tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40460926407045752912024-03-12T21:16:38.744-07:00assassinettediaries
of
hitwoman
'misty'Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-874672489959035432011-07-15T15:37:00.000-07:002011-07-15T21:04:43.472-07:00misty in Berlin! JAWOHL! misty had arrived.<br />
Lahhh, di, dahhh...<br />
<br />
no parade to welcome.<br />
no limo at der flughafen with angular jawed teutonic driver in black hugo boss suit looking for misty as he holds a sign reading ‘internationalen attentäter’.<br />
<br />
i’d carried only my small flight bag with only my misty necessities. <br />
quite in style and practical for your sexy international killer on the go. <br />
i needed to bring no weapons as most likely i’d be strangling rauch with my panties or nylonz, or giving him a heart attack as i undressed and he saw my killer body (get it? oh you must!).<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qx91fLu7RNQ/TiC3GN40C6I/AAAAAAAAFz0/S6bxouvGzJk/s1600/hot+sexy+feet+killer+foot+murderess+feet+hot+legs+deadly+women%2527s+feet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="316" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qx91fLu7RNQ/TiC3GN40C6I/AAAAAAAAFz0/S6bxouvGzJk/s400/hot+sexy+feet+killer+foot+murderess+feet+hot+legs+deadly+women%2527s+feet.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">international-never-break-rules for sexy international assassinettes</span></i></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">is don't carry weapons aboard flights! so misty often strangles</span></i></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">her oh so lucky targets with reinforced la perla panties. a</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">dying victim's fondest wish, whether they realize it or not.</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
but one of the rules of air travel is never bring weapons! if misty needed a glock or stiletto (not the kind on my sexy feet...the kind i shove into men’s hearts and twist)...they would be provided moi dans berlin.<br />
<br />
what misty did have was mucho ‘KY’ for when Elka screwed the living insanty out of me. Elka’s clit was larger than average size, if you pardon the expression, and could actually enter misty. <br />
men and their pathetic oversized but underquality organs could never compare to what my love had in store pour moi!<br />
and i had all the good KY in my sweet d&g travel bag...’sensual silk tingling Ultrahhhhh-gel’... ‘warming liquid gel’... ‘tingling 2-in-1 touch massage’...mmmmm...<br />
<br />
ok, back to other important things. like mmmurderrrrr. la raison d’etre for being in berlin...yum.<br />
<br />
it had been a nice trip.<br />
misty sooo doesn’t have issues with air france. the french may be bitchy snobs, but misty loves bitchy snobs.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rl3dvErpkUk/TiC4Mkzo5MI/AAAAAAAAFz4/sS4vRF31SxU/s1600/coffee+you+can+sleep+when+you%2527re+dead+drink+coffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rl3dvErpkUk/TiC4Mkzo5MI/AAAAAAAAFz4/sS4vRF31SxU/s400/coffee+you+can+sleep+when+you%2527re+dead+drink+coffee.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>it was earleee when misty got into der flughafen.</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>i sooo needed my transfusion of caffeine. as the</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>slogan goes, you can sleep when you're dead.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: lime;">and that oinker rauch would be oh so dead sooon.</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: lime;"> </span></i></span> when i arrived it was earleee morning. birdeee tweeting time in berlin, where even the birdeees wear torsten amft and hugo boss (ohhh, misty, you crack yourself uP!).</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> but seriously, i made my way to the 24-hour airport bar where a charming germanic older couple was waiting for someone to arrive at this ungodly hour.<br />
to keep misty going she simply had to have her nectar. coffee...drink of the Gods. and lovely international assassinettes.<br />
my misty specialty drink was a double-strong coffee frappuccino with copious amounts of brandy dumped in like crude from a BP deepwater blowout. <br />
topped with whipped cream. the more brutally whipped the better.<br />
<br />
as my caffeine and alcohol arrived, mist began licking the overflow off the smoooth sides of the tall cup. as i would soon do to the juice off Elka’s thighs.<br />
mist made sure no one was catching the show. or so i thought. <br />
i’m sooo not an exhibitionist, tho i do like to show off a new pair of christian louboutin toppe by a chanel mint-green leather skirt on a spring day.<br />
but when it comes to acts of sapphic nymphic erotomania or licentious murderous guy killing...misty keeps it behind closed doors.<br />
but this morning i got carried awayyy...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MKmk70m7gYc/TiC5kI-HBbI/AAAAAAAAFz8/lDpg8UODR_8/s1600/little+misty+girl+spanked+girl+spanking+teacher+spanking+girl%2527s+ass+classroom+spanking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MKmk70m7gYc/TiC5kI-HBbI/AAAAAAAAFz8/lDpg8UODR_8/s320/little+misty+girl+spanked+girl+spanking+teacher+spanking+girl%2527s+ass+classroom+spanking.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>the german lady in the airport was a sexy old hag</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> that reminded mist of my third grade teacher! a leather-</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>faced bag misty had a crush on. third grade misty had </i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>always wished she would have bent me over like a </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">flexible drinking straw and thwacked my bare bottom!</span></i></span></div><br />
the simply delightful older couple had caught misty’s unintended soft core display with my coffee cup.<br />
the lady did not appreciate misty’s tongue expertiese! the look on the sexy old bag’s face reminded misty of her third grade prep-school teacher (yes, mist was a little prepster).<br />
teach had caught little mist carrying self-education too far...practicing my onanistic skills in the class cloakroom at way too precocious an age.<br />
don’t ask what fantasy propelled little misty to touch her prepubescent self...i think it was the idea of strangling little georgie with my knee-high sox that had got me going. <br />
mmmmm, some things nevah change!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HZA0xp0sQq4/TiC7i8bqGbI/AAAAAAAAF0A/84GBvNWbu9E/s1600/rebecca-alfred-hitchcock-judith+anderson+sexy+bitch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HZA0xp0sQq4/TiC7i8bqGbI/AAAAAAAAF0A/84GBvNWbu9E/s320/rebecca-alfred-hitchcock-judith+anderson+sexy+bitch.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>truth be told, misty always had a crush on the harsh old</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>nasty bats like mrs. danvers from rebecca, trying to get</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>that innocent twit to jump out the window here. mmmm!</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>judith anderson...i would have kissed her feet...and other</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: lime;">things toooo</span></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
luckily ms. hodgepodge didn’t spank my young misty ass, tho truth be told i would have lovvved it had she.<br />
even at that tender age misty had an emerging attraction to old harsh looking spinster types with leather faces and thick thighs over which to place misty and spank her.<br />
i suppose ms. hodgepodge (not her reeeal name, geeesh!) must have sensed little misty liked her. <br />
the sexy old bat never punished me for touching my misty self. or anything else, like when i really did try to strangle georgie.<br />
he was sooo a creep, the type who no doubt grew up to be one of those wingtipped sub-prime hedgefund managers who brought down the world economy. misty should have finished his little ass back then!<br />
ok, calm down mist! back to the present. <br />
<br />
i smiled at the scowling gruff sow in the airport bar and put my tongue-licked coffee mug down. i picked up my misty flight bag and stood to depart the flughafen.<br />
in an instant the german lady’s other half flashed a nasteee wink at moi without his ball and chain knowing. <br />
i ever so naughtily flicked my misty-licious tongue across revlon ‘summer sky umbre’ frosted lips, and returned the gent’s covert flirt.<br />
if misty must be honest, and she must, his 200-pound old bat wife, with ankles stronger than a german clysdale’s, turned me on immensely. <br />
if i had more time, misty would have tried to pick them both up. i’d have done him just to get his leather-faced frau to spank me. hard.<br />
naked of course.<br />
yes, misty is a total lezzie nympho pervette. and so very proud of it.<br />
<br />
but there was no time for such games.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l8BEW7pAp04/TiC8rd5_N0I/AAAAAAAAF0E/x-Qx3dIBncI/s1600/misty+in+the+shadows+berlin+waiting+to+kill+murderess+hit+woman+true+crime+magazine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l8BEW7pAp04/TiC8rd5_N0I/AAAAAAAAF0E/x-Qx3dIBncI/s400/misty+in+the+shadows+berlin+waiting+to+kill+murderess+hit+woman+true+crime+magazine.jpg" width="277" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>misty imagined how i might kill rauch! perhaps</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>like in one of those true crime magazines...i'd</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>wait for him in the alley as he left a bar...unwrap</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>my misty garotte from my thigh, and then pull</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>the pig into the shadows to die a luscious</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">asphixi-licious death on his knees! oh yummerz!</span></i></span></div><br />
off i misted to taxi out into the berlin burbs. and prepare for my execution of that pig rauch.<br />
i still had not decided how that uber banker would die.<br />
should misty lure him into a hot tub of steamy h20 with the promise of misty sex, and then dunk him under for a wet death (his) and a moist orgasm (mine).<br />
or would i do something more traditional. pull rauch into the alley shadows some evening as he exited the adagio bar. or his favorite, the 6vorne?<br />
tho i look misty-yummy, i am quite dangereuse!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aEYw_nhTnLw/TiC-peGNOgI/AAAAAAAAF0I/YOm3WpiawQ0/s1600/misty+in+the+shadows+berlin+stiletto+dries+van+notten+hot+high+heel+foot+fetish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aEYw_nhTnLw/TiC-peGNOgI/AAAAAAAAF0I/YOm3WpiawQ0/s320/misty+in+the+shadows+berlin+stiletto+dries+van+notten+hot+high+heel+foot+fetish.jpg" width="224" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">as i waited in the alley for rauch to leave</span></i></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">the bar, my misty feet would simply tingle</span></i></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">in my dries van noten stilettos, my misty</span></i></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">toes twitching with the excitement of</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: lime;">yet another delicious kill...</span></span></i></div><br />
a millimeter or two over six foot in sweet naked feet, six-four in timeless black leather ankle strap dries van noten stilettos, $1585 on sale at nieman. <br />
i’m a tall strong dahl that could yank his fat goldschlager-bloated, hugo boss fitted body into the shadows, wrap my misty garotte around his blobby neck, which is about the size of the brandenburg gate. tighten...<br />
he would fall to his chubber knees, unfortnately ripping his charcoal black pleatless h. boss suit pants and scuffing his $1900 black berluti demesure scritto court shoes.<br />
misty would pull the cord tight, yanking his pighead between my standing, spread misty thighs, and pull him up into misty land!<br />
my gucci leather front-slit skirt, $799 on sale last summer in manhattan, would spread apart, allowing der schwein’s head to pull hard against my black lace la perla panties as misty strangled him into an asphyxionic stupor.<br />
his sweet little schweincock would be stiff with orgasmic excitement as rauch felt strong misty thighs against his dying oinker head.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5d7bvoT-zvU/TiC_jHKZvKI/AAAAAAAAF0M/YFjcB3QeonY/s1600/misty+strangling+man+hitwoman+killing+man+femme+fatale+murderess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5d7bvoT-zvU/TiC_jHKZvKI/AAAAAAAAF0M/YFjcB3QeonY/s640/misty+strangling+man+hitwoman+killing+man+femme+fatale+murderess.jpg" width="368" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>the alley of death! rauch on his porcine knees, misty would</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>pull her misty garotte tight and feel his squirming head</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>against my wet la perla panties. it would be time to, as they say,</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: lime;">faster pussycat, kill, kill, kill!!! (i sooo love russ, don't yooo?)</span></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
i’d deliver la coup de gras as his male organ strained against the expertly tailored crotch of his boss suit, yearning with the pleasure of near death. <br />
at the right second, i would turn the blood supply to his corrupt brain off like a light bulb with a twist of my garotte. <br />
his blimpy body would twitch in mortal delite, and a moist spot would soak through the fabric in the fly of his custom altered suit...rauch would be coming...just as he went.<br />
the pig would twitch his last delicious moments of life and death. just as the beautiful blinking berlin night lights cast caravaggio shadows across his waxen fat face.<br />
misty herself would very quietly yet deliciously come, following the international lady assassin’s handbook on orgasm protocol during target termination: “scream for a thrill, but not during a kill.”<br />
then misty would loosen her cord and allow rauchpig to drop onto the alley pavement. misty would walk away, her dries van noten stiletto heels clicking ominously in the night as rauch’s lump of flesh lay dead, to be discovered in the morning light. <br />
sooo erotisch.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qg-_MEhtC84/TiDAcihv81I/AAAAAAAAF0Q/1M1fBHoILEI/s1600/misty+gun+girl+murderess+hit+woman+hitwoman+female+assassin+femme+fatale+pistol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qg-_MEhtC84/TiDAcihv81I/AAAAAAAAF0Q/1M1fBHoILEI/s320/misty+gun+girl+murderess+hit+woman+hitwoman+female+assassin+femme+fatale+pistol.jpg" width="293" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>or maybe i'd just shoot him with a glock.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: lime;">decisions, decisions. </span></i></span></div><br />
or maybe misty wold just shoot him with a custom silenced glock 19.<br />
<br />
it would be so fun deciding as i lay between Elka’s spread thighs, misty tongue tasting her Elka warm flavors as i might a good oak chardonnay. small sips.<br />
Elka would feel my love, and herself ponder the best methods for target elimination.<br />
with over 102 kills, Elka has much experience to share. and like misty, the act of sexxx is only enhanced by thoughts of assassination.<br />
<br />
so misty was off to visit my love. and work out plans for the german banker’s execution.<br />
combining pleasure with pleasure.<br />
<br />
but then, in an instant, everything had changed.<br />
misty spotted a male she simply had to kill.<br />
immédiatement!<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: lime;"> ---misteee</span></span></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-64643413482943946662011-06-16T20:02:00.000-07:002011-06-17T00:39:52.293-07:00ich bin ein assassine! rauch was a pig. oink.<br />
but he was misty's pig.<br />
<br />
i was in a most darling wine and cheese cafe dans la<br />
south of france, online as mon maitre d’ allowed misty to keep her adorable netbook open pour my weekly lingerie shopping.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>drats! my online neiman marcus shop-a-thon<br />
was so rooodley interrupted by those workaholics at hq!<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>but how could misty be tooo upset...it was a kill order! kill orders were yummmy! tastier than the faugeres wine monsieur henri had just poured!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gvbzg4qTo7I/Tfq9Q8CfxNI/AAAAAAAAE30/jrhNeoBavMI/s1600/misty+legs+hot+murderess+legs+hit+woman+stiletto+sexy+feet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gvbzg4qTo7I/Tfq9Q8CfxNI/AAAAAAAAE30/jrhNeoBavMI/s400/misty+legs+hot+murderess+legs+hit+woman+stiletto+sexy+feet.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>under the table at le vieux puits, a delish cafe in the </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>south of france, my silk stockings tingled all the way down from </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>my la perla panties to my black chanel stilettos as the order to </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>kill kill kill gustav rauch came across misty's netbook!</i></span></div><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>this was a delish kill order on guntag ekkehardt rauch...a pretentious german banker who should have been terminated for his name alone!<br />
of course, not his precise name. as your<br />
misty must remind you, I can’t spill all the beans, but close enough for a game of tag with AIM-9 sidewinders.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>FOX TWO sweeties!<br />
<br />
my sweetie rauch was, shall we say, one of your bigger<br />
cogs in the machinery of world corporatocracy. that slimey disease representing evil, bad, nasty nasty (not the good kind of nasteee!), greedie piggies, shape shifting lizard aliens from the 4th dimension trying to rule space & time, etc, etc. (made me wonder how ‘w’ was doing these days?)<br />
<br />
surpriiiiiiZe! yes, misty fans, your mist does work for the forces of Light (or Lite as i teeeze them).<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>sorry to disappoint all those who thawt misty was the Evil Bitchstress of your dreeemz. i am, but with a delicious dark nougat center of licentious murdering nawtiness.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and it’s all turned against the forces of 'Not So Nice'...to use their Technical Name.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZYii0rk-iwk/Tfq_IyfKaKI/AAAAAAAAE34/f66-sX80KC4/s1600/fat+cat+pig+businessman+big+banker+money+launderer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZYii0rk-iwk/Tfq_IyfKaKI/AAAAAAAAE34/f66-sX80KC4/s400/fat+cat+pig+businessman+big+banker+money+launderer.jpg" width="383" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>gustav ekkehardt rauch, a cigar smoking piggie-slash-servant of </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>the world's </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>machinery of nawtiness. misty would do </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>very baddd things to him. yum.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></div> sooo, the cat's out of the bag. or pussy's out of<br />
the Chanel silk panties, if you prefer near obscenity, which i alwayz do.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>mist works for Good. using the luscious forces of bad against themselves. truly the only way to go. fun & effective.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>specially if one enjoys, getting off.<br />
<br />
but we are getting sooo far afield. back to my misty story of acing rauch...one of mist's most delicious recent capers.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>sooo, as misty was saying before digressing.....it was oh sooo important that rauchie die. and sooon. the little piggie would be in berlin next week.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>so would misty.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0B3AgjL_5MM/TfrCgvEpCmI/AAAAAAAAE38/kfPcdMZtwi8/s1600/nyloned+avenger+murderess+femme+fatale+hitwoman+female+superhero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0B3AgjL_5MM/TfrCgvEpCmI/AAAAAAAAE38/kfPcdMZtwi8/s400/nyloned+avenger+murderess+femme+fatale+hitwoman+female+superhero.jpg" width="272" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>the pussy was out of the panties...i was a hitwoman</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>for the Forces of Sugar & Spice, and Everything Nice. Yes,</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>it is a Womyn's organization.</i></span></div><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>going to the land of bmw’s, Dominatrixes and fuhrers for this kill, i would be sure to visit my adopted mother, lover and mentor of murder & assassination...we’ll call her Elka since misty can’t tell you her real name. at least not without killing you all (smile smile!).<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Elka, a strong teutonic lady...six-foot-two of sweetness that can snippity-snappp a man in two.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>she would suggest the best and most delish way to nix rauch. Elka knew german bankers, and had not much love for them. or any banker for that matter.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D26FXhJV87c/TfsBxMZSd0I/AAAAAAAAE4E/uO85lMQAVs8/s1600/elka+hitwoman+murderess+assassine+femme+fatale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D26FXhJV87c/TfsBxMZSd0I/AAAAAAAAE4E/uO85lMQAVs8/s400/elka+hitwoman+murderess+assassine+femme+fatale.jpg" width="286" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Elka (face blanked out, of course dahlings!), </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>my lover/adopted mother/mentor, in a picture from her </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>active days </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>some years ago. she could break a man in two with </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>her body </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>or break me in two with her loving. she would help me </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>with rauch. </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>then she would fuck me good. 'lecker'!</i></span></div><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>after suggesting how to kill rauchie, Elka would break me in two (or more) with the type of nawty hard loving only a german bitch can do.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>i will be in misty Heaven. which is harder for most people to take than hell.<br />
<br />
henceforth, misty was off to berlin. to slaughter a pig. <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
<br />
‘Lecker!’...as Elka would often murmur after devouring meee like a bavarian kirschtorte with double whipped creeem.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-- more to come my loveleeez!...misty</span></i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-12568361538575528202010-09-12T03:59:00.000-07:002010-09-12T04:10:19.635-07:00auteur<div style="color: lime; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>mmmmmm, misty loves to write...& i've been writing some oh so noir novellas.</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>don't fret...i'll be back to my only slightly disguised non-fiction so yummily penned here. but why not a litto read from a pretty little passage, naturellement based on something i naughtily did more than a few times...</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>whatchya think dahlings...</i></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TIyxqbHb8sI/AAAAAAAAAa0/I1urUARQgH0/s1600/misty+stories+murderess+killer+lingerie+hitwoman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TIyxqbHb8sI/AAAAAAAAAa0/I1urUARQgH0/s320/misty+stories+murderess+killer+lingerie+hitwoman.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">'the last thing herr rauchen saw through the </span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">translucent, breath-steamed plastic dry </span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">cleaning bag tied tautly around his head, was </span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">sunlight streaming across her ass as his </span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">killer turned to dress, then leave, now that </span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">the german banker was naked, bound, on the </span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">bed, slowly asphyxiating to death. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">rauchen, a fat, paunchy overfed capitalist, felt his small </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">cock harden as he sighted the pretty blonde wisps of baby </span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">hair across her partially exposed ass, under the lingerie, </span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">stockings, garters, as she dressed hurriedly.</span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">no worry. he'd be dead by the time she was fully </span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">clothed and leaving the 400 euro a night </span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Berlin-Alexanderplatz suite. in less than </span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">300 seconds.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">the only question...would he come as he went. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">she so liked it when they did. quite the compliment.'</span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> --exerpt from my 'misty short story' series</span></div><div style="color: #d5a6bd; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> (mmmmmmmmmmmmmm...& u thowt i couldn't rite!) </span></div><div style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">[don't worry dahls...more to come, so to speak, oh sooo soooon]</i></span></div><div style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-71867873407844390952010-06-01T00:13:00.000-07:002010-06-01T15:01:54.072-07:00a MiST returnsssssss...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TAStCSNCCiI/AAAAAAAAAYs/uJZVTHGhEYM/s1600/killer-girl-hit-woman-murderess-kills-man-asphyxia-strangle-dominatrix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="189" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TAStCSNCCiI/AAAAAAAAAYs/uJZVTHGhEYM/s320/killer-girl-hit-woman-murderess-kills-man-asphyxia-strangle-dominatrix.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">misty's been bizzzy, doing those kills that just wouldn't</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> get done without her. but i'm back, for awhilst...</span></i></div><br />
