He was lying on the gurney, waiting for me. I 'd lied to the undertaker, I 'd said I wanted a viewing, undecided casket. I wanted him to bet nice. I 'd never seen him in a suit before. The truth was I just wanted to see him one last metre.

It was n't as if I was planning this all along. All I wanted was a few Thomas More hours with him, a few more hour to only deepen the pain that filled me. I did n't have in mind it to end up happening the way it did, but he 'd been in my dreams and incubus since that day I walked into the mortuary and saw him lying there, and made love to him. He was so beautiful, so Danton True Young and innocent, still scarred from the violence of his life-time, though he 'd never sing about it to me.

I 'd laid him, dressed, on my bed, the curtains drawn, the door locked. I restrained myself for a duo of time of day. But I loved him and I did n't want to let him go.

I tried to excuse myself to him as I undressed him, gently unfastening each button, forcing myself to go slowly, ignoring the urgency of my own thwarted desires. I slowly slid the shirt off over his cold shoulders and stood back to admire him. Now he was half-naked, I could see the injury the coroner had left, the incision where he 'd cut into the dead flesh, looking for something I could never understand. Thank god for the abbreviated necropsy.

They 'd found him - the police - slumped on a bed in a flashy flat on the bad side of townspeople, dead. Overdose, they 'd said, and the coroner had agreed. Heroin. Suicide. There had been a broken syringe lying beside the bed, but they did n't acknowledge where he 'd got the drugs from. There had been no bank note, but the door and Windows were closed and it was impossible that it had been murder.

Kevin had a vaguely crescent-shaped scratch on his shoulder from an old love-bite. I do n't recognise what form of things he 'd been forced to do when he was active. I know that he 'd hated the mentation of sex. He would have resisted me when he was alive. I bent low over him and opened his mouth with a gentle candy kiss.

His cold lips were house against mine, and I pushed my tongue past, into his dry mouth, rubbing myself up against his tongue, plunging into the depth of him, moving more passionately as my desire flamed inside me. He did n't react, but as I carried on kissing him, I only felt the urge even more than before. I reached down and itch my swollen cock through my trouser.

I broke off the kiss, and, moving quickly, dragged off my wearing apparel until I stood naked and trembling beside the bed. It took me ten second to fetch up undressing him, ten bit which only made me madder with lust. Tearing off the finish few vestiges of his wear, I grabbed a pot from the bedside board and smeared Vaseline over my rock-hard turncock, massaging my balls as I stood over him, desperate to consummate my love one last time.

I got on top of him, like I had before, and, hooking my hands under his cold-blooded thigh, lifted his legs so that I could press the nous of my putz to his opening. I pushed myself into him much easier this time, though my putz was so strong that the school principal was swollen far beyond rule, bloated and purple, dribbling thick pre-cum. I sighed as I pushed myself in as far as I could then bide still for a moment, breathing heavily, forcing myself to take it slow.

'I love you, Kevin ,'I panted.

I began to push in and out of him, as gently as if I was making passion to a woman, my thirst turning me into a barely-controlled monster. I chewed at his shoulder joint, his mammilla, his lips, tongue-fucking him as my peter slid slowly backwards and forwards inside his tight bowels. Pushing myself in as far as I could, I made humping apparent movement to draw every last inch of my cock into him.

It did n't last very long. I could n't facilitate myself, but I started bucking violently into his trunk. It did n't matter that I was fucking a remains, it did n't count that this was wrong. All that mattered was that I was with Kevin again, in every way I 'd ever wanted to be. He was mine. With a moan of mingled pleasance and desperation, I thrust deeply into him, shuddering as my repressed semen flooded out of me.

I lay beside him for the next hour or so, not caring for the fourth dimension that slipped slowly past us, just enjoying his society. I played with my turncock, already slippery with a mixture of my orgasm and Vaseline, until it began to temper again beneath my fingers. I slipped a rubber peter ring down over the swelling straits, threading it down to the thick base.

The rubber pulled back my foreskin. I was about seven inches long, and a dyad thick at the foot, so the gang was biting quite tightly into my hide already. As I stroked myself, a drop of cum oozed out of my pussy and I rubbed it over my principal with the medallion of my men, bucking my rosehip up to fulfil my own caresses.

I knelt between his pegleg and lifted them until I could get his knees over my shoulder. I could enter him easily and deeply like this, leaning against the short exercising weight of his soundbox. I played with his hitch cock, squeezed his cold orchis, wondering whether there was still a spark of life trapped in there. I locked my arms around his soft second joint and started slowly pumping in and out of his loose bowels. My own semen churned around my cock, oozing out of him, cementing us together in our embrace.

I was pounding harder and harder into him now, gasping with every thrust as I got closer to coming. His dead body shuddered against me as my balls tightened. I fucked him violently. I screamed out his name again and again, wanting him to feel my passion deep inside him, as I jerked for the second clock time that day, jetting my life history into his cold, drained bowel.

As soon as my orgasm had subsided, I turned him over and entered him again. My come was already beginning to filter down over his globe and onto the canvass and he was so relaxed now that I could labor my full length in with one loose driving force. My cock was still erect, but only because of the ring. I moved in and out until the sensation became too a lot for me. Then, with one final pushing, I sheathed myself in him up to my balls and kissed his cervix and cheek.

There was merely way I could ever truly have him now.

'Why could n't you have taken me with you ?'I whispered into his ear. 'Why did you leave alone me ?'

He did n't serve. I sighed and pressed my cheek to the side of his head. I had n't felt the tears start, but my center were burning now. I tried to halt back the choke of a sob, but I could n't.

I reached out to the gun, lying on the bedside table. It felt heavy in my hand. I was exhausted and trembling. Gently, I pressed the muzzle of the gun to his cold lips. His dentition scraped along the barrel as I forced it deeper in, until the muzzle pressed against the position of his cheek, pointing straight upwards.

I had said I 'd never exit him, that I 'd always be by his side. I had to keep my promise to him, even if he would n't see it honored. I would never leave him. I took a deep breath and squeezed my optic closed. My finger's breadth tightened on the gun trigger.

'Goodbye, Kevin ,'I murmured, rent filling my eyes at this last moment. My concluding moment with him. I pulled the trigger.

I just could n't subsist without him .