Dia De Los Muertos
Dia de los Muertos. The Day of the Dead.
Celebrated in Mexico for as long as anyone can remember, and with roots far older still, it is one of many global festivals honoring the souls of the departed. Legend says that it is one of the only days of the year in which the dead and living can interact with one another, in which the dead can live again, if only for a single evening, hidden behind masks and suits in order to experience the pleasures of life just one last time. Despite its name, however, the Day of the Day is not a somber holiday, but a celebratory one, in which families and communities gather in order to remember those they have loved and lost.
Private altars are built in honor of the ancestors, populated with pictures and memorabilia, and often containing gifts of food and beverages. Cemeteries are cleaned and decorated for family members to visit, to pay their respects to the dead, both recently and otherwise. Children dress as skeletons and wear corpse-paint, so as to mimic the appearance of those they honor, and candy is handed out in the shape of colorful skulls. Men and women alike dance and sing in the streets, feast on bread and meat and wine, and celebrations often last well into the early morning hours of the next day.
As such, Dia de los Muertos – the Day of the Dead – is just as much about celebrating life as it is honoring those who have lost theirs.
Sylvia, however, saw little reason for celebration.
It was just past midnight when the teenager began making her way into the local cemetery, the burial grounds having already been abandoned by the rest of the community so they could sing and dance in the town square. Ribbons and streamers and flowers lay scattered throughout the cemetery, left behind by the revelers, to be cleaned up the next morning by the poor souls who managed the graveyard. Bowls of food and treats were placed in front of most of the tombstones Sylvia passed, and she even had to shoo away a few stray hounds she had found inch closer and closer to the free meals.
Like everyone else in town, Sylvia was dressed for the holiday, decked out in a flowing black festival dress with bright red trimming and matching red shoes. Her wavy hair was pulled back, away from her face, and kept in place by the most beautiful red rose Sylvia could find, revealing her to be covered in corpse paint. Her face was thus painted as white as that of a skull, with black paint darkening her eyes, covering her nose, and designed to make her mouth look as though it had been stitched shut. She carried a bundle of fresh roses with her, carefully stepping around the streamers and ribbons on the ground as she made her way towards her destination.
Unfortunately, despite her festive appearance – much of which had been applied by her mother against her own will – Sylvia was feeling anything but celebratory this evening. Dia de los Muertos was a day to remember the dead, after all, and that was precisely what was on the young woman's mind: the dead. But it wasn't her ancestors she was thinking about, nor extended family members who had passed away within the last year. No, she thought only of one soul, and one soul alone: Raul.
Her beloved Raul.
Tall, dark, handsome, and a year older than Sylvia, Raul had been the girl's moon and her stars. She had only been fourteen when first she began to see Raul – far too young to date, according to her parents – but that hadn't stopped her. He was kind, and funny, and dashing, and everything else Sylvia had ever read about in books of old about princes and knights in shining armor. She loved him, and he loved her, and she could never imagine loving anyone else but him.
Then came the accident.
Raul had been accompanying Sylvia to that year's Dia de los Muertos festival in the town square when it happened. All dressed up, full of smiles, and already loaded with sugar, Sylvia still remembered the warmth of Raul's hand in her own as he led her across the street towards the festival. They had looked both ways before they began to cross the street – they weren't stupid – but it hadn't mattered. Not a bit.
The car moved so quickly Sylvia hadn't even seen it coming before it was too late. One minute, Raul was right in front of her; the next, he was several meters down the road, staring up at the night sky with wide eyes that saw nothing at all. There had been blood, and guts, and other horrible things, but all Sylvia remembered of that evening was how she had kneeled down and sobbed beside the lifeless body of the boy she had loved so dearly until someone had finally dragged her away.
The driver of the car – a local man with a taste for tequila who had evidently started celebrating the festivities a little too early that evening – had been apprehended, tried, and jailed. But it didn't matter to Sylvia. Nothing did.
Raul was gone. That was all that mattered.
The girl had spent the last year struggling to come to terms with the fact that her Raul was gone, well and truly gone, and would never be coming back. She returned to school, and spent time with her friends and family, but life wasn't the same, and she knew it would never be the same again. She had loved Raul with everything she had, everything she was, and had known even before she lost him that she would never love another man like she had loved Raul.
Now, on the Day of the Dead, on the first anniversary of that fateful night, while the rest of the town sang and danced and made merry in the town square, Sylvia stood in the local cemetery, visiting all that remained of her dearly beloved.
