characters. Even with that in mind, she wasn't worried. Surely it wasn't possible for anything else bad to happen to her today. Upon arriving home from work early, she'd found her husband bending a stick insect of a girl over the dining table with his pants round his ankles, screwing her with twice the energy he'd ever put into their lovemaking. What really made her angry, however, was that the stick insect was having what sounded like the biggest orgasm in the history of the universe.

The insensitive bastard then had the nerve to tell her that he'd only done it because she was fat and unattractive. She'd have been crushed a year ago, but she was different now, a new woman. For starters, she'd shed over eighty pounds in the last twelve months. Okay, so she wouldn't describe herself as slim at 160 pounds, but compared to what she used to weigh, she felt amazing.

Then there were her cyber-admirers. Since discovering the wonders of the internet, she'd met her fair share of men on line (not to mention a couple of admiring females) who thought she was anything but a 'fat piggy'. A few choice photos of her thong-encased ass or bra-free 44DD's usually had them either groveling for more, asking for her phone number, or sending her pictures of their own naked bits. In one case, she'd even received a proposal of marriage! She laughed at the memory. Some people were just crazy! Shame none of the good-looking younger ones lived nearby. She'd have been round there before you could say, 'what's good for the goose...'

* * * * *

Gary Fitzpaldi was nervous. Tonight was his first night on his new job, and this was no ordinary job. His instructions from his boss, Guiseppi, were to flag down the female client in the red Plymouth Acclaim, pretend to need help, make sure she gave him a ride to Scanton, and on the way make her pull over and rape her. His cover story was that he was a Chippendale and if he didn't get help, he'd miss tonight's performance. She was a fan of the male dance troupe and a sure-fire bet to help him out. Her husband had set up and paid for it. Her biggest fantasy was about to become a reality and it was his responsibility to make certain that it lived up to all her lurid expectations.

She knew it was going to happen, she just didn't know when or how. Her husband had booked it two months ago and they had a six-month window in which to grab her. Gary felt comforted by that, since she was less likely to freak out when he made his move. Even if she did go nuts, his instructions were to get on with it. Their customer satisfaction surveys had shown that the majority of women enjoyed it more when fighting back against their captor.

He was trying to remember the woman's name as another truck roared past him on the dusty highway. He couldn't drag it from his memory and it didn't really matter. Probably for the best that he didn't know who she was. When he'd taken the job with the Turn fantasies into Reality company, he'd envisaged only fun scenarios. He hadn't banked on the women being the wrong side of forty with larger than average figures, which was exactly what he was getting tonight. Hopefully, his next assignment would be a little more appealing. All he had to do right now was think of the money. He had a cool $100 burning a hole in his pocket, another $100 to come after the job was complete, and a bonus $100 was up for grabs if he delivered 'extra satisfaction.'

His eyes continued to scan the approaching traffic, focusing on a red dot on the horizon. He wasn't great with cars but he knew the Plymouth Acclaim looked a little like an old Volvo -square shaped, with rectangle headlights. His aunt had owned one. "Excellent safety features," she always said when taking him anywhere, as if to compensate for her lack of competence behind the wheel.

The red dot drew larger and it looked like a match. Single driver. Yeah, this looked like her. He stepped off the edge of the road as it grew nearer. The driver was female. It had to be her. His white linen shirt flapped in the wind as he raced to the centre of the road, waving his arms about like a crazed human windmill.

Mary Jo saw him late and hit her brakes hard, closing her eyes and bracing herself for impact. Fortunately the car responded with aplomb, smoke blooming from the tires as it ground to a halt, inches from the crazy man's knocking knees.

Shakily, Gary made his way around to the driver's window, his heart beating ten to the dozen, his palms clammy.

"H-hi," he stuttered.

"What the fuck do you think you were doing?" screamed Mary Jo, winding down her window. "Did you want to kill both of us?"

"N-no. Sorry ma'am, I just need some help."

"So you thought being splattered across my windscreen would help you?" she shouted. Looking into his wide crystal-blue eyes, she melted a little. He looked like little boy lost, albeit a very good-looking one.

"No, no, it's just important that I get somewhere quickly," he assured her, regaining some composure. "I'm a Chippendale and I need to get to Scanton ASAP. We're doing a show there tonight."

"I know, I know," she said. "Why didn't you say so sooner? Must be your lucky day, because that's where I'm heading. Come on." Leaning over, she pushed open the passenger door.

"And," she added, wagging her finger as he bobbed down to climb in, "I want free entry to the show okay?"

"Sure," he shrugged in agreement. "Least I can do."

She watched him drop into the passenger seat. It was obvious why he was a Chippendale. His open white shirt exposed a muscular, smooth chest and tightly packed abdominal muscles.

He frowned at her, looking puzzled, running a hand through his sandy hair. "Is this a Plymouth?" he asked.

