I Wanted To Murder My Cheating Boyfriend, But I Did Something Much More Disturbing

I rose and sauntered into the kitchen, careful not to lick my lips and dislodge the makeup. Once I had what I wanted, I resumed the straddling position. Unbuckled his belt. Yanked down his pants.

“What the hell are you doing? Get me up. Get me up. She’s only a friend. We only fucked once. I fucking swear.”

I grabbed a chunk of hair to yank his head off the floor, so I could wrap the belt around it and shove it in between his teeth. Keep his lying mouth sealed.

“You hurt me,” I said, voice chirpier than it had been in weeks. “Now I hurt you. It’s only fair.”

I let the knife make contact with his flesh, wondering how different the cool steel felt compared to Bethany’s warm pussy. And as I sawed into the wrinkled skin, I prayed that every slice hurt more than the last.

And then I prayed that the lipstick would last long enough to let me chop off his balls, too. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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