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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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A Promise
by Francis address withheld)

***

The truth was, I just wanted to see him one last time. 
(MM, nec, rom, suicide)
 
***

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 suit before. The truth was I just wanted to see 
him one last time. 

It wasn'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 didn't mean 
it to end up happening the way it did, but he'd been in 
my dreams and nightmares since that day I walked into 
the mortuary and saw him lying there, and made love to 
him. He was so beautiful, so young and innocent, still 
scarred from the violence of his life, though he'd 
never talked about it to me.

I'd laid him, dressed, on my bed, the curtains drawn, 
the door locked. I restrained myself for a couple of 
hours. But I loved him and I didn'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 
shoulders and stood back to admire him. Now he was 
half-naked, I could see the wounds the coroner had 
left, the incision where he'd cut into the dead flesh, 
looking for something I could never understand. Thank 
god for the abbreviated autopsy.

They'd found him – the police – slumped on a bed in a 
cheap flat 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 didn't know where he'd got the drugs 
from. There had been no note, but the door and windows 
were closed and it was impossible that it had been 
murder.

Neil had a vaguely crescent-shaped scar on his shoulder 
from an old love-bite. I don't know what kind of things 
he'd been forced to do when he was alive. 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 mouth with a gentle kiss. 

His cold lips were firm against mine, and I pushed my 
tongue past, 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 didn't react, but as I carried on kissing him, I 
only felt the urge 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 minutes to finish undressing him, 
ten minutes 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 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 head of my cock to his opening. I 
pushed myself into him much easier this time, though my 
cock was so hard that the head was swollen far beyond 
normal, bloated and purple, dribbling thick pre-cum. I 
sighed as I pushed myself in as far as I could then 
stayed still for a moment, breathing hard, forcing 
myself to take it slow.

'I love you, Neil,' I panted.

I began to push in and out of him, as gently as if I 
was making love to a woman, my lust turning me into a 
barely-controlled monster. I chewed at his shoulder, 
his nipples, 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 motions to force every last inch of my cock 
into him.

It didn't last very long. I couldn't help myself, but I 
started bucking violently into his body. It didn't 
matter that I was fucking a corpse, it didn't matter 
that this was wrong. All that mattered was that I was 
with Neil again, in every way I'd ever wanted to be. He 
was mine. With a groan of mingled pleasure and despair, 
I thrust deeply into him, shuddering as my pent-up 
semen flooded out of me.

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

The rubber pulled back my foreskin. I was about seven 
inches long, and a couple thick at the base, so the 
ring was biting quite tightly into my skin already. As 
I stroked myself, a drop of cum oozed out of my slit 
and I rubbed it over my head with the palm of my hands, 
bucking my hips up to meet my own caresses.

I knelt between his legs and lifted them until I could 
get his knees over my shoulders. I could enter him 
easily and deeply like this, leaning against the dead 
weight of his body. I played with his limp cock, 
squeezed his cold balls, wondering whether there was 
still a spark of life trapped in there. I locked my 
arms around his soft thighs and started slowly pumping 
in and out of his loose bowels. My own semen 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 thrust as I got closer to coming. His body 
shuddered against me as my balls tightened. I fucked 
him violently. I screamed out his name again and again, 
wanting him to feel my heat deep inside him, as I 
jerked for the second time that day, jetting my life 
into his cold, dead bowels.

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

There was only way I could ever truly have him now.

'Why couldn't you have taken me with you?' I whispered 
into his ear. 'Why did you leave me?'

He didn't answer. I sighed and pressed my cheek to the 
side of his head. I hadn't felt the tears start, but my 
eyes were burning now. I tried to hold back the choke 
of a sob, but I couldn'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 lips. His teeth scraped along the barrel as I 
forced it deeper in, until the muzzle pressed against 
the side of his cheek, pointing straight upwards.

I had said I'd never leave him, that I'd always be by 
his side. I had to keep my promise to him, even if he 
wouldn't see it honored. I would never leave him. I 
took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes closed. My 
finger tightened on the trigger.

'Goodbye, Neil,' I murmured, tears filling my eyes at 
this last moment. My last moment with him. I pulled the 
trigger.

I just couldn't live without him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 42