“How the hell did I end up here?”

Gypsy, 32, had a death wish of sorts. A lover of all things spooky, when she found the flyer at her work for a tour of cemeteries, she was instantly excited. So much so that her nipples strained against the silk blouse she wore. Placing her arm over the front of her shirt, it was too late.

“So you going to that?” Bob asked.

Bob was the office hound. He would fuck anything that let him and had many times over. Most of the girls in the office stayed as far away from him as they could. The only good thing about Bob was that his dick was always hard. If you needed a quick relief, he was the one guy you wished never had a big mouth after you fucked. Gypsy knew better after her friend Sasha was on the receiving end of one of his wild office sex stories. Sure, she did it but never realized that he would tell everyone, including her boss. After a write-up, lecture, and a blow job, she kept her job.

Holding tight to the paper, Gypsy shook her head, knowing she was already excited about the spooky night in the cemetery. Salem had some of the nicest ones, and yet, all of them claimed to hold the bodies of burned witches and other creatures or the night. The few times she ventured into one, it was daylight, and she was never alone. According to the flyer, each person was to walk in alone, and they would wait five minutes before the next.

“I can’t wait. I love this kind of stuff. Well, I got to go. Sorry Bob, but I need to work,” Gypsy said, walking away quickly.

The following Friday, standing at the gate of the most notorious cemetery in Salem, Massachusetts, Vanessa waited with the crowd for the attraction to open. Small talk back and forth, the one person she noticed missing was Bob, the office horn dog. She was sure he would show up but hoped she was long gone before he was. Seeing that man after hours wasn’t anything she wanted.

“Gypsy, you’re next. Remember to stay on the path, follow the signs, and oh yeah, don’t believe anything you see. The ghost’s come here to make you lose your mind,” he laughed. The man was none other than the CEO of the company she worked for and a well-known practical joker. For a man in his 40’s, he loved to play little mind-twisting games.

“HAHA, I will make sure to bring one back to work with me next week,” she said, her lashes batting at the affluent male. He was a catch, and she wanted to be the cat to lure him closer.

As she stood at the open gate looking down at herself, Gypsy was glad that she wore a simple pair of jeans, a red hoodie, and her favorite pair of running shoes. If she needed to outrun the spirit world, at least, she was dressed for it.

The old burying point, otherwise known as the charter street cemetery, was the haunt location. As Gypsy walked down the pebble path, she noticed the age of the graves the first time. Back then, they believed in marking the graves with sizeable above ground stones. Most of them in perfect shape. There was the very few with small crumbling age spots. Most of these people were buried back when you did not forget the dead.

“Gypsy,” called the wind.

Stopping, the young woman looked around, her body covering with chills. The place was finally starting to get to her. Twenty minutes in, she had never felt so alone in her entire life.

“Hello? Whose out there? This isn’t funny,” she whispered,” shaking, she wrapped her arms around herself.

Rusting from behind one of the oldest graves in the place sent Gypsy in a tailspin as she took no chances, running into an ancient mausoleum on a small hill. Stopping at the door, her heels digging into the earth, the last thing she wanted was to make that first step inside. Phantom, heavy breathing behind her, opened the door and forced her inside the small brick building.

Pushing her body back into a small alcove, the shadow of whoever called to her filled the entire opening to the room.

“Gypsy, come out and play with me,” called the voice.

That was the first time she realized who it was. Her boss and CEO had followed her through the cemetery to scare her. No wonder he was the one at the gate.

Sliding out of the hole she was tucked away in, Gypsy couldn’t help but laugh the moment she saw a man standing in a wolf mask, his hands reached out for her.

“Oh, has the giant nasty wolf monster chased the little girl into the darkroom? Are those teeth going to eat me?” she taunted.

Pulling her forward, that man in the mask groped at her clothing, ripping her pants down in a rushed manner. He took her red silk panties along for the ride.

“Oh fuck, are you going to devour me now, Mr. Wolfie?” Gypsy asked.

