Haunted Lust: a Halloween Story

She awoke groggily, in the middle of the night, somehow aware that she wasn't alone, as she had been every night for the past five years, following the untimely demise of her beloved husband. Not that she couldn't have moved on, and been remarried, for she was a fetchingly beautiful woman of thirty five, with flowing blonde hair like spun gold, piercing blue eyes, shapely legs, and curvaceous breasts that could reduce the proudest man to begging. But alas, when her late husband passed unexpectedly, he took her heart with him, and she barely went through the motions of each day since. Looking around, all she could see was the light of the full moon that spilled in through the bedroom window, but she could sense another presence in the room. Then she spotted him, and the adrenaline rushed through her. He was at the far end of the room, his features hidden within a black robe, his face obscured by a black hood, and the shadows. Despite the fear that coursed through her veins, she couldn't help but be a bit curious, as well as scared.

Was he a burglar? A psychotic? A figment of her imagination, made of moonlight, and nothing more?, A spirit? Was he perhaps Death, come to take her, hearing her broken heart calling out to him? As if to answer her question, he slowly reached out his hand, curled his index finger, and wordlessly beckoned her. "No, I won't!" she wanted to scream at him, but she stood on feet that no longer seemed under her control, and strode toward the mysterious figure. She joined him in the darkness, and he just stared at her for what seemed an eternity, no words exchanged.

What really bothered her was that, even this close, she could not see his face, it was as though the darkness was just as under his spell as was she. He reached out, slowly and gently caressed her face with the back of his hand, with flesh that felt like silk. She could make out his eyes, noted a look of evil, unchained lust in them. Then, he reached over and closed her eyes, and as his lips met hers the only thought running through her mind as she returned his kiss was, "I'm damned, but damn is this turning me on!"

Their tongues danced like two pagan spirits, performing a ritual dance. His hands quickly disposed of the flimsy nightgown she was wearing, and were all over her, just taking her in. He then broke the kiss, and removed robe and hood in one deft motion. Now they were both naked, as though they were from a world long since vanished, perhaps Eden. She opened her eyes, such striking blue eyes, but he was still merely a shadow, a silhouette. He pressed up against her again, sucking her neck with the intensity of a thousand ages. He still spoke not a word, but loosed a great sigh: part woe, part unchained, pure, untamed desire. His mouth moved greedily down to her full, sweet breasts, teeth gently clenching erect nipple, tongue running over it.

Then he gave the other breast the same treatment. She could feel his hardness against her, reflecting his growing sense of urgency. He lowered her to the floor, mouth moving down, tenderly kissing her stomach, finding her navel, his greedy tongue seemingly focusing there, for a moment, before it found her clit, tasting her fear, her want for him. He then slowly moved his tongue into her womanhood, the place that adolescent boys dream about, and grown men lust after, driving it in deep, hard and repeatedly, one hand rubbing her clit, the other playing with her tight asshole. He positions her on top of him, so that she's riding his face, she grabs his rock hard sickle, stroking it, then sucking on it, taking him into her throat, as he drives two fingers into her dripping wet pussy, and one in her ass, while his mouth was firmly attached to her sweet, swollen clit.

After a while, he enters her, but not as a thief, but as an invited and most welcome guest. He has her knees pinned to her shoulders, thrusting away, like a man possessed of the demon that he just may be. Thrusting, kissing, sucking, biting, tasting. They join hands, with his other hand, he retrieves something from the floor, and makes a small cut in the palm of her hand, with what turns out to be dagger (possibly an a theme), and closes his mouth around the wound, drinking deeply of her, but never losing stride in his thrusting. Her hips begin to buck furiously, as her orgasm rips through her, she bites his shoulder, and digs his back, showing no mercy. A mere instant later, he fills her with the essence that is he. He gently closes her eyes again, and withdraws.

When she opens her eyes, it is morning, she is alone, utterly convinced that her adventure the night before was the most vivid enthralling dream of her life. Then she notices that she's nude, and her nightgown is where she'd seen the dark stranger the night before.. Also, she notices a small cut on the palm of her hand, and is not so sure...