The soft glow of the light spread across the room. The peaceful atmosphere was a stark contrast to the vibrant energy I felt moving between us.
Somewhere past the hedges across from us, there were small birds, picking at the floor – plucking pieces of bread from the concrete with small, tiny beaks. I think of the star of spring, and the warm air soon to come, that will thaw out the bodies I have in the back of my garage. Living in Siberia had meant they were frozen for quite a while, but now with the coming of spring, I would have to use them or chuck them away - and it felt like a waste to throw away perfectly good bodies.
My cheeks tensed as I forced a smile upon my face. I couldn't let the smoking hot man in front of me know that my real intentions were much more carnal, and much darker in appearance than perhaps he originally thought.
Creeping is too obvious, I find. Usually – it is a better idea to come well dressed, looking like you mean no bad business. As I walk closer to him, I see the freckles and moles on his arms, as shifts about shyly, and I think about how he'd look on my floor, like a throw on rug, faces scrunched in pain.
It motivates me to walk closer to him.
Soon, I am close enough to reach his neck, and reach them I will. I sweep the knife from my back pocket and feel the blood reach my cheeks. It had always turned me too far up knowing the control I held over another's life.
I could see the pleasure affecting the man in front of me as his eyes dilated. It seemed that he too found the sharp edge fetish too much. The saliva dripped from my throat, just as pre-cum began to drip from my cock.
Not now, I curse to myself- but it is disobedient, and drips down my pants into to leave a long wet streak. The thought of washing the clothes is something that makes me even more excited, and I can barely hold the knife straight when I jab it into his neck. The blood is thick, and clings to his skin before spilling out onto the floor.
He watched in horror - but did nothing.
Once my brain clicked, I realised what I must do.
The blender is tucked far under the floorboards but it only takes me a few seconds to rip it out .
My sexual pleasure was making patience difficult.
I could feel my loins tightening and I used his skinning knife to cut shreds off of his friends limp legs.
The sloppy sound was only maddening me further.
Once there was a satisfactory amount of skin on the bench, I flicked on the blender, cumming into the moosh to create a smoothie. I gasped deep fish breaths in his utter lust. Once the smoothie was mixed I carried its contents to the tumble dryer…
Warm, I think. Very warm.
I could still feel the life that these parts used I have, when I tipped them in, washing in since Monday.
I had been waiting for this.
Turning it on, I watched as the blood sank into the clothes, clinging to the fabric.
I had almost reached my orgasm, but tried to hold it back for at least a few minutes.
Soon, however – I was on the edge, and opened the door to the washing machine, and the contents spilled out onto me.
Very warm.