As he pushed her to the ground, the monster looked down with a sinister growl. Pulling his zipper down, pulling out the biggest cock she had ever seen, he took no time to crawl between her legs. He was not only going to fuck her, but he was soiling hallowed ground. One thrust, and he forced that monster dick inside of her dripping pussy, slamming balls deep inside the young woman. His grunts animalistic, he pounded through her slippery wet pussy walls with a force that inched her towards one to the crypts, bracing her body so she couldn’t escape. Not that she was trying to go anywhere. Fucking her boss was something she always wanted.

“Oh fuck, god damn, fuck me harder, wolfman,” she cried.

As he pulled back to the head each time, the monster slammed deeper into her puffy lips, stretching them open to mold to his dick. He was insane with lust, and she wanted nothing more than to cum all over his cock before someone found them.

Deep grunts, the monster forced his way in, both of them crying out in a painful cry of lust. Anyone walking by would think it was sound effects for the scary event.

Both of them shaking, the monster in the wolf mask pulled back, pulling his pants up before standing over the cum soaked woman. With an evil cackle of laughter, he pulled the mask off, tossing it onto the well-used woman on the ground.

“You wouldn’t fuck me in the office, but now I know your kink. Scare the shit out of you, and your panties come off,” Bob said, walking out with a new story to tell the office on Monday morning.

The post Monsters Exist In The Filthy Mind appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Settled down for the night, the coolness of the early fall air brought out the big blankets. Living by the beach was ten to twenty degrees cooler than inland, but tonight a layer of fog added to it. There is a place where you’re not quite awake, but sleep hasn’t consumed you yet. When the loud sound of the door opened, I knew this was just another night terror. As much as I would try to work my way out, there was always something dragging me deeper.

I was startled, sitting up and looking through the smoke that now filled my bedroom, leaving me confused and bewildered. Standing in the frame of the door was the most ungodly sight. Eight feet tall, the man’s skin not human it looked as though there were scales like a dragon instead of flesh.

“Get out,” I screamed.

“Not yet,” he said, grabbing my ankles, yanking me from the bed, “You’ll need to come with me. I have a bet to settle.”

Screaming, my heart raced like a freight train coming down the tracks. I wanted out of this dream before something terrible happened. “What the fuck are you doing? Leave me alone,” I screamed as my ass hit the floor, and I was drug through the open door. Nail marks would be the breadcrumbs left on the floor. I dug so deep that I knew I would never get those scratches out of the wood. Why was I even worried when for all I knew, I would never come back? When the Devil comes knocking at your door, you better believe that’s your final moving day.

It was the smell of fire that hit me first. Well, that, and his hands. His digits long and slender, they clawed into my flesh with a vice-like grip. Even if I tried to break free, there was no way I would be able to get out of his clutches. He was hundreds of pounds heavier, and his strength that of ten men.

The descent into hell seemed as though it took a lifetime, every horrible thing I had ever done passing before my eyes. I never wanted to remember some of the memories, but this wasn’t for me. It was a bet, but between who, and why me? All I wanted to do was get a good night’s sleep, and this happened.

Screaming skulls staked to the wall, the rancid arms reaching out to grab me as I fell. God help me, please let this be a dream. If I’m dead, incinerate me rather than send me to the bowels of the earth. I don’t care what the bet was. There was no way this was a good thing for me.

I hit the ground hard, my ass plopping down on a bed of rocks, each one piercing into my soft ivory flesh. Crying, it took me a minute to realize it was me who was calling out to God to have mercy on my soul. The laughter of others echoed through the dark cavern. All the inhabitants amused that I still had hope that a God even existed.

“Get up,” a female whispered. The woman’s hand in my hair, she yanked me up, pointing me in the male’s direction who stole me from my bed. He now sat on a red crushed velvet throne. The legs of the chair human hands that bled out each time he adjusted himself in the seat. The chair seemed to be alive, but at this point, I questioned nothing. We learned in church that some would find themselves in their own private hell in the end. I could only imagine what the man did who was now an elaborate seat for the demon dweller.