His tombstone.
Unlike the other tombstones scattered throughout the cemetery, Raul's was bare and empty, with no gifts or flowers or food. His family had left town shortly after his death, having found themselves unable to move on, much like Sylvia herself, leaving her the only one left to remember him on this, the Day of the Dead, the anniversary of his death.
"Mi amor," Sylvia said softly as she knelt before Raul's grave and placed her bundle of rose atop his resting place. There were tears in the girl's eyes as she looked upon the tombstone, tears she quickly fought to wipe away before they could besmirch her makeup. "I miss you so much, Raul. It hasn't been the same without you. I'm not happy anymore, not really. I don't think I will ever be happy again. Not without you."
The tears started coming faster, then, and Sylvia was forced to break off her small speech in order to stop them before they could smear her face paint. She sniffed loudly and held back a stifled sob as she wiped the tears from her face and brushed some of her wavy black hair out of her eyes, adjusting the rose in her hair to better hold it back. The girl continued to look upon Raul's tombstone as she took slow, deep breaths, calming herself down, her beautiful brown eyes imagining it was her beloved she was seeing before her, and not the physical representation of his death.
The cemetery was cool and quiet as Sylvia sat upon her lover's grave, her black hair and dress fluttering gently in the autumn breeze. A few ribbons blew into the air, as did some of the petals from the roses she had placed at the foot of Raul's tombstones, and the girl could not help but a smile a little as she saw the petals dance upon the wind. She could just barely see the lights and hear the sounds of merriment coming from the town square almost a mile away, a reminder that her time in the cemetery was limited, and she would be expected to return to her family – and to the land of the living – before the night was over.
Sniffing gently, Sylvia stood back up and smoothed out her dress as she looked upon Raul's tombstone for what she expected would be the last time in a long time. Her flowers delivered, and her words spoken, her job here was done, and she knew it would do her heart no good to linger a moment longer than she needed to in this dreary place.
"I love you, Raul," she whispered lovingly, a few tears still stinging her eyes even as she allowed herself a small, sad smile. "I will always love you. If only I could see you one last time…"
And, perhaps because it was the Day of the Dead, the one time of the year in which the dead were supposedly able to rise from their graves and interact with the living, Sylvia got her wish.
The girl had already turned and was beginning the long walk back out of the cemetery when she heard the sounds behind her and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up. An unusually cool breeze blew past, causing Sylvia to shiver, and convincing her to finally turn around to look upon what was occurring. When at last she did, she almost fainted in shock.
As Sylvia watched in mounting horror, someone – or something – began to emerge from beneath Raul's grave. Frozen in fear and with her eyes as wide as dinner plates, Sylvia watched as a skeletal hand burst forth from out of the ground, sending chunks of soil and grass flying in every direction. A second hand soon joined the first, and together they worked to pull the rest of the figure out of the ground, dirt and soil shifting as the being clawed itself out from the underground. Following the hands were the arms, then the head of the being, cast down to hide its face, followed then by its torso and legs, all of which were rotting and skeletal, missing large patches of skin and revealing bone and gore beneath.
It wasn't until the horrible thing had finally pulled itself free from its underground prison and stood before Sylvia on rotting legs that she could finally make out just who and what it was.
"Raul…" she whispered in horror.
It was indeed Raul who stood before the girl, and he looked every bit as dead as he truly was, his funeral suit torn and full of holes, most of his flesh rotting or missing, and with bits of bone and tissue visible in several places. His handsome face was half-rotted and pockmarked with gaps in the flesh, his hair was slick with blood and viscera, and his funerary clothes hung from him as though poorly fitted. Raul was little more than a corpse now, a living corpse, but one that looked upon Sylvia with the eyes of her lover, still as clear and as beautiful as she remembered them, having somehow survived the worms and rot.
"Sylviaaaa…"
The girl shuddered as she heard the corpse speak her name, its voice nothing like a death rattle, and nothing like how she remembered it. Sylvia knew what stood before her was an abomination, a monstrous aberration of nature, and yet she was frozen in place, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything but watch and listen as the scene she had just witnessed unfolded all around her.
