He was lying on the gurney, waiting for me. I 'd lied to the undertaker, I 'd said I wanted a viewing, receptive coffin. I wanted him to look overnice. I 'd never seen him in a suit before. The truth was I just wanted to see him one cobbler's last time.

It was n't as if I was planning this all along. All I wanted was a few more hours with him, a few More hours to only deepen 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 pipe dream and nightmares since that day I walked into the mortuary and saw him lying there, and made dear to him. He was so beautiful, so young and barren, still scarred from the vehemence of his life, though he 'd never babble about it to me.

I 'd laid him, dressed, on my bed, the drapery drawn, the threshold locked. I restrained myself for a couple of 60 minutes. 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 push button, forcing myself to go slowly, ignoring the importunity of my own rag 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 injury the coroner had left, the incision where he 'd cut into the dead physical body, looking for something I could never understand. Thank god for the abbreviated post-mortem.

They 'd feel him - the police - slumped on a bed in a tawdry flatcar on the bad side of town, dead. 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 recognise where he 'd got the drugs from. There had been no bank note, but the door and windows were closed and it was impossible that it had been execution.

Kevin had a vaguely crescent-shaped scar on his shoulder joint from an old love-bite. I do n't know what kind of things he 'd been forced to do when he was live. I know that he 'd hated the thought of sex. He would take resisted me when he was alert. I bent low over him and opened his mouth with a conciliate candy kiss.

His frigidity mouth were firm against mine, and I pushed my tongue past times, into his dry mouth, 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 respond, but as I carried on kissing him, I only felt the impulse even more than before. I reached down and rubbed my swollen cock through my pant.

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

I got on top of him, like I had before, and, hooking my hands under his insensate thighs, lifted his legs so that I could press the head of my cock to his opening. I pushed myself into him much easier this time, though my hammer was so hard that the head was swollen far beyond normal, bloated and regal, dribbling thickheaded pre-cum. I sighed as I pushed myself in as far as I could then appease still for a bit, breathing hard, forcing myself to take it slow.

'I love you, Kevin ,'I panted.

I began to crusade in and out of him, as gently as if I was making love to a womanhood, my luxuria turning me into a barely-controlled goliath. I chewed at his shoulder, his pap, his lips, tongue-fucking him as my cock slid slowly backwards and forwards inside his tight bowels. Pushing myself in as far as I could, I made humping motility to force every last inch of my dick into him.

It did n't last very long. I could n't avail myself, but I started bucking violently into his body. It did n't matter that I was fucking a cadaver, it did n't matter that this was legal injury. 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 mingled delight and despair, I thrust deeply into him, shuddering as my repressed semen flooded out of me.

I lay beside him for the following hour or so, not caring for the time that slipped slowly past us, just enjoying his company. I played with my shaft, already slippery with a mixture of my sexual climax and Vaseline, until it began to harden again beneath my digit. I slipped a rubber pecker ring down over the swelling promontory, threading it down to the thick base.

The pencil eraser pulled back my foreskin. I was about seven inch long, and a twain midst at the base, so the doughnut was biting quite tightly into my hide already. As I stroked myself, a drop curtain of cum oozed out of my twat and I rubbed it over my oral sex with the palm of my bridge player, bucking my hip up to meet my own caresses.

I knelt between his wooden leg and lifted them until I could get his knees over my shoulder. I could enter him easily and deeply like this, leaning against the dead weight of his physical structure. I played with his hitch cock, squeezed his coldness clod, wondering whether there was still a spark of life history trapped in there. I locked my arms around his soft thighs and started slowly pumping in and out of his loose bowels. My own seed 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 push as I got closer to coming. His consistence shuddered against me as my balls tightened. I fucked him violently. I screamed out his name again and again, wanting him to feel my estrus cryptical inside him, as I jerked for the second time that day, jetting my life into his frigidness, dead bowels.

As soon as my orgasm had subsided, I turned him over and entered him again. My semen was already beginning to dribble down over his balls and onto the mainsheet and he was so relaxed now that I could labor my full length in with one easy thrust. My peter was still rear, but only because of the ring. I moved in and out until the sense became too much for me. Then, with one final examination push, I sheathed myself in him up to my balls and kissed his neck and face.

There was only when 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 bequeath me ?'

He did n't resolve. I sighed and pressed my face to the side of his pass. I had n't felt the tears start, but my eyes 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 table. It felt heavy in my hand. I was exhausted and trembling. Gently, I pressed the muzzle of the gun to his cold back talk. His tooth scraped along the barrel as I forced it deeper in, until the gag pressed against the side of his cheek, pointing straight upwards.

I had said I 'd never bequeath him, that I 'd always be by his position. I had to keep my promise to him, even if he would n't see it honored. I would never exit him. I took a thick breath and squeezed my eye closed. My finger tightened on the trigger.

'Goodbye, Kevin ,'I murmured, bust filling my center at this cobbler's last bit. My terminal here and now with him. I pulled the gun trigger.

I just could n't subsist without him .