Fucked to Death

"Dan, I want to fuck myself to death."

"Well, every man wants to do that," Bill's lawyer laughed. "Seriously, what can I do for you today, Bill?"

"I am serious, Dan. I'm dying. The doctor says I have a year. The way I feel some days, I think he's being generous."

"What is it? Cancer?"

"Thirty years of smoking. It caught up to me. I'm only 45 years old and I'm dying. It sure as hell wasn't worth it."

"I'm truly sorry, Bill. So you're here to update your will?"

"Yes. I want to add someone."

"Who?"

"I don't know...a woman."

"You have to be a little more specific. Does she have a name? How will I know her?"

"Easy. She'll be the one who fucks me to death."

"You lost me, Bill."

"I want to have sex with as many beautiful women as I can before I die, and the one who has sex with me when I actually die gets my retirement account. It should be around one million dollars."

"You're joking."

"I'm deadly serious. I need you to help me make the offer iron-clad. If she kills me, she gets the money."

"You always had a flair for the dramatic, Bill. Tell me more and I'll set it up so it's legal.

Within a week, Dan sent the pages over to be signed. There were the usual dozen pages of legal BS. But it all boiled down to a few simple conditions--no weapons, no poisons, no drugs, no violence, just straight up sex--and the woman who fucked Bill to death would get one million dollars. Bill looked over the papers carefully then sent them back.

The same day he hired a designer to set up a web site where candidates could post their bio and picture. Entries started to pour in quickly as word got around. Each day Bill perused the entries. The quantity and quality of women offering themselves to him was more than he could have imagined. Eventually, he chose four women for the first interviews, but it was a very difficult choice. They were all so beautiful.

He chose to do the interviews in his den which he always thought was the most comfortable room in the house. He set up a video camera so that he could review the tapes later if he had trouble picking a woman.

The Interviews

Bill opened the door for his first interviewee, Melissa, a beautiful young brunette who he knew wouldn't give him the time of day under normal circumstances. He showed her into the den.

"I read your web site and everything, but I'm still not sure what this is. Is it like for a porno movie or something?"

"No, it's just what it says on the web site. I'm dying and I want to go out with a bang. If you're the lucky girl who does it for me, you get the money."

"Awesome," she says standing and pulling off her top.

"Whoa! Not so fast. You haven't actually been selected yet. There are some conditions."

"Conditions?" she looked at him blankly. Then realizing her top was off, "Oh...should I put my top back on?"

"Uhh, no. That won't be necessary." He thought, I'm not dead yet.

"Now, some conditions. First, you have to pass a medical exam to prove you don't have any diseases, you know, sexual diseases."

"OK, that's no problem, but if you're dying, what difference does it make?"

"Oh...good point...but the idea of sex disease grosses me out." Bill shuddered. "Then you have to agree to have sex without a condom."

"OK...how many guys?" she blinked innocently.

"Huh? Oh...just me. In fact you can't have any sex with anyone after your medical."

"Ever? I'm not sure..."

"No, of course not. Just until after you've had sex with me, and, you know...I'm dead."

"OK, I can do that I think."

"My doctor will be present to make sure nobody cheats, you know, like trying to poison me instead of fucking me to death. He'll also be there to pronounce me dead."

"Geez...that sounds so final, but OK."

"You have 24 hours to fuck me to death. You can do anything you want for as long as you want and as often as you want. And so can I."

"OK, my boyfriends tell me I'm pretty talented."

"We'll see. Here," he handed her a card. "Go see this doctor. He'll take care of all the necessary tests. Then go home and wait for a call."

"Cool. It's all kind of spooky, though."

Bill did all four interviews that day and all of them went about the same. When he got the lab results several days later, he went through the interview tapes one more time and ultimately settled on Melissa to kill him. He called her to give her the news and told her a limo would pick her up at 6 pm that night. Her 24 hours would start when she walked in the door of his house.

Death Comes Knocking - Melissa

When Bill opened his front door that evening, he knew Melissa had been the right choice. The pangs in his heart told him it would be a quick death. "She is drop dead gorgeous," he thought chuckling at his dark little joke.

Bill led Melissa into the den and offered her a drink.

"Just some white wine, please," her voice a shaky. "I'm a little nervous."

