I saw Bobbi leave her trailer with Oddjob and another guy in a van on the day she disappeared. I also was the one who took the call from a biologist who discovered her body while hiking in an arroyo. She’d been buried in a shallow grave, wrapped up in a tarp. The windstorms we had over the two days between Bobbi disappearing and the discovery of her body had blown the silty sand off her grave to expose the tarp.
Bobbi and I were sometimes drinking buddies in the park when nothing else was going on and I knew she was into some sketchy shit, but hey - no one has clean hands these days.
I liked Bobbi. She had a wicked sense of humour and we shared a lot of things in common, like snuffsex fantasies. Yeah, we got that drunk one night and found out we both had accounts on Dolcett Girls and Motherless. It came up because both of us were getting older and both felt regular sex just didn’t do it for us anymore. We both wanted something new and exciting and intense. An intense, invasive sexual death would fit that bill nicely.
So when I found out how Bobbi died I got shivers - she’d been impaled vaginally, right through the cunt, uterus, the whole length of her plump belly and up her gullet. Being I’m a part-time police call-taker and know everyone in local law enforcement I convinced Dr Dale to let me observe Bobbi’s autopsy. Under the chemical smells of disinfectant, I smell the decay of Bobbi’s body, the sour smells of old puke and cunt, the coppery scent of blood, and a faint smell of high colonic shit - half digested food.
The first thing Dr Dale examined was the tarp. It had a lot of vomit and blood on it. Both were from Bobbi. The vomit was a mixture of bile, chicken, beer, and traces of semen. I wondered if Oddjob and the other guy gave her a last meal and got her last blow-jobs out of her.
The wooden spit was still sticking out of her snatch about six inches and the sharp tip was in the back of her throat. After she pulled the spit out, she examined Bobbi’s body from toes to scalp, then I watched Dr Dale cut her open - that long, slow cut from between her flabby tits down her swollen belly to her mound made me feel a tug deep in my sex, especially when Dr Dale cut through the last of her obliques, her belly flopped open wide, the fat jiggling and her organs released to gravity and settling in new positions. It made me think of being gutted alive and to wonder at the stillness of her body as it happened. Imagining being able to lay so still as my own belly was opened, to feel the release of all those muscles and connective tissue, then feel Dr Dale’s hands slide into that mass of intestines large and small. I hoped that somehow, Bobbi was feeling this happen to her.
See, we’d talked about that, Bobbi and I; how a gutting would feel; which would be better - a midline or a bikini lap cut; which would be better - letting your guts spill out in one big wet sploosh or having them pulled from your belly; which organs would you want your killer to play with while you were dying of shock and blood loss.
We also talked about impalement; vaginal or rectal? I liked the idea of rectal, but Bobbi couldn’t make up her mind. When Dr Dale pointed out the abrasions and bruising on her knees, she believed that Bobbi was kneeling and sat down on the spit. She believed Bobbi had cooperated in her death - yeah; more shivers.
The other thing Dr Dale noted was the abrasions on her clit, vaginal walls, uterus, and multiple puncture wounds in her stomach, indicating that Bobbi had been sexually aroused before death, either masturbating before or during her impalement, and definitely rode her spit like a sharp, long dildo. So I guess Bobbi did choose, and knowing Bobbi she had at least one orgasm while she rode that spit.
Dr. Dale sent the semen samples away for DNA analysis - although she had her doubts if the DNA was intact - and ruled that Bobbi’s cause of death was asphyxiation, not the impalement itself.
Bobbi impaled. I couldn’t get that out of my mind. I thought about her riding that spit for days. I masturbated to it, even pushing the handle of my toilet brush into my rectum as I fingered myself. I was amazed that I was able to get the whole length of the handle inside me, feeling it deep in my bowels. I had some pretty desperate orgasms the whole week doing that.
Oddjob was someone else I couldn’t get out of my mind. I saw him a couple times that week walking around town and once helping out Clarence and his landscaping business. Did Oddjob do this to Bobbi? Did he just help? Was Bobbi suicidal and wanted to go out with a bang or did her shady past catch up to her?
