The other woman. :)
Posted by Barbanne on January 30, 2004 at 22:43:39:
THE OTHER WOMAN
Picture this.
Two gunshots reverberate away into silence.
Two warm blooded bodies suddenly cooling.
Occasional involuntary muscle spasms twitch otherwise lifeless flesh.
No longer circulating, blood starts draining to the lowest points.
The process of rigor mortis is triggered.
The scene.
A bed.
A big bed.
Bigger than king sized and with an ornate headboard.
The bedclothes are rumpled and rolled down to the bottom of the bed. On the crimson flecked under sheet, side by side, lie a man and a woman both completely nude and sprawled in the unnatural and ungainly poses that only the dead can assume.
He has been shot through the heart and a small neat hole leaks blood. She has been popped right in the middle of her forehead and a ragged hole mars the smoothness of her skin. He stares in shocked bewilderment. Her eyes are closed but her tongue dangles wetly over painted lips.
A cheating man, his piece on the side, a righteouly jealous wife and a small bore pistol.
Invetigators move around the room their main focus the two corpses.
The corpses lie still and unmoving.
The guy is big and was BIG and now lies lifeless and unmoving.
The equally lifeless girl is me!
ME!
Its one of my favourite parts. The cheating piece of trash, the sneaky bitch, the man stealer who rightly gets herself killed stone dead for her wickedness.
The investigators are in no hurry, the pepetrator is in custody. Long accustomed to violent death they have no compunction about moving around the two nude stiffs. No attempt is made to cover them.
Photographs are taken from every angle while detectives study the scene and re-enact the murders.
My right hand dangles limply off the bed. The fingers of my left hand are wrapped around the swollen cock of the late husband. My breasts curve seductively down from my chest. My pubic hair shivers in the air conditioning. My pussy gapes.
Ah my pussy.
Its outer lips curve down from my venus mound like two smooth ridges of opposing flesh. My inner lips hide coyly inside only revealed when it opens wide to accept an intruder and then the little pink crepe like folds can be seen, revealed away from their hiding place. A vagina in almost mint condition, one that has very little wear and tear. You see, despite my braggadocio I have had limited sexual experience with very few partners and on the whole (pun intended) my limited experiences have been rather disappointing.
Ah well, they say the best sex is not in your bed its in your head.
And this was head sex.
I love the idea of being dead and revealed. Thats why I pose with a big genital display. Firstly being dead its not up to me to actually do anything. I don't have to instigate, I'm just a naked female body waiting to be used. And then being dead and naked and posed seductively, downright salaciously actually, well then there's the utter shame and humiliation of being found in that position and its that sense of humiliation that turns me up to white heat. The thrill of it all, like having sex in a public place and not wanting to be found out, but desiring it at the same time. Knowing that all those decent ladies who taught the sad young girl that I was what was and wasn't appropriate behaviour for a young lady, knowing that if they saw me stretched out, caught in the act of sin and popped through the brain and unable to redeem myself or cover my shameful nudity and my blatant gynaecological display, seeing me like that they would be humiliated and embarrassed for themselves and for me. Its that heavy blanket of humiliation I crave.
So there I am dead and stark naked and my pussy, my cunt is visible to all as are my breasts and my face and everything, and with a man!
An equally dead man!!
Caught in an act of adulterous fucking, rooting like rabbits, doing unmentionable things ah how Barbanne is destroyed. Destroyed far more seriously than just being lifeless, destroyed because despite everyone's best efforts I couldn't keep my lust in check and now ugly jealousy has claimed me as its victim.
Lying there, dead and unmoving.
(not really dead but SEXILY dead)
Humiliated beyond belief.
Poor girl.
Poor Barbanne.
POOR ME!
So they go on about their business professionally and efficiently.
But at times the crime scene men and women look at Barbanne's stripped corpse and is that excitement that quickens their pulse? Is that barely concealed lust that stiffens cocks and tingles groins?
The other woman.
Nameless.
A slut.
Deserving of what she got.
Dead but unmourned.
Slut, slut, slut.
Oh god I love it!
The photographer is done. As a sideline he will post some of the more lewdly erotic shots of me on his secret web site and people will pay to view another young female corpse. Having this sort of coverage thrills me no end.
Tapes have been used to establish distances and the crime scene has been accurately mapped by the crime scene officers. Physical evidence has been collected from the room and now the officers wait patiently while the medical examiner, a young woman, studies both corpses (its my turn now) and makes observations about lividity, extent of bleeding, and other signs which will help astablish time and cause of demise. A thermometer protrudes from my ass and the ME whips it out and reads off the body temperature before wiping it and rturning it to her bag.
She gets up and nods to the crime scene guys to indicate she is finished and they can have their way with the corpse.
As people stand around watching idly semen samples are swabbed from my pinkly stretched pussy and my pubic hairs are combed to yield further evidence and prints are lifted from various other intimate parts of me.
By now I have been rolled and am half lying on my side, stringy goop dribbling from my mouth and my arms contorted into totally unnatural poses.
The lead detective walks over for a final look, taking in the young babe in front of him. His eyes tell him that he has seen all he needs to know but he lingers on the hollow of my back, the curve of my twinned buttocks, the soft crumpled breast that is visible, the long curly hair, the slender shapely legs and the neat delicate feet.
He feels himself harden and looks at the dead man.
"Was she good man?" he asks himself, "would she be good even now?"
He chomps his cigar and turns to the meat wagon guys.
"Bag 'em and take 'em down town."
Its my curtain call.
My nudity disappears into a shapeless plastic bag, like yesterday's garbage.
But not before I show a shoulder here, a sagging breast there and a last flash of bum, asshole and squished pussy lips as I go unceremoniously into the bag.
I am dumped onto a trolley for removal.
My next appearance will be flat on my back and just as nude on a stainless steel slab in the morgue.
Don't miss it!