Virgin Blood in the Boneyard Pt. 02

Frightened, Anya slapped at their hands as they pulled off her coat, saying NO over and over. Johnny and Scott were grinning, pleased at her reaction. They were both head and shoulders taller than she was, broad-shouldered and fit. She felt pathetically small and helpless; and really, she knew her desperate slapping hands, one of them bloodied by the knife, were not going to fend them off. Muddled by the drugs and whisky, she wondered whether this was really happening, whether ghosts, or some kind of undead men were really trying to rape her. She shrieked in anger as Johnny's large pale hands tore down the front of her dress as Scott had found the zip at the back. Cold air rushed over Anya's skin and she gasped in horror as Scott unhooked her black lace bra, making her round white breasts tumble out. The men stood around her, fencing her in.

"Mmm very nice," Johnny said, pulling off her bra and burying his face into her bare breasts, running his mouth and tongue over her nipples. His hands massaged and grabbed. He was warm; his breath and tongue hot. He felt very real to Anya. Confused, she tried pushing him and he stayed firm, solid. He was no apparition, he was a materialisation, a man. She clawed at his arm hard, using her long black-painted nails and dug holes in his muscular forearm, but no blood came out - her nails had made weird little tunnels in his pale bluish skin. And Johnny had not even noticed his injury, he just kept tonguing her nipples hungrily. She shuddered, going limp and surrendering as Scott pressed against her back, grabbing a handful of her blonde long hair and kissing her neck.

Johnny pulled down the skirt of her dress. "No panties? What kind of harlot do we have here, Scotty?" He ran a finger along her shaved slit and Anya bit her lip, watching his face.

"She came here looking for something alright," Scott said.

"That's what she said when she summoned me," Johnny said with a smirk and laid his mouth on hers, hard. His fingers stroked the lips of her pussy and she flinched, trying to step back but finding herself pressing against Scott and his hard cock, which he had taken from his pants. Johnny's tongue roughly fucked her mouth, filling her and gagging her scream, as he inserted a finger into her pussy. His finger slid in easily, she was wet and she didn't want to admit it, but there was something terribly arousing about these two strange ghoulish men pawing at her, with raging hard-ons.

"Wet as rain," Johnny murmured into her hair and grabbed her breast hard with his other hand as he moved his finger inside her. She moaned in spite of herself, feeling the pleasure wash over her and her legs become weak. She was already warmed up from her previous orgasm and the drug and drink just made her even hornier. Her orgasm was quick and hard, making her knees buckle and she fell into Johnny's chest, gasping. He smelled odd - like straw and old books - and she had expected death to smell more nefarious and nasty. Pleased with her level of arousal, Johnny laid her down in the long grass and got out his cock. He fell to his knees between her split legs, his long erect cock in hand. Anya watched him, her mind fuzzy from lust and what she'd taken. A part of her didn't want this - it was sick and weird - but her pussy begged for his cock, her wetness seeped out and ran down her inner thighs.

He entered her, just with the tip poking into her cunt and moved in her a bit. She sighed, enjoying it and then, he forced his full length in and she squealed. There was some sharpness and discomfort at first, but as he thrusted, the pain melted into pleasure and she wrapped her legs around his ass, pushing him against her clit and burying him further into her.

"You like this, virgin?" he whispered in her ear and she said yes, she did - and she was feeling like she was going to come again, with the amount of friction against her clit. He groaned as he came and she felt disappointed it was over, until he pulled out his cock and rubbed her swollen clit to an explosive orgasm. She cried out, hearing her pleasure echo off nearby tombs and into the cold night air. The orgasm was long, it rocketed through her lower body, warming her like mead and making her tremble.

"You are a horny slut," Johnny said. "You want more, don't you?"

