A hasty trip to a quiet hall at a party can be murder.
Look at you, all sleek and cool. Your image slices through the crowd-the only crisp visage in the blur of cocktail-soaked minglers.
I can’t help but gravitate toward you-your pointed gaze pulls me in. I step forward.
You step back, urge me to follow without saying a word, and I tremble when you slip into the shadowed hall.
So awestruck am I that I glide after you, craving your darkness.
Your hand wraps around my throat and snatches me away from the safety of the crowd.
We swivel, and I am back against the wall, my knees on your hips, one of your hands cupping my ass. You devour me, leaning in to pin me with your weight.
Your other hand drops from my throat and skitters down my flank. Your forearm hooks beneath my knee and you hoist me higher. Rigid fingers delve between my thighs, which your searing hips have forced wide.
Ah! I cry out as your fingers drive into my clenching pussy, while your thumb surrounds my clit in tiny, agonizing circles. Your ministrations release a cloud of pheromones, and my nostrils flair to savor our mingled scents. You inhale deeply and your knees buckle, forcing a hiss from between your clenched teeth.
I feel the heat long before you stab me and plunge again and again. I’m gasping and screaming and crying out for mercy- please! Oh, please! There is no mercy in you. You power into me, every thrust raking textured wallpaper across my spine.
My fingers fumble through your hair, down the back of your neck, and clutch at your collar, struggling for purchase, fighting a losing battle.
We slip down the wall, tangled together, shoving, lurching into one another; our sole focus the point of connection. We are both sticky and slick, and each thrust comes with a squelch and a smack.
My neck is bent, chin tight to my chest, hips thrust into the air. We grunt like the carnal creatures we are, and hold our bodies taught and still, save for our pelvises; grinding against each other, pulling apart with harmonized groans, drawing together with deliberate precision. Oh! Oh, just… right… there…
My whimpers quicken, sharpen, deepen, as if each breath is coming from further down inside me, gathering strength, rolling up my core and filling the back of my throat to overflowing. They boil out of me. My lips open wide and Oooooh! I howl as though the moon is hanging ripe above our heads.
One last gasp-for all I’m worth; I shudder against you and sag to the tiles.
You straighten and stand above me. Smiling triumphantly, you leave me to my last tremors and sighs.
You slip into the night and I am soaked, helpless, weak, and holding on for dear life.
You slay me.