A highly desirable married woman, a teacher, committed suicide due to depression; her husband was ecstatic, changing her stockings and licking her feet before having intense sexual intercourse.

She lay on the cold floor, dressed in that austere teacher's uniform, the marks on her neck still tinged with purple. Instead of shedding a tear, my penis burned with a hard, burning erection. First, I changed her into my favorite flesh-colored pantyhose, my fingertips caressing the smooth silk. I parted her stiff legs, brought my tongue close to her delicate feet, and licked from the instep to between her toes. The salty, pungent stench of death mingled with the scent of the pantyhose, driving me wild. I pulled down her panties, aimed at her still-open cunt, and thrust in all the way. The dry, tight walls of her vagina gripped my glans, each thrust producing a muffled, wet sound. I licked her toes as I pounded into her buttocks, my heavy breathing echoing throughout the room. Her unseeing, lifeless face only fueled my excitement, and wave after wave of ejaculation plunged into her cold, icy core.