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ACT ONE: PUPPY DOES A PUSSY DEAL
‘Look’, said the Grim Reaper with a less than impressed sigh ‘, you can’t just keep saying you’re going to kill yourself and summoning me up. I’m a very busy psycho-pomp.’
‘Sorry’, mumbled the scraggy middle-aged man on his messy bedsit floor. ‘but…’
‘But.. but ..but’ tutted the Reaper as he moved around the small, smelly room, his long, bony finger arching over empty beer cans and fried rice cartons. ‘There’s always a but with you…. but then the sun came out, but then I found a happy pill…but but but.’
To be fair to the Grim Reaper, he had been very patient with the wannabe self-harmer, but he had now lost count on his long, bony, pale, dry fingers the number of times paperwork had been completed for the collection of this dead soul, only for a last-minute ‘but but but.’
‘I can’t keep chasing this’, grunted Grim as the words flowed out in a long, garlicky, painful sigh. ‘Look, here’s what I’ll do for you, and it’s the best you’re going to get because this time of year, I haven’t got the budget to do deals with every waif and stray looking for a way out.’
He strolled around the tiny bedsit awkwardly, screwing his face as each bare-footed step on the sticky floor made him shudder, oh the thought of all that desperate dying man cum between his toes. In fact, the pile of used tissues made into some bizarre paper mache cock shaped trophy on the mouldy sofa arm was enough to convince him to make a mental note to start wearing at least a pair of sandals when dealing with the great unwashed in future. No wonder Jesus never left home without a pair; the public are animals. Dirty horny unashamed animals.
‘Look ….. Arthur’ sighed the Grim Reaper with a pause, checking the paperwork on his DIEpad to ensure he had the correct name. ‘It’s a hectic period for us death collectors this time of year. Christmas is always crawling with loners and moaners who cry into their Christmas pudding while watching Home Alone and want to end it all. And generally, I don’t have a problem with that, Arthur’. There was almost a hint of sympathy coming through the smooth, low, deathly tones until Grim managed to adjust his hood, making sure his dominant vocal was sarcastic.
Arthur just sat on the floor in the same position as when the Reaper had alighted. Probably seconds away from being caught with his flaccid cock in his hand, thought Grim. It looked as if there was nothing else to keep Arthur amused in the damp, empty living quarters. Just hand and cock. ‘I’m sorry, Sir’, mumbled Arthur into his chin, using the word Sir for the first time in his life, like an ashamed orphan in a Victorian novel.
Grim tippy-tapped away on his DIEpad, like a salesman in a dark, shifty store that really shouldn’t exist, determined to close this situation once and for all. After all, while a failed suicide or a last-minute change of mind is a relief on a human level, for the Grim Reaper, it’s very time-consuming and hits his budget very hard.
‘You see, Arthur, I have been back and forth to you a few times now, and while I get paid a bonus for bringing in suicides, each time you mess me around, I incur a lot of expenses I can’t claim back, and that means profit is eaten away from other jobs. You can see my dilemma, Arthur, can’t you? I mean, we all have to make a living.’ Grim explained in a very reasonable manner.
‘I mean Arthur, if you just walked outside now and a piano fell on your head, killing you, then all I have to do is come and spend a few minutes with your soul, listening to the usual how it’s too soon and can I give you just another few weeks and then soon enough I deliver you either upstairs or downstairs. Very smooth. Very cost effective. And then tea and biscuits with either The Big J or Lucifer while we reach a deal for your soul, depending on how good or bad you’ve been. But you… with several callouts for suicide, non-completions constantly drain my bank balance.’
‘I see’ replied Arthur. And he genuinely did see. Although Arthur was now living in the human gutter, he used to be a number cruncher in finance accounts of the local Council’s sanitation department. Arthur was only too aware of the implications of cancelled jobs. He would often make a phone call to the depot managers responsible for public toilet maintenance, scolding them for wasted journeys. ‘I’m sorry, Sir,’ he genuinely stumbled, feeling for the first time how his selfish behaviour had impacted the Grim Reaper, who was freelance and not holding the public purse.
‘So Arthur, let’s wrap this up, shall we? Do each other a favour.’
Of course, the Grim Reaper had this job that required a certain air of dominance because most people didn’t want to die. He also had to show certain levels of sympathy, whether genuine or not. But today, he decided, was a day to be on the level and simply get the job done.
‘Now Arthur… my suicide numbers are a bit low this month, so I really need to get you done and delivered before the 31st to hit my target. That gives me about a week, so what I’m prepared to do for you is slightly unusual but designed for situations like this. I can give you one last wish, any wish you could dream of, and if you agree, I’ll grant it now for 24 hours, and then I’ll drop by this time tomorrow and take you away. Like that? It’s almost like the death row last meal. You’re going to lose it all, but you might as well feast before you do. How does that sound?’
‘Anything?’ Arthur looks up from his crouched position for the first time.
‘Yes. Anything. And then you die. Preferably of your own doing, but I will do it myself, if I have to step in. But trust me, I will make it look like suicide. I’m not doing this for kicks. Much’
‘Ok’. Replied Arthur, slowly moving to his feet, tucking his shirt into his stained jeans and buttoning them back up before unexpectedly screeching, ‘I want to bang the girl downstairs’.
The Grim Reaper, picking between his teeth with his wiry green fingernails, almost choked on some of this morning’s forbidden fruit at the announcement and couldn’t help but smile wryly.
There were no heirs or graces in how Arthur issued his demand to the Grim Reaper. The irony wasn’t lost on Grim that Arthur tried to make himself look presentable as he blurted his deepest desires out loud. And .. there was no romance here or an idea that his last wish would in any way leave a legacy of mysterious riddles and wise discoveries. No. Arthur just wanted to cum in the hot curvy blonde woman who lived in the apartment below. Just bang her and die. And well… I suppose if you strip out all the shiny words and psychological mumbo jumbo, then it’s as good a wish as any.
‘The very same girl you’ve been wanking over since the day you moved in?’ sniggered Grim.
