The room seemed almost surreal to her now. As she lay on her bed, drifting in the soporific fog of the tablet, she could almost feel the air around her, a liquid like water-thick and unyielding. The way was growing darker, and she was finding it more and more difficult to breathe. The pain was less now ; she could barely feel anything anymore.

A bass hint. Her last ?

A thought struck her. Who would get hold her, laid out here like this ? What would they think ? It would be a disgrace to feature gotten dressed up only to be found in some awkward military position. Would she twitch, or would it be like falling asleep ?

Another breath.

The room was getting dim. Her affection was pounding in her ears. She felt a lowly drip of liquidity run down the interior of her thigh. Reflexively she squeezed her legs together. No, please God, null messy. This was her best clothes. She got ready for this just so she 's be pretty. Please God, no pee.

Her breath rattled. The pain was gone.

Who would find here, here in her better dress ? Who would happen her ? momma ?

Wheeze.

Momma ? Is that you ? I 'm so cold.

Her chest fell and darkness engulfed her.

mammy ?

#

It was sort of the same floaty feeling she 'd felt after she took the pills, but it was kind of unlike. She actually felt like she was flying.

She opened her eyes. There she was, not five feet away lying in bed. She chewed her lip when she saw the damp smirch on her beautiful dress. It took her a few moment to realize that she was n't actually lying on the bed, but looking at herself lying on the bed. She seemed to be floating above the bed a petty bit, and off to the rightfulness. She was flying, and the pain was gone.

She was dead.

And she 'd take a leak herself.

There were other people in the elbow room. In the corner her mother was sobbing into her don 's dresser. The townspeople doctor was saying something she could n't hear to two other boys. She could n't get wind anything that they were saying actually. things were very quiet-like she was deaf.

The boys nodded, and while the MD hustled her parents out of the bedroom, they unrolled a big plastic sheet beside her on the bed.

One boy stood up on the bed, bent-grass low and grasped her body underneath her sleeve. The other boy grasped her mortise joint. She could barely feel their touch, but it was there-as if she felt them go her from a distance.

A small thrill ran through her. No boy had ever touched her before. pappa would n't let his sixteen-year-old girl see any of the local boys, not especially with her so chuck. She 'd always marvel what it would feel like when a boy touched her leg.

It was kind of like when she snuck a kiss from Rebel Reese. It was a funny, warm feeling.

The next niggling while seemed like a fuzz to her. They wrapped her up in the formative sheet and put her in the back of the ambulance. They did n't turn on the siren, or drive rattling fast, but they did learn directly for the hospital. She knew the rout well.

It was late when they got there. The hospital corridors were pretty vacate as they rolled her eubstance, covered in a white shroud now down to the morgue. She cringed a little bit when they took off her shoes and tossed them into a little browned bag. They were ma 's skid, and very expensive too. Then they took out a couplet of scissors and cut her pantyhose at her ripe ankle. It tickled a little bit as they tied a slight tag to her big toe.

She giggled a little bit. Being stagnant was way to a greater extent fun than being sick.

The boys rolled the gurney she was on into the tank and turned off the light.

#

When she woke up it was some clip later and the light was real bright. She was n't in the hospital anymore she did n't think. Mr. Ferguson was the funeral director of the local funeral rest home, and he and his son were moving around some equipment in a small way that looked more like a sporting garage than the morgue where she 'd been live on night.

Her inwardness began to race as Mr. Ferguson reached for the buttons on her blouse. This was n't good. Mr. Ferguson would see her titty. She looked for a way to escape, but found she could n't seem to get more than five or ten animal foot from her body.

By this time the elder man had unbuttoned her Edward White blouse, and pulled it apart, showing her bra below. He sat her up, and slowly stripped off the cotton plant blouse, and deftly pulled off her bra. Her titties jiggled a small bit as he laid her back down again. She started crying as he reached for her skirt.

Mr. Ferguson rolled her over on her side of meat to unzip the dress from the backbone, and through her tears she saw a Brown grime right below her bum, one that matched the yellowness one on the front.

Oh she had messed her reasonably dress real bad !

He unzipped her chick, and let her lay back on her back, setting her titties to jiggling again. Then gently lifting up her peg, he pulled off her stain bird, and set it aside. With his son Tom 's help he then slid his finger under both her pantyhose and her maculate step-in and with one swift drag slid both down her white legs.

She was naked as a Cyanocitta cristata now, and both men could see her cunny and tit. She sniffled a little bit-embarrassed. Not even mamma had seen her like this since before she started her stop. The two men seemed to ignore her bleakness though while they busied themselves with their equipment.