well lovelies and dahlinks, no doubt you had never expected<br />
to hear from your sweet mist again.<br />
goes to show you may not deserve a sweetie that doesn't<br />
forget her fans.<br />
sick and twisted fans albeit, who drool reading<br />
of sexpots icing doomed guys in the most gourmet ways. julia<br />
childs eat your heart out. and rest your soul.<br />
<br />
but, of course, no one's more sick and twisted than moi, so<br />
don't feel all alone and abandoned sweeties.<br />
<br />
speaking of abandoned...misty dahl would not leave her<br />
dedicated readership for six longgg and lonelyyy months<br />
unless forced by the necessities of murdering guys in hottt<br />
sexy ways for large amounts of cool sexy cash (well, actually, <br />
deposits in offshore bank accounts).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TASvi2cpIWI/AAAAAAAAAY8/IU6r5AUHm3U/s1600/strange-desire-lesbian-dyke-dike-lipstick-lesbian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TASvi2cpIWI/AAAAAAAAAY8/IU6r5AUHm3U/s320/strange-desire-lesbian-dyke-dike-lipstick-lesbian.jpg" width="218" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>je suis such the writer...n'est pas? tho misty does so</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: lime;">love to write about us women and our straaange desires ;D </span></i></span></div><br />
<br />
this forced delay in sharing my innermoist (pun. i slay<br />
myself) secrets was trying on your dark heroine. i get off<br />
almost as much recounting exploits as i do commiting them.<br />
maketh moi thinketh i be a writer at heart.<br />
a murdering hot bitch of a writer. yet one <br />
nevertheless.<br />
<br />
as such, i enter my verrry early misty 30s (give or<br />
take five years to keep offguard you junior detectives,<br />
interpol, fbi, mafia, narcotrafficos, cia, mossad,<br />
komitet gosudarstvennoy bezopasnosti, gru,<br />
etc, etc, etc).<br />
coming of age, misty finds une certaine maturite unfolding. <br />
<br />
these days (et nuits) je desire a smidge of emotional<br />
attachment with sex partners. of late, lusciously killing<br />
targets for obscene amounts of cash has become<br />
like that 50th straight rollercoaster ride. twentieth<br />
el presidente shot. tenth snort of blow. that<br />
seventh la perla panty model of the evening<br />
you've soixante-neufed. that fifth season of<br />
dexter (can yOu believe they nixed his wife!<br />
someone needs to serial kill the writing staff...<br />
i sooo volunteer. oooops, just a joke fbi ;) ...<br />
all of it has become a tad like the peggy<br />
lee song.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TASuOEbasCI/AAAAAAAAAY0/T3_KNS1zc6A/s1600/murderess-dominatrix-domme-asphyxia-domme-killer-girl-assassinette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TASuOEbasCI/AAAAAAAAAY0/T3_KNS1zc6A/s320/murderess-dominatrix-domme-asphyxia-domme-killer-girl-assassinette.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>myyy darlinggg young gal pal 'Dorreen'...a sweet young thang</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>who happened to share misty's naughty naughty delite in...</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>let's just say it...murderrr. yum.</i></span></div><br />
what does it all mean my honies? hmmmmmmm..? <br />
i remind myself of one of misty's naughtier intimates. a<br />
sweet 20-something wickedsweeet asphyxia domme with a<br />
taste for male sacrifice. as readers of moi know, misty does<br />
nOT approve of thrill killing. so de classe. for me, 'murder<br />
sweet' is a calling. a profession. a career.<br />
however, her kills died in such ecstasy, just how<br />
misty recommends chix nix their vix, i turned the<br />
other cheek (no pun intended, children).<br />
besides, her ass tasted like Heaven.<br />
<br />
dorreen (let's call her for purposes here), like all addicts,<br />
found kills became less and less satisfying. misty<br />
could relate.<br />
as a severe christian louboutin addict, after<br />
my 37th pair, the thrill of slipping my hot,<br />
deliciously sculpted foot into a louboutin<br />
stiletto lost it's gloss. at a grand a pair, such<br />
a waste. misty practised immense self-control.<br />
limiting my purchases to a louboutin<br />
every two months got my cunt wet again.<br />
and misty's always best with a wet cunt.<br />
hydroponic. drowning. glub. glub.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TASwW-wCNYI/AAAAAAAAAZE/hcF9WjoLAa4/s1600/hot-stilettos-christian-louboutin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="184" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TASwW-wCNYI/AAAAAAAAAZE/hcF9WjoLAa4/s200/hot-stilettos-christian-louboutin.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>what can misty say!? i'd kill for a new pair of </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: lime;">Christian Louboutins!</span><span style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> annnnnd...i often do!</span></i></span></div><br />
and so dorreen's murderous addiction led<br />
to her catching yummy sacrificial prey at an<br />
alarming rate. almost a doomed male a<br />
month. kindly, she chose single males who<br />
were loveless. not just because it was easier,<br />
but, bless her soul, dorreen didn't want a<br />
poor wife, child or girlfriend to be bereft.<br />
dorreen always had a big heart.<br />
and strong piece of rope.<br />
<br />
then one hellacious weekend of skiing,<br />
sucking and fucking each other dans les alpes<br />
francais, my young dear admitted a tidbat<br />
over a very dark steamy cup of sumatra roast at<br />
chamonix mont blanc.<br />
yummy sacrifices of bound, frightened yet<br />
orgasm-ing lonely, handsome males had worn a bit...<br />
"mist...i admit it's getting to lose that...qu'est-ce<br />
que c'est?"<br />
of course, misty thought it was a joking<br />
reference to the talking heads first hit. but<br />
mist was wrong.<br />
my sweet asphyxia domme-slash-ski-slash-<br />
fuck and suck partner's translucent eyes looked<br />
sooo bleue. so sad at slowly losing her sweet<br />
thrill.<br />
misty understood. killing was love itself.<br />
union with your prey. a meeting of the souls.<br />
that moment when vic yields, becoming<br />
part of your very being.<br />
we were not sadists, or certainly not<br />
misty. sure dorreen could enjoy administering a<br />
wicked whipping. a harsh strapon to a<br />
wimpering hogtied male. but with killing...<br />
it was pure love. <br />
this she was losing. the dahl had come to<br />
a crossroads in life...sweet thang.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TASxGg5ofyI/AAAAAAAAAZM/Llcx49YfVIg/s1600/lesbos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TASxGg5ofyI/AAAAAAAAAZM/Llcx49YfVIg/s320/lesbos.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>as if you had not guessed, Dorreen and i were close friends.</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>verrry closssssssse!</i></span></div><br />
"it doesn't make me come as before. i used to be<br />
a river. now i drip. you, have what, a job three, four<br />
times a year? maybe that makes it better. you have<br />
the thrill of planning. waiting for the assignment. right?<br />
makes it more special." <br />
misty nodded.<br />
"maybe doing it whenever is the problem.<br />
quelle probleme, n'est pas, mon amour?<br />
remembering is becoming more exciting than<br />
doing. what is happening to me! you know?"<br />
<br />
i did. <br />
why misty never let hunger for le<br />
meurtre make her compromise principles. <br />
oh yesss, dahlings, pay for murder killers can<br />
have principles.<br />
<br />
enjoy the kill. but never kill just for enjoyment.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TASxkNzrDQI/AAAAAAAAAZU/3mkKoEjeaYQ/s1600/ski-alps-chamonix-mont-blanc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/TASxkNzrDQI/AAAAAAAAAZU/3mkKoEjeaYQ/s320/ski-alps-chamonix-mont-blanc.jpg" width="224" /></a></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>it was a weekend of getting lost in powdery moguls togetherrr.</i></span></div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>we also left the room and threw in some skiing...wink wink. </i></span></div><br />
as my honey dorreen's crimson lips sipped her black sumatra<br />
roast, the oblivious holiday skiers shussed by. <br />
her long tongue flicked, and licked her red lips. there's a<br />
shade of blood red only a murderess wears. it looked good<br />
on dorreen.<br />
to see her tongue run across that color, circle around<br />
the lips of her half open mouth, soiled my panties then and<br />
there. don't think that's a load. misty's a fucking good writer<br />
who doesn't need hyperbole, dahlings.<br />
<br />
i imagined the blessed victims, falling into wicked, fatal <br />
unconsciousness. she, bringing them to sexual release. that<br />
tongue, now innocently licking her cup, licking their<br />
dying faces. tasting her kill...as i had done so many times<br />
myself.<br />
<br />
as we sat, a wind blew. the chill of chamonix mont<br />
blanc swept the patio, adding to the misty shivers through<br />
my misty body.<br />
<br />
<i><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">[to be deliciously continued...can you stand it?] </span></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-38927419412555764752010-01-10T23:57:00.000-08:002010-01-11T00:01:51.334-08:00that 'misty' thang... merry twenty-ten my luvs. hope things are going swimmingly for you all.<br />
<br />
a very lovely friend of misty sent me this delushious video saying it sooo made her think of moi.<br />
of course i had to share it with my dahls out there:<br />
<br />
<br />
<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ila-hAUXR5U&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ila-hAUXR5U&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
only thing i can see wrong is that misty uses a shovel for digging, and my glock, garrote or stiletto for...you know. but otherwise...spot on mr. west ;D<br />
<br />
oh...panting hard for the next misty? don't worry. your luv has been busy terminating a few...excesses...during the ever so young year...but i've got some yum yum experiences to share my sweets.<br />
and...to my dear friend, i hope you always know misty sooo luvs you! <br />
tahhh for now...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">xoxo, misty<br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-63365513827427089212009-12-25T05:29:00.000-08:002009-12-25T16:10:02.544-08:00a Christmas kill (well, really new year's, but what the heck)...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzS6O9Ij0tI/AAAAAAAAAXc/4zVBxaE9iIs/s1600-h/new-years-eve-christmas-kill-assassinette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a><br />
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</a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzS6O9Ij0tI/AAAAAAAAAXc/4zVBxaE9iIs/s1600-h/new-years-eve-christmas-kill-assassinette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzTF0x_pFBI/AAAAAAAAAYc/5tNJ876PMKw/s1600-h/a-new-years-kill-assassinette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzTF0x_pFBI/AAAAAAAAAYc/5tNJ876PMKw/s320/a-new-years-kill-assassinette.jpg" width="213" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div> it was that time of year again when misty gets chills through her very soul.<br />
no, not my annual working vacation in the south of france. bang bang, if you know what i mean...<br />
<br />
rather...it was Christmas going on new years. so full of wonderful cheer and good will towards men.<br />
<br />
of course, good will towards men meant misty would ice them nicely, leaving a smile on their face.<br />
still, most holiday seasons misty had taken a break from the garrote, glock, and stiletto. hmmm, sounds like a law firm (misty, yoo are too much!).<br />
<br />
but just a few holidays back, misty had a very special yuletide... <br />
it was midnight, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a rabid little rodent.<br />
on the other hand, misty's blackberry was buzzing off the friggin' nitestand! it was, you know who...<br />
<br />
alas, this holiday would be a working one.<br />
a special request for misty had come through...seems a very dear and respected man would be leaving for retirement on new years day, and something just had to be done.<br />
no. i'm not talking Santa Claus.<br />
<br />
so, misty wrapped her stylish italian-made firenze leather garrote around my lovely waist like a prada belt (much easier to get through security at JFK), and took off for the big apple.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzS_JlZNtBI/AAAAAAAAAYM/3RbRhfnPuzw/s1600-h/woman-in-airport-reading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzS_JlZNtBI/AAAAAAAAAYM/3RbRhfnPuzw/s400/woman-in-airport-reading.jpg" /></a></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>holiday travel is oh sooo boring...but i was excited</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">as it was my very first new year's kill. so festive!</span></i><br />
</div><br />
the flight into kennedy was longgg. took a few vogues with to check fashions for misty's upcoming kill season.<br />
so gauche to work in anything but the finest style. shows no respect for your vics...and misty always respects her marks!<br />
<br />
in flight, one darling little boy from manhattan couldn't keep his sweet brown eyes off misty's spikey salvatore ferragamo high arched boots.<br />
either had a total foot fetish and would grow up making some sweet bitch a wonderfully submissive husband. that, or junior was destined to become a drag queen.<br />
as they say in NY, 'laaa ti dahhh'.<br />
<br />
after a decaf-accino latte (no, you nevah wish to see misty on caffeine) at a stylish little cafe in-terminal, i was off and about town for a few hours shopping.<br />
you can take the mist out of the morning, but not the shopper out of misty.<br />
whilst misty had her glocks and yummy selection of stilettos (with thigh holsters, sexxxy!) at moi permanent big apple flat, i knew tonight's affair would be intimate.<br />
and there's nothing more intimate than wrapping leather around a man's neck...<br />
...and killing him with it.<br />
<br />
and, so came the nite.<br />
misty was off to spread holiday spirit to one special man in the big apple...<br />
<br />
knock knock knock...<br />
<br />
it was a subtle knock. as in fashion, misty never overdoes.<br />
it took another couple knocks to raise the not yet dead. after all, it was new year's eve.<br />
<br />
"yeah. who's there. don't you have a bottle of champagne to stick up your ass?<br />
<br />
well, alrighty then. mister big shot was going to be rude...sourpuss!<br />
"hey there!" i shouted back in my sweetest misty voice. "i'm with the city's cheery angels program. we spend a few moments with folks who are alone on the holiday."<br />
what a load of new year's eve crap. sometimes i amaze my misty self with the bullshit that comes out of my dior 'lavendar summer peach' glossed lips.<br />
<br />
it may have been a load of holiday manure, but it worked like i'd rubbed a genie lamp and got my wish.<br />
the door opened.<br />
<br />
"huh?" the craggy old wisenheimer squawked after opening a half-dozen deadbolts and cracking the door.<br />
"mutherfucker! you are an angel. but i didn't order any...so, like i said..."<br />
asshole! i wasn't taking nada!<br />
"look, sir, i'm here to spread holiday cheer. you're the last on my list this year. don't be a pain in the ass, please."<br />
"i got something for your ass 'angel'..."<br />
while geezer laughed his last few chuckles on earth, misty pushed past and into his little mulberry street new yawk new yawk pad.<br />
<br />
his place was cheery. not what i expected. sooo perfect for the holidays...and a delightful ambience in which to ice a guy.<br />
"bedroom's to the right honey," mister geezer said with a very nasty tone in his grumbly geezy voice.<br />
"look mister...?"<br />
"sal. call me sal before i nail your sweet ass."<br />
"look, sal, i'm here to spread cheer, not to give you a nookie ride. now i expect you to behave. otherwise i'll leave!" <br />
once 'sal' saw my licious legs i knew he'd prefer me around than not. even just to drool over...<br />
"ok, ok. don't get your panties in a twizzle. how're you for rum 'an egg nog? bacardi 151."<br />
i didn't normally drink on the job, but it was the holidays...<br />
"i'm not supposed to, but you are the last of the year...just easy on the 151. i don't like flammable nog."<br />
"now we're talkin'!" he beamed.<br />
misty spied the twinkling lights outside sal's window as he poured our holiday cheer in his darling little kitchen. it was a party...<br />
never aced anyone on new year's eve before...but it just might become a holiday tradition!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzTBs-NQ8bI/AAAAAAAAAYU/tXiGixGoYzY/s1600-h/time-running-out-femme-fatale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzTBs-NQ8bI/AAAAAAAAAYU/tXiGixGoYzY/s400/time-running-out-femme-fatale.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">time was running out for sal...as</span></i><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">misty was about to ice him good </span></i><br />
</div><br />
with sal in the kitchen pouring airplane fuel into our nog, i strolled the cheery little place. sal had a green thumb. hope all his little plants wouldn't miss him after misty was done, in a few minutes.<br />
i walked over to the coffee table, and sat my misty self down. my legs looked misty-licious with my valentino A-line boucle skirt hiking mid-thigh as i sat on sal's leather couch. a little leg would keep sal's mind off what was about to happen...<br />
my long misty fingers were about to reach under the coffee table, but sal popped in too quick.<br />
he snuggled up next to me with drinx. i snatched his and let him take a sip from mine. old trick.<br />
"what, you don't trust sal?"<br />
"sorry sal, you're a little too close and have a rather spunky attitude for an older gent. just being safe. nice nog." <br />
"so, i don't get any tonight huh?" sal persisted, worse than a hungry cat.<br />
"you get my company sal."<br />
we sat. drank. sal enjoyed staring at misty's legs. misty enjoyed knowing what was coming next...<br />
<br />
maybe it was the airplane fuel egg nog. or misty was too relaxed with the holidays...but misty made a boo boo.<br />
i ran my long misty fingers under the side of the coffee table...<br />
<br />
"who the fuck are you, honey?" sal said. he knew what misty was doing. ooopsie daisey!<br />
"nice wood. i mean the coffee table. vintage?" misty played innocent.<br />
"cut the crap tootsie. i ain't had a piece in years. but you knew where it woulda been! you been researchin' me!<br />
"who the fuck are you!?"<br />
<br />
so embarrassing!<br />
"ok sal. my bad. i'm not as good as you were...in some things. but much better in others."<br />
<br />
he looked shocked.<br />
hot darn! i didn't expect to lose the jump on my last mark of the year. now misty had to scramble to get back on the offensive...<br />
<br />
"wha? you a hitter? holy shit!" sal said.<br />
"okay sal, let's not use profanity. not while it's still the holidays!"<br />
<br />
before we got into a big discussion, misty did what she had to do. i sat on his lap.<br />
my strong juicy misty thighs wrapped around his legs all pythony like. now sal couldn't get up.<br />
my misty hands tenderly and firmly gripped sal's wrists.<br />
"holy moly sal! whaddya got in your pants!? a weasel? you're 78!!!"<br />
"don't sit on a man's lap if ya don't wanna feel his johnson! and yeah, i'm 78."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzS7btOmBgI/AAAAAAAAAXs/gHzSFs51A5g/s1600-h/femme-fatale-murderess-hitwoman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzS7btOmBgI/AAAAAAAAAXs/gHzSFs51A5g/s320/femme-fatale-murderess-hitwoman.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>as i tightened my beautiful italian leather garrote</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>around sal's neck, i felt that wettening between</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">my legs...i so love my work...</span></i><br />
</div><br />
in a quicksmooth motion, i made up for my bungling the gun search.<br />
unwrapping my italian leather garrote from my misty waist, i rewrapped it nicely around pop's neck.<br />
"so that's how it's goin' down huh? i ain't seen one a them things since the truman administration. you're a strong broad, but it's not easy stranglin' a man..."<br />
"oh sal, don't worry. if you must know it's got a handle in the back. just a turn of my pretty hand and it tightens quite easily...i won't even break a nail..."<br />
somehow sal didn't seem too reassured...pity!<br />
<br />
misty was never one to kill and run. i'd hoped to spend a nice few minutes with sal...take him quickly, kill him slowwwly...<br />
but things had changed. still, misty was brought up right, and i wasn't going to snuff sal without at least a bit of pleasant conversation.<br />
<br />
"look...what's your name anyway...i should know who's takin' me out..." sal inquired, stalling for time...<br />
"misty, sal. you are officially being done by misty."<br />
"ok, miss 't'," sal said...why do marks have such a hard time with my name!<br />
sal continued, "...look, i ain't taken out no one since '92. i just been livin' here, waterin' my plants, ain't hurtin' no one for all that time. now why ya gotta do me like this."<br />
"oh sal, do we really have to do this? what's your lifetime score? one-fifty? two?"<br />
he blushed.<br />
"ok. i was the best. i used a .22. no need to make folks ugly for the funeral. place that .22 right, no one feels a thing. i was 'the' guy."<br />
"well, sal, you're the guy tonight. your plants might miss ya, but at least two people have been waitin a long time for this. i don't know who you offed, but whoever loved them hired me...and it got me work on new year's eve."<br />
<br />
i shoulda known that wouldn't shut him up...<br />
"how'd you like a hundred grand? i got some bucks. i been planning on taking off to cuba after the first. never hurtin no one again. why not let an old man enjoy the rest of his life? and you get rich in the process?"<br />
oh, they always think it's about the bucks! sooo wrong.<br />
<br />
"believe it or don't, sal, i like my job. i'm gonna do you right..." i said as i began to tighten the fine italian leather...<br />
"ok, ok..." he squealed..."how's about a little poke before ya turn out the lights?"<br />
'turn out the lights'! i loved it.<br />
i was offing a piece of hitman history here. the language! and in little italy, n.y. of all places!<br />
as much as i appreciated sal, he was asking too much.<br />
i could feel his...uh...'johnson', as he so rustically called it. he may have been 78, but he still had steel in his weenie!<br />
"sorry sal. but fact is, i bat for the other team honey..."<br />
"other team...what the fuck does that mean..." he rasped as i kept the leather tight around his neck.<br />
i put my face right up close, my luscious misty lips brushing his...sweet warm misty breath fresh across his nostrils, so sal could breathe me in just before i put him on ice...<br />
"other team means i go for the ladies sal...like you do."<br />
<br />
if you could've seen sal's eyes! precious. howevah, he wasn't totally out of luck.<br />
i tightened the leather...there'd be no more conversation as we got started...<br />
<br />
"okay sal, this ain't as bad as it seems..." i cooed, letting him taste my warm breath across the surface of his gasping tongue...<br />
misty began tightening...tightening...evahhh sooo slowww...mmmm...<br />
i could feel sal get harder under my misty ass, still seated firmly on his lap.<br />
at first sal's hands went up toward's his neck...natural impulse...but as things got tighter, he relaxed them down to his sides...where they should be.<br />
<br />
"i'm gonna put you to sleep my sweet. none of that strangling and gurgling stuff...<br />
"misty's going to turn off that blood to the brain...make you go nite nite, like your mommy used to. you go nicely, i may even give a little kiss as the lights go off..."<br />
i have such fine bedside manners, don'tcha think?<br />
<br />
like so many times before, as my garrote got tighter, a mark's little mister got, shall we say, tres tres grande...a physiological fact of life i suppose...one misty enjoys...<br />
i now felt sal's little mister poking up against his pants and my skirt, hard into my misty tush as i sat on his lap...geeesh!<br />
"sal! i must say, you are still quite the man!"<br />
<br />
as we proceeded, things got pretty moist pour moi.<br />
normally i'd rub my misty regions against a man's back or neck as i do him...but after my faux pas i'd had to act fast and plop my yummy ass on sal's lap to keep him from bolting.<br />
<br />
with sal grinding his salami into my wet, and getting wetter, misty regions, i was glad he had pants on. and me a skirt...<br />
still, watching sal's eyes go dreamy as the leather got tighter, it felt good to rub against something...<br />
<br />
