The Eternal Sex Club, Rest in Peace

What happens when we die after sex with a beautiful woman as our last memory?

What happens when we die? As if it's a replaying movie, is our last memory of life what we continue to keep after death? Is there life after death? Or once we die, is there nothing in the way that we felt and remembered nothing before we were born?

Is there God? Is there Heaven and Hell? Are there Angels? Or are we humans nothing more than descendents of aliens who have come to this planet thousands of years ago in search of another place to live after their planet was uninhabitable? With billions of galaxies and billions of stars in each galaxy to think that we're alone is ludicrous. Who are we to think that we're so special that we're not alone and that we're the best and most advanced life form in the universe?

Having seen another dimension with her own eyes, what she saw is her own private version of the Twilight Zone and the Outer Limits. With someone or something living in her bedroom closet, Emma suspects that what she's been living through for the past 30 years is as creepy and as scary as having monsters living under her bed and the boogieman hiding in her closet when she was a little girl.

* * * * *

Emma lay in bed exhausted from another day of taking care of difficult patients at the nursing home. Old men, her life was filled with angry, and bitter elderly men. Too old to live without assistance and medical care, they were too healthy to die. Being the good woman that she was, she wished there was more that she could do to help them to have a better life. Finally, she stumbled across the magic cure that made men happy to see her.

Home alone with no one to talk to but for her bad self, she was lonely and she was horny. Being that they were all old men, with some more than three times her age, normally her patients didn't make her horny but this time, 69-year-old, Mr. Benchley did. Needing a man in her life and needing and wishing she had someone to take care of her, she had been horny all day and was still feeling horny now. She touched herself while thinking about all that she allowed Mr. Benchley to do to her and all that she did to him. Just as she was his magic elixir, he was her sexy dreamboat.

Lifting her nightgown to her chest, she closed her eyes and fingered her nipples while rubbing her clit. Inserting her finger deeper inside of herself, she imagined having sex with a man, any man her age. Having the Monday off before Christmas, she was happy that she had a long weekend ahead of her to relax and recoup her energy. She was exhausted from caring for the elderly. Even though she'd be working Christmas Day, working the holiday didn't bother her since the residents, all but for a few, were always so cheerfully pleasant on Christmas with family and friends visiting them. They didn't revert back to their old selves until after the new year when all the festivities were over. Then, overtired, as if they were little kids, they grew grouchy and hard to handle.

Wishing she had a hard cock to fuck and a big prick to suck, she had to settle for her finger and her imagination. She rubbed and fingered herself until she felt that warm sensation and that sexual excitement that she always wished would last longer. Just a fleeting moment, masturbating herself wasn't nearly as good as having a lover masturbate her and make love to her while kissing her. With her sexual excitement turning to lonely depression and with her nightgown still bunched around her chest, she closed her eyes and was nodding off when a noise awakened with fright.

It was an unusual sound emanating from her bedroom closet of all places. At first she thought that maybe she had a mouse but after hearing the sound again, she thought differently. Sounding as if there was someone breathing in her closet, every now and then there was a whooshing sound as if a gust of wind was blowing against her closet door. Afraid but with her curiosity overtaking her fear, she got out of bed to investigate. Not making a sound to listen, she stared at her closet door expecting God only knows what to emerge. With her hand poised on the doorknob, afraid to open her closet door while fearing what she'd find, she took a big breath of courage. As if hoping to surprise whoever was hiding in there, she flung open the closet door.

With panicked fright overtaking her, too late to flee, she stood frozen when she saw what it was in her closet before passing out and collapsing to the carpeted floor of her bedroom in an unconscious heap. When she awaken, whatever or whoever they were, were gone. She screamed, but no sound came out of her mouth. Never having been so afraid, she wondered what would happen next and would she survive the experience?

