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To all the girls who ever wanted to be the hot serial killer’s last meal
A normal woman wouldn’t become infatuated with the mugshot of a killer. A normal woman also wouldn’t send said killer letters every other day, accept his gifts, or his proposal of marriage.
P.S. Most women spray their letters with perfume. You’re the first who has scented the paper with their pussy. Brava.
Would it help if I told you something only you and I would know?
Early in our relationship, I called you from the blind spot and you told me your darkest fantasy. Remember?
You wanted me to escape death row for one night, climb into your bedroom while you were sleeping, and fill your holes.
In the morning, when you got up for a shower, they would be dripping with my cum.
The next time you allow a man to touch what’s mine, you’ll find his body parts under your pillow.
One quick glance at the contents tells me I’m reading a word-for-word response I made to Xero’s request for my fantasy, where I wrote something about somnophilia. I take another photo, only to find an exact replica of it on my phone.
didn’t get any sexual satisfaction from killing, but I have also fantasized about somnophilia. The thought of watching over you at your most vulnerable sets my blood aflame. You would be my perfect sleeping beauty, and I would be your dark prince. I would sweep the hair off your face and kiss the beauty mark on your cheekbone before sliding my lips down to your throat. Would you like that, my beautiful little jewel?
Would you like to wake up with me sucking your collarbone or would you prefer to stay asleep? Tell me which gets you more excited. How far would you permit me to go? I await your response with bated breath. Xero.
I’m glad you enjoyed the photo. There are two groups of piercings: a Prince Albert around my cock head and a Jacob’s Ladder under my shaft. One of the guards tried to remove them during my admission, but I stopped him with a shank.
Thank you for elaborating on your somnophilia fantasy. Since you prefer to stay sleeping, then I would slip a sedative in your water. I would hide beneath the bed as you fell asleep and wait for your breathing to slow.
P.S. Now that you have my number, you can send me a video demonstrating exactly how much you loved my cock.
I managed to take was her locket. It’s my most treasured possession and the only thing that connects me to my previous life.
I’m delighted you enjoyed the show and look forward to the day I coat your face in my cum.
P.S. You naughty girl. I forbid you from using a common dildo when I can commission you a mold of my cock.
“Show me your pussy,”
“It wasn’t just for me to tie you up, fuck you in your sleep, or fill every hole until you passed out from an orgasm overload. For once in your life, you wanted a man to embrace your darkness and not treat you like a fragile creature who needed fixing.”
“I didn’t.” He blows a stream of cold air on my thigh. “Are you going to show me that sweet pussy?”
“Show me in the dark.”
“No panties?” he asks, his voice thickening with arousal.
“It’s alright, my precious little jewel. I wouldn’t want you exposing what’s mine.”
“Do you want me to lick your sweet pussy?”
“Did you ever love me?”
“Did you mean what you said in your letters?”
“And the sex contract?”
“So, when you got the chance to marry me and consummate our love, you ran.”
“Tell me you consent, and I will make you come.”
“Everything on that sex contract,”
“Good girl.”
Did you receive the toy?
Your toes taste delicious when you
sleep. Xero. P.S. So does your pussy.
P.S. The toy should have arrived by now. Let me know if you don’t get it by Friday, and I’ll commission another mold.
Meanwhile, my stalker sends disturbing dick pics set against a black backdrop.
Your letter is the only one that makes my heart skip. Everyone else’s goes into a pile that I donate to other prisoners.
With trembling fingers, I pick up the four sheets and review what I checked. I agreed to all forms of breath play, humiliation, facials, bondage, exhibitionism, voyeurism and a whole host of kinks. I wanted to try everything except watersports and scat.
“If you don’t want a foot massage, how about I eat your pussy?”
The only man who ever made me climax was Xero. I can’t say if it was his voice, his filthy words, or the safety that he was behind bars. Phone sex with him gave me explosive orgasms, which only got better when I played with his dildo.
“I pledged my life to Xero,” I murmur. “My body belongs to him.”
I’m delighted you’ve finally received the toy. Yes, it’s true to life. Before you ask, you may not show it on social media. The intimacy we share is sacred.
Until the day I die and beyond, my cock and any replicas thereof are for your pleasure only. I trust you feel the same. If you don’t, any man who touches you will either lose body parts or die.
It’s also the reason why I enjoy red velvet cake.
My choice of last meal wouldn’t be liver, fava beans, and chianti. It would be you. I would devour every inch of your delectable body from your luscious lips to your pretty pussy. I would lap your juices, drink your piss, lick your sweat. No part of you will remain untouched.
P.S. I’m glad the toy finally arrived. Have it ready for our next call.
“Come for me,”
“No hands. Touch your tits,”
“Good girl,”
“Eyes on me,”
