Kill Jill Read Online Free

blowing it up.
    Balloon fetishists are generally poppers or looners, but there are endless variations of each classification. Looners love balloons, and treat them like frail children. When one pops or becomes deflated, they become devastated, as if a part of them has died.
    Poppers are different.
    They attach sexual emotions to balloons. A typical female popper blows a balloon till it pops, at which point she experiences an intense orgasm.
    Emma’s a popper, but not in the classic sense.
    For her, balloons are seductive. Everything about them—the touch, smell, feel of latex against her skin—is sensual. When she blows air into a balloon she feels the life force enter it. Revels in knowing she’s turned an inanimate object into a living thing.
    Emma’s selective. She doesn’t attach feelings to random balloons. She buys packages of assorted balloons, chooses perhaps one of twenty. When she’s ready, she gets completely naked, blows her select balloon to its absolute maximum, to tease herself. When she’s convinced no more air can enter the balloon without bursting it, she ties off the valve, lies back on the bed, tosses it in the air, watches it fall, taps it back up with her fingers.
    Looner foreplay.
    Each time her fingertips make contact with the balloon, her senses become heightened. When she can stand it no longer, she spreads her legs, places the balloon snug against her triangle, squeezes her thighs gently, while touching herself. Ideally, her climax occurs at the moment the balloon pops between her thighs. When that happens, she gushes. But if the balloon proves too durable, she stabs it with a fingernail at the moment of fulfillment. This causes a different type of orgasm, less intense, less fulfilling, but like any man will tell you, there’s no such thing as a bad one.
    Emma’s not a screamer.
    A few gasps, the occasional low moan, assorted facial grimaces—and she’s done.
    The balloons usually burst against her inner thighs, causing a delicious sting that lasts ten or fifteen seconds. But when a balloon happens to burst against her clit, the pain is intense, long-lasting, and memorable.
    Unlike most poppers, Emma doesn’t require a loud explosion. In fact, she prefers a muffled pop, which is why she covers her legs with bedding after putting the balloon in place. If you were in her bedroom right now, with the lights off, you’d have no idea what’s happening under the covers.
    Until you hear the little gasps, and the muffled pop.
    If you’ll listen you’ll hear…
    There !
    Did you hear it? And that little sound just now?
    A shudder.
    Moments later, she falls into a deep, sound sleep.
    Doesn’t even hear the sound the front door makes, as someone turns the knob and tries, unsuccessfully, to enter.

10:45 a.m.
    “The casserole was wonderful!” Emma says, handing Milly the empty dish.
    Milly places it on the counter, opens the refrigerator, frowns.
    “You hardly touched it,” she says.
    “I don’t eat much. But what I had was truly delicious. I plan to have some more for lunch.”
    Milly says, “You’re slim, all right. Guess that’s why Jack chose you.”
    She glances at the kitchen countertop, then starts opening cupboards.
    “Can I help you with something?” Emma says.
    “Where’d you put all your canned goods?”
    “They’re scattered about.”
    Milly frowns again. “You don’t have a bomb shelter, do you?”
    Emma laughs. “Can I make you some coffee?”
    “Might as well. I’m not planning to leave till I’ve told you who in town can and can’t be trusted.”
    Emma squeezes her eyes shut, forces herself not to scream.
    2:15 p.m.
    The knock at the front door comes so soon after Milly’s departure, Emma wonders if her new friend forgot her casserole dish. She opens the door to find Sheriff Cox standing on the front porch.
    “No crimes to investigate?” she says.
    “I might be investigating one right now,” he says. “Mind if I come in?”
    “Do I have a