“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 winter 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.”

 I screamed, 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. I screamed. 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 of 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 this what was in the hell was he trying to make it 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 being, 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 golden locked 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 vibrated 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 walking 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 Sunday Sinful Fantasies Of The Devil appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.

Thank you to one of my great callers. He was the muse behind this story.

Notorious. Yes, that’s the rumors that she heard about the parties at the manor. Each person made to sign an NDA; Gypsy knew nothing other than they would change their lives after one night. Rumor had it that a live sex act was center stage during the event. That alone had her tingling so deep that she swore she was having secret little orgasms to prepare for it all.

Re-reading the invitation, she glanced through her closet for something to wear. Since it’s a formal event, she had to find a stunning gown that would make heads turn. The little Devil inside of her loved being the center of attention. A floor length red sequined dress, a pair of matching 5-inch stilettos, and diamonds. Lots of diamonds accentuated the outfit. She saved the best stuff for things like this.

An hour later in the back of a limo, Gypsy twitched in anticipation. She couldn’t talk about what was waiting for her beyond the doors of that expensive house. Keeping secrets was not her best trait, but she would for a chance to peek into another world. As the car came to a stop, the door opened and a hand held out for her to take. It was male, but other than that she was in a sudden haze. A stranger held Gypsy’s fingers. She felt like she was walking on clouds as he led her to the door. That wasn’t the host, but on a night like this, who knows what fate holds.

“Good evening,” the voice called out the moment the sky-high solid oak door opened. A tall man gray haired man stood in the entryway with a smile creasing his lips. He was handsome in a way that made a girl want to giggle out the /daddy/ name the moment you met him. Whoever he was there should be no doubt in his mind that Gypsy was awestruck by his appearance. She always did enjoy the company of older men over one her own age.

“Welcome to the party, dear. Won’t you join us?” the stunning man asked.

As she walked across the threshold, Gypsy let out a soft internal moan. A woman alone shouldn’t put herself in situations like this, but she couldn’t stop her feet. The house, or maybe the man pulled her in like a moth to a flame. Even if she tried, there was no way to stop the intense need for this man. As she passed him at the door, Gypsy inhaled the scent of the woods. He smelled like moss after a long sensual rainstorm. His presence was unlike anything she had ever felt. It nestled under her skin, attempting to surface.

Shivering when the door closed behind her, Gypsy sauntered her way into the main room of the manor. People to the left and right of her, she grabbed the first glass of wine that passed her way. Her slender fingers wrapped around the crystal goblet before bringing it to her lips. Sweet bursts of grapes caused her tongue to curl. She didn’t usually drink, but the night made her feel like she would need to later.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the show is about to start. Please be quiet and respectful of the participants,” a voice directed.

Dumbfounded for a moment, Gypsy followed the rest of the guests to what seemed to be an observation room. It was like the ones you would see in movies that showed students observing a surgical procedure. There were no seats in this one, but the viewers hurried to the big windows. The windows looked out onto a dark room. She was going to ask the woman next to her what was happening. Suddenly, the lights from below turned on and she gasped for air. The scene below felt as though it had to be unreal, but it was at that moment that she knew what the NDA was for.

On a table that looked like the one women have feared, a young blond whimpered in anticipation. She couldn’t be over twenty-one, and her body enhanced in all the right places. Long legs held apart by stirrups; her lower half blocked by a blue hospital covering. Was this a medical procedure, or something more sinister? Though she wanted to run, Gypsy stood as though she couldn’t move her legs.

“Are you ready?” a voice whispered from behind Gypsy.

Fingers pressed to the glass, she nodded her head that she was, and the events began to unfold below.

A male about fifty entered the room, standing at the girl’s head. Soft music now numbing the room, a door at the end of the lit room opened and a very slight female entered. As she walked across the floor, a very noticeable strap on rested at her waist. 9 inches in length, the flesh covered toy bounced with each step the woman took.

Shaking, Gypsy watched and listened to the events going on below. The conversations made her feel both excited and scared for the woman on the table.

“Do you hear that?” asked the male.

Whimpering, the girl on that table nodded, whispering, “Who is it?”

A loud boisterous laugh erupted from the man as he leaned in, whispering, “Does it matter? It could be a man.”

The second female smirked as she leaned down, taking the first lick of the other woman’s slit. A subtle moan erupted from the crowd, all wishing that they could taste the enchantress on the table below. One mentioned that she could smell it, but that was impossible. The viewing room was as sterile as a hospital setting. Checking to see if she was still breathing, Gypsy placed her fingers to her wrist, feeling for a pulse. She had held her breath so long that she feared passing out.

“Please don’t stop,” the young girl cried out.

“Shhh, all in due time. Patience,” the male laughed.

The female collected the nectar dripping from her pussy. She inserted three fingers into the wet opening. The slurping sounds echoed through the walls. Crying out in pain, the female on the table arched her back to see, but nothing. Her view was completely blocked. The second female pulled her fingers out, holding them up for others to view. Her nails were dripping with crimson, which she sucked off her fingers, taking her innocence. What they had seen was the deflowering of the young female. Suckling each digit as a reward, the scent of blood permeated the room.

“Are you ready?” the male whispered.

“I’m scared,” the young girl replied.

Behind the curtain the female stroked the strap on as though it was a real dick. Her slender fingers wrapped tight around the shaft; she had a look of hunger that would make most scared. She pushed the simulated cock into the other woman while everyone watched. She held her legs down even though they were already bound. Thrust after thrust, the female drove that cock deeper into the woman’s core. A violent series of thrusts took away innocence without any mercy or remorse. The aggressor used her long red nails to massage the victim’s clit. She wanted the victim to release built-up pressure in her body. The nerves swelled, causing pleasure. The victim spiraled into a pool of pleasure.

Gypsy touched herself while wearing the expensive evening gown. She was too focused to notice others having sexual enjoyment below.

From the room below the male whispered to the invited victim, “Was that a man or woman?”

Her eyes resembling those of a deer in headlights, she glanced over, “I don’t know.”

“Does it matter?” he asked.

Defeated, the young girl whispered back, “No!”

Moral of this story is does it really matter? The body craves touch and whether male or female, allow yourself the pleasure of indulgence and never regret the outcome. Lust knows no boundaries. 

The post Fantasy Or Reality; Does It Really Matter? appeared first on Seductive Gypsy.