One Last Embrace

Yaaah! F*ck! Simultaneous pain and pleasure coursed through me, from the tips of my curling toes to the top of my blood-soaked and thrashing head. Life, love, light... all had gone as I had come. She stayed, slowly grinding, as I breathed my last- her hands covered in my blood and her c*nt full of my seed. She couldn't help but shiver and moan as she took my life. The last thing I felt... was her pleasure. The last thing I heard... was her ecstasy. My fiancee, now turned femme fatale, had found her la petite mort, in more ways than one. I saw a light; then, I saw darkness; now, all I see is gray.

My funeral was a bit... confusing. Friends, family, strangers and, oddly enough, even enemies huddled by my grave as they lowered me into the ground. I hadn't seen most of these people in over a decade. Most of them didn't even realize that I had been engaged. In fact, the two people I had seen the most, my fiancee and her ex, seemed to be lost in a world of their own, completely ignorant of the people who had actually loved me. Sure, she was grieving- desperately sobbing as she clutched at what's-his-name's arm and dabbed her smeared mascara with a tissue. Yet, somehow, in the midst of her mourning, she had thought it fitting to wear her new engagement ring- a cheap ring that matched the one on her (former?) lover's hand. Nobody noticed but me.

A week passed. As usual, a few days were spent sorting my property- and, then, my friends and family dispersed, like errant leaves upon the wind. Only "they" remained, for they had a life to plan... together. I wonder how much planning they must have done before I died. I wonder why she betrayed me. I wonder why I'm still here, pacing the halls of a hotel where my former fiancee very recently married a sh*tbag from her past. They were in that room... and I knew what honeymooners tended to do. I knew what was going on...

I heard a giggle, one that I knew quite well, come from the other side of the door. She was drunk... and she was horny. I'm sure he felt the same. Liquor and lust always lead to the same things, just not always by the same paths. Curiosity took me, wondering and wandering, to their bedside- and, for just a moment, as I stared at his motionless form, I wondered if she had done it again. A moment passed as I waited for signs of life. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he snored... and she giggled. She was riding him in his sleep- both of them far too drunk to care about anything. I crawled into his unconscious mind- and felt his body as if it were my own. (Possession was easier than I thought!) I moved "my" hands; and, suddenly, I could feel her again, giggling and swaying exactly as she had done the night she killed me. God, she still felt good! I opened my eyes, his eyes, to see her sloppy smile above me as she slurred pillow talk I had never heard. I had almost forgotten what she had done; but, that settled it. F*ck this murderous succubus. She had taken my life in our bedroom; and, now, she would feel the same confusion I had known. I began to move beneath her- and she laughed as she leaned in to kiss me. I kissed her deeply, biting her lip gently as I pulled her hair. She moaned as her bouncing rhythm increased; I could feel her p*ssy tighten as she clawed my back, throwing her head back and gasping as she came. She slowed her pace and shivered repeatedly as she cooed to herself, her fingers softly probing the growing wetness between her legs. She giggled and fell over, drunken and delirious, her legs and arms sprawled across the bed. She wanted more... and so did I. I slid into her softly, tucking her legs beneath my arms as we began to rock back and forth. I would let her have her fun again. I would give her pleasure, again. Rolling her onto her stomach, I grabbed her hair and bit her neck... hard. She begged me to f*ck her, groaning into the pillow that she was a nasty whore. I rubbed my wet d*ck on her ass and rammed it in. She screamed in pain, then started rocking backwards, one hand fondling her clit as the other gripped the headboard. Hours seemed to pass as sweat poured from our bodies. I gripped her thighs, roughly, as I began to feel an orgasm on its way. Her body tensed as my hands moved to her head, the beginnings of her own orgasm taking its hold. Her face inches from the headboard, she giggled drunkenly as her holes tightened. Thrusting wildly and ready to come, my grip tightened on her hair. She shook and moaned in pleasure, screaming that she wanted me to come. I could hold off no longer. I continued to thrust as I emptied myself inside her ass; and, right as I finished, she came again, her mouth gaping as her head pushed back into my hand. She moaned something unintelligible and I pushed my hand forward as hard as I could. Her face met the headboard without resistance and I could feel her neck snap as she crumpled into the pillows. I watched the light leave her eyes from the drunken mind of her former lover. She had ended in pleasure, just as I had. Now, we were even. Now, I could finally fall asleep. Now, I could rest...

*The cops would show up in the morning, just in time to find a semi-conscious sh*tbag crying over the corpse of a murderous whore. I don't know if he knew... and I don't really care. In death, do we part...