Anya nodded, breathing hard from the orgasm and then, Johnny was gone and Scott was between her legs, his hands running down her pale naked body. Anya gazed up at him, wanting him and he kissed her breasts firmly, one of his hands teasing her nipple as the other went to her hot swollen pussy. She moaned loudly as his fingers brushed against her protruding clit, which still tingled urgently from the orgasm and he looked up, his green eyes twinkling mischievously as he ran his thick thumb over her clit slowly. She made little 'oh' noises, opening her legs wider, physically begging for more. He obliged, inserting two fingers into her fuck-hole and rubbing her clit with his thumb. She threw her head back, overcome and he kissed her neck, moving his hand steadily whilst pinching her right nipple. This pushed her over the edge again and she screamed this time, letting go of her sense of self.

Then his thick erect cock was in her face and she licked at it, unsure of what to do, as she hadn't sucked cock before. Scott grabbed her hair and impaled her mouth on his cock, force-fucking her face and initially, she placed her hands on his bare pelvis, trying to push him off her. She couldn't breathe and he was being too rough, this was too much - but then she realised that there was nothing she could do but accept this face-fucking and try to breathe through her nose, so she slackened her mouth, her throat and focused on trying to take him inside fully.

"Good girl," Scott breathed, looking down at her as he thrust hard into her mouth and she resented him for it, but found her pussy flooding at what was happening to her. When he picked her up by the hair to place her on all fours to suck his cock, so Johnny could enter her pussy from behind, she was grateful, her wet pussy was aching to be filled and stimulated. She moaned around Scott's thick cock as she was entered hard and to be filled at both ends, to have two cocks in her, was an amazing turn-on. Scott grabbed her hair, still forcefully fucking her mouth and Johnny held her hips, thrusting hard into her wet pussy, his flesh slapping hard against her ass. From behind, Johnny's long thin cock stabbed repeatedly into her G-spot and she could feel the tension of an orgasm building, the delicious pressure mounting. Scott groaned loudly as he came, squirting down her throat, his cock jolting and then he pulled out and she leaned down, arching her back, so Johnny could get in deeper. When she climaxed, she let out a loud shriek, one to wake the dead perhaps and then Johnny came too. He pulled out, stepping away from her and she sighed, satisfied.

She stayed like that, on all fours, face down in the grass and panting for a minute, collecting her wits. "That was incredible," she said.

Silence greeted her and she rolled onto her ass, looking around. There was no-one behind her. Johnny and Scott were gone.

"Hello?" she called and somewhere, she heard her voice echo off a tomb. The indigo night sky, studded with silver, yawned out above her. Everything seemed very still, lifeless. A slight breeze touched the grass Anya sat in and she got to her feet unsteadily, collecting her clothes. She was wearing nothing but her knee-high striped socks and her creeper shoes. She put on her coat and held her dress as she looked around for the boys. Did she imagine that?

The hot cum dribbling down her legs, and the taste of cock in her mouth, said that Johnny and Scott were real. The stinging bleeding gash on the palm of her hand also said the boys were real. She paused at the grave where Johnny had cut her hand and read the name, boldly engraved in serif print: Scott Vanderbilt. Died 15th May 1899, Aged 22... Just like Johnny. She crouched down and moved some grass to reveal more writing; his tomb was in better condition than Johnny's. She read aloud: "Passed to another world with Johnny Junior, his good mate forever. May the Lord forgive them and may they find Peace."

She re-read this passage, troubled and not liking what it implied. It seemed that Johnny and Scott may have been bandits or some other kind of criminal, perhaps on some kind of spree that was stopped violently by police? Or maybe they had been something even worse, complete monsters, with family members being compelled to request the Lord's forgiveness on their graves...

Anya swallowed hard and looked around, suddenly frightened. Had she just had sex with the ghosts of murderers? Holding the dress against her breasts and covering herself, she grabbed her knapsack and ran, fighting her swimming vision and lethargic body, as terror drove her out of the cemetery and into her car, away from this crazy night and the undead lovers who had fucked her and stolen her virginity almost on top of their graves.