Hellish Halloween Harlot Harvest

The Hellish Horrors of the Halloween Harlot Harvest

I write to those who might believe my tale — and surely, understandably, most who read this will certainly not believe these words — so that others can be aware of the particular horrors upon which I incidentally stumbled in recent days. These experiences, so shocking that I can hardly believe them despite my firsthand knowledge of their truth, I feel nonetheless must be shared so that the rare person who has the fortitude to believe me can know of the uncanny existence that lives behind the veil of reality in the shadowed corners of our world.

My introduction to this hidden world came deep into Halloween night only months ago when my wife Selene and I were driving homeward. We had not long departed from a party where had gathered many of our friends from university, collected into an appropriately gothic mansion lately purchased by a particularly successful acquaintance of ours. Lightly costumed — she in subtly feline garb, and me in similarly subtle piratical clothes — we had adjourned well before midnight for the long journey home.

The directions were largely unfamiliar to us both, and though perhaps we had become lost it was difficult at the time to say for sure that we were truly lost, as it was hard to say with any surety that we ever knew the roads we had been following that night to begin with. A combination of my wife having had a small amount of drink, and I being unexpectedly tired by our bustling if sluggish time at the party, we were struggling together to maintain the right direction when Selene spotted the bonfire in the distance.

“Let’s go see what’s going on!” she said with a strange, weary excitement, pointing towards the flickering light that floated above a harvested cornfield along which we drove. “It looks more interesting than Paul’s house was. And probably warmer.”

Knowing not how accurate her words were, and accepting our directionless driving was serving neither of us, I turned down a small lane between the bare fields and aimed for what we quickly saw was a massive bonfire illuminating the landscape. As we approached, I began to see brief shadows flashing across the flame, unclear shapes that disappeared as quickly as I saw them, but which seemed vaguely human (if only in my projected memory of the sight).

When we parked at the side of that small lane, however, the bonfire seemed abandoned. With the headlights illuminating nothing more than furrowed soil, I turned off the car and let the firelight alone confirm that whatever celebration had been occurring there appeared to have ended well before our arrival.

We sat there quietly for a short while. I am not sure what exactly Selene was feeling at first; while I, though frustrated that no one was available to guide us towards any familiar highways, was also at that moment quite done with socializing and had already been unsure if I was ready to embark on an effort to endear myself to strangers.

What Selene ultimately felt, however, quickly became clear. Whether it was the atmosphere of that lonely nighttime bonfire, the privacy we felt in that dark and empty field, the warm glow of the alcohol in her system, the dark magic of that place, or some combination of all these inputs, I suddenly felt Selene’s hand touching at my thigh, gently at first, until she had reached her way to my as-yet unprepared member. Once found, her gentle searching became an eager groping, rubbing my soft flesh vigorously through my pants until the flesh was quickly hard and the pants overtight.

I looked over at her in the shifting glow of the firelight, catching a wicked smile on her face, her dark pink lipstick curling upward as she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to work with both hands, undoing my zipper and leaning downward to pull me free. My skin met the cool air only briefly before she had trapped me once more, now burying me deep within her mouth, a satisfied moan escaping her as she felt my excitement continuing to build against her eager tongue.

No longer concerned with our driving “mistakes,” I settled back in my seat, gathering up her dark brown hair in one hand and reaching under her body to unzip the front of her catsuit with the other. I reached beneath her bra and cupped her breast as it bounced in my hand, as her head bounced on my lap, as the firelight bounced through our car and lit the carnal sight my wife had initiated.

Undecided as always when my wife offered her mouth to me, I had begun to wonder at the most efficient way of freeing her from her catsuit and whether the fire was warm enough for us to take our activities outside. Selene seemed to have been having similar thoughts, because after a few minutes of indulging my cock with her tongue she sat up and slid the catsuit off her shoulders, her black bra standing out starkly against her tanned skin as she began to speak.