"Understandable," Bill said and brought two glasses of wine.

"I don't know where to start."

"Well how about where we left off in the interview. You could take your top off for me." Bill settled into his favorite chair to watch.

Melissa crossed her arms in front of her and slowly peeled her top off for him. The hem caught the bottom of her breasts before they gently bobbled free. Melissa walked to Bill and curled up in his lap. They kissed tentatively, then more forcefully. A longer kiss left Bill gasping for air.

"Don't die on my yet, Bill. Let me earn my money first," she said playfully but a little concerned.

After several minutes, Bill was breathing normally again. Melissa asked him to stand up. She undid his belt and pulled his pants and shorts down.

"Oh, my! He's a big fella, isn't he? And not at all shy," she said gently stroking his cock. Bill was doing fine until she kissed the tip and pulled him almost completely into her mouth. He wobbled on his feet and almost passed out.

"Maybe we should move to the couch where you can relax," she suggested. He scooted over to the couch with his pants still around his ankles. Melissa giggled softly, "Here, sit down. I'll take those off."

She knelt in front of him, removed his shoes and the rest of his clothing. She moved in between his knees and resumed sucking his cock until he was hard.

His breathing was becoming labored again, but he managed to blurt out, "I want to fuck you. I don't want to take a chance of dying before I can do that."

He lay down on the soft leather couch and Melissa moved over him. She guided him into her awaiting pussy and slowly sank down until he was completely in her.

"OK?"

"Yeah...very OK," he grunted.

Melissa worked slowly up and down his shaft while Bill lay still enjoying sensations he had not felt since his wife passed away several years ago.

As Melissa's own needs increased, she increased her tempo. Bill kept up as best he could, but before she could get herself off, he started gasping for breath again. Alarmed, Melissa stopped with Bill still buried deep inside her.

"I'm OK...I'm OK...I just want to be on top." Bill wasn't OK, but he was already afraid his heart could not stand the strain of this gorgeous woman. He wanted desperately to cum one last time before he died. Missionary was more strenuous, but always got him off the easiest.

Melissa reclined on the couch and Bill knelt between her thighs. The sight of her alone was almost enough to put him over the edge. He pressed forward enough to enter her. The strain of supporting himself was taking its toll. Before he'd accomplished more than a few strokes, he was gasping again. Worse, he lost his erection.

Melissa ran her fingers through his hair gently, soothingly. She whispered soft encouraging words, but did not seem to be hurrying him. She seemed concerned and interested in his welfare.

She held his limp dick confidently and began rubbing it through her wet slit. By the time Bill caught his breath, his erection returned.

Bit by bit, she worked him through this cycle several times. Each time he became more intense and his erection lasted longer. She squeezed the base of his cock and held it rigidly in her. Bill stroked as hard as he could without passing out.

Suddenly, he grimaced and his face turned deep purple. Veins in his neck and forehead inflated and pulsed.

"Oh my God, Bill, are you cumming or dying?"

"I...don't...know..." he grunted through clenched teeth.

"Ohhh...oops, never mind. I know," she laughed as she felt the increased warm wetness in her pussy.

Bill wheezed through his orgasm, then collapsed on top of Melissa completely exhausted. During the next several hours, Bill did his best to enjoy Melissa. She constantly cooed her encouragement to him without a hint that she was trying to fulfill her morbid assignment. Her gentleness and patience kept him trying right up to the deadline.

Twenty four hours from when they started, Bill was still alive, but barely. He was breathing hard, and unable to get out of bed to see Melissa off. He was disappointed to be alive, though proud of his many erections and two orgasms with Melissa. She had treated him like a man and he was so sorry she was not the one to get the money.

With tears in her eyes, Melissa kissed Bill gently on the cheek as she was leaving. "I'm sorry I disappointed you, Bill. I had a wonderful time. I hope you find peace."

The doctor saw her out and Bill fell into a deep sleep. It would be more than two weeks before Bill felt strong enough to face the next interviewee and try again.

A Second Chance at Peace - Desiree

Desiree was an exotic beauty with a killer body. At least, Bill hoped so. She was poised and confident and straight off of a Playboy centerfold. Bill was in awe, as, likely, were most men who met her. Actually, he was too much in awe to really get much out of the interview beyond a strong desire to have her. She became his second choice to try to fuck him to death.

