Respectfully Disagree, but counter proposal for "Straight Shota Guro":
Adult Women getting fucked and killed by young shotas
lets be real, we're fine with both.
But I do kinda want the second one a bit more.
It might not be Your cut of tes, But some of us want the first.
"So, what do we have today?", Maggie McClellan mumbled to herself as she slipped on a pair of surgical gloves. As the sole forensic pathologist in the isolated Manassas county morgue, she usually dealt with corpses alone, which suited her just fine. Dealing with stiffs was her specialty after all.
Maggie pulled the zipper down on the body bag, revealing the face of a young boy. She stopped abruptly, shock running through her body. Her 14 year old nephew Jamie stared up at her, his blue eyes dull and unseeing.
Those eyes triggered memories. Maggie felt nausea as she remembered their secret moment deep in the woods last month. How Jamie had slowly undressed, his firm, toned body slick with sweat from the summer heat. His unkempt black bangs framing a blushing face as his eyes lustfully roamed over her own nude body. Then, the sensation of warm skin to skin contact, his tongue exploring her mouth, the feeling of his pounding heart against her chest, and his stiff cock rubbing on her thigh. Maggie had gotten to her knees, had unzipped his jeans, pulled down his briefs, had taken his dick into her mouth, savored the heat and the adorable noises coming from her nephew as he had his first blowjob.
With shaking fingers, she hurriedly unzipped the rest of the bag, revealing the dead body to the harsh glow of the fluorescent lights. Jamie lay on his back, clad in nothing but boxers, his skin pale, with reddish-purple splotches in his extremities. Livor mortis had set in, and as she pinched and prodded the body, she could tell Jamie still retained primary flaccidity. Along with his flesh still retaining warmth, she estimated that the boy had died recently, within 2-3 hours.
Looking around, she had an inkling as to how. His neck featured signs of severe trauma, bruising and indentation commonly seen in strangulation and hangings, and he sported a raging terminal erection that bulged against his grey boxer briefs. Maggie pulled the underwear down to Jamie's knees, letting his penis spring free. The boy was uncircumcised (which she already knew), but his tip was exposed due to the priapism. She noted the presence of prostatic fluid discharge from the head. This had all the signs of a hanging suicide.
As she catalogued his body, Maggie began to feel something she knew was immoral. Even more immoral than banging her nephew in the forest.
She put down her notebook and slowly slipped out of her pants. She knew, as the only forensic pathologist of a poor, rural community that the security camera they had installed in the corpse room was out of commission. She knew that no one else would touch this body aside from the undertaker. She knew that as this was early in the morning, and with the door being locked, that no one would come in and disturb her.
"Forgive me, Jamie", she whispered in the boy's ear. Maggie slipped one hand into her pussy and began to furiously rub away as she opened her mouth and began to lick the boy's engorged member. She bowed down, sucking on Jamie's cock deeper, sliding her tongue along his shaft as she neared orgasm. Unlike their encounter in the forest, Jamie's cock now was cold and dry. Maggie stopped at the edge, kissed the tip and clambered on top of the corpse. With careful precision, she crouched and slid the boy's penis into her slit. Rhythmically, she pumped up and down, looking down on the slack face of her nephew, his eyes staring blankly past her. She came furiously, moaning in pleasure as she sank down, laying her head on the boy's chest. His skin was cool to the touch now, time having inched away during her examination and brief flirt with necrophilia. Maggie knew she had crossed some major boundaries. This was a secret she was going to take to the grave.
FUCKING AMAZING! Do more!!!
Fun With Magic
"This is bad, Matthias", the boy groaned to himself.
It had been a month since he had escaped from the estate, and two days since his cache of stolen food had run out. He was starving and freezing, and he was desperate. This place was inhospitable compared to his village down south, in the warm and welcoming Uchitonne strait. His ears perked up as he heard the trudging of a traveler coming down the snow laden path. The boy readied himself, adrenaline pumping through his system.
Margaret the witch sighed as a bandit jumped out of the bushes and blocked her path. This would be her 4th time getting held up in as many months along this route. "Give me your coins, bitch!", the kid yelled, waving his poorly maintained, rusty sword at her. She slowly unhooked her purse from her belt and threw it at his feet.
As the tall, slim boy leaned over to pick it up, Margaret drew her wand out of its scabbard and muttered a cutting spell. She waved her wand at the boy with a flourish, and before his astonished eyes could make sense of her actions, a thin, shining white thread emanated from the tip and settled around Matthias's neck. She jerked the wand back, decapitating the boy instantly. The headless body, freed from its connection to a brain, crumpled to the ground. Steam rose as hot pressurized blood squirted out and met cold winter air. The head tumbled forward, blood splattering the pure white snow.
