The Guy Next Door; Story by Vicki.


As you walk towards the door, I notice my code book is missing. How did you get it without me seeing it? You sneaky little devil, and I thought you were just a cute guy asking if I needed any help unpacking.

Say, Michael, did you see a book I had on my desk? Where are you going in such a hurry? Wait, Michael...

Hold it, sweetiepie, I think you'd better step away from the door. As I look at you, my expression changes. This is accented by the 9mm Barretta in my hand. You stop and stare at me.

I can't believe I was fooled by you.

You quickly realize I'm not going to let you get away easily. You wonder if you can convince me you really are a just a guy in the building. The door is partially open, you notice, through the corner of your eye. You make a break for it.

Two shots answer your sudden burst for the door. They hit home, the impact arching your back, and you involuntarily spin around. Facing me, you look suprised, but not shocked. You face me; I look into your eyes. My lips pucker, as I blow you a kiss and squeeze off two more rounds. You hang for a moment, as if to let the impact catch up to you. Suddenly, as if on cue, you fall forward on your face, dead!

Well, Michael, I wished we could have gotten to know each other better. And judging from the way you fill out those jeans, I would have liked to have known that ass, when you were alive. I wasn't planning on any heavy cleaning today, but, I don't seem to have any option.

As you fell forward, your head landed at my feet. I take a second to survey the sight. Given the tight group in your back and the lack of torn tissue, you really were in good physical condition. Usually, there is some tearing when a 9mm slug rips through. I can actually stick my finger into the exit wounds.

I rub your back, feeling your firm muscular build. You're going to be a bear to move.

I quickly get my wits about me, realizing your feet are sticking out the door and I'm stopping to admire a dead hunk. I stand in front of you, reach down, grasp your arms and pull. You slide on the carpet away from the door. I close the door and lock it.

You really were quite a pro. Coming over here, wearing only jeans and a t-shirt. And barefooted, nice touch, you really did look like "just a guy next door".

So, where could he hide my book so quickly? I kneel down over your prone figure and start to search your back. I check the neck area, then rub along your shirt. All I feel is flesh and muscle between you and the shirt. I stop again to admire the tight group in your back. You could cover them with a quarter. I take a cocktail napkin and press it against your back to make an imprint. I'll keep this as a souvenir. Two shots in the front, two in the back and such a perfect pattern.

I explore your back pockets, not an easy task given your firm ass and the fact that you're dead. I rub along the inseam of your jeans, both to inspect and admire.

Nothing so far. I've got to find the book. What if he didn't take it? If that's true, then I've just killed the guy next door. Oh, well; he looks like a lady killer to me. Let's take a look at the front view.

I stand and postion myself next to your side. I reach down, grasp the front loops in your jeans and pull. Your body rolls slowly, then gravity assists as you fall to your back. Your left arm swings across your chest and comes to rest beside your corpse.

I look at your face; the same eyes I blew a kiss to before I fired, now stare into nothingness. Your mouth, slightly ajar, has a mixture of phlegm and blood, which now drips down your chin to the floor.

Kneeling, I caress your chest, searching and enjoying. I would love to lay across this man and feel his power, but, it's a bit late for that.

Reaching into your pockets, I feel only firm mass. I open your legs and kneel between them, pulling open your jeans. What is this? Umm...

As I peel back the flap from your unbuttoned jeans, I see a wonderous sight. I have heard about involuntary orgasm during death, but I had never seen it before. This luscious firm cock lay erect against the denim, coated in semen.

I imagine, as the bullets impact, a sudden erection; then, as the spasm of death overtakes the senses, a burst of orgasmic fluid. I wonder if that was at the moment he stared at me, before falling to his face, lifeless at my feet, filling the cavity with hot sperm.

I grasp your still-erect organ and caress it. I lower my mouth to your penis and devour it, closing my eyes, tasting the pleasure, inhaling the powerful fragrance. I suck and knead your magnificant specimen. As I glance through partially closed eyes, I notice a small slice of fabric enclosed in the crotch of your jeans. You came on my book.

I sit up, a flow of fluid running down my chin. I take the small code book from its resting place. Well, I guess you weren't the boy next door!

Well, now that that's out of the way, let's see what we can do with this gorgeous spy. Grabbing the waist of your jeans, I pull them toward your feet. Once removed, I rip off your t-shirt. I stand and admire the prize, your naked body lies still, penis erect, eyes open, inviting.

I want you in my bed. I look at the floor dolly the movers left. I kick the dolly towards you, it rolls bouncing off your side. I take my foot and raise your chest. I take my other foot and shove the dolly under you. I step back and you fall heavily onto the wheeled platform. I reach down and grab a handful of your hair and pull. Your heels drag as I wheel you to my chamber, head first.

I remember being on the deer hunt with the guys, after stalking a young buck into the brush, hauling the fresh kill out of the thickets. I enjoyed the sensation of the animal's muscular flesh steaming in the early morning air. I surprised them all, the male pigs, by throwing that buck over my shoulder. I saw the respect in their eyes. This buck shouldn't be any different; it's all in the legs. Plus, I'm not going to be able to wheel him onto the bed.

I remove my heels to get a firm footing. Reaching with one hand, I pull up your waist and remove the cart. Kneeling down on one knee, I lower my head and pull your arm, raising your head. As I flip you forward, I position my head under your waist. Now standing with the thrust of a heavy lifter, using my legs to steady me, with some effort, I'm up. Your head rests squarely on my back. I turn toward the mirror and admire the sight. As I look, your beautiful ass is in full view, draped across me like a vest. Your legs and feet, muscular and firm, dangle in the mirror.

I walk to the bed, look down at your ass and drop you to the mattress. You fall back onto the bed. Your arms fly above your head. You bounce as your body hits the mattress. I look at you and grab your legs, swinging you around into position.

I unfasten my garters and pull off my hose and panties in one motion, tossing them into the corner. I pull my blouse above my head and remove my girdle and bra. Now completly naked, I climb onto your body. I run my fingers across the bullet wounds in your chest. I caress your hair and face.

My wet pussy aches. I sit on your waist. I grap your firm cock and insert it into my moist, steaming cavity. I rock, watching the rhythm in your arms. I glance at your staring eyes, angling to my increased action. Deeper, deeper I pull you in.

Finally, I've reached the pinnacle, and a blast of orgasmic plesure explodes, engulfing me. Slowly, I regain my senses, sweating, panting, exhausted. I roll off onto your side and lay there admiring the image of my body lying beside you.