Oca 19

Life , Death

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Big Dick

The vast lawn at the back of the house stretches to a forest of trees. The aroma of spicy magnolias, conversations between crickets, and the crescent moon pouring into the open door.Isabella sits, curled on a chair beside the door, the midnight air sticky sweet. She loves it. Being home. But this heaven has a price, and she wonders if all heavens do.The cost for this place is time. Making money for a house she’s rarely in; an irony not beyond her.Isabella stands up, hand resting in that spot where her tiny waist instantly curves into a round hip. She shuts her eyes, ignoring the prints on the table. She doesn’t need to pull out the previous file to compare. Turning in on herself, sinking into the darkness behind her lids, she searches for it, immobile so long she’s certain she can feel it. The time bomb in her brain. Her imagination paints it as a red, pulsing collection of inflamed cells, angry and narcissistic and petty, threatening to take her with it when it goes.Spending sixteen hours a day being a resident doctor for the last three years, she knows everything about what’s going on with her. A macabre thought. Going from provider to patient.Isabella doesn’t cry. She’s just getting tired of all the damn waiting. Death is a part of life. An inevitability that should have the decency to at least wait until one’s led a full life. But, of course, it doesn’t work that way. She’s accepted that. Even before her condition, she knew the hardest part of dying is when it doesn’t happen instantly. Isabella walks around in a state of being nearly no one else is experiencing.This life is fleeting. Every moment. You feel it in the marrow of your bones when you’re on the clock. Or rather, when your clock is visible to you. Wondering what will happen when it stops ticking.Isabella wishes she’d done more.When she opens her eyes, she has an audience.She doesn’t startle. Her companion so appropriate she nearly laughs. She doesn’t, as she’s much too afraid.Across the slick moonlit grass, at the line of demarcation between forest and field, stands an eerily convincing grim reaper. Its robes flutter in a nonexistent breeze until they touch the ground where they infect the grass with a tar-like substance. The scythe in its skeleton hand twinkles at the razor point. The face within the hood unseen.Isabella’s inhale is shaky. Her exhale smooth.They face one another, unmoving, for a time.The reaper stands directly across the way, assessing Isabella silently through the open door. It can taste her flurry of thoughts. Death is versed in both anger and relief, joy and fear. Does not discriminate against skin color or religion. Is the other side of the coin; yang to life’s yin.She can feel it staring right through skin and bone to her beating heart. She sighs. She doesn’t even have a pet to say goodbye to. Her family is gone and she hasn’t had sex in almost a year. She washed her friends of responsibility. Worked her usual shift until yesterday when the hospital put her on leave after discovering her last appointment’s development. And her subterfuge that hid it.Death’s presence avcılar escort bayan amplifies her loneliness.Isabella turns away, body first, and when she manages to tear her eyes from it, the reaper is instantly on her other side.She jumps a mile and holds her sharp breath, Death now standing in her kitchen.The stench of something ancient wafts toward her. The tendrils of its gauzy robes inches away, the large curve of the scythe’s blade reaching over her shoulder. More than shadow, a sentient darkness fills the hood, showing no face.She takes a step back and swallows the lump that threatens to choke her before Death can get to it.“So. You’re here for me?”Death inclines its head.“This is bullshit and you know that.”The deep laughter that fills the kitchen is a wave of roaches scurrying on dried leaves.“You preach of fairness?” Death’s voice reverberates in baritone layers.“If I am?”“Hypotheticals are for enlightenment. I, above all, am fair.”“… Why me?” Isabella asks. “Why now?”“Why not?”“I’m still young.”“One is young when latched to their mother’s breast.”“And therefore I don’t deserve more time? Have I not been a good person? Spending my days saving other people!” Isabella’s emotions flare, voice rising.“You do not ask the right questions.” Death waves a bone-white hand, the arm of its robe floating as if underwater, tar inking over the tile. Isabella considers this. What question does Death want her to ask? What question would it answer?“Do you always converse with those you come for?” Isabella wonders after a silence. Somehow, she knows Death is smiling behind the cowl.Without regard to her mortal gaze, Death sheds its cloak, the blade in its hand disappearing. An upright skeleton stands before her, a foot taller than her, the hollows of its eyes peering into her as it begins to change. The sound of ligaments being born scores the horrific vision before her, Isabella watching Death’s framework grow first muscle, then veins, then organs. A gruesome display of rapid cell development. She doesn’t blink, though she tries; Death flaying himself in reverse. She can see now that he is very male.As golden skin completes its burgeoning, Isabella finds herself gazing into hazel eyes. Death is tall and handsome, hair dark, dressed in jeans and a sweater.“Hello, Bell.” Voice completely human.“No one’s called me that since-”“July 4th of 2012,” Death finishes. Horror washes through her as she makes a belated connection, realizing this Death is everyone’s Death, not just hers. And that he took her parents seven years ago.Even if he were unable to divine her mind’s eye, even if he hadn’t been the one to personally deliver their souls, he would understand the pain in her face. His eyes are campfire-warm velvet. