Gwen picked up the mail from the mat, closed the front door behind with her foot and flicked the switch, turning on the main light. She dropped her coat over the back of the hall chair, next to the phone and stepped into the living room, kicking off her shoes and wriggling her toes in the pile of the carpet as she went. It had been a long day, stressful and she was inordinately pleased to be at home in her warm apartment at last. The mail was dropped on the settee, ready to be gone through in a short while.
She wandered into the kitchen, opened the fridge and poured herself a cold glass of chardonnay from the opened bottle that was covered beads of condensation over the green glass, stored in the door shelf. The remote to the sound system was on the granite kitchen worktop, handily placed so that she could hit the ‘on’ button and have her music choices waft from the speakers set into the ceilings of every room.
She returned to the living room undoing the buttons of her blouse one handed. Dextrously, she prised the buttons through the holes, one by one eventually leaving the front to flap open, still tucked into the waist band of her skirt. The glass of wine was placed carefully in the centre of a coaster on the small occasional table beside the settee, freeing both hands to deal with the awkward zipper at the back of her short skirt. She wriggled and allowed the garment to land around her ankles for a brief moment before she picked it up then folded and placed it on the settee, the white blouse followed, leaving her to stand in her bra and panties.
Gwen sat, grabbing the mail to read as she folded her legs under her bottom and wriggled into a comfortable position. The half a dozen envelopes were all bills except for one from her mother. Gwen could almost predict, to the word, what her mother would have to say. John was in town and asking after her. She hoped she was eating enough, not working too hard, was having time to practise the piano etc, etc, et al.
She put the unopened mail down on the small table, next to her glass of wine which she picked up and sipped, grateful for the rejuvenating effects of the ice cold alcohol. Gwen began to relax and allow the stresses of her day to leach away.
She hit the ‘on’ button of the television remote control, making sure the volume was down to nothing and then, dimmed the lights with yet another remote device. The little luxuries appealed to Gwen and labour saving devices ranked top in her shopping criteria.
The program on the television was another of those interminable cooking contests. The food always looked fabulous, but for most people who avidly watched, was far too impractical. The ingredients were not readily available on the supermarket shelves for one thing and even less people had the time or imagination to produces the haute cuisine.
Still not quite comfortable, Gwen reached around her back and unclasped her bra, pulling it off to lie on top of her skirt and blouse. She eased her breasts, pushing them up and together to overcome the confining pinch the under wired garment imposed on them. She encouraged blood flow with a soothing massage that stimulated her skin. It was an unconscious, relieving action with nothing more than relaxation on her mind, a bit like the pleasure of wriggling your toes after removing high heeled shoes.
The uninspiring television served to provide an alternative source of light to the dimmed main lights as she lay back and wound down.
After some while, and feeling drowsy, Gwen rose from the settee, hooked a finger into her high top panties and pulled them down and off, stepping out of them one foot at a time, bending at the waist. She hung her panties on a crooked finger as she carried them to the bathroom on the way to a pre-bed shower. They landed in the linen basket, discarded until wash day.
Gwen showered, pulled a towelling robe around her damp body and returned to the living room. She emptied the wine glass in two gulps and switched off the television and lights. Gwen went to bed and fairly shortly, was sound asleep.
He crept forward, trying not to disturb the bushes too much. The window was just above head height in his crouching position. He didn’t want to be caught as a shadow or silhouette as the lights went on. From a poacher’s pocket of his overcoat, he pulled out his new periscope, bought at a sport shop for just this purpose but designed for another.
He fitted the sculptured rubber face mask over his eyes, a modification of his own. He has also covered the glass with a non-reflective film. It didn’t affect the quality of vision but would prevent the lights glinting back. Snapping the rubber head band into place, he waited for her to switch on the lighting. He felt secure from observation. He had chosen a good place from which to view her and the curtains were opened enough to allow him a great vantage point. The shrubbery protected his back from the distant road and overlooking neighbours. The cover of darkness and his black long-coat and woollen hat, offered little for anyone to see against the dark brickwork, just in case anyone should be curious enough to look when the lights went on.
He settled and waited, expecting her home any minute now. The time seemed to tick interminably by, slowly, each second seeming a minute long and every minute an hour. He shivered a little. The evening air was cooling rapidly. He had a moment of anxiety, thinking his breath might be seen if it got cold enough to show as steam. He pushed out a breath and was relieved to see that it did not condense.
It was, in reality, only ten minutes or so that he waited, during which time, his attention wandered, his mind imagining her naked body between his hands, his lips sucking on her erect and hard nipples, his cock deep in her body, spraying her guts with his spend as it pumped deep inside her body.
Suddenly the lights flicked on, snapping his attention back to the task in hand and temporarily blinding him as the bright light refracted from the angled mirrors of the periscope. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the star lights from his retina. It lasted only a few seconds until his vision cleared. He was able to see her lay her coat over the chair in the hallway. He watched as the mail hit the settee then saw her turn and go into the kitchen and out of sight. The slut came back into the living room shortly afterwards, a glass of wine in one hand while she undid her blouse with the other, button by button from the top down. It flapped open, giving him a precious glimpse of her white lacy brassiere, hiding underneath.
In anticipation, he licked his lips, hoping that she would take all of her clothes off and allow him to see her smooth body without hindrance.
It looked as if his wish would be granted. Her skirt came off, quickly followed by her blouse. The bitch had matching underwear, lacy panties with a high waist band that followed the contours of her hips in an exaggerated, very white coloured, ‘V’. The bra pushed her tits up and out, enhancing their shape. She sat facing him on the settee and folded her legs up.
He licked his lips again and fumbled for his zipper. His excitement was making him clumsy. He took a deep breath or two to settle his nerves and gain control of his digits while he had a ringside view of her as she settled into a comfortable position.
Then she flipped through her mail, turned on the TV, dimmed the lights and took a slug of her wine. The flickering of the reflected TV showed on her skin making it lok as if she was changing colours like a cuttle fish does.
He managed to get his hardening cock out as the dirty bitch was unhooking her bra. And then, almost causing him to spew his cum in his hand, she grabbed her fantastic tits and seemed to mould them, just for his viewing pleasure. Pressing them together as if beckoning him to tit-fuck her. He rubbed in a steady tempo, not wanting to lose his load too soon. This was better than he had expected, very much better than the telescope in his bedroom had been, which was really, much too far away to get the real feel of being up close and personal. This was like being in the room with her. He could almost smell her perfume. Almost taste her dirty cunt in its white, lacy cocoon. Almost feel her tits as he moulded them in his rough, calloused hands, just as she was doing.
