Author Topic: The Club of Chester County, Sam's Intro (Story codes with each chapter)  (Read 3476 times)

Offline LtBroccoli

  • Undergrad
  • ******
  • Posts: 860
  • Merits 487
The Club of Chester County

Chapter 1. A Friendly Conversation. (Nosex, slight racism, homophobia, drinking, setup)

Author’s Note:  This is a work of fiction.  All characters and locations are made up.  The acts portrayed are also fictional.  Rape is wrong, racism is wrong, violence is wrong.

Author's Second Note:  This post is background and world building.

It was late in the evening as he walked into Harry's, the local dive bar for this part of town.  There was a sign on the door that said "Ladies Night Wednesdays Half Off Food" but the only woman in sight was the bartender.  Wednesdays aren't busy, only the handful of regulars all sitting around the bar and a couple guys talking around a table occupied the place.  They all looked like they belonged there.

Except one other guy. 

That guy sat off to himself at the bar, playing with the label on his beer bottle.  He was a heavyset man, wearing a light beige jacket, khakis, and tennis shoes that never saw a tennis court but have seen better days.  His hair was dark and thin.  It was about the only thing on him that was thin these days.

He tapped him on the shoulder.  The heavyset man spun with alacrity not known for a man his size.  A panicked sigh escaped the man's mouth.  "Jesus Christ, Joe.  Tryna give me a heart attack?"

"No Sam, figured the fucking bacon wrapped hot dogs would do that for me."  Joe gave a brief laugh.  Joe patted the man on the shoulder and sat down in the seat next to him.  "What's going on, Sam?"

Sam gave Joe a quick once-over.  Joe wasn't from this part of town, that's for sure.  His blonde hair was well quaffed, his blue eyes shown through a pair of high-end glasses and his clean-shaven face didn't match those of the scruffy regulars and working-class men in the bar.  Joe's polo shirt and jeans were clean and looked like they came from a fancy website.  His smartwatch was a higher end model.  Even his black leather shoes screamed money.  The only thing about him that wasn't a little too nice for the neighborhood was the black zip-up hoodie he wore.

Joe sat down at the bar next to Sam's left.  He pushed his sleeves up like he was getting to business.  Joe noticed a couple of the regulars glance his way for a moment then return to their drinks.  The bartender, a short older woman, walked over to him.

"What'll it be hun?" She asked him in a voice that curdle milk.  Joe glanced around at the liquor behind her and then to the fridge behind the bar.

"Sam Adams, bottle." 

The bartender nodded then turned to Sam. "Another one?"

"One more."  Sam said, still fidgeting with the label.

The bartender walked off to get the beers.  Joe turned his head to Sam who looked nervous.  He turned his head to the TV.  Wheel of Fortune was wrapping up and some singing show was coming on.  The bartender returned with the beers.

"$4 each."  Sam looked spooked for a moment before snapping back to reality and clumsily reaching for his wallet in his coat.  Joe reached into his hip pocket and pulled a $10 bill out of a billfold.

"Here, I got this."  Joe put Hamilton's portrait on the bar.  The bartender took it and before she moved to make change Joe said "Keep it."

"If you need anything, just holler."  The bartender slinked away to the other end of the bar where she grabbed a rag to wipe down the spot where a regular got up.

"So..." Joe said, letting it hang in the air.

"So." replied Sam, curtly.

"So, what do you think about my offer?"  Joe took a sip of his beer in his right hand.

"You really want to talk about that here?"  Sam turned to Joe, eyes and cheeks scrunching up.

"Yeah here.  If we go in a booth those guys'll think we're queer."

Sam shakes his head briefly.  "Nah, no.  No booth.  Besides, if I were gay, I could do a hell of a lot better than you."

"Ouch."  Joe chuckles then takes another swig of beer.  Sam takes a sip of his beer, the bottle shaking a little in his hand.  He waits a moment to collect himself.

"You aren't shitting me, are you?  I mean, what you told me the other day was too good to be true, right?"  Sam turns to face Joe, who's still looking forward towards the TV.

"No shit.  I told you most of it but left out some details, wanted to fill them in in person.  Never know who's listening online."  Joe took another swig.

"The fuck you mean by that?"  Sam's voice gets a little louder.  Not loud enough to draw attention, but loud enough to be heard a few seats away if anyone cared.  "You being watched?"  Joe shakes his head and takes another swig.

"No, no, no.  We like to be very careful, that's all.  One dumbass can fuck up all our fun.  I wanted to see if you were interested before I told you the details.  Remember the first rule of Fight Club?"

"Yeah.  Don't talk about Fight Club."

"Same for us.  Don't talk about The Club.  Especially online and unencrypted.  It's too easy to trace.  All it takes is one person not using a VPN and next thing we know the entire club is facing charges.  Well, those of us local.  We've got a member or two overseas who does some crazy shit but laws are different over there."  Joe takes another swig before continuing.  "Like I said a couple days ago, there's a club for like-minded people who enjoy the same things you do, they just figured out a way to...partake in their hobby."

"Partake in their hobby?"  Sam made a furtive glance around the bar to make sure no one was listening to the next part.  "When the fuck did rape become a hobby?"

"It's been going on for a while.  In one form or another for close to 20 years, maybe longer."  Joe stated matter of factly.

"Are you kidding me? 20 years?  That's nuts."  Sam responded incredulously.  He shook his head then took another drink.  The air was still as Sam shook his head then took another drink.  "Alright, how's this work?"

Joe watched the TV as some professional singers sat in a chair blabbering on about something, but he wasn't paying attention to the TV.

"So, here's how it works.  You tech savvy?"

"A little, but not much."  Sam's shoulders dropped a little.

"Someone will get you up to speed.  You'll need a VPN to get to the website.  Put it on your computer and phone, and not one of those free sites, those are all coming from Russia and a fucking scam.  Buy one.  I know a guy who will set your shit up."

Sam nodded his head.  Joe saw it out of the corner of his eye.

"All communications have to go through encrypted websites and emails.  No stupid shit like using Signal then backing up to the cloud.  That's a rookie mistake that'll screw us all."  Joe took another swig of beer.  Sam did the same.


"After that, you'll need to get a P.O. Box somewhere.  Not too close, but not unreasonably far away.  This will be how keys get sent."

"Keys?"  Sam asked.

"Okay, let me step back a second.  You join The Club after getting vetted, which is happening now.  You can watch some of the prior activities and other stuff on the website after connecting through VPN, and all communications are encrypted to keep the po po away.  Now, if you decide you want to, let's say, take part in a field trip, you need to know where to go, who's there, how to get in, what to look for, shit like that.  That's where the P.O. Box comes in.  Someone sends you a gift, or you send someone else a gift, we use them.  Most people have keys or some type of security, we don't go breaking in all the time.  That shit raises too many questions."


"Yeah, gifts."  Sam took another swig.  "Offerings, negotiations, whatever you want to call it.  You make a deal with another member on trading gifts, and all parties and the club have to agree to it.  It's gotta be fair.  After coming to a deal on who, how, where, and why, you send each other copied keys or alarm codes or however else access is gained to the gift.  Once you get the keys, you can have fun with your gift.  But there's a few rules."

"What are those?"  Sam's attention is rapt on Joe as he speaks.

"Always conceal your identity.  All events must be recorded and shared with the community, though the person you got the gift from gets first dibs on watching.  No minors, as best as avoided.  Like no obvious kids, there's too much shit tied up with that.  No grievous harm or permanent injuries.  Don't steal shit or commit other crimes.  You must protect The Club at all times.  There's no reneging on a deal without serious penalties.  Newbies like you have to offer first before they get to play, and don't get caught.  Stay clean, from diseases and the law.  You get caught, you're out.  Comprende?"

Sam sat for a long moment. Long enough to take a couple sips of beer.  "I comprende."

