La Petite Mort

Death is the inevitable end-result of life. 
It is an event that we will all experience, but its universality provides no comfort.

It's the concept of post-mortem nothingness that makes the idea of death so difficult to comprehend and accept. Particularly our own.

Sleep is a poor analogy. It gives us no insights.
There may be superficial resemblances to death, but the absence of features such as respiration would convey to the most disinterested observer that this is not a restorative, refreshing process going on, but an irreversible event in a process of dissolution. 

My experience may well be at odds with yours, but I think it's safe to assume that dying has no common ground whatsoever with the fanciful concept of orgasm as "la petite mort", the mini-death, apart from a sequential one in the event of one of the participants having a dicky ticker.

And to the best of my knowledge la grande mort - fair dinkum death, the genuine article - does not prompt commentary from the affected individual such as "Was it good for you too?" or "Aaagh! I think I've put my back out!" or "Oh shit! is that your husband arriving home?" that may follow a bit of petite-morting.

More significantly, in my forty years as a medical practitioner, I can't recall a single occasion when I had a conversation, let alone sex, with a deceased person. 

In any case, an experience characterised by never-ending orgasm is too horrible to contemplate and probably would be equivalent to hell.  (I speak with some authority on this subject, having been involved in the collection of semen by electro-ejaculation from a stud Hereford bull I owned, and observed the look in his eyes as he looked back over his shoulder, non-verbally pleading with us to stop.) 

My guess is that a more accurate descriptor of death might be "a general anaesthetic that never ends."  
But one way or the other, we are all going to have a go at the experience. 

It's the inevitability and unknowability of death that engenders fear, and it's this fear that makes the pusillanimous cling to the pacifier of the conditional after-life proposition offered by all religions, a pacifier that is that is available to all (as long as you subscribe and chuck in a bit of money to the purveyors of these Ponzi schemes, these cargo cultists, these exploiters of the anxious and the superstitious and the vulnerable). 

I suggest that we all should adopt the Dawkins proposal that there is probably no God, and just relax and enjoy whatever life we have left.