Death And Taxes Inevitably Pound My Butt

Scott never stops moving, jumping from one adventure to the next in hopes of avoiding the inevitable torments that nobody can seem to shake: death and taxes.

Unfortunately, after Scott gets news that the physical manifestation of taxes is after him, things go a little sideways. Soon enough, he’s trapped between the sentient concepts of both Death and Taxes, searching for a way out!

But Scott quickly realizes there’s more to these physical manifestations than he originally thought, and he’s rapidly growing more and more attracted to both. Soon enough, Scott finds himself wrapped up in a hardcore bisexual encounter that will teach him to slow down and enjoy the moments that matter.

This erotic tale is 4,200 words of sizzling bisexual human on physically manifested death and taxes action.

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DEATH AND TAXES INEVITABLY POUND MY BUTT

By Chuck Tingle

Gazing out across the vast landscape before me, I can’t help but finally feel completely free. The moment is peaceful, despite the incredible elevation I’m floating at.

I’m usually on the move, and while this hot air balloon is technically still drifting, it certainly doesn’t seem like it. Instead, this feels like a moment of utter calm, a place wholly disconnected from the world below.

Up here, I can take a minute to breathe, maybe even longer.

I glance back at my guide, the woman in charge of this balloon who has so kindly brought me to such incredible heights. She’s the only person nearby, but she’s lost in a world of her own, gazing out at another glorious vista behind me.

This is as good as it’s gonna get, and that’s just fine.

Below me, chocolate milk wineries stretch out for miles and miles, the glorious fields of light brown milkgrapes bathing the land with their glorious green vines. With nothing but these very specific rows of vegetation, the hills and valleys of Temecula can really show off their curves, perfect undulations of natural dirt waves that formed over thousands of years to create this aesthetic marvel.

It’s a shame I can’t stay here forever. The second we land, a car will be ready to steal me away to the next activity, no time for anyone to interrupt and send me spiraling on another journey of thoughts and feelings. My attention has been carefully curated, and I can’t have anyone harshing my vibe.

The second I think this my phone begins to ring, this caustic buzz cutting through the moment of peace.

My balloon pilot glances over at me, but she doesn’t say anything.

“I can’t believe there’s service up here,” I observe, pulling the device from my pocket and staring down at its glowing rectangular screen.

I recognize the number, a strange combination of digits logged somewhere deep within my mind. Unfortunately, I’m not entirely sure if this caller has been welded into my memory banks for a good reason or a bad one.

I’m seriously tempted to ignore whoever it is and continue basking in this moment of adventure and excitement, but for some reason I just can’t do it. My natural curiosity gets the best of me.

“Hello?” I answer, cautiously putting the phone to the side of my head.

“Hey Scott, where are you?” comes a familiar voice. It’s my best friend Mark.

I let out a thankful sigh of relief. “Oh god, it’s you. I thought it might’ve been the IRS.”

Mark hesitates. “You don’t have my number saved?” he questions. “I’ve known you since before cell phones were even a thing, and you don’t have my number saved?”

“Oh, no, no,” I apologize. “This is a new phone. I’ve been updating phones every month to keep from being followed.”

I can sense Mark’s disappointment through the line, his reaction somehow washing over me from miles and miles away. “You’re starting to sound a little paranoid,” my friend finally offers. “If you’re so afraid of the IRS then maybe you should, you know, pay your taxes.”

“Never!” I cry out, my voice echoing across the miles and miles of glorious chocolate milkgrapes below. My shout is so abrupt that it actually causes the balloon guide to jump in alarm.

Mark just sighs.

“Besides,” I continue. “It’s not the IRS I’m worried about catching up with me.”

“I know, I know,” my friend offers.

Mark has heard this one before, subjected to years of wild ideas about death and taxes. He doesn’t agree with me, but he’s willing to move along to the next subject.

While the rest of humanity is content with the inevitability of these two horrible things, I’ve drawn a line in the sand. My whole life has been a series of escapades where I chart my own path and create a lifestyle that others claimed was impossible. Through a series of long shot investments, I’ve managed to create enough wealth that I’ll never have to work again, and without a relationship to lock me down in one place I can travel constantly. I’ve bucked every trend that’s thrown at me, yet two subject still loom like specters over everything.