"Good."  Joe pulled a card out of his billfold then handed it to Sam.  Sam looked it over and flipped it around.  On the front was the logo for a local computer and phone repair business.  On the back was a name, a phone number, the words 'Roman Deluxe', and a different email.  Joe continued talking as Sam looked at the card.  "Go to 7-11 and get a burner.  Call the number on the back tomorrow and ask for Pedro.  Tell him that you were referred by the company on the front of the card and need help setting up a VPN and Firewall for your home business.  He'll ask a couple questions to see if you're a legit customer or one of his specials.  When he asks about packages, ask for the Roman Deluxe package.  If he asks for an email address, give him that one, but tell him you're having trouble with it.  By this point he'll understand.  He'll set up a time to work on your shit.  Got it?"

"Got it."

"What do you do?"

"Burner phone, call number on back, ask for Pedro.  VPN and firewall setup for home business.  Roman Deluxe package, problems with this email address."

"Good.  Any questions."

"Yeah, lots.  Like, why me?  Why now?  We've known each other for years, but you never said shit till a few weeks back."

Joe let the question hang in the air for a moment before taking another swig of beer and answering.  "I didn't know you were up for this before.  Wasn't until a few months back when we went out after Tracy left you and you mentioned what you wanted to do to her, how she hurt you, how she didn't respect you, and how she freaked out when she saw your collection.  You let that last part slip but after finding out about that and seeing what you've got to work with, I talked to a couple members."

"What do you mean, what I've got?"

"Sam, you're a slumlord.  You run a few apartment buildings and rental houses in Collegetown.  But they're on campus and so close to campus they're patrolled by campus cops.  Those fuckers are about as useful as a parka in Hawaii.  Especially for sex assaults.  You've got access to so much prime pussy and you don't even know it."


"Really.  Every year you get another crop of young bitches that go out, drink too much, party too much, and fuck too much.  They don't miss rent much because it's either covered by their loans or Mommy and Daddy pay it each month on time to make sure little Emma or Mason can study without distraction.  All you gotta do is collect rent, make sure the place doesn't get condemned, and not get caught.  You fix the occasional broken toilet, you patch the hole in the wall, and you call it a day.  But you want more, those bitches don't give a shit about you."

"You sure about that?"  Sam asked, finishing the last sip on his first beer.

"Fuck yeah.  Remember when we were out a year back and you got a call about some broken washing machine that was flooding and we had to rush over there to stop the leak, and that hot little Asian bitch stood there on the edge of a freak-out cause she thought she broke everything?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"You're crawling around behind the machine to turn off the hose, she's on the verge of tears, and I'm trying to do all I can to not grab that bitch, throw her over the washer, and take it out of her ass.  I saw that same look on you when you thought she wasn't looking."

Sam shifted in his seat as he picked up his next beer.  "I, I, I wouldn't say that."

"Well, I'll say it.  You wanted to choke that little chink bitch with your cock and make her cry for the damages.  It was a faulty hose that just split, but you still played it off like it could have been her fault, just so you could be the nice guy when you forgave her.  But inside you wanted to make that bitch cry.  You wanted to throw her over the dryer, rip off her shorts, and fuck her like a cheap whore.  Gag her with her own panties and fuck her whether she liked it or not."

"uhh....yeah."  Sam meekly replied.

"Yeah. You want to facefuck that cunt that's always a week late with rent just to teach her some respect, or take that grad student up the ass in lieu of the security deposit.  You want to, but you can't cause they know you.  You fuck ten, one'll go to the cops now and the others will come after you 20 years from now the next time there's some big push like #MeToo.  But The Club can help you with that.  You provide gifts that need unwrapped, and you get to do the same."

"How much this shit cost?"

"A lot and nothing.  This ain't NPR, we're not holding a pledge drive or a bake sale, but this stuff costs a good deal on the back end.  Selling the videos is too risky, even though clips have leaked before. But if we need money we've thrown a ... fundraiser or two."

Sam's eyes perked up.  "That sounds interesting."

"It is."  Joe takes another swig.  "When The Club needs some money, someone will organize a group fundraiser.  Doesn't happen often, and they aren't cheap, but anyone who wants to...partake in the festivities will chip in.  No need to bring a gift of your own to this party, but like they said in the 70's; gas, grass, or ass, no one rides for free.  We had one fundraiser a few years back where we raised $20,000 in a night.  Main attraction was this little blonde bitch.  Tiny thing, couldn't be more than 5'1", 5'2" tops.  Half a dozen guys and two chicks took turns on her all night.  All.  Night.  Long.  Didn't get out of there until the sun was coming up.  Threatened to fuck her up and release the video online if she told anyone about it.  She never told a soul that we know of, but she walked funny for a few days."

"Wait, chicks?"

Joe takes a sip.  "Yeah, there's a few around, here and there.  I know 3 of them.  One is this nasty bull dyke that wants to make little bitches scream, another is this sweet little bi chick with daddy issues and rape fantasies, and the third gets off on being a mean girl.  She loves setting up other bitches.  She gets all close to them, butters them up, sets them up for a visit, then consoles them after, spending the night at the Y feasting on fish tacos.  Then, a week or two later she crushes their spirits and moves on to her next plaything.  Pure fucking psychopath but damn can she fuck.  Even offers herself up when she's in the mood.  Just don't ever date her.  No matter how good the sex is, she's past the Mendoza crazy/hot line.  One day everything's fine, next she's boiling your pet rabbit or smashing your car window."

"Wait..."  Sam looks up, thinking for a moment.  "Didn't you have to get your car window replaced a couple years ago?"

"Like I said, not worth the fucking trouble."  Joe takes a sip.

"You gotta be kidding me.  How did Mari never find out about that?"

"She knew."  Joe said almost dismissively.  Sam almost choked on his beer.

"She knew?"

"She knew.  She knew I had a one-night stand around that time, and that was around the time she guilt-fucked her boss for that promotion.  It's a weird relationship.  Well, I broke it off with that psycho bitch but she went all crazy, vowing to eat my face and whatnot."

"The fuck?"

"Yeah.  I never gave her my real name or number.  All she had was a license plate on a car that I traded in that night.  Got a new plate for my new truck and transferred the old plate to someone else.  Couple weeks later I get a call saying how this crazy bitch was in his lawn pissing on his bushes and screaming at everyone that walked by.  She was screaming 'Nice car Dave' over and over.  Cops showed up, but she was so crazy they didn't believe a word she said.  Eventually the guy I sold the plate to comes out, says he doesn't know her, and the cops let her off with a warning.  She stopped trying to make my life miserable when she found a new target a month later."


"Yep."  Both men take a drink.  The TV shows a commercial for some pill that claims to cure anxiety but gives the user the shits.

"So, who you thinking ‘bout?"  Joe asks Sam.

"For what?"

"For the next pope.  What do you think?  Trying to figure out which tenant is late on rent and needs a visit?"

Sam shakes his head.  "Not really.  Not one of them, not at first.  What's that old phrase, don't shit where you eat?"


"I don't think I want to set one of them up until I'm a little more comfortable.  Sounds like too much of a risk right away."

"So, you got someone else in mind?"

"Yeah."  Sam says, not even sure he's speaking aloud.  "Remember my ex's sister, Naomi?"

"I think so.  Was that the petite blonde at the pool party?"

"No, that's not her.  Remember the brunette with the long straight hair in the one-piece swimsuit playing with the boy?"

Joe scrunches his eyes and brow.  "Vaguely."

"Well, since Tracy and I are on the outs, Naomi's been a pain in the ass.  She's always going on about how I never had time for her, I wasn't good enough.  All that shit." 

"Okay.  I think I remember her.  Was she bitching about how she had no time for her kids and work as a single mom but spent a few hours at church every week?"

"Yeah, that's her."

Joe nodded.  "Nice.  Had a good body for a 40-year-old, but no personality.  Wouldn't mind seeing someone party with her."

"Yep."  Sam replied.

"But, if you aren't talking to Tracy anymore, how're you gonna get her keys, or get in her place?"

Sam took a long sip of beer.  Then another.  "Last time I was over to see Tracy, Naomi was there and kept getting in the way.  Eventually I went in the kitchen, and her keys were sitting right there on the counter.  I took a picture of them.  I sort of know where she lives, pretty sure I can find the address.  Getting the keys made won't be too hard, but might be a moot point since she has one of those doorbell cams."

