If you read the description for the 2021 movie, Seance, you might think you have seen this film before. A group of young ladies at a boarding school perform a seance. Most of the girls think it is just a prank to scare another girl but when that girl dies, they start wondering if they really called something up that they shouldn’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if I could find three movies that have the same plot right at this very moment on Netflix.
But Seance has a secret weapon and that secret is the writer, Simon Barrett. He wrote You’re Next, a typical movie about strangers trying to murder a family in the house, except they don’t realize one of the people in the house had a psycho dad who trained her to survive anything and she goes Rambo on the killer’s poor asses.
Simon also wrote The Guest, about a creepy guy who visits a family and claims he served overseas with their dead family member. Just when you think the guest is going to murder everyone, you find out he is part of some super-soldier program and is actually there to protect them from others.
Which brings us back to the Seance. Yes, it starts just like a lot of horror movies do but then it goes differently. Because of the nature of the movie, telling you how would be spoilers but I will say this, it was a lot of fun watching it play out. If you like ghosts, a mostly all-girl cast, an ever shrinking cast and twists that stand up to scrutiny afterwards, then this is the movie for you.
Besides, you are going to watch at least one of these “Calling the dead is a bad idea” movies this Halloween. Watch the good one, Seance.
Greetings mortals!It is your favorite nightmare, come to ride you like a mare! Yes, it is me, Suckubeth. With me for all eternity and then some, is my Flaming-Skull-on-a-Stick, Burny.
“Flee mortals! This demon is part of a network of sexual demons who collect erotica readers in order to-“
“Now, now, Burny.Don’t be giving spoilers! As for you mortals, I hope you brought your comfort blanket because I have terrifying story for you today. It involves a secret orgy, family in peril and a sexy wicked clown.”
“A sexy clown? Are there no limits to your depravity?”
“Sweet Vincent Price, I hope not! That is enough talking. Read on, mortals.”
I awoke sometime around 3am. It wasn’t clear who had awakened me. The only clue I had was that my cock was as hard as a rock, but I couldn’t remember any dreams that might explain my erection.
Memories of the day seeped in. It was Halloween. My wife, Carol, had taken the kids out and I had stayed home to man the door. It had been a busy night of kids and teens and one pair of costumed adults. The kids came home, had their one piece of candy and then then reluctantly went to sleep. Carol and I passed out shortly after.
Carol snored quietly. I laid in bed, trying to will my erection away and go back to sleep. It wasn’t happening.
Something felt wrong. It was hard to explain. There was a problem in the house and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to deal with it. You get these vibes sometimes when you’re a parent. It is like a sixth sense that more often than not, tends to be accurate.
Well, I wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep until I checked everything out. I got out of bed. My dick poked a tent in my boxers. I put on a robe in case one of the kids saw me. As quietly as I could, I slipped out of the bedroom.
Two nightlights glowed from two bedrooms. Dim light from the living room below illuminated the stairs. The light came some Halloween lights that Carol strung up. She loved this holiday.
I checked the kids first. They were both asleep. Feeling a little foolish, I debated going to the trouble of checking the locks on the front and back door. The paranoid feeling won out and I decided to go down the stairs.
Halfway down the stairs, I froze. Shapes moved in the dim light of the living room. Lots of them.
My eyes adjusted and the shapes became bodies. People writhed on top of one another. Someone in a lion costume fucked a woman dressed as a ringleader over the back of our couch. An immensely large woman sat on the faces of two men as they stroked their hard cocks. Three women dressed in harem silks kissed each other in a lesbian tangle of limbs.
“What th-“ I said before a hand clamped over my mouth. Something sharp touched the side of my neck.
“No, no, no,” someone whispered in my ear. It was a woman’s voice, though very high-pitched. “Not a single sound or I will poke your neck and make you spray blood like a fire hose. Do you want that?”
Very carefully, I shook my head.
“Good boy,” the voice said. “Now slip your robe off so I can check you for weapons. Slow-ly.”
I did as the voice commanded. The sharp point at the side of my neck was great motivation. I opened my robe and rolled my shoulders, letting it slip down my back.
“Good, now stand still and be very quiet,” the voice said. Soft tits topped with hard nipples pressed into my back. The hand moved away from my mouth and patted down my chest, my belly and then the boxers. Soft fingers squeezed the bulge that was still down there.
“Whoa, I should call you Pokey,” the voice said. She held onto my erection.
A few seconds passed. The orgy continued below me in the living room. The unknown woman squeezed my dick a few times and then reached into my boxers. She pulled my erection through the narrow fold of the cloth.
The point at my neck never moved.
“It sure is a shame that you woke up, Mister,” the voice said. “Your house was picked for this year’s party and we plan to fuck all night. I won’t tell you how we picked your house but you should be more careful about what pictures post on social medial. You are just lucky that I am on guard duty right now. If BeerCan Pete had found you, well, things would have gotten a little messy.”
