Frazeeme

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CAMMO CHUCK




Making coffee that morning, I noticed the rear door of my detached garage ajar.

“Not again,” I groused, “I’ve got to remember to lock that thing. Otherwise, no reason to have it.”

After a fortifying cup of joe, I went to check it out, hoping no varmints had gotten inside and mussed things up. Listening at the door carefully I heard no animal noises or scuffling. So I pushed it fully open and stepped aside to let out anything that wanted to scamper outside.

Though it was semi-dark inside, I could see something like a human form moving near the garage doors at the opposite end of the building.

“Hey, if you want to leave peacefully without causing trouble, I’m opening one of the roller doors for you to get out now.”

Silence.

As the door lifted open there was more and more light. I could see a kinda tall man standing between the pickup and the sedan. He didn’t move much, just swayed a little bit.

“I don’t care if it’s drugs or alcohol, just get out now and I won’t call the law,” I shouted trying to intimidate the intruder.

As the town grew closer and closer to my farm, more and more of these undesirables were trespassing. I just wanted him out. It was too early in the morning to get into a tangle with him.

No sound or movement from my ‘visitor’.

Frustrated, I flipped on all the lights.

And there he was, a man between the car and pickup. I now saw clearly why he didn’t respond. He was attached to one of the exposed joists with a thick, tightly stretched rope. He swung a bit more in the breeze now flowing between the doors.

Of course I was stunned, never expecting this longed for opportunity to fall into my hands. For years I’ve jerked off to the thought of a hanged man as sex partner. And now, here he was, mine all mine, completely under my control. And here, in my enclosed garage away from view of the world, here he was . . . . waiting. Heart pounding, my libido surged wildly.

The first thing I did was close the doors.

The second, to approach my unsuspecting companion.

I restrained from violently lunging at what I prayed was still a warm, fully flaccid body . . . . . . . . my very own fuck puppet.

My eyes drank in the vision before me. I guessed his age to be in the late 30’s. He was big, tall, handsome, Caucasian, a bit on the chunky side. He was the epitome of the typical hanger. I could see the small belly of hanged men slumped over the belt. The arms dangled slightly forward at his side, hands with fingers beginning to curl inward. The legs were spread; the feet with toes turned slightly outward and downward.

I studied the purpling face. The hair was dark, forming a pronounced widow’s peak above the forehead. There was the expected mix of clear and bloody discharge from the nose and a darkening tongue jutting between the lips. That was all as it should be. The dark eyes were almost fully closed. Between them, a prominent nose called for intense nuzzling. A close cropped mustache and beard sprouted from the jaw and upper lip.

His clothing completed the perfection of the situation. The shirt and trousers were green and tan camo, the short sleeved collared shirt wholly unbuttoned above long pants closed with a camo-patterned belt. The open shirt revealed a sparsely fuzzed chest and belly almost completely covered with oriental tattoos of dragons, birds, and other beasts. The trouser crotch was dramatically tented to the left of the zipper. I could see dampness but only smell the semen. The camo concealed whatever whitish cumm bloomed on the cloth.

The feet were shod in heavy military style laced boots, khaki colored. They dangled about 5 inches above the floor. Beneath the left shoe was a piece of paper covered with blurring ink. Whatever message it conveyed had been obliterated by the large quantity of piss tinged with brown shit running down the leg and pooling on the floor.

“So much for your last messages …. or curses.”

There was dirt on the shoes, meaning he’d walked here. Since there were keys on the floor near the pickup I assumed he left an auto elsewhere. There was none outside that I could see. This made my happy happenstance even happier. Cars were always being abandoned in the area and the deputies had become indifferent to finding owners.

“Mr. Fantasy, we are truly alone and not likely to be interrupted,” I confided.

He hadn’t moved at all for a while, except the swaying with the wind. There hadn’t even been any of the involuntary reflex motions associated with the death process. So he must be dead, or at least very close to it. I decided to let nature take its course here and not interfere. It would be counterproductive to attempt any resuscitation that would spoil our party.

Finally I reached out to touch, taking his hand. I found him still quite warm, and the fingers cuddlingly flexible.