a faint salvation army bell wafted in through sal's slightly ajar window, and i felt the spirit of the season...the beauty of spending this time between Christmas and new year's with that very special person.<br />
i realized more clearly than ever, this would be sal's last holiday...misty was determined to make the next few moments oh so special...for the both of us.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzS8KffPl3I/AAAAAAAAAX0/m95t6DV8ASU/s1600-h/christmas-corvair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzS8KffPl3I/AAAAAAAAAX0/m95t6DV8ASU/s400/christmas-corvair.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>sal's sex release, as i terminated his nasty life, was</i><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">as wild as a '62 corvair with a blowout...kablooie</span></i><br />
</div><br />
"okay sal, here it comes...which means here you come...you're gonna go nice...real niccce...my gift to you..."<br />
we were on the home stretch as misty cranked her leather almost all the way...<br />
the effect was delicious...i could feel sal like mt. saint helen's, about to erupt...<br />
and, of course, watching his carotids pulse evah so more slowly with each crank of the leather...misty was getting oh so hot and creamy...precisely why she wears undies whilst dispatching her marks.<br />
i still recall my first garrote, a handsome young lawyer wayyy back when...<br />
i thought it would be hot to do him undie-less, aux naturelle...<br />
it was, until i got the dry cleaning bill!<br />
it's been industrial strength panties evah since.<br />
<br />
sal's body was now...shaking, vibrating...and mr. johnson must have been very patriotic, because he was standing at attention...<br />
"bye sal..." misty whispered across his lips...<br />
then i flicked my tongue against the tip of sal's, which was extended half out of his mouth...<br />
<br />
and that was it...sal blew!<br />
the old geezer hitman shook like a '62 corvair with a blowout..i cranked my garrote tight as tight could be...those massive sal neck arteries that'd been pumping slower and slower, were now still...as the night<br />
<br />
sal's eyes were rolling back in his head as he rode the 'O' of his life...and the seconds ticked out on my last kill of the year...and then...<br />
...i blew!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzS9Q76m0PI/AAAAAAAAAX8/naJBChICzhA/s1600-h/murdered-sal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzS9Q76m0PI/AAAAAAAAAX8/naJBChICzhA/s400/murdered-sal.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>when i was done with sal he was finally still...permanently.</i><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">and i was all hot and bothered, and wet. oh, so wet! </span></i><br />
</div><br />
when misty blows during a kill, it's a quiet affair...<br />
between my clit and my soul.<br />
a hitwoman has to maintain control. even when she's coming like a mare in heat...and i wasss...ooooohhhh...was i evahhh...<br />
<br />
sal's rod was straight up under me. with no blood to his brain, it was all in his sausage!<br />
without my valentino, and industrial strength polyester victoria secrets, and sal's pants, between his manhood and my hot mistyland...i'd have slid down on him like a cool dab of oleomargarine on a hot butter knife.<br />
luckily that did not happen. i'd have thrown up in the morning just thinking about sal's 78 year old thing in me...<br />
as it was, i held still as my misty insides shook, and i held sal's neck tight in my leather until his head was a bright purple red...and his cock and body stopped doin' the tango under me...<br />
those few moments with sal still...my inner kaboom now a purrr...the cheer of the season, the coming of a new year...all, made my misty heart sing...<br />
i could feel a tear...mist up in my misty eyes...it was too beautiful to even explain here...<br />
<br />
oh myyy...even now i must sit back and reflect on the beauty of the season.<br />
<br />
ok...whew...i'm back.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzTNezFLGdI/AAAAAAAAAYk/_CMxCAkUx3Q/s1600-h/misty-in-new-york-after-the-kill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SzTNezFLGdI/AAAAAAAAAYk/_CMxCAkUx3Q/s400/misty-in-new-york-after-the-kill.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i> after icing sal, i stepped out into the big apple night, and</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>took in the last minutes of new year's eve...it was sooo beautiful...</i><br />
</div><br />
sooo...with everything still...the ringing bells off in the distance, down on mulberry street, and sal warm and dead beneath me, misty let loose my garrote.<br />
sal's massive carotids were on a permanent vacation now...he was gone. <br />
i could feel his 'johnson' below me laying down to rest...a tender moment<br />
as promised, i gave sal's dark purple forehead a kiss...and removed myself from him.<br />
<br />
finishing my nog, i felt the warmth of bacardi 151 down my throat...and the wet mess that my panties had become, under my valentino skirt...seems i can't even off a 78 year old hitman without creaming my brains out!<br />
oh well. what dry cleaning is for...<br />
i put on my bruno magli calfskin gloves, wiped off my glass, and quietly left.<br />
<br />
downstairs i looked back up at sal's window...the dear little mini-pots of cacti...what a perfect plant for an ex-hitter...all thorny and like.<br />
<br />
i'll always have a soft spot in my heart for sal...a fucking bastard who aced close to two hundred in his amazing career...<br />
and still, he went so sweetly...except for a little profanity, a few rude allusions, and telling me to spread my legs like a breeding hog, he died a real gentleman...<br />
<br />
sal will always be my sweet, new year's eve kill...<br />
in fact the only mark misty's ever taken out between Christmas eve and new year's day...<br />
so very special...and something close to my misty heart that i had to share with you all this holiday! kinda like a hallmark moment.<br />
<br />
may you all have a wonderful Christmas, new year's, Chanukah, or whatever you celebrate...from my sweet, dark misty heart to yours, i send the season's best love!<br />
<br />
oh, and by the way, i did get the friggin' misty spot outta my valentino!<br />
yay for misty!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">---xoxo.....misty! </span></i><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-44745701346254053222009-12-17T04:32:00.000-08:002009-12-17T05:33:34.963-08:00misty news...yum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Syoy8848QhI/AAAAAAAAAXU/l_U-aPjgIDw/s1600-h/mistychristmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Syoy8848QhI/AAAAAAAAAXU/l_U-aPjgIDw/s320/mistychristmas.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
hello my luvs. i'm sure you've missed me as much as i've missed thee.<br />
<br />
let's just say, i've been busy doing some naughty things.<br />
but that doesn't mean your misty has forgotten about you all. i'm busy writing my Christmas classic 'misty at Christmas: a Christmas kill". for all my fans.<br />
it is a true story of a heartwarming job i performed not too many Christmases ago. it will bring tears of joy to your Holiday eyes.<br />
<br />
but enough of that crap for now.<br />
whilst your misty is working on that story, i bring you some of the most fascinating news that i could find. you all know what a big believer misty is in female Superiority...like, just take a look at what i do for a living. duh?<br />
so, in that spirit, i bring you the latest that will make all you holdouts reconsider what gender to bow down before.<br />
oh, and, don't worry. misty in malibu will continue. after the Holidays, of course. now...misty news!<br />
<br />
<span style="color: yellow; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: large;">russian doll has strongest vagina in the world...so watch out!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Syoitc89YQI/AAAAAAAAAW8/JrbXonEeYgU/s1600-h/strongest-vagina-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Syoitc89YQI/AAAAAAAAAW8/JrbXonEeYgU/s320/strongest-vagina-1.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">42 year old Tatiana Kozhevnikova from Russia set a<br />
</div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">new world record for lifting weights inside her vagina...wowsky!<br />
</div><br />
42 year old Tatiana Kozhevnikova from Russia has set a new world record for lifting weights inside her vagina.<br />
<br />
Kozhevnikova already holds the title of World’s Strongest Vagina in the Guinness Book of World Records but she has beaten her previous record by lifting a 14 kilo glass ball with her lady parts. Kozhevnikova told reporters that she had been training her vaginal muscles for 15 years to achieve such a remarkable feat.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SyojWTgYfoI/AAAAAAAAAXE/_M_eUvmdOx8/s1600-h/strongest-vagina-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SyojWTgYfoI/AAAAAAAAAXE/_M_eUvmdOx8/s320/strongest-vagina-2.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">mmm, a demonstration </span><br />
</div><br />
“After I had a child, my intimate muscles got unbelievably weak. I read books on Dao and learned that ancient women used to deal with this problem using wooden balls,” she said. “I looked around, saw a Murano glass ball and inserted it in my vagina. It took me ages to get it out!”<br />
<br />
Since then Kozhevnikova has moved on to using the correct custom made vaginal balls.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SyojoSY6TyI/AAAAAAAAAXM/ngCfz2hIWys/s1600-h/strongest-vagina-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SyojoSY6TyI/AAAAAAAAAXM/ngCfz2hIWys/s320/strongest-vagina-3.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">tatiana gives new meaning to being 'stuck in the urals'<br />
</div><br />
“You insert one of the balls in your vagina, and it has a string attached to it with a little hook at the very end. You fix a second ball onto this hook.”<br />
<br />
“It’s enough to exercise your vagina five minutes a day, ladies, and in just one week you’ll be able to give yourself and your man unforgettable pleasure in bed,” she says.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>(this week, misty's Christmas tale will be coming...do not miss it! </i><br />
</div><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">tahhh</span></i><span style="color: lime;">)</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-66165953773907649082009-11-25T02:33:00.000-08:002009-11-25T06:28:46.931-08:00misty in malibu...<div style="color: lime;">[<i>continued from...like...before!</i>]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;">F</span>or one brief moment, misty had forgotten about the very sexy murder she had seen last nite.<br />
women, killing men, always hot.<br />
but in the 'bu', malibu for the uninitiated, everything is younger.<br />
misty had seen a teeny booper...a member of what now must be the z-generation...bring a boy toy bar pickup home from a club. to, presumably, daddy's summer beach house.<br />
she did the nawty nasty with him.<br />
and then iced him.<br />
<br />
sooo very misty.<br />
but misty get's paid good moolah for killing guys. misty's a professional. and misty has a code.<br />
little miss malibu was simply satisfying her inner brat.<br />
killing for fun.<br />
misty does not approve of such tres licentious behavior.<br />
tho...misty did love watching.<br />
bad misty!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sw0ENdhZ_EI/AAAAAAAAAWU/uSigMTVCFbs/s1600/misty-peeping-with-night-ops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sw0ENdhZ_EI/AAAAAAAAAWU/uSigMTVCFbs/s400/misty-peeping-with-night-ops.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">misty had been a peeping misty, using her black ops nite<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">vision binox to spy a very very delish murder in the 'bu'</span><br />
</div><br />
so i was in 'the' bu.<br />
barbie dollz who could walk, talk, and suck cock at the same time. talents never cease in 'the' malibu.<br />
<br />
misty was getting misty-faced on greygoose greyhoundz at the cove restaurant and bar. how quaint, n'est pas?<br />
the guy behind the bar looked like stonewall jackson, but was apparently that dude who wrote the bobby mcgee song. <br />
what was next? mick jagger and warren beatty coming in on walkers, going boy to boy like the '60s?<br />
yikkity yukkk!<br />
<br />
i had stopped in this hotel california twilight zone to make a call.<br />
i needed work. someone to kill.<br />
that's what i do. i'm a hitwoman.<br />
<br />
la news tragique pour misty was that hits are...like...like fucking waves. they get here when they get here.<br />
ohhh, myyy, gawddd! i was making surf analogies!<br />
malibu was having a very delimiting effect on our sweet hit-babe misty!<br />
but there was hope.<br />
<br />
and she was wearing 4" valentino stilettos with perfectly frosted blonde hair and blood red lipstick.<br />
she was part of the never never land misty was stuck in.<br />
a vacuously deoxygenated environ that drew the substance from one's very soul.<br />
normally misty likes asphyxia...but this was unrelenting!<br />
<br />
if tall frosty blonde in valentino spikes didn't walk through those patio doors tres soon...misty would pay her bar tab. stagger to her rented '57 356 porsche speedster. and drive a mile or so to the malibu ranch motel where she could collapse in a drunken misty stupor, in comfort. if the ranch had cable on demand, i could catch 'romeo's bleeding', and touch myself as lena olin strangles gary oldman with her thighs in that car scene.<br />
yum.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sw0FBod2I2I/AAAAAAAAAWc/VnP6gFutl-M/s1600/the-killers-lee-marvin-hitman.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sw0FBod2I2I/AAAAAAAAAWc/VnP6gFutl-M/s400/the-killers-lee-marvin-hitman.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">misty was a professional assassin, like lee marvin and<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">that other dude in shades in 'the killers'...except misty<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">looked so much hotter in a prada leather skirt than<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">lee evah did</span><br />
</div><br />
<br />
i watched the fat brown pelican shit one last time on the vomitously rustic malibu cove pier, shimmering like cow crap in the early afternoon malibu sun.<br />
i told my grey goose saturated beautiful flesh to rise and leave. but grey goose has the side effect of causing time delays in the muscle reactory continuum vis a vis the mind synaptic relays.<br />
fuck! misty was drunk. she was thinking in sophomore biology class-speak. yukkko!<br />
i thought that during my high school years, healthy doses of awakening lesbo sex, copious rum and cokes, and unhealthy amounts of lysergic acid diethylamide, had wiped my nightmare high school academic experiences from my misty mind.<br />
like the time i raped my algebra teacher with a dr. pepper bottle.<br />
he asked me to do it. begged me. gave me a year of A's. it traumatized poor young teen misty. and people wondered why mr. dannerforst walked around my junior year with a big fucking smile on his face...and a slight limp.<br />
oh well. welcome to misty hell.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sw0F8JT9QhI/AAAAAAAAAWk/vGc4KyDCeHI/s1600/dr.-pepper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sw0F8JT9QhI/AAAAAAAAAWk/vGc4KyDCeHI/s400/dr.-pepper.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">okay, misty was a baddd teen. i raped my<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">high school algebra teach with a '10-2-4' classic<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">dr. peppah bottle. hey, he asked me to do it!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">gave me a year of A's if i would. sick bastard!</span><br />
</div><br />
now, maybe you all are beginning to understand how someone of my...qualities...came to be.<br />
drugs. libertine sex at a tender age. a juicy misty body way beyond my misty years that teachers, male and female both, were asking me to do things outlawed in the Bible, as well as 50 state penal codes and several scandanavian countries.<br />
<br />
so here misty was. in her adulthood. drunkers.<br />
oh lord, stuck in 'the' malibu, again!<br />
wasn't that a creedance floodwater hit? whatevahhh...<br />
<br />
i struggled to forget the intoxicated stuporous floodgate of childhood memories overtaking me. i concentrated on standing up to leave. <br />
then...'She' came out the patio door!<br />
the world ceased.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sw0G-RM7vkI/AAAAAAAAAWs/DUXAgqTB8Gc/s1600/lena_olin_romeo_is_bleeding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sw0G-RM7vkI/AAAAAAAAAWs/DUXAgqTB8Gc/s400/lena_olin_romeo_is_bleeding.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">misty was about to leave, get a room at the malibu ranch motel,<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">and catch 'romeo is bleeding' on free cable. that flick is where<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">yummerz lena olin strangles gary oldman with her legs from the<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">back seat of his car...ooooooooooh!</span><br />
</div><br />
"my apologies darling! those barbie dolls inside simply wouldn't stop talking about their thigh lifts and tummy lipos. i finally tore myself away!"<br />
barbie dolls? was she really aware of the vapidity of the world she inhabited<br />
she had a brain as well as a body.<br />
even had she not...this lady was such a haute hottie, misty would have died just to kiss her succulent calves. run my tongue along the soles of her well-arched feet, visible through her low slung valentinos...<br />
<br />
"yes...you are here. i was...was waiting. and here you are..." misty babbled stupidly.<br />
'She' smiled.<br />
like God. sending warming rays down upon humanity.<br />
<br />
"oh my, you are intoxicated aren't you," she said.<br />
"well, don't worry. if an hour or so conversation with me doesn't sober you up, we'll go to plan 'B'," she said, sitting so close i almost came.<br />
"wha...what's plan 'B'?" i inquired as my misty heart beat like a tom tom.<br />
"i'll take your flirts a few minutes ago seriously and show you why the guys voted me pasadena high's most kissable."<br />
ohhh myyy Gawwwd!!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sw0HpRX2JEI/AAAAAAAAAW0/BXiUq7gyWDU/s1600/suzanne-valentino-stiletto-foot-fetish-sexy-foot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sw0HpRX2JEI/AAAAAAAAAW0/BXiUq7gyWDU/s400/suzanne-valentino-stiletto-foot-fetish-sexy-foot.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">my new friend suzanne was playing toe tag with<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">misty under the table...her red painted steel heel<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">valentino stiletto was so...oh sooo!!!</span><br />
</div> <br />
"by the way, my name is suzanne. no, you may not call me suzi. i was not a cheerleader in high school."<br />
misty didn't think before speaking...<br />
"can we go straight to plan 'B'...suzi? i mean suzanne?"<br />
" 'suzi'? am i going to have to spank you...hon?"<br />
ohhh myyy Gawwwd!!!<br />
<br />
misty's answer was obvious.<br />
"yes. you are!"<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">xoxoxo, misty<br />
</div><br />
<div style="color: lime;">[<i>to be...mmmmmm...continued...</i>]<br />
</div> <br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-33447521491373268172009-11-22T22:04:00.000-08:002009-11-22T22:16:26.611-08:00mmmmmm.... reD hi dahlings.<br />
misty has been misty busy, but i thought i'd take this momento of spare time to share another of misty's fave pictures with you. it says so much to me.<br />
yoo too?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Swoios7wryI/AAAAAAAAAWM/xn4hfrpH_SI/s1600/murderess-lady-in-red-femme-fatale-gun-girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Swoios7wryI/AAAAAAAAAWM/xn4hfrpH_SI/s400/murderess-lady-in-red-femme-fatale-gun-girl.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">mmmmmmmm...reD is such</span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">a...</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">reD </span> <span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">colour!</span></i><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"> goes with the</span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">the colour of bullets...<br />
</span></i><br />
</div><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"></span></i> might i also share with you, my luvs, that my dear friend reston cane has added another of his delish installments on nasty ladies for real for real (that's mistyspeak, like fer sure fer sure?) on <a class="link" href="http://www.murderella.com/" target="_blank"> murderella.com</a> !<br />
<br />
my little reporter friend, writes on the stuff that just never seems to get into the papers and mags. misty thinks the powers that be don't like to think Ladies can take things into their own hands. especially their manhood, let alone their lives.<br />
it's sooo refreshing to find a male who knows the truth about these things. ressie has been begging to interview misty...but i'm doing such a good job interviewing myself i think i'll let him sit on it for a whilst. ;D<br />
tah for now luvs. next bit of blahhhging coming about 'the' malibu...but it takes a while to go over past participles of my life. hell, i don't just make this stuff up sweeties!<br />
tahhh fer now fer now dahls...<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">xoxoxo, misty<br />
<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-4612396073330976062009-11-14T02:17:00.000-08:002009-11-17T01:11:10.657-08:00'this could be Heaven... ...or this could be Hell'<i><span style="color: lime;">[continued from before. duhhh!] </span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv56vpOyO1I/AAAAAAAAAUM/Z_xkCTmy74I/s1600-h/zuma-beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv56vpOyO1I/AAAAAAAAAUM/Z_xkCTmy74I/s640/zuma-beach.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>misty had seen a hot chic thrill kill her boyfriend near</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>zuma beach...now misty was stuck in 'the' malibu...</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">hot and hungry for a kill of her own</span></i><br />
</div><br />
all misty knew about malibu, besides surfing and brainless beach blondes, was casa malibu.<br />
<br />
it was built in 1949 and was the original 'hotel california'.<br />
lana turner checked in for a day and stayed for a year.<br />
i'd started to feel like lana. or the eagles.<br />
'hotel california'.<br />
or a roach motel.<br />
you check in. but you couldn't check out.<br />
<br />
misty was stuck at the cove coffee shop and bar.<br />
time was standing still.<br />
<br />
even my watch was dead. it could have been the battery.<br />
more likely the fucking conversation at the next table.<br />
<br />
a malibu blonde, with hair dyed by the warner bros special effects department, was blabbing.<br />
"davenport was, like, preggers. could barely walk without bursting. so todd bought her the hummer, as if the suburban were too small! as iF?! like, gag me!"<br />
<br />
i'd gag her with more than a spoon, which was what malibu bleach-frosted beach blonde air heads used to keep the margaritahhhs from turning into tummy tires.<br />
misty was listening to the air whistling through the brains of the bimboz at the table next to moi.<br />
the last thing misty needed when she was achhhhing for a kill was bubble-headed beach blonde babble.<br />
the thought of 'davenport' being preggers...or any malibu bleach blonde spawning a child, made misty vomitose, speaking of gagging with a spoon.<br />
it made misty think of that thing popping out of a chest in 'alien'.<br />
of course, 'alien' also had some good things. sigourney weaver and flame throwers. BBQ-ing aliens.<br />
that's a hitwoman.<br />
a sweaty sigourney in a tank-t, spraying flames out her nozzle. sounded like misty on a good saturday nite.<br />
i neeeded a good saturday nite. or any nite.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv57r9TyBOI/AAAAAAAAAUU/EzxZ5ornX8w/s1600-h/malibu-bleach-blonde-bimbos.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv57r9TyBOI/AAAAAAAAAUU/EzxZ5ornX8w/s320/malibu-bleach-blonde-bimbos.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>misty was stuck in the cove bar and coffee shop</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>listening to malibu bleach blonde barbiez burble inanely.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">i think this was in the Bible...Purgatory, wasn't it???</span></i><br />
</div><br />
misty had become insanely, maddeningly, sexually aroused last evening watching a very naughty thing at a beach house off pch in 'the' malibu.<br />
a thrill kill.<br />
yes, misty had been peeping through windows.<br />
now misty needed a hit to satisfy herself after what she saw.<br />
<br />
so, misty left the bar for the patio. to call 'josephine.'<br />
i flipped through 'the' malibu news as my blackberry went into redial purgatory, waiting for an opening to 'josephine's line.<br />
'the' malibu news gave misty an insight into the nouveau riche wasteland here, of barbie bodies and chatty cathy brains. as if i really wanted to learn about these idiots.<br />
les riche nouveau were feeling the pinch of the economic downturn, according to the 'news'. downsizing ferrarri GTB fioranos and lamborghini gallardo superleggeras for humble carrera porsches and LS9 vettes.<br />
talk about slumming.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv58k-ePfHI/AAAAAAAAAUc/KlrLiZSc4uQ/s1600-h/killer-girl-femme-fatale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv58k-ePfHI/AAAAAAAAAUc/KlrLiZSc4uQ/s320/killer-girl-femme-fatale.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>i oh sooo needed the hot sexy yum yum feeling in the pit</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>of my soul that misty gets when she executes a mark...</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> two more minutes of redial and i was ready for greyhounds.<br />
