tagLoving WivesKidnapped

Kidnapped

byEnglish Bob©

The morning sun was already hot as I emerged, bleary eyed, from the motel room and faced the day. It was going to be a long one, I knew. A vast tract of parched desert stretched almost endlessly between us and the more welcoming coast - our final destination. I could hear my wife, Christine, busy inside the room, packing the few items that we had used for the one night stop-over. I stretched my arms above me and yawned, letting the warmth of the sun bathe and caress my torso. Time to move on again.

After a light breakfast of coffee and eggs I fired up the 4X4. She seemed to be running a little rough, I thought. But I paid it little attention, the car was almost new and, so far, had been completely faultless. Anyway, only two or three days more driving and we would be at our new beach-front home. I'm sure it was the thought of long, lazy evenings watching the sun go down over the ocean that had kept both Chris and I going through the long journey.

As the morning progressed, so the temperature began to soar. The air-conditioning was already turned up to full power, but even then the inside of the car was hot and sticky. The radio played an endless selection of Country music and the monotonous scenery was nearly enough to send us to sleep. By midday I was about to suggest that Chris might like to drive for a while, when I heard a noise from the engine. Even above the radio it sounded bad, and in my experience, bad usually meant expensive! As I pulled the car over to the side of the road, the engine died completely.

The silence that seemed to cloak and envelop us was eerie. No traffic, not even bird sounds, just the ghostly whistle of the light breeze that fluttered and swirled the road dust around us. I looked north and then south along the straight line of the road. Nothing moved. Just silence.

"Is it bad?" called Chris from the passenger seat as I looked at the confusing array of wires and components in the engine compartment.

"Well, it won't go! I think that's bad enough, don't you?"

I immediately regretted my snappy tone of voice. It wasn't her fault. "Sorry, darling. Yes, I think it's bad."

"What are we going to do?

"I guess we'll just have to sit tight and wait until another car passes. We must be at least a hundred miles from any form of civilization, there's no point in trying to walk."

The only shade around was inside the car, and with no conditioned air we were both soaked through with sweat within a few minutes. Fortunately, Chris had thought to bring several gallon jugs of water with her, and the cool liquid kept us refreshed and fairly high spirited for nearly an hour.

The only sign of life came after nearly ninety minutes. Chris heard the noise first; a low rumbling from the north.

"A car!" she cried, jumping out of our vehicle to see.

I quickly joined her and we both stood on the side of the road shielding our eyes in an attempt to spot the vehicle. Sure enough, in the middle distance we could see the front of a truck driving towards us accompanied by great plumes of dust on either side. Frantically, we both started waving our arms about as the vehicle drew nearer: A big eighteen wheeled rig, gleaming chrome frontage. Finally, amidst swirling dust and the hiss of air-brakes, the truck slowed to a halt just in front of us.

"You folk's in trouble?" called a voice from the drivers window.

It was difficult to make out the man's features beneath the obligatory baseball cap and dark glasses. "You need some help?"

The driver jumped from the cab accompanied by three other grubby looking men. It looked like they had been on the road for some time.

"Mike here's pretty good with engines. He'll take a look for you."

I was grateful, but didn't hold out much hope of him being able to fix the problem on the side of the road. After he had made a brief inspection, my fears were confirmed.

"Nah, fuel line's broke!" Mike drawled as his head re-appeared from the dark recesses of the engine.

For a moment the four men, Chris and myself all looked at each other in silence.

"Little town about ninety miles south." The trucker said scratching his chin. "Could give you a ride as far as there. Garage service there should be able to sort you out!"

Both Chris and I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought for a moment they were going to leave us on the side of the road. The driver himself looked and sounded friendly enough, but the others were a little worrying, I wasn't sure I liked the way they seemed to be mentally assessing the value of my car. But we had little choice; sit out here and fry, or accept the ride.

As soon as the truck reached cruising speed, I regretted our decision. My concerns about the drivers crew seemed well founded as the mood in the cab soon began to change. I was about to say something when I heard a click and noticed that the cab doors had been automatically locked.

"Hey! Wait a -" I started.

My words were cut off abruptly by a fist being slammed into my chest. Doubled up in some considerable pain, it became more difficult to register what was now going on in the cab. Noise seemed to be coming from all directions; swearing, screams from Chris and shouts from the driver.

"Everybody SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" he suddenly yelled.

The cab quickly fell into silence.

"Just give us your cash and credit cards, man, and we might just let you live!" he smirked at me.

