With what I already knew about the rapist – by now known in the local media as the Mad Rapist – and what I picked up from the papers after each new attack, I was able to ascertain his pattern.
"He knows the precinct boundaries," I mused aloud. "It's like he's staying in that precinct for a reason. One night he's on the West Side – let's see, here on the 27th he attacked on the West – and the next time he's all the way across on the East – on the 29th, here it is, a rape on East Buchanan. Then the next time he's right in the middle – on the 30th, a rape in Coolidge Park. And he always returned to the scene of an earlier attack."
I rummaged excitedly through the pile of newspapers I had been studying for information on the rapist and found the most recent one. A rape on East Pierce last night, and mention of the one before that on West Hoover. Meaning that if I wanted to act as a decoy victim tonight, I could do a lot worse than put on my sleaziest looking clothes and go around Coolidge Park, the sinister jungle which infested the middle of the area, a park that had become so sordid that the City Department of Parks and Recreation had given up on it.
I got up and went to my closet looking for the kind of slutty clothes that would draw attention even on a dark night. It wasn't easy because I'm one chick who's got it together enough not to feel I have to put a frame around it to get a man interested. When I want a guy to get interested in me, I have plenty of ways to let him know without peddling my ass around. However, by reaching all the way to the rear of the closet, I managed to find some things from the days when I was less sure of my femininity and wore to those early job interviews where it was no secret nice tits and ass could get you a job when you couldn't even type your name.
I slipped into a tight sweater, the swell of my braless tits poking provocatively through the loose, revealing weave, my protruding crimson nipples startlingly apparent. I put on an ultra-mini buckskin skirt with no panties underneath, my cunt lurking just above the hem.
I did look pretty sexy. I got my purse and started to run out the door when I realized that I had forgotten something.
"My service revolver," I said aloud. But then I realized that I could do nothing about it, as I had had to turn it in when I was suspended from duty.
"What'll I protect myself with?" I asked aloud, as it occurred to me how in such a short time I had become so dependent on a cop's playthings, the crutches they all used.
"God, I really was getting more like them all the time," I admitted when I realized how I was behaving. "Gun or not, I've still got something none of those cocksuckers at the 69th precinct would think of using – my brain."
So, unarmed, I left for Coolidge Park, certain that if it came down to it, I could defend myself with the judo I had picked up during police training.
The night was another bitch. It had been one of the worst winters ever – rain one day, wind the next, fog, snow on other days – but always cold. Tonight it was fog, a thick mattress of it covering the city. And the area around the 69th precinct was worse than any place else, almost as though a slum was entitled to nothing but the worst of everything, even including lousy weather.
It even seemed colder than anywhere else as I got off the bus in front of Coolidge Park, looking with some trepidation at its menacing exterior through the gloomy fog. The place hadn't been tended for years and had overgrown into startling proportions, shaggy plants, uncut grass, and wind-blown trees filled the misty night sky like portentous shadows of doom. Obviously, anybody entering the park was doing so at his or her own risk. A sign warned trespassers to keep out, and some jokester had drawn a leering skull and crossbones under the official warning along with the scrawled words, "Death City, USA".
The rapist had struck here three times before. One reason, I guessed, was that he was smart enough to know it was a relatively safe place for him because the cops are scared to death of places like this.
Well, I couldn't fool around out here in the street forever. Some cop driving by might think I was a stray hooker and run me in. I could just see them giving me a skin search at the station after they brought me in. Arrrggh, I almost puked from the thought of it as I walked briskly into the park, the prospect of facing a crazed rapist more appealing than thinking about the cops at the 69th precinct.
Within a few steps I was swallowed into the bowels of the park, the shadowy limbs of the overgrown foliage seeming to envelop me with their gloomy expanse, completely obliterating whatever light was shining from the moon, struggling to be seen through the fog.
The plant life had overgrown parts of the crumbling walk, frequently blocking my way and brushing wetly against me, the leaves sopping with moisture from the damp fog that swirled in the cold night air. After a couple of collisions with sopping, low-hanging branches, my sweater was drenched, clinging skintight to my body, my tits heaving and shivering from the damp cold.
I stumbled forward, trying to throw off the effects of the evil night, gritting my teeth and ploughing through. Then I was forced to stop as the vegetation had become so dense it looked like I needed a machete to hack my way through it.
