He is driving, observing me nervously in the rear view mirror. I feel the revolver in my bag. I wait for my moment. He turns to look at the road ahead. I lean forward, push the revolver against the nape of his neck.
Below us a reservoir shimmers in the sun and beyond that, the ugly outer suburbs of the Second City extend towards the gleaming towers of the city centre. He pulls the car roughly over the kerb and parks on the grass. I push the cold metal of the gun hard against the base of his skull.
I get out of the car first, cover him as he gets out. He has a spade in the boot. I know that.
I open the boot and see the silver spade. I make him take it out and walk through a gate into the wood. I walk behind him, pistol in hand, safety catch off.
He carries the spade. I notice him shaking.
We stop in a clearing in the middle of the wood..
I order him to dig.
He shivers, takes up the spade.
He digs in silence. He is seating It is a sultry day.
He works rhythmically, digging and throwing the soil behind him to his left. The soil piles up as he the grave deepens. I see that he is tiring. He looks at me pleadingly. Whether for a respite from the work, or for mercy I do not know.
The grave is shallow, barely two feet. I like the sound of the words. I imagine them on the front page of a newspaper. Shallow grave. Two feet is deep enough.
I order him to undress.
He undresses. I motion to him and he lies down in the shallow grave. I see fear in his eyes. HE is looking at the trees, at the leaden sky, the sickly sun trying o break through. He is not looking at me. He does not want my face to be the last thing he sees.
I put the gun to his temple. I am wet, my gorged clit is brushing against my panties. I am fucking horny. I am gagging for it. In five seconds time I will be a killer. I will summon my lover. We will fuck on top of this shallow grave.
He will lie inches beneath us. His body will still be warm. It will start to turn sour and decompose even as we fuck. I will have killed in cold blood. This turns me on.
I pull the trigger. He sighs and shrugs at the empty click. He sinks back. He thinks he has been shot. This is the ultimate mindfuck. .
He twitches, moans. He is still alive. He cannot believe the he is alive.
I make him stand up.
I lie in in the grave. I spread my legs. I play with myself and make him watch.
I order him to fuck me. He looks at me. I point the pistol at him, take aim. He kneels down, plays with himself. He is quickly hard. Precome is dribbling from the bellend.
There is no foreplay. I do not want foreplay. I want to be fucked hard here in this shallow grave. I am thinking of death. I want him to hurt me. I am wet but wish I wasn’t. I wish he could force his way into a dry, narrow cunt. . I want him to be sore from fucking me.
He goes down on me. I twist his nipples hard. He yells with pain. I pull him onto me by the hair. I dig my manicured fingernails into his back as he pumps. I drag them down his back.
My nails are freshly polished. They are red and they gleam. They are the colour of oxygenated blood.
I drag them down his back like a plough. I feel skin accumulate under my nails.
He begins to cry.
I arch my back. He pushes in deeper. He thrusts harder. He is working to dull the pain.
I move a finger down and place it on my clit. I want us to come together.
He moans. I scream. I feel his huge ejaculation dripping from my cunt onto the soil.
I look up to the trees. The sun has disappeared. It is getting cold.
I hand him the pistol.