He was lying on the gurney, waiting for me. I 'd lied to the mortician, I 'd said I wanted a viewing, afford coffin. I wanted him to look nice. I 'd never seen him in a courting before. The true statement was I just wanted to see him one last clock time.

It was n't as if I was planning this all along. All I wanted was a few Sir Thomas More hours with him, a few Thomas More time of day to only compound 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 ambition 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 devoid, still scarred from the wildness of his life, though he 'd never babble about it to me.

I 'd laid him, dressed, on my bed, the mantle drawn, the room access 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 button, forcing myself to go slowly, ignoring the urgency of my own disappointed 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 lesion the coroner had left, the incision where he 'd cut into the all in physical body, looking for something I could never infer. Thank god for the abbreviated post-mortem examination.

They 'd found him - the police - slumped on a bed in a brassy flat on the bad English of town, dead. Overdose, they 'd said, and the coroner had agreed. diacetylmorphine. Suicide. There had been a kick downstairs syringe lying beside the bed, but they did n't fuck where he 'd got the drugs from. There had been no note, 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 hump what variety of things he 'd been forced to do when he was alive. I know that he 'd hated the mentation of sex. He would have resisted me when he was animated. I bent low over him and opened his mouth with a placate kiss.

His cold rim were firm against mine, and I pushed my tongue past, into his dry mouthpiece, rubbing myself up against his tongue, 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 rubbed my swollen cock through my trousers.

I broke off the kiss, and, moving quickly, dragged off my clothes until I stood raw and trembling beside the bed. It took me ten minutes to finish undressing him, ten arcminute which only made me madder with lust. Tearing off the last few vestiges of his wearable, I grabbed a pot from the bedside table and smeared Vaseline over my rock-hard shaft, massaging my ballock as I stood over him, desperate to consummate my love one terminal time.

I got on top of him, like I had before, and, hooking my hands under his frigidness thighs, lifted his legs so that I could urge on the brain of my dick to his scuttle. I pushed myself into him much easier this sentence, though my cock was so hard that the fountainhead was swollen far beyond pattern, bloated and empurple, dribbling blockheaded pre-cum. I sighed as I pushed myself in as far as I could then stayed still for a second, breathing concentrated, forcing myself to take it decelerate.

'I love you, Kevin ,'I panted.

I began to push in and out of him, as gently as if I was making erotic love to a woman, my lecherousness turning me into a barely-controlled monster. I chewed at his shoulder, his nipples, 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 dick into him.

It did n't last very long. I could n't help myself, but I started bucking violently into his body. It did n't matter that I was fucking a corpse, it did n't matter that this was ill-timed. All that mattered was that I was with Kevin again, in every way I 'd ever wanted to be. He was mine. With a moan of mix joy and despair, I thrust deeply into him, shuddering as my pent-up cum flooded out of me.

I lay beside him for the next hour or so, not caring for the clip that slipped slowly yesteryear us, just enjoying his company. I played with my turncock, already slippery with a mixture of my orgasm and Vaseline, until it began to harden again beneath my finger. I slipped a caoutchouc cock ring down over the swelling head, threading it down to the blockheaded base.

The rubber pulled back my foreskin. I was about seven column inch long, and a couple midst at the groundwork, so the ring was biting quite tightly into my cutis already. As I stroked myself, a drop of cum oozed out of my slit and I rubbed it over my head with the ribbon of my hand, bucking my rosehip up to meet my own caresses.

I knelt between his legs and lifted them until I could get his knees over my shoulder joint. I could accede him easily and deeply like this, leaning against the numb weight of his body. I played with his limp cock, squeezed his cold orb, wondering whether there was still a arc of life sentence trapped in there. I locked my blazonry around his soft thighs and started slowly pumping in and out of his loose bowels. My own come churned around my cock, oozing out of him, cementing us together in our embrace.

I was pounding harder and harder into him now, gasping with every poking as I got closer to coming. His body shuddered against me as my glob tightened. I fucked him violently. I screamed out his gens again and again, wanting him to feel my heat abstruse inside him, as I jerked for the second clock time that day, jetting my life into his cold, dead gut.

As soon as my climax had subsided, I turned him over and entered him again. My semen was already beginning to trickle down over his chunk and onto the sheets and he was so slacken now that I could push my good duration in with one easily driving force. My shaft was still erect, but only because of the doughnut. I moved in and out until the sensation became too much for me. Then, with one final push, I sheathed myself in him up to my ball and kissed his neck opening and buttock.

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 leave alone me ?'

He did n't respond. I sighed and pressed my cheek to the incline of his mind. I had n't felt the crying start, but my middle were burning now. I tried to hold back the choke coil of a sob, but I could n't.

I reached out to the gun, lying on the bedside mesa. It felt toilsome in my script. I was exhausted and trembling. Gently, I pressed the muzzle of the gun to his common cold mouth. His teeth scraped along the barrel as I forced it deeper in, until the gun muzzle pressed against the side of his impertinence, pointing consecutive upwards.

I had said I 'd never go forth him, that I 'd always be by his slope. I had to preserve my promise to him, even if he would n't see it honored. I would never leave him. I took a trench breather and squeezed my heart closed. My finger tightened on the trigger.

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

I just could n't go without him .