Becon

Are you familiar with the old joke involving the leader of Russia, the leader of the USA and Bill Gates? The one that ends with Mr. Gates saying "The good news is that God thinks I'm one of the three most important people on the planet, and the better news is that we no longer have to worry about fixing all the bugs in Windows"?

That joke isn't nearly as funny anymore.

Because God is real, and She just came down yesterday to Earth. And She is really pissed off. Every leader of any kind on Earth who had not been following the dictates laid down by Jesus of Nazareth got wiped out. Apparently that stuff wasn't in the Bible just for kicks - it was meant to be taken very seriously. The political, judicial, media and financial leaders who hadn't been obeying and espousing the philosophy laid down by Jesus had it relatively easy - they merely suffered instantly fatal heart attacks. God saved Her worst punishments for the religious leaders who had been ignoring the words of Jesus. If all they'd been doing was being false prophets they suffered heart attacks that were not instantly fatal but left them in agonizing pain for a few minutes before they passed. But if they had been abusing kids or had participated in covering up for priests who were abusing kids, they spontaneously caught on fire and took half an hour to die.

I'm not any sort of a leader. But She was upset with me, too.

"You haven't been doing anything nice for anyone other than yourself."

"With what resources? I've barely been able to make rent and buy food!"

"Yeah, that's another issue, and I'm currently talking with a bunch of other humans about it. (Being a deity, I can be in more than one place simultaneously.) Look at Matthew 19:24 and Mark 10:25."

I looked at the passages mentioned and just nodded. "So in practical terms, what can I do?"

"Tell you what. I'll make sure you have sufficient resources the rest of your life to support another person, and I'll also send one over, even worse off than you are materially, for you to support. Do your job right and I'll let you live a long life with them and I'll have you both die simultaneously when you're old and enter the Kingdom of Heaven together."

"You got yourself a deal, Your Deityness."

[The following day]

At 6:30 a.m., my doorbell is ringing? Why?

Oh, must be that deal I made yesterday. Guess I'd better get up.

And lo and behold...

"Hello, Ken."

"Samantha? What happened to you?"

It was a friend of mine from high school. It had been 10 years since we graduated.

"My husband got on the wrong side of the Mafia. They cut off his, um..."

I nodded.

"They made me watch as he bled to death, then cut out my ovaries, stitched me back up, gave me 15 minutes to pack and kicked me out of the house, saying it was theirs now because my husband owed them a few million."

"Jeez. I'm so sorry. You're welcome to stay with me."

"Thanks."

Samantha had just a few clothes and some basics. I gave her space in the master bathroom for her things (my apartment is one bedroom and 1 1/2 bathrooms.)

"You know what would be really nice right now, Ken?"

"What?"

"I feel a surge of crying coming on. The shock is wearing off. Just lie on the bed and hold me."

I did. Samantha got all her crying done. I said nothing, just letting her have time for her emotions to settle.

When she was done, I changed my shirt and lay back down. Samantha curled against me and we spent a couple of hours just like that, me with my arms around her and quiet.

She eventually broke the silence. "You're terrific, you know that?"

I shrugged. "Just doing what any decent human would do."

Samantha untangled herself from me and shuffled off to the restroom. I decided to ask God a question.

"Look, Your Deityness, I'm thrilled that you chose Samantha to send to me, but was what happened to her in the process REALLY necessary?"

God appeared in front of me. "Look at Luke 10:25-37."

I took a couple of minutes to locate and read through the passage. Samantha had returned by the time I finished.

"So?"

"If I hadn't let those men do that to her, it wouldn't be a legitimate challenge for you. But I made sure they got what they deserved."

"How?" Samantha asked.

"Their car caught on fire on the way back and they all got incinerated."

"I promise I'll take good care of Samantha and her PTSD. I still think it wasn't very fair to her."

"You two will be fine."

And with that, the conversation was over.

God hadn't been kidding about giving me enough resources to support Samantha. Three managers at my company had been, um, "terminated" by God for not following the dictates of Jesus, and I got a raise and a promotion within a week.

Having the resources was one thing. Buying enough food for two, learning how to cook dishes Samantha found tasty, buying her clothes and other necessary things - no problem there.

Helping her heal psychologically was a horse of a completely different color. I adopted a policy of not pressing her. I would hold her and let her rest in my arms. (We had to share the lone bed, but I figured sex was the last thing on her mind, so I made it very clear that I wasn't going to make any move in that direction until she asked me to.)

I got a lot of "Thanks, Ken. You're being very sweet."

To which my reply was inevitably, "Is there anything else I can do to help?"

And her reply was always, "Not unless you have a time machine. The only thing that would help more than what you're already doing is for this to have never happened."

After about a year of this, we were lying in bed one night and she was curled up in my arms, as usual.

"Ken?"

"Yes, Samantha?"

"You must be in need of a sexual release."

"Samantha, I didn't take you in -"

"Shush." Her finger touched my lips. "I know, and you've been a perfect gentleman. But I also know that you were crushing on me as far back as high school."

She was right about that. She was a busty, willowy brunette back then. She was still busty - a D cup, as I knew because I had just bought her a new bra last week. She was a little bit curvier now, and it only made her more attractive. Me, not so much - I'm a slightly overweight nobody with not much muscle tone, scruffy straight brown hair, and a thin beard.

"I doubt I'll ever have penetrative sex again, but that doesn't mean I can't get you off."

She pulled down my pajama bottoms as she said that. She caressed my legs for a moment, running her fingernails along my thighs. My cock began hardening. She wrapped her hand around it. Her mere touch caused me to stiffen fully.

"Nice equipment."

I didn't think it was extraordinary. About seven inches long and while not pencil-thin, it wasn't as big around as the bottom of a wine bottle, either. But I was glad Samantha approved.