"What about the garage door?"  Joe asked.  Sam's eyes go wide and his mouth falls open.

"Of course, that's it.  Might not even need the key.  I remember her saying they got a new garage door installed last year, and she had to set the code to get in.  She kept complaining about how stupid her kids were, so she had to say 'THE CODE IS THE ADDRESS' to them over and over.  And I think the front door cam can be blocked from the garage."

"Sweet.  Sounds like Naomi's about to have some fun."

"To fun times."  Sam tipped his beer towards Joe for a toast.  Joe tapped his beer bottle with his, and both men drank.  Joe looked at his watch, then his beer which was almost empty.  Joe tipped the bottle up, and finished his beer.

"I gotta go, need to get home before too late, and I hate driving through this town.  Have to pass through Heartland to get to the beltway."

"Aww, someone afraid of a couple black guys?"  Sam said in a mocking tone.

"Fuck you.  No, it's not the blacks, it's the fucking cops in that area after dark.  Stray off the beaten path by a block and every car that isn't rusted out or pumping bass gets weird looks."

"Joe, you're the whitest white guy I know.  Even if the cops pull you over in your blacked-out King Ranch truck, they'll let you off with a warning and probably an escort back to the interstate."

"Yeah, well I don't feel like dealing with it.  Remember what I said about Pedro."

"Will do.  Night."

"Night."  Joe rolled his sleeves back down as he got up off of the bar stool and made his way to the door.  Sam sat there for another couple minutes as he finished his beer.  He had a lot to think about, and even more to do.  It's not every day that life changes.
« Last Edit: May 18, 2021, 10:40:21 PM by LtBroccoli »
Always close the program you were running before exiting the holodeck

Offline LtBroccoli

  • Undergrad
  • ******
  • Posts: 860
  • Merits 487
The Club of Chester County, Sam's Intro (Chapter 2/3)
« Reply #1 on: July 20, 2020, 11:25:39 PM »
The Club of Chester County

Chapter 2. Sam’s first logon. (MF, Msolo, rape, anal, viol, bond)

Author’s Note:  This is a work of fiction.  All characters and locations are made up.  The acts portrayed are also fictional.  Rape is wrong, racism is wrong, violence is wrong.

Author’s Second Note:  The chapter numbers represent the order of the section and how I would publish the combined works as a complete novel.

It was dark outside.  Sam sat at his desk in the studio apartment he was using looking at his laptop screen.

It took Sam a few days to get a meeting with Pedro.  By then he had already decided that his first offering to the club would be his ex-girlfriend’s sister Naomi.  

Sam had her Facebook profile open and was looking at her pictures.  At least those that were still publicly available.  She had unfriended him shortly after Tracy dumped him.  Naomi was an attractive woman with pale skin and straight, light brown hair.  Her profile pic showed off her blue eyes and impish smile.  She carried her age well as she was easily pushing 40.  Sam scrolled through some of her other pics trying to find a couple that showed her in a swimsuit or bikini.  She had a bit of a belly, but what woman her age with kids doesn’t carry a little extra around the middle?

“Dammit.  Not here.  Really wish I’d have saved them.” Sam couldn’t find what he was looking for.  She didn’t share pics like that, showing off that much skin.  Well, not on purpose.  Naomi was proud of her body, but refused to show too much or take too much pride in it.  She loved those compliments-that-aren’t-compliments that acknowledged the work she put in, but would bitch about anyone calling her ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’.  Sam tried complimenting her once at a barbecue.  That ended with Naomi telling Tracy that Sam hit on her and was trying to fuck her.  Tracy chewed out Sam for a week and a half after that.

Sam wanted to see her suffer.  He must have jerked off a dozen times since meeting with Joe thinking about how she would look getting raped by some stranger.  The screaming, the tears, listening to her plead for mercy, or beg for her intruder to not cum inside of her.  Sam imagined that it was him breaking into her bedroom, tying her up, and holding a knife to her throat telling her if she made a noise he’d kill her and her kids.  He wondered how tight her pussy was, how hairy it was.  Did she shave completely, or just trim it up?  How big were her nipples?  Has she ever had a dick up her ass before?  She’s always had a stick up there, now it was time for his stick.  He must have imagined raping her in a dozen different sets of underwear and outfits.  What would she be wearing that day?  Would it be the office attire that she wears for her secretary job during the weekdays, or the waitress clothes she wears in the evenings?  Would he be fucking her on her rag, or is she on the shot or something to keep her from getting periods?  Is she even on birth control?  With as much of a stuck up Christian as she is, she may not even use any.  If she gets knocked up, would she try to keep it like a good Christian whore or terminate it like the hypocritical cunt she is?  What’s her throat like?  Can she swallow...

“Fuck.”  Sam was getting hard again.  He better get his mind back on track before he has to jerk off again.  He hasn’t jerked off this much in such a short time since Junior High.

Sam took a look around his apartment.  His small, lonely studio apartment.  How does a man who owns several apartment buildings and various businesses end up living in a studio apartment in his mid 40’s?  He had a great condo for the last few years that was mostly paid off, but then he sold that when Tracy wanted him to move in with her and her family.  He wanted them to move in with him, but she didn’t want to uproot the kids from school.  They talked about getting a new house together, but she wasn’t comfortable with that unless they got married.  After a few arguments, mutual acrimony, and Tracy finding his porn stash full of what she called ‘crazy shit’, it was over.  He stayed for a little while searching for a nice place to call his own, but it just got weirder and weirder living there.  Eventually he bit the bullet and moved into one of his buildings that had some units that weren’t moving.  He couldn’t rent this place for the life of him.  No one wanted a studio apartment in West Oakville.  Not anymore since the hospital closed.  He could easily rent this place to some immigrant doctor who wanted to walk to work, but now no one wanted to move in to a studio apartment in the run-down part of West Oakville.  He tried slashing the rent by a couple hundred dollars, but still no takers.  All of the 2 and 3-bedroom units filled up quickly, but the noise from the families, lack of bus access, and noise from the construction work where the hospital was scared off a lot of tenants.  Even the out of town college students didn’t want to deal with it.  Sam hated living here, but he told himself it’s only temporary.

Sam breathed a heavy sigh to clear his head, then took another look around.  Everything was locked up and the curtains drawn closed.  The only furniture in this place was a twin-sized bed, a cheap dining table with three chairs, a desk along one wall and the fourth chair from the kitchen set at the desk that he sat in.  Sam opened the drawer in his desk and pulled out a legal pad and a pen.  He flipped a few pages deep and found the instructions he got from Pedro earlier in the day.  Pedro made sure that Sam took explicit instructions on how to get to and access The Club’s website.  Sam mumbled as he read them.

“Step 1.  Connect VPN.  Click the icon that looks like a dog punching a turtle.  Enter user name and password below.”  Sam didn’t think the icon looked like that, but whatever, he wasn’t going to argue with Pedro.  Sam clicked the icon for the VPN and entered the user name and password he had written down.

“Step 2.  When prompted, change password to something you’ll remember, like a phrase.  Don’t write this shit down!”  Sam changed his password to ‘Stupidfuckingcuntface43!’.  He always kept Tracy in a close spot.

“Step 3.  Jesus fucking Christ are you actually writing down everything I’m saying?  For fuck’s sake you’re like my Boomer grandparents.  You know what, keep writing, but after you do this a couple times, destroy this thing.”  Well, he was just starting.

“Step 4.  Go to your new email and sign in.  It will have a link to it and a user ID and password.  This is random and is a pain in the ass to change.”  Sam got to his new mail, something like neutron mail or some shit like that.  He logged in to this new mail account that had 5 new messages.  A couple welcoming him to Neutron Mail, one test mail from Pedro, and two he didn’t recognize.  One was from some randomized number also in Neutron Mail, and the other was a welcome mail to the VIP section of some website he never heard of.  The words looked French in the title, but didn’t make sense.  Something about roadkill gourmet?  What the fuck?

