Chili, Booze, Nightmares, and the Girl Next Door

Chili, Booze, Nightmares, and the Girl Next Door

[1] Liar, Liar, Belly on Fire

The chili cookout challenge my neighbor and I had sponsored turned out to be a huge success. More than a two dozen neighborhood and family member friends had submitted mouth-watering entries. The theme of the challenge was, ‘How hot can you get!’

Of course, as with many sporting contests, some asshole ringer presented a ‘mystery’ concoction with no clue as to its maker’s origin. No list of ingredients was listed except for the one saying, “WARNING; made with extra HOT peppers!”

With the chili gauntlet thrown down, all of we chili connoisseurs just had to sample the ominous potion. It was HOT; Hell, the peppered ingredients must have been cooked in Hades cauldron! I had never tasted the incendiary likes of such peppers. Even as hot as it was, several other men and myself recognized the tangy-whangy flavor of equine meat. If there was any other evidence of animal flesh, then it was not recognizable.

There was no doubt as to the savory, succulent, prize-winning preference for this hell-born dish. Spurred on under the influence of great mugs of beer and multiple shots of bourbon, I consumed too many bowls of the hot mystery chili. Of course, I had to try a bowl of all the other entrant’s submissions, so as the sun faded, moonglow found me quite intoxicated on the spirits of grain and the phantom apparitions engendered by spicy stomach-churning contest contenders.

As all know, I hardly ever get drunk. Yet, this night I had already made passes at a couple of my friends wives; one hand had been handily rebuked while I had easily gotten a handful of pussy from the other. Sweet, stolen kisses eased my mouth and belly fires. After that, I stumbled around alone and horny while looking for a bit more pussy. I had recently turned thirty and I found that plenty of pussy eased my fears of getting old.

Now who put that damned brick in the middle of the sidewalk? Sidewalk, hell, I had crossed out of my neighbor’s yard, fallen, and was now lying down in the middle of my own manicured flowerbed. Sweet-smelling rose blooms put a smile on my face, yet the thorny stems ripped intricate tattoos on my face, arms, and shorts-wearing legs. I cried out, but not very loud.

Yet, Cassandra Barnstable heard me, crossed the treacherous terrain, and came to my assistance. “David, Mr. Hall, are you injured?” the girl inquired. “Oh you are! You are terribly scratched! Let’s get you inside!”

In spite of having on only swimming attire, Cassie waded into the flower garden and assisted me out. I am a muscular man, yet I weigh only about a buck-fifty. The girl was pulling me from an awkward stance when one of her boobs and then the other spilled out of her bikini top. “How old are you now, Cassie,” I asked while reaching for the girl’s sweet, young breasts.

I had a tit in each hand massaging nubile nipples when the girl answered, “I am seventeen. Now, quit it, David! You’re drunk!”

“Awe shit,” I exclaimed. “Do I have to? You’re not the little girl I used to know!”

We were at my back door when Cassie fished a hand into my pants pocket to get my keys. I took the opportunity to fish a hand into her panties to get a piece of pussy. This girl wasn’t a knockout in the looks department, but she had a voluptuous body that said, though young, she was all woman. Long, curly brunette locks of hair spilled from the top of her head and cascaded down over her chest.

“Mr. Hall, I said, quit it!” Cassie forcefully repeated.

Smiling in a semi-drunken stupor, I teased, “Quit what? I like it.”

The girl made sort of a non-binding deal, “Maybe some other time.”

I stripped and fell into bed while Cassandra went to the medicine cabinet for medicinal supplies. She was back in a flash. “Oh, David,” she admonished. “You didn’t have to take everything off!”

“It feels good, wanta try?” I asked and pulled her bikini panties down to her knees. Unlike most girls, she had a curly bush. Mmm, I liked it!

“I’m going home if you don’t STOP!” the girl again reprimanded and pulled up her bikini bottom.

“Okay, okay, okay,” I gave in. “Spoilsport!”

