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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