Th Dead Girl - Sex Stories

Th Dead Girl

... decided to have more fun. I'd find couples having sex and lick the man's dick so he'd cum too early. Once, I walked into a monastery and accosted the monks in their sl**p. I found one fellow who was so cute I decided that I really wanted to fuck him. I took off my party clothes and squatted down over his dick. I pumped up and down for several minutes. He came quickly, shooting his cum through me, but the whole thing didn't do very much for me. No body, no orgasms. Bummer. One day I was in a bar pleasuring a man who was masturbating when I saw a man slip something into his date's drink. I felt the world spin around me. I felt as though I was filled with fire. I hated him. I hated him more than I could ever remember hating anything. I sucked more furiously on the cock I was haunting and the man attached to it began to moan and writhe, but I couldn't focus on him, not when the guy at the bar was trying to make his move on an innocent woman. I couldn't let him have his way. I had to stop him. I wanted to smash his brains in. I wanted to cut off his balls, fry them. I wanted to hurt him so badly he'd never be able to touch another woman again. I promised myself that I would be strong. That I wouldn't just sit under a table fucking someone while there was real evil in the room. The man I was pleasuring gasped and shot cum into my mouth. It tasted good but bitter as a swallowed it. I gasped and choked, the sensation was so unexpected. I hadn't had taste buds in months! The man ...

... looked down at me and smiled broadly and I blushed. The other customers were pointing and laughing or making accusations. The man at the bar with the bills slapped his thigh and laughed hysterically. I didn't know what to do. The bartender came over and tried to politely e****t me outside, but as he reached out to me I pushed him and he fell flat on his back and I rushed past him to the bar. "Hi, sweetheart," The bastard said as I approached him. "Asshole," I screamed, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him of his bar stool. There was a clash as the other customers tried to scurry out of the bar. "I ought to kill you for what you intended to do to that woman. But since I'm such a nice young lady, I think I'm going to teach you a lesson instead." The man whimpered and I smiled. "Take off your pants." A moment passed, and he didn't move. "Take off your pants." I repeated shaking him by the throat, and he scrambled to take his pants off. "Bartender. Heat me up some bread sticks," I said, turning to stop the man from grabbing me from behind. "Yes, Ma'am," He said quickly rushing behind the counter. The man I was holding began to gasp and struggle. Oxygen, right, I'd almost forgotten. I threw him to the floor and held him down with the spiked heel of my shoe. "Bartender!" I yelled over my shoulder. "I'm not getting any younger over here!" I snickered to myself. The bartender rushed forward with a basket of hot bread sticks. They were the cheap hard kind they always sell in bars, ...