Today I woke up anxious,
Anxious to get my hands on the latest edition of 'Neighborhood sex Crimes',
A series that kept my mind daydreaming with gore and whores,
This writer was local and put them in tiny free libraries across town,
I couldn't get enough of it,
They usually start off gory and end with some chick they met for the first time somewhere local,
Sometimes a love story that ends horrific and often someone is getting strangled,
So I started my Sunday typically the same as every Sunday,
I wake up wet anticipating what will happen next in the series and horny,
I masturbate, then I stop at my local cofeee shop for a dirty chai then I head over to the tiny free local library,
I nearly soaked a puddle this time around,
Today was a beautiful morning,
The sun peaked through my curtains waking me,
Birds were chirping and having the best time of their life,
I reached over to grab my tender breast,
Then inching my way up to my neck,
I loved the idea of getting choked while having sex,
But always too shy to bring it up to any normal human being,
So I just read and read and read,
Seems to be satisfying enough,
I reached my other hand further down to gently caress my tiny clit,
Gentle turned into soft,
Soft then turned into intensely rough for about a minute and a half before I came all over my fingers,
I placed my hand inside of my mouth because I was always curious about what my vagina tasted like that week,
Then I wrapped the string from my robe around my neck and rolled over in my sheets,
Under a spell,
A spell of my own,
A secret that only I knew,
It also helped that there was a series of women missing in my neighborhood,
Did this writer have anything to do with the murders?
Or is it a huge coincidence,
All the excitement got me riled up and psychotic,
After I came I slowly reached over to my night stand to read the last page of the last series,
I always like a fresh ending right before I read the new series,
Once I got to the last page I could tell it was thicker then usual,
I tore open the page and there seemed to be a tiny square devise,
I jumped up and went to the bookshelf and started grabbing all the tiny books off the shelf ripping open the last page of each book,
The same devise was in all the books,
I took a picture with google to identity the devise,
And sure enough it was a tracking devise,
I felt betrayed and watched,
My bones shaking with fear and regret,
The writer was the serial killer and this was how he tracked his women,
Instead of panicking I took all the books I collected over the past few weekend and put them in a bag,
I packed them into my neighbors trash can and sat in my living room for the next few hours,
Waiting with my gun in one hand and cell phone in the other,
As I awake from dozing off in my recliner I can see red and blue flashing lights outside,
I walked to the front door to see what happened,
Running out in my slippers and robe I asked the police what happened,
They said a woman was strangled to death in her bath tub...
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