‘Twas a dark and stormy night,
and the Captain said to Joe,
“Joe, Joe, tell us a story!”
and this is what he said ….
It’s late on a Saturday in the week of Halloween. This year for the first time in ages, nobody knocked at my door for sweets. I’m not sorry as my own children are grown up, so I kept my house dark and undecorated.
I do love supernatural tales though, ghosts and otherworldy beings intrigue me and I enjoy being chilled spooked by them. This week’s selections of posts to share is predominantly Halloween themed too ~ Enjoy!
Nikki’s nosey neighbour gets quite an eye-full
Sign’s Halloween warning – to which I don’t want to pay attention as its so sexy!
Jay-Lyn is inspired by the “spooky” prompt, and created this chilling poem
Zebra Rose conjures up this intensely sexy short for the Halloween prompt
Floss takes a step back to re-evaluate her kinks (for now)
Molly mulls over her attitude to the allure of witches
Nicci advises on sexism in literature; writers/bloggers, let’s be sure we’re doing better
Always great with her images, LSB doesn’t disappoint with this one called Myself
Julie’s image is strong and positive, she has been on a harrowing journey yet retained a positivity and practicality which I truly admire – which’s epitomised in this image
One of my favourite dark, supernatural stories was crafted by Floss for Halloween last year, I had to savour it once again.
Chilling Me Softly : Posy Churchgate
(a competition entry from 2017)
…
I heard faint noises above me, and ventured into the hallway, where I detected cat paw-prints on the dusty stairs. I hugged my jacket around me, no match for the cold air, my nipples hardened painfully against my flannel shirt.
“Here kitty,” I called, trying to sound reassuring, climbing the creaking staircase.
All doors on the landing were closed, except one, so I pushed it wider and entered a once-grand, ornate bedroom. The windows had heavy curtains,, and the bed had wooden pillars draped with curtains, but everything was faded and decomposing, the old splendour cobwebby. I peered around, trying to locate the cat, calling all the time. It must be under furniture, so I bent down to peer under the fabric skirt around the bed.
“Who’ve you brought me kitty?” The voice in the chill air was eerie and whispery, my heart stuttered with surprise.
I tried to straighten up to face its owner, but their cold, steely grip held my shoulders down, unable to adjust my posture. My bum was in the air while my face was pressed into the musty, bed hangings. I was assaulted by a mixture of fear, shock, dread and embarrassment, I was exposed, my short skirt hitched up as I bent forward and I hated being held down.
I was startled by soft tickling, the touch of fur on my calves and, hearing a purr, I realised the cat was weaving round my legs. Then something cold trailed up the back of my legs and under my skirt. Icy fingers groped my buttocks before grabbing a handful of my fishnets to rip them, enlarging the snagged holes before insinuating chilly digits under my boy shorts. I was shocked and appalled, but those sneaking fingers stroked and teased my pussy and, embarrassingly, I realised I was wet.
I love temperature play, I frequently prepare my glass dildo in a bowl of ice cubes, and the chilly fingers probing at my snatch were delicious as they trailed through my dew covered folds, spreading moisture.
“I think our visitor likes this, kitty,” the whispery voice of my assailant was creepy but compelling.
I sucked in musty air with my face forced in the bedding, while my pussy was teased; one, then two fingers sliding insistently in and out of me, my heartbeat kicked up.
“Who are you?” I gasped.
“You wouldn’t understand.” …
If you want to read the whole story, visit this page of my blog
Here’s what I shared on Pillow Talk this week:
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Michael
p0sy
Jay-lyn Doerksen
Jupiter Grant