Gay Sex in the Cemetery

I hope you are familiar with me and our sex gang from my previous stories about our sexual adventures. We do really consider it not just sex, but coming to our personal Self by not hiding our Shadow, our secret wishes and desires, but acknowledging and executing them the way we want in the way least harmful to others. Thus we explore ourselves as deep as we can, while the world receives the footage of our sexual frolicking for their delight. For some just seeing is enough. But for us – even the sky probably is not the sexual limit.

Once, one man of our “sex-addicts” group was visiting the seaside and, while out for a walk, stumbled upon a very charming old cemetery. Guess the idea that popped into his head? Since we don’t have any sexual taboos, and our fantasies have long since trespassed any boundaries imposed by society, need I even say that he told us about it, and we agreed? If our group gets caught in the act or exposed, let them expose us “in all our blasphemy,” so we won’t have any regrets. Just thinking about that possibility made the crotch of my jeans a little wet.

DISCLAIMER: We are not necrophiles; we hold the utmost respect for the dead and for the religious symbols of the living, and through these practices we in no way seek to, nor do we intend to, offend, humiliate, or hurt anyone — we have no ill intentions. We are a group of sex enthusiasts who are pushing our boundaries and experimenting, so sex in a cemetery is solely about us and our choice, and has no political, social, or other underlying meaning.

On a hot summer afternoon we drove to the seaside. Four of us were able to sneak away from work, intrigued by the idea of sex among the gravestones. We had a lot of fun driving all the way to the seaside resort, and, as usual for us, we were being very raunchy: we sat with our crotches unzipped and our erect cocks exposed, without caring if anyone on the highway saw us through the windows. From time to time, we’d give each other a quick wank or a suck. It’s worth mentioning that for this little adventure, we’d all put on long pants with a zipper that opened from the crotch all the way down to the butt. Such kind of pants are designed for hikers, trekkers, soldiers or explorers in the wilderness, where it’s inconvenient to take off one‘s clothes, and it’s easier to simply unzip the entire bottom of the pants to relieve oneself. We, of course, adapted this useful invention to our own mischievous intentions.

Anyway, the heat being an excuse, we were practically half-naked, except for the long pants mentioned. Each of us wore a different T-shirt with a provocative slogan, such as “Cum in me, bro”; “I love Cock”; “Sorry girls, I suck dicks,” and so on. Wearing them with pride, we’d head to roadside cafes to buy coffee or fill up on gas. Otherwise, we only hid our manly “treasures” before boarding the ferry and at the checkpoints. The guy who sold us the ferry ticket was so cute that I could barely resist showing him my Willy and offering to insert it between his lips.

We reached the resort without any major incidents. Then checked into a Soviet-era vacation home booked in advance, taking a four-person room so that in the evenings — if enough wasn‘t enough during the day — we could continue our sexual escapades.

We started with a little prelude, filming each other as we made out and jerked off naked on the balcony. The balcony is a private space, and even if anyone had seen us, they couldn’t be any accusations. On the other hand, the balcony was somewhat sheltered, so we weren’t exactly „on stage“. And so, one more innocent building was consecrated with our sacred pornographic seed, thereby “losing its innocence” and being added to our list of “sexodromes” — places of sexual activity.

Afterwards, wearing extremely skimpy shorts and tank tops barely covering our nipples, we went to the beach. It was a weekday, not many people around, the location safe and fairly private, so we started sunbathing in the buff, then got wild taking close-up photos of each other’s buttholes. After that, kneeling in a train fashion, we licked each other’s asses better than any dog or toilet paper could.
After that, we headed to the dunes. These aren’t the famous dunes of that particular resort, but to me, dunes always feel like a safe haven, where anything may happen.

And that’s how it was. People don’t come here accidentally, there are no paths leading there and the vegetation is quite dense. However, in the thicket of bushes, we spotted… a sluttish old man who had wandered off... intentionally. So horny, in fact, that despite the risk of being possibly found by four muggers who might beat him to death, the daddy, unable to contain his arousal, pulled down his shorts right there; a drop of pre-cum was already visible on the glans of his penis.