I teetered on falling. I stood at the base of the rocks, looking up at the man, my mind still wondering what this bet was, and why me. There were no words from me when another male appeared at his side, his body stripped of all its clothing. The first thing I noticed was the enormous cock that hung between his muscular legs. Sure, cock wasn’t a new sight to me, but I had never seen anything like this. Nor did I ever want to. The veins on his manhood almost pulsating the moment he saw me standing before him. God help me, what was this bet?

As he would later tell me, the Devil bet this man that there was no way I could deep throat his cock. The man was sure that I could, and if I did, he would get a second chance at life. Is this how this shit works? They always say never to make a deal with the Devil, but I guess no one ever told him what happens if you lost.

“You WHAT?” I screamed. My eyes never on his face, stared directly at the beast between his legs, pray that I woke from this dream soon.

“If anyone can do it, you can. The guys down here talk about you when they beat off at night. Everyone says for the best little cocksucker in Los Angeles, to look you up,” he laughed. With his hand on his cock, stroking it, all I could think was this had to be hell if he made it any bigger? If the man impaled me on that cock he would penetrate my stomach through my mouth.

I blinked, shaking my head from side to side, “No fucking way. That thing will kill me. I pointed, my finger drew an outline of his cock, gasping when I realized it had to be a foot long.

The Devil threw his head back, roaring in laughter, as did all his minions that rested by his side. They followed the leader, knowing better than to dismiss anything he said.

“You don’t think I can do it?” I glared. What the fuck was wrong with me. I argued over whether or not I could deep throat this son of a bitch. Whose bet was this anyway?

Giddy with excitement, the man could barely wait for the Devil to give him the go-ahead. The minute he did, I regretted it. It seems that it’s been four-hundred years since this man had sex. In hell, they use the earth for their porn. Each of them watching couples fuck while they jack off. The only one allowed to have physical sex is the Devil himself.

Grabbed from behind, I fell to my knees, looking right at the monster cock, almost salivating for a taste. I didn’t want this cock. Why the fuck was my mouth watering for a drink from the man’s dick? My head yanked back. He slapped this thick bulbous head on my lips. A smear of pre-cum glossing my soft pillows, I opened for him without even being asked. A slither of his cock across my tongue, and he pulled back, laughing at the Devil. This man knew that I could take it. If there is one thing I know how to do, it’s take a cock down my throat.

“Feed me,” I growled. I meant it. There was a craving inside of my stomach that tightened just knowing I would soon gag with every inch the male forced inside of my gulping throat.

His hand knotted in my strands of silken locks as he pushed into my mouth, letting the head slide slowly over my tongue. I could already taste his fluids. Not sweet, but as hot as the fires of hell. They scorched the flesh on my tongue, causing a whimper to vibrate against the shaft. God, help me. I wanted to take all of him deeper. To have my throat torn from my body and used as a masturbation sleeve for his cock. My eyes sealed shut, tears running down my face, his cock reached the back of my throat. A deep guttural grunt from the man, and he shoved every inch in until his balls rested on my chin. I was choking from lack of air, but none of this concerned the male. He wanted bragging rights and to walk the earth again.

Yanked from his cock, I moved to the table of sacrifice, my body stretched out as my head dangled from the metal surface. It was not cold like I expected. No, it was burning hot, and the smell of my clothing burning repulsed me. Once again, his cock plunged into my throat. One thrust and he was fully engulfed inside of my oral cavity. This time his hand went to my throat, jacking himself off from the outside in.

“You son of a bitch, she did it,” the Devil screamed.

Sitting straight up in bed, my hands on my throat as I choked, I don’t know if this was a dream or not, but my clothing smells of burning flesh, and the scratches across my floor will never be repaired.

