Strangers with Benefits: Putting the “Fun” in Funeral

Woodland Heights Cemetery. An enclave of eerie calm on the edge of Crowley’s Ridge. The final resting place for numerous individuals across generations. Each recalling a unique story that may have been told. Or not. Regardless, each was of importance to at least one person. A folk-art metal entrance invites visitors to pay respects within hallowed confines. Expertly maintained grass, trees, and paved roads guide the way at every turn. Located in the Arkansas Delta on the outskirts of Rector along U.S. Route 49. Between Paragould and a town named Piggott that doesn’t have a Piggly Wiggly. Seems like a crime against humanity to me. The Missouri Bootheel a few miles east. I remember the night Candi and I drove to the Show Me State so I could say I’d been there. While never the most happening area of Arkansas in our shared experience, we had our wild nights here. Individually and together. And now it’s her final resting place.

Candi and I were in a joint transitional phase entering 2020. She’d retired from stripping. Having had her fill. I wasn’t quite there and still needed the money as I continued entertaining bachelorettes and birthday girls throughout the region. Despite this new difference between us, we remained close. Attempting some semblance of a relationship. A hedonistic, free-spirited take on commitment. And while continuously butting heads on the topic of children she wanted and I didn’t, we managed to build something resembling stability together. More than either of us had experienced previously. We respected each other’s individuality and space. The only thing she pushed me on was pursuing my collection of talents beyond stripping. Encouraging my musical and literary aspirations daily. Believing in my creativity more than I did. And I’m one confident motherfucker. But she was always that way. And I’ll never be able to express in words or music what that shall forever mean to me.

I’m still processing this week’s chain of events while standing under an oak tree. Observing the service from a distance on this comfortably warm Friday afternoon in early October. A stark contrast to the rainy Monday afternoon in Little Rock. Candi running errands when she was sideswiped on Interstate 630 at sixty miles per hour. Her car slammed driver’s side first into a concrete barrier. Head trauma delivered so quickly, so forcefully that she never felt a thing. The other driver came out without a scratch. She was texting while intoxicated above the legal limit with her two children in the backseat. But she was wearing a mask, so the D.A. has so far declined to press charges as the local media proclaimed her a hero. Such is the world in which we now live. As if the evil long bubbling underneath can no longer contain itself. Oozing to the surface more every day.

It went without saying that I wouldn’t be invited to the funeral service proper. Candi’s family has never liked me. They’ve never known me, but they think they do. And that’s good enough. Along with the kid thing, it was another small point of contention between us. Although she believed it could be smoothed over in time. And that having kids would help. I’m not convinced. Not one of her relatives had the common decency to contact me after the accident. Regardless of how they feel about me, they’ve known for years that she and I were close. I didn’t learn until that night when a former client texted condolences after seeing the accident on the news. Losing Candi hurts. The way I heard about it hurts. And it hurts that I never got to tell her goodbye while she was still alive. But, as I watch her casket lowered slowly into the earth, I know that I’ll soon have a chance to bid farewell as best I can within these circumstances.

The last vehicle drives away. I emerge from the shadowy sideline. Into a bronze and granite wilderness. I didn’t want to rock a suit for the six-hour round trip, but I didn’t want to be too casual. So, I compromised with faded blue 501s, black t-shirt, black sport coat, and black cowboy boots. Tentative for no good reason on the walk to Candi’s grave. It’s a public cemetery. I have every right to be here and pay my respects like anyone else. The service is over. I don’t see another living soul. But I’m forever an outlaw. The outsider existing on the fringes of polite society. Not that I mind since polite society is fucked and has nothing of value for me. Still, I get lonely at times. And it can be more painful than I care to admit. Candi was often my lifesaver in that way. Our communication was slow to build and never reached fruition. But she accepted me for who I am.

“Daughter. Granddaughter, Sister, Niece,” I whisper these words from a shiny new bronze plaque also displaying Candi’s real name and dates of birth and death.

