Who am I?The funeral was for an acquaintance, a minor ghost from the past. She attended Notre Dame with me but never rode in my Desoto. She looked me ...p after she moved to the Pacific Northwest. Despite her Notre Dame diploma, her funeral was a secular service that lacked the propriety spiritual ambiance for the mystery of death found in a Catholic religious service, at least for me.Reposed in her open coffin, lifelike, black coiffured hair, fingernails polished pearl white, hands holding a red. Keira pushed me back a bit so she could get on her knees. She opened her mouth taking my cock in deep. I felt her tongue begin the magic touch again as she ran it around the head of my stiff cock. I watched her head slowly engulf my cock deep into her mouth stopping when she reached the base, her nose buried in my pubic hair. She just kept it down her throat for several seconds massaging it with her throat muscles before she began a slow withdrawal until only the tip was in her mouth. I could. More

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