People all say the same thing: I may have gotten this far living wild and free, but I’ll never escape death and taxes.

There’ve been close calls with either one of these things, but right now it feels like I could just stay on the run forever.

“I’m in a hot air balloon,” I inform my friend. “Floating above the chocolate milk wineries in Temecula.”

“Holy shit,” Mark blurts. “Are you serious? Last time we talked you were exploring the Egyptian Pyramids. That was like… two days ago.”

“I move fast,” I explain. “Gotta keep going to stay afloat.”

“I know you love collecting these life experiences,” Mark continues. “But don’t you ever wanna slow down?”

“No way,” I retort.

“You know, taking it easy is an important life experience, too,” my friend counters. “If you really wanna understand everything then you’ll eventually want to try that on for size. It’s all about balance”

He’s right, and I know it, but that’s a bridge I’ll cross some other time.

“I’m feeling pretty relaxed up in this hot air balloon,” I offer.

“Fair enough,” Mark retorts. “So hey, I was just calling to let you know someone from the IRS did call me. They wanted information.”

“Wait, what?” I stammer, a stab of alarm erupting through my heart like a vicious icicle. “When?”

“Just now,” Mark continues. “I guess you’ve been on the run long enough to catch the attention of some higher ups.”

The calm of my hot air balloon ride is not officially broken, my heart pounding away within my chest as I struggle to adjust to this terrifying news. I haven’t paid my taxes since, well, ever, but never before has the IRS put actually reached out and started calling my friends.

“What do you mean higher ups?” I question. “Is there a special agent assigned to my case?”

“Uhhh… seemed like a bigger deal than that,” Mark admits. “The physical manifestation of taxes as a concept is looking for you.”

I feel nauseous, gripping tight against the rail of my balloon. The movement of my body is so sudden that I actually rock my basket, prompting a look of grave concern from the pilot.

“Is everything okay?” she questions.

“Let’s head down,” I stammer, struggling to pull myself together. “I think I should get going.”

“Are you sure?” the pilot questions. “You’ve paid for another hour of flight time.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I continue. “Just take me down.”

The pilot nods, lowering the flame and prompting our strange aerial vehicle to begin its descent.

I turn my attention back to Mark on the phone, trying my best to remain calm. “What did you tell them?”

“Honestly, the physical manifestation of taxes wasn’t as much of a prick as I expected,” Mark explains. “He was talking to me about important social services and stuff like that. He kinda had a point.”

I pull my phone away from my head while Mark continues rambling on about all the good points the physical manifestation of taxes made. I’m not in the mood to hear it.

“Okay then,” I finally jump in, cutting my friend off. “I’ve gotta go now, the balloon is landing.”

“Alright buddy, stay safe out there,” he offers in return.

The landscape below grows larger and larger, every tiny object gradually transforming as my vision adjusts and the details fill back in.

It’s not long before we’re landing a small clearing just outside the Tingle Winery chateau, this grand structure sitting atop a glorious hill of chocolate milk grapes. The vineyard stretches on and on around me, a truly breathtaking view even here on the ground, but I have little time to take it all in.

The second our basket makes contact with the earth I’m barreling out into the clearing, my gaze frantically searching for the vehicle that should we waiting for me. Unfortunately, the car is nowhere to be found.

I turn back to my hot air balloon guide in frustration. “Excuse me, do you know where my ride is?” I call out. “There was supposed to be a driver here to take me to the next adventure.”

My hot air balloon pilot glances at her watch. “Well, you wanted to come down about an hour early, so they probably won’t be arriving for a while.”

“Oh fuck,” I blurt.

My pilot motions toward the chateau. “There’s a nice bar inside if you’d like to wait.”

I refuse to wait the whole hour, but I might as well make my call for an early pickup from somewhere nice.

“Thanks,” I offer, following my pilots gesture and heading up toward the beautiful chateau.

Walking through the massive front doors I’m immediately in awe of this place, blown away by the craftsmanship and attention to detail. A host greets me and directs me to a bar on the right.

Soon enough, I’ve found myself surrounded by a casual gathering of drinkers in a beautiful space that overlooks the vineyard beyond. A pianist plays something slow and jazzy, their pleasant tones drifting across the scene and giving it a wonderfully relaxed ambience.

