By 
Disclaimer: This is not a seductive story or anything I wrote out of pure fantasy. Here I have tried to demonstrate a serious issue and psychological disorder called ‘necrophilia.’ Necrophilia is an old psychological illness that existed and still exists. In several countries, it is illegal; in some, it is not. Whatever its legal status is, it is harmful to both society and people suffering from Necrophilia. Sexual attraction towards dead people is common, and unfortunately, it is not normal. With the right therapy and medication, necrophilia is curable.
Her aroma seduces me every time I get close to her. It excites my inner senses, and each nerve inside my body starts to react to her presence. That hair, that appeal, those gorgeous round-firm breasts, and that attractive tight butt, everything about her is pure sensual and magic. Even though you can’t feel her right now, you can imagine the senses she has given me.
Beautiful, raw, and magical.
Rani was in her late 20s. An Indian stunning, traditional girl who used to hide her engaging curves in baggy and oversized clothes. Although she couldn’t hide those flourishing tits from me, she tried every day and every night. Whenever she bent down to mop the floor while I ate breakfast, she would let me sneak a peek at her soft blossoms. They were so warm and milky. I could always drink her beauty all night without worrying about what my wife has made for dinner.
I get tired of fucking the same pussy every day. But not with Rani. This girl was exceptional, thoroughly pleasurable, and a goddess.
I dismiss Gopal and Rajat from the morgue room and tell them to leave me alone, for I have some research to do on her body.
They don’t question me. They never did. They simply obey my order with a ‘yes, sir’ on their lips.
Closing the door behind me, I gradually remove the white sheet from Rani’s body. Her eyes are closed, no breathing, no pulse. Her completely naked body is lying in front of me. Her hands are still, her legs unmoved, her smooth pussy is pale but still elegant. She wouldn’t let me see her like this if she wasn’t dead. The deep mark on her left wrist is shining brightly against the dim light in the room.
My brain took me back to the past upon seeing her two pink areolas on her two full breasts. I imagined how she would scream and shout when I pin her legs on top and fuck her sweet lovely cunt with all my sexual power.
Tears of joy would run through her majestic black eyes while she tried to untie her hands from the bed, and her sexy tits would bounce up and down to the pressure of my body on top of her.
She would scream, “Let me go, sir! It’s hurting!”
But deep down, we knew how much pleasurable it was for both of us. She was a pretty, unmarried girl. This type of sexual encounter isn’t common to her culture; that’s the only reason why she wouldn’t admit that she liked to get fucked hard every night by me.
I touch her unmoving body. She is as cold as ice. The body is stiff and hard, not as flexible as she used to be before. I squeezed her pale breasts, which are still as soft and round. They feel good in my hands like they belong there.
But this time, she is utterly silent. No moan or scream left her mouth. I recall the times I fucked her double in my wife’s absence. I watched her naked in the shower, soaping her soft thighs and butt with the foamy water. She would run the shower head all over her body and use her hands to wash her creamy, delicious skin. The water would run over her lovely pink nipples, making my cock as hard as a fucking rock.
I joined her for the shower to touch and wash her sexy naked body. I rubbed her real blossoms and pressed them hard with my hands.
She would scream and yell, she would ask me to let go, but she couldn’t break free from my strong arms. And eventually, she would give up with my cock inside of her. She would be lying naked on the tiled floor and would let me fuck her tight pussy for the time being. The water would splatter over her delicate skin, and she would whimper quietly against the act.
I look at my now stiff cock. It is aroused and quivering inside my pant, asking me to release the seed. I unzip and spit some saliva on my hand so that I can give it some sensations nearly as to what Rani has given me.
I push my dick deep inside her corpse and let myself go in and out in slow motion. I imagine all the things I had done to her when she was alive. I imagine tying her hands and legs and eating her out inside her bedroom.
As I build the passion slowly and deeply, I hear some footsteps approaching me from behind. Our hospital’s Deputy head and Gopal are here, along with some cops and a lady in a suit.
“Mr. Anirban Chowdhury, we have received an arrest warrant against you for the rape of late Rani Agarwal. She was pregnant when she committed suicide.”- says the lady supposedly, a detective.
“And how do you accuse me of that?”- I say with a low and terrifying voice. The fear of getting arrested for the first time got on my nerve, and I even forgot that I am standing here with my zip down, penis out.
“We have conducted an autopsy on Rani Agarwal’s body, and the medical report says she was pregnant. We have proof that you raped her for more than 2 months.”
“That-that’s impossible…I have not…”- my voice trails off, and I couldn’t form a proper sentence. The cops came and handcuffed me. They put me in their police cruiser, and I hear someone saying,
“He should be punished for committing necrophilia as well.”
Son of a bitch, I thought to myself.
