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Dwa pająki się spotkali, puzzle sobie ukladali
jeden mówi do drugiego, pospisz się kolego.

Polish poem

I am a spider. I kill flies. I hide, like every clever spider, in plain sight. Fully dressed, I look like any ordinary human being; you won’t notice the tattoos. I’ve put myself – a red-back spider – on one shoulder, and all the swatted flies on the other side.

Do yourself a favour: if I talk to you, and you’re starting to think I’m nice, run. Or I will bring you to heights you’ve yet to see, only to tear you apart a little while later.

A month after poisoning the couple in Bosnia, I hadn’t found a place to settle down just yet. I was still living in hotels – at this time a rather nice one in Sczcecin – when I was invited to the pool by a man. Knowing me, I’m sure you are wondering what the relevance is, here. But it is relevant, trust me; I’ve never been this honest. Once we were in the pool, I realised I was not alone: on his shoulder there was a tattoo of a rather large spider climbing up towards his neck. It wasn’t a red-back, but it looked fierce enough. Even though there were no flies on the other, I was sure I had met a partner in crime. The only difference being, that he was just getting started.

He was nice, we had a similar character, only confirming my suspicion. And then he took the initiative. There were twins sitting by the pool. Dark-blonde, wavey hair, fit, trained bodies, flat stomachs, small and firm breasts covered by cute bikinis. Their smiles were to die for, their voices soft and timid and their emerald eyes shone. At first glance, the only difference between them were their belly buttons: one had a pink button pierced into it, the other a blue one.

The other spider turned out to be an even smoother talker than myself. Before the afternoon was old, the four of us were in their room, naked. They had the suite, and the livingroom was turned into an orgy palace. While I’m not really bisexually inclined, sharing twins with another spider, was a unique experience. Kissing one girl whie fingering another, having my dick sucked by the other, while licking the one’s pussy; having one pussy planted on my face, while the other’s wet pussy rode my penis and feeling the other spider’s cock moving deep inside her anus, knowing the sisters were kissing… All this led to a new version of ecstasy.

The first time I blew my load into one twin, the sexual tension in the room was so high, I did not even need a turn around time. We just kept going, until the girls orgasmed simultaneously on our dicks, and I came a second time into the other sister. I didn’t pay attention the the other spider’s jizz-count, but by nightfall he seemed as satisfied as a man can be.

We spent the night in their suite; each girl in their own room, accompanied by a spider. In the room I stayed, I managed to make the girl come three more times – once by hand, once by penis and, after a shower, one more time orally. The latter two also resulted in an orgasm on my side. And then we slept.

The next morning, my half of the twins and myself awoke first. In our underwear we moved into the suite’s kitchen. And there she started bugging me about the flies on my arm. Of course, I didn’t want to answer, but she wouldn’t let it go. And that annoyed me, so I took a kitchen knife and thrust it into the wooden paneling of the kitchen – straight through her abdomen. I muffled her screams with my hand and told her she would be the next fly on my arm. Then I twisted the knife. My hand was growing slippery with blood, and a pool was slowly forming at her feet. I kept the knife in place, so she stayed upright against the wall.

That’s when I noticed the other spider staring at me – apparently in shock. He mouthed the words ‘what the fuck’ over and over. I told him to hurry up and get on with it, partner. “This is what we spiders do to flies!” I said. To my sincere disappointment he then replied: “I’m nothing like you.” And then I heard a girl scream.

I knew I had to act quickly. I needed some time to get away, before this hit the news. I pulled the knife out of the wall. The warm corpse slumped with a sigh to the floor. I threw the knife across the kitchen and was lucky to hit the other twin in the lower abdomen – sharp end first. The shock silenced her for a few seconds, which was almost enough time for me to grab another knife, move behind the still stunned, lame, fake, other spider, pull his head back and slam the knife into his brain. He went down quietly, but the other twin started running, screaming. Thankfully I was faster, I tackled her and when going down, she hit her head on the edge of a cabinet. She went limp, but to ensure she would never talk again, I planted the knife in her heart.

Obviously I am the only real spider. Dangerous even to the look-a-like wannabes. I cleaned myself up, put on clothes, and took their phones. I turned them off and threw them in the Oder. Only then did I get a new tattoo – two flies this time, with interlocking legs. It turned out really nice. Now, I look down at them, uncovered by my T-shirt, shivering in the spring night in which I feel forced to entrust my story to this page, it appears as if their wings flutter. I remember watching the hotel on TVP3 the next day, realising I’d have to be more careful next time. I’d proven I’m dangerous, but for the first time I wondered if I’d gone too far. One thing I still recommend, though, is, when I talk to you: run. For I am still the only real spider.