When he opened his front door to her, she strode in as if making an entrance. But her regal entry and appearance soon faded.

"So where we going to do it?" she asked looking for some place to stash her gum.

"Well, we could go to the bedroom, or just do it here."

"Is this going to take awhile or are you about ready?"

"Maybe we could just start slow and see where it leads," Bill suggested.

Desiree walked over to his chair, kneeled in front of him and opened his fly.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" she looked at him shaking his limp dick.

This wasn't going as expected at all. During her interview she had been a little detached and spent most of the time preening. Bill now wished he had spent a little more time interviewing and a lot less time gawking at her beauty. Desiree was used to men falling all over her while she didn't really have to make any effort at all.

Bill tried his best, of course. He wasn't really trying to please his killer. He just wanted to enjoy the exit. He worked hard for an orgasm, but he ran out of breath and lost his erection before anything could happen. But it got better as the evening progressed. Each time his erection lasted longer. Each time his wind held out longer until he had a very satisfying orgasm.

Not so much for Miss Desiree. About midnight she gave up because she was just too dry and sore to continue. She dressed and headed for the door.

"Good luck with the death thing," and shut the door.

Bill was muscle sore, short of breath and feeling miserable, partly because he was still alive. After resting for few days he was ready to try again.

Three's the Charm - Monica

His third choice was Monica, a toned little powerhouse aerobics instructor who showed up prepared. At 5'2" and 100 pounds she could have easily fit inside the large carryall bag she lugged up the few stairs to Bill's front door.

"Hi Monica. What's in the bag?"

"Props," she said without explanation. "Where's the bedroom?"

"Down the hall. Let me get that bag for you."

Bill followed her down the hall regretting his offer to carry the bag. He was panting and sweating by the time he joined her in the bedroom.

"Throw it on the bed," she insisted.

"How about we leave it on the floor?" He planned to die, but not from heaving luggage.

They took off their clothes and Monica jumped on the bed. Bill followed, moving between her legs for a good look at this darling little package. He remembered a quote from Alan Ginsburg where he described her type as "little blonde fucky dolls". It fit Monica exactly.

He enjoyed every inch of her body in every position he could think of. It surprised him that he didn't suffer from his usual shortness of breath, at least as long as he didn't get too wild.

Around midnight, they fell asleep until morning. Bill began to stir when Monica jumped off the bed and started rummaging around in her bag. Bill opened his eyes just in time to see her buckling up a strap-on with the largest attached dildo that he had ever seen. On her small frame, it nearly hung to the floor.

"What the hell are you going to do with THAT!"

"I'm going to help you finally get your wish," she said matter of factly.

"Not with that! It's 20% of your height, for crissakes."

"Our contract says I can do anything I want for as long as I want and as often as I want. This is what I want."

"But...but, it's a weapon. Yeah, that's it. It's a weapon. Weapons are excluded."

"It's not a weapon. It's a toy."

"Oh yeah, then let me try it on you first."

"I don't think so. I'm not the one with a death wish."

"At least you've had things up you before. What do you think it would do to me?"

"Well, you're the one that wants to die!"

"Not impaled on a fence post."

Bill and Monica never really could get back on track after that. Though Bill was relieved at dodging that 12" bullet, he was disappointed because he had worked himself up to actually dying. Monica packed her bag of tricks without further word, and he saw her to the door. He was relieved not to find out what else she might have in that bag.

It was a beautiful morning, more beautiful than any he remembered seeing since his terminal diagnosis. He walked out on the porch, closed the door behind him and impulsively went for a short walk...something he used to enjoy with his late wife. He made it around the block, tired, but feeling surprisingly good for a dying man. The next day he called Holly.

Four to Get Ready - Holly

Holly was a vision, even after the beautiful, but potentially painful Monica. Tall, auburn hair, milky white skin, large natural breasts and emerald eyes. They hit it off immediately during the interview and later when she was selected as Bill's fourth choice. In another life, they might have become friends. She was educated and articulate and he was able to forget he was dying for a little while. But he was there for the sex, and she was there to fuck him to death for money.