Margaret leaned over and plucked her purse out of the boy's limp hands. She fixed it back on her belt and got to her knees, rummaging through the boy's pockets. She found nothing of value. How typical, she thought. The witch pulled the boy's trousers down, revealing his pelvis and cock. A brand and number were burned on his tan flesh. "The Parkerson Estate", she exhaled. The biggest slavedealers in the capital, and people who wouldn't be happy about one of their products being killed. She picked up the head and wiped away the bloody slush and mud. His eyes stared emptily past her. The witch guessed that the boy was about 12, judging by the traces of baby fat lining his cheeks, and the lack of facial hair. It was a bit of a pity, the kid was pretty cute.
An idea popped up in her head. An idea that could only work if it was done soon, very soon, before the body got too cold. It was very immoral, she thought. That was all the excuse she needed.
Matthias woke up with a pounding headache. He blinked twice and tried to turn his head, only to find out he couldn't. There was something weird, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Speaking of which, he couldn't feel his feet, or legs, or arms, or hands. "Back from the dead?"
A woman's voice broke through his mental fog.
Then, he remembered. He remembered the traveler, him pulling out his sword, leaning over to pick up a purse, then a blinding white light and burning pain around his neck. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out. He felt uneasy, there was something very wrong here.
"I've cast a reanimation spell on your body, which means you have about 5 minutes of life left before I run out of mana", the woman stated. "Just long enough to give you some fun before you die".
A hand grabbed him by his hair, and the world swung around. He saw a headless body tied to a tree trunk. His headless body, which was naked, covered in blood and sporting a raging erection. He opened his mouth to scream. The woman put him down and walked over to the body. She knelt down and began suck on the dick, taking it deep into her throat. Despite his fear, Matthias also felt arousal. Margaret ran her tongue along his stiff shaft, savoring the taste of Matthias's sweat. The dick was hot, and pulsed as if there was still blood being pumped into it. Suddenly, it twitched and burst, shooting a thick wad of cum into her throat. She pulled back, coughing and wiping strings of semen from her lips. Margaret turned around and picked up Matthias's head. The boy widened his eyes as she kissed him, her jizz covered tongue pushing deep into his mouth, where his tongue pushed back. His first real kiss, he thought, dazed. Margaret kept their lips locked until she felt his tongue go still, and saw the light go out in his eyes. She pulled out of the kiss, and looked over at the body. The erection was gone now, and the skin was already looking pale.
Margaret dropped the head, letting it fall face first into the half frozen mud of the forest floor.
She slipped back into her trousers and pulled up her pack. She bade farwell to the body and resumed her journey.
Nice and fun stories.
To the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day. She rode a white horse, wore a threadbare duster coat, and a stetson cocked at a rakish angle. Her blonde hair was cut short and boyish, and her blue eyes seemed to pierce through to the very soul of anyone who looked at her face. She hardly spoke to folks around her, and most folks kept a wide berth, wary as they were about most strangers. Behind her back, they whispered about the busty blonde, that she was an outlaw on the run.
Perhaps the most notable aspect about her was the huge handcannon she kept in a holster on her hip. It was unlike most firearms used by the lawmen of the region, a custom job that mated a Single Action Army frame to a Colt 1860 backstrap, grip, and with a long barrel taken from a rifle. Its polished nickel gleamed in the blazing New Mexico sun. Townspeople took to calling it the "Big Iron", and it never left the stranger's side.
The stranger tied her horse up to a post outside the general store and sauntered over to the jail. She stopped in front of a wanted poster, her brow furrowed.
WANTED: TEXAS RED
A photo portrait of a young boy glared back at her, his freckled face twisted into a sneer.
ON 20 COUNTS OF MURDER
$20,000 PRIZE ALIVE
$10,000 PRIZE DEAD
"That kid has been making a mess of this town for 3 months now, and people are starting to pack up and leave". The stranger looked up from the poster. The sheriff stood there, his hands on his hips, a limp, unlit cigarillo hanging between his lips. "S'pose I can see you're credentials"? The stranger pulled open her duster, revealing a shiny badge pinned on her vest. The sheriff narrowed his eyes. "Arizona is a damn far distance from New Mexico", he said, before shrugging. "But then again, I want this punk taken care of before he causes more damage". The Arizonan Ranger smiled, and asked him for the last known whereabouts of the young outlaw. The Sheriff pointed at a point in the map, on the far outskirts of the town, then grabbed her arm. "Listen, don't let your guard down. The kid is only 12, but he's already put people twice his age deep in the ground. He gets people to underestimate him, and that's what makes him dangerous". The Ranger nodded, slightly annoyed by the Sheriffs insistent tone. She mounted her horse and kicked her spurs, trotting away at a brief pace.