And then, joy of joys, she stood up and pulled her panties off. She had turned and had her back facing him. He gaped at her smooth white arse, loving the contours and unblemished skin. His patience was rewarded as she bent and picked them up, flashing her cunt lips from between her perfectly rounded arse cheeks, before turning to show him her partially shaved, dirty, filthy cunt. A line of dark hair, an inch wide, went vertically from her honey pot to some way short of her belly button.
His tongue protruded from between his lips as the tension in his balls built to boiling point.
The dirty whore was swinging her soiled pants as she walked out of the room. His cum splashed over his fist and would stain his new long coat. Mission accomplished. He had got his first really good view of her. It fired his imagination of having her writhing beneath him while he pinioned her with his monstrous cock.
He had scuttled back to the Janitors lodge before Gwen retired to bed.
The periscope worked better than I though it would, I swear she knew I was there, otherwise, why the show of being a dirty little fucking whore? I am going to fuck her senseless soon.
He waited the next night, hidden in his carefully chosen place in the flower bed. His periscope scanned backwards and forwards, but the fucking whore didn’t come home.
Not wanting to completely waste the night, he walked around the apartment block, looking for likely places where he could hide and hopefully find another horny looking bitch, for the days when she didn’t show.
Most of the apartments were in darkness and of those, where a light was on at ground floor level, only one offered enough cover for him to conceal himself. Frustrated, he returned home to write in his carefully kept diary.
The cunt didn’t show. I waited for hours in the freezing cold, but she had other things to do. She will pay for that…
She came home at two in the morning. I managed to get there in time, but she had a bloke with her. That fucking whore screwed him on the settee before chucking him out. I managed to find a new spot so I can see into her bedroom. She has the biggest dildo I have ever seen, it’s black. She fucked herself with it for ages after lover boy was thrown out. She really liked that black cock going in and out. She really is a dirty little whore and that wimp couldn’t satisfy her. I wonder if she is a nymphomaniac.
Gwen’s evening had been okay. Her escort was a nice looking man, reasonably well educated and informed. He was able to converse on most topics and proved to be quite charming in an old fashion way. Their visit to the theatre and then a nightclub had been pleasant, but not devastatingly exciting.
However, he wasn’t quite as hot a lay as his body suggested he might be. His technique needed some attention and, although she had managed to get off, to a degree, mostly on the thrill of having a man inside her for a change, she couldn’t wait to get rid of him and jump her trusty black wand. “Mister Reliable” would finish off what Greg, her escort, had started, but wasn’t up to the task of completing. Typically, he carried baggage and didn’t have the strength of character to handle a career woman who knew what she wanted in the sack and had the presence of mind to grasp the opportunity. Like so many before, his own insecurities rendered him vulnerable to a sexually charged and motivated woman and, instead of taking the lead and being masterful, was content to follow and meekly comply with her wishes.
Mister Reliable did in fact, do the trick, set on his highest setting, she was soon creaming as she rammed him into her body. The combination of her sex being stretched and filled with the outsized dildo, a mental image of a huge black man fucking into her and a finger tip, lightly rubbing her clit, brought Gwen to a satisfying orgasm. Her immediate needs sated Gwen dropped off to sleep.
Dimly, as she drifted off, she was aware of a movement at the window and a slight noise, but the need for sleep overcame her momentary curiosity.
Gwen’s job, as a musical historian at the University, didn’t leave her much time for socialising. Often, she worked way into the dark of night, transcribing old musical scores and sheet music. Some of the stuff from the Tudor period was notated in unfamiliar symbols, it took time to learn and almost as much to transcribe into modern bar format. The lyrics were often in Latin or old French. That was bad enough, but not something that couldn’t be overcome, but it was as if the score was also Latin or some ancient language, just beyond her grasp often enough.
She was one of only a handful of people throughout the globe who had the ability to interpret the strange collections of notes and guess where the writer was going to go. It was made all the harder where bits of the velum sheet music were missing or too stained to be legible and come up with a complete piece. It was a lonely occupation, but one she enjoyed. Getting a score, recently discovered or hidden for centuries gave her a thrill. She would be the first to hear the music, lost to generations, before it was published to the wide world.
Most of her sex life had happened during university years. A lot of that time was lost to boozy weekends and parties that should have satisfied the urges of a single woman for the rest of her life. But, as is so often the case, once explored, the desire becomes more refined and specialist in taste. She liked uncomplicated sex, preferably with someone she would be unlikely to see again, a casual liaison of mutual gratification, when both parties got what they set out for and then, went their separate ways.
She had only ever had one serious relationship, the John from her home town, the one her mother never failed to mention in her letter. Why did she keep on about him? Did her mother fancy him herself perhaps? Didn’t she know he is a creep with all the style and panache of a cat’s fur-ball?
Their relationship had lasted a little over a year. The man was a total wanker and kept losing his load way before she even got started. But, worse was his weakness, he would cry at the drop of a hat. Gwen learned to hate him in their time together.
She liked her uncomplicated life, preferred her own company and enjoyed having the space of her apartment to herself. She had enough money and really, needed nothing else. The encumbrance of a partner would have cramped her style far too much to be born.
She was lucky enough to be attractive, so her predilection of “stranger sex” was not a problem. When the desire took her, she would party at one of the many bars and clubs in town and invariably, have a male partner for the evening.
It was a lifestyle her mother could not understand, coming from a generation where the little lady was housewife, with all that, that involved.
His job really couldn’t have been more suited to his choice of life style. Being janitor of this apartment block brought him into contact with women and ladies. In his off kilter mind, the difference between ladies and women was only a matter of age. The elder, were ladies, definitely, the younger ones, women, and fair game as far as he was concerned.
His distinction didn’t have an age boundary as such, possibly thirty something or forty perhaps, but at some undefined age, the change over came the woman and she became a lady. A shrink would probable diagnose him with a Mother fixation and be probably quite near the truth.
If he were able to reason his thinking objectively, he would have found the difference to be those he found attractive and those he didn’t. A lady was something to be revered, respected and obeyed even. But, a woman was there for his gratification, a sex object for him to use and abuse as he saw fit.
The ladies, by their elevated position, were treated as if they held an in invisible mantle, motherhood or the teachers from his school days. He treated them with a deference stopping short of doffing his cap, but it wouldn’t have been out of place as he thought it. The women though, were treated with a distain, he almost felt superior to them. These bimbo’s were hardly worth his attention, but they would be a handy screw if the occasion ever presented its self.
