Chapter 2: Stalking Shona

It had been nearly five years since Jim had shot me at the firing range. It was something that I was never going to forget for obvious reasons, but as well as the memories of the pain and the time in hospital and all the legal stuff that Jim had to deal with, I still had memories of the sex we had before which was really like nothing we had ever done and the feelings of trepidation as the curtain opened were really incredible.

To do the same thing again would be a big step, especially knowing what I would be letting myself in for. I had expected to be killed, not just seriously injured, and I now know if I did it again the outcome would most likely be similar. It would probably not be fair to hoodwink Jim again like that in to thinking that he was shooting a mannequin, and it would be hard to plead that it was an accident again. If it happened again and I died Jim would probably get to ride in an electric chair.

I now knew that the little Beretta was very hard to aim, and would be unlikely to kill unless used at very close range when fired at a critical organ. It was really a miracle that Jim had hit me three times with the seven bullets at that range, he had been quite lucky.

Several times when we had been making love I asked Jim to relive what he did to me. It always had a positive effect on him. He really got off on shooting me. I so wanted him to be able to have another go, I knew he would really love it.

The question was how to arrange it. Shona Two had become a fixture in the hall now so there was no way we could use her for target practice, and I don’t think that Jim could really let loose a whole clip in to her without the worry that it might be me and that I had not transgressed enough to deserve it. He did not want to face a murder charge and that was a constant worry.

Eventually an idea struck me. We could play a bit of a game. Games have rules of course, and Jim is always a stickler for playing by the rules, so if I could get him to agree to play I knew he would play fair.

It was a week before Jim’s birthday when I finally got the courage to tell him what I wanted him to do. I had put on a see through dress and prepared a special steak dinner - we could never go back to Murgatroyd’s - with candles and wine and beer, and I told him what I wanted him to do on his birthday.

“Jim.” I Said. “As a special treat for your birthday, I want you to shoot me again.”

Jim’s jaw dropped and he dropped his steak knife.

“But ... t.” Jim blubbed. “B, But I can’t put you through that again. I can’t put me through that again. It was hell. Who is going to pay for the lawyer?”

“Not the same as before, that would be boring, this time I want it to be different. I have saved some money so you will have a bit for the lawyer so don’t worry about that, and don’t worry about me - I am almost completely healed, I only have a little pain in my belly now that I hardly notice and my breathing is only laboured when I run. You get these things anyway when you get older, I am nearly twenty five now don’t forget.” I reassured him.

“Your little games worry me. An evening out at Murgatroyd’s and a clip in the range seemed like a nice quiet night out, I was not banking on a week in the slammer for that one, and I had to cook my own dinner for a month.” Said Jim, not completely reassured.

I tried again to reassure him. “You know you like shooting me. Not everyone gets to live out their ultimate fantasy. You have to live for the moment. You must do what you want to do occasionally.”

Jim was silent so I continued. “Here’s the game. You can play or you can pass. It makes no difference to me I will be doing the same whatever. On your birthday I will just be doing what I normally do. Wash the truck ready for our evening out, pop out to the shops, walk by the lake to feed the ducks, perhaps pop in and see Fallon on the way home. Do some ironing out on the veranda. You know, just normal stuff.”

“Yes, and so what is different?” Jim asked.

I answered. “The difference is that you can just shoot me any time you like.”

Jim gasped.

I continued. “You can only have one clip all day, and you can’t shoot closer to me than two hundred feet, but other than that you can just shoot me anywhere you like!”

I tilted my head to the side and smiled. Jim was just sitting open mouthed. I had told him now, and my pussy was getting really wet at the thought of what Jim was thinking.

I discreetly reached under my skirt and felt my pussy, it was soaking. I was much more composed than Jim even though my heart was racing at the thought of what Jim might do.

I rose and walked around the table to Jim. I took his hand and pressed it under my skirt to my pussy. I leaned over and kissed him delicately on his forehead.

That was all the encouragement Jim needed. He swept the crockery aside and lifted me on to the table. He had his dick out in no time and was fucking me hard, harder than I had been fucked for nearly five years.

As he fucked me Jim grunted between thrusts. “You ... really ... want ... me ... to ... shoot ... you, ... shoot ... you ... anywhere?”

“Yesssss.” I said as he nearly squeezed the life out of me and shot his load.

I held Jim tight and orgasmed too.

After that Jim grabbed a couple of beers and slung me over his shoulder and headed for the bedroom. The evening finished as if it was Jim’s birthday already.