The Ranger found Texas Red easily enough, as the boy had brazenly set up camp on the banks of the Santa Fe river. She had rode her horse along the river until she spotted the column of smoke from a wood fire. The Ranger dismounted, grabbing her Winchester '94 and enough rope to hogtie the outlaw. Slowly, she crept through the sagebrush until she had a good view of the camp. To her surprised delight, Texas Red was bathing in the river, far from his revolvers.
The Ranger got up and walked down into the camp, keeping her lever action trained on the back of Texas Red. She grabbed the boys revolvers, two Schofields in the Wells-Fargo style, and stuffed them in her pack. "Texas Red, this is the law!", she yelled, her deep, husky voice echoing across the land. The boy turned, and slowly raised his hands. The Ranger felt something stir in her heart. Texas Red was disarmingly cute, no doubt helped by his tender age. There was his young face, still soft with traces of childhood. His red hair was long and unkempt, and kept in two rough braids, with bangs covering half his face. He was still young enough that he had yet to grow pubic hair. It was clear outlaw living had kept him in shape, as his body was toned and firm, with not a trace of chub to be seen. Her eyes focused on his penis. The boy was hung like a horse. She blushed as Texas Red walked out of the river, not a hint of shame crossing his face.
The Ranger took her rope and tied Texas Red's hands and feet together. She whistled for her horse, and took Texas Red to it. She pushed him up and on to the back of her horse, still soaking wet and nude, and got onto her saddle, taking the reins and spurring her horse on back to town. "Ma'am, what'll they do once they take me in?" the boy asked quietly. "They'll probably hang you from the gallows", she answered "A long drop can be quite merciful if done properly". A silence followed as they rode.
The sun was just beginning to slip behind the horizon, soaking the land in a pinkish orange when the Ranger announced her intent to establish a camp to rest at. She took her horse off the track and got off, taking her blanket roll and camp supplies out of her saddle bag.
Soon enough, she had a fire started and had rolled out her blanket. In a spontaneous act of generosity, she had carried Texas Red off her horse and set him beside the camp fire to warm up, still tightly restrained.
As the Ranger stared at the fire, Red spoke.
"Ma'am, I don't wish to die a virgin." She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing. "Consider it my last wish?", he asked, his tone subdued. She sighed, and nodded.
The Ranger stood and stripped off her clothes, revealing a taut, muscular body with large, firm breasts. She was covered in scars from knife wounds, gunshots, and powder burns. Much like her close cropped hair, her pubes were a neat, triangular patch of blonde.
Her hands grabbed Red's legs and pulled them apart to reveal his throbbing erection. Never mind the 6 inches, it now stood straight and proud, and was as long as her Big Iron. The Ranger pulled his foreskin down and placed her pussy on the tip of his cock. Texas Red grunted as her now moist pussy slid down and enveloped his cock. The Ranger felt the rock hard member punch deep inside her and breathed in.
Slowly, she began to ride him up and down, increasing her pace as time passed. Soon enough, Texas Red was nearing the edge of climax. He moaned, his voice cracking in that peculiar early adolescent way, and his pelvis lifted up, pushing his dick as deep into the Ranger's insides as possible. He came explosively, gasping as he shot a long spurt of cum into his captor's pussy. The Ranger came at roughly the same time, and she collapsed on top of Texas Red, his dick plopping out of her slit, strings of thick white cum dribbling onto the blanket. They lay there together for an hour, exhausted and sweaty.
The Ranger slowly drifted off to sleep, but Texas Red was already formulating an escape plan. As the woman snored, he slowly began to rub his ropes against a particularly sharp rock outcrop. Half an hour later, he was rewarded in his efforts as the rope fell away from his wrists. The boy undid the ropes around his ankles and threw them away. Slowly, he crept around the still form of the Ranger and began to rummage through her pack for his revolvers.