* * * * *

Emma worked as a nurses' aide at the Happy Valley nursing home, an exclusive elderly care facility with plenty of private rooms for those patients who wanted and could afford to pay for their privacy. Because her body was exceptionally shapely, a porn star in a tight, white, nurses uniform, every man's fantasy nurse, most of the men and even some of the women at the nursing home requested her for their baths and for their physical therapy in the swimming pool and the whirlpool bath. Who'd blame them for requesting someone who looked as hot as she did in her uniform?

Impossible for her to keep count, she had been groped and fondled so many times that it didn't bother her in the way that it once did. Grossed out in the beginning, her aversion to being touched, felt, and groped diminished with the sexual pleasure she felt from being so sexually used and abused. What was once an annoying part of her job grew to be the most enjoyable part of her job. As if she had been hypnotized by something or someone not of this earth, there were times when she was horny enough that she wanted to be touched and felt so long as the men were respectful of her. As if she was the one chosen as a vessel between life and death, she accepted her role.

Especially in the beginning when she first started working at the nursing home, feeling violated, it upset her for a male or female patient to touch her where they'd never touch her were they strangers on the street. It was the rare occurrence, mostly when thinking about her grandfather feeling her when she was a young woman, that she felt sexually excited by the feels and gropes of elderly, horny men and old, withered women. She's been told so many sexual jokes that she's heard than all. She's heard so many lewd comments, that she's become immune to them.

Five years ago, when she was just starting her job, she chastised the patients whenever they touched her and felt her, but it never made a difference. As soon as she scolded them for touching her, they'd feel her again. What did they have to lose actually? Most days, except for the attending nurse or a visit from the doctor, she was their only contact. Feeling and touching her was what most of them lived to do. Now, going with the flow, especially in this recession of an economy, she's just happy she has a job.

Despite their desperate gropes, the cheap feels, and their horny touches, the worst is always when they try pulling up her short uniform to stick an elderly hand between her legs and to fondle her pussy through her panty. Having an older man, a man old enough to be her grandfather, touching and feeling her panty clad pussy made her sick to her stomach. It's not easy to preserve her modesty when she's pushing a meal cart, changing a diaper, carrying a bedpan, and/or leaning and bending to make a bed. As shocked as she was sickened the first time that it happened and as if there was a switch in her head that transformed her thought process, she realized that her patients are not just names on a chart but are people like her, only older.

As if a real mental and psychological transformation within her has taken place, sometimes, she sees some patients as if they were younger, her age even. When she sees them in that way, she feels a sexual attraction for them. For those men who she thinks are still cute and especially when she's in a horny mood, slow to react, she'll allow them a cheap feel of her big breasts and a big squeeze of her round, firm ass while pretending that she doesn't know that they're touching her and feeling her. Her patients best kept secret and their secret defense was that many of the men faked that they had dementia or Alzheimer's disease so that they couldn't remember and be blamed for their wicked behavior. Only, when no one was looking, by their subtle winks and happy smiles, she knew better. Having a natural fascination for pricks, many of the men could still get stiff erections and she was always enamored by a hard cock, even one three times her age.

Whenever she's trying to move them to make them more comfortable so that they don't get bed sores and especially when she's leaning over them to fluff up their pillows is when they feel her breasts through her uniform and finger her nipples through her bra. Accustomed to being groped, fondled, and felt, she purposely stays in that vulnerable position longer. Unlike the men her age groping around in the dark, the quick hands of the older men have no problem unbuttoning or unzipping her uniform, depending upon what she's wearing, and their experienced fingers know precisely where to touch her to receive the most bang for the feel. For those old men that she likes, pretending that she's slow to react and/or doesn't realize that they're touching her, she allows them to feel and to see more of her sexy body.

Now that she thinks about it, all the old men have had peeks of her bra and panty so many times that it doesn't make a difference anymore what they see and feel of her. Now knowing they'd always be peeking and looking to see, she wears sexy bras and panties to work. So long as they still allow her to do her job, end her shift, go home, and leave the memory of them behind for her to recall only when needed to masturbate herself, she's happy for the extra, sexual benefits of the job.