I immediately pulled my hand back.

“Just look hot and hang there dude,” I encouraged him.

“Oh, and don’t go away!” I ordered.

I made a hurried trip inside the house for the camera and halogen lights. There were some things I had to have on video: the view of my hand making the first slide into the opened zipper and the tantalizingly unidentified underwear within; my stroking, tasting, and diddling of his privates; the exploring of whatever other parts of the body took my fancy. I wanted to have the sound on to record my groans of pleasure. Then too there would be the sucking and slurping sounds; the spankings on loose quivering flesh; the thuds and slaps of a body falling on and bumping against hard surfaces.

Of course I brought along a thermos of coffee to keep our get-together lively.

Reentering the garage, I saw him still there, calmly awaiting the necro-homo-erotic appendix to the suicidal final chapter of his life.

I could have stared at him endlessly without the interruption of any flicker of modesty or embarrassment from this submissive dead stud. But there was so much more I wanted to do.

Exercising a modicum of restraint, I indulged in the first of my fantasies, exploring and emptying the pockets of a supple dead guy. I loved it, my sensory expectations fully met.

The shirt pocket proved empty except for some dry shreds of what might have been tobacco or lint.

The back pockets were more rewarding, yielding his wallet with identity papers (he turned out to be 36) but nothing else. They were even more rewarding when I grabbed and caressed the buttocks of his firm, pliable ass. The warmth and texture was divine! The pants were loose enough to slide my hands into both pockets at the same time and then be able to creep them around to rub on the sides of the hips. The pants were even loose enough that with my hands in the pockets I could bump his wrists and make the dangling arms cavort. I worked back to the spine so I could push my thumbs into the hairy crevice between the butt cheeks. Expecting even greater pleasure to come, I forced myself to pull out my hands. It was hard to do, I could have massaged that butt all morning.

Still reaching from the backside, the front pockets were even more satisfying. Though they were empty, they provided first physical access to the most intimate parts of this corpse. Still standing behind the body, I slowly groped my hands into them simultaneously. All the while I smelled the mixture of sweetness and pungent acidity from the body’s post mortem leaking. My right hand found warm, soft, dry fabric covering pliant, yielding flesh. I felt a bit of moisture as it reached the end of the pocket. The left hand had the more exciting experience. The pocket was wet at the entry, becoming more so the farther I went in. To my delight, the wetness changed from a thin slipperiness to a thicker stickiness around the sturdiness of a still very erect penis. The thinness of the pocket’s fabric and looseness of its generous size allowed me to slide my fingers along the engorged shaft and even bump against the flange of the enlarged cock head. It was all so much better than I’d even imagined. My heart cockles ached with pleasure.

There was a bit of jewelry. On his left hand pinkie was a white ring, probably platinum, with a blue star sapphire. It looked valuable. The only use I would get out that easily identifiable ring would be to gloat over it privately. Not a problem. On the right was an obviously silver heavy chain link ID bracelet with the name “Chuck”. It would be fun to wear that around the house later – maybe while watching some choice souvenir videos. It would clank nicely against my crotch as I jerked off to them. That heavy silver chain around his neck would serve the same purpose nicely.

“So okay Mr. Camo Chuck, let’s get to get to the ‘hard’ of this morning.”

As I stepped back eagerly preparing for the pleasurable acts at hand, I thought I heard a voice coming from the tongue-plugged mouth. Putting my ear beside the blueish lips, there seemed to be words inside CC’s mouth. I placed my fingers around the soft swelling lips, letting them massage his words for me.

“ Get your fucking tampering hands off my body you G**D*** faggot. No fuckin’ queer is ever gonna touch MY dick and balls. And keep your slimy prick away from my virgin asshole. Ain’t no man gonna molest ME! FUCK OFF!!”

Now I was hot as hell! My purple-headed soldier grew and grew.

“Once dead, you’ve got nothing to say in the matter Chucky. You’ve no options when it comes to partners. You’re just a lifeless piece of fuck meat to be enjoyed by whoever’s at hand and then dumped. Get usta it.”

