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From: pleasecain@aol.com (PleaseCain)
Subject: Boo! by PleaseCain
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EXPLICIT MATERIAL NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS
© 1996 PleaseCain@aol.com -- Commercial use prohibited without author's
consent.  Removal of this notice is prohibited.



Boo!  (Another Tale from the Land Without AIDS or Consequences)


Two wide-eyed kids stumbled through eerie shadows, bumbling
straight for the closet where I hid.  I sprang out with my cape raised
and my fangs bared.

"Time vor my dinner!  Care to join me?  Blah!  Blah!" I shouted down
at them.  The poor critters looked like they might have heart attacks.
They jumped away, and into the clutches of Barb behind them.

"My, what luscious, yummy children," she blurted, and drew them
into her cobwebbed robe.  The children leapt off like rabbits.  Barb
sent them packing with a hair-raising witch's cackle.

I was going to take my place again when the call came from up
front:  "That's it!"

Barb looked at me in surprise.

"What, we closed?" I shouted back.

"That's all," the ticketman answered.  "Go ahead and lock up, and
let's call it a night."

"That's early," I remarked to Barb.  "Guess no one showed up.  Too
cold."

"And it's a schoolnight," she added.

"You were really good tonight," I said.  "With those kids.  Must be
your line of work."  She was a teacher at the elementary school.

"Me?  I was just cleaning up after you all night," she responded.
Her warm, brown eyes met mine, then looked down again, like a
fawn's.  "They really loved you."

"Well, I get into this, actually.  There's a special feeling you get, you
know?  When you hit your groove and you know you're helping
people have a good time."  The door out front slammed shut, and I
knew we were alone, because the tickettaker and the ghouls rode
together.  It was rather exciting, like high school, sort of.

I determinedly continued, "I remember when I was young, the
haunted house was a pretty magical place."  I kinda had my eye on
Barb since the day I changed the furnace in that tiny house she
bought  a few years ago, but I only saw her around every so often.

She wasn't beautiful, but nice.  Sweet.  Kind of that schoolmarm
thing; shy, conservative, but warm.  I always figured she was too
sophisticated to be interested in a guy like me, but all the same, it
was a nice surprise the way we ended up working together here at
the Jaycee's house, and even better the way we got along.  Her
smiles could melt me, they were so . . . comfy, I guess.

Chill, fool, I kept telling myself, it's only a smile.  Don't make a goof
of yourself.

But darned, if I wasn't seeing those smiles more often.

"Yeah, me too," she said, filling up space.  She was holding her bag
awkwardly before her, both hands grasping the handle.  It was time
to go.  I reached for my coat.

She mumbled, "You look great, as a vampire, I mean.  Scary, yet
suave, uh, romantic.  Like a vampire of one's dreams, that little girls,
kids, fantasize about."

"Gee, but you looked great, too," I returned eagerly.  "I mean, not
only do you have the laugh down, but you look exactly like what you
picture a witch should look like."  I paused, flustered.  "I mean that in
a good way."

"Why, thank you, I guess," she giggled.  She bent to place the bag
down and look at herself, and curtsied.  "The role of a lifetime."

When she looked up again, she had stopped laughing.  An
interminable moment passed, as her empty hands hung suspended
in the air, idle, uncomfortable.  We beheld each other.  She bit the
corner of her lip.  I plunged upon her, as if drawn by a magnet.

We banged against the flimsy plywood wall behind her, a melee of
wet lips and tongues, of slobbers and blasts of breath.  Her hands
grasped my hair and crushed my face against hers.  I clumsily felt
up her back from her shoulders down to her upper thighs.  Our
bodies writhed together, until she squirmed from the embrace,
bending down slightly to reach beneath the folds of her flowing
dress.  Oh boy!

I quickly unzipped the tuxedo slacks I wore, and distinctly remember
seeing her witch's hat smashed under my shoe.  Barb stood again,
waiting.  As I approached, she kicked her foot onto the table holding
our Ouiji board.  Around the ankle of her pointed black grannyboot
hung a pair of white panties.

We started upon each other fitfully, for her arms were in the way,
fumbling for the hem of her dress.  Finally, with difficulty, she raised
the front of the unwieldy fabric to her hips.  She thrusted upon me,
but when I saw her panties like that, I had other ideas.

I fell to my knees, and there was her beautiful, hairy pussy, spread
open before me in the eerie purple and green shadows of our
chamber of horrors.

