mitchman515

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Dylan and I took our smoke breaks together in an alleyway by the dumpster behind downtown's newest coffee house because we weren't allowed to do it on the street where a customer-- excuse me, GUEST, might see. Can't let the public know that behind the facade of the crisp uniform, we're all degenerates.

"Yeah man, come on over after work today," he said. "I've got a fifth we can kill."

This was good news. I was going to need a drink after work. Or six.

"Just can't wake the old man."

I rolled my eyes. Who still lived with their parents at 20 years old? Dylan had told me his story at orientation. His dad lived here, his mom lived in Michigan. He didn't even know his dad growing up, but when he got arrested for assault, mom was ready to send him off, let him be someone else's problem. From the sound of it, dad didn't much like having him around either.

I took a drag off my cigarette. "I thought you were just living with him until you found your own place?"

"Shit here's expensive, man. We ain't all making tips like you," he said with a grin and an exhale. Not that I made much in tips, but at least I was a barista. He was a dishwasher.

"As long as there's booze." I said, and flicked my butt to the dirty ground.

"A girl, too."

I raised an eyebrow and smiled at the same time. "Nice."

***

I laughed out loud when I saw that Dylan slept in the closet of his dad's one-bedroom apartment. "Pops must really love you, huh?"

Cindy laughed, and Dylan scowled. Cindy laughed at all my jokes. I didn't even have to be funny, it just had to go over her head, and that wasn't hard. She was pretty in to me. Dylan was a good looking guy though, better looking than me. Probably used to having all the attention. I couldn't tell if he was a bit jealous. Didn't matter. I was planning on sharing. It had been a while since I'd worked a good tag team.

"So where's that fifth?" I asked Dylan. "We've got a lot of reasons to start drinking. Still having clothes on being one of them."

Cindy laughed.

***

I love that moment where the first breast is exposed, the first cock comes out of the pants. The moment you go from the grindng you see on television, or the skin you see watching people jog around a lake, to the initiation of a full blown sexual encounter.

Of course, Cindy went to my belt first. I was shirtless but she still had her bra on. She unzipped my pants and took them down 50% slower than she needed to, first exposing my hard shaft, then releasing my cock head, my dick popping up as if it were spring-loaded.

Dylan watched, still fully clothed. I loved these moments too, being the vicarious vessel, my friend seeing my dick for the first time, looking at the scene as if it were a porno, and me, no longer just his buddy, but a porn star.

"Come help Cindy get her top off," I said to him with a grin. He smiled back and took off his shirt.

***

Cindy said she'd never been double stuffed before, so of course Dylan and I went right to work fixing that. Didn't take long before the noise woke Dylan's dad but he was pretty cool about it I guess. He didn't say anything, just lit up a cigarette and watched me and his son drill this girl, and we didn't miss a beat. I wondered what was going through his mind. This was probably his first time watching Dylan fuck. Was he impressed by Dylan's rock hard abs? What did he think about his son not using protection? Did he pass judgement on Dylan's cock size? Did he notice that my cock was bigger than that of the fruit of his own loins?

When Dylan and I eventually came all over Cindy's face and collapsed exhaused on the couch, he just went back to his room.

***

I left the apartment not long after, but forgot the watch I had taken off when it kept getting in the way. Going back to the apartment the next morning and knocking on the door, Dylan's dad answered, with Dylan apparently gone to work. And what followed was an interesting conversation.

"Want to make a quick five grand?" He asked.

"Yup." I answered immediately. Almost didn't matter what the job was. Five fucking grand.

"You might have a problem with the morality of it."

"Shouldn't be a problem." I replied. Fuck morality.

"Involves offing a guy." He eyed me.

"Oh that's different." I said, and paused dramatically. I'd always wondered what it would be like to kill someone. Just never had a good reason before, I guess. "Six grand."

Dylan's dad smiled. "I want Dylan dead."

So I had to choose between $6,000 and this kid I'd known for two weeks? It wasn't even close to a hard decision. But I was obviously a little suspicious.

"Your own son?"

"You've met the kid. He's worthless, human trash. You disagree?"

I didn't.

"He's a leech and his cunt mother pawned him off on me when I fuckin' wanted to kill him 20 years ago. Fuck that. We're gonna hang him. So figure out his schedule for me, request a few days off for him next week so people won't notice he's gone right away, and go buy me some rope."

"Are you pissed at him cause of last night?"

