Swamp Murder

Swamp Murder. 4

A faint smile plays on Black's lips as I stand rooted, his eyes locked with mine. The tension in the room is palpable as I wait for him to speak. But instead of words, his actions speak volumes.

Without uttering a single word, Black gets down on his knees and leans forward, his eyes still focused on mine. He takes my cock in his hand and gently guides it into his mouth, causing my breath to catch in my throat. The gesture is unexpected, and it sends shivers of anger down my spine.

Memories flood my mind, memories I'd rather forget. But instead of dwelling on them, my anger begins to boil over. I'm tired of everyone around me, tired of the expectations and the pretense. I'm tired of feeling trapped and unfulfilled.

So, instead of saying anything else, I let my actions do the talking. I reach for the lube from the bedside table and squeeze a generous amount onto my fingers. Then I reach behind Black and slide one finger in and out of his ass, preparing him for what is to come.

Without warning, I push my cock into him, causing a loud gasp to escape from his lips. But I don't bother acknowledging it. The anger fuels my actions, driving me to fuck him harder.

I pound into him, over and over again, my anger abating slightly but never fully disappearing. I lose count of how many times he cums, and I didn't even have the chance to climax myself.

After what seems like an eternity, I finally withdraw from him. The room is silent, the only sound is the heavy breathing of both me and Black. I stand up from the bed and head to the bathroom to clean myself up.

As I step out of the shower, I hear Black's voice behind me. "That was the best sex I have ever had." His words caught me off guard, but I didn't say anything.

His expression is a mixture of surprise and satisfaction, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and something else I can't quite decipher.

Without saying a word, I retrieve my clothes. But Black stops me, placing a hand on my arm. "Wait," he says.

I stand still, waiting for him to continue. "I just wanted to say...thank you." He pauses, searching for the right words. "Thank you for being exactly what I needed in that moment."

I look at him, surprise registered on my face. "I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did. You gave me release, both physically and emotionally. You allowed me to let go of all the anger and frustration that had been building up inside. And for that, I am truly grateful."

I remain silent

One more round, please. He says on his knees, his voice filled with anticipation.

I'm tired. I reply, feeling a sense of weariness wash over me. But he seems determined.

He stands up from the bed, his body radiating excitement. "Follow me," he says, his voice a low invitation that sparkles with mischief. Without waiting for my response, he strides across the room, muscles tense with energy, and swings open a door on the opposite wall.

The room beyond is bathed in the cool, subtle glow of computer screens lining the walls. It's not just a typical office; it's a sanctuary for technology. Wires snake across the floor, and the hum of the machinery fills the air with a steady pulse. Monitors blink to life as he enters, casting reflections that dance across his face.

As my eyes adjust to the dim light, I see him watching everything that's happening in his building. But my attention is drawn to Black sitting at the computer. His fingers move swiftly across the keyboard, typing with purpose. I watch intently as the screen comes to life, displaying an image that fills me with shock and disgust.