” He turned back to the grave and I crept up behind him to look at it. Marie Louise Emmett, dead just two weeks, lay beneath the soil by his knees. ...“You wife?” I asked crouching beside him. “My sister,” he said. “My little sister.” I looked at the dates again and realised the girl had only been fifteen when she died. “What happened?” “I killed her.” I lost my balance and staggered back. “I’m sorry, what?” He turned to face me and forced a weak smile. “No, I don’t mean I murdered her, but it. It was the catharsis after an entire night ofseesawing between terror and arousal. It was the liberation of finallybeing able to express the sexual, feminine side of me that I had keptsuppressed for so long. It was because my best friend had become mylover, fulfilling my deepest fantasy in the process.With steady, practiced thrusts, Zach began working his cock deeper anddeeper into me, grunting in tempo with my small girlish whimpers as hefucked my brains out. My dildos at home had not prepared. More

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