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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Archive name: asphyx.txt (MM, asphyxia, snuff)
Authors name: Andy Tasso (andouille@mindspring.com)
Story title : Reflections of a Janitor
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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Reflections of a Janitor (MM, asphyxia, snuff)
by Andy Tasso (andouille@mindspring.com)
***
To read this story you must be of legal age and a
totally sick fuck - contains asphyxia, snuff,
necrophilia.
PS, if you like this, write and let me know at what
scene you jizzed your load. This story was inspired by
a picture downloaded from the net.
If you want the picture to go with the story, you can
get it at:
http://andouille.home.mindspring.com/janitor.jpg
***
I weaved my way quietly through the desks, upending
waste-baskets into my cart, gradually making my way
towards his workstation. He was aware of me, having
glanced over his shoulder when I first entered, and
occasionally following my progress reflected in the
nighttime window across from his station. At first busy
entering data, he gradually left off and, by the time I
got to him he was leaning back in his chair, his eyes
half focused as he watched my approach from behind.
Standing at arm's reach behind him, and making sure he
could see it in the obsidian glass, I returned his
reflected gaze. Moving as though to adjust my crotch, I
kept my hand there, rubbing at the bulge my dick made in
my denims.
He hadn't been fully focused as I began, but when he
realized what he was seeing, he started to turn. I put a
hand on his shoulder. "No," I said, urging him to keep
watching in the window's surface, instead of looking
straight at me.
I left my one hand there, tickling the back of his neck
while I let the other travel across my t-shirted chest,
down my belly and over my tented jeans. He was obviously
mesmerized by this. Looking over his reflection, I could
see him starting to swell inside his slacks. So, I
thought with some surprise, my instructions had been
correct.
("Queer? Look, man, I know this subject, and I can tell
you that this approach will not work. He's a total
straight-arrow, if I make some kind of pass at him, he'll
have security bounce me out of the building." My contact
was patient. "All you ever knew about this subject was
what he let you know. You haven't had contact for eight
years, and our profile says this approach, with *you*,
will have the greatest chance of success.)
"Take yours out," I said, and watched as he freed his
stiffening dick. Without further prompting, he began to
stroke it, gently sliding his hand along the base of the
shaft. I watched as his cut head turned almost purple
from the blood swelling inside it. With both hands, I
stroked his shoulders, leaned forward to rub his chest,
played with his nipples through his white shirt.
Seeing his arousal quicken, I removed his loosened tie,
but then I wrapped it slackly around his neck, watching
for clues that this part of his profile was also correct.
It was. As I wound the strip of silk around his neck, he
slowed his fisting of his meat, leaned back in his chair
and looked directly at my reflected image.
Thus emboldened, I grabbed the ends of the tie and pulled
them straight back, tightening the loops of silk around
his neck until his breath grew ragged and the flow of
blood to his brain was being cut back.
I found myself both fascinated and disgusted to find this
part of his profile was true. Instead of fighting me as I
strangled him, he kept his hands in his lap; one cupping
his balls while the other stroked furiously, and all the
while he looked at my reflected face. He thought it was a
race to get off before he passed out, and I wondered
briefly if he would win it.
He lost this race. As his eyes started to glaze, his grip
on his still-dry cock loosened and his hands fell to his
side. I struggled against his sudden weight as his body
went limp, then held on as unconscious spasms shook his
whole frame, his arms flailing up and down and his legs
kicking straight out. Fascinated, I kept all my attention
on his dick, still swollen, and found myself shouting
with surprise when thick ropes of cum shot out of it just
before his spasms began to weaken.
Finally, I lowered his limp body to lean over his desk,
noting that sometime after shooting his load, he had
voided himself.
I sat in his chair and began to type the memorized
machine sequence into his workstation, cursing the
security measures that built a system without any other
external port or drive. Eventually, I was able to execute
and watch the worm begin its destruction.
As I stood to go, I realized that I still had an
incredible boner in my jeans. Thinking, "what the fuck,"
I let his body to the carpet facing up and I straddled
him, pulling out my dick and I started to stroke myself.
As I got close to a load, I realized I was sobbing, and I
began to curse the dead man between my legs. Finally,
crying, "You motherfucker, you could've *had* me, god
damn it, you could've *had* me," I squat on his face and
let a sloppy load of jiz fly onto his head.
I stood and zipped up, then turned to leave. Then, I
turned back, stood beside the cooling body, leaned
forward and kissed the cum from my father's lips.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 18