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Introduction:

A young man desperate for violent release meets a vulnerable high school girl along a desolate road.
I don't even know what her name was.

The full moon illuminates the cold, desolate woods as another hot burst of vomit sears my throat. I hold my knees, and hear the scampering of a squirrel as it hurries up a tree, anxious to get out of the midnight November air. A shovel rests at my feet, the blade a foot away from the dead girl's hand. It protrudes, stiff and blue, from a pile of dead, damp leaves. I wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my jacket. Steam rises from the expelled contents of my stomach.

My mind is a reeling. I'm scared of getting caught, relieved in finally satiating the urge, and shocked at how easy it had all been. Vomiting appears to be the way my body handles such an overload of emotion.

I had a five by two foot rectangle dug into the cold wet earth. Three feet deep was my goal. Three feet would be plenty.

"I don't even know what her name was." I think to myself, my stomach turning again.

I had been driving down a typical rural Nebraska road when I spotted the girl. Miles of harvested corn fields stretched to the horizon on my right, and a dense forest loomed on the left. I was making the 10 mile drive to town for reasons I can't even remember. In the distance, pushing a bike along the side of the deserted road, was a young girl. She was dressed in dark blue jeans and a pink fleece hoodie. She looked over her shoulder as I approached. Dark brown hair spilled out of the front of her upturned hood.

As if possessed, I eased of the gas and slowed as I neared the vulnerable girl. Her purple bike was sporting a popped rear tire and dirt covered her left pant leg. I pulled over about 30 yards in front of her. I'm not sure what made me stop. Part of me thinks, or hopes, that I just wanted to help. The rest of me, the sadly more honest part, thinks I knew my plans for the girl as soon as I saw her.

Through the rearview mirror I saw the girl stop walking. Her entire body seemed to tense up as she stared at my reflected eyes. I stepped out of the car, and started walking toward her. She looked at my varsity jacket, and then my face.

The girl smiled and the fear dissolved from her skinny body. "Hi Mike." She said, as she started walking toward me. The girl was just over five feet tall and had a face still childlike in its roundness. The name and emblem of my local high school adorned the left breast of her pink zip-up hoodie. Even though I had no idea who the girl was, I was not at all surprised to learn she knew me.

In small town Nebraska, the local High School's Quarterback tends to be a local celebrity. I've done a few ribbon cuttings, and have even been asked to sign a few autographs. I'm asked to ride in parades, and every father I meet in town seems to talk up his beautiful daughter.

If only they knew.

"Hi." I say to the girl, flashing her a convincing smile. "Are you okay? " I ask, looking at a two inch tear on the dirty left leg of her jeans. A bloody scrape is visible through the jagged hole.

"It's just a scratch." She said, smiling. Deep dimples were imbedded in her rosy cheeks.

"Where ya headed? " I ask. "You're kinda in the middle of nowhere."

"Yeah, I was just going to my friend's house. She lives just off route 9." That was about three miles up the road, passed the interstate. "It usually only takes a half hour or so, but I got a flat." The girl's face seemed to redden as I smiled kindly at her. She looked away and shuffled her feet. "I fell a little way back."

"Don't you have a cellphone on you? Maybe your mom or dad could pick you up." It was later that I realized I was asking this to make sure no one knew exactly where she was. It was an instinctive move.

"No. I don't have a phone with me. My parents aren't home anyway."

I pretended to think for a moment. "I could drive you the rest of the way, and drop you off." I told her, feeling an anxious quake in the pit of my stomach. Was I really about to do this? "It's on my way, it won't be any trouble."

The girl looked at me with a mixture of shy embarrassment and awkward admiration. It reminded me of the way girls in my eighth grade class had looked at the handsome young Social Studies teacher. That man never had to ask for volunteers to pass out and collect homework. There was always a girl willing the wash the blackboard and beat the chalk from the erasers. Two girls even staged a fight so they could get detention and stay with him for an extra hour after school.

Part of me wanted to scream for her to run away. I'd jump back into my car, and speed off down the desolate road, leaving the girl with a funny story to tell at school on Monday. I'd go home and jerk-off until my cock was sore thinking about the things I wanted to do to her.

But I was tired of fighting it. I was sick of going on dates and my sole thought being what it would feel like to choke the life out of the girl sitting across from me. Or what her mouth would look like full of blood and broken teeth. Eventually, I knew I wouldn't be able to take it any longer. I'd probably snap and kill the girl everyone in town knew I had a date with. Of course I'd be the first one suspected.