"Thanks, Samantha."

She moved her hand slowly at first, sliding it up and down the shaft with a smooth, steady rhythm. I made sounds that she interpreted correctly as pleasurable. She smiled as she continued to stroke my shaft.

"It'll be fun to see you cum."

I held still, letting her hand work its magic. She placed her other hand on my balls.

"Oooh, nice and heavy. I'll bet you've got a lot in there."

As she caressed my quickly filling balls, my breathing changed to a series of soft moans. Her hand moved slightly faster on my shaft. My body shivered as she continued to stimulate me.

She began teasing my balls with her fingernails. My hips started to buck spontaneously.

"Getting close?"

I nodded and moaned. She stroked my pole with yet greater intensity. My legs started to tense. She sensed that and redoubled her efforts.

With a gasp, I reached climax. Cum spouted from my cock and landed on my chest and belly, making my pajama shirt all sticky. Samantha grinned and locked her eyes on my pole. She moved her hands until my balls were quite empty. Only when no more cum emerged from my rod did she remove her hands.

I quickly changed into a fresh set of pajamas, then lay back down in the bed. "Thanks, Samantha. How do you want me to return the favor?"

"I don't. Ken, you're awesome, but there's nothing you - or anyone - can do that will ever make me sexually turned on. That ship sailed the day those men..."

She stopped.

"Not your fault, of course. You just keep being your sweet self."

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a selfish jerk, always taking but never giving back."

"Ken, you are as far from a selfish jerk as it is possible to get. Why don't we sleep now?"

I fell asleep holding her.

That began a pattern of once a week, her giving me a release with her hand. And she always declined my offer to pleasure her in return.

After several months of that, she expressed a desire to pleasure me with her mouth.

"ONLY if you let me tongue you as well, Samantha. I feel guilty enough about not reciprocating for the handjobs."

"You don't want to. I'm ugly now." She pulled off her nightgown. Her lower abdomen was a mess. "See?"

"All I see is a gorgeous woman I've crushed on for what seems like forever."

She sighed. "All right, but I guarantee I won't cum."

Challenge accepted, I thought to myself. I'll prove how sexy you are and that you can still cum.

I kissed her thighs to warm her up while she teased my balls with her fingertips. When I was hard, I helped her position herself on top of me. Her tongue touched the tip of my cock as mine gently traced along her slit.

She opened her mouth and took the bulb of my rod inside. I spread her lower lips apart and slid my tongue between her folds. Her scent was intoxicating, and I could barely restrain myself. I wanted to frantically start slurping at her, but I managed to keep my movements controlled.

She traced a sensual pattern with her tongue on my cockhead. I shivered and sped my licking. She pressed her body down more firmly on me. I very carefully probed for her clit, and found it with a fingertip.

I brushed it with the lightest possible touch. Her body trembled. She took almost all of me in and slithered her tongue up and down along my shaft. My rod pulsed with excitement.

I continued to be very delicate with her clit, brushing it ever so softly with my fingertip as she moaned and squirmed. My other hand found her butt and I caressed and then groped it. She was now bobbing her head up and down on my pole, making my hips buck spontaneously.

I drove my tongue as far inside her as I could and swirled it in circles. Her body tensed up. So did mine as she caressed and teased my balls. They filled quickly.

Her orgasm hit and she flooded my face. I blasted a geyser of cum into her mouth. She sealed her lips around the base of my pole and swallowed it all down.

When we finished, we untangled our bodies.

"Thanks, Samantha. That was awesome."

"Thank you, Ken. I... didn't think I'd ever be able to receive pleasure again."

"Please allow me to pleasure you more in the future."

"Deal."

We 69ed regularly for another year or so. Finally, Samantha announced she was willing to try lovemaking.

"I promise I'll be gentle," I assured her.

"I have no doubt you will be."

We made out until we both felt we were ready. I insisted that Samantha be on top, so she could control things.

I helped her position herself properly and lower herself onto my rod. For an instant, she just sat still with me in her to the hilt.

"Ken... thank you for being so patient and caring."

"It has been my pleasure, Samantha. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me."

She blushed from head to toe, and the sparkle in her eyes was all I needed to feel happy.

"Should I start moving now?"

"Only if you're ready, Samantha."

She eased her way up and down. I placed my hands on her hips to help guide her.

"You feel so good inside me."

"I'm glad, sweetie."

She established a gentle rhythm. I alternated looking at her pretty face, loving the expression of happiness on it, and at her plump breasts.

"Would you like to suckle them?"

"Please."

She lowered her torso, and I kissed through her cleavage before taking a nipple in my mouth. Samantha moaned softly and secured my head in place with her arms. I continued to bounce her steadily on my cock. Her pussy began reacting, giving me little squeezes as she slid downwards.

"Mmmmmmm. Don't stop."

I moved my hands to her nicely curved, firm butt and gave her a loving grope. She began bouncing a bit faster, and her pussy squeezed my cock more insistently.

"I want you, when you cum, to fill me up."

It would be my pleasure to do so, I thought. My mouth was occupied with her nipple, so I couldn't speak. Samantha bounced more intensely now. Her body tensed. I suckled more firmly, and with a lusty cry, she shuddered through a climax.

I did as she asked and squirted jets of cum into her waiting pussy. She collapsed onto me, spent. We lay there, my mouth still locked on her nipple and my softening cock still inside her, until we recovered. Then we cleaned up together in the shower, dried off, and returned to the bed.

"We should do that more often, Ken."

"Whenever you want, Samantha."

She wanted it about twice a month, the other weekly sessions being a 69. I was thrilled, and very happy that she was allowing me to give her pleasure.

And 30 years later, we both died in our sleep on the same night and true to God's word, did enter the Kingdom of Heaven together.