Facing Out

At least this way you can see the face of your executioner, come to think of it, why isn't this a federal punishment? Because it would encourage terrorism. She has immense flexibility, she leans over top and you see her maniacal grin. If you love what you do you never work a day in your life. The ease with which she crushes you allows her to comfort your passing. You glance down the channels of muscle straining to collapse you cranium and you wince. Oddly enough you feel no pain now, your lust has overcome you. You return to the view overhead and blink furiously at the bright lights behind her, the pressure will fold you soon and you cannot view your reaper. All of the sudden the silhouette drapes long auburn hair from her head, encasing the two of you in a light brown world. You've never had such a connection with someone as you do now, the only thing you can see is her smile, the only thing you can feel is her touch, and if there weren't blood in your ears, the only thing you could hear would be her voice. Her plump lips mouth something sweet you imagine, but your vision is fading, and CRACK.

Your skull is crushed. Clinically you're dead, but techincally you're a God. Of all the ways to kill a God, at the thighs of an angel sounds correct, but surely it doesn't end there? Right?