Halloween Masturbation Monday!

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18 + Readers Only! This is my very special Halloween offering for the Masturbation Monday Challenge from Kayla Lords! The idea is to share a bit of hot and sassy smut that makes one tend towards self-love. I sincerely hope this does the trick for you! Click on the banner to visit Kayla’s great site to read all the free stories there. 

If you like my free story today, you should really investigate my new book, Odd Bits & Dark Corners.

Thanks..!  Now… on to the witch!


Abbigail and the Imp

by Tracy DeSanto

She grabbed some fruit roll-ups and tried to sneak downstairs, but  was detected.

“Supper’s in an hour, Honey.”

The creature in the rec-room missed nothing. How could she even hear Abbigail over the blaring of the TV?

“Eat without me, Mom. I’m pulling an all-nighter.” Abbigail mixed cheerfulness and fatigue into her call up the stairs.

“Alri -ight. I’ll leave you a plate in the fri-idge.” Mom gave the words extra syllables and a song-like quality.

The young woman reached the bottom of the stairs and tore open the snack-wrapper. She paced past the laundry machines to her bedroom door and used her key. Once inside, she turned the deadbolt behind her. Abbigail installed it herself a year ago, being handy with tools and motivated by reclusiveness.

Ah. Privacy.

The space heater churned away cheerily. The near-oppressive warmth in her room was like a hug after a tedious day at College. Her English “diploma” studies were not challenging and her social life among D-bags and Tiffanies was non-existent. Due to the lack of proper stimuli, Abbigail’s hobby had taken a front seat in her life. The apple-cranberry leather found a way into her mouth and she chewed it.

Abbigail was a witch, and she felt peckish.

She kicked off her hiking boots and shed her winter clothes. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she undid the belt that dug into her belly and peeled off her jeans. This left her wearing a long, black sweater and not much else. A frizzy mane of brown knots framed her face. There were too many freckles to her liking.

Abbigail struck a pose in the cheap ikea mirror, blinked at herself through thick and sensible glasses, and made a duck face. Plump and average was how she saw herself, in spite of what the Goddess assured her.

Scratching her hip and chewing her snack, she hurried to her desk. To call it just a desk was unfair. Her work-space / research centre consisted  of two tables, arranged for magic and homework, in that order. A rolling office chair let Abbigail kick and scoot to wherever she needed. A bizarre hodgepodge covered the surface: bells, books, candles, computers, art supplies, bones, photos, potato chips, carving tools, an old tome by a dead mage, a new paperback by Stephen King, and a small jar of something that looked greasy and organic. This pile of chaos had been arranged fastidiously. At the centre of it all rested a plain oak box with a fitted lid.

“Let’s see how my boy is doing.”

Abbigail fumbled with the lid because she had no fingernails. She was a chewer. Sequestered in the hand-crafted case, resting on a satin cushion, was Dildo. To call him just a dildo was unfair. Months of of work, mundane and magical, had gone into him.

He began as a plain piece of oak that Abbigail had cut from a living tree. She brought him home and carved him carefully. Chants were chanted. Spells were cast. After much concentrated effort, Dildo  emerged as something of rare, if unusual, beauty. She crafted him as a small head with a long extended tongue. Little goat horns topped the head, for gripping. His face smiled wide, with merry eyes, which was appropriate considering what he was going to see. His six-inch tongue clearly meant business.

She had smoothed and sanded, then anointed him with a mixture of beeswax and her own blood. This produced a shiny, ruddy finish. Abbigail could masturbate with plenty of different items. One might say it was her second hobby. Today would be different. This would not be her usual after-school rub-out session with the handle of her hairbrush. Today she would finally fuck her new magic Dildo to life and summon her Imp.

Abbigail played some Enya on the computer loud (to cover any interesting noises). She removed her remaining clothes. This communion needed to happen purely, between only flesh and oak, with nothing interfering. She lit scented candles (rosemary and sandalwood) around the periphery of the room. They smelled nice and might keep the impending sex magic from spilling into the rest of the house.

Abbigail stood straight and began, holding Dildo before her.

