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To all the girls who ever wanted to be the hot serial killer’s last meal
P.S. Most women spray their letters with perfume. You’re the first who has scented the paper with their pussy. Brava.
The next time you allow a man to touch what’s mine, you’ll find his body parts under your pillow.
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.
P.S. You naughty girl. I forbid you from using a common dildo when I can commission you a mold of my cock.
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.
If you’re not on the menu, then I will choose a smoked salmon croque madame with a crisp chardonnay.
“Look at me when I’m haunting you,”
“Come for your god, little ghost,” he rumbles.
“What do you want from me?” “Get dressed. Go downstairs and return to number 13. Shower off that dust and wait for me on your bed.” “What about the police?” “Mention anything about ghosts and you’ll become one.” “So, I’m still alive?” He chuckles. “Without me to brighten your days and nights, you’d still be dead inside.”
You are loving. You are strong. You are sane. You are mine. I am all you need to survive. If they withdraw financial support for not taking medication, let them. I will meet your needs.
If I could have a superpower, it would be teleportation. I would leave death row to appear before my fans on camera. Afterward, I would take you upstairs and make you moan my name all night. No prison would hold my body, and no cell would hold my spirit. Yours, Xero
Your words of compassion haunt my days, but that video of you in the red lingerie haunts my nights.
I replay that clip after lights out while inhaling your pussy-scented letters to remind myself that beyond these bars, I have my perfect soulmate.
I remain your humble admirer, Xero P.S. If you could add lipstick kisses to one of the blank sheets, I can imagine what color will stain my cock when I come down your throat.
Thank you for supplying the extra sheets. The one with your lip print will stay on my pillow while I grind my cock against the other you soaked with your juices. Fucking pieces of paper you’ve touched is the closest this sinner will know of heaven.
