Dying Eyes Are Upon You

My parent's house is only a few feet from the edge of Aspen Grove Cemetery. I have spent many sunny afternoons walking through the cemetery, enjoying the peace and quiet and the beauty that most people will never realize. Spending your spare time in a cemetery isn't high on many peoples list of how to spend their free time. But I have always loved it here.

If you are in this place, you are likely either mourning over a loss, or doing something that requires privacy from the public. I admit I have done both here. It's safer than getting caught in your bedroom with your boyfriend's head between your legs.

It's rare, but sometimes you can catch people out here in broad daylight, usually in the far corners of the cemetery where the older stones rest above bone dust. The resting places that are never visited because there is nobody left to visit them.

It's on one of those nice, sunny days that I see the three of them under a huge oak tree in the southwest corner of the cemetery—a man and two women. I could make out the rear of their car not far away on the edge of the road that winds and snakes through this massive place.

The man was lying on his back on a blanket. He was kissing a young white woman who was kneeling next to him. The second woman, a black woman who also appeared to be young, was kneeling between his legs, undoing his pants.

I had lost track of time, but the sun was high and warm on my back, so it may have been that the threesome were on their lunch break, getting a quick fix. They certainly worked with haste.

The kissing girl took the man's hand and shoved it up her shirt; the other woman had worked his erect cock out from the confines of his jeans and eagerly took it in her mouth. Her head began to move up and down in a quick, consistent rhythm.

I was creeping closer, undetected. It was a windy day, so I guess the rustling of leaves above explained why they didn't hear the crunching of twigs and leaves under my weight. I was close enough to hear the sucking sound the black woman was making as she worked her mouth over the man's shaft as if her life depended on it.

The kissing woman turned her attention to the other who was probably bringing the man close to orgasm, judging by the sounds he was making.

I was now close enough to see the saliva glistening on the man's cock as the two women kissed. It was a long kiss, during which the black woman pulled her pink blouse up over her large breasts. Then she pulled the cups of her bra up to let her affections spill out. The other woman took a dark nipple in her mouth, eliciting a moan of approval from the other.

The man had risen to his feet, jeans sagging to his thighs, the two women on their knees. Nobody saw me. Nobody would notice me, even though I wanted them to. Under normal circumstances, I might have just watched in hiding, enjoying the show. But I wanted them to see me.

But they were too occupied. The black woman guided the man's cock into her mouth again, the other woman licking and squeezing at her chest. Then the man took a half step back and took a hold of his rigid cock and worked himself the rest of the way. With wide eyes I watched him spurt onto the black woman's face—could see her smile and relish in the man's satisfaction. Some of his mess oozed to her chest, where it was immediately cleaned off by the other woman.

The women shared a final kiss and then they were all on their feet. The man pulled and zipped his jeans, probably not even having finished expelling all of his fluid yet. One woman picked up the blanket while the other adjusted her bra and pulled down her shirt. Then they headed back to their vehicle.

I watched them go, yearning to be seen or heard. If I could have screamed, I would have done so, long before the woman had begun her blowjob. I suppose I could have tried to throw a stick, or I could have clapped my hands. I guess in times of shock, your brain is incapable of grasping those simple solutions.

I guess when you have your throat slashed, and you are crawling through your own sticky blood, your mind clenches its teeth on only one thing: your next breath.

Earlier in the day, the man kicked in my door and chased me through the house. He caught me and cut me. It felt hot on my neck, but no pain. Then I felt sick and dizzy and I saw all my blood. I kicked out hard, connecting with the man somewhere on his body. It bought me time to make it out the backdoor.

I thought I could lose him in the cemetery. I didn't consider though, how big the cemetery was and how long it takes to get to the other side where I planned to flag down help on Sunnyside Avenue.

I didn't have it in me to make it far, and my sense of direction was skewed. I fell at some point and had to crawl. Then I saw the threesome. Then I had hope. But then they were gone before I could get their attention. Then the man found me. He stood over me for a few seconds, perhaps amazed I made it this far. Then he rolled me over. He blotted out the high sun as he raised his knife and brought it down on me.

And again...and again.

And again.