This young girl seemed like a gift. She was the perfect opportunity to finally get it out of my system. Hopefully for good.

"Okay," the pretty young girl said, "if it's not much trouble."

My stomach reeled. I forced myself to smile at the girl. "You can," I felt bile burning in my throat, "you can put you bike back here." I popped open the trunk and eased the bike inside. As the teen opened the passenger side door, I slammed the trunk. She wiped as much dirt as she could from her pants and slid into the car. I watched her pull her hood down, revealing a slender, pale neck.

I exhaled deeply.

As I pulled away, my heart pounded so hard that I felt it may well burst. It seemed I could feel every rapid thump throughout my entire body. I was driving for about 15 seconds when I realized I hadn't been breathing. The girl's head turned to me after I gasped awkwardly. She looked away after a few moments.

About 3/4 of a mile up the road, a dirt path entered into the forest. That winding path would be the point of no return. The girl spoke, but I could not hear her over the sound of my heart and my mind screaming for me to finally go through with it. I looked at her and nodded. This seemed to satisfy her. The path was now 1/2 of mile away. There was a terrible cramp in my bowels, and I was afraid I may shit my pants. I adjusted myself in my seat, and forced air slowly through my pursed lips.

It was 1/4 of a mile to the path, and no cars were visible up or down the road. I hadn't seen another driver since before I noticed the doomed girl walking a couple hundred yards in front of me. "Do it!" My mind screamed. "Kill the little cunt! Fucking destroy her!"

With a flash of viciousness, I grabbed the girl's hair and slammed her forehead against the dash. I pressed the breaks hard and turned onto the bumpy dirt path. The girl whined, as I held her hair firm.

"Stop it!" She screamed after her head cleared from the impact. "What are you doing? !" I squeezed her hair tighter.

"Shut the fuck up!" I shouted, a stark calm now spreading through my body. She tried digging her fingernails into my hand. I slammed her head against the dash again, and again.

She started crying.

"Be quiet!" I yelled, shaking her head and pulling out several hairs.

"Ow! Please, you're hurting me!" I shook her again. "Stop! Please!" I forced her head down between her knees, needing to lean over the gear shift to do it. The girl continued to weep as I drove deeper in the forest, and deeper into the dark chasms of my twisted desire.

After ten minutes, I stopped the car. My heart had slowed to a normal pace, and I no longer felt the urge to vomit. I felt like I did at home in bed, masturbating and picturing myself drawing a knife across Whitney Donaldson's throat as I pounded into her bleeding asshole. None of this seemed real, and for a moment I thought maybe it wasn't. Then, as if to assure me this was really happening, I got a strong whiff of piss. I'd never fantasized or dreamt of my victims pissing themselves. I looked at the girl and saw a dark patch moving down her tiny leg.

"Disgusting little bitch!" I yelled, pushing my door open. The girl yelped as I forced her by the hair over the center console. A dark patch grew on the grey fabric where she had been sitting. I threw her to the dirt and kicked her in the stomach. Her mouth opened wide as she struggled for air. I kicked her again, and her face twisted into an agonized grimace. Another kick caused her to vomit. Her lungs were empty, so the heave was strangely silent. It was like viewing a shuttle launch from several miles away. I saw the massive explosion, but heard only the flapping of birds wings.

Like the delayed cacophony of that distant liftoff, the girl finally erupted into a deafening gasp. Wheezing and coughing, she struggled for air. She vomited again, this time accompanied by the traditional retching sound. The girl rolled onto her back and held her stomach. A slimy mixture of fluids covered her chin. She coughed and cried, grinding the bottom of her feet into the damp ground.

I bent down and grabbed her by the hood. She tried to scream as I dragged her toward the trunk of a massive oak tree. Dead leaves crunched under her as she fought for air. She tried to pull the hoodie away from her neck, but couldn't get her fingers between the fabric and her skin. Her eyes bulged and her face reddened. I forced her to sit against the tree. Her back dug into the jagged bark, and I straddled her waist.

"Look at me!" I yelled, taking a wrist into each hand. The girl looked down, a trail of drool falling from her chin to her small chest. I squeezed her wrists and pressed my bloated cock against her stomach. "Open your fucking eyes!" I waited, clenching and unclenching my jaw, waiting for her to give me an excuse to split her head open.

Eventually, the young girl followed orders. Her irises were pale blue, and barely visible due to her fear dilated pupils. They glistened with tears, and displayed a beautiful combination of terror and confusion. "W. . .why? " She stuttered, the sour smell of vomit on her breath.