The post Devil made the bet of a lifetime appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Erotic horror is nothing new, but not widely spoken about. How many times have you taken a girl to a scary movie because you knew she would cling tight? Or even that she would end up in your lap. Now you know why people just love to be scared.

Below is a fiction based erotic story I wrote. None of it is real, but there is some violence included. Enjoy.

With extreme darkness falling on the town, Gypsy can’t fathom what is happening around her. She’s heard the rumor of something lurking in the woods, but clearly, it’s nothing but an urban legend. Halloween is close, and kids tell stories. All of this whispering must be the tall tale of a frightened soul. Or is it?

“Pumpkin spice latte, with extra whip cream. I’m living dangerously today,” Gypsy said.

The young teen behind the counter rolled her eyes at her laughter. Gypsy was sure the barista was working because she was made to, not out of choice. She could relate. Gypsy worked many jobs as a teenager that Gypsy hated. The one thing she did know was never to engage in a conversation with someone with no personality. This girl was as dull as an unpolished rock.

When she turned around, there was only one seat left. This place is packed with college kids and those in suits. For girls like Gypsy, coffee was the nectar of the gods. She was addicted. She would make sure she stuck around for a refill.

Coffee in hand, she found a seat with the latest copy of the town newspaper on the table. Usually, she would find all she needed online, but today she was going back to basics. The smell of a newsprint is as intoxicating as that of a book. With society using kindles these days, they have forgotten the scent of an old book when you pull it off the shelf after extended storage. She could get lost in a library for hours, if not days.

Settling back in the plush cushioned seat, glancing at the paper as her coffee warms her hands. She would always slip off the little paper cozy on the cup to warm her chilled fingers. It is the one place on her body that still stays cold. The headline made her gasp. She couldn’t believe how graphic they state the recent murder of a college coed.

Coed slaughtered in the woods. She was mutilated before death.

She pushed her body back in the chair farther, eyes on the words as though she’s stunned. Is she shocked about this story? To be completely honest, the world is spiraling down into a cesspool of depravity. Murder has become so typical that people are numb to the pain and suffering of others. The story was bone-chilling, and every hair on the back of her neck was on end.

Graphic details of the latest murder made her mind wander. She is one of those people who love to place herself in the position of the victim. Usually, though, she would never tell anyone. Gypsy could feel the actions and the pain that lead up to death. Closing her eyes, she began to drift to the place where they assumed the girl was kidnapped. The feeling was spine-tingling.

She’s out for a late-night run. Usually, she would go with a group, but tonight was different. Everyone was at a party for Halloween, and she wasn’t in the mood. A recent breakup with her boyfriend still had her heart in a sad place. The fog was settling low to the ground tonight. It’s eerie the way it floats along the banks of the lake. She half expected to see the Lochness monster pop from the dark abyss below. She’s watched way too many scary movies in the past week. All of them are dreadful and poorly made.

Her fit bit registered ten thousand steps, but she’s setting the goal of twenty thousand tonight. One more trip around the lake should help her surpass the levels needed. The best way to mend a broken soul is to feed your own. Her mother loved to tell her that each time she found herself lost. Gypsy didn’t hear the first crack of branches, but she did hear the second. Stopping dead in her tracks, she didn’t see anyone, but this is deer season, and most have traveled closer to town to avoid hunters.

“Hello, is anyone out there?” she yelled.

Calling out might not be the smartest thing to do, but she sometimes jumps the gun and does stupid things. A few more cracks in the brush, and she wrote it off as an animal. It has to be because any human would have responded already. A nervous habit of biting her lower lip when scared, right now, she was chewing a hole in the soft pillow.

“Stop being scared of the dark! You know better!” she whispered.

She scolded herself about this fear, but she’s been scared of the dark since a childhood scare. Even to the point that she sleeps with the tv on and a couple of lights. Accidentally locked in a storage closet all night did damage to the girl. Her grandmother was a seamstress and stored mannequins in the room.

