“Last”

Posted by tina on December 14, 20013 at 21:36:23:

Hi, everyone! A woman enjoys an ordinary Tuesday and I hope you do too. Enjoy!

“Last”
By tina

It is not my intent to be a headline. I awake as usual a little before 6:00 in the morning. My lighted alarm clock tells me I have exactly 13 more minutes. Unfortunately my biological clock is silent on a more important point. I reach out and turn off the alarm knowing the loud click will reawaken me. I snuggle under the covers on this crisp fall day. There is nothing extraordinary about this particular Tuesday except it will be my last.
I hear the alarm clock’s loud click that indicates the time is now 6:10 AM and I must leave the comfort of my bed. I pad into the kitchen and see the first hint of daybreak through the trees in the park across from my apartment complex. I live in the ground floor apartment on the left. I am afraid of heights but would admit this might be taking that phobia to new lengths.
I turn the coffee maker on and go to take my morning shower. I love the feel of the steamy hot water on my bare skin. On the weekend I will pleasure myself as the water streams down my smooth white skin. This is a work day so my naughty time must wait. I do not know this will be my last opportunity to masturbate.
After I towel off I return to the kitchen. The coffee is ready and I am ready for it. I sit, naked at my dinette as the sky begins to turn blue outside my kitchen window. I watch my last dawn as I slowly sip my coffee. At precisely 6:45 I clean the coffee pot and my cup and return to the darkness of my bedroom. I turn on the lamp that sits on the night stand. I stretch and yawn and feel marvelous. I make the bed for the last time, fluff the pillows, and stack them just so on the light green comforter.
From my lingerie drawer I remove a lacey white bra, my bikini panties, and a white garter belt which is adorned with light blue bows. Imagine my surprise after my mother dies when I discover her drawer full of garter belts and nylons. The stockings run the gamut from every day nylons to opera length black hose. I find one pair of full fashion back seamed black stockings with a Cuban heel. The fifteen denier hose are exquisite and I wear them only on very special occasions for equally special gentlemen. Since this oddly erotic find I wear garter belts and stockings every day. I wear my mom’s garter belts a tribute to her but the everyday pairs of nylons have gradually been replaced with hosiery from Victoria’s Secrets or Caroline-B. I pull a pair of sheer brown hose from the bureau. The gossamer hosiery feels wonderfully soft as I roll each stocking into place on my sexy legs. I am a pale redhead so I adore the way the silky stockings give my legs the illusion of a summer tan. The stockings shimmer in the light from the bedside lamp as I fasten the garter straps front and back. I smooth the nylons up my legs and adjust the straps for a snug fit. I next don a red ruffled blouse with three quarter length sleeves that buttons to the throat. My pencil skirt is lined linen so I eschew a slip as superfluous. Taupe Loubouton pumps complete my wardrobe. A hint of garter strap is visible under the tight fitting linen skirt. This is okay with me as it sometimes elicits interesting looks from my colleagues (both the men and the women). Many ladies in the office are beginning to wear tights again but I strongly suspect I am the only “old fashioned” girl.
I walk out of my apartment into the mild morning, happily oblivious of what awaits me. The downtown express arrives at my stop on-time. I catch the bus at the last stop before it enters the nearby interstate for the twenty minute ride downtown.
I arrive at my desk and am reviewing email at the appointed hour. The company is overly obsessed with us being on time but I am an extremely punctual person so I have no issue with this particular corporate requirement.
The day is uneventful. My boss even drops me an email thanking me for my work on the Christy account. I make a mental note to ask him for a raise at my next review meeting. It is a discussion that will never occur.
The last afternoon express delivers me safely back to my apartment. To my surprise there is a man waiting for me.
“Hi, may I help you?” I inquire gaily as I arrive at my front stoop.
“Hello,” the quite handsome man replies, “the super hired me to inspect the plumbing in the building.” He holds up a clipboard. “Your apartment is the first on my list.” I see my name along with those of my three neighbors on the official looking work order on the clip board.
“Is there a problem?” I question as I unlock the deadbolt and lockset on the doorknob.
