I sat in a back alley, dripping my guts all over the floor. In a film there tends to be a homeless person camping in some cardboard boxes, but all I saw were dust bins, all full to the brim with garbage. I was half tempted to throw myself in with the plastic and glass, but I wasn’t sure if I was recyclable or not. Didn’t want to cause problems for the bin men. Didn’t want to cause problems for anyone. But I did. And now I’m bleeding out alone, without anyone to call, no one to shout out too. It was a solitary death.
It all begun a few hours before. Stacy Lee had was going to be twenty one, and I knew she didn’t have too many friends so would most likely be sat at home watching porn while eating microwave pizza. At least that’s what I imagined, and sometimes my thoughts take me to dark perverted situations I’d like to clamber into and solve the problem with my dick. I always flushed up red, despite keeping the thoughts entirely to myself, but as a narrator to my misfortune, I’ve finally laid it all bare. I’m a shy pig, and I wanted to surprise Stacy Lee as she would surely be sat there, with pizza and porn.
Stacy Lee has some unusual tastes, and I knew she had a fondness for Lucha Libre, and you are probably already guessing the outcome. Me buying a mask, sneaking into her house, and then being presented with a new hole via one of her kitchen knives.
But I am not stupid, just perverted, and so I bought her a Lucha Libre pornography. I’m not sure why I was so fascinated at the idea of Stacy Lee watching porn, but I knew she had often joked about it when we met up to eat burgers and drink milkshakes. She was a girl of simple pleasures, but I knew she was lonely, for all the men she consumed ended up gone within a day.
I bought the DVD from the local Adult Store, a place I infrequently visit, especially since the dawn of the internet, and once I found what I was after, I ran home to hastily wrap it with newspaper and a little ribbon bow. It might have been a touch shoddy to some, but I knew this would be the only gift Stacy Lee would be receiving, for she had few friends, and even less who knew she was turning twenty one.
I arrived at her home, sweated furiously. She answered on the third knock and she looked tired. I couldn’t smell pizza, and the TV was off. My illusion had been broken. But I gifted her the DVD anyhow, and when she unwrapped it she laughed. She invited me in and we watched it together, but I couldn’t get into it, and she was looking overly bored. She said fiction wasn’t for her now she was twenty one, but she appreciated the thought.
So instead she led me to her bedroom for the ‘real’ thing, donning a Lucha Libre mask. And here she tied me up, like an S & M Queens, and I was feeling like the luckiest man alive, but Stacy Lee said she had few friends because she couldn’t control herself. She had short-term men because she consumed them whole heartedly, and then she started to hack away at my skin with her teeth. She gouged on my belly and I squirmed and wiggled. But the rope was too tight. And she was in a mad Mexican fury. This is Stacy Lee, and deep down I knew why no one would celebrate with her on her twenty first. Violence was her fortune, and she had no care for anything else.
After an hour of mutilation she was done, she had reached a climax, and she left me to stumble on home, but I could only make it into a nearby back alley, by the side of her house. I felt like trash for letting myself fall prey to such dangers, and as I drifted off, I saw a hand sticking out of one of the bins.