I did not hear what she said, however, because as she sat up and I was looking across the car at her rather than down at my lap, I saw that we were no longer alone.

Though surely I was quite distracted, it seemed unlikely, even at the time, that the woman standing beside the passenger’s window could have so easily snuck up on us. Her hair thick, black, and wild, her face narrow, her gaze intense, all of these alone would have been attention-grabbing; but with her being completely nude, leaning against the car with her large breasts rising ahead of her, and with her eyes glowing a faint yellow, it seemed impossible that I should have missed her approach.

And based on the look crossing my wife’s face, I had the growing understanding that she was having the very same revelation as she looked over my shoulder.

The door opened behind me. I gave a startled cry as I turned in that direction, but startlement turned to stark confusion as I suddenly felt the cold air on my wet cock disappear behind a swift heat settling onto my lap.

Looking down, another head, with hair as dark and tangled as the woman behind my wife, had practically thrown itself onto my cock and was frantically twisting and bouncing on it with hungry grunting sounds. My head swam at the nymphomaniacal attack, the feral sucking unlike anything I had ever felt. In that first instant I looked down the toned back that was shifting bodily to aid the frantic blowjob I was receiving, around the breasts bulging out from beneath her chest and against my thigh, down further to the curved ass sticking out of the car, all across the woman slung across me kneeling in the dirt to do her filthy deeds.

In the second instant I looked up at my wife, seeing her wide-eyed and confused in the moment before the door behind her flew open as well. The woman who I had seen standing behind Selene shoved my wife forward so that she landed partially on my lap, her weight forcing the strange head on my cock down even further. Despite the sudden weight, despite the gagging depths to which I was pressed, the woman sucking my cock did not stop or even slow in her attentions, not even as my wife’s body was jostled by the woman who had shoved her. I watched in confusion as the woman I had first witnessed grabbed at my wife’s catsuit, dragging it down over her hips until my wife’s black underwear was revealed. The woman did not stop there, grabbing the underwear and forcibly tearing it from Selene’s hips, leaving it in tatters around her thighs.

It was only in that brief moment that I saw the long, sharp nails that my wife’s disrober had on every finger. Before I could consider this further, however, the woman had thrown herself between my wife’s legs as eagerly as the woman on my lap had thrown herself onto my dick. I watched in nervous excitement as the wild woman’s mouth clamped onto my wife’s pussy, completely enveloping it and — if my wife’s sudden transition from protesting to moaning was any indication — skillfully applying her tongue to my wife’s clit.

Selene was in no position to make eye contact with me, but as her moans increased it didn’t seem we needed eye contact or words to agree that we were going to happily let happen to us the sinful acts these women had forced upon our well-primed bodies.

And as I sat there, three women pressing against me in a pile of uninhibited sexual delight, I saw that there were more people than just our carful out there in the field. There were entangled bodies all around the bonfire, gathered in all numbers, from a woman on her back with her legs spread towards the fire as she fingered herself with furious abandon, up through women looped together in twos, threes, fours, even up to a group of six working together to form ouroboros loops of oral pleasure.

My wife and I could easily have accepted the offerings from these aggressive, wordless women all the way to their intended end, reaching climax in the front seats of our car and driving with dazed satisfaction until we found our way home, likely to hardly believe the experience together. Perhaps we would have used this unexpected opportunity to explore new avenues in our marriage; perhaps by the following October, instead of a stiff, cold Halloween party with old college acquaintances we would have been participating in a fluid, hot Halloween orgy with new partners.

But then, swept up in the pleasures being doted upon her, Selene bumped into the steering wheel and hit the car horn.

The women pleasuring us did not slow down; in fact, they seemed to hasten their tongues against our bodies. The women in the field were a different story, though; almost all of them leapt from their positions in the field and turned to stare at the car, eyes wide and glowing in the silhouettes of the nude female forms lined up in front of us. Balls tightening, feeling the pressure of impending release, I did nothing at first, not wanting to interrupt what seemed inevitable at that moment.