All throughout the cemetery, dirt and soil was being upturned and tossed aside as the denizens of all the surrounding graves began emerging from their underground resting places. Men and women and children of all shapes and all sizes clawed their way out of their graves, tearing at the ground beneath them as they pulled themselves up and tasted fresh air for the first time since last year's Day of the Dead. Some looked almost healthy, the recent dead who had been buried for only a few days or weeks, but the vast majority of them were little more than walking corpses, skeletons with bits of flesh hanging from their bones, almost entirely unrecognizable and without any features of their former selves.
Sylvia watched all this unfold with horror, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up and her lips quivering as she looked around at the undead giving up their graves. Her wavy black hair and fancy dress fluttered in the corpse-wind, sending a shiver of both cold and fear running down her spine. She clasped her hands over her heart, almost shaking with fear, yet rooted to the ground and far too scared to move.
"Sylviaaaaa…"
The girl looked up ahead of her once again upon hearing her name spoken aloud to find Raul – or what was left of him – was now standing directly in front of her, having shambled towards her while the rest of the necropolis came alive around them. With him standing right there, Sylvia could smell the scent of death upon her former lover, and fought not to scream as she watched the corpse slowly reach towards her, his hand moving towards her face closer, closer, closer…
Then, suddenly, the corpse was gone, and Raul stood in its place.
The moment the shambling figure touched Sylvia's cheek, as though to inspect her expertly applied corpse paint, it seemed to shimmer and then change shape. One moment, the being before her was but a corpse, a member of the living dead, a walking, talking abomination; the next, he was Raul again, handsome and glowing and perfect. Sylvia gasped as she looked upon him and saw he was nude, the tattered remains of his funerary suit having disappeared, his entire form glowing with a gentle blue light that she feared indicated he was little more than a phantom.
And yet…she could feel him. Though Raul looked like a ghost, she could feel the warmth of his hand upon her cheek every bit as much as she could see the smile in his handsome eyes as he looked upon her for the first time in a year.
Sylvia could hardly believe it. Raul, her long-lost love, her beloved…was alive again.
"Raul, I – "
"Shhhh," Raul interrupted, moving his hand so his finger was now pressed against Sylvia's lips, stopping her short.
Whatever Sylvia had intended to say, it died on her lips as Raul then swooped down and kissed her just like he used to, full of warmth and love and passion. Sylvia was surprised to find his lips as warm and solid as his hand, as the rest of him, despite the ghostly glow about him, despite what she had seen of his body, despite what she had seen surrounding them…
By the time Sylvia opened her eyes, only doing so once she felt Raul finally pull back from their kiss, she found she was lying on her back before his tombstone, surrounded by the upturned dirt and soul he had tossed aside as he clawed his way out of his grave. Looking up, she saw not only Raul leaning over her, having evidently lowered her to the ground, but also the faces of several other phantoms, almost all of them men, from boys who had just entered adolescence before their untimely demise to elderly gentleman who had lived good long lives before shuffling off their mortal coil. They were watching her, all of them, and the teenager faltered as she felt the eyes of a dozen dead men looking down upon her.
"R-Raul," she said softly, looking back and forth between her boyfriend and the ghostly faces surrounding them. "What is this? The others…?"
"Do not worry, mi amor," Raul told her, his eyes full of warmth even as she felt his hands begin to roam over her young body. It the first time Sylvia had heard him speak since his death – how she had longed to hear his voice one last time – and the sound of it instantly assured her that everything would be okay.
He kissed her, then, and she kissed back, and soon she was lost in the euphoria of having her Raul back.
Everything after that felt like a dream, as though Sylvia was experiencing the entire thing through someone else, or else watching it from somewhere outside her own body. She still saw and heard and felt everything – oh, how she felt it – but it was like magic, like a cherished memory, as sweet and as natural and passionate as falling in love for the very first time.
Sylvia felt her dress being tugged off her little by little, sighing and gasping as Raul smothered her with kisses. Her breasts were exposed first, perky and round, bouncing gently as the dress was pulled over them and then slowly slid down over her stomach. The rest of her tanned body was revealed shortly thereafter: her flat tummy, her bare legs, her delicate feet, all of her writhing beneath Raul as she fought to lose herself in his love. When at last her underwear had been torn from her, exposing her nubile buttocks and virgin cunt, she was practically begging for more, her legs spread to accept everything her undead lover was willing to give her.
"Uhhnnnn!"
Sylvia allowed herself to moan long and loud when first she felt Raul enter her, his phantom cock painlessly penetrating her virgin folds and then stretching her wide open as he buried himself deeper and deeper within her. The teenager squirmed beneath her lover adorably as she felt him fill her, every inch of his ghostly dick filling her with warmth and heat. She felt no pain, no discomfort, no regret; only pressure, fullness, a desire for more.
