Simran Kaur Shower Time

I instantly saw his face. Aface I'd tried so hard to forget, for fifteen years.I'd almost died at his hands, after spending months slowly and quietlyinsinuating myself into his world, gaining his trust, learning hispassions. Taking his cock into me, at first as part of the job, but soonit became more than that. I had fallen for my mark, and almost lostcontrol.And then instantly, that man's last moments alive flashed by me, as mymind replayed the scene, the revolver in my hand, rising from my purse,aiming at him, and firing, the noise enormous, and then watching thestarburst pattern emerge in the middle of his forehead, and the spray ofblood and skin and bone and brain matter, all over my silk stockings, andgarter belt, and bra, my panties and outer clothes strewn on the floorhurriedly a half hour earlier, before our last lovemaking, both of usexploding in orgasms moments ago, his fucking of me deep and passionateand intense, the greatest of our lives, and then watching myself. I wouldn't have complained if there were five naked women without either beer or pork rinds. Those particular five women, however, were also not there. There was a fully clothed Girl Scout with a red wagon full of short bread cookies.She smiled at me cheerfully. I smiled back. It is an impressive feat to haul a red wagon full of short bread cookies up an eight step concrete stoop, then up three stories of stairs, and remain capable of a cheerful smile. I felt she deserved something for it, even if she weren't five naked women with beer and pork rinds.She was cute. Young cute. You know, the sort of cute you would accuse any fourteen-year-old of being, provided that she was in fact cute. She was not the kind of cute that anyone who knew what I did for fun on the Internet would think I meant if I called her cute. She was cute, that's all and you can quit thinking like that at any time... "Hello, Mr. Gamera." Hello, Gina." I said like I would to anyone. "How are you?" I'm doing great. I.
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