“Please, just-“ I said before the sharp point dug deeper into my skin.
“Naughty, naughty,” the voice said. “I said be quiet. This isn’t a negotiation. If you say another word, I will cut you, and Mister, I don’t even want to say what will happen to the rest of your family. Trust me, it will be bad. In fact, why don’t you turn around and take a look at me.”
I didn’t want to but I didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t easy rotating on the stairs but I did. The sharp point stayed where it was, slowly tracing the circumference of my throat as I turned.
A dark woman stood in front of me. She had white paint around her eyes and mouth. A red ball covered her nose. Bright red lipstick adorned full lips. Large brown breasts stood at attention with white paint on her aureoles but her black nipples were unadorned. Frizzy blue hair that might have been a wig crowned her head. She was naked except for a blue G-string that sparkled.
It was a clown. I was held hostage by a clown.
In her hand was a long kitchen knife. It was one of ours, but it was far sharper than I remembered. It was unsettling to think about why she felt the need to sharpen it.
“Hi Pokey,” the clown whispered. “My name is Queefy. I just want to ask you one question but don’t say anything. Do I look like the kind of psycho who would murder you and your family?”
I nodded my head.
Queefy smiled. “Good,” she whispered. “Good answer, Pokey. Now turn back around and sit down on the steps.”
I did as she asked. My heart was pounding so hard that my ears were almost ringing. I squatted down and planted my butt on one of the steps.
Something happened behind me. The stairs creaked as Queefy shifted her weight. I wasn’t sure what it was and I sure as fuck wasn’t turning around to look.
The orgy continued downstairs. A man wearing an elephant mask was pushing his impossibly thick cock into the ass of a woman wearing a sparkly gymnast leotard. Another clown woman, naked except for her suspenders was standing on one of our end tables and was sucking the dick of a man standing in stilts. The three women in harem clothes had shifted into a tight triangle of mutual pussy-eating.
Queefy sat down behind me. Both of her heavy breasts rested on my shoulders. She brought her arm around my chest and tapped the knife against my chest.
“This year’s theme is the circus,” Queefy said. “I think I like being a clown. All these crazy ideas in my head just feel more natural than they usually do. Maybe I should be a clown all year. What do you think?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Oh right, I told you to shut up,” Queefy said. “Wow, that was close, Pokey. I almost killed your family just because of my own question.”
A shudder went through me.
“Let’s see if you can stay quiet,” she whispered.
Both legs swung around my hips. With incredible agility, she brought her feet to my lap. The arches of her foot slid together to trap my dick between them.
I bit my tongue to keep from groaning. Queefy clamped her hand over my mouth again. Maybe she was trying to help me.
Queefy hummed. It was a familiar tune but I couldn’t place it. Maybe it was something I heard at a circus once.
The clown’s feet moved up and down. My dick looked so pale between her brown feet. She wiggled her shoulders, making her plump breasts jiggle against the sides of my head.
I moaned into her hand.
“Feels a little dry,” Queefy said. She took her hand off my mouth and her right knee turned at an incredible angle to bring the side of her foot to my mouth. The foot smelled like leather.
“Lick, Pokey,” Queefy said. “Get it nice and slick.”
I spat on her foot. It was insane but I did it. I slobbered onto her foot with all the spit that I had.
Queefy lowered her damp foot and brought it back down to my cock. The spit felt wonderful as she pressed it into my hardness. She twisted her left foot to my mouth with her contortionist skills and I licked her offered foot without being told.
“You are a fast learner, Pokey,” Queefy whispered. “Not at all like last year’s host, Mr. Dead-Dead. Not like him at all.”
A sob escaped my lips but I kept licking. My heart was pounding harder. A tension headache started and I worried about my blood pressure. I doubt Queefy would let me get my pills.
The clown returned her wet foot to my cock. Now both of them clamped together around my hard length. Up and down they went, stroking me tighter and swifter than any handjob I have ever had.
I moaned again into Queefy’s hand. The twin weight of her breasts on my shoulders were distracting.
“You’re starting to get loud, Pokey,” Queefy said. “I am having too much fun to stop now for a murder spree. Give me a sec.”
Queefy laid the knife in my lap; the blade so damn close to my cock. Her feet kept stroking me. Every motion of her feet made me paranoid that she was going to cut my dick.
She kept one hand over my mouth while the other hand did something behind me. I thought about grabbing the knife but only for a few seconds. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she was able to grab the knife with her feet and stab me.
And then she would stab Carol. Anything after that was too terrible to contemplate.
“Open wide,” Queefy said, taking her hand from my mouth.
My mouth popped open. It was embarrassing how quick I was to obey. She brought her hand around and I caught sight of something blue, sparkly and with strings. Queefy crammed it into my mouth.