"Oh god," she whined in realization.  A dewdrop hung suspended
upon a string of hairs hanging from her lips.  I led with my face,
eager and ravenous.  Our plywood backing once again shuddered
in protest behind her.

My lips and chin were soaked in seconds as I attempted to mouth
her sensitive spots in the dull light.  Her tangy scent and her
grunting spurred me into a frenzy, licking the entire area of her
pussy, front to back, in an effort to connect somewhere.  She bore
down upon me; her foot moved further on the table, so that she
leaned precariously forward, spread wide.

At first, she had held her dress up and then pulled my head to her
with a few spare fingers.  Now, she grasped the hem tightly and
wrapped the cloth around my head in a sling, which she mercilessly
ground into her.  At that point, I forsook all technique and just
pressed my mouth and chin, my lips and nose, and my entire face,
into her sweet crotch, content to simply rub her off and to catch an
occasional breath.  My hands pulled and pinched the soft round
cheeks of her ass, which had looked so appetizing when I first saw
the outline of her exposed cleft.

She bucked upon me, and her thighs tensed.  The heel of her boot
clicked periodically on the table.  I wanted her, and wrenched
myself away.

I pushed her back roughly with both hands to allow myself to rise
again.  She slouched desperately before me, a transformed
creature, looking at me with heavy eyes.  Her nose and chin were
flesh-colored, in contrast to the green makeup on the rest of her
face--the result of her fake nose and chin having fallen off.  I would
have looked laughed, if I wasn't so desperately horny.  Instead, I
bent down and pulled the bothersome dress off her body and over
her head, and chucked it disdainfully to the floor.  She stood before
me in only a teeshirt, ridiculous knee-high witch's socks and her
grannyboots, her panties still dangling around the ankle.  She was
obviously impressed by my show of force, and her arms reached to
my shoulders in surrrender.

"Please," Barb begged in a whisper, but didn't wait for my response.
Her hand tugged my erection from my shorts and pulled it roughly to
her.  Her grasp was so tight that I really couldn't feel what was
going on down there, except that I knew I wasn't inside her.  I think
she was frigging herself with my dick, rubbing it all over her.  I
pressed closer, trying to get her to slide me in.

Barb moaned and thrashed her head occasionally about while she
arched into me.  W necked like animals, and our teeth clicked often.
At one point, I felt a sharp pinch, and knew by the salty taste that my
lip was bleeding, though we continued unabated.

She became wilder, licking my lips, and then my entire face.  Her
frenetic lapping soon included tiny nips at that sore spot on my lips,
and I drew back repeatedly in pain and anger.  Each time, I went
back on her with more force, thrusting my hips against her, seeking
entrance.

"Bite me," she croaked hoarsely.  "Take me . . . suck me . . ."  Her
incessant pleas became more forceful, and were soon angry
commands.

Suddenly, I knew I was in her, not from any great, new sensation,
but for the fact that she had seized my head in both her hands,
leaving my cock in place.  Her hands pushed my head back for an
instant.  Barb looked me in the eye.

"Suck me . . . feed on me."  She craned her head backwards, and
pulled my head to her smooth, straining neck.  Whatever, I thought,
and I nipped the taut skin, then pulled it out between my teeth.  It
had to hurt, but if she gets off on it. . . .

I was concentrating more on my thrusting, careful not to slide out.

She tore my head back from her with surprising force, and
demanded, almost in rage, "Bite me!"  My cock had almost slipped
out with her joustling, and I was trying to maintain that end of it, so I
was entirely unprepared for what she did next.   With all her might, it
seemed, she slammed my head again into her exposed neck.  I felt
the bang upon my teeth.  At the same time, she arched her pelvis to
mine, and I felt her warmth.

I reciprocated by pushing further into her, and then drawing out.  As
I began to fuck her in earnest, I felt hot, salty liquid flooding my lips
and chin.  I knew she was bleeding, but I nuzzled deeper into her.
Actually, during those frenzied moments, I couldn't tell much of
anything.  She seemed pretty experienced at this game, so I let her
lead, although I can tell you that my mind was not thinking quite so
coherently at the time.

"Yes," she breathed.  "Oh, yes!"  She fucked me, and clutched me
tight.  Then, darnedest thing, she pounded my head with the edge
of her palms even more forcefully into her neck.  The flow seemed
to increase, but I was fucking harder, almost out of spite for her
beating me.