my manolos took me back to the bar, which opened early. they start ahead of time in 'the' bu.<br />
"grapefruit fresh squizzled? vodka grey goose?" i demanded. misty was not in the bestest of moods.<br />
bartender looked like stonewall jackson. confederacy. army of northern virginia. creepy. <br />
that, or kris kristofferson.<br />
"not going to sing 'bobby mcgee, are you?" misty added.<br />
"yes. yes. and, uh, no..."<br />
"ok. start the greyhounds sweeetheart," misty approved.<br />
"we talkin' pitchers, or one at a time?" stonewall asked.<br />
"i'm waiting for a very important call, darlin', so let's take it bit by bit."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv5-drjqedI/AAAAAAAAAUk/Gar1q0YciU0/s1600-h/kris-kristofferson-chris-christofferson-outlaws-stonewall-jackson-confederacy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv5-drjqedI/AAAAAAAAAUk/Gar1q0YciU0/s320/kris-kristofferson-chris-christofferson-outlaws-stonewall-jackson-confederacy.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">the bartender at the malibu cove looked like either</span></i><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">stonewall jackson or kris kristofferson...whatevahhh!</span></i><br />
</div><br />
being in oz was wearing thin.<br />
A gull landed on a post on the pier outside as my drink was being prepared. the redial kept...redialing.<br />
it had been going five mins straight.<br />
i was so horny i'd have shoved the phone between my legs if that woulda calmed me.<br />
but only getting a contract for a kill would do that.<br />
stonewall pushed over a greyhound.<br />
best misty had sucked west of the big apple. church room at the tribeca hotel. misty is sooo religious about her drinks.<br />
"niccce. you're forgiven for that mcgee jingle," misty told the bartender.<br />
i decided he looked more like kristofferson.<br />
misty made her way to a corner booth. i could watch seagulls and terns shit on the rails of the terminally boring pier, waiting for my call to connect.<br />
<br />
misty's pretty, and increasingly intoxicated, mind redialed it's own number.<br />
last night. as i sat in the 356 speedster. on the zuma cliffs. looking down at the beach house below.<br />
misty was playing peeping misty. looking through windows.<br />
what i'd seen got me hot for a kill.<br />
a pretty teen hottie turned a boyfriend for the nite into a corpus delectable. amazing what a tight wire can do to a young man's deliciously tender neck.<br />
amazing what goes on behind closed doors at nite in 'the bu'.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv5_O8FQZbI/AAAAAAAAAUs/Rn6ZeKswceo/s1600-h/GLOCK-with-LARGE-Silencer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv5_O8FQZbI/AAAAAAAAAUs/Rn6ZeKswceo/s400/GLOCK-with-LARGE-Silencer.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>misty trusts her prada cloud-white silk blouse.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>black strappy crocodile manolo's. and glock .380</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">with noise suppressor. all quality products. </span></i><br />
</div><br />
at lassssst. redial connected. the remaining drop of the greyhound trickled down misty's throat.<br />
and 'josephine' answered.<br />
i cannot say who josephine is. male or female. tall, short. yankees or red sox. gin or vodka.<br />
misty would have a misty of her own on her tail if she said more. or perhaps, a guido. anyway, it would be oh so ironic for misty to be hit. a waste of a good body, if nothing else.<br />
thanks to misty's deliteful and sexy writing, i'm put up with in the world i inhabit.<br />
but misty knows limits. lines not to cross.<br />
so, let's say, 'josephine' is someone misty has never met, but trusts as much as she would her prada cloud-white silk blouse. or black strappy crocodile manolo's. or glock .380 with noise suppressor. all quality products.<br />
<br />
i was overjoyed to hear jo's voice!<br />
<br />
misty: "josephine...i am sooo happy to reach you. i am sooo desperate..."<br />
j: "yes misty, i can tell in your voice"<br />
m: "i need work, j. it's been two months."<br />
j: "you've gone longer. you know it's always like that. some good things coming. be cool. you sound a little tense, why so...urgent?"<br />
m: "can i be honest, j?"<br />
j: "that's all you can be with me misty."<br />
m: "ok. i saw something last night. a kill. misty was peeping. voyeur. it was hot."<br />
j: "it's good for you. keeps you hungry. your next one will be nice for you."<br />
m: "no j. it's very bad. this was hot. hot hot. hotter than hot hot. she was as good as misty. but she was doing it for fun. so that made it better for misty to watch. and she was wasn't even old enough to buy a gin and tonic. legally i mean.<br />
"so right now i'm poppin' back grey goose greyhounds in malibu, j., made by some guy who's either kris kristofferson or the undead reanimated body of stonewall jackson. i'm on edge. i need a mark. yesterday. since yesternight."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv5_9q2I4QI/AAAAAAAAAU0/mkUcxawMtpQ/s1600-h/thrill-kill-woman-and-gun4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv5_9q2I4QI/AAAAAAAAAU0/mkUcxawMtpQ/s400/thrill-kill-woman-and-gun4.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>i told 'josephine' how much misty needed a hit. jo said</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>there were some nice things coming down the pike.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>problem was, i needed to kill someone now! that</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">time of the month i suppose.</span></i><br />
</div><br />
j: "misty, you are a riot. but i see here that you are completely serious"<br />
m: "fucking straight! you're tellin' me!"<br />
j: "you crack me up. look, we cannot suggest this, but surely it's occurred to you to..."<br />
m: "thrill kill? you know what i think of that, j. it's not part of my code. it's sick. disgusting. crummy. capricious. cavalier. crappy."<br />
j: "one of the many things i've always loved about you, misty, is you can talk like a gay sailor, yet such a marvelous vocabulary."<br />
m: "don't patronize me, j.'<br />
j: "see what i mean? half our contractors think patronize is a czech tequila."<br />
m: "ok. you're funny too, j. but it's lost on me. i'm hungry. and i'm not thrillin' away my needs on some innocent idiot i pick up at a bar.<br />
"no offense. i'm just sooo..."<br />
j: "yes. i see. ok misty, i will tell you like it is. you've got to get ahold of yourself. by the clit if you have to. there's some good stuff coming down the pike. really good. i'm talking V-work. vengeance contracts. marks that have done nasty things to people. the avenger misty. it's your cup of tea. or vodka. whatever the case may be these days.<br />
m: "yes. thanks j. but..."<br />
j: "but nothing. that madoff thing was the tip. so much of that coming out in the news. and so much no one knows about. v-kills up the yinyang. you're on the top 20 list...you'll get the best. they're in the pipeline."<br />
m: "that is sooo appreciated j. but, that's not the point. it's immediacy. i have no idea if i can get through the day. nite. jefferson davis behind the bar has six more greyhounds waiting for me. pelicans on the charming pier outside are starting to look interesting. and you know i despise charming, not to mention pelicans."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv6A_jqEXEI/AAAAAAAAAVE/iZWyQuvUZnE/s1600-h/murderess-killing-lover-femme-fatale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv6A_jqEXEI/AAAAAAAAAVE/iZWyQuvUZnE/s320/murderess-killing-lover-femme-fatale.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>i told jo how hot it was watching that young sweetie</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>tenderly strangle her boyfriend to death, deliciously</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">looking down on him as she took him...jo understood.</span></i><br />
</div><br />
j: "misty..."<br />
m: "the inane airhead malibu frosted bleach blonde chat chit is starting to sound fascinating to me!"<br />
j: "that bad, huh?"<br />
m: "comprendo?"<br />
j: "ok misty. no thrill kills. have you thought of euthanasia?"<br />
m: "i'm NOT going to kill myself J!<br />
j: "not you misty sweet. euthanizing someone. pick up some old dude in a bar who has terminal cancer. lost his sweetheart of 50 years and wants to be with her. a young fellow insanely in love whose wife just died in a plane crash. they're out there misty."<br />
m: "that's pathetic."<br />
j: "misty, i'd love to stay and talk, and God knows i wish i could help you. i can say, just hang in there. and no, i'm not talking asphyxia. we don't want to lose you."<br />
m: "whose writing your material j.? bob hope?"<br />
j: "he's been dead awhile misty."<br />
m: "precisely."<br />
j: "you can get rough, can't you. ok, hold on. a few weeks they'll have something superb for your skills and wants. i must go. things piling up. love, as always..."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv6A4846DmI/AAAAAAAAAU8/IrxT0mj_uCY/s1600-h/greyhound-drink-grey-goose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv6A4846DmI/AAAAAAAAAU8/IrxT0mj_uCY/s320/greyhound-drink-grey-goose.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>jo said there were no contracts right now. booo!</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>my only plan was to go back to the bar and</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>get totally smashed on greyhounds...they were</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">already stacked up and waiting.</span></i><br />
</div><br />
and that was that.<br />
kris kringle, i mean kristofferson, had another double on the bar for me.<br />
the bubble headed frosted blondes were chitting, or was it chatting, about bcbg versus la perla when they should have been talking bottega veneta versus prada.<br />
worst, i was paying attention! geeeeeeeeeesh!<br />
<br />
turned around to get my next double, and in between misty and the bar was a six-foot two, in four-inch steel-heeled valentino stilettos, superbly frosted blonde with blonde roots, non-botoxed bronzed sculpted (by God, not docs) face, with dolce & gabana undies that could just barely be seen through her diaphanous chanel silk skirt. her divinely golden muscled legs tapered to 17" lush-a-licious calves that misty wanted ultra-succulently wrapped around misty's neck!!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
"oh. excuse me," she said as we nearly bumped into each other.<br />
"oh...no, excuse me. i'm on my way to a lost afternoon, and to catch my next greyhound at the bar," i burbled, almost unable to stop panting. or keep my misty heart from palpitating out my pert misty chest.<br />
"greyhounds. perfecto. i must do the same after chatting with the...you know," she said, shaking her mane of blonde frost towards the bimboz in the main bar. "the bartender...so merveilleux, n'est pas? should try his sex on the beach," she said winking.<br />
"actually, i'd love the drink, but i bat for the other team. even if i was a switch, he looks too confederate for moi tastes," i said, checking him out.<br />
she grabbed my arm and i felt the geese bump up all over my body.<br />
"you are totally precious! not from around here, i take it. look, if you're still here when i'm done with the girls, try my sex on the beach. oh, and i'll buy you a drink too," she winked.<br />
misty was in misty love.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv6EvNe6LrI/AAAAAAAAAVk/wSz-pR9uEjI/s1600-h/blonde-adrian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sv6EvNe6LrI/AAAAAAAAAVk/wSz-pR9uEjI/s320/blonde-adrian.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>misty turned to go back to the bar, and bumped</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>into her heart's desire, a horrifically sexy perfectly</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">frosted blonde in valentino 4" spikes...yummerz!</span></i><br />
</div><br />
"i'll be here," i said. "bartender does have a sense of humor. i told him his drinks were so good i forgave him for writing the bobby mcgee song."<br />
blonde frosty in valentino spikes laughed.<br />
"oh, he probably appreciated it. most of the crowd here rides him for writing that song. at least you forgave. kris is cool about it. he drops in and dishes the cactus juice for kicks. sucha doll. see you in a few..."<br />
and she was off.<br />
<br />
i snuck to the bar and got my drink.<br />
misty attempted to vamoose, but was stopped by...kris.<br />
"hey lovely. i'm really sorry you didn't like the song. i do have others. i have to admit the title's not the coolest," he said.<br />
"oh...i was sooo just kidding...please accept my apolo..." misty started to say...<br />
but he cut me off.<br />
"not a bad song, but that name. producer at monument gave me the title. grabs me and says, 'me and bobby mckee.' I thought he said "me and bobby mcgee.<br />
"that sounded to me like the worst idea for a song. he said they'd be traveling around or something. i told him to go fly a kite, or words to that effect. he said, just 'try to write it. so i did.'<br />
"my apologies," he smiled, and left to give drinks to two ancient blondes who needed embalming.<br />
misty left with her greyhound.<br />
and looked forward to talking to...her new frosty blonde friend in valentinos...<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">---xoxo, misty <br />
</div><br />
<div style="color: lime;">[<i>to be oh sooo...continued</i>]<br />
</div><div style="color: lime;"><br />
</div><div style="color: lime;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-72717919093948283012009-11-10T05:11:00.000-08:002009-11-10T05:22:50.450-08:00not a tin Lezzie...but the real thing!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SvlfscAOntI/AAAAAAAAAT8/4Dmya-2vrng/s1600-h/annaspan-lezzie-les-lesbian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SvlfscAOntI/AAAAAAAAAT8/4Dmya-2vrng/s320/annaspan-lezzie-les-lesbian.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>yum! misty's found some delish stuff on</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>toromagazine.com! like this lez-licious pic by<br />
anna span, who says, "reality is an important</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">aspect of what women look for in porn." </span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">misty says, you gottit hon!</span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div> well dahls, your luscious and deadly misty has been fooling around on the netters and came across<a class="link" href="http://www.toromagazine.com/" target="_blank"> toromagazine.com</a>.<br />
kind of a naughty place to go on the fucking world wide web, and where i came across the above photo of the type of subject matter misty creamz over. sorry for the language graphique, but how do you expect a hot blooded kill-chic to speak?<br />
aaaaaaaaaand, on <a class="link" href="http://www.murderella.com/" target="_blank"> murderella.com</a> the latest sexy erotic women murdering guys installment by my pal res cane...the guy's a journalisto, which makes me juice while i read, since he may change the names and places a tad (we all know about that around here, huh dahls?) but the killings are for yummy real.<br />
uh...kinda like heeere... <br />
so glad i found you ressie. if you had a cunt i might even take you to bed. from what i hear you have howard stern disease...you're a lez in a man's body...or am i telling too much. that's misty for yoo.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SvloPNt51yI/AAAAAAAAAUE/GNgyB3X0HPQ/s1600-h/malibu-california.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SvloPNt51yI/AAAAAAAAAUE/GNgyB3X0HPQ/s320/malibu-california.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>misty in 'the' malibu...an adventure you won't wish</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>to miss. by the way, that's not your misty above...</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">i'm sooo much more delish!</span></i><br />
</div><br />
<br />
as for my sweeties here, misty's real life adventures in malibu-land will continue here oh so soon. i do reveal so much of my heart and soul...i can't believe just six months ago i was going through so much travail...boohoo. well, no need to get into it here. it's sooo lonely getting off killing guys, having wanton sex with lez dolls, and all the while never finding true love.<br />
don't wish to reveal much here...but...guess you'll have to wait a few daze...<br />
tah for now luvs...and do remember, misty's not quite so baddd as she seems...<br />
<br />
she's oh so much worse!<br />
<br />
xoxo, mistyUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-23202301146103217522009-11-06T23:44:00.000-08:002009-11-06T23:46:36.742-08:00mmmmmmmmmm...misty's kinda movie just found this trailer for totaleee the kind of movie misty luvs.<br />
i'm guessing you might too ;D<br />
<br />
<object height="350" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4shSxeq-_EE"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4shSxeq-_EE" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br />
<a href="http://www.musicsrc.com/">MusicSRC.com - Music Videos</a><br />
<br />
oh...and misty's guessing you're wondering if i've evah done anything like in this fine feature film.<br />
<br />
whaddya'll think, dahlingsssss?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-59656359158236604442009-11-03T01:16:00.000-08:002009-11-03T01:49:24.326-08:00a porsche with a view...<div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>[just to fill in the stoners among you who aren't following along, misty was asleep on the zuma cliffs, in the early a.m., in her auto, after watching some teen honey strangle her pick up from a west l.a. club. i was being a peeping misty, and, guess i just got lucky...]</i><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su_vwMvyZoI/AAAAAAAAASY/wcrqdlJlIwQ/s1600-h/california-highway-patrol-chp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su_vwMvyZoI/AAAAAAAAASY/wcrqdlJlIwQ/s320/california-highway-patrol-chp.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>a chip is not the first thing you want to see in the morning.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">thank goodness it wasn't that erik estrada guy!</span></i><br />
</div><br />
<br />
i heard a knock not far from my head.<br />
believe me sweeties, that's enough to earn you a .22 in just the right place, when i'm sleeping soundly.<br />
howevahhh, when i looked up and saw who was knocking, i "copped" a different tude...pun, pun, misty made a pun!<br />
a hollywood handsome chp was rapping on my speedster window, with that look of, "not another bimbo passed out in her porsche..."<br />
which, i'm sure happens a lot in 'the' malibu.<br />
howevah, i wasn't stoned.<br />
misty is not a big believer in the drug culture. unless, of course, i'm using narcotix to put a vic under.<br />
<br />
"yes officer, may i help...uh, help you."<br />
i was still waking up. by the looks of the sun over the zuma and trancas canyons, it was eightish.<br />
misty should always be allowed to sleep at eightish in the a.m.<br />
"Yes mam, you can help me. i want to be sure you're alright. have you been sleeping here since last night?" mr. chp officer said. ohhh so nicely i might add.<br />
"why yes, sir, i'm sooo very all right. guess i fell asleep. didn't want to drive as i was, er, getting sleepies."<br />
misty can be very very nice when she wants.<br />
<br />
"that's always a good idea mam. might you hand me your vehicle registration and driver's license? just protocol," chippie so courteously requested.<br />
of course, misty always had her california state i.d. with her whenever in lalaland. or anywhere else in the wacko state.<br />
i handed it to him.<br />
"thank you mam. miss donna leslie. donna, is this still your address in west los angeles?"<br />
"why yes officer sir." i thought i'd throw some of his mam crap back in his pretty face with a 'sir' or two.<br />
"and i see your insurance is up to date. this is a rental?"<br />
" i do a lot of traveling, so i don't keep a car here. so yes, a rental, sire."<br />
maybe that was a bit too much crap to throw. sire. geeesh misty, give the guy a break.<br />
"right mam. this is california. in fact, i think we are in malibu. even so, last i checked, there were no royal titles in use in this municipality."<br />
" sooo right. my apologies. i wasn't trying to be..."<br />
"sarcastic mam? that's ok. get it all the time. however, it's a pleasure to be getting it from such an attractive young lady so early in the morning. my girlfriend doesn't get her wit going until 10 a.m. so it's very much appreciated."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su_wZ4y2g_I/AAAAAAAAASg/cA1dFtWolqs/s1600-h/hud-paul-newman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su_wZ4y2g_I/AAAAAAAAASg/cA1dFtWolqs/s320/hud-paul-newman.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>chp boy was kinda cute. walked back to his bike like</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">hud...that 'roll of nickels up your ass' kinda way</span></i><br />
</div><br />
<br />
well. if i didn't punt for the other team, he'd be quite the charmer to take to the malibu surf motel to fuck for a day or so. or whenevah he got off shift.<br />
"you are certainly a darling. your gal friend is a lucky doll. if i may be so bold to comment on your personal life," i nawtily said.<br />
"as they say in court, i opened up the line of questioning, here's your license back. do be careful mam...uh, donna," he said with just the sweetest smile.<br />
"you are a honey. don't take offense, i am a big girl. i will be careful."<br />
"i don't want you to misunderstand...donna. there was a murder in the area last night. or, we assume it was last night. while you were asleep, a body was found up towards neptune's net. young man. strangled. i'd be careful around here. least until law enforcement puts this together."<br />
ohhh myyy.<br />
my little sweetheart from last nite was a busy daddy's girl.<br />
i fell asleep and, very un-misty-like, i assumed she'd keep her dead date at beach house central until the next day.<br />
i sooo had the urge to turn around and look down the hill, but i knew what i'd see. honey doll's mustang gone. she'd spent the early morning hours dumping her plaything. up around neptune's net.<br />
"oh my goodness. thank you for telling me. i had no idea things like that happened around these parts," i said, lying my stinkin' panties off. oh, i forgot, i wasn't wearing panties.<br />
which reminded me. luxo rentals was going to have to detail my passenger side leather bucket recaro upon my returning the speedster...i am always so juicy watching a good kill. whether i did it or not.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su_xKi7FXeI/AAAAAAAAASo/sypsXs63NkE/s1600-h/killer-girl-after-murder-femme-fatale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su_xKi7FXeI/AAAAAAAAASo/sypsXs63NkE/s320/killer-girl-after-murder-femme-fatale.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>last i'd seen of killer girl last nite, she was standing naked, above</i><br />
</div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>her honey, who she'd just strangled...now, the cops had found her dead boy toy</i><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div> "ok, mam..."<br />
"donna, pleeeease..."<br />
he smiled. such a nice smile. for a fucking cop.<br />
bad misty!<br />
california chips are as much like real cops as tuxedoed groom dolls on wedding cakes are like real men. which is a compliiment for those of you keeping score. misty is not a fan of men or cops. generally speaking.<br />
"yes, donna. please be careful out there."<br />
he gave me back my faux license and reg.<br />
"ok mister chp officer. by the way, anyone ever tell you you're the cat's pajamas?"<br />
"just middle aged malibu ladies with too much botox trying to talk their way out of left turn tickets. you're a refreshing change. now, be careful."<br />
he turned and walked back to his motorbike. he had that 'roll of nickels up his ass' walk of marilyn in 'some like it hot'. or paul newman in 'hud'.<br />
mmmm, misty! don't tell me you still have it in you to switch hit?!<br />
<br />
i thought of shoving a roll of nickels up mister chips' tight ass as i shoved my speedster into gear, and peeled onto pch going back towards civilization.<br />
<br />
i also thought of that poor dead kid in a field near neptune's net, nearly coming all over my recaro again!<br />
watching that boy toy get his neck tied tight had taken hold of me like nothing before.<br />
don't get me wrong. i'm not a fan of serial killing. so de classe. gauche. a true act of desperation!<br />
my goodness...if you can't find a legitimate way to kill people in this big wonderful sick world, then you are a real loser!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su_yF6tl9lI/AAAAAAAAASw/Xpx8i1_2tU8/s1600-h/killer-girl-on-stairs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su_yF6tl9lI/AAAAAAAAASw/Xpx8i1_2tU8/s320/killer-girl-on-stairs.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>so honey musta locked up, and slipped down the beach house stairs</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>after packing murdered boy toy into her mustang...then drove off to</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">dump him at neptune's net! whatta time for misty to have fallen asleep!</span></i><br />
</div><br />
<br />
howeverrr, daddy's little college girl in the mustang last night was probably just finding herself. perhaps she was a future misty. i did commit a few nawty delites prior to my first real job. so, don't judge too harshly, misty.<br />
the point being, i don't approve of killing willy nilly. i'm very proud of my profession. maybe i'm a closet republican. believe in order. the free market system. at least when it comes to murder.<br />