No pain, only pleasure.
It wasn't long before Sylvia felt Raul begin to rock back and forth, pushing and pulling his cock in and out of her delicate folds, causing her entire body to squirm in pleasure beneath him. The teenager moaned and gasped adorably as she felt every inch of her undead lover stretching her wide open, pushing her farther and farther, his organ filling up every nook and cranny. Though Raul glowed like a ghost, he was made of warmth and light, and Sylvia felt it as it moved in and out of her most intimate area, in and out, in and out, in and out…
"Ahn! Ahn! Ahn! Ohhhh!" Sylvia found herself moaning as she felt Raul thrust into her again and again, arching her back each and every time she felt his ghostly cock push inside of her. He seemed to go deeper every single time, pushing into new realms of pleasure and ecstasy, and the girl soon found herself gripping the loosened soil beneath her as her undead lover pounded her into his very own grave. "Uhn! Uhn! Uhnn! Oh, Raul…!"
And Raul just kept going, thrusting in and out of his beloved, taking pleasure not only in being alive again, but in taking part in life's greatest joy. Sylvia was impossibly tight around his phantom penis, her warm and tightening folds squeezing him almost painfully hard, her juices coating every inch of his cock. She was as beautiful as he remembered, even more so as he looked down upon her bucking her hips in response to his thrusts in a desperate attempt to take him as deep inside her as she possibly could. Her black hair fluttered out behind her, held back by the rose in her hair, her eyes closed and her mouth open, emphasizing the elaborate corpse paint covering her face. Her breasts bounced delightfully with every thrust, up and down, up and down, tantalizing the undead teenager and only encouraging him to love Sylvia harder, faster, and deeper than ever before.
Whether she was conscious of it or not, Sylvia was indeed bucking her hips lewdly, trying to match her lover thrust for thrust, as though inviting him deeper still into her warm and welcoming body. Raul seemed to fill her up entirely, both physically and metaphysically, causing the girl to shiver and whimper in delight. Sylvia was so lost in the ecstasy of being fucked by her dead boyfriend that she couldn't even bring herself to wrap her legs around Raul's thrusting waist or grab hold of his back, as much as desperately wanted to. As such, she was left lying on Raul's upturned grave, her hands clutching clumps of dirt and her legs spread wantonly as her lover pounded her into the cemetery ground, smearing her back and ass with loose soil.
Raul, however, could not help but experience everything making love to Sylvia had to offer. He kissed up and down her neck and shoulders, traced loving messages in her bare skin, and licked and sucked upon her perky nipples as her breasts bounced back and forth in time with his thrusts. Raul's movements only grew harder and faster, his ghostly cock pounding into the beautiful girl beneath him as she squirmed and whimpered in supernatural pleasure.
And yet…the illusion was not perfect. As Raul nipped and fondled and thrust inside of her, Sylvia could tell there was something beneath the veil of ghostly flesh and blood she saw and felt. The smell of death on his breath, the occasional feel of bone or rotting flesh, the sudden chill in his phantom flesh, all testament to the fact that Raul was not entirely there and not entirely there. Deep down, Sylvia knew the being she writhed and squirmed in pleasure beneath was little more than a corpse, a dead thing wearing a ghostly disguise.
Not that it stopped her from enjoying each and every second of it.
"Oh, Raul, Raul, Raul…!" Sylvia moaned and groaned as she felt her nubile body being taken in every way. Every thrust sent her lover's undead cock deeper still into her warm and wet folds, causing her to buck her hips to meet it. Her breasts only continued to bounce back and forth deliciously, and it wasn't long before Sylvia once again felt Raul's hands and mouth caressing her perky mounds of flesh.
When Raul finally came, he did so inside of Sylvia, unleashing all of his undead essence within her. The girl whimpered and cooed beneath her lover as she felt him ejaculate inside of her, gasping as she felt his liquid warmth fill her to the very brim, not just with seed, but with heat and light and life so many other things Sylvia couldn't place. The sensation was enough to send a powerful shudder running through the girl's form, causing her toe writhe wonderfully, a small orgasm of her own overtaking her as she felt her lover fill him with his supernatural spunk.
