Toadie in "Haunted Bordello" (Part 1)

Sure, I'm a little late with this Halloweenish type post entry... but do I care? Fuck no! My advice is to sit back, read this fine wholesome tale of insanity and mayhem and hold tight.

But before you jump in with both feet, you may want to check out this link and this link to bring you up to speed with this post, Toadie's latest adventure.

Toadie, a semi-retarded man and his girlfriend, Valerie, decided to move in together when they got back to Chicago after their "Christmas Trip" adventure. No longer was the 34 year old man under the care of his friends, Maggie and Rufus, though they did go to Valerie's apartment to see how he was doing every so often. They were, in fact, happily surprised to find that their younger cousin and somewhat dim-witted friend were moving along in their relationship to the point of being engaged to be married.

Then one morning...

Shaking the sleeping brunette from her sleep, Toadie leaned in close to his girlfriend's face and excitedly exclaimed, "Toadie wants to go on another road trip!"

Valerie, startled, opened her eyes and punched Toadie in the face, causing him to flip over the side of the bed and onto the floor. Toadie quickly got to his feet and much like an over-stimulated pet in dire craving for attention, he got back onto the bed.

Toadie said, "Toadie knows what Valerie wants for breakfast this morning."

Slightly annoyed but still curious, Valerie opened her eyes again and saw Toadie's impressive penis staring her in the face. Even though they had been fucking, quite frequently, since coming back home, she still couldn't believe how ginormous Toadie's dick was when was he hard. The only part of Toadie's anatomy that could equal the impressiveness of his schlong was his lengthy tongue; which gave Valerie many pleasurable, memorable experiences.

Valerie reached out and pulled Toadie's wang closer to her mouth. Just before taking it in, she looked at her lover's face and asked, "You're giving me the big sausage, again?" Toadie smiled and then said, "Only the best for my loving, gentle petunia ."

After Toadie and Valerie did the ol' "bump n' grind", the couple discussed taking another road trip. Toadie's normally successful methods of persuasion often left Valerie satisfied and bug-eyed.

A week later, the couple drove out onto the highway and set a course for Arizona. Along the way, they stopped at a diner for a quick lunch before heading back out onto the road. During the course of their lunch, Toadie looked up from his plate of food and watched what was happening on a television in the back corner wall. Valerie peered up from her burger to see Henry Paulson, in an interview, berating a reporter for bringing unwelcome facts to viewers and making him appear to be an unsympathetic bastard.

The former US Treasury Secretary and CEO of Goldman Sachs pointed toward the reporter and said, "The more accurate reason behind the Occupy Wall Street protest is that the majority of the poor and unemployed in this country are envious of the upper class. They want what the wealthier citizenry in this nation have- but since they don't feel they should put the effort forth to attain a better life for themselves, they will, instead, attend these radical protests in the hopes of swaying government decisions."

The reporter inquired, "So you don't feel that one possible reason behind the "Occupy" protests could be that the people are angry that the government is being influenced and manipulated by banks, corporations and the powerful one percent in America?"

Henry Paulson smirked for a second and then whispered, "The bottom feeders are just joining in the fray of this desperate act of futility instead of attempting to find employment."

The reporter asked, "What was that?"

Paulson said, loud enough to be heard, "I believe there are certain members of society who feel disenfranchised because of the current state of our economy."

Toadie leaned far to one side and butt burped a long, aromatic fart that wafted in the air and was inhaled by several elderly people in a nearby booth. The geriatrics suddenly clutched their throats and chests. George, an old gentleman sitting on the outside half of the booth, mumbled a short prayer before exclaiming, "Something is amiss!"

At that, George's head plopped down in a bowl of oatmeal. Important Information: The oatmeal was flavored with cinnamon powder and tiny, organically grown chunks of naturally sweet Granny Smith apples.

The old man in the oatmeal bowl laboriously exhaled, which produced from his mouth a bubble made of a combination of warm oats and two percent milk (and let's not forget those delicious apples!).

When Valerie and Toadie paid their bill, they returned to the car and drove into the state of Arizona. Their destination was the Grand Canyon. But after an hour of driving they became lost and confused. The joint they began smoking upon passing the state line might have had something to do with it. Who knows? I mean, it's not like I know the story or something.

