Keith sank his teeth into the kid’s neck as he shuddered, still trying to scream. He was dying. Keith hoped that he could still feel his teeth, still hear his ragged breathing as he got closer to coming.
The kid bucked up against him. Keith shoved his cock deep into his bowels and held it there as the kid’s muscles jerked around him, squeezing his cock, milking him. Keith could have sworn then, as they lay locked together, the kid’s shudders were a dying orgasm, but his own balls were contracting. He groaned around the blood that filled his mouth as he emptied himself, shooting deep inside the dying kid’s bowels.
At last, the boy’s convulsions stopped and Keith felt the muscles that gripped his cock so tightly relax. He pulled out in a trickle of sperm and blood. He stood, a little unsteadily, and did his best to wipe himself off. He pulled his clothes back on, then flipped the body over. The kid’s sightless eyes stared straight up, faintly accusing. Keith smiled and grabbed him under the arms.
It was only a few metres to the side of the river, and the boy was so light that Keith dragged him easily. He dumped the body, then threw the kid’s clothes in after him. He didn’t bother to clean up the bank, the blood-stained grass, or the clear mark where the body had been dragged.
No-one would come looking for him. He paused for a minute, then threw the knife in after the body.
‘Wasn’t that worth the wait?’ he asked the river.
With a smile, he watched the surface of the water become calm again, then walked away.