I said nothing still as the women in the field began to approach the car. As they neared, every large breast bare, every pussy with a small tuft of attention-grabbing hair, every face set in a lustfully hungry stare, I began to feel the first hints of trepidation. I rested my hand on my wife’s back, a first stroke of effort to get her attention, but still said nothing as the women circled the car.

When the woman licking Selene’s pussy was dragged from the car and thrown into the field, it was clear I didn’t have to say anything. By the time Selene had pushed herself up to figure out what had happened, two more women had dove into the car, tongues out and reaching for the wet spot between Selene’s legs. They got their licks in, but began to fight one another on top of Selene, pushing and shoving to get their mouths against her even as more women began to grab these two and fight to drag them from the car.

The same tussle began to happen on my side of the car, the woman getting tugged away from my lap, sucking harder as though the suction itself could hold her to my cock, her desperate last-ditch effort nearly enough to get me off right then. But her lips gave way, flying off of me and leaving me briefly bare before two mouths found their way to me as well, kissing and licking and spitting in the few hectic seconds before they were replaced by one more, then two more, each taking their turns trying to suck my cock through the doorway before getting torn away and almost immediately replaced with another ready mouth.

Less physically but more mentally satisfying, I would have let this go on until every woman in that field had had a taste of my cock. Not as fervently moaning as she was before, Selene still seemed to be enjoying the attention as well.

Then the real fighting started.

Then I realized that all of these women had the same long claws on their fingers.

Then I realized that the mouths that had been pleasuring us were full not only of wet, erotic flesh but also shockingly large and sharp teeth that had masterfully been avoiding our sensitive areas. As the fighting began, however, I began to get brushes of those claws against my thighs, brushes of those teeth against my most tender areas, and realized that our anonymous erotic dalliance was putting us in danger.

Selene realized it too, and though she did not speak it, she also didn’t protest as I turned the car back on. There was guttural, formless shouting from all sides as I began to back the car away, hands reaching in and clawing at us as we backed up onto the road, one last pair of lips managing to caress the head of my cock even as I put the car into drive and started speeding down the road.

Glancing into the rearview mirror, seeing the glowing eyes and sensual shapes of the women running after us, it didn’t occur to me immediately that I was not driving back the way from which we had come. In fact, as we only slowly managed to outpace our pursuers, I did not realize it until we had already pulled into the small village.

In hindsight, the architecture was peculiar, medieval almost, with all the lighting once again coming from a bonfire in the center of the town square and candles lit in every window. There didn’t seem to be any doors, either, only wide-open doorways through which the townspeople wandered freely in the night.

Townspeople being, of course, a misnomer, for as far as I could see there were only women wandering through the village. They were all pale with dark hair, skin perfectly smooth down to the hairless pussies on every woman, with occasional strips of black leather lashed haphazardly across various bits and pieces of their otherwise nude, nubile bodies.

Having comported herself in the beside me once more as best she could with almost all of her clothing now missing or destroyed, Selena stared just as widemouthed as me at the sea of perky breasts and full, red lips that our headlights illuminated. “What the hell is this place?” she asked in a daze.

“I don’t know,” I said with a shake of my head, hand straying across my lap to find my cock still exposed and hard as I watched the women of this village caught up in their own party. Everywhere we looked, women were passionately kissing each other, bodies pressed tightly together as their hands wandered into every needy nook and cranny. Much like in the field, women were licking each other’s clits on the street, resting against the building, sitting on benches, or lying on blankets. I could see women bent over the town square’s fountain as partners’ fingers pumped furiously between their spread thighs.

And then I looked up, above the square, near the fire, and saw to my horror women floating in the sky, forming the sorts of cunning circles I had seen women constructing in the field, only now slowly spinning in the air high above. Between these circles more floating women had their pussies pressed together, legs snaked around each other as they gracefully grinded themselves to midair orgasm.