Eventually, Val and Toadie completely went off the beaten track and wound up in a ghost town. Now, if you had been paying attention to the more northern portion of this blog post, you will have noticed a blog post title- which would, of course, given you a clue as to where this most amazing story was leading.

Ahem... and stuff.

Toadie and Val slowly drove into the long abandoned town. You could almost hear the eerie music in the background, but not quite, because Val had a radio station on that was playing Alternative music set at high volume. Toadie cocked his head and saw a few doors to old wooden shops and a saloon slam open and shut. He thought this odd because the air was still.

As they stopped in the middle of the small old western town in order to back up and turn around, the car made a chugging noise and then shook a little. Valerie looked down at her dashboard. The car had run out of gas. They sat there for a few moments, quiet in thought. The sun gradually made it's decent behind some far away mountains in the desert. Saguaro cacti covered most of the area they were in.

Toadie got out of the car and convinced himself that it was a good idea to go into one of the vacant buildings to search for anything that could help them. Valerie went into what was once a saloon and bordello. In the days of the Old West, this bordello had employed a dozen or so prostitutes. A woman by the name of Annie was the Madam of the place. She was a beautiful blonde haired, good-natured woman who had sucked many a cowboy off back in the day. It was rumored she had fallen in love with a cowboy named Joe.

When Toadie went past a wall in the saloon, he shook his head, curious and surprised at who he thought he saw in an old picture hanging on the wall. He took his key light out of his pocket, shined it toward the picture and upon closer inspection, he remembered seeing the people in the old photograph.

Stayed tuned for part two of this enchanting tale.

Hocus Pocus and Presto Change-o.  Here's the link for Part 2 of this stimulating, educational yarn.  :) 

My Spouse's Heroism

I had many surprises, mostly good and a few that were unfortunate, happen to me and those close to me during the summer. One such event, that had dramatic elements of bad and good, occurred about two months ago and it's one I'll never forget. And it's one that made me take a better, more appreciative look at the woman I married.

The scene: My father, who has dementia and is extremely verbally abusive, is found at a McDonald's restaurant inside the local Wal Mart store. It was one of those times, out of several over the summer, where he went somewhere and I and another family member had to go searching for him. Those are all long stories that I can't/won't go into for the moment. Suffice it to say, he's a big pain in the ass and after trying to get him put in a nursing home for months, we keep hitting a brick wall. No one will help us. He threatens. He shakes his fist while ranting and insulting those around him. He's unfocused. He gets dizzy spells and the list goes on and on. Still, the lawyers and a few doctors out of a majority of doctors say he has just enough marbles to fight against being put in a nursing home against his will- which is what it would take.

Please... don't ask any questions about the "Dad Dilemma." As I said, there are too many details to go into with this ongoing, depressing part in my family's lives and I would be sitting here, writing for hours, if I started to explain it all.

So I won't.

Anyway, we finally find the crazy, abusive bastard at a table at McDonald's. Dad is eating his french fries, muttering and ranting about whatever while my wife and I calmly listen and wait for him to shut up long enough where we can ask him if we can take him home- which will inevitably lead to a heated argument. Then next thing we hear, over Dad's ramblings, is a horrendous scream. At first, at least to me, it sounded like a coworker in the food preparation area of McDonald's had suddenly surprised another coworker. Like a prank scenario. And then everyone in the small dining area hears a loud "thunk" on the floor from the back. My wife, a young guy that's a Wal Mart employee and I go rushing to the open back door to the kitchen.

Sprawled out on the linoleum floor of the kitchen (or whatever they call it) is a woman who has a big gash in her head. Blood is gushing out of her wound and she is moaning and breathing erratically. I stand there, frozen. I can't move. My anxiety disorder kicks in and debilitates my ability to do anything positive.

Ever since my mom's death years ago, the vision of her in my mind of the way she looked when I saw her, in death, I don't respond well or not at all in intense or stressful situations. I have all the usefulness as a lump of fungus. In surprise situations, like the one that night, it's even worse.

I'm not trying to make an excuse. That's just how I am now.

My wife turns back and gently pushes me away from the doorway. The Wal Mart employee shouts, "I'm going to get help." He runs off. My wife takes the cell phone out of the holster on my belt and calls 911. Meanwhile, in a daze, I shuffle back to the table where Dad is sitting. He's still eating french fries, oblivious to whatever is going on around him. The only thing I can think about is all the blood on the floor in the back room.