There had to be some other way to get through, I reasoned, people walked across this park all the time. The trick was to find it in this soupy fog, which was growing thicker by the minute.
I groped one way and then another looking for a way out of my bind, but all my hands struck was wet foliage, the impact of my flailing arms spraying the air with added dew. Then, suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that didn't seem to be green, something white, a building of some kind. I walked toward it, hoping it wasn't the fog playing tricks on me, finally figuring out what it was only when my nose was practically pressing against it.
"The old park restroom," I said, shuddering at what it must be like inside after all these years, but anxious to get out of the wet cold for at least a moment's respite so I could get my bearings.
I found the gaping hole that used to be the door, which had long since been removed, rotting boards crisscrossing the crumbling opening, with enough of them broken and knocked away so that anyone could get in who wanted to.
The stench of boozy vomit and urine almost choked me as I crouched under a board and slipped inside. I couldn't see anything yet because of the total darkness, but my nose could tell me that the place was a total shambles. From the look of the knocked-away boards over the entrance, other people used this place, and God only knew who they were and for what.
It was a fairly big building, having housed adjacent men's and women's bathrooms with maybe ten toilets in each. Long ago somebody had drilled holes in the partitioning wall so people could look at each other piss and take a dump.
Suddenly it occurred to me as I looked across the room at the holes that they were all I could see. I wondered what the reason for that was, considering that the room on the other side of the wall presumably ought to be as dark as this one.
Unless, of course, there was a light in there and I was not alone in the building.
I walked to the wall and stood on a toilet and peered through one of the holes. There was a candle in the other room, flickering and erratic. It was stuck in the top of an old whiskey bottle, burning on the floor.
Somebody must be in there. I needed a better view of what was going on. I got off my perch and went to another toilet with a hole by it which would give me a different view. And then, just before I mounted my new platform and stuck my eye to the hole, I heard a distinct moaning waft through the thin wall, and I sensed that whatever I was going to be looking at was going to be highly private.
The moaning came from a young girl, probably not over 11 or 12. She was totally nude, the soft mounds of her budding tits making a nubile suggestion of impending womanhood, and the pink mound of her young cunt totally hairless except for a small wisp of light curly hair at the top. She was moaning because her mouth was filled with an erect prick that was buried so deep it was gagging her.
The man she was sucking was nude from the waist down, his muscular legs and tight ass tensing as he drove his stiff prick into the girl's distended mouth, exhorting her as he thrust, "Suck harder, harder, you little cunt, stuff it in your fucking little throat."
Her response to his ultimatum was to accelerate her sucking, her lips and tongue slurping over his massive tool. Even in the dim light I could see her eyes bulge as she forced herself to swallow his cock beyond all reasonable limits.
Her slightly flared hips undulated slowly as she sucked the big prick, her arm dropping downward so she could finger the exposed petals of her nubile cunt. In an instant two of her fingers were inside her pussy, the fingerfucking motion of her hand faintly squishing as she penetrated the inside of her young cunt. Her moaning continued unabated, the huge cock filling her mouth and her fingers reaming out her pussy.
As I watched, I didn't know whether I was disgusted or turned on. Socially, it was perverted. But on a personal basis, it was an absolute turn-on. I could feel my pussy glowing, the juices seeping through my quivering cunt lips and drenching my panty-less crotch and thighs with sticky fluid.
A spark of tension knotted in my belly, only serving to press against my touchy cunt, arousing me even more despite my disgust at the depraved spectacle I was watching.
Then something happened which almost knocked me off the toilet where I was standing and watching. The girl removed the cock from her mouth, and held it in front of her, rolling its slippery meat along the side of her smooth face as she licked it with her tongue, bathing the turgid male organ with slurping oral caresses. "Oh, Daddy," she pleaded, "please stick your big cock inside my cunt the way you always do. Pleeease, Daddy."
Daddy! He was her father! This man had his young daughter give him a blow job and now she was begging him to fuck her, spreading her thin legs so that her pared cunt seemed to burst forth between her narrow thighs, begging her father with the lewdest of invitations to stick his massive, adult prick up her childish cunt and fuck her.
This was the kind of crime a cop hates most, the abuse of a child. But then it occurred to me that I was no longer a cop, and found myself asking, how could it be abuse when she seems to be enjoying it so much?
