The Old Coroner British Wankers Unleashed

The pungent smell of ammonia startled Garrit. Unable to see with his blurred vision from sleep, he tried to rub his eyes. Yet, his wrists painfully hit a sharp metal brace. The metal brace felt like handcuffs. His hands were behind his back. Bright light blinded him. He could hear heavy boots pacing and turning on the floor.

His vision became clearer. A small room full of tough guys in uniform stood around him. The bulky uniform and bullet proof vests made them look even more intimidating. A hand removed the pungent ammonia smell from under his nose. He was the only one seated behind a functional metal desk.

"What is your name?"

"Garrit Wieczorek"

"Why did you assassinate the prime minister?"

Garrit's memories returned. He remembered the feeling of black cold steel in his hand. The gun's blowback had hurt the webbing between his thumb and index finger. Yet, he had fired a second shot to be sure. The beaming smile of the prime minister had been frozen in place by Botox injections. Even when he was dead and slumped down, the smile kept looking at Garrit.

"Why did you assassinate the prime minister?"

Garrit's mind stepped back in time. The beautiful and equally spunky teenager Jessica with her red hair had seduced him. During a night and day of passionate love making, he had tasted her lips, felt the inside of her pussy, and relished her intense full body hugs. That had been his price for betraying his country.

"For a girl, for Jessica! She was so beautiful. Her skin was so tender. And, her enjoyment of the world was so free and pure."

"Who ordered the assassination?"

Garrit's mind's eye could vividly see the young woman in punk clothing. She was demanding and in charge with heavy black leather boots. She wasn't a woman at all. She was a demon, a demon that he had summoned. The demon had offered to grant his biggest dream, Jessica's love, in exchange for helping the demon come to rule Britain. Despicable, yes! Yet, still remembering the intense feel of the inside of Jessica's vagina against his bare penis made him look steadfast and fulfilled into the face of torture and execution by Britain's secret service.

"A demon -- the number of the demon is 3-7-1."

"Garrit, you realize you will receive the ultimate punishment for your crime. There is no insanity plea. The only difference is how severely we torture you. If you start talking, I can put a bullet in your brain right now. If you keep telling silly things, we can go at it for days, weeks, months, years. There are no bounds to the demands of the British soul for justice."

An officer stepped behind Garrit and put thick rubber hose around his neck to hold his head in place. Another officer pried open Garrit's mouth with a dental metal expander. Garrit's eyes opened wide and showed the white. He panicked. He breathed hard. His fits did a tense dance in place. Yet, the officer with the rubber hose around Garrit's neck held his head firmly in place.

The officer in front of Garrit's face had a big meaty face. The skin was pale, slightly red as common in Britain. The blond hair was cut down to half an inch for an even military cut. The ear had a rather large earlobe.

"This ultra fine dental drill makes tiny holes. That way, we can drill about twenty holes into a tooth before it fractures. Humans have 32 teeth. That's 640 holes. Most people go insane after drilling twenty holes without anesthetic."

Garrit grunted in terror. However, with his mouth fully expanded, he could barely grunt. Only saliva flew out of his mouth. All the muscles on his body were tense. The officer let the drill whine in the air. The sharp shrill noise drove complete panic through Garrit's mind and body. With the might of a panicked animal he struggled, yet barely moved in the vice grip of the officer behind him.

The dental drill went into his mouth. The pain of drilling was so immediate and in the middle of his pain. All he could do was scream at the top of his lungs and wail in his restraints. His vision gave out to colors of terror flooding.

Then, a gentle, warm, female, youthful voice called his attention: "I am here." Under the table was Grenada, the human manifestation of the demon 3-7-1. Her eyes had thick gothic eye liner. Her hair was fire-red and styled back with gel. She moved a lip ring at the center of her lips. The lip piercing ring had a metal ball in it. She kneeled there under the floor in an almost submissive pose with her knees at her chest and the arms wrapped around them. Her black leather jacket was smooth and light.

"Focus on me. I will give you pleasure beyond belief. I will help you through this. Did you think for a moment that I would not be by your side?"

Garrit tried to yell out to the officers that the demon was right under the table. They noticed that his screaming attempts had turned into talking attempts. The jaw expander was removed to let him talk. The whole room looked eagerly in his face. They waited for him to say the first word.