The only other McDonald's employee is a nervous, crying young woman. She's as useless as me at the moment. She's wringing her hands and looking around, waiting for someone to do something for her fellow coworker, the victim on the floor. She kinda walks around in the dining area, fidgeting and looking afraid. I look at her and wish she would help the woman in the back kitchen area but then I wish I would do the same.

My wife, on the other hand, with a tone of controlled urgency, explains to the 911 dispatcher what has happened, as far as she knows, and where the accident has taken place. I watch her until it finally dawns on me of what's going on. Then several people walk up to the counter and begin to become agitated because they can't place an order. I become agitated because it is starting to become apparent that there is a real emergency situation afoot and these dumb fuckers are worrying about getting their next Quarter Pounder with cheese.

While customers are grumbling about being waited on, my wife goes into the kitchen and kneels by the poor woman's side. The woman was getting paler by the minute, according to my wife. A pool of blood was forming all around the woman and running into the crevices of the floor. Still, the woman was mumbling and trying to raise her head off the floor. My wife told her to lie still and not move. My wife likely helped save her life, just doing that part. Not to mention calling the emergency telephone number. I think she helped keep the woman alive several ways that night.

Minutes passed until a Wal Mart manager finally shows up. The manager was accompanied by two other employees. Instead of helping the woman on the floor, they ask my wife how the woman is. My wife tells them her breathing is erratic and she's lost a lot of blood. My wife is shaking now, at this point, afraid the woman is going to die. Still, she stays by the woman's side, crouched down, saying words of comfort near her ear. The Wal Mart employees at the door tell my wife to keep doing what she's doing. In my mind, they're being useless in the situation, as well.

The manager does do one thing. She grabs a towel and throws it to my wife, who she apparently believes is the only one who can do anything (even though my wife has zero medical training) and tells my wife, "You should put that over the cut in her head and apply pressure."

Fearing the woman is going to die, my wife takes the towel and applies pressure over the gash. Eventually, a couple emergency first responders show up and come into McDonald's. I point to the kitchen area and say, "Back there."

Dad stops eating french fries long enough to ask what's going on. When I tell him about the situation, he says, "Ah... I've seen people bleed before. It's no big deal. Who is it? Anyone I know? Why are you looking like that? You're acting stupid." I tell him, "I don't know what her name is. I didn't ask the woman her name or look at her name tag as all the blood was gushing from her head."

One of the customers, pissed off, said, "The service is really bad in here. I tried to get some Chicken McNuggets up front and no one would come up and take my order." I find this statement disgusting and for a second, oddly humorous. But then I become annoyed at this redneck's stupidity to the point where I walk over to his table, turn around and cut a silent but pungent fart, directly in his face.

Of course, since we were at a McDonald's, he probably couldn't distinguish the aroma of anything on the menu and my turd fog.

Worried about my wife's emotional welfare, I went to the kitchen and motioned for my wife to rise up and come out into the dining room area. She had done enough and it was time for the first responders to do their job. After coaxing her with gentle words and hand gestures, she finally leaves the woman's side and joins me. Around this time, the EMT's come to the back and do what they're trained to do.

I tell my wife how brave and kind I thought she was for doing what she did for the victim. I tell her how impressed I was that she took action whereas I and everyone else didn't do enough or anything at all.

My Dad sees my wife and asks, "What's that woman's name back there?"

My wife said, "I don't know. I think her name tag said Sarah."

And then my wife grabbed me and started crying into my chest. I rubbed her back and told her she did everything that could be expected of her and more and that everything might turn out okay. She was shaking and crying. I tried comforting her as best I could.

Meanwhile, people were grumbling and taking their sweet time in getting the hell out of the way after being told to move for the victim who was being taken out of the store on a gurney. At this point, I was telling them to move out of the way, as well and that it wasn't a sideshow act taking place. I was finally starting to return to my normal state of mind. Actually, when I farted in Mr. Chicken McNugget's face, earlier, I may have been getting back into my normal groove, my normal state of mind. Who knows?

