The Pursuit of Happiness
Angel thrust deep into Nina’s pussy and came in an explosion of ecstasy. She squeezed him exquisitely, her breasts rubbed delightfully against his chest, her shapely legs wrapped around his hips, and her tongue sought his in a kiss of sublime intensity. It was a wonderful way to celebrate the devastating defeat he had inflicted on the Senior Partners.
Everything was perfect, and he achieved absolute bliss. His soul was out of his body and in Limbo even before his sperm had finished spurting against her cervix.
Angelus was free. He drew back slightly, ready to plunge home his fangs. And then a thought struck him. Angel had achieved perfect happiness, a condition that had always eluded the unsouled incarnation. Even the goriest slaughter of nuns could not compare to the pleasure of fucking such a beautiful, willing, desirable, woman. Genghis Khan’s definition of happiness; to crush his enemies, to drive them before him, to hear the lamentations of their women? Angel had achieved that too, again outdoing Angelus in all respects. Maybe the soul had it right after all.
“I love you,” Angelus told Nina softly. They made love again, and then he went out to help the helpless.