“Little red riding hood, come out and play. The big bad wolf needs to devour his prey!” a voice called.

Looking down at the red shorts and shirt she’s wearing, thinking this is a joke. Someone on campus thinks they’re funny. It’s the day before Halloween, and she’s getting pranked. Her friends have a twisted mind. Too bad she knows better than to flip out right now. She knew she should run as fast as she could all the way home, but a part of her wants to know who’s out in the woods tonight.

Gypsy fumbled in her pocket for a keychain. Her mother added a can of mace to it when she left home. Her mother said she was worried about her living alone, so always keep it close. Gripping the small, outdated can, she walked into the brush area. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, but there are still some things that the naked eye can’t see. Tonight was an extreme nightmare.

She didn’t see him. He wasn’t in plain view. Someone reached up from the pile of leaves beneath her feet. A hand caught her by surprise. He had been lying in wait for her to come forward. She was yanked down to the moss below. The wind knocked from her lungs. The can flew from her hand, the small bottle of liquid pepper gone.

The earth was wet and cold underneath her. She tried to get up, but the hand that was once on her foot, now it around her neck. Not choked, but the fist held her steady in place. Fear washing over her body, she’s scared of the unknown.

“Hey there little red riding hood, you sure are looking good,” he growled.

All of this has to be a joke, but this is taking it all to the extreme. Someone is singing that stupid song to her while holding her captive. His calloused fingers tap on the side of her neck. Her eyes on the star above her, remembering the nursery rhyme she said as a child. Silently in her head, she couldn’t help but use it now. It might be the last time she ever does.

“Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may; I wish I might get the wish I wish tonight,” she cried.

Tears were running down her cheeks. Should she use that wish to escape? Or should she use it to pray that death is quick? Choosing the latter, she knew she would die tonight. Being optimistic was not a strong trait for her.

“Stop yer crying little one. I will make you a legend tonight. When others walk in these woods after you, they will point to this very spot. The spot where little reds ripped to shreds and her heart’s torn from your body. I will be taking that with me, little girl. I can’t have your soul resting in peace, can I?” he laughed.

Her shirt torn from her body in one swift yank on the fabric. Her bra was next. She closed her eyes so tight that the lids ache from holding them shut. She didn’t want to see him. Her thoughts were maybe if she can’t identify him, he will let her live. Her head knows that isn’t true, but her heart is trying to rationalize all of this.

“Little girl, are you ready to meet your soul?” he asked.

She shook her head. She didn’t want to die. His beastly hand removes the shorts from her body, leaving welts on her skin from the removal. He doesn’t care that it hurts. He is not there to make her love him. His hands are disgusting, and his nails are as sharp as knives. She cried out as he pawed at her chest like a wild beast. The wolf. Little red riding hood’s wolf. Oh fuck, what if it is? Silly notions when someone’s on the brink of death. They try to make everything seem rational, though it’s not.

“I’m going to rip the fucking cunt apart. Paint the forest red with your blood,” he cackled.

His growls were shocking. Gypsy felt them to the core of her soul. How can this creature even be real? Lurching forward, his cock cutting through her pussy walls like a razor. She felt as though he was masturbating her with a butcher knife. His cock is not of this world. Something isn’t right. The smell of blood burns her nose as the monster above her thrusts hard into her pussy, ripping the walls apart. She could barely breathe from the extreme force of his cock into her bloody walls.

The woods hold the secrets of this night. When they found her body, her heart ripped from her chest, and her pussy covered in blood. The newspaper said that a foreign object was used, but it wasn’t. It was the cock of the beast. He broke her pelvis, but the death would be due to blunt force trauma.

Erotic Horror can change your life.

Tap on the shoulder made her drop the paper. The man behind her smiled as he asked to borrow the paper when done. The story is more extreme than she has ever read in the local newspaper. The moral of the story is never to go out in the woods alone unless you want to feed the wolf your soul.

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