For the next twenty minutes, Cassandra dressed my wounds and listened to a few of my real and pretend boyish screams. Shit, it hurt and I believe she was glad it did.

“Go to sleep now,” Cassie said.

“What about a kiss goodnight?” I teased.

“Promise not to touch me?” I heard.

“Sure do!” I hurriedly promised.

Cassandra surprised me by actually sitting on the edge of my bed. On second thought, this girl had quite a special prettiness to her face. Sweet, soft, wet lips kissed mine obsessively. Oh how wonderful! Involuntarily, I took the liberty of stealing a handful of pussy from within her bikini panties.

Cassie popped up off my bed like a firecracker had gone off under her ass.

“LIAR!” she announced.


I was asleep by the time Cassie had put the medicinal supplies away. Unbeknownst to me, she peeped in at my door. Seeing my unconscious state, she came over and kissed me again. Just for the tiniest of seconds, she held my fiercely erect cock in her hand.

“Oh David, I wish this was you without your intoxication. I love that I love you! Please don’t marry another until I’m eighteen!” Cassie barely whispered. She kissed my mouth with unrestrained passion and then she dared to wantonly kiss the flesh of my cock. Ashamed, she ran away.

[2] The Night, the Beast, and the Mare

I was sprawled out all over my bed when suddenly I seemed to feel a great weight on my chest. I had everyman’s greatest fear; oh shit, after drinking all that booze and eating all that spicy chili, I was having a heart attack!

I suddenly awakened with hopes of having the energy to dial 911. Yet what to my wondering eyes should appear but a miniature monster which caused me great fear. What the hell? She, or it, was a grotesque manifestation slightly related in appearance to a female I had recently seen. This hideous creature had long locks of curly brunette hair cascading from the top of its head and falling down over its shoulders. A bushy patch of hair covered her, or its, pubic region. Fur covered the majority of the insanely ugly beast.

“You should not have put your hands on that girl with evil intent,” the creature scolded. Adding rebuke to reprimand, it continued, “You must now be punished and taught a lesson!”

Suddenly, a horse’s head entered the nightmarish scene. The head seemed to poke out through draperies although there were no drapes in my bedroom. Incredibly, the head spoke, “And you should not have consumed the flesh of my body in your hot chili contest!”

To say that I was frightened would be an understatement. Hell, I was shivering and trembling so much the bed was rattling. I became determined to defend myself against this most incongruous of duos. Yet, how does one find defense when your opponents are nightmarish apparitions brought forth by booze and hot chili peppered meat?

“My intent was not evil,” I argued with the succubinal bitch. “Cassandra Barnstable is the sweetest girl I have ever met. If not for her young age, I may be tempted to…”

“Aha,” says the bitch. “You may be tempted to rape, to violent fornication, to forced copulation!”

“I did NOT say that,” I submitted. “My intentions would be pure. And IF sex were involved, it would be with love!”

From the horse’s mouth came, “Let’s kill him now, let’s eat his tasteless human flesh, let’s torture him!”

“I did not know that I was eating your flesh, HorseFace,” I earnestly conveyed.

The mare of the night would listen to no more. She began licking my cockhead. Her tongue was slick on one side, yet as coarse as sandpaper on the other. Greenish, yellowish teeth began nipping and biting my penile erection. Pain made me piss in the night mare’s mouth.

Oh god, why didn’t I hold my water? Horse teeth bit down hard and my cockhead popped out into the equine apparition’s malevolent maw. I screamed with the loudest sound which ever came out of my mouth. HorseFace chewed the sensitive ball that used to be attached to my cock. The nightmarish equine entity whinnied insanely.

The succubus female laughed with a lunacy approaching insanity. Her two hands wrapped around my penile shaft and pumped my meat eagerly. A thick stream of bright red blood shot three feet into the air and was swallowed like water from a fountain by the small sadist bitch. After drinking her fill, this most wicked of wenches took the remainder of my cockshaft into her mouth and began eating to her heart’s content. No attention at all was paid to the earsplitting shrieks emitting from my mouth.

