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Story is graphic and contain murder.

I crash landed on the motel bed thinking to myself how this bed had more sex then me my entire forty-three years of living. Firmly grasping her waist, I forced her down unto my lap where she continued to flail around. She whispered something pleading and breathless into my ear however I paid it no attention for I was intent on what I set out to do. Murder.

Her hands pushed against me in resistance but I over powered her.
Please... let me go. I will do anything...

Her voice was spiked with panic and a twinge of fear as it cracked at the end and sliced the air into a cry. Her hiccuped sobs rang through my ears and stirred my insides much like a woman's moan would do any "normal" man.

I pulled her bottom harder into my crotch, feeling her shake in pain and rub her panty less bottom against my rough denim. Her quivering unease sent a rush of blood to my member and my face flushed with excitement.

I sighed listening to her squeals of pain and fear just before I pressed a pillow into her tear stained, mascara running face. Sensing it was her last moments; she squirmed and thrashed fighting for air.

shh I cooed to her. It will be over real soon.

She kicked over the coffee table with her wild legs and tilted the lamp shade with her frantic arms. Her body bounced and bobbed around in my lap continuously fighting for life.

Damn this is the best lap dance ever. My thoughts raced. It was a wander I didn't blow my load right then and there, but I held it in feeling her movements slow, then eventually stop, until her body slumped against mine. I held the pillow there a good three minutes to make sure. I rolled her lifeless body off of me and analyzed her lifeless face. Yes. Indeed she was dead, but I was not done with her yet.

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