Gwen, at number 39 was definitely a woman and as such, was the object of his desire.
Diary entry Monday 10th
Gwen seemed pretty tired tonight when she came home. She didn’t even pick up her mail, just stripped in the bedroom and dived into bed. The mirror in her bedroom needs to be moved a little, have to see what I can do about that, her bedroom window is a bit risky. I saw most of her, but not all. She is a dirty fucking slut cunt. Fucking her dildo after that wanker she brought home, must have taken it out of her. What she needs is a real man to fuck her stupid.
A new cunt moved into number 4, another fucking blonde with big tits and a short skirt. She might be worth keeping an eye on. I think she will be a regular one to show her self to me. The dippy bitch hasn’t got a clue about her boiler, might be a way into her dirty filthy drawers. She also made a pass at me. Would you believe that, she hasn’t been here more than a few minutes and already, she’s offering her self. What a cunt!
Detective Oliver made a note on his pad. ‘The next diary entry has a seven day gap in it. ‘The diary is intact.’ He said to himself and could only surmise that the perpetrator didn’t have anything to say.
Moving around the Janitors ‘complimentary’ flat had left him feeling definitely soiled. So much pornography was pasted to the walls that is was hard to see where one poster stopped and another started, like a huge collage of women’s genitalia and mammary glands.
The DVDs that universally, were also pornographic in nature, were stacked in untidy heaps on the floor amongst the rotting detritus of food wrappers, burger packs and paper cups, advertising Coke in red and white logos. The Janitor was a walking advert for heart problems Detective Oliver thought to himself.
How this pervert could live like this was beyond Detective Oliver, but the diary, with all the sordid details faithfully recorded, was the absolute clincher. He found it hard to understand why anyone would chronicle their perversion in such detailed long hand.
He flipped a page of the scruffy document and continued to read as the rest of his CSI unit rifled the dwelling for any forensic evidence they could find. Already, many bags with tags were lined up against the wall for removal.
It hadn’t been a typical Monday at work. A fire alarm had seen the entire university outside, standing in the rain while the fire brigade searched the building in vain for the cause. She and her colleagues got soaked in the drizzle and knew they had the rest of the day to get through in damp clothing. It didn’t help her mood in the least.
The drizzle didn’t let up thorough the day. Her clothes were sticking to her, clinging and uncomfortable, when she arrived home. The door was still closing as she began to strip sodden layers off, leaving a trail of wet clothes in her wake. The shower ran nice and hot. Steam filled the bathroom and in crazy rivulets, ran down the glass of the cubicle. Gwen positively revelled as the hot water soothed the trials of the day, washing them, with soap suds, down the drain and away.
Her robe hugged her in warm folds of white terry towelling. Her slippers, complete with furry insoles, warmed her feet. At last, she felt relaxed and comfortable and suddenly, very hungry.
A quick trawl through the freezer unearthed a micro-waveable TV dinner, perfect for her mood and lack of patience, quick and quite enough to fill the void.
While the meal spun and steamed in the micro-wave, Gwen picked up her damp clothes from the hall. Perhaps she should have checked the chain on the door. The damp clothes hit the bottom of the linen basket as the micro-wave pinged.
Gwen pulled the cork from her current bottle of wine, each bottle carried four glasses and took her four days to consume, poured a healthy slug into a long stemmed glass, re-corked the bottle and put it back in the door tray of the refrigerator, making a mental note to self that only one glass full was left, buy a new bottle on the way home from work tomorrow.
The TV dinner, glass and a knife and fork sat on a tray which she held on her lap. Music flowed from the speakers, low, causing a susurration of sound, above audible, but not so much to be distinct. Gwen ate slowly, too tired to really taste the food, just grateful for the sustenance. The cold wine slid over her palate and eventually into her blood stream. That was when the problems began, but Gwen wasn’t really aware of the effects of the Rohypnol combined with the alcohol. In all it took her about twenty minutes to become completely without sensation. The feeling of inebriation passed to semi-consciousness in a matter of minutes.
It was at this point that checking the door chain would have been a great idea. She didn’t know anything else until she woke at well past nine o’clock the next morning. Her bed looking like it had been through a mincing machine, her bathrobe thrown carelessly on the floor and stains she had no recollection of making or why she had bits of toilet paper all over her bed and fanny. To top it all, she had the mother of a headache, like the worst hangover in the world and a bruise on her neck that looked for all the world like a hicky.
He had been watching through the periscope. Watched as Gwen came in, dumped her clothing on the floor as she made her way to the bathroom. Before the bathroom door closed, shutting of his uninterrupted view of her naked body, he was treated to a full frontal show. Her breasts, on show for his personal enjoyment, swung slightly, free from their entrapment, white and firm with puckered aureoles. And then, her back and perfectly formed arse was his to enjoy as she pushed the door shut. He especially liked the red welts where her bra had pinched the skin of her back and the line her panties had left on her buttocks and upper thighs, as if they were still there, but perfectly see-through.
Some ten minutes passed in which his anticipation grew moment by moment.
Steam curled in diminishing wisps around the edge of the door. He waited, knowing she would be coming out soon. His anticipation jumped from level to level in an upward crescendo until he was physically trembling. His cock had stiffened until it was painfully encumbered in his trousers, desperate to be exposed and treated to a massage until it spewed. He resisted the urge of getting it out to rub himself to completion, hoping that his turn would come very soon.
He watched when Gwen came out of the bathroom, wrapping a white robe around herself but, not quite quickly enough to hide her freshly showered pink body from his glimpse. Then she went from view into the kitchen. He waited and then saw her pick up her damp clothing before returning to the kitchen.
After a few minutes, that seemed like forever, she came from the kitchen with a tray in her hands. His focus immediately centred on the glass of wine, it was on for tonight, a night he thought might never happen, had only been in his squalid dreams and fantasies.
He had used an old passkey from the days the buildings were constructed. Forgotten, it had sat on the key board, the tag faded and indistinct. He had no idea it was there. All these years he could have had, arranging her furniture to increase his voyeuristic pleasure. Once he found he had unlimited access to Gwen’s apartment, his plans for Gwen formed in only a few seconds. The Rohypnol he had managed to squirrel away after clearing out one of the apartments years back, now had a use. A carefully measured dose in an old eye-dropper found its way into the half full bottle of wine he knew would be in the fridge. The trap was set. All that remained was for Gwen to come home.
