leatherdude97
Deviant Killer
- Joined
- Nov 19, 2011
- Messages
- 109
- Location
- Florida
Somewhere in the mountains of eastern Pennsylvania, a telephone began to ring. It was in a remote and isolated cabin that could only be reached by motorcycle. Inside the cabin, a leathered figure answered the phone. He said “Yeah” and waited as he listened to the caller. “We need you to take out Tim’s operation,” the caller said. “They have started to take some business from us, and the organization wants them to disappear. Can you take care of this? You’ll be well compensated. Use whatever you feel is necessary.”
The leathered figure got an immediate erection as he answered “Sure. I’ll handle it,” already planning on who he would use. “And by the way, he’s got another guy who just joined his gang. We don’t have any info on this new guy” the caller added. There was again an affirmative answer from the cabin’s occupant. He hung up the phone.
His name was Joe, and he was used by the criminal enterprise that employed him to take out the competition and solve other similar problems that would crop up from time to time. Joe was twenty-five. He was tall, with a muscular build, almost slim. He worked out in his personal fitness room and spent a lot of time at the private gun range that he had set up near his cabin. He was dressed as always, in full bike leather and wore a well-used Walther PPK .380 caliber semi automatic in a quick release holster on a black webbed belt.
He always carried a suppressor with him, just in case a quiet and discreet kill was necessary.
Joe thought for a while about the best way to handle the project. Tim’s drug distribution operation was small, but Tim was very good at whatever he did. He recruited younger guys who had his same inclinations, that is to say, leather, aggression, and who possessed a willingness to be submissive to his dominant personality. The men that he had acquired, to this point, were familiar to Joe. He had seen them around the area, and he had met them. Tim was similar to Joe in body size, although his handsome body was thinner and wider at the hips and he wore his hair long enough to reach his shoulders. Tim’s choice of weapons was an S&W model 22 .45 caliber revolver with a 5.5 inch barrel.
It was loaded with 230 grain full metal jacket ammo. He always wore the gun in a holster in a quick draw rig, which hung low, around his wide hips. His boyfriend was a younger kid named Mark, who was nineteen. He had long hair like Tim’s. Tim was twenty-four. Mark was somewhat passive, a perfect match for Tim. Tim was fiercely aggressive when the situation called for it, but he a significant amount of charm that he could turn on whenever it was needed. This helped him recruit young guys for his growing business. Tim’s business was the sale of meth to his select list of customers. Meth was popular in this area, largely due to the poor economy, the length and severity of the winter season, and the lift it gave to the depressive personalities of its users. It also served up large amounts of aggressive behavior and violence. It was not a business for the weak. It was also not a business in which a dealer should be a user. Tim felt that he could handle both, and it had begun to show. The first thing that the casual observer would spot was “meth mouth”, a common occurrence among users when the drug caused a deterioration of their dental health. Tim’s once white teeth were now slightly yellowed, and his breath was a complete giveaway. Mark had also used it for some time, and was acquiring some, if not all of the conditions associated with long-term abuse. His level of aggressiveness had escalated, and it now entered the sexual aspect of their relationship. Their encounters were violent, highly charged sexual liaisons, with Tim countering with his own vicious tendencies. Mark had begun carrying his gun full time. When he had chosen his own piece from the sack of weapons that Tim had hidden away, he had carefully picked up a Taurus model 85 and grinned at his boyfriend.
The model 85 was a .38 caliber snub-nosed revolver with a pair of pink, pearled grips. Mark was always one to be different, not in an effeminate way, but just to show his personal choice of something that no respectable enforcer would have as his weapon. The gun suited Mark perfectly, and he carried it in the right front zippered pocket of his leather jacket. When he and Tim were practicing, he would always grin at his partner when he took it out. His choice of ammo was the 110 grain fully jacketed bullet.
The third member of the operation was an eighteen-year-old kid named Roy. Tim had recruited him, with free hits of meth in exchange for some hot sex. Mark didn’t mind. He would sit and jack off while watching the two go at it. Roy had an S&W model 37 in a holster he wore on a wide belt around his waist, trying to look a little like Tim.
The piece was a .38 caliber revolver with a four inch barrel, and while it wasn’t the big .45 Tim carried; Roy had learned to shoot quite well, which made the size less important. His loads were identical to Mark’s. All three of them had a few kills to their credit, with Tim boasting the largest number, eight dead from his previous encounters..
