He was lying on the gurney, waiting for me. I 'd lied to the funeral director, I 'd said I wanted a showing, open up casket. I wanted him to look gracious. I 'd never seen him in a suit before. The truth was I just wanted to see him one hold up time.

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 hours to only deepen the pain that filled me. I did n't think it to end up happening the way it did, but he 'd been in my dreaming 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 immature and innocent, still scarred from the violence of his life, though he 'd never verbalize about it to me.

I 'd laid him, dressed, on my bed, the drapery drawn, the door locked. I restrained myself for a match of hours. But I loved him and I did n't desire to let him go.

I tried to explain myself to him as I undressed him, gently unfastening each clit, forcing myself to go slowly, ignoring the importunity of my own queer 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 combat injury the coroner had left, the dent where he 'd cut into the stagnant physical body, looking for something I could never sympathise. Thank god for the abbreviated autopsy.

They 'd found him - the police - slumped on a bed in a cheap flat on the bad position of town, perfectly. 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 know where he 'd got the drugs from. There had been no short letter, but the door and windowpane were closed and it was impossible that it had been murder.

Kevin had a vaguely semilunar scar on his shoulder from an old love-bite. I do n't know what kind of things he 'd been forced to do when he was awake. I know that he 'd hated the view of sex. He would throw resisted me when he was alive. I bent low over him and opened his rima oris with a entitle buss.

His cold lips 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 fret my swollen cock through my pant.

I broke off the kiss, and, moving quickly, dragged off my dress until I stood naked and trembling beside the bed. It took me ten minutes to finish undressing him, ten minutes which only made me madder with lust. Tearing off the lowest few shadow of his wear, I grabbed a pot from the bedside table and smeared Vaseline over my rock-hard cock, massaging my egg as I stood over him, desperate to consummate my love life one last time.

I got on top of him, like I had before, and, hooking my men under his stale thigh, lifted his legs so that I could press the oral sex of my cock to his opening. I pushed myself into him much easier this clip, though my rooster was so concentrated that the promontory was swollen far beyond convention, bloated and purple, dribbling thickheaded pre-cum. I sighed as I pushed myself in as far as I could then stayed still for a minute, breathing heavily, forcing myself to take it slow down.

'I love you, Kevin ,'I panted.

I began to agitate in and out of him, as gently as if I was making dear to a cleaning lady, my lust turning me into a barely-controlled monster. I chewed at his shoulder, his tit, his back talk, tongue-fucking him as my cock slid slowly backwards and forwards inside his cockeyed bowels. Pushing myself in as far as I could, I made humping motions to force every last column inch of my cock into him.

It did n't last very long. I could n't assist myself, but I started bucking violently into his dead body. It did n't matter that I was fucking a corpse, 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 joy and despair, I thrust deeply into him, shuddering as my pent-up seed flooded out of me.

I lay beside him for the next 60 minutes or so, not caring for the metre that slipped slowly yesteryear us, just enjoying his company. I played with my prick, already slippery with a mixture of my orgasm and Vaseline, until it began to harden again beneath my fingers. I slipped a rubber peter ring down over the swelling chief, threading it down to the thick base of operations.

The arctic pulled back my foreskin. I was about seven in long, and a distich midst at the base, so the pack was biting quite tightly into my cutis already. As I stroked myself, a drop of cum oozed out of my incision and I rubbed it over my head with the palm of my hand, bucking my hips up to meet my own caresses.

I knelt between his legs and lifted them until I could get his knees over my articulatio humeri. I could enter him easily and deeply like this, leaning against the dead weight of his body. I played with his limp cock, squeezed his dusty chunk, wondering whether there was still a flicker of sprightliness trapped in there. I locked my implements of war around his soft second joint and started slowly pumping in and out of his liberal intestine. My own seed churned around my tool, 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 body shuddered against me as my ballock tightened. I fucked him violently. I screamed out his figure again and again, wanting him to feel my heat cryptical inside him, as I jerked for the second time that day, jetting my life into his insensate, dead bowel.

As soon as my orgasm had subsided, I turned him over and entered him again. My cum was already beginning to trickle down over his nut and onto the sheets and he was so slack now that I could push my full duration in with one easygoing stab. My putz was still erect, but only because of the anchor ring. I moved in and out until the wiz became too a good deal for me. Then, with one final push, I sheathed myself in him up to my balls and kissed his neck opening and cheek.

There was only 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 provide me ?'

He did n't answer. I sighed and pressed my face to the side of his head. I had n't felt the tears start, but my middle 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 table. It felt heavy in my hand. I was exhausted and trembling. Gently, I pressed the muzzle of the gun to his stale mouth. His dentition scraped along the barrelful as I forced it deeper in, until the muzzle pressed against the English of his nerve, pointing straight person upwards.

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

'Goodbye, Kevin ,'I murmured, tears filling my middle at this live here and now. My lastly bit with him. I pulled the trigger.

I just could n't live without him .