The bedroom was alit with at least a dozen flickering candles. On the CD player, a classical piece was playing softly. Wendy was lying in the middle of the bed, dressed in a white sheath dress, hands crossed demurely over her breasts. Because this was her funeral, she was wearing a pair of dressy sandals. I could see that she’d gotten a fresh pedicure and manicure for the occasion and lightly made-up her face. She looked so peaceful and beautiful lying there, so vulnerable and remote all at once, that I could almost believe that she really was dead.Dead?and damn sexy!?Oh Wendy,? I said, ?I can’t believe it. You’re really dead. You were so young?? I know that my wife needed to hear these words to set the tone for the fantasy and what was to come. I knelt by the side of the bed and pretended to pray. ?Honey, you look so beautiful. Everyone says so. Even Julie and Tammy and you know how bitchy they can be. Dammit, you almost look like you’re only sleeping, like you’ll wake up at any. ..Just like I'm going to do to his little girl. It will be like he's fucking you..." he smugly pronounced, biting on my neck and rubbing my inner thigh. I turned to face him, pushing him back and standing in front of him to untie his bowtie, undoing the top buttons on his shirt, pushing the tuxedo jacket off his shoulders onto the floor at the foot of the bed. He stood watching me undress him slowly; replacing his clothes with butterfly kisses and play bites from me. As he stood before me nude, I stepped back looking over at him standing there in all his naked glory, I noticed a trail of ruby red lipstick where my mouth had previously been covering his body. I walked back over to him, running my hands up and down his chest before slamming them against him, knocking him onto his back on the super king size bed. I pulled my skirt to the side revealing my bald, clean shaven mound as I crawled up the bed between his legs, running my tongue and hands up his thighs and over his already hard.
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