Their newly recruited fourth member had been hitchhiking when Roy stopped his bike along side the road to check him out. Corey had been wearing his leather jacket, pants and boots and it was this along with his age that had made the stop necessary. Roy had chatted the kid up and found he was perfect for their growing enterprise. He wasn’t very worldly, quite innocent, and that made him a good prospect. The lack of experience and no conscience were two requirements of a prospective member. Everything else would come easily. Roy brought him home to Tim’s place, an isolated three-room house that was located a good distance from the prying eyes of any neighbors. Tim had immediately taken a liking to Roy’s choice. The kid was cute, twenty, and innocent. He had quickly put his moves on him and found him to be very receptive to the attention. Corey and Tim had sex together within the first few hours of his arrival at the house. Corey liked all of the dudes because they seemed to like him, his leather and his boyish looks. Corey enjoyed sex with all of them that first night. By the second day, it was apparent to Tim that the kid would stay and join them in their business venture. Tim had also turned the kid on to meth that first night, and the kid found drugs and sex a hot combination.
The second night, Roy had selected a gun belt, holster and a spare model 37 for his first rig. This was a real fast draw rig with a lace for Corey’s leg at the bottom of the holster. Corey really loved the feel of the rig, and of the lace tied around his leathered leg. It made him feel powerful. The drugs fueled this emotion. Corey’s leather jacket was a straight racer’s jacket, longer that the biker style worn by the others. When he wore his weapon, the belt was around his waist, which pulled the leather tight where the belt cinched it. Below the gun belt, the leather stuck back out, giving a distinctive appearance to his figure. Tim said it looked like the kid was wearing a short dress and everybody laughed. Corey didn’t join in until Tim kissed him and said, “You look great in that rig, kid.” Corey beamed a toothy smile at his new friends. “When will I get to use it, Tim?” Corey asked. Tim said, “Soon, dude. But I have to teach you how, first.” Corey, pleased with this answer, smiled even more, like a child with a new toy.
Joe picked up his telephone and called his second in command. Chase was his last name, and everyone called him by that. It was that likely no one knew his first name. Chase was a brutal, vicious twenty-one year old punk. He hated everyone and everything. However, he was very special to Joe. Chase was not only a part-time boyfriend of his, but Joe was the only one he would let top him. And, if there was anything that could be said about him, there was one; he really liked to kill dudes. Chase had a few boyfriends of his own that he fucked on a regular basis, and was especially cruel to them. His own special brand of sex with a guy was very animated, with Chase swearing, brutally fucking, punching, and directing the action all the way to a shattering climax. Joe’s cock was hard in his leathers when he spoke to him, telling him that it was just to let him know he needed to come by for a quick job. Chase sounded excited at the prospect of a kill, and said he’d be there shortly.
An hour later, Joe heard Chase’s bike pull up outside. He went to the door and opened it just as Chase got to it. Joe and Chase hugged each other and went in to sit in front of the fire. Chase was wearing his rig, a Taurus model 82 .38 caliber revolver in a belt and holster with tie down.
They drank a beer as Joe laid out the night’s work. When he said that they were going to take out Tim and his boys, Chase suddenly got this evil, stupid smile on his face along with an immediate pulsing in his already hard cock. He said to Joe; “He’s the one that has that fuckin’ kid that works for him. You know, the punk kid that fucked with me at the bar last month. You remember, Joe. The shorthaired little kid with the fuckin’ attitude. What was his name?”
“Roy, his name was Roy, dude. You thinkin’ you gonna enjoy this?”
“Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ love killin’ the little piece of shit. I’m gonna really enjoy fuckin’ his dead fuckin’ ass” Chase said as his cock throbbed and strained inside his leather. Chase’s face became a mask of fury and sexual intensity as he smiled a chilling and evil smile, his face reddening in pent-up sadistic anticipation. Joe and Chase decided to ride their bikes directly to Tim’s place at dusk in order for them to arrive after dark, but still early, maybe six-thirty.
