We all have killer phone sex impulses lingering inside of us. Some people suppress those impulses, sadly. That is until they meet me. I am that devil on their shoulder telling them to fuck the cunt. We only live once. Why not enjoy it to the fullest? When I met Sam, he was a shy, even meek loser who let women drain his wallet but not his balls. Normally, I would not give a loser like that the time of day, but he appealed to me. Rich and handsome and desperate for a woman’s attention equals easy to get to do my dirty work. He was like a ball of clay I could mold into a killing machine. I had a girl in mind. She and I have had many public beefs, so if she goes missing or turns up dead, the cops would look at me. I needed a patsy and in walked Sam. I was able to get him drunk easily and fill him with information like how this cunt represents all the cunts who have done him wrong. How he needs to take what is his and stop letting little bitches get away with his money and dignity. I went with him, so I could watch. I watched him let out years of frustration on my enemy. He acted on his rape phone sex fantasies. He acted on his murderous impulses too. It was a bloody mess. She screamed and pleaded and begged. And my cunt just got wetter. It was cathartic for him and satisfying for me. He had a lot of pent up frustrations to unleash. It was his DNA all over her. Not mine. If they even find him or match her violent death to this pipsqueak, he will not remember a thing. I hypnotized him into being my killing machine. I can do the same to you.
Venus
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