Naughty
Dreams Come True In Heaven
by Sterling
Chapter 1 of 4
The
last thing I remember is the hospital room, feeling so very tired,
groggy with the painkillers, knowing the end would be soon.
But here I am without pain, walking -- like I did when I was young. I
look down and see my young man's hand, with smooth skin, not the
mottled claw I had become used to. I'm climbing the stone steps of what
looks like an old Ivy League administration building -- a setting
sedate and grand. A gentle breeze makes the leaves high up in the trees
stir and flutter.
I grasp the large brass knob and pull, aware of how all my muscles and
tendons work together smoothly and without pain, the way we take
granted for most of our lives.
Inside I see a marble floor, dark wood paneling on the walls, and high
vertical windows with leaded glass panes.
I see a figure standing to my right. He's a friendly looking guy in the
prime of life, wearing a tan sport jacket, a shirt with an open collar,
and dark cords. I ask, "Where am I? What's going on?"
"Hey, man. You're in the afterlife. Welcome, Zach!"
"What? I don't get it. Afterlife?"
"Yeah, most people don't get it. Even most of the ones who believed in
an afterlife didn't really
believe in it."
It is a huge surprise, but it's hard to see any other explanation. I
was dying, and now I'm in my prime and feeling great. But -- I feel my
heart pounding. There are the stories of hellfire and eternal
damnation. Whichever God runs this place, I wasn't praying to him -- I
wasn't praying to anyone.
I try a positive attitude. "So, this is heaven?"
"For you, it's going to be mostly heaven. Not for everyone."
"So what happens now? What's it all about? Is there really a God? Which
one?"
"Don't worry about that. You're judged on whether you led a good life.
On whether Zachary Arthur Zoller lived a good life. Whether you prayed
or who you prayed to makes no difference."
"Holy shit," I mutter. "But what happens now?"
"Be patient," says the man with a smile. "You'll see."
I walk, just enjoying how great it is to have a working body again.
Here I am hiking a trail as it cuts through a field of wildflowers.
Here I am on a path that runs high up along the edge of a rocky shore.
Here I walk under a crescent moon, with the rich smell of summer earth,
mist on a field and countless fireflies in the mist.
I lie in a bed, free of pain now. I appreciate how nice it is to feel
drowsy and know I'll be nodding off into a comfortable sleep. I come
to, realize there's no need to get up, so I fall back to sleep, aware
of the youth and vitality of my arms and legs. Then I do wake up
slowly, stretch, and smile.
Here I am conversing with my high school pal Jake. I loved talking with
him back when we were young, and it's great to talk again. He deflects
my questions about the afterlife -- he just wants to talk about other
stuff. Lots and lots of conversations in the afterlife. Here I am
reading all of Shakespeare's comedies, one after the other.
These are all experiences, but they aren't joined into a single
narrative. I don't have a particular house, though I do get to amble
through some of the favorite places I've lived. I may go to sleep, but
there's no sense of a today or tomorrow. There's no cooking and
cleaning. I seem to eat remarkably little, and they're tasty little
treats instead of real meals. There's no need to shower -- but once I
thought about how a hot shower would feel great, and there I was in a
hot shower.
Then I have an experience of a different kind.
I'm in bed with my first girlfriend, Wanda. She's come home with me for
a week's visit during our freshman year in college and now we're lying
in my bed. She's gorgeous. We're both naked, my erection is strong, my
fingers are gently rubbing her vulva just the way she likes most. I
notice her scent, the detail of every strand of her long, brown hair,
the birds outside, the faint sound of distant traffic. I know she's not
ready for sex, not ready to lose her virginity -- we've been over the
subject many times. If I thrust my cock against the top of her thigh I
might come, or I might not.
But then she looks at me with a warm, confident smile, spreads her legs
and holds her pussy lips apart.
"Now I'm ready," she says.
"For my penis?" I say, not believing my ears.
"Yes! Yes, I want to feel it inside!"
"Contraception?"
She smiles. "I'm on the pill now. Just do what you've been wanting to.
Let yourself go!"
I believe her, and mount. Instead of rubbing my cock against her
stomach or thigh, I place the tip right in the hot little pocket she's
holding open for me.
