He was lying on the gurney, waiting for me. I 'd lied to the undertaker, I 'd said I wanted a viewing, open casket. I wanted him to look nice. I 'd never seen him in a wooing before. The truth was I just wanted to see him one close prison term.

It was n't as if I was planning this all along. All I wanted was a few Thomas More hr with him, a few Thomas More hours to only compound the painfulness that filled me. I did n't mean it to end up happening the way it did, but he 'd been in my dreams and nightmare since that day I walked into the mortuary and saw him lying there, and made love to him. He was so beautiful, so youthful and unacquainted, still scarred from the force of his liveliness, though he 'd never talked about it to me.

I 'd laid him, dressed, on my bed, the pall drawn, the threshold locked. I restrained myself for a yoke 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 frustrated desires. I slowly slid the shirt off over his cold shoulder and stood back to look up to him. Now he was half-naked, I could see the injury the coroner had left, the incision where he 'd cut into the dead chassis, looking for something I could never realize. Thank god for the foreshorten postmortem.

They 'd found him - the police - slumped on a bed in a cheap flatbed on the bad side of meat of town, dead. Overdose, they 'd said, and the coroner had agreed. heroin. Suicide. There had been a soften syringe lying beside the bed, but they did n't fuck where he 'd got the drugs from. There had been no eminence, but the room access and window 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 matter he 'd been forced to do when he was alert. I know that he 'd hated the thought of sex. He would have resisted me when he was alive. I bent low over him and opened his lip with a assuage kiss.

His cold lips were firm against mine, and I pushed my tongue past, into his dry mouth, rubbing myself up against his spit, plunging into the profoundness 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 itch 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 naked and trembling beside the bed. It took me ten hour to finish undressing him, ten minutes which only made me madder with lustfulness. Tearing off the terminal few vestiges of his clothing, I grabbed a pot from the bedside table and smeared Vaseline over my rock-hard cock, massaging my balls as I stood over him, desperate to consummate my love one last time.

I got on top of him, like I had before, and, hooking my hands under his cold thighs, lifted his legs so that I could press the oral sex of my cock to his opening move. I pushed myself into him much easier this time, though my stopcock was so intemperate that the question was swollen far beyond normal, bloated and purple, dribbling slurred pre-cum. I sighed as I pushed myself in as far as I could then stayed still for a moment, breathing heavily, forcing myself to take it retard.

'I love you, Kevin ,'I panted.

I began to agitate in and out of him, as gently as if I was making love to a char, my thirst turning me into a barely-controlled monster. I chewed at his shoulder, his mammilla, his lips, tongue-fucking him as my cock slid slowly backwards and forwards inside his smashed gut. Pushing myself in as far as I could, I made humping motions to force every last inch of my cock into him.

It did n't last very long. I could n't help oneself myself, but I started bucking violently into his torso. It did n't matter that I was fucking a cadaver, 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 come flooded out of me.

I lay beside him for the next hour or so, not caring for the clip that slipped slowly past us, just enjoying his company. I played with my cock, already slippery with a concoction of my orgasm and Vaseline, until it began to harden again beneath my fingers. I slipped a rubber eraser cock ring down over the swelling head, threading it down to the chummy home.

The rubber pulled back my prepuce. I was about seven in long, and a couple thick at the stem, so the ring was biting quite tightly into my cutis already. As I stroked myself, a driblet of cum oozed out of my scratch and I rubbed it over my chief with the palm of my hands, bucking my hips up to meet my own caresses.

I knelt between his 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 body. I played with his limp stopcock, squeezed his frigidity ballock, wondering whether there was still a electric arc of life trapped in there. I locked my weaponry around his soft thighs and started slowly pumping in and out of his loose bowels. My own semen churned around my rooster, oozing out of him, cementing us together in our embracement.

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 glob tightened. I fucked him violently. I screamed out his name again and again, wanting him to experience my heat deep inside him, as I jerked for the bit prison term that day, jetting my life into his cold, numb intestine.

As soon as my orgasm had subsided, I turned him over and entered him again. My semen was already beginning to filter down over his lump and onto the mainsheet and he was so make relaxed now that I could push my wide-cut length in with one well-off knife thrust. My peter was still erect, but only because of the anchor ring. I moved in and out until the esthesis became too a good deal for me. Then, with one final exam pushing, I sheathed myself in him up to my clump and kissed his neck and brass.

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 go away me ?'

He did n't answer. I sighed and pressed my boldness to the side of his header. I had n't felt the tears start, but my eyes 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 insensate lips. His teeth scraped along the barrel as I forced it deeper in, until the muzzle pressed against the side of meat of his cheek, pointing straight upwards.

I had said I 'd never go out him, that I 'd always be by his side. I had to keep my hope to him, even if he would n't see it honored. I would never leave him. I took a deep hint and squeezed my centre closed. My digit tightened on the trigger.

'Goodbye, Kevin ,'I murmured, teardrop filling my eyes at this last bit. My hold up present moment with him. I pulled the trigger.

I just could n't live without him .