Everyone reacts differently in extreme emergency situations, for certain. I'm just glad my wife took appropriate action when others didn't. In my mind, my wife had an important hand in saving the woman's life. There aren't enough words to describe how impressed I am of her and how much I think of her as a hero. Whenever I bring up the story to other people, it bothers her because of all the memories of the blood on the floor and the woman, in pain, come into her mind. I feel bad that it causes her this distress but I can't help telling the story because of how proud I am of her.

We found out later that Sarah, the woman who fell to the floor and almost lost her life, turned out to come out of the accident, alive. We were also told Sarah had a history of seizures, before. That night, she had had the most devastating seizure of them all. Sarah was released from the hospital two days later. I was surprised at that, considering how much blood she lost that night. She was likely released in only two days because the health insurance company didn't want to pay for her to stay at the hospital any longer. I've heard that with a lot of head wounds, people have a tendency to bleed profusely but the amount of blood I saw looked like something out of a horror movie.

In conclusion, I would say my wife is a better person than I, when it comes to helping people. She's certainly more generous with her time, when it comes to listening or taking action. I know she helps take care of me everyday and I try to do the same for her but I feel like I don't do enough at times. But that's my hang up. When I look back on that night and all of the varied ways she gives of herself, I feel blessed that I married a woman like that.

Auditions For The Circus

Created by Oscar The Disturbed, Chloe The Nympho and MasterHeathen

The circus tent was noisy inside with hopeful artists talking to each other and practicing their acts. Sitting at a large wooden desk on the furthest right hand side were two men, murmuring to each other, serious in their appearance. The owner of the circus was a large man with dark brown eyes with just a hint of red surrounding the pupils. The look of his face conveyed a wisdom about him. His name was Byron Asmodeus and he had owned Asmodeus' Astounding Circus for 20 odd years. His ringmaster, Gregorio, worked hard as a manager for the circus.

For the last hour, they had seen and judged two sets of performers and neither group made the cut.

Gregorio stared straight ahead and to Asmodeus, he announced the next group of artists to audition. "Next, we have The Blutarsky Brothers."

Asmodeus cleared his throat and asked, "What do they do?

Ringmaster Gregorio replied, "They are a family of midget clowns."

"I see," said Asmodeus, as he leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together.

A little old woman, her face white and red with make up, was leading her little tribe of offspring up to the stage in front of their potential employer's desk. She had a grizzled look about her and the make up on her face could not hide the fact that she was well into her sixties. The mother of 7 children, who were between the ages of thirty to forty, tilted her head as she spoke.

"I am the mother of these seven clown midgets. We came to America from Russia, home of Vodka. All my children suffer from hydrocephalus and Down syndrome. They also have trouble with their feet from wearing the big clown shoes and as a result, they walk funny."

Asmodeus and Gregorio looked at all seven and noticed they were kind of wobbling back and forth, shifting uneasily from one foot to another.

The mother, Isa, continued, "They have the fungus grow under their toenails. Only Lamisil helps to keep their toenails on."

Asmodeus and Gregorio exchanged glances of bewilderment before the mother of the clown midgets added, "The father of these boys has passed on. If he were here today, he would show you his magnificent ability to shoot miniature bullets out of his fully erect penis."

The two men, glanced at each other and then looked at the mother, giving Isa the impression that they were impressed by this.

Isa said, "First, I will show you what my talent is and then each of my boys will show you what they can do for you."

Asmodeus said, "Whenever you're ready... begin."

The little old midget turned around, dropped her tiny pants, bent over, touched her toes and shot a steady stream of butt gravy across the stage. Quickly turning around, the mother of 7, briskly rubbed her chubby little thighs together and with the power of her vaginal muscles, sparks began to fly from her coochie until a eerie ball of fire erupted from her ancient pussy.

Amazed and impressed, Gregorio and Asmodeus applauded Isa's talent.

After her fire died out, Isa said, "This was how I killed the father of my boys. One night, after he beat me and called me names, I lay on top of the horrible man while his penis was soft. I acted like I was hot with sex for him. My husband was fooled by this. Then I make powerful sparks with my vagina and ignite a fire upon his penis as I wrap my short strong arms around him, not letting the bastard free himself. By the time I was done with him, he was like a burnt hog, crispy black and flesh falling from him."