“You will bring me pleasure and serve me as Imp and Familiar. You will be conjured by my strength, and you will suffer my devoted mastery.” She extended her own tongue to the tip of Dildo’s tongue, licking three times.

“You will enter me and be enslaved.”

Abbigail opened wide and eased Dildo into her mouth. She’d been practicing with bananas and cucumbers and discovered it was a breeze. Her lack of a gag reflex didn’t surprise her, but she was shocked at the deliciousness of it. How come penetrating her mouth made her so damp in the nethers? Her legs buckled.

She sucked hard and wanted to try her teeth on him, but resisted. Her fingers descended, landing in the groove they knew. Abbigail anointed herself with her own moisture. She did not touch her clit. That was for Dildo. As standing became increasingly difficult, she took him from her mouth and reclined on her bed, legs closed. She held Dildo by the horns and pointed him at her cunt.

“You will enter me and be enslaved.”

She shivered as she repeated the words, excited by the magic as much as the sex. One blurred into the other as it had since ancient times. She slid Dildo’s slick tongue between her damp thighs and tested. The angle and torque of her design delighted her as she explored her labia. She wanted to penetrate herself… but not yet. Teasing her way up, she searched for the her hidden prize.

Abbigail began to coo quietly in an unwritten language (known only to young witches). She channeled the Goddess and clenched her bum as the tip of Dildo’s tongue met her clit.

“Kapowie Kazam,” she grunted, and pressed harder.

Hot electric delight ran like quicksilver from her bud to her extremities. This was no hairbrush sex! Her fingers burned, her arms felt imaginary, and her hair was trying to fly away. Her cunt conspired with Dildo and caused her to splay her legs open as wide as the laws of magic and physics allowed. Dildo’s tongue tickled her clit with perfect precision. Abbigail’s skin became livid and splotchy in pink arousal. Her face was hot. She raised Dildo high, and muttered, barely coherent, for the third time…

“You will enter me and be enslaved.”

She did not probe or tease. She did not search for her opening. Magic guided her hands and she slid Dildo in, right on target. He slipped easily into the lubricated lake of her young witchy twat. When she took him as deep as Dildo’s tongue could reach, the tip of his carved nose tweaked her clit as a bonus. She rammed him in and ground him against her, then pulled out halfway and did it again. Abbigail rocked back on her hips, brought her knees up to her ears, and began to pound her pussy with him.

She no longer cooed; she yelped and hollered as Dildo fucked her deep and tapped her button. The Goddess imbued her with the power of Arcane Magical Fuckery, causing the room to shimmer in red and silver light. She fucked herself as never before. The young witch merged into a rhythmic one-ness with Dildo. Her insatiable hunger was bolstered by her magnificent strength.

Coloured lights danced before her eyes as she stumbled to the edge of her Very First Cosmic Orgasm. Where she was wet before, now she was drenched. Dildo sank deep, his tongue stroked her g-spot, his nose flicked her clit…

And there it was.

Abbigail screamed to all the powers that cared and climaxed in an ancient and astonishing way. She forced Dildo up to the hilt, and clamped him inside, spurting sweet fuck fluids over his grinning face. She covered her hands, her thighs, her bed, and maybe the corner of her desk. Her body convulsed as she came repeatedly. She probably continued to scream but didn’t notice.

After an eternity it subsided. She lay back, sated, delighted and maybe comatose. Then her eyes shot open and she snapped to attention. Dildo’s tongue moved inside her… She released his horns and sat up. Strong little hands held her by the hips. There was a miniature man between her legs. Well… technically he was a satyr (or more appropriately, a faun.) Beautiful and smooth, except for where he was hairy, he had cloven hoofs. His little horns remained. With a shrug and a twitch her Imp withdrew his tongue and rested his chin on her  miraculous muff. He looked up with devoted, smiling eyes.

“Thank you, Mistress. How may I be of service?” His voice piped high, like a Munchkin.

She got him to stand to get a look at him. For a three-foot-tall magic  Imp, he certainly owned a full-sized cock. She thought about chewing on him for a while, potentially even riding him like a broom, but that’s when her Mom knocked on the door.