Divine intervention was all that would save me from my unbearable agony. Finally, it came. I bled out. And, I was dead.

[3] Do No Go Gentle into that Good Night

Yet, sorry of sorrows, I was not dead. A new spark of life was breathed into my lungs by the stench of the foulest breath my nose had ever smelled. Rotting flesh from the succubus was kissing my lips. When I gagged in protest, the creature suddenly positioned herself over my crotch, guided my erection in through her hairy bush, and then began fucking me with her thorny vagina.

My cock was back, whole and normal! How can such devilment exist in heaven or hell? I would rather be dead than to be so painfully and heinously raped by such a devilish bitch. Hour after hour, bloody thorns ripped my penile flesh, made my pure red blood flow from her putrid vagina, and caused me to scream hoarsely.

Speaking of horse, no sooner had the succubus beast finished her rapacious molestations of me than the mare spoke in the night and demanded to fuck me also. I did not ask how this was even possible because in nightmarish reveries, all things are possible.

The mare of the dark night turned an ass towards my bed. This was the same ass and body which had supposedly provided the meat for spicy chili. The mare’s scraggly tail lifted up to the ceiling revealing her decomposing slit of equine cunt and the hellish oversized void within.

How? Hearing my one-word quizzical inquiry, the miniature beast commanded me to stand in my bed. A sharp-nailed finger touched my penis and it began to stretch in length and swell in girth. Absurd, it was, but my cockshaft measured at least four inches in diameter and my cockhead reached the covers of my bed about three feet down.

Lifting with both hands, the small-figured succubus lifted my horse-sized, long-dong silver and positioned it at the entrance to the equine cunt. Sprinting off the bed, the diminutive female fiend hopped aboard my massive cock and perched there.

“For what purpose, your head wonders,” the bitch snarled. “Why, for lubrication, of course! Of course a horse must be wet!”

How can one understand the insane mind of a succubus bitch? This creature began pissing all over the sensitive flesh of my thorn-scratched cock. Adding insult to my agonizing injury, the diminutive beast began shitting a diarrheic mess of fecal matter onto my penile skin.

Swinging off my cock, the bitch stuck claw-like fingernails into my asshole thus causing my body to involuntarily thrust my massive erection into the mare of the night’s cunt. While I felt nothing but excruciating pain, the hideous horse took great pleasure in tormenting my shitty cock. The succubus reamed my asshole with all ten talons of her sharp, hell-born, poker-hot nails.

[4] Dying Dreams, Love’s Therapeutic Mending

Familiar voices came to my comprised mind. Was this more pain for my tortured body and soul? Were additional nightmarish cruelties responsible for my aural and visual insight?

Morning at my neighbor’s house:

Cassandra Barnstable entered the kitchen where her mother had just prepared a steaming pot of coffee. Cassie and her mom sat in silence allowing the mountain-grown elixir to slowly awaken nerves, thoughts, and memories.

Out of the blue, Cassandra announced to her mother, “Mom, I love David Hall!”

Cynthia Barnstable responded to her daughter rationally, “Yes Sweetheart, I know!”

Cassie continued, “I love him even though you think he is too old for me!”

Cynthia replied, “Honey, you were twelve years old when I told you that. I am not telling it to you now.”

Refusing to drop the subject, Cassie tentatively added, “Mom, I almost slept with David last night. He touched my breasts and he had his hands on my pussy! I wanted him to do more and more…”

Cynthia questioned, “So, why didn’t you let him? Every teen girl should experience an older man.”

Cassie gazed at her mother surprised by her liberal sexual attitude. She explained, “David was drunk, Mom. My love for him would not let me take advantage of his intoxication.”

Cynthia smiled and said, “Good for you. This must be the ‘real’ thing!”

