The Spooky Scary Haunted Sex Motel

The Spooky Scary Haunted Sex Motel

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He walked into the small office. It would be an overstatement to call it a lobby.

The man inside looked up. "You're lucky. I was about to turn on the No Vacancy light and go to bed. I got just the one room left."

"Been a few years since I traveled these parts. Price kinda went up." It was a 1940s-style of roadside lodging with only six units, looking in dire need of refurbishing.

"It is what it is. Cost of living went up. Gotta cover expenses. Which way you headed?"

"North."

"Well, you ain't gonna find anything still open 'tween here and Lone Cedar. Maybe not even there. But I'm not trying to take advantage of you at this hour. It's the same rate I charged the others"

The scrawny, dark-haired and scraggly-bearded dude with the tattoos shook his head as though saying no, then immediately contradicted himself. "Fine. Got a long way to go yet. Need some rest."

"Gotta warn ya, though. They say the room is haunted."

"That so?" He pulled out his wallet and extracted some bills.

The portly man behind the counter nodded. "Woman was killed, six years ago. Died, anyway. Never did find out the cause of death. Coroner performed an autopsy, couldn't figure anything out. She just basically died. Too young for a heart attack - she didn't suffocate - no marks. Her heart simply stopped beating. The sheriff looked into the matter, couldn't find any evidence. All the guests they could locate were cleared. All but one, that is. One guy - he signed in with a fake name -- Ronald Reagan -- no way to track him down. Left it at that. You ask me, out here in the middle of nowhere, they don't try too hard. When it's someone like her."

"Tomorrow's Halloween. You trying to tell me a ghost story? A tall tale?"

"I'm just sayin'. She died on a Halloween. I guess technically, when it turns midnight, it's the anniversary."

"Woo. Good thing it's not a full moon. I'm real scared." The young man began filling out the short registration card, clearly not scared.

"Debbie don't do nothin' scary."

"Debbie."

"Yeah, that was her name. Real cute young woman apparently. When she makes an appearance, once a year, I'm told she tries to get friendly with whoever's in the room."

"Friendly." By repeating the older man's words, he implied a desire for more specifics.

"Yeah, friendly. Real friendly. You know what I mean. Nobody says much about it afterward. But apparently nothing too weird. The most anybody told me is - one guy said - she gave him a handie."

"A handie?"

"You know. A hand job."

"Hand job?"

The proprietor stared at him. "Are you stupid? She jerked him off, I'm saying. 'Cause, more than likely, she was a hooker. When she was living."

"A friendly ghost. Gave him sex. On Halloween."

"I mean, he didn't say it quite like that, but otherwise it don't make no sense."

"Sounds like he jerked himself off and then told you a tale."

"He said it was her ghost."

"He did? Well, I don't believe in ghosts."

"I didn't used to neither. But now I keep more of an open mind." He handed the man the room key.

"Whatever. Gotta ramble, early in the morning. Time for some shut-eye."

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He woke up when he felt the warmth of another body behind him on the bed. There wasn't even the glow of the alarm clock's display, nor the hum of the baseboard heater -- the electric power was apparently off now. In the moonless night, the room was pitch black. The time was only a guess but was probably after midnight.

"How'd you get in here?" he asked calmly, rolling over onto his back.

"Shhh," the female voice said quietly but firmly. "Don't move. Here, let me put this on."

He felt an elastic band being slid down the top of his head and over his eyes. "What difference does being blindfolded make in the dark like this?"

"Shhh. Don't talk, or I'll leave."

"Mmmm," he grunted, as he now detected a hand slipping under the elastic of his boxer shorts.

"Does this feel good?"

"Mmmm," he said again.

"I'm glad. Most guys are too shy to let me start right away. What's your name, honey?"

He didn't reply, letting his growing erection communicate for him.

After a few seconds, she repeated her question. "What's your name, honey? I didn't mean you couldn't answer if I ask you something."

"Blake. What's yours?"

"Debbie. I'm the manager's daughter."

"I thought as much."

"Shhh. Just enjoy the moment."

"I'd enjoy it a lot more if you used your mouth."

"Oh, you are bad. A very bad boy. I'm only allowed to give you a handie."

Without disturbing her manual motion, he slid his own boxers down past his knees. "But you want to."

Her moment's hesitation gave her away. "But I'm not supposed to."

He leaned over toward her, just a little, and caressed her full bosom with one hand, then let his other hand seek out her pubic hair. "You know you want to suck my dick, Debbie."

"I do, kind of, but I'm not allowed to."

"You want to start with your mouth and then let me fuck you in the pussy. If you give me what I want, I'll give you what you want. Nobody has to know."

She moved her body down his, keeping her fist wrapped tightly around his very hard shaft. "I can't."

"Yes you can. Suck me, then fuck me, then let me do it in your ass."

"I'm not a three-hole slut, Blake." She squirmed a few inches lower on his torso and took the head of his cock into her mouth, thereby negating every word of denial she had said.

