In about fifteen minutes, I had pulled up in front of his apartment. There was a pickup truck parked in front with a long, low chest of drawers sittin... next to a large mirror in the back. I walked up to Jay's place and knocked on the door. He answered, shirtless. I felt my body reacting on its own, my cock starting to stiffen in my jeans."Hey, whiteboy. Let's get downstairs and haul that mother up here. It should be easy between the two of us." Jay put a hand on the center of my chest and. Well, that had been the plan anyway. Now this. I was numb inside. I put on the brave front, and watched my wife slowly, oh so slowly, die. It was killing her, and it was killing me. At some point I realized I couldn't live without her. I was asleep when it hit me. I woke up in a cold sweat, and couldn't shake it either. I knew... I wouldn't make it without Becky.That's when I began to plan my demise. I would die about six months after Becky did. It wouldn't be a suicide, well, so much that. More

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