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All characters referenced within this blog are 18+ unless explicitly stated otherwise. All content contained within this blog is wholly fict...

Tuesday 29 October 2024

200 Words: Tourist Killer

I see you from my hotel balcony, snap a pic with my phone. It's the height of summer and you're dressed for it, jeans tight around slim legs and crop top showing off your flat stomach & perky tits. Just watching you is a joy.

It takes a bit of internet stalking but I find your identity and address. Come nightfall and I'm outside your house, itching to have you. I can see you moving about inside, make my move when the lights go out.

Wood splinters as I break the front door. Steps vibrate as I charge upstairs. I burst into your room, fling the bedcovers away and tear at your sleepwear like a man possessed. An arm sits heavy across your neck, keeps pins you down, as I grope you, as I spread your legs.

My pace is fast & furious, you writhe with pain/pleasure. I unconsciously put more pressure on your neck, ignore your flails as I lose myself. I don't even register your death, your cunt is my whole world and it's wonderfully wet & warm. Only after I pull out, when I'm painting your flesh with my cum, do I notice your condition, your lifelessness. Oh well.

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