Caroline Flack Wants to Get Out of Here, Part 2

Continued from Part 1

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He reached Caroline's naked corpse as her struggles faded and her life fled her body. As though in a dream he looked at the pointed toes that were dripping yellow pee onto the floor below. The chair lay on its side just inches away from Caroline’s right foot. Lewis looked up at the down turned face as he walked over to the slowly swinging body. He reached out tentatively, took hold of Caroline’s upper arms and steadied the sway. The bare skin was already cooling.

Tears blinding him he struggled forward, grasping her by the thighs and desperately trying to lift her to allow her air--so safe the beautiful woman he loved. It was to no avail. Then frantically he put a hand over the dead girl’s heart. There was no longer the rhythmic beating that Lewis had felt so many times as the lovers drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms. That was the end. She was dead, it was over, but what a show it had been. Lewis looked at the gaping mouth; he saw bloated tongue stretching down from the corner of her slack-jawed mouth with dribbles of drool spilling down across the bare breasts, the erect nipples and the urine-soaked thighs. Caroline’s cheeks were blue and puffy. Fine red lines of drying blood stained the lower part of her throat. The rope had constricted Caroline’s throat to little more than two inches.

Lewis looked up at his dead lover and remembered how beautiful she had been in life. He hugged the corpse around the waist as the silence of her passing was marred only by his uncontrollable weeping pouring down his cheeks as he collapsed beneath her dangling corpse and cursed the illness that drove her to this desperate act. Lewis swayed along with the body as though they were doing a slow dance.

It had seemed for awhile as if her depression was passing, after all, she had returned to work, and had just purchased a new wardrobe, all had seemed well. Now, with her gently swinging above the damp carpet, her letter in his trembling hands, he understood the fiction of it all.

Her head hung down, and though her face was swollen from her struggles, she seemed to be happy and at peace--her hair hung about her like an auburn halo, and the tension that she had carried in her shoulders had drained away with her life, leaving her seemingly relaxed.

Her death hadn't seemed to be cruel to her at least.

After a couple of minutes Lewis wiped his eyes and stood on the chair she hung besides, and slowly let her down. As he now looked down at her lying on the floor she reminded him of nothing so much as a marionette with its strings cut.

It was a struggle but Lewis managed to loosened the noose from around Caroline's battered and broken neck, finding her corpse lighter than expected, pulling it up over her hair and through her flowing golden hair. The loop of rope swung in front of her face. Lewis ignored the angry red mark that encircled Caroline’s strangled throat. The eyes once glittering eyes that has sparkled so radiantly the last time Lewis had seen them were now vacant and dark, staring widely up at the starry sky and seeing nothing. The smell of urine and death hung in the air, but he could also smell her perfume and…something else. Caroline's arms dangled limply down to the sides and her head wobbled back and forth on her rubbery, broken neck and carried her body to the bed, setting her down across the sheets as gently as they could… the bare breasts jiggling faintly as they did.

As he arranged the corpse on the bed he was overcome again with a wave of numbing grief which drove him to his knees. He gathered her by the shoulder and clung to her, burying his face in her chest. As he sought comfort in the touch of her still warm body, he recognised the scent that had touched him.

Gently, tentatively, he slipped his hand down her damp and cooling womanhood. It was slick with something other than piss, and he knew even without withdrawing his hand and up to his mouth, enveloping his fingers with his lips and sighing with relief as he felt the sweet and familiar taste of moist cum on his tongue that she had climaxed as she died.

He brought his finger to his nose, the delicate scent of the 40-year-old clinging to it, and he smiled. Had she planned it this way?

"Oh, you bad girl." He said sadly, yet aroused, "We're going to have to fuck you as punishment for this."

Their love life had never been one of shy seduction or fleeting touches--they had been lovers with a passion that seemed to bely her bouts with depression. He was sometimes shocked by the ferocity of her lovemaking, but he had never felt anything but desire for the woman he desired.

Now she lay on their bed, the passion drained from her body.

She was a small woman, standing only as tall as his chin even in heels. She had a waist he often joked could be encircled by a finger and thumb, but her tight and toned ass could hardly be called anaemic, nor her grapefruit-sized breasts.

His erection was almost painfully full when he approached her corpse, and the touch of his hand to her face nearly caused him to explode. He wanted to make love to her slowly--this would be their last time together after all--but his body seemed to be driven to a frenzy by the sights and smells of the last few minutes.

One of her fantasies floated up from memory, and it comforted him to think she might enjoy some role play first.

"I'm going to fuck you, you whore" he whispered in her ear hoarsely. "I'm going to fuck you until you scream" he paused a moment in thought, "No, I'm going to fuck you dead", getting down onto his knees in front of Caroline's body.

Taking a deep breath, he spread her cold, dead legs by the ankles, noticing just how smooth her skin was to the touch, and moving between them. Hesitantly, his cock hovering above her parted lips, dripping pre-cum onto her pubic hair.

"Fuck on this bitch."

He drove his dick deep into her, surprised both by how lubricated her dead pussy was, and how deep he penetrated her as if stabbing her with a blade, tunneling his way towards the crown jewel of her womanhood. He had always been a tight fit inside her, but in death her vaginal muscles had relaxed enough for him to slip deep inside her. As he continued to pound his cock into her, he could feel it bottoming out against her cervix.

Caroline's inert body flopped and jerked on the bed as he thrust his manhood into her harder and harder pounding her vigorously, making Caroline's corpse flop on the floor, as her firm breasts bounce around and flopped furiously and her head to bang against the headboard. His grunts came faster and louder now, and his thrusts were punctuated with a squirt of fluid from between her legs each time he rammed his cock deeper.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" Harder, and faster, the living and the dead tangled in a macabre jumble of body parts and profanity. He continued to thrust savagely, causing, and her naked foot slides off the bed and fell against its side where it dangled in the air, flopping in rhythm to Lewis's unrelenting poundings as he bid her goodbye in not only the best way he knew how but also the very way he knew she'd have preferred.

It took less than two dozen stroked before he exploded with the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life.

He collapsed on top of her, spent. Her legs awkwardly slid down from their perch to plop onto the bed lifelessly.

"Fuck me." he said to the silent room.

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