‘Yes’, boomed Arthur with a chesty pride. A very different man now he thought he was about to do something that he wouldn’t need a tissue or used sock for. An actual woman. His fantasy woman.
‘The very same girl whose shoes you sniff when she leaves them outside her apartment door?’ sniggered Grim as he walked around Arthur, recoiling at the stench of old crusty solo sex on his clothes.
‘Wait’, asked a startled Arthur, ‘ you see that?’
‘I’m not God, Arthur; I don’t see all and hear all. It was just a lucky guess.’ Grim sighed at the tiresome episode.
Of course, being the Grim Reaper was a dark job, but often it was incredibly rewarding, with heroic deaths to record and celebrity downfalls to tease the world social media forums with.. but then there were also random days like this, days that made it hard to get up out of your coffin in the middle of the night. A grubby man pleading for sex with a woman out of his league, or he won’t kill himself. No class at all. Grim despaired at this modern plastic disposable society, nothing like the old days when a guillotine needed 30 bonjours to your neck before you were entirely severed. Proper Death in the old days, real suffering, not just swallowing a few tablets with unicorns on them washed down with a fruity Merlot as Netflix shadows fell on your fluffy monkey onesie.
But as a death collector on a mission, Grim was looking for a way out for all parties, although the problem he had here is that in his role as death collector, he is not allowed to influence the end of life; he can’t put pressure on grubby Arthur to top himself or slip a few pills in the wine glass of his own piss on the coffee table, just as he cant make the hot girl downstairs open her legs for Arthurs seedy little chipolata.
Well but …where there’s a way. There’s a will. And maybe somewhere along the way Grim thinks to himself, there is the opportunity to dress up this suicide a little and make it more interesting than the tabloid headline ‘man bangs then man hangs’.
‘So,’ muses Grim out loud as he circles Arthur with every other step sticking to the carpet. ‘I can not make her have sex with you, and I can not make you kill yourself, but I can manipulate a situation where you might be able to do sexual things or, at the very least, explode at the intense, insane levels of perving you can do on said hot woman downstairs. I’ll let you have a night with her to do what you can and then I’ll expect you to honour your side with a quick and easy self-murder where there’s no cleaning up for me and you leave a clear note saying what an excellent experience this was and give me five stars on Grim Advisor.’ He turns and looks Arthur in the eye. ‘Deal?’
Of course, Arthur is desperate to get as close as he can to this vision of beauty living so near yet so far from him. To be honest, he never expected his bold request of sex with her to come true, and in the excitement, all his selective hearing caught was perving at insane levels, so he held his hand out without hesitation. ‘Where do I sign Grim?’ he said with an air of contentment and self-confidence, which,
if he had displayed at any other stage in his life, might just have saved him from suicidal thoughts in a chemical-free life.
Grim puts the bone-shaped pen in Arthurs’s hand and points to the contract and waiver. There. There. Initial there. Date there. There. There. Thumbprint there. And so on. It was a complicated contractual document, considering a dead man very rarely wins in court, but you know Grim and his department liked a tidy paper trail.
‘Very good’, announced Grim, and before Arthur could say, ‘Lead the way’, he twirled in a puff of smoke and flopped on the floor into the body of a fluffy little cockapoo dog.
‘What the fuck’ Arthur screamed. But no one heard. Maybe Grim heard but didn’t reply as he smiled and laughed to himself. Arthur was now a doggy, and his words were internal. In fact, Arthur was now a handbag doggy, and he needed to very quickly come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t ever be heard again. And this shock rolled over Arthur as an overwhelming thunderous wave of panic. He didn’t see this coming. Well… after all…. if a deal seems too good to be true, then it probably is.
Grim towers over the fluffy little ball as it runs around his feet, yelping, probably interpreted as very loud and explicitly rude swear words. He smiles down at Arthur before he picks up the dog and releases it out into the corridor of the block of apartments. ‘Good luck,’ he says as he waves off the yelping wreck onto the concrete stairway. ‘ Give her one from me,’ he smiles as he looks to the skies and vanishes away to Valhalla. For brunch. With his fiance, Britney.
ACT TWO COCKAPOO DO AND COCKAPOO DO
‘Bobbles, Bobbles, ‘ shrieks an anxious female voice below. ‘Bobbles, where are you?’ she cries again and again before finally, her shrieks turn to joy at discovering her precious handbag doggy on the floor above her apartment.
‘There you are,’ she says as she picks up Arthur, rubbing her nose against his and changing her voice to a squeaky bimbo Barbie accent. ‘Mummy got scared she had lost her little Bobbles, ‘ she said as if talking to a newborn baby.
‘Fuck’, Thought Arthur realising he was now called Bobbles. And a dog. ‘Fuck’, thought Arthur, realising he was now pressed against the firm, perfectly sized breasts of his red-hot neighbour. Or, as she’s now known, mummy. ‘Fuck me’, he shouts excitedly as if he really had won the lottery, which of course, doesn’t come out as grubby man cries of delight but as fluffy Bobbles yelps.
In fact, very quickly, Arthur discovers that perversely, the more he swears or groans out loud with creepy desire, the cuter the doggy appears to be in the Bimbos’s eyes, encouraging her to talk back to him more and cuddle him more ‘yes that’s right mummy was scared don’t ever ever leave me again like that.’ she shrieks kissing Arthur over and over and squeezing him right into the cleavage of her low cut top.
Bobbles replies with the sweetest yelps right between her firm, soft breasts. ‘I’m going fucking nowhere, don’t you worry about that mummy.’
So, two hearts pounding for very different reasons, they go inside her apartment, and Arthur has a wry smile to himself at the masterclass shown by the Grim Reaper by never forcing a situation but being the most creative at manipulating the dirtiest of dreams into the cutest of souls.
And straight away, Arthur is struck by the thick air of horny perfumes in the apartment, perfumes he often smells down the hallway. Of course, as a cute little doggy, his now heightened sense of smell is enhanced to the extreme; he doesn’t have to sniff the air any more on the staircase for a fading smell, but he can feel it against his furry face. And that is ‘hard on’ number one.