"Yeah," laughed Mary Jo. "Why? You like it?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, reassured he hadn't gotten the wrong woman, he took a better look at her. She looked good for forty-odd and was nowhere near as big as he'd expected. Must have been Guiseppi having a little joke with him. "It's alright actually, reminds me of my aunt's old Volvo. I hope you drive better than she did."

"You'll soon find out," laughed Mary Jo, easing on the accelerator. She had trouble concentrating on the road, affording quick glances towards her passenger. Not only did he have the physique of an Adonis, but he was tall too. Well over six feet judging by the way his long, powerful legs were scrunched up under the dash. "You can put the seat back. Handle's just there," she said pointing.

"Thanks." He eyeballed her impressive cleavage as she leaned forward to show him the handle. Her tits were huge! Maybe it wasn't going to be so bad after all. She smiled at him, her pretty eyes twinkling as she flicked back her long auburn hair.

Watching him ogle her boobs, a tingle of excitement jolted through her. "My name's Mary Jo by the way, but my friends call me MJ." She held out her free hand and he engulfed it with his own, which was soft and warm. She could tell he did little, if any, manual labour. She wondered if stripping full-time paid the bills and couldn't help but glance at his crotch. Maybe he was the one with the huge cock emphasized on all the posters Can you spot the performer known as the snake!? Ten inches plus if the rumour mongers were to be believed. As if!

"Err, Tommy," he replied taking her hand. "And my mates all call me T."

"Well T," she smirked, "you ready to shed those clothes for me?" She murmured, lustily eyeing his crotch.

"All in good time," he replied, returning her cheeky smile before glancing up at the road. They were close to the turn-off. He'd see if he could get her to take it without having to use the knife. She most likely knew what was going on. Must have been why she'd calmed down so quickly after nearly running him over. Anyway, no point in risking frightening the life out of her if he'd read it wrong.

"Couldn't pull down there could you MJ?" he said pointing.

"Why?" she replied suspiciously. "I thought you were in a rush."

"I am, I am. I'm just desperate for a pee that's all."

"Jesus T! I thought only us aging women had bladders like shrews! Can't you wait 'til we get there? It's only another ten minutes."

"Not really," he moaned, holding his groin.

She took the road, turning sharply, thinking it'd be a good opportunity to discover if he really was the snake. The road was bumpy, either side flanked by shrubbery and trees.

"Oh, down there, MJ. Perfect," he suggested, gesturing at a narrow track.

Turning the wheel to the right, she started down the road. She stopped as it opened out into a small clearing surrounded by foliage, and smiled to herself. No one but her and the stars to see what he packed in those pants down here.

"I'm going to step out too," she said. "Get some air."

"Uh, okay, hold on." Hurrying out of the car he went around to her door, opening it.

She looked up at him excitedly, imagining him to be her big handsome fairytale Prince who'd come to save her from her dreary suburban existence. An ache in her nipples shot down to her clit, moistening her pussy. He held out his hand to help her up and she took it, marveling at his size and youthful looks and noticing his sparkling gaze feasting upon her breasts.

He pulled her up easily and before she could know what was happening, he spun her around and had her sprawled over the fender, her hands gripped tightly behind her back. He pinned her down on the hood, leaving her gasping for breath, his mouth over her ear. His voice was commanding, almost sinister.

"You've been asking for this MJ," he mocked.

She was scared now, almost too stunned to speak. What had this evil man-mountain done with little boy lost? "My purse is in the bag behind the seat," she wheezed. He laughed loudly and deeply. She could feel his stomach moving on her back, his hot breath on her ear. "Just take the car then," she rasped. "The keys are still in the ignition." His laugh grew louder. His weight was making it difficult to breathe. "What do you want then?" she managed.

Easing off her a little, he used a hand to feel up her bare leg, beneath her skirt toward her pussy.

What was he doing? She tried to squirm free but it was useless. He was too strong. She screamed loudly and he slammed her back down onto the hood. She felt something sharp and cold on the back of her neck. It couldn't be? It wasn't? Please god no, not a knife!

She felt it push against her flesh and she stopped screaming. "Okay, okay. Just don't hurt me. I won't scream any more I promise."

"Good girl," he whispered, getting into the role. "Because if I hear another peep out of you, I won't hesitate to use it."

He showed her the blade, surprised when her body tensed in response. She didn't seem to be enjoying it yet. Putting the knife back in its holder, he fastened it to the inside of his jeans and moved his hand back up her leg, under her skirt, stopping when he felt the flimsy fabric of her panties. Taking a firm grip of the material, he yanked them free of her, drawing a yelp from Mary Jo as he did.

"Now I'm going to let go of your arms MJ, but any heroics and I won't hesitate to use the blade. Understood?" She nodded in response. "Good. Now spread your arms forward over the hood."

