It's Showtime.

The single mindedness of Sonia and Norris has to be admired. Their aim of indulging in a little homicide, assisted suicide and a bit of nookie on the side all in the space of an hour may sound a tad ambitious and a tad on the naughty side to some, but it has to be said that their preparations have been right on point and thus we have Norris arriving at Sonia's unlocked front door at precisely 9:10pm on this both fateful and fatal Saturday evening.

No further conversation is necessary as he slips quietly in through this insecure appeture; everything has either been said, texted and deleted or scribbled down on pieces of paper that have been subsequently burned. They both know by heart what they're to do and everything's ready. Sonia gives Norris a brief smile in greeting on his arrival. In return, he shows her that he's wearing a pair of bright yellow Marigold®️ washing up gloves, two sizes too big for him. Sonia nods encouragingly; at least he's made an effort. Norris secures the front door as Sonia slips out of her dressing gown revealing the somewhat bloated naked body of a middle aged woman who would be only too glad to see the back of it if it were humanly possible to rotate her head through one hundred and eighty degrees. Norris strips off too revealing a rack of ribs you could play as a xylophone. This is not easy wearing Marigolds so Sonia has to help him.

"Nice tune" comments Norris as Sonia puts away her xylophone hammers. She also helps him undress and as she pulls down his baggy Y-fronts, she stoops and gives his scrummy circumcised cock an encouraging suck. However, nerves have taken their toll on his capacity to achieve an erection and therefore there's currently no response from his dangling member. Still that's not important right now because it's time to carry out the first part of their masterplan: drowning the catastrophe on legs that is Sonia's daughter, Cloé.

Actually, it'll be Sonia who'll be doing the drowning because there won't be room for all three of them in the bath as well as the water. Indeed, there'll barely be room for Sonia in there and definitely no room above water for Cloé when her avenging mother lays on top of her. Norris's role will simply be to help a possibly highly emotional murderess out of the bath after she's done the deed. After all, standing on wet corpses can prove a tad tricky for a novice like Sonia - and just think what a tragedy it would be if she were to be killed in an accidental fall before he had the chance to string her up on her bedroom door. That sort of thing could ruin a murderous conspirator's entire night!

At the bathroom door, they stop and listen to the sound of someone strangling a cat behind it.

"Aw bless! She's singing," wispers Sonia.

"Singing? That cacophony is a crime against music, she must be stopped at once. Er . . . would you like me to . . er . . do the honours?"

"No. Thanks pet but it's my mess: I should be the one to clear it up. How long should I hold her under do you think?"

"Until she stops trying to get out is my best guess. Are you ready?"

"I'm tingling all over with pretty much the same excitement I experienced when I was about to give birth to the brat. Anyway, the obnoxious way she is, someone was always going to kill her sooner or later. It's probably only fitting that it should be me who does it."

Without wispering another word, Sonia loudly bursts in through the bathroom door and hurls herself full length into the bath so as to land on top of her open mouthed daughter. Rapidly displaced soapy water shoots up in the air and much of it falls noisily on the cheap vinyl flooring. What water remains in the bath seethes and broils in response to the life and **** struggle taking place below it's surface. Norris is enraptured by the sight of Sonia's broad, wet backside bucking like an infuriated mule due to Cloé's brief and ultimately futile fight for life.

Conversely, Sonia has never felt more alive in her life as she does right now as she feels Cloé's slender, slimy body convulsing below the bubbles. The only regret she feels is that she hasn't sought to experienced such a thrilling full-fat adrenaline rush before. 'Hey! This taking affirmative action pursuant to achieving a much desired ambition is fun' she thinks closely followed by 'Here! Hark at me using all these fancy words. Sounds like I've swallowed a bleeding dictionary!' The feel of her daughter's slick and skinny body writhing under her, skin against skin, has an unexpected erotic quality about it that has her wondering if she might have missed out by never having had sex with a woman. Still, it's far too late for such speculation now. As Cloé's struggles subside, Sonia feels all the animosity she has towards her daughter dying with the belligerent brat. As it fades away like the diminishing stream of bubbles coming out of Cloé's mouth and nose, it's instantly replaced with the natural maternal love that Cloé's crass selfishness had made impossible for her to feel for so many years.

Finally, all is still. Sonia is softly sobbing as she remains lying on her daughter's dead body but her tears are tears of joy.

"At last, I've got my lovely daughter back. She's alive in my heart once more. Now her tyranny over me is ended, I can forgive her everything and die in hope of being reunited with her in love beyond life. You know what, I feel really ready to die now!"

Norris tries to wipe away his own sympathetic tears but the non absorbent gloves he's wearing merely smear them all over his face. In the end, he abandons this cosmetic action in favour of offering Sonia a bright Marigold®️ yellow hand to help her get out of the bath without trampling Cloé's corpse to dea... (well, you know what I mean. It's not as easy narrating stories like this as some people think, you know!)

