“I am death, the Grim Reap…”

“I fucking swear if you point and say, ‘the salmon mousse,’ I’m going to kick you in your bony balls!”

In a harrowing, shrill voice, the cloaked figure intoned, “The time is nigh.”

“The science guy? What the literal, living fuck, Mr. Reaper? Wrong house.”

Overall, I was slightly less than impressed. Sure, the mottled cloak of somber charcoal and dead black, pardon the pun, was a bit terrifying with all the fog billowing out of it, but I felt the metallic, jingling sound of chains that accompanied the soul-reaping entity’s every gesture was just a bit of overkill. Additionally, his scythe could have used some tender, loving care; I’d rather be caught dead than wield that poor excuse for a weapon in the mock battles I fight in my medieval group.

“No!” His spectral voice bellowed, “I’ve come to collect your soul. YOUR time is nigh. The reaping is now.”

“I know, I know. This is Mister Death; he reaps or something. And just exactly how is it that I’m dead? I’ve masturbated on this bed at least five hundred times without so much as a scratch! Are you sure that you’re not just living out your underworldly, voyeuristic fantasies? I mean, seriously? I’m getting myself off, and you just barge in here, swinging your rusty scythe around like you own the place.”

His skeletal hand extended from the billowing sleeves of his cloak, the tortured groans of the damned adding a chorus to the tinkling, chain-like sound. “Faulty wiring.”

“The fucking vibrator is cordless! Now I know where the saying, ‘as stupid as Death’ comes from. Try harder.”

The Grim Reaper’s hand left the shaft of his weapon; it remained upright, little tufts of smoke and the smell of brimstone emanating from it. Its cloak opened a bit as the Angel of Death held his hands out horizontally. Eerie, somber noises trickled through the ether, and a moldy, old book, some ancient tome bound in brass and leather, magically appeared and hovered. I watched, more amused than frightened, as the pages rifled through chapters, turning of their own accord.

“Right here,” his ghastly finger pointed toward the open book, “it says that you stated that you wish that you’d die in bed. I’ve come to grant your wish.”

“Did you miss the rest of the sentence, the part where I say from so many orgasms that my heart gives out? They don’t call it the Petite Mort for nothing!”

“Prepare to be reaped!”

The Tarot-card-looking figure struck a pose, the book disappearing in a puff of ozone, and grabbed his scythe. His exposed femur stuck out from the cloak. I mentally noted that he wore designer sandals. 

“Your Birkenstocks clash with your robe, Mr. Death.”

“Take my hand, and I’ll lead you across the infinite void into the netherworld and the great beyond.”

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to wait. I’ll go to your netherworld as soon as my nether regions are taken care of. At least let me go out with a bang.”

“What? No!” The Grim Reaper’s tone had changed. His voice was no longer doom-ridden, shrill, and commanding. He sounded shocked and confused. “It says right here.” Dry-sounding funeral drums boomed hollow echoes as a gilded book appeared before me, hovering in the air. The opened pages were crisp and clean, written in an artistic hand. “Right here, in the Book of Life and Death, that when Death cometh, that ye shall accompany me on your journey.”

“So, I’m fine until Death cums, then, am I?”

“And I am here, prepare to draw your final breath, because I am the Angel…”

“Of death? Yeah, yeah. I heard you. I’m sorry; I’m not available for reaping until I’ve had at least four more orgasms. Besides, I have you on a technicality.”

“No you don’t, pagan child of Aphrodite.”

“I’m fine until Death comes. You just said so, and it’s written in your flashy book. So, we can’t leave until I make you cum. I don’t know what plane of existence you’re from, but here, when you come, it’s called an orgasm.”

“No, insolent mortal! Coming, to come, to come…”

“On my face, if you’re lucky—dead lucky.”

“Come with me, now.”

“That’s so fucking hot if we time it right. Come on, Death. Just give me a few minutes. You can watch if you want.”