Tim saw that the sun was going down. He called to his men to stop working for the day. They had been cleaning up the brush around the house and cutting firewood. They were still buzzing from their earlier hit of meth. Now it was time to start drinking. All four of them sat around the table in the front room. Tim took a chunk of dope and started chopping it with a razor blade. When he finished, he split the powder into four lines. The two for Tim and Mark were considerably larger than the ones for the younger guys. They all used straws to snort the stuff. Corey choked a bit and stopped for a moment, but spurred on by his companions, and the beginning effects of the meth, he finished his line. The powder burned in his nose and the taste of it was beginning to creep down his throat. His spit became thick, and the quantity increased. He had to spit badly, and he looked at Tim. “Can I spit on the floor?” he asked. Tim laughed and spit and said, “Sure, kid, it’s ok. It’s the crank. It does it every time. Sometimes I gotta spit ten times to get it clear.” Corey cleared his throat and spit a large gob on the floor. Everyone applauded this rite of passage. Roy grinned at him and reached over and pulled his wet lips to his and began deep tongue kissing him. Corey started to swoon, become lost in the rush of the meth, and the sexual lust that was coursing throughout his entire body. Tim looked at them and said, “Why don’t you dudes head for the couch and Mark and I’ll take the bedroom?”
Joe and Chase had arrived at the chosen spot near Tim’s house and parked their bikes. They were both cold from the ride, but their cocks were still rock-hard in anticipation of the approaching kill. As they approached the house, Chase suddenly stopped in his tracks. Joe looked at him and saw that same evil smile. He said, “What’s up?” and Chase said, “I just got the fuckin’ hottest idea. Wait ‘til you see how I take out the fuckin’ punk kid. You’re gonna love this.”
Chase approached the front door with his .38 drawn from its holster. As he got to the door, he raised the gun and positioned the barrel to point directly into the peephole and knocked.
Inside, Roy and Corey had moved to the black leather couch. Roy had switched his pants for a pair of highly polished chaps, skin tight that revealed his beautiful tight-cheeked ass. The two were swapping spit and working each other’s throbbing cocks. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Roy as so buzzed from the sex and the crank, he slipped off the couch and went to answer the door without pulling his piece. Corey watched his lust object lean in and put his left eye to the peephole. Outside, Chase, in complete darkness, saw the light flicker in the lens. He quickly moved back and fired his .38 through the viewer hole. He waited and when he heard a soft groan, he reached to open the door.
Roy had been trying to see the person through the lens with his left eye, Corey was watching him when he heard a shot from outside and saw a short spurt of blood exit from the back of Roy’s head. Corey’s body tensed with fear. He watched Roy take two steps back and start spurting strings of white ejaculate from his cock. Roy was blowing his load even though he had a bullet hole through his left eye. Corey stood up, his hard cock sticking out of his leathers and looked at the opening door. Chase swung the door outward and looked at the sight of Roy, standing still and looking blank, his cock shooting every last gram of ejaculate toward him. Chase smiled and said, “I guess you were happy to see me,” When Roy’s body was empty, he fell face down through the doorway, landing face down on the sidewalk. His hips hit the doorsill, holding his sweet white cheeks sticking up out of his chaps, providing a perfect fuckable ass. Chase looked at Joe and said, “That hot ass is all mine when this is done.” Joe nodded.
Then Chase caught sight of Corey holding his hands up and looking surprised and scared. He faced Corey and sized him up. Corey pleaded to Chase, saying,”Please don’t kill me. I just met these guys. I didn’t know anything about any of this.” Chase answered, “You got a rig on so you’re ready to defend yourself. If you don’t make your move I’ll kill where you stand, fast draw boy.” Corey said “Tim was gonna teach me to fast draw tomorrow.”
“Too bad” Chase retorted, “but you’re gonna get your first lesson right now” as he spun his piece around his forefinger and dropped it into his holster like a professional. “Make your move, punk. You get to make the first move and I’ll wait for you.” Corey was shaking, but his cock stood straight out of his leathers, throbbing and rock hard. Corey said, “I don’t want to do this. Let me go. I’m not a gunfighter.” Chase answered angrily, “Move your move or I’ll just fuckin’ kill you right now. Your fuckin’ choice. Go ahead, kid, go for it. You ain’t got no fuckin’ choice. Fuckin’ do it now, Punk!”
