Holding the pristine polished metal up to the light of the sun he delicately tapped the handle four times with his right thumb…then proceeded to hasten countless more groups of quadruple taps until his ears caught the trundling sounds of Frances returning.
The throbbing voices in his head intensified as he watched her return with lecherous, dribbling lips and kicked himself for not reaching out for, or even trying to fondle or caress her earlier. Justin desired her, lusted for her and yearned for his mighty tool of creation to soothe, explore and penetrate her with gentle and relentlessly firm, lurid and rhythmical thrusts. Voices circling inside his head began to swirm, coalesce, evolve and dance around his miscreant psyche like a vast approaching locust swarm intent on destroying his entire crop of sickly, sweet centred angelic synaptic pathways.
Deep within his own head he was desperately trying to swat the locusts away. Aggressively splaying them with huge flamethrowers, pesticides and outlawed napalm, but all to no avail. A single swarm, a single voice coming together as one. Strong, relentless, determined, rising in crescendo and pitch until Justin swore his head was about to implode.
“Go away. Please go away.” He screamed.
Throwing both hands up to his throbbing temple he fell to his knees and cried once more as he heard Frances approach the tent.
“Kill the bitch.” The voices raged.
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All characters contained in these tales are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.