So, yeah - I couldn’t get it out of my head ... or my crotch. I was never so consistently horny as I was that week and it quickly turned into an obsession. At work I had to spend my breaks in the bathroom masturbating. At home I spent all my time online cruising the snuff sites Bobbi and I followed and impaling myself with my toilet brush handle. On Dolcett Girls I finally answered the poll question; “Would you really?” and I said that yeah, I would and told them about Bobbi and how I thought I knew who did it and I wanted to have it done to me too. I got 27 offers from other members to come to my house and do it. Suddenly I was the popular girl.
Then other thoughts started creeping into my head; I was 38 years old, divorced twice (I’m not easy to live with), a diabetic who could barely afford her medication, I was overweight and saggy and only losers wanted to date me, and the cherry on top? I lived in a creaky old trailer with a busted A/C unit I couldn’t afford to replace. So why not follow Bobbi? Ten minutes of intense perverse sex followed by a few seconds of overwhelming desperation and poof, it would all be over.
So that’s the state of mind I was in when Jo-Jo dropped by and invited me to Bobbi’s wake down at the Dew Drop on Wednesday night. I said sure and asked her who else she was inviting, so she showed me her list in case she left anyone off. About two thirds of the way down her list was a name that almost gave me an orgasm on the spot;
The most crazy-deadly idea formed in my head ...
Bobbi’s wake is fun. The Dew Drop supplied a buffet of chicken and all the fixin’s, plus a couple kegs of beer. I love the irony in that. Besides the food, the place smelled of sweat and stale beer. We told Bobbi stories, we sang along to Bobbi’s favourite songs, and we got drunk. By ten o’clock it turned into a regular night at the Dew Drop; sad drunk men cried, angry drunk men fought, horny drunk men slow danced, and single women tried to upstage each other to win the prime cock.
Not me, though. All night I kept my eyes on Oddjob.
Oddjob didn’t have a lot of friends and those he did have ran to the skuzzy side of life. He moved from table to table, drinking beer and trying to be part of Bobbi’s wake, but I could see that conversations trailed off at his arrival at a table and picked up when he moved on.
And now Oddjob sits alone, so I walk to the bar and get a fresh ice-cold pitcher of beer and two clean glasses and take them to his table.
“These seats taken?” I ask him. His eyes lift to me and I see the sadness there for just a flash, then he smiles and the mask of the Oddjob we all think we know reappears.
“Just you, sweet-cheeks.” he says, and I sit down anyway and pour us each a beer.
“You knew Bobbi well?” I ask.
“We got close recently.” Oddjob says, thinking he’s being clever, “I liked her.”
“Me too.” I say, “We shared a lot of our deep dark secrets.”
“Mmm. I like the sound of that.” Oddjob says, leaning close, “Feel like spilling?”
“Mayyyyybe.” I tease him. Make eyes at him. Play the blushing virgin. Smile with wicked intent.
“Snuff.” I whisper, and feel that liquid tug deep in my lower belly as his eyes widen.
“Wha ... what?”
“You hear how Bobbi died?” I ask, moving my chair closer as he grows nervous.
“What’s you name again?” Oddjob asks.
“Cameron.” I tell him, “You can call me Cam.”
“You’re the chick that works for the cops.” he says, suspicion darkening his eyes. Can’t say I blame him.
“Yeah.” I admit, “I was at Bobbi’s autopsy.”
I lean close, my lips near his ear.
“Impaled.” I whisper, “Cunt to mouth. Coroner says she cooperated, rode the spit that killed her, said she came, Oddjob. She came more than once and maybe came as she was puking up her last meal of chicken and beer.”
I could see beads of sweat breaking out on his face.
“Imagine that, Oddjob.” I continue to whisper, “Cumming like that as she impaled herself with her killers watching her. Fucking that spit like a cock. Hard wood thrusting inside her belly, poking her full stomach. In the end I bet she just sat down and took it all the way. It sounds intense, doesn’t it?”
As I whisper I can feel myself getting more and more aroused. The crotch of my panties are wet, rotating my hips I feel my clit rubbing against the slime I’m oozing.
