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Rachel was home along in sweatpants and a t-shirt still hot but not the way she looked in that bikini.I made small talk and she came over to me. She put her hand on my groin, smiled and asked if I needed some TLC. I couldn't say yes fast enough before she told me to go to my room that she wanted to make sure I had no problem getting hard. Even in sweats, she looked hot but who was I to disagree.I went to my room undressed and was hard as a rock just in anticipation.It seemed forever before I heard her coming. Rachel walked in wearing a tight leather dress, stockings and stilettos. I had trouble catching my breath. She told me that when she wore this outfit a few months ago for a party, she couldn't help but notice the stares I gave her. She kneeled on the bed and firmly grasped my cock stroking and looking into my eyes a big smile on her beautiful face. I savoured every moment as she varied her strokes trying to make me last longer. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and ejaculated.. Then my fertile brain suggested that she might have decided to deliver her "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on" with a ten gauge shotgun, and was just having trouble finding it.But I stayed there. I deserved it, after all. Then it occurred to me that she'd go to prison for killing me, even though I deserved it, and I imagined her being led into cell block H, and the catcalls of all the other prisoners, calling her "Baby" and "Sweet thing" and "Luscious" and telling her all the horrible things they were going to do to her. And, in my vision, she threw her guards off of her and got their guns and went on a rampage, cursing my name and killing people the state probably should have killed years ago, which led to a vision of riots as people outside the prison demonstrated that she was a saint, even if she was a murderess, and that she should be let go. And the next thing my mind was filled with bombs bursting in air and the rockets' red glare. And since I didn't want her to have to go.
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