I’d been ready to get out of here quick, but the second I sit down at this bar and order myself a chocolate milk, I’m happy to wait a bit longer. I’ll call for an early pickup, but not just yet.

I take a sip from my cool frothy glass, savoring the moment as this sweet liquid spills down my throat. The taste is incredible, another welcome break from the stress and anxiety that’s been growing within me.

“Stay cool,” I remind myself, sighing the words under my breath. “Just keep running. You can always keep running.”

“Hey Scott,” comes a voice from the chair beside me.

I turn curiously then jump in alarm, nearly toppling over backwards as my body reflexively clenches tight. There, sitting on the stool next to me, is a skull-headed woman in a little black dress, a scythe in her hand and long red hair flowing out from under her hood.

I think to leap from my chair and take off in a mad dash for the exit, but she stops me in my tracks.

“You sure you wanna do that?” the skeleton-headed woman questions. “Lots of accidents happen when people run. I’m just saying.”

I freeze, turning back to face her. “Are you?”

“Death?” the woman suggests. “What gave me away?”

“You’re not gonna kill me are you?” I stammer.

Death just laughs, shaking her head. “I’mnot gonna kill anyone,” she explains. “Common misconception. I’m just the physical manifestation of a natural phenomenon, but it’s not like I’m choosing to take you away. I’m the process, not the cause.”

“What’s the cause?” I stammer.

“Life,” she offers with a little shrug.

I glance once again at the exit, considering whether or not I should take my chances and run.

“I’m inevitable,” Death reminds me.

I hesitate, then strangely find myself relaxing. I let the tension flow from my body, accepting this moment for what it is. To be honest, it feels pretty good.

“Why are you here?” I question.

“What do you think?” Death offers in return.

I consider her question a moment, wondering if I should go with the answer I think is true, or the answer I hope is true.

Finally, I go with the latter.

“Some kind of physical manifestation conference?” I ask.

Death smiles. “Could be,” she offers coyly in return. “Could be more than that, you never know. I’m glad I ran into you, though.”
 “Why?” I question.

Death shrugs again.

It’s difficult to focus on anything other than the strange, skull-headed woman before me, but in this moment I sense another presence directly behind. Someone has taken a seat in the chair to my right, saddling up to the bar and patiently waiting for me to notice them.

I freeze, then slowly swivel in my chair to discover a handsome floating stack of tax documents, who I can only assume is the physical manifestation of taxes.

“Shit!” I blurt.

This time I don’t hesitate. I spring from my chair, rushing toward the exit in a singular spastic movement. Unfortunately, this maneuver is a little too complex for my frantically scrambling legs to handle, my limbs tangling with one another as I immediately trip and fall. I struggle to put out my hand but it’s too late, the wooden floor whipping toward my head and slamming against it with a thunderous crack.

Then darkness.

I float here for a while, drifting in this incredible expanse of endless nothing, my mind still racing despite the fact that my body is nowhere to be found.

Has death finally caught up with me?

“Am I dead?” I question, somehow able to craft these words despite no lips or throat to conjure them.

“Nope, not yet anyway,” comes a familiar voice.

I open my eyes, discovering I’ve been speaking aloud.

I find myself in an empty meeting room in some unused part of the winery. I’m laid out across a large wooden table with a terrible pain in my forehead and neck, aching but very much alive.

Death and Taxes stand next to me, patiently waiting for me to wake.

“They were gonna call an ambulance, but when I told them you weren’t in any mortal danger they just let you sleep it off,” Death explains.

I sit up, struggling to regain my bearings.

“Don’t you get tired of running?” Taxes questions, the handsome stack of papers asking with an unexpected heap of sympathy in his voice.

“Yeah,” I admit. “Sometimes.”

“Well, we are inevitable,” Taxes continues. “You can have a healthy pace. You might actually enjoy life a little more if you slow down to take it in.”
 “But I don’t wanna die!” I blurt, growing frustrated, “and I don’t wanna pay taxes!”

Death and Taxes erupt in a fit of laughter, unable to hold back the good-humored cackles that bubble up inside them.

“Nobody does,” Death chimes in.