"You're going to do exactly what I say." My voice was quiet and seemed to originate outside my body, like I was the dummy in a ventriloquist act. "If you don't, I'll cut out your tongue and tie you naked to this fucking tree." The threat was punctuated by me slamming her balled fists into the tree above her shoulders. I roared. "Do you understand? "

She stared wide eyed into my face. A slight nod of her head knocked a tear from her lower right eyelid to her pale, slightly freckled cheek.

I rose to my feet, and threw her hands down. "Pull down my pants." My hands rested on top of her head, and she looked up at me with desperate eyes. I exhaled angrily, and the teen raised her trembling fingers to my crotch. After a few moments she managed to unbutton my jeans, and pulled down the zipper. I could feel silent sobs rocking her body through the top of her head. She hesitated and took handfuls of denim on either side of my legs and pulled them to my knees.

The girl stopped. My seven inch cock tented my black boxers just about to her small, runny nose. She glanced back up. "Go on. The boxers too." Her body slumped and her cries increased.

"Please, Mike. Why are you doing this? " She frowned up at me, revealing a crooked pair of front teeth. I squatted back down and pressed my hand against her neck with almost all the strength I could muster. Her legs kicked, crashing her thighs against my squatting ass. Frantically, her small hands wrapped around my wrist and tried to force my arm away. When the futility of that became apparent, she took a swat at my shoulder and another across my face.

I pressed her neck against the tree with everything I had. Her arms dropped to her side. "That was a mistake." I screamed, pulling her head toward me and slamming it against the tree. "That was a big fucking mistake!" I shouted, breaking off chucks of bark with the middle school girl's head. Her crying stopped and her eyes widened with a dazed, almost stoned, look. I got back to my feet before the sitting girl. "Pull them down you stupid cunt!"

She raised her hands, trembling even more now, and reached for the legs of my underwear. After a few tugs, they were around my knees. My head had grown pale purple and gleamed with a coating of anticipatory pre-cum. I hadn't showered yet that day, so the remains of last night's fantasy lay dried and stinking in my pubic hair. "Open your mouth."

The girl's head fell, and she bawled with her shoulders shaking intensely.

I took a handful of hair from each side of her head, and forced her to face it. "Open your mouth!" Her lips began to part, and she clenched her eyes. "If you do anything stupid, I'll fucking kill you!" I moved my hips toward the girl, and pressed my swollen head against her quaking lips. She gagged, as the head filled her small mouth and she was forced to breathe through her nose. "Use your tongue." I said quietly.

The girl continued to cry, as her tiny tongue moved over the bulbous head. I stared down at her revolted face. She stretched her jaw as wide as it would go, and tried desperately not to make contact with her teeth. Her continued crying sent pleasurable waves through my cock. For several minutes, I allowed the young girl a thorough tasting of my unwashed dick.

I finally pulled my head from her mouth and stepped closer. She recoiled when I flopped the entire length across her face. "Suck my balls." I ordered, slapping them against her clenched lips. I felt her mouth open and her stiff tongue took a few laps of my right testicle. She tasted the other and then stretched her mouth around it. As the girl had the most sensitive part of my body between her teeth, I felt a twinge of fear. If she decided to bite down, she better hope I didn't catch her. I wouldn't kill her. That would be letting her off too easily. I'd cut out her eyes, cut out her tongue, and jam jagged twigs into her eardrums. The blind, deaf, and dumb cunt wouldn't be able to get me out of her head as she suffered a worthless existence until she finally died.

I stepped away from the girl and slapped her. Her hands shot to her face, and she screamed into them. I kicked my shoes off, and removed my pants and boxers from around my knees. The air was incredibly cold against my blood engorged cock. "Stand up!" I shouted at the girl as I gave my cock a few strokes. After a few moments, she removed her hands from her face and rose to her feet. Several loose pubic hairs remained plastered to her face with pre-cum, sweat, and her own tears. "Take off your clothes."

Her drooping head, shot up to look at me. She was silent, but her eyes begged me to leave her alone. "I won't tell anyone. I promise." They said, tearful and wide. "Please don't!"

I spoke slowly and quietly. "Take. . .off. . .your. . .fucking clothes." I made fists and took a step toward her.

"O. . .okay." She said, pressing herself harder against the tree. A piece of bark fell to the ground from behind her ass. She started with her pink and white Reeboks, stepping on the heels and kicking them off. She wore plain white socks that instantly got soaked in the wet ground. Her slender fingers pulled down the zipper of her hoodie, revealing a black baby doll shirt with a large N across her medium breasts. She pulled the hoodie off and looked around the ground. I almost burst when I realized she was looking for the cleanest spot to drop it. The stupid cunt had no idea what was going on.