Mr. Ferguson looked up and away as if hearing something. He then turned to his son, pointed towards her au naturel trunk and said a few brusque sentences. Leaving Tom behind with her, Mr. Ferguson left the little room.

Tom took a couple of cotton fiber ballock and packed them into his nose. He then placed both his hands on her tum, just above her belly clit. She giggled a footling in between sniffles, because it kind of tickle. In a counter-clockwise way Tom pushed down and around with his hands. She felt that funny tingling notion again, but something else. She felt like she was on the toilette, and when she looked back at Tom 's manus she saw that lilliputian streams of pee were trickling out of her, and a small bit of poop seemed to crusade out of her every time Tom pushed. She looked away quickly, but soon enough the feeling passed, and she felt the assuredness shill of water supply wash over her.

Tom was using a diminished hose and a sponge with some soap on it to wash her off. He started with her face and neck opening, pausing when his hand reached her bosom. Very gently he massaged them with the poriferan, and her quick tingly feeling got stronger. The sponge moved across her belly, caressing it in a way she 'd never felt before. A low groan escaped her lips.

The water washed across her thighs, and Tom paused to scrub her little George Bush of tomentum. She gasped. His hand and the hose slipped under her bum as he washed the tail away, but she felt a wonderful tickle as his thumb rubbed up against the lips of her cunny.

His touch was aristocratic and exciting as he washed down her stage and dried her off with a towel. She closed her eyes and imagined him kidding her. She imagined his hands touching her, not with a sponge but as a married man might allude his wife.

When she opened her eyes the bright lights were off and the room was lit only by a small light gamy overhead. Tom was returning from the door where he 'd drop the bolt, and somewhat clumsily undressed himself.

He moved towards her, and she could n't help but glance at his humanity. It was big and knockout, and that thrilled her too.

He caressed her farseeing brown hair, and ran his finger over her lip, parting them slightly. She felt him weightlift his lips against hers and the gentle probing of his natural language into her mouth. She wished she could move her tongue to touch him.

She moaned again, louder this time, as he gently sucked on her right breast. His hand drew her legs apart, and she felt his ovolo run against her womanhood. She seemed on fervency now. Gently he kissed her, one after another each getting closer and closer to her cunny.

His tongue probed the sassing of cunt and she groaned with pleasure. He sucked on it, letting his tongue flit in and out. Each touch seemed to stoke her ardor. She was trembling now.

He moved around and crawled up onto the table, spreading her ramification even wide-eyed and hefting them onto his shoulder. He pushed his member up against the lips of her cunt and began to apply pressure. She gasped in blow and annoyance as he broke her cherry-though no blood was evident.

Then he was inside her. It was the most terrific impression she 'd ever felt. In the hospital, after the radiation, she 'd often dreamed of a man in her like this, a big, strong, handsome man like Tom Ferguson. Oh how he filled her. The pleasure was overwhelming.

He started off slow, almost teasingly, one hand cupping her knocker and the former squeezing her bum. Then he got faster, pushed harder and she felt him come home her deeper and deeper. She felt like she was about to explode.

And then he did. It was like a tender wave rushing all through her inside. He lay there on top of her for some clock time, his script gently caressing her face and breasts. After a while he kissed her on the backtalk and slowly pulled out of her. She was still glowing with pleasure as he washed his cum off her thigh and covered her once again in a sheet.

She 'd never felt so wonderful.

#

The funeral was beautiful. The choir sang her favourite hymns, and the Pastor read some beautiful passages about religion and sexual love. She smiled with tears in her oculus. Everything was so beautiful. mama had given Mr. Ferguson her wedding party apparel, and they had dressed her up just like a Brigid. She 'd always wanted to wear thin ma 's dress, but had n't expected to be buried in it.

And while she was sad that she 'd never get to see any of these folks again-or at to the lowest degree not for a hanker time-she still had a lovesome glow about her.

For you see, Tom Ferguson had finished getting her ready, and he never cleaned up the inside of her before he put the little rubber chew into her cunny and bum. She could still experience the embarrassing niggling things stuck in there, all glued and sewn up, with their slight tubes poking up against her panties. But she could also feel the warmth of Tom Ferguson inside her.

They buried her in a niggling plot not far from her parent 's farm, and she knew now she 'd never be able to result. She was a felo-de-se, and the Divine punished sine like that. She 'd spent all of eternity alone here beside her grave accent. Waiting for sagacity day.

Alone, but not quite alone. There was a small bit of Tom Ferguson in her, and that kept her warm .