Corey made a move for his .38 while Chase drew his .38 and fired three 110 grain bullets through Corey’s jacket in a perfect v-pattern, one in each nipple and one through his belly button. Corey never even cleared leather. He showed his teeth and looked down at the neat bullet holes in his chest and gut. He spit and started pumping out strings of come. He looked back at Chase, who was watching him slide slowly down the wall as he left a trail of blood streaks from the exit holes in his back that followed his body’s descent. His face changed to a blank stare as hit the bottom. His dead body stayed flat against the base of the wall as his eyes glazed over, head tilted to one side. Chas maintained that evil grin of his, his cock throbbing more intensely now that he had two kills and no relief yet. He had to blow a fuckin’ load soon.
Joe had been letting Chase take the lead, since he seemed to be having so much fun, killing these kids. But he also knew that Tim and Mark must be in the bedroom. They were probably fucking when the shooting started and were now waiting for the action to get to them. Tim had been fucking Mark in his shiny black leather chaps and jacket, but when the shooting started, he had pulled his cock out of Mark’s ass and it now stood straight out of his leather pants, hard as steel. Tim moved over to the right of the door, along the wall. He flattened himself against it and watched as Mark unzipped his jacket pocket and pulled his pink pearl handled snub nosed .38. Mark’s lips were parted, showing his upper teeth as the door slowly opened. Mark had moved to the left of the door into the shadows just as Tim had done. The bright light came only from the area of the bed, and that was what Chase was focused on as he slid carefully and silently into the room. He advanced slowly, scanning the room from left to right, but he could not see anything in the shadows to either side of the bed. As he turned his body to the left, he exposed his front side to Mark. Mark fired his pink gripped snub nosed .38 four times very rapidly. Each one of Mark’s bullets found its target, that being the mid-section of Chase’s leather jacket. Chase showed his teeth in a face of pain and surprise as he fired one shot. His shot was wild and splintered the wood beam on the ceiling. He fell back against the wall as Mark, with an impassive look on his face, raised the pink .38 a small amount and fired once more. This bullet nailed Chase in the middle of his forehead. His entire body began to convulse, but his hips began to pump, in a sexually charged way. He felt hot gobs of ejaculate explode from his engorged throbbing cock and felt warm fluid easing it’s way down his right leg. He slid quite rapidly down the wall, leaving trails of blood behind his leathers. He ended his fall and pitched forward, face down, continuing to pump white sticky fluid into his leathers in his final death moves.
Mark was so entranced by the scene he had just created that he was stroking his cock, lost in the erotic kill, that when he finally noticed movement at the corner of the door, it was too late for him to react. Joe had slipped the silencer on his .380 so all that was heard was a soft pop when he fired. His bullet left a small round red hole in the center of Mark’s forehead. Mark got off a shot from his .38 and actually said the word “Oh” as his wide hips began working in a circular motion. White silvery gobs and strings of ejaculate shot out of his big flat cock without any assistance from his hands, which had dropped to his sides. He first dropped to his knees, but just for a second or two. His body then fell forward, crashing to the floor, still ejaculating after he was down. Tim was also transfixed by the sight of his lover/boyfriend’s death moves that he lost that coveted second or two which would have allowed him to make a kill shot on Joe. Tim felt Joe’s three .380’s punch through his leathered chest. Tim spit a thick gob and it landed on the front of his leathers as he turned to face his killer. His left shoulder against the wall was all that was preventing him from falling as Joe carefully put one .380 round perfectly between his eyes. Tim’s head fell against the wall and his long hair draped over his face, partially obscuring his expression of acceptance and the stare of his dark eyes. Tim’s body slid slowly down the wall. When he ultimately reached the bottom of the wall, his body began convulsing in erotic ecstasy and shot wads of ejaculate out of his big hard cock. Joe watched this, appearing very disconnected, but, in reality, his cock was ready to explode.
Joe made the rounds of each of the kills, including Chase, just to satisfy himself that they were all dead. He then proceeded to the doorway and looked at the perfect piece of ass that Roy’s body presented to him. It would be a real pity to waste this perfectly shaped and uncommonly appealing ass. Joe unscrewed the silencer and slipped it into his front jacket pocket. He shoved the Walther into its holster and unzipped and pulled his swollen cock out of his leathers. It was dripping with pre-cum when he maneuvered it in between the checks of the kid’s ass and slowly slid it all the way in. It felt incredible to have his cock in some boy ass, especially now that it had been fully relaxed by Chase’s bullet hole through his left eye. That thought alone was enough to make Joe start plowing that beautiful ass in a long and intensely gratifying fuck. He thought of how pleased the organization would be of his perfectly executed kills. It was too bad that he had lost Chase, but, hey, sick, demented and twisted killers were a dime a dozen. He knew that when he was done with this boy ass, all that remained was to set the fire that would completely and utterly eliminate any evidence of what had happened here.