"No, man!" interrupted the taller member of the crew. "They've seen us. Seen all of us. We gotta get the cash and dump them, man. Out here they won't stand a chance, they'll be dead inside two hours."

"Okay, okay, maybe you're right. Fine, we'll just dump them. But not here on the road, another car could pass and pick them up. I know an old deserted house nearby, we'll take them there!"

I felt a pair of steel handcuffs being slipped over my wrists and a old rag was stuffed into my mouth and held in place by duct tape. I looked over at Chris, surprised to see that she wasn't crying, she seemed to be handling the situation well. The thought that Chris had never really wanted to move out here in the first place, struck me hard at this point. This situation must have just been the icing on the cake for her.

Another forty minutes drive and we approached a small, deserted shack stuck out in the middle of nowhere. Was this to be the last place we would ever see? A strange melancholy swept over me, I guess the type of inner peace that only accompanies a feeling of hopelessness. Chris and I were quickly bundled out of the cab and onto the dusty track that led to the broken front door. The fact that I was manacled and gagged and Chris was not, struck me as a little odd. As the man I remembered as Mike suddenly spoke up, my worst fears were realised.

"Hey, Hank. We got some time, how about a little fun with the bitch before we leave?"

This was a dread that had been playing around in the back of my mind ever since I was punched. I had tried to ignore it, but the situation was now very real: they were going to rape my wife.

"Sounds like a good idea." Replied the driver, "but what about him?"

"Let's make him watch!" Mike laughed in reply

The four men seemed quickly decided on their course of action and Chris and I were bundled in through he door. They wasted no time and I found myself thrown into a hard-backed chair and re-handcuffed with my wrists behind me attached to the chair's frame. I struggled to free myself but it was a vain attempt; I could hardly move.

"Strip the bitch!" Cried the driver, Hank. "Let's see what she's got!"

I could feel my face burning red with frustrated anger as my wife simply stood in front of her assailants and allowed them to disrobe her. Being so hot, She wasn't wearing much at all and the process of removing her blouse, shorts and underwear took less than a minute. I couldn't quite understand why Chris was letting all this happen without any sign of a struggle - I just supposed that this was her way of dealing with the situation.

The men were not prepared to be idle spectators for long. Two of them quickly lifted my wife off her feet and placed her, unceremoniously, on her back atop an old table in the centre of the dingy room. A third man began tearing the tattered tablecloth into strips and was soon joined by the fourth as they used the pieces to tie Chris's wrists and ankles to the table legs.

Her legs were spread wide as they worked silently, the only sounds being heard were the occasional soft moans that escaped my wife's lips as she felt fingers or lips brush her exposed breasts and inner thighs.

Once their work was complete, the men stood back briefly to admire their work; Chris looked helpless spreadeagle on the table with her thighs spread wide and her most private area exposed for all to see. Her large breasts seemed to tremble and quiver in the half light and I was shocked to see her nipples standing firm and hard atop the milky white slopes. And then the zippers started to come down. Hank and Mike were the first to get in on the action and the two burly men took up positions at either end of the small table. Hank stood between her outstretched legs, looking down at her with a smirk and playing with a solid looking erection. With one hand on her breast he moved forward and penetrated her roughly. Christine's lips parted with what I thought was going to be cry, but the sound that escaped could only be described as a contented moan of pleasure. Could she actually be enjoying this, I wondered?

Meanwhile, Mike's pants were around his ankles and he was bent over my wife from above. His lips closed over her free breast and suckled the hard, pointed nipple noisily. I could see that his cock was also stiff and swollen as it protruded from between his muscled legs. Again, Chris moaned out in ecstasy leaving me - and the others - in little doubt as to her true feelings.

"Sound's to me like your little slut is enjoying this!" Grunted Hank as he slammed the entire length of his penis into my wife's pussy. "Jeez man, when was the last time you fucked her? She's got a hot cunt that's sucking my dick right into her! Damn! She's so fucking tight!"

His words stung me like a whip. It was true. Chris and I hadn't slept together for over a month. We had been having problems and I thought that this trip would help sort them out. How wrong was I!

And then it happened. The unthinkable. With a deep growling moan that I remembered from long ago, Chris began to shake and shudder as an orgasm began to wash over her body. The pitch of her voice rose as did the volume until, with a deafening cry of satisfaction she arched her back and climaxed hard with Hank's tool still buried inside her.

My wife's violent convulsions were obviously too much for Hank to control himself further and, with a howl of pure animal lust he yanked his cock free of her pussy and began to spray his sticky load over her belly.