Just as his hands wrapped around the grip of one of his precious Schofields, he heard the sharp click of a revolver hammer being drawn back. "Step away from the bag, hands up", the Ranger intoned. "Fuck, the bitch was just pretending to sleep!". Impulsively, he grabbed the revolver and twirled around. It would be the last thing he would do. A thunderous roar, and an enormous fireball erupted from the barrel of the Big Iron the Ranger was wielding. The .45 Colt round ripped through the center of his chest and the boy dropped like a sack of potatoes.
The Ranger walked over to the gasping, coughing kid. A large, ragged hole spilled bright red blood out onto the dust and dirt. Texas Red was not long for this world. She cocked the hammer again and pointed it at the boy's face. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, turning away. A sob of fear and pain escaped his lips, and tears flowed down his cheeks. The revolver thundered once more, and his prefrontal cortex was turned to pulp, 12 years of memories sprayed across the camp site. His body twitched, his one remaining eye staring straight ahead at the camp fire, its orange glow reflected in his dilated pupil. The Ranger pressed her foot against his torso and pushed, rolling the body over onto his back. The boy's cock was still fully erect, and as the Ranger watched, a final discharge of prostate fluid erupted from the penis head.
She uttered a curse. A whole 10 grand was lost because the dumb little shit decided to shoot it out with her. The Ranger rummaged through her pack, took out her knife and knelt beside the dead boy. Grunting, she sawed away at his neck until her blade scraped against the spinal column. The Ranger placed the bloodied knife on the ground and wrenched at the head, hearing sick cracks until it abruptly separated. She placed the head beside the body, picked up the knife, and placed the tip at the base of the still rock-hard penis. A few thrusts and slices, and the member came off too. She pried open Texas Red's jaw and stuffed the cock into his mouth. A final insult to dignity. She threw the head into her pack and went back to sleep. The 10,000 from bringing him back dead would have to do.
I propopse something hotter, shots fucking women, preferably their mothers and killed together with them! Will you do this?
What an amazing story. Perfect western style and such a clever plot. The only problem is that it's too short. We must have more. Here's an alternate ending to give us more to read about these two. It might not be as good an ending, but it's better than just letting the story stop.
Slowly she began to ride him up and down, increasing her pace. The bulging veins of his smooth young shaft rubbed against the sides of her slick pussy, and soon Texas Red was nearing the edge of climax. He moaned, his voice cracking in that peculiar early adolescent way, and his pelvis lifted up, pushing his dick as deep into the Ranger's insides as possible. He came explosively, gasping as he shot a long spurt of cum into his captor's pussy.
The Ranger came at the same time, her tight body tensing, muscles pulling tight as she squeezed his enormous cock, then she groaned in pleasure and collapsed on top of Texas Red. Her breasts were hot and swollen with excitement as they pressed against his face. His dick plopped out of her slit, strings of thick white cum dribbling onto the blanket.
The boy blushed hotly and scowled as he lay as still as possible and waited, his semi-hard dick feeling wet and cold in the night air. Once he was sure that she was asleep, he very slowly slid one hand free from the ropes. He had been slowly loosening his hands during the ride, and now he very carefully reached toward the Ranger's gun.
Just as he wrapped his little fingers around the butt of the huge weapon he froze. He felt the icy touch of sharp metal against his dick.
"Don't even think about it, kid."
Texas Red shivered and looked up to see the Ranger's hard blue eyes staring back down at him.
"I've got a knife against that little dick of yours and all it takes would be a little twitch to cut the damned thing clean off."
"Ma'am, please, I'm sorry," he stammered, "I didn't mean anything. You wouldn't cut a little boy. I've got so much to live for!"
"A dick's not going to do you any good at the end of a rope."
"No, wait! Please!" Tears filled his eyes and then poured down his cheeks, "I don't want to lose my dick!"
The Ranger stared down into his terrified eyes and carefully took the pressure off her knife. "I hope you've learned your lesson, kid. If you're lucky, I might even fuck you again before you hang."
She felt the tip of Big Iron jab into her side and the boy suddenly grinned hugely and laughed.
"Now what're you going to do, stupid? If you try to cut my dick, I'll blow you away. Adults are always so stupid, always thinking they're in charge. I'd have to be pretty stupid to let someone cut off my big dick."
"What a damned waste," growled the Ranger.
The cold blade slid smoothly through the boy's skin and split his moist dick from his body.
Texas Red shrieked and flailed. His hand clenched around the gun but the trigger refused to squeeze with the safety on.
The Ranger rolled off him and knocked the gun from his hand with a sharp kick. Both his hands went straight for his crotch as he screamed and blood dribbled between his fingers.
