The way seemed almost surreal to her now. As she lay on her bed, drifting in the narcotic fog of the pill, she could almost feel the air around her, a liquid like water-thick and unyielding. The room was growing darker, and she was finding it more and more difficult to breathe. The pain in the neck was less now ; she could barely feel anything anymore.

A recondite breath. Her last ?

A opine struck her. Who would find her, laid out here like this ? What would they think ? It would be a shame to ingest gotten dressed up only to be found in some awkward position. Would she twitch, or would it be like falling asleep ?

Another breath.

The elbow room was getting dim. Her heart was pounding in her ears. She felt a small drip of liquid run down the inside of her thigh. Reflexively she squeezed her legs together. No, please God, null messy. This was her best dress. She got cook for this just so she 's be pretty. Please God, no pee.

Her breath rattled. The pain was gone.

Who would find here, here in her best wearing apparel ? Who would find her ? mama ?

Wheeze.

Momma ? Is that you ? I 'm so cold.

Her chest fell and darkness engulfed her.

ma ?

#

It was form of the Sami floaty impression she 'd felt up after she took the anovulant, but it was kind of different. She actually felt like she was flying.

She opened her eyes. There she was, not five feet away lying in bed. She chewed her lip when she saw the damp stain on her beautiful dress. It took her a few moments to realize that she was n't actually lying on the bed, but looking at herself lying on the bed. She seemed to be floating above the bed a picayune bit, and off to the right. She was flying, and the pain was gone.

She was dead.

And she 'd puddle herself.

There were former people in the room. In the nook her female parent was sobbing into her father 's thorax. The Town medico was saying something she could n't hear to two former male child. She could n't hear anything that they were saying actually. Things were very quiet-like she was deaf.

The boy nodded, and while the MD hustled her parents out of the bedchamber, they unrolled a big plastic sheet of paper beside her on the bed.

One boy stood up on the bed, bent low and grasped her body underneath her arms. The other boy grasped her ankles. She could barely experience their feeling, but it was there-as if she felt them affect her from a distance.

A minuscule thrill ran through her. No boy had ever touched her before. daddy would n't let his sixteen-year-old girlfriend see any of the local son, not especially with her so chuck. She 'd always wondered what it would feel like when a boy touched her leg.

It was variety of like when she snuck a kiss from Johnny Reese. It was a funny, ardent feeling.

The adjacent little while seemed like a blur to her. They wrapped her up in the shaping sheet and put her in the back of the ambulance. They did n't twist on the siren, or tug literal fasting, but they did heard directly for the hospital. She knew the rout well.

It was latterly when they got there. The infirmary corridors were pretty empty as they rolled her torso, covered in a white sheet now down to the morgue. She cringed a fiddling bit when they took off her shoes and tossed them into a little brown bag. They were mum 's shoes, and real expensive too. Then they took out a duo of scissors grip and cut her pantyhose at her rightfield ankle. It tickled a little bit as they tied a little tag to her big toe.

She giggled a fiddling bit. Being dead was way more fun than being sick.

The male child rolled the gurney she was on into the cooler and turned off the light.

#

When she woke up it was some fourth dimension later and the brightness level was real bright. She was n't in the hospital anymore she did n't think. Mr. Ferguson was the funeral managing director of the local funeral household, and he and his son were moving around some equipment in a small room that looked more like a uncontaminating service department than the morgue where she 'd been last night.

Her heart began to race as Mr. Ferguson reached for the push button on her blouse. This was n't good. Mr. Ferguson would see her bosom. She looked for a way to escape, but found she could n't look to get more than than five or ten ft from her body.

By this time the older man had unbuttoned her blank blouse, and pulled it apart, showing her bra below. He sat her up, and slowly stripped off the cotton blouse, and deftly pulled off her bra. Her titties jiggled a slight bit as he laid her back down again. She started crying as he reached for her skirt.

Mr. Ferguson rolled her over on her side to unzip the garb from the back, and through her tears she saw a brown spot right below her bum, one that matched the lily-livered one on the front.

Oh she had messed her pretty set real bad !

He unzipped her skirt, and let her lay back on her back, setting her bosom to jiggling again. Then gently lifting up her branch, he pulled off her sully annulus, and set it aside. With his son Tom 's assistant he then slid his finger under both her pantyhose and her stained panties and with one blue-belly pull slid both down her gabardine legs.

She was naked as a blue jay now, and both men could see her cunny and titties. She sniffled a trivial bit-embarrassed. Not even ma had seen her like this since before she started her full stop. The two men seemed to neglect her nakedness though while they busied themselves with their equipment.

