His body felt so creaky and old, he couldn't stand it.He shuffled down the row, and came to his familiar spot. The low gray stone said, "Sarah Conners...b. 1900 d. 1960". There were a few dried up flowers scattered around it, plus some weeds stubbornly growing in the Autumn soil.He sighed and said, "It's an endless job, isn't it? Well, we can't stop Time, can we?". Bracing himself on the gravestone, he dropped his cane and lowered himself slowly to his knees. He began to pull weeds and clean up. Wanted to posess him, to entwine naked with him in a meadow full of wild flowers or in a bed with clean sheets.She tried oh so hard to put him out of her mind as she hurried home.She rushed upstairs calling for her maid to fetch her bath.The maid Vicki came running, “Why mistress what on earth has happened.”“Nothing I need a bath,” Annie insisted.“Afore dinner, what’s happened?” she asked.“Nothing!” Annie insisted and blushed profusely.“Thee’s been fucked ‘ent thee,” she observed, “I knew. I paced in the kitchen; a strange nervousness gripped me. My heart began to beat faster. I expected him to come out of his room, grab me, take me to his room and fuck me hard. I was suddenly flushed.Holy shit... I cursed myself for my lustful thinking. I must hate that bastard for ruining my life... the evil man who had violated me like an animal. A fight within my conscious ensued. My body responded in an entirely different way. I could feel my crotch getting wetter with every passing. The place was heaving, and the air filled with the erotic sounds and aromas of enthusiastic humping. I’m not sure if this ambience overexcited us or male competitivity took over because each pair went into overdrive.To all intents and purposes, we shagged ourselves silly; every boy’s fud supped at least three or four loads of their partner’s cum. I was groaning loudly as Peter pounded my twat to distraction for the fourth time and screamed as his tremoring cock finally shot its remaining dregs.
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