You eye strays to the small tents my nipples (now stiff in death) pitch in the light blue fabric. You fingers itch to touch them, to pinch them, and t... caress my pliant breasts.You lick you lips, passion enflamed, as you continue to drink in the sight of my corpse. My hands--now alabaster--are gently folded on the small bulge of my tummy. I hold a single rose between stiff and cold fingers. You close your eyes and remember a time when those fingers--alive and warm--caressed you, and ran. She rolled her eyes, as she held that thought in her head. Her aunt gave her a white nightie that came to her knees, with thin stripes that barely covered her shoulders. Then she looked at the décolletage, and frowned, quickly wrapping a cotton scarf around her neck, letting it drape down, and cover the flesh exposed by the low-cut. With the towel, she also found a silk robe, which she put on, and relaxed a little bit, as the smoothness of the silk caressed her skin. She had a quick shower,. More

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