Alas, she/I was dead, and beyond sensual movement, but not beyond sensuousness. I screamed, I thrashed, but only seemed to implae herself more fully on his fingers–and horrors, I could feel my arousal growing. XXX My/Her hand lay gently on our moist mound, still wet from the evening’s masturbation. I struggled weakly, vainly to breath. “Love me.” I whispered. She was a blank slate, ready for her final experience. Her struggles were weakening–no air to support them. My mind shattered by the orgasm I could only lay limply as he gathered me in his arms and gently entered me. My/Her hand lay gently on our moist mound, still wet from the evening’s masturbation. I knew beneath she wore only a negligee–the same one she was raped and murdered in. I could feel her ghost shift. I shuddered, the pain receding. I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t see, and yet, I didn’t want to live–my only desire suddenly
