Oct 2009

PrologueBefore it begins

The air in the room was thick with both the smells of sweat and lust and the sounds of our coupling bodies, our moans. The room itself was one that someone lived in every day, pictures in frames, worn edges on drawers, socks, underwear. Enough light to see by, a yellow glow emitted by a light hidden behind a lampshade close to the bed, revealing the room between blinks. His clothes unceremoniously on the ground next to the bed, mine folded in a neat bundle on a nearby chair. Not my room, not my house and after tonight I would never see it again. A night, an adventure, that was nearing its end, but still in full throttle. In motion, my favorite position sitting as I sat on top of him, face to face. Able to see all the lust, pleasure and sensations in the expressions on his face. With every movement of my shapely hips, dropping myself down on top of him, I felt his member slide in and twitch. Shivers running through my body and his, answered by moans, unsubtle tokens of pleasure. Every move pulling on my perfect breasts, my nipples hard and excited, bouncing in tune with the rest of me. The moment was nearing.

His breathing quickened, I could tell that he was getting close. He didn't have to say anything and I know he wouldn't. It was all me tonight, exactly what was planned. His body was fairly nice, healthy enough to have the stamina I required of it, decent size and not too much out of shape. Already so close, but it had to last a little longer. His hands grabbed my hips, squeezing, signaling he had trouble lasting any longer. His eyes were already closed, still I put my left hand on his eyes, I knew it made things more exciting, more thrilling. Even for him. The subtle surprise and faint fear were enough for me to ride him to my own peak. It was perfect, a little better than I had expected of him. My right hand grasped what I needed for the final moment. My hips still moving back and forth to keep him at that absolute edge. It was an important moment.

When he was about to lose it, I squeezed him with my muscles below, pulling him forcefully over the edge, heightening the moment. As his muscles spasmed, his mouth fully open, his eyes forced shut, I held the knife in both hands high above him. Force was needed and applied, the blade plunged it deep down into his heart, timed with the movement of my hips. The metal penetrating his chest simultaneously with his whole being sliding in me. Balance, of a sort. Both hands and hips kept pushing down, the warmth of his release deep within me, filling me, triggering what I needed, required, desired. My hand shook a little, my eyes fluttering as the start of a climax ran deeply through my body. It would be a good orgasm, deep and fulfilling, full and complete. I held firmly on to the knife, no blood would come while I pushed down. His body shook, shivered, quivered and convulsed with the mixed pleasure of really powerful pleasure and ferocious fear. I came.



I had to wait until my peak had gone and faded before I moved again. Let my senses return from the height they had just achieved. His dick still inside of me, the member of a now dead man. For some reason it never bothered me, I just lifted myself up and stepped off the bed. The curtains were closed, he had barely made a sound beyond the orgasmic scream. Like always, no one would have noticed, no one would know until it was too late. I hadn't touched anything in his room, just asked him to turn on the light, close the curtains, undress himself. Like a ghost, I wanted to leave nothing behind. After a moment more, I got to my clothes and put them on. All that was left was to remove the last traces of my presence. I got the spray-bottle, filled with bleach-water, cleaned his body, especially his penis. It only took a minute, turning him over to spray his back after I was done with the front. No trace of me would remain. Every step I took, every move I had made against something else got sprayed, all evidence destroyed. Finally, retrieve the weapon, marvel for a moment at the blood flowing out of the wound, flowing without a beating heart to push it out. Put the knife in prepared cloth, wear gloves, get out of the building. Within minutes I stood outside, perfectly dressed, walking away. Unnoticed.

Outside I felt better. Full of life, warm and happy. The cold midnight air in my face, the life flushing back in my cheeks. The walk back to my car at night was light and pleasant to do with my renewed vigor. It wasn't even that late, I would be home early enough for a decent night sleep. Already thinking about work tomorrow, the murder already forgotten. His face only etched in my mind as a part of my orgasmic bliss. No guilt nor worries remained.

You probably won't understand, but I really need this. It's the only way I can orgasm.