He laughs. Internally, of course. Because now he is a little doggy, and his hearing is also heightened, and as she carries him into the apartment, hugging him close to her breasts, he feels and hears her breathing as if she was cumming. His ‘hard-on’ hits boiling point. ‘Fuck me’, he screams as his tiny hard doggy cock throbs and aches as he rubs himself against her with excitement.
‘Yes, you are a good boy,’ she delights in saying, putting him on the floor and kissing his nose.
Of course, being a dog, when she puts him down on the floor, the first thing he does is patrol the laminate flooring, sniffing out his territory. Now, Barbie doesn’t pay any attention to this because she has seen her doggy do it a billion times. So she chats away to him, and herself, about this and the other, as he makes himself back at home, but she has no idea that cute fluffy doggy body is now inhabited by a pervy drunk from upstairs and there is a whole new purpose to ‘the territory sniff’.
‘Thank fuck, the girl is messy’, he laughs out loud to himself as Barbie replies with a smile at how happy doggy is to be home.
Dirty knickers, socks and tights are all over the floor, like a spilt treasure chest in Arthurs’s eyes as his heightened smell takes it all in. The irony is not lost on him as he feels he has died and gone to heaven with all these dirty panties and items of clothes on the floor, waiting to be sniffed and licked clean. And he doesn’t have to sneak about at 2 am and hide it. He can smell and munch away right there in the open. In fact, he thinks he could quickly die happy just doing this for 24 hours as he searches for the first time the taste of her fresh wetness in the panties she wore last night in bed.
The whole time he is searching to fill his face with pussy remnants from her panties she is talking to him, like he’s her precious baby. She speaks in a squeaky Barbie voice to the fluffy doggy and laughs at herself at how silly she must look when talking to a dog who can’t understand or answer her. Well, ordinarily, the doggy can’t, but today, with the creepy neighbour implanted inside it, doggy knows precisely what is going on as she runs the shower and prepares her towels, plays some music and pours herself a glass of wine.
Yes… Arthur hears random words but is far too busy snooping around the place on perv patrol to be too concerned about baby gurgles. This unimaginable freedom has his heart pounding; he can’t believe his luck, and he would gladly have sold his soul to be in this dream ever since he first saw the girl in the apartment below. Well, actually, the price of this is his suicide in a few hours, so maybe he did sell his soul for a bit of panty sniffing, so it truly is his duty now to snoop for panties and tights and shoes in every room of the apartment.
Until. Fuck. Arthur wanders into the bathroom, casually sniffing the floor for more treats when his heart skips a dozen puppy beats at the sight of her bending over from behind, slowly slipping her black laddered tights down her bare, smooth little legs.
Now this, he thought in a flash, must be what the Grim Reaper meant by the phrase intense insane perving as all of a sudden his world went into slow motion, and the fluffy handbag puppy lost all sense of reality with a spinning head and raging hard throbbing hairy dripping erection.
This woman… this vision of beauty he had for so long fantasised about was right before him in a pose he had imagined a million times before as he lay on the sticky apartment floor above her, cock in hand. And now… this time… instead of vague images put together in his mind. There she was, bending for him as he sat wagging his tale on her bathroom floor.
Of course, she wasn’t to know she was being perved on by a grubby creepy man who was now inhabiting her puppy, why would she? There isn’t a fairytale gossip column precedent in any of the glamour magazines she reads about this. I mean, there are lots of showbiz drama tales of exploding boob jobs and old men losing their cocks inside themselves as they get too old to even walk to the ATM, but not pervs inserted in dogs. Well, not this kind of insertion.
But as she slowly undressed in her bathroom, bent over with her little short denim blue skirt raised over her perfectly rounded bum… those long long long smooth slim legs being revealed goose-bump by goose-bump as her black sheer nylon tights slowly roll down from thigh to knee to ankle … the puppy tale wags at the speed of light… the puppy cock reaches for the stars and the yelps for attention are internally translated as a string of ‘yes baby’s’ urging the shapely neighbour to bend a little further and show those panties underneath the skirt. Let them ride up between her legs as she tugs the nylons over her sexy little feet with painted pink toenails.
Fuck fuck fuck. Arthur blasted inside his fluffy little overheating skull as each bare leg was revealed, and a glimpse from bottom to top gave a sneaky peek at the bright white panties up beneath her skirt. And what a perfect position a doggy has for up-skirting, he grinned to himself in between breathless panting. Those little cotton panties fitted firmly against each tight cheek of her bum, easing smoothly and tightly between her legs with just enough on view to show the perverted puppy the shape of her pussy lips for the first time. Tiny little bumps in her sexy little little panties. The shape is like the light at the end of a tunnel.
She turns at the puppy yelping and laughs, not realising how close to the truth she is as she playfully scolds the puppy, saying, ‘Are you watching me undress you naughty doggy.’
‘Yeah, and wishing I could bang your brains out just like that’, the cute little fluffy puppy yelps in reply.
Tights rolled up on the floor, the tail-wagging puppy makes an executive decision to come back and sniff those later because now the show is only just warming up and no self-respecting creep should consider missing any stripping action when this close to the stage.
And the puppy is hard. But the puppy can’t touch in the way he would like to on account of having no fingers to wank that tiny
hard hairy pancake-smelling cock with. And in any case, those cute little puppy dog eyes constantly need wiping clear as the steamy shower threatens to blur the show. This is an insane kind of intensity Arthur didn’t expect when he made a deal with the Grim Reaper, although it wasn’t the first time a hard untouchable cock and blurred vision had been his best evening of the week.
But that ass, though. Those panties hugged tightly against her as she wriggled and twisted and undid the zip to her little blue denim skirt. Yelp, yelp, yelp goes the puppy dog pervert as she drops that skirt over her bum and bare legs and all the way down to the floor. Fuck fuck fuck yelps the puppy dog’s inner creepy old man when she kicks away the skirt across the bathroom and turns to show the full sight of her tiny little white cotton girly hipster panties. If ever a puppy needed heart medication, then this was it, heart racing, breath stopped, and little doggy cock aching to be emptied.