Sylvia was so lost in the pleasure of taking Raul's seed that she almost didn't notice when he finally withdrew from her and then pulled away, the same small smile on his face the entire time. Kissing the girl on the forehead, the young man then climbed back to his feet and stood aside. What he was doing, Sylvia did not know, only that she didn't have the energy or the wherewithal to stand and join him.
Then, as Raul stood beside his long-lost love, his cock still softening and his ghostly form flickering weakly to reveal the undead corpse he truly was, Sylvia looked up just in time to watch as another phantom approached her. Older than both of them, and perhaps in his twenties, this phantom had a long and ugly scar crossing his face, all that remained of the deathblow that had split his head in twain. Like Raul, his disguise was not perfect, flickering now and then to reveal the bones and viscera beneath, little more than a corpse stitched back together as best the mortician could. Despite this, Sylvia felt neither fear nor disgust as the scarred man lowered himself before her, only confusion, as though he intended to take Raul's place.
"R-Raul…?" Sylvia asked uncertainly, looking over at the phantom of her boyfriend as the scarred phantom gently but firmly began to spread her legs, revealing her glistening cunt yet again, already slick with her lover's juices. The scarred ghost was naked as Raul, as naked as the rest of the surrounding phantoms, all of them watching on with building interest, and Sylvia could already feel his hardened cock pressing against her womanly folds.
In response to her question, Raul simply smiled and nodded at Sylvia, always his way of reassuring her. His eyes were as dreamy and charming as ever, and the girl practically melted at the sight of them, a small smile of her own crossing her features as she finally understood her purpose here.
It was Dia de los Muertos, after all, the Day of the Dead…and there were plenty of Dead other than Raul who needed someone, anyone, to keep their memory alive. This year, Sylvia would be the one to provide them all with the warmth of life they so desperately craved. It was a rule the young girl found herself accepting with an open heart, as well as open legs.
A moment later, the scarred phantom was burying himself inside her, and Sylvia found herself otherwise occupied. All thoughts of her role and responsibility seemed to fade away as she felt the older man rock against her and begin thrusting harder and harder in her adolescent cunt, penetrating her every bit as deeply as Raul had only minutes before. Just as she had done before, Sylvia responded as best she could, bucking her hips to take her lover deeper still and moaning and squirming in pleasure beneath him, giving herself – all of herself – to the scarred stranger.
Time seemed to lose meaning as Sylvia lost herself in the pleasure of being loved so roughly and so passionately by a spirit she didn't even know, a scarred man long dead, perhaps for decades or even centuries. And yet, she felt as though she had known him her entire life, felt his muscles tensing as he thrust inside her again and again, his hips slapping against hers as he desperately pushed himself closer and closer to orgasm. The girl looked up into the eyes of her mysterious lover and saw in them nothing but love and desire, and so tried to return such feelings as best she could, even going so far as to lean up and kiss the phantom's scarred lips, only lightly, but enough to show her consent and affection.
Sylvia moaned and bucked her hips as she took the stranger deeper and deeper still, feeling his cock pound into her again and again, causing her back to arch and her breasts to bounce. Though composed of ghostly energies, the phantom's cock felt every bit as hard and real as Raul's had, and it was all the girl could do to give as good as she got as she felt it stretch her little hole wider than ever before.
Then, after who knows how long, the stranger's movements grew jerky and uneven…and then Sylvia gasped as she felt a man ejaculate inside her for the second time that evening. Just like Raul, the phantom's seed was warm and wonderful and seemed to fill her to the very brim, sending her cascading backwards into yet another sea of physical and sexual pleasure.
A moment later, the scarred phantom withdrew, pulled away, and then disappeared into the crowd…only to be replaced by another.
And so it went for what felt like days but could realistically only have been a few hours, as impossible as that must have felt to Sylvia. A phantom would take its place between her legs, penetrate her, and then push her to the very brink of ecstasy before spilling its seed inside of her and being quickly replaced. Ghost after ghost, corpse after corpse, Sylvia took them all with a smile and a seemingly never-ending orgasm, having given herself fully to her fate and loving each and every single second of it, even knowing dozens of phantoms watched her every move with building excitement and growing arousal.
She rose to her knees and lovingly sucked the thick cock of an elderly man old enough to be her grandfather, an old man with the kindest eyes she had ever seen, who stroked her hair as she bobbed her head back and forth on his meat until he at last came down her throat.