“Step 5.  Go to the website address from the email I’m giving you.  After it loads, go to recipes and search for ‘Lizard Streusel’.  No, it’s not a real dish.”  It took Sam a moment to click on the address.  Who would have thought to hide a rape club in a blog about cooking animals found on the side of the road in a non-ironic manner?  Once it was loaded, he typed ‘Lizard Streusel’.  Sam was glad that it didn’t come up with a recipe on how to make that oh-so-disgusting sounding course.  There was a weird error screen that had a “Click Here” link in big letters and a “I Want Out” link that was barely visible.  The second link was the same color as the background.

“Step 6.  Find ‘I want out’ and click it.  It’ll launch a script that will check to see if you’re on a VPN connection then take you to the login page for The Club.  Enter the two codes from the email I’ll send you later today.  The first one is your ID, the second is current password.  I change those every month or so and will send an update when I do, as long as you don’t do something stupid.”  Sam opened the mail he had and saw the numbers.  62539501 and 21627975.  He waited a moment for the script to finish running, then typed them in to the respective fields.  “This was a lot of security” he said to himself.  He was starting to think this was some kind of prank until the login prompt came up and he entered the numbers.  Forget prank, Sam was half-expecting Chris Hansen and a news crew to knock on his door and ask him to have a seat, followed by some of Chester County’s finest coming in to arrest him.

Then it happened.  The screen loaded a new website that didn’t have big banners or fancy graphics.  It looked plain, in almost black and white text, looking like just any basic web forum.  There were headings for ‘Current Topics’, ‘Archives’, ‘Welcome’, ‘Rules & Guidelines’, ‘Stories’, ‘Movies’, ‘Lost & Found’, ‘News’, ‘Messages’, and ‘Gifts & Offerings’.  Sam was in.  

Where to begin?  He clicked on the Welcome section and it had a couple posts that he read quickly.  Basic shit like ‘No doxing members, no backing out of a deal, observe the rules, newbies have to wait to have fun,’ shit like that.  He checked out the ‘Rules & Guidelines’ section next.  It was pretty much everything Joe said earlier, but also included a section on not describing what other members looked like, especially Pedro.  “Well, he doesn’t look like any Pedro I’ve met before.”  Sam took a few minutes browsing there before checking out the other sections.  ‘Stories’ contained a bunch of text and web stories about rape.  Some were original works, but he recognized a few of the stories from other sites he visited.  He wasn’t surprised, some of them were great stories.  The ‘News’ section was news stories about rapes and other crimes, along with questions like “Ok, who fucked this tart?” or people bragging about a job well done.  ‘Movies’ was similar to the ‘Stories’ section with rape movies he’d seen before, but some of them seemed a little too real.  At least, more real than the Russian shit he jerked off to last week.  Still professional looking, but more real.  Sam checked out ‘Messages’ real quick but everything seemed to be quiet here.  Looked like an IRC or AOL chat room.  No one else was in right now.  He was curious about ‘Lost & Found’ so he checked that out next.  This was straight up weird.  Here was a post featuring women from who knows where, each with a little info and chats about them.  Some women had a name, others just “Little bitch from the 7-11” or “Babysitter cocktease”.  These women ranged for all ages and sizes.  One in particular caught his eye, this little brunette with nice sized tits.  She looked like she was maybe 20, probably Latina.  He checked out the texts underneath.

8305:  Yo, check out dis hottie!  Saw her down by Bio building in Oakville.  Think she’s a student.
6540:  I’ll make her a student of my cock.
8305:  Anyone got the deets?
9278:  Her name’s Alana Martinez. A guy I know used to roll with her back in the day.  Said she had a kid and was all worn out.
8305:  Worn out?
6540:  Don’t listen, if it’s his friend that I’m thinking of, he’s got a tiny pecker.  Any real sized man would make that whore scream “Aye Papi”
8305:  LOL.  Definitely wanna party with her.  And if she’s got a kid, means she’s DTF.

Sam was getting hard reading this, the swelling in his pants becoming difficult to ignore.  He unzipped his fly to give himself room and whipped his dick out, stroking it with his left hand.  He checked a few more pics in the ‘Lost & Found’ section, a lot of them really hot.  He then decided to take a quick look at ‘Current Topics’.

“Jackpot.”  Here’s where the effort on the site went.  There were threads upon threads of women’s names.  Hell, even a few guys it looked like were in there.  Each thread that he clicked on had a few pictures of a woman, a short description of her, what her living situation was like, a chat history, and a video.  Sometimes more videos, but each one had at least one video.  He clicked on one link named “Stephanie Taylor”.  Here was a gorgeous woman with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and an innocent smile that melted Sam’s heart and hardened his cock.  He looked through her details.

‘From 4278: Stephanie Taylor works at a local fast-food place.  Her ass is to die for, with more junk in the trunk than most white women her size.  She has a tramp stamp of a butterfly a couple other tats, one she said I’ll never see.  I work with her and would love to fuck her silly, but she knows me.  I’ve got her door code for her apartment and a copy of her key.  Don’t ask.  Looking to trade for equal value.’

The chat logs show 4278 and 1996 talking back and forth about a deal, the best time, and how to approach her.  They discussed details a little later, then after a pause of a couple days, an ominous message.

1996: Paid little Stephanie a visit last night.  Enjoy the video.

Sam thought he was ready for the video, but no, not at all.  Sam pressed the play button.

The video opens with a wide shot of the interior of the living room of an apartment.  An older, beaten up couch is in view, as well as the doorway from the hall.  There’s a table with what looks like an open toolbag on it.  A decently built white man wearing a ski mask, a dark t-shirt, dark pants and boots waits behind the door, holding a stun gun in his right hand.

The video fast forwards a bit then cuts out.  From the timecode in the corner, it looks like 20 minutes were cut.  Suddenly the video is back to normal as the man reaches into his left rear pocket and pulls out a bandana or handkerchief.  He tenses up as he hears the door open.  He’s in the ready position.

The door opens and in walks a beautiful petite blonde wearing a white tank top, black work cargo pants, and nondescript tennis shoes.  Her long, curly hair is tied up in a bun on top of her head.  It’s Stephanie Taylor.

She walks in to the room and takes three steps, closing the door behind her with her foot.  Stephanie doesn’t look behind the door and doesn’t notice the man until he’s on top of her.  His left hand is over her mouth and the right hand with the stun gun is in the small of her back.  She screams in panic for a brief moment before agony overtakes her as the man pulls the trigger on the stun gun.  She crumples to the floor.  The man drops the stun gun and grabs both of her arms behind her back.  He pulls a pair of handcuffs from his right rear pocket and deftly secures them around the woman’s wrists.  The bandana is still lodged in her mouth.  With a half step he moves to his bag and pulls out a roll of clear packing tape.  With the skill of a professional, he takes the tape and wraps it around her mouth and head a couple times, insuring that the cloth gag stays in place.

Stephanie tries to scream again, but her cries are cut off by the gag.  Her limbs are still not responding following the stun gun attack, and her hands are behind her.  She still hasn’t wrapped her mind around the situation.

The man picks her up off of the floor by her hair and throws her over the back of the couch, flipping in midair and landing on her back.  He walks over to her on the couch, pulling a boxcutter out of his leg pocket.

Stephanie’s cries grow from fearful to panicked as she sees the utility knife.  The man straddles her as she lays on the couch.  He leans in and says something, though it is hard to make out what he says.  He puts the knife closer to her face and he says something again.  She nods her head nervously.

The man cuts the top of the tank top right above the cleavage.  He grabs a side in each hand and pulls.  A little at first to start the shirt tearing, then more to expose her bra covered tits.  One final pull and the tank top is torn all the way to the bottom seam.  He cuts it to remove it.  