Oh, how I’d always wanted to have that conversation with a manly corpse. The words I’d so often rehearsed stoked my ardor.

“Take it easy Mr. Camo, I’ll violate your butch body any way I like. But relax, don’t be afraid of my hands, they’re very experienced. You’ll have to silently love every minute of it.”

My fingers glided from the lips, stroking gently across the face, caressing the features. His widows peak, thick eyebrows, eyelashes, nose, and ears all receiving the appreciative attention. With sighs of content, I finally allowed myself the ecstasy of rubbing the stubbly jaws and chin with fingertips. I saved the coarse haired upper lip for last.

As far as his arms allowed, I worked the shirt back. In the process, I took time to give the tummy gentle circular rubbing and grab his bulky shoulders for rough massage. In spite of his earlier protests, Chuck’s torso was obedient, erogenous, deathly flaccid. As I rubbed and tongue washed he made no sound. Silent, even when nibbled along the top of the shoulders. Neck sweat from asphyxiation struggles was sweeter than ever imagined.

The chest hair was thinner than hoped for, but Chucky had been such a good boy I chose to not bring it up. At least it was dark in color. A small scattering covered the pecs eventually forming a thicker diamond between them. A light trail ran to the belly that where it spread into a small circle. A thin line vanished beneath the belt buckle. I wondered what kinkiness led him to shave the hair around the nipples, leaving the areoles quite naked. Or, maybe he plucked them, or even a sex partner. Wish I knew, it could have added to the fullness of his violation.

Stepping behind Chuck, I lifted the shirt over the strong shoulders and slipped the short sleeves down the lightly haired arms. Then I tossed it over the side of the truck bed. That revealed a backside also covered with tattoos of fantastical beasts as well as surprisingly thick clumps of hair. He wiggled excitingly during the process.

Again I faced Chuck. As I brushed the furry underside of the ‘hanged man’s death belly’ with my knuckles and sneaked my fingertips behind the waist band, his body trembled with my touch. He seemed anxious about the forthcoming sexual molestation.

I reassured him. “Shhh….Shhh…Shhh… Relax, I know what I’m doing. This’ll make me happy. And, if I’m happy you’ll certainly enjoy it.”

Sooo much pleasure from the power of total control and unrestricted access!

I should have removed the shoes first, but I had to get closer to the tent pole restrained by the zipper. The protruding stomach made the belt buckle a bit hard to open but provided a pleasant excuse to jostle the swinging body and have it bump me in response to my efforts. Buckle opened, I jerked the belt through the loops. As hoped, the body spun and danced in the air.

As I brought him to a stop, his hands bumped my arms and his tent my abs.

At that point I gave in to the intensity of the temptation and stroked my right hand across the tented crotch. Touching the point of the stout pole beneath the fabric released just enough of my sexual tension to allow continuing my disciplined fantasy.

Grinning lecherously, I was prepared to reach in and grope his now defenseless forbidden penis and testicles.

I moved and refocused the camera. Hopping behind Chuck, I reached around the hips and gradually pulled down the zipper, leaving the waist button closed. Then my trembling right hand slowly slid into the vent, easing behind the teeth and over the underpants to the summoning erection behind the fabric. The undies were very damp, clinging gratifyingly to the hard penis. To show my ecstasy for the camera, I made sure to rest my face against Chucky’s right hip. I must have played with that still blood hot dick for ten minutes before I could stop myself. What joy ……. What wish fulfillment!

It wasn’t until then I saw that the slippery erotic sensations from my crotch probing came through bright blue satin boxers. The vent was invitingly pushed open by the erection. What else could I do before the camera but take the invitation. I finally let the skin of my fingers grasp the strained shaft skin of the penis. I plunged inside for another ten minutes of fiddling the hardness and smearing the stickiness Charles so obligingly provided. I can’t help but smile every time I think of how my fingernails caught on those small bumps along the underside of that distended head, so fully accessible as it stretched beyond the foreskin. I always laugh when I see my lecherous face on the vid.