Oddjob swallows and nods and I pull back from him just a little.
“Bobbi and I talked about a lot of dark things.” I say in a quiet voice, “Impalement. Hanging. Gutting.”
Oddjob’s eyes flash at that.
“I saw the coroner open her belly ... that big, beautiful plump belly.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Oddjob says, wetting his dry mouth with a long drink of beer.
“Just seeing how kinky you are.” I smile and drink my beer, refilling both our glasses, “To see if you’re as kinky as Bobbi was.”
Oddjob gulps beer and sets the glass down.
“If you’re as kinky as I am.” I smile and sip.
“What did you have in mind?” he asks. I shrug, sip my beer.
“There’s evidence you know.” I say casually.
“Of?” Oddjob tries to act casual, but I can hear the worry in his voice.
“DNA.” I answer, “They found cum in her stomach and in the puke on the tarp.”
“Think it’s any good?”
I shrug, “Probably not after baking in the sun for two days.”
“But there’s a witness who saw who Bobbi got in the van with that morning.” I say.
I let him sweat as I topped up our beers.
“Me.” I say quietly and sip my beer. We sit quiet while people danced and laughed at other tables.
“The cops know already?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“That’s dangerous knowledge.” he says, his eyes squinting menace.
“Yeah.” I agree and swallow the last of my beer, then stand and take his hand, “There’s one way to shut me up.”
Oddjob looks skeptical. He finishes his beer and stands and lets me lead him out into the parking lot. I walk him to my car and letting go of his hand I open the trunk.
He looks down and at first is puzzled because it’s still wrapped up in a long plastic evidence bag. Then I see the moment he realizes what it is - the spit Bobbi died with imbedded in her body. He looks at me.
“Yeah.” I smile, closing the trunk and leaning back against it, “That’s the one.”
Oddjob moves close, pressing himself against my lower belly, laying his hands on my upper arms and squeezing.
“What’s this all about?” he asks.
“I’m willing to take what I know to the grave.” I tell him as he leans in and kisses me, “So long as you send me there the same way Bobbi went.”
There, I said it and the arousal shivers flood up my core from cunt to nipples. I’m suddenly breathless and weak in the knees, fear rising amidst the arousal - it’s a crazy fear that is more excitement than terror. He lets go of one arm and presses his hand against my lower belly.
“I prefer gutting over impalement.” he growls.
“Then why not do both?” I say trying to control my trembling, “Impalement, then gutting.”
Oddjob pulls back and smiles, “That would work.” he says.
I tell him to follow me in his car, but to park on the side of the park across from the field and walk in. I give him my trailer number, right across from Bobbi’s.
At home I take the spit from my trunk and push it through the plastic evidence bag point first and leave the bag in the trunk. I leave the side door to my trailer unlocked and once inside I leave the spit on my coffee table and go to the bathroom to strip and pee. The crotch of my panties is a slimy mess. I haven’t been this horny in a long time and resist the urge to masturbate.
As I finish I hear the crunch of gravel as Oddjob walks along side my trailer. I walk naked to the kitchen to grab a couple cans of beer then into the living room just as he enters through the unlocked door.
I sit on my sofa and set his beer on the coffee table as I open mine. He sits on my recliner. The trailer still holds the heat of yesterday, but the curtains on the open windows stir with the subtle waft of cool morning desert air.
“Tell me about Bobbi.”
Oddjob shrugs, “Well, she wanted a bucket of chicken and beer for her last meal. She ate and drank on the drive north. Then she throat-fucked us both. We took turns driving ...
“When we got there, she rubbed out a pissing orgasm while I started digging the hole.”
“You and the other guy were sent to kill her?”
“Yeah. She knew too much.”
“And she cooperated.”
“Yeah. She said ‘fuck it, why not?’ We gave her choices; bullet to the head, strangulation, gutted, impaled. I wanted to gut her, but she chose the spit.”
“And she rode it herself?”
“Yeah. It was pretty hot watching her fuck herself on it.”
“On her knees?”
