date night with the grim reaper
Just because He was death itself didn’t mean He didn’t deserve to be loved.
I slid my hands up His thighs and tried to find His junk in the shadows of His robe. It was time to DTG. Define The Genitals. Would it be a cock or a pussy or something entirely different? Would it be at all human-like? Would there be more than one? Would it taste good? His robes didn’t seem to have edges that I could part open to see what He was rocking, but I could reach through them when they gave like mist around my fingers to touch what was underneath them.
It was a cock. A really, really big cock.
Staring up into His hooded face, I tried to get a grip on the dimensions of it. It flowed through my hands, giving and solidifying just like His legs had. I couldn’t get fingers all the way around it, it was so thick, and I felt myself starting to slick my panties in anticipation. The more I touched, running my hand up and up, the more He seemed to slide out of my grip, like I could never find the tip. It reminded me of those wiggly tube toys I had as a kid, and I bit my lip so He wouldn’t think I was laughing at him. My boyfriend had the perfect fidget toy in His incorporeal pants.