I'm a virgin, so this is totally new. The warmth and wet are so
enticing, and then I push. Her vagina yields, with more warmth and wet
inside, delicious wet friction. I push deeper and deeper, and she
accepts my entire length. And then I start fucking, in and out hard and
fast. She's looking at me with loving warmth, running her hands over my
back.
The pleasure reaches the unbearable and then bursts, my cock spewing
gobs of sperm into the deepest part of her vagina as I keep humping in
and out. I feel fully satisfied for the first time in my life. I
finally did it! I had full sexual intercourse with Wanda, my first love!
Then it dawns on me slowly that I'm in the afterlife. I hadn't been
aware of that up to this point. But here I resolved one of the deepest
regrets of my life, that we never did consummate that ferocious lust.
Now, in the afterlife, we did. I lasted what, 30 seconds?
"So... you're dead too?"
She shrugs. "Aren't we all? But being dead can be awfully nice, don't
you think?"
Here I am a few years later with Sarah, a lovely Chinese-American.
We're on her bed, both kind of drunk. We kiss, and my hands rove lower.
I fumble with her bra but she reaches around to take it off. I caress
her impressive breasts, then suck on her right nipple. I slide my hand
into her panties. She sighs and gasps with pleasure. We're going to do
it! My underpants are off now, my finger is pumping in and out of her
hot vagina. I get ready to mount.
"No," she says. "Not that far."
I'm horny, I'm angry. "Ah, c'mon, Sarah," I say. "We did it once
before, right?"
"Yes, but I don't want to now."
I know I'm in the afterlife. That's what happened in real life, but I
was hoping this would resolve the way it did with Wanda -- this time
she'll want to do it. But there's a big difference. When I was alive I
always stopped with Wanda. In real life, I kept going with Sarah.
There's another way to resolve this, of course -- to stop. But suddenly
I'm not in control of my actions. The real-life event unfolds.
She isn't cooperating with taking her panties off, so I just slide the
cloth to one side and stick my dick in the right place.
"No!" she whispers urgently.
"Yes!" I say as I drive my cock in. I feel again just how terribly
strong my desire is. Right or wrong, I'm going to have a satisfying
orgasm. But suddenly it's all wrong. My cock is sliced by blades, it's
frozen and it's burned all at the same time. It's agony, but I can't
scream. It's only a few seconds but it feels like forever.
"I said no!" she roars, flipping me onto my back. Her fingernails
puncture my belly in 5 places, my innards are in agony, blood wells up
and then flows out. It hurts so much!
"I'm so sorry," I manage to croak during an ebb in the pain.
The rage in her face softens a bit, and the scene fades out...
Next thing I know, I'm sitting in a chair in front of a desk. Judging
from the windows, I'm in a formal office of that same administration
building. Across from me is a young woman, dressed like a college
official might dress -- an assistant dean, maybe. She looks pleasant
and compassionate, but not especially attractive.
"Shit, that hurt!" I can tell my stomach and cock are intact,
thankfully.
"So you see, Zach," she says. "The afterlife is a time to resolve
things. Time to even up scores. Time to pay back."
"But the pain -- God!"
"Well, you shouldn't have done it!"
"I know, I know..." I groan.
"What about that other experience?"
"Wanda?" I say. Memories of pain are replaced with much nicer ones. I
smile.
"One of your life's most powerful regrets. She wanted it too. You'll
see a lot more of Wanda," she says with a smile.
"But Sarah... Will I see a lot more of her?" I gulp.
"Oh, I'd guess a half dozen more times."
I wince.
"There's plenty of time here to sort things out. That's the worst thing
you've ever done," says the young woman. "You were a fine man who led a
moral life. I suspect you'll pay for a few other things -- but I'll
admit, I think the system is scraping the bottom of the barrel with
you. To keep you humble."
"What's this 'system'? Who decides what happens?"
"We don't know. Some of us get to review a person's whole life -- all
the significant stuff. We don't know how, we just know it. And then we
observe what happens to you here. We've been observing a long time with
a lot of people, so we see patterns. We can usually predict pretty well
what's going to happen. Somehow we show up at these meetings with you
guys to tell you what we can."
"But who's making the actual decisions?"