Without pausing, Isa introduced one of her sons, "This is Nikolai. He lived with his uncle in Budapest for a year to learn all he could from him. My son, Nikolai, is the only clown who can juggle a chainsaw, bowling ball and box of condoms in the all of Russia, maybe in the entire world.

Nikolai took a spot in the middle of the stage, juggled the chainsaw, bowling ball and box of condoms without dropping any of the items. Asmodeus, nodded his head, impressed.

Isa introduced her next son, "This is Vladamir. He drives the clown car. He got his license in clown car driving by driving Smart cars for Mercedes Benz and being crash test dummy for them."

Vladamir demonstrated how well he drove the clown car and got out of it hurriedly, to waddle back up on the stage. The ringmaster clapped his hands and said, "You have great skill." Vladamir smiled, was obviously bashful, his face crinkling beneath the white make up. Vladamir suddenly celebrated being complimented by pulling his pants down and scratching his taint.

Isa, full of pride, introduced her next son, "And this is Ivan. He has taught his dog, Spot, how to ride on the back of his pony, Speck, for the Dog & Pony show."

Ivan had the pony and dog do the trick at his command. Asmodeus nodded approvingly and then said, "Very good. Next."

The mother of her offspring of clown midgets said, "This is Dragoff."

The two judges gave the little man a curious look.

Isa continued, "Dragoff was born with a permanent smile. A birth defect, as you Americans call it. He was diagnosed at the age of two. My son, Dragoff, because of this defect, does not require much clown make up. Before this audition, for you gentleman, he spent many years in midget tossing competitions."

Asmodeus put a hand up, pausing the old woman for a moment. The circus owner said, "And what talent can he demonstrate for us, today?"

Without missing a beat, Dragoff did a series of backward flips on the stage until landing in a barrel of thumbtacks and needles. He remained, motionless in the barrel, enduring what would be a painful experience for most people and kept his smile. Then Ivan came out, ran toward Dragoff and, suddenly, with a wooden chair, crashed it down on Dragoff's head. Splinters and wood fragments flew out in every direction. Dragoff smiled. Ivan shouted, "Ta Da!"

Asmodeus and Gregorio laughed, clapped and then, in unison, said, "Bravo."

After the stage was cleared, Isa said, "The next son performing for you handsome men is my eldest. His name is Jeepo. Jeepo has had an aneurysm that has affected what you may call his mo-mo-mo... motor skills."

Jeepo weeble wobbled his way onto the stage. To keep his balance, the stumpy clown flung his arms wildly, looking like a human pinwheel. This act gave the illusion of an abstract dance that had amused many crowds in the past. Soon, the midget clown's arms were all a blur. It was hypnotical. When he could no longer move his arms from the tiresome flailing, Jeepo spun around and dove off the stage, landing head first into the heavy desk, making a squishy sound with the softest part of his bulbous head.

Asmodeus and Ringmaster Gregorio abruptly stood up and gave Jeepo a standing ovation.

Isa, happy with the two men's reaction, introduced her next offspring.

"This is Luscious. Before she had, what you call "sex change operation", though it was not much an operation because my son, Ivan, is so handy with the knife. Her name was Chekov and she was a he. Before coming to perform for you today, Luscious worked at a tampon factory. Her job was quality control."

Without being prompted, Luscious, in her tiny tights, began doing a series of back flips, spins and twirls until finally ending her stunt by jumping straight up into the air and coming down onto the stage, doing the splits. Hurriedly, she got up, pulled down her tights and exposed her bald beaver. There was a tattoo of a snake on her cunt lip. The tongue of the snake hovered just above her clit. Like her mother, she, too, rubbed her thighs together until working her new vagina muscles up enough to produce sparks from her cunt. Soon flames flickered and all of Isa's sons came over and roasted marshmallows over her fiery pussy.

She, too, was given a standing ovation by the two delighted men behind the desk.

Isa waved Luscious off the stage and introduced her last son. A cross-eyed midget teetered from side and side, gradually making his way onto the stage. Asmodeus and Gregorio sat back down.

"My son, Trotsky."

Trotsky had troubles with his lungs because he was a heavy smoker. Pulling out deflated balloons from the pockets of his clown pants, Trotsky coughed and gagged before filling each long, slender balloon to it's fullest capacity. Without haste, Trotsky quickly formed the balloons into the shape of a male organ and a female organ. Luscious came back on stage and took the phallic balloon and slid it into her little midget slit. Shifting her thighs rigorously together, she created sparks and popped the penis shaped balloon with ease.

