Chapter 2

Looking down at her, Charles had to admit she was still as beautiful and desirable as she'd been the day they'd married.

Marriage, he mused, what a strange, outmoded custom. Who could spend an eternity with the same person? But it was required if you were to reproduce, a rare honor in these days of immortality. Of course their children had been grown and gone from them for decades, and now their mother, this great love of his youth, was locked in the guillotine. Being her first, he was not likely be the one to snuff her, but there was a mixed thrill at being the first step on that trail.

Her lovely breasts were still firm, rising and falling with her rapid breathing as she looked up at him, obviously scared, and horny, and loving. Her nipples were familiar little rubbery nubbins like pencil erasers tipping conical areolas. The teats that had nursed their offspring begged once again for his attention. Barely thinking about it, he reached for them, his fingers closing around the familiar, warm, fleshy masses, squeezing gently, making the tips jut up even more invitingly, his lips closing first on one marvelous nubbin, hot and rubbery, and then the other, going back and forth, suckling on them, nipping on them the way he knew she liked it, even after all these years.

She moaned, reaching for his head, her fingers clutching his curly dark hair. He nipped at her nipples again, bit them and her wails echoed throughout the hall. She pulled him away from her breasts so she could see his face.

"Hello, Charles."

"Hello Melissa. I'm glad I could make it."

"Me, too. Anxious to see me go?"

"No." He bent to her, kissed her. "But I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I bet. But we'd best not keep the others waiting."

That was a conversation stopper if he ever heard one. But then, after all these years what more was there to say? It had been a good marriage, had lasted the statutory 20 years it had taken to raise Michael and Veronica, and they'd parted amicably.

But now it was time for a more permanent parting, and seeing her, and the memories that brought back, along with anticipation of what was to come, were enough to raise his lust to the boiling point. He was ready, almost too ready, and so was she.

Unable to resist it, he knelt briefly between her open legs, breathed in her ripe scent, and went to the source, his tongue slithering through her succulent cunt. He heard her moan as he probed her hole, then stroked his tongue up over her clit, finally rising again. Looking down, he bent his cock to her gaping crotch, wiggled the glans into the hot socket of her cunt, and slowly drove his hard on into her slick passage.

Much as he wanted to delay and savor this, he was too horny to hold back. She had been his first great love. His hips powered his rigid pecker deep into her with one thrust, her slippery flesh clutching eagerly at his invasion. He began fucking her with long, slow strokes, but couldn't hold back. He drove into her harder, hearing her wails.

Oh God, she was still as hot, and sweet, and incredibly responsive as she'd ever been! He wondered now why they'd ever parted, but of course he knew. No relationship could last forever, and that's what immortality meant. Better to leave while it was still good.

But he did miss her, miss this.

Her arms reached for him, her fingers stroking through the hair on his chest, then clutching at his flanks to encourage him as he fucked and fucked and fucked, her head rolling as much as the lunette allowed, her mouth open with lust, a tell-tale flush blossoming on her torso, her hips jerking to meet his thrusts.

Suddenly he was coming, shoving hard, hard, hard into her, his balls draining through his burning cock in a series of blazing, short bursts, his whole body engulfed with his orgasm.

As he'd stood in line he'd wrestled with a tangle of feelings. There was the pure, horny thrill of getting to drill this beautiful woman again, his first and only wife. She'd not been a virgin on their wedding night, of course, nor had he, but it had still been a thrill, knowing that this time his reproductive urge might be satisfied.

Now, as he came, there was the thrill of being her first on the last day of her life, but he was worried. He wanted to give her a fuck for the ages, a fuck that would remain with her even as others followed him until the blade fell. Now he was afraid he was falling short, that he'd come too soon, that he'd not satisfied her.

There was disappointment, too, knowing that this would be the last time he had her. As he pumped his balls dry he felt a sick erotic fascination at what it was going to be like to see her head chopped off. He'd seen vids of other decapitation exits, but this was the first one he'd ever attended live. While the scent of her pussy still lingered on his face he'd be able to smell her blood as it gushed from her body.

He wished his coming could go on forever, but it couldn't, it didn't, and he felt his spasms waning, his groin knotting in a frantic effort to milk this moment for as long as he could. But finally it faded, his cock withering in her cunt now flowing with his sperm. Reluctantly, he leaned forward, kissed her chastely and tenderly, and she actually patted his face, and thanked him.

"Did you?" he asked fearfully.

"Of course I did! Oh yes, I did. You're as good as you ever were, darling. Thank you."

These words put his worry to rest and he felt better as he withdrew, first from her, then to the wings to clean up, feeling a twinge of jealousy as the next participant moved into place to take his turn.