"Like I said, we don't know."
I think a moment. "And, so for guys who have done bad stuff? They get
what I got with Sarah?"
She smiles. "Want to take a peek at old Adolf Hitler?"
Without waiting for my answer, I see a stunned Fuehrer kneeling with
others in a row. The soldier puts a bullet through the neck of the guy
two away from him, then the one next to him, then I see terror in
Hitler's eyes as the gun barrel presses against his neck, and his life
too is extinguished.
We cut away, and the woman says, "Murder victims may need their revenge
a hundred times over, or a thousand."
I think about what I've seen. "But, like, with the gun to his head, he
looked scared. But he knows it isn't real, right? But he's still
terrified?"
"But he doesn't know, not in that moment. He doesn't know it's not
real, and he doesn't know he's in the afterlife. When the experience is
over, then he gets to remember thousands of times when he realized for
the first time that he was going to die." She pauses a moment. "But
he's got plenty of physical pain to experience too. Torture victims
might call for ten thousand repentances."
I see Hitler naked, tied to a chair in a dimly lit room. Pliers slowly
pull out the fingernail from the middle finger in his right hand as he
screams. The pinky and ring finger are already bloody messes.
The scene fades, and I shudder.
"He'll be experiencing hundreds of years worth of that, maybe
thousands."
Next I'm dancing with Brenda in the church basement. This time I know
I'm in the afterlife. I had such a crush on Brenda in seventh grade.
Just as it went in real life, I've somehow managed to ask her for a
third dance and I'm holding her awkwardly at arm's length as we rock
back and forth. This is no dim reconstruction from dim memory. She is
as real as can be, as is the floor, the music, the refreshment table
across the room. And just as I had remembered for all those years, she
briefly puts her head on my shoulder, then straightens up and looks at
me.
She's the most beautiful girl in the school -- shoulder-length wavy
blond hair, blue eyes, a narrow nose and small mouth -- somehow it fits
together perfectly.
"Come with me," she says.
I don't think that happened in real life. She leads me back into a
small room -- it looks like the church nursery, and there's a couch.
She closes the door, stands close in front of me, and with a smile
says, "I've got an idea I think you'll like."
By the dim light from the hall, she lies back, hitches her dress up and
pulls her panties down to her ankles. I know that never
happened!
"But, Brenda, what?..."
She sits up. "It's what you really wanted.. It's what you really
needed. " She speaks with a kind voice.
My erection is straining inside my pants now. She reaches for the
buckle, but I take over and free myself. I used to think it would be
heaven to kiss Brenda once. She lies back again, ready for sex. At this
age I'd rarely seen a girl naked, and never one old enough to have
pubic hair. But this is rapidly progressing beyond seeing. I lie down
on her, bringing our privates together.
At the moment I have no memory of ever having had sex. I press into a
heaven that feels better than I had imagined.
"Ooo!" she goes, with wide eyes but a quick laugh. It's presumably a
first for her too.
My body is already reacting, and amid the amazing pleasure I have time
for only a couple quick thrusts before I'm coming inside her, while her
beautiful face smiles up at me. I slide out, gasping -- dazed and
incredibly happy. It's true. This is what I really wanted to do with
Brenda. If I had gotten that unattainable kiss, I would have wanted
more -- and all the more intensely.
"You're a wonderful boy," she says, kissing me on the cheek. "You
deserved that so much."
"But what about you?" I ask. "Did you want it?"
"When we were alive? Not quite yet, though it was an exciting idea. I
dreamt about it all the time -- with you, among others," she says. "But
here, here I know what you want, and I'm really happy to let you do it."
"It was -- wow!"
"The schools are full of pretty girls in sexy clothes, and that was
just the way the world had to be. But I see it now from your side. It's
all set up as a tease -- you're supposed to desire us, but you can't
have us. You deserve satisfaction for such a simple, natural thing."
I nod, remembering.
She looks down and sees my renewed erection. "Oh, you need it again!"
she says, pulling me back down onto her and getting my cock started in
the right place.
And this time I know how it's going to feel inside of her, and I'm
right. I don't come right away, but hump away energetically.
