The Creep (33 page)

"Yeah,
guess
I'm OK, how we doing for Pittsburgh, I'm fucking hungry, I could eat a cow, ha ha ha." Bishman clambered out the bunk and back down into the cab. Ouch! He rubbed his right shoulder.
Fucking Roadblocker, they ought to call them Bonebreakers
, he thought. The scenery had changed and the sun was shining
bright
. Despite his
shoulder, he felt good.
Real go
od.

"We'll reach Pittsburgh in about twenty
minutes,
I wanted to
see if you were still alive. L
et's see what's on the news." Larry reached over and
dialed
in the radio; some pop music was coming to an end. It was Joni Mitchell singing
Big Yellow Taxi.

"BZFN 108 brings you the latest news and weather update. Here's Michael Pizzinelli."

"Early this morning, drug-crazed hippies attacked and destroyed the multimillion dollar Skybo Castle at Fairfax Island belonging to billionaire publishing magnate. Mr. Leonard
Prendegast,
told us in an exclusive interview from his Monaco residence, that he hasn't been to Skybo Castle for some eighteen months now, but he had heard about the problems with the hippies on Fairfax Island. Some thirty people are feared dead. Damage is estimated at two hundred million dollars as fire and explosions ravaged the castle estate.

"The good news is that Mr. Prendegast is launching a new magazine,
Tycoon
, which will be hitting the news-stands in three weeks' time.
Tycoon
will be a skin magazine plus tips and feature
s on making money. It will be i
n competition with
Playboy
and
Penthouse
. We have a full one-hour exclusive
special report on the launch of Tycoon after the rest of the news and after these messages."

"Did you hear that?" growled the driver. "A fucking multibillionaire has an estate wiped out, thirty people killed and he's busy talking about
launching a new magazine. Anyway it sounds all right,
Penthouse
and
Playboy
get a bit stale after a while and I've yet to meet anyone who actually reads them. This new magazine sounds as though it might be a good read as well - I mean, who isn't interested in pussy and money, ha ha ha." Larry passed Bishman a cigarette. Bishman took it and lit up. He made himself more comfortable, and yawned.

"Yep, it sure sounds OK," said Bishman as he massaged his shoulder, trying to appear not to be too interested.

"After lunch, where ya heading on to, buckerroo?"

"I've been thinking about that myself. I guess it'll be Los Angeles. I'm visualizing meeting a
beautiful
girl there.
One who can show me how to make
or steal a huge amount of money!
I'll probably stay there for quite a while."

"Good luck on getting a ride, buckerroo. I've enjoyed your company. You sure do tell the filthiest jokes I've ever heard, ha ha ha."

They pulled into Belinda's Truck Stop, where the waitresses all have big tits and where they serve the best fresh-brewed coffee, the most delicious roast beef and the tastiest apple pies in town, a la mode. No wonder all the truckies go there.

After the five-hour regression Bishman went from hypnotic state into deep sleep, too exhausted to move.

Saddened, sickened and enthralled, the time had finally come for Harvey to rid the earth of
this human garbage. He whipped out his precision-made .38 Smith and Wesson, dexterously flicked open the chamber and removed five bullets. He spun the chamber, pointed it at Bishman's head and without hesitation or remorse pulled the trigger.
Click
.

Harvey unzipped his fly, got out his monstrous cock and started to jerk off. Again he spun the chamber and pointed at Bishman's face. He squeezed the trigger,
click
, he squeezed again,
click
, and again,
click
.

Although Harvey was hot and bothered, his face was red and he was nearly coming, he had a bead of cold sweat on his forehead. He kept pounding away with his giant prick. He spun the chamber again and fired point blank at Bishman's face. Again
click
. Harvey came, great gobs of steaming hot jism exploded all over Bishman's face and hair. Harvey pulled the trigger yet again,
click.

Shit! Some people are just not meant to die!

A
yellow Rolls Royce pulled in to Buccaneer
Street in Venice. The driver, Patrick Collinson, took out his small briefcase from the trunk, walked to the apartment door and rang the bell.

Julia Ablestein opened the door and let the stranger in. It was a big mistake; it could very well prove to be her last. As soon as Collinson was in he started feverishly ripping at her clothes. She giggled. He ripped harder as the flimsy material began to tear. She giggled some more.

Collinson slapped her hard around the face and dragged her into the bedroom. He threw her onto the bed and ripped her blouse clean off. She was red in the face but started to giggle again. For that she got slapped a lot harder this time. He ripped her skirt clean off. She fought and struggled and clawed.

He managed to rip her panties off, despite the fact she was bucking and humping and clawing like one possessed. She was unbelievably strong. Collinson fought, struggled and eventually
overpowered and penetrated her. He pumped away and she still kept struggling. The more she fought the more excited he got and the more he pumped, but he was so excited he came quickly - but not before she had. She lay on the bed sobbing.