“Yeah, at the end she sat down on it. Took it all the way.”
“Did she cum?”
“Oh, fuck yeah. Puked up something fierce. After she fell over, Se ... the other guy ... fucked her with the spit until she was gone. I think she was still cumming then too.”
“Do you think I’ll cum?”
“I hope so.”
“I want it. Impalement then the gutting.”
“I want you to do it, I don’t want to ride it. I want to feel like I’m being fucked ... right through my belly and up my throat.”
“I can do that.”
“And after, you gut me?”
“I’d love that.”
“While I’m still on my hands and knees, or on my back.”
“On your back. I’ll roll you over. Bobbi was convulsing by then, you will too, probably.”
While we were talking, the morning sun started shining through the trailer windows. I was still drunk enough to be relaxed, and even hornier than before. Lack of sleep makes me horny, not sure why but it always has.
“Be right back.” I said.
I get up and go to the bathroom to pee again, then come back with my KY lube. I pick up the spit and lube all but the last foot. Then I hold it against my body with the end about six inches lower than my crotch - with my head tilted up the tip touches my chin.
“Wow.” I say.
“Yeah, wow.” Oddjob agrees, “You’ll be choking at the end.”“So I should last long enough to feel the gutting start?”
“Maybe longer.” Oddjob smiles, “I’m going to gut fuck you after I open you.”
“You’ll cut fast?”
Oddjob takes out a knife with a hook in the blade. I recognize it - it’s called a gut hook, it’s for gutting deer. Oddjob holds the knife and pantomimes pulling it up a belly, making a “... shhhhhht!” sound.
I shudder and I feel my cunt start grooling. My legs suddenly feel liquid and heavy so I set the spit down on the coffee table, the morning sun glistening where the KY smeared on the fake wood. I flop back on the sofa, slumping against the back, opening my thighs wide. I can feel my slime oozing from my cunt to trickle down the crack of my ass as I start massaging my clit. Oddjob and I gaze into each others eyes ... this is it ... this is how it starts.
Oddjob rises and kicks off his boots and peels his jeans down and steps out of them. He comes to me and kneels between my thighs, pushing the coffee table out of the way as he slides two fingers into my loose wet cunt.
“Ass or cunt?” he asks, watching my face.
“I wanted it up my ass, but now I’m thinking cunt.” I answer in a tremulous voice.
“It made Bobbi cum like crazy.”
“Will it make me cum?”
“I’ll make sure you do.” Oddjob assures me, “Whenever you’re ready, Cameron.”
I can smell myself. I can smell him - sweat and the sebum scent of his uncut cock that is stirring in his jockeys.
I edge myself close as I dare come to an orgasm then nod. Oddjob slides his fingers out of me and knee-walks backward, picking up the spit by the clean end. I slide off the sofa and onto my hands and knees, my bum toward him.
“... okay ...” I say and hear the weakness and the whine in my voice, “... okay ...”
I feel Oddjob gently slide the sharp wooden tip up and down my labia then slide two fingers of his other hand inside me to spread me open. The rough wood of the spit grinds against the underside of my clit as he slides it into my cunt then gentle scraping as he lines it up with my cervix.
“... oh god ... oh fuck ...” I feel light-headed and dizzy as I near the point of no return. Although the point of no return was really the moment I told him I was a witness back in the Dew Drop - I knew he was going to kill me tonight after that, so it’s better this way. I question if this is really what I want, but it’s too late now, I’m committing and the shiver-bumps rushing up and down my body is a pure fear reaction. This is going to be the most intense minutes of my life and I feel like I might faint.
I feel the sharp tip sink into the tiny crease of my cervix, pushing that little opening wider as he applies pressure. It feels good - foreign and sweetly perverse.
“... oh yeah ...” I gasp and he begins fucking me with it. He pushes incrementally harder with each slow thrust, but doesn’t back all the way off. He is compressing my uterus while stretching my cunt at the same time. It feels so invasive, the pressure is heavenly, the tickling pinpoint of pain in the throat of my cervix makes me quiver.
