They were driving through Chiapas in southern Mexico, the open air jeep kicking up a cloud
of dust as Christy drove too fast for the road.  They were lost.  After driving for about
three hours, Christy made a wrong turn and now it looked like they were going farther and
farther into a dense jungle.  Each time Christy made a turn, thinking they would be
heading back, they always seemed to go deeper into the lush forest.  It had started out as
a chance for her and Angela, her eighteen year old daughter to spend some time together. 
Since they arrived in Mexico two days ago, they were on a non-stop ride of tours, so many
places that they lost count.  They finally had enough, renting the jeep for the day,
filling a picnic basket with a wide assortment of food and two bottles of wine. 
	The concierge at the hotel had told them of a secluded waterfall, reserving the jeep,
giving them a map and even arranging for the food.  They left early, hoping to get to the
waterfall, a three-hour ride from the hotel, by ten.
	“They are gone,” the concierge spoke into the telephone.  “I took their luggage from the
room and did a quick checkout and slipped a duplicate key into the checkout box.  No one
will even miss them.  You should see them around ten.  They are driving a black jeep, top
down, two beautiful gringa, mother and daughter.  The mother must be in her late thirties,
but a very beautiful body.  The daughter just graduated high school, so she must be
eighteen.  Nice, young, tight body.  I’m glad the General will be pleased.  I know how
much he hates the American gringos.  Yes, the Zapatista rebels will rid our land of them
soon enough.  Is the General going to interrogate them?  I wish I could be there to see
it.  I could be there this weekend; will he keep them that long?  It will probably take at
least two weeks for anyone to find out when and where they went missing.  No, the Chiapas
state officials won’t do anything.  They are too scared of us.  Yes, see you Saturday. 
Bye.”  The concierge went to work, but his mind kept drifting to the gringas and they fun
he would have with them this weekend.
	“Shit,” Christy swearing as they saw nothing familiar.  They should have been there by
now.  
	“Are we lost, Mom?”  Angela began to get a little nervous.  They hadn’t seen any other
houses or people for over an hour, the road getting skinnier, dustier and looking less
traveled.  
	Christy looked over at her daughter, seeing the worried look on her face.  “It’ll be all
right, I think it is just around the next bend,” she lied.  Shit, shit, shit.  Why did she
listen to the stupid kid at the hotel and rent this jeep and drive out into the middle of
nowhere?
	Christy slammed on the brakes, the tires grabbing tightly, skidding in the sand, almost
running off the road.  “What the fuck…?”
	Four black-clad Zapatista rebels were spread across the road ahead, a truck turned
sideways, blocking passage.  Each of the rebels wore a black bandana around his face,
their rifle or machine gun loosely hanging at the ready.  It was almost as if they had
been waiting for them.
	“I thought they would never get here,” one rebel spoke.  “Damn gringas must have gotten
lost.  We are lucky they finally got back on the right road.”
	“Who are they, Mom?”  Angela was scared, they looked like bandits.
	“Don’t worry, honey, they are Zapatista rebels.  They don’t care about us.  They must be
looking for spies.  I read about them in the paper.  Spies are always trying to infiltrate
them so they can raid the rebel communities.  They’ll just let us go.  Let me do the
talking,” letting the jeep slowly inch up to the blockade.  At least they could get
directions, relief coming over her, not worrying about the rebels.  Things like that don’t
happen to Americans.
	“Do you speak English?”  Christy spoke slowly, hoping they did, her Spanish was limited
to gracias.  
	“Sí, Señora, we speak very good English.  Do you think we are ignorant
farmers?”
	She felt a little scared now.  The mask and now his harsh tone sending a shiver up her
spine.  Be nice.  Use your charm on him.
	“Of course not, I didn’t mean to insult you.  My daughter and I are lost.  We are
looking for the El Caer waterfalls.  We been driving for hours now and seem to have gotten
turned around somehow.”
	“Americanos ignorantes.  El conseguir perdido hacia fuera aquí,” he said to the
others.  “El Caer waterfall is over one hundred miles from here, Señora.  What are
you doing out here?”  He became more adamant now.
	“We were giving directions to here.”  She reached down between the seats to get the
map.”
	“Keep your hands where they are!”  The rebels raising their weapons at them, Angela
screaming as a gun was pointed at her for the first time, almost peeing in her pants.