Ivan suddenly made another entrance onto the stage and bashed both of their heads in with a toaster. As his siblings fell to the floor, bleeding profusely, Ivan shouted, "Ta-Da!"

Asmodeus stood up and said, "All of you are hired. I welcome you, as my working performing artists to Asmodeus' Astounding Circus."

In unison, Isa and all the rest of her midget clown family cheered and whooped. Trotsky coughed up blood and smiled. It was a great day for The Blutarsky Brothers.

A Unique Alternative-The Conclusion

Ethan looked at the spirit with mild bewilderment at what it had said. His hand rubbed Clara's smooth butt. He smiled. There wasn't much that could surprise him now in comparison to the event of what had just transpired. With this in mind, he wasn't too concerned about what she was about to tell him. Having sexual intercourse with a ghost, he thought, would likely be the most surprising thing that could possibly ever happen in his lifetime.

As it would be for most of us.

Clara looked deep into Ethan's eyes, in complete seriousness, and said, "Daria killed me."

Clara paused, momentarily, then said, "It happened almost a month ago yet to me it seems like yesterday."

Ethan gave the beautiful, slightly luminescent spirit on top of him a stern look and asked, "She killed you? Why?"

Clara continued, "A little over a month ago, Ken and I were working in the same office and we would ocassionally go out to a restaurant, eat lunch together and talk. We were just two co workers getting to know one another."

"You must be talking about something that happened before I became friends with Ken, "stated, Ethan, "I don't remember Ken mentioning you. And I'm sure he would have mentioned someone as hot as you."

Clara laughed for a moment and then said, "Thank you."

The spirit slowly raised up towards the ceiling from the top of Ethan's hairy chest and dissipated in the air. Ethan looked around and asked, "Where are you?"

Clara slowly materialized, nude as she was before, at his bedside to pick up where she left off. Illumination from the streetlight showed through his bedroom curtains. The light passed through Clara without leaving a shadow on the wall. Ethan was relieved when she returned.

Clara explained, "Daria had just begun dating your friend and my co worker at the time. She had seen Ken and I going to restaurants together on a couple occasions and she was becomingly increasingly jealous. She thought Ken was cheating on her with me. This was pure insecurity and paranoia on Daria's part because Ken and I were just co workers and only beginning to become friends."

Ethan pushed, "Go on. I'm listening."

"Ken told me about her increasing jealousy and I told him that maybe it would be for the best for everyone if I didn't have lunches with him anymore. After a few minutes of debate from him about this, he agreed with what I was saying. So we stopped. We only saw each other in the office. After a couple days passed, it seemed as if everything was alright. But Daria was still jealous, according to him, still thinking that he and I were together from time to time. He told me their arguments about our supposed affair were getting bad. And then one night, her fury over something she was only imagining, took over any reasoning she might have had in her little mind."

Ethan knew his friend Ken was faithful. Even obedient. Whatever Daria told him to do, he would do, no matter how ridiculous or insulting it seemed to him. She was his manipulator and he would agree to whatever she wanted.

Ethan shook his head, dreading what the spirit was likely going to say next.

"Daria came into this house- my house, invaded this bedroom, where we are now, clamped my mouth shut while I was asleep and slit my throat open with a knife."

Suddenly, blood began pouring out of an abruptly developing gash in Clara's neck and splattered upon the mattress. The mattress became soaked with gore. Ethan could hear drops of blood hit the wooden bedroom floor, as well. Closing his eyes, Ethan pleaded, "Please... Stop."

The blood disappeared. Clara remained.

"Oh, fuck," said Ethan, realizing his friend's girlfriend was a murderer. Dismayed at what this meant, Ethan shook his head and added, "Now what should I do?" Then he answered his own question. "I have to call the police."

Clara explained further, "The police have already questioned her and asked where she was that night. She told them she was in bed, asleep. They could neither confirm or not confirm she was in her apartment that night. Daria was also careful not to leave fingerprints, using latex gloves on her hands and small bags that covered her shoes."

"Why didn't Ken mention you were killed here or any of this before I moved in?" inquired Ethan, with a small measure of anger.