‘Stop it’, she giggles. ‘Stop it, stop it, stop you silly doggy’, she giggles helplessly as she brushes him away from her leg. Desperate times call for desperate measures and Arthur could take no more; in a desperate attempt to relieve himself, he threw every paw and claw into humping her bare soft leg. Just those few seconds rubbed against her, cock on the leg, felt like everything he had ever dreamed of as he had routinely wanked over her, well, except for the fact he was never a dog in his fantasies.
Actually, this was a rare moment of clarity for him as he slid across the bathroom floor, thanks to her little playful kick kicking him away.
I’m a fucking dog. With a hard-on. What’s that all about?
Well, he has every right to check out how weird this is. But that moment soon passes because a red hot body is inches in front of him; he can’t have her, but he can sure as hell watch and rub his cock against the floor for now as she lifts her little white strappy vest top up over her flat soft sapphire pierced tummy button, slowly exposing her naked, braless breasts right in front of him. Oh, if I died now.. he thought… I would die a happy man. Well, a happy puppy. And I will be dying very soon, so drink it up, pervert.
The vest top flies across the bathroom floor just as the little denim skirt did before. They had done their job for the day. The little skirt is tight against her bum, so every observer can see her shape and hope for a glimpse of panties with each bend or step. The little tight top against her bare chest teased the shape of her firm, round, soft 32 b breast, the slightest of movement teasing a press of tiny nipple through the cotton. Those bare shoulders were hardly interrupted by the little straps. A basic top. But a level-one suggestive top for the average pervert.
‘Just what are you doing down there?’ she giggles as she leans down to ruffle the fur on the puppy’s head while he lies on the floor, rubbing his cock furiously against the bathroom tiles for at least a tiny relief.
‘You are in such a silly mood today’, she laughs, stroking him everywhere except the cock he wants her to stroke and rub right now as her breasts flop so close to his face. Each goose bump on those pert mountains within a breath of the puppy, her tiny pink fleshy nipples so deliciously tempting. If only I were human. He thought. Human again. He growled.
Well, if he was human right now, those little nipples would be in his mouth and his bare hands all over those perfect titties not long before his cock was between them and then his cum all over them. But he’s not human right now, much to his annoyance and much to the pleasure of the Grim Reaper and his girlfriend, Britney.
Oh yes, they can see. Eating lunch watching Secret Cam on the DIEpad. Well, like Grim said earlier, you have to make something out of nothing in this job sometimes, and his girl loves some proper internet weird porn, so kill two birds with one stone and all that. This event will surely get him some oral points somewhere down the line.
‘Do you think he’s in pain and agony right now?’ smiles Britney like a poisonous asp as she takes a bite of her raw cock shaped carrot.
‘Oh yes, baby’, replied Grim with more glee than he should have. ‘there we see a man whose dreams have come true .. but in a parallel universe. I would say that he will be describing this pain and despair to a therapist one day, but he won’t. Because he’ll be dead soon, and I’ll be a bag of satanic coins better off.’
‘Ooohhhh’, exclaims Britney with wide eyes. ‘That means I can get my new boots this weekend.. the ones made of Norwegian bitches teeth.’
‘Yes you can baby waby baby’ answers Grim as he playfully squeezes her cheeks.
The puppy shivers a little. It’s not because he throbbed hard at the bare titties in front of him. It felt more like someone had walked over his grave. It was probably just the Reaper being wanked by Britney as they watched on.
But Barbie is a sight as she moves around the bright white-tiled bathroom. Those tiny white panties against her smooth, soft white skin, clinging to the curves of her thighs and gripping to her inner thighs so close to her sacred pussy. Puppy man, who is a connoisseur of the panty-clad shape of a woman, reaches and stretches his tiny furry head to get a view of just how tight against her pussy lips that cloth is.
Maybe he should have asked the Reaper to be her panties instead. Just imagine the glorious scent and taste there right now; it’s almost a shame she is going to shower away that glorious liquor, he thinks to himself before yelping randomly like a perverted Tourette puppy.
A puppy cock feels the same as a man’s cock when it’s hard and desperate, and throbbing. But right now, puppy paws are shit tools compared to man hands. No wonder the average dog humps the nearest chair or bums his brother. The frustration must be enormous. No wonder puppy years are 7 to 1 human. This kind of stress would age any creature.
Because her tease is never ending as she stands looking at herself in the mirror above the sink, her back to Arthur, her bum so hugged and fuckable as she undoes the hair band holding her soft strawberry blonde hair in a ponytail. Wow, just wow, his heart beats out as she shakes her hair free and loose, and her thighs and near-naked body move in slow motion, a body just waiting to be held from behind, hands on waist and cock pressed into a bum. There, just waiting to be bent over and fucked, the puppy thinks, just as she bends as if reading his mind to slowly remove her panties.
Yelp, yelp, yelp. Goes the puppy out loud. But internally, it’s just random words ranging from yessss get them fuckers off to an incomprehensible prayer of thanks to God. In a language even God wouldn’t understand. If he existed.
‘Do you think he will spontaneously combust right here, right now, as she takes them off?’ Britney asks without a trace of humour, eyes glued to the secret cam as she strokes the Reaper’s long bony cock up and down.
‘He better not’, groans the Reaper as he watches the panties slowly fall down her legs on the cam, to the rhythm of Britney’s hand teasing his hard, aching cock, ‘The deal is suicide. I can’t have him dying any other way.’
And to be fair, the puppy doesn’t want to combust either; the show has only just begun, and as her legs release panties, he is so desperate to stretch his neck to get a glimpse of bare pussy at the same time. Please, please, please …
Of course, she doesn’t know how much of a tease this is, but if she were working right now in a club for perverted gentlemen and their pets, she would have a big pile of notes ready to be stuffed in her holes. The way she takes the panties down her legs without showing pussy is art, pure art. Legs close and open and twist and turn, and panties get smaller and smaller as they fall to the floor, and still, the sight of pussy is denied the puppy. Even one last look in the mirror to see her hair, her back to the pervert, doesn’t show him pussy lips at all. Her bare, sexy bum clenched as she grabbed the towel, which fell down in front of her on her brief few steps to the shower.
