He was lying on the gurney, waiting for me. I 'd lied to the mortician, I 'd said I wanted a screening, open casket. I wanted him to look courteous. I 'd never seen him in a suit before. The true statement was I just wanted to see him one last time.

It was n't as if I was planning this all along. All I wanted was a few More 60 minutes with him, a few more 60 minutes to only deepen the pain that filled me. I did n't mean it to end up happening the way it did, but he 'd been in my dream and nightmares since that day I walked into the mortuary and saw him lying there, and made love to him. He was so beautiful, so young and innocuous, still scarred from the violence of his life, though he 'd never blab out about it to me.

I 'd laid him, dressed, on my bed, the mantle drawn, the threshold locked. I restrained myself for a couple of hours. But I loved him and I did n't want to let him go.

I tried to explain myself to him as I undressed him, gently unfastening each release, forcing myself to go slowly, ignoring the urging of my own discomfited desires. I slowly slid the shirt off over his dusty shoulder and stood back to admire him. Now he was half-naked, I could see the lesion the coroner had left, the incision where he 'd cut into the utterly pulp, looking for something I could never read. Thank god for the abbreviated autopsy.

They 'd base him - the police - slumped on a bed in a meretricious flatcar on the bad face of town, dead. Overdose, they 'd said, and the medical examiner had agreed. heroin. Suicide. There had been a broken syringe lying beside the bed, but they did n't know where he 'd got the drugs from. There had been no annotation, but the door and window were closed and it was inconceivable that it had been murder.

Kevin had a vaguely crescent scar on his shoulder from an old love-bite. I do n't know what kind of matter he 'd been forced to do when he was alive. I know that he 'd hated the persuasion of sex. He would induce resisted me when he was alive. I bent low over him and opened his mouth with a conciliate kiss.

His cold sassing were business firm against mine, and I pushed my clapper past, into his dry mouth, rubbing myself up against his natural language, plunging into the profoundness of him, moving more passionately as my desire flamed inside me. He did n't oppose, but as I carried on kissing him, I only felt the urge even more than before. I reached down and rubbed my swollen cock through my trouser.

I broke off the kiss, and, moving quickly, dragged off my dress until I stood bare and trembling beside the bed. It took me ten transactions to finish undressing him, ten minute which only made me madder with lecherousness. Tearing off the concluding few tincture of his clothing, I grabbed a pot from the bedside tabular array and smeared Vaseline over my rock-hard putz, massaging my Ball as I stood over him, desperate to consummate my honey one last time.

I got on top of him, like I had before, and, hooking my hands under his cold thigh, lifted his wooden leg so that I could press the caput of my prick to his first step. I pushed myself into him much easier this meter, though my cock was so heavily that the head was swollen far beyond normal, 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 hard, forcing myself to take it slow down.

'I love you, Kevin ,'I panted.

I began to push in and out of him, as gently as if I was making love to a cleaning lady, my lust turning me into a barely-controlled monster. I chewed at his articulatio humeri, his teat, his lips, tongue-fucking him as my hammer slid slowly backwards and forwards inside his fast bowel. Pushing myself in as far as I could, I made humping question to wedge every last inch of my cock into him.

It did n't last very long. I could n't serve myself, but I started bucking violently into his body. It did n't matter that I was fucking a cadaver, it did n't matter 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 groan of mingled pleasance and despair, I thrust deeply into him, shuddering as my pent-up semen flooded out of me.

I lay beside him for the future hr or so, not caring for the time that slipped slowly past us, just enjoying his companionship. I played with my putz, already slippery with a mixture of my coming and Vaseline, until it began to harden again beneath my digit. I slipped a galosh cock ring down over the swelling caput, threading it down to the thick floor.

The condom pulled back my foreskin. I was about seven column inch long, and a yoke midst at the alkali, so the closed chain was biting quite tightly into my skin already. As I stroked myself, a drop of cum oozed out of my cunt and I rubbed it over my headspring with the laurel wreath of my hands, bucking my pelvic arch up to meet my own caresses.

I knelt between his peg and lifted them until I could get his knees over my shoulder joint. I could enter him easily and deeply like this, leaning against the deadened exercising weight of his body. I played with his limp cock, squeezed his cold balls, wondering whether there was still a light of life trapped in there. I locked my arms around his flabby thigh and started slowly pumping in and out of his loose bowels. My own come churned around my shaft, oozing out of him, cementing us together in our bosom.

I was pounding harder and harder into him now, gasping with every drive as I got closer to coming. His body shuddered against me as my musket ball tightened. I fucked him violently. I screamed out his name again and again, wanting him to feel my heat cryptical inside him, as I jerked for the second time that day, jetting my sprightliness into his cold, dead bowel.

As soon as my coming had subsided, I turned him over and entered him again. My semen was already beginning to trickle down over his balls and onto the canvas and he was so relaxed now that I could push my full length in with one well-fixed knife thrust. My prick was still erect, but only because of the ring. I moved in and out until the sensation became too much for me. Then, with one final thrust, I sheathed myself in him up to my orb and kissed his cervix and cheek.

There was only when 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 get out me ?'

He did n't suffice. I sighed and pressed my brass to the side of his drumhead. I had n't felt the weeping start, but my heart were burning now. I tried to prevail back the choking coil of a sob, but I could n't.

I reached out to the gun, lying on the bedside table. It felt dense in my hand. I was exhausted and trembling. Gently, I pressed the muzzle of the gun to his coldness back talk. His teeth scraped along the barrel as I forced it deeper in, until the muzzle pressed against the face of his boldness, pointing straightforward upwards.

I had said I 'd never leave him, that I 'd always be by his face. I had to celebrate my promise to him, even if he would n't see it honored. I would never impart him. I took a deep breathing spell and squeezed my eye closed. My fingerbreadth tightened on the trigger.

'Goodbye, Kevin ,'I murmured, split filling my oculus at this last moment. My last moment with him. I pulled the trigger.

I just could n't survive without him .