With some of them actually expecting a hand job and/or a blowjob, she can't even count how many old men have exposed their cocks to her while pulling her hand to touch them. To be honest, after a while, whether seeing one too many flaccid cocks or hard pricks, she gets horny too. She's human after all too with sexual wants, needs, and desires. At twenty-five years old, unmarried, unattached, and unencumbered without kids, when she first started working there, she's wise way beyond her years because of having lived a tough life on the inner city streets of Detroit.

The work was already difficult enough without having to be manhandled and mauled by the horny male and even some of the sexually frustrated female residents. Never knowing what kind of behavior was awaiting her in each patient's private room increased her daily stress. Nonetheless her difficulty with some patients, Emma loved helping all of her patients and felt the work was a calling more than a job. Yet, whether it was verbal or physical, never taking no for an answer, she felt resentful from the outlandish behavior that several male patients demonstrated in trying to use her by abusing her for their personal, sexual satisfaction.

Yet, thankfully, not all of her patients behaved badly and many brought her great joy, and aside from staying because jobs were hard to find in this bad economy, the job satisfaction she received was real reason why she stayed. What she enjoyed the most was, just by talking and listening to them, she brought comfort to those suffering from loneliness and depression. Sadly, the only visits some of them had were from the nursing home staff. Feeling their unhappiness, Emma tried to bring them cheer with her good mood and positive energy, along with willingly allowing them free gropes and feels of her sexy body.

In all started 25 years ago, when she was 30-years-old and had been working at the nursing home for five years. Five years of being touched, felt, and groped finally escalated to something else. After her transformation, never was she ever horny again.

* * * * *

"Good morning, Mr. Benchley, how are you today? Have you already had your breakfast?"

Emma held her breath because Mr. B. was one of the worst offenders. There wasn't a day that he didn't grope her, feel her, and fondle her. As if the man had four hands and two cocks, he was always touching her with his naked penis.

"No, pretty lady, I haven't had my milk yet. Will you bring your beautiful breasts over here and let me suck them for my breakfast?" He laughed in the way she imagined he always laughed, even as a young man. "You have the biggest tits I've ever seen and the firmest boobs I've ever felt Emma."

"Thank you Mr. Benchley but you're going to have to do better than that. I receive that compliment several times every day," she said with an unabashed laugh.

"C'mon Emma, show me your tits. Make a dying man happy before he leaves this earth to see his maker," he said with another laugh.

"Sorry, Mr. Benchley but I can't show you my tits."

Nonetheless her negative reply, he persevered by continuing his inappropriate, verbal, sexual assault of her without hesitation.

"When you bend over to bathe me and when your loose top leans forward along with your sexy, low cut bra, sometimes I can see part of your areolas and the top and sides of your pink nipples Seeing your tits, even part of them, makes me get a stiffy. Do you want to feel?"

Pushing aside the sheet, Mr. B. looked down at the big bulge his emerging cock made in his pajama bottoms before grinning like the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland as he spouted forth his sexual thoughts.

"You know that you're out of line when you speak to me like that Mr. Benchley and you're going to get me in trouble with the head nurse."

"I don't understand why she's called a head nurse when she refuses to give me head," he said laughing again.

"As your healthcare provider," she said ignoring him, "you should give me the respect that I deserve. We've been over this before and you said that you'd stop groping me and talking dirty to me," said Emma with exasperated patience.

"Seeing you and feeling you is the one thing that I look forward to every day Emma. It's not my fault that you have such a beautiful body, big breasts, long dark hair, a gorgeous smile, and your eyes, oh, my God, your eyes are beyond compare. Bright, mesmerizing green with a golden ring around the outer edge as if you're a cat, my personal pussy, your eyes appear as if they're two gravitational, full moons that attract me to you. Just by staring in your eyes, I feel that I could fall into them, be lost inside of you, and never emerge."

"Thank you Mr. Benchley but there's nothing special about me," she said with blushing modesty.

"Everything about you is special Emma. Add to your good looks and sexy body with all of your kindness and intelligence, you are one of a kind and a very special woman. All that I think about is you coming to see me every day. I hate when you have a day off because I miss you so very much. You make me want to be young again and impale you with my cock every day, twice a day."