Stephanie is in shock for a moment, only wearing a navy-blue bra.  The man grabs her tits through her bra.  Squeezing them, kneading them like they were dough.  He stops playing with them long enough to grab between the cups and pull hard.  The back-clasp snaps as her bra is only on by the shoulder straps.  Instead of cutting it off, the man forces the remains of bra up over her head and shoulders.  They weren’t huge tits, but looked good on her frame.  Maybe 32B, 32C?  Those nipples, damn.  The areolas are the size of silver dollars and the nipples point up almost half an inch.  “Is someone enjoying this?”  The man asks.  Stephanie shakes her head vigorously.  “Lying bitch.”  The man grabs her tits, then bends over and takes her left nipple in his mouth, biting down.  Stephanie screams into her gag.

“Ahhhh, ohhhh yeah.”  Sam is jerking off furiously watching this.  He can’t hold back anymore and busts a nut all over his chest.  He’s breathing heavily watching the man suck and bite on Stephanie’s tits.  Sam pauses the video, then looks at the mess on his shirt and stomach.  “Looks like I’ve got laundry to do.”  After catching his breath, he checks to see how long is left on the video.  “Holy fuck, another hour to go?”  Sam slipped off his pants and shoes and hit play.

The man was sucking and biting on Stephanie’s tits.  She tried shaking him off, but didn’t have any leverage from her position.  Eventually her squirming got under the man’s skin.  He rose up and slapped her across her face, leaving a red mark on her left cheek.  “Keep it up and I get the knife again.”  She laid in shock for a moment.  The man slid down her body to where he was sitting on her thighs, just above the knees.  He ran his hands slowly down her stomach, past a script tattoo on her left ribs, until his hands landed on her pants.  He undid the button her black slacks and lowered the zipper.  He parted the top of the pants then slid his hands to her hips and pulled.  It took a couple tugs but he got the pants over her shapely hips.  After getting them halfway down her thighs, the man stood up and slid them down to her feet, where he kept them bundled around her shoes.  

Stephanie laid there with a look of desperation and fear, her eyes both wide and filled with tears.  Her mascara ran a little in the corners.  Her pants were down around her ankles and she was otherwise naked, save for a pair of floral bikini cut panties.  The man reached for her panties, but she raised her knees to protect herself.  The man grabbed her hair with his right hand and yanked her up into a sitting position.  With his left hand, he pimped slapped her hard across her left cheek.  “What did I fucking tell you?  That was bad, Stephie.  Real, real bad.”  Her eyes grew even wider, like some anime chick.  This was the first time he said her name.  He knew who she was.  Before she could react though he was slapping her tits as hard as he could with his left hand while pulling her head back with his right.  “Stupid fucking slut.”  He kept slapping, causing her tits to turn pink then red.  “I was gonna be nice and make sure you had your fun, not hurt you too much.  Now, fuck you.  You better be fucking soaked in your pussy cause I’m coming in hot.  And I’m gonna fuck your ass dry, too.  Unless you’re such a fucking whore that this gets you off.”  He finished slapping and threw her head down on the couch.  She was bawling her eyes out and crying into her gag.  He grabbed her panties and with one good tug had them down around her ankles.  He left them there, along with the shoes.

“God damn.”  Sam muttered to himself when he saw her pussy.  A perfect blonde landing strip to match her blonde hair.  Neatly trimmed and oh so delicious looking.  He was stroking himself again, once again harder than Chinese arithmetic.  Maybe that’s what that Chinese character located under her panty line meant?  He didn’t read Chinese, but he found the hidden tattoo.

The man stood up and unbuttoned his pants.  They were military pants with no zipper.  He let them drop to the middle of his thighs.  His dick was fully erect, standing at around 6 inches and thicker than average.  Stephanie cried and cried as he took off his shirt, revealing a tanned barrel-chested figure with a moderate amount of chest hair.  “Let’s have some fun Stephie,” he said as he grabbed her feet and pushed them toward her head, bending her nearly in half and creating enough space between her legs to get between them.  He slid in, using her trapped feet as a means of keeping him in place.  He grabbed his cock with his left hand and her labia with his right.  He spread her pussy lips as far as he could with one hand, making a hole large enough to get his dickhead into her quim.  He paused for a moment, enjoying the feeling of having just the tip in, just for a moment.  

Then, he pushed forward.  All the fight that was left in Stephanie drained away as he thrust into her.  First, only a little, maybe an inch or two, and slow.  Low and slow.  After about a dozen small strokes, he went deeper, and deeper.  He went faster, and faster.  Deeper, and faster, until he was slamming into her with his full weight.  The man kept this pace up for a couple minutes, until he started breathing faster, and faster, then started talking.  “Where should I cum, baby?  Want me cum inside you?  Want a going away present, bitch.  Want my baby, baby?”  Stephanie was freaking out, shaking her head violently back and forth and screaming what could only be ‘NO’ into her gag.  “Cum inside you?  Got it you fucking dirty cumslut.”  With that, the man pumped a few more times and shuddered, ejaculating deep into young Stephanie Taylor.  As he collapsed on top of her, all fight that was left in her drained out, replaced by wracking sobs and the semen of her rapist.

“Oh fuck...”  Sam came again, depositing another load on his shirt.  “Holy shit.”  Sam waited a moment as he caught his breath to clean himself up again.  This time he let the video play.

The man lay on top of Stephanie for a solid minute or two, waiting until he had his strength back.  He pushed himself up off of her and slid out from between her legs.  His flaccid penis was covered in her unwilling juices and his forcefully given seed.  He stood up from the couch that he just raped her on and walked to his bag.  He pulled out a water bottle, opened it, and drank nearly half of it in one go.  He then returned to Stephanie on the couch, who had tried to curl up into the fetal position.  Well, as well as one could with their hands cuffed behind their back.  He grabbed her by the hair and wiped his cock off with it.  Her tear stained face was now streaked with runny makeup.  He looked at her, admiring his handiwork for moment, then slapped his penis across her face to get himself hard again.  “Smell that on my dick?  That’s you, you fucking cunt.  That’s your cunt on my dick.  And when I’m hard again, I’m gonna fuck you again.  And I’m gonna fuck that sweet ass of yours, too.  I’m gonna use your pussy to get me ready to fuck your ass.  Ever had a dick up your ass, Stephie?”  She didn’t respond.  He slapped her with his hand this time.  “Bitch, ever been fucked up your ass?”  Stephanie nodded meekly in embarrassment.  “Good.  I don’t have to be gentle.”

The man pulled on her hair, standing her up.  He dragged her around the couch, neither taking full steps with their pants down around their ankles.  Once to the rear of the couch, he threw her head down so it was in the couch cushions and she was bent over, her purple and pink butterfly lower back tattoo in full view.  The man got in position behind her, rubbing his cock along her pussy and asscrack.  He grabbed his erect penis and thrust into her pussy, fully embedding himself in one thrust.  He fucked her twat for a solid five minutes, enjoying the pleasure he took from her and the agony he caused her.  He leaned over and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back so that she was looking right at the camera.

Her face was a mess of streaked makeup, tears, and slap marks.  Her blonde hair was coming out of its bun, after being used as a handle and a cumrag.  Her eyes were bloodshot from all of the tears she cried.  The man stopped thrusting into her and leaned close, still holding her hair.  He pointed to the camera.

“Stephie, you see that right there, between the two speakers on the bookshelf there?”  He pulled his dick out of her pussy.  “That’s my camera.  I’m recording this so I can show the world how big of a slut you are.”  Her eyes focused on the camera, and a look of dread flashed across her face.  He lined his cock up with her asshole.  “Say hi to the camera Stephie!”  He pushed into her ass as far as he could go and held it there.  From the camera angle, he was maybe two inches in her ass.  The look on her face said it all.  Nausea mixed with pain mixed with panic mixed with resignation, all coalescing on Stephanie Taylor’s beautiful face.

Sam couldn’t help himself and started jerking off again.  This time he winced a little as he did so.  If he kept this up, he’d rub his dick raw.

The man kept fucking her ass a little at a time with slow strokes.  He switched her hair from his right hand to his left and kept her facing the camera.  While he stroked into her ass, he reached down with his right hand and found her clit.  He rubbed her little button around and around, stimulating her against her will.  He kept up the pace in her ass, quickening as he increased the speed of her clit rubbing.  Faster and faster he went, fucking her ass and rubbing her clit, forcing her to the brink of an orgasm she didn’t want to have.  He kept going and going and going, working on her clit like an autistic kid with a fidget spinner, not giving up until he was ready.