The vile, dark, ominous figure slouched, shaking his head. A peal of thunder shook the house as his skeletal wrist, his arm horizontal, snaked out from his voluminous cloak’s sleeve. The skull-like face leered at an archaic watch strapped to his bony wrist.

“Well, I am due for my lunch break. I have a few hours. Reaping burns a lot of calories, you know.”

“Tell me about it. You’re all skin and bones, well, bones and bones.”

“Try and make it quick, please. You know how it goes; places to go, souls to harvest.”

“Plus, you’re in a real dead-end job, aren’t you?” I couldn’t help myself. I laughed.

“You dare to laugh in the face of death?”

He grabbed his scythe once more, pointing at me, menacingly.

“Usually, I just make snide comments behind your back, but it’s not like I have anything to lose, is it?”

“Proceed, then, insolent wench, for your doom is upon you. One lick of my trusty blade, and you shall fall before my wrathful might.”

“Let’s see, then!”

Nude, my pussy pouring liquid sex down my aroused thighs, I sprung off my bed and grabbed his trusty sickle from his grasp. Foul winds blew through the room and demonic, ethereal music, sounding like bones clattering, followed in its wake.

“Surrender my implement of death to me at once, mortal. You know not the powers ye be trifling with.”

“You said one lick, let’s see.”

The Angel of Death lurched forward, his taloned, skeletal hands attempting to grasp his weapon. I pulled it out of reach, and he lost his balance, slipping on the wet spot my dripping pussy had puddled on the floor. The Grim Reaper fell to the floor, landing with a bone-clattering thud, all massive tangles of heavy cloak and ivory.

“Now, that’s what I call a slow death! I’m going to do much more than trifle with your skewer, Mr. Death.”

“No!” he screamed. “Mortal flesh cannot…”

It was too late. My tongue lashed outward, running up and down the blade. Seeing the messenger of my final fate cowering before my horny majesty, I stood, tall, proud, and brazen as I gave oral pleasure to his implement of mass reaping. The hard, knurled wood of the shaft rubbed against my overheated flesh, and I straddled the handle, rubbing my engorged, sensitive clit against its hardness.

“By the gods of Hades, woman, have thee no shame?”

“There’s no shame in getting off. In fact…” My eyes fell on the two protrusions, smooth, wooden handles, jutting out from the haft of the weapon. “Perfect size!”

“Mortal child, you dare not…oh fuck, that’s hot.”

Laying the scythe on the floor, the handles stuck out perfectly. Smiling at the cover model for countless heavy metal albums, I lowered my aching cunt over the wooden handhold and slid over it, moaning at the sensation.

“Oh, fuck, I love it. Oooh, fuck, fucking fuck. Aaah.”

The Reaper was deathly silent, watching in stunned, horny amazement as I fucked his scythe. I pounded my pussy against the wood, bending forward until my clit rubbed the shaft. The handle was perfectly sized to hit some very erotic, sensitive spots inside my velvety tunnel.

“Is that rigor mortis under your cloak, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Huh? Oh, no. I’m, ah, eerm, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Death. Pull it out, watch me come on your weapon. Stroke for me.”

In one fell swoop, his cloak parted, and the hood pulled itself back. The Grim Reaper's body was nothing more than mottled, gray skin, very dried and cracked, tightly stretched over his skeletal frame. However, between his legs was a massive cock. It was jointed and made of bones, all phalanges.

“Nice boner! Bring it closer.”

I continued humping the soul-reaping implement, loving the hardwood pounding my clit and the overpowering, sensual bliss of fucking the handle. My ecstasy was overwhelming.

“Wha-what?!”

“Did I stutter… oh fuck, that feels so good… I’m fucking cumming.”

All I could manage to do was flail about as if possessed by a seizure. “Fucking fuck me. I’m fucking cumming. So good. Aaah.” 

“You, you just fucked my scythe,” Death observed, dumbfounded. “What are you?”