He waited until the drugged wine did the trick, watching as she slowly sank down on the sofa, her head lolling to one side, the remains of the wine and glass fell from nerveless fingers to the carpeted floor. Gwen was his now, ready for his special treatment. Tonight, she would meet a real man who would screw her brains out.
Diary entry Monday 18th
I did it! I actually did it and fucked her good and proper.
That GHB stuff worked an absolute fucking treat. She was out quickly and stayed that way all through our tryst. I’m too shagged to write now, will finish this up later.
He waited until he was sure Gwen had gone completely under. Then, silently, he opened the back door with his newly acquired key, letting himself into the kitchen and equally as quietly, closing the door behind him, careful the latch didn’t click into place.
He inched forward. Favouring the cover of the wall, much as he had seen old-time gangster and spy movies had their heroes creep around. It would probably have been comical to watch his progress as he inched along, with his back flat against the wall. His sneakers making absolutely no sound whatsoever, concentration completely focused on where Gwen lay comatose.
He could see her damp hair and head lifting and falling as her chest expanded with breath. She showed no other signs of life. It was perfect in his execution he thought and licked his lips in anticipation.
Reaching over the back of the leather settee, He lightly grasped her shoulder and shook it as he whispered her name. She groaned in response, but made no other defensive move. It was all he needed to know, she was completely out of it.
His movements became much bolder and assured, knowing that, even if she knew what was happening, she would have no memory in the morning and no method of fending him off. He walked around the settee to stand in front of her recumbent position, his eyes never leaving the open necked bathrobe she wore. The swell of her breasts and cleavage were quite evident between the lapels of the robe. His cock stiffened at the sight and his proximity to her body, the object of his fantasies and desires.
Her legs dangled off the edge of the seat and lay, splayed apart on the carpeted floor. He stepped between her feet and nudged her legs apart with his calves. He knew that her partly shaven cunt would be there to view, but denied himself that particular pleasure for the moment, savouring the anticipation of sight, touch, smell and taste as a delicious thrill, yet to come.
He reached down to the loosely tied belt of the robe, flicking deftly to undo the knot she had tied. It parted easily and, as he pulled the ends away, so the edges of her robe parted as well, revealing her skin underneath.
Hardly able to contain himself, his fingers helped the robe to fall completely open. A nail brushed her skin and then, brushed across the right breast, pausing momentarily at her nipple. He licked his lips again, a nervous trait from his childhood in times of stress.
He looked at her face as he lightly gripped her hardening nipple and was suddenly shocked to see that her eyes were open and steadily gazing at him. For a moment, he paused and thought of flight, but realised in the next second, that she could very well be awake, but had no volition because of the debilitating effect of the drug. In no more than a nano-second, his thoughts of flight turned into pure pleasure. If she was going to be awake all the way through, then his enjoyment would be increased exponentially.
Her gaze gave no indication of pain or reaction when he pinched her nipple hard between thumb and forefinger.
“You’re all mine Cunt.” His voice rasped as he informed her that her fate was completely at his whim for the next few hours.
Pulling the robe together and using it as a sling, he pulled her up and over his shoulder into a fireman’s lift. He carried her into her bedroom and unceremoniously, dumped her on the bed, on her back. Her head connected with the wall, but only a glancing blow, not enough to draw blood.
He yanked the robe from her shoulders while straddling her prone body. Her tits pointed accusingly at him. Rose coloured aureoles surrounding small buds on orbs that hardly sagged at the pull of gravity.
He licked his lips again and gripped her breasts in a vicious, claw like grasp that would leave a row of bruises. He pulled them apart and buried his nose in the valley they created, smelling her clean skin before running his tongue through the valley, leaving a slick of saliva to cool on the tiny hairs of her body.
He bit her neck in the region of her jugular vein, leaving a love bite, something he had always wanted to do to a woman. His cock stiffened still more as he viewed the purpling mark.
Gwen’s eyes followed his movements, as a painted portrait does, but still there was no recognition of him or reaction to his actions.
“Time for your Jack and Danny my little one.” He had reverted to the rhyming slang for fanny he had used in his childhood. It was considered dirty, talking about the genitals of a girl, so substitute words were used.
He knelt and pulled off the robe completely. It was his first time with a woman completely naked in his presence and his to do with as he pleased. Could life be any better he asked himself?
Parting her knees, he lowered his nose to the small strip of hair that led to her hidden delights. She had a smell he couldn’t describe, something clean, The soap she had used in the shower was evident, but with a musky scent in the background and a promise of something else. Certainly, it wasn’t anything like the smell from her soiled panties he had managed to sniff when he had sneaked into her apartment a few days ago.
He licked, sticking his tongue out, at just the outermost edge of her vulva. Her taste was almost exactly as her smell. The recently used soap was very prominent on her skin, but her secretions were there as well, intoxicating and sending messages to his, already hard cock.
He parted her lips with the calloused fingers of his right hand and pressed his tongue into her folds then, sucked, savouring the musk of her natural lubricant. He pushed a finger into her cunt, watching fascinated as her lips drew in and out around it as he worked it backwards and forwards. Then he inserted, two fingers, hooking them slightly, feeling her warmth and slickness of her silken hole and the slightly ribbed pad of her ‘G’ spot. Then three fingers. He fucked them into her yielding body roughly until his arm ached at the exercise. Her body had naturally provided the necessary fluids to prevent friction burns in so sensitive an area. It had leaked out onto the sheets and coated his fingers. He held them to his nose, smelling her before tasting them, sucking them clean of her juice.
He couldn’t postpone the inevitable climax of his mission any longer. Having her here, laying prostrate across the bed, naked and completely at his whim, was just too much for his self control. With fumbling fingers, he undid his fly and winkled out his hard-on while he stared at her glorious cunt and the evident wetness that glistened in the radiance of the overhead light.
Lying over her body, between her knees, he positioned his cock at her entrance and pushed into her with out effort. She had provided enough lubricant to ease his passage. He slid his whole length into her body, the very act he had fantasised about for so long, his complete mastery of her body, his pinioning of her on his cock. And then he began to fuck her while mauling at her breasts. It was all too much for him. The combination of preparation, long awaited fulfilment of his desires, watching her, knowing she had no idea, her flawlessness and vulnerability at this very moment, had him blasting his seed within a few minutes.
She was his first, she had his cherry, so to speak and the moment of ejaculation had him crying out. It was better than he had dreamed and her accommodating body was infinitely better than the rough skin of his palms.
