Spirit of Halloween Nightmare

by

Caution: This Do-Over Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Romantic, Reluctant, Heterosexual, Fiction, Science Fiction, Tear Jerker, DoOver, Paranormal, Wife Watching, Swinging, Gang Bang, Group Sex, Orgy, Polygamy/Polyamory, White Couple, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Sex Toys, Exhibitionism, Double Penetration, Public Sex, Science fiction adult story, sci-fi adult story, science-fiction sex story, sci-fi sex story, science fiction do-over story.

Desc: Do-Over Sex Story: Sue mourns for her heroic Al. Is she helped or abused by close friends who have daily sex with her and allow therapists and others to screw her? Al visits briefly, yearly thru a wormhole.

[If you haven't read Spirit of Halloween already, you may want to read or reread it now though this story does stand alone. All the lines in italics are directly out of the earlier story.]


Four years ago

"Mmmmm, oh honey, ummm what a nice way to wake me. I thought you got enough last night, stud." When I forced one eye open, I saw the clock read 5:35 A.M.! He was up an hour earlier than usual, really, really UP! Though kneeling between my ankles with his chilly tongue teasing up my thigh, his big sausage sized snake weighed heavily on my calves. Still somnambulant, I enjoyed the cold fire my sweet sweet husband brought me. Only after I came twice was I finally awake enough to remember his sacrifice last night. He saved me from the ET, shouted his love for me, but clearly loved me to death - his. I looked down at his lovely, wispy face and he grinned at me.

"Sue, I realized what happened when I looked in the mirror. We have several hours left before I have to go. Or we can burn brightly for just a few hours. Your choice my love."

I gasped, horrified at the reality that crushed me as I read the clock thru his loving body...


Present

"Where am ... How ... What's happ ... Why is the air dark grey and cloudy? Who is speaking so muddledly? And why ... why does it feel like the walls are red balloons with people squeezing them and my room smaller and smaller? Why am I naked? HELLO! WHO'S OUT THERE? CAN YOU HEAR ME?" I looked at the dim, fuzzy glow near me. It was just my clock. "My clock?" Squinting, I saw the time was 5:35 A.M.!

"AAAAAYYYYYYyyy..."

I woke screaming, again! Steve or Laura or both hardly woke anymore though they often slept next to me. I've been told that the scream was an impossible combination of fear, shock, horror, terror and mourning in one. Since I lost the love of my life to that monster, every arrant night for the last four years I bolt upright at exactly 7:35 A.M. That was not the moment he died, but the instant he transitioned out of our physical plane to wherever his spirit went. No amount of sedatives has helped me sleep past that minute, but they did help me return to a still fretful sleep.

Once awake, I just lie in bed all day, moribund, waiting for something to change. Life --sigh-- goes on. Well, maybe for everyone else, but not for me. The endless days are all the same.

Each day, I vaguely remembered enjoying the party, hating the lockjaw and sore asshole and pussy and feeling my boots, nightie and necklace dissolve around me in a chilly breeze. Then I struggled painfully to ultimately see Al just as he gets sucked into the coffin; feel his icy loving cock inside me; ... watch him dissolve. THAT'S when I wake up screaming again. This has been my life for FOUR DEAD years. Then the deep, deadly depression worsens.

Every time I ask, Steve or Laura remind me of that malevolent night. No matter how hard I try, I still have no memory of how many cocks I sucked or stuffed in me, how many protein snacks I swallowed or otherwise captured or how I ultimately got home.

All that was eclipsed by the noble sacrifice my Al made for me. I didn't realize how much I loved him until I lost him. Once Al pulled me from the clutches of that evil E.T., I only had a second before the lid snapped shut with Al inside.

Laura tells me that was about 2:00 A.M. and THEN they noticed that nearly every woman at the party was a hovering wraith. She called the police, who dismissed the 'drunken reports' the remaining and naked guests gave until they saw the last of the wraiths sweep across the ceiling and vanish before them. They took statements, admired Laura's stunning face and beautiful bare body, and quickly brought in experts and tools to try to open the casket.

Luckily, someone photographed all sides of the coffin, even the bottom. The photos revealed writing in an unknown format. That, the impossible hardness of the light metal, and all the eyewitness reports prevented wholesale arrests of everyone left alive.

