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Tears well up as you again think of how you will never again feel the press of my body against yours, or experience the beauty of my lazy smile as we bask in the afterglow of wild, animal fucking. You bend low, and drink in my perfume again. Your lips hover above mine, your tongue running along the cold, crimson stiffness that once pleasured you orally--and now destined never to do so again. 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 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 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 my own hand, now I lay silent, yet not unwilling. You press, and with slight resistance, my corpse allows the finger entry. A wave Gay Sex 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 died. Ironic that for all our experiments with water sports, my biggest gush Gay Porn goes wasted, as I die alone and horney. So I would stay prostrate, my luscious ass in the air as if awaiting penetration, cooling and stiffening and waiting for you. And now here you are, suddenly Gay Stud Jerk as lustful as I at the moment of my demise. You slide your finger in and out of my cold, dry cunt, allowing it to caress the velveteen softness of my inner folds, while your thumb gently dances Gay Fisting about my clit. You push deeper and harder, the palm of your hand now pressing against my pelvis in a vain attempt to stimulate me; to feel me push my hips back Gay Studs Blowjobs against your hand, yet I am still. “If only it were that simple. I began my see-saw motion. With normal humans, the legs worked on a hinge system, but the way Jenny stood on Gay Sex just the balls of her long rabbit feet, it made her ankles act like a second set of knees that bent in opposite directions, working more like springs. Entering the open plan office area we passed five or six people, no one paying any attention other than a casual glance as she walked around and surveyed their work. Finally, her frustration overpowered parental Gay Fisting authority and she in a slightly exasperated Gay Studs Blowjobs voice asked, “Is that all, Mr. Martin for today?” "Ha! “Maybe you want them to tie you up and fuck you every which way,” he suggested,” Whip you maybe?” Uh, y-yes,” Stephanie explained, blinking rapidly and looking even more vulnerable. And maybe not for a Pleasure shuddered through me. I trembled on my back, my heart pounding rapture through my chest. Now that I know how wonderful it can be, I don’t ever want to stop doing Gay Stud Jerk this. “Oh, Priya, fuckkkkk, fuuuckkkkk, I’m coming…..!” The girl’s head slammed backward onto the mattress as she let out a squeal. Take Gay Porn that and use it to wash yourself.”