‘You fucking bitch’, yelps Arthur as she gets inside the steamy shower cubicle to the sound of hot water hitting her body and soft little moans eeking through the glass door to show the pleasure she feels from those first few splashes.
Arthur mutters furiously as he looks at steam and nothing else on the shower door, so he makes his way over to the tiny crumpled panties on the floor. Might as well have a sniff and lick if she’s hidden by the steam, he thinks to himself and pushes the tiny panties with his nose.
His superior sense of smell as a puppy picks up the scent straight away.. although the panties are so tiny, the sweetest drops of her pussy juices have managed to snuggle themselves deep in the gusset, and this is the moment Arthur has been waiting for. This is what her pussy smells like. This is his climb to the mountain peak.
He already knew what her feet smelled like after a hard day stocking shelves at the local supermarket, thanks to her leaving her smelly training shoes outside her apartment door. In fact, he had many nights enjoying that little taster. Much like the men in his apartment might go and stand outside for a cigarette in the early hours, he would go sniff his neighbour’s shoes.
But now was a whole new level. Pussy. And this was a moment Arthur wanted to savour for the rest of his life.. which of course, was only now a matter of hours, so closing his eyes and inhaling like a wine expert would over an uncorked bottle, he took in the smell of her pussy drops one by one deep inside his nose and mouth and lungs and chest until she was flowing through his veins and soul. Well, his soul and her puppy’s veins.
‘Enjoy it while you can, dude, ‘ smirks Grim as he twitches, wriggles, and groans
in Britney’s hand.
‘And just what does that mean?’ grins Britney as she grips his cock hard and tight in her little demonic fingers, wanking him down to force a loud groan and stuttered breath.
‘Just watch’, gasps the Reaper as he sees a few drops of pre cum glisten on the top of his cock moments before Britney leans down to taste him.
The water and the steam swirl through the shower as she washes her naked body slightly out of sight, hidden somewhat apart from a few suggestive shadows and shapes through the air-borne water.
The puppy man sniffs the air as the fruity body lotion mix hits his nose. It should be a turn-on, maybe, but the perverted puppy knows this means one thing and one thing only.. disaster.. the smell of the panties is fading, and he hasn’t even tasted her sacred drops yet.
In a flutter of panic, he goes to grab the tiny panties to open them and lick them clean of her, but then and only then does he realise he has paws, not hands. Yelp yelp yelp (oh for fuck sake), he moans as his fluffy paws do nothing but push the panties around the floor yelp yelp yelp (oh fuck fuck fuck). He squeals in terror as the panties hit puddle and puddle of shower water and steam droplets, thus reducing the chances of finding any pure pussy juices to taste. The wetter the panties, the more diluted the smell and taste… any self-respecting puppy pervert knows the science behind this.
‘Watch this baby’, announces the Reaper as his bony hands lift Britney by the hair off his cock where she was happily sucking away. ‘Here is the sight of a man heading towards the beginning of his end.’
And Arthur knows it, his yelps going unheard as his temporary nose and paws push the panties deeper into the abyss, impossibly trying to unravel the tiny twisted panties just for one lick of the pussy juices in the gusset but with the finesse and accuracy of a bulldozer trying to hold hands with a tower block.
‘Oh, look at his little face’, sympathises Britney as she slows her wanking hand on the Reaper’s cock to a gentle, playful tug.
Arthur sits there, the loneliest and saddest moment of his life. His naked fantasy inches away but hidden by steam and the last few remaining sacred pussy drops diluted away on the bathroom floor tiles making sure he will never know the taste of her sexual secret place. No words can describe the despair and disappointment of a man who almost had the holy grail in his hands. Paws. Yelp yelp yelp, he manages in a whimpering voice. (Fuck shitty fuck).
Feeling sorry for himself, Arthur, head bowed and with tiny legs moving in snail-like motion, takes his sad puppy dog’s eyes and leaves the bathroom. Well tries to leave the bathroom. The steam, so thick and cloudy like the fog on the moors, delays his departure as he walks into the laundry basket a few times, walks into the waste bin a few times, bangs his head on the heating rail, and gets tangled up in her twisted panties. But eventually, he manages to find his way to her bedroom and curls up on the feathery rug to doze into a well-earned nap.
‘Don’t stop, don’t stop.’ begs the Reaper as Britney picks up the pace of her fingers wrapped around his long wiry bony cock.
‘Oh yes, big boy’, urges Britney as she speeds up and tightens up her wanking action on her death collector, moaning erotically. ‘Mmmmm, you love a dying dream, don’t you, Reapy, cum for me, cum like that shitty puppy can’t.’
That did the trick. There is nothing like the torture of an empty soul to empty the balls of a death collector. And this he appeared to like a lot as Britney wanked him dry of every drop all over her face and black velvet Gothic dress. And she liked it a lot because she likes cum and she likes boots made of Norwegian Bitches teeth.
‘Awwww, look at you’, his neighbour sighs sweetly as she walks into the bedroom carrying her bottle of wine and glass, wrapped just in her little towel. ‘You’ve had quite an adventure today. No wonder you’re tired, she tells him again as a mother speaks to a newborn baby.
Yeah, I fucking have, he thinks to himself. He isn’t thinking about being lost on the stairs. He is thinking about his new disability. Being unable to wank on account of having paws. You don’t see this event in the Paralympics, do you?
But well. She might be clean and free of the day’s pussy drops but never say never, he thinks to himself, lying on the rug lifting his puppy dog eyes as she leans over the bed to pull back the bed sheets.
