Category: Teen phone sex

Teenage Head

 Teen phone sex

Teen phone sex with a mortician is quite different than anything you’ve ever experienced… My wicked impulses and bloody appetite are unlike anything you’ve ever seen—and too cruel to even depict in films, which wouldn’t do the thrill justice.

I’ve been a little swamped with work lately, and that’s fine because I love my work. However, fixing bodies for their loved ones is not what enough to satiate my darkness. Sensing this, one of my friends asked me to come over; and, though I politely said “No,” he persisted. When I arrived, he had a young girl strapped to a chair, gagged with a handkerchief. He looked at me and watched as a smile spread across my cherry red lips.

I wondered how he had found someone so young, and he told me that he had put out a couple of advertisements for a babysitter, which was a perfect ruse. He had selected this one because he believed that she would appeal to me and because (he confessed) she had big tits. I rolled my eyes, but I was pleased with his selection.
We spent the entire night torturing the teen; my friend, poking large holes in her nipples and ripping the tissue off. Then I stabbed the pink tissue, watching the blood gush. He tore off her pants and panties, too; her eyes widened, thinking we were going to indulge our rape fantasies. And, we were, just not the way she thought.

Teen phone sex10

I grabbed a machete and began cutting through her neck, that tender skin. How beautiful it was to watch the grey color wash over her face as she breathed her last laborious breath! I continued to carve the head, take slivers of the brain for some soup that I planned to make. And this left my friend to her torso, which he straddled and began fucking. As he was about to cum, he placed his fingers inside the gaping hole where her head used to be; I watched his ass cheeks clinch as he came in the corpse. How silly, I thought; I much preferred not to play with my food. He began looking at the head; after I carved her up really good, I’d let him have it…I knew he wanted to put his dick in her sweet teenage mouth. After all, he had planned to do this in order to cheer me up—and it had worked!

Mr. Self Destruct

“Mr Self Destruct”

I am the voice inside your head
and I control you
I am the lover in your bed
and I control you
I am the sex that you provide
and I control you
I am the hate you try to hide
and I control you
I take you where you want to go
I give you all you need to know
I drag you down I use you up
Mr. Self-destruct
I speak religion’s message clear
and I control you
I am denial guilt and fear
and I control you
I am the prayers of the naive
and I control you
I am the lie that you believe
and I control you
I take you where you want to go
I give you all you need to know
I drag you down I use you up
Mr. Self-destruct
I am the needle in your vein
and I control you
I am the high you can’t sustain
and I control you
I am the pusher I’m a whore
and I control you
I am the need you have for more
and I control you
I am the bullet in the gun
and I control you
I am the truth from which you run
and I control you
I am the silencing machine
and I control you
I am the end of all your dreams
and I control you
I take you where you want to go
I give you all you need to know
I drag you down I use you up
Mr. Self-destruct
 

The Chase

I bashed her stomach with the lamp next to her bed and I smiled brightly when I felt the blob I’d beaten within. I jumped on her like a wildcat–I couldn’t stop raking my nails into her eye sockets, kicking her, smacking her and ripping out her hair. She fell against the bed and took it like a good whore. Screams for help soon graduated to lowly and half-assed whimpers and raspy cries as her energy was drained away from her. Hayley bleeding from her mouth, her eye was swollen shut, and she sobbing hysterically. She’d lost control over her mouth, where teeth were now sparse, and so I took her maternity pajama top into my hands and ripped it open down the front, exposing her huge milk-brimming tits, swollen and achy and pregnant. Her nipples looked like little red buttons I just wanted to slice off to see what was inside. Begging pathetically, trying to cover her stomach with her arms. Trying to save the baby I wanted to kill for my own. I took out my pocket knife and slashed her pajama bottoms off. “Ever been fucked by a knife, you stupid cunt?” I asked her. She moaned and struggled weakly, flailing. I laughed. “I’m going to stick this blade up your cunt and fuck you real good with it. It’s about time we used that babyhole for what it’s good for.” She was too beaten and abused to resist much. I flipped her over like a nice piece of preggo ass and spread those breeding whore legs for what they were good for. “Bradley’s dead now,” I told her through my smile. “You’re a widow, and since I’m your next-of-kin, you’re my wife now.” This caused a horrible shaking to overtake her weak body, and tiny sounds of abject terror and fear escaped from her bruised lips. “I can’t hear you,” I told her chidingly. “You’re face down, ass up, like you belong.”