Clara touched his face and said, "He didn't want to frighten you in any way and he knew you were desperate in your attempt to find a place to live in this area."

And then Clara smiled.

Gradually, Clara ascended upwards and then slowly made her way down upon Ethan. Her head maneuvered towards his groin. Gently, the spirit took his penis into her mouth and she commenced sucking the head of his cock. Ethan's hands roamed through her wavy, dark red hair and her backside. What she was doing felt so good to him. Clara continued, easily engulfing his manhood inside her throat, sucking and licking upon it until he had a mind blowing orgasm.

"OOOOHHH," cried out Ethan. Spurts of semen shot through her head and rained down all over the sheets of his bed.

After they held each other for awhile, Ethan moved away from the spirit. He then flipped over on top of her, thrusting his prick inside Clara, relishing how very real she truly felt. Almost an hour of passion had passed before they climaxed, intensely, together.

Not long after the sun had risen, there was a sudden knock on the front door. Clara disappeared from his arms without notice. Ethan looked around the room, actually feeling alone this time. He sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled his jeans on. Ethan thought Ken and Daria might have seen something of his in their car while moving and were bringing it back to his place.

When he opened the door, sure enough, Ken and Daria were standing there, with a box full of electronic equipment.

Daria smirked and said, "We found some more of your stuff in the trunk and figured you might want this, maybe, before we see you later tonight." At that point she pulled a TV remote control out of the box and tossed it to Ethan. Ethan, tired from the hours of lovemaking and conversation with Clara, fumbled for the remote and dropped it on the doorstep. To add insult to injury, the plastic casing cracked and the batteries fell out. It looked broken.

"Did you make any coffee yet, dude?" asked Daria, "Because you look like shit."

Still trying to comprehend all of the recent events leading up to this moment, Ethan mumbled, "Just had a rough night." Then he added, "But it was an amazing night, as well." Ethan smiled.

Daria said, obviously bored, "That's good. So are you going to make us some coffee or what?" Ken was behind Daria, looking like he was embarrassed by how she was trying to order his friend around. Ethan looked away from him and answered, "Sure." Ethan realized he was going to have to have a talk with Ken about Daria and what crime she had committed there- after he called the police. For the moment, he didn't want to reveal what he knew or what he thought he knew to either Ken or Daria. And what exactly was he going to say to the police about any of this, he wondered.

When Daria and Ken walked into the living room, Daria glanced around, as if she were looking for something. She had a puzzled expression on her face. Slightly frustrated, she joined Ken on the sofa.

While Ethan was in the kitchen, plugging the coffee maker into the wall, he heard a familiar wail coming from the living room. He knew it was Clara, crying out. And then he heard a piercing scream. It felt like his heart was going to stop beating.

Ethan ran into the living room and saw Clara, standing behind Daria. Clara had her arm around Daria, tightly binding her. Daria screamed again, while attempting to escape from Clara's supernatural strength. Clara increased the pressure, causing Daria to shout, "Get off me, you dead fucking bitch!"

With her other arm, Clara reached from behind and produced a knife in her hand. Daria looked at the knife and declared, "I hid that fucking knife here where the cops wouldn't find it." Ken and Ethan saw the dried blood on the knife and remained still, amazed at the sight before them.

Quicker than Ethan could say a word, Clara pressed the knife blade to Daria's throat. Slowly, Clara pulled the knife across Daria's flesh, splitting her neck open. Massive gushes of blood bubbled forth from the widening wound. Daria tried to speak but her vocal cords were severed.

Before Daria closed her eyes, dying, Clara held the knife in front of Daria's fading gaze. The spirit said, "I found the knife." Clara released Daria, allowing her murderer to drop to the floor. Just as Daria's head smacked on the floor, Clara vanished.

When the shock wore off, Ken called the police department and when the cops arrived, the men told them that Daria had slit her own throat and killed herself. They also added that before she died, Daria admitted to having killed Clara in a fit of jealous rage- which Daria didn't admit, though it was true, but that was what they had agreed on telling the police. They told the cops that Daria felt she couldn't bear the burden of what she had done and had to pay for her crime.

Later, the police matched Daria's fingerprints to the knife she used to kill Clara. And neither Ken or Ethan had traces of blood or evidence of a struggle on their clothes and skin. This meant to them that Ken and Ethan couldn't be suspects in either deaths. With the evidence presented, the police closed the case of Clara's murder and considered Daria's death to be a result of suicide.