“No, just a routine periodic check up to avoid unwanted plumbing issues,” he responds as he wipes his already spotless boots on my welcome mat. I enter my apartment for the last time as he follows me inside. I do not bother to relock the door since there is someone here with me.
I stoop to scoop up that day’s mail being careful not to flash the plumber.
“I’d like to start in your bedroom,” he says fixing me with the bluest eyes I have ever seen. He sees the puzzled expression on my face and quickly adds, “The access panel for the bathroom pipes is in the bedroom closet.”
“Oh! That makes sense,” I reply with a laugh. I drop the unopened mail on the coffee table where it will wait for someone else to open.
“The bedroom is this way.” He follows me into my bedroom. This time I flip on the overhead light. “The closet is over…” That is all I get out before he grabs me around the waist and clamps a hand firmly over my mouth. My scream becomes a snorted grunt as his powerful grip smothers any real sound.
“I want you to take off your skirt and lie down on the bed.” There is a brief pause and then he adds, “And don’t make a sound or I may have to do something.” The unstated something obviously means something unpleasant for me. I sigh as I resign myself to being raped.
He removes his hand and releases me. I walk to the bed as I unzip my pencil skirt. I wiggle it down to the bedroom carpet as I hear him fumble with his toolkit. I lie down on the bed and push my panties down. I have run the garter straps under the bikini briefs so I able to pee more easily. My left leg is free of the panties but they are still around my right ankle as he climbs onto my bed. He easily pushes my legs apart since I have already decided not to fight him. My wispy red pubic hair is exposed to his leering stair.
He unzips his pants. He wears no underpants so his already hard cock comes free. It is purple with suffused blood. We do not say anything as he guides his large cock into my receptive pussy. I decide I might as well enjoy being raped. I just hope he is good.
To my surprise he is quite gentle as he shoves more and more of his erect dick inside my willing pussy. The sex is electric. I feel myself rising to an orgasm as we fall into a nice rhythm. My stocking clad legs wrap around his waist which allows his throbbing cock to slide even deeper into my receptive cunt.
My eyes shut tight as I climax. I am rewarded as he continues to slide in and out of my wet slit. He brings me quickly to a second orgasm. My final climax is matched by his as his whole body stiffens. I feel his cock twitch inside me as he shoots his hot load of semen. I moan softly as my last orgasm subsides. I am still blissfully unaware that I have had my final orgasm and last sexual encounter.
We lay panting on the bed as our bodies begin the recovery road back from the incendiary sex. He finally pulls out. His retreating dick makes a gushing noise as it departs my clinching cunt. I giggle as I watch him zip up.
He surprises me as I sit up. He reaches down to unfasten the garter straps of my right nylon. As he slides the stocking down my leg and pulls it free from my foot I comment,” I see you’re taking a souvenir to remember me and the sex!” He has my sheer brown nylon stocking around my throat before I can react. I quickly know what he is actually going to do with my silky stocking. I gasp for air as he gets a second loop of stocking tightly around my slender throat. He straddles me as he pushes me down onto my back.
I put up a good fight. Unfortunately for me a good fight is not really very good when being strangled. It seems as though it takes forever as I try to push him away or try to pull the ligature free. It is actually less than a minute when I begin to lose control as well as losing the fight. My struggles are suddenly in slow motion. I watch helplessly as my arms drop down beside me and twitch uselessly on my colorful bedspread. My legs kick up sporadically as I no longer command their movement. My bulging eyes lose focus as I feel something pop in my crushed throat.
The handsome strangler is just a shadowy blur. “At least the sex was great,” is my last thought as the room fades. I die as he holds the pretty ligature firmly in place. He holds the stocking a moment more to make sure. He leaves the brown stocking looped around my strangled throat when at last he finishes his grisly task. I am dead.
He apparently remembers my final comment after the rape and removes my other nylon to take as a prize. Among so many “lasts” my most recent picture appears on the front page under the headline and next to the story of my rape and murder.