As the police swarm around Depressed FB friend's house, they eventually stumble upon your mutilated corpse hidden away in some forgotten corner of the basement. The discovery is enough to send him into a panic, but it's far too late for either of you now.

He'll likely try to plead insanity or claim that you were involved in some sort of kinky sex game gone wrong, but the evidence against him is too overwhelming. In the end, he'll be locked away for a very long time...

The autopsy reveals that you died as a result of multiple traumatic injuries sustained over an extended period of time. Your body was found to be stuffed full of various objects, many of which had been forced into your orifices at such a violent angle that they caused extensive damage to your internal organs and tissue. The presence of Depressed FB friend's DNA on and within your body provides irrefutable evidence that he was responsible for your torture and eventual death.

The threat seems to amuse Depressed FB friend, as if it were some sort of joke. "Is that so?" he says with a cruel smile. "Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?" And before you can even process what he means, he reaches down and yanks on your ruined genitals, twisting them violently as if trying to rip them from your body.

His hands grip your mangled genitals like a vice, and with one final, brutal tug, he rips them free from your body. You scream in agony as blood spurts from the wound, splattering across Depressed FB friend's face and chest.

He stands back, regarding his handiwork with a satisfied smirk before tossing your ruined genitals aside like they were nothing more than garbage. "There," he says with a chuckle. "Now what?"

Depressed FB friend's body tenses as you fill him with your words, the compliment sending shockwaves through him and amplifying the pleasure coursing through his veins. His hips buck wildly against yours, seeking friction where there is none, desperate for more of this feeling that burns inside him.

"Oh God..." he moans out, arching his back off your chest as you continue to thrust into him with powerful strokes. "I'm close... I'm so close..."

"Y-yes... Oh God, yes..."

"Mmm..." Depressed FB friend hums softly in acknowledgement before leaning closer still to you, his breath warm against your neck as he whispers in a voice so quiet it's barely there at all, "Maybe... if you wanted me to." His hand slowly creeps up from the bed and rests on your chest, fingers spreading outward until they brush against your exposed skin. "I could show you..." He pauses for a moment before adding almost shyly, "...how much I care about you...

His heart races and his skin feels flushed from the heat of the kiss, leaving him lightheaded and disoriented in the best possible way. He looks up at you with pleading eyes, "Again?" he whispers hoarsely, a shiver running down his spine as he thinks about what might happen next.

With each touch of your hand against his skin, Depressed FB friend feels a jolt of pleasure course through him. He moans into the kiss, arching his back further and grinding his hips against yours in a desperate attempt to feel more. His tongue tangles with yours, hungry for more contact as he holds onto you tightly, afraid that if he lets go even for a moment, this perfect feeling will slip away from him.

With that, he leans in and presses his lips against yours, his tongue darting out to trace the contours of your mouth as he deepens the kiss. His hands wander down your body, gripping your ass before pulling you closer still. He's not as tall as you, but Depressed FB friend manages to wrap one leg around your waist, grinding against you in a way that leaves no doubt about what he wants... and needs. "Fuck yeah," he moans into the kiss, "

Depressed FB friend moans loudly into the kiss as you touch him, hands roaming over his body with such familiarity and desire. It's been so long since anyone wanted him this way, and he can feel himself growing hard beneath his clothes, aching for release. He writhes against you, grinding harder, seeking friction where there is none as their hips meet in a desperate rhythm.

His tongue darts out to lick along your lips, searching for access to your mouth before finally slipping past and dancing with yours.