Sonia knows precisely what to do next. With deliberately undried hands, she hastily scribbles her suicide note of regret for killing Cloé and makes sure some of her tears adorn the finished article, along with her soggy fingerprints. Meanwhile, Norris fumbles to fashion the rope Sonia's bought into a serviceable hangman's noose. He eventually manages to tie one end to the outside door handle of her bedroom, then loop the rope over the top of the door so the the noose hangs down on the inside. He checks the noose for height and estimates that Sonia's feet should be a good two or three inches off the floor when she’s hanging from it, thus ensuring that her vagina will be at the optimum height for him to fuck - if he can get a half decent erection up by then.

Sonia enters the bedroom with barely a glance at the door. She leaves her note on the bed before turning to Norris.

"I'm in your hands now, love. Remember, be merciless. Whatever I do or say at the last minute to try and stop you; kill me. I'll love you forever if you do."

There are tears in both their eyes (making four eyes in total. I'm sorry if my attention to detail seems a little pedantic but like I told you, this narration lark isn't easy!)

Norris leads her to the chair he's placed under the noose. Without hesitation, Sonia climbs onto the chair, turns her back to the door and drops the loose noose over her head so that the knot is placed behind her neck. This is so her neck will be less likely to break and she'll slowly strangle while Norris is shagging her as planned. That said, a quick glance down at his still flaccid cock drains Sonia of all confidence that this is certain to happen. In fact, standing there with the rope around her throat, she's no longer sure that this entire project is such a great idea after all. For a start, being killed might hurt. A lot! She's suddenly seized by a fit of fear bordering on terror and starts to tremble - but then Norris is nervous too. Too nervous to stand still. He transfers his weight from one leg to the other. This doesn't calm him so seeking some physical form of support, he absent mindedly leans against the half open door - quite forgetting it's half open.

The door closing with Norris's weight behind it is sufficient to pull Sonia off balance so that she slowly slides backwards off the chair and into space; although admittedly, it's into space at a very low orbit. And so the end begins. The noose tightens till the rope disappears within the folds of Sonia's fleshy neck. She gags and chokes. Her face rapidly becomes even more red and bloated than usual. Her chewed fingernails claw uselessly at the now vanished rope but what really attracts Norris's startled attention is the erotic dance the rest of Sonia's body is doing. Her naked flesh is quivering from head to toe as she convulses and spasms in the agony of slow asphyxiation. Her boobs bounce beautifully and her thick yet shapely legs thrash wildly in the air when not drumming noisily against the door. It's the most sexy sight Norris has ever seen. Nothing on the porn channels comes close to matching this. His heart begins to pound with excitement and at long last, Norris's penis catches up with events and rises to the occasion.

Kicking the chair away and badly bruising a naked foot in the process, Norris steps in front of his dangling paramour so that they're face to face. Sonia is looking at him though bulging bloodshot and fast watering eyes. This is now very much not the face of someone anyone would normally want to fuck, but a promise is a promise and Norris is a man who always keeps his promises. Normally, he just keeps them in his bedside diary but this time, as a matter of principle, curiosity and downright horny lust, he will honour the pledge. Taking hold of Sonia's swinging hips, he steps back and in doing so brings the twiching lips of her vagina up to a level affording easy penetration without the need for any unpleasant or undignified bending. Placing the tip of his cock against these lips, he moves forward, effectively lowering Sonia onto him. Inside, she's hot, wet and all of a dither. It feels as if everything inside Sonia's **** body is ganging up to ravish his cock and he knows that his orgasm will not be long in forthcumin.

At this point, Sonia does something truly remarkable. She wraps her arms and legs around Norris but instead of using him as a ladder on which to raise herself up in order to take the pressure off her windpipe, she rises and falls on him in an act of blatant copulation. Maybe it's true that asphyxiation heightens one's sexual experience. Sonia is certainly acting as if it does. She's really going for it like she's out to achieve one last orgasm even if it kills her. The only problem is, she does and it doesn't. In fact, she and Norris reach climax together and as shared climaxes go, this is a spectacularly good one. Norris cries out in ecstasy as he ejaculates inside her as Sonia jerks rhythmically and blows appreciative bubbles of unswallowable saliva. But she doesn't die and now she's distressed and suffering. It's all taking too long!

Norris can't bare to prolong her suffering a moment longer, so in a spontainious and humane gesture, he wraps his arms around the back of her neck, lifts his feet off the floor to add his hanging weight to hers. It works spectacularly in that his fumbling knot tying on the far side of the door comes undone due to wearing oversized Marigolds®️, causing Sonia to fall on top of Norris, knocking the little man unconsious . . .

Three weeks later, police enter the premises in response to receiving complaints about an increasingly unpleasant smell. A forensic examination of the scene reveals that the girl in the bath drowned, the woman with the rope still deeply embedded in her neck was strangled and the skinny man with the rubber glove fetish who's face was completely covered by one of the dead woman's voluminous breasts suffocated, although judging by the expression on his face, he didn't suffer much.

Time passes and obviously, a full investigation takes place, during which Norris's diary is found. The contents of this diary lead the Coroner to conclude that, tragic though these deaths were, one way or another, they all seemed to have asked for it.