6. Raw, Forbidden Twist

The handle is cold to the touch, and I hold on, contemplating my next step. Should I do this? Probably not, but the urge to do it is stronger than my sense of self-preservation.

Self-preservation is overrated. Who's going to know, anyway?

As soon as I open the metal compartment, a gust of frosted air whooshes out. A shiver creeps down my spine, causing goosebumps to spring up on my arms at the slight change in temperature. Or were they caused by the anticipation of what's about to happen? I swallow a shaky breath as I draw closer to something I've never considered. A sexual encounter with the opposite sex. Flesh on Flesh…but with a raw, forbidden twist. If anyone found out? Let's hope that never happens.

I grip the frigid edge of the tray and cautiously roll Johnny out. His erection is a prominent possession in his grip and hasn't gone down. His whole body is still rigored with his muscles taught.

With the tips of my fingers, I ever-so-gently trace along his tattoos, which are now stark black against blueish-white skin. I continue along the contours of his chest, investigating every dip and valley of his muscles until I reach his adonis belt.

"Oh, Johnny. You're so cold," I whisper with adoration. "I've never been with anyone, alive or dead. I've only ever played with myself, but with you, I would try anything." I can't stop touching and talking to him as if he could answer me. As if he could do the things to me that I want him to.

I hesitate to go any farther, biting the inside of my cheek. I shouldn't. It's not right. But no one will know. It's a victimless crime. Plus, I really want to. I've been a good girl all my life. I deserve a little bad, even if it comes in the form of a frozen cock. My clit pulses with the need to be played with again, but it would be so much better if it was him touching me instead of my own hand. Now that I have submitted to my desire, Time is on my side. I have tons of it. Brandon isn't scheduled to return until morning.

Without giving myself the chance to talk me out of it, I unzip my jeans and slide them down my legs, exposing my sex to the chilly air. The coldness slithers like my lover's dead finger over my exposed wetness. It causes my pussy to clench with suspense and yearning. It's a sense of longing to be filled by something other than my toys. Kicking off my boots and fully removing my pants and underwear, I climb on the table in a rush and straddle my soon-to-be cherry popper, Johnny.

"They say you never forget your first, but regardless, I think it would be hard to forget you," I admit, and my voice quivers as my pulse races. I brush my entrance against his length and gasp out loud. My inner walls flutter in anticipation at how well he will stretch me.

I settle over him like a bull rider, preparing for the gate to open. "Are you as ready as I am? I'm about to drip all over you." I laugh nervously, trailing a finger through the wetness. "Maybe I could ride your face sometime? Perhaps?"

That thought alone has me drenched and my bundle of nerves tingling. I brace my arms behind me for support as I angle my pussy so I can rub myself along his shaft, coating him in my desire. When I reach his hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, my clit hits each one of his knuckles as I slide down it like a stripper pole. Pinpricks tingle across my bundle of nerves with the move, and the intensifying sensation has me quivering, my breasts aching for attention. I yearn to grab them, so I rip off my hoodie and squeeze them over my shirt. My already hard nipples get even harder and tighten into peeks through the soft cotton material. Deciding they need attention, I don't waste any time and firmly pinch them between my fingers. I roll the nubs around for a bit, basking in the sharp pain I'm inflicting upon myself.

With unwavering determination, I set my jaw and bring my arms forward, putting my hands on either side of his waist. The deep Vs of his adonis belt press against my palms. Lifting my hips, I align myself so he is right over my center. Then ever. So. Slowly. I ease myself down.

I may be a virgin when it comes to a real human penis, but he's even bigger than my largest dildo. There's a slight burn at the girthy intrusion. I pull up and then sit down farther each time, getting closer to his fist. It's painful, and I'm thankful for my practice with my battery-operated boyfriends. I've never done anything like this before with an actual fleshy human member, living or dead. And doing it in the morgue only adds to the exhilaration. It's exciting and even thrilling. The thought of someone walking in on me, catching me in the act of what I'm doing, is dirty and wrong, but fuck, it's getting me even wetter. It's not long until the stretch becomes pleasurable. The slight sting is immediately soothed by the coolness of his dick, making me work harder on his shaft.

