You start to take what's available

You fully recline the passenger seat, allowing you to have relatively easy access to the front seat of the car. An hour crawls by as you watch. During that time two women leave the back door of the club, each of them making their way to separate cars and driving away into the night. You hum softly to yourself as you wait, telling yourself to be patient, that Lyndsey won't be much longer, and that good things come to he who waits patiently.

Another thirty minutes go by before you see the door open and Lyndsey. She's dressed in a plaid shirt and shorts that expose the length of her shapely legs, and she carries what looks like a gym bag in one hand. Her hair is tied in a loose untidy bun on top of her head. With a feral grin, you roll the ski mask over your head, leaving only your eyes and mouth exposed.

As she nears the car she presses the remote and unlocks the trunk, tossing her bag in and slamming it shut. She opens the car door and slips into the driver's seat with a sigh, the reclined passenger seat and the extinguished dome light not registering on her for a moment.

You wait for her to shut the door, then reach over the drivers seat and grab her throat with one powerful hand.

"Hello Bambi," you hiss as she startles in fear, giving a squeak like a terrified mouse.

"Help! Let me go!" she squeals in panic, her hands clawing at your arm, as she struggles. You clamber into the front beside her, trapping her between the seat and the steering wheel. Still holding her throat, you grab the lever and recline the driver's seat, using your weight to press her frantic wriggling body down.

"Stop! Let me go! Help!" she squeals desperately, her hands trying to free her throat from your grasp.

"You don't mean that Bambi," you growl. "You don't mean that at all." You grab her shirt at the collar and with a single brutal tug you rip it open, the buttons bouncing off the windows and dash. Her terrified breathing is coming in ragged gasps as you look down at her body, her breasts quivering and heaving, barely restrained by a black bra. Her sweet young womanflesh bulges out the top of it, leaving very little to the imagination.

"Please don't," she whimpers. "Please don't hurt me. Please."

You pull her bra up over her tits, letting them hang free, and grabbing one to knead her tender flesh and tease her pierced nipples.

"Aren't you the little slut?" you rasp. "Teasing men, showing them your goodies but not paying off. Just a little tease, aren't you Bamvi?"

"No! I wasn't teasing, I'm just a dancer! I don't...don't do anything else. I'm not a tease. Please stop! Please! Don't hurt me, please don't hurt me!" You're still rolling her pierced nipple between finger and thumb and despite her fear you feel it stiffen in your grasp.

"That's better," you growl. "Getting all ready for me, aren't you Bambi? Getting wet down there? Is your pussy starting to get good and juicy for me?"

"No! I don't want you touching me!" she screams frantically. "Leave me alone! Fuck you!" she flails at you, but you easily fend off her futile efforts.

"No Bambi, it's you whose going to be fucked," you snarl, grabbing the waistband of her mini-shorts and trying to tug them down. They're tight and with her struggles it's not easy, but you manage to pull them down over her round rump. She's scrabbling in panic, trying to get away from you, her movements hampered by the enclosed space.

You trap her thrashing legs, using the leverage to roll her over. Her hands grasp at the door and seat, trying to resist you, but you're far too strong, and in a moment she is face down on the seat. Holding her by the back of the neck, you wrestle her shorts past her knees. She's sobbing in fear and humiliation, begging incoherently for you to stop.

You grab her hips and pulls her ass up, wrenching the shorts down and pulling one leg out of them. You rip the filmy thong of her panties away as she squeals into the seat, your hand groping the ripe flesh of her rump, then rubbing between her thighs in search of her slit.

"Please stop, please, please!" she begs, crying with terror, that hardens your rampant cock even more. You're enjoying her humiliation and despair, laughing cruelly as you thrust a finger between her swollen labia, finding her wet with nectar. You laugh again. Despite her fear she's aroused, her body betraying her.

"Such a little slut," you rasp as you probe her pussy. "Someone has rape fantasies, doesn't she Bambi? Someone wants to be helpless and used. You pretend you don't like it, but down in your most secret places, you know it's true."

"No...no...." she sobs helplessly as you feel her resistance crumbling. Her hips are starting to writhe even as she weeps pathetically while your fingers explore her pussy.