Anne is visiting the grave of her late husband, Scott. He turned out to be cheating on her – but she still misses their very active sex life. What she doesn’t know is that a flasher is roaming the churchyard – and he already has his sights set on her.
What remained now – six months later – wasn’t so much a feeling of sorrow or even loss. All through her marriage, she’d imagined life without Scott time and time again. No. Most of all she was horny.
Sex was very important to Anne, always had been. That was what made her put up with her husband’s otherwise terminal dullness for two years.
She could still remember the sight and sensation of his cock – always hard, always ready. It never took much to get him excited: She’d show him her breasts, whisper some dirty words in his ear, or just give him a long wet kiss – and instantly she’d feel his long, thick cock swelling to full erection. What she wouldn’t give right now to feel that hard piece of meat plunging into her slippery pussy…
Shivers ran down Anne’s spine as she looked down at the gravestone. What if the dead could still see the living? What if Scott was looking up at her from six feet under? She looked around – the churchyard was empty. It usually was at this time of day.
Anne put down her handbag and lay on all fours over the headstone, her legs spread slightly.
“Can you see me?” she whispered at Scott’s name.
She grabbed her breast with her gloved hand. The sensation made her shiver just a little.
“See my tits?” she whispered. “Do you wish you could grab them and give them a good, hard squeeze?”
She let her other gloved hand slip inside her panties and touch her pussy. God, she was wet!
“And what about my hot little cunt?” she whispered to the gravestone. “Doesn’t that deserve a good hard fuck?”
She vividly remembered her late husband’s long, swollen cock – what it had looked like, what it had felt like buried inside her sensitive flesh. Trembling with pleasure, Anne began masturbating, gasping excitedly on the shiny headstone.
“Oh Scott,” she panted. “Oh, fuck me. Oh, yes.”
I have an erection already. I feel my cock stretching inside my jeans, hot and stiff against my thigh. Staying in the shade of the trees, I carefully walk around the churchyard to see who’s there.
“Oh… yes… ahhh…”
I turn my head at the sound. And I can’t believe my eyes: This gorgeous babe in a black dress and hat is on all fours on top of a grave, masturbating like crazy.
If my cock wasn’t hard before, it certainly is now: So hard, in fact, it’s kind of painful. I zip down and pull it out. What a nice long, thick cock I have! That little slut in the black dress needs to see how hard I am. I grab my cock in my fist and step out of the shade. I walk towards her, stroking my shaft.
And when I’m only a few feet away, she looks up at me in surprise.
Anne just stared at the flasher. He seemed to have come from out of nowhere – and now he just stood there grinning, masturbating in front of her, dressed in jeans and t-shirt- He was about medium high, thin, almost gangly, with a dark mop of hair and stubble that looked scratchy. And she just froze.
They say that when your life passes before your eyes, it’s not because you’re at death’s door. Your brain is trying to figure out a way to survive. And to do that it just fast-forwards through every experience you ever had, trying to find a match. And lying there on all fours on her husband’s headstone, one hand on her breast and one on her pussy, a grinning flasher jerking off in front of her, Anne felt her brain doing exactly that. But nothing came up.
“Yeah, keep going,” the flasher gasped. “Play with your cunt, you slut.”
His words made her snap out of it. Well, sort of. At least she became acutely aware of the erect cock a few feet away from her face – and noticed that it wasn’t at all unlike Scott’s: Long and thick with a bulging reddish head.
Of course she knew it wasn’t Scott’s cock that had come back from the dead – but her mind couldn’t quite tell them apart. She saw the clear liquid oozing from the tip of the flasher’s cock like it had always done from Scott’s. And now she felt the urge to taste it.
“Come here,” she whispered. “Let me lick it.”
Read all of “The Churchyard” – and many more filthy stories – in “Tales of Lust – Vol. 4“