The little white towel is undoubtedly only the size of a hand towel for the average working man. It might even be a tea towel for drying pots in the kitchen because the way she has this tied covers just slightly over her nipples and just slightly over her bum. Not that pervert puppy is complaining as she bends over the bed to pull the sheets back, and he gets a full glimpse of pussy from behind.
That’s quite a view, he thinks to himself, with her bum raised in the air a little as she reaches over the bed. The little towel rides up as her legs part a little, her bum parts a little and the glorious sight of her smooth tight little pussy glows under the bedroom light. Perfection, he thinks to himself, resting his furry head on his legs and paws, just taking in the view, cock aching but resigned to a few presses against the rug.
The way she bends, bum arched, pussy ready to feel the split of a cock tip right as she is now, what a tease, what a bitch doing this to me. If only I could grip her by the hips right now and nail that pussy into the bed.
‘This is pure torture now, baby, you don’t want to miss any of this next bit’, the Reaper says, handing him a popcorn bowl as Britney looks up from her footwear catalogue.
So off goes the towel in the same carefree throwing style she showed earlier with her skirt and vest top. It lands right on the puppy’s head, causing giggles and Barbie-style apologies. Of course, Arthur sniffs and licks and sniffs, but the moment has gone, and it’s just fake fruit smells now.
‘Awww, poor doggy.. come and sit up here.’ she says consolingly, patting the bed next to her as she lays back wholly naked, puffing up the pillows to lean against as she drinks her glass of wine. ‘Come on, Bobbles come and sit with mummy’
Well, maybe this is a benefit of being a puppy, then. Arthur can’t think of any other occasion in his life when a woman has patted the bed, commanding him to join her, especially not a woman as hot and seductive as this one. Of course, Arthur has lived his life paying no attention to hygiene or social skills, which somewhat limits his appeal to women, so this may also be a feature of his failure thus far.
But jump, he does. And jump again. And jump again, until eventually a giggling naked seductress leans over the bed and lifts the tiny legged fluffy ball onto the bed as if things couldn’t get any more humiliating for the perverted puppy.
‘I’d have made him jump up and down a few more times,’ announces Britney as the puppy gets airlifted to the bed, and just as she’s about to mock Arthur further, she halts and groans with a rush of blood to her head as Grim puts his bony fingers inside her dark panties. ‘Fuck’, she gasps as his fingers scrape her pussy. ‘Fuck’, she squeals with delight as, without a trace of romance or care, he puts his long grating finger deep inside her pussy. Just the way she likes it. Just the way he likes to shut her up.
So once on the bed, Arthur sniffs around, of course, but his worst fears are confirmed because the bed sheets are freshly washed and dried, too.
‘Hmmm, I just love fresh bedding at night to relax and cuddle up to.’ she tells her puppy, who glares back at her like she’s an idiot for leaving not one trace of cum for him to savour. But he goes through the motions anyway before finally settling down at the bottom of the bed by her feet. Obviously, in direct line of sight right up between her legs, He might have no wanking hands, but he still retains all his creepy faculties.
Now, of course, any guy who lays at the bottom of the bed staring up at her naked body, bare, firm perfect tits, cute and sexy glistening pussy lips, while rubbing his cock against the bed, might get a swift kick in the face. Still, the disguise of being a puppy was glorious for just lying there and dry humping with the added bonus her soft bare feet and toes would randomly brush over you. Perving at its best. It is almost hypnotic to look over every shiver and tremble and breath of her body as she relaxes or drinks or just plain flicks through whatever she is doing on her phone in her hand.
And it wasn’t long before the highly sensitive fluffy ears of the perverted puppy pricked up into action, snapping him out of his hypnotic gazing between her legs. Was that a sexy sigh I heard? Well, it was feint but it was definitely a twist in the breathing rhythm she had been displaying previously.
Maybe he thought to himself he was imagining it and lay back down, head on furry legs and pussy gazing himself into a sexual meditation he could only ever achieve before with marijuana. And then… jumping ears again.
That was a definite gasp of breath, he thought, and not just an out-of-breath fat arse struggling to get up the stairs, the kind of breath he felt every time he came home to his apartment. And he was right…
Because wearing his Scoobydoo hat, the perverted puppy took his gaze away from smooth wet pussy for a moment to investigate, and his most amazing suspicions were confirmed. The dirty bitch is only playing with herself…
ACT THREE: TWIST IN THE YELPING TALE
Arthur was so busy lying there in a pussy induced trance he missed the start of an upper body revolution going on as his sexy Barbie girl neighbour relaxed herself in a fantasy trance of her own.
In fact, if it weren’t for his newfound supersonic radar hearing, he would never have guessed her breathing was lifted sexually
as she began to tease herself subtly. She wasn’t bashing herself with a huge rubber dildo, and she maybe wasn’t even the type despite Arthurs’s secret fantasies on the floor above her. But she was definitely a woman who knew how to look light-fingered as she snuggled into the big fluffy pillows and teased fingertips on breasts.
Arthur had never watched an actual woman pleasing herself in actual real life. Of course, he had seen a few on the internet, but this was far from those images of a woman bashing herself over the head with a big black dildo. This was classy. This was erotic. This was probably how a Princess would tease herself.
‘God, that looks shit’, screamed Britney watching the Barbie girl tease her boobs with one finger at a time as Grim fingered her burning hell pussy brutally with his scaly rugged bony fingers. 1 inside her. 2 inside her. 3 inside her. ‘What’s the fucking point in that?’ Britney mocked as Grim ripped her knickers down her tattooed white legs.
‘Turn round’, demanded the death collector. ‘Bend over’, he grunted, forcing her face down towards the screen on his DIEpad as he pulled aside his robe, taking out his wearily hard deathly cock, which quite frankly looks like it’s seen better days.
‘Ugh.. ugh… ugh…’ Britney grunts in the staggered Gothic style as the mighty Grim Reaper splits her pussy from behind, punching his throbbing cock deep inside, warming himself up for action while the two afterlife love birds watch the final moments of puppy man’s life unfold. This is where the saying, like Death warmed up, comes from. Probably.
