Hot Summer in Tijuana

Warning! Women are raped in this story. There are no donkeys or sex with any animals or under 18 sex in this story. If you prefer nice stories where everyone is polite and pleasant, read my story "Gorgeous Girl".

^^^It's eleven a.m. on a hot Saturday in June in a kidnapper's hideout^^^

"Oh! Mmmm! Chica, you're tight," the bad guy hollered.

"Oh! Yes!" the stocky, brown man dressed in the style made famous by Porky Pig (he had a blue shirt on and no pants) cried out as he thrust his dick deep inside the kidnapped woman he was raping.

He jabbed his cock forcefully and repeatedly into the naked, petite woman he was fucking doggie style.

The grunting of a man and the crying of a woman woke Franklin, and he discovered he was lying on a concrete floor. He moved. His body was stiff and sore because last night, in addition to being kidnapped and locked in a cell, he was beaten.

Franklin sat up gingerly and yelled, "You filthy animal. Leave the poor woman alone."

The rapist said in Spanish to his comrades, "Matthew, silence him. He's disturbing my quality time with the American whore."

"Si, Carlos," the associate said, and he grabbed a cudgel. He stuck it through the bars and whacked the prisoner on the head, shoulders, and his arms.

Franklin cried out in pain and moved to the rear of the cell to avoid the henchman's blows.

"Ohhhh!" the pantless man exclaimed as he climaxed and shot his load into Sybil, the unfortunate twenty-eight-year-old American who was his victim. He laughed as he pulled out, grabbed a handful of her long, honey-blond hair, and used it to clean his cock.

The young woman slumped to the ground. Her body was dirty, her hair was a matted mess, and her face looked like a raccoon's. Tears had caused her mascara to run. She'd rubbed her eyes and now had large, black smudge marks under her baby blues.

Franklin couldn't stop his eyes from studying her body.

She was short and slender except for her boobs. They were huge. Full and round. At first sight, you'd think a woman that slender could only have breasts that big because of implants, but Franklin had seen them bounce and sway when she was raped. Only natural breasts move like that.

"Gracias, puta!" the rapist said as he dressed. He switched to English and added, "I hope your family is slow paying your ransom, so I can fuck you again and again."

He laughed as he used Sybil's phone to snap a picture of the abused woman and said, "I am sending this to your mommy and daddy. This will convince them that you've been kidnapped, and they need to pay for your release."

Franklin held his tongue and grimaced. He shook his head and wondered, "What's wrong with the human race? How can people be so cruel?"

He knew the answer because, unfortunately, he'd seen worse.

In his short life, he'd had a front-row seat for some horrendous acts while fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq. He'd personally witnessed man's tremendous capacity to inflict pain and suffering. What astonished him was those events had happened during wartime.

His next thought was, "How could a vicious kidnapping operation that focused on Americans exist thirty minutes from San Diego? Why hadn't the US government put a stop to this?"

He stared daggers at the rapist and came to the front of the cell. If not for the steel cage, he'd have killed the man with his bare hands.

Carlos buckled his belt, turned to Franklin, and said, "Get back. Away from the door."

Franklin moved.

The rapist unlocked the cell and pushed Sybil inside. She fell. He locked the cell, and the two Mexicans laughed and joked as they left the room.

"Are you okay?" Franklin asked as he knelt beside the abused woman. He took off his shirt and said, "My name's Franklin. Here. Put this on."

"I'm Sybil. I've had better days and, unfortunately, I've had worse."

The shirt was ripped. It had no buttons. When he was roughed up by his captors, the shirt was damaged.

She put it on and adjusted the tattered shirt around her shoulders. It was too big for her, which was good because it provided some coverage for her lower body. There was a tear in the front of the dress shirt, leaving a hole that exposed one large, engorged nipple.

She sat on the floor with her legs together and pulled her knees to her chest. He sat perpendicular to her with his back leaning up against a stone wall. He couldn't see her sex, but he did see a growing wet spot on the concrete floor which he assumed was cum leaking out of her hairless pussy.

"I've gotta pee," she announced.

There was no toilet in the cell. There was nothing but iron bars, a concrete floor, and a bucket.

She got up and went to the bucker. She squatted over it, facing away from Franklin. She pulled the shirt up to her waist and put her other hand against the stone wall to steady her body as she pissed and expelled Carlos' cum.