That’s exactly what we needed! Unable to believe his luck, probably thanking God for allowing him, at least at the end of his life, to fulfill his deepest and darkest fantasies, the old man, without any inhibitions, took out his dentures and sucked us all off one by one, drooling and savoring the mixture of fluids in his mouth; the fluids hung down over his chin, making him look like a camel, but he was so into it that he just kept enjoying himself and pleasing us. Later, to my amazement and surprise, the old guy asked us… to empty ourselves as much as we could, but… not clean up. Although we’re not into scat, we couldn’t refuse such an unexpected turn of events. He licked our backsides absolutely clean—unlike us in the hotel, when we were licking each other and sticking our tongues into relatively clean holes.

That old man really was a gift from heaven — he finally asked us to pee on him. There’s nothing easier in life, so before long the daddy was completely drenched and soaked in golden rain — from his eyelashes and beard down to his T-shirt and sandals. Finally, my conscience told me to let him finish as well, so I lifted my T-shirt and exposed my chest with studded nipples, while he kept wanking and wanking until, at last, his senile cum splashed my entire six-pack. I’m not the one to waste anything precious, so I refused his hygienic wipes and simply pulled down my T-shirt to soak the old man’s load. Surely he’ll never get another chance like this in his life. We parted ways as true friends, partners in sex who understood each other to the bone, words unnecessary. In the meantime I found myself thinking that involving older people in sex isn’t a bad idea at all. I‘ll give it some thought.

As for our main plan, sex in the cemetery, we saved it for the very last day of vacation. We’d already found out where those country graves were, and we’d also noticed that, because of their remote location and the small size of the nearby town, almost no one ever goes there, except for an occasional cyclist whizzing by. All the better for us. We also realized that we wouldn’t be able to do groupie activities in such an open, public place — it was all too risky to film ourselves naked, so we decided that one person would film, one would keep an eye out for strangers, and the other two would suck and fuck.

We chose a beautiful, secluded spot near the lilac bushes, next to the moss-covered gravestones. We deliberately didn’t read the inscriptions wishing to avoid the thought that we had “desecrated” a deceased person so and so, treating the cemetery impersonally. Moreover, as mentioned at the beginning, we have no ill intentions whatsoever, apart from our naughty thoughts and primordial sexual instincts.

My friend played the role of a “youngster from a college campus”, who had come to place flowers on a grave and clean the headstone. I played a cemetery visitor, whose eye caught the handsome guy. Without a word I walked up to him with my crotch already throbbing and pressed my bulge right to his nose. The guy started sucking and licking my crotch, running the tip of his tongue up and down the zipper (whereas our friend was filming everything from the best angles). You already know our special pants, so he slowly unzipped the zipper, now “lubricated” with saliva, from my crotch all the way down to my ass, took my hard-on in his mouth, and started relishing it with delightful slurping sounds. After that he put me in the “doggy style” position, pulled the slit in my pants so wide open that it got torn a little, and played with his tongue on my otherwise clean, just a bit sweaty asshole. I made ecstatic facial expressions for a hot video shoot, wiggled and shook my round bubble butt, while our buddy was taking everything on the camera from up close. This way we played all sorts of tricks in those graves: we sucked and licked each other, showed off our spread-open asses, rubbed our dicks against a moss-covered cross, sat down and rode the corner of a gravestone bareback. Finally, I got down on all fours, and the buddy shagged me on the path between the graves — we even knocked over one rusty candle holder.

With this our fantasies were not exhausted. We found some unburned traditional candles: I took one, wiped it clean, licked it a bit, lit it, and shoved it up my buddy‘s ass — it turned out to be a Tom of Finland Christmas card (there really exists such one). Meanwhile, all horny, he shoved a small pinecone into my butthole, which I immediately pushed out. Later we continued walking through the cemetery, rubbing our dicks against the monuments, the lilac blossoms, thrusting cocks between planks of the benches. I even started thinking that this kind of porn isn’t all that common, so if we posted it on specialized websites, we could make some good money or even get more kinky requests.