I lay there, catching my breath, waiting my next customer. How strange. This waiting to be fucked to death was a bit like standing in a receiving line.

Charles had been only the first of several men, and so far the best. I was savoring the afterglow from my latest orgasm -- which number it was I didn't know, having made it a point not to count -- when I became aware of a small figure standing between my legs. She looked familiar.

"Hello, Melissa, remember me?"

The voice gave me a thrill, or perhaps a chill. "Katelin! Of course I remember you! Thank you for coming."

Katelin was another lover out of my past, of course, a girl with boyish hips, a small bust, delicate arms and legs, and insatiable horniness. The strength of a gymnast was packed into her seemingly delicate frame. We'd tussled and wrestled, and she'd regularly pin me, and I'd lie there and she'd have her way with me, and I with her, and I'd loved it.

Or at the gym she'd start her routine on the uneven bars and stop half way through, gripping the high bar, her ass resting on the low one. With a sultry look she'd spread her muscular legs wide, into a split so wide her cunt opened like a flower, and I'd be drawn to it like a bee to nectar. She'd sing her joy while I dined on her sweet flesh, sucked down her juices.

I remembered her well, and felt more than a twinge of regret and remorse. The affair had been passionate, and short, and had ended awkwardly when I'd been distracted by a male body builder with designs on me.

As it turned out, he was an ass man.

I was so glad to see her. She was nude, and had been in line, of course, so I knew she wasn't here for idle chit chat or an argument. The thought of her loving me for one last time made my heart race even harder. She'd been one of my few lesbian lovers over the years, and by far the best, eager to help me explore all the exciting variations a lesbian relation had to offer, more than eager to test my limits and her own.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world," she assured me softly, moving up to press her fit tummy against my open crotch before crawling on to me so she could kiss me, her tongue dancing with mine as my hands cupped her tight little ass, my fingers probing her crack.

"After all," she said softly, "I want to give you a good send-off, after what you did to me."

Oh god! She was going to take it out on me, and there was nothing I could do to stop her, unless I called for help, and I wasn't going to do that.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, looking deep into her smoky gray eyes. "I am so sorry."

"Let's not dwell on the past," she responded, easing back off me. "Let's see what I can do to send you on your way. How many orgasms do you think I can give you in ten minutes? You always were delightfully multi-orgasmic. Has that changed at all over the years?"

I gulped and shook my head. "No," I whispered, realizing that every orgasm she gave me might be The One. I'd chosen the options with the most variables. I didn't know if The One was to be at a certain count, or something else, like the intensity of my orgasm. Only the computer knew.

And oh God, I remembered how she could make me come, and she did know how to scare me, and I loved it, I'd always loved it, and loved her still, and even more regretted that I'd abandoned her.

Even though I had no choice, I was more than eager to give myself to her now. My only regret was that there seemed no way to pleasure her, unless my death would. I supposed we could sixty nine, but that would put her pelvis between me and the blade, and that was too great a risk. I tried to tell her...

She just tsked tsked. "Darling, you know I used to get off just by getting you off. Let's see how I do now."

She knelt between my thighs, and I felt her hot breath on the wet, open petals of my already well used twat. I had to be swimming with...

"Oh, I do like the taste of come," she observed, smacking her lips after sucking some out of me. "It's a pity I've just never been attracted to the containers it comes in."

The come had to be pouring out of my cunt, drooling down past my asshole. She didn't hesitate to use her tongue to clean me up all the way from the top of the crack between my buttocks, pausing to concentrated on the pucker of my asshole, sending a wicked thrill through my whole body. I remembered still the taste of her ass, how I'd enjoyed wriggling my tongue inside, my nose buried in her steaming quim.

Shit, I came so fast! Why oh why had I left her? I didn't remember. It certainly wasn't because she was a bad lover.

She didn't even stop, her skilled mouth and tongue driving me rapidly toward yet another coming. Instead of becoming numbed by the fucking I'd already gotten I'd become hypersensitive. I was more responsive than ever to the feel of her tongue invading my vagina, her nose pressing against my clit.

Still she kept on! Oh God, I was going to come again. Would this be the one? Oh shit, shit, shit, shit! My body heaved as my orgasm burst over me in a rush. Three comings already and it had only taken her minutes, if that!

"My, that was a quick one," she observed, back on her heels, her face shiny with my come. "You are hot! This is going to be so much fun."

The monitor overhead was again making a lurid display of me with her delicate body between my thighs. She looked up, saw it, saw the camera, and licked her lips, her pixie face in a wicked grin.