“Ho-oney… I brought you your supper.” Mom yelled so as to be heard over the Enya playing through Abbigail’s small yet powerful computer speakers. She knocked a second time, much harder.

Abbigail sighed, realizing further research would have to wait. She tapped Dildo three times on his forehead and said, “Back to the box.” With a soft popping noise, the living, breathing Imp shifted and reverted to being an elaborate sex toy. She picked him up and placed him back into the case she’d made.

Abbigail pulled her sweater over her nakedness and went to gather the grilled cheese her Mom had made for her. She took it through the door with a smile, but did not let her in. The young witch ate at her desk, thinking hard,  with a smile on her face.

Later that night she brought Dildo out again. He took a chewing very nicely.

Copyright 2016, all rights reserved


Please check out my Amazon Author Page here. I have lots of fun books. For more awesome Free Erotica by Tracey DeSanto, click here. Also… please use the form on this page to join my mailing list. I love to let you know what’s coming! 😉

Newsy News 3: Erotic Horror for Halloween!

Happy October, Team DeSanto! I have been extra busy lately because I love Halloween and have been working hard to make something special for you.

odd-bits-dark-corners-kindleHappy October, Team DeSanto! I have been extra busy lately because I love Halloween and have been working hard to make something special for you. This quick and dirty new compilation offers THREE erotic horror tales in ONE Short-Read Book! It includes two Smutty Smidgeons that were beta-tested here on the blog, (now sharpened and re-edited.) PLUS, there is a BRAND NEW short story about my favourite heroine: Stacy Drake, Girl-Detective. Here’s the book blurb…


Welcome to Tracey DeSanto’s underworld… her dark corner of smutty smidgeons. This is where she lets her taboo fantasies run wild.

Never forget… these stories are  smut. They are intended for readers over 18 years of age. In Odd Bits & Dark Corners you will find three strange short stories…  each with lots of sex… in this case, ghost sex, tentacle sex and demon sex. Read on if you dare. You have been warned.

Excerpts:

No Particular Place: Follow Stacy Drake, Girl-Detective, as she gets downright personal with a mysterious boy in the old haunted garage.

“Stacy swept her light downwards. A glimpse of something dissolved into the darkness down the hall. It was silent. She crept out of her sleeping bag, put on her sneakers, and stood to investigate. Brrrr… She was only wearing her nightshirt, and the Martini house was freezing. Gooseflesh rose under her pyjamas. Her nipples became darts. The flannel rubbing against them was arousing in a dead-end kind of way. Her bum was not made less chilly by the granny-panties she wore.

Not a ghost, she thought. No such thing.”

Nocturnal Emissions: Learn about what happens to poor William when he can’t get a certain woman off his mind.

“During lunch that day he approached Angela with trepidation. She sold him a ham and swiss. When she gave it to him their hands met for a moment. She had warm fingers. A wide work apron concealed her large bosom. She glanced at him and winked. Was it a wink? It startled William with a stirring in his boxers, so he fled to the far corner of the lunch room. Eating in nibbles, he stole glances at this wide-hipped creature that had infiltrated his subconscious. Things calmed down in his undergarments, but it took some time.”

Pacific: Enjoy a dip in the Pacific with Vanessa, who is recently divorced, and needs a swimming companion. 

“A gentle swell rolled in. The tide swept up her torso, nudging her against the rocks. Salty water lapped up across her ribcage to splash on her breasts, teasing her nipples. Her bum bounced and rubbed against the smooth slate beneath her. Vanessa opened her legs and enjoyed the underwater currents fluttering across her. Her new muff danced in the ebb and flow like a mammalian anemone. Casually… distracted… almost as if she didn’t know what she was up to, she began to play with herself.”


The new book is up hot now in plenty of time for spooky, one-handed reading, but… because you are my favourites, I must also tell you that it will be FREE on Amazon over the Halloween weekend. I do it because I love you, and I think everyone should get a treat (maybe even a trick?) on All Hallows Eve.

