[The inspiration for this work of fiction came from an e-mail joke, one that I had received umpteen dozen time before. The story is an unadulterated and unabashed attempt to tickle male fantasies and perhaps some female fantasies as well. As such, the story may or may not totally conform to reality. The reality of the locations and the principal two characters is the reader's discretion. However, all events, and other characters are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.]
*****
I was walking down Wall Street in New York City, on my way from my office to a late lunch. Over the noise of city traffic and the general din of noise and confusion, I heard my name called.
"Ellen! Ellen Simms! Over here, love."
When I reached the corner at the intersection, I saw a colleague across the street. How I ever heard him, I don't know and now, wish I hadn't.
I stepped off the curb and immediately heard the blast of an air horn accompanied by the scream of locked brakes and screeching tires. A brilliant flash of light went off before my eyes and then, nothing.
When I regained my senses, I stood up and looked around. Traffic had stopped. My right hand moved in an automatic gesture to my left sleeve to brush off some dirt. Damn, my right hand went right through my arm! Shit! What?
Loooking down at what was left of a broken body lying in the street, I recognized MY body. Double Damn! What now? What the hell is going on? Suddenly the scene around me dissolved into a total blank of nothingness.
I blinked and when I opened my eyes, I was standing in/on a gossamer, fluffy surface in a sea of shinning whiteness. In front of me rose a pair of monster gates. Each must have been all of twenty or more feet wide. They stretched up out of sight. The gates appeared to be made of shimmering, pearl white, well--pearls. They were closed.
A visage in pure white robes, with long white hair and beard, as well as with a golden halo of light around his head, stood to my left, facing me. He looked me over as I stood, speechless.
The visage finally spoke, "Well now, Ellen, it's unlike you to be speechless. But then, after that neat little stunt of stepping directly in front of a Mack truck, I guess you need a bit of time to adjust."
"Am I where I think I am?"
"Yes, you are. You are standing before the 'Pearly Gates.' and yes, I am St. Peter. Welcome to the portal of Heaven."
"Well, this is all so sudden for me. The gates are closed. Haven't I met the entrance exam?"
"Now that you bring it up, no, not just yet you haven't. You see, we've never had a CEO come this way before and we don't quite know what to do with you.
"No problem, just let me in. That's seems easy enough."
"Yes well, I'd like to, but it's not quite that simple."
"How so?"
"I've just received higher orders moments ago. What I'm going to do is give you twenty-four hours in Hell, first, and then follow with twenty-four hours in Heaven. Sort of a trial run in each place. Then you can choose the one in which to spend eternity."
"Actually, I think I've made up my mind, I prefer to stay in Heaven."
"Sorry, the Golden Rule and the Ten Commandments aren't the only rules we have to follow up here. Please step over here beside the gate with me, please."
I was suddenly confronted by a set of elevator doors. There was only one button. It glowed red with the word "Hell" showing through in black. Above the button, the word down flashed in bright yellow. St. Peter pressed the button and the doors whisked open quickly and silently. Oh, God, I don't believe this is happening.
St. Peter gently handed me into the elevator. The doors quickly snapped closed. It must have been an express elevator, it sure left my stomach up top as the bottom dropped out of everything. In two blinks of my eye, the elevator slowed to a stop.
I stood, petrified of what would happen next. Nothing, absolutely nothing! Bewildered, I looked around as the interior of the elevator began to grow warm. My eyes wandered to the control panel. Only one button blinked redly back at me. The script on the button said, "open." After hesitating for some time, finger poised and shaking, I pushed it.
The doors once again whisked open and I timidly stepped out into brilliant sunlight and under a powder blue sky filled with cotton puffs of clouds. A mild breeze wafted by, carrying the scent of jasmine, lilac, and roses. I was standing on the tee of the first hole of a luxurious country club golf course.
Looking towards the indescribably beautiful club house, I spotted several former colleagues of mine, including Joan, my firm's lead lawyer of ten years standing. She had died two months back of a heart attack. She was in a deliciously sexy red cocktail dress. Everyone I saw was elegantly dressed as if for a party.
"Joan, God but it's good to see you again."
"Yes, Ellen, glad to see you too. Thinking of staying with us are you?"
"Well, I'm here to find out, I guess."
"Good. Let me introduce you to the boss. He's just inside at the bar."
"The boss? You mean..."
"Yeah, Himself. Beelzebub, Lucifer, Mephistoclese, the 'Prince of Darkness,' Diablo, Scratch, Satan, whatever. He is known by a lot of names and titles, but here, at home, he prefers Mr. Scratch. He wants to meet you now."
"Me? Right Now? Why?"
"Oh, he likes to personally welcome all newcomers to his domain."
"Oh."
Joan led me into the club building and the ornate bar. We walked toward a table with four women and a man seated around in relaxed comfort. The four women looked like they just stepped out of the pages of Penthouse or Playboy. Later, I found out that three of them had done just that. Two killed in a plane crash and the other one in a skiing accident.
