The Undertaker

Here we explore the subculture of “sleepy sex,” where one or more participants assume the role of a cadaver. This fetish may range from benign to murderous. Our tale, however, relies on liquor, licentiousness and latex. I take the liberty of setting the story in a funeral home. In reality, the cemetery or mortuary would be far too perilous an arena. Anonymity and privacy are sought, not the demise of a business or reputations. Scat scenes, unresponsive sex, masturbation and BBQ chicken wings abound. For the darker aspects, one must read between the lines. This is a work of fiction.

*

Early one Wednesday morning, popularly called ‘hump day,’ Penny Handy was interrupted from writing her lab notes to answer the phone in Dr. Hull’s office. To her surprise, Ellen’s calm voice informed her doctoral candidate assistant she’d be absent for the day. “Everything all right?” Penny asked.

“All’s fine, I just need a day off to reorganize. I made up my mind that today had to be the day. You two will be OK, won’t you?”

“Absolutely, Dr. Hull. Want a run-down on what Joe and I are doing today?”

“Nope, I’m cool with you guys. By the way, I promise not to turn you into a secretary!”

“Go feel better, have fun. Yup . . . see you tomorrow, bye.”

Penny lightly put the phone in the cradle, then did a little boogie. She didn’t realize her boss was doing the very same thing. Her belly tingled with sexual excitement as she made her way into the darkroom unbuttoning her lab coat.

“Good morning, sweet man,” she whispered hugging him firmly around the middle, “cat’s away so let’s play.” She deftly undid Joe’s belt sliding her hands over the familiar topography of her lover’s body. Joe pushed his bottom against her midriff while reaching around, sliding his hand between her smooth buttocks. “Where’s the cat, playing with John’s Sparr?”

“Tsk, tsk, don’t begrudge their extracurricular fun — Aaah!” Penny gasped as Joe’s cold hand suddenly darted under her leg band. “Whoo, you’re cold . . .! Did you realize your fingers were freezing?”

“No, maybe it’s because you’re so damn hot down there. Don’t you like cold hands?”

“It made me squeeze out wicked hot pee!”

“So.”

“Don’t start. I am not peeing at work. I have post-doc plans here so I don’t want that on my résumé, or you getting caught all messed up either. Very unprofessional.”

“Okay, understood. I guess I feel frustrated we don’t have the time to get to my apartment where you can pee your pants to your heart’s delight, make love, get back here . . .”

“Where do you get that peeing my pants stuff? I went once in the sink ’cause I didn’t want to get dressed to go to the ladies’ room. Why, do you like me to wet myself?” She gave him a sideways glance.

“Well, not here, but I wouldn’t mind . . .”

“If you do it first, I’ll do it too. But only in your apartment wearing play clothes,” she said.

“Yeah, we can have special mornings during the week every now and then . . .”

“Like our boss has “special days,” finished Penny.

“You mean Dr. Hull wets her pants?”

“Uh huh. That, or very dirty. But she isn’t a dirty person, just the opposite. Can’t hide that smell though.”

“Well, surprise surprise. But aside from doing stuff like that, I’d love to take you dancing, go out to parties, you know, show you off. Would you like going out?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t gone out since university, no one has invited me lately.” She said archly. “Do you?”

“I haven’t partied since college either. But I know Maloney, Paul Maloney, I knew him in school, we used to deliver new hearses to funeral parlors . . .”

“Isn’t he the son in Michael Maloney & Son? The undertakers?” asked Penny.

“That’s him. They throw a party every few weeks. Big house, very sociable, but I’ve only seen Anna once or twice. They’re about two years older but let me see what I can do; sounds like it could be fun.”

“Certainly different, let’s go for it. A party in a funeral home, well well, should I buy a black dress and a string of pearls fit for a wake?”

Joe suddenly realized that Penny’s eyes were sparkling, her right hand fluttered over her tummy. *

Paul and Anna Maloney practiced the art of mortuary. He was born into the business, excellent with financial planning along with wonderful people skills. Before he married Anna, Paul and Joe had ferried ornate, baroque hearses to new owners along the east coast. They fed on pizzas, slept in a wooden coffin affixed to the floor of the grotto. Meat wagons, those imposing black ironmongeries intriguingly designed to transport chemically stuffed, coiffed mortal coils to their unheated marble bronze mansions were also a fine gathering space for an evening of enchantingly macabre fucking.

Theater plus the Fine Arts were Anna’s bailiwick; she was one of three artists who prepared the bodies for showing. In addition, she kept the household and provided a loving, lively family environment. Their temperaments were suited for the popularly perceived gruesome business tokat escort of the Sanitary Arts, being both well-balanced as well as blessed with a pitch-black sense of humor.

