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Riley canted her head to the side. “Are you game for mingling with the spirits tonight?”
“Of course I am.”
“I don’t know where the moon is in its cycle, though.”
I grinned. “It’s full and will be rising within the next hour.”
“Really?”
“Really. I still keep up with it on that Deluxe Moon app.”
Riley’s face dropped. “Crap.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s too late to get Joseph and Rosalie gifts.”
“If we hurry, we can make it to the Dollar Store before it closes.”
In one hand, I held a flashlight. With my other, I kept my fingers laced through Riley’s as she and I walked through the cemetery where her ancestors and mine were buried. After paying our respects to them, we headed to Joseph and Rosalie Hamilton’s graves.
In the mid-1800s, the couple arrived in Cypress Hills by steamboat and took up residence. They were both knowledgeable of the healing abilities of herbs, flowers, berries, leaves, roots, tree bark, etc., and soon opened an apothecary on the town square. They sold tinctures, ointments, and household and personal items such as soap, toothbrushes, candles, cooking spices, salad oil, and tobacco.
Joseph and Rosalie were readily embraced by the townsfolk and were considered excellent “pharmacists,” as they would’ve been called in modern times. They were also thought of as exceptionally kind people. But what stood out in legend about them the most was their love for each other.
When Joseph suddenly came down with a mysterious illness, Rosalie did everything she could to heal him, but nothing worked. Joseph died in her arms in their home, and a week later, Rosalie died in her sleep from a broken heart, as believed.
They were buried side by side in the Cypress Hills cemetery. On the first Valentine’s Day following their deaths, the townsfolk visited their graves and left gifts ranging from red roses to cards to anything heart-shaped. It became a yearly tradition, carried on from generation to generation, to remember Joseph and Rosalie and their extraordinary love.
When Riley and I started dating, we honored them together, not only on Valentine’s Day. We took it further by visiting their graves on every full moon because it was meant for lovers, just like the night.
After Riley ended our relationship last year, I thought about many things I would miss about her. One was coming to this cemetery with her, yet here we were again.
“There they are!” she said as we approached Joseph and Rosalie’s graves.
Standing before them, I waited for Riley to begin her usual routine of closing her eyes, bowing her head, and saying a private prayer. When she was done, we placed a silk red rose and a figurine of a man and woman kissing on Joseph and Rosalie’s headstones.
“It feels so good to be out here, doing this with you again. Thank you for bringing me,” Riley said, smiling.
“You’re welcome.”
“Would you happen to be game for carrying on another tradition of ours?”
“I am. Are you sure you are?”
“Yes. I want to live all I can while I can. Being here with you has reminded me of that.”
We walked to the back of the cemetery, where no one was buried, and took our clothes off. After making a pallet with them underneath our favorite magnolia tree, I sat down, and Riley straddled me, taking every inch of my dick into her tight, wet pussy. Then she started riding me while I grasped her hips, and she hung onto my shoulders.
“I didn’t know I was going to have you all to myself again today,” I told her, staring into her half-closed eyes. “I’d planned to fuck you over and over again whenever I did and make you keep coming until you screamed for me to stop.”
“Don’t forget you were going to do that while we imagined Chad watching us.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. All of that’s going to happen, but just not here. It isn’t the right place.”
“I know, and it’s fine.”
Riley kissed me and began riding my dick harder as the full moon illuminated her beautiful face.