"My dick! My fucking dick!" he wailed as he spotted the pale tube of flesh bleeding on the blanket. "I'll kill you, bitch!"
The Ranger reached for her gun and the boy turned to run. He scrambled barefoot into the desert, holding his bleeding stump with both hands.
"Little idiot," growled the Ranger, "Don't you dare get yourself killed."
She disabled the safety on her gun and ran naked into the night to track him down.
Texas Red was scrambling up a rocky cliff. He looked over his shoulder and spotted her bare skin shining in the moonlight as she followed.
"You think I'm through, don't ya? Just because I lost my dick doesn't mean I can't still kill people. I'll get you and I'll get everyone who comes after me, just like I always have!"
"Be careful you stupid kid!"
His eyes were blurry with tears and his belly throbbed with pain as he stumbled through the rocks.
"I'm Texas Red and I never lose!" he yelled, and then he screamed as his foot got caught between two rocks and twisted. He tumbled down the cliff, his body smashing against countless rocks, his arms and legs snapping like twigs.
The Ranger found him at the bottom of the cliff. He was gasping for air and coughing up blood.
"There goes 10 grand, you idiot."
"Please," he croaked, staring up at her naked body and twitching, "I want my dick back. Please, give it…"
She poked his dead body with her foot and then shook her head. "Looks like neither of us get what we want today, kid."
Alex didn't have a last name. None of the clones did. Technically, Alex wasn't even Alex, but Manufactured Biped D-4465919, a product of the Shinnasaki megacorp. One wouldn't know from just looking at him though. He was, by all biological terms, a human male adolescent of about 13. The genetic material used to grow him in the BioVats was taken from a boy of Mediterranean and East Asian heritage, which gave Alex a dark skinned, exotic look, accentuated by his curly mop of raven hair, sharp green eyes, and slim physique. The only thing that separated him from a normal boy was the QR code tattooed onto the back of his neck, and the short range RF chip embedded into his skull.
Clones, male and female, were the backbone of the global economy. Used in every industry from construction to entertainment, they were often rented from the megacorps that grew them, fed them, and clothed them. Once a clone that was grown for a certain industry reached a certain age, they were disposed of by dedicated "clone snuffers" in specialized processing facilities. Even in death, the megacorps profited. Dead bodies were sold to medical schools for autopsy, their organs were harvested to supply hospital stockpiles, and their flesh, skin, and bone ground up for animal feed.
Today was disposal day for about 200 young male clones. Alex was among them. He was a "pleasure" model, grown for the sex industry, which meant his usefulness extended only up to the point where he retained his youthful androgyny. He had started to grow muscles, and pubic hair. His voice had lost its sweet high pitch, cracking like any typical adolescent. Puberty was why he was standing on the gallows along with 49 other boys, nooses around their necks and buck naked.
With a thunderous clatter, the trapdoors on the large gallows dropped open. Alex felt his stomach flip as he dropped. He opened his mouth to scream, then promptly bit the tip of his tongue off as the noose jerked tight. It was over in an instant, with the long drop and the specially designed noose knots causing fatal cervical fractures in every single boy. The woman in charge of the gallows walked underneath the platform, admiring the forest of limp young legs.
Gunfire rattled through the tall, winding apartment blocks of the old city. Benjamin panted as he ran, only looking back to squeeze off a few panicked bursts from his handgun. The enemy was not far behind, and the volume of gun fire directed at the young boy soldier only increased with every minute. As he ran through the rubble of the street, Benjamin spotted the burned out hulk of a pickup truck and dove behind the engine block, the whip cracks of bullets zipping over his head keeping him cowering behind the truck.
Sgt. Yorke adjusted the scope on her rifle, and centred the reticle on the head of the brown haired punk. Her spotter, Cpl. Huston, called out distance, wind speed, and elevation in her husky Texan accent. "600, 1/2 right, reference stop light, 10 meters, 1 o’clock. red truck, right behind the hood". Yorke steadied herself, her right eye focused on the mop of brown hair bobbing around. The kid peeked up from behind the truck, his fresh face filling her scope view. He looked scared, his eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights.
"Send it", Huston whispered. Yorke exhaled, and pulled the trigger, feeling it break crisply. The gun gave a gentle shove to her shoulder as the .338 Lapua round flew out of the barrel, its thunderous roar echoing throughout the city block.