I pulled down the pants just far enough to rest on top of the buns and ride on the hips. The satin shorts were still waist high. I started filming the spread vent and the view inside with a closeup lens. Since his hot rod was now the star, it finally poked its head though the vent and performed for the camera. I delightedly helped it do its thing.

It stood out proudly, an uncircumcised beauty with pouting pink lips visible within a circle of darker red. Yielding to curiosity, I eased back that foreskin. I was astonished at how the bright pink glans contrasted with darkening, purpling skin of the moveable wrinkled covering.

Returning to push my belly against the butt I reached around the waist and played even more with the mesmerizing cock using both hands; right hand inside the undies and the left above to masturbate my dead companion. I jerked so violently, there might have even been a little speeding of seminal fluid emission. Obviously Chuck enjoyed it since I heard no complaints. In fact he jiggled merrily.

For his next pose, I needed to take down more clothing. Slowly for the camera, I eased his pants downstairs to let the cuffs pool on top of the boots and the waist to perch at mid-calf. Leaving the dick protruding through the boxer vent so it would bounce enthusiastically, I lowered the boxers to let the stretched black elastic band hold at mid-thigh. There Chucky was, naked to below the crotch, bright blue undies showing knees before pants drooping on the shoes.

To my delight, peter responded, bobbing and down after the boxer’s black band popped over it. I posed next to the embarrassingly disrobed Chuck with a huge toothy smile on my face. I grabbed the dick and shook it as violently as I could. Then I pulled the semi-erect man muscle down and released it. Ecstatically it flung up, down, sideways ……. every direction possible. Such a fine show it had to be repeated again and again. Then I repeatedly sullied the dead man by smugly invading his most intimate possessions, fondling the balls when it was too late for Chucky to refuse consent. After all this fiddling, unwittingly, he bigheartedly produced a giant drop of sweetly aromatic love sticky from the urethral orifice, the urine long gone.

Drooling, I bent to sample Chuck’s bequest. As I slid my lips across the heated glans that yearned slightly upward, his whole body moved backward then forward slipping his yearning cock back over my tongue. I sealed my lips around it, beginning to suck the proffered sex tube. Fingering the chest tattoos sharpened the sensations. I began to jerk my head more and more vigorously, setting the corpse in sympathetic rhythm. His dick bush rubbed and tickled my forehead until I couldn’t control the fellating frenzy. Catching the loose foreskin between the incisors fueled even greater passion, sucking to draw out more of the sweet heavy juices from the dead pelvis. I’m convinced that my efforts actually generated faint involuntary convulsions in that penis. At least the taste of his cumm remained in my mouth, lingering far longer than the initial drop alone should have.

I pulled my head away and left Chucky swinging, emptier of jism. Sadly he was too dead to appreciate his unexpected, undoubted satisfaction.

Charles’ erection was beginning to wilt so I pulled out a bit of bailing twine. Tied securely at the base of the shaft it would insure heightened pleasure to come.

I began the full stripping of the body.

Bending the highly flexible hip and knee joints I untied the khaki boots, eventually happily wrestling them around the angle of the heels. The lace on the right boot knotted and my persistent jerking set Chuck into some frenzied action. Once both shoes dropped noisily to the floor, I could stroke the feet clad in matching khaki socks with red bands at the mid-calf tops. I’d always fantasized about diddling unfeeling individual toes, but the heavy ribbed stocking allowed them movement in unison. And, I discovered that I could make them ripple like a waving flag. Stripped bare, each digit proved delicious. The big toes were so tasty and chewy, I had to repeatedly masticate. Feet are such delicious toys.

I dreamily gazed at the leg hairs spring back into place as the pants slipped down the calves. The slippery blue boxers quickly followed the same path. At last ‘my very own guy’ was fully undressed.

I reveled in the sight of his unprotected nakedness.

His asshole hollered to my raging hard for a fucking. As his toes hung a few inches above the floor, I looked about for some way to raise my height. A wooden pallet left from a fertilizer delivery proved just the right elevation and stability. Now my 6 foot height matched his. Aligned behind him, I stepped up and pulled down my sweats. My dick sprang out so forcefully that I could hear the slap on the pimpled hairy skin of a cheek. He jigged a bit.

