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Another short dark tale of murder. Pure fantasy, of course. No drug dealing whores were injured in the creation of this story. This was my first, a few years ago. Writing, not killing.
Linda slumped back on the bed, one big tit slipping out of her black bra as her head hit the pillows. She leaned back heavily, as I watched her body going limp from the door of the bathroom.

“I’m really fucked up….” she slurred.

The drink I had fixed her was doing the job, she was nearly out.

As I looked at her plump body I thought back on the better part of the past year.

We had been getting together at least once a month at hotels and occasionally her dumpy rental house to get high and fuck.

She had seen one of my fake profiles on Tinder and commented on my dick pics. She shared a photo of her pussy lips open like a butterfly and her big soft-looking tits - and I agreed to meet.

She insisted we keep it on the down low and met at hotel rooms due to her on again off again boyfriend, and I had no problem with that.

She was short, dark haired, chunky, and didn't seem to have any friends. She definitely was bored with the current dude and was always ready to get weird. The first time we fucked was amazing. She got high and I took some E and we fucked for a couple of hours straight. She came at least five times, once as I sat back on the couch watching her while she sat on a huge dildo and sucked my cock.

We would get high and watch porn on the big TV in the living room while I licked her clit or she laid her head on my stomach, watching the screen as she sucked my cock. Her pussy was amazing - the lips were wide and full. She would lie back, lift her legs, pull her stomach back so I could suck those lips and get my tongue inside her.

While eating her out I would slip her favorite skinny glass dildo into her butt and lick her clit until she was quaking with orgasms.

It wasn't just me. She would show me polaroid photos of her mouth on a random cock in some dude's car, the back of her head between some chick's legs eating her pussy or a load of cum dripping out of her cunt. It was insane.

Her place was a dump and she was a disaster; no job, no skills - just that talented pussy. I should have wondered where all the money was coming from.

One night she showed me a snap of a naked skinny blonde in her 60’s. Linda said that she was a neighbor a few doors down and would come over, get high and fuck her when no one else would answer her late night texts pleading for sex.

“I toss her a hundred bucks and she eats my pussy while I get high and watch porn!” she told me.

She laughed and told me that her boyfriend got pissed when he saw that pic.

I made a mental note of the relationship and her boyfriend's reaction.

A few months into this I found out her boyfriend was a trucker and a drug dealer on the side, carried a gun and kept his stash at the place. I wanted to cool it, but the sex was just too good.

I kept hooking up with her when he was out of town. I made sure she didn't know my real name, I never drove my car to the house or even carried my ID there.

She didn’t seem to care, or notice.

Then it started to get really weird. First was the death of her sometime lover, the skinny blonde chick down the street.

Linda said she “fell down the stairs and broke her neck” but I knew she had been raped, strangled and her place robbed.

One day Linda began making crazy demands of me. Asking me to drop off packages, or make pick ups at the Greyhound station for her.

One night she texted my burner phone with a blackmail threat. When I laughed that off she threatened to tell her boyfriend I had raped her and have him kill me.

It was time to get out, and I had been planning this night for some time.

She called me a few nights later after she cooled off to apologise and offer some “make-up sex” if I could meet up.

I agreed, and said I would meet her at her house.

She was already high and happy to sit back and wait for me.

I hung up the burner cell that I used for her calls, checked my kit and headed out to catch the bus.

When I arrived at the rental house the boyfriend's rig was in front, but she had assured me that he was on an out-of-state drug run with friends and would be gone for a few days.

I made us some drinks.

“You’re dressed like a homeless guy.” she observed.

“Just dug an old coat out of the closet. It’s getting cold out.” I said, deflecting a bit. I was wearing a hoodie under the old jacket, nonde*********** shoes and jeans.

Now she was on the bed, nearly passed out.

“What the fuck are you doing”, she slurred, “come to bed and fuck me”.

“Get naked for me, babe”, I replied “I’ll be right there”

I had just finished wiping the bathroom for my prints, I was also biding my time waiting for the MM I put in her drink to kick in.

She loved to suck my cock, but this time I couldn't allow that to happen.

I hadn’t planned on fucking her the night I took care of her; but the idea of dispatching her with my cock inside her was irresistible, but risky.

My cock was rock hard now as I pulled the covers back and saw her motionless nude body. Her panties had made it down to around her ankles before she passed out.

Her legs were spread slightly, her shaved pussy lips parted.

I knelt between her legs and pulled the black thong off.

I already had a latex condom on my cock, coated with the lube from the pump bottle she kept by the bed.

On my hands were black medical grade latex gloves.

She murmured something as I opened her legs, wiped some lube on her pussy and slid my cock into her.

She stirred slightly, responding to the sensation of my hard cock sliding between those lips and I gave her a few minutes of slow deep strokes before I leaned forward and wrapped both gloved hands around her throat.

She responded weakly and as I continued stroking her cunt I increased the pressure around her neck.

Her eyes fluttered open wide, and she made an attempt to sit up but her body wasn't obeying - she tried to grab me but I had slipped cotton gloves on her hands while she was unconscious making her fingers as ineffective as wearing mittens.

She was gasping for air now and I felt the sensation of her pussy tightening and releasing around my cock as she weakly kicked her legs.

