More fantasy about the rocker and the floater.
Charlie was just the right amount of drunk. His good sense and inhibitions were gone, but his dick worked fine. He was back to ManBoy, his dick hard as a rock. He jerked the dead guy around until his shoulders and head hung off the foot of the bed. While doing it he realized that ManBoy was no longer limp, but starting to stiffen. Charlie got down on his knees and rammed his penis deep and hard in the corpse's throat. He smiled as he pushed past the guy's swollen tongue.
Laying chest to chest, Charlie found himself again looking at the corpse' penis. It really looked like the thing was withering. It was still erect, but less so. He pushed the penis aside and started to play with the scrotum and the balls inside.
The bed rocked as he slowly thrust himself in, then drew himself back out. Again, and lovingly again. He loved the feel of his big cock in the guy's uncomplaining throat. It made him feel superior to the ManBoy with his little cock. As he banged the guy's mouth, his own mouth went to work on ManBoy's balls. He nibbled gently on the soft skin, then sucked again on the penis. He worked himself up for climax; it did not take long this time. When he lost control he was biting one of the guy's balls.
He blew his load again. Less than before, but it still felt good. After a few moments he revived, and looked at his handy work. His teeth had not torn the soft skin, but had marked it with the clear impressions of his incisors. He realized that somebody could probably match his teeth to the bite. Yet another reason that ManBoy had to disappear from the face of the earth. It made Charlie feel guilty. The guilt made him move the corpse from dangling head down with semen draining down around his front teeth, to something like a comfortable, sleep postition. He closed the guy's mouth too. He thought that this young college guy was prettier than any of the women he'd had in his life.
After thinking about it for a moment, Charlie stood up and headed out of the bedroom to get another drink.
It was after dark and starting to rain when Charlie, more sober after a nap, wandered back in to stare down at his dead lover. He was overcome by a mixture of joy, horror, and sadness. He had showered and dressed. Turning on the bedside lamp he admired the lovely, dead man. Charlie ignored the cock that had driven him crazy earlier, and ran his hands over the guy's face. It was such a pretty face. Charlie sat beside his lover and looked at that face. He put an arm under the shoulders and lifted the head into his lap. He cradled him gently and admired him. After long minutes of just looking at him, Charlie lifted him up so he could kiss him. This he did with no misgivings, even slipping his tongue into the corpse mouth, still tasting of his semen. He thought a promise to bring the strangler to justice. But he couldn't think of any way to do that without sticking his own neck in the noose too.
Tommorrow was Monday, and Elliot would be back. ManBoy would need to be out of sight by then. Charlie had decided not to take his boat out with all the whiskey he had been drinking--even though the thought he was pretty sober after the nap. He had thought he was pretty sober the night he lost his California drivers license. But the boathouse locked, and the key hung on a peg in the kitchen. Elliot would probably not even notice them gone. And if he did Charlie would say he hadn't seen them for a while. The ice machine was industrial strength. Big parties. He'd wrap ManBoy in a tarpaulin with a lot of that ice to keep him fresh. Then tomorrow night he would take out the Hustler and put his lover to rest in the sea.
Thus decided, Charlie went for the kitchen and got the keys. After a stop at the bar for a bracer of boubon, he picked up the dead guy and started for the boat house. The rain was startlingly cold, but smelled good.
Charlie was just the right amount of drunk. His good sense and inhibitions were gone, but his dick worked fine. He was back to ManBoy, his dick hard as a rock. He jerked the dead guy around until his shoulders and head hung off the foot of the bed. While doing it he realized that ManBoy was no longer limp, but starting to stiffen. Charlie got down on his knees and rammed his penis deep and hard in the corpse's throat. He smiled as he pushed past the guy's swollen tongue.
Laying chest to chest, Charlie found himself again looking at the corpse' penis. It really looked like the thing was withering. It was still erect, but less so. He pushed the penis aside and started to play with the scrotum and the balls inside.
The bed rocked as he slowly thrust himself in, then drew himself back out. Again, and lovingly again. He loved the feel of his big cock in the guy's uncomplaining throat. It made him feel superior to the ManBoy with his little cock. As he banged the guy's mouth, his own mouth went to work on ManBoy's balls. He nibbled gently on the soft skin, then sucked again on the penis. He worked himself up for climax; it did not take long this time. When he lost control he was biting one of the guy's balls.
He blew his load again. Less than before, but it still felt good. After a few moments he revived, and looked at his handy work. His teeth had not torn the soft skin, but had marked it with the clear impressions of his incisors. He realized that somebody could probably match his teeth to the bite. Yet another reason that ManBoy had to disappear from the face of the earth. It made Charlie feel guilty. The guilt made him move the corpse from dangling head down with semen draining down around his front teeth, to something like a comfortable, sleep postition. He closed the guy's mouth too. He thought that this young college guy was prettier than any of the women he'd had in his life.
After thinking about it for a moment, Charlie stood up and headed out of the bedroom to get another drink.
It was after dark and starting to rain when Charlie, more sober after a nap, wandered back in to stare down at his dead lover. He was overcome by a mixture of joy, horror, and sadness. He had showered and dressed. Turning on the bedside lamp he admired the lovely, dead man. Charlie ignored the cock that had driven him crazy earlier, and ran his hands over the guy's face. It was such a pretty face. Charlie sat beside his lover and looked at that face. He put an arm under the shoulders and lifted the head into his lap. He cradled him gently and admired him. After long minutes of just looking at him, Charlie lifted him up so he could kiss him. This he did with no misgivings, even slipping his tongue into the corpse mouth, still tasting of his semen. He thought a promise to bring the strangler to justice. But he couldn't think of any way to do that without sticking his own neck in the noose too.
Tommorrow was Monday, and Elliot would be back. ManBoy would need to be out of sight by then. Charlie had decided not to take his boat out with all the whiskey he had been drinking--even though the thought he was pretty sober after the nap. He had thought he was pretty sober the night he lost his California drivers license. But the boathouse locked, and the key hung on a peg in the kitchen. Elliot would probably not even notice them gone. And if he did Charlie would say he hadn't seen them for a while. The ice machine was industrial strength. Big parties. He'd wrap ManBoy in a tarpaulin with a lot of that ice to keep him fresh. Then tomorrow night he would take out the Hustler and put his lover to rest in the sea.
Thus decided, Charlie went for the kitchen and got the keys. After a stop at the bar for a bracer of boubon, he picked up the dead guy and started for the boat house. The rain was startlingly cold, but smelled good.
)))