but, as slummy as serial killing is...and how much i totaleee disapprove of such rampant libertinism...when performed by a luscious doll, on a male of the species, i get all gushy inside.<br />
squirt.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su_zQWnqKNI/AAAAAAAAAS4/s3SD1qqXm7w/s1600-h/misty-porsche.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su_zQWnqKNI/AAAAAAAAAS4/s3SD1qqXm7w/s320/misty-porsche.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>misty drove off in her speedster, parked on pch, and had jo</i><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">at the first dive i came across. misty was all worked up...</span></i><br />
</div><br />
which meant i had to do something about how hot i was feeling.<br />
something i rarely did.<br />
i would call josesphine.<br />
i couldn't wait for the next job to just come rolling in like...well, like the surf at malibu.<br />
i needed a kill now. like twenty minutes ago.<br />
i'd pull in the first open dive on pch, have a cuppa jo. and call josephine.<br />
no, assholes, not her real name. don't even try to figure jout who, what, when, where or why. just enjoy what i do tell you.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su_z_MLwlnI/AAAAAAAAATA/TP8gwxRITts/s1600-h/alicia-bridges-i-love-the-nightlife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su_z_MLwlnI/AAAAAAAAATA/TP8gwxRITts/s320/alicia-bridges-i-love-the-nightlife.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">misty, like her heroine, loved the nightlife...which for misty</span></i><br />
</div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i> meant a kill. after watching that teen doll murder her date</i><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">last nite, i needed some kill action of my own...</span></i><br />
</div><br />
anywayyy...josephine was a sweety.<br />
she always hooked me up when i had that lust for...as alicia bridges would say...<br />
...ack-shawn!<br />
<br />
<div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>[to be oh sooo continued...with a few surprises about your misty...]</i><br />
</div> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-84640425395594187572009-11-01T14:06:00.000-08:002009-11-01T14:36:36.387-08:00happy Hallow's Eve...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su4Dkw0S5DI/AAAAAAAAASI/9K3qYeePKZA/s1600-h/halloween-girl.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su4Dkw0S5DI/AAAAAAAAASI/9K3qYeePKZA/s320/halloween-girl.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">misty wishes you had a deadly nice Hallow's Eve </span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> well my lovelies, misty had a quiet Hallow's Eve. no jobs to do, though it would have been a delightful time to so do...i'm sure you all get my drift.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> misty dear is having some issues writing the next piece about the zuma beach incident, if you're up to date on my little adventures.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> it involves some real self-revelation...as opposed to fake self-revelation...hahaha, misty made a funny.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> but heck, that's what this is about anyway...right dahlings? no, not jokes. but revealing one's self.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> annnd, you all don't really know me, as in face to face.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> if you did, you'd either be some interesting doll i was about to explore female adventures with...or you'd be a job, and your number would be about to be punched...albeit in a very yummy way i assure you.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> but most of you are none of those, so revealing the innermost misty to you is making her squirm a tad...can you imagine, me, squirming?<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> well, start imagining. i've decided to go through with the sequel...sharing it with you all.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> no names, dates, places, or other ways you can track the lovely mist down...but you may get a clue as to who i truly am in my heart of hearts...not that i've hidden anything from you up til now...<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> enough my sweets...enjoy the rest of your Holiday...and i will be sharing soon...tah<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; text-align: left;"><i>misty note!...i was just contacted by some bassoon who wondered what i meant by "female adventures"!</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; text-align: left;"><i>can anyone truly be that obtuse? i'd recommend anyone who has those type of questions to turn off the computer and spend the rest of your recreational life watching the disney channel...but as a one time courtesy to the freaking fool who had the nerve to ask me such a question, here is your answer sweeety...now, get a clue!</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su4NQQj8B-I/AAAAAAAAASQ/j_xGMrEE0_c/s1600-h/misty-love-lesbian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Su4NQQj8B-I/AAAAAAAAASQ/j_xGMrEE0_c/s320/misty-love-lesbian.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-62663411446804825212009-10-29T21:20:00.000-07:002009-10-29T22:47:40.054-07:00i so love nasty!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SumGZpKwfUI/AAAAAAAAARQ/E_onsAsYvp0/s1600-h/woman-killing-man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SumGZpKwfUI/AAAAAAAAARQ/E_onsAsYvp0/s320/woman-killing-man.jpg" /></a><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: red;">that nasty res is writing about chix killing guys again...yum!</i></span><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> hello dahlings. i'm sooo busy doing busy things, as you would expect a dangerous doll like moi to be.</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> howevahhh, i do recommend highly the next chapter in my new friend, journalisto reston's blahhhg about a superbly nasty killer chic from way back when.<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> res wasn't too happy about moi pulling his posties for our little get together here.<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> normally i'd threaten to do deliciously awful things to the sweetheart if there was a problem. but, i appreciate his jourmalistic respect for...shall we say...women of the deadly arts. which is the theme of his oh so arty reporting.<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> sooo, whilst i take care of business...if you know what i mean, and you need some killah lady action...shoot (pahdon the pun) on over to <a class="link" href="http://www.murderella.com/" target="_blank">murderella.com</a><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> until i come back to you, dahls....<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-8894112364756765112009-10-25T09:23:00.000-07:002009-10-25T09:48:44.734-07:00a nasteee treat for misty's readers<div style="color: #eeeeee;"> well luvs, i've found a blahggg after my own dark and nasty heart. i have decided to share one of their posts with you, my honies.<br />
</div><div style="color: #eeeeee;"> don't know much about it, but you can be sure i will find out. but for now, what i've read is sooo murderously murderous, i'm a fan. i'm sure the writer won't mind me lifting this one little post.<br />
</div><div style="color: #eeeeee;"> if he knows what's good for him...i suppose reston is his name. be a good boy reston, and thank misty for liking your little, naughty, stories...<br />
</div><div style="color: black;"><div style="color: #eeeeee;"> as for you all faithfully following your misty...do enjoy...<i></i><br />
</div><i><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> (oh yes, reston's little website is murderella.com. yummy name res. i've made it one of my faves.)</span><br />
</i><br />
</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><br />
<i style="color: #ff6600;">[From court records, journalist records, published and unpublished, unreleased police records, and other published material. Names and locales have been changed per legal requirements.--Reston Cane]</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRnsqX8TzI/AAAAAAAAABo/hH4_cOFehT0/s1600-h/woman-with-knife-murderous.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396552270483312434" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRnsqX8TzI/AAAAAAAAABo/hH4_cOFehT0/s320/woman-with-knife-murderous.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 194px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 244px;" /></a><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The Surgeon's Daughter</span></b><br />
<br />
Lane Dalquist was the strikingly attractive daughter of a respected Swedish surgeon and his operating room nurse wife.<br />
<br />
The parents had met while saving lives at St. Erik's hospital in Stockholm, at times under highly stressful conditions.<br />
<br />
Lane's tall, good looks were not attributes appreciated at university in the United States, where she pursued her medical career. A career not as a nurse, but as a surgeon.<br />
<br />
In the U.S. of the early 1960s, the idea that women were equals in the medical field, particularly surgery, was not widely held. Especially for women, such as Lane Dalquist, who looked like Debra Kerr or Grace Kelly.<br />
<br />
However, Dalquist had several attributes swinging the odds back in her favor. A searing intellect. And a just as searing drive to succeed, which she received from her father.<br />
Additionally, support from her parents, who had moved to the U.S. when Lane was four, was strong.<br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
<b>Chicago</b><br />
</div><br />
On a late 60s summery night in Chicago, Rod Allen was out for a drink after a long day trading. Rod was a 34-year-old financial specialist born and raised in the windy city, who worked hard trading stocks for his clients in a mid-range financial institution.<br />
<br />
Nice looking, smart, friends and associates chided him for working too hard and playing too little. That work ethic resulted in not only his being single, but without a girlfriend and dateless since joining the firm almost a year earlier.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRpHbNseGI/AAAAAAAAAB4/88G4HJ3YLyg/s1600-h/sports-bar-tv-murderous.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396553829781895266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRpHbNseGI/AAAAAAAAAB4/88G4HJ3YLyg/s320/sports-bar-tv-murderous.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">Rod Allen ended up in his local pub for a drink,</span><br />
<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">and to watch the Cubs lose another. Instead, he</span><br />
<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">would meet 'her'</span><br />
</div>Rod cut a nice figure as he walked into one of his regular sports bar haunts late after work that summer evening.<br />
<br />
Smartly dressed even as his tie hung disheveled after a long day on the exchange, he took a quick look around the bar before sitting down. He chose a chair not too close, but not too far, from a good-looking blonde nursing an umbrella drink, and watching the Mets trounce the Cubs on the tv over the bar.<br />
<br />
"A Schlitz on tap and keep the tab open Sully," the bartender later recalled Allen saying.<br />
In between staring at the dismal game on the oversized tv, and slurps of Schlitz, Rod snuck glances at the woman down the bar. She had on attractive, if conservative, expensive clothes.<br />
<br />
No wedding ring. And very nice legs. They were crossed, forcing the below-the-knee skirt to expose her legs up to the mid-thigh. Rod was a leg man.<br />
<br />
The woman returned a few looks that were not unfriendly. Rod eventually made direct eye contact, and called down the bar.<br />
<br />
"If you're collecting umbrellas, I'd be happy to get you another one of whatever you're drinking. I'm a collector myself," he joked, successfully.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRpyzikgKI/AAAAAAAAACA/fSnDJM35JYY/s1600-h/hot-legs-stilettos-blonde-in-bar-murderous.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396554575046279330" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRpyzikgKI/AAAAAAAAACA/fSnDJM35JYY/s320/hot-legs-stilettos-blonde-in-bar-murderous.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 220px;" /></a><span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">He couldn't keep his eyes off her legs. They</span><br />
<span style="color: #ff9900; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">would turn out to be deadly legs.</span><br />
</div>"Maybe I don't collect umbrellas. Maybe I collect men," she said with a dry, but beckoning edge.<br />
<br />
Rod was bright, and liked the wit. And the edge. He didn't find too many powerful women in the corporate world who, despite their intelligence, could joke about themselves.<br />
<br />
"A dangerous woman," he smiled. "I like it."<br />
<br />
The woman was seated in the mid part of the bar, where the light was lower. If anything, she did not make an effort to have her face seen. One patron that night recalled, "she seemed to me to want to check others out, but didn't like the visa versa."<br />
<br />
Apparently she wanted to be seen by Allen, and the two ended up in a dark booth together, not paying attention to the beating the Cubs were taking.<br />
<br />
They were pegged as leaving the bar in the ninth inning. That struck the bartender as a change of pace for Allen, a semi-regular at the pub.<br />
<br />
"The guy was such a regular Joe. Which around these parts means, die hard Cubbie. He got lucky that night, but still. I'd never seen him leave before the final nail was in his Cubs coffin," the barman recalled.<br />
<br />
A tall, attractive, well-dressed blonde was apparently, and understandably, of more interest to Allen than a perpetually losing home team. Even one he loved.<br />
<br />
He left with the woman, arm about her waist, walking her to her car.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Seclusion</span></b><br />
<br />
If Rod Allen thought he won the lottery by walking a lovely, intelligent woman to her car, he was in for a bigger surprise.<br />
<br />
"If your car is close by, why don't we find a secluded spot to enjoy the harbor. I'm a tourista. You're the hometown boy," his new friend suggested.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRqT43rl8I/AAAAAAAAACI/3YjV8gnZtbo/s1600-h/1967-camaro-murderous.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396555143412684738" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRqT43rl8I/AAAAAAAAACI/3YjV8gnZtbo/s320/1967-camaro-murderous.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">Rod and his new lady friend took off in his Camaro</span><br />
<span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">to find a secluded spot on North Lake Shore Drive.</span><br />
</div>They walked across to Rod's '67 Camaro, and took the romantic drive of his life. Literally.<br />
<br />
Whatever the 34-year-old, good-looking and lonely bachelor thought was a romantic secluded spot, didn't meet the criteria of his lady friend.<br />
<br />
Rod was happy to please, and kept driving until finding what she preferred.<br />
<br />
It was the definition of secluded. "Hope we can get her started when it's time to go. Might take a couple of days for someone to find us here," he quipped with an hint of friendly sarcasm. Rather than take offense, the remark pleased his friendly passenger. It was perfect for the tryst she had planned.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Romance</span><br />
<br />
"So, I never asked what you do," Rod awkwardly small-talked as they looked out over the Chicago Harbor.<br />
<br />
For all his handsome looks, savvy trading on the exchange, and easy rapport in social situations, he was not as confident, or at ease, regarding romance.<br />
<br />
Allen would have no problem this evening, thought. At least not in being desired by his date.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRqruLc9cI/AAAAAAAAACQ/_UwcAkO-F6I/s1600-h/secluded-lake-shor-drive-chicago-murderous.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396555552859682242" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRqruLc9cI/AAAAAAAAACQ/_UwcAkO-F6I/s320/secluded-lake-shor-drive-chicago-murderous.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 206px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">She chose the place along the Chicago Harbor where</span><br />
<span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">they would be alone. Truly, dangerously, alone.</span><br />
</div>"You don't have to make small talk," she reassured.<br />
<br />
She moved close and took his chiseled jaw in the long, slender fingers of her hands. Her fingers were so long and beautiful Allen thought they were those of a concert pianist. Or surgeon.<br />
<br />
Rod was soon in the heaviest make-out session in a car since high school. He wasn't complaining.<br />
<br />
Wet kisses were accompanied by her guiding his hand between her long, well-formed thighs. Where Rod expected panties, there were none.<br />
<br />
"Does that bother you?," she smiled warmly, as he did a double take.<br />
<br />
"No...uh, no. I just thought tonight was going to be beers and Cubs. This is a very nice left turn."<br />
<br />
She continued the hot kisses. He continued returning them.<br />
<br />
And the woman didn't force his diffident hand up past her thighs, but let him proceed at his own speed. To where she wanted him to touch her.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Penetrating Experience</span></b><br />
<br />
Allen's jacket was off. Removed by the blonde as she ravenously kissed him.<br />
<br />
The stock trader would not need to push his conversational skills any further this evening. It was all going his way.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRrMJQJKuI/AAAAAAAAACY/2lQILCyjLZ4/s1600-h/couple-kissing-murderous.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396556109882927842" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRrMJQJKuI/AAAAAAAAACY/2lQILCyjLZ4/s320/couple-kissing-murderous.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 214px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">He had joked about her being a dangerous woman.</span><br />
<span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">Rod Allen had no idea, as she kissed him, how dangerous.</span><br />
</div>A welcome break from the romantically solitary life he had been used to since his last girlfriend. Four years earlier.<br />
<br />
This blonde, despite her passion, was something of a mystery. She wasn't from Chicago. Other than that, and that she dressed well, expensively, and was beautiful, he knew nothing about her.<br />
<br />
Would he see her again? How far would they go tonight?<br />
<br />
As these questions bounced around his head, Rod felt something. Some sort of sensation, below his chest.<br />
<br />
It seemed to be inside him. Maybe not. Maybe she was just grabbing him. Giving him a massage with her long fingers. While she raped him with her mouth.<br />
<br />
It didn't hurt. But it was some sort of undefined sensation. He opened his eyes from the kissing, and saw her staring into them. Her own eyes seemed to dance. To be looking into his soul.<br />
<br />
She pulled back, millimeters from his mouth. And breathed in his breath. Looked deep, searchingly into his eyes.<br />
<br />
His own eyes questioned what he was feeling. There was no real pain. But, nevertheless. It was curious.<br />
<br />
"Relax. Everything's going to be okay. I'll take care of you," she said calmly.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRysJC_juI/AAAAAAAAACo/P1t0_Yb73SU/s1600-h/murderous-woman-with-knife-murderous-femme-fatale.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396564356164980450" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRysJC_juI/AAAAAAAAACo/P1t0_Yb73SU/s320/murderous-woman-with-knife-murderous-femme-fatale.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 287px;" /></a><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">Sex for her involved more than just physical intimacy.</span><br />
</div><br />
Strange. She was reassuring him. How did she know he needed reassurance? What was happening?<br />
<br />
Or, what was she doing?<br />
<br />
Rod was about to ask what she meant by, 'relax'. But then, all of a sudden, he felt very relaxed.<br />
<br />
Even faint.<br />
<br />
He tried to look down, but she caught his mouth in hers with a wet kiss, and stopped him.<br />
<br />
When she was done with that, she held his jaw with her left hand. Her right was somewhere else. She still prevented him from looking down.<br />
<br />
"It's okay. I'm here with you," she cooed.<br />
<br />
The woman could see he was weakened. Under her control. Completely now.<br />
<br />
She removed her hand from his jaw, and he immediately looked down.<br />
<br />
Rod Allen was incredulous. Shocked at what he saw.<br />
<br />
He saw red. And lots of it.<br />
<br />
Literally. Red. Below his sternum. Somewhere down there. He didn't know, or see exactly where.<br />
<br />
Blood had been let loose as if a dam were opened.<br />
<br />
The entire front section of his shirt below the chest, his expensive white Arrow shirt, now looked like half an American flag that had been badly printed. Red and white.<br />
<br />
Out of the mess he could see her beautiful hand holding something. Her long fingers wrapped around something black. A handle of some sort?<br />
<br />
Allen soon found out.<br />
<br />
Quickly, and expertly, she pulled whatever it was out, and then smoothly, and with specificity, put it back into him.<br />
<br />
He was woozy. But he could make it out.<br />
<br />
It was a knife.<br />
<br />
He had a knife in him. And Allen had just seen her pull it out, and place it back into his body.<br />
<br />
Oddly, he had felt next to nothing. Was it an illusion? Had she dropped acid into his drink at the bar? How could she have just stabbed him twice, and he barely felt it?<br />
<br />
No pain. Only a mild sensation. And now he felt like he was fainting.<br />
<br />
He was fainting.<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>The Evening Ends</b><br />
</div><br />
Rod understood now. Not fully. Not why.<br />
<br />
But, he understood that she actually had stabbed him. He was sure he was now dying.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRwR1mI1ZI/AAAAAAAAACg/5hRT7EmfnEo/s1600-h/sexy-legs-walking-away-murderous.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396561705243825554" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UT0QlHNR0rI/SuRwR1mI1ZI/AAAAAAAAACg/5hRT7EmfnEo/s320/sexy-legs-walking-away-murderous.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 239px;" /></a><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">After it was over, she walked away from the Camaro,</span><br />
<span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">into the night. Found a hotel, where she called for a cab,</span><br />
<span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">and got a ride back to her car. She would never see Rod Allen again.</span><br />
</div>He didn't have time to even ask her what was going on.<br />
<br />
Why she did it.<br />
<br />
He was now so faint from the loss of blood, he could only look into her beautiful eyes. They were wild. Manic.<br />
<br />
Allen hadn't realized it, but the sensation, of the stabbing, had occurred just as his hand had gone into her.<br />
<br />
Between her legs. Into her wetness. Her sexual organs.<br />
<br />
His mind, his life, was going. But he realized she stuck her knife into him, at the moment he was, with her encouragement, putting his fingers into her.<br />
<br />
As their eyes looked deep into each other, he saw her begin to shudder. He hadn't hurt her. He hadn't raped her. Done anything against her will. Why was she...<br />
<br />
Then he knew.<br />
<br />
She was having a climax. An orgasm.<br />
<br />
His fingers still in her. He, too weak to remove them.<br />
<br />
She was climaxing as she was killing him. Indeed, it appeared she was climaxing as a result of killing him.<br />
<br />
As this all patched together in his mind, Rod saw her fully realizing her orgasm.<br />
<br />
In an abrupt motion, and as she pulled her knife from him, which would accelerate the inner bleeding ending Rod's life, she covered his open mouth with hers.<br />
<br />
Thrust her tongue deep. Their tongues wrestled.<br />
<br />
Rod yielded, for lack of energy, to her powerful, hungry motions. She sucked his tongue into her mouth. As if it were a penis she wanted deep in her.<br />
<br />
Now he could feel himself dying. Painlessly. Losing consciousness.<br />
<br />
Whatever she had done, she had done it well. Expertly. As well as a surgeon might have.<br />
<br />
Finally, he felt the end. Her mouth pressed deep, wet against his own. His fingers in her. Feeling her lovely wetness.<br />
<br />
Then, for him, blackness. Nothing.<br />
<br />
She had killed him. It had been a murder.<br />
<br />
And, an act of sex. Even love. Perhaps.<br />
<br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;"><br />
</span></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-58351171374920812342009-10-23T06:36:00.000-07:002009-10-23T08:22:33.354-07:00breathless...ahhh sorry dears. if you were following the delicious hit on harry, and how i was about to dispose of that disgusting Drasco, i'm taking another week's breather.<br />
but i doubt you'll be upset.<br />
i know by the fact that you're reading this, you are all sick toddies.<br />
but so am i...and so much more than you all. so i know, fer sure fer sure (don't hate me because i'm sucha Val!) you will eat this up.<br />
<br />
happened several years ago. and it's just been kicking around. dying to come out...if you get my drift.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG77ayKSVI/AAAAAAAAARE/iQB9Qp3UP8I/s1600-h/night-club-scene-lesbo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG77ayKSVI/AAAAAAAAARE/iQB9Qp3UP8I/s320/night-club-scene-lesbo.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">misty decided to go clubbing...where anything can happen </span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> rather than explain, let's...well, get on with it...<br />