Joe smiled.
The leathered figure got an immediate erection as he answered “Sure. I’ll handle it,” already planning on who he would use. “And by the way, he’s got another guy who just joined his gang. We don’t have any info on this new guy” the caller added. There was again an affirmative answer from the cabin’s occupant. He hung up the phone.
His name was Joe, and he was used by the criminal enterprise that employed him to take out the competition and solve other similar problems that would crop up from time to time. Joe was twenty-five. He was tall, with a muscular build, almost slim. He worked out in his personal fitness room and spent a lot of time at the private gun range that he had set up near his cabin. He was dressed as always, in full bike leather and wore a well-used Walther PPK .380 caliber semi automatic in a quick release holster on a black webbed belt.
He always carried a suppressor with him, just in case a quiet and discreet kill was necessary.Joe thought for a while about the best way to handle the project. Tim’s drug distribution operation was small, but Tim was very good at whatever he did. He recruited younger guys who had his same inclinations, that is to say, leather, aggression, and who possessed a willingness to be submissive to his dominant personality. The men that he had acquired, to this point, were familiar to Joe. He had seen them around the area, and he had met them. Tim was similar to Joe in body size, although his handsome body was thinner and wider at the hips and he wore his hair long enough to reach his shoulders. Tim’s choice of weapons was an S&W model 22 .45 caliber revolver with a 5.5 inch barrel.
It was loaded with 230 grain full metal jacket ammo. He always wore the gun in a holster in a quick draw rig, which hung low, around his wide hips. His boyfriend was a younger kid named Mark, who was nineteen. He had long hair like Tim’s. Tim was twenty-four. Mark was somewhat passive, a perfect match for Tim. Tim was fiercely aggressive when the situation called for it, but he a significant amount of charm that he could turn on whenever it was needed. This helped him recruit young guys for his growing business. Tim’s business was the sale of meth to his select list of customers. Meth was popular in this area, largely due to the poor economy, the length and severity of the winter season, and the lift it gave to the depressive personalities of its users. It also served up large amounts of aggressive behavior and violence. It was not a business for the weak. It was also not a business in which a dealer should be a user. Tim felt that he could handle both, and it had begun to show. The first thing that the casual observer would spot was “meth mouth”, a common occurrence among users when the drug caused a deterioration of their dental health. Tim’s once white teeth were now slightly yellowed, and his breath was a complete giveaway. Mark had also used it for some time, and was acquiring some, if not all of the conditions associated with long-term abuse. His level of aggressiveness had escalated, and it now entered the sexual aspect of their relationship. Their encounters were violent, highly charged sexual liaisons, with Tim countering with his own vicious tendencies. Mark had begun carrying his gun full time. When he had chosen his own piece from the sack of weapons that Tim had hidden away, he had carefully picked up a Taurus model 85 and grinned at his boyfriend. The model 85 was a .38 caliber snub-nosed revolver with a pair of pink, pearled grips. Mark was always one to be different, not in an effeminate way, but just to show his personal choice of something that no respectable enforcer would have as his weapon. The gun suited Mark perfectly, and he carried it in the right front zippered pocket of his leather jacket. When he and Tim were practicing, he would always grin at his partner when he took it out. His choice of ammo was the 110 grain fully jacketed bullet.The third member of the operation was an eighteen-year-old kid named Roy. Tim had recruited him, with free hits of meth in exchange for some hot sex. Mark didn’t mind. He would sit and jack off while watching the two go at it. Roy had an S&W model 37 in a holster he wore on a wide belt around his waist, trying to look a little like Tim.