The taste of pussy, cotton candy and spandex filled my mouth. It was Queefy’s G-string! She was gagging me with her underwear.
Queefy snatched up her knife from my lap. Her feet never stopped stroking me. She used her free hand to tap me on the nose as she talked.
“Wow, look at them go at it,” Queefy whispered. “See that girl getting choked by the guy dressed as a lion tamer while they fuck? Those two are the nicest kidnappers you will ever meet. That clown chick with the strap-on? The things I have seen her cram up a man’s ass would give you nightmares. Oh, keep an eye on the sword-swallower getting stuffed at both ends! That little guy with the red hat is going to see if he can get his dick in that ass. Oh neat! He did it on his first try!
I barely watched the orgy. My attention was on the feet around my cock. The spit was starting to dry but I felt like I was about to come at any moment.
“This is getting me hot and gooey,” Queefy whispered. “I hate guard duty but I did have the lowest number of kills this year. Fucking pandemic. Hey Pokey, want to help a clown out?”
I nodded my head. All I wanted was to keep her happy.
“Goody!” Queefy said. “Now don’t move a muscle.”
The clown parted her legs and her feet left my pulsing cock. She rose up from behind me and her heavy tits left my shoulders. I watched in silence as she climbed down to my step and straddled my hips. Knife in one hand, and my cock in the other, she guided me into her the smooth lips of her pussy.
Wet tightness sheathed my cock. She sank down onto my lap. She took one hand and placed it on a large brown breast. My fingers instinctively squeezed.
“Honk,” Queefy whispered. She placed the knife at my neck and smiled. The white paint around her mouth stretched her smile into something inhuman.
The clown fucked me on the stairs of my house. The carpeted step burned my ass. The sharp angle of the steps made my back ache.
Queefy didn’t care. She bounced up and down on my dick. I held onto one painted breast while the other jumped and flopped. The light from the living room formed a sinister halo around her frizzy blue hair.
“Ha,” Queefy repeated with every drop on my cock. I have never heard someone grunt in a whisper. Was it an act or just some weird thing she did naturally?
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
I bit down on the G-string in my mouth to keep from crying out. Sparkles came loose and swam in my mouth. The smell of pussy filled my lings.
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
There was the tiniest groan from the orgy in the living room. It was quickly silenced.
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
Queefy bounced like she was riding a toy. Well, I guess she was. My cock and lap were just another plaything to her.
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
The knife point wiggled against my neck. I felt something warm trickle down my skin. Was I bleeding? What happens if she gets too excited and the knife slips?
“I’m going to cream, Pokey,” Queefy said. “I’m going to cream on your hard little pokey. Rub my little clitty bang-bang!”
Queefy pulled my hand from painted tit and placed it on her pussy lips. I quickly searched with my thumb and found the hard nub of her clitoris. My thumb rubbed up and down as she bounced.
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Queefy grunted. She pulled the knife from my throat and just held it by her side. The force of her humping sent both tits bouncing in different directions.
“I want you to cream too, Pokey,” she said. “Cream inside my clown twat and I will carry your spunk around until someone eats it out of me.”
I rubbed the clown clit harder. She bounced faster on my dick. The stairs creaked from our fucking. I worried it might wake someone up.
“Come when I hit zero, pokey,” Queefy whispered. “Ten. Nine. Eight.”
Holy shit, was that possible? Do people really climax on demand like that? What if I fail?
I tried to stare at Queefy’s brown tits and white auroles, but my eyes refused to leave that sharp knife.
“Five, Two, One!”
Shit, she skipped numbers!”
“Three-quarters. One half, four-tenths.”
The insane clown was fucking with me. My life and the lives of my family were at stake and she was fucking with me. All the while, her tight cunt bounced on my cock.”
“One-eighth, ZERO!” Queefy gasped.
She stopped bouncing. Her pussy spasmed around my sensitive cock. She pressed the flat of her knife against her breasts and shuddered on my cock.
Mercifully, I climaxed. My teeth grinded against the G-string in my mouth as I fought to keep from crying out. Without thinking, I grabbed her ass and held on as I rode out my pleasure.
“Whoa, Pokey,” Queefy said. “That is a lot of cream you put up in there. I can feel it filling me up like a fire hose. You should wack off every once in a while.”
I said nothing but I did let go of her ass.
“Okay, Pokey,” Queefy said. “My turn at guard duty is almost up and you have been a good sport. It would be a shame to kill you and burn down your house. If I let you go back to bed, do you promise to stay there and not say a word?
I nodded with enthusiasm.
“Okay-doke,” Queefy said. She suddenly stood up. My cock slipped out of her slippery pussy. She bent over and I was distracted by her heavy hanging breasts until she pressed her fingers to my lips. I opened my mouth and she pulled out her G-string.
“Oh goody, you got them nice and wet,” Queefy said. “Now go get in bed and remember, stay there until at least sunrise. I also don’t have to tell you not to tell anyone right?”