	“Put your guns down!”  Christy cried out, raising her hands.  “We’re Americans.”
	“Crazy bitch,” he said, moving next to the jeep, looking at both of them with their
hands raised.  Carlos was right, both had great bodies, the General would be pleased. 
“Keep your hands up,” reaching over her, letting his hand brush her breasts, as he moved
toward the console in the middle.  He found the crude hand-drawn map that Carlos had given
them.  A map drawn precisely to their rebel village.  “Is this it?”  He drew the map out,
his arm rubbing against her breast again, this time harder.  She kept her hands raised
up.
	“Yes, that’s it,” growing more uncomfortable as he accidentally brushed against her
breast, but the second time she knew was on purpose, his arms pushing against her breast
far too long to be an accident.
	“This is a map to our village of Nuevo Jerusalem.  It is a rebel stronghold, not on any
map.  Are you a spy for the Mexican soldiers, Señora?”  He raised his rifle again,
pointing it at her.
	“No, No!  The concierge at the hotel drew the map.  He said it was to El Caer waterfall.
 We don’t know anything about the rebels.  Please, let us go.  We are Americans.”
	“You are going to have to explain to the General, Señora.  We have had many
gringa tourists that are spies.  They are always helping the Mexican soldiers research
plans to attack our rebel communities.  He will probably let you go, but I would be shot
if I didn’t bring you to him.  You wouldn’t want that to happen to me, would you,
Señora?”  He didn’t want any trouble until he could get them bound.  Then he could
do what he pleased.
	“Where is the General?”  A General would be more civilized, he would understand that
this was just an accident.  She hoped that he was close, so they could quickly get out of
here and immediately head back to the hotel.
	“Not far, Señora.  I can’t tell you exactly, just in case you are a spy.  Now get
out of the jeep.  And your daughter, too.”  His gun aimed at Christy, another rebel moving
to the other side of the jeep, his rifle trained on Angela.
	“Mom, Mom,” Angela wined, “I’m scared.  He has a gun pointed at me.  What‘s going to
happen to us?”
	“It will be okay, honey, just do what they say.  We’ll be back at the hotel soon.  Don’t
hurt my daughter.  She’s just a little girl,” she begged.
	The rebel looked at Angela as she got out of the jeep.  He loved blonde Americans.  She
was wearing a pair of shorts, hip huggers that left her navel naked, a diamond stud in the
center of it.  The shorts clung to her body, especially to her ass, molding to the cute
cheeks.  Her tee shirt barely covered her midriff; he could make out her bra underneath,
positive it encased a lovely, pert set of tits.  Her tanned legs perching high on a pair
of platform sandals that added at least three inches to her height and made the muscles of
her legs tighten nicely.  “She doesn’t look like a little girl to me, Señora.”
	“What is your name Señora?”
	“Christy,” she said stepping out of the jeep.
	“And, the little one?”  .
	“Angela.  Just please, leave her alone.  She’s only a child.”
	“She looks like a woman to me, Christy.  A very beautiful woman, such as yourself.”
looking at Christy.  She was wearing a top that buttoned down the front, tucked neatly
into a pair of jeans that clung to her ass.  How do women get into such tight jeans?  She
didn’t look old enough to have an eighteen-year-old daughter.
	“Mom, I’m scared,” Angela cried to her mother, the rebel sticking his rifle in her back,
forcing her to walk over to the large truck blocking the road.
	“You too, Christy.  Move over to the truck.” 
	“Face the vehicle and lean against it, both of you.  Put your hands on the sides and
spread your legs.  Like you Americans do on the cop shows,” teasing, the other rebels
laughing.
	“No, we won’t do it.”  Christy had to end this.  She couldn’t let them search them.  She
already saw what one had tried to do to her and now he would have more of a chance,
especially with Angela.  She had to call their bluff; they wouldn’t dare hurt American
tourists.  
	The rebel next to her moved over to Angela, pulling his pistol from his pocket and
placing it square in the center of Angela’s forehead.  “Either do as I say or I will pull
the trigger and blow your little girl’s brains out.”  He pulled the hammer back, the loud
click frightening Angela, her body trembling in fear.