Franklin couldn't take his eyes off her. Her butt was small, barely bigger than the span of one of his spread hands. While it was little, it didn't look like a kid's bottom. It was round, toned, and jutted out. With her legs spread, and since he was sitting on the floor, he could see the thick outer lips of her vagina.

When she finished, she dabbed her pussy with the tail of the shirt. She let the shirt drop. It covered her ass. She smoothed the shirt like she would a skirt or dress before sitting on the concrete.

Franklin had two problems: he had an erection, and an urgent need to relieve himself. He went to the bucket and, facing away from her, pulled out his dick. It pointed straight out at the wall. He had no choice but to pick up the bucket and raise it to his penis. He peed, shook his prick, and placed the bucket on the floor. Red-faced, he put his dick away and sat down.

"Were you kidnapped? I was kidnapped last night," Sybil said.

"Yes. They got me last night."

"They are asking my family to send $100,000. Ha! My family doesn't have that kind of money. They kidnapped my sister too. Do you think she and your friends got away?"

"I hope so, but I have no idea. Someone hit me from behind and knocked me out."

"My sister and I and your friends got outside. I thought we were going to get away, and then a bunch of guys drove into the compound. We scattered. I was caught. I think...I hope my sister and your friends escaped."

She spoke while staring at the door leading out of the room. She turned her head toward her fellow captive and found him studying her face.

"You look familiar," Franklin said. "There was a Sybil in my ninth-grade class at Eastlake High in San Diego. Are you Sybil Miller?"

"I am. You went to Eastlake?"

"Small world."

"I was there for just one year."

^^^The previous night, Friday, around 8 p.m.^^^

"Don't do it!" Charlie pleaded. He was on one knee.

His hopeful expression changed to one of sadness as he saw that his words had no impact on his friend, Roger. He shook his head in disbelief and added, "I can't believe you're getting married."

Franklin, the third person at the table, said, "I'm happy for you. Congratulations, Roger" He raised a tumbler of Scotch and drank to his friend's impending nuptials.

The three twenty-eight-year-old men had known each other for a dozen years. They'd met in San Diego in the ninth grade where they were in the same homeroom and on the football team.

Charlie was the flashy touchdown-catching wide receiver. He was then and still is the life of the party.

Roger was the dashing, gun-slinging quarterback.

Franklin was the strong, steady, and reliable guy. He played guard. The trio instantly became best friends and remained close over the years.

They all knew the fiancee, Trudy. She had gone to their high school.

Franklin thought, "I wonder if it could've been me marrying Trudy. We all attended her ninth-grade birthday party. She had on a pretty pink dress with a large bow. She came to me, said hello, and tried to engage me in a conversation. I was so stupid and shy that I couldn't talk or look her in the eye. She got frustrated and walked away. She went to Roger. They hit it off, and the rest is history."

Charlie raised his glass and said, "Don't get me wrong, Trudy's a great girl. She's gorgeous. Red hair, green eyes, and nice tits. Screw her for sure, but do you have to marry her? For God's sake, you're only twenty-eight."

Charlie sipped the whisky and added, "This is your prime babe-banging time!" He gave his friend a bewildered look and asked, "Is she pregnant?"

Roger laughed and shook his head, "Same old Charlie. You've got no filter."

"Enough, Charlie," Franklin said. "We should all be so lucky as to marry a beautiful woman as great as Trudy."

Charlie looked at him as if he was an alien from outer space. He said, "Scout, you continue to amaze me. You see the good in everything."

Charlie had bestowed the nickname "Scout" on Franklin in high school because he was decent, responsible, kind, polite, and well-behaved. Like a Boy Scout.

Charlie was the wild and crazy guy of the group. Roger was the bridge that connected them. He took his studies seriously and had goals, like Franklin, and he enjoyed a good party as much as Charlie.

Roger said, "Thank you, Scout, for your kind words. And Charlie, knock it off. I've thought this through, and I'm marrying Trudy because I love her. Don't start any rumors about her being pregnant, or you'll be uninvited to the wedding."

The three men were at dinner at a nice hotel in San Diego at Roger's request. It had been a while since they were together. Charlie and Franklin thought it was the beginning of one of their periodic boy's weekends consisting of drinking, golfing, and more drinking. After they had finished dinner, Roger had sprung the news that he was getting married.

