“Bet you didn’t expect me.”
Kat had taken a one hour detour to get here. It was just something on her list, and long overdue. Today was as good a day as any.
“To be honest, no. Who are you again?”
“Ha ha.”
He smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She frowned. He looked more or less like she remembered him, but not exactly. Handsome, sure, just…sadder. That was probably to be expected. She had been feeling down lately too.
“You know, I always wanted to visit. We talked a lot, but we met just once, for like, ten minutes. It was about time, don’t you think?”
“I’d argue it’s rather too late, but truth be told, I’m glad you’re here. I should have invited you earlier. Before.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He shrugged. “Life is nothing but regrets. And I reckon death is no different.”
She stayed silent for a bit. There was an appropriate light drizzle but she was used to it. It accentuated the scent of the pines.
“It’s a nice spot,” she said awkwardly.
“Please, no platitudes. What, did you actually remember me? We last chatted two years ago.”
She sat cross-legged on the grass.
“I was going through some of our conversations yesterday.”
“And?”
“And you’re right, life is full of regrets. Not fucking you is one of my biggest ones.”
He nodded, as if he expected this. Which of course he did.
“Frankly, I also wonder why I never put in that little extra effort to draw you here. It’s not that big a trip and I really did want to fuck you.” He glanced at the grey sky above. “But as I said, too late now.”
She looked around. No one was in sight. Her hand slipped inside her pants.
“About that…say it wasn’t too late. Say I came here explicitly to have sex with you. What would you do to me?”
That seemed to draw his attention.
“Aren’t you in a committed relationship? Notwithstanding any other practical difficulties.” He sounded amused.
“Let’s see. On the first day we chatted, I told you I wouldn’t mind if you shared me with your friends. How committed does my slutty ass sound?”
He appeared to think for a few seconds.
“As I recall, you’d said you’d like to watch me get hard and stroke my cock just looking at you, so I could start with that.”
Thinking how many times he had indeed jerked off to her — hardly explicit — pictures was one of the things that had prompted Kat to finally come here. Already wet, she slipped her middle finger inside her.
“And then what?” she asked.
“It’s your fantasy. I could take you right here in the open.”
“I’m a screamer, we’d get caught,” she said. She’d gotten up on her knees and lowered her pants so he could see her touching herself.
“Then I suppose I would have to stuff your mouth. You prefer a cock or a gag?” His eyes were fixed between her legs.
“Good idea. Gag me and then take me on all fours. Slap me hard, pull my hair, treat me like the worthless slut that I am. Do you want my ass? It’s yours to do as you please. Pound it mercilessly, make me beg you to stop and deny me.” She had crawled closer to him. It seemed all she had to do was open her mouth and she’d be able to suck his cock.
“Honestly, I’m not much into anal, but there’s something about a girl offering her ass freely; I think I’d take the offer.”
“Of course you would. You won’t find a more eager, wet whore anywhere. I’m willing to do almost anything.”
“Well, I am not going to test that but I always assumed you were a bit freaky. The sort that looks mild and quiet, but gets fucked in an alley by a guy she just met.” He looked around. “Or you know, here. I’d prefer the more consecrated ground of the church though,” he said, pointing with his eyes towards the cross, standing on a conical roof against the grey sky.
“Why not? We could do that. Seek refuge from the rain and prying eyes in the church, and I could lie upon the altar. You’d strip me, spread my legs and fuck me savagely. Wouldn’t that be a godly ritual?” She was sweating.
He smirked. “I think I could convert to this religion you describe. And if the priest was inside?”
“Let him watch. Let him hear me scream. Hell, if he’s even a little good looking, I would invite him to partake in the holy communion dripping out of my cunt.”
“Eloquent. But you are right, some kind of offering is needed. So where should I cum?”
She bared a breast, not bothering to check for passers-by.
“No. You have a cute face. Not beautiful, but cute. The freckles, the glasses… surely guys usually empty their loads on it all the time.”
“Not my favourite,” she admitted, “but I can’t say no seeing how much you all like it. And it does befit me to be used like this.”
He placed his hand on her head. She almost opened her mouth in expectation, as her legs started trembling and she came, her cunt’s juices dripping on the grass and through cracks in the marble.
“Well then. I guess this is it. Thanks for visiting,” he said and took a step back.
“Maybe we’d share a sticky cum kiss before I left,” she said mostly to herself, her excitement subsided.
“Had you one kiss from my clay-cold lips your time would not be long,” he mused, kneeling down to examine her body’s offerings to his abode.
“What’s that?”
“A line from The Unquiet Grave. You know I love Irish folk songs.”
“But I’ve never heard of it.” She sounded confused. “This is my fantasy. You’re a figment of my imagination.”
His finger brushed against the grass, and he brought it to his mouth, licking off a drop of her.
“Am I?”