Shifter_Shelter_Nipped_by_Cub_Order-2Also… you know I wrote a WEREWOLF BOOK, right? Shifter Shelter: Nipped by the Cub is just the perfect thing for a dark, spooky night of October reading when you pull the covers up around you. It has some nice, fat, five-star reviews. I’ll just bet you’d enjoy it. If you click on the picture the link will take you there.

So… That’s all for now. Enjoy my Smutty Smidgeons and Shifter tales. Halloween is the best time of year, except maybe for Christmas. Hmmm…. Christmas, huh? I wonder what I could be writing for that special yuletide time of year…

Stay Tuned, Team DeSanto! XOXO

Nocturnal Emissions, a Smutty Smidgeon!

A lonely man meets the woman of his dreams. Unfortunately, this particular paranormal story might not have a happy ending.

IMG_2729Adult Readers Only. 18 +, PLEASE.

This is the first in my new ongoing series of very short stories called Smutty Smidgeons. I originally put it on my “Free Erotica” page a few weeks ago but thought it might like to live here too. Smutty Smidgeons is where I will test drive my more “unusual” ideas… all quick and dirty-like. Ultimately, there will be a compilation. This one is a bit of a dark, paranormal confection.

A lonely man meets the woman of his dreams. Unfortunately, this particular paranormal story might not have a happy ending.

Nocturnal Emissions, By Tracey DeSanto

William scrambled his eggs. He used his knuckles, abstractly, to remove the sleep from from his eyes. Yawn, stir, flip… He got the eggs onto his toast. Sipping black coffee, he leaned against the counter and forked the food into his mouth. He was tired. Sleep had been poor.

As he chewed and swallowed, William tried to remove the cobwebs from his consciousness. Last night he’d had dreams. They had been dirty. That wide female from the lunch room… the one with the odd facial tic… was it a wink? She had figured prominently. Her name-tag read “Angela”. William was surprised because he didn’t see her as particularly attractive during the daytime when he bought his sandwich. In his dream she had been different.

In his dream they had both been nude. Angela had bent over his prone body. She’d smiled and held his penis. It had begun softly. She stroked him, pulling him against her soft  body. The jerking grew in ferocity until he came painfully, exploding in an alarming way. Bolting awake, the trousers of his pyjamas had been wet and sticky: a  messy testimony.

William was a sensible man of forty-two, and a bachelor. It had been three decades since this had happened to him. He hid the soiled pants in the bottom of the trash, even though his mother was long-deceased and could no longer root out such things. He finished his breakfast, straightened his tie, and went to work with bloodshot eyes.

During lunch that day he approached Angela with trepidation. She sold him a ham and swiss. When she gave it to him their hands met for a moment. Her fingers were warm. Her large bosom was fully concealed beneath a wide work apron. She glanced at him and winked. Was it a wink? William was startled to feel a stirring in his boxers, so he fled to the far corner of the lunch room. Eating in nibbles, he stole glances at this wide-hipped creature that had infiltrated his subconscious. Things calmed down in his undergarments, but it took some time.

Later that evening, William found himself preoccupied with thoughts of Angela. As he watched ‘The Honeymooners” on his new black and white television, mental images of the lunch-lady made it difficult to concentrate on Alice and Ralf. He was drowsy, but he refused to go to bed for fear of further nocturnal impropriety. At midnight, after the programming went off-air, the white noise of the machine dragged him into dreamland. He  drifted off, illuminated by the glow of the television test-pattern.

***

William stood under the shower and turned the right-hand knob counterclockwise. Cold water beat against his scalp and trickled down his body. As it reached his genitals he shivered, groggy and weak from lack of rest. He had tossed and turned all night. Sleep had been fractured. William’s pubic hair was matted from another nocturnal emission. He reached for the soap, hoping to get clean.

In last night’s dream she had returned. They were nude, again. William reclined on the chair where he had fallen asleep. He was unable to move, as if he was strapped down. Angela looked at  him and raised an eyebrow. Offering him a gentle half-smile, she cupped her breasts and held them forward. Her enormous pillows shifted towards him, pink nipples protruding. William’s penis leapt to strength almost violently.