"You fill me up so fucking good. Ah," I cry out in pleasure.

My abdomen clenches as I work my clit, intensifying the building orgasm. Should I take his hand as well? I could try and see just how much of him I can take. I sink down farther… farther… Just a bit more. There's a slight sting before it's replaced with warmth, and I'm taking in his fingers wrapped around himself. I'm filled with a sense of pride in my accomplishment. Being able to take his cock and his hand has to be a considerable feat. My pussy is dripping and clenching, hungry with the need to take in as much of him as I can. It's not bad. The unique sensation has my head rushing as more pain is added to the bliss.

"Oh god," I moan, throwing my head back, methodically rocking. "I'm so close, Johnny."

The first wave of my impending climax thrums like the cord on a bass guitar. With my chest pushed out, I imagine what It would be like if I were completely naked and my partner was alive. How Johnny would stare up at me with eyes brimming over with lust. My nipples are hard, tingling for more stimulation beneath my top. Johnny's free hand lies stiff at his side. I think of putting it to good use, but push that thought aside and focus on his face. His stoic expression, with a sharp jawline and full bottom lip, begs me to pull it between my teeth. Even though I know he's dead, I can envision him enjoying this sight of me as I ride him, his eyes moving between my bouncing breasts and his cock. Then, I glance down at where we are connected. My arousal glistens on his fingers and at the base of his shaft as I watch my pussy enveloping him.

"Do you like what you see, Johnny? I was made for you," I whisper, rolling my hips, taking what I want from him.

No, what I need from him with every thrust as I impale myself on his cock. The feeling of euphoria is just within reach. I bounce harder and faster, chasing that release I'm so desperately craving. My abdomen clenches while my groan of ecstasy claws its way from my throat. Then my body jerks as my pussy spasms in victory from my own torturous orgasm. My hands land on his hard, unforgiving chest as exhaustion consumes every one of my limbs.

"Oh, fuck that was intense," I pant, attempting to catch my breath. Then, my mind finally catches up to my body. My eyes widen as the finality of the deed sets in, and I gradually lift myself off Johnny's cock. Against my will, a whimper escapes my lips at the loss of him. My body is already missing the way he filled me up. What the fuck is wrong with me? Slowly getting off the table, I almost slip and bust my ass on the tile floor when my phone rings. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Standing is hard. Bolts of painful electricity shoot down my legs. I groan as I bend to grab my clothes off the floor and quickly?or as quickly as I can?pull my underwear and pants on. The call dies before I can reach it, and in the back of my mind, a voice shrieks, they know what you've done, sick girl.

They don't know, though. I could have been busy with another corpse. Oh, nope, change that! I mentally chide. I could have gone for a potty break. Better! There's a list of things I could have been doing to have missed their call. The mortician is fucking a corpse wouldn't be a normal person's assumption.

I check the caller's ID to see it's only Charles. He's the type of guy who will scream at me for not answering him quickly enough, but that is our usual song and dance. This time is no different. I press the button to call him back, my anxiety building with each ring that goes unanswered.

"Why didn't you answer the first time? Too busy playing with the dead again, Morticia?" Charles chides. I run my hand through my ponytail, subconsciously trying to smooth it out as if he can see I've been doing some strenuous activities. Oh, that hit a little too close to home. "Look, we have a car wreck here with multiple bodies. Some will be going to the hospital D.O.A., so just a heads up."

"Thanks, I will keep an eye out for their call." Was that Charles being friendly?

Abruptly, his end of the line goes dead. There is no reply, goodbye, or acknowledgment of calling him back. Nothing. I shouldn't expect much from him anyway. The living try to limit their interactions with me. I can't blame them, but I shouldn't expect anything less.