"Oh, god, yes!" she rasped.  "Eat me . . . I am yours, your prey, feed
on me!"

We fucked like savages, in abandonment.  The hot blood bubbled
into, and ran out of, my gasping mouth.  The plywood at her back
fairly shrieked its protestations, but neither of us paid attention, until
it snapped.

Barb fell backwards, and I slammed on top of her.  She let out a
long wheeze.  I knew the wind was knocked out of her, and I was
lifting myself to see if she was all right, afraid I may have seriously
hurt her, but she would have none of that, and she pulled me onto
her.

"Finish me," she cried, depraved.   "Take the rest of me."

She was obviously OK, so I reached down and reinserted my dick.
She purred a wicked, low laugh, then grasped my head to her throat
again.  She held me tight, her legs drawing my hips to hers.  One of
her heels spurred rudely up my ass.

"Feed on me!" she shrieked.  Her throat rammed into my teeth
again.

"Finish me!" she demanded.  Well, I thought, I suppose it was time
to finish her.

I banged into her with all my energy.  With this friction, I knew we
wouldn't last.

"Yes, yes, oh yes," she chanted frantically.  The hot flow from her
neck continued to drench my chin and neck.  One of her hands
pulled my face into her neck so that I had difficulty breathing.  Her
other hand clawed at the flesh of my back beneath my cape.  She
ripped hard.  It made me buck even harder.

My orgasm was short and violent, like a few long threads of cum
were being drawn out.  I had to stop, before my peter fell off.  But
Barb wasn't quite done.

"Own me, possess me," she pleaded, and kept right on humping
against me.  "Claim me as yours, oh please."

I stayed with her, holding her, exhausted, like her fucking post.  As I
lay there, I slowly came to again, and I noticed how wet she was.
We were both wet.  Soaked.

I rolled over, tugging myself loose from her embrace.  I stared in
shock.  It was blood, buckets of it!  Everywhere!

"Master," she whined and reached for me with both arms.  "Don't
leave me.  No."

She was bleeding pretty good from her throat too.  I wiped my
mouth with my sleeve.  "B . . . Barb . . ."

"Come back," she beseeched me.  "Be my vampire.  Take the rest
of me."  With that, Barb rolled toward me, and her back made a
sickening peeling sound.  A large circular saw clattered to the floor.
It had been stuck in her back!

"B . . . Barb . . . Barb, now don't panic," I stammered, fighting the
urge to wretch.  Calm down, I thought.  "Everything's going to be all
right," I squeaked feebly.

"No, Master."  She seized my hand, then reached around with the
other and plopped the dripping saw into my lap.  "Make me cum."

"What . . . did you say?"

"Yes, I need to cum," she told me straightforwardly.  "Make me your
little snuff victim."  Those last two words, "snuff victim," she said in
babytalk, of all things.  Her hips swivelled seductively, like an
animal's in heat.

I only blubbered stupidly at the contrasting images.

"Come on, Darklord," she teased at me.  One hand pushed mine to
the saw handle.  Her other hand trailed a lazy finger around her
erect nipple, then dragged it slowly down to her navel, pooled full
and crimson, and then up to flick and fondle her other nipple.  "Or
should I call you Sam Hain?"

If I could have been any more freaked out, it was at that moment.
Sam Hain was a screen name I used for online flirting on the IRC
and other online services.

"I know all about you," she giggled coquettishly, "how you like to
suck 'em dry, and dice 'em up."

I didn't know what to say.  I wanted to ask who she was, what her
screen name was, but the strength had left me.  She took my hand
without resistance, and drew my index finger between her lips, into
her mouth.  I skittishly avoided her gaze, instead watching as she
placed my wet finger on the trigger of the saw.

"Make my, our, dreams come true," she implored.  Her pale body
trembled in anticipation.  "You know I want it.  Most women do."

I looked at her quizzically.

"Yes, we do," she purred, drawing me in.  "You don't think all those
snuff posts on on the sex newsgroups are from guys, do you?"

She laughed, and wrapped her hand around mine, around the saw
handle.

"Yes, most women want to be cut into pieces," she smirked, "need
to be cut into pieces.  We just don't admit it in front of guys.  You
didn't know that?"

Her hand tightened around mine.  Her pubus rubbed on my knee.