She did as instructed, her cheek squashed against the warm metal. She felt cool air blowing around her ass as he pulled up her skirt, her naked tush and pussy exposed to his searing glare. Her legs were trembling and she said a silent prayer.

He eased away from her carefully, ready to grab her if she made a run for it. She stayed perfectly still and he could see her legs and ass shaking a little. At last, a sign of excitement! "Spread 'em wider MJ!" he barked. She shuffled her feet a couple of inches apart.

"More!" he screamed.

"No," she said weakly, not sure what had happened to the bravado she had shown with her husband.

Losing patience, he kicked her left foot until it was a satisfactory distance from her right. He stood back to admire the view, marveling at her shapely ass cheeks, her inviting bum hole and plump pussy lips staring back at him. He was going to enjoy this. His cock stirred within the confines of his pants and he desperately wanted to thrust it into her trembling gash. Unfastening his belt he let his jeans fall to the ground, his cock springing free.

Mary Jo heard him undo his belt and slide off his pants. Her thoughts were muddled. She didn't know whether to aim a swift kick backward or turn around and look. Half of her wanted to grab the knife off the bastard and plunge it into his chest, while the other half wanted him to ease her pussy apart and thrust his meat inside her. Her darkest desires were about to be realized, only this was no fantasy, this was reality and reality, as the saying goes, bites.

"Please no," she whimpered, tears welling in her eyes. She felt his hand on her back and she froze, her thoughts of kicking out pushed aside. She didn't want her night to end in a hospital bed, having to explain to the police about how dumb she'd been.

The air continued to whistle around her cunt as his hands firmly caressed her buttocks. His fingers felt warm and exciting as they neared her nether lips and she found herself willing his fingers onto her slit. Gritting her teeth she braced herself against the car, cursing her own pathetic desires. He was a rapist and this was going to hurt.

His fingers were on her labia; she felt him spread her lips open, her cunt now fully exposed and at his mercy. His tongue teased between them and she moaned involuntarily. Why was he doing this? Was it some sort of sick joke? He tongued eagerly at her cunt with surprising skill, pleasure coursing to her clit, reverberating through her body. She sighed, relaxing, enjoying the sensation of his tongue. What sort of a rapist gave amazing cunnilingus?

He licked and flicked around her increasing wetness, pleased that she was obviously enjoying his efforts. Moving his tongue away for a moment, he slipped his pinkie into her cunt. Guiseppi had said he'd stand a better chance of his bonus money if he ventured up where the sun don't shine. Grimacing, he hoped that he'd understood his boss correctly and removed his wet finger from her pussy, sliding it into her puckered little hole. He felt her legs and buttocks tense and butterfly kissed her clit in response, blowing and lightly caressing it with his tongue in smooth strokes. Her tension subsided and he pushed his finger in deeply.

MaryJo whimpered at the exquisite feeling. Her husband had never touched her there. The pleasurable burning sensation grew in intensity as he slid his finger in and out of her. Her cheeks began to flush with delight and she closed her eyes tightly, almost ashamed that she was enjoying herself so much. Her cunt gushed as he continued to tantalize her clit with his tongue and her nipples crimped, pushing against the thin fabric of her bra. Her orgasm came quickly and unexpectedly, rushing through her like a raging torrent. She squealed out in surprised delight, her clit thrumming. "Ohhhh!"

He smiled contentedly, rising from his squatting position, his member trailing up the inside of her thigh until it pressed against her pussy.

Mary Jo gasped with shock as she felt his cock rubbing against her bare skin. It felt so big! She immediately thought of it filling and stretching her, then of his knife. "Rapist!" she shouted, surprised at her own anger.

Gary grabbed at her hair, pulling her back toward him and eliciting a yelp from Mary Jo. "Don't pretend you don't want it!" he laughed, rubbing his long shaft against her slick pussy lips. "You're loving this, aren't you? I bet you can't wait to feel my cock thrusting into that sopping cunt of yours!"

"It's not true," she cried. "Leave me alone please!"

Her shaky voice surprised him. She was really getting into this, her pleas sounding almost real. He let go of her hair and she fell back onto the car with a thud. "You expect me to leave this alone?" he laughed. "I think it speaks for itself!" Roughly, he shoved a finger into her pussy and brought it round to her face, smearing her cheeks with her juices. "Lick it off!" he shouted, his cock throbbing, his heart racing, as he enjoyed the feeling of power and control.

"No!" she screamed.

He pushed the finger into her mouth, finding a resistant wall of teeth barring his way. Without warning, she opened her mouth and bit down on his digit.

Yelling in surprise he jerked out his finger, wagging it frantically in the air, anger rising within him. "You stupid bitch! That fucking hurt. You'll pay for that."

Seized with fear, Mary Jo instantly regretted her actions, expecting the worst as the grip on her wrists increased. "I'm sorry T," she cried.
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