“Dying for another orgasm. Give me your cock.”

“I, I can’t. We’re not allowed to fraternize with the mortals we reap; it’s a bylaw.”

“You’re on fucking break, and I need it. Besides, you can’t reap me until Death cums. Let me make you cum, please. I need cock. Give me your fucking cock!”

My hand had shot between my legs, fingering my aroused clit as if my life depended on it. 

“Fuck my face, Death.”

“Well, I’ve always had a thing for redheads. Did you know that Cleopatra was a redhead?”

“Cock,” I chanted over and over. “Feed me your cock. Cock, cock, cock. Fuck my slutty mouth with your bony cock.”

Tentatively, he took a step closer, those annoying spectral sounds jingling about the room. Then, he took another, moving deathly slow. When he was within reach, I jumped off his scythe, my sexual nectar pouring out of my pussy, soaking it, and grabbed him by the hip bones, pulling his groin toward my mouth.

“It’s connected to more than the thighbone!”

I plunged my lips over the hard shaft of bones. Rather than pulse or quiver in my mouth, the joints wiggled a bit, tickling the insides of my mouth. Assuming the proper position—on my knees—I thrust my face hard against his member, staring up into his red, glowing eyes. Orbs of fire floated in the eye sockets of his bare, exposed skull.

I pulled my mouth off his cock's impressive length and licked the now-undulating tips. “My power is beyond your understanding,” I laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing, Skeletor. Do you like me staring up at you while I feast on your cock?”

“You’d stare Death in the face? How brave.”

“I’ll let you cum on my face if you call me a dirty slut.”

“Ass,” he groaned. “Your ass. I’m an ass-man.”

“Let me get you bone-hard first. Grab my head and fuck my face.”

“As ye sow…”

Fingering myself wildly, moaning and grunting on his skeletal appendage, I sucked Death’s cock, feeling it grow longer and thicker in my wanton mouth. 

“Mmph, mmm, mumph,” I moaned as I fingered my clit and fucked my sodden hole. 

Soon, the waves of pleasure washed over me once more, and wave after wave of lusty pleasure seared my aroused flesh and melted my core. My mouth fell from his cock, and I screamed and cursed, lost in orgasmic bliss.

When my eyes refocused, Death stood before me, towering over me. One of his talon-tipped bony hands was caressing my hair, the other stroking his massive cock. Laughing, I spun around onto all fours. My sexy, shapely ass was sticking out for his viewing pleasure.

“Do you like my slutty ass, Mr. Death?”

His flaming eyes erupted in fiery light and his jaw clattered in stuttering stammers. “It’s divine. Even Helen of Troy’s butt wasn’t as perfect as yours.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls. Now kiss it.”

Feeling his bony hands grope, grasp, and fondle my posterior, I watched as the Grim Reaper knelt on the floor beside my exposed ass and lowered his skull face to it. At first, I felt only the coldness of his teeth as they nibbled on my rump. Suddenly, a two-pronged, snake-like tongue shot out from his maw and licked and swirled all over my behind.

“I always said that death could kiss my ass. In me, please. Stick that tongue up my asshole.”

Feeling cold, hard bone thrust against my shaking behind, his fiery tongue shot into my most sacred sex hole. “Ooooh, Fuuuckk!” I screamed, myriad guttural, primal sounds of passion following. The Reaper’s prehensile tongue fucked my ass, the other prong flailing about every which way. It was like having your ass licked and eaten at the same time. Then, one flange found its way to my dripping cunt, and the floodgates of impassioned joy opened wide as his tongue fucked both my holes.

“Make me fucking cum. Yes, yes, yes! Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. I’m fucking cumming.”

I writhed on the floor, unable to do anything but bask in the volcanic glow of passionate release. Fireworks of pleasure erupted in my body, penetrating my soul. I looked at my deliverance of fate to gauge his reaction, but his skull face showed no expression; it was the mask of death.