I get it. It’s expensive to bury someone in a cemetery. A massive granite headstone likely out of her family’s price range. Definitely out of mine, and I would’ve offered to foot the bill if it weren’t. Still, this is when reality begins sinking in for me. There’s so much to gush about with Candi. She was a phenomenal entertainer who owned every audience out of the gate. Gorgeous face. Shimmering long, blonde hair. A rockin’ hot body with spectacular fake titties and firm, round ass. An enthusiastic and adventurous lover who could please a man or woman like no one else. Okay, none of this would make it onto a grave marker of any scale. I still think that’s wrong, but I digress. Candi was as sweet, kind, and caring a person as anyone could hope to meet in a world overflowing with scumbags of every stripe. Honest to a fault and devoted to those who mattered to her. She identified, accepted, and loved herself for who she was. That self-awareness drove every action, naughty and nice, throughout her life. But there’s no reference to any of this. As if she was merely another cog in the mankind machine. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. You’re dead now. Go fuck yourself.

As I now accept that Candi is gone, I realize that my passion for stripping is also no more after all these years. I’ve been turning down inquiries more and more, so it was inevitable. Most of the women calling these days are insufferable as all fuck. Rude. Cheap. What’s the fucking point? The best way I can honor Candi’s memory is to take her advice. Leave stripping behind and devote myself to other talents. Taking everything I still enjoy about stripping and applying it to different mediums. I finally grasp what she was trying to tell me all along. I could’ve gotten it through my thick skull earlier if not for fearing the unknown. It would’ve been difficult enough with her in my corner. And it will be even more so without her encouragement. But I must do it. For myself. For Candi’s memory. Internally announcing my retirement from stripping effective immediately as I kneel. Placing a dozen royal blue calla lilies amongst the sea of flowers adorning her fresh grave. I don’t know anything about flowers, but she once mentioned liking these. Standing in mental silence. Preparing myself for an uncertain future in every way before making my leave.

“Hi Stefan,” a warm and comforting female voice greets me softly from behind.

I turn and face a woman standing ten feet away. She smiles with a hint of nervousness. A few years older than me but aging like a fine wine. Long, platinum blonde hair framing her beautiful face within an angelic glow in the afternoon sun of early autumn. Rocking a black dress. Appropriately conservative for the occasion while accentuating her athletic curves and fake breasts. She holds a dozen pink tulips, which Candi also once mentioned liking, along with her phone. Hands fidgeting around them as she decides how to proceed. This mix of confidence and apprehension lightens my mood a bit. I know it all comes from a good place. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in the flesh, but I recognize her from photos. And Candi often spoke of her with sanguine reverence.

“My name is Sandra,” she explains, “I don’t know if you remember me.”

“Of course I remember you,” I breathe a sigh of relief from seeing any friendly face right now, “You must’ve made quite the impression on Candi. She always spoke highly of you.”

“Really?” she responds with a mix of awe and embarrassment, “She was such a sweet girl. And she always spoke highly of you too.”

“Thank you for letting me know that,” I fight back the lump in my throat.

“Oh… I hope you don’t mind me showing up here to pay my respects,” she gingerly approaches Candi’s grave and places the tulips alongside the calla lilies, “She made quite the impression on me too.”

“She had that effect on everyone,” I confide in her, “And I appreciate your being here.”

“I was hoping you’d be here so we could finally meet, but I didn’t see you until everyone else left. I was watching from those trees over there,” she motions to a cluster of trees in the distance while selecting her next words with care, “I guess we knew her in a different way than most people. A special way.”

“Well, I certainly did,” I pause while beginning to wonder where this is leading, “I know you did too.”

“Oh my God,” she laughs nervously and covers her face, “I’m sure she told you all about…”

“Not in so many words,” I jump in as she fails to complete her sentence, “But she didn’t have to. I know how she was,” I pause again while continuing to wonder where we’re headed, “And I remember how you gushed over her photos when booking her.”

“Hey, I was just excited to find such a hot girl for my party,” she laughs in mock defense.

