By Edward Tailor
Candy Loss was lost. Well, not literally, but she was at a loss. This Thanksgiving stag do was meant to be just like any other. She was to arrive at around ten, all dressed up in her skimpy and sparkly, do her little strip routine, then play a little with the groom by sitting on his lap to make him feel like the kingpin. After that she would collect her money, head home, shower, and snuggle under the duvet with a hot cup of coco…easy. Yet, here she stood, with her blonde hair styled into ringlets, her coat still on her shoulders, alone in this very expensive hotel.
Archer? I think you’ve got the wrong Candy. I’m Candy Loss, the
stripper, not the Candy Floss, the call girl,” Candy called nervously
into the open door of the en-suite. The hotel room was standard for its
class, with plush white sofas, thick shag pile carpets and a giant four
poster bed which she noted had yellow cord tied to its oak posts. This
was not the first time this hiccup had happened. A client would call the
agency, ‘All Night’s’ and they would send the girl the client had
picked from their companies webpage. Internet shopping for the pervs
made easy. She guessed all that had happened was that the phone operator
had misheard, Floss for Loss. She’d lost a few gigs that way and sadly,
although she needed the money, it seemed she was about to lose this
“I’ll phone the agency right now. I’m sure they’ll send you a replacement straight away,” she added as she searched the bottom of her oversized bag for her phone.
“Stop what you’re doing, Miss Loss. Strip and lay on your back on the bed,” came a deep gravelly voice from the bathroom.
instantly stopped rummaging through her bag, a smile curling her cherry
red painted lips as realisation sank in. Oh My God. She knew that
voice; that was her boyfriend, Jason.
“J, is that you?” she called giggling as she headed for the open door. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I said, lay on your back on the bed. I won’t repeat myself again” he demanded sternly.
Oh hell, what was he doing? This was so out of character for Jason, she thought excitedly as she shrugged out of her coat, stripped down to her tiny thong and climbed up onto the queen size bed. Ruffling the white satin throw, she rested back against the stack of giant matching pillows. Jason, her boyfriends of all of two months, was a high flying stock broker that she had met on the job. Not his job, she was pleased to say, but a companion of his, who had booked her services for his own bachelor party. Jason was not like any other man she had met before. Right from the start, he had treated her like a human being and not like a piece of meat. Like all of the other single guys, he had watched her do her set at the party, with his smile on his handsome face and a beer in his hand. After she had finished though, Jason had stepped forward and said something about how the groom’s bride would have his nuts for breakfast if he let anything happen, before quickly escorting her from the rented hotel room.
had offered to buy her a drink at the bar, where it soon became
apparent to Candy, that he was a decent guy. Happily, she agreed to meet
him the following night for a date. Two months later, their
relationship was ticking along nicely. So nicely in fact, that she
hadn’t wanted to work. But with her savings nearly spent, she was out of
options, so when the agency rang with this job, she had to take it.
When Jason came out from the bathroom, her eyes popped and her jaw fell open. Her man looked absolutely stunning and not what she had expected at all. Jason’s stubbled chin, was peppered with a day’s growth, his dark well groomed hair looked tussled and sexily unruly and he had swapped his tailored suits for a pair for black leather pants. Coming over to the bed, his swagger told her he would be demanding more from her than to just lay there.
“You told me you were tied up tonight beautiful,” he drooled, his eyes heavily lidded and his hardened cock evident through his tight fitting pants. “Bet you never guessed that I would be the one tying you up,” he added as he started securing her wrists to the bed post with the yellow cord.
“No, Jason, I didn’t,” she giggled passionately, her eyes drinking in his thick set shoulders and his muscular biceps as his fingers made quick work with the rope. “But, may I ask why?” she questioned, following his solid frame as he moved down to the bottom of the bed to tie her ankles. “I mean why book me to come here, when you could have tied me to my bed at home?”
Jason smiled wickedly, drinking her body in hungrily with his green eyes before he knelt on the bed between her parted thighs, tracing her tender flesh with his cool steady hands.
“Because this, my darling, is my Thanksgiving present to you,” he growled as he eased his chest down onto the mattress, pulled the bows of her skimpy jewelled thong and eased the fine black satin down. Candy’s heart stopped, her breast heaved as she arched off the bed and her core flooded with desire.
“Oh God,” she managed to whimper as the warm tip of his nose nuzzled at her swelling slit. “I need to get you a better present.”
“But you have, baby,” he breathed as his tongue dipped between her lips to flick her hardening clit. “Your gift to me is to allow me to eat as much Candy as my stomach can muster.”
Dick Turpin Meets the Headless Horseman
October 25, 2013
By Edward Tailor
Steam bellowed from his steed’s flaring nostrils, frothed spittle dripped in strands from his steed’s mouth as he chewed slowly on his bit. Tired hoofs fell heavily on the rotting leaves that layered the ground this dark, dank autumn night. The Headless Horseman pulled on his thick sweat-stained reins and stopped outside the ghostly footprint of the old Highwayman’s Hotel that edged the forest.