Encouraging Chuck to turn from anxiety to eagerness I whispered into the unhearing ear:

“ It’s OK, I’m only going to induct you with a ‘gentle backing’.”

“It’s my special virgin treatment.”

To further calm his dread of anal violation, I playfully rustled his hair and stroked the taut rope rising above the nape of his neck. This reassured him that he was dead.

Obviously, I’d never before entered a guy swinging in the air. I suspected the best way to stabilize him would be to clutch his hips. As I pushed into the hole lubricated by the shit stream, I felt his body’s urge to resist my penetration through the anal sphincter. I dug my fingers into the flesh of his loins and plunged deep inside. Once there I relaxed my hold on the sides, taking Chucky’s hands into mine and placing them at the base of his cock. That way, as I pulled back and forth inside I could also jerk him off with both our hands. As we played with his trouser snake from the rear, my own raged harder and harder against his solid gluts as it pounded into the furry cleavage. I felt him shuddering against my thickly haired chest. With all my built-up passion and wish fulfillment I exploded much, much too soon. But the unimaginable intensity of the bliss from the release made up for that. I lingered inside, our hands still shaking my companion’s swollen peter and balls.

Now at the right height, I kissed his shoulders and ran my tongue down the spine between the tattoos. I snuggled the neck, slowly twisting Chucky’s head to face me. At last I lightly nibbled the stubbled neck and chin. While kissing the lips, Mr. Camo introduced his hardening, stiffening tongue into my eager mouth. He aroused me so that my dick began to rise again and catch on his own. With that tongue in my mouth I unconsciously started to frot his bush, his stiffie finding its way between my scrotum and right thigh. I wrapped the fingers of my other hand around the taut rope and stroked it in unison with my cock rubbing to heighten the ecstasy. We remained together this way for I don’t know how long. In reality, an eternity would not have been long enough.

I must have released some pre-cum since I could feel my dick slithering loosely around his junque.

Slightly relaxed, I relinquished the tongue and continued to erotically explore the face. I finally made it to nuzzled our noses together …… even more satisfying than hoped for. For some reason I had to kiss the closed eyelids after smooching those soft, readily yielding cheeks. I munched the heavy thick eyebrows. Then, giving a final blessing to my fortunate gift, I kissed Chuck’s forehead.

All of this ‘head play’ raised up my throbber again. This time his back door was loosened and dripping my cumm so I could enter quickly and easily. I found that if slammed hard enough against his butt, Mr. Chuck would pull slightly off my wood and then swing back along it. Using his help, I proceeded to nut him violently, setting him rocking on the noose. Some of the ‘return action’ was so forceful it almost knocked me off the pallet. It was wonderful!

I’d spent so much time with him that he was beginning to stiffen, and his legs were becoming darker red with pooling blood. I needed to hurry on to the next part of my fantasy with this ‘swinging’ dude.

Having slaked my most urgent cravings I began to be more playful.

I’d read about experiments on nerve reactions in dead animals and wondered if I could do something similar with Chucky. Supposedly, breaks in the spinal cord in the neck would trigger erections or even ejaculations in hanged men. So I fished out a 10 penny nail and hammer from the tool box. After identifying the C2-C3 vertebrae in the neck with the help of my phone, I located his. Carefully placing the nail between the two, I tapped it into the neck after a little resistance from the bones. Carefully watching his cock, I twisted and pushed the nail deeper and saw a bit of rise in the cock angle. As I wiggled and twisted more there was some obvious penis jerking. But, since I’d tied the todger there couldn’t be any emissions. The exercise was certainly entertaining, but didn’t produce much result. Maybe the nerves were too dead.

Seduced . . . slaked . . . satisfied . . . it was time for a washup. I backed out the sedan to keep it clean. With that, there would be more room for water play.

I began with a fine spray to create a glistening masculine vision suspended in the bright morning light.