But at this moment, Arthur had no idea what was happening in the darkest, deepest hellholes of time. He was just a fluffy puppy dog, albeit perverted and creepy, sitting on the end of his owner’s bed, looking up at her body as she started to play with herself. The only way this could improve was to be sitting back on a deck chair watching this with a cigar and dry Martini, but for now, those soft little fingers caressing those perfectly pert breasts were as close to heaven as he could get. Well, for the next few hours, at least. If he makes heaven.
‘Oh yes’, Barbie moans to herself as her fingernail circles her little pink nipples, so sweet and cute and edible. Just to be able to feel her nipples softness in his mouth before she hardens on him would be a dream come true, Arthur imagines as her fingers slalom around the firmness of her breast, goose-bumps and shivers and tingles flying down her body.
Each time she whispers an oh yes he notices her hips lift a little, imagining the tingles are joining hands with the tingles between her legs. Each time she whispers oh yes to herself, the creepy puppy edges an inch between her legs, hoping to get close to a smell and taste he craved so desperately a few hours before on the bathroom floor.
It isn’t too long before her hand starts following the tingles and shivers down her body, leaving her breast and reaching her tummy on the erotic journey to her pussy. It isn’t too long before her sexual mood changes, and the whispers are more breathy and louder, and her ‘Oh yes, oh yes’ changes gears. It goes up a level: ‘I want you so bad, baby. I want you so bad.’
Pervert puppy lifts his head, eyes shifting around like a submarine periscope as his fluffy ears prick up to this change in sexual tone. She’s watching someone on her phone, he deduces. And she is. Leaning back on her big pillows, head tilted, watching her phone in one hand and the other hand, having teased her titties, now moving down towards her pussy.
‘Well, the dirty bitch’, laughs Arthur internally, which comes out as a snort on the bed. ‘I need to see this’, he says to himself as he raises to go and check it out at the end of the bed but can’t quite get an angle to see the phone. And it was quite a dilemma for him because he sat there between her legs, with a hard doggy cock; he felt for so long he was in a direct firing line for her wetness should she cum so hard she squirted, but he also needed to see who was making her this horny.
The sounds from the phone were for a seemingly everyday video clip. It wasn’t an internet porn site because there was no cheesy music or fake orgasmic screams. It seems to be, well, I don’t know, maybe secret cam footage, Intriguing. This girl may have a dark side. Perhaps a psycho stalker.
‘You need to keep watching this baby; it’s about to get good.’ the grim Reaper commands breathlessly as he hammers Britney’s pussy from behind.
‘Just you concentrate on nailing me,’ Britney snapped back.
Meanwhile, back on the bed, the drama continues as the puppy man shuffles between direct pussy view and trying to sneak a peek at what’s on the phone screen while the hand of the newly anointed dirty whore reaches the end of the line and nipple teasing becomes pussy teasing.
‘Oh baby’, she moans again to the mystery man she’s watching on her phone as her fingertip gently scrapes each pussy lip in turn. Her soft, smooth, bare legs open for playtime, her sexy knees lifted in the air as she eases down a little, lying on her back. Wet and warm and ready.
Yelp, yelp, yelp, says the doggy, slowly drooling like Victoria Falls. Yelp, yelp fucking yelp.
‘Oh baby, I want you so deep inside me’, she moans louder, looking into the phone, almost as if she is talking by video call with someone, but she isn’t. ‘Oh baby, I want you so bad; all I ever think about is your cock and cum so deep inside me’, she groans as her fingertips part her pussy lips, and her wetness covers her finger down to her knuckle as she slides it inside herself.
The puppy man could, at any point, now explode. In more ways than one. If a puppy can have pre-cum on its little hairy cock it has now. If a puppy can cum without touching and hit itself in the eyes, it can now. Suppose a puppy’s head can explode all over the ceiling. In that case, it can now because as she starts to finger herself before his very eyes, he feels an overwhelming sense of being part of something so erotic he didn’t even have the imagination to fantasise about it before this day.
Sitting between her legs on her bed, watching her parted pussy lips shine with pussy juices as she fingers herself, he could feel the trembles and shivers going through her body. Looking up at the way her legs and knees lift and move and tremble with each movement of her finger in and out of her, he felt so desperate to just for one moment be able to lie there and hold her down, feeling his cock split her just for a few little strokes in and out of her.
And he knew she was at the height of her fantasy to see the wetness and aching movement as well as the look in her eyes as she watched the mystery man on her phone so lovingly with a desire you can’t fake.
And the more she teased, the more she brought her pussy to an aching point of no return. Finger in finger out, two fingers in two fingers out, tweaks and flicks and strokes of her little clitty. Every little play and tease she had discovered over the years brought her close enough to climax to feel the volcano bubble but far enough to hold off for an extra few moments.
‘I want to cum, baby’, she gasped, so needy, ‘please let me come, my baby’, she pleaded into the phone as her body began a sequence of trembles that would only end up with one result. A soaked bed and very, very loud and aggressive ‘oh yes’ screams.
Tail wagging and ears spiking and nose twitching, the perverted puppy has no intention of leaving his squirting post right now, but he desperately wants to know what she is watching on her phone to get her so wet and desperate for cock right now.
He wants to see this. But he also wants to be in sprinkling distance of her pussy when she gushes and squirts her shower of cum in his direction. A face full of her cum and pussy juices is the last meal of a condemned puppy he has no intention of missing.
‘God baby, I’m so close.’ she screams as her body trembles and her fingertip motion spins her clitty into a whirlwind of sexual pleasure. ‘I’m cumming baby’, she screams.
‘Watch this’, The Grim Reaper growls as he bangs harder and harder into his bent-over Gothic whore, holding her head up by the hair so she can see the DIEpad screen.
‘I’m watching, I’m watching’, she screeches with what little breath she has left ‘fuck me fuck me’, she begs.
And he does. The Grim Reaper fucks her brains out from behind as they watch the naked neighbour bring herself to a climax. Pure, intense sex and masturbation going on all around the fluffy little creepy puppy who is hard but can’t touch. Oblivious to the machinations of the devil surrounding him.
