Little death Stories

My tunnel is the playground and my enchanted jewel the prize as wicked, indulgent fingers work their delicious magic. Thighs shake uncontrollably as my back arches. I catch my breath and thrust my pelvis defiantly toward the heavens. I begin to melt; my insides turn to liquid delight. My pleading whimper becomes a desolate, sobbing cry as I open my mouth in one final, silent scream. It is my last breath, my last heartbeat...