Wednesday evening Joe called the funeral home, left a message about needing six hearses delivered next week to up-state Maine then hung up. A little after ten o’clock Paul returned his call.

“Well hello young man, still have your fingers in other people’s brains?” Paul asked his old friend, “or are you more enlightened and stick them into pussies.”

“Hey buddy, how’s it going? Yeah, I’m engaged to Penny Handy from the lab.”

“Very good. Why not bring her over some evening; Anna and I haven’t seen you for almost half a year, man.”

“How about Friday, I’ll make a batch of Buffalo wings with the magic sauce.”

“Got an idea, Joe, we’re having some friends over Saturday for a small party. This would be a way to widen your rep as a cook. Can you come over about eight?”

“No problem, that would be great. Should we wear anything special? ‘Cause when I told Penny about your parties, she started fantasizing about buying a little black dress and pearls for a wake. The idea got her hot!”

“Oh really?” Paul asked.

“Really.” Joe said smiling.

“Look, come over around seven thirty; get her a flirty black dress with all the toys. We’re gonna invite some folks who play that quiet-fucking fantasy game, does that turn your crank?”

“Absolutely, but I’m not sure exactly what turns her on.”

“Leave that to Anna. She’ll take her as far as she wants to go and leave her wanting more. She is really into dark theater and knows how to make a newbie comfortable. I guarantee Penny will be peeling her shorts off at the end of the night, Dude.”

“Damn, man, this is going to be one interesting Saturday night. Okay, Buffalo wings it is. I leave Penny in Anna’s hands. See you then Paul. If you want me to bring anything else, let me know. Good night, buddy.”

“Night, dude.”

Paul took the stairs two at a time and burst in on Anna reading in bed. “New players’ baby, Joe’s girl friend Penny sounds very curious about screwing around with dead people. Think you could spark her libido without freaking her out?”

Anna spread her knees apart, letting her nightgown slide down her long thighs, forming a silky canopy over her dark, lush plumage. “Humm, I know the Olivers’ are good at introducing couples to chilly sex, maybe the Kellaways’ can come over on Saturday too, Nora could pose in the small showing parlor as well. Does she want to see any prepped bodies?”

“Joe doesn’t know what she likes except that dead, creepy sex is interesting. But Penny isn’t a Tantric devotee or anything . . . just attracted erotically.” “Okay,” said Anna, “Let’s start with drinks then a tour of the prep room so we can see where her head is. Go out to the antique hearse, muck around in its grotto, show her some quality jigger rigor. Then get ready for showing the piece d’ resistance, Nora.” *

Plump satin pillows sitting atop extravagantly finished Egyptian cotton sheets greeted Penny’s astonished eyes as she entered their bedroom at Joe’s apartment. Three elegantly wrapped presents awaited her pleasure at the foot of the bed. In the muted funeral atmosphere, Joe assumed the demeanor of a mourner crushed by grief. He suddenly unzipped her coat, liberated her breasts and nibbled her hardening crimson nipples. “Joseph, you nut, what are you playing at?” she laughed, pressing his hands harder to her breasts.

“It’s party time, you yummy little girl, and this is to get us in the mood for the big leagues.”

“You are very bad . . . when’s the party?”

Sandalwood, anise, and lavender scents filled the small bedroom. Gifts arranged on the bed waited for her fingers to unwrap them. Penny opened the smallest to find a ruby and yellow diamond ring proclaiming his intentions of marriage. It fit. The future Mrs. Penelope Benton, pear shaped breasts peeking from her unbuttoned blouse, hugged Joe to her and kissed him passionately.

In silence, they gently shed each other’s clothes except for their stockings. Penny backed him into his reading chair then clambered onto his lap. She squatted over him as he rubbed his cock along her smooth labia while sucking on her dark red nipples. He pushed the opening of his penis over her protruding clitoris, making minute fucking motions until she guided him into her with shaking fingers.

Hovering over his lap, bent knees pressed against him, Penny pushed down on Joe’s cockstand until their pubic hair crushed together. His lingam mirrored the shape of her vagina, engulfing her so completely, so tightly, that his surges of cum filled her to overflowing.

The walls of Penny’s tight quim squeezed his penis, garnered his seed; her arms curling tightly about him. Joe’s cock was held captive as he soaked in her reeking cunt. After some moments of bliss, he lifted her from his chest and cradled her on his lap. Penny lolled her head against his torso, yozgat escort unfathomable, lost in the blood-hot cream seeping from her sex. Joe found her panties on the arm of the chair, slipped her feet through the leg openings, then drew them up to her thighs. “Honey, lift your bottom, there, good . . .”