It was clear now that the little girl loved what was happening to her, the little pink nipples of her softly forming titties puckering into small red knots that stuck out from her slim chest at least an inch as she fondled her father's huge, pulsing prick. I knew, from my own experience, that it's certainly possible to get turned on at a young girl's age, but I thought in terms of my own experience, stuffing candles up my cunt and tickling off my clit, not in terms of getting it on with one's own father, handling his heavy thick snake of a dick like a Las Vegas pro. Oh sure, I had wondered about my father's cock, especially if it was true that it could grow and get stiff, growing from the shriveled up squashiness I saw hanging from between his hairy legs when he got out of the shower. And sometimes I envisioned his imaginary stiff prick when I was masturbating, seeing it seem to float proudly like a knightly staff through the air as I teased my little clit to the bursting point. But that was it. At the time I don't think I knew that the real version of the imaginary erect prick I was dreaming about was designed to slide up a woman's cunt. All I knew was that thinking about cocks excited me, but I didn't know exactly why at that age. The idea of sucking and fucking my father? I couldn't contemplate it.
But the little girl I was watching sure could. She knew exactly what to do with that cock she had in her hands, and was just as much an expert with the dewy fuzzy cunt she was undulating and spreading between her spindly legs. Light as she was, she scaled her father's body, holding onto his unflagging cock at first for balance, and then clambering up his body so that her arms were encircled beneath his hairy arm pits and her slender hips were pressed against his belly, allowing her to begin the process of lowering her cunt over the twitching cock she wanted inside her so badly.
She wiggled her narrow ass daintily, brushing the head of her father's throbbing rod against her pouting pussy lips, tantalizingly searching for the slit which when opened would allow his prick to plough inside her, filling her taut, immature cunt with hot insistent cock. She did everything right, working her little ass down gradually until finally her dewy pussy lips lapped over the head of the pulsating cock, baptizing it with the first sticky drops of glistening pussy juice. Once the tip of the cock head was crowned by her grasping cunt lips, she slowly lowered herself down, fighting for every fraction of an inch of penetration as her tight young pussy swallowed the throbbing adult prick. Finally, the child had miraculously forced her diminutive pussy to take the huge cock, her father's balls looking grotesquely hairy and enormous against his daughter's pale, hairless crotch as they mashed against her soft skin.
I could hear the smack of the father's prick inside his daughter's tight cunt, a lubricious noise that vanished only when it was drowned out by the girl's high-pitched childish voice begging her father to "Fuck me harder, fuck me harder, Poppa. Stick that big thing all the way up my pussy."
Instantaneously I was forced to come to grips with myself as I realized what was actually the cause of my inner turmoil. My concern for the girl really vanished when I realized she was enjoying what was happening to her. The real conflict seething in me stemmed from my inability to acknowledge that I had secretly wanted my father to do the same thing this little girl was lucky enough to be getting, making me envious of her as I watched her suck her father's giant erect prick and then have it enter the frothing cavity of her precious pussy. I had never even gotten to see my father's dick stiff, and here I was jealously watching a young girl actually living the fantasies I had only barely dared to dream.
The night was still cold, but I was hot as a firecracker as I watched through the hole in the wall, the fucking reaching a fever pitch as the father and daughter thrust their pelvises together, their hips grinding together as her engorged young cunt continued to eagerly devour her father's thick, straining prick. As I watched, all my fantasies about my father's own cock materialized into one lewd image. I imagined my father's cock splitting my cunt as I thrust my fingers under the waistband of my skirt and seized upon the sopping gash of my cunt, momentarily feeling my thighs glazed by the constant flow of filmy cream from my throbbing pussy before I crammed my entire hand, balled into a fist, between my legs.
My attention to my cunt was reaping sticky results as, with the image of my father's ever stiff prick dancing through my head, I tore it further and further apart, expanding all five fingers from the ball of my fist so that they opened like a butterfly inside my cunt, pulling the walls to the ultimate of their spongy flexibility. The cream flowed like wine from my hopelessly aroused pussy, frothing to a bubbling lather that I could feel sliding gradually down my thrusting wrist and arm.
"Oh please, Daddy, come in me, come in me!" the girl was now crying. "Fill my cunt with cum! I can't stand to wait anymore!"