“... oh god ...” I moan and strain, then gasp; “... yeah ...”
I feel the spit stretching my cervix open as he fucks me with it and I can feel an orgasm building.
“... oh god!” I am straining, pushing back against the pressure, oh-dear-god-I-want-it-deeper, “Fuck me!” I cry out, “... oh god ... fuck me ... oh god ...”
The tip is being pushed deeper into me, stretching my cunt, pulling my labia and clit inside the opening of my cunt, my clit grinding against the shaft of wood as he pushes it deep and shallow inside me in a steady, relentless rhythm.
“... this is good! ... this is good ... oh yeah ...” I want Oddjob to know that what he is doing is perfect and not to stop - he is doing me at a pace that delivers the most pleasure and I am thankful.
“... oh yeah ... oh god ...” I feel my cervix tighten as the spit slides dangerously deep into me, then gasp as I feel the sharp tip scrape the top of my uterus. It’s inside me ... oh fuck it’s in me! Just the thick uterine wall of flesh between it and my bowels.
Oddjob keeps pushing in his delicious rhythm as I lower my face to rest my cheek on my thread-bare carpet. A momentary waft of cool air washes gently across my face.
Now my uterus is also being stretched as the shaft slides into me deeper without the resistance of my cervix. I feel the tension inside my belly grow, the stretching becoming stronger, the tickling pin-prick in my uterus become a throbbing ache. It’s happening! It’s about to break through!
I am overwhelmed by the sudden flare of white-hot pain deep in my belly. I gasp and cry out, suddenly quivering as I feel the stretching in my sex ease as my uterus slides back toward its original place inside me, the spit completely penetrating it.
“Oh god, baby!” I manage to cry out while Oddjob continues to fuck me with the spit - longer strokes in and out. It takes on a cluster of different feelings now; with each inward thrust comes the stretching of my cunt and uterus, my contracting cervix clenching the wooden shaft, then on the outward stroke it pulls back, compressing my sex into a tight ball that feels like he’s going to pull it out of me. Along with this completely alien feeling are the tingling pin-pricks in my bowels as the tip scratches and pokes the tender walls of my intestines and this triggers a strong peristalsis that makes my belly feel like it contains a knot of slowly writhing snakes.
This is it. This is what Bobbi felt in her last moments. A strong wash of shiver-bumps ripple up my back as it all sinks in.
“... oh god ...” I am breathless, weak, quivering all over, “... I’m doing it ...”
Back and forth, in and out, compressing and stretching my cunt and uterus as he fucks me deep and shallow with the spit - the slow pulsing, squeezing my g-spot is making this the best fuck of my life. I feel so close to Bobbi, wishing she was here. I feel my orgasm building strong, blood or grool oozing from my cunt - I don’t care which it is. It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters, except what Oddjob is doing to me.
“... uh-huh ...” I gasp then cry out long and wordlessly as I feel everything in my pelvic cradle start to tighten, “... ooooooo ... CUMMING!” and like a kick to my guts, my orgasm explodes in my belly. It’s a cramping orgasm and with it shiver-bumps wash up and down the length of my body, my intestines squirming, my nipples tingling as they pucker and tighten, and my entire sex in spasm.
“... I’m cumming!” I manage as I find my voice once more, then lose it and make lustful animal sounds as Oddjob relentlessly fucks me hard and deep. The intensity of this orgasm is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Time has no meaning for me as my body lights up with this soul-crushing orgasm that feels endless.
But it does end finally, or at least eases back, because I still feel orgasmic, but not out of control like I did at its peak. I don’t want it to end, I want it to continue until I die.
“... more ...” I cry out, wanting Oddjob to finish me while I still feel this ecstasy, I whine; “... I-need-it-I-need-it ...”
And I feel Oddjob push deeper, the sharp tip of the spit scraping high up in my abdomen as he searches for my stomach. I feel my large colon rippling as the tip penetrates it, punctures it, starts pressing it against my beer-bloated stomach.
“... yeah ...” I grunt and strain, “... do me ... DO ME ... oh good ... fuck yeah ... get it ...”
