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Kelly Marshall


I kissed her eyelids, then gently brushed her soft, red lips. They tasted of cherry. Rising, pulling away from the body I had just ravaged, I gazed down at Kylee, her pale face peaceful, almost as if she slumbered. Pulling her legs apart, I exposed her for the whore she was.

 She had been trusting at first, eager for a tryst. Like me, she had watched from the sidelines as sweating, dancing bodies gyrated and performed simulated sex on the floor, grinding their asses into their partners’ crotches or rubbing their breasts against their lovers’ chests. As disgusting as the carnal display was, my body responded. I turned toward the tiny brunette sitting at a table by herself and raised my glass in salutation. She caught the flirt, opened her mouth just enough for her tongue to peek out and lick the salt from her margarita glass. Her eyes issued an invitation that assured me that I didn’t need an RSVP. 

I sauntered over to her. She sat taller, threw her shoulders back, and thrust out her breasts. Her erect dark brown nipples pressed against the barely-there white blouse she wore.

I leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I like your blouse.”

Her tongue moistened her lips, and she turned toward me, her mouth a hair’s breadth away from mine. “I just bet you do.”

“Care to dance?”

Her tongue darted out again, her breath hot against my lips. An electric jolt shot to my groin, and I groaned in anticipation.

 “Let’s wait for a slow dance,” she sighed.

“I bet you’d like another margarita.”

 “Sugar, I am thirsty.”

 I motioned for the waitress and held up two fingers. The skinny blonde server nodded and scribbled the order on a pad. 

As if the band had heard Kylee’s request, the pulsating, ear-splitting music morphed into a bluesy slow dance. I held out my hand, and she tickled my open palm with her long, red nails, then grabbed my hand and followed me to the dance floor. She floated into my arms and wrapped her arms around my neck. Her breasts pressed into me; her mound ground into my groin and I felt the excitement building, the darkness begging to be unleashed.

​A Sneak Peak!

Kiss the Girls and Make Them Die