     One thing she had always been proud of.......when she made up her mind, that was that.  End of story.
     And she had made up her mind that somebody was going to die tonight.
     Him, or her.  And sometimes it didn't matter which one.
     So here she was, slipping silently backwards through a basement window, into the nearly deserted frat house.  Heart in her throat.  Wet.  Dressed to kill.
     She had taken a long time deciding what to wear.  She had settled on a tight black t-shirt, and a short, black, tight, stretchy skirt.  Black running shoes.  No underwear.  If things went his way, she wanted it to go his way big.
     She'd been in the house a half a dozen times already.  Always when it was completely deserted.  Scouted it out.  Planned.  Stashed her goodies where she could get them now.
     She lifted the black travel bag from behind a pile of cardboard, and crept silently through the dark towards the stairs.  Alive, and aware of the cool dank air on her legs and under her skirt.  The pressure of the tight t-shirt on her breasts.
     Up the stairs.  The door opened silently as she pushed.  She'd oiled the hinges last time she'd prowled the house.
     Pausing in the shadowy kitchen to slowly ease open the zipper on the bag.  Holding it shut with both handles, she moved towards the stairs.
     Up the stairs, skipping over the squeaky ones.  She wanted to be silent, even though she figured he was sleeping heavily.  He'd partied after the football game, probably had a few.
     At his bedroom door now.  These hinges were oiled too.  She slipped in and latched the door behind her.  Listened to his breathing, tried to control hers.  She felt like she was doing foreplay, and it was getting close to action.
     Moonlight lay in a square patch on the floor, giving plenty of light to see.  He slept on his back in the bed, a sheet pulled up to his waist, his naked chest moving slowly as he breathed.  She placed the bag next to the bed, knelt next to it, near his head.  Her heart pounded, and her breath was hard to keep quiet.
     From the bag she carefully pulled out a length of nylon strap, with a loop at each end.  Fingers trembling, she pushed one end of the strap under his neck, next to the pillow.  Careful not to touch his skin with the nylon.  Reached over his chest and helped the strap through.  Knowing this was IT, him or her.  
     Toying with the impulse to carelessly wake him up and lose the fight.
     She threaded one end of the strap through the loop at the other end.  Laid the assembly on the sheet next to his head, the noose supporting itself just above his throat.
     His regular slow breathing changed to a long intake, and an erotic groan.  He was dreaming.  The sheet covering his waist quickly rose to a peak.  She stared, mesmerized.  Felt herself get wetter and hotter, her nipples tightened against her t-shirt.  
     He moaned again, and pushed his hips up slightly.  Gasped.  She bent to the bag and pulled out a small block and tackle assembly.
     She had asked her physics professor to help her design this thing.  Didn't tell him what for, of course.  Just gave him her weight, 110, and his weight, 220, and let him size it.   
     Now she quickly and silently moved a chair to the center of the room, and slipped a nylon strap around a pipe near the ceiling.  Clipped one pulley to the strap.  Got down and moved the chair away.  Clipped the other pulley very carefully to the strap around his neck.
     Beneath the sheet his hand moved up and down on his cock.  His breath gently panted.  His eyes were still closed, maybe still asleep.
     Again she considered waking him, letting him win this one.
     Instead she took the loose end of the rope in her hands.  This was all measured out.  She needed to pull this end of the rope to that doorknob, and drop the loop over the handle.  
     Wrapping the rope around her hands, she lunged across the room.  Never expected it to pull so easily.  Reached the doorknob, and threw the loop over it.  Unraveled her hands.  Turned to look.
     In the moonlight he hanged above the floor.  His feet moved like he was treading water.  Fingers clawed at the strap that had tightened on his neck so much it had almost disappeared.  His cock waved straight out in front of him.  Mouth opened and closed silently.
     She stood and stared, both her hands going to the front of her skirt.
     He kept his hands at his throat.  Jogged in place, inches above the floor, cock bobbing, the veins on his cock bulging in the moonlight.
     Her hands moved on herself and she moaned, and then she pulled her skirt up and threw one leg over the rope.  Guided it between her legs, slid back and forth on it, soaking the rope, feeling the jerks and tugs as he struggled on his end.  Squeezed her breasts with her hands as the rope worked at her, bringing her closer.  She opened her mouth and moaned out loud, panting, staring......
     With his hands at his throat, he pressed his legs together, thrust out his cock, and shot a stream of semen across the room.  Spurting again and again, splashing on the floor and bed, hanging in a string from the end of his cock.  The sight brought her to orgasm too, and she pulled her feet off the floor, balancing all her weight on the rope between her legs, gasped and panted, hands clamped on her own breasts.  She inadvertently screamed as she came.
     Suddenly his body exploded into frenzied struggles.  His legs thrashed in every direction, his arms flailed and punched at the air.  His cock bounced and bobbed, still hard, swinging up and slapping against his washboard stomach.  Balls swinging below.  The rope twanged between her legs, kept her skimming on the brink of another orgasm.  She pulled her t-shirt off over her head and threw it on the floor, leaned forward on the rope, rode it, letting it bounce her between her legs and her breasts.
     She was washed over by an orgasm, and then another.  She'd never seen a man completely out of control before, and it turned her on beyond description.  He gyrated and thrashed and turned blue, his cock getting harder, the veins starting to stand out on the shaft again.  The smell of semen filled the air.
     He put his hands to the rope above his head and tried to lift himself, but his strength was gone.  His legs became uncoordinated, swinging loose and heavy.  His toes pointed down.  Slowly his hands slid off the rope and fell to his sides.
     She slid off the rope and walked to him.  Stood in front of his twitching body, staring at his straining cock.  Took his balls in her hands and squeezed.  Hard.  Pulled them down and squeezed as hard as she could.  His cock spurted hot cum across her bare breasts and her stomach, spewing gob after gob of hot crawly flooding semen.  
     She pulled her skirt off, kicked off her shoes.  Reached up and took him by the neck, pulled herself off the floor against him.  Slid up until his impossible hard cock was between her legs, and then impaled herself on it.  Let her toes dangle next to his as she pumped his cock, brought herself to orgasm again and again and again, as long as her arms could hold her up to him.  Just when she couldn't hold on any longer, his corpse ejaculated into her, one last time.
     She slid to the floor and lay gasping for a long time, while he hanged motionless above her.  His cock stayed hard.
     Finally, she got up and pulled her clothes on, over the sticky sperm that coated her belly and breasts and thighs.  Leaving everything as it was, she crept out of the house.