He lay on top of her as the spasms of his climax diminished.
Then, he panicked. She would most likely know she had been violated and his seed was swilling around inside her. Naively, he sought tissue paper, thinking to stuff it inside her to mop up his cum. He ran to the bathroom and grabbed a wad of toilet paper. He quickly rolled it into a sausage shape and forced it into her. Of course, it disintegrated as he tried to fish it back out. So, in a frenzy of blind panic, he found a squeezy bottle in the cupboard under the kitchen sink, filled it with water and washed her out, using his fingers to try and hook out the bits of tissue, making even more of a mess of the bed sheets.
He collected anything that might incriminate him and ran, crouching, from her apartment. It was two in the morning, unlikely anyone would be awake, let alone watching his stilted rush across the courtyard.
Diary entry Tuesday 19th.
I slept till ten this morning, completely fucked. Gwen is a fantastic lay, I want to do it again as soon as possible. Wouldn’t it be great if I fucked her and she got pregnant? She wouldn’t know who the father is, but I would.
I might try setting up a video camera next time. See me fucking into her, perhaps I will get her to suck me off so I can cum all over her face, perhaps she will swallow it all.
I was reckless though, leaving all that cum inside her and biting her neck for fuck’s sake. God, what an idiot, but it was fucking good.
DS Oliver read the passage of words, seeing them as a confession of guilt. He had no doubt that the Janitor had raped his victim, but proof is always the hardest thing to obtain, these words, by the rapist’s own hand, were as good as being caught in the act.
He flipped a page or two back and re-read the entries up to the Nineteenth. DS Oliver wondered why someone would harbour these kinds of thoughts and what it was that drove them to it in the first place and decided that, although the Janitor wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, it couldn’t be accepted as a reason for his actions. It was more than likely that he was always going to be some kind of pervert, because that was the way his switches lined up.
It wasn’t about sex, although that was the corner stone from which his perversion stemmed, it was all about control, about being stronger, fitter or just the one with the wherewithal to do as he pleased with a defenceless woman.
Disgusted, DS Oliver closed the scruffy diary and put it in his pocket to reader later, when he was back in his office.
The Scene of Crime Officers, were just packing up their equipment into steel carry cases. They had all the evidence they needed and wanted to get back to base before the cup final started.
DS Oliver sat at his desk, a second cup of coffee going cold in a Styrofoam cup, a skin forming on the surface. He cleared a space, lent back in the chair and put his crossed feet up, his hands clasped behind his head, eyes half closed as he thought about the case.
He had read the diary from cover to cover. He was disgusted at the putrid mind of the Janitor and his complete lack of regard for the women in his block. He thought that the rest of the residents had had a lucky escape by not being attractive to the little worm.
Only, he wasn’t so little was he? Certainly, he was above average height with a power to weight ratio that would be more than enough to subdue most women. Why was it that these perverts tended to be so physically well developed?
He glanced at the open diary and reread the next entries.
Diary entry Wednesday 20th
I’m too fucked to do anything tonight. Shame to waste the rohypnol in the wine, but even if she drinks it, she will only sleep it off. I suppose I will need to cool it for a day or two, wait for a new bottle and drug that one. Fuck, that is going to be four nights, but it will give her time to settle back down.
Will have to save up my cum if I am going to fill her dirty fucking ass. The camera can wait for another time, I dreamed of doing the bitch in the shit shute, so that is where its going to be. Have to stop the jerking for a few days and make sure she gets a fucking big load.
And no biting. Definitely, no biting. That was fucking stupid.
Diary supplement Wednesday 20th
It looks like I got away with last night though, but best not to push it too far, too much of a good thing.
The next evening, Gwen had slogged her way home after a day she would have preferred to forget. She had been dysfunctional all day, un-coordinated and totally out of sorts. The headache just wouldn’t go away. She ached and thought perhaps, she was coming down with something.
Closing the front door with her practiced foot was a blessed relief. She flipped the chain and felt like the outside world had just been ostracized, cut off and completely shut away from her sanctuary. She went through the apartment, closing all of the drapes to further separate herself from even the remotest indication that she lived in a space shared by countless others. Tonight was going to be just for her. Peace, a glass of wine and sleep until she felt better.
Gwen showered quickly, throwing her underwear into the linen basket and not even bothering to fold her suit or blouse. Food was the last thing on her mind, just a glass of cold wine and bed.
She woke the next morning, half the glass of wine was still on the bedside table, the TV was still playing to its self and again, for the second day running, she had woken with her head banging fit to burst.
She fumbled for the telephone, called in sick and went back to bed with the covers over her head.
She felt much better in the early afternoon and decided that she would go shopping. She needed some provisions and a walk might clear the last of the fuzziness away. It was the first time Gwen had taken a day off unless it was a holiday and in celebration, the sun shone.
She met a neighbour and waved a hello while privately thinking the woman looked a tramp with her jogging shorts halfway down her ass and sweaty top sticking to her breasts like a second skin. Gwen didn’t know anyone in the complex, but that suited her, she liked her privacy.
The janitor looked at her a little askance, almost expectantly, as if he were waiting for her to acknowledge him or something. She couldn’t help the little shudder of revulsion he evinced in her. Something at a primal level told her he was not someone she really wanted to get chummy with.
After another good night’s sleep, aided by her customary glass of chilled Chardonnay from the new bottle, Gwen felt fine and returned to work and her usual routine.
Diary entry Sunday 23rd
I am going to do that fucking whore tonight. I’ve been thinking about it and am going to fuck her ass and blow my load right into her fucking guts.
I didn’t get the chance to do her so it will have to be Monday now.
Gwen wasn’t unused to being propositioned, but having a woman lay one on you, who you have worked with for more than a year, came as a complete surprise. Trudy was well known as being bisexual, the office grapevine was rarely wrong, but Gwen thought that her sexuality was never in question at work, so having Trudy invading her space and rubbing up against her in a manner clearly designed for one thing, was a total shock.
She thought she had handled it reasonably well, letting the poor woman down without bruising her ego too much. Trudy would get over it and the promise to never mention it in the office helped.
She was still thinking about it when she shut the door of her apartment. Trudy is an attractive woman, but Gwen’s tastes didn’t lie in that direction, well not since she had been at school. That was an episode labelled, “Not to be opened” and boxed into a memory, tucked away in her mind.
Boxes have a habit of becoming opened though. After her shower and the last glass of wine sat gently warming on the bedside cabinet, Gwen was thrashing around in her bed, sweat soaked and cumming to the frantic vibrations of Mister Reliable while she remembered her fumbling with little Gina.