A few days later Jim’s birthday arrived and I got up early to make him breakfast in bed. While he ate his fried eggs and sausage I went to my wardrobe to choose an outfit. The first dress I picked up was a barely see through short black dress. I had just intended to move it aside and find something else more appropriate to go shopping in.

“Wear that.” Said Jim, almost choking on a mouthful of sausage. “It’s my birthday and I like you in that.”

I didn’t want to question Jim on his birthday, and anyway it might be my last day alive, so I was quite happy to put it on without any underwear just the way Jim liked it. I brushed my hair and then stood looking out of the window, leaning forward with my feet a little apart so that Jim could see my pussy silouheted through the thin fabric against the window.

I heard Jim discard his empty crockery and in no time he was behind me fucking me for all he was worth until we orgasmed together.

Jim quickly withdrew and sat on the bed, and without saying anything I gathered the empty plates and took them downstairs.

A few minutes later I had tidied the kitchen and slipped on a pair of heels a little higher than I would normally wear to go shopping.

“I’m off to the shops now Darling.” I called up the stairs before I left through the front door.

I knew I would be O.K. for a few minutes, Jim was still upstairs when I left, and he could not see the road to the shops from the house.

I turned out of Cherry drive into Creekway and headed for the bridge with a very slippery stream of cum oozing between my thighs. I did not dare look anywhere other than straight ahead, and now I was in the open I was starting to tremble.

I listened but it was eerily quiet. I would recognise the sound of Jim’s car and the truck, and I would hear if Jim was running up behind me to get in range. While the silence was putting my mind at rest a little, it felt too quiet. It was most likely just as quiet as every other day, but what sound was there was drowned by my own heartbeat.

When I got to the creek bridge my legs were shaking like jelly. I was now so exposed. I just carried on walking, hearing just my heartbeat and my heels clicking on the pavement.

The silence was broken by a car coming up from behind. It was not Jim’s car, but that does not mean it was not Jim. There was plenty of room to pass me on the creek bridge, but I heard the car slowing. I was beginning to lose control of my legs now and took increasingly smaller steps. I kept staring straight ahead.

The car was just behind me now, going at little more than walking pace. I heard the window start to wind down and I lost control of my bladder.

“Shona, Shona. Do you want a ride?” Fallon called out.

I gingerly turned round to face Fallon, with pee still running down my legs, half expecting to see Jim hanging out of the back window.

“Hi Fallon.” I said in a rather trembly voice. “I’m fine. The fresh air is good. Thank you. Are you in later? I’ll pop in on the way back.”

“O.K. I’m just picking up some groceries, I’ll be home in half an hour. See you later.” Said Fallon, the end of the conversation muffled as she wound up the window and drove away apparently oblivious to me wetting myself right in front of her.

As Fallon’s car disappeared towards main street the silence returned. I now thought that I could hear all sorts of things, but nothing specific beyond my now wet shoes squelching and echoing off the sides of the bridge.

Crack.

I heard a shot and heard the bullet zing past. I put my hand out to steady myself against the bridge but continued to slowly walk forward, not once looking round.

Would Jim risk missing with a second shot, would he capitalise on me being out in the open? I didn’t know so could do nothing other than keep walking.

My legs and feet were wet. I didn’t know if I wet myself again, or if my bladder was empty.

Crack - ding.

He fired again and the bullet ricocheted off the steel bridge. He did try again - and missed again.

I walked to the end of the bridge still slowly and still holding on. Once free of the bridge I walked a little faster, nearly back to normal speed but my wet shoes were slowing me down a bit.

By the time I got to the end of Creekway I felt I was almost home. I could hear the sounds of a busy centre and there was just one empty block before Main Street with a few children playing which kind of put my mind at rest. I was becoming slightly less preoccupied with Jim and a bit more pragmatic. I could still feel the wetness in my shoes, and I did not want to find myself in a crowd and suddenly wetting myself in front of everyone if I caught a glimpse of Jim. I wanted to find a Ladies room, but there was only one in Main Street and it was about three quarters of the way down. It really came down to a choice - probably wet myself in front of everyone, or just do it discreetly here. I couldn’t squat down without risking a charge of public urination, my legs and feet were all wet anyway, so I just stopped walking, relaxed as best I could, and peed down my legs. It is not like I was not already wet. I only did a little bit but I was surprised by how nice and warm it felt. I had not noticed the warmth before, just the wetness in my shoes. I squeezed to make sure I was empty and walked on to join Main Street with my shoes squelching again.