I let out a long sigh, still having trouble coming to terms with this fact but, for once in my life, refusing to cut and run. I allow this moment to wash over me, allowing it to become a natural part of my thought process.

I’m suddenly feeling very emotional, coming to terms with something I can’t entirely quantify.

“What am I supposed to do then?” I stammer. “If death and taxes are inevitable, then what’s the point of anything?”

“To enjoy it,” Taxes chimes in. “Life’s got a lot to offer. You’ve seen that first hand.”

“But it’s gonna go away!” I cry out. “Everything ends!”

Death just chuckles again and shakes her head. “You mortal humans always crack me up,” she offers. “Listen, just because there are certain inevitable responsibilities, doesn’t mean you need to give them all the weight. Inevitable doesn’t mean most important.”

I nod along.

“Being responsible with your time doesn’t mean you have no time,” Taxes chimes in. “Look, you’ve got time right now. You’re existing in an infinitely unique moment, what do you wanna do with it?”

“Run away and do something that brings me joy,” I offer.

“You can do things that bring you joy without running away,” Taxes counters.

I refocus, then really consider his question.

“Honestly, after how stressful today has been, I’d really love a good fuck,” I admit.

The three of us stand in silence for a moment, allowing my words to sink in.

“So why don’t you?” Death offers in return, an unexpectedly playful coo to her tone.

“What do you mean?” I stammer.

“Why don’t you?” she repeats, even more frisky this time.

I glance back and forth between Death and Taxes, reading the expressions on their faces and nervously wondering if my perception is correct.

Is the erotic tension building between us? Is something more going on here?

I quickly get my answers.

The next thing I know I’m climbing off the table and meeting Death and Taxes with a barrage of frantic kisses, losing myself in the moment. The three of us are all over one another, passionately making out as these gorgeous physical manifestations tear the clothes away from my body.

A soft whimper escapes my lips as my form is exposed, stripped completely nude before them.

Immediately, I drop to my knees, gazing up at these beautiful manifestations with hungry eyes. An enormous cock has risen from the body of these hovering tax forms, jutting out at me in a glorious erection that I swiftly take in one hand. I begin stroking him off, pumping my hand gracefully across Taxes’ length as he moans above me.

Meanwhile, Death and Taxes are continuing to make out with one another, passionately kissing as I service them from below.

I keep the pace as I move from fingers to mouth, opening wide and wrapping my lips across the handsome manifestation’s enormous rod. I begin to suck Taxes offer with wild enthusiasm, aching with lust as I pump my face across the length of his rod. Faster and faster I go until, eventually, there’s no speed left to gain.

At long last I pull back, gasping loudly as Taxes’ dick erupts from my mouth. A long thread of saliva hangs between the head of his shaft and my lips, dangling in the air as I refocus my approach.

I open wide again, retaking the handsome manifestation’s massive rod. This time, however, I don’t bob my head. Instead, I push my face farther and farther down his length, swallowing the man’s cock entirely in an expertly performed deep throat. I hold like this for as long as I possibly can, Taxes’ dick stuffed to the hilt as my lips press tight against his abs. Finally, at long last, I pull back and release him from my depths.

My oral acrobatics are not done yet, however. I immediately move on to the other glorious manifestation standing over me, Death’s robe pulled up and giving me access to her waiting pussy. I dive in with ferocious excitement, lapping away at her body as I caress her legs and thigh. Eventually, I begin to center my attention on Death’s clit, tickling her with my tongue as she moans and groans above. She’s absolutely loving my technique, and her cries only grow louder as I slip two fingers deep within her.

Death is grinding against me now, her whimpers elevating to a belligerent cascade of strange syllables as I push her closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. Eventually, her groan transforms into words, a blissed out mantra she repeats over and over again.

“Just like that, just like that, just like that,” Death moans as her body trembles and quakes.

Eventually, the physical manifestation simply can’t hold back any longer. Death lets out an unbridled shriek as she reaches climax, her body seizing hard while I lap away at her pussy from below. I carry her though this entire process, never letting up for a second until she’s completely finished.

Finally, I pull away. “I want you to fuck me,” I demand.

Death and Taxes smile. “Which one of us?” Death questions.

“Both,” I reply with a mischievous grin.

