He was lying on the gurney, waiting for me. I 'd lied to the undertaker, I 'd said I wanted a screening, spread casket. I wanted him to take care nice. I 'd never seen him in a wooing before. The truth was I just wanted to see him one in conclusion time.

It was n't as if I was planning this all along. All I wanted was a few to a greater extent time of day with him, a few more hours to only heighten 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 dreams and incubus since that day I walked into the mortuary and saw him lying there, and made love life to him. He was so beautiful, so young and innocent, still scarred from the violence of his life, though he 'd never talked about it to me.

I 'd laid him, dressed, on my bed, the drapery drawn, the door locked. I restrained myself for a span 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 button, forcing myself to go slowly, ignoring the urging of my own dun desires. I slowly slid the shirt off over his dusty shoulder and stood back to look up to him. Now he was half-naked, I could see the lesion the coroner had left, the prick where he 'd cut into the dead flesh, looking for something I could never see. Thank god for the shortened autopsy.

They 'd found him - the police - slumped on a bed in a meretricious flatbed on the bad English of township, beat. 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 billet, but the door and windows were closed and it was unsufferable that it had been slaying.

Kevin had a vaguely crescent-shaped scratch on his shoulder from an old love-bite. I do n't have intercourse what kind of matter he 'd been forced to do when he was live. I know that he 'd hated the thought of sex. He would get resisted me when he was alive. I bent low over him and opened his rima oris with a gentle kiss.

His cold sass were firm against mine, and I pushed my tongue past, into his dry mouth, rubbing myself up against his lingua, plunging into the depths 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 chafe my swollen cock through my pant.

I broke off the kiss, and, moving quickly, dragged off my apparel until I stood naked and trembling beside the bed. It took me ten arcminute to finish undressing him, ten bit which only made me madder with lust. Tearing off the last few trace of his clothing, I grabbed a pot from the bedside table and smeared Vaseline over my rock-hard cock, massaging my balls as I stood over him, desperate to consummate my dear one last time.

I got on top of him, like I had before, and, hooking my men under his cold thighs, lifted his pegleg so that I could press the heading of my peter to his opening. I pushed myself into him much easier this time, though my cock was so hard that the headspring was swollen far beyond normal, bloated and empurpled, dribbling thick-skulled pre-cum. I sighed as I pushed myself in as far as I could then stayed still for a import, breathing arduous, forcing myself to take it slack.

'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 woman, my lustfulness turning me into a barely-controlled monster. I chewed at his articulatio humeri, his mammilla, his lips, tongue-fucking him as my cock slid slowly backwards and forwards inside his slopped bowels. Pushing myself in as far as I could, I made humping motility to force every cobbler's last inch of my cock into him.

It did n't last very long. I could n't help myself, but I started bucking violently into his physical structure. It did n't matter that I was fucking a corpse, it did n't matter that this was faulty. 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 pleasure and despair, I thrust deeply into him, shuddering as my pent-up semen flooded out of me.

I lay beside him for the next minute or so, not caring for the clip that slipped slowly past us, just enjoying his fellowship. I played with my dick, already slippery with a mixing of my orgasm and Vaseline, until it began to indurate again beneath my fingers. I slipped a rubber cock ring down over the swelling psyche, threading it down to the thick radix.

The rubber pulled back my foreskin. I was about seven column inch long, and a duet thick at the base, so the mob was biting quite tightly into my pelt already. As I stroked myself, a drop of cum oozed out of my slit and I rubbed it over my fountainhead with the palm of my workforce, bucking my hips up to take on my own caresses.

I knelt between his stage and lifted them until I could get his knees over my shoulders. I could enter him easily and deeply like this, leaning against the idle weight of his dead body. I played with his limp shaft, squeezed his cold balls, wondering whether there was still a discharge of lifetime trapped in there. I locked my sleeve around his voiced thigh and started slowly pumping in and out of his loose bowel. My own cum churned around my cock, oozing out of him, cementing us together in our bosom.

I was pounding harder and harder into him now, gasping with every thrust as I got closer to coming. His 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 warmth deep inside him, as I jerked for the second clock time that day, jetting my lifetime into his cold, all in gut.

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 sheet and he was so relaxed now that I could push my full length in with one easy push. My cock 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 concluding push, I sheathed myself in him up to my Lucille Ball and kissed his neck and cheek.

There was solitary 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 me ?'

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

I reached out to the gun, lying on the bedside board. It felt heavy in my manus. I was exhausted and trembling. Gently, I pressed the gun muzzle of the gun to his stale lips. His teeth scraped along the barrel as I forced it deeper in, until the gag pressed against the English of his nerve, pointing straight upwards.

I had said I 'd never leave him, that I 'd always be by his side of meat. I had to keep my hope to him, even if he would n't see it honored. I would never bequeath him. I took a deep breathing spell and squeezed my eyes closed. My finger tightened on the trigger.

'Goodbye, Kevin ,'I murmured, binge filling my eyes at this last moment. My stopping point import with him. I pulled the induction.

I just could n't live without him .