Then grabbing an old car wash mop I began to rub away with dish washing detergent. I cleaned off the ‘jewels’ and rinsed out the surrendered fuck hole with running water from the hose. I almost managed to shove it up the anus but the ring muscle just wouldn’t stretch that much. Draining water produced beautiful patterns on the torso and leg hair. I scrubbed the rubbery face to clear away the nasal drainage. I liked the way the hair on his head slicked down, it gave him a sleezy Clark Gable look. At last I turned the hose on full blast and set Chuck spinning. Water droplets flew everywhere. As he drip dried, I rinsed off the garage floor.

Since I really, really wanted to hear the sound of the corpse hitting the floor I decided to leave the slab beneath him bare. I did prop the heels on the wooden pallet to assure Chucky fell on his ass and back.

The branch cutter severed the rope with one chop. Mr. Hanger hit the floor with an imaginably loud THAWP that echoed through the garage. He fell into a nice spread eagle.

I bent down to kiss the puffing blueish lips and once again suck the drying, purpling tongue.

At last the rope was loosed from its constricting clutch on the neck and gently slipped over the slicked down hair.

The corpse lay pale on the cold wet concrete. I lifted the shoulders and laid his head against my chest. Once more I reached down to his crotch to happily fondle the defenseless floppy cock and balls. Now it was easier to play with those mysterious shaved nipples. I kept running my hands from the red indentation of the rope on his neck up and down the trunk to the crotch. I kissed the roughly shaven jaw and ran my tongue along the deep red furrow in his neck left by the strangling rope. He was so sweet and compliant that I kissed him over and over to thank him for his nonconsensual participation.

Confidentially I whispered to Chuck’s deaf ear, “You’ve been a fine vertical lover and deserve a sit down.”

Lowering the tail gate, I prepared to take advantage of the conveniently located F-150.

Camo Chuck was pretty solidly built, but as I lifted him onto the truck’s bed I could truthfully tell him, “You ain’t heavy, you’re my hunky lover boy.”

Of course, I made sure the camera filmed all this action.

Before positioning the stiffening but still bendable body inside the truck bed I relocated the camera. I set him semi-recumbent against a couple of old tires like I’d seen in pictures of dead gangsters tossed in the backs of Brazilian police trucks. His head leaned backward to show off a manly Adam’s Apple.

Fully nude didn’t seem quite right. I’d always been turned on by pictures of dead guys wearing Tee shirts with socks. So that seemed the right way to continue. I pulled out a dirty red Tee from the front of the truck and cut it off about an inch below the armpits.

“Just the right thing to show off your naked kinky nipples.”

Raising his arms one at a time, I had the deep satisfaction of manipulating my dead man as I wrestled the ‘titty Tee’ onto his shoulders. Since he needed footwear, I rummaged again in the front of the truck and found a pair of white baseball socks with red stripes. I tingled with gratification as I jerked them up the hairy legs and fitted the heels. There too it felt so good to massage obedient feet inside thick cotton socks.

Dressed and carefully posed in the most revealing and decadent way, Chuck was ready for the camera. For the final touch, I untied the twine. A small whitish stream from the penis’ mouth ran down the ball sack and onto the black bedliner of the pickup.

Luckily I caught that on video. Then it was time the motionless corpse got some still shots . . . . for 8x10s.

Click . . . Click . . . Click . . .

Charles was now very stiff, with large areas of livor mortis and other skin discoloration. My fantasy lover was becoming carrion.

Reluctantly I accepted that it was time for Chuckles to move on. Once again nude, I wheel-barrowed him to my new compost pod for turning out hog chow. Designed to decompose animal carcasses quickly, it offered the ideal solution. I squared his shoulders with the hexagonal opening and tipped him in the chamber. The bulky corpse slid easily into the dark, landing heavily in the decaying slush inside.

“In a few weeks you’ll be ready to give me even more pleasure, fattening up the pigs for butchering. I can’t wait to taste that extra zest you’ll add to the pork chops.”





………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………


Many thanks to readers who encourage me. I’m glad others enjoy my intricately detailed fantasies. Please feel free to comment. Comments and suggestions are always welcome. And, you might want to check out my other stories.


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deaddirty

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Wow, what a hot story. Next time you find a hanger in your garage (I'm sure there will be a next time!), could you tell us more about the shit in his underwear!
 
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