Bolder now, your hand slips into my blouse to fondle my left tit. Poking and prodding and squeezing as you kiss my face. Unsatisfied, you move lower, and fumble with the button on my pants. I wear nothing beneath the pantyhose; shorn even of my strawberry bush by morticians you realize likely took liberties with me already. Your hand slips underneath the waist of the nylons, and you marvel at the smoothness of my wife mound. No matter the fucking the morticians may have given me, they at least cleaned me up well. You fingers play for a moment at my lips--one on each side, with your middle finger rubbing at their slightly parted Fucking opening. Gently, as you did when I was once alive, your finger plays across my lips, as if knocking on a door. Where once I might have giggled and pushed you in with indian my own hand, now I lay silent, yet not unwilling. You press, and with slight resistance, my corpse allows the finger entry. A wave of heat washes over you, and you know that your last opportunity is upon us. Again you drink in the sight of me in my repose. The tragic beauty of my body as it lies in state is a far cry from the almost comedic position my final moments left me in. There I would lie until found, facedown in a pool of my own urine, vomit and blood. My disheveled hair, and broken stiletto heel the silent witnesses to the fatal rush about the house that brought me to a crashing finale. Fear not, dear one, for I was thinking of you before that fateful tumble--but sadly the wetness between my legs post-mortem was made not of my lust, but of the piss that leaked from my cunt when I cum died. Ironic that for all our experiments with water sports, my real biggest gush goes wasted, as I die alone and horney. “Come on, let’s go down.” I said simply before bending down and grabbing my shorts and the smoking paraphernalia. More importantly, the public didn’t know it was there, I’d discovered it by accident, my inquisitive nature insisting on finding out where the road went. I stole her wife from the local Mercedes dealership. Many nights, Enoch would dream of running real away and hitchhiking all the way back home, but of course the boy was not naive enough to actually try it. "W-what are you doing?" I could feel Jason's eyes boring a hole in the side of my head. John pushed past the resistance and into Katie’s throat and held there firmly as he indian began spurting thick ropy pulse after pulse of cum into her. "Right, I'm off." Dawn stood and slowly walked to the table to cum get her instructions for the day. The bottom line causes and conditions are all the same… “Ouch.” They creaked and groaned as something moved around in them. Especially into the crotch of Fucking Nettie's panties. This nervous flutter rippled through my guts.