The physical manifestations are thrilled with this request, opting for Death to go first. I watch as the beautiful entity fools around under her robes, then eventually pulls them up to reveal a massive, jet-black strap on to match the rest of her dark attire.

I fall to the ground, popping my ass out toward this beautiful physical manifestation and wiggling my rump. I reach back and give one cheek a playful slap, holding myself open as I coax her onward.

Death pulls out a small bottle of water-based lube and squirts it onto her shaft, covering the strap-on thoroughly and then returning the bottle to her pocket. She climbs into position behind me, aligning her massive cock with my backdoor and then thrusting forward in a deep, powerful movement.

“Oh fuck!” I groan, my eyes rolling back into my head and my hands gripping tight against the floor below.

The sensation is overwhelming at first, but Death takes her time with me, allowing a moment for my ass to adjust to her enormous strap-on rod. Gradually, however, the discomfort fades away, revealing a glorious warmth and fullness below. I begin to grind back against her, the two of us falling into a perfect rhythm as our pace escalates into a confident pound.

Death knows what she’s doing with that thing, hitting my prostate just right and causing a potent ache to blossom at the pit of my stomach.

Eventually, however, it’s Taxes’ turn.

Death pulls out of me and removes her strap-on climbing down onto the floor. The two of us make out for a moment, our bodies pressed against one another as we roll around in a state of carnal bliss. Eventually, I end up on top of her, my ass popped out in a similar position as before.

Taxes floats down behind me, teasing my back door with his massive rod. He pushes against my anal seal a bit then pulls back, repeating this playful game until, eventually, thrusting deep with a ruthless penetration of his own.

“That’s so fucking big,” I sigh, grappling with the enormity of his member.

Taxes picks up where Death left off, immediately diving into a confident pound as he hammers away at my butthole. This new lover is just as skilled as the last, massaging my prostate from deep within while Death and I continue our barrage of glorious kisses and playful, nibbling bites.

Death reaches down and grabs ahold of my hanging dick, stroking me off in time with the plows up my ass. These two physical manifestations immediately fall into sync with one another, working me in time as the sensations swirl together and mutate into something so much more than the sum of their parts. Before long I’m quaking wildly, the pleasure overwhelming my senses and making it hard to focus on much of anything besides this blinding bliss that consumes my frame.

“Oh fuck!” I cry out. “I’m gonna cum!”

The next thing I know, a powerful orgasm is surging through my body, sweeping me away in a tidal wave of pleasure. Hot white jizz erupts from the head of my shaft, splattering across Death’s robes in pearly patterns of milky white spunk.

Meanwhile, Taxes doesn’t let up for a second, hammering away with everything he’s got. The second I finish cumming this stack of papers pushes deep and holds, expelling a massive load of cum right up my aching asshole. He fills me with pump after pump of his pearly seed, so much jizz that it eventually comes spilling from the edge of my anal rim and running down the back of my legs.

When the three of us finally finish we collapse in an exhausted pile, utterly exhausted.

“Whoa,” I gush, still struggling to catch my breath. “It’s amazing what can happen when you just stop running for a moment.”

“Glad you had a good time,” Death offers. “Me too.”

“Me three,” Taxes chimes in.

I search for my clothes as Death and Taxes pull themselves together a bit.

When I’m finally dressed I find myself aching to ask a question, but terrified by the potential answer. I hesitate, not quite sure how to begin.

“What?” Death finally asks, noticing my strange behavior.

“Does this mean I don’t have to die?” I finally inquire.

Death laughs. “Uh, no. You’re still gonna die. Just not today, and the more you watch where you’re going and stop tripping over bar stools, the more time you’ll have.”

I nod in acceptance, my heart strangely warmed by this answer.

I turn to Taxes. “And I’m guessing I don’t need to pay my Taxes today either?”

“Fuck off,” Taxes retorts. “You owe me so much fucking money. You’re not getting off that easy.”

“Oh,” I blurt.

Taxes sighs, then rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, we’ll work out a payment plan. You’ve gotta start today, but it won’t be the whole thing. We’ll work something out.”

I accept the offer. Eventually Death leaves to continue her duties and Taxes heads out to fetch some paperwork, leaving me all alone.

I sit here in the quiet of the conference room, just happy to slow down for a moment.