"Silly, naive boy," she teased, "You probably think that 'no' means
'no,' too, don't you?"  She laughed vehemently, then stopped just as
suddenly.  "I just want to be Sam Hain's snuff toy.  Yes I do.  Yes I
do," she cooed improbably, coaxing me to do the unthinkable.  My
mind was numb.

"Now, make me YOUR woman," she commanded suddenly, with
her cold body writhing weakly against me.  "I have an amputee
fetish that needs to be sated, and I need to cum.  Damn it, won't you
make me cum?"  She was getting surly.  She pulled my finger
against the trigger.  The saw whirred to life, inches away from her.
"Do it!" she barked.

I cowered in place.

That's when she impatiently seized my hand in hers, and drew the
spinning blade closer, so close.  Instantly, one of her fingers flew
against the wall across the room.

"No, no, no!  You're doing it all wrong."  She grabbed the tool away
from me in disgust.  "Like this.  See?"  With workmanlike precision,
she sawed her left arm off below the shoulder.  "Oh yes," she
moaned above the din.  "That's what I like!"

She shoved the saw back toward me.  "Now you do it," she said,
matter of factly.   Then Barb reclined seductively on the floor, eyes
closed, waiting.  After a few seconds, she threatened, "Don't make
me open my eyes.  Hello?"  In a while, she finally did.  She
snatched the saw from me like I was a nincompoop.

"All right, weakling, I'll take you by the hand," she spat disdainfully.
"You twiddle my crotch, like that, and I'll do the dirty work!  I swear,
if you want a job done right. . . ."

"Mmm," she groaned as I fingered her, more out of fear than
anything else.  Suddenly, vwoomp! she brought the blade down,
and lopped off one of her feet.  I cried aloud and shut my eyes tight,
and diddled and prayed for all I was worth.

She also cried aloud.  I felt her pussy spasming beneath my
fingertips.

Weeeeee-yahh!  Something else was severed, the bone screeched,
and then the material thumped away along the floor, thrown by the
powertool.

"Oh, god yes!" she screamed.  Hack!  Hack!  Hack!  Screech!  Thud.
"Yes, yes, yes," she cried.  She was very wet.

This went on forever.  When will it stop?

"Hey.  Hey."  I was being poked.  "Hey, Master of Darkness, get up."

I opened my eyes.  There she was, panting and sweaty before me.

"Hey, Mr. Satanic Secret Service, you missed a record-breaking
orgasm.  Amazing orgasms."

It wasn't a dream.  There she was, only an arm connected to a
head, with the deactivated powersaw in her remaining hand.  Her
grimy face smirked at me.

"That was probably the best you ever did for a woman, and there I
find you, passed out like a wuss.  Oh well, at least one of us got off,
right?"

I just stared down at her, shaking my head.  I wanted to cry.  What
did she do to herself?

"All right, Sourpuss, might as well finish the job," she chirped.

I kept shaking my head, devastated for her.

"What do you mean 'no,' Count Petticoat?" she blurted.  "I can't very
well go to work like this tomorrow, can I?  CAN I?"

I still shook my head.

"Well, all right then, let's finish up and call it a wrap."  She tossed
the saw into my lap, where it thudded heavily.  She winked at me
and clicked knowingly out of the corner of her mouth, adding, "I
could tell this was going to be my lucky night."

She whistled "A Spoonful of Sugar" while I fingered the handle and
stared incredulously.  I looked to heaven, so God could see my
tears, then clicked the saw to life, and did the deed.



Sunlight leaked in around the edges of the door when I finally nailed
the floorboard down.  I was going to retrieve the mop for yet another
good scrubbing, when I figured, Naw, no point, I'll have to burn it
down.

I hopped in the car, and returned with five gallons, with which I
splashed the rooms down.

When I entered the Vampyre's Lair, I heard a distinct scratching.  I
looked around, silently, ready to flee.  More scratching.  It was the
Ouiji board on the seance cardtable.  I moved closer.

The Ouiji pointer spelled words to me.

H-O-W-D-Y-P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S-O-F-E-V-I-L-T-H-A-T-W-A-S-I-N-C-R-
E-D-I-B-L-E-I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U

I was dumbfounded.

"Hm."  I shrugged my shoulders and walked out.

I struck the match, watching it burn.  Then I blew it out.  I bolted into
the trailer, back to the Vampyre's Lair.  I tucked the Ouiji board
under my arm, and stuffed the pointer in my pocket.  Outside, I lit
another match and finished the task, then drove straight, as far as I
could.


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