Mr. Ferguson looked up and away as if hearing something. He then turned to his son, pointed towards her naked body and said a few short sentences. Leaving Tom behind with her, Mr. Ferguson left the little room.

Tom took a dyad of cotton balls and packed them into his nose. He then placed both his bridge player on her tummy, just above her belly button. She giggled a fiddling in between sniffles, because it sort of thrill. In a counter-clockwise fashion Tom pushed down and around with his hands. She felt that funny tingling feeling again, but something else. She felt like she was on the toilette, and when she looked back at Tom 's hands she saw that little watercourse of pee were trickling out of her, and a small-scale bit of after part seemed to push out of her every clock time Tom pushed. She looked away quickly, but soon enough the feeling passed, and she felt the poise shill of water supply wash over her.

Tom was using a minor hose and a sponge with some scoop on it to wash out her off. He started with her face and neck, pausing when his hand reached her titties. Very gently he massaged them with the leech, and her fond tingly feeling got warm. The parasite moved across her belly, caressing it in a way she 'd never felt before. A diminished moan escaped her lips.

The pee washed across her thigh, and Tom paused to scour her picayune bush of tomentum. She gasped. His hand and the hose slipped under her bum as he washed the crap away, but she felt a wonderful tickling as his quarter round rubbed up against the lips of her cunny.

His cutaneous senses was gentle and exciting as he washed down her ramification and dried her off with a towel. She closed her centre and imagined him kidding her. She imagined his manpower touching her, not with a parazoan but as a married man might touch his wife.

When she opened her eyes the bright Light were off and the elbow room was lit only by a small light high operating expense. Tom was returning from the threshold where he 'd thrown the bolt, and somewhat clumsily undressed himself.

He moved towards her, and she could n't help but glint at his manhood. It was big and hard, and that thrilled her too.

He caressed her longsighted John Brown hair, and ran his finger over her lips, parting them slightly. She felt him compress his lips against hers and the blue probing of his lingua into her oral fissure. She wished she could move her spit to touch him.

She moaned again, louder this time, as he gently sucked on her rectify boob. His hand drew her legs apart, and she felt his thumb run against her muliebrity. She seemed on fire now. Gently he kissed her, one after another each getting finisher and closer to her cunny.

His glossa probed the lips of pussy and she groaned with pleasance. He sucked on it, letting his spit dart in and out. Each touch seemed to stoke her fire. She was trembling now.

He moved around and crawled up onto the board, spreading her peg even broad and hefting them onto his shoulder. He pushed his penis up against the back talk of her cunt and began to apply pressure. She gasped in electrical shock and botheration as he broke her cherry-though no pedigree was evident.

Then he was inside her. It was the most fantastic feeling she 'd ever felt. In the hospital, after the radiation, she 'd often dreamed of a man in her like this, a big, inviolable, handsome man like Tom Ferguson. Oh how he filled her. The delight was overwhelming.

He started off slow, almost teasingly, one bridge player cupping her breast and the other squeezing her bum. Then he got faster, pushed harder and she felt him penetrate her deeper and deeper. She felt like she was about to explode.

And then he did. It was like a warm wave rushing all through her inside. He lay there on top of her for some time, his hands gently caressing her human face and breasts. After a piece he kissed her on the lips and slowly pulled out of her. She was still glowing with delight as he washed his cum off her thigh and covered her once again in a sheet.

She 'd never felt so wonderful.

#

The funeral was beautiful. The consort sang her darling anthem, and the pastor read some beautiful passing about organized religion and honey. She smiled with weeping in her eyes. Everything was so beautiful. Mamma had given Mr. Ferguson her wedding attire, and they had dressed her up just like a bride. She 'd always wanted to wear Momma 's dress, but had n't expected to be buried in it.

And while she was sad that she 'd never get to see any of these folks again-or at least not for a long time-she still had a warm glow about her.

For you see, Tom Ferguson had finished getting her set up, and he never cleaned up the inside of her before he put the little arctic plug into her cunny and bum. She could still find the awkward niggling things stuck in there, all glued and sew together up, with their petty tubes poking up against her panties. But she could also sense the warmth of Tom Ferguson inside her.

They buried her in a little plot of ground not far from her parent 's farm, and she knew now she 'd never be able to allow for. She was a suicide, and the Divine punished sins like that. She 'd spent all of eternity alone here beside her tomb. Waiting for judgement day.

Alone, but not quite alone. There was a petty bit of Tom Ferguson in her, and that kept her warm .