John has the best Halloween parties ever. I attended the first one of his parties ten years ago. I’m not on the guest list, never have been, but no one knows that. There are always a lot of party crashers at John’s Halloween parties. Part of the thrill of John’s parties is that everyone is totally anonymous. Many years ago such masked parties were quite the rage, but modern costumes and disguises are so much better. In fa...

The Karodang house has been on the side of the hill... forever. There are some old frontier pictures of great-great-great-grandma’s sod house from when they first settled their farm and the old stone house is in the background sticking out of “Granite Hill” as the locals call it. Some people from the state university came down and dug around a little both inside and outside of Karodang. There only conclusion was, “It’s ol...

Ghouls crawl; ghosts hover; the graveyard gates creak as they open. It is Halloween, the essence of the dead, now alive and released. On the local park bench, a tongue brushes a nipple. Fingers claw, urgent touches; feverish kisses. His cock plunges her depths, a groan; their hot panting breath fills the air. She screams her orgasm complete. No, it’s a ghostly apparition. A ghoul grabs them, their bodies ridged with frigh...

Belinda Barnotti, known to her friends as BB, stood at the entrance to the Witch Hill Nunnery Museum silently debating with herself. She was almost a Doctor of Anthropology. All that was left for her to gain her PhD was to complete her thesis. Then she had to make a name for herself by turning that thesis into a book. That would make her a well-known anthropologist. Well-known anthropologists get teaching jobs in prestigi...

Sid is a good friend of mine from days long past. He has fallen on hard times. A lot of the men... and women who have been the places we have been and done the things which we have done have been overwhelmed by what has been burned into their memory once they try to “return to society.” Many, like Sid, try to drown the memories of what they saw... or did. When that didn’t work, he fell totally apart... booze, broads, drug...

Its Halloween, one year its been. When I was slutty cat. My friends said dear, that not this year. It's sex clubs where its at. We want to go, with you our show. We know you'll be enough. The suit you'll wear, will get the stare. Admittance can be tough. So they had chose, my costume clothes. Though there is no way I can. They said to me, that I will be. Transgendered Superman. My super suit, high heeled boot. What's next...

This one, like most of my stories, started as a micro and maybe works best till about halfway. After that, I do not take responsibility for my characters’ actions. Girls just wanna have fun, you know. Shrouded in misty shades of midnight, lace and chiffon clouded her delicate frame like coastal fog. Mesmerised, I suddenly lost my appetite for the pumpkin flapjacks I was nibbling on. Her pull was like a black hole to my ch...

Reading the sultry stories of my competitors, fingers exploring my pantyline. With every page, an insatiable heat grew within until I was atop a furnace of desire. My lids heavy with arousal, I forgot about the Halloween invitation and wondered how many I had read? Suddenly, an ice-cold whisper pierced my reverie, dripping with evil: "666." My gaze was locked in terror on two glowing red eyes reflecting in the window ahea...