"The demon! The demon is under the table right here!"

The man that had done all the talking threw the table against the wall with the strength of a jackbooted soldier. The table sounded harshly as it hit the wall and bounced on the floor. The soldiers could only see Garrit's legs. They couldn't see Grenada.

"Jack-ass. Continue drilling until he talks!"

The jaw expander went back in. The drill took its leisurely time to dig hole after hole into his teeth. Yet, Garrit could still see Grenada at his feet. Grenada unbuttoned his pants. She pulled them down to his knees. She lifted his limp, yet well sized penis into her mouth with the red lipstick and black lipstick liner. He could feel the softness of his penis, because Grenada's lips and tongue flattened his penis. He could feel the lip piercing of Grenada moving up and down his shaft.

He tried to shut out the dental torture and solely focus on Grenada touching, holding, and sucking his cock. Despite the pain, his cock hardened driven by the pleasurable sensation of wetness and touch. Grenada sucked the air out of his mouth. The feeling on his dick grew so intense that his cries gave way to moans. She looked up at him with her big submissive eyes and her lips stretched around his cock.

Despite his blocked mouth, Garrit was able to barely articulate: "I love you. Don't stop. Keep going!" The face of the officer drilling his mouth darkened with anger. He pushed the drill harder into Garrit's tooth.

Yet, Grenada's hand gently lifted his balls. Her other hand caressed his naked thighs. Garrit had tried to thrust his hips into her mouth deeper. Grenada realized that. And, she pushed her face all the way down on his cock, until her lips touched his groin. Garrit could feel Grenada's back of her throat and how his penis was pushed passed it. The feeling was intense. Not even drilling his teeth could take his mind of savoring Grenada's head thrusting down his penis, slightly choking, slightly teary eyes.

He was nearing orgasm. Grenada sensed it. She pushed her mouth down to his groin. She held her mouth there for Garrit to release. The intense orgasm welled up in Garrit. The orgasm built and built. Grenada ran out of air. She grabbed Garrit's butt with both hands to push the butt into her face against her own body struggling to let go of his penis to gasp air. And, that struggle on his penis made him even harder.

The talking officer yelled with intensity: "Who pulled down the prisoner's pants? Why does he have a hard-on?"

The next moment, Garrit spasmed with orgasm and ejaculation. A thick wad of white cum flew high into the air and hit an officer in the face. A second spurt of cum followed and hit another officer in the face. Everyone stopped moving and breathing in the room for a moment. The first to make a sound again were the hit officers. The grunted and fell lifeless to the floor.

Another officer pushed the door open and yelled for a medic. A concerned officer kneeled down and checked their pulse. He only shook his head with sadness. Another officer began chest compressions in an effort to revive them. Garrit saw the hallway out of his room for the first time. It was a concrete basement of a government facility.

The medic arrived. The medic was a military medic in uniform with a big red cross. He threw the medical bag down, got on his knees, and checked vitals. He injected epinephrine. Nothing happened. He charged the defibrillation device. The bodies only jumped with the electric current and remained lifeless. He stood up and called time of death: "12:07 PM."

The officers talked in psyched up voices:

"What the fuck just happened?"

"How could someone get a heart attack from jizz in the face?"

"Maybe, there was some kind of toxin. We should call a quarantine."

"That's nonsense, how could he have loaded his penis with such an intense contact toxin without knocking himself out."

"Ghee, somebody cover up his boner already."

"Hey, Joe is moving!"

One of the officers lifted his hand an inch of the floor. Then, the other hand pointlessly waved through the air. The head rose up. He sat up with a dumbfounded expression on his face. The officers beat each other to helping him stand up. They patted him on the shoulder in relief and happiness.

Then, he pulled down his officer pants. The other officers opened their mouth in disgust: "Come on, what the fuck are you doing that for?" Without saying a word, the officer started rubbing his penis. The other officers tried to pull his arms away, yet the officer struggled with all his might to keep wanking.

The other dead officer rose up silently with a blank expression on his face. He immediately pulled down his pants as well and started wanking his boner. The normal officers tried to push, pull, and constraint the wanking officers.

