My eyes slowly flickered open and I looked around at the tranquil little waiting room I found myself seated within. I was sitting in the middle of an overly comfy, two-person sofa that was positioned facing the far wall only a couple of metres away from where I was. On the wall, in the dead centre of my view, was a picturesque painting of verdant rolling hills. The imagery depicted in the painting evoked a strange sense of serenity within me that felt as if it was washing away all my fears and worries. Not just metaphorically either, as somehow it was mentally subduing the more turbulent emotions I was feeling over finding myself here.

This was all very weird, and not just because there weren’t any doors in or out of this waiting room, only blank white walls adorned by a handful of picturesque paintings that were identical to the one in front of me. In fact, the room was so odd that the only piece of furniture in this room was the sofa I was sitting on, but still, that wasn’t why this all felt so strange. The most concerning aspect of my current situation was that I had no idea where I was or how I got there.

The last thing that I remembered was coming home from a tiring day at the office. I could remember chucking a frozen meal in the microwave and scoffing it off as soon as it was ready, despite the fact it wasn’t all that good, that’s just how hungry I was. After that, I retired to my bedroom for the night, where I ditched my clothes and hopped into bed with only my trusty old vibrator for company. 

It was one of those big magic wand types of vibrators that were so powerful they needed to be plugged into a wall socket. The fact that it had a cord made it a little more awkward and clumsy to use when compared to the number of other, more sleek and more modern sex toys kept in my bedside drawer, but there was a reason it was my oldest and most used vibrator. The magic it could work on my pussy when it really got going was beyond comparison, and that night was no different. I remembered having what was probably one of, if not the best, orgasms of my life. It was so powerful that it felt almost… electrifying. However, that was where my memories ended, and the next thing that I knew, I found myself sitting in this weird little waiting room.

I knew I should have been freaking out. Any reasonable person would have had a much more intense reaction to this bizarre yet thoroughly concerning situation I found myself in. However, the sense of serenity being evoked by the nearby paintings was somewhat dulling all of the more negative emotions that I should have been feeling. Other than a sense of calmness, the only other emotion I felt was a slight bit of arousal. Actually, that was kind of an understatement.

My arousal was quickly growing, and with no other emotions to keep my horniness at bay, soon there was nothing slight about it. The memory of that electrifying orgasm was all that was needed to send me down this path. From there, my thoughts spiralled out of control until eventually, I was fantasising about all the lewd ways in which I wanted to be fucked.

I imagined my boss calling me into his office to punish me for my poor performance by using and abusing my poor virgin pussy to his heart’s content. I imagined my best friend from high school, who I hadn’t seen in nearly a decade, with her legs spread and my face shoved right up in her pussy, giving it a thorough licking. I imagined countless more lewd scenarios just like those, but each and every one of them had a couple of things in common; none of them had happened or was likely going to happen any time soon. Not that such a thing would ever stop my perverted mind from going to town picturing all the extremely naughty details.

"Evelyn Hart…" A masculine voice called out my name, drawing my attention back to the reality of my situation and just what I had been caught doing.

Overcome by my uncontested horniness, my hands had snuck down between my legs and beneath my modest white dress. A dress that, like the rest of my surroundings, I had no idea of where it came from or when I put it on. It was here, underneath the thin fabric of this dress, that my fingers were pressing against the thoroughly damp cotton of a pair of soaked panties. 

Even as I looked around for the source of the voice calling out my name, my fingers didn’t stop touching myself, I was just so god damn horny. I knew I should have been embarrassed to be caught doing this, let alone continuing to do it, but that emotion was currently being suppressed by the serenity of the picturesque paintings that hung from the blank, white walls of the strange waiting room.

Since the room was so sparsely decorated, finding the source of the masculine voice that had called out my name was an easy task. It came from a man, a very average-looking man dressed in an average-looking business suit. The man wasn’t ugly or bad-looking per se, but he didn’t stand out at all. He had the kind of bland, common appearance that would have made it easy to lose him in a crowd. It also didn’t help that he stood in front of something much more interesting, an open doorway.

As uninteresting as an open doorway sounded, I was a hundred percent sure that there weren’t any doors in or out of this room moments ago, and yet one had just suddenly appeared. That was extremely weird but other than being able to acknowledge that fact, the weirdness didn’t bring any other emotions to the surface. As such, I just continued to not so subtly play with myself as I looked at the average-looking businessman even though I knew I should have probably stopped. 

"Evelyn Hart?" The man repeated himself, calling out my name much like a nurse would call out for the next patient to see the doctor, which was also a bit weird given that I was the only person sitting in the waiting room. That said, compared to everything else, it wasn’t even close to the top of the list of most concerning things to have happened me since I found myself here and not something I lost much thought over.

"Yes, that’s me. I’m Evelyn Hart." I answered as I pried my hands away from my wet panties, a task that was much harder than I would have ever expected. When the only emotion you were feeling was arousal, resisting the urge to go to town on yourself was a lot more difficult than you would have ever thought. Still, though, I had enough sense left to realise that talking to this guy while masturbating might not have been the most polite thing to do. Not that masturbating while he talked to me was polite either, but I needed to draw the line somewhere.

