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Joan strangles me in this wonderful and exciting story
Fat Louie looked blearily up from behind his latest issue of Penthouse at the figure who now stood in the open doorway of the Four Leaf Motel's grubby little lobby. Behind her, silhouetting her tall, lithe body in its garish light, the flashing "vacancy" and "hourly rates" signs illuminated the features of a slender, athletic blonde, with long limbs and a mane of golden hair framing her face. The sight of her was more than enough to send Louie's old "Mr. Happy" into overdrive. He wasn't generally turned on by hookers anymore. But this one was something special. She stepped forward, moving with wonderful grace, a playful smile on her full lips. "Are you Louie?" she asked, leaning over the reception desk toward him. She wore a tight white t-shirt with the words "Born to Kill" written across it. The boobs underneath were large and firm, her nipples straining against the taut cotton. "Yeah," he said, his eyes popping. "I'm Louie. You looking for work?" She nodded. "New in town?" She nodded again. "Okay, honey. Here's the deal. I ain't no pimp. The customers come in. You hang around the lobby. If they like you, you strike the deal and go with them to their rooms. I get half. Simple as that. I don't push you. I don't push them. You make any trouble I pop you in the mouth and send you packing. You got a name?" "Joan," she said, still smiling. "Joan? That's no name for a hooker. Not sexy enough. You should change it to 'Bambi' or 'Candy'." When she didn't reply, he shrugged. "Well, from the look of you, I'd guess you manage okay with the name you got." "I usually get what I'm after," Joan said. "Are there any customers currently staying here. I like single men … young and slender." He gaped at her a moment before laughing. "You do, do you? Well, you just ain't been listening, sweetheart. The customers I got right now, alone or not, ain't fair game. Just the ones who come in while you're in the lobby." She leaned over and ran a long slender finger down his cheek. The action sent shivers through his body. He wondered if he might be allowed to sample this one before she went to work. It was rare, given his age and his looks, but it occasionally happened. "A young one, Louie. I think there's one staying here. I saw him at the airport, coming in from overseas. I followed him here." "Hey," Louie said, backing off. "I'm not getting involved in any beef you might have with a johnny!" "There's no beef," Joan said with a musical little laugh. "I've never met the man. I just spotted him at the airport. I think he's Brazilian. He has nice face and a beautiful neck. I like necks." "Do you?" Louie asked. She nodded. "Is he here? If I get him, you can have all the money. All I want's the guy." Louie blinked, feeling both confused and turned on. "Yeah … well some foreigner did check in a while back. Lemme check the register." With an effort, he pulled his gaze away from her blue eyes, his beefy finger running down the short list of tonight's customers. "Yeah. Joa. That's the name he gave. Don't know if it's real. Hey, it beats 'John Smith', right?" When he looked up, his smile died. Joan wasn't there anymore. Frowning, he turned to find her standing beside him, so close that her could feel her breast rub against him as she breathed. "Jeez!" he yelped. "You scared me!" She laughed and placed a warm hand around his thick shoulders. "Sorry, Louie. I'm sometimes told I have a light footstep." "Yeah … well … like I said, Joa is the guy's name." "What room is he in?" "Fourteen." She was closer now, her arm encircling him, her hand massaging his chest. Louie swallowed hard. "You have a key to that room, Louie?" "Hey, wait a minute …" Louie said, panting heavily. Mr. Happy was the size of a U2 rocket inside his pants. Joan's other hand snaked up and took hold of her opposite wrist. "Nevermind, Louie. I'll find it myself. Hey, Louie … you want to see what I'm going to do to Mr. Joa?" "Huh?" She brought her lips close to his ear, her tongue teasing the pink, cauliflower flesh. "I'm going to strangle him," she whispered. "Real SLOW." Before Louie could react, her right arm clamped tightly around this thick neck. Her left hand pulled viciously on her other wrist, cutting off his air in a heartbeat. He gasped and reached up, his meaty fingers trying to work their way in under her forearm. She was incredibly strong. "I don't usually do it like this, Louie," Joan whispered through clenched teeth. "Usually, I prefer to use my hands. But your such a fat fuck that I don't think I could reach. So this will have to do." She pulled harder, her biceps digging into his throat, shutting his windpipe. He gasped and thrashed, his legs crashing against the underside of the reception desk. She laughed and pulled harder still, bending backward, driving her forearm deeper into the thick folds of Louie's neck. "Choke for me, Louie. Choke for me long and slow. Choke to death for me Louie!" She moaned with what sounded like pleasure as she relentlessly strangled him. Louie twisted and turned, his tree trunk legs pumping, but the woman's grip remained tight around his neck. With a final, mighty heave, he tumbled clumsily from his chair and crashed onto the unmopped floor, landing on his expansive belly. Joan went with him, the strangling pressure of her arm never easing as she lay down atop him. "Tighter you big bastard," she whispered into his ear. "Tighter and TIGHTTTERRR." His struggles began to weaken. His eyes were as wide as saucers. From between thick blue lips, his tongue lolled out and touched the grimy floor. Joan kept the pressure up as his body twitched and writhed beneath her, tugging with her left hand, her right hand locked into a tight fist. She pulled, groaning with effort, rubbing her body against the big dying pimp until the last