Страница_удаляется все записи автора Wound fuck by Trash

The patient is Michael Shinoda, age 30, multiple stab wounds to the abdomen and chest.


There was no hope of saving him. And Dr Bennington peeled off his gloves with a sigh as the nurse declared the time of death. Shame. He was hot too. And with the right amount of skin grafting he could have been a suitable date. Chester stared at the open wounds littering Michael’s body. They’d stopped bleeding now and dry blood was caked around them.


It was his job to clean the body up, make it presentable for the family. But they were travelling to Arizona from the far side of California so he had plenty of time. He ushers the other doctors out of the room and twists the blinds closed, locking the door.


He dips his fingers into the biggest wound on Michael’s stomach, removing them and sucking the blood from them. It’s metallic and warm on his tongue. Like copper. The sight of the wound makes his cock twitch in his scrubs and he pushes his fingers into another wound.


With one hand he reaches into his pants and pulls out his dick, wrapping the other, bloody hand around himself. The blood acts as lube as he begins to slowly jerk himself off. He grows hard in his own hand and he stares down at Michael’s cold body with dark eyes.


Once he’s hard enough he climbs onto the gurney, straddling Michael’s hips. He pulls his scrubs down enough and grips himself in one hand, pushing into one of the bigger wounds.


He groans at the feeling of blood and the organs just beneath the surface. He thrusts further in and then pulls out, looking down at the blood on his cock. He reaches up and twists one of Michael’s nipples between his finger and thumb as he builds up a steady rhythm, fucking the stab wound hard.


The slide of his dick into the cooling body makes him shiver and he moans lowly, already close to the edge. He grips Michael’s hair and opens his eye lids with one hand so his dead eyes stare lifelessly into his own. Chester moans again and bucks his hips one last time, emptying himself into the dead body below him.


He holds himself steady as he tries to calm his breathing. Grabbing some blue paper from under the gurney he pulls himself out of Michael’s body. He uses the blue paper to wipe himself clean, then he pulls up his scrubs and throws the bloody paper in the trash.


“You’re beautiful,” Chester says quietly, closing the dead man’s eye lids. He pulls open an equipment drawer and pulls out a needle still in a packet and a length of surgical thread. “Shame some douche bag stabbed you. Some people have no self control.” He murmurs to himself as he opens the needle and threads it, going about sewing up the wounds.


It doesn’t take him long to stitch up the wounds, swab away the blood. It isn’t his job to do the ridiculous makeup they apply, that’s up to someone else. And if he had it his way he’d leave Mike just the way he is. “Beautiful,” he says as he pulls up the sheet, pulling it up over the cold body. “Sweet dreams,” he adds.


Unlocks the door, untwists the blinds, and leaves the room with a sated smile.