He could not believe it was Halloween night yet again, another year gone and still he had not passed into the afterlife. Had he really done so much wrong in his living years, that he would be forced to walk a mere shadow of his former self for an eternity?
“Meh,” he grunted from between his own thighs. “Then I shall endure death as I have life.” he shouted into the rising thickening mist in a vain attempt for the Grim Reaper himself to hear his pledge.
“Are you talking to your balls again dear boy? … Are you..em em what what?” Came a familiar pompous voice from the inky darkness.
“Turpin, you twit! Where the bloody hell are you?” he called, straining his eyes to find the fair dandy.
“Over here old man, on this rather fine porch swing,” Turpin replied cheerfully from the ghostly veranda that circled the old wooden hotel.
With heavy armor clad hands, he lifted his own head above the thickness of his thighs to see the dandy. How Dick Turpin had ever become a feared outlaw of his time was beyond him. Dressed in a powered white wig and a three-pointed hat, he looked more like a woman than he did a man, but the Headless Horseman had never understood the fashion of that time. Frilly tunics and waist length coats with tails, just cried girlishness.
“Join me old boy, there’s a good chap,” Turpin requested, tapping the ghostly slatted swing at his side.
He growled out an unsociable rumble because he was, by rights, a solitary man who roamed the dense forests, content in his own misery and resigned to spend the rest of his own death without inflicting his darkened mood on anyone else, dead or alive.
“Come come, haunting season is nearly done for another year old boy, so why not join me, and we’ll watch the sunrise together.”
With nothing else to do and nowhere he needed to be, the Headless Horseman, tucked his head under his left arm and listened to his armor clank in protest as he dismounted from his giant chestnut steed.
“See, I bet that feels good to get those plump buttocks out of the saddle..em em what what,” Turpin joked with a snorting laugh. The Headless Horseman curled his top lip back from his yellowing teeth in a sneer and sat heavily onto the swing.
“So to what do I owe this pleasure Dick? From what I hear, I’m not the type of man you like to acquaint with.”
Which was true enough. Dick ..well .. from he heard, he liked dicks that belonged to lesser men, weak men, dandy’s much like himself. The Headless Horsemen was tough, rough and a fighting man that had slain many a man for calling him a sodomite. Sounded ridiculous in this modern age, to fight for such a cause, but he was born of a different time, where one could lose a head for taking a fancy to another man.
“Yes dear boy, I rather fear you’re right,” Turpin agreed and crossed one ghostly tights covered leg over the other pushing the swing into a gentle sway. “But you see dear boy, it suddenly occurred to me, that mayhap you could give me what I most desire, and what, I hate to admit, is almost impossible to acquire within our realm.” Thin lips smiled at him from what was a very handsome face. Dick Turpin had died, like so many in the ghost realm, young, at just, maybe 25.
“And what might that be Turpin, hey? What do I have that you so desire”
Turpin’s smile faltered into a nervous grimace, and for a moment, he thought the ghost would just poof out of there, the same way as he poofed in, but he didn’t. After a long moment, he replied.
“Dear boy, why you have a separated head?”
When the Headless Horseman frowned and shrugged his separated shoulders in confusion, the dandy explained further.
“Dear fellow, it must have been a long time since you’ve had a sexual encounter, because God knows, it’s been an eternity for me,” he began as he fiddled nervously with the buttons on his yellow tunic. “And I thought, that you and I …being of the same..” he stammered as he recoiled into his seat. “Well both of us being of the same nature, mayhap’s we could hook up every once in a while … and what with your head being separated … well I just thought, you could put that mouth to good use as you buggered me from behind.”
Strangely… The Headless Horseman didn’t react like he thought he should. He should have pulled his long sword from his side and slain the dandy in two, but what was the point, he was dead already. Besides, Turpin was right, he had been lonely for too long, and if he was damned for this dead existence, why should he not make the most of it.
As the sun started to rise on the horizon, ghostly bats came back to roost into the rafters of the ghostly hotel and the Headless Horseman smiled a scary toothy grin to his friend and nodded in a slow agreement.
“Tally ho my good fellow,” Turpin chimed and jumped to his feet. “Then, let us take a room in this fine establishment before it disappears from our grasp for yet another long and torturous year,” he added as the Headless Horseman took the hand of the dandy, and their world was claimed once more, by reality.
September 27, 2013
Purple Penis Eaters
By Edward Tailor
“Bear Creek, Alabama; 9.30 AM, Saturday 17 October, 2012.” Tap, tap, tap. “Is this thing working?” Jebediah Jones, small town reporter at the Herald, spoke slowly and clearly into the mic on his Dictaphone.