"Here," I said holding my arms out, "toss it to me." The girl tossed the hoodie into my arms. I wanted to tear it into shreds and toss it into the mud, but I decided to let her believe I was intending to let her live.

She unbuttoned her jeans. The zipper fell slowly and ominously. White cotton panties peaked out. She pulled down the jeans, revealing pale and slender legs. They were silky smooth and damp from piss and the wet ground. She pulled them from her feet, sniffling. The dark outline of her cunt was clear through the soaked panties. A narrow band of the tree was visible through the gap between her thighs from her chattering knees to her plump lips.

I caught her tossed jeans, and draped them over my right arm. The smell of her urine was a surprising turn-on. It was liquid fear, an unmistakable sign that the bitch was horrified.

She stood, her hands over her crotch, seeming to hope that by "Take off your fucking clothes" I didn't actually mean ALL her clothes. I gave her a "Go on, I'm waiting" look and her chest shook with several rapid sobs. She swallowed hard and pulled off her shirt in one quick motion. The girl wore no bra, her breasts the size of oranges. Her small pink nipples had hardened slightly in the cold air. A gust from behind made her shiver, shaking her petite tits from side to side.

She tossed me her shirt. For a few moments she hesitated. Finally, she reached her thumbs into the elastic of her panties and started to pull then down. Wispy patches of downy pubic hair lined her plump cunt lips. Her mound glistened with piss and the goose bumps were discernible from several feet away. When I saw her virginal little pussy, a fresh surge of desire threw me toward the girl. I dropped her clothes and rushed the bitch.

My cock reached her first, my slick head hitting her above the belly button. She stumbled, her soiled panties still around her frail, coltish legs. I placed hands under her armpits, lifted her, and slammed her bare back against the tree. The girl screamed into my face. I forced my right forearm against her neck and reached for my cock with my left hand. For a few agonizing seconds, I struggled to find her opening. I slid my cock over her body, while lifting and lowering her petite frame. Finally, I felt her fleshy lips envelop my head with their warmth.

I forced myself a few inches into her. A scream like a shotgun blast escaped from the defiled little girl. I pressed my chest against her and placed my left hand over her small right breast. Another scream turned into a fevered cry as I thrust into her again.

Suddenly, the tight little treasure was swamped with lubrication. I pulled out partially and then plunged in again, slightly deeper. As she continued to cry, scream, and beg, I massaged her breast, loving how her hard nipple tickled my palm. I felt her hands on my shoulders, trying to push me away. I felt her fist pounding into my shoulders and on the sides of my head. Her attempts were laughable, not even worth a slap or a punch to put an end to them.

Blood began dripping down my balls, and I felt stray drops splash against my thighs with each lunge. The girl had moved her hands to her face and settled into a steady cry when I punched into her cervix. This sent a silencing shudder through the girl that was soon followed by an earth shattering shriek. As I repeatedly punched into her bleeding pussy, I felt my balls slowly begin to clinch. It wouldn't be long. Soon this little bitch will be filled with-

She vomited. The disgusting, shit brained little cunt puked on my varsity jacket. I immediately stopped. For a few seconds I tried to contain my fury, but it quickly bubbled over. I took the girl under her armpits, turned around, and threw her to the ground. She landed on her back, forcing all the air from her lungs. Her legs were spread. Blood covered her cunt and much of her upper thighs. I looked around and pulled a four foot narrow branch from a nearby tree. A switch was what my grandmother called them. I walked back to the still gasping little girl and began swinging.

The end of the stick was about the width of a chopstick, and as it hit the girl, it sliced into her flesh. I whipped her nearly flat chest over a dozen times, with one direct hit to her left nipple. Each blow snapped loudly, and summoned a new line of blood across her body. When she finally took a breath, she rekindled her screams, forcing me to turn my attention to her face. I sliced open her lower lip, possibly blinded her with a direct hit on her right eye. She turned onto her stomach, and began crawling toward the car on her knees. Switch in hand, I leaped onto her back. Her face smashed into the ground. I had the little cunt pinned.

"You little shit!" I screamed, pulling off my jacket. "You cunt!" I tossed my jacket several feet away. "You're gonna die for that, bitch!" I took several swipes at her upper shoulders as I straddled her ass and leaned on the small of her back with my left hand. My cock rested in the crack of her round ass. Each blow across her back, each new red gash into her flawless pale flesh brought me closer to orgasm.