<br />
when in lalaland, do as the la's, i always say.<br />
and i'm there quite a bit. i sooo love vapidity.<br />
anywho, i was spending an evening looking smashing...prada leather skirt, sans panties. chanel silk blouse. gray velvet bottega veneta boots. to die for. so to speak.<br />
i was slumming at this overly chic club where last names, bank accounts and looks were the unspoken membership criteria. something caught my very perceptive and beautiful eye.<br />
a stunner of a doll so intent on a male she was chatting it up with...that it didn't quite make sense.<br />
unless you were misty, that is.<br />
<br />
"Dance?" a blonde voice from behind oozed as a superbly manicured finger traced itself up my inner back thigh from behind. i turned to see the woman of any woman's dreams coked out, staring me up and down. waiting to be had.<br />
i fucked her with my eyes and declined.<br />
"bitch," she cooed, making me want her nasty ass that much more. then she floated away.<br />
i could fuck and suck dreamy dolls any time. i quickly turned back to watch the girl and her guy.<br />
something was going on there. i had to know if misty's instincts were instincting true. however, the two were nowhere to be seen.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG0ST3ylSI/AAAAAAAAAQM/Fv5cWpeutW0/s1600-h/coked-out-blonde-lesbian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG0ST3ylSI/AAAAAAAAAQM/Fv5cWpeutW0/s320/coked-out-blonde-lesbian.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>the blonde was a sexy, nasty piece of work. i didn't have</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>time to do her, so i f'd her with my eyes</i><br />
</div><br />
"fuck!" i whispered to myself, taking off through the crowd.<br />
after a few moments of brushing against young, beautiful sweaty bodies, out the door i went.<br />
they were there.<br />
enough coked out, beautiful people were outside sucking marlboros and american spirits, i wasn't noticed by the girl and the guy. i bummed a winston from some idiot who didn't have a clue. if you're going to get cancer, do it with the right brand asshole!<br />
so i stood in the midsummer night's eros, so thick you could eat it with a fork and spoon. ignoring the pools of hormones dripping from the couples around me. i peered undetected at "girl" and her dude.<br />
i knew the way she was looking at him. i knew it too well.<br />
<br />
after twenty minutes of pretending to smoke a winston that had burned out fifteen minutes earlier, i watched as they got going. i sauntered to my open ragtop porsche...i do so love a fine car when in lalaland...threw a scarf on, and waited across the street as they walked up the block to her wheels.<br />
<br />
before putting him in the car, she stared into the eyes of the barely 21 year old boy toy.<br />
it was the gaze of a cobra snake at feeding time.<br />
<br />
she turned the ignition on her new mustang and they were off.<br />
i followed a smart distance back. they worked their way from the west side onto sunset headed west. they were going fast. i kept up. hoping cops had something better to do than give misty a ticket.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG1oiw52ZI/AAAAAAAAAQc/ExipsSc_1VA/s1600-h/misty-driving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG1oiw52ZI/AAAAAAAAAQc/ExipsSc_1VA/s320/misty-driving.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">i took off after them in my porsche speedster ragtop </span></i><br />
</div><br />
fuck. she was doing seventy towards the beach. he was licking her neck like it was a grape tootsie pop. they finally slowed it into chautauqua canyon, but blasted off again taking a right on pch. up we went, into 'the' malibu, as the over-botoxed pretentious nouveau riche bleach jobs refer to it.<br />
<br />
my couple nearly clipped a nitesurfer's longboard at 65 mph as he crossed pch at jack in the box across from the pier. assmunch surfboy flipped me off as i sped by next. i didn't have time to stop and kick his ass.<br />
finally, past zuma, she hit a hard left onto a frontage road of eight to ten million dollar beach houses, and i kept whizzing by. for 100 yards.<br />
then i whipped a 180, flew by the turnoff, and pulled up on the side of pch. i woulda headed down the road with lights off, but misty didn't need to.<br />
pch looked out over the frontage road below, so i could shut my lights off, perch there, and see where sugar and her dude pulled into. if they went into the house i might have to go down there and become a peeping misty.<br />
i watched as they sat in her car for a makeout session. oooey goooey stuff. fogged windows. la dee dah. etceterahhh...etceteraaahhh.<br />
hmmm. it went on for quite the while. the jazz channel was on coming in from long beach. i heard most of 'on green dolphin street' before they finally got out of the mustang.<br />
they went into the house.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG0ytKQWOI/AAAAAAAAAQU/VUjVscHiqws/s1600-h/beach-house.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG0ytKQWOI/AAAAAAAAAQU/VUjVscHiqws/s320/beach-house.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>they went into her daddy's $8 million beach house</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">after sucking on each other in the car for way too long</span></i><br />
</div><br />
i didn't want to drive down there if i didn't have to. the beach house was a normal size home that most people would live in. except 'the' malibu crowd. these were weekenders by the look of it. or doll's crashpad.<br />
it had those beachy huge windows all over the stinkin' place. with bamboo slats for blinds. it looked like trader vics with all that beach crap motif. luckily, bamboo slat blinds are easy to see through. if you're moi.<br />
misty doesn't go anywhere without some equipment. i had a nice pair of leica geovids under the passenger seat. always prepared. the infrared binocs let me follow luvbirds into the beach house even though they kept the lights ultra low. the only glow was from a candle she lit after he flopped into pillows on a bamboo couch with pacific island totem poles for the legs. whoever designed this place had their taste in their wallet.<br />
daddy was probably a tv producer. aaron spelling syndrome.<br />
she kept the light low. neighbors couldn't see in. but one candle was enough for my spiffy leica infrareds. the interior looked like a few tiki bars i'd thrown up in back in the day.<br />
i was such the voyeur. which doesn't bother misty.<br />
but straight sex was not topsy on my list of things i sit in my speedster, on a cliff, at the beach, watching through nite ops binox.<br />
howevah, something was in the air. call it hitwoman's intuition.<br />
<br />
still...watching pretty miss give disco date a blow job was wearing thin.<br />
don't ask me what i'd expected...i couldn't even say. but it was looking like misty had wasted a drive to the beach.<br />
maybe i'd whiz back by malibu pier and see if i could nail hodad with his surboard, coming back across pch from his surfin' safari.<br />
i yawned. decided to, if nothing else, pick up a jack shake on the return drive. if there were no nite surfers to run down. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG2TFLpQCI/AAAAAAAAAQk/M28nL-SM6rg/s1600-h/sweet-honey-bee-duke-pearson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG2TFLpQCI/AAAAAAAAAQk/M28nL-SM6rg/s320/sweet-honey-bee-duke-pearson.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>duke pearson's gaslight came on the blaupunkt</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">as i watched her suck him off down in the beach house below</span></i><br />
</div> <br />
duke pearson's 'gaslight' came on the blaupunkt. as soon as it was over, i was turning to heavy metal and blowin' the tiki bar.<br />
at six minutes my song was over. i took one more peak over the cliffs to see how my honey bees were doing...whaddya know. things had changed.<br />
<br />
disco dan was shaking like his volcano had erupted.<br />
sweety was walking away as boy toy laid there with the quivers.<br />
she was naked as a stripper. meaning all she had on were stilettos.<br />
she was wiping her mouth like a vampire.<br />
so, she was a drinker. as far as misty was concerned, swallows were meant to go back to capistrano. not down the throat.<br />
i'll make exceptions if i need to ice a guy. if relaxing him with misty's mouth is the only option before punching his ticket.<br />
i resisted the temptation to vomit watching her lip smacking, and again readied myself to go. <br />
<br />
but...i was still getting a strange vibe from the tiki lounge.<br />
hot chic was now into a drawer, pulling out something. putting on gloves. standing behind her boy.<br />
he was lost in swoonland. eyes closed.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG2r0z8PMI/AAAAAAAAAQs/qz09LujJk_w/s1600-h/nude-woman-strangling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG2r0z8PMI/AAAAAAAAAQs/qz09LujJk_w/s320/nude-woman-strangling.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>she was behind the kid, nude except for stilettos,</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">cute black leather gloves, and a garotte to wrap around his neck</span></i><br />
</div><br />
nude hottie was still in her stilettos. posing in the mirror with black gloves on. holding what looked oh so familiar to misty.<br />
she must have given him the suck job of his young life as johnny wadshot remained quivering like margarita jello shots on the tiki couch.<br />
as i watched through my leica infrareds, chet baker's 'i'm getting sentimental over you' crooned on the blaupunkt. nice song to watch what happened next by.<br />
sweetie stood behind her doll as he still lay shivering. she ohhh sooo lovingly wrapped what she was holding around his slender neck. the music continued as i watched.<br />
i always lovvved chet baker's melancholy horn. but his singing creeped me out. that was, however, in my misguided bisexual days. when i thought men were an option.<br />
once i dropped that delusion, chet's voice sounded oh sooo rite! i could always appreciate frank...'da way yoo look tttooonite'. but a guy with the soft touch of a chic?<br />
chet...mmmmmmmmmmm<br />
as he crooned on...it started.<br />
doll below tightened her device around the kid's pretty neck.<br />
all of a sudden he wasn't so very relaxed. but if she knew what she was doing, and doll looked like she did...honey boy would be very relaxed. very soon...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG3GXCXLqI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/gDNX38Q0Cnk/s1600-h/chet-baker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG3GXCXLqI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/gDNX38Q0Cnk/s320/chet-baker.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>i loved chet baker. he sang 'sentimental over you' on</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">my radio as she strangled her date to death, below</span></i><br />
</div><br />
even with the leica, it was hard to see what she had around honey's neck. it looked like a standard issue garotte.<br />
the g-string, as i like to call it. was my own fave device.<br />
i'm quite the inventress, having devised a handle to mine. allows very slow incremental turning with the slightest of wrist motion.<br />
let's one thoroughly enjoy the kill. no wasted energy.<br />
and misty does so love to conserve. very politically correct. <br />
howeverrr, a regular issue g-machine, like doll was using, was totally good for a little arm workout. and burning off excess hormones that a good kill brings out in a girl.<br />
back to doll, she had done this before. had technique.<br />
she'd pulled boy toy up a bit, resting the back of his neck against her naked tummy. locking her elbows to the sides of her well shaped ribcage, she easily pivoted, and was quite nicely strangling her sweety.<br />
technically, i wasn't sure this was anything but hot, sexy generation-y asphyxia play. but even in the candlelight, she had a look in what i could make out of her eyes.<br />
that's what had drawn me to doll and her disco date to begin with. i had spotted that 'misty' look.<br />
<br />
was this just another way to get him off?<br />
she was enjoying it too much for that.<br />
to get them both off?<br />
no doubt he'd come again during this little fun...but whether he'd still be alive when it was over was the question. misty was betting on black.<br />
as she tightened, and honey boy arched his back in futile desperation, chet crooned over the radio in my little speedster..."never thought i'd fall...but now i hear love call"...<br />
she was hearing love call alright. a dark, delicious, love.<br />
the kind of love only sick twisted killer girls like misty could appreciate.<br />
chet ooozed on..."i thought i was happy...i could live without love..."<br />
doll's date was calming down now.<br />
the intoxicating delight of strangulation by a hottie was kicking in.<br />
he was relaxing. or his body was as blood flow to the brain was squeezed by doll's skillful use of her wire. she was the definition of a natural...<br />
chet sang on. his melancholia sooo apt for what was happening below in the tiki lounge. chet, you are good for any occasion.<br />
"...now i must admit...love is all i'm thinking of..."<br />
yes...love was all doll was thinking of.<br />
nasty, deadly, terminal love. where one famished partner takes all that is, and all that could ever be, from her other.<br />
clubber boy was now ultimately relaxed. except for one part of his anatomy.<br />
doll stood behind him, straight and erect as a ship's masthead, while her boy lay relaxed, asphyxiating into a dreamy forever sleep.<br />
except for his own masthead. which was about to blow.<br />
chet finished his song...as doll finished...hers...<br />
"...be gentle with me..." chet purrred.<br />
doll boy on the tiki couch was very gentle. gently asphyxiating.<br />
she was arching her own back now, pivoting her arms. her simply adorable black gloves gripped tight. i wondered, were they chanel?...gucci?<br />
my instincts had been right. unless she had an e r nurse hidden behind the bamboo curtain, he was not returning from this trip to treasure island. kind of a mixed metaphor. bad misty!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG5SJABTDI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/s1H6tKLZ3Z0/s1600-h/beach-morning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SuG5SJABTDI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/s1H6tKLZ3Z0/s320/beach-morning.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>after watching the kill, i rested in my speedster</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">the sun would be rising soon, and i'd be on my misty way</span></i><br />
</div><br />
my own cunt was now hot...liquid...as wet as doll's must have been.<br />
i'm not a fan of serial killing. dammit jim, i'm a hitwoman, not a serial killer.<br />
i'm a pro. serial murder, delish as it might be at times, is...well...so declasse.<br />
still, if she did him right then and there, my leather speedster recaro buckets were going to need some cleaning.<br />
juice was running down my shaved pussy into my ass, like the owens valley aqueduct into l.a.<br />
"...because i'm gentle over yooo..." chet oh so sweetly murmured. as doll so sweetly killed...killed her boy.<br />
<br />
now at the end, his lean boyish body stretched in equipoise between eternal sleep and a final release.<br />
both about to occur as doll jerked one last time...<br />
his body wracked with a seismic shiver. his gear shift blew.<br />
even in candlelight i could see his stream.<br />
my gearbox was about to blow. i was ready to shiver my timbers...<br />
<br />
"...i'm gentle over yooo..."<br />
chet would be shocked to be singing to this. sick. tawdry. a kid scrumptiously murdered, his kill chic naked in stilettos behind him. and those black gloves. ferragomo? prada? i had to know!<br />
as chet finished his last "yooo", doll finished the last of her boy.<br />
his body...twitching in the afterglow of death. his cock only now softening...<br />
as he fluttered, shuddered, trembled, palpitated so lusciously in expiration, she, finally, erupted herself.<br />
one coool customer. one chilly chic.<br />
she didn't break form. perfect body perfectly posed. in the classic nasty silhouette of la femme qui étrangle.<br />
she was beautiful.<br />
as he twitched in death...she now shook in several paroxysms of sickeningly horrifying pleasure. yummm!<br />
then...slowly becoming still. still as her murdered boy toy.<br />
i snapped the radio off.<br />
lowered my leicas. grabbed my sides...<br />
and doubled over as if misty had been punched.<br />
i had.<br />
my thighs quivered. stomach knotted.<br />
it was a hard, rough, visceral orgasm i'd not expected.<br />
i'd been dripping since she'd started the kill. my own scorecard was over thirty. i'd watched kills before.<br />
but this was so...so...sooo...<br />
<br />
i didn't know why it hit me so hard.<br />
so good.<br />
i let the shivers tremble away.<br />
leaned back in my recaro. sitting in a sticky pool of my own come.<br />
it was four in the morning.<br />
the sun wouldn't be up for two hours.<br />
i rolled up my window. locked the doors. checked my piece under my seat...and closed my eyes.<br />
i needed a rest...mmmmm<br />
<br />
<i style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">[too delicious not to be continued...]</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<b></b>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-62910871898145740522009-10-17T01:54:00.000-07:002009-10-17T03:07:10.331-07:00time out for an ale... let's be real.<br />
killing harry took place over five years ago dahlings.<br />
i love reliving it, but it can get tooo intense.<br />
and recalling killing that fuck Drasco! which i haven't even gone into yet.<br />
i need to take a break.<br />
<br />
sometimes i like to share things that are less than a half-decade old.<br />
like what happened this weekend. fun fun fun, to quote my pal brian.<br />
but don't worry. we'll get back to harry. and, unfortunately, Drasco.<br />
howevahhh, over the weekend i had the most delish time...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StmJGVbv0uI/AAAAAAAAAO8/0T1DU55EocQ/s1600-h/hot-sexy-bar-chick1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StmJGVbv0uI/AAAAAAAAAO8/0T1DU55EocQ/s320/hot-sexy-bar-chick1.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">she was at the bar with johnny stud, but studs interest me as much as keynesian</span></i><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"> economics.</span></i><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"> she was what had my attention...</span></i><br />
</div><br />
no secret i spend too much time in lalaland. last weekend i was in the simply deeliteful lion's head down in bay city, as raymond liked to call it.<br />
i luv brit pubs. so down home. as soon as i walk in i feel like watching soccer and kicking some ass. misty always likes to kick ass.<br />
so i floated in. ordered a pale ale. and had a couple of blokes and their gal pals devouring me with their eyes. i look sooo nice in skin tight evisu denims. definitely $800 well spent.<br />
"looking for the panty line guys? don't bother," i said, sucking a nice draw on my ale.<br />
"no luv. seein' how long it's been since yer last wax. couple a weeks, eh?" said the big tuff looker with the hot blonde i was eyeing.<br />
"find hair under these jeans pretty boy, you can tweeze it with those neon white teeth of yours, luv."<br />
that broke the ice. not the competition.<br />
pretty boy's undies were in a knot. his gal was more interested in the bulge in my jeans than his.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StmJRRUslvI/AAAAAAAAAPE/M43IPW8h8hA/s1600-h/british-special-forces-man1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StmJRRUslvI/AAAAAAAAAPE/M43IPW8h8hA/s320/british-special-forces-man1.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>the guy with her said he was special forces. i had to go through</i><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">him to get her. no problem. i'd dropped special forces before...</span></i><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div> "yer a tough lady aintcha. i right like that," pretty guy said to 'here here's' form his wingman. <br />
"course don't push it sweetheart. ya never know who you're drinkin' with," he winked. i don't mind a chic who knows she's hot. it's gauche in a dude.<br />
"somethin' in yer eye, limey?" i said, winking at his woman. i wanted her.<br />
"i wouldn't give cap'n smith lip, respectfully mam'," wingman said.<br />
"will i upset pocahontas?"<br />
"no mam'. just that his majesty's special forces deserves a bit of respect. even in los angeles."<br />
<br />
game on. <br />
"my daddy always told me you get as much respect as you can take," i purred, breathing bass ale fumes down cap'n smith's too pretty, half open mouth.<br />
"respectf'lly doll, i was cleaning up the middle east while you were waxing your pubes so you could fit into yer denims," he said, winkin' at wingman. geeesh! guys winking at each other! get a room.<br />
their butch and sundance crap left his girl for me to flirt with.<br />
"respectfully, luv, where did you serve in the middle east?" i oozed.<br />
"crikey. if i told ya i'd have ta kill ya...doll," he smiled. his dolly bird followed the match like it was wimbledon.<br />
"be a shame to kill someone who saved your jammy arse," i cooed, finishing my bass.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StmEKep8kGI/AAAAAAAAAOk/WJiQ-BgOE0E/s1600-h/british-troops-in-iraq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StmEKep8kGI/AAAAAAAAAOk/WJiQ-BgOE0E/s320/british-troops-in-iraq.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>pretty boy had served in the middle east. i told</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">him if that was the case, he owed me his life</span></i><br />
</div><br />
the temperature dropped. except for bird. she was heating up.<br />
after a few, he spoke.<br />
"ya might wanna check yer fax mam'."<br />
i smiled at his chic.<br />
"you ever hear of a holy man name of...," i queried, dropping a name i cannot say here. doll boy's face froze.<br />
he looked like he'd od'd on botox.<br />
i sucked my way into another bass. mr. special forces turned to his wingman with his blank face.<br />
they stared at each other like thelma and louise.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StmEidqJ7fI/AAAAAAAAAOs/N2kVsmzVB-0/s1600-h/dominatrix-whipping-man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StmEidqJ7fI/AAAAAAAAAOs/N2kVsmzVB-0/s320/dominatrix-whipping-man.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>this hit involved flying into the balkans,</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">cracking my whip...and then...</span></i><br />
</div><br />
i don't like silence. unless of course i've just wasted a dude. i smiled at bird, turned. and left.<br />
her tongue touched her top lip as she watched me leave. always a good sign.<br />
<br />
i moved on. eyed the waitress. headed to the girl's room.<br />
freshened up, i decided to blow the joint. walk along the cliffs on ocean boulevard.<br />
surprise. outside the toilet was special forces. he was a looker. too bad men were not on my list of things to do anymore.<br />
"i got somethin' to say to you lady." <br />
i get my game on when i hear crap like that.<br />
"there going to be trouble sweety?" i said.<br />
he had a piece in his jean pant above his brit army issue boots. i spotted the bulge earlier.<br />
i could give a swift punch to the bulge in his 501s, then remove his bang bang before he finished doubling over. <br />
if needed.<br />
he just kept lookin.<br />
"am i going to have to take you down handsome?"<br />
thought i saw a curl on his lip. limey's are such dry slackjaws. can never tell if it's a smile. or smirk.<br />
that's a compliment to all you wankers reading this. anyway...<br />
"yer not goin' ta take me down luv," he said as the lip curl turned into a shit eating grin.<br />
"really," i said.<br />
"nah. cause i'm gonna thank ya."<br />
his eyes started to water.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i> </i><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StmLhsQ_ITI/AAAAAAAAAPM/nBujSqFmjhk/s1600-h/strangling-killer-murderess-dominatrix-hitwoman1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StmLhsQ_ITI/AAAAAAAAAPM/nBujSqFmjhk/s320/strangling-killer-murderess-dominatrix-hitwoman1.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>i was aux naturelle... after i whipped his ass, i rolled</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">up his robe, and strangled him good with it<br />
</span></i><br />
</div><br />
"i don't know who ya are. but you wouldn'ta known that name unless you were the one."<br />
i relaxed. wasn't going to have to sucker punch his cock and grab his weapon after all.<br />
"figured it out, huh action man?"<br />
"the bastard ya mentioned. at was his city. me and me mates were gonna have to go in there. half my men woulda been goin' home in bags."<br />
i wasn't much on sentimentality. i liked it better when i had to kick ass.<br />
<br />
the gig a few years back had been to fly into an eastern euro shithole that'd been ground zero for the balkan war. it was where one of the players in iraq went to get funding. and to play.<br />
i was posing as a lady with a whip. not a far stretch for me.<br />
the name i'd mentioned to limey earlier was a 'holy' man who liked more than an angry god. he liked angry women.with riding crops.<br />
he wasn't spending all his time facing east on his knees. some of it was tied up naked with a riding crop across his hairy ass. <br />
won't say who paid the bill on this one, but it was a nice chunk of change.<br />
holyman was video'd getting the holy shit swatted out of him. not that he knew.<br />