I shook my head.
“Good, Pokey,” Queefy said. “Sleep tight!”
She turned around and walked down the staircase. I grabbed my robe and quickly ascended back to the second floor. The stairs creaked as someone much heavier climbed the steps.
I didn’t look back as I hurried back to bed.
“I do love a story that teaches a lesson. Remember mortals, when you hear something in the house at night, it might be better to let it be.”
“Unless you are really horny.”
“Burny,I am surprised you are offering good advice on dangerous sex.”
“Well, I figure it you got a crazed killer in your house, you might as well see if you can get some before possibly dying.”
“We might need to see if we can make that advice into a t-shirt. Let’s see what these readers do tonight when they hear something from the living room. As for the mortals that survive, I will catch your souls later.
Ice Cream Man is a horror comic that is a bit hard to describe. Yes, there is an Ice Cream Man and on my Goddess, you never want to meet him, but he is not quite the star of the comic. The star is whatever poor soul intersects the Ice Cream Man and has their life hijacked by terrible circumstances. These ordeals range in flavors from unexpected poison spiders to full blown cosmic reality horror in self-contained stories that last a single issue.
But the main characters don’t always suffer. Well, they suffer for awhile, but for a horror series, there are flashes of mercy. Some people grow. Some learn something about themselves. There is a ton of heart in these stories, and it is the heart that makes the horror hit so hard when it just flattens some poor schmuck who maybe deserves exactly what they get.
Which brings us back to the Ice Cream Man himself. What the fuck is he? It is unclear. what we do know is that he is a wicked entity that enjoys his work. There is something mythical about him and the existential dread that follows him puts a lot of other so-called cosmic terrors to shame.
The biggest compliment I can give Ice Cream Man is something that happened to me last month. I was reading another comic from another company and an ice cream truck was in the background. The feeling of sinking doom I felt from spotting it was incredible. It really hit home how iconic this series is that it crept me out in other media.
If you are looking for the best horror anthology comic around, and you love real emotions in your horror, then you need to take a lick of the Ice Cream Man.
Zombies! They are a bit played out right now. Who wants to see another bunch of morose people debating whether they should kill sweet Sara now that she has been bitten? Or even worse, another zombie story where the real monsters are the living assholes? I deal with greedy assholes every day, let the zombies be the monsters!
Don’t worry about that in Zombie Night Terror because you play the zombies, not those depressing survivors. You control a group of mindless hordes as they try to break into fortified locations and eat all the delicious people inside. To help you, you will be able to mutate the zombies into various classes like crawlers, overlords and big muscle boys.
And the zombies are really going to need your help because they are dumb as lemmings. Seriously, zombies go in one direction unless they hit a wall, in which they will turn around and walk the other direction. These dumb asses will gladly walk into a machine gun, fire, electrical traps and elevator shafts. You have a limited amount of zombie DNA to guide them and a finite number of zombies.
This compelling arrangement turns every level in a puzzle. How can I get a zombie onto the second story to take out the cannibal? What kind of zombie am I going to need to take down the crime boss? Is there a way to trap these teleporting DJs?
As you can tell, this is not a very serious game although the puzzles can be quite hard. The level selection screen sets the tone by displaying the game as a movie marathon at a sketchy theater. Every mission has some sort of Easter egg or reference to television and movies. Heck, you get to fight a robot from the future while clearing out a polices station. It is the zombie/Terminator mashup you never knew you needed.
This is a fun game for people who like a lot of horror in their puzzle games. It is well wroth the low price.
“Greetings mortals! It is I, Suckubeth, that demon queen who makes you scream, and scream and scream! I have returned after six long years to haunt this blog and bring you more sexy terror. With me as always is my Flaming-Skull-on-a-stick, Burny!”
“The seals have been broken and the rites have been forgotten! Run for your lives, mortals! Go read something wholesome for your soul, like that cookbook your mother passive-aggressively gave you!”
“Hush, Burny. These people miss me. The only horror they have had was a big orange guy with a mushroom dick. They are starving for something more salty, savory and sweet.”
“Oh dear, now I am hungry. I didn’t know a burning skull could get hungry.”
“Save that appetite because I have a story that will fill your stomach and your other needs. Read on, mortals.”
Emma hunched behind the decrepit counter. Her friends did the same. she did a quick head count. Oh God, there was only six of them left.
They never should have never picked the abandoned Eastside Mall for the Halloween party. Jacob should have never rented the generator to power up the food court. Olivia should have never brought her Ouija board.
Someone, or something, walked among the tables of the food court. It wore an ugly jumpsuit that had been stained grey with God knows what. On its head was a phallic looking mask. It carried a large club painted like a sausage in one hand, and dragged the dead body of Aidan in the other. It slowly dragged the body towards one of the empty restaurants and into the back kitchen.
