It was dusk when he arrived at the iron-clad oaken door to her bed chamber. The blood on his hands already drying to a sanguine sticky glue, he shot open the bolt and entered.
She lay there in all her firey abandon, the object of his long anticipated desire. He’d spent all to arrive at this moment.
“You’re here”, she purred, “I’ll take that to mean they’re all…”.
“Dead to a man”, he said leaving the door flung wide. There would be no one to disturb their reverie.
“Then come to me now. Take me. Take what you’ve earned”. She rolled over and spread her legs exposing a prominent pubis dusted ever so lightly with a sprinkling of fine blond fur that appeared afire in the candle-light. Her breasts and labia were engorged with blood and her breath came in gasps. Runnels of musk-scented sweat coursed between her thighs
Not another word was spoken as they joined their bodies in the catalyst of their desire. Never had he felt a tightness so welcomely slick with longing. Never had she felt an intrusion that taught of such mastery and satisfaction.
As they grappled like greco-roman wrestlers, the heat of their lust was all-consuming. “Oh, my lover, my god, take me, tear me and make it hurt”, she spat.
The might of that which he now had buried deep inside her pulsed it’s vulnerability and readied to void. Any moment now…soon…anon.
Suddenly there came a violent pounding at the door he’d been sure was left full open.
“Stevie, Goddamnit! I know what you’re doing in there. Get out. I gotta piss like a racehorse…!”