“It is,” Cassie affirmed. After a moment’s thought, this young woman wantonly added, “I bet David is not intoxicated this morning. Mom, I’m so…I’m so horny for him! Would I be doing wrong if I seduced him this morning?”

Cynthia was thrilled that her daughter shared such intimate details with her. “You go for it, girl!” was her honest answer. “Go now!”

Cassie stood and ran for the kitchen door. The doorknob brought realization as to what her morning attire was. The voluptuous seventeen-year-old wore no bra but did wear a pair of lacy pink panties. Shockingly, she wore a man’s long-tailed shirt with only one button holding it closed. This was the very same shirt David has discarded on the floor before she doctored the wounds on his nude body!

Cassie opened the door and put one foot upon the path she had set. “Mom,” the determined young woman whispered. “I have no protection. I want David to take my virginity in the way that a beast of the woods would take his mate. I want David to ride me bareback! If I get pregnant, then happily pregnant I will be.”

Cassandra set out through dew-wet grass on her mission of getting herself laid by the neighbor man she loved.

I awakened. Sunlight illuminated my bedroom. No nightmarish apparitions revealed themselves. Dream shadows emptied of demons. It was over, the dark agonizing night, was over.

A hot shower washed the filth of dreamtime imaginations from my body, my mind, and my soul. I began feeling human again. A beaming smile crossed my face as I heard knocking at my backdoor. Wrapping a terrycloth bathtowel around my waist, I stepped lively and answered the insistent knuckle knocking.

The sight of the barely-dressed young woman nearly made me swoon. “Cassie, what the hell are you doing out so early in the morning,” I asked. “Don’t you know that this time is reserved for only ‘good’ girls and angels?”

Cassie stepped inside without an invitation. Her lips brushed my ear as she whispered, “What makes you think I’m not a ‘good’ girl? David, I may be the angelic answer to your hopes and dreams!”

After last night, there were three things I never wanted to do again; drink too much booze, eat too much chili, and dream so terrifyingly. At least, I think I was dreaming. It may have been real. God, for all I know this may be an imaginary lull in the nightmarish hell I had known!

“David, would you like for me to doctor your wounds,” Cassie sincerely. “Surely they still sting?”

I vividly remembered hell-bound admonitions, “Don’t put your hands on that girl with evil sexual intent!”

“No, no, I’ve already doctored myself,” I hastily replied.

I suppose Cassie was taken aback. Her seduction wasn’t working. Still, she determinedly tried again. “David, I must have accidently slipped your shirt over my bikini top last night,” she admitted. “I guess you want it back?”

Before I could offer my protests, Cassie’s one button popped loose. The girl shook her shoulders and the dark-green garment slithered down her arms. One finger caught it and held it out to me. “You may have this plus base number one, base number two, or base number three,” the unavoidably seductive female offered.

I suppose the girl’s just-licked, luscious reddish-pink lips were base number one. Base two were undoubtedly the two tight, rounded 34C breasts which ornamented the young woman’s chest. Strawberry nipples surrounded by velvet areolas added additional decorations. Base three could be nothing other than the feminine treasure contained within the pinkish panties hugging the curves of her hips and ass.

Despite cautionary warnings, I wanted to run every base. Although it had not been offered, I wanted to have a ‘homerun’ with my cock inside her drippy hot, wet vagina! How did I know that her morning pussy was hot? Stains soaked her panties. I remembered the sweltering wetness from the handfuls of young pussy I had stolen last night.

“No Cassie, you may keep my shirt,” I said using all my willpower to resist.

Cassandra Barnstable took a quick step towards me. Agile, slim arms encircled my neck and lips locked onto mine. This young lady’s saliva-wet tongue made her kisses so slippery and passionate I just could not resist their seductive allure. Heavenly kisses nearly made me forget the dangers of flagrantly ignoring warnings. Still under a spell, I allowed Cassie’s mouth to tongue-fuck mine and mine to tongue-fuck hers.