“Who is that dickhead?” Kaitlyn whispered.
“You don’t know about Sausage Joe?” Ryan said. “He killed a bunch of people in the 90’s.”
“I don’t like history,” Kaitlyn said. It was true. Emma was pretty sure that Kaitlyn didn’t like math, science or biology either. The only thing that girl cared about was anatomy, preferably, but not exclusively, male.
“Why does he wear that stupid mask? It looks like a dick,” Kaitlyn asked.
“He was a mascot for a sausage store here in the mall,” Matthew said. He knew all the gory stories. “He wore that stupid outfit and people picked on him all the time. One day he snapped and killed a bunch of teens in the parking lot. He ground them all up for sausages.”
“Ewww,” Kaitlyn said. “Why didn’t the police arrest him?”
“Because they shot him dead,” Tyler said. “And I would too if Hailey didn’t make me leave my gun in the parking lot.”
“You don’t bring a gun to a party, Tyler,” Hailey snapped. “Don’t you watch the news?”
“Well maybe you bring a gun to an abandoned mall that keeps having serial killer attacks!” Tyler snapped.
“Wait,” Kaitlyn said. “You said he was shot dead. Is this someone else?”
“Well, no one knows for sure,” Matthew continued. Despite the danger, Emma could see him smiling in the darkness. “Every couple of years, Sausage Joe, or someone that dresses like him, attacks people in or around the mall. He has been doing this for years.”
“Why the fuck do people keep coming here?” Kaitlyn asked. “Fuck, why did we come here?”
“It is the only place in town the police don’t come to,” Ryan said. “If you want a party, and you don’t have someone’s house to use, this is the go-to place. I mean, it’s not like he kills everyone who comes here.”
Emma frowned. That sort of short-sighted thinking is why she broke up with Ryan when they were younger. He never thought bad things could happen to him.
“Usually, he kills a dozen people and then stops,” Matthew said. “No one know why he stops at twelve. Some people say it is because he makes sausages out of their bodies, and a dozen sausages is what you used to get with one of the bucket meal deals.”
“Hold on,” Emma said. “We saw him kill Aidan, Olivia and Joshua just now when we tried to escape through the doors.”
“When did he have time to put the fucking chains on the doors?” Tyler asked.
“It’s not important,” Emma said. “That’s three. He killed Isabella and Hannah back at the dried up water fountain, so that’s five.”
“And we haven’t seen Sarah and Nicholas since the séance,” Ryan added.
“That was a bad fucking idea,” Tyler snickered.
“That is seven,” Emma said. “Shit, he’s nowhere near twelve people.”
“There’s another way to make him go away,” Matthew said. “Sausage Joe was kind of an incel before incels were a thing. Some people have tried fucking him and that makes him go away.”
“Bullshit,” Tyler said.
“No, it’s true,” Hailey said. “My Aunt Lydia said that one of her friends fucked Sausage Joe when he attacked them one Fourth of July. After that, he left even though he had only killed one of them,”
“I heard a similar story,” Ryan said. “Except it was a gay guy who sucked off Sausage Joe during a Christmas massacre. He’s not picky.”
“Well, I am not sucking off some killer,” Tyler said. “I’d rather be a sausage. Kaitlyn should do it, she’s the slut in the group.”
“Fuck you, Tyler,” Hailey said. “God, I can’t believe we’re dating. Kaitlyn is allowed to be as promiscuous as she wants.”
“Actually, I’m still a virgin,” Kaitlyn said. “I just read a lot of smut online and tell those stories so people will think I am cool. I am so sorry that I lied to you guys!”
“Shit, he’s out again!” Ryan said.
The six people peeked over the counter. Sausage Joe had his club over his shoulder as he walked to one of the other abandoned restaurants. He looked behind the counter and then moved to the next one. There were only two more empty stores to check, and then a wide hallway to the rest of the mall before he reached their location.
Emma looked at her friends. Kaitlyn whimpered. No wait, that was Tyler. They had all seen how fast Sausage Joe was at killing. The doors to the food court were how they got into the mall and now they are chained up. If they wanted to run for it, it meant running through a dark empty mall at night praying that they could find a way out.
Shit, Emma didn’t want her friends to die. Matthew was creepy with his interest in murder but he also snuck her R-rated DVDs when they were kids. Hailey had terrible choice in boys but they got through eight books of that vampire romance series together. Kaitlyn helped her buy her first dildo. Ryan was her first kiss, sext and handjob.
As for Tyler, well, fuck Tyler.
Sausage Joe inspected the old doughnut place. It was the last store on that side of the food court. Kaitlyn was hugging Matthew. Tyler was quietly sneaking into the back kitchen. Hailey was praying. Ryan licked his lips, as if trying to screw up the courage to do something.
“I’ll do it,” Emma said.