Bill and Holly were fairly well matched sexually. She loved the sex and so did he. In no time, they were anticipating one another and pushing all the right buttons. For once he was really enjoying himself. No shortness of breath. No fatigue. No muscle soreness. Just wonderful sex, not unlike that he used to enjoy with his wife of 20 years.

But in the end Bill was disappointed, not because he was still alive, but because their time was up. He really enjoyed being with her, talking to her, making love to her, but that's ultimately not why they were together.

He saw her to the door, they kissed and with a sad glance back at him, Holly got in her car and drove off.

Bill decided another walk would take his mind off her. Three miles later he had worked up a good appetite and had forgotten all about her.

Kinda Scary - Chyra

All of the women he had seen were more beautiful than any he had even spoken to before. Even his late wife who he loved dearly, would not have matched their beauty. But they weren't getting the job done. Bill still had to find the woman of his dreams...the one who could fuck him to death. Thinking he would just have to run the meter out and die left him cold. The next time had to be hard ball.

All of the women he had chosen were nicely toned and athletic, but somehow he was still able to keep up with them. In fact, it was getting easier. This time he decided to get a woman who was really buff, really muscular. A body builder maybe, or a wrestler.

He decided to scout this one out himself instead of depending on the web site. After a few phone calls, he visited Tom's Gym a local body building emporium. Tom introduced him to Chyra, 5'8" and 170 pounds of hardcore female beef. Her tits were like bolt-on armor. Her legs were like gnarled tree trunks. Chyra could bench 300 lbs, and do one arm pushups suspended on 3 fingers. She was pretty, despite her squared jaw and angular features, but she had a disturbingly manly voice. No matter. Bill didn't plan on talking with her much.

"To be honest, Bill, she's kinda scary," Tom confided in him.

Well, I did want to die having sex, thought Bill. "This could be the one, Tom."

"It's your funeral, boss," Tom shrugged his shoulders not realizing his insight.

Tom made the introduction, and Bill took Chyra to the gym's juice bar to explain his situation. Chyra listened intently like a quarterback getting instructions from the coach. She punched him in the arm and said, "Let's do it!"

Bill took Chyra home and offered her a drink. She settled for water since he didn't have any carrot juice or MegaMuscle handy. He settled for a double scotch neat, then led her to his bedroom and they took off their clothes. Bill was grateful to see she didn't have a dick; it crossed his mind.

Chyra spent the next 10 minutes doing push ups, squats and crunches to pump her muscles. Finally, at Bill's insistence she came to bed.

"See how well-defined my triceps are?" "Feel these abs." "Stroke my gluts." Never once did she say "Do you like my tits?" Just as well. He didn't care for them. They looked like subcutaneous toilet plungers without handles. They floated around her chest like silicone boats on a sea of rippled pecs.

After several grueling matches, for there is no other word to describe what passed for sex with her, they fell asleep. The next morning, still alive, Bill shook her. "Times a wastin', Chyra." She was really out of it. "Come on. Let's get back in the game," he hollered at her.

He called the doctor in. "She's passed out, Doc. Can you give her something?"

Doc looked her over quickly, slowly pulled the stethoscope out of his ears and said, "I could, Bill, but she's dead."

"What?"

"Dead. As in door nail. Maybe her heart gave out."

"But she's so young!" said Bill. "What happened? Don't tell me I fucked her to death?"

"Maybe. Women don't get muscles like this without serious help from steroids. I'd say she died of heart failure brought on by the body building drugs she was taking.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I'm supposed to be the one to die?"

"We're all going to die, Bill, but it doesn't look like your turn today...at least not from fucking."

The doctor talked Bill into seeing his cardiologist the next day for another physical. He passed with flying colors. His blood pressure was 120/70 and his heart rate was 60. He had the fitness of a man 10 years younger, not a man on the brink of death. Certainly, he was going to die someday, but it wasn't likely to be soon.

"I don't know what happened, Bill. I was generous when I gave you a year," his cardiologist said shaking his head. "Maybe I'll have to recommend that all my patients try to fuck themselves to death...starting with me!" he laughed.

All the sex and the walks had inadvertently paid off. He felt good. He felt alive. He felt like living again instead of dying.

"I wonder what Melissa's doing tonight," said Bill. "Maybe we could double date."