A grunt-fueled ******--the initial plunge--
Sinks the length in to the hilt.
A startled cry.
A breathy groan.
And not a single ounce of guilt.

A pleasured quake travels up my spine,
As I sink it in again.
She twists and writhes;
Contorts and sighs.
This is my moment of Zen.

She whimpers now! She's almost there!
And the wetness begins to pool.
I touch my lips onto her own,
Then wipe away the drool.

Her eyes go crossed; a drawn-out sigh,
And she lets out her final breath.
My ****** strikes as I withdraw the knife;
Drinking in ******* death.