Charlie inhaled his drink. He signaled the waiter to bring them another round. As the other guys talked, he drank more and worked his way through the five stages of grief. He made it to acceptance.

"Your news shocked me," Charles said to Roger, " but if that's the road you've chosen, I'll support you. Hey! I'm taking you south of the border. We'll have a Tijuana bachelor party tonight! We'll hit our old haunts!"

"I don't know," Franklin said. "Things usually get out of hand, and we nearly ended up in jail last time."

"We've had some epic trips," Roger said fondly as he recalled them.

"Yes!" Charlie seized on his endorsement. "Leave everything to me." he glanced at his watch and said, "Meet me in the lobby in thirty minutes. This will be a night we never forget." He dashed from the table.

^^^Earlier that day at 1 p.m.^^^

"Bye," Sybil said to a group of women who fourteen months ago were strangers and now were the best of friends. She and the others had gone to a morning pray and a contemplation session. They had lunch, and now, after hugging everyone, they were leaving. She waved to the group of women with whom she'd spent five cathartic days at a religious retreat for addicts trying to stay clean.

She attended these meetings a couple of times a year. These quiet, contemplative trips helped her center herself. It was part of her ongoing therapy to stay off drugs and live the wholesome, virtuous life she truly wanted.

She climbed into her car and reached into the glove compartment to get her phone. She had been disconnected from the world for five days. No phone. No computer. A requirement of the retreat.

She powered it up and saw numerous messages from her grandmother. She called her immediately.

"Hello, Nana. What's up?"

A frantic voice said, "Your sister's been kidnapped. I got a phone demanding a ransom of $100,000. I'm supposed to send it to Mexico. The man has called twice. He's very upset and didn't believe me when I said I don't have that kind of money. I'm afraid he's going to hurt her! He said he would hurt her if I called the police, so I didn't."

"I'm coming over."

Sybil ended the call and started driving. All the calmness she'd achieved at the retreat left her. "I bet Sabina is using again. Fuck! What's the matter with us? Dad and Mom die of overdoses, and Sabrina and I have to fight the urge to shoot up or snort every day of our lives. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

She drove to her grandmother's house and got the details. She hardly needed to. The story was the usual scenario.

Nana said, "According to your sister's roommates, the three of them went out to a club on Wednesday. Sabrina met up with some of her old friends and decided to hang with them. The roommates went home. No one has heard or seen your sister since. And now, someone named Carlos is demanding money, more money than I have to free Sabrina. What should we do?"

Sybil hugged her grandmother and said, "I'll handle it." The old woman wiped away her tears.

As Sybil drove to her sister's place, she wondered, "Is this even true? Or is this a scam my sister is running to get money for drugs?"

Sybil went to her sister's place and talked to one of the roommates.

Kathy said, "She ditched us for some drug-using friends. I don't need that in my life. Meg and I let her go her own way. I haven't seen or heard from her since. I hope nothing bad has happened to her."

"Who were these friends?"

"I didn't know them. The guy struck me as a shady character. He invited everyone to his place. Meg and I turned him down, and we tried to get your sister to come home with us, but you know how she is."

"Yes. Obstinate and prone to make bad decisions which pretty much describes everyone in my family. Thanks. Call me if you hear from her."

The pretty roommate promised.

Sybil continued to call her sister as she searched for her. The phone went straight to voicemail. She left a few curse-filled messages. She spent the next couple of hours talking to people who knew her sister. She checked out places where a drug addict might be and tried to learn more about Wednesday's party.

She got the name and address of a guy who had a big, drug-fueled party and drove to his home. She arrived around eight p.m. Calling it a house was an overstatement. It was a hovel. But it was secluded which made it the perfect place for drug addicts to party.

She knocked on the door and waited. She knocked again. Still no answer. She pounded on the door and yelled, "Hey! Billy!"

She continued to knock loudly and shout until the door opened. A strung-out, disheveled man wearing dirty boxers said in a cranky manner, "What?"

Sybil punched him in the chest with both hands causing him to step backward, and she shouted, "Where's Sabrina?"

"What?" he cried out. His blood-shot eyes focused on the woman at his door. He said, "I know you. I've sold you drugs. Sybil, is that what you're here for? I can fix you up..."

She punched him again and said with venom in her voice, "I'm looking for my sister, Sabrina."

"Hey, babe. Why the attitude?"

"My sister is missing. I heard she was here using last Wednesday," she said frantically. "No one has seen her since."