Angela moistened her thin lips, parted them, and exhaled. Leaning forwards, she pressed the hard buttons of her soft breasts against his chest and dragged them down his torso. Kneeling on the floor before him, she caught his penis between her tits. Then she pushed her breasts together, making him disappear. William shuddered in his soft prison, unable to move. Her skin was cool and smooth. The sensation was sweet agony.

The woman pressed her face down between her tits and sucked him while rubbing herself against his cock. William climaxed almost immediately, with a shout. She looked up at him and held his gaze, jism trailing from the corner of her mouth. There was no mistake this time. She winked. He continued, implausibly, to ejaculate. It was almost painful in its intensity. Angela rolled his dick between her breasts and let the stuff spurt and cascade into her deep, soft cleavage. This happened for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, William woke up.

He cleaned his body in the shower and dressed hurriedly. Late for work, he had no time for breakfast. Upon arrival, he mumbled an apology to his supervisor and fumbled groggily through his morning tasks. He was ineffectual, haunted by thoughts of Angela, nude and winking, covered in his cum. By noon he was ravenous.

In the lunch room she smiled crookedly when he approached. When she handed him a corned beef on rye, she held him by the wrist and added an apple to go with it. Her touch sent heat down William’s arm and directly to his groin. His erection shot up in response. The man nodded, cleared his throat, and fled the lunch room to eat at his desk. He could think of nothing but her nipples against his chest and his endless orgasm. By the time the work day was finished, his erection had subsided enough that he could go home.

On the way William stopped and bought a fifth of whiskey. He drank half the bottle while eating canned peaches. Pretending to watch television, in his mind’s eye there was only Angela. Exhausted, intoxicated, and no longer in possession of any pyjamas that were free of his own ejaculate, he stripped naked and lay on top of his bed. Sleep bludgeoned him.

She was waiting for him in his dreams.

Angela stood at the foot of his bed, purposefully naked. Her female-ness nearly screamed at him. Curly auburn hair tumbled past her shoulders, no longer hidden in a bun under a hair net. The jutting and obscene curve of her breasts beckoned to him above the soft warmth of her belly. Further below, her stubby fingers probed the furry confines of her crotch. Rubbing and pulling at herself, the creature revealed ruddy and eager labia. Her clitoris presided over the activities.

She snapped her slippery fingers and grinned a crooked grin. William’s penis jumped to hardness. He was motionless and helpless, pinned to a mattress in a dream. Preposterously nimble, Angela hopped up on the bed and stood above him, just over his midsection. Looking down, she placed her hands on her hips and gyrated. William gazed up, transfixed, into her cunt. Coy and elemental, her beautiful vagina was pink and furry. Receptive and slick, it winked at him. William trembled with fear and desire as his cock strained against the confines of its own flesh, so hard and desperate that it grew an inch.

Angela dropped on him in one fell swoop, impaling her ripeness on his prick. It began softly. Her yonic muscles caressed and pulled him. Gradually, she bore down, writhing, and tried to push his cock deep into the centre of her body. Her pussy was a supernatural entity, a lake of fire and lubrication. It gripped him and would not let go.

Straddling, riding high, she fucked him. As she drew herself up and down, her breasts bounced and rippled like jellyfish in a current. She raised her arms and put her hands behind her head, dancing an ancient belly-dance on top of William. The slap and squelch of the juicy action was an out-of-tune soundtrack to the to the bizarre ritual she performed. She began to gnash and mutter arcane noises, rising almost off of him and then slamming back down with all her force. Her eyes sparked, gleaming red.

William surrendered to the ecstasy of copulation. Every time she swallowed him, there was less of him left. It was a shuddering subtraction, each step bringing him closer to a final climax. Angela’s incantations reached a fever pitch. She barked a command in an inhuman dialect and William was swept into her. He came joyously, willingly, and involuntarily. The semen was pumped out of him relentlessly, down to the drop, until there was nothing left but his soul. Then his soul followed. Swooning, he faded and drifted, losing himself in her completely, and was gone.

The succubus left what remained of William on the bed. She strode to the shadow in the corner and kissed her master. Satan was pleased.

Copyright 2016, all rights reserved

For more awesome Free Erotica by Tracey DeSanto, click here.