Surely she didn’t have any real work to do, what was keeping her so entertained. Just then I noticed it, that same look she had when looking at the websites with the girls. The mystery was killing me, but I was determined not to get any further in to the matter. My resolve lasted for about another 5 minutes until I looked over again. She was still sunk down in the big office chair, her eyes were half closed, and she appeared to be breathing deeply. OMG she’s masturbating! I was both aroused and panicked. I sat there quietly, but my male hormones got the best of me and I soon found myself opening up the remote desktop application so I could see what she was looking at. She had one of the websites from earlier open and was uploading pics from her phone to it while browsing the site. My cock got so hard so fast; I am surprised it didn’t tear a hole in the leg of my shorts. Again I found myself in need of moving my manhood to relieve the pressure, on top of my raging hard on I now had to. Zelda comes out of the bedroom, Monkey Man now blasting from the record in Rambler’s end. “OK, we’re getting out of here,” I say. Before she can say anything, Sheldon’s arm suddenly in a terror of fervor grabs my leg! He’s pulling me down. I see his face is while and reddish and blood is being coughed and breathed out as he still grabs me in his clutches and reaching up towards me, shoulder flapped off and all. Sheldon isn’t living and hasn’t crossed over yet. The piercings in the inner flesh have done nothing to stop his craze to bring me down with him to the afterlife. Fuck that. The fisherman’s pocketknife falls out of my pocket on the floor, but I retrieve it with ease and effort, plucking up the sharpest mini-razor, leaning the skull of the living dead to the side and nailing the knife through to the other side. The gagging stops. The dead body, the sloth himself, is exterminated. I stand up, no blood on my shirt but a good lot on my pants legs. Zelda’s eyes, those sea blue.
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