Sofa, So Good

This smell was awful. Real bad. Like, if I was to begin to really tell you quite how bad the smell of the room Charlotte and Michael found that body in, you wouldn’t believe me. You could see the smell, the lines of it. The body was face down and the first thing you saw were the fumes.


Charlotte and Michael had bunked off class at 9.15 like they usually did on Wednesdays. They only had two classes in the morning and the school expected them to go in for that? Are you kidding? They walked right out the front gates and nobody stopped them.

Soon as they were a few hundred yards from the grounds, they nipped behind a shop and made-out for five minutes solid. Michael’s prickly mustache hairs always made Charlotte’s lips hurt but she didn’t care.

Once five minutes were done, Michael made a remark about a blowjob.

“What did you say?” said Charlotte. She’d heard. She just wanted to hear him say it again.

Michael said it again — something straight like “Wanna blow me?”

“Dream on, Mike.”

They went back to making-out against the back wall of the shop. Teeth were clashing but it was cool.

Michael’s phone buzzed and he stopped. That’s when Charlotte spotted the door.

“What the fuck is that?”

“What?” said Michael, not looking.

“Look at what I’m looking at, Mike, and then you’ll see it.”

Michael looked up and saw it. The door. Someone had painted “NEVER COME IN HERE” on the front of it.

They approached it with Charlotte leading the way, Michael holding back as he tried to tuck his erection into his waistband.

“Let’s go in there.”

The door was unlocked and cold. On opening, a draft blew right through it. It smelled faintly of musty clothes. They stepped in and shut the door gently behind them, catching it on the latch.

The lights of the building were broken — that’s if there were any. There was just the dirty half-light of some grubby windows on the other side of the building. There were no rooms as such, just prefab walls, unattached to the ceiling like on a movie set.

That’s when they saw the body, the fumes. It was face down on a blue-and-white striped sofa, holes dug out all over it.

They approached the body slowly like they didn’t want to wake it. But this guy was extremely dead — he was blue-grey and coming away at the seams. The smell.

“Cool.”

Charlotte circled the body. Michael just stared.

“He’s so dead,” said Michael.

“I know, right?”

Charlotte’s foot hit a soft speed-bump. An arm. Attached to another body.

“Hey, look. There’s another dead guy. He’s even more dead.”

“That’s so gross.”

And there was another one. And another ten yards away. And two more. There must be fifteen, sixteen, bodies in this one little area.

“Fuck,” said Michael, “that’s sad.”

“They must’ve come in here for the warmth or something, I don’t know.”

Seventeen bodies.

“Like a dog?” Michael couldn’t stop staring at the first guy.

“Like a person might. Coming into a building to be out the cold and then just starving in here. Maybe the door locked or something.”

“Yeah.”

Nineteen bodies.

“The smell is really bad,” said Charlotte. “Let’s go.”

She nudged over one of the bodies and saw that, despite being long dead, months dead, it had a huge, still-hard erection.

“Gross.”

Twenty-three bodies. Twenty-three erections.

“We should go.” Michael was still staring.

“Uh… So, let’s then?”

Michael stayed still.

“Actually, I’m gonna…”

“What?”

“I’m gonna stay here for a while. Check it out. Make sure it’s… You know, safe. Someone should.”

Charlotte huffed and swung her rucksack.

“Whatever. I’m going home.”

Charlotte left but Michael stayed. He was still staring.

His stare broke just long enough to see that Charlotte had actually gone. He heard the door shut and started to approach the first body.

He slowly put a hand on the body’s shoulder. It was cold and hard and the meat started to come away a little as he rolled the body over. Huge erection, Michael noted. Cool.

Then he really saw it. In the sofa. The holes. They’re… Is that…

The dead guy had been fucking this sofa.

Michael looked around at the bodies, the boners. He took a head count: twenty-three.

He looked back at the sofa. There were holes all over this thing. He counted them: twenty-two. One hole was split and falling apart. Someone didn’t want to dig their own.

Michael looked around. He looked at the yellow windows on the other side of the room. The smell made him light-headed. His feet belonged to someone else. He rolled the guy off the sofa and sat down with a faint squish.

He looked at the cushion. He touched it. It was solid enough. He poked it with his finger. He dug his nail into it a little, and the threads started to tear. Soon enough it was wrist deep.

This was just a regular sofa.

Michael looked at the sofa and slowly unbuttoned his trousers. He couldn’t feel his hands, most of his body. Only one part remained.

He laid himself down and placed himself above the hole. His arms shook as he entered the new hole.

Suddenly, his entire body was made of coruscating light. His face beamed and every sense he had turned to 100. He banged this sofa and it was the best sex of his life. Inside the sofa it was soft and warm and wet, like oil, and he pounded at it like he was pneumatic. The sofa was a well, his dick was a pumpjack.

The sofa shook and croaked and Michael kept going and going and going and his eyes were wider than they’ve ever been and the entire room smelled of candles now and his tongue tasted like sweet nectar and his dick was about to come to the end of doing its thing.

Michael came so hard that he screamed.

OoooooOOoooOoooOooooOOOOOOHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYY GOOOOODD OOOHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhh FUuuckkIIINGG OH GOD.

He kept coming. It wouldn’t stop.

OOOoooooAHHHHHHHHHHHHH SHHHHHHHHIT OH MY OH GOD OOHHHH FFFFFfffffUUUUUUCCCK.

Michael hadn’t noticed that he’d been coming for nearly a minute, like a dirty faucet.

Two minutes.

Two and a half.

His screamed became hoarse and from his throat dripped blood.

FUFUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKING HELLLLLLLLLLLLL.

Three minutes. Still more jizz.

Four.

His lights switched out. His brain popped. His insides imploded and he slumped forward like a motorbike coming off a kickstand, hitting his head on the armrest with a thud. He was gone. He immediately turned blue, dead, cold. The boner, it never left him. Frozen. Like a mosquito in amber.

This was just what he always wanted.