She saw herself in the mirror and was in awe. She was beautiful. She almost didn’t recognize herself.“I want you to think of a fictional character...that you feel matches your look right now. But don’t tell me what it is. I want you to sit down and write a story. Not just any story, but a sexual one as if you are that character. Write it from her point of view. It can be anything you want. Gay, straight, rough, loving or whatever is inside you that she would tell. I want you to become her. Then. Middle aged, you know?'I smirked back at the young girl and her careful, but clumsy phrasingabout my age. She continued, "I just wanted to know if you'd be willingto do a little modeling for us. It wouldn't pay that much. That's whyI'm asking you. I'm mean you're perfect. You're tallish and trim, you'reexactly what we were looking to sell women to think their bodies willlook like in our clothes."I was surprised. I said, "I'm not a model. I've never even thought aboutdoing it. Can I get back to. This time I had fingered her to two orgasms but kept her from going over the edge a third time. I wanted her ready for anything when we left the theater. I had parked the car slightly further from the theater than usual, we would have to walk past the adjoining adult bookstore, the one that was my favorite gloryhole hunting ground. Just as expected, Susan said, “They never show two guys fucking and sucking.”“I’d suck a cock if you want to see it” I offered.“What!! No!! You wouldn’t!!” she. I guess the plan of my executioner was to mask the sound the missile he launched at me with the sound of thunder. It had done the trick. No one heard the gunshot or rather rifle shot. Just a large BOOM and a little crackle following it. At least that’s what the police assumed during their investigation ... but I get ahead of myself.His -- I assume for now it was a man -- undoing was the path the bullet took after leaving my head. My apartment is in an older section of town, way before walls.