Billy smiled and said, "I remember the party." He reached out, stroked her arm, and said, "You missed a good one."

Sybil violently slapped his hand away and said, "Don't touch me!"

Instantly his face changed from confused druggie to enraged madman. He said, "Bitch, what's your problem? It wasn't so long ago that you were begging me to let you suck my dick in exchange for meth."

She recoiled as if he'd hit her. What he said was true, but more importantly, she realized that she had let her emotions get the better of her. She needed his help. She took a deep breath and said nicely, "Billy, I'm sorry I screamed at you. I'm worried about my sister."

He wasn't appeased by her change in tone. He was still pissed and said, "It's a little late to. You yell at me, hit me, and then want me to do you a favor. Get the fuck out of here!"

"Do you know where she might be?" she pleaded.

"Oh, are we friends again?"

"Please help me."

"Maybe you can convince me," he said, giving her a wicked smile. "Try being more like the old Sybil. That girl was fun. Show me your tits, and maybe I'll help you."

Sybil realized she didn't have a choice and did it. She pulled up her top and bra and bare her Double D's.

He stared at them appreciatively. They were a fine pair. Colossal. Perfectly shaped. He whistled. "Wow! They're as great as I remember." He reached out, caressed her boobs, and tweaked a stiff, brown nipple. She stood still and silent while he groped her full, natural breasts.

He said, "After partying here, some went south of the border to party more. I was so strung out I stayed here. Your sister went with Bonnie and Stewart. They said they were going to meet up with Clive Davidson in Tijuana. Clive likes to hang out at Kinkle's bar."

Sybil said grimly, "Thank you."

She dressed and left.

She drove to the border parking lot, parked, and walked across the border. She went to the taxi station and took a cab to downtown Tijuana.

^^^ Friday around 10 p.m.^^^

Roger, Charlie, and Franklin took a cab from the hotel to the border. They walked into Mexico, grabbed a cab, and got dropped off in the red light district. Zona Norte is home to Tijuana's largest collection of strip clubs and brothels.

Charlie announced, "You guys are in for a treat tonight. We have a reservation at the Hong Kong Gentlemen's Club. This is a full-service establishment if you catch my drift."

Roger smiled broadly and said, "All right. All right. All right!" Franklin asked, "Does that mean we might catch an STD?"

Charlie laughed, punched him on the arm, and said, "It's just like you to worry about that!"

They entered the club. Charlie explained to the hostess that they had a reservation in the VIP section. On the way to their table, they saw women giving guys handjobs and blowjobs out in the open.

Some of the women were dressed provocatively. Others were completely naked.

Roger was impressed. Scout was astonished. Charlie smiled and laughed.

They were led to an alcove overlooking the stage, which had three small, two-seater sofas. A nearly naked woman came to get their drink order. She said, "Hello, gentleman. Is this your first visit with us?"

"No," Roger said and smiled, "but, it's been a while."

"Then you know this is a place where all your fantasies come true. Drink, enjoy the shows, and have a good time with our very beautiful, very friendly girls." She smiled brightly and added, "We have a special deal tonight on threesomes. Imagine having sex with two hot women all night long. Interested?"

"Maybe later," Charlie answered. "We're a bit parched."

"What can I get you to drink?"

They placed their order. When the woman returned with their drinks, three young, curvaceous women were with her. The hostess put the drinks on a low coffee table in front of them. She bent at the hip, her low-cut top fell away, and exposed her breasts. She purposely stayed down and let them have an eyeful. The guys took in the view.

When she stood tall in her six-inch-high, clear plastic, high heels. she said, "This is Brandy, Dallas, and Crystal."

The new women smiled, said hello, and climbed on their laps. The hostess said, "Do you want to buy them a drink or a lap dance or more?"

The women were not beautiful, but they were decent looking, scantily clad, and, as advertised, very friendly. Their hands were rubbing each guy's crotch.

Charlie's girl was a tall, slim brunette with small, natural breasts. Her legs went on forever. Roger's new friend was a Mexican woman with dark skin who'd dyed her hair red. She had huge breasts that were obviously fake.

The third prostitute had bleached blonde hair and a round, womanly body. She was a little heavy, but the extra weight was in her ass and breasts. It added to her attractiveness and sex appeal.

"Bring them a drink and let's start the evening with a lap dance," Charlie said.