Part 67

Posted by Barbanne on March 13, 2003 at 20:53:21:



Sandi looked cheap and very trashy.
She looked like a street girl, a prostitue, a ho!
She was.
She waited just at the edge of the spill of light from a street lamp, waited for a customer, any customer, a meal ticket, money for her habit.
The car drew alongside. The window wound down, smoothly, electrically.
She leant through the open window and bartered and then she got in.
The man inside smiled at her and then he smashed his hand into her face just above the bridge of her nose. Her head banged backward, hitting the safety glass of the window and bouncing off. She slumped forward, crying in pain and his gloved hands encircled her throat.
It was over very soon.
Sandi's corpse lay slackly, half on, half off of the seat.
The car accelarated away.
Another one to add to his collection.

We had decided to do a stalker kills prostitutes set.
All of the available girls would be in it.
Most of us had at one time or another flittered around the fringes of this oldest and most lucrative of professions and we knew just how dangerous it could be. That's why it made such a convincing subject and besides, we all got to dress up outrageously cheap and tacky.
Sandi had the shortest skirt I have ever seen that wasn't a belt and fishnets and fuck me shoes and a tube top and totally "filthy" underwear.
"Barb," said Alex when I told him our plans, "is a feature about prostitutes getting killed really what we want?"
"Is a feature about any girl being murdered what we want?" I said, getting slightly hot under the collar, "we're a death fantasy site and lets face it men get more thrills from thinking about dead girls than any girls get from thinking about dead men. After all," I grinned, "what use is a dead man until he becomes well and truly stiff!"
"But prostitutes Barb?"
"Those poor women are the ones men fantasise about most, sexually available, slutty, deserving to get killed."
"But nobody deserves killing."
"Of course not my darling but that's the common belief, 'ah but she asked for it,' how many times do you hear that?"
"True, OK do it your way."
Sarah was next.
She trashed herself in a tube mini with spaghetti straps and big hair and alpine heels.
She waited on her street corner.
The same car arrived and after the bargaining had taken place Sarah slid into the front seat and as she did her ridiculous skirt rode up revealing the cheek of her ass and the man stbbed her with a needle emptying a vial into her bum. Sarah sat down hard, turned, said, "What the fuck," and then her eyes rolled together and she slumped, limp and senseless.
The car turned into a deserted park. Sarah coughed awake. Her eyes widened and then the man's big, rough hands encircled her throat and she screamed and then her body started its struggle for life. She bucked and twisted and writhed and her hands beat in futility and her tongue unravelled and her eyeballs skittered and she kicked out and then she slowed and slowed and slowed and then she flopped limply and it was all over.
The car started and moved out onto the main road and picked up speed.
Roxie was the next street walking gal to get taken down.
Tight, tight, very short vinyl shorts and a bra top with a loose, glossy, silk taffeta shirt and nose bleed heels.
The car stopped for her and she got in.
The car drove off and pulled into a deserted off road bay and Roxie stooped over her customer to blow him.
As her head moved down to where she was fumbling with his zipper, his hands circled her neck and he crushed the wind from her lungs, stopped any air from passing down her windpipe and throttled the life spark out of her body.
He drove off.
Sherilee in a frayed denim mini skirt and glittery top became his next victim and then Alexis done up in slut clothes and slut makeup as though she really knew something about this, also succumbed in the car of death.
Our final scene all five dead ho's were stripped nude and hung from their wrists bound to an overhanging beam in a meat chiller room in an unused abattoir while the mad strangler cruised for further victims and alternated his use of these poor women who had fallen prey to him.

On the following weekend I dragged Alex along to the music festival in the park.
He complained a bit saying that he had work to do but I nagged and got my way.
We ate our picnic lunch and listened to some great groups, my fav was the Pixie Sluts, and then I lay on my back, closed my eyes and let it all drift over me.
"Do you want an icecream love?" Alex asked, leaning over me.
"Can't," I said without opening my eyes.
"Another diet?" he sighed.
"Nope, I'm dead and can't eat icecream, can't do anything in fact."
"Oh Barb, don't be silly."
"Dead girls can't do anything," I said letting my arms fall by my sides and limping out.
"Barb not here, not in front of this crowd."
"I love a crowd when I'm dead."
"Don't be a stupid git."
"Dead girls never say no either darling. Slide your hand under my skirt."
"Oh Barb," but he did, surreptitiously.
"You've got no panties on!!"
"Mmmm hmmmm, and..................."
"And your all wet."
"So screw me while I'm dead on the grass."
"Barb there's a thousand people here don't be ridiculous."
"I dream of being dead and made love to in front of a multitude."
"You're crazy."
"Nope, dead."
He leaned very close, "If you're good we could go home and maybe then................."
"OK, but you'll have to carry me."
"No way."
"Come on, I'm dead remember."
"What would all these people think, what could I say?"
"Say excuse me but my girlfriend's just dead, must have been the sun."
"You're mad."
"Barb for pete's sake."
"Oh, have I got to walk home. Damn, and me dead too. You're no fun at all. Party pooper!!!"
"You're certifiable my sweetheart."
I sat up.
Back home I squeezed, and I mean squeezed, into my old, year twelve school uniform, white short sleeved blouse and short green and black checked skirt and knee high white socks. The blouse I left unbuttoned and I hoicked the skirt up and rolled it once at the waist. Then I sprawled out over the bed and invited Alex in.
His own fainted, knocked out or dead schoolgirl, take your pick my darling.
Talk about perverts. Talk about a debased or degraded, sex mad girl.
He oohed and aaahed and then said, "Poor thing she's gone," that's my trigger phrase, I think I told you that before.
He kissed me and opened my blouse and brushed his lips over my breasts catching my nipples between his tongue and his upper teeth. My tits were ultra sensitive and my nipples prickled with erotic heat.
He kissed my bare tummy and then lifted my skirt and rolled it up to my waist.
My pussy was plumped up and dribbling with arousal and inside its wetness it was hot, hot, hot with aching desire.
He mounted me as I lay still and playing dead and his gorgeous cock filled my cunt and rammed into it's farthest reaches.
He pumped and pumped and I responded without breaking my role play.
I felt the slashing fire burning in my guts and burning in my cunt and the orgasmic thrills crescendoed and then his cock swelled to fire hose size and then burst forth, emptying his load from his balls into my cunt.
His big, strong body lay heavily atop me and all of my synapses were firing off like artillery and I wrapped my arms around his back and crushed him into my flattened breasts and kissed him, pressing my lips against his with every last bit of my strength.
Like this I held him and refused to let him withdraw until finally his erection faded and died.
When at last our excitement weakened I held him still and we dozed for a while and then I rolled on top of him and took his manhood into my wide, wet and willing mouth and sucked it back to full size and then tried to get so much of it in me that my lips touched his reloaded balls.
When he blew, he blew like a breaching whale and I greedily gobbled down his cum.
Then he kissed my groin and his tongue invaded me and skillfully brought me to my own orgasm.
I shucked off my school uniform, chuffed that I could still get into it, and together we slept nude and entwined in each other's embrace.
God there are times when I suspect that I am a slut!