It was the first time Gwen had been kissed down there by anyone. Her lips had swollen, suffused with blood and her clit had become something new and alive to her. Gina’s tongue awoke in Gwen, something she had not experienced before, an orgasm so pure and delicious and all consuming, she had thrown back her head and yelled her lungs out as her body succumbed to Gina’s expert ministrations.
The scene played out in her mind as Mister Reliable performed his magic. They had arranged to spend evenings in their private rooms in the halls of residence. The walls were paper thin and did little to muffle sound so their mutual orgasms were with mouths stuffed with a pillow of the bed clothing.
Gwen and Gina’s affair was brief, lasting just over a month, but in that time, Gwen learned all about her body’s responsiveness and where her most sensitive points were. She learned how to masturbate to completion and was introduced to her first vibrator; a black and silver solid plastic tube that needed two batteries and was unyielding in its rigidity. Gwen preferred to let it buzz on her clit while she fingered herself.
It was an episode in her life that she didn’t often think about, but her gratitude to Gina lasted very much longer than her desire for female sexual partners.
John had fumbled his way around her body, but then lost his load while still in his pants. Gwen found a partner who, although she didn’t love him, knew his way around a woman’s body and took her to heights that remained in her memory. The fact that he was black mattered little her, just that he had a large cock that stretched her and had infinite patience, making sure she was well and truly sated. Mister Reliable reminded her of Dwayne in size, colour and staying power and was aptly named.
He familiar gut wrenching palpitations over took her as her orgasm fibrillated through her nervous system causing her to twitch and unable to maintain the thrusting of her vibrator into her body. She lay back as mister reliable, without the support of her hand, slipped from her soaked quim, still buzzing until she managed to find the off button. She revelled in the afterglow of her climax and idly thought she would need to change the sheets.
She reached for the glass and drained it in a few gulps, feeling the alcohol hit and spread through her body, giving her a warm glow. She relished the feeling of peace and satiation after a successful session with her treasured possession.
Gradually, sleep overtook her and then the oblivion of the Rohypnol took her into a much deeper state of unconsciousness.
Slightly frustrated, the Janitor’s view had been partially blocked where Gwen had rearranged the curtain so that only a small gap was all he had to work with. It was only a matter of time and observation, limited though it was, before he was certain she was under the influence and ready for him.
He licked his lips as he turned the key to the kitchen door and crept in. His gloves were making his hands clumsy. Quietly, he closed the door behind him, easing the latch into place.
He walked towards the bedroom, much more confidently this time, knowing the drug will have rendered Gwen incapable of resistance or recognition. He pushed the bedroom door open, taking care to be as quiet as he possibly could. Although he was certain she would be out of it, habit or instinct made him creep about.
The door hit the wall with a soft bump. He paused momentarily to see if she was aware, but was grateful when Gwen didn’t so much as stir. He strode over to the bed where she was laying naked on top of the bed clothes. Her black vibrator was tucked under one of her legs, silently glistening having done it job a little earlier. He lifted her leg, licking his lips, and pulled the rubber dong out. He regarded it for a moment and wondered how she could actually fit the monster inside her cunt. He could smell her juices still wet on the smooth surface and without too much thought, stuck his tongue out and licked some of her essence off. He decided he liked her taste, but not the rubbery after tone. He put it on the bedside cabinet and forgot about it.
Gwen’s chest rose and fell as her lungs filled and then expended air. The slight movement fascinated him, seeing her tits rise and fall mesmerised him for a short while. Her nipples moved up and down rhythmically and enticed him. He removed the glove from his left hand and gently pinched the nearest nipple to him between thumb and forefinger. He twiddled it and liked the hardness his tweaking caused. Gwen might have been out of it, but some functions of the body operate automatically. Her areole stiffened and puckered and coloured to a deeper pink. He licked his lips again and then bent his head to suckle on her.
After a few minutes, he stood again, determined to continue with his planned actions and not get side tracked into biting her neck again or marking her in any way. He removed the other glove and fished in the pocket of his coveralls for the condoms he had brought in preparedness. He had been reckless before, but now knew how things should be done to minimise being caught. He cracked the foil pack and put the rubber on the table, ready for use.
The Janitor got undressed, taking everything off until he was entirely naked. In his imaginations of fucking Gwen, this was how he had pictured it with them on the bed in a naked embrace.
He lay alongside her, rearranging her legs so that she took less of the double bed, giving him enough room to stretch out. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to explore her body and feel the warmth of her skin against his. His rigid cock pushed against her thigh as he moulded himself alongside.
He leant on his left elbow and grasped her breast, trapping her nipple on the pad of his thumb. His other hand began to stroke the coarse hair above her sex, working incrementally towards her slick pussy lips. He slavered as his fingers brushed over her clit and actually drooled as his fingers quested at her opening. Beads of sweat appeared at his brow. He held his breath, raising his temperature even further as first one and then a second finger entered her. He finger fucked her while still gripping her nipple, pinching it brutally, but unaware of the punishment and bruising he was causing.
Unable to contain his excitement any longer, he reached across her to get the condom. Ineptly, he managed to get the thing on at the second attempt. The first had him trying to put it on inside out.
He stood at the side of the bed and pulled her legs around until they hung over the side. Then he hooked his hands under her knees and pulled them up. He got a momentary close up of her neatly trimmed bush and her slick pussy lips below. They reminded him of rose petals. He nearly giggled at the similarity.
He had to bend his knees quite a bit to be at the right height for his cock to line up with her cunt. He licked his lips unconsciously in concentration as he pushed himself inside her warmth. He was able to see his cock slid into her and thought it was the finest thing he had ever seen.
He fucked her. His cock sliding deeply inside and then pulling almost all of the way out, leaving just the bell end inside her. He managed to keep this up for a few minutes before he felt his balls began to clench, ready to blast his cum. He had to pull out quickly to stop himself going too far. He had promised himself that he was going to fuck her in the ass by way of punishment for looking at him like something that crawled out of shit.
He spat on his fingers and wiped his saliva over her puckered anus and pushed a finger into the small opening. This was going to be really tight, he thought and licked his lips yet again.
He lined his cock up and began to push, working it into her ass until he had past the outer ring of muscle. Suddenly, he was all the way in, sliding easily and feeling the constriction of her anal ring gripping his rubber covered cock. He tried to control his climax, the exertion making him sweat, but to no avail. He came too quickly to have really fucked her good and proper, but managed to thrust several times as the release of his cum receded.