The man stood to greet me with the words, "Welcome to my little patch of 'Heaven,' if you will excuse the pun, dear Ellen." Then he just stood there and looked me over. I returned the favor.
He was tall, dark, and handsome, to say the least. He stood well over six feet tall in his black tux and snow white shirt. His shoulders were quarterback square and broad. His narrow waist rested below what I would be willing to bet were six-pack abs to end all six-pack abs. His long legs and tight ass completed the picture.
Oh yes, except for his eyes that is. His dark, swarthy features were set off by ink black eyes that sparkled and shone like two black obsidian orbs. To look directly into them was to be swallowed into dizzying depths. I looked. And I was immediately lost. It seemed to be what he was waiting for.
"Come, dear Ellen, I want to show you my trophy room."
A strange compulsion made me do his bidding whether I wanted to or not. I took his arm as he led be from the room into an elegant hallway. As we stepped out of sight into the hall, his arm disengaged from mine and his hand dropped to the bottom of my ass. My pants-suit slacks were fairly thin and my Wild Weasel type thong left my ass and most of my crotch, for that matter, totally bare.
His hand had no trouble finding my ass crack with his fingers and then working them in and down between my legs. God, ugh, shit, that really feels good. Oh, God, the flood gates just burst in my pussy. He removed his hand only to quickly push it down inside my waist band and slide down with fingers seeking out the source of that wetness.
We arrived at an ornate set of carved wooded double doors. They opened of their own accord and Mr. Scratch ushered me into one deliciously sinful looking bedroom. The walls were fire engine bright red satin. The ceiling glowed with a red and yellow rippling fire effect that was beautiful to behold but produced no heat.
The floor was a jet black, deep pile shag from wall-to-wall. Occupying center stage in the middle of the room was one huge fucker of a round bed in bright, bridal white, all satin. Golden candelabra stands, each holding seven flickering candles, stood near what would've been the four corners of a normal bed.
But this bed wasn't normal. It was round, some twelve feet or more in diameter and sitting on a raised platform that lifted it about two feet off the floor. The damned thing was slowly rotating clockwise. A round mirror the exact size of the bed, stared down from the ceiling.
Scratch stopped and turned to me. He slid my suit jacket down over my shoulders and deftly removed it, dropping it to the floor. My head and neck were the recipients of kisses as he worked down to my large boobs. I didn't even feel the bra go, just his kisses and finger fiddling on my nipples.
My pant suit slacks melted away just as effortlessly and quickly. That left me standing in only my soaked and very transparent wild weasel thong and my black heels. A quick yank by Scratch and that too was gone. I looked down at my shoes.
When I looked up again, Scratch was naked. How the shit did he do that so quickly? By force of habit, I looked down again.
Fuck! I have heard of day-glow rubbers, but a day-glow cock? But there it was. A cock large enough to please any whore, but in glowing, pulsing, neon red? Fucking straight, man, I gotta have a piece of that!
I dropped to my knees and grabbed hold of that red hot cock. I clamped my mouth on while one hand stroked the shaft and the other hand played ball. I moved my hands to his ass to pull him in tight. No tail. There goes another myth.
"No tail, at least at the moment, dear Ellen. It just gets in the way, sometimes, especially the barb. Maybe later."
I didn't know what he meant by that comment, but I would soon find out. Just then, he raised me up and steered me over to the bed. He boosted me up and on with the words, "On you back, dear girl, here I come."
He got between my legs and gave my upper body a really good workout, kissing and fondling his way down to my "gate of heaven."
"Gate of Hell?" Who the fuck cares at that point. I just wanted his cock.
Instead, I got his tongue. As he began laving my nether lips, I felt a distinct fork in that tongue. Not before, but I surely did now. One fork was diddling my clit, the other, seeking entrance to my pussy, Oh, fucking hell, I never felt anything close to that before. Damn, keep going.
I thought his cock was going to burn off, it glowed and pulsed so hard in all its neon red glory. Suddenly, there it was, helmet deep in my crevice, poised perfectly for immediate submersion. With a whoosh and a squish, he buried that damned thing in me. I think my whole body started to glow a dull red. Talk about psychedelic sex! Jes...I keep wanting to say God and things like that, but down here, that may not be a good idea.
Scratch was pumping good and hard. I was nearly ready to explode. Then I felt it. Fuck. His damned tail appeared and slid under me to my rosette. Couldn't be anything else, his hands were both on my tits. Oh, damn, it's in! That barb is working magic on me. Get in the way hell! I was on the receiving end of a DP to end all DPs.
That, of course, did it. Whether just the thought of it, the feel of it, both, whatever, I went over the top into an orgasm the likes of which I never felt on earth. Shit, I prit near blew up--literally. Fuck, I loosed oceans of cum. So did he. Red cum. That red, white, and clear mixture of his and mine, leaking out around his cock, kept my orgasm wound up even more. Fireworks, stars, bells, you name it went off. I was in seventh heav--ah, make that seventh hell. Maybe eighth, ninth, or tenth. Shit, I don't know, I was in a delirium of sexual, sensual delight. I was out of it.
