The Old Coroner 01: Age 19 Red Haired Female

He looked at her lips. They were softly pink. Her mouth was narrow, yet the lips were shaped in a curvy way. He trembled wondering what they would feel on his dick. He was standing so close to her head that they were a mere foot away from his pelvis.

In a swift motion, he reached in his pants, pulled his penis out, and dipped it on her lips. Her lips easily parted into a contorted shape. Her teeth did not part. His penis rubbed against the teeth. The teeth surface felt uniquely smooth like rubber and steel mixture.. The lips were so thin that they barely covered an area on his long semi-hard penis. Yet, the little that they touched was the most luxurious and soft contact that he had ever had.

The moment startled Gerrit. Receiving fellatio from a corpse was such a deep sin and heinous crime. It seemed like something impossible, guarded by a hundred walls. Yet, the actual act had been so easy and so swift to come by in an abandoned second. It was easier than putting the effort in to lumber down the room to his desk. How can something so easy be so wrong?

He knew that he had to stop. Yet, he wanted to feel Jane Doe's mouth on his penis for just a little bit more. He had already broken the rules already anyway. A moment longer wouldn't break them any more. He pushed her jaw open with his fingers. The gaping hole of her mouth easily swallowed the head of his penis. He felt the teeth scraping along his shaft. He gently lowered into her mouth until he touched the languid tongue that had fallen to the back of her throat.

He pulled out quickly. His heart was pounding. The memories of all the details, teeth touching, soft lips, and the void before of touching her tongue, it all played back in his head. And, he had to get more. He had to get more. And, there was no way that he was going to get caught. There was a huge temptation and no dam to stop it.

His horny reptilian brain drove him to walk to the entrance door of the basement. He placed a broom behind the door. If a random person would stumble into the basement, the loud bang of the broom falling would give him a few seconds warning.

Lumbering back to the morgue room, he single mindedly focused on the jar of Vaseline in the cupboard. With that in the hand, he climbed on top of the stainless steel morgue table. He straddled the naked Jane Doe, who was reclining passive and motionless to the whole drama.

He lathered thick finger scoops of Vaseline on his fully hard penis. Lumps of pale yellow Vaseline were all around his penis. Better too much than to be sorry. As thin and unfit as he seemed, his penis was long and well endowed.

First, he played around her clitoris with his penis head. Her vaginal lips were so taut and smooth like only a young girl had them. He felt like a young teenager who had discovered his father's Playboy collection and was furiously wanking under the threat of being discovered.

Then, he slipped his penis all the way into her belly. He barely felt a thing. The languid body had no natural muscle tension left. Yet, the big turn on wasn't the physical sensation. The big turn on was the young girl. She made him feel like a nineteen year old teenager again. It awakened the memory in him of an exciting world to explore and many friendly young people around him.

He had to see, if the red heads eyes were indeed green. He opened them. They were a bright, lively green. Yet, the eyes were motionless. The pupils were dilated from death. The dilated pupils made her appear in love. That's why Japanese Anime characters have dilated pupils. And, Roman wife's poured ash into their eyes to artificially dilate them. Jane Doe's eyes expressed a deep love like when she was hugging the lab puppy.

Gerrit felt like a teenager in love again. In his head, the two were hiding away in a basement, because their parents did not allow them to have sex in their rooms. He felt alive. He felt the wonder of the world. He felt emotion percolating through his veins. His kissed her gently on the lips to feel the apple sweet taste of them, while his pelvis kept working her pussy.

In the heat of his passion, he threw off the lab coat, so that he could rub his hairy, frail chest against her luscious, warm, and delicious boobs. The skin to skin contact drove him nuts. He drove his penis inside of her with complete abandon to risk and potential bruises. Each stroke, he aimed his penis for maximal pleasure.

The old man was like a twig in spring. Thick green bark grows beneath the dead bark of winter.

A loud bang interrupted him. He jumped off the table. He caught a foot on the rim of the table. He fell face first onto a neighboring table.

Dazed by the hit, he blindly grabbed around the floor for his coat and shirt. Dressed, yet completely disheveled, he stood with his heart pounding. Pictures of prison doors flashed across his mind. The pulse pounded in his ears. Nothing happened.

He flattened his long hair back into place. With composed steps, he walked to the basement entrance. There was nobody. The broom stick had merely fallen over from not being perfectly balanced to begin with. Like a time bomb, the broom had ever so slightly moved to one side until it was far enough to fall.

Back in the morgue, Gerrit cleaned up. With the horniness out of his system, he rationally cleared up every trace of evidence and finished the corpse prep work.

The next day, when his supervisor inquired about the blue eye and bruises on his face, he explained that he had fallen asleep. The supervisor smirked. All his co-workers smirked. It had only made sense that the old guy in the basement was falling apart. It only made sense that he'd fall standing. That explained the bruises on the Jane Doe corpse so sufficiently. Nobody said anything about the bruises on her body.

The Swedish consulate was unable to locate a next of kin for Jane Doe. She was cremated and placed in a urn. On the anniversaries of her death, Gerrit was the only visitor. He'd bring a bouquet of flowers and cry. Tears rolled down his emotionless face and over the many furrows. There was only a twitch at the eye lid. His co-workers believed that he felt sorry for the untimely death of the young girl.

I believe that he was crying for himself. He had wanted a bit of the world of Jane Doe, of being loved, happy, excited and welcome into the world. Yet, when he thought that he could get a little bit of that world by sleeping with her, he had realized that he only brought his darkness onto her. Instead of basking in her light, he had drowned and defiled her with his darkness.