Stephanie’s cries of pain turned to moans through the gag as the man continued to rub her clit.  The moans quickened and quickened, until suddenly her entire body shook and stiffened intermittently, her vaginal reflexes able to be felt in her rectum.  The man couldn’t hold out any longer and pulled out of her ass.  He yanked back on her hair and pulled her head towards him.  He held her head with his left hand and her body fell over the back of the couch and landed mostly on it again.  

“Oh fuck.”  He grabbed his cock with his right hand stroked off a few more times right in her face.  He came.  Hard.  The man bust a nut all over Stephanie’s face.  He blasted her in the right eye with a rope of cum that looked like it was shot out of a cannon.  Another blast got in her hair, and the last several spurts landed on her forehead, cheeks and nose.  The man walked over to the camera and grabbed it off of the bookshelf.  He zoomed in on her face, showing the beautiful woman in all her glory.  Mouth taped and gagged, makeup a mess, bruises starting to show on her cheeks and covered in her rapist’s cum.

“Wow, you look like a total fucking slut.  Because you are Stephie.  Who else but a slut gets off by being fucked in the ass like that?”  Stephanie burst into tears again as her rapist’s cum dripped off her face.

“Holy shit.”  Sam came again on his chest.  That was the third time in the last hour, just from this video.  Sam cleaned himself yet again while catching his breath.  The video had another 30 minutes, but he looked at the time and saw it was getting late.  He’ll have to come back and finish it again someday, but not until he fast forwarded through it.

Sam fast forwarded through the video.  The man fucked Stephanie two more times in the pussy and once more in the ass before it was all said and done.  By the time the video was over, Stephanie was completely naked except for the gag and thick layer of cum on her face, chest, and back.  How this guy had the recovery to keep going amazed Sam.  The camera position changed a couple times to get closeups of his dick in her pussy and ass, and the last scene was a point of view scene of fucking her in a missionary position.  The last scene had the man uncuff the woman, then immediately zip tie her arms and legs together and then zip tied that to the base of her couch.  The man dressed then told her that if she ever told anyone then this video would be sent to her friends and family and posted online for the world to see how much of a slut she was.  He took her cell phone and hid it somewhere in her apartment.  He then left a pair of scissors within reach of the bound woman and told her to count to 100 before trying to free herself.  If she tried anything, he’d be back for more and wouldn’t be so gentle next time.  He packed up his stuff and stopped the video.

“Holy shit” muttered Sam.  “I didn’t even get to the good stuff yet.”

« Last Edit: July 27, 2020, 09:08:47 PM by LtBroccoli »
Always close the program you were running before exiting the holodeck

Offline LtBroccoli

  • Undergrad
  • ******
  • Posts: 860
  • Merits 487
The Club of Chester County, Sam's Intro (Chapter 3/3)
« Reply #2 on: July 27, 2020, 07:03:59 PM »
The Club of Chester County – Sam’s Story

Chapter 3:  Sam and Joe driving around  (nosex, setup, mild racism)

Author’s Note:  This is a work of fiction.  All characters and locations are made up.  The acts portrayed are also fictional.  Rape is wrong, racism is wrong, violence is wrong.

Author’s Second Note:  This is also character introduction and setup, and will tie in to the rest of the story in the future.

Joe Collins sat in the front seat of his 2018 Ford F-150 King Ranch pickup truck.  His friend Sam Kirkpatrick sat in the passenger’s seat.  They drove through a non-descript suburb of Harbor City.  A random pop song from the 80’s played through the car’s stereo.  The weather outside was sunny yet crisp.

“Are you sure this is the right neighborhood?” Joe asked Sam with a hint of sharpness.  “We’ve been driving for over an hour and still haven’t found the house yet.”

“I’m sure she lives around here.  Pretty sure.”  Responded Sam as he was holding a smartphone horizontally, aiming it out the front right side of the truck.

“Pretty sure?”  Joe kept his eyes on the road.

“Pretty sure.  I’m pretty sure that she lives in Castle Pine.  Or Pine Castle.  One of those two.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?  You don’t know what town she’s in?  Fuck.  We’ve been driving around Castle Pine for an hour.  Pine Castle is on the other side of the city.”

“Then it’s here, in Castle Pine.”  Sam retorted defensively.

“You sure?”

“I’ve been there twice and I don’t remember crossing the city to get there from Tracy’s house.”

“And you don’t have the address?”

“For the hundredth time Joe, I don’t have the address.  If I had the address or could get the address, we wouldn’t be driving around like this.”

“But you at least know what it looks like?”  Joe asked, coming to a stop sign.  He turned right without using his blinker.

“Mmm... sort of.”  Sam said unsure of himself.

“What?”  Joe turned to Sam, glaring daggers at him.

“About 5 months ago, after the last time I was there, I sent a crew over to paint her house.  I think they painted it white, but I’m not certain.  The only guy on that crew whose number I had was Terry.”

“Fuck.”  Joe sighed.  “Tell me you weren’t using that Terry?”

“Yep.  Dumbass Terry.  If we can’t find the house in the next 17 months when he’s due to get released, we’ll ask him when he gets out.”

“Fucking Dumbass Terry.  Don’t suppose...”

Sam cut off Joe.  “No, I don’t have the text messages with him.  I deleted them and that phone had an accident shortly after he got busted.  It was accidentally hit with a hammer a few times and ended up in the trash.”

“Fucking marvelous.  How dumb was he?  He had a pretty good gig going with the house painting stuff, no one asked about his side businesses, but then he tries selling a stolen bike to a cop?”  Sam came to the next intersection, and turned left after a Hollywood stop.

“Meth’s a hell of a drug.”  Sam took a breath and shook his head.  “Hey, thanks for helping out on this and driving.  I know it sucks, but if we find what we’re looking for, it’ll be worth it.  Plus, might get a bonus, too.”

“I hope so.  You’ve been real quiet ever since you met with Pedro.”  Joe said as he drove past another small park.  Or was it the same one they drove past a half hour ago?

“Pedro can’t be his real name.  I ain’t ever met a ginger Pedro before.  He’s...interesting.”  Sam replied.

“You mean paranoid?  He does a lot of shit for The Club.  He has to be paranoid.”  Sam paused for a moment.  “Speaking of paranoid, I see why you asked me to drive.  Every other driveway has a pickup in it.”  Joe stated as they drove past yet another driveway with yet another quad cab pickup in it.

“Yep.  Your truck fits right in.  I’ve got 4 vehicles I can use right now.  My AMG convertible, the beater Cavalier, a work truck with my name on it, and a windowless white van.  Two guys riding around in that tiny little coupe might get our asses beat for being queer, plus Naomi knows what it looks like.  The beater would break down three times in this plan.  My work truck has my company name plastered on it, and two men hunting for a target for a rape while driving a rape wagon will draw a little too much suspicion.”  Sam said, still sitting in the passenger seat.

“Still, when this is done you need to help me with a trip to Lowes.  I’ve got to get some shit for the house.  I told Mari that I was going to help you with some house project.  She just nodded as I left, but then texted and asked what project was I helping the guy that lived in a studio apartment in West Oakville with?  I told her that you were helping me with something, that I slipped up.  A little back and forth and now you’re helping me build a fire pit.”

“A fire pit?”  Sam asked Joe in a confused tone.

“Yeah.  It was either that or redo the basement.  Look, I’m helping you track down this bitch you want to see raped, the least you can do for your cover story is help me build a place in the back yard where we can sit around and drink beers.”

“Don’t you already have a fire pit?”

“Yeah, but now I gotta build another one.  A fancy one that stays in the ground.”  Joe drove to a four-way intersection.  Straight ahead the street led to a school.  To the left was a cul-de-sac.  To the right was a street that led to more houses.

“Which way?”  Joe asked Sam.

“Right.  She wasn’t near a school and didn’t live on a dead end.  Ranch or split level, white house, with an attached garage out front.  She drives a 10-year-old Toyota or Honda sedan.”