“Oh, you were excited about more than just that,” I playfully antagonize her because I need the levity right now to keep my emotions in check, “And I was glad. I knew it would be a great party for everyone involved.”

“It was amazing. Especially the after-party that was just Candi and me,” she opens up as she grows more comfortable in my presence, “Would you like to see?”

“See what?” I don’t know if she’s talking about showing me photos or demonstrating with me, but my heart races in anticipation of whatever it is she has in store.

“Video. Well, I couldn’t load the whole video on here because it’s so long,” she scrolls through her phone’s photo album, “But I made some short clips of the best moments. You know? For when I need a naughty pick me up,” she giggles nervously, “I’m a girl who loves her porn.”

“You shot an entire sex video with Candi?” I’m instantly overwhelmed by a combination of arousal and grief, “I mean, I’d pieced together much of that night on my own. Through what she told me as well as my own experiences. But I had no idea there was a video.”

“Really? I can forward you a copy if you want,” she grows increasingly brazen with every second in my company, “Of course, you’d have to swear to keep it to yourself. I couldn’t afford to let this get out.”

“Absolutely,” I assure her while now desperately wanting a copy for reasons both sexual and sentimental, “I would love a copy.”

“Okay, here’s the first one,” she positions her phone so we can watch together, “This is us in a sixty-nine.”

Words escape me as I watch a naked Candi atop a naked Sandra. Eating each other’s pussy like there’s no tomorrow. And while I’d seen Candi in this position with another girl on multiple occasions, there’s a poignancy about this sapphic encounter. An instant and legitimate friendship between them is obvious. As turned on as I am, I also can’t help but find this display of affection sweet and endearing.

“And here we are riding the double-headed dildo,” she enthusiastically moves to the next clip, “We go ass to ass.”

I’m still at a loss for words while watching Candi and Sandra facing each other seated. Riding a long dildo together. Smiling and giggling. Then facing away on all fours. Butts bumping and grinding. Thrusting backward deep into each other’s pussy. Once again naughty and nice simultaneously.

“Whew… Okay,” she laughs nervously while moving to the next clip, “Here’s… Um… Here’s me… Here’s me fucking Candi in the ass with a strap-on.”

My jaw drops. I knew this was something Candi had experienced with Sandra after seeing her do it with two girls we admittedly fucked for money several months later. She’d never done it before, and Sandra’s party was the only place she could’ve picked it up. Nevertheless, that knowledge does nothing to brace me for the impact of witnessing it happen on video. Sandra’s big titties jiggling. Her pelvis bouncing off Candi’s bubble butt. Over and over. My partner in crime encouraging her new gal pal to fuck her in the ass deeper and harder with naked enthusiasm. It’s both one the dirtiest and most beautiful sights I’ve ever beheld.

“And here’s Candi returning the favor,” she trembles excitedly while moving to the next clip, “She was amazing at fucking me in the ass.”

The sight of Candi pounding Sandra’s asshole while her client cheers her on takes me somewhere I’ve never been. A place of intoxication and vulnerability. Overwhelmed by every feeling at once. And yet I have no idea what I should feel. No guess as to where Sandra and I are headed with this. Are we seeking temporary mutual comfort through shared hedonistic tendencies? Or am I about to fill Candi’s shoes in their friendship? This week is no time for me to make concrete decisions about anything. Save for my retirement from stripping. But maybe I don’t have to. I’ve always found Sandra attractive and would fuck her in theory. That she’s sharing these intimate home movies with me confirms she wants me inside her. The ball is in my court. Do I pass or shoot?

“This last one probably isn’t as exciting, but it’s my favorite,” she exhales deeply, “It’s us just simply making love.”