"But I can't pleasure you," I said in a whisper the microphones picked up and broadcast, feeling guilty.

"Oh no, don't worry," she interrupted. "The pleasure is all mine. I am going to do my best to be the one who fucks you to death, and I'm going to love every precious minute I have with you.

"But, back to work. Maybe this will be the one," she announced cheerily to all concerned, her happy giggle echoing throughout the hall, around the world.

This time her mouth descended upon my clit, and my lust skyrocketed right along with my terror. Then I felt her slide a finger into my cunt, just one finger, and I groaned with pleasure. As she sucked on my kitty's nose, she scratched delicately at the inside of my twat, at that special spot toward the front of my pussy. She knew me better than I knew myself. The little witch knew exactly where my buttons were and how to push them. During our short liaison -- how long had our affair lasted, weeks, months, maybe a year? I wished I could remember -- she'd learned how to trip every single one of my flash points, as I'd learned hers.

Again, it didn't take long, my horniness combined with my stark terror that this time might be it, interacting with her skilled manipulations and I went up like a rocket. As she stimulated my clit and my G spot I reached down, touched her head, stroked her haircut, a real pixie cut that framed her delicate face with her oh-so expressive and talented lips. Shit! She was such a great lover! Why had I cast her aside for that pansy athlete who'd so enjoyed buggering me?

Then I was coming again. Was this the one? As my orgasm wrenched at me I watched the blade. How many had she already given me? I'd lost count again. Two? Three? How many had I had in all? Someone had said I might have as many as forty or something like that in the time allowed, but since I hadn't been counting I had no way of knowing how close I might be to that, not that it mattered.

Ah, but who's counting? I thought as I began to come down from my latest high.

The computer, that's who, I remembered. Somewhere there was a display, with gamblers avidly hoping their number came up as the blade came down.

She gave me no rest. She was determined to be the one to send me into oblivion, and every orgasm she gave me improved her odds. She had the stamina and perseverance of the Olympic athlete she'd been, perhaps still was. This time, as her mouth worked at my pussy she scratched at the ridge below my cunt before her finger found the sensitive little crater of my asshole, and I did remember why I'd hooked up with that body builder, fool that I had been.

Then, as she toyed with my asshole, her other hand went to one of my tits and her nails bit into my nipple, hard, and I forgot all about him again. Along with pleasure she'd discovered I loved a bit of pain, and she knew how to apply it well.

At the same time her finger began to bore its way up into my rectum, a deliciously scratchy feeling in that tight passage, my sphincter clutching at the invader while my vagina spasmed sympathetically. I froze, holding my breath, my eyes focused on the deadly blade hanging over me as yet another coming exploded through me.

Not this time, I mentally pleaded, please not this time, not yet, I'm not ready!

The thoughts only increased and extended my pleasure.

The pulsations began to slow, the pleasure fade, and I heaved a huge sigh of relief as she extracted her finger from my butt and sat back again. I lifted my head to look down the length of my body at her.

She wiped the mix of semen and my juices off her face with the back of her hand and grinned at me. "I have a few minutes more. This is going faster than I expected. You're very responsive. Having a good time?"

I nodded. "Oh God yes. I am so glad you are here."

"So am I. I really am. I don't hate you, never did. I knew you were basically hetero, that it was bound to end badly. It wasn't your fault."

I felt better, more composed. "Thanks."

"But did it have to be with him?! He was such a shit!"

"And I was such a fool," I confessed.

"Well, what's done is done. I will not let us part on a bad note again. No anger, only good thoughts. I do want to give you what you want, to be the one to fulfill your fondest wish," she pointed out.

"Oh God. If you are the one, if I don't have a chance to say it later, I love you, Kate Winslow, and I always will, and thank you, thank you, thank you."

"You're welcome."

Her smile was one of the things that had captivated me, and half the world's sports fans, even ones who didn't know the first thing about gymnastics.

"Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go," she announced cheerily. She waved one of her delicate hands at me. "Remember this?"

All I could do was nod once and let my head fall back on the headrest. How could I ever forget it? I hadn't known it was possible to take it and to enjoy it so much, and now she was offering it again, on this, the last day of my life.

"Ah, here's the lubricant."

I couldn't look I was so scared, scared of what she was going to do to me, scared of what it might mean. I was in a ferment of anticipation.

There were some slippery, sticky sounds picked up by the microphone, then her mouth descended again on my clitoris. This time she just delicately teased it with her deft tongue, and I remembered how skilled her trills had been. I could only grunt incoherently, my whole body preparing for her coming ministrations, while my lust roared to life again, from her stimulation, from anticipation of what was to come from her, from the fear of what might come from above.