The Fifth Little Death

His tongue slowly lashed at her toe causing Meg to giggle. “You’re mine now,” he said in a deep gravel laced voice.

“Yes, I am,” Meg agreed and closed her eyes. She felt his hands on her pushing her skirt up.

“You are certain?” he asked and paused.  His ghostly pale face was a contrast to his tight black tee-shirt and black pants.

“Oh yes.”  Her moan escaped and echoed in the cold cement of the warehouse as she felt his tongue continue to trace along the nylon covering her legs to the top of her stockings. Her blue eyes opened just in time to lock with his as his tongue found her pussy. “Oh, fuck,” she gasped.

“We’ll get there,” he whispered with his own blue eyes flirting. His blonde hair was much longer than Meg’s brunette curls. The muscles of his shoulders rippled beneath her thighs currently each resting on one of his shoulders.

Meg shuddered. “I’ve always wanted this.”

“I know,” his voice was surprisingly unmuffled as his tongue danced inside her with his fingers.

The military-green blanket on the cement floor squirmed. The moon squinted into the room from the row of windows along the top of the wall. Industrial equipment camouflaged the couple and the light oil smell wafted through the room.

“Please fuck me,” she whispered through a harsh sigh.  She arched her back slightly begging his tongue deeper, though she craved something else.

“You know the price, are you sure?”

She lifted her head in a slight nod. “I need it.”

He stopped and propped himself upright on his knees. Pulling down his zipper and releasing his belt buckle, his pants slid to his knees and revealed a massive hard cock.

“Holy fuck.”  Meg’s eyes widened and her mouth watered at the sight of what was about to go between her legs.

He pushed her knees apart and slid in between her legs with his cock held in his left hand.

“Wait,” Meg almost cried and held a hand against his chest. “What is your name?”

His pale face smiled at her with that charismatic bad boy smile. “Does it matter?”

She screamed with delight as the erection pushed inside her and spread her open more than she ever recalled.  Her hips began to buck up to him, pulling him deeper as her legs once again rested on his shoulders with her calves around his chin.

He groaned lightly, at first, driving hard into her with his balls making an audible slap as they hit her.  He grasped her legs tight against his chest with one arm and supported his weight on the blanket with the other.  His climax, as usual, would be slow tonight.

Meg screamed again, never having felt such power and warmth between her legs.  She sensed his pace quickening and his cock growing within her.  She knew what was coming and, for just a moment, doubted this was what she wanted and slowed her own pace.

He picked up his pace even further becoming a jack hammer as he pounded.  No was an option no longer.

Meg arched her back again and felt even more pleasurable warmth from him.  She rocked with him until and screamed again just before feeling the first blazing blast of his ejaculation.

Five hours later…

Day light flooded the warehouse.

Dawn watched as the last lab suited techs picked up the remainder of their equipment.  She always laughed watching those silly American police shows as people in sexy clothing did the forensic work dropping their own DNA where ever they go.  She glanced at Mike, the last tech, as he walked past her.  “So?”

He stopped and glanced back.  “Same as all the others.  Signs of consensual sex and no discernible reason we can find as to why she’s dead.”

A male voice came from behind them.  “Thanks, Mike.  Go get your people something to eat while we look around.”

Mike nodded and continued on past.

Dawn’s petite body turned to the older man who towered over her.

“You wanted this case,” he said and whistled.

“Yeah, boss.  I asked for it.”

“Oh,” Mike called.  “About twelve hours before we found this one.  The guy is getting better at picking his spots.”

Dawn looked back at Mike to nod her thanks.

The older man shook his head of gray horseshoe fringe of hair was all he had left on his shiny, mostly bald head.  “A guy who fucks women to death.  Were it men dying, it would be every guy’s dream.”

Dawn nodded.  “From the look on her face, that still might be the case.  Only suggestion we have is that the guy is massively endowed.”

“You know better than that,” he said and laughed.

Dawn rolled her eyes.  “Don’t start, Moe.  Have we identified her?”

He nodded and flipped open a small spiral notebook.  “Meg Dwyer.  Kindergarten teacher at St. Jacob on the Lake.  Mother of four little girls, her twins are just 18 months.  Married twelve years, apparently quite happily from what I have been told.”

“That’s five,” Dawn said and walked into the warehouse towards the body.

The body was that of a plump woman, flat on her back with her arms bound to the casing of a compressor.  Her black skirt was lifted and her chest was bare.  A red sweater was tossed to one side along with a small black purse.  The green blanket beneath her was heavily stained between her legs.

Dawn crouched and scanned around for more.  “All that semen and we still get nothing.”

“Initial thoughts?”  Moe stepped slowly and followed her.

Dawn shrugged as she scanned the warehouse of compressors.  “I know we always get our man but, fuck…I wish we could get this guy quicker.”

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