Well Alex, guess you played once too often today. Not the first time you'd played noose games, maybe you half-wanted this to happen, and for me to be with you. Anyway, the first time you told me you were into nooseplay we made a deal - you'd let me watch, so long as I promised not to interfere, even if things went wrong. And I kept that promise.
I'd slept over at yours. I was up first, you rolled over, smiled that lovely smile of yours, got out of bed stark naked, put some white bikini briefs on, white socks, then your leather trousers, went out to the bike parked under the tree, put the noose round your neck, rope over the branch and tied to the pillion back, you were playing about, reving the engine, laughing and smiling. Then, accident or deliberate, you let the clutch out, the bike jerked forward, the rope tightened and lifted you off the ground, suddenly you were hanging from the noose, your legs kicking above the saddle of the bike. I rushed over, remembered my promise, so I watched awestruck as you, my best friend, died.
You were kicking all over the place at first, your legs thrashing, your arms flailing about, your sexy smile turning into a gaping mouth, your tongue starting to swell. I watched you hanging, naked to the waist, imagining your lower body inside your black leather pants - your cock, your balls, your ass, wonderig what was happening inside your pants as your struggles tuerned into convulsions and spasms. I guess it was a couple of minutes before you lost control of your bladder - I could see the bulge of your package starting to enlarge in your pants, then a hint of dampness and I guessed you were pissing yourself, running down your legs inside the leather and dripping from your socked feet onto the bike seat and the ground. I wondered if you would soil yourself in your death-agonies, and you swung round as if to show me the seat of your pants, suddenly bulging away from your ass as you shat your briefs inside them, your dying ass clenching and contracting. as you swung back round, I could see the bulge of your package rising into a boner inside your black leather pants, as your struggles tured into spasms, your body thrusting, your legs coming up as spasms wracked your insides. Your pants were tented at the front now, sagging a bit at the back as you pissed and shat, a squirt of piss up your stomach, a bit of brown on the top of the leather at the back as you died in your soaked soiled leathers, your fluids running down your legs and dripping onto the ground. then a final thrusting spasm and twitching as you came, cum spurting onto your stomach from your erect angel-lust cock as it spurted inside your pants. Then it was over, your body very limp apart from the erection still tenting your pants, saliva dribbling down your chest from your gaping tongue-filled mouth.
I reached up and touched you gently, unzipping your leather pants and starting to pull them down. You twitched slightly - maybe you were still just alive inside your limp body, maybe you could feel me starting to undress your corpse. Your erect cock was still warm, wet with piss and slippery with your final cum. The tight leather against your thighs had held your piss ans shit in the top of your pants - your briefs had slipped down inside your pants as your emptying spasms fuilled them, and every bit of the white cotton was wet and filthy. I pulled your pants down to your knees, your briefs still inside them, exposing you naked, dead, soiled, erect, your piss shit and cum on your skin, in your pants, and down your legs, your dead erection lusting for the angels, your dead hole open at the back of your limp death-soiled crack - maybe the angels were lusting for you too.
Then I pulled your leather pants back up, grabbed the handlebars of your bike and pushed it back under you, the rope lowering you back down so that your body flopped limply into a sitting position on the bike, a distinct squelching noise as your corpse sat on the bike in its mess. And that's how I left you - sitting dead on your bike, naked to the waist, the top of your crack soiled above the wet dirty leather at the back, your angel lust tenting the front of your leathers that you had cum in as you died.