Until…….
Yelp yelp yelp (what the fuck?), the puppy man cries when the phone falls from her hand as she cums, giving him the first glimpse of the video playing on her screen. Yelp, yelp, yelp (the bitch has been recording ME!) Indeed. And fingering herself silly watching you, too. How about that for a twist?
‘I’m cumming, I’m cumming’, shouts the Gothic whore as the Reaper’s cock smashes her pussy at the sight of the perverted puppy eyes popping in disbelief. His little fluffy brain is in shock at the sight of his grubby human drunken face on the phone of the woman he has lusted for the last few years.
‘Take that, you little bitch’, orders Grim as he punishes her pussy with a cock battering she’s never had from him before. Blast after blast of deathly cum fills Britney’s pussy as he watches the puppy man motionless on his DIE pad screen, furry mouth open aghast, in a daze as the Barbie squirts her cum wave after wave in his eyes and fur and nostrils.
‘Fuck me, that was nasty’, laughs the Reaper as he pulls his cock out of Britney and slaps her bare bum cheek. ‘Got to dash baby, see you at supper.’ And with a woosh, he’s gone… and with another woosh, he’s back… ‘forgot my scythe’. And another woosh and he was
gone.
‘Yeah, thanks’, Britney mutters sarcastically as she tries to pull her wet, torn panties back up over her cum dripping pussy.
The puppy was dripping, too. A face full of squirted Barbie juices. But he was still in shock seeing himself on her phone screen, shocked that all along she was secretly filming him to use for her sexy pleasures. Shock thinking that all along, instead of sneaking downstairs to sniff her shoes in the middle of the night, he could have just knocked on the door with his cock in his hand and demanded a good old-fashioned sucking. Oh, the irony, he yelped.
And with a wry smile of pride as he sat on that bed between this naked princesses legs, covered in her pussy juices and he bellows a howl of success and sticks out his little doggy tongue to at last taste the sweetness on her pussy for the first time.
But woosh, it’s too late. He’s back in the grubby piss-stained flat above. His human body and not a drop of pussy juice to sample.
‘Arthur.. welcome back.’ grins The Reaper as he stands over a bewildered man trying to get his bearings.
‘Have you got a hard-on?’ Arthurs asks the Reaper, staring up at his midriff in his long dark cloak.
‘Yes. It’s been a perfect day at work.’ replies a satisfied soul collector smelling of death sex and Gothic juices. ‘Now I do believe we had a deal.’
Oblivious to the fact he’s moments away from having to give his last breath away, Arthur scratches his head and rambles out loud his disbelief like a drunken tramp on a park bench. ‘She’s been filming me.’ He mutters awkwardly, ‘She fingered herself senseless looking at secret recordings of me, she cum wanting me, she squirted all over me and yet and yet… you wooshed me away before I had a chance even to lick one drop of her. Why did you do that, you bastard?’
Grim looked down at this sorry state of a man as he cried into a curled-up ball.
‘Here.. ‘ Grim motioned to Arthur to grab his golden hip flask shaped like a skull. ‘Get this down you… drink it… drown your sorrows.’
Taking the hip flask and swigging a few mouthfuls from it, Arthur looks up with a glint of realisation in his eyes, ‘I could have fucked her at any time I wanted, couldn’t I?’
‘Yes, of course’, confirmed the Grim Reaper as he made his few final notes on the DIEpad. ‘If you had a pair of balls and asked her instead of lying here pissing your pants every night. Then yes. You could have fucked her brains out…. but… that’s life. That’s hindsight.’
‘You fucking knew all along, didn’t you?’ Arthurs growls.
‘I’m the Grim Reaper, ‘ replied, well, the Grim Reaper. I have access to much information.’
‘You could have fucking told me. All these times, you’ve seen what an emotional mess I am. On the verge of suicide,’ Arthur grumbles, his heart breaking in front of the death collector. ‘You could have given a guy a break and told me. Things could have been very different for me.’
‘Yes, of course, things could have been very different if I had mentioned this, but you know… I am Death.’ Said Death. ‘I’m not your aunty knitting you jumpers and baking you cakes to take to the girl next door so you can get in her panties. I am Death. I have targets. I have a girlfriend who likes boots made from the teeth of Norwegian Bitches. So, if you will… take one last look around, and I’ll be having your suicide as we agreed. Thank you very much.’
Arthur looked around, and you know what? He didn’t want to die now. You know what? This had taught him a lesson, he thought to himself, and now, with this newfound confidence, he knew that he could be loved and desired.
‘You know what, Mr I am Death’, booms Arthur as he stands face to face with the Grim Reaper with a determination for the first time in his life not to come out of a situation second best or with damaged esteem.
‘You know what, Mr I am Death. I am better than this. She wanted me, and she was on a plate for me. And I don’t care who the fuck you are. You won’t be taking my dead soul anywhere. There is no deal. I am calling you out on manipulation and false promises. You think you’re a clever bastard, but this new all-confident me is telling you, I am marching down those stairs now, and I am going to drink her until she is dry. I won’t be killing myself today, thank you very much. What do you fucking think about that Mr Smarty Reaper pants?’ Arthur smirks right into the face of the Reaper.
‘Well,’ replies a very calm Mr I am Death. I’m thinking you probably shouldn’t have drunk out of the hip flask of Death then if that was your plan.’
And there it ended. Arthur never tasted a drop of his neighbour’s pussy juices, and his soul was taken by the hand and delivered with bonus payment to the devil.
The Grim Reaper did get an excellent Christmas bonus for his high suicide completions, and Britney was so happy with her Norwegian Bitches teeth boots she let her boyfriend cum on her face every morning for the whole of January.
The neighbour? Well, she was just fine. A new drunken hobo moved into Arthurs’s apartment, and he did have the balls to get into her panties, which she gladly dropped whenever he and his hobo friends asked. She is now the proud owner of an online dating website, fuckahobo.com