Jess O'Riley & God's Tears

“Do you mind if I kiss you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice timid and submissive.

“I’ve never been much of a kisser,” he said, making his move to climb from her body.

With cat-quick reaction time, Jess wrapped her slender legs around him and pulled his semi-stiff cock back inside her pussy, crushing his body back against hers and bringing his mouth barely inches from her own.

“C’mon,” she flirted, pulling his face towards hers, “it’s customary in Ireland to kiss the girl after you cum inside her.”

Of course this was pure bullshit, but he wouldn’t know that.

“Well, you did give me a hell of a ride, so why not,” he replied.

Before their lips touched Jess darted her tongue out of her mouth and dipped the tip in her bloodied lip, just to make sure that he got some when they kissed. Then, lying in stinking rubbish with rain dripping from her face, she pressed her trembling lips to his and shoved her tongue deep into his mouth. The coppery taste of blood became strong as their tongues sucked, the red, disease infected blood passing from her mouth and into his.

When they stopped kissing he pulled his head away and removed his softened cock from her slimy cunt. Jess felt like clapping and whooping the very second his body rose from hers. Unfortunately the gooey sensation of his warm semen remained all too evident, and while he zipped his cock back into his jeans some of it dribbled out the lips of her pussy and down the crack of her ass.

“I have AIDS,” she said out of the blue.

For a long moment he said nothing and just appraised her in the hazy light. Those three words seemed to hang in the air like a dense fog, and after he didn’t reply she wondered if he’d heard her. Jess closed her legs and picked herself up from the garbage, about to repeat herself when his eyes morphed into narrow slits and grew cold.

“Yeah, right, and I have two cocks,” he sneered.

Jess thought she could detect a faint note of fear in his voice, but that could’ve been her imagination. Then, unable to help herself, she began to laugh. It built up from the pit of her stomach and rolled out her mouth in guffaws that sounded maniacal, even to her. The crazy laughter echoed down the alley and she tilted her head to let the rain pour over her face, her mouth stretched open in a massive smile.

Now he looked openly scared. That’s the amazing power that some words hold. It could be why doctors seem to have such an elevated status – they wield such life-changing words that we must fear and respect them all at once.

“You liar,” he shouted. “You’re a fuckin’ liar!”

“No,” was all she said.

The laughter didn’t dwindle or stop. It continued to flow from her mouth long after he’d turned and walked away from her. When he’d left he’d had a defeated and haunted look in his eyes, it may have been the very look Dr. Phillips had seen when he’d given her the same bad news that afternoon.

Wet, semi-naked and shivering, she stood there in the darkened alley for a full minute with her fingers between her legs, curiously exploring the greasy folds of her well-fucked vagina. Her rapist may have given her pussy a big creamy load of cum, but in return she’d given him the only gift she had – the kiss of death.

And man, she just couldn’t stop laughing.

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If you have any thoughts on this story, both in the positive and the negative, I urge you to send feedback if you have the time. I imagine that this story may be largely unpopular due to its…morbidity, but this is how the story came to me so this was how it had to be written. I like the idea of a rapist having the tables turned on him, it definitely intrigues me and you don’t see it happen very often.