The seventh-grader who is accepting my vigorous penile intrusions
smiles and says, "Male animals want to try to make females pregnant. So
go ahead, ejaculate! Get it in deep and let it all out! And wow, it's
feeling really good down there for me too!"
I last another minute before nature has me spewing again, doing my
level best to make Brenda pregnant. How can anything feel so fantastic
and so right?
When I catch my breath, I say, "Did you... did you have an orgasm?"
"No, silly. That comes later for me -- a few years later. But it did
feel natural and really nice."
We were in our early 20s, we met at a dance, then we took a walk
together. It was a really nice conversation. She invited me up to her
room, and I went, but after a while I left. Here we are in her room at
the crucial moment.
"I've got to go," I say. "I'm staying with my elderly grandparents --
taking care of them. I told them I'd be back."
Here the script changes.
"Why did you leave? Why didn't you go to bed with me? I felt so
humiliated! Taking care of your grandparents. That was the lamest
excuse ever!"
"Well, it was true!"
"Yeah, right!"
I think about how to explain it, with the benefit of the whole lifetime
of experience I acquired after that incident. "I suppose I could have
blown off my grandparents, or called them. But there was more. I'd only
had one lover up to that point in my life. I'd never had casual sex.
Back then I only wanted to do it if we were going to be lovers, like an
ongoing relationship."
"Really?" she says.
"Really!"
"I thought you must be so experienced."
"No way."
"Hmmm. I could tell if you're lying, here in the afterlife."
I'd found that out. You couldn't lie in the afterlife, not if the other
person really wanted to know the truth.
There's a pause, and then I say, "But now I can throw off my silly
assumptions and fears..."
"Am I attractive?"
"You were then -- you really were. I thought so. And now, well, now..."
She looks very sexy. I also know she'd never be prom queen, but so
what? I move up to her and put my arm around her back, drawing her in
to me firmly. We kiss. It feels great, and she responds
enthusiastically. I rub her shoulders and her back as we kiss. Reaching
lower, I run my hand up the back of her thigh, down again, up again,
then fondle her butt.
She breaks from me and starts unbuttoning my shirt. I pull her blouse
up. We undress each other, occasionally glancing up to see the other
smiling. When our tops are clear, I reach down to hungrily suck her
left nipple.
"Mmmm!" she says. "But let's get horizontal -- and naked first."
Before long we're lying on her bed. She gives an appreciate look at my
stiff cock. There's more kissing, breast-sucking, and explorations with
hands. My fingers gently open her sex opening. I rub. She seems to like
it, but I have a hunch.
I shift down below her, kissing my way down her chest and past her
belly. I pause and look up at her big smile. I guessed right. I kiss
down over her mound, and taste her young woman's sex. My hands massage
her inner thighs, working up to her outer labia. But my tongue is on
her clitoris, licking away. Her moans guide me. Her fingers run through
my hair, and when it feels especially good she clenches her fists,
pulling on my hair in a nice way.
Over the course of fifteen minutes she gets more and more excited,
clenching and releasing her thigh muscles, moving her pelvis in little
jerks that get more frequent and sharper. Finally a big gasp, which I
take as a trigger for a flurry of fast licks. A bigger gasp follows as
she bucks her hips up. I keep my tongue in position despite the bucking
and keep licking until she lies back, panting.
But a few seconds later, she says, "What about you? I'd be happy to do
that for you too!"
"No, well, I'd rather get into your pussy."
She smiles. "I hoped you'd say that... I have some condoms, but I guess
we don't need to worry about that now!"
I move up onto her and I have the funny image of our genitals making
brief introductions (Hi, pussy -- Hi cock, you're big and stiff --
You're hot and wet -- Ready to fuck? -- Ready!)
"In, in! Please," she moans, and I'm happy to oblige. My cock slides
into a silky, hot vagina, as ready as a girl's tube can be in the wake
of her massive orgasm. I'm mounted on this hot young woman, her skin
glowing, nipples sticking straight up, legs spread wide apart.
"Can you, like, talk dirty?" I ask, thrusting into her urgently.
"Sure!" she grins. "Fuck me! Fuck me hard! That's it. Pound it into my
dirty cunt!"
I love that word and can't helping smiling. And to call it dirty -- oh,
my!
