#MWBB – Week 2.20 : Long Snake Moan – A Tale Of Wrath

[Author’s Note : If you can’t handle sex, violence, and insanity, stop reading now, and move on.]

Jennifer stood in her shower, scrubbing herself with soap, making lots of lather. As she let the water wash away the foam, she moaned, “Oh, yeah.” She felt so alive. Every inch of her skin was alive. Every inch felt the water, the foam, the air. She moaned again.

It was three A.M. She was washing off the salt, sand, and him. She peaked outside the shower, to verify her special hairpin was still there, and clean. To be safe, she pulled it into the shower, and let the water run over it again, before placing it on the counter once more.

She felt the water flowing over her, closed her eyes, let her fingers run wild, and moaned, as she remembered her last date with him.

“I want to go to the beach! Now!”

“But, it’s after midnight. It’s closed.”

She kissed him, and ground her hips into him, “Scared?” She pulled one of his hands down and pressed it against her ass. “Think we’ll get caught?” Her hand rubbed his crotch.

To the beach they went. It was nearly 1:00 A.M. They walked along the sand, by the edge of the water. She pulled off her shoes, and walked barefoot, letting the water flow over her feet, between her toes, feeling the sand.

No one was around. She giggled, as she took off her shirt, and tossed it on the sand. Her bra followed, and she made sure he got a good view of her breasts. Her shorts and thong came off, and she added them to the pile. “Time for a swim.”, she splashed through the surf, and headed further out.

She smiled when he followed her, and touched the hairpin hidden in her hair. It wouldn’t be long before she needed it.

When the water was deep enough, she stopped, and kissed him. Her hand found its way between his legs, and her fingers made sure he knew what she wanted. She pushed him on his back, floating on the waves, and moved her head between his legs, for a little while. She knew it wouldn’t be long before she needed her hairpin. Not long at all.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, and mounted him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her up, keeping himself inside her. She raised her arms over her head, and he couldn’t resist sucking on her breasts.

She moaned, then moaned again, as her hand found her hairpin.

He finished, erupting inside her. “Oh, God,” he groaned, as she pulled the hairpin and sank it’s carefully sharpened tip into his throat, then pulled it free, and sank it in his chest. He tried to fight back, but it was too late.

She pushed his head beneath the wave, her hands wrapped around his throat. She watched the bubbles in the water as he fought to breath. She held him there until the bubbles were gone, and he no longer moved.

She moaned as she finished.

She remembered every detail, as she stood in her shower, letting the water and foam wash away every trace of him. She felt the water flow between her legs, and moaned once more.

Wrath stood next to her, hidden in her shadow, as he whispered in her ear, “Another man who hurts innocent women is now gone. God blesses you, dear child, for all your hard work.” Jennifer smiled, and knew, the next day, she’d continue her work. She’d start another hunt. For a predator to remove from the world. To make the world a safer place from men.

She smiled, and as the water flowed, and her fingers moved between her legs, she moaned.

611 words
@LurchMunster


This is my entry for Year 2, Week 20 (Week 2.20) of Jeff Tsuruoka‘s Mid-Week Blues-Buster flash fiction challenge. Please, go read the other stories in the challenge.

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#MidWeekBluesBuster : Week 8 – Living Room

Cherie was one of those women guys just go stupid around. Big, blue eyes, dark red, almost brunette hair, breasts that were just the right size, and an ass that you just had to watch as she walked away. She was my greatest mistake. I’ll never forget her. And I’ll never blame her for the way she was, the things she did. She was a work of art, a goddess to behold, to hold, to kiss, to sleep with. And she was absolutely heartless.

I learned she had each of us scheduled into her life. Nick on Monday, Tom on Tuesday, Frank on Wednesday, Robert, Steve and Jim on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. I was her Sunday plaything.

I met her on a Sunday morning, at church of all places. She came in that first Sunday, and sat next to me. “I’m looking for a church home,” she explained.

“You are always welcome here,” With all the empty spaces on the other pews, I should have known something was wrong when she singled me out to sit next to.

Sunday after Sunday she showed up, and she sat next to me. After a month people began to talk about her, and about how she was corrupting me. “Do you see the way she dresses? That hussy!” I didn’t care. I relished having a pretty girl sit next to me. And Cherie was gorgeous. Everything she wore exhibited her curves, and they were the best curves I’d ever seen.

After two months, she asked me to lunch. Of course I said yes, why would I have said anything else? Lunch after Church, with a hot chick? It was a dream come true. And the rumors at church took off, expanding, “They’re having an affair! She’s sleeping with him now!”

After the third month, she asked me to come watch the football game at her house, in her Living Room, on her big screen TV. “I don’t want to watch the game alone,” she declared, as she took my hands in hers, lacing her fingers through mine.

When we got to her house, we sat down in her Living Room, and she turned on the game. But, I never saw a single play. She got naked, and then got me naked, and then the sex started. Sundays became filled with sex. In the morning, before church, in the afternoon, watching a game, or a race, or whatever she put on the TV, then well into the night. “I just want to be loved,” she explained. “I need to feel loved. To know you love me. I need to feel alive. Make me feel alive.”

Hell, she gave me everything I wanted. Right there in her Living Room. Me, with a fantasy women like the ones you stare at in magazines, and on-line, and pray no one sees you staring. And there I was, every Sunday, having sex with a fantasy woman.

Until she grew tired of me, and replaced me with Harry. That’s when I realized how much I’d spent on her. Buying her anything she asked for.

When it was my turn to be thrown away, I wandered into a bar a few blocks from her house. That’s where I met Nick and Steve. They were there, drinking and telling stories of Cherie, waiting to see if another of her victims wandered in. And I did.

Now we’re a group of ten. Any day we should grow to eleven. Cherie’s still out there, collecting men, then throwing them away. We sit here once a week, at a set of tables, and we laugh about how stupid we were.

It’s like Tim Allen said once, “Breasts make men stupid.” Yep. No doubt about that. And if you add a good ass and blue eyes to the breasts, we don’t have a chance. Trust me on that. The ten of us are proof.

666 Words
@LurchMunster


Trying Jeff Tsuruoka‘s Mid-Week Blues-Buster flash fiction challenge again, and finding I had to cut oceans of words out of this one to get it under 700. Please, go read the other entries in the challenge.