Almost abruptly, the gunfire had stopped. Benjamin stayed put for 5 minutes, checking and rechecking the ammo left in his pistol before he worked up the courage to take a look down the street. As he surveyed the dusty scene, the hairs on the back of his neck pricked. He had the strong sense of someone watching him. His eyes darted around, checking each shattered window and jarred open door. The boy turned around, standing up to a half crouch, unwittingly exposing himself to the very deadly pair nestled on the 60th floor of a highrise located down the street.
The bullet from Sgt. Yorke penetrated the small of his back and punched out his stomach, tearing open a grapefruit sized hole in his firm, toned abdomen. Benjamin twirled around as he fell, propelled by the sheer impact force from the snipers bullet. His blood sprayed from the wound, splattering the asphalt with crazed patterns. The boy turned himself over, looking in shock and horror at the mangled remains of his stomach. As bright red blood squirted from the jagged ruin of flesh, his intestines slipped out, pink and purple gray, a shimmering sliminess coating the tubes as they encountered the mid day sun. Benjamin placed one blood slick hand on the concrete and his other on the handle of the truck door as he tried and failed to pick himself up. The bullet mushroomed as it entered his body, and a chunk had managed to sever the connection between his spine and his legs, rendering him crippled. The unfortunate child soldier slid down, desperately trying to make his mortally wounded body move itself, fearfully sobbing as he desperately pushed his warm insides back into his stomach cavity.
By the time Yorke and Huston had moved down to street level to confirm their kill, Benjamin had passed away, dead from severe distributive shock. "The little shit couldn't even last long enough to give us some fun", Huston remarked with a disappointed expression. Yorke gave a monotone grunt in agreement. Huston shrugged and knelt down, placing her rifle at her side. She brushed away the messy locks covering Benjamin's face, and felt a shiver of excitement. The kid was cute, large brown eyes (now half lidded and dull), a smattering of freckles on his soft baby fat cheeks, full lips, chapped and flecked with blood and saliva.
The two women picked up the corpse, Huston grabbing the legs and Yorke the hands. The pair dragged it over to the shade and shelter of a nearby hotel reception. Huston and Yorke had managed to make a reputation of themselves among members of their battalion for their bloodthirsty ways. They had only escaped being penalized due to the increasing casualties on their side, as well as their extreme effectiveness as a sniper team.
Their practice was, every time they made a kill, the pair would strip the body naked, mutilate it, and pose with it, snapping plenty of pictures. Huston undid the straps holding Benjamin's plate carrier and pulled it away, as Yorke took her combat knife out from its sheath and sliced open the front of Benjamin's blood stained shirt. Huston focused her attention on the dead boy's stained jeans, unzipping the fly and pulling it down, revealing his urine stained low rise white briefs. The spotter noticed a rather large bulge, and with a smile hooked her fingers underneath the elastic waistband and slipped the briefs down, revealing a semi-turgid erection, the cock head glistening with precum. "Looks like our high value target was feeling a little excitement", she joked as Yorke looked over with sudden intense interest. Huston looked away, grabbed her camera and turned back, only to see Yorke on her knees, head bobbing as she took Benjamin's dick in her mouth.
Yorke was a woman of few words, and many actions, some of them impulsive to the extreme. Performing fellatio on the fresh killed corpse of a young adolescent was one of her craziest, a thought that occurred even to her. As Huston watched speechlessly (a rare event in its own right), Yorke's hands gently pulled down Benjamin's foreskin, flicking her tongue around the head. As she cleaned the precum and piss, her hands cupped the boy's testicles. She closed her eyes, slowed down her tempo and pressed her lips around the penis shaft, lowering her head down until her nose tickled the scratchy tuft of pubic hair crowning Benjamin's crotch. The sniper took one hand and slipped it underneath her bike shorts, moaning as she furiously masturbated. Yorke came, a single gasp slipping from her lips. With a pop, she pulled away, savoring the bitter taste of the deceased boy's bodily fluids. Yorke wiped her mouth and lay on her back, her head resting on her backpack.
Huston snapped away, her own right hand shlicking as she witnessed her friend's necrophiliac blowjob. The large Texan woman let loose a loud rebel yell as she achieved her own orgasm, falling on her back as she rode the bliss of climax. The two lay panting on the reception floor, separated by Benjamin's limp body. The pair looked at each other and smiled. This was a kill to remember. "Next one we kill, I'll let you do the honours", Yorke offered. Huston nodded, grinning as she replied back "I hope the next one is as cute as this one". The two laughed, their bond strengthened.