The Hunter

“In my mind’s eye my thoughts light fires in your cities.”
― Charles Manson

My half-brother is having a baby. Well, his slut fuck wife anyway. Wanna know a secret? Last night I closed my eyes and I dreamed about it . . . the creaky halls, warped floor boards, and silent groans of their Hollywood Hills home. As I climbed in through the kitchen window, echoing sounds ricocheted across the shadowy darkness. Passing the garbage disposal, and taking special note of where is was . . . I climbed upstairs, twisting around the banister, and opening the bedroom door, casting light from the hall across the room. While Bradley rubbed Hayley’s fat bloated preggo stomach, I leaned on my baseball bat for support. And when the lights started flickered on and off in the hall, where my hand was playing with the switches, my halfling got up to go check it out like the “good man.” I reached in my waistband, retrieved the shotgun I’d hidden down the leg of my sweatpants, and blew his fucking brains out. Cocked the piston, aimed it at his third eye, and, he didn’t have time to react with anything more than utter disbelief before I pulled the trigger. “Bye bye Bradley,” I whispered to him. His head snapped backward as it simultaneously splattered against the wall in a mass of bone, blood, brains, and dripping flesh. The sound of the gunpowder blowing back and the shell taking off his head sent shivers up and down my spine. I needed that. I was getting high. Without taking a breath or a pause, I dropped the gun where his head used to be. His body collapsed to the floor, nothing left of him except the shoulders-down. The scream from his fat breeding slut meant I charged in there with a Cheshire grin on my happy fucking face without even a pause or a breath. She was trying to get up from bed, so I whacked that bitch’s kneecaps out with the bat. CRACK! I didn’t want her getting away. She let out an ear-piercing scream. Such a worthless used-up pussy she is. Like a warbling, fluid fantasy, she fell to the floor groaning in horrible utter agony and I grabbed the slut by her hair. “Tell me what scum you are,” I seethed down at her. She obliged, begging for her baby’s life. “No,” I smirked, “I don’t think so.”

Highway 666

There’s a little place I know where the dead walk and roam . . . a place of evil that’s trapped inside the walls. Can you hear the groans? It’s sick. I want to know what’s underneath. I scratch at the antique paper coating the places I can’t go . . . slivers pierce my fingernails and rodents bite my ankles here. I want to escape. But it’s too late. Once you let it in, you have to stay inside. There’s no way out. You’re trapped here now. Look into my eyes. Do you see my soul? It’s black and aged . . . here, you should never go. I can’t stop manipulating. Every word out of my mouth is a lie belated, waiting. Waiting to sink my claws deep in you and drag you to the depths of all unholy creation. The world through a monster’s eye. There’s a cabin off the road on Highway 666. It’s a shack I go to sometimes when I’m in the mood for a little hunting and driving. Sometimes both at once–other times, I’m a patient little fuck. When it gets dark outside and the trees are swaying back and forth, I hear whispering in those hollow logs that echos through the weeping willows. The last time I was there, I could’ve sworn I saw a stupid bitch running around out there. It was about 2AM, and I decided to go see for myself. When I got out, I heard crying coming from all directions. “Come here honey,” I called out in a sweet-as-sugar voice, dripping with the kind of evil that grabs your ankles and twists around you. Squeezes the good outta you from the inside out. Takes it, destroys it, and leaves you dark and cold forever . . . I found the little twerp sitting underneath a big maple tree out in the woods around the cabin. I took her hair in my hands and looked deep into her eyes . . . She was shaking and shivering in fear–guess she didn’t like what stared back at her.

Kiss of Death

There are men in my life who think I am normal. They see the tattoos, the piercings, and the “rocker chick” haircut, and they call me alternative .  . . They say that I’m scene. Most of these people are men–and they tell me how fucking sexy I am. It gets their dick nice and hard thinking about fucking such a tough girl like me. Well lemme tell you something, baby. I’m no benign bitch. I have some special lipstick on my dresser right now . . . would you like a kiss? I’ve got a friend who’s a real sick fuck, and she makes make-up . . . Wouldn’t you know it, I’ve got some black mamba spiders in my basement and I trapped them in a cage. I like to watch them climb the walls and try to escape. Makes me giddy with pleasure at the control I have over everyone I know . . . I can be what I want to be, do what I want to do. If it was up to me, the entirety of the human race would become my playthings. I’ve got venom laced inside my kiss. Lean in close, ‘cus you’re gonna taste this . . . I’ve built up a tolerance because of my twistedness, been smearing this shit on since before I can remember it. But when your lips touch mine, they’ll get a little flavor on ’em. I’m gonna show my affection while I watch you fucking die.

Grab That Bitch!