Ryan grabbed her hand. “Em, no!”
Emma pulled her hand free. To his credit, Ryan didn’t hold on. He always did respect her.
Sausage Joe came out of the doughnut place. He paused and then walked towards the store they were hiding at. The painted club was by his side and he took a few practice swings as he came closer.
When he was about twenty feet away, Emma stood up. “Hey, Sausage Joe. I heard you like pussy.”
Sausage Joe stopped in his tracks. He put the club over his shoulder. The ridiculous sausage mask bobbed as he nodded his head.
Emma’s heart was pounding as she came around the counter. None of her friends tried to stop her. She walked across the food court under flickering lights. A large blood stain was in her way and she walked around it.
Something crashed behind Emma. It sounded like a bunch of pans. Sausage Joe flinched and lifted his club. He stomped towards Emma. No, not her, towards her friends!
Emma acted fast. She pulled her blouse off to reveal the lacy black bra she wore in case someone cute showed up. “Hey dickheard, look, tits!”
Sausage Joe stopped in his tracks. He turned slowly towards her. She really regretted calling him dickhead. It was that stupid hat. It really did look like an ugly dick.
Fortunately, Sausage Joe set his club down on a dusty table. He reached for Emma and grabbed a bra-covered breast. His rough fingers sunk in and squeezed.
Emma winced. His hands were cold and his grip was really strong. He crushed her breast in one hand and then let go to crush the other. Back and forth he went, squeezing her tits with his left hand while his right hand hung by his side.
Sausage Joe pawed the bra cup. He was trying to pull it off. His fingers sunk in and tore the cup right off the garment. Emma cried out as he did the same to the other cup.
“Juicy,” Sausage Joe groaned. It sounded like a grinder chewing through meat.
He grabbed her right breast and squeezed again. Pain lanced through Emma’s breast. She dropped to her knees in agony.
Sausage Joe let go of her tit and grabbed her head instead. Powerful fingers clutched at her blonde hair. He held her in place as his other hand moved to his crotch. There was a fold in the grey jumpsuit that he reached into.
Emma gulped at what he pulled out. A thick member, remarkably clean, emerged from the jumpsuit. The head was a deep purple. The dick was monstrous in length.
“How the fuck did that guy suck this?” Emma thought.
Sausage Joe pulled her head to his sausage. Emma opened wide as the massive beast battered her teeth. It invaded her mouth and pushed into her throat. He pulled her head in until Emma’s nose was pressed hard against his filthy jumpsuit.
The smell of blood choked Emma. Sausage Joe grabbed her hair with both hands and his hips began to pump. The thick cock rammed her mouth as he fucked her head.
Emma gurgled. She grabbed his thighs and tried to push but Sausage Joe was too strong. The only thing she could was keep her jaw as slack as possible and hope it would be over soon.
It wasn’t. Sausage Joe fucked her face at the same inhuman pace. Spit fell from her violated mouth and splattered against her bouncing tits. The thick cock battered her throat with savage thrusts. Her scalp burned from the tugging on her hair but there was no escape.
Emma wondered what the others were thinking. Were Kaitlyn and Hailey glad that it wasn’t their mouths being abused? Was Matthew watching it all so he can add it to the scary stories he collected? Did Ryan regret letting her go or was he wondering why he never got a blowjob from her?
The thrusting dick bruised Emma’s lips. She choked but Sausage Joe kept going. The jumpsuit opened more to reveal giant hair balls.
There was the sound of running feet. Sausage Joe let go of Emma’s head with his right hand but held onto to her with the other. She tried to look but the monster’s cock kept ramming her mouth.
WHACK! Something hit the ground behind her. It sounded like a body.
Sausage Joe pulled out of Emma’s mouth. Oh shit, he must be mad. Someone did something stupid and now he was going to kill her.
Emma was pulled to her feet. Sausage Joe grabbed the front of her jeans and tried to pull it open. It was like he had never opened a woman’s pants before. Well, he probably hadn’t. Emma unfastened her jeans and then hooked her fingers in her pants and her black underwear before pulling them down.
Sausage Joe grunted. The silly blood-stained mask nodded. He held onto Emma as she stepped out of her jeans and underwear. Thank God she wore her sandals tonight.
Emma was spun around to face the counter her friends were hiding behind. A body was on the ground in front of her. It was Tyler and his head was tiled at an unnatural angle. One of those long metal pizza shovels was in his hand.
Relief washed over Emma. Fuck Tyler. She was so glad that it wasn’t one of her friends. The idiot must have been dying to do some violence.
Heh, dying. Emma started to giggle. Was this what hysteria felt like?
Sausage Joe grabbed her waist and pushed on her back. Emma bent forward and braced her legs. Something thick and covered in spit pushed against her shaved sex. The wide head pushed into her.
“Fuck!” Emma cried out. The massive meat fucked her pussy. It was too big. It was going too fast. It was unbelievable.