His shaky knees trembled as he stood back up to erect. He thought his heart was going to break out of his chest where it hammered almost loud enough to be audible. He gasped and gradually gained control of his faculties.
He dragged her legs back onto the bed carelessly throwing them to lay straight. Now that he had cum, his interest in her waned to the point of negligence, his priority was to remove all evidence and get back to his home.
Diary entry, Monday 24
Oh my God, I did it. I fucked her in the fucking ass. She was so tight, but I managed to get inside her ass and it was fucking fantastic. Next time, I am going to fuck her face. That’s a promise and what the fucking whore deserves.
Gwen woke with the grandmother of a headache. She opened her eyes a crack and then closed them again. The sunlight was far too bright for her to cope with. Gradually, she prised her eyes open and persuaded them to stay open. The pounding in her head was quite debilitating, there was no way she would be able to go to work.
Feeling like shit, Gwen made coffee and called in, telling her manager that she could barely see and that she was going back to bed. She looked at the time on her cell and realised that it was almost ten o’clock, a full two and a half hours later than her normal time of waking.
She knew something was wrong. It was unlike her to sleep in, even when she was ill. The headache was the worst she could ever remember and her body hurt in so many places.
Thinking that a shower might ease the pain in her head, Gwen twisted the dials and stepped into the cascading water. She yelled as the hot water hit her breast. It felt like a knife had cut through her teat. She stepped back from the water and noticed the purple bruising of her teat and areole and wondered how the fuck that could have happened.
She stepped back into the water and began to soap herself. She realised that her ass felt is if it had been ripped. The tenderness was sudden as her soapy fingers passed over her sphincter.
Now she was worried. If it had just been one thing, she would have brushed it off as a temporary condition, but combined, it was rather more than a minor ailment. Puzzled, she left the shower to get dressed in the bedroom.
She noticed Mister reliable on the bedside table and had no recollection of putting it there. She vaguely remembered switching it off after her session with it, but thought she had left it on the sheet to be cleaned the next morning. Then she saw smears on the sheet that she had never seen before, even after the biggest orgasms. The smears looked like shit and smelled like it to.
A dread feeling overcame her; had someone been in her house while she slept? She didn’t know what to do for a moment, confusion disrupted her rationale. The thought of being violated crossed her mind, but other than her dildo being out of place and the sears on the sheets, there was no other evidence of someone having been in the house.
Perhaps it is the wine she thought. Maybe it was that which had caused her to feel this bad, that, and a slight infection in her ass perhaps. Gwen resolved to lay off the night time glass of chardonnay and see if that made a difference.
Later, in the afternoon when her head cleared, Gwen shoved the sheets into the washing machine along with some of her clothes, washing away evidence. Not that she knew that.
Gwen spent the next day at home. Although her head had cleared, her ass was still quite sore. She called into the Doctor for an appointment to get checked out. Her feeling that she had been violated was becoming more than just a vague suspicion. She thought that perhaps she had been raped, but by whom and with no evidence to prove it and no clue about who her attacker might be, could do little about it. There was little point in telling the police. When the doctor asked her if she had had anal sex recently, the suspicion turned into anger as the certainty that she had been raped became obvious.
Suddenly, her erstwhile safe haven of her home did not feel as safe as it had. Someone had the wherewithal to get into the house while she was sleeping. Gwen wasn’t frightened just angry and vengeful. She wanted to catch whoever it was and then she wanted to fuck them up. She wanted to kill them.
Gwen returned home having filled out a prescription of some soothing cream for her ass which she applied as soon as she got in doors. Coolly, she began to search her house for any evidence of an intruder. She realised that the front door had had the chain engaged so they couldn’t have got in that way. The kitchen door was always locked and the keys were in a drawer. She checked to make sure that was the case. Her two keys were safely in the knife drawer. She ruled out the back door.
Gwen checked each of the windows, looking for signs of being forced. They were all locked tight. She could rule that method out as well. The trap door to the roof space had a bolt on the underside. There was no way anyone could get in the house.
Gwen looked around the outside, checking the windows and door frames to see if she had missed anything. She noticed that the flower bed had footprints in the soft earth right outside her living room window and the same outside her bedroom window. The ledges were too high for her to see over, but she thought that she had a peeper and suddenly felt dirty. Judging by the state of the ground, they had been peeping on her for some time.
Gradually, as she downed a cup of coffee, Gwen began to form a plan. So, he liked to watch and somehow, had access to her house so, why not trap him at his own game. Give him a show and see what happens.
On her way home from work the next day, she dropped into the bank where she had a safety deposit box where she kept a small pistol bought by her father when she told him of her plan to move to the big city. Gwen didn’t like guns and, up to now, had not felt the need to keep one in the house. She made sure it was loaded, flipped the safety and put it under the pillow.
She pulled a kitchen knife from the wooden block and put that under the bed as a backup weapon. She carefully hid some more knives around the ground floor in places that she could reach if needed, but would not be obvious to anyone else.
Satisfied that she had made as many preparations as possible, Gwen settled down to act as normal as possible. It was the first time she had examined her normal routine and realised how humdrum it was. Normally, she would pour a glass of wine, look at her mail, shower and then bed. It was a life lacking excitement and if she wasn’t careful, would slip into a rut.
Gwen poured her wine, replaced the cork in the bottle and put it back in the fridge. She carried the glass into the living room and sat on the settee to wait and see what happened. She felt something in between fear and excitement and found it hard to relax, jumping at every sound. Gwen turned the lights down until the lamps just glowed, throwing the room into deep shadows.
She sat until eleven o’clock, slightly later than her normal bed time, but nothing happened.
Gwen at last got up to retire. She realised that she hadn’t drunk the wine and found she didn’t want it and poured it down the kitchen sink.
She ran the shower, dried and then went to bed. She lay for a short while and then crept out of the room and lay on the settee in the complete darkness of the living room.
After a few hours, her eyelids began to droop and her head nodded a few times. She fell asleep and woke the next morning at her usual time. Nothing had happened fortunately. She wondered why that might be the case and then realised that she had closed the curtains completely, effectively blocking her peeper’s view of her.
Gwen dressed for work and shuffled the curtain, leaving enough of a gap as it had been before.
Her working day passed in a blur. Gwen couldn’t concentrate properly, her mind puzzling over whom her attacker might be and she still couldn’t work out how they were getting in.
