Count me in on loving the pickup full of cute dead guys. Love the manhandling to load and unload the bodies. Especially love when the belt and or waistband of shorts or jeans are grabbed and they break. Years ago, in Grand Central Station in NYC when it still had cross country trains, I was in the waiting room when a drunk young guy was on a bench and the police couldn't rouse him, so they picked him up by his belt and waistband of his jeans. His belt broke, the button failed on the jeans and the cop had only one side of the jeans and his underwear in his fist which totally exposed him as he fell to the floor, still passed out! I came without touching myself.