Chapter 1

It was later on when she would count the days before he would leave the house and get out of town. At night, on her own, she would wait for the next crime. Sometimes it would take weeks, even months before something occurred. And when it did, she would then hope for a hurried investigation before he would return and become involved.

A small township only ever had a small number of people skilled in dealing with criminals, and then the bodies of criminals, and she (along with some assistance of the Sheriff) would have to supervise each step thoroughly. Making sure that every stage, from the hanging to the burial, was executed in a professional manner.

She was the hangman's wife, and over time had gained professional skills as the hangman's wife, so much so that the local authorities were eventually quite happy for her to deal with some of the dirty work. For most of the time, it was dirty work. For those few other moments the work was dirty in a good way! And then she found it a reward for her!

Her love and hasty marriage to the town hangman had been borne through a necessity to survive. It had ended the minute her honeymoon had ended - so many years ago. It was after then that she found herself with a man who could not give himself to her. Often he would return from a day and fall asleep on the couch. She tried different things to entice him, but it rarely lasted. She was on an island all to herself.

She overcame her fear quite early on and would visit a body in the cool cellar. It started off through sheer curiosity. Of wanting to know things. And the earliest of these that she could recall was the body of a dead old man, left in storage. He was being kept for an overnight stay before burial the next morning. There was only one thing she felt at the time - Peace! Stillness! No fear.

Her husband had noticed her curiosity and was happy for her to become involved in his business.

But it wasn't until her second wedding anniversary, that she began to grow more frustrated. As usual, her husband was away for several weeks and she had taken up some of the things that he had instructed her. But it was only at this time when, just after dark, she first witnessed the body of a young man who had been freshly hung. His young head hunched on one side of the table.

She moved a little closer, stroking his sandy-coloured hair. Her fingers brushed over his forehead and cheeks, before touching his lips. Beneath his jawline, she gently traced the ropemark caused by the very rope that she herself had ordered around him only an hour before. Beside him now, she let the candlelight flicker down to his hairless chest. He looked but a boy. His stomach muscles showed just beneath his skin. His arms were inert on the table. Hands flat against the surface. He'd been caught horse-stealing.

The candlelight hovered over his belly and in the peripheral light she could make out the hasty shape of a loincloth one of the attendants had covered his groin with. Curious as to why the loincloth had been so hurriedly thrown over him, she gradually pulled it away and quickly learned what the term 'well hung' really meant. She put a finger to her lips and stared at it in surprise. 'You're not a boy!' she whispered softly.

Amongst the pubic patch his specimen lay on its side with hood attentively rolled back, thick and still engorged with blood. Primed for a good time! She'd never heard of a postmortem erection before, her husband never told her anything when it came to certain areas of the body. The private witnessing of it awed her. Hanging just beneath, in the shadows, was his sack - soft yet full. His wild seed now cut and cold, still showing the full, ripe promise of a man who'd just left his youth.

Only on looking back later, did she realise what was happening to her when she first looked at this young man's body. It was something that happens with many who subconsciously adore beauty in the dead and have just discovered their adoration float into a conscious object of desire - it was her hands that made the first announcement - their shaking was uncontrollable as she tried to come to terms with her feelings.

The shaking spread to her torso and continued for some time. She moved the candelabra carefully to a nearby cabinet, anxious that with any loss of light she would lose forever a man perpetually caught in her most lustful and darkest of dreams. Dark dreams where she would awaken alone, hot, enriched with her own wetness, and with nobody whom she could share herself with. She waited to still her quivering and, while waiting, committed his vulnerable, naked body (in all its tasty detail) to her memory!

Could he see himself now? She thought as her teeth began to chatter. Could he see the state of his body mocking her? His engorged penis, thick, as if still seeking urgent fulfillment from the physical world he no longer had any need for? Could he see what his body was now doing to her body? Cajoling her, teasing her, making fun of her frustrations.

Her warm body, still caught in the physical world, still chained with needs, lusts and desires. Chained without ways to sate them. Could he sense her heart now racing? Could he feel her eyes on him, eyes dark - large as a fawn's in lonely winter?

She reached for self-discipline but her lips had already grown moist and slightly parted? She reached for self-control but her nipples were already erect and pressed firm against her top? Her one last stand was simply to walk out but her sex stopped her. Her hot vulva, rubbery-soft, was already yawning with the overpowering, yet forbidden, thought of touching him, caressing his cool manhood, smearing him with her sticky nectar - a nectar bubbling deep from within her well of love!

An urgent desperation surfaced in her throat, a desperation little different from the way the man had acted before she had him dropped. She moaned with the deepest primal urge, desperately freeing herself from the chains of her clothing. Semi-naked, she leaned over his face, kissing his forehead and cheeks. Her hands stretched out over his chest.

Slowly she traced the hard nipple of her nearest warm breast across his cool lips and felt his exquisite delicate contact. She pressed him firmly against it. Her nerves tingled with the sensation. Her pulse raced from forehead to thigh.