Crunch time

She raised her foot high and then stomped down as hard as she could, the severe metal heel of her boot crunching brilliantly through his skull and plunging thick shards of it into his brain, his consciousness soon fading to black and allowing his body the excuse it so desired to unclench, his anus obliging with a comedic rasp before quietening down to a thin, elongated squeak and a little wet spurt at the end.

Don’t mind me

He lifted his feet up to allow the cleaner to hoover under his feet – irritating, but not so much so that he had to stop stroking one off. Nor was the sound of her wiping down the sinks in her rubber gloves a reason for him to avoid letting out a loud gurgle and belch as he synchronised his ejaculation with a squelching fart.