Penny helped adjust the elastic around her waist then settled back in his lap, languidly arranging herself into a comfortable spot. She nestled, resting her head on his chest feeling the warmth of his breath through her hair. “I can feel you running out of me. It’s like I’m sitting here wetting my pants — God, it feels wonderful.” Glancing past her ruffled hair Joe focused on their intertwined fingers gliding his pendulous cock over her slick panties.

“Love, will you sleep in these tonight?”

“Yes, baby.” Penny said, cradling his soft lingam.”You too. I want us to be wet, wet, wet . . .”

“Does this party bother you, like being around dead people, watching people get off touching cold bodies?”

“No, I don’t mind playing. I’ll do everything with you, but I want to play with you alive!”

*

Anna Maloney, mistress of ceremonies, put her cell phone down and brushed her hands together. “Hey hon, it’s all set up. Kellie hasn’t been out and about since Ray had that blood pressure problem. They’re both excited about playing in public again.”

“Anyone else coming?”

“Kellaways’ can, though they play rough. I talked to Cynthia about it. She understands Penny and Joe are new to the game; besides, they’re good friends of Nora and wouldn’t hurt her.”

Ray and Kellie Oliver were older devotees of “dead sex,” as they called it. Tall, aristocratic, well dressed, they now enjoyed kinky, messier deeds. Mutual masturbation, urination, plus all aspects of scat play highlighted their sexual adventures now that Ray’s ability to achieve a hard-on had declined. Kellie, 64, thin and well-toned, enjoyed a randy fuck as much if not more than any thirty year old. Ray, an understanding husband, abetted her search for cock. Still mightily aroused when Kellie reddened his bottom with a birch, he inundated her pussy as well as her pungent, rearward channel to their joint satisfaction. Happily married for 31 years, they ascribed their good health to a filthy libertine lifestyle. In deference to Penny and Joe, they elected to wear Depends over their cotton underwear. They could always remove them if invited to do so.

The Kellaway’s on the other hand, preferred make-up, slime, smells, plastic wrap and some breathless CO2 enhanced couplings. Sean, an insurance analyst in his thirties was two years younger than Cynthia, a chubby 37 year old overly-imaginative hospital administrator. Their letches included latex cat suits to realistic (and expensive) dolls who endured adventures that would drive any submissive to insanity or the grave. Very few people took part in their murky games; those who did exercised watchful prudence.

For this light-hearted party, Anna had stressed to one and all, “. . . tonight is amateur night boys and girls, no sense scaring ’em off. We’re all for new blood, new ideas, new playmates, but let’s be very sure they are discrete before they see us fucking a stiff in a coffin. I know I’m preaching to the choir, but it’s our reputations at stake here. So, let’s have a jolly safe evening of jizz and jam . . . hey Paul, where’s the Frigid Fluid catalogue?”

The stage for this singular wake, a small chapel, resided at the end of a hall barely wide enough to accommodate a gurney. Two old caskets laminated with wood-grain linoleum and white Bakelite handles were arranged side by side in the middle of the room. Both were set low enough to facilitate a mourner or two from joining a loved one in their oil-based sarcophagus. Against the walls were settees along with comfortable chairs suitable for foreplay or to observe a bereaved mourner fuck a dearly departed to death.

Off to the right were two separate bathrooms marked male and female but were connected inside by a mirrored door. Each washroom had a stall, sinks with mirrored walls along with small comfortable chairs. Sponge baths had to do when purifying themselves and were in frequent use. *

Joe and Penny arrived at the Maloney Funeral Home at dusk. A chilly breeze riffled the hem of Penny’s ‘off the knee’ black dress as the heavy oak door swung open. Penny took a deep breath then stepped over the threshold into a modern, gracious home. She noted Anna’s dress, a soft blue diaphanous sheath, that complimented her eyes. Then, with prescience unique to her sex, knew Anna’s underthings were robin’s egg blue, a color that displays moily areas to best advantage. Their bras were soft push-ups –showcasing the nipple’s state of attention. Their eyes met for an instant: they knew, soulmates.

Introductions were gracefully accomplished and with drink in hand, Anna proposed a quick walk around the home to acquaint everyone with the facility. Most funeral homes present a welcoming area leading down zonguldak escort an intimate corridor, debouching into a large dimly lit room with the focal point on the deceased in the formally lit, beflowered niche. Anna led her coterie of guests through the large viewing room, then upstairs to their receiving suite for hors d’oeuvres, Buffalo wings and martinis. Joe stayed close to Penny, fingers lightly touching the cove of her spine above her panty waistband.