She straddled the hips of a wealthy gentleman as she rode him up and down, impaling herself on his cock again and again as she bounced up and down, up and down, up and down, her breasts bouncing wildly as the mustachioed man groped and fondled them greedily.
She returned onto her back and rubbed the back of a boy no older than twelve as he amateurishly penetrated her, having clearly died a virgin, pounding into her much too hard and much too fast, whispering kind words in his ear and bucking her hips to take his inexperienced cock.
She found herself bent over her boyfriend's tombstone, blushing madly and more than a little embarrassed by her new position as a phantom who looked disturbingly like her late uncle pushed into her from behind and then fucked her roughly, his hips slamming into her exposed buttocks and his hands groping her swinging breasts.
She fell to her hands and knees as a pair of twin brothers took her at the same time, one entering her from behind as the other pushed his ghostly cock into her mouth, forcing her to suck dick and buck her hips at the same time as the brothers treated her to her very first spitroast, their hands running up and down her naked body.
Even then, consumed as Sylvia was in the act of sex, she could never forget the fact that the beings loving her and slamming into her were essentially living corpses and little else. Their forms flicked occasionally, even as they fucked her, and more than once she looked down to find a bony skeleton pounding her pussy or looked up to find a rotting cadaver thrusting into her mouth. She felt bony hands and jutting vertebrae and rotting flesh, but she did her best to push past all of it, to focus on the pleasure of being taken again and again, of being loved and loving in return, giving all she had even as the undead took everything she could give.
On and on it went, every phantom a new experience, a new man to love, a new cock to please. Sylvia sucked and fucked as best she could, her living body demonstrating surprising stamina considering how many men used her over the course of the evening. Far from feeling sore or exhausted, Sylvia felt renewed and reenergized each time one of the undead came inside her, as though what little warmth and light they had to offer was being given to her in order to help her keep going. She responded with as much love and passion as she could; her back arched, her breasts bounced, her hips bucked, and her nubile body writhed and squirmed as she was taken every which way, no two phantoms fucking her quite the same.
Indeed, following the twins cumming inside her mouth and pussy at the same time, the rest of the phantoms seemed to grow bolder, doubling up on the girl, much to her surprise, and then to her pleasure. She was shocked the first time a phantom penetrated her ass, spreading her plump buttocks and then pushing his ghostly cock into her tight little asshole, but she learned to love it as much as she loved the rest of the evening, and the orgasm she experienced when the phantom came in her ass was one of the most powerful she ever felt.
The night became a blur after that, with Sylvia being passed around and bent over and double-teamed again and again and again, until she was barely conscious of anything other than the undead cocks pounding into her from every angle and into every hole. She rode one ghost as she sucked off another, then found herself being fucked in both her pussy and her ass at the same time, and was then shortly thereafter passed back and forth between several phantoms until she couldn't even tell which one was fucking her at the time.
By the end of the evening, all three of Sylvia's holes were being fucked at the same time, with one phantom in her mouth, one phantom in her cunt, and one phantom in her ass. The teenager was left unable to do anything but whimper and writhe and buck and grind as she felt every inch of her body claimed and dominated by the restless undead, their furious cocks pounding into her again and again and again, driving her insane in the most pleasurable way possible. She felt rotting hands grope her breasts, bony fingers squeeze her ass, and impossibly thick cocks slamming into every hole in her body. She gagged and squirmed and bucked her hips as best she could, pleasuring each and every one of the phantoms dominating her, draining her, using her as little more than one last chance to experience life's greatest pleasures.
When at last the three spirits fucking Sylvia at the same time came, they did so together, filling every inch of her with the last of their warmth and light. There were tears in her eyes, tears of joy, as she swallowed the seed of one lover and felt the warmth of two more filling her womb and bowels. They had all cum inside her, each and every one of them, and Sylvia felt full in a way she never had before, even as ectoplasmic cream drooled from every hole she had.
One by one, the phantoms seemed to fade away once they sated their lust with Sylvia, and it was only marginally that she began to notice the crowd of the undead shrinking little by little over the course of evening. By the time the three phantoms had finished with her and faded away, leaving her little more than a sweaty and cum-filled mess in the cemetery dirt, there was only one phantom left, one figure who remained, the very one Sylvia had come all this way to see.
Raul.
"Mi amor," the handsome young man whispered as he looked upon her with eyes full of love and pride. Even as she was, sweaty and sticky and all but consumed by fatigue, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, in life or in death, and her told her so himself.