Overcome by lust, I stood and forcibly pushed his skeletal body onto my bed. Pinning his arms above his head, momentarily, I straddled him, and plunged my dripping snatch on his hard, bony cock, taking his full length in one, horny impaling thrust.

“Fuck me, Death. Fuck me to death. Reap me like you hate me!”

“I, oh fuck… I can’t believe this is happening. Why are you not afraid? Harder!”

“Fondle my tits.” I pulled his bones up to my nipples, squeezing his fingers together until he was abusing my tits of his own volition. “Be brutal. Fuck my slutty cunt.”

His lack of flesh made it easy to balance myself, so I could easily finger my swollen clit while I rode him.

“This is so much better than reaping. I wish all dying women were like this.”

“Reap me,” I screamed. “Reap me hard. Make me fucking cum.”

I humped and fucked the Grim Reaper harder and faster. The twinkling, jingling, spectral sounds of his movements became a cacophony of blurred sounds. Death’s grunts, whimpers, and begging pleas for more filled my ears and mingled with my cursing and dirty talk.

“Fuck me until I fucking die. I’m fucking cumming.”

The ominous dark angel pummeled my dripping cunt so hard that he nearly bounced me off the bed. I wouldn’t have cared, as the intense pleasure each thrust brought me was overwhelming. The phalanges of his shaft sent shivers throughout my body, a pleasure that rippled and coursed through me, unlike the sensations of any mortal manhood.

As his tongue shot out once more, splitting down the center, I devolved into a mass of chaotic sexual pleasure. One part added its efforts to my clit, writhing over my clit as I continued fingering it. Another section of his tongue lashed out, whip-like, over my nipples. When his sharp claw lightly caressed my asshole, I exploded.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, oh, aaah.”

I fell on top of a quivering, moaning Death. My orgasm was so intense that the universe disappeared, leaving only the blackness of the void where reality used to be. For a moment, I thought he’d taken me, but my vision began clearing.

His royal Grimness was flailing about on the bed, moaning and grunting in pleasure. As quickly as I could, I shoved my eager mouth over his now-writhing cock, I groped and squeezed his corpse-like body, feeling the fiery hotness of his ejaculation shoot into my mouth and down my throat. 

“Death is cumming for you,” he screamed, his voice a warbling, shrill demonic howl. 

I expected it to be repulsive, or at least sour, but his jizz tasted sweet, like honey, and it had a floral scent to it.

“Thank you. I haven’t been laid in eons.” He yawned. “Now, I need a nap.”

“Well, I guess I’m ready to go, now. Too bad. I was really digging my life.”

“I’ve changed my mind. You cheated, and I liked it.”

With another gesture, the gilded book reappeared. The Grim Reaper browsed through the pages, making “hmm” and “mmm” sounds. I helped him into his heavy cloak, then dropped to my knees and licked our mixed cum off his shaft.

“Yes, right here under ‘cheating Death’ it states that if you best death, then you may live a full life until all your time has run out.”

“Huh?” I asked, showing off my dazzling intellect.

“You broke my will and bested me in a physical contest of the flesh. You, my slutty dear, have cheated death.”

The Grim Reaper nodded in my direction and let out a joyous, mirth-filled bout of laughter. “You’re insatiable. You’ll never be fucked to death.” Then, in a cloud of sulfur-smelling smoke, lightning crackling within, he disappeared. All that remained was a single, blood-red rose where he’d stood.

“Talk about wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. At least the Reaper’s romantic enough to leave a flower.”

Humming to myself, I picked up my abandoned vibrator. Regretfully, the charge had been drained, so I put it on the charger, waiting to use it again. To pass the time, I messaged a close friend of mine.

“Hey! Remember when I was recovering from my illness, and I said that if Death ever came for me again that I’d suck his bony cock, ride him until he breaks, and then masturbate with his scythe? Guess what just happened.”