"Cunt, cunt, cunt... Fuck my filthy cunt! Keep ramming that sexy cock
in. It feels so great to get fucked hard and mean. Whenever you want,
spurt your jiz. Fill me up with it! I wanna be your cum dump! Drown my
cunt with cum! It feels fantastic! I'm gonna come again!"
She's gazing at me intently, watching my rising excitement, hands
playing over my chest.
I pass the point of no return, and she gives a big, firm squeeze with
her pussy.
"Come in my cunt! Hard as you can! Deep as you can! Fill me up!"
I do come. It's fantastic. She yelps and gasps too. I spurt, over and
over again. When the delivery is complete, we turn on our sides, my
softening cock still inside her. After a while we sleep.
An hour later I wake up. My cock has slipped out, but now I feel it
rising to full erection once more. She feels it too. I'm willing to
give her oral sex again, but she guides my cock straight into her
pussy. Straight to the mating act. Our mutual pleasure rises quickly,
and in under a minute she gasps with orgasm, then I'm coming inside her
again.
We get up to use the bathroom, then return to bed to sleep.
In the morning I'm stiff and ready to go again. This is the longest
continuous episode I've had in the afterlife. She says she's a little
too sore for that, but sets to work on my cock with her mouth and
tongue. She's fantastic at it.
"Can I come in your mouth?" I ask urgently.
"Of course!" she says quickly. "Let me swallow all your nasty goo!" She
resumes her attentions.
And with a final flurry of tongue strokes she makes me come in her
other hot, wet body cavity. True to her word, she swallows it all.
After snuggling a bit, it's time to get up and say goodbye.
This woman is a bit older, with gray hair, but also dressed like a
college bureaucrat.
"So..." I say. "I show up when we both really wanted it, like with
Wanda. And I show up where I've done something wrong, like with Sarah.
I also show up when people wanted me?"
"Right, like with Mary."
"And Brenda in the church basement showed up for me?"
"You really wanted Mary back when you were alive, if the other stuff
wasn't in the way. And like Brenda said, she kind of wanted you. No one
needed much convincing at all in these cases."
"But, Brenda... She was still alive when I died, right?"
The woman smiles. "Time is different in the afterlife. How long has it
been since you died? There's no real way to say -- there are no
calendars here. Everyone dies, of course. Here, we eventually remember
life as the blink of an eye. Everyone you knew is here."
Something's been on my mind. "What about the religious folks? Folks who
thought they'd get to sit at the right hand of Jesus when they died?
Celibate priests and nuns? Do they get to do that, or are they out
there fulfilling the sexual fantasies of everyone who lusted after
them?"
"They get to sit at the right hand of Jesus. Well, he's just a dead guy
like the rest of you, though, and not someone who lived two thousand
years ago. They kind of know that. But up here their understanding
broadens a bit. The experiences they get honor their tradition, but
they also get that the afterlife really isn't what they thought. Their
thinking gets more compassionate -- it takes in the perspectives of
others more. Some of them have this idea that this isn't really the
afterlife, just some sort of purgatory, and they still look forward to
eternity with the real Jesus. Of course, if any of them screwed up in
life, they have to pay, like anyone else."
"What about the terrorists who think they're going to meet twenty-one
virgins? The ones who thought they were serving their God?"
"Belief in God isn't enough. Cultural relativism only goes so far
here." She laughs. "We were all given enough clues to figure out the
Golden Rule when we were alive, and that's what we're judged by. The
Christians who thought they were doing God's will, burning the heretics
at the stake? They suffer a long, long time."
"What about folks who liked other stuff. Like eating? I've had some
tasty snacks, but no real big meals."
"You weren't that much into food. You'll probably get some nice meals
if you find yourself really wanting them. But take a look here."
A woman sits at a table laid with what looks like a Thanksgiving Dinner
for twelve. She's eating with gusto. A few of the serving dishes are
empty. She's made a big dent in some others.
"So she eats everything?"
"As long as she wants. I think this one's been through a dozen
Thanksgiving dinners this size. And plenty of other cuisines too."
She's got the body of a lithe teenager. "And let me guess: in the
afterlife she doesn't get fat or even get indigestion. That's all
fixed?"