Two days passed before Clara materialized again in Ethan's bedroom. The spirit glowed faintly, floating from the opposite end of the bed to lay by Ethan. She smiled, then said, "I thought you would leave this place after what has transpired here."

Ethan shook his head and replied, "Not if you stay here with me."

"It doesn't bother you that I'm a ghost?"

Ethan answered, "No. At first, yes. But now I believe I'll choose the unique alternative of being with you instead of a living, breathing ordinary woman."

Clara grinned and asked, "And why is that?"

Ethan smiled and continued, "Because you are beautiful, honest and more alive than any other woman I've had a relationship with."

Clara kissed Ethan. For the remainder of the night, they continued their lovemaking. And for the remainder of Ethan's life on Earth and afterwards, they stayed together.

A Little Piece of "Paradise"

Written about five years ago for another website, this is an excerpt from a sci-fi/erotic/humor story I created. Definitely NOT for anyone 18 and younger. It's pretty extreme, twisted and graphic to some people. Most people have told me they like the entire story, for one reason or another, and it has received an 8.5 rating out of 10 from the original site I wrote it for.

Remember... You were warned.

This is the excerpt from Chapter 2 of "Paradise"

Zahkra asked, "What happened?"

David explained, "Me and my buddies were driving all around, to the north of here…." Pausing, David glanced over and noticed Ulla's nipples poking through her halter top. Ulla winked at him. Embarrassed and stimulated, David felt his penis begin to swell. He continued, "At least I think we were north of here. Anyway, I kind of got separated from them and eventually came this way. I've been riding all day. Got lost and ran out of gas. I figured they would have found me by now."

Zahkra offered, "Well, David, we can take you back to our place. It's not far from here. We'll get your vehicle hitched to the back of the truck and take you there, get your tank filled and have you on your way again. Or we can drive you back to town, but first, you look like you could eat something."

Zahkra grinned, knowing exactly what the young rider could eat first.

As David pondered what he should do, Ulla nonchalantly walked behind David, casually pulled a small tranquilizer gun from the back of her shorts and shot him in the ass. The three mischievous HydraSians then commenced to hitch the ATV to the back of the truck. Completing that task, they loaded their captive in the truck cab and made the journey back to Sanctuary. Mission accomplished.

The captive, strapped and bound in the bed, was a twenty-something male with a burr haircut. His short stature and thin body made him appear even more helpless than he already was. His name was David and he was slowly regaining consciousness. The girls had stripped off his clothes earlier. His legs were pulled apart with tethers tied to opposing rails. Now, they were enjoying rubbing flavored oils on his chest, genitals and buttocks. The oils produced the added benefit of creating a warm sensation on skin when applied liberally, in which they were.

"Oh, I think he likes it," observed Fayne, as David's penis stiffened.

Zahkra brought over a needled syringe and announced, full of glee, "He will especially appreciate this."

Ulla pulled David's penis over to the side as Zahkra pierced the base of his penis with the needle. David winced. His eyelids fluttered. He opened his eyes, fully aware of his surroundings. He demanded to know where he was and why they were doing what they were doing to him. All the normal questions one would ask in such a situation. When David glanced over at the tray of peculiar devices and instruments to his right, he begged to be released.

Zahkra put the syringe back in the tray and while taking off her robe, showing off her size 36D breasts, she began explaining everything she thought he should know, for the time being.

"David, you are a guest in our home. As a guest in our home, you will follow our rules. Noncompliance to our demands will be rewarded with pain and possible death. The chemicals I have just injected into your body will better enable you to comply. One ingredient of this compound will cause your scrotum to bloat considerably and force fifty times the sperm production you would normally create. Another delightful chemical will make your handsome cock erect for 4 to 5 hours. Yet another, will keep your heart rate stable and prohibit it from bursting in your chest as we do what pleases us with your body."

David shouted, angrily, "Just let me go! My friends are looking for me!'

Zahkra assured her "guest", saying, "I've checked the surveillance monitors. Your friends have left. And you are…. Fresh Meat."

If you wish and are over 18, you may read the story, "Paradise" in it's entirety at this link. Or, if you'd prefer, I can email it to you.