"Well, thank you Mr. Benchley but can we stop with the inappropriate talk now please?"

"Will you suck my cock Emma?"

"Mr. Benchley! No," she said with a nervous laugh.

Transfixed and staring, she watched him reach his hand inside his pajama bottom and pull out his erect cock. As if his big prick was a weapon, he waved it in front of her before he started slowly stroking himself.

"Please Emma. Touch me, stroke me, and suck me," he said pleading with her.

Normally accustomed and unresponsive to his sexual antics, today, his sexual forwardness as well as his smile moved her in a strange way and touched her with empathy for him. As if this room was his personal prison cell, how awful it must be to be stuck here all day, every day. At least she got to go home. At least she could drive somewhere else. Maybe because over the weeks and months, he opened up and told her his feelings for her is why she felt some forbidden intimacy with him.

Because of his obvious erection, she noted that Mr. B. was feeling frisky today. Also by the old photos she's seen of him, she knew that he was extremely handsome when he was younger. Looking a bit like Sean Connery in appearance and reminding her of Jack Nicholson in his naughty attitude and the similar smile he always flash, he was still a very attractive man at sixty-nine-years-old. If it hadn't been for a stroke, no doubt, he'd be on the golf course, the tennis course, or in the swimming pool swimming laps.

Deep down she liked him and she felt sorry that such an obviously strong and virile man was trapped in this semi-paralyzed body. She felt bad that he was required to be here instead of being allowed to go home. Yet, for whatever reason, family members aren't always willing and able to care for the elderly in the way that it was her job to do.

Even though his cock was still erect and exposed, Emma ignored his request for a hand job and/or a blowjob. Working around him as if that part of his body was an exposed flame, nonetheless, she couldn't help but wonder, even on very old cocks, that they don't look much different than they do on the cocks of the men her age. Much the same with tits, unless they sagged terribly, cocks are cocks and it was difficult for her not to be sexually aroused when seeing an erect cock, especially when she's been feeling so horny lately. On this day of him not taking no for an answer, he was getting to her.

Intent on caring for him in a professional manner without any more discussion about his perverseness or about her giving him a hand job and/or a blowjob, she needed to give him his sponge bath. As if he were her child, she began undressing him to bathe him. As she leaned over to unbutton his pajama top, with his fingers poised over the top of her uniform and pulling it forward, Mr. Benchley peered down her top for a look of her cleavage. A bit of an exhibitionist and proud of her natural endowments, she slowly moved his hand away from her top while he filled his other hand with her panty clad pussy by reaching a horny hand beneath her uniform and cupped her in between her legs. For a man with a stroke, he seemed pretty active today. Obviously, his medical condition is improving enough for him to be discharged soon.

"Mr. Benchley, if you want a sponge bath, you'll have to quit touching me. I can't work with you grabbing at me. Stop it," she said slapping his hand away from trying to go up beneath her skirt again.

"Okay, I'll behave," he replied with a child-like voice.

Emma slid down his pajama bottom and acting as if she didn't notice that he still had an erection, she pretended that he didn't. She washed his public areas as gently as possible and when she was done used a fresh facecloth to wash his private areas. Mr. B. took her hand and forced it to his penis. When she resisted, he wrapped her fingers around his cock. As if it belonged there, she couldn't deny that his cock felt good in her horny hand.

"Will you suck my cock now, please. Please, Emma. Please," He said in a desperate voice. "It's been so long since I've had a blowjob, and as you can see, I'm still viable with a cock that works just fine. Blow me Emma. Please suck me. You don't even have to allow me to cum in your pretty mouth, if you don't want me to do that."

There was a sad tone in his voice that made Emma's heart break for him and she thought about helping him out with a hand job. She knew what other nurses did for some of their special patients. One nurse even married a wealthy, old man and another accepted a job as his private nurse in his home. Only, Mr. Benchley wasn't offering any extra benefits for her to give him sex.