The piece was a .38 caliber revolver with a four inch barrel, and while it wasn’t the big .45 Tim carried; Roy had learned to shoot quite well, which made the size less important. His loads were identical to Mark’s. All three of them had a few kills to their credit, with Tim boasting the largest number, eight dead from his previous encounters.. Their newly recruited fourth member had been hitchhiking when Roy stopped his bike along side the road to check him out. Corey had been wearing his leather jacket, pants and boots and it was this along with his age that had made the stop necessary. Roy had chatted the kid up and found he was perfect for their growing enterprise. He wasn’t very worldly, quite innocent, and that made him a good prospect. The lack of experience and no conscience were two requirements of a prospective member. Everything else would come easily. Roy brought him home to Tim’s place, an isolated three-room house that was located a good distance from the prying eyes of any neighbors. Tim had immediately taken a liking to Roy’s choice. The kid was cute, twenty, and innocent. He had quickly put his moves on him and found him to be very receptive to the attention. Corey and Tim had sex together within the first few hours of his arrival at the house. Corey liked all of the dudes because they seemed to like him, his leather and his boyish looks. Corey enjoyed sex with all of them that first night. By the second day, it was apparent to Tim that the kid would stay and join them in their business venture. Tim had also turned the kid on to meth that first night, and the kid found drugs and sex a hot combination.
The second night, Roy had selected a gun belt, holster and a spare model 37 for his first rig. This was a real fast draw rig with a lace for Corey’s leg at the bottom of the holster. Corey really loved the feel of the rig, and of the lace tied around his leathered leg. It made him feel powerful. The drugs fueled this emotion. Corey’s leather jacket was a straight racer’s jacket, longer that the biker style worn by the others. When he wore his weapon, the belt was around his waist, which pulled the leather tight where the belt cinched it. Below the gun belt, the leather stuck back out, giving a distinctive appearance to his figure. Tim said it looked like the kid was wearing a short dress and everybody laughed. Corey didn’t join in until Tim kissed him and said, “You look great in that rig, kid.” Corey beamed a toothy smile at his new friends. “When will I get to use it, Tim?” Corey asked. Tim said, “Soon, dude. But I have to teach you how, first.” Corey, pleased with this answer, smiled even more, like a child with a new toy.
Joe picked up his telephone and called his second in command. Chase was his last name, and everyone called him by that. It was that likely no one knew his first name. Chase was a brutal, vicious twenty-one year old punk. He hated everyone and everything. However, he was very special to Joe. Chase was not only a part-time boyfriend of his, but Joe was the only one he would let top him. And, if there was anything that could be said about him, there was one; he really liked to kill dudes. Chase had a few boyfriends of his own that he fucked on a regular basis, and was especially cruel to them. His own special brand of sex with a guy was very animated, with Chase swearing, brutally fucking, punching, and directing the action all the way to a shattering climax. Joe’s cock was hard in his leathers when he spoke to him, telling him that it was just to let him know he needed to come by for a quick job. Chase sounded excited at the prospect of a kill, and said he’d be there shortly.
An hour later, Joe heard Chase’s bike pull up outside. He went to the door and opened it just as Chase got to it. Joe and Chase hugged each other and went in to sit in front of the fire. Chase was wearing his rig, a Taurus model 82 .38 caliber revolver in a belt and holster with tie down.
They drank a beer as Joe laid out the night’s work. When he said that they were going to take out Tim and his boys, Chase suddenly got this evil, stupid smile on his face along with an immediate pulsing in his already hard cock. He said to Joe; “He’s the one that has that fuckin’ kid that works for him. You know, the punk kid that fucked with me at the bar last month. You remember, Joe. The shorthaired little kid with the fuckin’ attitude. What was his name?” “Roy, his name was Roy, dude. You thinkin’ you gonna enjoy this?”
“Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ love killin’ the little piece of shit. I’m gonna really enjoy fuckin’ his dead fuckin’ ass” Chase said as his cock throbbed and strained inside his leather. Chase’s face became a mask of fury and sexual intensity as he smiled a chilling and evil smile, his face reddening in pent-up sadistic anticipation. Joe and Chase decided to ride their bikes directly to Tim’s place at dusk in order for them to arrive after dark, but still early, maybe six-thirty.
