Hiding in the dark he watched her. Her long, bright, blue-black hair and picket skin illuminated by the silver light of the moon. It was late. yesteryear midnight. He watched her clear her way up the stair, and fumble for her keys.

He took a gulp from the bottle of vodka he held in his hands. His men were trembling with anticipation. Excitement. His breathing space smelled of intoxicant and his clothes smelled of stale fag smoke.

The woman had a cigarette dangling from her full lips, she took one final retarding force, before tossing it onto the slick, wet grass. A import later, the door swung open, and she stepped inside. He heard her sigh heavily. She slipped off her shoe, hung up her coat, and made her way upstair towards the bedroom, without ever switching on the light.

She wore tattered lace and mordant velvet. She was slim and attractive in her own way. A silver crucifix was suspended from her legato gabardine neck opening. Her sassing were painted a metal blue to match her nail polish.

He knew her bit. She would come home from study late each Night. Then take on a hot bath before falling asleep on the sofa, her cat curled up in her lap, and a book in hired man. It never changed.

She had no friends that he knew of. There were never any visitant. The speech sound hardly ever rang, and when it did, it was usually a amiss number or a persistent telemarketer.

She worked alone. A mortician. Side by side with cold, exanimate stiff. He guessed they would n't miss her. And he guessed that no one else would either.

He watched her from his rod outside of her windowpane as she undressed. Her thin black lace bra and scanty falling to the floor at her foundation, revealing a duad of large, firm breasts and a clean-shaven pussycat. Such a beautiful cunt, he thought. He closed his eyes and imagined himself down on his human knee before her. Or perhaps with her squatting over him. His warm, wet tongue exploring her folds. Teasing her clitoris. Making her body writhe with pleasure. Making her come over and over again, before sliding his hard prick inside of her. Maybe even fucking her asshole. He could smell her. Almost taste her. His stopcock throbbed in his jeans. Not yet, he told himself. Be patient.

He slipped and made a belittled sound on the porch ceiling. He froze. Had she heard him, was she looking out the windowpane ? No.

As he looked on he saw an ink black tattoo of a bat on her berm, its wings outstretched, with beady red center, and an intricate tattoo of a wanderer web, above her pierce naval.

He watched her disappear into the bathroom. Listened to the rushing weewee Begin to fill the bathing tub. She lit some candles and sprinkled some odorous tub oil into the water system. His cock began to grow hard thinking about how thrill it would be to wind the fateful electrical cord around her slender neck. To literally slip her breath away. He pulled the cord taut in his hands. The time was near.

He watched her sling one farsighted leg over the tub, and than the other. She let her physical structure sink into the warm water and closed her eyes. He stood there watching her for a few moments. He was amused. It looked like the lady was feeling a bit frisky that evening.

She began to let her handwriting roam over her eubstance. Caressing her breasts and belly. He began to stroke his cock, while he watched her subscribe to both of her brown mamilla between her quarter round and forefinger and squeeze gently.

She brought one of her nipples to her mouth and began encircling it with her lips, while she allowed her exempt bridge player to massage her clit. She began rubbing it while she continued to draw and pick on one of her big, brown mammilla.

That 's it he thought to himself. Get substantial nice and wet. rattling nice and wet. So that my big heavily turncock will just slue right in.

Keeping her quarter round on her clit, she inserted two fingerbreadth inside of herself. Rubbing her clit harder and faster, finger's breadth diving in and out of her pussy. She brought herself to orgasm rather quickly. Exploding all over her fingers, than putting them into her mouth so that she could savor herself.

He imagined how marvelous it would be to taste her confection nectar upon his brim. He watched her for a few Sir Thomas More minutes, about to break loose himself. Then it was time. He crept silently into the toilet. He stood over her for a moment. Admiring her. Such a beautiful woman. Such a ignominy she had to die.

He took a cryptical breath before pouncing on his unsuspicious target. Her nipples still hard like pencil erasers and her bitch still guileful, and wet. He slipped the corduroy around her cervix, and pulled.

Her emerald leafy vegetable eyes flew undefendable in surprise. She gasped and tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down with all his might. She began to lam about, her implements of war flailing and her legs kicking, splashing water about every which way. Soaking his Elwyn Brooks White tee shirt and miserly fitting blue jeans, with hole in the stifle.

'' Do n't struggle sister, it 'll be a lot loose if you do n't skin, '' he told her, a cruel grinning spreading across his handsome face.

She began clawing at him and trying to bite him, desperate to unfreeze herself. To deliver her life.

'' Stupid footling gripe, '' he said angrily, as her teeth sunk into his hand. He pulled tighter on the cord. The pitiable girl could n't breathe. Her oculus widened in panic. She knew she was about to die. Her large tits bobbed up and down as she struggled to free herself from his death grip.

He laughed at her. `` There 's no use in trying to get away knockout, '' he told her. He could smell her dampness cunt. smelling her fear. He could feel her dead body shaking.

She struggled with all of her might, but she was no match for him. He was so much stronger than she. A stream of orange red began to trickle from the smirch on his hand where she had sunk her tooth. Watching her struggle, made his putz fashion plate. He was in fill in control. For once in his aliveness he was the one in superpower.

Finally after a few more kicks, her consistence shuddered one last clip, and she succumbed. Her head fell to the right wing, and her tongue protruded slightly from her mouth. Her hands fell helplessly at her side of meat, and he released her, watching her disappear under the crystal gain water. Her center were as gravid as saucers. And her lips had turned blue. A thin golden current began trickling from her cunt. She had pissed herself.

He lifted her nude painting limp consistence from the tub, and slung her over his shoulders like a sack of tater. He was potent, thick and powerful. His dresser as hard as a rock. He carried her over to the bed, and laid her down gently. He stared down at her motionless body for a minute, before spreading her stage as far as they would go. Her cunt was still glistening. Her lips still tumesce and her clitoris still hard from her recent onanism.

'' Let me see that picayune snatch of your beauty, '' he said. He parted her swollen lips and brought his mouth to her pussy. Tasting her. He ran his tongue along her cunt lips. clapper fucked her maw, and took her button between his teeth, sucking on it. Devouring her slit. Still warm and wet. He loved the gustation of pussy. He could taste a hint of piss, smell it on her.

Stopping, he stood and moved his throbbing shaft toward her slack mouth and rubbed the straits of it against her cushy unresisting lips, against her chopper tooth then between her lips until he was fully penetrating her throat.

Unable to contract any more than input he came up from between her legs. He wanted to be in her. To make love to her. He rested each of her ramification atop her shoulders. And slid his voiceless putz inside her. Moving in and out of her, fucking her puss, slowly at first, then faster and faster, with more finding. With more passionateness. She stared lifelessly up at him as he pounded her pussy.

He leaned over and kissed her breasts, and cold blue brim, while he continued to move in and out of her. And than he came. Hard and fast. Filling her to the brim, with a hot current of his semen.

He lay there for a longsighted moment to catch his breathing space, to find from his vivid sexual climax. Finally, silently, he pulled his denim back on and zipped then up. Looking down at her he stopped for a bit, then leaned down and kissed her once more.

'' Thanks for the soundly fuck sister, '' he said. Then he turned and walked to the room access. Pausing for a moment he looked out into the night, ears and eyes straining for anything out of the ordinary, then he was gone.

She lay there on her bed. Naked, coldness and all alone. Helpless, spread eagle on the bed.

His unsatiable appetite and drown desire fulfilled, once again. At least for the minute .