That bitch is dead meat. This stupid fucking cunt at the town fair was pissing me the fuck off and I got her good. Rounded up ten cars full of my buddies from the state penatentrium and took the fucking slut like the whore she was. Was. Haha. That dumb little fuck toy is good and dead now. I made sure to ream that asshole with at least twenty-five cocks before I fucked her throat with a spiky stick and shoved hot coals up her pussy. That stupid fucking ho is done with. She can’t recover from that shit. Never again will she be able to run amuck and steal innocent teen’s tickets for the local fucking fair rides. I mean, I was just trying to have some fun . . . but it turned into a much wilder celebration than I thought. Ya see, there’s this funny thing called retribution. I serve it up nice and hot. Burning hot. Searing, piercing, horribly agonizing pain. What that dumb little bitch thought would be an easy pickpocket turned into a nice gangbang for me. Sadistic shit gets me off! I’ve got the power baby.

Creep Up On Ya

What’s lurking in those deep dark shadows . . . distorted shapes that seem to be twisting around your ankles, and clawed hands that grab, the sharp fingernails digging in deep. Nightmares come from this inherent fear of the evil that lurks beneath the surface. Do you know what else nightmares are born from? Parties after dark . . . social hour. Everyone believes that more bodies means more safety. Isn’t that the idea behind the so-called “buddy system?” Haha. I know the truth.

More bodies just means more wicked fun. More sinister persuasion. More merciless fucking. All of those scantily-clad whores and drunken rich boys. Gyrating bodies and unsuspecting prey. The great thing about already being on a boat is the fact that there is plenty of rope lying around. This comes in handy when a sick, twisted slut like myself wants to tie up a couple of hos and man whores with tight, circulation deadening sailor’s knots. I like to maim penises. Some chicks like to tie hair bows, but I’m a little different. I especially love the feeling of a firm, juicy, cum-filled ball weighing down heavily in my hand. When the party guests wander off and leave their drinks unattended, I’m looming over the bar, shaking a little bit of magic potion in there to put them fast asleep.

Cruel Intentions

I’ve got a secret. Can you keep it? Sure, I’ve got a fucking rosary around my neck. I walk by all of those spoiled girly-girls all of the time and I just smirk at them. I’m a bitter bitch, but I know what’s up. When I get myself alone, I can always count on the special white stuff I store in my necklace. You want to puff a little bit of this powder, huh? Yeah, baby, I’ve got you covered. The two of us can have a lot of fun. First, I’ll do lines of this coke off your dick while you spank my cheek with it. Then we’ll really fuck a slut up. Have you ever held a tramp down and shoved stuff up her holes? I love to get my fist and punch them up there until they’re screaming for more. “Say your prayers, little girl!” we’ll shout at that whore. Then the two of us will bang her from every orifice she has. Messing up those holes, getting them nice and full of your cum. And when we’re done and need to dispose of the mess, I’ll take my rosary out and thank God Almighty for bringing us such a fun little fucktoy! Cum with me, baby, and we’ll go as high as the sky, screwing every dumb slut we run into on the way there.

Frankly, I’m A Fucking Monster

Snuff Phone Sex Bianca

Everyone has a method–everyone. I don’t care if you’re a white collar professional, a bus boy at Denny’s, or a rich bitch with a trust fund stocked to the brim . . . everyone has a method. There’s just way too much stress in this world to take it like a fucking idiot. I don’t let anyone fuck with me. I’m the fucker. I’m the bitch. I’M the one who ruins and destroys people’s lives at the drop of a hat . . . and I’m the one enamored with Franklin Evan’s methods. Never heard of him? Haha. Boy, are you missing out. That stupid piece of shit is a goddamn genius.

“In the summer of 1872, 64-year-old Franklin Evans – aka the Northwood Monster – lured his adolescent grandniece, Georgianna Lovering, into the woods near her home, strangled her to death, then raped and sexually mutilated her corpse.

Following his arrest, he confessed to a string of unsolved atrocities, among them the random mutilation-murder of a physically deformed five-year-old girl he snatched from her New Hampshire home, the rape-murder of a 14-year-old schoolgirl in Maine, and the butchering of a 15-year-year-old Massachusetts girl, along with her 12-year-old brother who had witnessed the crime. He was eventually caught for his “unnamable and incredible crimes,” and “swung like a dog” in his execution.”

I get so pissing drunk, my ankles are bleeding from my heels and I don’t even fucking feel it. I’m feeling gleeful–feeling giddy. I’m going to squeeze a tramp’s throat til she ceases to breath. You wanna taste? Haha. Just you wait . . .