In a time of a pandemic, killer phone sex fantasies are therapeutic. He wanted to kill a bitch. That bitch was me. I had not done anything to piss him off. Hell, I didn’t even know him. I was a victim of circumstance. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He grabbed me as I was going to my car after a supply run. I was screaming in the trunk, but my city is a ghost town at night. No one heard me and if they did, they wouldn’t have come close enough to me to help because everyone is so afraid of this damn virus. I was in the trunk 32 minutes according to my watch. I planned on fighting when I got out of the trunk, but that didn’t go as planned. He punched me in the face, which knocked me out. I woke up in a coffin. Not just any coffin either. A coffin full of blood. A coffin with my name on it. Maybe, I was not as random as I thought. What the fuck. Seriously, what the fuck. I was kidnapped for some sort of horror snuff porn. He just kept yelling at me like I represented everything that was wrong with his life. I tried to talk my way out of it, but he slit my throat just to shut me up. Blood was spurting from the slit in my throat. He gazed in excitement as I choked on the blood spraying out my throat wound. He took that opportunity to throat fuck me. He used the hole in my throat to get off. I choked and gagged on my blood and his cum. It was not over quickly enough. Maybe I can help you feel better about the state of the world too.
Blair SPS
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