Before she could do anything defensive with her free left arm, he brought the right down across the edge of the table hard, I could hear it snap and h...r screams went up and octave for a few seconds. He quickly repeated that with her other arm.Then he grabbed her by the throat."It's over now, cunt. It's been fun, but you aren't worth much any more ... no real fight left in you, and you are simply a mess – not much fun to look at."Her screams were cut off as he squeezed. Her shattered limbs. A memorial service.Memorial… What was that Latin phrase he’d been so fond of…the one he always quoted when he thought that he, or Susan, or someone they knew, was taking life too seriously? Memento Mori . Remember that you are mortal.She could hear him right now—could see the wry smile and the self-mocking finger-wag with which he always accompanied this pronouncement. Christ--why had she ever married a philosophy professor?Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would sober up and take care of things. Oh,. He almost tiptoed along the path until he came to the halfhidden branch on the left, that led down to his cottage. He slipped alongin the shadows, stopping and listening every few yards until he came tothe fence and the gate in it. He could see the cottage now, a lightshowing through the back windows. He suddenly found himself panting hispenis buzzing madly in its prison, his nipples stiffening, an arousalbuilding inside him. There was a curl of smoke coming out of the chimney,it made him think. He noticed.I reached for his belt, then the zipper. Opening his slacks, he raised his hips as I tugged them down. He wore blue boxer shorts. I placed my hand on the front of his shorts and flinched. I wouldn’t have pretended to be an expert or overly experienced in cocks, but his was large and it wasn’t hard yet. I replaced my hand over the front and squeezed his cock through the material. I looked up at him.“Sir …” He only smiled.I took the waist of his shorts and tugged them, too. .
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