Widow's sex

A Story by kaleidoscopic

She fell to her knees with a little smile on her face. She felt the dew drops of the grass soak threw her jeans and a chill go up her legs. A joyful kinda knot like the butterflies formed in her gut when she spoted the rose. The feeling went further up and she plucked the flower breathless. Then, came the headrush which made staring at the effulgent rose like imprinting it inbetween her eyes and pedals edging out like sunglasses as the sun hid behind a tree.

"You are stil my luxury," she whispers and tucks the rose into her hair.