Sausage Joe grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back. Emma’s body went limp as he pounded her from behind. Her arms and tits dangled as she was used.
Four heads peeked out from behind the pizza counter. It was impossible to read their expressions from this distance but all of their eyes were wide open. Wait, did Matthew have his cell phone out? Not cool!
The thick sausage rammed Emma’s pussy. Her eyes clenched shut as the orgasm hit her. A monstrous wave of bliss obliterated her senses.
Damn, how much of a loser was this guy that he couldn’t get laid with a dick like this?
Sausage Joe kept going. For a monster who only fucks every couple of years, he had amazing endurance. The sound of his hips slamming into Emma’s ass echoed through the mall.
Emma couldn’t take much more. Her pussy was sore. Both tits ached from the squeezing he gave them. She was going need an ice pack for her throat from the skull-fucking earlier.
Without warning, Sausage Joe pulled out of Emma and she dropped to her knees. The wet squishing sound behind her told her that he was jacking his dick.
There was a loud howl. Sticky wetness fell from the ceiling and onto Emma’s kneeling body. Wait, it wasn’t rain. It was Sausage Joe’s semen, arcing through the air and showering her with his filthy seed.
Emma stayed where she was. After what seemed like forever, the rain stopped. She looked up to see that some of the seed had landed on Tyler’s face.
“You got some of his spunk after all,” Emma whispered. She thought she was still hysterical.
Sausage Joe picked up his club. He tucked his shrinking dick back into his filthy jumper. The mask looked down at Emma and she wished she could see his face.
Emma didn’t say anything. He was supposed to go away now. That was the whole point. Well, unless that story was bullshit and they were all going to die anyway. Wouldn’t that suck?
Sausage Joe bent over. Emma flinched until she saw him grab Tyler by the shirt. The killer dragged the body towards the old sausage place. A smear of blood trailed behind the two.
Emma got to her feet on unsteady legs. She was never eating sausage again.
“What a lovely story to start the Halloween season. Girl meets Killer, Killer Bangs Girl, Killer brains Guy and keeps banging Girl. It is a timeless tale.”
“It does make you wonder if Emma will now have a thing for meat between her legs.”
“Burny! I am surprised and delighted by your awful pun. I am beginning to rub off on your eternal damnation.”
“I could only dream that you would rub off on me, sexually.”
“True Burny, so true. As for you mortals, maybe you will get your chance if you keep reading these stories. I will catch your souls later.”
Allison is a big fan of the Friday the 13th franchise. She has seen every movie and knows every tiny bit of trivia. while attending a horror convention, she gets picked up by a guy who promises to have something she has never seen before. It is a complete Friday the 13th movie starring famous actors, written by a cult writer and directed by a legend. This movie should not exist but it does.
So she steals the movie from him. It is a crazy thing to do but hey, it is a one of a kind object. She HAS to have it.
Well, the guy HAS to have it back. The entity that gave him this rare object has certain rules and one of them is not to lose the precious objects they give. Murder quickly ensues.
At 160 pages, The Unseen from Bryan Smith is a breezy, and slashy read. It gets brutal and it gets ugly. Not as ugly as some of Smith’s other work, but ugly enough for any slasher fan. I had a great time reading it and you know, I sympathized with the motives of the killers involved. Great Friday the 13th movies are hard to come by.
Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats are a British rock band that sounds like came from the early 70’s. Their songs are blanketed in heavy guitars and play like soundtracks to murder scenes in a b-movies. I find their music great for setting a mood for when I want to dive deep into horror and never come back up. Which makes them a perfect band to start October with.
The Night Creeper is their fourth album and one of my favorites. The songs are all great but Melody Lane stands out as the most haunting. I’m not quite sure what is happening in the song but I know it won’t have a happy ending.
I bent the blonde girl over the dining table. She squealed as I roughly pulled her pants down. Bright green panties stretched across her wide butt. I pulled those down and took out my cock. She breathed loudly as I put the condom on.
Patricia didn’t say anything. She continued to eat her salad at the table. Her only concession to what was happening involved moving a flower arrangement from the center so the blonde wouldn’t knock it over.
I pushed into the blonde. She was wet, tight and hot for me. A cry of surprise came from her lips. She tried to rise up on her elbows but I pushed down firmly on her back. The blonde whimpered slightly as I pressed her flat.
“Stay there,” I said.
The blonde nodded her head.
I began to fuck her. Short, violent thrusts shook the table. The soda sloshed in Patricia’s glass. The blonde’s young ass made a clapping sound as I slammed my hips into her.
Patricia kept eating. This was nothing new to her. Earlier this year, I let her rent this basement apartment for half the usual rent. In exchange, she agreed to let me fuck her every other Tuesday afternoon. I could do whatever I wanted and she would never complain.