"Nah, I don't care about shit like that. I've had this planned since last week."

I grinned. "So you were just watching to enjoy the show?" I thrust my hips as a visual reminder for him. "What did you think?"

"Dylan fucks like he's a fuckin dog in heat. You weren't half bad though. Good size dick, decent technique." I couldn't tell if he was just humoring me, and laughed as he motioned me out the door. As soon as I was out, he started to close the door but stopped. "Oh kid-- remember, the thinner the rope, the more painful it'll be."

***

Where do you buy noose rope? I mean, I guess it's just regular rope right? Home Depot? Nylon rope, braided rope, different colors and sizes and strength ratings. "Great for boating applications!" one boasted. Where was the "sinches tight around 20 year old neck" rope? I thought about what Dylan's dad had said about thinner rope being more painful. Some of this stuff was so thin it would probably slice right through his neck rather than hang him. Lots of chains in this aisle too. Wonder how that'd feel.

***

Once I got Dylan's schedule to his dad, he picked Dylan's death date to be just two days away. He wasn't messing around-- he wanted this done and over with quick. I kept up on our smoke breaks for those two days at work.

"So what ever happened to Cindy?" I asked him.

"She's still around. She sent me a text message about how sore she was after we fucked the shit out of her." He grinned as he exhaled.

"Yeah man that was pretty nuts. That bit where she tried to put both our cocks in her mouth at the same time? I'm surprised she didn't dislocate her jaw." I kinda liked that moment in retrospect. She had held our dicks together in one hand while she tried to engulf the double barrel. Dylan's genetic line was about to be snuffed and our cocks had been rubbing together less than 48 hours ago.

I coudn't take my eyes off his neck as he hauled on his cigarette. Enjoy smoking while your neck still works, you little fuck.
 
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mitchman515

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Joined
Dec 21, 2010
Messages
15
Location
Seattle, WA
***

For some reason I expected more fanfare around pre-meditated murder but the whole thing was actually really straightforward. The noose was tied to a cieling beam in the living room, just waiting for him when he got home. He regarded it curiously at first and wondered aloud why I was there. When his dad led him over to it he started to resist and that's when I had to get involved. It was a simple matter of the two of us overpowering him long enough to get him up on the chair and the noose around his neck while he yelled words of confusion and a little terror.

He said "Dad, please--" and then his dad pulled the chair out from under him and the real show began. His hands went to his throat and his legs started kicking. I'd never seen pain like that register on someone's face before. I felt a bolt of pride that I'd made the right choice for rope diameter.

***

"Help me get him down." His dad said. Dylan hung still in the air, eyes still open, neck contorted, hands hanging limply at his sides. Urine was dribbling down from his pant leg but at least he didn't shit himself. A small erection poked at the fabric of his jeans as blood gathered in the lower half of his corpse. I grabbed the chair we'd pushed him off of and climbed up to inspect the noose as it sank deep into Dylan's ridiculously sweaty neck.

"You're gonna have to lift him up while I loosen the noose." I said. "Just grab him around the waist and lift up."

He made a face as wrapped his arms around the body, his son's piss-soaked clothes dampening his own, his son's dead erection pressing into his chest. We had both seen Dylan in action with that thing and we had both been unimpressed.

As soon as Dylan's bodyweight was off the rope, I went about trying to loosen the noose. It seemed impossibly tight, and I had to dig into the space between the rope and his neck with serious force to gain any traction. His neck was still warm and clammy as my fingers moved around it wiggling the noose looser and looser until I was able to pull it over his head and Dylan's dad lowered the body to the ground, contorted face up.

"Mind if I smoke?" I asked as I pulled my pack from my pocket.

"Go for it," he said. "Just stay up there and help me get the noose down."

The first inhale was bliss as Dylan's dad grabbed a second chair from the living room and got up next to me to help me take down the noose. It was like a post-coital cigarette. I reached up to the noose with my free hand and Dylan's dad's hands followed. He grabbed the noose and shoved it over my head. I got in a quick "Nonono" before he kicked my chair out from under me.

Searing pain. Dropped my cigarette. Feet shot out looking for support. Noose still soaking wet with Dylan's death sweat. Tried to grab the rope above my head but the angle was all wrong to get any traction. Eyes dart around the room. Dylan's erection still showing. Dylan's dad is finishing my cigarette as he watches. Fuck. He's probably not gonna give me my six grand.

***
 
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