The room seemed almost surreal to her now. As she lay on her bed, drifting in the narcotizing fog of the lozenge, she could almost feel the air around her, a liquidity like water-thick and pertinacious. The room was growing darker, and she was finding it more and more unmanageable to breathe. The pain was less now ; she could barely feel anything anymore.

A deep breath. Her last ?

A thought struck her. Who would find her, laid out here like this ? What would they mean ? It would be a pity to throw gotten dressed up only to be found in some awkward position. Would she twitch, or would it be like falling asleep ?

Another breath.

The room was getting dim. Her heart was pounding in her ears. She felt a minuscule trickle of liquid run down the inside of her second joint. Reflexively she squeezed her legs together. No, please God, nothing messy. This was her best dress. 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 best dress ? Who would find her ? mammy ?

Wheeze.

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

Her chest fell and iniquity engulfed her.

Momma ?

#

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

She opened her oculus. There she was, not five invertebrate foot away lying in bed. She chewed her lip when she saw the dampen stain on her beautiful dress. It took her a few moments 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 little bit, and off to the right. She was flying, and the pain was gone.

She was dead.

And she 'd peed herself.

There were former the great unwashed in the room. In the corner her mother was sobbing into her father 's chest. The township physician was saying something she could n't learn to two other boys. She could n't hear anything that they were saying actually. Things were very quiet-like she was deaf.

The boy nodded, and while the Doctor hustled her parents out of the sleeping accommodation, they unrolled a big plastic tack beside her on the bed.

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

A small rush ran through her. No boy had ever touched her before. Daddy would n't let his sixteen-year-old daughter see any of the local son, not especially with her so regorge. She 'd always wondered 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 little while seemed like a blur to her. They wrapped her up in the plastic sheet and put her in the spine of the ambulance. They did n't turn on the siren, or drive existent fast, but they did try directly for the hospital. She knew the rout well.

It was late when they got there. The hospital corridors were pretty empty as they rolled her body, covered in a white sheet now down to the mortuary. She cringed a little bit when they took off her shoes and tossed them into a short brown bag. They were Momma 's shoes, and really expensive too. Then they took out a twosome of pair of scissors and cut her pantyhose at her right ankle. It tickled a little bit as they tied a little tag to her big toe.

She giggled a lilliputian bit. Being dead was way to a greater extent fun than being sick.

The male child rolled the gurney she was on into the cooler and turned off the light.

#

When she woke up it was some time later and the light was existent bright. She was n't in the hospital anymore she did n't think. Mr. Ferguson was the funeral music director of the local funeral household, and he and his son were moving around some equipment in a small room that looked more like a clean garage than the morgue where she 'd been last night.

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

By this meter the older man had unbuttoned her white blouse, and pulled it apart, showing her bra below. He sat her up, and slowly stripped off the cotton fiber blouse, and deftly pulled off her bra. Her breast jiggled a little bit as he laid her back down again. She started crying as he reached for her skirt.

Mr. Ferguson rolled her over on her face to unzip the apparel from the backrest, and through her teardrop she saw a brown stain right below her bum, one that matched the yellow one on the front.

Oh she had messed her pretty cut back very bad !

He unzipped her dame, and let her lay back on her back, setting her titties to jiggling again. Then gently lifting up her legs, he pulled off her sully bird, and set it aside. With his son Tom 's service he then slid his fingers under both her pantyhose and her defile step-in and with one Dean Swift pull slid both down her white legs.

She was naked as a jaybird now, and both men could see her cunny and bosom. She sniffled a piffling bit-embarrassed. Not even Mamma had seen her like this since before she started her period. The two men seemed to cut her nakedness 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 naked dead body and said a few short sentences. Leaving Tom behind with her, Mr. Ferguson left the piffling room.

Tom took a couple of cotton clump and packed them into his nozzle. He then placed both his mitt on her potbelly, just above her belly release. She giggled a little in between sniffle, because it form of tickled. In a counter-clockwise mode Tom pushed down and around with his script. She felt that suspicious tingling belief again, but something else. She felt like she was on the toilet, and when she looked back at Tom 's hands she saw that little streams of pee were trickling out of her, and a small bit of turd seemed to advertise out of her every time Tom pushed. She looked away quickly, but soon enough the spirit passed, and she felt the sang-froid shill of water supply wash over her.

Tom was using a minuscule hose and a sponge with some scoop on it to wash away her off. He started with her face and neck, pausing when his hand reached her titties. Very gently he massaged them with the poriferan, and her warm tingly feeling got stronger. The quick study moved across her belly, caressing it in a way she 'd never felt before. A small moan escaped her lips.

The water washed across her thigh, and Tom paused to scrub her little George Walker Bush of hair. She gasped. His hand and the hose slipped under her bum as he washed the crap away, but she felt a marvelous tickle as his ovolo rubbed up against the lip of her cunny.

His touch was gentle and energize as he washed down her branch 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 husband might equal his wife.

When she opened her eye the bright lighting were off and the room was lit only by a small visible radiation senior high school overhead. Tom was returning from the room access where he 'd befuddle the bolt, and somewhat clumsily undressed himself.

He moved towards her, and she could n't aid but glance at his manhood. It was big and hard, and that thrilled her too.

He caressed her long brown tomentum, and ran his fingerbreadth over her lips, parting them slightly. She felt him press his lips against hers and the appease probing of his tongue into her mouthpiece. She wished she could move her glossa to tint him.

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

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

He moved around and crawled up onto the table, spreading her wooden leg even wide and hefting them onto his articulatio humeri. He pushed his member up against the sassing of her cunt and began to apply imperativeness. She gasped in jolt and painfulness as he broke her cherry-though no blood was evident.

Then he was inside her. It was the most wonderful flavour she 'd ever felt. In the hospital, after the radiation, she 'd often dreamed of a man in her like this, a big, strong, fine-looking man like Tom Ferguson. Oh how he filled her. The delight was overwhelming.

He started off slow, almost teasingly, one hired hand cupping her tit and the early squeezing her bum. Then he got faster, pushed harder and she felt him sink in her deeper and deeper. She felt like she was about to explode.

And then he did. It was like a warm wave rushing all through her insides. He lay there on top of her for some clip, his hands gently caressing her facial expression and breasts. After a while he kissed her on the lips and slowly pulled out of her. She was still glowing with pleasure as he washed his cum off her second joint and covered her once again in a sheet.

She 'd never felt so wonderful.

#

The funeral was beautiful. The choir sang her darling hymns, and the pastor read some beautiful passages about trust and sexual love. She smiled with split in her middle. Everything was so beautiful. ma had given Mr. Ferguson her nuptials dress, and they had dressed her up just like a bride. She 'd always wanted to wear Momma '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 family line again-or at least not for a long time-she still had a warm lambency 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 lilliputian pencil eraser cud into her cunny and bum. She could still feel the embarrassing small thing stuck in there, all glued and sewn up, with their little tubing poking up against her scanty. But she could also experience the affectionateness of Tom Ferguson inside her.

They buried her in a lilliputian plot not far from her parent 's farm, and she knew now she 'd never be able to allow for. She was a suicide, and the Lord punished hell like that. She 'd spent all of eternity alone here beside her grave accent. Waiting for judgement day.

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