However, middle in the struggle the first officer exploded his jizz. The load shot straight onto the shoulder sleeve of an officer. That officer panicked with a wild look in his eyes. He tried to wipe of the jizz. Yet, the moment that his fingers touched the wet spot on his arm sleeve, he fell to the floor dead.

The distraction let the second masturbating officer shoot his load on two officers. Both of them fell to the floor dead. The only untouched person was the medic, who froze screaming hysterically. The grown man had his mouth wide open. His body was tensed up. His mind was out of control, unable to think a single thought. The first two dead officers pointed there penises at him. The medic ran away in panic screaming. The two dead officers ran after him.

Garrit felt like he hadn't taken a single breath since the events unfolded right in front of him. He could not comprehend what was going on. As he was handcuffed, he couldn't do much. His mind only repeated over and over: "This can't be happening." He watched the second batch of dead officers re-animate, scramble to their feet, and leave.

He was completely alone in the interrogation cell with an open door. Blood was running out of his mouth onto his shirt from the dental drilling. The commotion outside had quieted. There was nothing to do in the cell. Nobody was coming for him. He might as well get up. He carefully pulled his handcuffed arms behind his back over the backrest of the chair.

Outside the cell was a bare concrete aisle with sparse institutional ceiling lighting. Garrit explored it. He carefully shuffled along with his old, lanky legs. He passed one interrogation cell door after the next. At the end of the hallway was a brightly lit office. He pushed open the glass door.

The office was devastated. Papers were flying everywhere. Chairs and tables were pushed over. A copy machine flashed the copy light in an endless loop. MI-5 insignias were posted on the wall. Fake plants lined the room with no windows.

There was an officer jacket draped over a chair. Garrit sat down on the chair to fumble threw the pockets looking for a handcuff key. Not finding anything useful, he moved his back toward the desk to pull open the drawers. He found a key. It was a little tricky to get the key into the handcuff hole. However, he had time. After five minutes, the first cuff clicked and slid open.

He pondered, if he should call the emergency number to surrender himself and avoid becoming a refuge. However, having heard that he would be executed no matter what, there was no point in owing up to anything. So, he walked on to the next room.

There was a little receptionist desk. Two bulky officers were built like refrigerators. They silently and feverishly wanked their penises. Garrit walked around the reception desk to stand behind the officers. Both targeted a woman beneath the desk. The woman was curled up with her knees at her chest and her hands protecting her face.

She had black hair styled in a cute and peppy cut. Her face had big black brimmed glasses on, which made her look a little like a librarian. She wore a white blouse that made her look trim and sharp. Her breasts were well shaped beneath the blouse. She wore a tight knee long black dress. One foot was bare. The other foot's toes still held onto a beige high heel with creative rope straps wrapping around in an intricate pattern. She whimpered and cried.

Garrit tried to pull one of the officers away. However, the bull strong officer simply shrugged off Garrit's hands without pausing his wanking hand or his eyes losing its lock on the woman. A moment later, they shot their load at the woman. One hit her square on the face across her glasses. The other hit her on the belly, where the cum soaked through the white blouse to touch her belly skin. Seconds later, the whimpering of the receptionist became deadly silent. She had died.

The officer removed their pants and underpants in a hurry. They ran off in their heavy black shoes and midcalf socks to the elevator. Garrit bent over to the receptionist. He checked her pulse -- nothing -- and closed her eyes. The moment that he turned around to walk on, the woman got up. Garrit turned around surprised. The woman pushed Garrit out of the way. Garrit was surprised by the soft, gentle hands being so firm. The woman disappeared into the elevator as well.

Garrit followed the undead to the elevator. He pressed the yellow-orangish button that was placed on a textured red marble wall. The elevator opened. It was clean and modern. The display showed that he was six levels underground. He pressed the ground floor. The elevator gently hummed on its journey up to the surface.

The elevator door opened. The entrance hall was a large room with high ceiling. The insignia of the MI-5 was drawn on the floor with multi-colored stone slabs. The security scanners and barricades were thrown over. Not a single person was in the room. All the security guards were gone. The conveyor belt of an x-ray machine was kept running. The conveyor belt struggled to push a hand bag further that had already hit the end. The clicking sound of the metal links on the handbag's shoulder strap was the only noise in the big hall.