“I-I… is this real?” I remember asking aloud. It seemed a fairy tale dream, a fantastical locale with no place outside of the most secret literature, and I could not fully accept that I was there living within its borders.

My wife did not respond to the question. Beside me, I caught a brief motion from the corner of my eye, and looked just in time to see her remove her bra. Her nipples were hard, her skin flushed, and she was practically panting in the seat beside me. I opened my mouth, unsure what questions might come next, but before I could utter a sound my wife had thrown open the door and hurried out of the car.

As I followed her exit with my eyes, I saw a woman standing in front of the fire staring towards the car. It was this woman, her hips perfectly curved, her breasts perfectly poised, her entire being flawless in the night, towards which my wife ran. Without a word of greeting Selena had wrapped herself around this perfect creature, their lips flowing together as their hips strove to join.

With tacit permission given, I opened the door and stepped out of the car, unsure how to proceed. Clearly, my wife had made a connection with a woman in this crowd, and in the last crowd I couldn’t have avoided the blowjob I got if I had tried, but in this village of women uninhibitedly performing sapphic deeds on the streets, could I find my own tryst to partake in?

The answer, with almost no time needed to worry over the question, was an explicit yes. By the time I had closed the car door behind me, I found two women with straight black hair kneeling in front of me and pulling my pants down with as much introduction as my wife appeared to have received from her companion. With smiles on their faces these two women began gently kissing my hard, pulsing shaft, one softly fondling my balls while the other massaged the space just behind them. I nearly fell back against the car with the power of their unhesitating onslaught, having to brace myself as I felt a surge of adrenaline run through my veins.

Seeming to read my body with perfect acumen, as soon as I felt I could burst across those two sinful faces they stopped their work, standing and each wrapping an arm around my back. Confused, I looked back and forth between them as they guided me away from the car. When I considered speaking up, the one on my right reached over and gave my cock a slow tug, stopping my mouth open as she reminded me of the virtue of silence.

My two guides stopped our trio by the roaring fire, the heat washing over me just shy of uncomfortable. They took my shirt off and threw it into the fire. I watched it burn disinterestedly as I was guided down onto a bench and pressed onto my back on a soft, welcoming cushion.

Surrounded by the carnival atmosphere of moaning women, those two women shared my cock in a blowjob to match the one I had received in the car, less frantic but more skilled as they stirred sensations the likes of which I had never imagined possible. Then they took turns riding me as the revelry around us continued unabated, the heat from the fire washing over us and stirring in me an even greater heat than I could have possibly expected.

Perhaps if the friends I had made in college had not grown up to throw such genteel parties as we had experienced earlier that evening, I would have had experience with psychedelics and would have been better prepared for the myriad of unrelenting sensations that followed. The words I can use do little justice to what I experienced. Surely, there were the “common” things such as a series of anonymous women straddling me on that bench and riding me with firm, purposeful movements of their hips. There were women similarly straddling my face, pressing their clits to my tongue so I could taste the uncannily sweet flavors of their pussies. There were pussies wrapped themselves around my fingers, and blowjobs performed by as few as one and as many as four women at a time.

But there were stranger things, too. There were spectral women whose bodies slid into mine and pleasured me from within. There was a flurry as a rush of wild women from the cornfields burst into the village and a pile of naked women stacked up all around me, burying me in writhing, sliding skin lit only by the glowing yellow eyes within the mound. There was the time — brief and infinite — in which the world went black and I felt my entire body become as innervated as my virgin cock, every cell teetering on the edge of an orgasm that I knew would have reduced me to dust, before I was brought back to the fire. There was the woman, her skin a dark red, her black hair barely hiding two petite horns, her large and perky breasts barely hiding two small wings peeking out over her shoulders, riding me and whispering in my ear, “Give yourself to me” over and over again. There were more utterly indescribable experiences throughout, things too baffling or too shocking or even sometimes too embarrassing to utter here.