My eyes darted about the kitchen. They searched every cavity, whether dark or light, where monsters might hide. Just because none were found didn’t end my trepidations. I had reason to fear because I had sexual intentions that involved the breasts which were pressed so intimately to my chest.

As Cassie stepped back, I lifted a tit in each hand. My ass plopped into a kitchen chair at nearly the same time that a nubile nipple plopped into my mouth. I knew it was impossible, but I swear I tasted strawberries. Suckling insistently, I tasted strawberry jellies and jams. Testing my taste buds, I repeated my taste test on the other nipple and easily proved my strawberry hypothesis. I loved strawberries, I loved tittie nipples, ergo; I loved suckling Cassie’s amazing nippled protrusions.

Cassie’s hefty tits offered unblemished canvases on which I could draw imaginary lip-paintings with my tongue. Her mounds of mammary flesh were kissable, all-day-suckers. I didn’t kiss or suck them all day, but I did take a good deal of time enjoying the fleshy fruit of the delicious melons.

Once again, I stopped to look around for monsters. I loved the exquisite texture of Cassandra’s body and I swear that I had genuine romantic feelings growing for her. Yet, imaginary demons forbade true love, or at least, they forbade the passionate sexual intimacies which made true love grow.

“What are you looking for,” Cassie quizzed. “David, if you don’t, or can’t, love me, then let me go! If you do or can love me, then please have your way with me. ‘Old Man’, I may be young but I’m not jailbait. I’m a woman with a heart full of love to give to a man. I’ve chosen you as its recipient!”

“Babydoll, if I chose to accept your heart,” I inquired. “May I also have the fruit of your loins which are currently hidden within your panties?”

The voluptuous vision in my arms uttered two words, “You may!”

Cassie stood and took a step away from me. Untying the yellow ribbon holding back her ponytailed hair, the brunette curls spilled the summer-tanned skin of her shoulders. A few wayward strands tickled her nipples. My vision was directed downwards to a nice bellybutton which I fully expected to explore with my tongue.

Cassandra Barnstable’s panties inched down slender, smooth legs. The girl stepped out of them, stood glorified in all her nude perfection, and then handed the pussy-smelling panties to me. “David, I’m sorry to be so brazenly blunt,” she said. “But, please fuck me!”

With this said, Cassie ran for my bedroom and I swiftly followed. The loose-jointed acrobatic female leapt in the air, did a turn, and landed on her back in the center of my bachelor bed. She was giggling and laughing merrily. I approached, slowly remembering the nightmarish dreams which took place in this same bed.

Oh hell, I couldn’t climb into the cursed bed! I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, but there was a feminine conspiracy afoot to get me fucked in this bed. Cassie moved to the mattress edge, grabbed hold of my bathtowel, and then jerked it off my nude body. Although she had timidly touched my cock last night, she now eagerly seized the swollen erection and pumped it. Prompted by an unseemly wickedness, this young woman drew my throbbing penis into her mouth and began sucking.

The young cocksucker took her time and made me wait. At one point, I felt teeth nipping at my cockhead. I froze in fear. Yet, the teeth didn’t bite very hard and the nipping was soon replaced by sucking and licking. Kissing lips led one of my hands to Cassie’s cunt. Kneeling beside the bed, I reached over the girl, grabbed her ass, and placed her pussy in front of my face in a perfect pussy-eating position.

Clits are my favorite pussy meat and Cassie’s was especially appetizing. Young, moist, tender, pink meat, she had. Mmm, she had a clit I could suckle and eat forever! I found an unbroken hymen between her inner pussylips so I tried my best to break it with my cupped, stiffened tongue, but soon realized that it was going to take a hard cock to burst this barrier.

As I continued sucking and playing with Cassie’s vaginal plaything, she whimpered and cried wildly. Without intending to, her pussy began spraying my face with orgasmic moisture. Feminine cum ran freely for several minutes.