“Ok, it seems to be. Shall we start?” Jeb said to Burt, the aging pot-bellied biker, sitting next to him at the bar. Burt nodded, wiped the froth from his beer off of his grey beard, and stared at me with his left eye, whilst his right eye stared over my left shoulder.
“From the beginning Burt, nice and slow so the mic can pick up what you’re saying,” Jeb explained, with a cautious smile.
Burt leaned closer to the mic, his stained black T shirt stretching across his flabby back and began.
“It was the first day of autumn. I know that,’ cause that’s when the hunting seasons starts,” he drooled, looking behind him to his biker friends for their nod of approval, before continuing. “Me and my buds here,” he thumbed again behind him, “were heading out on our hogs on the East Road, when it happened.”
Burt paused for effect and took another pull on his beer so Jeb prompted him, “What do you mean, when it happened?”
Burt fidgeted, pulled the crease of his jeans out of his crotch and continued.
“Well, it started with this purple light that just got brighter. Me and my buds, well, we all saw it and pulled over. The thing was just getting bigger and coming straight at us.”
“Can you describe it, its shape, its size?” Jeb interrupted.
“Well er.. it was big.. I’d say, 75ft tall, and it was kinda ..the shape of erm…”
“It was a giant cock Burt, a cock,” shouted a thin older man from behind the pool table.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I was getting to that,” Burt spat, then cleared his throat. “It looked mighty similar to a giant glowing purple cock and it landed right in front of us, see, like right there in the middle of the road, just like one of those Scifi films. Well, you see, then a door, right between its balls opened up and these things climbed out.”
“They had tails Burt; tell him they had tails.” The same thin man butted in.
“Hold your horses, Will. I’m getting to that,” Burt complained.
“As Will said, these girls stepped out. Well, girls is what they mostly looked like, but they were purple, all purple and … naked, with … tails.”
“Yeah, that’s it Burt, they were all Purple pussy, tits and tails.” Another biker chanted, causing a loud rumble of laughter to fill the bar.
“Best damn night I ever had,” the thin guy choked with laughter as he slapped palms with a friend.
“Will you shut the fuck up! I’m talking here,” Burt ordered, sitting up to his full height. When the laughter had calmed, Jeb prompted Burt again to continue.
“Well, they must have hypnotised us or some shit, ‘cause I couldn’t move, even if I wanted to. Then, they..er.. well, they came over, all slow and sexy like, with eyes like mounting lions and their plump lips all wanting. And they were purring, but it wasn’t really purring, they were whispering ..purrrple purrrple, just like that.” Burt mimicked, then seemed to flush, scratching his beard. “Well, see, they began to stroke us, not just with their fingers but with that tail too, and then they erm … “
“Dropped our pants, Burt.” Again Burt got distracted by the laughter of his fellow bikers.
“Yeah, they did that,” he snarled, “ they did that and eased our …” he gestured to his crotch and Jeb spoke the word for him.
“Yeah, they took our penises right out of our pants and sucked them see, sucked them right into their goddamn mouths. Man, it felt so good. I can’t remember the last time my cock was ever as hard as that.”
“Don’t forget the anal probing Burt; tell him about the probing.”
“Will you shut the fuck up,” Burt shouted, finishing his beer before explaining. “That tail… well it was a tool I tell ya, and she stuck it straight up my ass. That sure sped things up and I shot my load, straight down her throat,” he said proudly, then repeated ” like all the way down her throat. Then, the strangest thing happened. She just got brighter. The more she sucked me off the brighter she got; it was like my junk was fuel or something,”
“They don’t tell you that story in Roswell.” Came more laughter from behind
“This shit didn’t happen in Roswell. There they wanted world domination; here, they just want our natural resources. Man, they can raid my world any day,” Burt laughed back to his friends.
When the laughter had calmed, Jeb asked, “Was it just you that got attacked, picked on ..or whatever…”Jeb gestured to Burt’s friends.
“Hell no, our whole crew was out there, having our life literally sucked from us,” he growled as he turned back to me. “All of us, even Scratch got some, ain’t that right Scratch?”
“Uh huh,” came a faint reply from some grubby hairy thing in the corner.
“Then what happened? Did they leave, or say anything?” Jeb asked, checking the Dictaphone.
“Well.. then they just went, headed towards the town I heard. Ain’t that right, Marci,” he called to the young bartender who was watching something in the oven.
“Marci! Marci, take that possum out of the oven and get your ass over here and tell this young man what those purple penis eaters did to your Frank,” he yelled over the top of the bar.
“OK, uncle dad, one sec,” came the reply. As Marci turned, Jeb noticed that her eyes were the same as Burt’s.
“Excuse me one minute, Miss. I need to hear this, let me get some new batteries from my truck” Jeb said and headed out of the bar.