when that was done, camera off, he got a little strangle session. he enjoyed it...but he didn't survive. oh darn.<br />
after he was bye bye, he was strung up by his holy neck for the bell boy to find.<br />
suicide note. delightfully perfect scene. someone had dropped a dime to the press. wink wink.<br />
but it wasn't the brits who paid the bill on that one.<br />
or washington.<br />
or vladimir.<br />
had it been any of those, misty wouldn't be sharing.<br />
who?<br />
let's say the buyer doesn't exist anymore. which ended my contractual arrangement to shut my pretty mouth about it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StmO0PfZu7I/AAAAAAAAAPU/PUfLuOTTf8s/s1600-h/hot-sexy-lesbians-legs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StmO0PfZu7I/AAAAAAAAAPU/PUfLuOTTf8s/s320/hot-sexy-lesbians-legs.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">i gave her a ride home. and then a ride... </span></i><br />
</div><br />
action man was still staring with watery eyes.<br />
made misty more nervous than if he made a move. i've taken special forces down before.<br />
but compliments...i get all frazzled...<br />
"the fucking holy bastard lost his cred with that episode. fanatics lost their boy. resistance dried up. lotta lives saved."<br />
"can't tell you who did that. otherwise i'd have to kill yer blimey arse, action man," i said.<br />
i winked. turned. he grabbed my arm.<br />
"look...me bird needs a ride home. i...wonder if...ya might..."<br />
"...give her a ride?"<br />
<br />
sure i would.<br />
i went back to the bar.<br />
bird was there. alone. wingman and his date were outside waiting for action man.<br />
"your boy sez you need a ride," i said to dolly.<br />
she smiled.<br />
"i do..."<br />
<br />
<i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">[back to harry...and killing that motherfucker Drasco...next]</span></i><br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-51121290195457113502009-10-10T19:27:00.000-07:002009-10-10T20:51:53.559-07:00killing harry...part six (taking out Drasco)<div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>[continued from...take a guess!]</i><br />
</div><br />
<br />
i lovvve to kill. and i hated Drasco.<br />
that's a simple equation. but there was a rather yucky 'x' factor.<br />
the code among hitters is that you don't bump off your competition.<br />
that would be like erasing the lanes on the san diego freeway. no one would know where the lines were. people would crash all over the friggin' place. it would be nasty hell for me to find the rosecrans exit to get over to my darling exorbitantly priced shop center across from manhattan beach and have a cappucinno after buying that prada blouse and gucci shades i sooo must have!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StE4X7X07lI/AAAAAAAAANU/xEWG_o-T1Cg/s1600-h/a1drasco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="hitman, gangster" border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StE4X7X07lI/AAAAAAAAANU/xEWG_o-T1Cg/s320/a1drasco.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>Drasco...a smug old school hit man, with</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>a pinky ring, that i was going to have to...make disappear</i><br />
</div><br />
so hitters aren't supposed to 'do' hitters.<br />
but some things are more important than 'the' code.<br />
like having to take crap from dross like Drasco.<br />
my sweet panties were wet with the thought of actually taking Drasco down.<br />
no. it wasn't like harry. harry would be a love affair kill. Drasco would be an ugly, nasty sportfuck rape. we all need those now and then.<br />
<br />
for anyone in the trades reading my prose here, i'll point out that Drasco had already violated the code. he had taken my job. kill my kill, will you? i don't think so!<br />
my employers knew the rules. i would not have gotten the job had there already been an action pending on harry. so Drasco had got the job after moi!<br />
whatever harry was, and there was more to this sweet fellow than met the eye, i was becoming surer by the moment that probably several business partners, a few wives, and maybe a number of governments wanted him bye bye.<br />
but i'd frickin' got the call first. it was my honor to take his sweet life. Drasco wasn't buggin' in with his heavy hand.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StE76TFzcbI/AAAAAAAAANc/mruVJCRjEZQ/s1600-h/1adrasco-fashion.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="sexy-feet, sexy-legs, hot-feet, hot-legs, stilletos, sexy-calves" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StE76TFzcbI/AAAAAAAAANc/mruVJCRjEZQ/s320/1adrasco-fashion.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>I dressed cheap, small town. Still,</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I looked</span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;"> </span></span></i><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">good. You can't hide style, I suppose.</span></i><br />
</div><br />
so. decided. Drasco had to go.<br />
but therein lies the rub, to quote another worthy writer. <br />
whatever else my competition was, he was no fool. i'd have to meet Drasco in his motel and take no weapons. that means i'd have to take him out by hand.<br />
hmmmm. i was good. perhaps not that good.<br />
but there was another possibility...yes!<br />
<br />
i had what i needed. i always came prepared.<br />
i called Drasco at the...gasp...motel 8...<br />
"Drasco, you win. i'll be over to talk this out. we need to come to some agreement."<br />
there was a pause on the other end. then a nauseating phoney southern chuckle.<br />
why this italio-eastern european descendant of vlad the impaler insisted on sounding like a texas aggie was beyond my stylish wits. george the 'w' bush was born in connecticut, went to high school in andover mass, and sounded like an east texas wildcatter. it didn't do him much good in the end.<br />
and this cheeep drawl wouldn't help Drasco.<br />
"well, darlin', you've come around. and now, why don't you, come around.<br />
"how's about ninish sound?"<br />
i'd play dumb. but not too dumb. too much of a giveaway.<br />
"if something happens to my sweet ass, Drasco, i'm covered. i won't go into specifics..."<br />
"and i wouldn't want you to darlin'. if i was gonna do you, it would have been in that little piece of crap you were drivin'. come now, we're professionals. we'll wheel. deal. and work this out. seeya at nine doll. (click)"<br />
i had no backup plan. i wouldn't need one.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StE9pflFAsI/AAAAAAAAANk/nKUvpZS1RO8/s1600-h/don%27t-mess-with-texas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="don't-mess-with-texas" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StE9pflFAsI/AAAAAAAAANk/nKUvpZS1RO8/s320/don%27t-mess-with-texas.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>Drasco's phoney texas drawl po'd me. some people</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">say don't mess with texas. i say, don't mess with Misty</span></i><br />
</div><br />
i got a few looks walking up the street after parking round the corner from the '8'.<br />
i kept it low key. sears summer collection. but i looked good. couldn't help myself. even in that trash.<br />
if i knew anything, and i knew a lot, Drasco would make an offer. sex for killing harry in a way that would satisfy both our employers' requirements.<br />
Drasco would offer it. but i knew he couldn't break a contract for an 'example' killing. he'd lie to me, fuck me, and then go kill harry in a very ugly way. and, of course, i'd be on the line for letting harry get in the paper as a mob hit. or worse, international incident.<br />
so things had to turn out my way. not Drasco's.<br />
<br />
i knocked on the door to Drasco's room. my 'fuck me' red wig looked hot. so did my spikey stilettos and floral print skirt. like something out of a nascar fan's fantasy. or a middle age hitman's. comprendo?<br />
the door opened. slow. sinatra was playing. was Drasco being 'romantic'? i had the urge to vomit.<br />
seeing his ugly mug didn't help. i held my lunch down and smiled.<br />
he motioned me in with the grace of...a hitman.<br />
"so, ya'll decided to come around darlin." there wasn't even a question mark at the end of his sentence. like there was never a question. grrrr!<br />
"just knock off the oilfield accent. we'll put our cards on the table and do what needs to be done." i couldn't be too nice to him. we didn't want a suspicious hitman.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StE-V8zhnhI/AAAAAAAAANs/Eh395Nv15eY/s1600-h/1adewars.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="dewars, white-label, scotch" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StE-V8zhnhI/AAAAAAAAANs/Eh395Nv15eY/s320/1adewars.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">the jackass offered me a dewars. he musta just read a 1972 issue of playboy if he thught i'd be impressed</span></i><br />
</div><br />
"how's bout a scotch before we get down to it." he had a bottle of dewars on the table, two glasses, and some already poured in one of them. The jackass was offering me a dewars. he musta just read a 1972 issue of playboy if he thought i'd be impressed.<br />
"what, couldn't afford the glen livet?"<br />
he shook his head. i'd stung him. "man, you know how to hurt a guy. i'll go get some if it'll make a difference."<br />
almost felt sorry for his murdering ass.<br />
"don't bother. what's your offer Drasco."<br />
"well, hon, before i back away from you and relax, i gotta have you take that dress off. and the hairpiece too"<br />
i smiled. "don't trust me, do you?"<br />
he smiled. "nothin' personal, darlin', but not on my life."<br />
i winked and pulled open my white trash blouse. tossed it to the floor. then dropped my floral print skirt. i was naked except for mervyn's cheap and sexy stilettos. i turned so he could see me 360, and then pulled off the red wig and shook my own glorious, dirty blonde hair out.<br />
"see mr. nasty? no guns, knives, bats...not even a pair of panties to strangle you with."<br />
"strangle me with panties, huh? i might like that darlin'."<br />
Drasco liked what he saw. the giveaway was mini-Drasco, below his waist.<br />
but by the looks of it, there was nothing mini about Drasco's cock. could the rumors be true? in response to my strip tease, it was sticking out like a ship mast. an arrow on a compass. pointin' due north.<br />
a hard north.<br />
"so what's the deal Drasco. what do you want for lettin' me kill harry. my way."<br />
Drasco turned without saying a word and ran to the bathroom. he wasn't in there long. only long enough to...well. you know.<br />
when he came back, i'd walked over to the dewars and was holding it. if he'd put anything nasty in the bottle i wasn't drinking. i handed it to him first. "have some."<br />
he did.<br />
i took it back and had a drink.<br />
"couldn't hold yourself in? i'm flattered," i said. he looked embarrassed, but no less the murdering bastard i knew he was.<br />
"gimme that," he growled, taking the dewars back, and throwing it down his ugly throat.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StE_hndFC5I/AAAAAAAAAN0/ji2mrUskawk/s1600-h/1amotel-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StE_hndFC5I/AAAAAAAAAN0/ji2mrUskawk/s320/1amotel-sign.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>as Drasco and i were about to do the nasty, the big</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>red motel sign caught my eye through the window.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">'color tv'. this was sooo tawdry. i loved it...</span></i><br />
</div><br />
"you and me on the bed. i take your pal out, but it'll look like he blew his own brains out. best i can do."<br />
i paused. wavered. quivered. just enough to look believable.<br />
"i can trust you..?"<br />
"if two working class stiffs can't trust each other in this game, what kind of a world are we livin' in, darlin'," the jackass drawled.<br />
i hesitated. then said yes.<br />
"you're a big guy, Drasco. you on bottom. i don't want your sweaty 250 pounds all over me when you lose your load a second time. you gotta condom?"<br />
"don't leave home without em'." Geesh. He was doing a karl malden impression.<br />
<br />
he began peeling off his overpriced, cheesy clothes. Drasco was a big, oily guy with a body that might once have looked like a greek statue. he'd had some practice getting undressed because he was down to black sox in about 30 seconds.<br />
his monogrammed designer briefs were still wet from losing control a few moments ago.<br />
i don't like men for anything but killing, but my eyebrows went up when he turned around and flopped over on the boxspring.<br />
"ya don't have to say a thing darlin'. my gift to you."<br />
he had the cock of a stallion. he was an arrogant bastard, but it was as nice as any i'd seen from my switch hitting days.<br />
i leaned over and held it in my right hand. "fuck!"<br />
"that's right, hon. fuck. now sit on it."<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StFAcSzneBI/AAAAAAAAAN8/OzLOrH49t1E/s1600-h/a1ass-hidden-needle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StFAcSzneBI/AAAAAAAAAN8/OzLOrH49t1E/s320/a1ass-hidden-needle.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>Drasco made me strip naked for concealed weapons.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>He didn't think the best place to conceal was between</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">the halves of my naked ass...</span></i><br />
</div><br />
whatever plans i had for Drasco, it was on hold for a second. i wanted to feel that thing of his in me.<br />
he was a vile, disgusting, sadistic bastard. and i was the ultimo lezzie. but he was half the size of my arm. i wondered what that log would feel like in me as i did to Drasco what i was about to do...<br />
i didn't eat caviar. but if someone put a $1000 jar of it in front of me, i 'd sure as hell stuff some down just to say i had. Drasco's log was a $1000 jar of caviar.<br />
"where's your cock sock," i wanted to know.<br />
"wallet," he grunted.<br />
"optimistic sob, aren't you," i said. i bent down, took the wallet out of his pants on the floor. i pulled out one of three he had in there. he was hard by the time i peeled it on.<br />
for the black hole, waste of life, called Drasco, this was his one, one and only, redeeming characteristic.<br />
"i think you're the biggest piece of trash i ever came across, Drasco. but i'll admit, you got one hell of a cock." i pulled the latex down. it took some stretching to get anywhere near the base of his thing.<br />
when done, i threw one leg over Drasco's body so that i was straddling him.<br />
my one hand reached back, to my own lovely ass. my fingertips spread my delish, well formed glutes apart, until...i could feel it.<br />
hidden between the halves of my ass was a small plastic hypo, the needle covered with it's plastic protector so it wouldn't...you know...stick moi.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StFBOyP_JuI/AAAAAAAAAOE/SsamGVi91F0/s1600-h/1aneedle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="hot-sexy-ass, naked-ass, woman's-ass" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StFBOyP_JuI/AAAAAAAAAOE/SsamGVi91F0/s320/1aneedle.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>i was the nurse goddess of a bad ending</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">for Drasco. i had a hypo filled with a gift...</span></i><br />
</div><br />
a little trick i'd used before to smuggle in that something special.<br />
i pulled out the hypo from my bottom, closed my hand around it, and bent down nose to nose with Drasco. the hand with my little gift was behind his head now. with the other hand i grabbed the one thing of value on this bastard, and stroked myself with the tip.<br />
i am a woman who can walk and chew gum at the same time. i can also pull the cover off a syringe with one hand, and pull a man's cock into me with the other.<br />
which is what i did with Drasco.<br />
while i can think about two or more things at once, Drasco had one thing on his mind as i pulled him in. judging by his earlier episode running to the boy's room, i didn't have long.<br />
<br />
almost immediately i felt him start to lose it.<br />
i looked down at the big, greasy italiano-slav with a phoney texas accent, and poised the needle against the thick artery in his neck.<br />
i had pulled myself up high on his cock, and with supreme maneuvering (way to go misty!), i eased back down slowly on the huge piece of him that was in me.<br />
as i came back down, he lost it...<br />
at that moment i put the needle deep in his neck and squeezed the full hypo into him.<br />
Drasco was too busy getting off to notice. the needle was empty and out of his neck before he was even done.<br />
i'd wanted his trophy in me, but i was over it by the time he was soft again. and by then, i'd finished shooting him up with enough horse tranquilizer to knock out...well...a horse.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StFByXWZOkI/AAAAAAAAAOM/3-g141k0eIo/s1600-h/1aknock-out+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="hot-sexy-ass, naked-ass, woman's-ass, naked-sexy-woman, naked-woman, nude-woman" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/StFByXWZOkI/AAAAAAAAAOM/3-g141k0eIo/s320/1aknock-out+copy.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>i pulled myself up off of Drasco after we did the nasty. he was out cold.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>funny how a hypo of knockout juice in the neck will do that. i was the last</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">chic he'd ever get to do the nasty with.</span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> the big, nasty, bad ass hitter was out cold.<br />
i rose up on my long lovely thighs and his spent cock pulled out of me and flopped down like a caught bass on a redondo beach sport trawler in early spring. yeah, i like to fish.<br />
there was a half cup of little Drascos that he'd squirted into the latex. i pulled it off him, tied it off, and flushed the future Drascos down the toilet, where they would never blossom into the vile piece of shit now snoring away on the motel 8 bed.<br />
after i'd be done with Drasco, he'd never have a chance to infect a chic with his mutant progeny again. i was doing the human race a favor.<br />
always helping out. sooo 'me'.<br />
more important, when i was done with Drasco, harry would be left for me. and only me.<br />
ohhhhh, my delicious harry!<br />
i'd be coming for you soon enough my luv!<br />
<br />
<div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>[to be continued...of course]</i><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-33986107039922345472009-10-03T14:14:00.000-07:002009-10-05T12:17:10.064-07:00killing harry...part cinqo<div style="color: lime;"><i>[continued from...the last post...duh!]</i><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sse9UuIJ-KI/AAAAAAAAAMo/ZyTSpgSmXgk/s1600-h/woman-and-gun-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="woman-killing-man-noir-noire-femme-fatale,man-killer" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sse9UuIJ-KI/AAAAAAAAAMo/ZyTSpgSmXgk/s320/woman-and-gun-logo.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>Drasco was the bastard in my back seat.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">i wanted to blow his ass away there and then!</i><br />
</div><br />
i'd seen the bastard who was now sitting in the back seat of my little rental car, before.<br />
as a member of the kill trades, one might expect me to be honored having his smug ass in my back seat. however, there are members of my trade. and there are members.<br />
<br />
Drasco was the hollywood version of a hit man. except this mf was for real. nasty. arrogant. and a texas accent as phony as his moss lipow sunglasses. he had a pinky ring. how disgusting and gauche can you get!<br />
Drasco was not his name. but it's as close as i can get without giving away tooo much that would come back to haunt my sweet and lovely ass.<br />
"so darlin', you didn't hear? this is my job. a mistake's a mistake. i can forgive. just leave it to papa. i won't tell. you can collect. no one really checks these things."<br />
Dracso killed for pleasure, and got paid on top of it, like moi. but he enjoyed the sadism. the suffering. demolishing his vics in as ugly a fashion as this stupid pig could.<br />
that was totally not me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sse_BeDZ5TI/AAAAAAAAAMw/wSyu8faqYdY/s1600-h/a1mickey-cohen+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="mickey-cohen, gangster" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sse_BeDZ5TI/AAAAAAAAAMw/wSyu8faqYdY/s320/a1mickey-cohen+copy.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>Drasco was a throwback to the neanderthal days</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">of gangster creeps, mickey cohen and all that</i><br />
</div><br />
i savored my jobs as a fine meal. vics had their dignity. of course, they would have to relinquish it to my power. but when i took a man's life, i made him part of me. he was a meal to be enjoyed. suffering was minimal, if at all.<br />
each kill was a love affair.<br />
for Drasco, each kill was a chance to be hateful. i don't like that.<br />
<br />
"one problemo Drasco. aside from the fact i don't let others do my kills."<br />
"what's that sweetheart?"<br />
what a smug fucker! "well, asshole, this mark's gotta die natural, or by his own hand, according to my contract. if a gun's involved, he's gotta look like he did it. guns are not my choice for this. it's gotta go easy."<br />
that creep smiled like he just killed a puppy. which i'm sure was a prime activity of his disgusting childhood.<br />
"sweetheart, you are up the creeks with a coffee stir for a paddle. my directive is make this ugly. send a message."<br />
"surprise surprise you sick bitch. what job did you ever do where hateful motherfucking nastiness wasn't the directive?" <br />
he smiled, flashing his tobacco and coffee stained yellow teeth. man, for the money he charged, you woulda thunk he could visit the dentist for a whitening every six months. i've a running appointment every 180 days. style doesn't just happen.<br />
"hey. we all got our specialties. i bet yours is giving a nice blow job before takeoff. gives new meaning to the word whore. and i say that respectfully, darlin'"<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sse_xrq5JuI/AAAAAAAAAM4/LvCye1Tg7Y0/s1600-h/a1vlad-tepes-vlad-the-impaler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="vlad-the-impaler, count-dracula" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sse_xrq5JuI/AAAAAAAAAM4/LvCye1Tg7Y0/s320/a1vlad-tepes-vlad-the-impaler.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>ychhhh! Drasco was rumored to be related to</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">the real count dracula, vlad the impaler! he</span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">certainly looked like him. ickkk! <br />
</span></i><br />
</div><br />
it was all i could do not to pull the trigger on my .44. i really would have hated to explain to the rental company why their subcompact came back with with motherfucker red blood all over their pretty mauve back seats.<br />
"look, Drasco, my piece of crap brother assassin. the only reason i don't blow your sorry hateful ass away is because, one, harry might be around and hear it. two, i'd lose my deposit on this rental. insurance doesn't cover asshole blood on the seats.<br />
"if you need to kill something ugly style, get your ugly face to vegas. lotsa folks owe lotsa money who can't <br />
pay. the numbers boys adorrre your type. stay away from the serious stuff. harry dies nice. sweet. soft."<br />
Drasco seemed to be holding in some bad gas. i'll give him credit. he didn't pass it in my presence. finally, he talked.<br />
"doll, you are a pill. and y'all look great in plaid. howevuh, we're gonna have to work this out. you aint' gonna blow me away right here, right now. so you're gonna have to deal with this."<br />
aside from literally seeing this lizard's face on a most wanted flyer at a post office somewhere, i'd heard about Drasco over the years. he was some mixture of slavic and italian, rumored to have bloodlines back to the original count dracula.<br />
what was most untenable about this creep was, he actually dressed like a hitman. uggggggh!<br />
"look Drasco, get the holy 'F' out of my vehicle, or the world will be less one stinking hitman. and don't think i won't do it. i'm just a poor damsel, lost, finding a big ugly man with counterfeit moss lipow sunglasses in my car. on that point alone i'll get a medal!"<br />
"heh, heh. good eye toots. supposed to be $1000 shades. got 'em off some punk who got in the way of my last action. had to take him out too. pissed when i found out the specs were copies. y'all are impressing me doll."<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SsfAxdDFAvI/AAAAAAAAANI/nmkT2U1hOG4/s1600-h/a1motel-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SsfAxdDFAvI/AAAAAAAAANI/nmkT2U1hOG4/s320/a1motel-8.jpg" alt="motel-8, motel-eight, motel-six, motel-6, cheap-motel"/></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: lime;">he was staying at the local motel 8. sooo de classe!</span></i><br />
</div><br />
what a piece of trash! "GET OUT!" i'm counting asshole! ten...nine..."<br />
"don't pee in your panties. i'm outta here. but we'll talk. you feel like being civil bout this, i'm at the motel 8, west side of town."<br />
"motel 8...class act slicko. get out now!"<br />
he did. <br />
"you weren't kiddin', were ya sweets. that's a nice piece. rounds must be a good eighty cents each. shame to waste one on me."<br />
"look slimo, don't take my guy out or else. why don't you go stomp a baby to death. or shoot a gramma. that's more your style."<br />
"don't knock it hon. beside, you ain't my idea of St. Theresa."<br />
"byeee Drasco."<br />
he started to walk away, then turned to say something as guys always do when you just want them to keep going.<br />