“Well that narrows it down to every other fucking house.  Everything not on the cul-de-sacs are single levels, most of the houses are white, and every house has either a pickup or SUV, a Japanese sedan, or both.”

“She ain’t got a pickup.  She was bitching about moving some stuff to storage and needed help, asked to use one of my work trucks.  I told her no, it was needed for some job that day.  Bitch went to Tracy, tried to start some shit between us.  Eventually I let her ride shotgun with one of the Mexicans working with me.  He got back and was like ‘No Mas, No Mas.’  She spent the whole time talking his ear off, he just pretended that he didn’t speak good English.”

“Fuck, dude.”  Joe drove to the next stop sign, a street from the left joined.  They waited as a grey SUV went through the stop sign first.  As they were about to turn left, Joe’s attention was caught by a woman jogging from the left and turning down the street they just came from.  Her light brown hair was tied high up in a quick ponytail.  She wore a pair of yoga pants and a sports bra.  The woman’s ass and tits bounced in just the right way as she jogged.  “Daaaamn.”

Joe’s exaltation caused Sam to turn his head.  His eyes went wide.  “Holy shit, that’s her.”  Sam turned the camera towards the woman and zoomed in where he could.

“You sure?  I don’t remember her looking that fucking good.”

“I’m sure, Joe.  Turn left, find a quick place to turn around, then we’ll come back behind her.  I’ll get some shots of her and we just keep track of where she goes and follow her home.”

“Good plan.”  Joe turned left onto the next street.  The next side street was a cul-de-sac.  He used that to turn the black F-150 around and came back.  When he returned to the corner, he looked to see where he was.  “Beechwood and Hemlock.”  He saw Naomi running down the street, getting closer to the intersection that led to the school.  He waited a moment before turning right.  “You getting this?”

“I’m getting this.  Don’t go too fast, want to catch that ass.”  Responded Sam, pointing the smartphone’s camera out the passenger side window.  Joe slowed down as he saw Naomi get to the corner, not wanting to get too close.  “Whatchya doing?” Asked Sam.

“If she goes to run to the school, we go straight.  If she goes any other way, we go to the school and follow from a distance.  She has to live nearby, no one drives to a residential plan to run among the houses.  If we follow her too close, we’ll spook her.”

Naomi turned right, toward the school.  Joe saw the street signs.  “Beechwood and Ash.  We’ll head over to that cul-de-sac and hang out for a bit.”  Joe pulled into the cul-de-sac labeled Arbor Court.  He drove the car around the turn-around, stopping in front of a house that at first glance appeared empty.  The grass was little unkempt and there was a FOR SALE sign in front of it.  “Let’s park here for a moment.”  Joe put the truck in park.

“So, what do you think?” Sam asked Joe as he pulled up video of Naomi’s ass as they followed her?

Joe whistled a bit.  “That is a fine ass.  It’d look real nice with my cock inside of it.  Tits are nice, too.  Overall, some Grade A pussy right there.”

“To rent, not buy.”  Sam added.  “She’s too much of a fucking bitch to deal with long term.”

“What’re you thinking now?”  Joe asked Sam.

“Good call parking in front of the house for sale.  We’re angled facing the street so we can follow her when she comes out.  As long as she’s not there for too long.  Meanwhile, we got the names of these streets and I can search through the tax records to find her house.  That is, if she doesn’t come out first.  If any neighbors ask, we’re looking for a rental property.  They’ll probably get pissy and won’t want anyone to buy the property just to rent it out, so we’ll have a couple minutes after that to leave before things get weird.”


“I know these suburban NIMBY types when they see a developer or renter come around.  They won’t answer questions, they’ll tell you to get lost, and if you hang around too long they’ll cops on you.  So, you look up the house listing on an app or two, I’ll go on to the Chester County tax site, see what house around here is Naomi’s.  My guess is she’s on one of the nearby streets.  She’s close enough to run to the school, run around it for a few minutes, then back home.  She’s not a big runner, only does it a little for weight loss and working out.”

“Okay.”  Joe said as Sam pulled a second phone out of beige coat, swiftly navigating through the county tax site to list the nearby houses.  Joe pulled out his smartphone and looked up the listing for the house they parked in front of.  It was a 2 story post-colonial, post-modern, post-taste design that was built long after the rest of the plan.  “Get this shit, 4 bed, 3 bath, 2300 square feet listed for $450,000.  Been on the market 2 months.  Everything remodeled on the inside, look.”  Joe showed Sam the pics of the house on his phone.

“Looks like a paint and flip by some out of towner.  Fuck’em.”  Sam went back to his search.  Nothing on Arbor Court or Ash Drive owned by Naomi.  “She doesn’t live here or on Ash, checking Beechwood next.” 

Joe flipped through the local comps that were similar to the house they parked in front of.  “Why not search for her name?”

“Some sports player got all panicky about 20 years ago when the site launched, everyone could search by name and found where they lived.  The county had to turn off that feature in some lawsuit.  Instead, I have to go street by street.  Nothing on Beechwood, going to Hemlock.”  Sam only needed a moment.

“JACKPOT!  Naomi Starkey, 1371 Hemlock Drive.  We got her.”

“Double Jackpot, look!”  Joe drew Sam’s attention to Naomi as she jogged away from the school and back to the intersection.  Sam fumbled with the first smartphone for a moment, eventually getting the camera to record and focus on her as she slowed down to the corner.

“Hot fucking damn.”  Joe muttered as he saw her face and body clearly.  Her sports bra was a brown natural pattern and held her boobs perfectly.  Her cleavage wasn’t vast in this top, but was enough to keep him intrigued.

Naomi turned left down Beechwood and jogged.  As she turned, Joe could see little white things sticking out of her ears.

“Earbuds, probably won’t hear us as we drive past.  We’ll wait till she gets to the corner, then pull out.  You recording?”

“Yep.”  Sam recorded her run with the camera.  Naomi reached the corner of Beechwood and Hemlock and stopped, jogging in place for a moment.  A brief moment later and she was running out of sight.  Joe put the truck in gear and slowly pulled up to the stop sign.  No traffic, good.  Joe drove down the block to the next stop sign at Beechwood and Hemlock.  Naomi was now on the right side of the street past Cherry Court, the short street they turned around in earlier, and was slowing down.  Sam held the camera steady, making sure he caught a great shot of Naomi getting to her house.  They drove past just in time to see Naomi stop at the garage door and type in a code.  The door raised open.  A grey Toyota Camry was in the driveway with the license plate clearly visible to the world.  In the front yard a skinny blonde woman played with a twelve-year-old boy.

“We good?”  Joe asked as he drove further down Hemlock Drive.

“Oh, we good.  We fucking good.”  Sam said, pausing the video on a shot that showed both Naomi and the blonde.  Joe stopped at the next stop sign and Sam showed him his screen.

“Hot damn, who is that little fuckpiece?”  Joe liked what he saw.  She was about as tall as Naomi, looked very much like her, but with curly blonde hair and smaller breasts.  She wore a spaghetti strap tank and light blue jeans.

“That’s Lexi, her daughter.  I’m saving her for a special occasion.”

« Last Edit: May 18, 2021, 10:45:58 PM by LtBroccoli »
Always close the program you were running before exiting the holodeck

  • Guest
You tell great stories. I will give you a merit simply for breaking down codes for each chapter. And because it's fun reading

Offline LtBroccoli

  • Undergrad
  • ******
  • Posts: 860
  • Merits 487
Thanks Dawn.  I always try to give the story codes just so I don't catch someone off guard.  I spent a lot of time in ASSM so I got used to the story codes.

The Club of Chester County – Sam’s Story

Chapter 4:  Yard Work (nosex, setup, mild racism)

Author’s Note:  This is a work of fiction.  All characters and locations are made up.  The acts portrayed are also fictional.  Rape is wrong, racism is wrong, violence is wrong.

Author’s Second Note:  This is also character introduction and setup, and will tie in to the rest of the story in the future.