"Ah, good. Please come join me in my office, Miss Hart." The businessman gave me a warm, friendly smile before turning around and walking back through the open doorway from which he came.

Since I was still unsure of what exactly was going on and didn’t know what else I could have really done in that situation, I just followed after the man. But not before looking back at the sofa I was just sitting on. Although there was a slight wet spot from where my arousal had soaked through my incredibly wet panties, thankfully the stain wasn’t too noticeable and a quick wipe got rid of most of the wetness. I might not have been able to feel a sense of embarrassment at the moment, but I knew what kind of things would have caused such a reaction if I were to ever get the ability to feel that emotion back. And if I had let my wetness remain on the waiting room sofa for someone else to find that would have certainly been embarrassing.

The moment I stepped through the doorway, the first thing I noticed was the soft, tranquil sound of a harp being played in the background. The music had no discernible source and was kind of weirdly ever-present in this room, but it wasn’t the strangest thing about the room by far. The room, which I assumed was the businessman’s office, was decorated similarly to the waiting room outside, in that it was very sparse, but there were a few more details and furniture around the place than there were outside.

Three of the walls were painted the same blank white tone and decorated with picturesque paintings like those outside, but the imagery depicted in them was different. The image of verdant, rolling hills was replaced with that of fields of wheat, creating a sea of gold that stretched far onto the horizon. Despite the difference in the paintings' content, that same sense of serenity accompanied them.

The fourth wall, the one opposite the door through which I entered, was the odd one out. Instead of being painted white and decorated with picturesque paintings, it was one large pane of glass, beyond which was a blanket of fluffy white clouds. Here and there, tall spires of shining gold reached up from the clouds and rose further up, out of sight.

In the centre of the office was a plain table with a chair on each side of it. One of the two chairs looked a whole lot more comfortable, and it was that chair that the man had taken a seat on. The other was obviously where I was expected to sit, and of course, I did just that. While taking my seat, I noticed a couple of things, the first of which was that the door I had come through was no longer there, just more blank white wall. The second of which was that there were only a couple of things on the man’s desk: a manilla folder filled with various pieces of paper inside it, and a nameplate that read "Bob Angelo".

Between the sea of clouds outside the window, the ever-present sound of a harp and this guy's last name, it didn’t take much brain power to realise what was going on. 

"Am I dead? Is this heaven?" I muttered the question aloud as soon as I put all the pieces together.

"That is correct, Miss Hart," Mr Angelo confirmed, after which he patiently waited for a few seconds so that the news could sink in properly.

The realisation that I had died and come to some strange heavenly place should have brought with it all kinds of emotions, but all of the negative ones, like fear, worry, and panic, were kept subdued by the sense of serenity evoked by the picturesque paintings lining the walls. Now that I had an idea of what was going on, the purpose of said paintings made a whole lot more sense. Depending on how violently someone died their immediate reactions could have been rather disastrous without the aid of the strange, soothing auras those paintings gave off.

"How did I die?" I asked, wasting no time getting to the important issue burning at the heart of my curiosity.

"Hmm… let’s see." Mr Angelo mused aloud as he picked up the manilla folder in front of him and began to flick through the pieces of paper within it. "Your file says that you were electrocuted by a faulty wire."

My mind immediately recalled the last memory I had, that of the mind-blowing orgasm that my trusty old vibrator had given me, and I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. I guess you weren’t so trusty after all my old vibrator. At least you gave me a hell of a send-off before stabbing me in the back.

If I couldn’t make jokes to myself about my own death, then what was the point of life? If someone was serious all the time, then life would be torture. You needed to find humour and fun in everything, even the dark things that happen. That said, my amusement quickly faded away as one important fact dawned on me: I had died a virgin.

"The purpose of our meeting today is to determine what kind of reincarnation you should be given…" Mr Angelo began to explain what was going to happen, but I was completely lost in my own thoughts and was not really listening to him as he went on.

"We here at Reincarnations Incorporated pride ourselves on giving souls passing on the best life for them, the life that they most deserve. Since you were assigned to me here in the department of heavenly rebirths, then it’s safe to assume that you did more good than bad in your previous life. But still, there’s quite a difference between what we can do for someone who was a literal saint and what we can do for someone who was just marginally good. So, why don’t we take another look at your file and see what kind of life you led?

"Umm… Mr Angelo…" I spoke up once there was a lull in his little speech that I could speak in without interrupting him.

"Please just call me Bob." The man responded with another warm friendly smile. "We try to keep it friendly here in the department of heavenly rebirths."

"Ah, right. Bob… I, ah… " I stammered as I tried to think of the right words to ask him, but luckily the nervousness I would have normally felt trying to ask the man such an embarrassing thing was nowhere to be found and my task was made relatively easy thanks to the calming serenity of the nearby paintings. "See, the thing is that I want to have sex and lose my virginity before I pass on or whatever. So I was wondering if you wanted to fuck me?"

"…"