"Oh, Raul…" Sylvia said softly, tears in her eyes as she looked upon her lover for what she feared might be the last time. Sore as she was, she nonetheless spread her legs one last time for him and held out her arms, as though offering all that she was. "Please, Raul. My love…"
Raul did not need to be told twice; he was on top of Sylvia and inside of her again in but a moment, so quickly the girl could do little more than gasp as she felt him push inch after inch of his ghostly cock inside of her. Despite all she had endured, he still felt as big and as wonderful as he had the first time he entered her, and she felt as though it was their first time all over again, with nothing but the two of them their love to keep them going. Even as Raul began thrusting into her, Sylvia merely whimpered and moaned and bucked as best she could, taking all of him as though afraid of losing him forever.
As long as the evening had been, her final time with Raul felt as though it lasted longer still, time all but standing still as her undead lover passionately thrust into her again and again, harder and faster and deeper than ever before. Sylvia wrapped herself around him, her arms around his back and her legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper still, wanting nothing more than to feel him buried to the hilt inside her for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short it may be. And Raul, in turn, took her as passionately and as fully as he possibly could, taking every inch of her body for his own, inside out.
Alas, all good things must eventually come to an end, the Day of the Dead is no exception.
Sylvia knew the end was coming when she began to feel Raul's form crumple and sag beneath her arms and legs. He grew cold, and thin, and it wasn't long before the girl no longer felt his warm flesh, but only cold bone and rotting bits of skin. When she could bear to open her eyes, she was saddened to find the handsome face of her boyfriend was all but gone, slowly being replaced by a grinning skull covered in rot and viscera. The slapping of flesh against flesh was slowly but surely replaced by the rattling of bones and the quivering of loose muscle.
Nonetheless, Sylvia pushed herself on as best she could, even as she felt her lover deteriorate atop her. She tightened her hold on his thinning form, bucked her hips against his bony pelvis, gasped and moaned as she felt his rotting fingers groping her sensitive breasts. Despite everything, his cock felt as strong and as real as ever, and she focused entirely on that, on feeling him pound deeper into her again and again and again, threatening to push her over the edge…
"Sylvia…"
At the sound of Raul's voice, now little more than a death rattle, Sylvia pushed past her fear and disgust and finally opened her eyes to look upon her deceased lover one last time. He was but a rotting creature of bone and decay now, the stench of dirt and death and worms upon him even as he thrust into the girl with the last of his strength. There was nothing left of his face but a grinning skull, cracked in several places and smelling of death, with even his beautiful eyes gone, sunken into empty sockets. Loathe as she was to admit it, Sylvia had knew her lover was all but gone, and it was little more than an undead abomination currently pounding into her sore and tightening pussy in one last, desperate act of life.
Yet, despite everything – despite the worms, the bones, the rot – Sylvia loved Raul as much as she ever had, and the tears that burst from her eyes when he finally came inside her for the last time that evening were tears of love and joy and passion, with not an iota of disgust to be found. As Sylvia shuddered naked in the cemetery dirt, she experienced her final orgasm of the evening, even as she felt Raul's ghostly seed fill her to the very brim again and again and again, as though it was all he had left to give…
And then it was over.
By the time Sylvia's orgasm came to an end, and she felt herself returning to her senses, Raul was gone, all of him, as though he had never been there at all. The night had come to an end, and the sun was rising, casting aside the last vestiges of the Day of the Dead and welcoming in another day of light and life. The grave dirt upon which Sylvia lay was undisturbed, as was the soil throughout the cemetery, as though every trace of the night's escapades had been wiped from the face of the earth.
Every trace, perhaps, except for the ghostly seed filling Sylvia's stomach and still drooling from her freshly fucked cunt and ass. That alone convinced Sylvia her experience had truly occurred, and that it was no dream.
With a sad smile and tears now staining the corpse paint covering her face, Sylvia slowly and carefully stood back up on her own two feet, the first time she had done so since the phantoms appeared. Her muscles were sore and her legs were unsteady, but the girl still managed to dress herself, covering as best she could the evidence of how she had spent her evening. A shower was certain to be in her future, and she was looking forward to getting some sleep, but she was in no rush; not yet.
With the sun rising behind her and a gentle breeze caressing her, Sylvia leaned down and placed a final kiss on the tombstone of her beloved Raul. Then, standing back up, she wiped the tears from her eyes and prepared to head home, departing with but a single statement.
"Mi amor…"