I feel the tip pricking my stomach from the underside - Oddjob has done it. Here it comes! Oh fuck, here it comes! I feel my stomach compress as the pain of the tip flares, then I feel it tightening into a hard ball, making my gullet convulse as I gag. I slap the floor, letting Oddjob know it’s there, but he knows because he is pressing it deep, slowly and relentlessly.
I burp, gag, puke up a little beer and bile as my stomach is punctured.
“Here it goes.” I hear Oddjob tell me.
My stomach is tight now and I can feel the spit sliding into it toward the opening of my gullet. I feel Oddjob grasp and pull on my hair, “Get up.”
I lift myself up off the floor, craning my neck up as best I can. I know why Oddjob wants me in this position - so the spit can slide up my throat. And oh-my-god there is nothing more I want right now. Oh Bobbi, here I come!
My mouth is watering like crazy and I start to heave and puke, managing to gasp for air twice as I feel the spit sliding up my throat. Oddjob is no longer fucking me with the spit, he’s just pushing it - impaling me - sliding it through my flesh from my cunt to my throat.
It’s an orgasm but not an orgasm, it is so foreign a feeling I can’t describe it. It hurts and feels so good at the same time. Everything inside me is convulsing, my stomach clenched so tight it’s quivering, my throat muscles in spasm, my body trying to arch like a dog’s does when it pukes, but the pressure of the spit running through my core preventing it.
Gagging, puking, making small desperate sounds as I choke on it. I’m dizzy, weak, trembling badly as I lose myself in this storm raging in my belly and throat.
The room is spinning and something slams into me and I realize quickly that I have collapsed on my side. Still gagging, choking ... knowing this is the end and welcoming it. This is how Bobbi died in the desert - I feel her presence, I imagine her voice telling me it will be alright. And it is alright - I have no regrets; I’ve lived more and felt more in the last few moments than I have in years.
Oddjob lets go of the spit and grabs one of my heavy thighs and flops me over onto my back. I want him to fuck me, then remember the gutting.
With the spit in my throat forcing my neck to crane back and my chin high, I feel him move between my thighs and I push my belly out as much as I can - I owe him that - I promised.
“I just want you all.” I hear him whisper then I hear the short song of his sharp blade burning up the centre line of my belly - it rings when it emerges from my flesh.
I twist and shake badly as I experience total sensory overload. My belly opens like Bobbi’s did during her autopsy, but more sudden, more violent. I feel my insides slump as my waist loses its hourglass shape and my belly opens loose and liquid. I feel my intestines jiggling and other organs moving as gravity pulls them from their lifelong home inside me.
Oh god, let me die ... let me die ...
I am overwhelmed by the sensation of this sudden release of pressure I’ve known all my life, my stomach heaving hard, my mouth filling with puke - which I don’t care about because I can’t breathe anymore anyway. I’m stuck ... pinned. I let all the sensations in and they settle into a new normal ... and intense normal ... an insane, perverted normal. My entire abdomen feels like jelly, but jelly with active nerve endings.
I feel pressure inside me, first Oddjob’s weight coming down on my exposed guts, then his hard cock sliding into me, I feel its presence in the loop of my rectum/sigmoid, but his belly is pressing down on my middle, increasing pressure in my bowels and stomach. I feel and hear things sliding out of me over my flanks as Oddjob starts fucking me ...
... gut fucking me ...
... oh, geezuz I’m so dizzy ...
... weaker ...
... frail and vulnerable ...
... fucking me harder, more force ...
... the wooden spit bending inside me, putting pressure on my gullet and on my g-spot again ...
... hands and feet numb ...
... legs numbing ...
... arms too ...
... I’m reaching ...
... reaching through this overload for a final orgasm as he thrusts harder ...
... hearing the squishing of my insides ...
... fading ...
... please ...
... oh please ...
... he growls and thrusts hard, holding tight and shuddering - he’s cumming deep in my open belly ...
... so much pressure inside ...
... oh! ...
... there it is ...
... building passive orgasm ...
... belly liquid and loose ...
... oh fuck ... I’m ...