I dropped the switch and leaned over the prone girl, blood pooling in the grass under her torn pussy. With my left hand, I guided my sensitive cock to the pinhole opening into her ass. Her cries and screams had no room to grow as my entire seven inches filled her tiny rectum.

After about a dozen thrusts, her anal cherry broke. Her anus tore, lubricating my now shit coated cock. I fucked her with a sense of abandon, as if a rogue planet was moments away from colliding with earth.

As I'm balled deep in the teen schoolgirl, I picked up the switch and snapped off all but the first foot. The thick base ended in a jagged mess of splintered oak. I took a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back. She let loose with an incredibly high whining scream. Still thrusting violently into her bowels, I leaned over her and stab into her throat with the broken branch.

The first blow is only a glancing one. The second ricochets off. The third hits the target. A quarter inch of the jagged wood is implanted into her neck. Screams continued as I pushed and twisted the wood into her throat. Millimeter my millimeter the spike was driven deeper into her. A torrent of blood spilled over my hand as I ruptured something vital.

The screaming stopped. Her anus stopped clinching around my invading cock. I pulled the wood from her neck and her once pretty face crashed to the earth.

I began to cum. The most powerful orgasm of my life crashed over me like a tidal wave. I seemed to cum for minutes, depositing more hot semen into the girl's cooling body. The forest spun, and I felt the presence of God. If that warmth, that unfettered joy that pulsed through my body wasn't the presence of God, then God does not exist.

I inhaled deeply, and continued thrusting through my waning orgasm. When it finally passed, I collapsed onto the girl's back. My head rested over her right shoulder, the coppery smell of her broken throat filled my lungs and nostrils. After a minute, I struggled to stand. My shrinking cock pulled from the dead teen's anus with a slurping sound. An abhorrent mixture of blood, shit, and cum oozed from the distended and torn hole. My knees wobbled under me as I leaned over and forced the murder weapon deep into her ass.

For several minutes I stood, staring down at the girl, filth dripping to the dirt from my almost flaccid cock.

The final wave of post orgasm euphoria passed, and I realized I needed to do something with the body. After weighing my options, I decided to bury her right here. I decided to hide her and come back with a shovel that night. I bury her in the deepest hole I could dig.

The fear returned, bringing with it the unbearable stomach pains. I began to vomit.

It's now nearly 4:00am, and I'm finally satisfied with the depth of the hole. Despite the cold, sweat drips down my back and stings my eyes. The full moon shines, filtered by the naked branches like milk through a crone's twisted fingers. I drop the shovel, and the blade crashes against a half buried rock, sending a seemingly endless series of echoes through the thick forest. From my pocket, I pull out a near empty pack of Marlboros and light one with unsteady hands.

A thousand different fears flash through my mind as I puff, waiting and hoping for even a modicum of calm from the nicotine. Could blood hounds track her scent even though she was in my car? Is the grave deep enough into the forest to avoid a search party? How long would it be before the police were searching the road? Had I left tire tracks on the asphalt when I braked to turn into the forest? Her bike, what was I going to do with her bike?

I toss the butt into the grave and look toward the girl. A breeze had disturbed the pile of leaves, exposing much of her pale, bony arm. I walk toward her, kneel down, and reach for her wrist. I hesitate, and pull my hand back like I'm about to pull an ember from a fire. My hands are sweaty, so I wipe them on my jeans. Finally, I grab her wrist and pull her naked body from the dead foliage. They rustle loudly as her head emerges.

Stray leaves are stuck to the gaping wound in her throat, and blood dried around her blue lips. Her small chest emerges, caked in blood. I reach the grave and pull the corpse into it. She lands on her left side and I see the stick still protruding from between the pale round lobes of her ass. I throw her clothes into the pit, her soiled panties landing on her face.

I begin refilling the hole. As the girl’s body becomes more and more obscured by the black earth, I feel a growing sense of ease. And when every inch of her is covered, I start reliving my terrible acts. When the hole is nearly filled, I begin to feel that I might do it again. And as I scatter obscuring sticks and leaves over the finished grave, I am already making a list of all the things I will do differently next time.

I laugh.

I don't even know the cunt's name.
11 comments

Anonymous readerReport

2014-09-04 23:24:26
damn this got me so hot anyone want to k1k? add me on lynettejakesp8

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2014-09-04 23:24:26
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Anonymous readerReport

2014-09-02 03:08:48
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Anonymous readerReport

2014-09-02 03:08:27
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