Julie Pendleton

It excited her. She stood, watching him, wondering if he might twitch again. He did not. Nervously, like when she showed her private parts to Jesse Schau in the coat closet of her first grade class, she kneeled in the pooling blood by his waist. She seized his limp dick in her fingertips. She almost felt she could coax some life back into it.

"C'mon STYLE! You can't fuck my ass like that, can you? She tried to rip it off, but it did not yield as easily as his testicles.

His testicles. She prodded a loose one emerging from the blood on the floor like a little island in a pond. Gingerly, she lifted it and gave it a little squeeze. Sex. She felt it in its full glory. She hoped he'd approve, but it didn't matter now, did it? She lowered her face to her hand and tested the bloody little thing with her tongue. It tasted like power and submission in one candy cup. A little kiss, and she sucked it into her mouth. Organic tissue stretched from the thing trapped behind her teeth to the flaps of shriveled skin between his legs. She had to pull it much further from his crotch to rip it free than she would have imagined. There was a tendril of connective tube hanging from her lips. She sucked it in like she had spaghetti noodles as a little girl.

Rolling the ball around her mouth, she cast her eye to the remaining gonad. She straddled him, the fire in her blazing . She was as close to cumming now as she could get without yielding to it. She took the other in her fingers and pushed it into her vagina. She masturbated with his blood for no more than a few seconds and reached a climax that collapsed her into unconsciousness for an hour.

When she awoke, the panic was real. There was nothing else to displace it but the smell of decomposition's first gestures and the sight of congealing death. She remembered the Everclear he'd used to spike the punch. The cabin was full of candles. She lit several and placed them, strategically, around the cabin. One, she placed on the floor next to a table from which she pushed the bottle of Everclear. She figured she'd have to hand light it after the spill, but all it had to be was possible. There was no need. The spilled spirit took the flame and the bed sheets were engulfed before she was fully in the mind to make her next move. she moved the television from Style's head and went to take a shower.

By the time she climbed, naked, from the bathroom window, the resort management had spotted the flames. The cabin was surrounded by resort guests. Mr. Collins, the resort manager, gave her his shirt and ran to fetch a bathrobe. He stood with her as they all watched the cabin burn to the ground. No one was hurt when the propane tank exploded, because Mr. Collins had moved them to a safe distance. Everyone was safe now. Almost.

She knew she'd need to drug and tie Mr. Collins. This thing with Style had been a little bit too close of a call.