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Isabella’s broken whisper carries all it means to be at the end of your rope.Death doesn’t change his apologetic expression, though his ‘sorry’ is left unsaid. “You act as if my requirements are personal.””You require death?””The Universe requires balance. I am a linchpin in the fabric of reason.””Are beylikdüzü escort bayan there things you require?” Isabella tries to understand the phenomenon happening before her. Exceedingly curious if this is a dream or she’s gone mad.His grin is warm breath on her every nerve.”I, like many things, have evolved. I am the residue of recycled energy become sentient. The embodiment of Hades’ ferry. I require nothing but my purpose. Although…  amusements are rather appealing.”Isabella’s brain struggles to grasp the distortion that occurs with his words. The way they melt away the peripheral of her existence until there is nothing but everything. Featherlight memories in her atoms.She feels a tingling within.”I’m an amusement.” Her comment is a deduction. The correct one.Death’s hazel, alien eyes devour her thick curves with intention she doesn’t understand.”You intrigue me,” he confesses. “Why?””It is your… self. The Chinese would call it Qi. Aristotle would call it Soul. It is that which you are, and that which you are not. Everything you’ve ever been or will become. Your essence is… attractive.”Isabella stands before Death, wishing she could dissect him the way he is her. Wondering what the hell he means.”I mean that which I speak.” He answers her thoughts. Her eyes squint with suspicion.”You’re attracted to me?” Death smiles with a mouth male models would sell their souls for, and a metaphysical fissure splits in Isabella’s heart–He’s so beautiful it’s painful.”I am.”Isabella blinks away the sensation.”Should I be flattered?” Her genuine curiosity makes Death laugh and loathe all at once. “I should hope so. You’ll wound my ego.” “Death has an ego?””Likely larger than God’s.”Without conscious choice, Isabella’s eyes rake in his perfection. Death takes a step toward her and her heart climbs in her throat, blocking her airway.“Breathe,” he says gently, and on his command, air audibly returns to her lungs. He steps again.Isabella is overwhelmed by his desire on a molecular level. He is vast and wanting, and she can feel his gravitational pull. As old as time itself. She is suspended, no longer rushing toward death for it’s at her door. In her house. Eyeing her like he wants to fuck her into the next life.The grand mal of tremors rolls through her spine. Death stops an inch away.“You’re thinking too much, Bell. Not something you normally do.” He notes the last part in a curious tone. His chest is level with her eyes. She’s afraid to look up. Wondering if she’ll simply unravel the next time he literally looks into her soul.“I still don’t understand,” she says to distract. Both he and herself.Is she attracted to Death…?He slides a hand into her hair, the exquisite contact distracting her distraction.“I am exceedingly interested, myself,” he murmurs.“What exactly do you want with me?” she breathes. Death turns her face up, and when she reluctantly meets his gaze, the result is unthinkable.Isabella’s pussy gushes with arousal, soaking through her tiny sleep shorts in an instant. He presses the steel in his jeans against her, and she gasps.“I esenyurt escort want to feel you come in eight dimensions while my cock is inside you.”She moans, a shot of Epinephrine to the heart. “Do you do this a lot?” She doesn’t need to add, fuck other women when you come for their souls, for him to understand.“I have before. Not for many millennia.” Isabella isn’t sure she likes that answer. Death can tell. “You and I weren’t ready to meet, Bell. I have lived a long time.” One hand still in her hair, the other goes to her waist, holding her close.Being in Death’s arms: A notion she never saw coming.“You seduce,” she accuses.“You still have your free will,” Death responds, resenting her implication. “I only amplify your sixth sense. Stop trying to fit my existence into a box. Feel me, Isabella.” He grabs between her legs, and the world bends so far it goes full circle before settling back into place. Death bands an arm around her when her knees buckle.“Holy fuck,” she groans as he rubs her through the warm, wet cotton, hips gyrating for him, immediately on the verge of orgasm though already wet enough to claim she’s had one. Or several.“Would you like me to stop?”Isabella shakes her head, mouth-breathing.“Would you like my tongue here instead?” Just his words are enough to tear her mind in half. Abruptly, his lips are on hers, and all she can feel is him, alleviating the fraying of her frontal cortex.“Stay with me, Bell.”She breathes into him, trying to keep her grip on reality. Whatever that means now.She just kissed Death on the mouth.His presence is opening her mind’s eye in ways it’s never flexed before, something telling her if she did get lost in him, it would take a valiant, labyrinthine journey to make it back out.“I would never let you be lost.” His lips against hers are a breeze caressing damp blades of grass. She can smell him; a million wildflowers under the stars, desert dusk after a purple rain, his cologne bottled midnight. She can feel him; smooth jasmine sandalwood between her legs, warm milk running over her nipples, through her navel. His breath spider-spun silk.He smiles. “Much better.”Death lays a gentle kiss on her mouth and the sensation fills her body with a wave of helium, and then, she’s floating. Being kissed and licked on every lewd inch of her body, bones soft as she writhes, her moans a high pitched singing somewhere beyond. Effervescent nectar fills her mouth, down her throat, fills her pussy, tingling in a gentle boil.Her fingers glide through mink-soft strands, the already high nerve count in her clitoris tripling as something fantastical sucks on it. Isabella is blind with arousal, pure white irises rippling vibrant watercolors as concentrated nirvana courses through her body.Tumbling in kaleidoscopic galaxies, swimming in a lake meant for gods.Lashes flicker beyond the masterpiece of her vision. She breathes, lungs shivering as if the oxygen entering them was orgasmic. The blood in her veins caressing her limbs.“Don’t get lost, little lamb.”Death’s whisper brings back some of her. Recalling she’s a person and not an exposed nerve submerged in pure eroticism. A speck floating in space.Isabella’s hips search. She knows her knees are far open. Why wouldn’t they be? Whatever’s happening between her legs is so intense she would surely die if it stopped. She doesn’t want to live without it.

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