The Churchyard

She couldn't get enough: The play of their excited tongues - the taste of the flasher's saliva - the sensation of his breathless gasps into her mouth - the sweet tingling pain every time their thorns scraped against each other. All this drove her into a sensual frenzy, bringing her closer, ever closer to another orgasm.

"Don't stop!" she gasped. "Please don't stop!"

Grunting like an animal, the flasher thrust harder and deeper into her. Anne felt her ass being pushed back and forth over the cold, hard gravestone, sliding in her own spicy juices. If Scott was watching from inside the grave, he would be shooting his load by now. In a flash, she imagined the familiar spurts of Scott's thick white semen spattering the inside of his coffin.

And then she came. Even harder than before, a violent orgasm surged through her entire body, making her thrash about on the gravestone. She shook so hard, the flasher had to grab both her arms to hold her down - while still vigorously plunging his cock deep into her tender cunt.

"Aaah!" she cried. "Aaah!"

"Yeah!" the flasher gasped. "That's it! You're gonna make me come. Aaah..."

He pulled out. Through the haze of her orgasm, Anne watched as the flasher picked up the rose once more. He broke one final thorn of the stem.

He hesitated slightly, his cock twitching, ready to come. Anne stared at him, her eyes now open wide.

"No..." she whispered quietly to herself.

But yes, he did. With a swift motion he stuck the pointy thorn deep into the swollen, red head of his cock.

"Aaah!" he yelled, quivering from the pain. "Aaah!"

And as a tiny drop of blood oozed from his tender flesh, he started ejaculating. Jerking wildly, his cock released a long, white jet of hot semen, shooting several feet across Anne's body, spattering her thighs, her belly, her breasts.

Immediately, his cock fired again, the thorn wriggling with every contraction. Jet after jet of piping hot sperm squirted from the pumping shaft, as the flasher cried out loud in ecstasy. He grabbed his cock in his fist, masturbating, emptying his tool of every last drop of creamy semen.

"Huhhh," he grunted, clutching his cock as his ejaculation finally subsided.

He closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. And finally he reached over and untied the leather belt, freeing Anne's hands. She rubbed her aching wrist and just stared up at the sky. Lying there. she felt the final electric tingling of her last orgasm - and the heat of the flasher's semen on her skin.

Fluffy, white clouds blew across the sky. Birds flew from branch to branch, chirping and trilling. Anne couldn't imagine she was ever going to get up again.

Did she pass out - or fall asleep - for just a few seconds? She didn't think so - but the next time she looked up, the flasher was gone.

Breathing deeply, Anne sat up. She carefully removed the thorns from her clit, her breasts, her tongue. Then she found some tissues in her handbag to wipe the flasher's semen off her skin. And slowly, she got dressed.

Before she left, she placed the remainder of the roses in the little vase by the grave. Then she once again lay down on all fours and kissed the stone.

"Did you watch that?" she whispered huskily. "I hope you did. You'd have loved it."

And calmly, Anne stood up and walked away.

To any random observer, she would have been just another beautiful young widow - closing the creaking churchyard gate behind her as she left.