Tim saw that the sun was going down. He called to his men to stop working for the day. They had been cleaning up the brush around the house and cutting firewood. They were still buzzing from their earlier hit of meth. Now it was time to start drinking. All four of them sat around the table in the front room. Tim took a chunk of dope and started chopping it with a razor blade. When he finished, he split the powder into four lines. The two for Tim and Mark were considerably larger than the ones for the younger guys. They all used straws to snort the stuff. Corey choked a bit and stopped for a moment, but spurred on by his companions, and the beginning effects of the meth, he finished his line. The powder burned in his nose and the taste of it was beginning to creep down his throat. His spit became thick, and the quantity increased. He had to spit badly, and he looked at Tim. “Can I spit on the floor?” he asked. Tim laughed and spit and said, “Sure, kid, it’s ok. It’s the crank. It does it every time. Sometimes I gotta spit ten times to get it clear.” Corey cleared his throat and spit a large gob on the floor. Everyone applauded this rite of passage. Roy grinned at him and reached over and pulled his wet lips to his and began deep tongue kissing him. Corey started to swoon, become lost in the rush of the meth, and the sexual lust that was coursing throughout his entire body. Tim looked at them and said, “Why don’t you dudes head for the couch and Mark and I’ll take the bedroom?”
Joe and Chase had arrived at the chosen spot near Tim’s house and parked their bikes. They were both cold from the ride, but their cocks were still rock-hard in anticipation of the approaching kill. As they approached the house, Chase suddenly stopped in his tracks. Joe looked at him and saw that same evil smile. He said, “What’s up?” and Chase said, “I just got the fuckin’ hottest idea. Wait ‘til you see how I take out the fuckin’ punk kid. You’re gonna love this.”
Chase approached the front door with his .38 drawn from its holster. As he got to the door, he raised the gun and positioned the barrel to point directly into the peephole and knocked.
Inside, Roy and Corey had moved to the black leather couch. Roy had switched his pants for a pair of highly polished chaps, skin tight that revealed his beautiful tight-cheeked ass. The two were swapping spit and working each other’s throbbing cocks. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Roy as so buzzed from the sex and the crank, he slipped off the couch and went to answer the door without pulling his piece. Corey watched his lust object lean in and put his left eye to the peephole. Outside, Chase, in complete darkness, saw the light flicker in the lens. He quickly moved back and fired his .38 through the viewer hole. He waited and when he heard a soft groan, he reached to open the door.
Roy had been trying to see the person through the lens with his left eye, Corey was watching him when he heard a shot from outside and saw a short spurt of blood exit from the back of Roy’s head. Corey’s body tensed with fear. He watched Roy take two steps back and start spurting strings of white ejaculate from his cock. Roy was blowing his load even though he had a bullet hole through his left eye. Corey stood up, his hard cock sticking out of his leathers and looked at the opening door. Chase swung the door outward and looked at the sight of Roy, standing still and looking blank, his cock shooting every last gram of ejaculate toward him. Chase smiled and said, “I guess you were happy to see me,” When Roy’s body was empty, he fell face down through the doorway, landing face down on the sidewalk. His hips hit the doorsill, holding his sweet white cheeks sticking up out of his chaps, providing a perfect fuckable ass. Chase looked at Joe and said, “That hot ass is all mine when this is done.” Joe nodded.
Then Chase caught sight of Corey holding his hands up and looking surprised and scared. He faced Corey and sized him up. Corey pleaded to Chase, saying,”Please don’t kill me. I just met these guys. I didn’t know anything about any of this.” Chase answered, “You got a rig on so you’re ready to defend yourself. If you don’t make your move I’ll kill where you stand, fast draw boy.” Corey said “Tim was gonna teach me to fast draw tomorrow.”
“Too bad” Chase retorted, “but you’re gonna get your first lesson right now” as he spun his piece around his forefinger and dropped it into his holster like a professional. “Make your move, punk. You get to make the first move and I’ll wait for you.” Corey was shaking, but his cock stood straight out of his leathers, throbbing and rock hard. Corey said, “I don’t want to do this. Let me go. I’m not a gunfighter.” Chase answered angrily, “Move your move or I’ll just fuckin’ kill you right now. Your fuckin’ choice. Go ahead, kid, go for it. You ain’t got no fuckin’ choice. Fuckin’ do it now, Punk!”
Corey made a move for his .38 while Chase drew his .38 and fired three 110 grain bullets through Corey’s jacket in a perfect v-pattern, one in each nipple and one through his belly button. Corey never even cleared leather. He showed his teeth and looked down at the neat bullet holes in his chest and gut. He spit and started pumping out strings of come. He looked back at Chase, who was watching him slide slowly down the wall as he left a trail of blood streaks from the exit holes in his back that followed his body’s descent. His face changed to a blank stare as hit the bottom. His dead body stayed flat against the base of the wall as his eyes glazed over, head tilted to one side. Chas maintained that evil grin of his, his cock throbbing more intensely now that he had two kills and no relief yet. He had to blow a fuckin’ load soon.