"your boy's blown to bits unless i hear from you by tonight. room sixteen. and i know you won't abuse that information."<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SsfAPpzRVOI/AAAAAAAAANA/6w2ZZE5VvsE/s1600-h/a1woman-and-gun9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="woman-and-gun, killer-woman, murderess, hot-chick-with-gun, noir, noire, femme-fatale, smith-and-wesson" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SsfAPpzRVOI/AAAAAAAAANA/6w2ZZE5VvsE/s320/a1woman-and-gun9.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>i would go back to my hotel, fondle my smith and wesson,</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">and dream of planting a hollow point in Drasco's sick brain</i><br />
</div><br />
i shoulda blown a hole in his back then and there. but he was right. even the barney fife's in this mayberry<br />
might find something on me if they pried too much. and small town cops like to pry. i let him walk.<br />
"you win for now creepo," i shouted. he waved as he walked away. used car salesman bodyspeak for, i know you'll be back. the jerk really had no style whatsoever.<br />
i, on the other hand, had lots of it.<br />
my little miss pms act with Drasco wasn't totally from the heart. tho most of it was. there was a method to my bitchiness. as Drasco would find out.<br />
i wasn't about to let harry get iced by that piece of flotsam. no way.<br />
harry deserved better.<br />
harry deserved me.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: lime;"><i>[to be oh so continued, my luvs...]</i><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-30016979284729580842009-09-28T01:49:00.000-07:002009-09-28T02:59:50.266-07:00laaah...deee...dahhh, dahlings.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SsB2u0hqz6I/AAAAAAAAAMg/bAlchv7ucbk/s1600-h/hat.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SsB2u0hqz6I/AAAAAAAAAMg/bAlchv7ucbk/s320/hat.JPG" alt="noir-woman, noire-woman, femme-fatale, killer-chick, killer-chic, murderess"/></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">naked with mai taiz under le chapeau, luvs </span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> well my sweeets, even God rested on the seventh day.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> and if you are ever looking down the barrel of my smith & wesson six-shot (whence noise is no problemo), or into the noise suppressor on my cute glock (when we don't wish to wake the neighbors), then i will be your god at that very delicious momento.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> and so, as such, i rested today in my south of the boulevard hillside pool with my gal palz, doing all sorts of nasteee things gal palz do when they have too much booz and raging hormones in them.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> but i'm working on a few things. mostly stuff which i can nevah evah tell you all about.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> howevah, don't cry a river. i'll get back to the tale of harry...and all that went into that yummy adventure.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> thrillz and killz, dahlings. till i write again...xoxoxo<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-71171498374219109432009-09-25T13:28:00.000-07:002009-09-25T22:40:17.229-07:00killing harry...part quatros<div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>[continued from...before]</i><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sr0jTVd29PI/AAAAAAAAALw/BKuJdXvUXvk/s1600-h/1harry-stylish-me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="sexy, killer, murderess, hitwoman, hit-woman, femme-fatale, girl-with-a-gun, villainess" border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sr0jTVd29PI/AAAAAAAAALw/BKuJdXvUXvk/s320/1harry-stylish-me.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>i was a chic chick, and when i killed i wanted to be stylin'!</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">but this time style was not an option...grrrrr!</span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> so here i was hunting harry, in the midst of little town america. style was the first thing to go...boohoo!<br />
i had to tone it down for smallsville.<br />
manolo blahniks would have blown the sockets of where i had ventured to hunt harry. even nine west would have turned a few heads. sadly, i went for the sears, montgomery wards 'style'...if that's a word that can be used with such vile crap. <br />
how'd i bring myself to downscale so drastically? you forget, my luvs...i'm a professional.<br />
plus, i just pretend it's halloweeeeen. booo!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sr0j1STYbNI/AAAAAAAAAL4/B4mUTcGITCM/s1600-h/1outdoorwomanb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sr0j1STYbNI/AAAAAAAAAL4/B4mUTcGITCM/s320/1outdoorwomanb.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">i had to be, like, straight out of the sears catalog! </span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> tho i was in boondox usa, harry was the big fish in the small pond. more like the whale who had hidden himself.<br />
casa harry was on the outskirts of town. harry was a friggin' land magnate. acres and acres of rambling earth that would have been undistinguishable from wild countryside except for the necessary 'private property' postings, required by law to keep squatters out. oooh. squating...so de classe!<br />
harry's kingdom included a simply dahling old house that l.l. bean himself might have lived in. <br />
as for the earthy earth, a river runs through it says it all. <br />
several rivers and a few lakes. all which must have been oh so trouty, judging by the collection of poles and reels hanging from harry's spacious redwood entrada to his main house.<br />
of course i was trespassing. i figured mr. harry was spotting me from some hidden property cameras, leading to harry central, where surveillance team harry was monitoring my every move.<br />
yes. harry was important potatoes judging by this layout. it wasn't my job, or my place, to figure out why or who wanted harry to go bye bye. judging by this layout, sir harry was a big enough fish it could have been sooo many people.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sr0lMPr6GOI/AAAAAAAAAMA/0vYr_rYRWFg/s1600-h/1harrys-land.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sr0lMPr6GOI/AAAAAAAAAMA/0vYr_rYRWFg/s320/1harrys-land.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>harry's place was, jeeesh, the size of montana.</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">lotsa land...lotsa places to bury things...hint, hint</span></i><br />
</div><br />
i take every job as serious as a good orgasm. but the more i saw, the more i wanted to impress whoever wanted harry's number punched. whoever he/she was, they had to be an 'a' list player cause everything about harry was looking big league. those types always have someone they need knocked off, so it was just good business to do a better than great job on mister harold.<br />
i felt like judy garland at carnegie hall. i could feel eyeballs on me. but as always, i'd dressed for success.<br />
i was draped in a duckflap hat, plaid and flannel this and that, including undies. hiking boots klunky and no nonsense enough they were actually trendy. wayfarer ray bans sooo fifteeeeez i coulda pulled them offa jack kerouac's face myself. if i'd been born yet.<br />
i was sure i'd be greeted any second by security team harry. or 'h' himself.<br />
i totally had developed a crush on the man. he was larger than life for me. it would have been heaven to see him striding out with a pained expression like cary grant seeing audrey hepburn. underneath that frown, he'd love me. and i him...every moment up until i put that .38 in the back of his skull. mmmmmmmmmmmmm...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sr0mmbBfXgI/AAAAAAAAAMI/rn9FTj9YWzs/s1600-h/1harry-gun1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sr0mmbBfXgI/AAAAAAAAAMI/rn9FTj9YWzs/s320/1harry-gun1.jpg" alt="murderess, femme-fatale, gun-girl, gun-moll, villainess, noir, noire, faster-pussycat-kill-kill-kill, murdering-bitch"/></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>harry was a rugged guy, and deserved a macho rugged death...</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">like a hot dahl with hot red nails blowin' a big red hole in his head. mmmm...</span></i><br />
</div><br />
fantaseeez aside, it was not to be. not at that momento...<br />
no harry. no security team. nothing. <br />
he couldn't truly be so...so...down to earth, as to have no security team. <br />
could he?<br />
<br />
there's just so long one can walk around as if she had escaped the cover of field and ditch magazine. i decided to split.<br />
i toodled back to my non-descript rental car, whose license plates i had removed prior to entering harry's north forty.<br />
safely in my driver's seat i cocked the rear view mirror to see what i looked like after tramping in the forest for an hour. <br />
it was elmer fudd staring back. <br />
i ripped off the duckflap hat. harry had better be the best kill ever...i was going sooo out of the way for him!<br />
that's when i heard the voice. <br />
<br />
it came from the back seat. <br />
i straightened out the mirror, and saw him. <br />
a huge, dark shadow of a man with skin like a leather strap barbers use to sharpen straight razors on. do they use those anymore? whatevahhh...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sr0nOnp9F7I/AAAAAAAAAMQ/KoBV7sQuYJk/s1600-h/1hitman-rearview-mirrorb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sr0nOnp9F7I/AAAAAAAAAMQ/KoBV7sQuYJk/s320/1hitman-rearview-mirrorb.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>some fuck was in the back seat of my cute rental, sounding</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">way too much</span></i><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> like the jerk who narrates those</span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">NFL flix on tv that guys like sooo much</span></i><br />
</div><br />
the guy in my seat back had a voice like the gasbag who narrates those football films on tv. sheeesh! you'd have to be bored to the point of suicide, or be a dude, to watch that dross.<br />
couldn't follow what mr. voice in the back of my auto rental said, sounded like something about the green bay packers.<br />
'huh?' i squinted into the mirror. "i don't think green bay's got a chance this season, bucko."<br />
"they got a better chance than you do, darlin'" he drooled in a phony texas accent guys put on when buying car tires and talking sports.<br />
"i'm not tryin' to take the eastern division, darlin'!" i shot back, and cranked around to see who this fuck was. <br />
my superbly manicured hand was already on my protection piece, a handsome auto .44. i use it mostly to scare vics into doing what i wish without going bang bang. if i shoot, it's gonna blow a basketball size hole in whatevah's on the other side of that barrel. <br />
haven't had to fire it yet. but NFL voice couldn't see it since it was on my side of the faux leather bucket seats.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sr0nq_aumpI/AAAAAAAAAMY/6weYy1UtUV8/s1600-h/1harry-gunb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sr0nq_aumpI/AAAAAAAAAMY/6weYy1UtUV8/s320/1harry-gunb.jpg" alt="gun-girl, woman-with-gun"/></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>i had a nice hidden piece trained on mister NFL,</i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>in case he wanted to do a blitz from the line</i><br />
</div><br />
i'd hate to fuck up the nice mauve and Easter blue checker pattern on the driver seat by blasting my cannon through it. not to mention how NFL boy's guts would clash with the alternating color scheme on the rear seats. red-brown guts and mauve...just not compatible.<br />
<br />
"i know you," i said, looking at his rough, nasty mug. it wasn't harry.<br />
"i bet you do, darlin'. i bet you do."<br />
<br />
<div style="color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>[to be deliciously continued...]</i><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-51130351432798971192009-09-19T14:28:00.001-07:002009-09-19T14:39:35.467-07:00coool it ! or...i'll have to discipline you!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SrVPENM3KnI/AAAAAAAAAKs/hgheI0bCvfY/s1600-h/swat-you-discipline-you-lesbian-dominatrix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/SrVPENM3KnI/AAAAAAAAAKs/hgheI0bCvfY/s320/swat-you-discipline-you-lesbian-dominatrix.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">don't make me discipline you, little dahlings! </span></span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> i just received a communicado from one of you, which delites me, but also makes me wish to scold you!<br />
it went something to the effect that this person was waiting for my next chapter on killing my darling harry, as well as other interesting stuff a nasty bytche such as i has to say.<br />
<br />
well buckos, and my dahlings...i love the interest. but with all due respect, sit on it!<br />
if you haven't noticed by the very essence of this whole blahhhg, i am a working girl. this blahhhging is for me to vent, to enjoy myself, and to let a few of you into my very stylish and elite world. if you're nice.<br />
pestering me is not being nice. i have people to kill. clothes to buy. shoes to try on. rodeo drive and manhattan avenue to dally forth upon. chix to lick and fuck. and...somewhere down the scale...a blahhhg to write.<br />
you can be sure you're not going to get this stuff anywhere else. i'm not a professional writer spitting this crap out. i'm a very nasty girl, who let's you in on what secrets i can, because it's so much fun to do. and because i know you are just twisted enough to enjoy it.<br />
so, let's stop being a nuisance. enjoy what tidbits i give you. they are good. and have some patience.<br />
and just be gosh darn thankful one of your ex girlfriends or whatevah didn't hire my sweeet ass to kill your ass. or you'd be gone.<br />
baby, gone.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-1632593642017735152009-09-15T13:31:00.000-07:002009-09-25T18:34:04.002-07:00getting closer to...killing harry harry was, to be quite tender about the whole thing, the daddy i never had. <br />
purrrhaps that was why my little psychopathik heart beat simply with delite upon the thought of him being my very, very own!<br />
you all know by now, that anyone who is mine, is mine to kill.<br />
i've had some feedback on sharing my open little heart, and how iccchy pooo i am to utter my longing to terminate guys. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sq_1wS6YcCI/AAAAAAAAAKE/laTwDnr80og/s1600-h/harry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="pops" border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sq_1wS6YcCI/AAAAAAAAAKE/laTwDnr80og/s320/harry.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">harry looked like that sweet old timey small town entrepreneur.</span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">i sooo longed for the moment i would take his life...</span></span></i><br />
</div><br />
As if i were a giddeee high school girl flushy flushed with a crushy crush. <br />
look dahlings, for meee, to kill is to love. and, (cliche alert!)...to love is to kill.<br />
and, so, my sweeets, to kill harry would be a yummy yum yum act of tender love for your auteur and snuff girl here. <br />
as for harry...i liked him sooo much more than the typical gentlemen i get to do. <br />
so i decided to make this sooo intimate. what does intimacy mean for the baddd girl misty? <br />
read on, my luvs, and ye shall see...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sq_2z_FJegI/AAAAAAAAAKM/PKdsLJK3Wng/s1600-h/thekill.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="murdering-a-man-murderess-assassinette-assassin-female-assassin-killing-a-man-femme-fatale" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sq_2z_FJegI/AAAAAAAAAKM/PKdsLJK3Wng/s320/thekill.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">i'd killed marks by drugging them in a bar, taking</span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">them outside for a makeout session, and then</span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">tossing them to the ground and putting them to</span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: lime;">sleep forever, hand over</span></span></i><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-size: small;"> their nose and mouth...</span></i><br />
</div><br />
not to give anything away...hate doing that.<br />
intimacy to me means a bit more than the typical 9mm in the sweet spot at the base of the skull. that's all fun and nice, sugah and spice. but i wanted to actually touch harry as i took him across that great divide. <br />
i'd killed marks by drugging them in a bar, taking them outside for a makeout session, and then tossing them to the ground and putting them to sleep forever, hand over their nose and mouth. but i wanted something more tender for harry...<br />
and...i wanted to actually meet this sweet pops, straight out of a jimmy stewart flicker. meet him before he would be mine for that final momento. maybe run into him at the market. flirt a bit...before the ultimate flirt.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sq_4GfzJ6BI/AAAAAAAAAKc/3GV8yiwwxuY/s1600-h/masturbating_woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="woman-masturbating-woman-jacking-off-woman-touching-herself" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Sq_4GfzJ6BI/AAAAAAAAAKc/3GV8yiwwxuY/s320/masturbating_woman.jpg" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">i flopped down on the bed, thought about killing harry,</span></i><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">and began to touch myself...</span></span></i><br />
</div> <br />
so, i arrive in my nondescripto auto rental, pulling into town late one night. checking into one of those motels that, in the morning, offer coffee and glazed donuts with a sugar shellac harder than my estee lauder 'dark of midnite' nail polish.<br />
i'd be lyin' if i didn't admit, the first thing i did after check-in, and flopping down deliciously nude on my motel box spring, was to practice my onanistic arts. <br />
for those of you who didn't ace your verbal PSATs, onanism for a chic is sticking her long, sexy fingers up her cunt and bringing herself to a hottt orgasm while thinking about something sexeee. like killing some sweet old man who is cute enough to be her dad. <br />
yes. i am sooo fucked uppppppp. and lovinggg it my honies!<br />
as the countrywestern lyrix whined on the room's one channel radio, i bit my pillow as not to wake up the car parts salesman in the next room. <br />
whilst i swoooned, i imagined harry's last few seconds prior to being no more. his sweet ole life in my baaad girl hands. <br />
would there be a rope around his handsome old neck? or a pillow over his face? i hadn't decided...i just knewww...that i was...about...to...tooo.......oh...oh......ooooohhh...<br />
<br />
i came!...thinking about nixing harry. and i promptly fell asleep. <br />
it was a good sleep. <br />
i'd awaken the next day. and...<br />
and decide where and when to introduce myself.<br />
to.....harrrrrry.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046092640704575291.post-21235983686968358092009-09-12T08:04:00.000-07:002009-09-13T12:37:50.278-07:00all niter...i was baaad girl !<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Squz7_EvYaI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/txc6N7wDjN8/s1600-h/dial-m-for-murder-strangulation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Squz7_EvYaI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/txc6N7wDjN8/s320/dial-m-for-murder-strangulation.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>the way we were...guys strangling dolls</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">thanks to hitch, from dial 'm'</span></i></div><br />
good morning my loves. <br />
<br />
it's been a long sleepless night for me. but rather than go to sleep, i'm all worked up and have to chat a bit.<br />
worked myself into a frenzeee. just a little job. but sometimes the little ones can surprise you. and be sooo much fun.<br />
so tonite's little gig ended up with my dahling subject truly breathless.....ahhhhhhhhhhhh<br />
know the song? i didn't ask if he did. but now it's too late.<br />
<br />
i really shouldn't go into specifix of how i wrapped my ligaturo around the honey's neck. He looked so surprised when i kept tightening...and just wouldn't stop. and he thought we were going into that cheeesy motel for a little kinky sex. instead it was a kinky hit. like they all are.<br />
but it had me thnking. and, you all know by now, how much i love...to think.<br />
hence my blahggg here where i can share all my delightful ideas.<br />
now, my luveee from tonight will nevah, evah, evah, be found. so i might be telling you about him somtime soon. no clues to tie me. but then there's harry.<br />
can't let harry go. his demise will lovingly be retold here in 'part trois'...or is that part tres? i'm sooo multilingual!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Squ1S6mN1QI/AAAAAAAAAIY/6uKsuwcG_OI/s1600-h/leg-kill-scissors-femme-fatale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Squ1S6mN1QI/AAAAAAAAAIY/6uKsuwcG_OI/s320/leg-kill-scissors-femme-fatale.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>role reversal...the asian killer girl flix</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>oh so have it right...here a doll dispatches</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">a deserving vic by asphyxiating him between her legz</span></i></div><br />
<br />
back to my thoughts after dispatching, then dispersing, my sweet vic this eve...er, morning.<br />
it struck me how times have changed.<br />
i recall when that famously famous misogynist, hitch, did one of his many flix where women are so badly badly treated.<br />
dial 'm' for murder.<br />
however, i did so like where, in that one, the damsel turns tables on her would be killboy.<br />
my complaint is that rather than sticking him with a scissors...sooo inelegant! i would have liked to see her peel that garotte off her neck, kick him in the lower regions, and reverse gender roles.<br />
strrrangle him. niccce and slowww.<br />
as i did luveee tonight. uh...this morning. : )<br />
i must point out that, despite being an assassinette...oh my, the very name of my blahggg...i speak quite objectively. i believe outlooks are changing. women are so empowered these days.<br />
no. i'm not talking that helen redddy stuff. don't want to hear a chic roar. it would be like wearing mervyn's pumps. horribly inappropriate for anything but taking out the trash.<br />
no, i'm speaking of a little gathering i went to not too long back. can you believe it, the thing was this murder mystery night, all for the ladies.<br />
<br />
<blockquote style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>this murder mystery was all for learning how to strangle your man!...i </b></i><i><b>said, 'i've gotta see this, dahlink!'</b></i></span></blockquote><br />
no, this was not one of my gal pal things. these were what you might call, normal ladies. husbands. humdrum 9to5 jobs. boyfriends who liked watching golf all weekend.<br />
so this murder mystery was all for learning how to strangle your man! when i came upon that in the alternative weekly i was perusing, i said, 'i've gotta see this, dahlink!' <br />
it was total kix. this had nothing to do with lethal techniques training. nor, believe it or don't, was it for the kinky crowd. that david carradine stuff...gag...cough...gasp. literally.<br />
the deliteful gathering was for normal ladies who wanted to do a bit of agatha christie play. funny how i'm considered such an outlaw, and agatha christie (one of my faves) is revered...and she may be twisted several screw turns more than moi!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Squ3gtdBkKI/AAAAAAAAAIg/t8YhYKE71NU/s1600-h/ecstacy-of-strangulation-asphyxia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Squ3gtdBkKI/AAAAAAAAAIg/t8YhYKE71NU/s320/ecstacy-of-strangulation-asphyxia.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>nothing like a little strangulaton for your guy...</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">and physiologically, guys get turned on by a good hang</span></i></div><br />
<br />
anywho...this little murder mystery nite was a cathartic bit of theatre where the dolls were taught rope trix...like how to commit a dial m murder, without being stabbed in the back before you can do whatchya gotta.<br />
the dolls, not all cute...some in their sixteeez, practiced on each other with tittles and laughter, drinking their mimosas!<br />
all good clean fun. and i'm sure these honies were all going back to their humdrum hubbies and cretinous twits of boyfriends after getting a little role play out of their systems <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Squ3_tSFPLI/AAAAAAAAAIo/pYmKB3Tk-8o/s1600-h/asphyxia-strangulaton-femme-fatales-hitwoman-hit-woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jkco1j-ds14/Squ3_tSFPLI/AAAAAAAAAIo/pYmKB3Tk-8o/s320/asphyxia-strangulaton-femme-fatales-hitwoman-hit-woman.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>a pic from the murder mystery</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: lime; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><i>'learn how to strangle' nite...two of the dolls</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="color: lime;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">warming up to some knot play</span></i></div><br />
it's nice to see a reversal of fortunes working itself into the culture. sooo differential to those boring fifteeez. a time i gratefully had several decades distance from before being born!<br />
and, when born, in the first few years of life, i jumped straight to the role reversal. strangling and attacking litto boys in the neighborhood. i was so the terror.<br />
who knew someday i'd be doing it for real?<br />
i knew. wink wink.<br />
ok, time for sleepies. nite nite.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0