- Well, where is this damn plot number 6? - Polly asked irritably.

For three hours they had been wandering in total darkness along the southwestern part of the cemetery, peering at the gravestone inscriptions.

“Somewhere over here,” Claire said. - Next to him, Oscar Wilde and Chopin are buried.

- Claire, and we could not go here during the day? - grunted a young man. “Why was it necessary to drag at night?” Yes, still moonless. Are we going to open the grave, or what?

“Paul, shut up,” Claire waved as she walked ahead. From time to time she leaned toward the tombstones, highlighting herself with a mobile phone, and Paul heard her muttering: “Not that ... not that ...”

- Do you have a card? - again could not stand Paul. - Why didn't you buy a card? Two euros sorry?

- And where would I do it then? - Claire asked.

- I would have nailed it to the wall, - the guy quipped. - Opposite your bed. Next to the poster.

- Paul ... - The girl stopped abruptly and turned to face him. - One more word - and we will part with you right here. I'm already tired. I’m here, you know, taking care of our relationship ...

- At the cemetery. Yeah. This is the place. So inspiring to care ...

Claire put her hands on his shoulders:

- Do you love me?

“Claire, what nonsense?” Of course I love.

- Do you want us to be together until the end of life?

- Of course I want. But I do not understand ...

“We’ll get to the place and you will understand,” Claire interrupted another objection, kissed the guy, and again walked in the dark toward one place she knew. Paul sighed heavily and followed.

Twenty minutes later meaningless, as it seemed to Paul, the girl stopped walking:

- Everything, we came. Look ... is it really beautiful?

Paul looked around.

They were standing in front of a low, approximately a waist-high monument, with an oblong recess in front of it and two granite slabs of the same size as the recess, on both sides. It was a standard burial, without any super-beautiful. On the contrary, the terrain caused quite opposite feelings: the monument was written out; in the recess, interspersed with pots and vases of fresh flowers, butts were scattered about; in front of the monument itself - again, along with the flowers - there were plates, leaflets with poems and songs were lying around, used condoms ...

- Well, how are you? The girl asked again.

“It's dirty,” Paul cackled. “So what have we forgotten here?”

- Like what? - Claire came close to him and carefully looked with dark beautiful eyes right in his heart. “You still haven't understood whose grave it is?”

“I understood whose grave it is,” said the young man, “but I don't understand ...”

Claire again interrupted his phrase with a long kiss, from which the guy began to feel dizzy. Male hands involuntarily lay on the maiden waist; the girl pressed closer to him, which made Paul feel the familiar tightness in jeans. Not holding back, he ran his hand over the strong girl's elastic ass, Claire bent, slipping his chest over his chest, and lightly rubbed against his mound.

Finally the kiss broke off. Both were breathing heavily, restoring breath. In the ears of the Field, blood poured out with excitement in deaf thrusts.

“There is a sign,” with a pause, Claire began to speak wildly in a sexy whisper, from which the guy's body chills ran, “that those who make love ...” she retreated a step from Paul and slowly began to unbutton her buttons on her shirt this is a grave ... - the shirt opened, revealing a beautiful young body with a teasing whitening breast (Paul just now noticed that the girl did not put on her bra), - will always be together ... - one jerk - and the shirt flew to the side, and took up jeans, and no one ever will part them ...

The guy did not have time to blink an eye, as the girl deftly unbuttoned her jeans, gracefully stepped in and now stood in front of him in some thongs, almost imperceptible on her chipped thighs.With the next movement, she removed the hairpin from her head; dark hair scattered over his shoulders, and a real young witch appeared in front of a crazed boy. Her eyes burned with enticing fire, in which this very second I wanted to plunge, as if into water, and burn, without thinking about anything ...

Paul was normal, healthy, not indifferent to female beauty, a young man who, moreover, loved Claire very much (and who would not like this dark-haired, elegantly built girl with hazel-colored eyes, delicate aristocratic features and overflowing and maddening life and sexual energy!), so its natural reaction was not difficult to predict. But the mind was still trying to call its owner to order, and Paul, unbuttoning his jeans, muttered:

“And you believe that? ... You are an art historian, an expert in impressionism - do you believe in this nonsense?”

Claire, smiling, came close. The guy literally showered her with the heat of her calling body, pushing the mind with his skepticism to the side.

“Paul, dear,” as if her voice reached him through the fog, “what difference does it make you, what do I believe?” I am here before you ... I want you here ... in this place. Do you understand? Why all these questions? ..

It seemed to Paul that a radiance emanated from her body. And he, like a moth, flew into this world - the light of a young body, the light of beauty, the light of maddening sexuality and eroticism ...

Their lips again entwined in a passionate battle of a kiss - caressing each other, teasing, exciting and reassuring at the same time. The hands of the young man shamelessly caressed girl's breasts, rubbed their nipples, slightly pressing them against the alveoli, causing Claire to moan deafly; her leg, being between his thighs, rubbed on an excited member, and the guy thought that he would discharge himself in the most shameless way right now, into panties, without waiting for such sweet intercourse ...

Claire looked up from his lips and whispered softly:

- Show it to me...

And before the guy somehow responded to her call, she herself pulled off her jeans with her shorts and hips and quickly sat down. Paul looked down. Even in the dark, he saw his excited member sticking out like a rocket ready for launch, and the eyes of a girl in which she had a naked admiration.

“Wow,” whispered to him, “what is it like with you ... He is even bigger than I thought ...”

“Claire, you're exaggerating,” the young man said in reply, involuntarily smiling at a self-satisfied smile.

- You think? - The girl playfully looked up at him. - Okay. Let's see what my mouth thinks about this ...

In the next second, Paul exhaled hotly and closed his eyes: his cock gently clasped delicate girlish lips.

The whole situation was so depraved, blasphemous and at the same time acting on the darkest corners of the subconscious that the guy felt at least an accomplice in the desecration of the rest of the dead. But it was so exciting ... Paul never noticed such depraved inclinations for himself, and now he was alternately thrown from the heat into the cold; fear gave way to wild excitement. And also Claire ... About these lips of the goddess ... about this mouth ... ooo, what an indescribable pleasure ...

The hands of the guy involuntarily lay on the girl's head, lightly stroking and pushing her. Claire obediently swallowed a member deeper, smacking slightly, and began to make head movements, as if fucking her mouth with this member. Simultaneously with the slip, Paul felt her tongue being placed at the very head. It was just indescribable. And so he wanted this blowjob to never end. But Paul was a living person ...

- Claire ... Oh, Claire, I will finish now ... ooo, honey ...

The girl, as if her words were spurred on, planted her mouth almost to the ground ... but suddenly stopped abruptly, releasing the member into the wild. Paul looked at her in surprise, but the girl put a finger to her lips and whispered:

- Do you hear?

Paul, feeling like a toad that fell from a tree to the ground, unwittingly listened ....