The elbow room seemed almost phantasmagoric to her now. As she lay on her bed, drifting in the narcotic haze of the tablet, she could almost feel the air around her, a liquid like water-thick and unyielding. The room was growing darker, and she was finding it more and more difficult to catch one's breath. The bother was less now ; she could barely finger anything anymore.

A deep intimation. Her cobbler's last ?

A view struck her. Who would find her, laid out here like this ? What would they guess ? It would be a pity to have 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 tenderness was pounding in her spike. She felt a diminished drip of liquid run down the inside of her second joint. Reflexively she squeezed her legs together. No, delight God, nothing messy. This was her best dress. She got fix for this just so she 's be pretty. Please God, no pee.

Her intimation rattled. The pain was gone.

Who would get here, here in her best dress ? Who would find her ? Momma ?

Wheeze.

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

Her bureau fell and darkness engulfed her.

mama ?

#

It was kind of the Same floaty flavor she 'd felt after she took the pills, but it was variety of different. She actually felt like she was flying.

She opened her eye. There she was, not five human foot away lying in bed. She chewed her lip when she saw the damp stain on her beautiful wearing apparel. 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 trivial bit, and off to the right. She was flying, and the pain was gone.

She was dead.

And she 'd peed herself.

There were other the great unwashed in the room. In the corner her female parent was sobbing into her forefather 's chest. The townsfolk physician was saying something she could n't find out 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 bedroom, they unrolled a big credit card sheet beside her on the bed.

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

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

It was kind of like when she snuck a buss from Johnny Reese. It was a good story, warm up feeling.

The next lilliputian while seemed like a blur to her. They wrapped her up in the pliant weather sheet and put her in the back of the ambulance. They did n't call on on the siren, or drive real number fasting, but they did heard directly for the hospital. She knew the rout well.

It was late when they got there. The infirmary corridors were pretty empty as they rolled her body, covered in a white flat solid now down to the morgue. She cringed a petty bit when they took off her shoes and tossed them into a little brownish bag. They were Momma 's shoes, and literal expensive too. Then they took out a pair of scissor hold and cut her pantyhose at her right ankle. It tickled a little bit as they tied a fiddling tag to her big toe.

She giggled a little bit. Being deadened was way more fun than being sick.

The son rolled the gurney she was on into the ice chest and turned off the light.

#

When she woke up it was some time later and the ignitor was veridical bright. She was n't in the infirmary anymore she did n't think. Mr. Ferguson was the funeral music director of the local funeral habitation, and he and his son were moving around some equipment in a pocket-sized room that looked more like a clean garage than the mortuary where she 'd been last night.

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

By this clip the sometime man had unbuttoned her Patrick Victor Martindale White blouse, and pulled it apart, showing her bra below. He sat her up, and slowly stripped off the cotton wool blouse, and deftly pulled off her bra. Her titties jiggled a fiddling 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 to unzip the dress from the spinal column, and through her weeping she saw a John Brown stain right below her bum, one that matched the yellow one on the front.

Oh she had messed her fairly lop real bad !

He unzipped her wench, and let her lay back on her back, setting her boob to jiggling again. Then gently lifting up her legs, he pulled off her stained skirt, and set it aside. With his son Tom 's assistance he then slid his fingers under both her pantyhose and her stained panties and with one swift pulling slid both down her white legs.

She was naked as a blue jay now, and both men could see her cunny and titties. She sniffled a little bit-embarrassed. Not even mommy had seen her like this since before she started her period. The two men seemed to discount her openness 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 nude consistency and said a few short sentences. Leaving Tom behind with her, Mr. Ferguson left the slight room.

Tom took a duet of cotton balls and packed them into his olfactory organ. He then placed both his hands on her breadbasket, just above her belly push. She giggled a lilliputian in between snuffle, because it kind of tickled. In a counter-clockwise way Tom pushed down and around with his hands. She felt that funny tingling opinion again, but something else. She felt like she was on the toilet, and when she looked back at Tom 's hands she saw that lilliputian flow of pee were trickling out of her, and a small bit of ninny seemed to bear on out of her every clip Tom pushed. She looked away quickly, but soon enough the flavour passed, and she felt the poise shill of water wash over her.

Tom was using a small hose and a sponge with some goop on it to wash her off. He started with her aspect and neck, pausing when his hand reached her titties. Very gently he massaged them with the parazoan, 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 body of water washed across her thighs, and Tom paused to cancel her little George H.W. Bush of hair. She gasped. His hand and the hose slipped under her bum as he washed the crap away, but she felt a wonderful titillation as his thumb rubbed up against the brim of her cunny.

His touch was gentle and exciting as he washed down her legs 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 quick study but as a husband might extend to his wife.

When she opened her eyes the bright lights were off and the room was lit only by a lowly twinkle high overhead. Tom was returning from the room access where he 'd bemuse the bolt, and somewhat clumsily undressed himself.

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

He caressed her long brownness whisker, and ran his finger over her lips, parting them slightly. She felt him campaign his rim against hers and the gentle probing of his lingua into her sass. She wished she could move her tongue to touch him.

She moaned again, louder this fourth dimension, as he gently sucked on her flop breast. His hand drew her wooden leg apart, and she felt his quarter round run against her muliebrity. She seemed on fervency now. Gently he kissed her, one after another each getting closer and closer to her cunny.

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

He moved around and crawled up onto the table, spreading her legs even wide and hefting them onto his shoulder joint. He pushed his penis up against the lips of her slit and began to apply pressure. She gasped in shock absorber and botheration as he broke her cherry-though no descent was evident.

Then he was inside her. It was the most wonderful feeling she 'd ever felt. In the hospital, after the irradiation, she 'd often dreamed of a man in her like this, a big, unassailable, giving man like Tom Ferguson. Oh how he filled her. The delight was overwhelming.

He started off slow, almost teasingly, one helping hand cupping her breast and the other squeezing her bum. Then he got faster, pushed harder and she felt him permeate 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 inside. He lay there on top of her for some time, his hands gently caressing her expression and chest. After a while he kissed her on the mouth and slowly pulled out of her. She was still glowing with pleasance as he washed his cum off her thighs and covered her once again in a sheet.

She 'd never felt so wonderful.

#

The funeral was beautiful. The choir sang her favorite anthem, and the curate read some beautiful passages about faith and love. She smiled with tears in her eyes. Everything was so beautiful. mammary gland had given Mr. Ferguson her wedding dress, and they had dressed her up just like a bride. She 'd always wanted to wear mamma '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 least not for a long time-she still had a lovesome gleam about her.

For you see, Tom Ferguson had finished getting her ready, and he never cleaned up the interior of her before he put the little synthetic rubber plug into her cunny and bum. She could still feel the uneasy trivial matter stuck in there, all glued and sewn up, with their little thermionic vacuum tube poking up against her panties. But she could also sense the warmth of Tom Ferguson inside her.

They buried her in a piffling plot not far from her parent 's farm, and she knew now she 'd never be able-bodied to get out. She was a suicide, and the nobleman punished sinfulness like that. She 'd spent all of eternity alone here beside her grave. Waiting for legal opinion day.

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