Necrophilia
Fifty Shades of Grey
Dear Granny D
This will probably shock you; even I have difficulty believing what I actually do to get my rocks off. It all began six months ago when I got a job as a Mortuary Attendant. After about a couple of weeks of mopping up after road kill and suicides, I took delivery of a young, blonde girl in her early twenties. Apparently, she had OD’d on Paracetamols so there were no external injuries. All my life I had dreamed of meeting a beautiful young woman and, indeed, I have met one or two nice looking ones in the past, but none of them wanted to even bother with me. They didn’t care what sort of person was behind the scars, no, they only tolerated me so they could make fun of my twitch in front of their stuck-up friends. But then, all of a sudden, there was this gorgeous girl lying naked in front of me and the little lady wasn’t about to say no. Knowing that I was the only one on duty that night and so was unlikely to be disturbed, I began by touching her breasts and rubbing my hands along her smooth, creamy flesh. She gave a slight moan, which, although I knew was trapped wind, I also took to mean she was enjoying it. My brain kept saying, ‘this is wrong’, but my groin kept saying, what harm can it do? After all, I hate waste. I won’t even throw the cold turkey away at Christmas, I usually turn it into a nice curry or something. Anyway, in the end, my groin won the argument and I climbed on top and had a bit of a dabble. It wasn’t at all like I had imagined. She was cold, yet flaccid, so I assumed she’d been dead for at least 36 hours. Afterwards, we just lay there quietly. There wasn’t any real need for words. I was smoking a Hamlet whilst the steam of our passion rose slowly from her still body. It was only afterwards that I considered the possibility of her undergoing an autopsy, at which time they might find my seed inside her, so for the next couple of women I made sure I wore a condom. I don’t really like using those though because something doesn’t feel quite right about them. By the way, you know I told you about those girls making fun of me? Well, one of them came in last week after falling under a train. I made a special effort with her; sure I had to hold her head on whilst we made love, but it made the foreplay much easier.
What do you think I should do, Granny D? I can’t say that I’m hurting anyone by my actions, so I reckon it’s a victimless crime. What do you think?
Dear Boris
OMG! We don’t live that far apart, for goodness’ sake; if I stepped out in front of a bus tomorrow, I could be your next girlfriend! You need to seek help, you maniac; and I don’t mean getting a friend in to help prise the next one’s legs open. What the hell do you do for an encore… wash the brains down with a glass of Chianti?! I know I am bound by the ethical duty of confidentiality but, fuck that, Charlie, I’ve already passed your details on to the Police. There’s no way I’m risking having MY ass on the block, and I mean that literally!
Just in case you do get let out on bail, have you thought about turning to God for forgiveness? After all, he does preach tolerance and understanding. He is also dead against acts of revenge; particularly for, let’s just say as an example, if you felt someone has done you wrong, like grass you up to the filth. With my Psychiatrist’s hat on, I’d say that you must forgive to be forgiven.
Good luck for the future
Granny D
PS. Please erase me from your memory
This will probably shock you; even I have difficulty believing what I actually do to get my rocks off. It all began six months ago when I got a job as a Mortuary Attendant. After about a couple of weeks of mopping up after road kill and suicides, I took delivery of a young, blonde girl in her early twenties. Apparently, she had OD’d on Paracetamols so there were no external injuries. All my life I had dreamed of meeting a beautiful young woman and, indeed, I have met one or two nice looking ones in the past, but none of them wanted to even bother with me. They didn’t care what sort of person was behind the scars, no, they only tolerated me so they could make fun of my twitch in front of their stuck-up friends. But then, all of a sudden, there was this gorgeous girl lying naked in front of me and the little lady wasn’t about to say no. Knowing that I was the only one on duty that night and so was unlikely to be disturbed, I began by touching her breasts and rubbing my hands along her smooth, creamy flesh. She gave a slight moan, which, although I knew was trapped wind, I also took to mean she was enjoying it. My brain kept saying, ‘this is wrong’, but my groin kept saying, what harm can it do? After all, I hate waste. I won’t even throw the cold turkey away at Christmas, I usually turn it into a nice curry or something. Anyway, in the end, my groin won the argument and I climbed on top and had a bit of a dabble. It wasn’t at all like I had imagined. She was cold, yet flaccid, so I assumed she’d been dead for at least 36 hours. Afterwards, we just lay there quietly. There wasn’t any real need for words. I was smoking a Hamlet whilst the steam of our passion rose slowly from her still body. It was only afterwards that I considered the possibility of her undergoing an autopsy, at which time they might find my seed inside her, so for the next couple of women I made sure I wore a condom. I don’t really like using those though because something doesn’t feel quite right about them. By the way, you know I told you about those girls making fun of me? Well, one of them came in last week after falling under a train. I made a special effort with her; sure I had to hold her head on whilst we made love, but it made the foreplay much easier.
What do you think I should do, Granny D? I can’t say that I’m hurting anyone by my actions, so I reckon it’s a victimless crime. What do you think?
Dear Boris
OMG! We don’t live that far apart, for goodness’ sake; if I stepped out in front of a bus tomorrow, I could be your next girlfriend! You need to seek help, you maniac; and I don’t mean getting a friend in to help prise the next one’s legs open. What the hell do you do for an encore… wash the brains down with a glass of Chianti?! I know I am bound by the ethical duty of confidentiality but, fuck that, Charlie, I’ve already passed your details on to the Police. There’s no way I’m risking having MY ass on the block, and I mean that literally!
Just in case you do get let out on bail, have you thought about turning to God for forgiveness? After all, he does preach tolerance and understanding. He is also dead against acts of revenge; particularly for, let’s just say as an example, if you felt someone has done you wrong, like grass you up to the filth. With my Psychiatrist’s hat on, I’d say that you must forgive to be forgiven.
Good luck for the future
Granny D
PS. Please erase me from your memory