One thing she did manage though, Gwen tailgated Trudy into the restroom and once she was certain they were alone, backed her up against the wall and kissed her fully on the mouth while her hand slipped under Trudy’s skirt. She pressed against her sex through the fabric of her panties which quickly became wet as her secretions soaked into the gusset. Gwen promised her that, if she got through tonight, she and Trudy would get it on. It was a bit cryptic for Trudy who looked at her with a puzzled expression and wondered what the significance of tonight was. Gwen’s remembrance of her younger liaison and the tremendous orgasm she had had with Mister Reliable had intrigued her. Trudy was available and looked good enough to eat.
Gwen left her in the restroom, quivering at the sudden turnaround and the prospect of having Gwen’s body. She went into one of the booths, removed her pants and frigged her sex until she came, squishily.
At last, Gwen reached home. Closed the front door and attached the chain. She picked up the mail from the mat and dropped it on the table in the living room. Gwen thought to go through her usual routine, but her senses were on a tight rope. Every sound was magnified many fold. She had to concentrate on doing the normal things n the usual order.
She opened the fridge to get her bottle of wine. It was at that was that moment she knew for certain that someone had been in the house since last night. The cork of the bottle was pushed far too deeply and further than her thumb was capable of.
Diary note Wednesday 26th
The bottle is all prepared, had to use a little less because it was only half full. Was happy to see she had rearranged the curtains. So tonight, I am going to fuck her face. I am going to shove my dick right down her fucking throat. The cunt is going to swallow my whole load.
Gwen was already home by the time he got into place. He hurriedly pulled out his periscope, just in time to see her getting comfortable on the settee. She had already taken off her blouse and skirt and was sitting in nothing more than her bra and panties. The fabric was a nice shade of pink and completely matching.
He licked his lips, anticipating the feel of her hot mouth around his cock. It was just a matter of time. Perhaps he would stop before blowing his load and fuck her again. He might even get her pregnant. He grinned at the thought and licked his lips.
The flickering of the television threw shifting colours over her skin. He now knew what she felt like, warm, soft and pliable. He almost got his cock out to fondle it, but resisted the urge in case he blew his load while he watched her.
After a while, she switched off the television using the remote and then the lights went out of the living room. Her body was a silhouetted briefly in the doorway when she turned on the bathroom light. The door closed, denying him further viewing.
Careful not to make any noise, he crept around to her bedroom window. The curtains were pulled tight together. Fuck it; he thought to himself, I forgot to rearrange them earlier. It meant he would just have to wait until he was confident she would be under the effects of the Rohypnol.
Her bedroom light came on a few minutes later, shinning dimly through the curtain fabric. Not long now and he licked his lips again. The light went off after just a few minutes. He thought to give it half an hour, just to be certain she was fully under.
He waited, checking his watch and getting more excited as the hands worked around the luminous dial and ticked off the time.
Stealthily, he crept to the kitchen door when the half hour had passed. He fumbled for the key in his pocket and then, when he had got it, remembered to put his gloves on. The key slid into the lock and noiselessly turned, tripping the levers and pulling back the mortise until the door was unlocked. He pressed the latch down, the door opened on hinges he had thought to oil so they wouldn’t squeak.
He stepped into the kitchen and closed the door slowly, leaving it unlocked, just caught on the latch. The room was in darkness, but that wasn’t of any concern. He knew the layout and had paced the route from kitchen to bedroom several times, memorising the distances. He left the kitchen and angled across the corner of the living room, missing the bathroom door to go straight to her bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. He paused and listened to hear if she was asleep, but could not detect any sound at all.
Licking his lips, he pushed the door open. The room was not in total darkness, the outside ground lights offered just enough illumination through the curtains for him to see. She was completely covered under the bed linen and looked to be lying on her side.
As silently as possible, he stepped into the room and advanced on the bed. He reached for the covers to pull them back off of her. As his hand made contact with the sheet and the realisation that the shape was from pillows bunched together under the sheet, he heard a noise behind him. The Janitor spun around just as the muzzle report flashed in the darkness.
Pain registered suddenly. A pain, like he had never felt before, white hot and spread from the centre of his chest rapidly. He had been thrown across the bed from the blast of the bullet and couldn’t breathe properly.
He looked at the round hole of the gun as it wavered in front of him and then, everything went black and he descended into darkness.
She watched him, a dark shape silently creeping across the corner of the living room. Gwen had lain on the settee, keeping the room in darkness and hoping that whoever it was entering into her home would not see her. The back of the settee offered quite a bit of cover where it was angled away from the bedroom door. She couldn’t see well enough to make him out, but he looked huge.
She felt for the gun she had put under the pillow. It was cold in her hand. She trembled in fear, but she also felt something else. She realised she was aroused, she was going to shoot this guy and she felt aroused. Her body buzzed with the combination of thrill, fear and excitement all mixed together.
Silently, she rose from the settee, keeping low and keeping him in sight. He pushed the bedroom door open and went inside. Gwen inched forward with the gun raised as her dad had taught her, her trigger finger poised on the little lever, the stock snug in her palm and her other hand supporting her wrist.
Gwen stood in the doorway and aimed at his back. She brushed against the doorframe, the sound was enough in the silence of her house to alert him. He stood, huge and dark. Gwen squeezed the trigger and felt the jolt of the recoil jerk her wrist.
She hit the light switch and saw him sprawled across her bed. She saw the hole in his chest and the spreading stain of crimson. He looked at her for a moment before the light went from his eyes. The Janitor, fuck. It was the Janitor and the filthy cunt had his cock out.
Suddenly, she was exhausted and wobbled on her feet.
Gwen called the Police as soon as she was sure he was dead.
Detective Oliver got the call at around midnight. A report of a shooting in a usually quiet part of the neighbourhood, made by a distraught woman who said she had killed an intruder.
He was dead for sure. The bullet a through and through had made a real mess of him. He noted the guys cock was out, was wearing gloves and had a periscope in the inside pocket of his trench coat.
As a matter of procedure, he arrested Gwen and then began his investigation of the dead man.
His home was a mess of pornographic materials. Books and magazines of naked women in poses designed to show their sex. He had a whole row of DVD’s on a shelf above the player. Oliver flicked through some, disgusted at the depravity depicted in the rape scenes being shown, all despoiling women and treating their bodies to violations that were degrading in nature.
If this was his wank material, it wasn’t a big surprise that he went for the real thing in the end.
He closed the diary and shook his head at his inability to understand what made some people tick.
Justifiable homicide was the right outcome for Gwen he thought.