if you fell out of the window and killed, it was not a shame in front of the pathologist.

I shake my head again. The predator, apparently, was expecting something like this, because it picks up my thighs, inserts a bucket to my ass, which is why the noose tightens, intercepts my throat.

- Quickly!

He holds me, taking almost all of my weight on my shoulder, with one hand - how healthy! - so I don't feel like threatening to suffocate quickly, but I don’t want to take risks, and now I’m afraid that it’s easier to obey than to hold back. A trickle of urine flows into the bucket with a ringing sound, and I barely restrain tears of humiliation. Why didn't he just fuck me like all normal guys, why are these nasty games?

- Well done.

Without releasing my legs, the Predator leans to the side, puts the bucket next to the knife lying on the concrete. I would now give a kidney for this knife to be in my hand. Ripped off with this creature skin strip by strip, like spaghetti! The picture before the eyes is so clear that it intercepts breathing, and suddenly it becomes warm in the abdomen. Oh how. It turns out that to get excited, I do not need to relax. I just need to swap places with the Predator. He still got to the point about the fact that I am a “man of the edge” (beautifully said, not a mechanic, but a whole Nietzsche!), But he was mistaken in taking me for the bottom. With what pleasure I would explain to him his mistake!

Having intercepted my thigh, the Predator takes it aside - now it is between my legs, and I have to squeeze my hips to hold on. My body is swamped forward, if Roma takes off a little, the third point of support becomes a loop, it is hard for me to breathe, I have to do it very often, although my throat is almost not crushed yet. The Predator's left hand supports me in the ass, the right one struggles with the buckles on the straps of the combo, then finally copes, the clothes fall down to the feet, the guy pulls it, and then I feel the head of his penis hard and very hot against me. Clasping my ass with both hands, he literally pulls me on the penis, and it is surprisingly pleasant, although it hurts a little. Damn, maybe not so familiar to my fellow men?

With every thrust, the Predator moves in me all the easier, and the pleasure, at first almost imperceptible, grows in me, and I feel how I become wet. Strong fingers dig into my buttocks to the pain, I answer with the same - hips, heels, clinging to my only support with all the force of a desperate desire to live. Humming, clicking - Predator pulled the rope, now it is possible to inhale only when I am at the top point, and when he lowers me on the penis, the belt intercepts the neck under the lower jaw, blocks breathing. And time after time, this pause longer.

It's not just a matter of breathing, the belt pinches the arteries and veins, interferes with blood flow, which is why not only the back of the head hurts, but also the forehead and temples - my head resembles a balloon that has flown into the upper layers of the atmosphere, where the air is rarefied, and now this balloon is inflated from internal pressure, about to burst. But the strangest thing is that almost the same thing happens with the lower abdomen, everything there has also gone mad, whines, burns and pulses, ready to explode with orgasm. I do not know what the matter is - in blood chemistry, in hormones, in the body’s subconscious desire to tear out the last bit of pleasure from life, being a step from death, but I understand that I’m already trying to podmahivat Predator. The body feels unusually light, not its own, and even the headache fades into the background.

And then I suddenly lose my footing.As if from the bottom of the well, I see the Predator’s face infinitely far — he let me go and walked back, said something that I couldn’t hear through the whistle in my ears, I try to find support in my panic, but it’s not there - it’s like in childhood when you unintentionally swim to the depth, only water holds, but not air. The guy's face hides behind white circles and black dots, and at the same time I’m finishing - and damn it, this is the most powerful orgasm in my life. Yes, the last so and dale ...

Darkness.

And there are no tunnels and angels there.

But the devil is here, slaps me on the cheeks - I hear his voice calling me by name. Name? No, my name is not so ...

- May!

Again, cold concrete, this time - under the back, hands tied behind the back interfere, so uncomfortable to lie on them. I open my eyes and look at the Predators leaning over me for a while, while the defocused vision gathers it into one face that I hate. I don’t know how long I’ve lain, apparently, for a long time, because my hands were completely icy, but I feel the body more or less normally. The guy looks somewhat frightened. Now I, perhaps, believe that he did not want to kill me.

But I do not care.

I wink at him, making it clear that everything is in order. There is a surprised relief on his face. I'm trying to say something through a scotch - I smarted in my throat unbearably, I cough. The predator leans below, pulls his hand to the scotch, hooks the corner - and then I literally fold in half, sharply, like a mousetrap spring, praying to all the gods at once about only one thing - so as not to let the body down.

The strike is not perfect, but the effect is achieved - the Predator loses its balance, falls to the side, waving its arms. My leg hits him in the groin, right in the fallen naked member. The guy makes a strange sound, something like a grunt and howl, falls, holding with both hands for the injured place, but that's not all. The next blow - toe boot in the temple. The predator limp on concrete with a pile of helpless meat.

Now - the knife. I roll onto my side, jerk up to the desired object - my hands are numb, the icy fingers feel just barely, but you want to live - you will not be honored with such acrobatics. I don’t know how much time it took to cut the ties on the wrists, but when I sit down, rubbing them with trembling fingers, the Predator groans, starting to come to his senses. A blow to the back of the head with a heavy spare part tucked under his arm reassures him for some time. So, now I need tape, a rope ... Yes, a lot of things are needed.

Hold on, bitch. My turn.