He went over to his briefcase and got out four police-issue handcuffs and before she knew it he had her handcuffed to the four-poster bed.
Spread-eagled.
He went down on her - she was soaking wet from both his come and hers. She came again, remarkably quickly, this time in violent spasms. Collinson fucked her again.

He went back to his briefcase and took out a roll of strong tape, the brown stuff used for sealing parcels. He took out a pair of scissors and cut a piece
off, six inches in length. He sealed her mouth before she could say anything. She looked frightened as he pressed the tape down.

From the briefcase, he pulled out a video which he promptly inserted in the VCU. He then took out a vibrator, a stupendous one shaped like a huge dick. It was
even longer and bigger than
his
own
cock, which is saying something. He fitted new, heavy-duty batteries and inserted it into her vagina. He massaged it around and she was still dripping wet. He pushed it as far as it would go, then forced it another half an inch. Then he proceeded to tape it to her leg. He used two pieces of tape twelve inches long, and secured the cock-like vibrator firmly to both thighs,
then
he switched it on to maximum speed and taped the switch. It had an unusually powerful motor.

He then cut another piece of tape and sealed off one of her nostrils. She managed to keep
breathing through the other nostril, although her breathing increased dramatically. The vibrator was making a humming
noise,
the batteries could probably last for hours. He played with her full breasts, licking, sucking and fondling them. Her breathing got deeper and deeper.

Collinson then cut another piece of tape and sealed her other nostril. Despite the fight she put up, writhing around on the bed with her arms and legs securely handcuffed and the weight of a fully-grown man laying naked on top of her, she couldn't protect herself, and he held her face and secured the tape. In no time at all she thought she would explode.

Her face grew crimson, and after about a minute and half she felt like passing out. He continued squeezing her breasts and viciously twisting her nipples, but she didn't have enough strength left to fight. Her eyes were wet and her make-up was running, but again she started thrashing around on the bed, the handcuffs tightening up on her wrists and ankles, the skin becoming raw in places. She
was humming and squealing and '
mmmming' and squeaking, and making all sorts of frantic noises through her throat, intensely loud. Her chest was convulsing and she started throwing her head
back and forth very quickly, thrashing and writhing, using up precious oxygen. Her face was now whiter than white and her chest and belly and pubic mound were heaving back and forth. Her eyes started to roll and move rapidly around in their sockets. The huge-cock shaped vibrator was humming away like a swarm of angry bees.

There was a sort of death rattle that comes when someone is dying: it is a gurgling sound that is caused by air passing through mucus in the lungs and air passages, and they both he
ard it. She started crying and '
mmmmmming' hysterically and gave a final heave, thrusting her orgasmic pussy in the air, shooting out white, creamy, sticky, steaming juices out, past the super-vibrator.

Collinson let her pass out. The phone rang once, then twice,
then
it stopped: not enough rings to activate the answering machine. Collinson was startled. Whew! He thought he heard a scratching noise at the front door. He cocked his ears.
I'm imagining things
. He pulled the tapes from her nose, and her lungs quickly filled with air, although her breathing was erratic to start with.

Her vaginal muscles were still twitching and slip-in-easy juices and creamy substances were literally jetting out of her, past the gigantic humming vibrator. Her eyes were still rolling in their sockets and her breathing was fast and furious as the color started to come back to her face.

He took from her crocodile-skin pocketbook the keys to the front door. Then he switched on the video, made sure that the pictures came on and the sound was working. Finally, he closed the door behind him without looking back.

Three hours and twenty minutes later the yellow Rolls Royce pulled back into the drive and Collinson unlocked the front door.

Julia Ablestein was still crying, her wrists and ankles were badly chafed, she was
sweating profusely from all over her body and she'd lost weight. Her face was covered in runs of tears and mascara.

Collinson tugged at the tapes which had stuck firmly to her thighs, so he pulled them off really quickly. He knew that the slower you do it the greater the pain. He pulled out the vibrator. Her pussy was dripping wet and the bed was soaking. It looked like someone had spilled a gallon of wallpaper paste.

He switched the vibrator off and he stripped. He already had a mighty erection and he stuffed his huge pulsating cock into her and humped away for over an hour. She just lay there. He undid the two handcuffs that held her feet and she started to kick and buck with all her might; she started to fight like a wild cat,
feisty
as hell. He viciously pounded and violently pumped her like a crazy man. Jism came flooding out of him in spasms. He lay on top of her for a while, absolutely exhausted.

The video came to an end. Collinson put it back in his briefcase along wi
th the scissors, tape, the huge dork-
shaped vibrator and the four pairs of handcuffs, and walked out.

"Bastard!" she
whimpered
, but he was gone.