of his struggled ebbed. Still she held on, grinning as his face went from blue to black. Finally, laughing a little, she relaxed and climbed off of him. Louie lay at her feet like a beached whale, his face swollen and lifeless. "That was more fun than I thought it would be, Louie," Joan said, opening drawers in the reception desk until she found the one that held the spare keys. She selected the one for Room Fourteen. "Thanks, Louie. I'll remember that one. I really will." Then she left the lobby and walked door the row the gray doors until she found Room Fourteen. The single window stood dark, the curtains drawn. It was past midnight and Joa had no doubt had a long trip. Joan listened at the door for thirty seconds or so. There was someone inside, breathing deeply, obviously asleep. Smiling, she quietly unlocked the door and stepped into the tiny, dingy motel room. In the dim light that bled in from the garish neon signs at the street, Joan could just make out a double bed, a worn dresser and an old black-and-white television. There was a single occupant on the bed, sleeping soundly. He was naked, at least from the waist up. His neck, the same neck that she had spotted while cruising the airport, was well exposed, looking pink in the uneven light. She smiled and slowly removed her shorts and t-shirt. There was, of course, nothing underneath. Joan approached the bed, moving slowly, until she stood directly over the sleeping man. Gingerly, she drew back the sheet, revealing a lean, handsome body, completely nude. He stirred a little, still not waking. Joan smiled, leaned over and pressed her lips gently to his. He began to awaken, his eyes fluttering. Her kiss deepened as her hand ran down his belly and began to work at his cock, massaging it gently, bringing it to glorious life. Joa said something in a language that Joan didn't know - Portuguese she supposed. It had a lovely, lyrical quality to it that appeal to her. She smiled. "Hush, pretty Joa. Just enjoy …" He began to protest, but her stroking and kissing quieted him. A mental switch went off in his head and he finally smiled and settled back, confused but now too aroused to protest. Joan's lips ran down to his throat. It was a lovely throat, slender but strong, and she found herself anticipating feeling her hands settle around it, feeling her fingers slowly tightening … She straddled him. "You don't speak English, do you, Joa?" He only looked up her uncomprehendingly. "That's all right, lover." Her hand moved up and down more quickly on his cock. He felt good and hard now. Shifting her weight, she let me inside her, feeling the sweetness of his penetration. Soon, very soon, she would penetrate him, as well - penetrate his fragile life with his crushing hands. "Yes, Joa," she purred, feeling him thrust into her. Then she lay down atop him, enjoying the fuck. "Now lover, I'm going to put my hands around your neck. It'll be light at first, just holding … no squeezing. Then, when I'm ready, I'll slowly tighten. I press my thumbs into your windpipe, right there …" She kissed a spot above his adam's apple. He moaned. "You'll struggle. They all struggle. But I've done this so many times, Joa. I've strangled so many men. I'm VERY good at it. All your struggles will do is excite me. But don't worry lover, you'll cum. I promise you the cum of your life as I choke you and choke you." Her fingers moved from his shoulder and settled around his throat, her thumbs in the front. He barely noticed. "Now, Joa," she said. She squeezed. His back arched immediately, driving him deeper inside her. They moaned together. His hands flew to her wrists as he became aware of the strangling pressure around his neck. His body twisted, his eyes going wide. She smiled and squeezed harder, feeling the sweet firm muscles in his neck and the rapid, frightened beating of his pulse. "I'm squeezing, Joa. Can you feel it? I'm strangling you to death, right here and now. My hands are squeezing tighter and tighter. Strangle for me, pretty lover. Strangle for Joan." Joa's gasped, his lungs begging for air. He tried to shove her off, pressing his hands against her large, firm breasts, feeling her erect nipples against his palms. But her only tightened her legs around him, keeping him inside her and keeping him hard. And all the while, she continued to strangle him, her long crushing fingers reaching almost all the way around his neck, shaking with effort. "That's it, Joa! Fight me! Fight your strangler! Die! Die for me!" He writhed, his eyes wide, his mouth opening and closing like a fish's. Joan kissed his cheek, pressing her lips against the reddening flesh. She bore down, choking him all the harder, listening to the soft gurgling sounds that rose from his closed throat. "Soon now, lover. Soon. Choke for me. Choke for Joan. I'm here for you." Joa's struggles began to weaken. At the same moment, she felt him cum inside her, spilling seed for the very last time, the only part of him that would survive their brief, savage encounter. Then, with a shudder, he went still, and Joan felt her own orgasm grip her like a rushing wave. She threw back her head and groaned with release, her hand still locked tightly around her victim's crushed throat. Then, her passion spent, she looked down at the beautiful man inside her hands. Her thumbs continued to press into his soft flesh, relished the feeling. Finally, reluctantly, she relaxed and sat up. "Joa," she said. "That may have been the very best, ever. Thank you, sweet man." She leaned over and kissed his blue cheek. Then she climbed off of him and got dressed. She get back in her car and head back to the airport. There was flight coming in from Japan later. She'd never strangled a Japanese man before. Could be fun. "By the way," she said to the corpse before she left. "Welcome to America."
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