The rest of us were just moping around at home. The usual things that might have kept us busy just felt wrong. I didn’t even swim.On Monday, we were...sent back to school. On Tuesday the post-mortem was performed, without any world-ending time paradoxes, and his death was attributed to natural causes. On Wednesday, several national newspapers ran obituaries, which summarised his business activities, and mentioned Caity and me. They even had tributes from a few people that knew him, including one. I giggled. The tight, wet, squeezing butterfly was back, surrounding my cock, struggling to ... eat it somehow, my mind thought. Pretty little butterfly is trying to eat me up. Something really nice and kissy and sucky, sucking on me so nicely, so ... up and down, oooh!, that's nice!, up and down, little by little, engulfing me, squeezing me so hard, like a wet slippery fist, up and down, up and down, getting deeper, fucking me.Someone's fucking me ... I think... And the tightness took more of. More

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