Pissed off because I hadn’t yet fucked her, Cassie attacked my cock and sucked it and jacked it until orgasmic masculine cum ran freely as hers had. My girl might be an amateur cocksucker, but she knew how to accomplish the task at hand.

Now one-one in the oral consummation game, Cassandra and I climbed into my bed. We were determined to regain our sexual prowess so that we could fuck and fornicate properly. For the next hour or two, we cuddled, we rested, we fondled, and we played foreplay games.

At last, we could take no more. We were ready to mate our bodies together with my cock locked so deeply inside her body it might never come out. We fucked and we mated with the ferocity of feral woods beasts. Moisture flowed. My cock released pressurized creams. Cassie’s cunt flooded my bed and my body with multiple releases of feminine juices.

This was no slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am joining of bodies. Cassie and I copulated for an incredible amount of time. Even after our fluids dried, we fornicated a while longer. Boy-o-boy, now this was the way to start a romantic love match!

[5] The Secrets of Love and Nightmares Revealed

With her parent’s uncertain blessings, seventeen-year-old Cassandra moved into her thirty-year-old lover’s house within the week. A bit of a neighborhood scandal ensued, yet nothing serious threatened to derail our obvious love-lived relationship.

From the morning of Cassie’s deflowering and the consummation of our physical love, I had no more nightmares. Not even a small one. My emotional love and adoration for this fantastic young lady grew each day and she was constantly declaring her love and devotion for me.

Cassie continued to insist on no birth control protection. Since we fornicated like oversexed bunnies in heat, it came as no surprise when Cassandra Barnstable’s pregnancy was announced. A short while later, marriage vows between Cassie and I were spoken in a centuries-old cathedral in her parent’s ancestral home region bordering Italy and Switzerland.

While not my first choice for a marriage venue, this cathedral had become a required marital destination for young Barnstable brides. Secret whispers hinted as this being the home place for (open to interpretation) either demonic or angelic protectors for girls from birth to death. Legend says that at each female birth, new demon/angel protectors are awakened from their crypts.

This dark, dank religious structure gave me the creeps. The wedding party wound down steep steps entering a thick fieldstone lower cavern. Recessed into one wall was a space set aside as an art gallery. A grainy brochure proudly announced an acquisition from, of all places, The Detroit Institute of Arts. At 40 inches by 50 inches the painting had the ominous name of, The Nightmare. How befitting of its time and place.

We individual members of the wedding party were given a private audience of a few minutes in the diminutive gallery to view the artistic masterpiece. My wife Cassandra entered before me and exited minutes later with a radiant look enlightening her face.

So, how bad could it be? I entered the gallery and stared directly at an artist’s creation of the NIGHTMARE I had lived! I nearly shit my pants! There I was lying nude and unrecognizable because of the spurting blood, the disfigured, writhing, screaming agony, and the nightmarish tortures being inflicted upon my mind body and soul.

The insidious succubus sat on my chest with her fangs buried into my neck and her talons clawing at my asshole. From behind dark velvet curtains the mare’s head appeared. Her mouth raped my cock and once more bit my cockhead off and separated it from my shaft.


Back upstairs at an open air amphitheater, we wedding guess watched as seminary students performed a play based on the infamous painting hidden below. In the production, the values of feminine virtue were expounded. Imaginary nightmare creatures saved girls and women from violation by pretending to torture every man who touched a female.

As Friar Barnabas Barnstable explained, the painting and the play were based upon folklore and their true religious meaning was merely a cautionary tale meant to protect women from abusive men. To this date centuries after the painting, no man has claimed to have had an actual encounter with any such nightmarish beast.

No shit Sherlock! An aside from the actual nightmare is a warning that to speak of the beastly atrocities is to insure their continuance! Peaceful sleep comes only when wives are treated especially well. Well hidey ho neighbor, you bet your sweet ass that Mrs. Cassandra Barnstable Hall will be the most respected, most revered, and best loved wife in living history!

And there would be no more NIGHTMARES for me!


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