	“Mom, help me.  Help me.”  Angela fought the urge to pee in her pants.  She had never
been as scared as she was now, a loaded pistol pointed at her head, the hammer cocked,
ready to kill her.
	Christy hurriedly put her hands against the truck, arms up high like she had seen on
television.  “I’m doing what you want, leave her alone.”  She was panicking, the situation
getting worse and worse.
	‘You too, Angela, up against the truck like a good little gringa,” letting the hammer go
back down, putting the weapon back in the holster.  They would be good from now on.
	Standing behind Christy, he looked down at her jeans, her ass tightly packed in them. 
“Legs back a little now, Christy.  Yes, that’s good; now stick your ass out as they do on
American television.  I’m going to have to pat you down.  I have to make sure your not
carrying a gun.”  He looked over at one of his men making Angela assume the same position,
Angela obeying much quicker, the gun at her head making her very obedient.
	He pressed his body up against Christy, firmly against her ass, using his hard cock to
assure she fully understood her position and what she would have to do.  He reached around
her, sliding his hands down to her stomach before moving up cup her breasts from beneath
as she grumbled beneath him, protesting his handling of her body, but still keeping the
position, the pistol having the desired effect.  He squeezed, hearing her groan, he
murmured, “such lovely tits, Christy,” fingers digging into them, squeezing the flesh
harshly.  He found her nipples with his fingertips, pinching them until she jerked in
pain.  “You have sensitive nipples, Christy.  You can’t even take a little pinch on them.”
 
	She kept quiet as he felt her up, his cock rubbing up and down her ass, humping her like
a stray dog.  No, please, no.  His hands moving down to grip her between her legs, luckily
her heavy jeans protected her sex from his groping hands pushing her back onto his cock,
goosing her with his hand each time she humped back on his cock.  She felt relief when he
pulled away from her, relieved that he was finished.  She would tell the General, he would
make sure that he was punished for molesting her.
	“Hands behind your back,” pulling her arms back, seeing the surprised look on her face
as he clamped her wrists into the shiny, metal cuffs before she could even protest.  “Just
to keep you still.”  He pulled a black cloth sack over her face, making sure that her nose
and mouth matched up with the holes in it, before tightening the string around her neck,
effectively blinding her.  “We don’t want you to see where we are taking you.  Now just
stand there and be a good girl, we will leave in a few minutes.”
	She tried to pull on the cuffs, the metal binds unyielding.  She stood in darkness,
hearing muffled sounds of talking, unable to hear what was being said.
	The rebel went over to Angela.  “Turn around, Angela.  Now I want you to be real quiet
and don’t say a word or your mother is going to get hurt.  Can you be a good girl and
obey?” seeing the fright in her eyes.

	“What are you going to do?”  She trembled, but remembered the pistol in his holster.
	“I’m going to have to frisk you for any weapons.”  His cock throbbed in his pants at the
thought of touching such a beautiful, young, American girl.
	“I don’t have anything, promise,” she begged, but she saw in his eyes he would not take
no for an answer.
	“Now you have to be quiet, I don’t want your mother to hear anything.  Can you do that,
Angela?”
	“Yes, sir,” afraid of what was going to happen.
	“Now keep your hands at your side.”  The other rebels moved closer, wanting to catch a
glimpse of this pretty girl.  His hands slid across her naked stomach, feeling her flinch.
 “Such silky skin,” he whispered to her, his hands sliding up under her tee shirt, seeing
her fists clench at her side, knowing that she was unhappily enduring this.  He pulled her
tee shirt up, uncovering her bra, her young breasts pushed up high, a generous amount of
cleavage showing at the top of her bra.  “Hold this up for me,” he whispered to her again,
seeing her hesitate then move up and grip the tee shirt, holding it out of the way, her
bra uncovered, the four rebels gazing as the cleavage of her tanned globes.
	“What are you doing?”  She protested as his hands moved to her bra, gripping her young
pert breasts in his grubby hands, squeezing them, her face and chest turning red in
embarrassment as the others watched her slowly being fondled.  She could smell his stale
breath, his eyes staring at hers as he grabbed her bra-encased breasts harshly.
	The rebel was too eager, unwilling to wait long enough to get back to the village.  His
hands slid under her bra, pulling it up harshly, her tender breasts squeezed tight before
the bra slipped free, her breasts now naked for all of the men to see.