These couples made a rum bunch. Cynthia and Kellie, old hands at this curious letch, were dressed in vintage but well-cut clothes. Kellie wore an ivory blouse showing an impish amount of lightly freckled décolletage with a gray full skirt over a half slip. Light gray nylon hose sheathed her coltish legs to mid- thigh; further up, bikini cotton panties.

Cynthia, a creature from the harem, poured herself into an emerald green cashmere sweater that buttoned up the front with no brassiere to fetter her luscious breasts. A berylline wrap-around skirt freely draped her voluptuous body with no cloying underwear to conceal her beautifully shaven cunt. Each woman emanated a bouquet of rut, not unlike the smell of warm musk, or a lingering fart; a frank invitation for lasciviousness.

Their husbands, Ray and Sean, were sybarites able to gratify, even astonish their wives. Aside from eschewing zippers on their trousers, their dress styles were as common as canned corn. Not surprisingly, they shared most aspects of their sexual lives with each other. Although the Olivers’ and Kellaways’ realized that Penny and Joe were innocent of the indignities about to be wreaked upon their attire, they understood these new players had quirky passions equally salacious as their own.

Penny’s ensemble was black, sleek and sexy; her single string of pearls elegantly seductive. Any movement could show as much or as little of herself as she wished to display. Anna knew this (thanks to Joe), hence, she dressed accordingly so Penny would not feel overdressed. Here, clothes were merely objects to inflame lust, be defiled, infused with the perfumes and stink of fucking and defecation. Paul and Anna surveyed their players over dirty vodka martinis and knew everything was “gonna be all right.”

“Well, I suppose you’re wondering what lurks behind the scenes of a funeral home, so if you wish to satisfy your curiosity, let’s descend into the world beyond the no admittance signs and locked doors,” said Paul.

Penny was acutely aware of her hands and elbows as they stood in the prep room surrounded by glass-fronted wall cabinets filled with various poisons along with stainless steel tables used to reconstruct cadavers. A middle-aged woman lay on a steel slab, hair yanked over her crumpled face, exposing her gleaming white cranium supported by a stained block of wood. The skull was prepared to be sawn open and her brain cut out. Afterward, the cranium was glued to the base of the brain pan. The scalp would be stretched over the head to be fixed firmly in back of the neck, just out of sight. The stench of a rotting organ would never do in the viewing area. A ‘Y’ shaped, roughly stitched slash ran from each shoulder to the centerline over her sternum then down below the tits to lower belly. The organs had been scooped out and the body cavity filled with bulky fiber. No one had shaved the luxuriant mons. Yellow-brown slime dribbled from her sex, which had yet to be sealed with super glue. A trickle of cold water cascading under the cadaver noisily dripped into a basin. Hanks of the dark material escaped between the widely spaced stitches holding her torso together leaving little humanity left.

Joe glanced at Penny who stood aghast by the devastation death reaps upon our bodies; noticed her masturbating to keep a grip on her emotions. Her eyes flickered over the large blue-green bruises where the decomposed blood settled. She clenched her buttocks together for the running water urged a pee. Others, she hoped, shared the need for relief as well.

Cynthia ran her fingertips along the jagged cut, cupped a whorl of pubic hair and squeezed two fingers into the cold, stiff gash. Sean pulled out his bulky affair to urinate forcefully on his wife’s hand wetting the belly as well. Joe and Penny’s eyes widened as Ray added his yellow stream to flush the putrid tissue away from the swollen vulva. Penny stood with her arms tightly around the waists of Anna and Kellie, swaying together like Hamlet’s witches. Paul and Joe aimed their streams over the body’s chest, while Cynthia rubbed and smeared their piss over the corpse. This excess left them breathing hard after their orgasms subsided. Kellie pressed Penny to her to gently rub her stomach until the spasms subsided. No one mentioned their splattered shoes or the splash of vomit between her feet.

As Anna plunged the room into darkness, they heard the forlorn plink, plink of the icy rivulet falling into the drain along with a prolonged melancholy fart from a lady so grossly betrayed. Anna gently closed the lab door while Paul led the party down the dimly lit corridor to the freight elevator. The others diddled each other, fumbling under their clothes to enjoy the feel of a different cunt or stiffened cock. Joe and Penny were left to wind down on their own. As yet self-conscious, they pleasured only themselves, albeit publically.