Her body convulsed, her gloved hands went around my wrists trying to pull my fingers from her neck.

Her legs were wide open, her back arching, her hands moved up my wrists to my shoulders, almost as if she was trying to appease me or seduce me.

Her big tits jiggled and rolled, the nipples hard.

Her mouth was open, just a rasping sound escaping as she struggled for air. Her eyes were looking at something just over my shoulder, as her body, starved of oxygen, began to experience hallucinations. I felt her body relax a bit, and I loosened my hold, keeping her on the edge, her oxygen deprived brain drifting.

As I stroked her, I felt her pussy spasming, her body orgasming involuntarily in this near death dream state.

Her wide dark brown eyes caught mine and she began to make soft, pleading sounds.

I gave her neck a few rough shakes, like a wolf shaking a rabbit in its mouth. Her head flopped back onto the pillows allowing me to adjust my grip.

After a few minutes of my hands around her neck she became limp, except for the occasional involuntary convulsion that ran like a small electric current through her body.

I could feel her pussy gripping my cock with each little convulsion, each tremor a small twitch of her cunt walls.

Her hands had released their grasp and her arms fell off to the side and were still. Her legs spread wide, my cock still spearing her pussy. Her big body flopped like a rag doll as I stroked it.

It had been about 10 minutes since she last made a sound or responded to my thrusting. I paused and touched the side of her neck to check for a pulse.

She was lifeless.

I leaned back to rest my arms and looked at my big cock inside her still body

I double checked the condom fit and slowly picked up the pace; thrusting into her pussy with my hands now gripping her big tits.

Her doll eyes were fixed on the ceiling, mouth open slightly, completely still.

I felt my orgasm building with the realization that I was fucking a woman that was no longer living.

I moved one gloved hand to her neck and squeezed.

My orgasm began shuddering through me in a series of intense waves. A load of cum pulsed safely into the condom.

I carefully held my cock still in her pussy until my orgasm faded.

I held the base of the condom and slowly pulled the length of my dick out of her.

Holding the condom on my cock I walked into the bathroom and slowly pulled it off over the toilet water.

It was bulging with cum and I made sure the knot I tied into it was secure.

I placed the condom and its wrapper into a zip-lock baggie and put it in the backpack.

I flushed the toilet, got dressed carefully and went back into the bedroom.

Linda’s lifeless body was sprawled out on the bed as I had left her, a trail of lube and her own juices oozing out of her cunt and pooling on the sheet, her dark brown eyes still open and staring.

Maybe I was being paranoid, but I checked her pulse one more time, on the neck, then the inside of the thigh.

She was dead.

I ran a gloved hand over one of her big tits and rolled a nipple between my fingers.

I started to get aroused again, and had to remind myself that it was business time.

She hadn’t sucked my cock, or even kissed me, so no DNA would be found in her mouth.

I checked her body for my hair, a drop of sweat or a bit of saliva; but I had been careful.


I slipped the cotton gardening gloves off her hands and bagged them. No DNA under those fingernails.

I went through her purse and found a roll of about two-hundred bucks, took it and spilled the contents of the bag on the floor.

One night while high she bragged about a stash in a compartment in the closet. It didn’t take me long to find it. It was crudely cut in the floor and covered with a piece of carpet.

I cleaned out the coke, meth, bags of pharmaceuticals and about two grand in cash.

There was a loaded .32 Saturday Night Special in the drawer by the bed along with some weed, which I left.

I knew the boyfriend had just been at the place just two nights ago and I hoped he had left some good prints in the areas I avoided.

She rarely washed the sheets, so I was confident they would find his semen there, maybe even some from her friend the dead skinny blonde.

I took the glasses we drank from and washed and dried them, placing them back into the cupboard.

Finally I took a pair of pink panties and jewelry out of a zip-lock baggie and tossed them in the now empty closet floor stash.

They belonged to Linda’s ex-lover, the skinny blonde, who I had strangled two months ago.

Not only did Linda's boyfriend have a motive for killing her, he now was tied to two murders with physical evidence.

l stood at the door and took a last look at the interior of the small house. In my head I ran over each detail, each item in my backpack and only when I was satisfied that no one could ever find evidence I had ever been there I closed the door behind me and felt it lock.

The small place was isolated, the street dark, and I also knew there were no cameras or nosy neighbors. I strolled down the street to a bus stop about a couple of miles away.

It was dark but still early; nothing odd about someone going out for a walk; but the streets were quiet.

At a large sewer grate on a side street I opened the zip-lock with the condom and tossed it in, along with the drugs, gloves and burner cell.

My iPhone was at my house and if I was ever connected to her, however unlikely, my alibi was being created.

Three days later a friend found the body and the boyfriend was arrested immediately.

It turned out he had an arrest record for forcing himself on her a few times and slapping her around.

The missing drugs and cash were assumed to be her doing and his motivation.

His prints and DNA were all over the place, his truck was full of drugs and his gun was a violation of his parole.

The DNA on the pink panties and the jewelry tied him to the skinny blonde up the street, as I planned.

They already were looking at the two of them for that murder, this linked them to it.

The cops took a killer off the street and closed the book.

I buried the cash for a rainy day.

I kept her stack of anonymous Polaroid pics, just for old times sake.
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