"Yes you are." She kept busy and did not dispute him further. He luxuriated in her efforts. "That's good," he said appreciatively. "That's real good, Debbie. How long's it been since you sucked a nice fat one?"

She pulled back so she could speak. "I have no idea. I can't keep track of time the way I used to. Oh, it's so good to have it like this one more time. It's so big and hard." She took him inside her mouth again, this time going halfway down his thoroughly unremarkable shaft.

He let her fellate him for thirty seconds longer and then he pushed her away. "You're too good. I'm gonna blow my load too fast if you keep doing that. Climb on top, Debbie. Fuck me good and proper."

She moved up and straddled him. "You can't tell anybody. This was just supposed to be a handie."

"Who in hell would I tell?" he asked, as her warm wetness surrounded and squeezed his tool.

"Who in hell? Who do you think? Can't be too careful," she countered. "You gotta promise me. I haven't done anything like this since that night."

"Liar," he chuckled.

"You don't know that." She pumped vigorously on his stiffie and within seconds she began to wail, not like a banshee but like certain women do when approaching climax.

"Now you hush," he chastised her with a chuckle. "You'll wake the other guests."

"There aren't any others," she corrected. "Did you see any other cars in the parking lot?"

"Actually the motel is full tonight. So keep the noise down."

"Okay, so I get confused sometimes. Hold still. Don't move. I almost came right then."

"You're quick," he observed.

"I hope you're not. I want to cum twice. Three times. Again and again." She resumed vocalizing a bit more quietly, in a gentle moan of pleasure.

"Quick? Not on my back, I'm not. But I'll be quick once I roll you over and fuck you in the butthole."

"I hope you're quick. For that, I mean. It hurts that way."

"Once you orgasm the first time, up the butt will make you cum again if you use your fingers."

"I'll get in so much trouble."

"Here. I'm gonna take off the blindfold."

"I'm not supposed to let you see me."

"It's dark." He slipped it off while she continued to hump him.

"This feels so good," she said.

"I like your tits." He reached up and put a hand on each one. "You're actually pretty, you know. And that one little mole on your left nipple is kind of cute."

"You're not supposed to see me. Ow, that hurts."

He responded by pinching both nipples even harder. "The man said you only come once a year. On Halloween."

"I only cum once a year? No wonder I'm so horny. Ow. No, but keep doing that."

"Get close but don't cum," he instructed, "and then I'll turn you over and finish you."

"Shhh," she said. "Don't talk, or I'll stop."

"Liar," he said again.

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Blake stopped at the office to return the room key, looking rejuvenated.

"You're off to an early start," the balding older man commented. "Was everything all right with the room?"

"Fine. Power went off for a while. It's back on now."

"It does that now and then."

"No harm. Not a problem. Gotta ramble, though."

"Any visitors during the night?" the man persisted.

"You tell me," the visitor replied. "Why do you ask? Did you send someone, maybe?"

"I didn't. They say Debbie just shows up on her own."

"Your daughter."

"I don't have kids."

"You sure? Debbie?"

"Not my daughter. She was the daughter of the previous owner. He moved away after it happened."

"Oh. You didn't mention that part. Wasn't he a suspect? If she was turning tricks right under his nose?"

"Not really. No motive. No evidence. No proof. He was complicit -- maybe her pimp - but that didn't make him a murderer. And like I told you, he's long gone. So, did she show up for you?"

He ignored the question. "Say, I forgot to ask. You never did fuck her, yourself, did you? Any of these Halloweens since she died?"

"Hell no."

"Not even a handie, as you put it?"

"I heard the one story, and the bits and pieces from the others, and that's enough to make me steer clear. I don't need some ghost turning my dick inside out or invisible or whatever."

"That's fortunate. She couldn't actually do anything like that, but it's fortunate for you nonetheless. Well anyway, you can thank me."

"Thank you? For what?"

"For what I did."

"What did you do?"

"I don't think you'll have a ghost problem here anymore." He turned to leave.

"What do you mean? I thought you didn't believe in ghosts."

Holding the screen door open, the young man turned back toward the proprietor to explain. "I mean I don't believe in ghosts hanging around with the living like that. Just like, if you say you don't believe in rape, it doesn't mean you deny the existence of rape, just that you don't think it should happen, and that you do something about it, correctly and permanently, if nobody else will."

"I don't get it."

"I mean she's gonna stay dead now." The screen door banged shut behind him as he went to the parking lot. "Did the job right, this time," he called over his shoulder. "You or the maid or whoever might have a little extra cleanup to do. Sorry, I didn't leave a tip."

"Wait, what?" the motel manager stammered.

"What? What?" the younger one mimicked with a chuckle as he got into his weathered black-and-red convertible.

The manager pulled open the desk drawer and looked again at the card on top. "Mitt Romney?" he mused as the eight-cylinder engine roared to life and the tires spat gravel.