I was already dead.I went to my own funeral. My mother tried to justify my death by telling herself and the other mourners that I had had no business ...rinking at my age. I was only 18, too young to go to frat parties, too young to be dead.I sat in the back row crying over myself, but I couldn't justify my death the way my mother had. I noticed a really cute guy get up and walk out to go to the bathroom. I thought for half a second about following him and mentally kicked myself. But then I. An even dozen. Twelve two-somes, six three-somes, four four-somes, three groups, two gangs, and one orgy. Perfect. Eleven boys just kept reminding me that we were one dick short of a foot.I didn't blame the boys. It wasn't their fault that I wasn't satisfied with eleven hot, tight, horny assholes to keep me cum-fed. Still, it nagged me.One week before the GayVN's, I happened to be near the front door when the gate buzzer sounded.I hit the intercom. "Yeah?" I'm here to see Juan Alverez." Follow. Soon I had her blouse open and was playing with her nipples through her bra. I knew I was winning as she started to moan softly and kissed me harder.I slid a hand up under her bra and started to play with her nipples, which were already hard. While my one hand was doing this, the other was working its way up over her knee and under her skirt. Again there was slight resistance but again not much and I knew she was weakening. I carried on up her thigh and was soon stroking her pussy through her. That person who was in his late 50’s, a fat man with black-grey hair and dressed in a well-tailored white chef outfit. He picked up his glass of wine on the counter and raised it to congratulate her, not saying a thing but only smiled.The smile made her feel surprised and shocked as well as the other kitchen staffs including the one who was recording the video of the whole celebrating via his smartphone. The celebration lasted a few hours. Although now Colette was the sous chef it didn’t make.