But Patricia had insisted on another clause to our agreement. If Tuesday came around and she had a proxy for me to use, I would fuck that person instead. That seemed extremely unlikely but also hot as fuck, so I agreed.
Eight months and sixteen fucks later, I have yet to fuck Patricia.
I pulled on the blonde’s hair. She lifted her head to face Patricia. No words passed between them as I continued to fuck the tight young pussy.
Where does Patricia get these women? Every week, it is a different one. They are always young. They are always hot. Never do they complain no matter what my vice is that week and trust me, I have a lot of kinks.
The blonde whimpered as I fucked her. Patricia finished her salad and toyed with the crust on her bread. I slapped the side of the blonde’s ass and she jumped. The clenching of my cock was delightful. I slapped her ass again.
Patricia got up to take her dishes to the kitchenette. After cleaning her dishes, she usually goes to the couch and watches television. Sometimes she goes to her desk and plays on her computer. Curiously, she never goes to her bedroom. She is always a witness to what I do to her proxy.
As for me, after a few more minutes of fucking, I plan to pull out and spank this blonde’s wide ass. We’ll go to the couch and I’ll have her suck me. Patricia might sit beside me to watch TV but she’ll never touch me. After the blowjob, I’ll might spank the blonde’s ass again or maybe I will just skip the spanking and go to fucking her ass.
Either way, I have already decided that I will come on the blonde’s face. A lot of the women hate that but it never stops me. This is a nice basement and these proxies are here to be used.
No, of course you haven’t because Jerusalem is 1,266 pages long. It sits like a brick on your bookshelf, and not a small brick that you make houses with. No, this brick has mass. This brick will never move. It is less of a brick and more of a cornerstone for the rest of your books to rest on.
But I did read Jerusalem by Alan Moore and I am here to tell you, it is worth the read. The story takes place across different parts of time in the town of Northhampton, England. When I say different parts of time, I mean up and down history ranging from Roman to the near future. There is a lot of characters in this story and a lot of moving parts. The characters range from small children to angels to artists to immigrants to sex workers to demons and many more.
If that is not intimidating enough, did I mention that the book is non-linear? Chapters skip around across time and some of the more metaphysical characters don’t see time the way we do. The middle of the book is thankfully mostly linear but you know, mostly.
And I haven’t even mentioned the chapters told from stream of conscious. Or the chapter done in the style of James Joyce. Some of the point of views aren’t sane and you are right there in their heads with them. One of the chapters was so obtuse I had to go online and get a translation of it.
So yeah, it is not an easy book to read but it is an adventure to read. It is an interesting experience. Every chapter feels like a victory. My wife was sick of me telling her about the difficulties involved. It is the kind of book that you feel proud of going through, and then look at other books with their mundane linear use of language as sort of lazy.
But what is the book about? Technically it is about powerful beings trying to manipulate events to bring about another messiah figure, but it is also the story of an abrasive artist, her adorable boring brother and their weird family that tends to get visions and sent to the madhouse. It is also the story of how one town creates an near perpetual cycle of per-destination for the people who live there.
The plot aside, I also think this might be the best book I have ever read that explains how poverty is a black hole that is nigh-impossible to escape. Here in America, most people see being poor as a personal defect. That has changed has recently but that prejudice still lingers. Moore shows over and over again without explicitly saying that being poor is about having your choices taken away and that is by design. It is a destiny that is forced upon people and their children and this is unbearably cruel. I feel like I understand economic disparity on an entirely different level now as well as the call to action to do something about it.
Which makes Jerusalem one of the more enjoyable books I have as read, as well as the most important.
Someone has died. It is very sad. The players have gathered together to argue who should receive the estate of the deceased. Everyone draws cards that define their characters. One player will be the estate lawyer who will ask questions and make the final judgement. During play, Objection cards will be rewarded to players that can be used on others. Objection cards become facts that players must now incorporate into their characters and defend.
That’s it. That is the whole game. It is that easy.
Except it is not easy at all because the cards are BONKERS. Draw your first batch and you are playing a Whimsical Nanny Psychologist who loves arm-wrestling and knew the deceased from being in the same role-playing game group. Your fellow players are playing unfrozen cavemen who write children’s books and talking dog that dreams of being an actor. The caveman’s relationship is he once owned a bar with the deceased while the talking dog was his AA sponsor.
As you can imagine, this is primarily a game of improv. The lawyer player makes up questions and the players make up anwsers that correspond to the cards they possess. Objection cards inflict a negative thing the player has to improv like secretly poisoning the well at the children’s park. That gets a bit harder to argue you deserve a big fat inheritance.
What genuinely surprises me about this game is how much people love it. I have played this game with families and half-drunk smart-asses and everyone loves it. This is the game other people request that I bring. This is the game everyone talks about for weeks after. Out of all my games, this is the one people tend to buy the night of playing it for the first time.