Finally, sufficiently aroused, we stood next to each other as if playing a naughty game of older high school students, seeing who would shoot further. Before even starting, our guardian friend by the fence suddenly whispered, “Hurry up! Stop it! A whole group of tourists is coming this way!”

Boy oh boy can I hardly remember an outdoor orgasm like that. The risk of getting caught, combined with the sheer obscenity and sacrilege of it all, triggered such a rush of pleasure hormones in my brain that I couldn’t help but let out a scream, and my fuck buddy couldn’t help but moan with sexual delight. The cum shot so far that I could have competed in the cum-shooting event at the Olympics. Sperm flowed and spurted out from my dick like from a faucet (and my sex buddy was no different). As a result, we splattered cum all over crosses, monuments, flowers, and our own clothes. My prostate must have pulsated from the size of a walnut to that of a pea. I can’t explain it any other way — that indescribable pleasure that even chemsex probably can’t provide, but only one‘s own natural hormones.

I realized that I would never turn away from this path, that at least in this life I’ll be a slave to my back end. How wonderful it is that sex and pornography aren’t criminalized, that we don’t have to hide — it’s legal, and one can make good money from it! I thank God that in this lifetime He has destined me to be a slave to dicks and asses, including mine. I‘ll have to ask if my buddies feel the same way too.

After the guardian friend urged us to bridle our cocks and finish cumshoot quickly, we did as told, hurriedly stuffed our greatest treasures into our pants, and zipped them up in a flash. Not a trace that we’d just been up to some dirty shenanigans. What a brilliant invention those pants are! I suspect only the description says those pants are meant for expedition members and soldiers, who spend a lot of time outdoors. In reality, they must be designed for having sex in public places.

Meanwhile, another friend turned off the camera. I felt sorry for him — he’d been stuck with the technical work and wasn’t the star of the film, the one who’d experienced such heavenly pleasure and immortalized himself naked in the cemetery. But maybe I was wrong? He didn’t complain, didn’t poke his dick, but when I looked down at his pants (mind you, I look there more often than I look at a person’s face), I saw a wet, dark stain on the crotch. It was completely soaked. He came right into his pants without using hands, just watching through the camera’s lens what we, the holy perverts, were engaged in.

The filming of the porn scene ended abruptly. We managed to hide our “evidence.” Right at the cemetery gates, a group of elderly German cyclists did indeed stop and, chattering away, entered the graveyard. The cemetery is considered historic, so there was plenty for them to see… And for us… to show ourselves to lewd man-sluts all over the world. Just like ordinary visitors, we turned around and left. And if the German guests happened to see a whitish, thick liquid substances on some of the crosses or gravestones, let them think it’s tree sap, resin or snail slime.

That same evening, we headed home. We felt great — mission accomplished. All that was left was to edit the video to keep it for our memory, or maybe upload it to dedicated pornsites.

Later, we told it all to our secret club members and bragged about what an extraordinary sexual experience we’d had, making sure to mention not only the cemetery part, but also the pissed upon old ass-licker with the wrinkled butt, and we convinced them just how much they’d missed by not coming. I don’t think the cemetery theme will become a recurring motif in my porn career, nevertheless I greatly appreciate and cherish this unusual session — one that even the most famous and longest-performing porn actors often don’t get to have.

Moreover, the realization dawned upon me that I need to pray for the health of my dick and asshole and take very good care of them. Because if one gives out and the other can’t hold up, then, upon some famous band‘s lyrics, “All that’s left is to hang myself.” It’s terrifying to even think that in my old age, my back end might no longer be able to bring me ecstatic pleasures. Perhaps then I’ll wish to have a soccer ball or at least a base ball shoved up my ass, or I’ll sit in the middle among handsome younger and older hunks, and they’ll piss and cum all over me, and I’ll flow with those most wonderful bodily fluids until I’m rejuvenated.

These are my thoughts and dreams. I hope you have your own ones. What are they?