Jane Doe (my favorite) - Sex Stories

Jane Doe (my favorite)

... Mercifully the pain began to diminish, calming to a dull roar. She felt the sheet lifting and then sliding off her body. The Coroner stated, "No other visible signs of trauma. This was quick. Professional. She never felt a thing." The Detective made a few more notes and asked, "So what happens to her now?" The Coroner replied. "We give it a couple of days to see if anybody from Missing Persons gets a call. If not, we ship her off to County and they take it from there. Damn shame with this one, she was a looker." The Detective gave him an unseen odd look. A wash of shame and vulnerability went through her. She could almost feel their eyes on her. In spite of her past, she felt genuinely naked, exposed. The only comfort was the feel of warm air on her skin. It was warmer, and light out here. So much better than being...In There. In the cold. In the dark. The Detective said, "I'm done here. Here's my card, give me a call if anything turns up." Over the sound of retreating footsteps, the Coroner replied, "Sure thing." The door opened and closed. There were a few moments of silence, broken by the Coroner's breathing. He took a deep breath, paused and then let it out. He mumbled under his breath, "Yeah, I got your card Detective." She heard him wad it up, a moment later it thunked into a waste can. His face appeared in her vision. It was horribly pockmarked. Deep scars from acne peppered his skin. There was something oddly familiar about it, something from way back, from another ...

... life. With a motionless shudder, she realized he was looking her up and down, an uncomfortable sheen in his eyes. She startled inwardly when his fingertips first brushed and then began to move in circles over her flat, cool stomach. Her skin tried to soak in the heat from them. Emotions collided inside her. Revulsion. Disgust. Shame over the realization that if she could, she would press herself into the grotesque caress if only for the warmth it offered. His hands moved up, cupping one breast and then the other. She felt sick at herself beginning to welcome his touch, craving more heat. He stopped. Her mind was relieved, but her skin begged for more. More warmth. More heat. His face disappeared, footsteps moved toward the door. A moment later, she heard it lock. Anxiety rose in her, why had he locked the door? She tried not to think about it. His face reappeared. Her memory jogged. She knew him. From somewhere, from a long time ago. Searching desperately, her mind came up empty. Suddenly his eyes looked directly into hers. It was a horrible look, full of malevolent glee. A humorless dry smile creased his thin lips, more of a sneer. Somehow, she felt even colder. "Well, well, well." He breathed in a spite filled whisper, "Always nice to meet a body from the home town." He knew her! But from where? His low hiss continued, "What's it been? 15 years or so? Why I'll bet you wouldn't even know me if you saw me on the street. I'll bet you wouldn't even remember me. You'd just give ...