Author's Third Note:  This is the last section in Sam's Intro.  The next large chunk of the story focuses on the events we all came here to see, and will be in the next thread I start.

It was early afternoon that Saturday when Sam and Joe returned to Joe’s house.  The bed of Joe’s truck was filled with paver stones, large bricks, and the rest of the items required to build a fire pit.  The truck was parked in the driveway, the garage door stood open behind them.  The men unloaded the items into a wheelbarrow.  Joe wore a polo shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes while Sam was in his beige coat, khakis, and loafers.  They were dressed for going out to a chain restaurant to watch a sports game, not for doing yardwork.

“You know, next time we go out...”  Sam struggled as he dropped another heavy brick in the wheelbarrow.  “Let’s coordinate stories.  I wouldn’t be wearing my office clothes if I knew we were doing yardwork.”

“I needed something or it was gonna be a big ass fight.  Oh, you’re welcome by the way.  We got what you needed.”  Joe replied curtly.

“I’m not saying I’m not grateful.”  Sam huffed, attempting to catch his breath before picking up another stone.  “Just let me know what we’re doing ahead of time.”

“God, you are such a pussy sometimes.  I have some clothes if you need them.  Laundry won’t kill you.”

“Says you, you have a house with a washer and dryer and wife who does your clothes.  I live in an apartment building in West Oakville with a coin-op machine where I have to sit by with a shank to make sure some crackhead doesn’t steal my clothes.  Again.”

“Those crackheads wouldn’t steal your clothes.  They’d pull them out and say ‘God damn, I look like Walter White if he had Type 2 Diabetes instead of Cancer.’ Then they’d put a note on the washer that says ‘I know I suck dick for crack rock, but at least I don’t look like a high school science teacher.’”

Both men tried to keep a straight face.  That lasted all of 5 seconds before Sam busted out laughing, followed by Joe.  As they were laughing, the door from the basement to the garage opened.  Out walked Mari, Joe’s wife.  Mari was a remarkable beauty of a woman at a diminutive height.  Her alabaster skin was contrasted by her dark brown, nearly black hair.  Her brown eyes, short nose, and full lips made her face look younger than her age of 42.  The only features that belied her true age were her ‘I-want-to-talk-to-your-manager’ haircut and her clothes of red sweater and black slacks that concealed her flesh yet accentuated her figure.  Her ample bosom and hips were clearly visible.

“Having fun yet boys?”  Mari asked the two laughing men.

“Hey honey.  Sam’s here.”

“Really?  Didn’t notice.”  The sarcasm oozed from her mouth.  Mari eyed Sam up and down.  “Do you always do yard work dressed like a science teacher?”

“Ha ha.  I had an appointment early this morning to show an apartment.  In the middle of that Dipshit McGee over here,“ Sam points at Joe with his thumb “tells me he’s driving since we need to go to Lowe’s and pick up some stuff for a surprise.”

“Yeah, I was surprised too, considering we just got our current fire pit LAST YEAR.”  Mari eyed Joe hard when she said that last part.

“That’s my fault Mare.  I made the mistake of telling your idiot husband that I really liked the firepit machine you’ve got, and would like to get one just like it for my house, when I get a new house.”

“Wait, you’re getting a house?  To live in?  Not, rent out and turn into a crackhouse?”  Mari asked, genuinely surprised.

“I’m thinking about it.  The last couple months have sucked living in one of my apartments, and I’d like to do laundry without fighting off rats and crackheads.  But I’m just thinking about it.  Anyway, Joe thought that the firepit machine would make a great housewarming gift, but knew you’d flip your shit if he gave it away without doing something better, so here we are.  I’m dressed like fat Walter White doing yardwork.”

“Flip my shit?”  Mari latched on to the only part of Sam’s story that cast her in a bad light.

“Those are more my words than his, but he doesn’t want to downgrade this.  He’s hoping he can have it ready later this month, but you know how he is with timing these home projects.”

“Hey.”  Joe said before realizing he said that part out loud.

Mari looked over both of the men.  Joe refused to make eye contact, and Sam faced her full on.  She looked the two over again and again for a solid ten seconds before speaking.

“It better be real nice, and needs to be ready before getting rid of the current firepit.  Don’t half-ass it again like you did the deck.  It cost too much time and money for you to learn that you suck at carpentry.”

“Yes honey.”  Joe said meekly.

“If you need anything, I’ll be inside.”  With that, Mari headed inside and closed the door behind her.  Joe waited until he was certain she was out of earshot before opening his mouth.

“Damn, son.  You know how to spin a yarn.  And you got a new firepit machine out of the deal.”  Joe walked over and slapped Sam on the shoulder.  “So, what’s the next part?”

Sam sat on the open tailgate of the truck.  “Well, we fuck around with this for a couple weekends, see if we can make some headway.  Meanwhile, I get a crew to do it in a day when she’s not home, and the only thing you pay for are supplies and permits.  I cover the labor, and we’ll be drinking beers around a fire in no time.  As far as the house, I guess I better start looking.”  Sam said, shrugging his shoulders.

“I can help with that.  Gladly get me out of here for a little bit.  Come on, let’s get this shit in the back yard.”  Joe pushed the loaded wheelbarrow into the back yard back where the current wood stove sat.  Sam followed, struggling with a bag of stones.  Sam dropped the stones next to where Joe stopped.  “Next time...,” Sam said while sucking for air “Next time, no physical labor for an alibi.”

The men worked for another hour unloading the truck and dumping materials in the backyard.  They had almost enough supplies to do half of a half-assed job.

“Looks like a few more trips are in order.”  Sam said.

“Yeah, we’ll get...” Sam’s phone and watch buzzed, and a text message appeared on his smart watch from an unsaved number.

(803)555-2187:  Party tonight.  Check your messages.

“Oh, shit.”  Joe looked at his watch in disbelief for a moment.  “Ok, we’re going inside, act calm, don’t say shit to Mari or any of the kids.  If she asks, I’m showing you some ideas for the firepit.”

“What’s going on?”  Sam asked Joe.

“I got a text from a burner number that I set up that forwards messages from The Club.  Talk to Pedro about how to do that.  I just got one saying there might be a party tonight.  We’re gonna check this out.  Just play it cool and be quiet.”

Always close the program you were running before exiting the holodeck

Offline LtBroccoli

  • Undergrad
  • ******
  • Posts: 860
  • Merits 487
Re: The Club of Chester County, Sam's Intro (Story codes with each chapter)
« Reply #5 on: August 18, 2020, 02:56:45 PM »
Always close the program you were running before exiting the holodeck

Offline MarvThor
  • Freshman
  • **
  • Posts: 22
  • Merits 2
Re: The Club of Chester County, Sam's Intro (Story codes with each chapter)
« Reply #6 on: September 28, 2020, 01:13:25 PM »
I can't wait for Naomi to receive her just desserts.  >:D

Offline grendel

  • Graduate
  • *******
  • Posts: 1,782
  • Merits 88
  • Depraved Sadist
Re: The Club of Chester County, Sam's Intro (Story codes with each chapter)
« Reply #7 on: December 10, 2020, 07:24:59 PM »
Ah.  So now we see the bad guys ... cool ... though I have to say I like the good guys a heck of a lot more, better villains would be nice :P ... hmmm ... he says wondering just how fucking complex this is going to get.
It's what they're FOR! 
Grendel's Tales

Offline Petite99S

  • Senior
  • *****
  • Posts: 259
  • Merits 45
Re: The Club of Chester County, Sam's Intro (Story codes with each chapter)
« Reply #8 on: December 11, 2020, 08:57:28 PM »
I love your epic crime drama so far and wonder how or if George catches Sam and Joe eventually. Also thought those sparks of humour throughout were well-placed and much needed breaks for me. As usual, I also think your writing style is very easy to read and actually look forward to your character dialogue and banter. Because I read Bubbles' story first, was interesting getting to read about how Sam joined. My long overdue merit for a wonderful start.

Here's to Good people, good nights, Good highs, good health. Some tears, some stress. But I count my blessings. Here's to Good music, great sex. Little time to feel alive. Little time to get it right