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After the pair initialed some forms, they rolled her from one side to the other and back again, pulling the black plastic body bag out from under her, and then once finished, they threw a clear plastic tarp over her, leaving her tagged feet exposed. Carlos then pushed her gurney out into the hallway, against the far wall, to await another technician to teen bring her down to the X-Ray lab. By the time he had reentered the room, his partner had already unzipped and pulled back the plastic of the body bag containing the 38-year-old black woman whose cause of death was unknown. Her body was stiff and rigid, toes pointing straight up at the ceiling, hands a bit contorted and bony, her arms tightly against her sides. Her brown eyes were glassy and partially opened, staring up at the ceiling and the only clothing she was wearing was a white-laced nighty. Her stomach was distended and bloated, her skin in places kind of an ashen grey. Liver temp from the scene had suggested she boyfriend had been dead for at least 56 hours, and that was many hours ago even busty now. When Vicky went to stick the thermometer up her ebony asshole, the sphincter loosened and a terrible fume emerged. Vicky turned and nearly gagged, but this wasn’t uncommon in stiffs that had been gone from teenager this world as long as she had. After she had been processed and removed from the room, Vicky needed a bathroom break, so Carlos got to work on the elderly male that had died in hospice. This one would be a pretty quick thing since the man was 91 and no foul play was expected. The ME would give his body a cursory exam, sign off on his paperwork, and hopefully by the next day or so he would be in the care of whatever funeral home his family had arranged for his services. As Vicky sat on the toilet in the stall of the clean-looking women’s room, her pants just below her knees, she farted really loudly and then could not help but chuckle. Then, while she peed, she thought to herself about the excitement she got helping process the female bodies into the morgue and thought about how it would be to be like them, only able to feel for a while, and how the handling and all the personal attention must seem. She shook her head. This footjob was probably why her love-life was in shambles. She was 32, worked for the coroner’s office, and had strange fantasies and desires. Most guys just didn’t understand and weren’t willing to indulge her, so she just settled for going home, firing up Neverwinter on her computer, and talking to her online friends over Vent while getting lost in some fantasy adventures. When she had finished, she took a moment to wash up, check her hair in the mirror, and then proceed out into the hall, where she pulled out another pair of gloves from a dispenser, put them on, and then returned to help Carlos with whatever bodies remained. Just outside room 22, two more stretchers were resting against the white-tiled wall, one with the body of a male (or so she thought based on the loafers the corpse was wearing) in the traditional black plastic bag, but the other was yet another exhumed body in a thick, canvas mortuary bag. This one was female, with two white high-heeled shoes sticking out the end, both of which had discolored in the grave into more of a faded cream color. “Lazy fucks,” Vicky said as she swiped her card and reentered the room. “What’s up?” Carlos asked, looking up as he was just about to unzip the navy blue bag from Livingston Funeral Home. “Lazy techs couldn’t be bothered to tag the two corpses we’ve got waiting for us in the hall for after we’re done with these,” she said. Carlos rolled his eyes and shrugged, then began pulling away at the zipper of Ashley Richdale’s container. As her body finally lay exposed to any onlookers that might come by, Carlos began taking pictures of her as Victoria looked her over. The girl had been buried in a long, dark-green silky slip that came down just past her knees. Her hands were folded over her breasts, her fingernails also painted a deep ebony color, and what looked to be a long-dried and wilted rose resting between her hands and her bosom. Her hair was a ginger color and of medium length, done up well for her wake and funeral viewings, her lips being painted a cherry red. Her skin was almost ghost white, with small patches of ashen or even light bluish flesh here and there, but for someone that had been dead for as long as she had, the embalmers had truly done fantastic work. Not wanting to disturb the body too much, Victoria opted not to try and sit her up but instead to carefully cut away at the black slip she was wearing. After all, her family would buy a replacement upon reinterment, though they also might just bury her naked since there may not be another viewing of her at this point, unless the family requested it. Once the silk fabric was cut away, and the foot fetish bra underneath that removed as well, the evidence of her previous autopsy and the telltale signs of embalming were quickly visible. Taking her time, Ehma eased her heels down onto the lip of the bathtub as his guttural breaths tapered against her chest. If they didn’t, then they didn’t work hard enough. I slept in for more than an hour and teen had to skip breakfast at the footjob hotel. Their moans echoed through the room. Two figures stepped from the trucks, walking over to inspect the fence. There was a hot tub underneath an teenager awning the right just as you step outside. They smiled as we approached. Mala and Ravi strolling on the beach stood looking at the Sun disappearing and when it started to get dark Ravi said 'shall we go.' As Hope put her small hand around it, busty and as she looked up at me for reassurance, I smiled at her. boyfriend I'm gonna bust my nut in you!” Again some flavour, but less than the first. Now it was time to patch things up. “Sshhhh!” Aunt Sheen nearly squealed out aloud as I shoved my dry finger in her wet foot fetish pussy. Her blond hair had a new wave and was freshly-cut, barely reaching her chin. I stared at her, squinting, trying to take her all in as best I could.