But Chris was to given little rest, it seemed. Quickly untying her bonds, she was flipping over onto her wet belly and retied. Again her legs were well spread, but this time her buttocks as well as her drenched pussy were fully on display.

"Give it to her in the ass, Mike!" Cried Hank to his buddy. "I reckon she really wants it up her!"

Mike smiled and ran the length of his cock through the crease in my wife's buttocks.

"Do you, bitch? Do you want me to fuck your ass for you?"

"Damn, yes!" Chris cried out, vocal for the first time.

I'm not sure if I was more shocked by the ferocity of her tone or the actual words. I'd certainly never had anal sex with her!

"Yes...yes...yes..." she continued, lustily. "Fuck my ass, Mike. Fuck me hard!"

Now I was in no doubt. My confused mind finally had to accept that my wife was actually enjoying the assault. Really loving it!

With a cry from both Mike and Chris, he thrust his long, thin erection into her waiting, willing anus. His full weight was across her back as he slammed deeper and deeper, harder and harder; just as Chris had requested. Their joint moans and sighs reverberated around the small room as the other men and I looked on fascinated. Unlike his friend, Mike wasn't about to pull out of Christine's body to cum. With trembling hands that gripped her hips he suddenly thrust his entire length into her back passage and moaned deeply. It was obvious from the way that his knees shook and his thighs quivered, that he was filling Christine's ass with a huge amount of semen.

"Shit! That was good, man!" he said as he disengaged himself from my wife. "I aint cum that had for fucking ages. The bitch has got one good ass for fucking!"

With that, Mike gave Christine's rump a light spank. I watched as the flesh turned pink and rippled.

"Go on then you guy's. Let's finish her off!" Cried Hank, still seemingly directing the proceedings. I had almost forgotten that there were still two men left who hadn't experienced my wife's pleasures.

Again, Chris was relocated to a different position; this time tied to a chair on her hands and knees. The two men dropped their pants and approached her. There was no finesse now, no foreplay at all. In one movement the first, slightly taller guy had his cock buried deeply in her pussy from behind. As he entered her, I could see Mike's jism oozing from her dilated asshole. The second guy moved in front of her and cupped her chin in his hand bringing her face up in line with his thick, erect weapon. Chris needed no instructions and as he body bounced around on the cock behind her, she swallowed the one in front of her straight into her mouth.

Fucked from both ends, Chris looked like a rocking horse; back onto the cock in her pussy and then forward to allow the one in front to push roughly into her mouth. She was see-sawed back and forward in this fashion for several minutes moaning around the tool in her mouth as once again an orgasm rocked her lithe frame. The two men seemed to cum almost simultaneously. Chris didn't seem to know where to look for her next delivery of hot, male seed. Her mouth and face were splashed wetly by the convulsing cock that was being aimed directly at her face, and her pussy and buttocks were drenched by the second man that had cum in her vagina. A few moans and groans more and my wife seemed to go limp from exhaustion.

Everyone now sated, the mood in the room seemed to change yet again. My mind was so confused that I don't think I could have strung together an articulate sentence even had the rag not been still gagging me.

"Just give us a moment, will you boys." said Chris as her hands and ankles became easily liberated from their bonds.

My mind somersaulted. What the hell was going on now? Sensing my utter bewilderment, Chris spoke to me quietly.

"George, calm down. I'm fine, really, I'm okay. I'm afraid you've been tricked. This has all been a set up. I met up with the guys last night while you were drinking and they agreed to help me." she continued before I had a chance to protest dumbly. "Our marriage has been in the shitter for a while now, you know that. You gotta stop drinking and pay more attention to me. I need to be loved; mentally and physically - sometimes very physically, as you've just witnessed. You have a choice now, George. Promise to drink less and fuck more and we can just go on to the coast as planned, but choose the bottle and I go back north with the boy's. It up to you George."

Chris fell silent, waiting for my response. I indicated the gag and she gently removed it. I gasped, swallowing in great lungful's of air and coughing violently. I looked up at her naked and semen stained body. There was no choice to make.

"The bottle's gone, Chris." I stated. She smiled. "But I have a condition too."

"Yes, what is it?"

I know you need a lot of sex. Will you promise to fuck other guys as well as me? Today has taught me many things, but one is certainly that watching you get gang-banged is the most erotic thing I have ever seen. Now if you'll kindly take these handcuffs off, I've got a solid hard-on that needs your pussy!"

Christine smiled as she began undressing me. I heard the door close as the boy's went back to their truck a very happy crew. I knew that we would be okay now.

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