He answered by bucking his hips upward, lurching her frail body up in mid-air, at least three inches of connecting cock sliding out between them before she fell back down on him, her cunt popping as it swallowed the entirety of his fat adult prick once more, her whole body shivering with delight as her father imbedded his cock deeper within her girlish confines.
In the next room their groins ground against one another, his cock totally buried in her tight little cunt. Then, with a rumbling groan, he bucked forward, simultaneously holding his daughter down so that his lurch would drive him even further into her. I could see slimy rivulets of jizz oozing out of her cunt along the sides of his sloshing prick, the drooling overflow coating the bottoms of the spread cheeks of her tight little ass. As the cum started to rapidly accumulate, it began dribbling to the floor, the entire area between the little girl's legs becoming a creamy smear of dripping male jizz.
I jabbed and jabbed at my cunt, striving to come along with them, lusting for that feeling of total erotic inundation that could come only with sexual climax. But nothing I did to myself got me there, no matter how far I crammed my fingers up my cunt, no matter how violently I scraped my wrist against my turgid clit, no matter how vividly I imagined my father's hard cock filling my pussy. All that happened was that I got more excited, lewder, more wanton, more horny, aching for a real fuck, the promise of an obscenely stiff prick fulfilling itself by finally tearing up my cunt and ripping me in two.
My last glance into the next room revealed their fuck was over and he had pulled out of her and the daughter fell to her knees and lovingly lapped off the magic slime from her father's still twitching cock, still so hard that I imagined they would be here all night. But I wouldn't. I was too agitated to stay in one place. I had to move and shake off this maddening electricity that was pulsing through my loins. I had to go back out there and do what I came here to do.
I fled the bathroom and looked frantically for a short cut through the park. When I finally found it, I felt elated, but my helpless body was still irrevocably turned on and hungry for a fuck.
I could hear my cunt squish as I made my way deeper into the park, the fog surrounding me again, almost obliterating my vision as I progressed by touch and intuition. I tried to suppress the continuous sensation emanating from the depths of my throbbing pussy, but all my effort brought was further excitement between my cunt-juice-glazed thighs.
Feeling I couldn't go on like this, I sat down against a tree and pulled my skirt up to my waist, sending my fingers flying to my sopping cunt in furious masturbation so I could finally come and get on my way. But no matter how hard or creatively I manipulated my loose, sticky pussy lips and turgid, stiff clit, all that happened was that I got more turned on.
Realizing that it would take more than my busy fingers to make me come, and, struggling to live, with my incessant arousal, I got up and tried to put my cunt out of my mind, plunging forward in the misty darkness with an agonizing clutch between my legs.
I stumbled through the darkness, despairing of ever seeing light or open spaces again, so dark and increasingly dense was the sinister park. Then, suddenly, my eyes focused on a broad clearing, and as I burst free of the clinging vegetation that had been increasingly hampering me, I realized that I had found a meadow, long wet grass taking the place of the overhanging foliage. Up above, for the first time since I had entered the park, I could see the moon, its light faintly but distinctly struggling through the fog. I noticed that it was a full moon and felt an added eeriness shoot through my body, feeling with the fire between my legs that the mythical power of the full moon was going to turn me into something I couldn't control.
But I had to control myself. It occurred to me that I had to harness my twitching loins and put them to work to create a provocative picture that would attract the rapist if he was anywhere around, without leaving myself hopelessly vulnerable, a hapless victim of my own emotions. I smoothed my skirt down, plastering it over my aching hips and taut belly, feeling the steam of my cunt radiating under the fabric. Making no attempt to curb my swinging hips, I found a path cutting across the meadow and began walking slowly along it, really undulating forward rather than merely putting one foot in front of another. Every nerve in my body was searingly open, waiting for whatever was going to happen next. It occurred to me that, perhaps, revenge was what I was lusting for all along – and the most primal kind of revenge: sexual revenge!
Yes, that was it, I was sure of it. The symbolism was just too glaring to ignore. I knew I had to tame the cruel cock of the rapist and avenge all the victims and Ted's death before I would finally feel the fires within me quell.
Spurred by my insight, I slung my hips viciously as I shimmied forward, calling out in the night to be attacked, set upon, brutalized, as I sought what I was certain was my inevitable avenging collision with the maniac they called the Mad Rapist.