Garrit found a way through the mess of tumbled over security barricades. He stepped outside through the revolving doors. The intersection was immediately recognizable. He had been in Thames House. Yet, the streets were oddly empty. Not a single pedestrian was there. All the cars were abandoned with their doors wide open. Pigeons had flown into cars and were pecking on sandwiches and snacks that humans had left behind in there. One car was overrun by two dozen pigeons inside.

A soft wind was blowing around Garrit's head. He turned his head around and around, yet the once busy intersection was abandoned and quiet. In the distance, he could hear foot steps running. He started walking swiftly towards them to find some kind of reassurance.

He arrived at a little side alley, where the foot steps echoed so loudly against the narrow building walls that the runner must have been imminent. A young woman in a green dress with black high heels ran. She ran with her legs fully stretched out at the top of her speed. Her calves flashed in the air. Her boobs violently shifted up and down in opposite rhythm. Her long black straight hair fluttered in the air behind her. The last thing that Garrit noticed were her large white pearl earrings before she went past him into the next alley.

Two undead street cleaners were in tight pursuit. Their bright orange reflective suits stood out bright. The rubber fabric was thick and gave them a tube like appearance. They wore no pants. Their bare legs were hairy and muscularly defined. One hand was on their wiener, which they pumped hard despite running. Their faces puffed air from running hard.

Garrit followed them with swift walking steps. Twenty yards into the alley, he saw them paused. The alley was a dead end. Tall brick building walls were on all sides. The only thing in the alley was a big green dumpster and a torn newspaper distributed over the ground.

The young woman had fallen. One heel had broken off her shoe. She was crawling slowly away from the two street cleaners. Her ass was raised into the air. It looked tight. The dip between her butt cheeks was clearly visible through the thin fabric of her green dress. The back of the dress had pieces cut out that showed the black bra straps partially. She had no shame about the grime in the street that she crawled on.

The street cleaners pounded their thick meat and the hairy balls. The cum shot out of them soon. One got her straight on the ass. The other got her on the back with the cutout sections of her dress. The woman crawling body succumbed and fell flat, lifeless. Her legs were sprawled out.

The street cleaners walked off. A minute later, the woman stood up. With her lanky legs and high heels, she got up awkwardly like bambi. She brushed her hair back partly because she was disoriented and partly because her hair was disheveled. She staggered out of the alley ignoring Garrit.

Garrit followed her. The woman held her head still to listen. Then, she walked down the street with the cobblestone sidewalk. She was the only person in this abandoned four lane street. She found a pub, walked a few paces away from it into the street.

She waved at the pub door with her hand held high and a cute smile on her face. Garrit could hear voices inside of the pub. She put her hands around her boobs to push them together. She put her palms at the hem of her skirt. She smeared the hands up to roll the fabric up. That way, she rolled the dress up. She paused for a moment, before the bottom of her black panties showed.

She kept rolling the dress up. The black panties were smooth and cut in a v-shape. She rolled to expose her smooth and trim belly. She lifted the dress over her boobs and her head. The bra was black and smooth. The dress dropped onto the street into a pile of light fabric.

"We should save her," yelled a young male voice inside the pub.

The street cleaner zombies had noticed her. They clung to the walls and slowly snuck closer to avoid being seen by the bar.

The girl got on her knees. She crawled in a circle. Her butt cheeks moved like lovely bubbles. Then, she put her chest flat on the floor with the butt high up. Her fingers ran along the panties fabric as if to straighten it. Her butt faced the pub seductively. Her shiny butt cheeks were completely exposed. The black panties covered only her privates in a thin sliver.

"Maybe, the virus makes women become super sexual. We should take advantage. She is hot!" said another young male voice from the pub.

More undead people had noticed the striptease of the beautiful young woman. They all slowly crept closer taking cover by staying close to the building walls.

The girl flipped over on her back. Her knees were raised and bent. Her thighs were touching, yet her feet were sprawled wide. Her shoulders were raised to look at the bar window. She smiled warmly with her eyes at the pub. Then, she spread her knees to expose the outline of her sex underneath the panty fabric. The pubic bone was clearly visible, so were her labia.