A 17 year old girl from Pensacola named Jenna emailed a request to be added to my friend list. Being bisexual ..and a law abiding citizen I took a moment to check out her blog, her info,etc to see if I was even interested in the temptation of getting to know her. This story is what I found. Its absolutely erotic, disturbing and horrifying...and I left her profile aroused and tense. Needless to say..I added her. I m posting it here to share with you all. I hope she doesnt mind. (The bullets are hers..I didnt want to alter it.) ----------------- ��� Managing a coorporation is a hard business. Finding your wife in bed with one of your employees is an even harder one. ��� Thursday afternoon. The lawsuit against us went through and we now owe 2.3 million dollars, all because some old bastard tripped and broke his hip. I lose my Christmas bonus. The hearing ended at 2 pm, earlier than expected. News of the outcome has probably gotten to everyone else and I would be an embarassment. So I decided to go home. ��� Her pilates class starts at 2:30 on Thursdays so I was expecting peace and quiet. I pull into the garage and her car is there. "One of her girlfriends must have picked her up," I think to myself, "She never misses pilates." Oh how I was wrong. ��� As I walk in I loosen my tie and throw my coat over a nearby armchair. I hear whispers and a door shutting. A fucking burgler. Luckily I keep a loaded handgun in the chest near the door. I cock the gun because no bastard is leaving my house alive today. At least I was right about something. ��� Gun up, I walk towards the bedroom. She's sitting on the bed watching TV. I let my arm fall to my side. ��� "Home so early?" Her face is flushed. ��� "Thursday is pilates day," I say, ignoring her question. ��� "It was cancelled." ��� She turns her head back towards the TV. A televangalist is on. She can't stand televangalists. She watches intently as if enthralled. A bead of sweat drips down from her hairline and caresses her lips. They're fuller than usual and a darker shade of red though she doesn't seem to be wearing any lipstick. Her shirt is halfway buttoned and it's obvious she isn't wearing a bra. The rest of her body is covered by the blanket. ��� I rest the gun on my bedside table. I'm too tired to put it back. I throw my belt on the floor and take off my dress shirt. She doesn't say anything but I'm glad. I don't want to talk about the case. The televangalist has turned into an informercial, another program she's not fond of. She doesn't change the channel. ��� I slip under the covers hoping to go to sleep when I notice she isn't wearing panties. She always wears panties. White scratch marks stripe her legs. I pause momentarialy and observe. Her breathing quickens. I can see her heart beat. Nervously her eyes dart at me and back to the TV. My mouth hangs open in confusion. She casually glances at the closet. I slap her. Hard. ��� "You fucking slut," I accuse. ��� "What's your problem?" she bitches. ��� I get out of bed and pick the gun up. ��� "What do you..." she starts but she doesn't have time to finish her sentence. ��� I'm already opening the closet door. Huddled in a corner is a half-dressed man. I recognize him from the office. He's just another kiss-ass who's name I haven't bothered to learn. He is trembling. ��� "What the fuck were you thinking?" I ask. I shoot him before he responds. ��� Our house is not in the city. We have no neighbors. ��� She's crying. She has the audacity to cry. ��� I walk up to her and slap her with the warm barrel of the gun. The metal leaves a red mark on her face. She screams. ��� "Shut up," I command. She does. ��� "Stand up." ��� She wimpers. ��� "Stand the fuck up and take off your shirt." ��� She does and I see the shirt is actually his shirt. There are lipstick stains on the collar. Those stains cost a pretty penny at the dry cleaners. I would know. She knows better than to leave stains on my shirts but some of the younger ones think it's cute. It isn't. ��� As she unbuttons the shirt, I see the beginning of a bruise above her right breast. It was the type of bruise that highschoolers leave on each others necks. I hated her for it. ��� She was going too slow. I reach out and rip the shirt off. A gaping hole is left in it. Doesn't matter now, he won't be needing it back. ��� A bite mark is on her hip. ��� "Lay down on the bed." ��� "But I..." ��� "Don't say a fucking word, you worthless whore." ��� I push her knees up and spread them apart. Her legs are trembling and tears are rolling down her cheeks. ��� "Please don't," she chokes. ��� I put the gun to her head and cock it. ��� She's wet. She's still fucking wet. ��� With my free hand I unzip my fly. She doesn't move. If she moves, I blow her brains out. Just like I did her little boyfriend. ��� I kneel above her careful not to touch her, and I fuck her. I think about her fucking that kiss-ass, about how many men she's fucked in this bed, our bed. It makes me hate her even more. ��� She lets out a moan, but it isn't one of pleasure, and I push the barrel harder into her scalp. I go faster. I go so hard it hurts her. Her eyes are closed in a grimace and her mouth is half open with pain. She looks like she's screaming, but she knows better than to do that. ��� Her pain is redemption. I can see all the regret and self-loathing in her glistening face. Her beautiful, white face. ��� As I come I pull the trigger. She's covered with blood, and I'm covered with blood. Her blood. ��� I get up and leave the cunt on the bed. No where else for her to go. I grab a bottle of vodka from the bar and sip it straight out of the bottle. A smile turns the corners of my mouth. ��� I take the cigarettes from the bar and light one. Usually I only smoke to releave tension, but I'm already calm. The tar feels good slipping in and out of my lungs. I bring the cigarettes and booze back to the bedroom. I pour the rest of the bottle down her lifeless throat. Then I light another cigarette and put it in the corner of her mouth. ��� I change my bloodstained undershirt and put the cloths I was wearing earlier back on. In the bathroom, I wash my hands and face of any leftover blood. As I walk back by the bedroom a small fire is burning her skin. The smell is awful. It's a good thing I have a large fire insurence policy. ��� I decide that maybe it would be better if I went to the office after all.