This is my entry for the 2014 Halloween contest. Consider it an Erotic Horror piece, with all that implies. Thanks to my guest reader KingsWoman for donating her sexy tones to this piece—do go check out her stories!
"Don't go into the crypt," folk said,
"For it's home to ghosts and the restless dead.
And those who go down to the crypt"—so they say—
"Will never return to the warm light of day." But Red Callum was bold and he wasn't afraid
On his mind was the way of a man and a maid
Now he was a wild one, as yet still unwed
But that hadn't stopped him from filling his bed
He'd started with Sue (they all did, down that way)
She'd batted her eyes and she'd led him astray
Then he'd moved on to Amy, the butcher's young wife
(And hid from her husband, in fear of his life)
After that he met Megan, who taught him some tricks
How to tease and to tempt, where to touch, what to lick
He'd good looks, a nice voice, he knew how to impress
And he'd learned how to talk a wench out of her dress
By his twenty-first year he'd lost count of his score
Yet Red Callum was eager to try many more
The more that he lay with, the more his fame grew
Women queued just to see if the rumours were true
He'd had widows and virgins, brunettes, reds, and blondes
In bedrooms and churches, in haystacks and ponds
On his birthday he'd bedded three sisters at once
And for Christmas he'd screwed a whole convent of nuns
He was starting to think that he'd soon settle down
For he'd very near done every woman in town
But Red Callum's fool pride wouldn't let him forget
There was just one last lady he hadn't had yet
For Miss Catherine Morton had standards, she said—
"You really think
I would take
you to my bed?
"I've consulted my friends, and they say you're well hung
And you know how to do what you ought with your tongue
"I suppose that's enough, for the yokels 'round here
But my virtue, Red Callum, is rather more dear."
He wooed her with flowers, he wooed her with song.
She laughed in his face and said, "Go, run along."
'Till at last he plain begged her, "Cate, what must I do
For the pleasure of spending my passion with you?"
"About time that you
asked! For I have to admit
I could fancy you, if you'd just grow up a bit!
"What I want is a
man, one with courage and pluck,
Who'll meet danger head-on—that's the kind I might fuck.
"Here's my test: if you'll spend this next All Hallows' Night
Alone in the crypt, then I'll try you. All right?"
"Is that all?" Callum said. "If I stay there, inside,
All alone for the night—then you'll give me a ride?
"Sure, I'll do it... though, seeing that's not 'till next week,
Could I get an advance?" But she scoffed at his cheek.
So he waited the week out, set off for the tomb
As the daylight gave way to the Halloween gloom
Through the cemetery gate, past sad statues of stone
To the place at the back where the crypt stood alone.
No-one knew whose it was—it was centuries old
The name long since eroded by weather and mould
As he stood at the door, Red felt twinges of doubt
But the thought of sweet Cate stopped him chickening out
So he levered it open, a cold scraping sound
Then he jammed it ajar and walked deep underground
Down the stairs, deeper down, to the chamber below
Where dozens of coffins lay row upon row
He inspected the room in the flickering light,
And then unpacked his things to bed down for the night
He'd brought matches, a sandwich, some beer, and a lamp
And two blankets to keep out the chill and the damp
So he finished his supper, then laid himself down
He had almost dozed off when he heard a soft sound
Was it mice? Was it spiders? Quite probably so.
But it's easy for fear to take hold, down below
Callum couldn't find sleep with such thoughts in his head
So imagined himself in sweet Catherine's bed
He pictured her naked, her legs open wide
Her hips arching, eager to draw him inside
He spat in his hand and he reached for his shaft
And that's when, behind him, Miss Catherine laughed.
"I didn't quite trust you to honour our bet
So I hid here myself, thought I'd watch a while yet
"But I'm cold. You look warm—shall we call the bet done?
For I'm sure now you're manly enough for some fun."
She crawled in beside him, she blew out the light
And plunged the whole room into fathomless night.
Her lips kissed his shoulder, her hand stroked his chest
He wriggled around and took hold of her breast
She said, "Easy now, lover! Let me take the lead!
Just lie on your back, let me find what I need."
He lay back and he smiled, as her fingers moved down
To the prick that had plumbed every lady in town
They stroked it and tugged it, caressed it and squeezed
Brought him near to the edge, 'till he whispered, "Cate, please!
"Let me spend deep inside, Cate, I need you tonight!"
Her grip on him tightened. She said, "Well, alright!"
Her hand guided his to the heat of her cunt
He fondled—he fingered—she made a soft grunt
Then she settled astride him, pushed down with a pop.
He thrust deep inside. She said, "Don't you dare stop!"
They gyrated together in feverish lust
As the coffins around them lay silent in dust
'Till he whispered, "I'm coming!" Her quim held him tight
As he spurted his seed in the glimmerless night.
She gasped, "That was fantastic! Let's try it again—
If you think your endurance can handle the strain?"
He said, "Certainly, darling, I'm ready for more,
But I'm getting a chill from this cold marble floor."
Her hands stroked his face, and her lips touched his cock
As the bell in the church-tower struck twelve o'clock
Her teeth nipped at his chest. Callum chuckled, and said,
"Aren't
you nervous here, Cate? Let's go find a real bed."
"Oh, there's nothing for
me to be scared of, my dear
It's my family, the Mortons, who lie buried here."
Cate's tongue flicked his ear and her lips squeezed his rod
And that's when Red realised that something was odd
Her voice came from behind him, "And why should we go?
When you're here in my home, in my bed down below?"
Up above, the wind rose, and Red heard metal clang
The crypt door blew wide open—then closed with a BANG.
Callum groped for his matches, he struck up a light
Then he shrieked as he witnessed a terrible sight
A vision of horror near curdled his heart
For Miss Catherine Morton had come quite apart.
Her body—well, some of it—lay on the ground
But several pieces were roaming around
One eye had come loose from its home in her face
It had rolled down her body, and popped into place
In a gap in one breast where her nipple had been
It winked at him now, with an air quite obscene
A hand climbed his leg, like some five-legged bug
And her tongue floated freely, a hovering slug
Her lips were red leeches, attached to his prick
The way that they writhed made him noisily sick
And beneath her pink skin, things were wriggling about—
But that's all that he saw, ere the match flickered out.
Catherine laughed—her hair bound him—her lips smacked and sucked
"I did
promise I'd fuck you. Now, my darling? You're fucked."
He felt himself enter her—where, he knew not—
But he heard Catherine groan, "Yes, my love, that's the spot.
"You've quite opened me up. Now you'll open for me,
For your flesh is the lock and my bones are the key."
She undressed him of skin, she undressed him of meat—
"Oh, you're
just what I need, to make me complete!
"Fill me up!" her lungs wheezed, "Fuck me hard, give me more!"
As their entrails entwined on the cold marble floor
"No, don't stop, my dear Callum! What's wrong? Are you tired?"
But his struggles had ceased. The poor lad had expired.
Silence settled again. Then she playfully said,
"Now at last I can see why they called the lad 'Red'."
"Don't go into the crypt," folk said,
"For it's home to ghosts and the restless dead."
But Red Callum went down to the crypt—so they say—
And he never returned to the warm light of day. THE END
Author's note: This one's a bit more
visceral than my usual style, but after the year I've had, I was in the mood for something gruesome. If you enjoyed this story, please vote below!
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