Now I’m totally over the edge. Candi lying missionary on Sandra. Pussy to pussy. Rubbing. Grinding. Kissing passionately. Tongues dancing. Lost in each other’s eyes. Candi gazing upon Sandra in a way that I’d only ever seen her gaze at me. Candi identified as bisexual yet was adamant about only having feelings for men. Other girls being nothing more than temporary playmates. Making her a straight girl with highly fluid sexuality by this definition. But her encounter with Sandra was a bit more than a temporary playmate situation, and this clip proves it. Both girls venturing into an uncharted area of curiosity for them. Embracing the unknown and going with it because it felt right in the moment. It’s the quickly developing friendship manifesting itself physically and emotionally. I now understand why Candi talked often of introducing us so we could share in threesome fun. And I understand why Sandra made the long drive here. Not only to pay her respects, but on the off chance she could fulfill Candi’s longstanding fantasy to as much degree as possible given the circumstances.

“Thank you for sharing those with me,” my voice trembling with vulnerability, “That was unbelievable.”

“She was unbelievable. In every way,” she fights back tears, “I only wish you’d been there too.”

“I think you two did fine without me,” I find myself taking her in my arms.

“Yes, our girl time was magical. I still wish the three of us could’ve gotten together before…” she holds me tight, “I’ve always thought of you, too.”

“I’m truly flattered. I am,” my hands begging me to let them explore her hot body as I get rock hard, “Life kept getting in the way. That’s no excuse, I know.”

“It’s not, but I’m just as guilty,” she relaxes in my arms as to possibly give me the green light for anything I want to do, “And my husband has given up… I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear about that.”

“It’s okay,” I allow my hands to glide slowly down her hips, “So much has changed for so many people.”

“Yes, it has,” she sighs contentedly while laying her head on my chest, “But I’m so glad we finally got to meet.”

“Me too,” I can’t resist grabbing two handfuls of firm round butt.

“Mmm… Wait,” she reaches down and pulls up her skirt, “Now feel me.”

I return my hands to her sexy ass. She’s not rocking underwear. Not even a g-string as I run my fingers up and down the soft skin of her firm cheeks. Along her crack. My heart pounding with anticipation and emotion. I know we’re going to fuck. And I can’t stop thinking about how Candi has already been here. Overwhelmed with excitement and grief while groping the first girl booty she ever fucked with a strap-on. Sandra also trembles from those sensations while exploring my body. Grabbing my ass through my jeans. Reaching a hand down the front to massage my throbbing massive cock. I’m also commando. We gaze into each other’s bedroom eyes. Sharing our first kiss. Passion so intense. Tongues dancing. Lips burning with desire. I know exactly why Candi was hot for her.

“I want to fuck you, Sandra,” I confess breathlessly.

“Do it, Stefan,” she removes herself from my embrace and assumes the position alongside Candi’s grave, “Fuck me right here. Right now.”

I look around to ensure we’re still alone. Dropping to my knees. Unbuttoning my 501s. Freeing my aching manhood from its denim prison. Our naughtiness obscured from all directions by an endless sea of headstones. A barrier of trees on all sides. No other sound besides our heavy breathing. And the birds serenading us with various songs at once. The early autumn sun enveloping us in its warm and cozy embrace. The air fresh and relatively dry by Arkansas Delta standards. It’s a perfect day for outdoor fucking. Our sacred environment feels so right. I rub my head on her pussy. She’s soaking wet. Hot. Throbbing. Not waiting a second longer. Pressing the tip of my cock inside her tight love tunnel. Both of us exhale with delight as she takes me deep. Inch by inch. Slowly.

Then we’re thrusting against each other with reckless abandon. My pelvis smacking against her bubble butt and bouncing off. Over and over. My rock-hard cock slamming relentlessly in and out of her silky-smooth pussy. Girl juices gushing all over me. I can feel my precum juices flowing like crazy within her sugar walls. My hands squeezing her cheeks. Spreading them wide to admire her tight pink asshole. Thinking about Candi fucking it with her tongue, fingers, and a goddamn strap-on makes me ever bigger and harder. I do wish I’d been there that night. Or that we’d all three made the time to get together. Despite everything I’ve achieved and experienced, I’ve also made excuses to postpone countless pursuits worth chasing. No more. That bad habit is over. Change for the better is beginning right now. And what better way to start than by making love to a new friend in a cemetery?

