- Joined
- Jan 13, 2012
- Messages
- 6,470
- Location
- Cannibal Heaven
Our fantasy death is so erotic. We dream of our pain and gore, jerking off as we imagine our demise. But it never happens quite that way. Our dream death ends up as a nightmare.
I know. It’s happened to me. That’s because in order to achieve our dream death, we need a killer. And a killer jerks off to his own fantasies. Which don’t match ours. Or mine, anyway. That’s been my experience. My killer kills his way, the way that gets him off. My dreams don’t mean shit once I yield to him.
So I have a choice. Die his way? Or just say no and go home? Oh, I forgot. I have no choice at all because he already has me. All those nights of dreaming and beating off anticipating my fantasy death, all for naught. In the end, I die a horrible death and get no pleasure out of it. FUCK!
I know. It’s happened to me. That’s because in order to achieve our dream death, we need a killer. And a killer jerks off to his own fantasies. Which don’t match ours. Or mine, anyway. That’s been my experience. My killer kills his way, the way that gets him off. My dreams don’t mean shit once I yield to him.
So I have a choice. Die his way? Or just say no and go home? Oh, I forgot. I have no choice at all because he already has me. All those nights of dreaming and beating off anticipating my fantasy death, all for naught. In the end, I die a horrible death and get no pleasure out of it. FUCK!