Steve keeps telling me that I had been sedated by EMTs before the bomb squad attacked the alien device with diamond cutters and jaws of life around 4:00 A.M. When I still hysterically fought them off, they left me sitting naked at the far end of the same room. When they finally made their first tiny scratch and broke thru the dense brown coating, the coffin began vibrating. They stopped, but before we could clear the room, the pod vibrated faster and louder until it went ultrasonic.

In seconds, it swelled then imploded in a huge, silent, green flash that left behind tacky green ashes of the pod and its display stand. Yet the carpeting wasn't even singed! In the scramble, Steve grabbed handfuls of ashes and hid them in a bag in one of the pumpkins. His hunch was critical.

Knowing I needed the reassurance of my own home, not a hospital and certainly not their home, Steve and Laura moved in with me for more than a year after losing Al. They said I was nearly catatonic so they fed me, bathed me, carried me to the toilet, arranged for a therapist who would make house calls, secured a physical therapist and learned how to give me daily PT since I barely moved on my own.

Steve reminded me again that he put me in bed with the same blanket I had around me when the EMTs transported me. He hoped that the texture and scent would help me. I was already naked, so he didn't need to undress me, though he confessed he would have enjoyed that. Before laying the blanket on me, he admitted that he checked me briefly. He put a hand on my forehead and a palm on my mons. After a moment of light pressure, he said he swivelled his palm so he could slip a finger into me to check my response. I had none at all.

He and Laura drained a full cup of sperm and cleaned my cerise, inflamed pussy before he pushed a finger inside again and searched for my G-spot. Even when he found it, I didn't respond.

They wrapped me up and slept with me. Yet, I still don't remember their being there when I woke screaming or when they slipped me another pill. When I fought them over swallowing yet another pill, they pushed a prescription vaginal suppository into me.

"Pee, and poo go." With Steve's urging, I eventually staggered with him to the toilet. I don't know if he took joy in spreading open my labia and, to prevent me from overspraying onto the floor, blocking my liquid gold with his bare hand, or if he enjoyed bending me over a hamper to wipe my ass while his wife watched. When Laura would wipe and wash my ass, she then fingered me as Steve fucked my mouth. I barely noticed and didn't care. Each time they repeated this, it was my 'first' time, again.

He confessed to bathing with me and taking liberties with me in the bath. While we bathed, he pushed his mini dick into my mouth and had me swallow his spew. It seems Laura sometimes did the same with her sex flow. They claimed that they believed that keeping me naked all the time and using sex aromas, arousal and tastes were helpful to reclaim missing memories. At least one of them fingered and ate me daily. Steve often used my ass to catch his cream.

After that first month, Steve alternated with Laura most nights to stay with me since they still felt it was unsafe for me to be alone. It was nearly six months before I spoke to them coherently and they thought that I could understand and benefit from therapy. They let all my body hair grow all those months, unchecked and ignored by me.

When I obtusely confided that I hadn't had any sex since their Halloween party, alone or with another, they looked at me askance since either of them hadn't left my side since then. I didn't remember that Steve had fucked all my holes frequently. Laura sitting on my face was fruitless and the variety of vibrators was used only by them. They both selflessly and generously offered to help with sex.

When ready for various therapies, they decided to shave me. Laura shaved my legs and plucked my nipples while Steve shaved my pubes, rolled my cunt open and shaved my labia. Four therapists refused to work in a naked home. The fifth physical therapist they contacted agreed to weekly home visits if they agreed to allow safe sex with him. I didn't care. I watched passively as he fucked my mouth and pussy.

The first day with a sex therapist, still dressed in a dark olive skirt and jacket over a white blouse, Dr. Ann intimately examined me and Laura. Steve asked for unneeded advice and she showed him on Laura how to quickly bring her to a loud, dripping orgasm. She scooped up more of Laura's thick nectar and spread it under her hood and bathed her clit; then gently helped her firm clit leap from its hideaway.

She showed Steve and his turgid dick how to lightly tease and massage a clit before wrapping a mouth around it. She had Steve lift her skirt and practice on her naked cunt. Shortly all three were breathing hard. Laura, grunting and sweating, came on Dr. Ann's fingers and mouth; Ann came on Steve's. Steve licked Laura's dripping quim and Ann's relentless tongue.

It wasn't until after Steve stood, laid his moist cock on her lips and she sucked him into her hungry mouth until he covered her tongue with his fresh seed that she abruptly leapt up and breathlessly left with her skirt stuck above her bare ass. She didn't return the following week.

.... There is more of this story ...

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