We suppress our moans and screams despite being alone. Even though I don’t care if we get caught. Who the fuck wants to write up that arrest anyway? Worst case scenario is we get escorted out of town and told never to return. Big deal. And no, I don’t believe I’m doing something awful right now. This is what Candi would’ve wanted. She’d be right in the middle of the action if still alive. This is the most respectful way that Sandra and I can honor her memory. We knew a beautiful side of her that few did. That few were worthy of knowing. And if any ghosts are watching this sex show, I’m sure it’s the most fun they’ve had since being laid to rest here. Surely better than witnessing an endless parade of duplicitous sleazeballs virtue signal at the expense of a dead relative’s memory. Running from their sins under the guise of some bullshit superficial morality. Sandra and I do no harm while committing the offense of having a healthy attitude towards sex. As was true of Candi.

Sandra and I can hold back no longer. Our carnal vocalizations now threatening to wake the dead around us. Her body shaking. Pussy clamping down tight. Exploding wave after wave of hot juices down my thighs. It’s too much. An eruption of scorching white lava flows endlessly from my cock. Overflowing from her sugar walls. I lean forward. Wrapping my arms around her. Getting each other through a climax that seems never-ending. Once it does, it takes a minute for us to catch our breath. I fall out of her. She grabs my hand and leads me in a run to her car near a cluster of trees. Allowing me just enough time to pull up my jeans. But my manhood remains free albeit cradled in my other hand. I still don’t see anyone around for what it’s worth.

“Here you go,” she hands me a package of sanitary wipes from her car, “Sorry, it’s all I have.”

“No, this is great. Thank you,” I pull down my jeans again and clean myself as best I can before buttoning up.

We’re on the passenger side of her car. Alongside a wall of various tree species. Oak, pine, maple, and hickory. But I’m more amused by Sandra. Watching as she nonchalantly hikes up her skirt, squats beside the car, and lets the pee stream from her pussy in full view of me. A faint splashing sound. Constant and rapid as it hits the blacktop. Running over the edge onto the ground. Carrying the liquid remnants of our unbridled lust into the earth. I don’t know how to feel about this other than strangely flattered and nostalgic.

“Oh my God. I’m sorry,” she looks up and laughs nervously at my perplexed expression, “I didn’t even think about what I was doing. I guess I just feel that comfortable around you.”

“Don’t be. I know you have to do that after sex. I should too,” I assure her, “I was just thinking of an old girlfriend who liked to pee outside. And for me and her friends to watch.”

“That’s a strange kink,” she thinks before laughing, “I guess I can’t talk.”

“She was different,” I reminisce, “Looking back now, I think she was grasping for a semblance of personal liberation as best she could.”

“I think you’re right,” she stands and returns her skirt to its modest position before putting her arms around my neck, “And I’m sure you helped her along that journey.”

“I don’t know about that,” I shake my head and laugh.

“I do,” she kisses me, “I must get back to Little Rock.”

“Me too,” I sigh.

“See you around,” she gets in her car and drives off.

I cut back across the graves to my truck parked on the other side. Stopping halfway for a final look at Candi’s grave. There’s an excellent chance I’ll never be back. I didn’t get up this way much before. And now with my shiny new retirement from stripping, I don’t know if I will again. Candi’s absence will forever leave an unfillable void in my life. But today taught me that I still have a long road ahead of me. One filled with excitement and adventure. Everything I learned from my years with her now coming to fruition. If it weren’t for my natural skepticism and propensity for rational thought, I’d believe that she brought Sandra here today to comfort me. That’s not the case, despite how much of an angel Candi was and shall forever remain in my heart. But what was proven to me today is that there are others like us in the world. Sandra delivered that point in spades. As the sun begins its descent into the western horizon, I can’t shake the feeling that my life is just beginning to get all sorts of wild and crazy. Finally, I pull myself away to make my long drive back to Little Rock.

Goodnight, Candi.