Joe had been letting Chase take the lead, since he seemed to be having so much fun, killing these kids. But he also knew that Tim and Mark must be in the bedroom. They were probably fucking when the shooting started and were now waiting for the action to get to them. Tim had been fucking Mark in his shiny black leather chaps and jacket, but when the shooting started, he had pulled his cock out of Mark’s ass and it now stood straight out of his leather pants, hard as steel. Tim moved over to the right of the door, along the wall. He flattened himself against it and watched as Mark unzipped his jacket pocket and pulled his pink pearl handled snub nosed .38. Mark’s lips were parted, showing his upper teeth as the door slowly opened. Mark had moved to the left of the door into the shadows just as Tim had done. The bright light came only from the area of the bed, and that was what Chase was focused on as he slid carefully and silently into the room. He advanced slowly, scanning the room from left to right, but he could not see anything in the shadows to either side of the bed. As he turned his body to the left, he exposed his front side to Mark. Mark fired his pink gripped snub nosed .38 four times very rapidly. Each one of Mark’s bullets found its target, that being the mid-section of Chase’s leather jacket. Chase showed his teeth in a face of pain and surprise as he fired one shot. His shot was wild and splintered the wood beam on the ceiling. He fell back against the wall as Mark, with an impassive look on his face, raised the pink .38 a small amount and fired once more. This bullet nailed Chase in the middle of his forehead. His entire body began to convulse, but his hips began to pump, in a sexually charged way. He felt hot gobs of ejaculate explode from his engorged throbbing cock and felt warm fluid easing it’s way down his right leg. He slid quite rapidly down the wall, leaving trails of blood behind his leathers. He ended his fall and pitched forward, face down, continuing to pump white sticky fluid into his leathers in his final death moves.
Mark was so entranced by the scene he had just created that he was stroking his cock, lost in the erotic kill, that when he finally noticed movement at the corner of the door, it was too late for him to react. Joe had slipped the silencer on his .380 so all that was heard was a soft pop when he fired. His bullet left a small round red hole in the center of Mark’s forehead. Mark got off a shot from his .38 and actually said the word “Oh” as his wide hips began working in a circular motion. White silvery gobs and strings of ejaculate shot out of his big flat cock without any assistance from his hands, which had dropped to his sides. He first dropped to his knees, but just for a second or two. His body then fell forward, crashing to the floor, still ejaculating after he was down. Tim was also transfixed by the sight of his lover/boyfriend’s death moves that he lost that coveted second or two which would have allowed him to make a kill shot on Joe. Tim felt Joe’s three .380’s punch through his leathered chest. Tim spit a thick gob and it landed on the front of his leathers as he turned to face his killer. His left shoulder against the wall was all that was preventing him from falling as Joe carefully put one .380 round perfectly between his eyes. Tim’s head fell against the wall and his long hair draped over his face, partially obscuring his expression of acceptance and the stare of his dark eyes. Tim’s body slid slowly down the wall. When he ultimately reached the bottom of the wall, his body began convulsing in erotic ecstasy and shot wads of ejaculate out of his big hard cock. Joe watched this, appearing very disconnected, but, in reality, his cock was ready to explode.
Joe made the rounds of each of the kills, including Chase, just to satisfy himself that they were all dead. He then proceeded to the doorway and looked at the perfect piece of ass that Roy’s body presented to him. It would be a real pity to waste this perfectly shaped and uncommonly appealing ass. Joe unscrewed the silencer and slipped it into his front jacket pocket. He shoved the Walther into its holster and unzipped and pulled his swollen cock out of his leathers. It was dripping with pre-cum when he maneuvered it in between the checks of the kid’s ass and slowly slid it all the way in. It felt incredible to have his cock in some boy ass, especially now that it had been fully relaxed by Chase’s bullet hole through his left eye. That thought alone was enough to make Joe start plowing that beautiful ass in a long and intensely gratifying fuck. He thought of how pleased the organization would be of his perfectly executed kills. It was too bad that he had lost Chase, but, hey, sick, demented and twisted killers were a dime a dozen. He knew that when he was done with this boy ass, all that remained was to set the fire that would completely and utterly eliminate any evidence of what had happened here.
Joe smiled.
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