God, the thought of what she'd had to listen to, of how he spoke would be with her for life. She had watched his face as he described his many victims... the torture methods of killing he had used, the blood and gore he had shed. He was emotionless, passive with about as much passion in his words as she had when she talked getting the tires rotated on her car.He had calmly taken her through a twenty-some years career in killing, carefully detailing events psychotic and horrible enough to give her. They had metal music playing, and over the top I could hear her saying something. It sounded like "My my, my my." As I approached, I could distinguish it better. She was saying "My arse, My arse!"I didn't go in. They were obviously screwing to the music, her and her new friends. Now and then I heard the blokes grunting appreciatively. It's hard to say how I felt. Her friends all knew too. I got very aroused, it was sick but horny. Somehow a****l like in a strange way. Very rude, obscene even. More

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