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il Diabla - A Halloween Story
by The Technician (technician666@gmail.com)
***
Pete succumbs to il Diabla's seductive dance on
Halloween night. (MF, public, exh, anal, fantasy)
***
Author's Note: All of my writing is intended for adults
over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or
even extreme sexual content. All people and events
depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons
living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions,
situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should
not be attempted in real life.
If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the
difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside
in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that
prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories,
please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere
that exists in the twenty-first century.
***
I had been to a party and it was a little after 1:30 in
the morning when I got back to my place. There was a
folded piece of white paper stuck into the door just
above the latch. I grabbed it as I entered and carried
it with me into the kitchen where I sat down to read it.
It was from Pete, an old friend of mine and it read:
***
W, you have to help me. I am in real trouble and I don't
know where to turn. I am in way over my head. I should
just walk away, but I can't. She has the perfect ass - I
mean the perfect ass - and you know how much of an ass
man I am.
It all started on Halloween when I drove down to the
waterfront at the end of Adams Street. I was just going
down to look at the lights on the river - OK, you know
me better than that, I was going to play dirty old man
and use my new night vision goggles to watch the college
kids fuck in their cars at the back of the parking lot
next to the levee. I was a little disappointed that
there weren't any cars parked under the trees, but I
spied a new strip club that I hadn't seen there before -
the il Diabla.
You know that I have a weakness for strip clubs. I don't
really care about the titty shows or the "spread 'em and
show pink" line ups. Hell, even the standard on-stage
sex shows don't do that much for me, but when they start
swinging those ass globes around, I am in heaven. And
pasties and a thong doesn't hide the ass meat, so even
with "genital restrictions" to keep your liquor license,
when they bend over, I have the show I want. Anyway,
since there was no action back by the levee, I thought I
would check out the show.
It was pretty much the standard strip club. Some skinny
college-aged girls trying to make a few bucks, some
plump "escorts" who were starting to lose their looks,
and a couple of long-time strippers with the pasted on
plastic smiles. I was ready to give it two stars out of
five on my peter meter when just before closing il
Diabla herself leapt onto the stage.
I've never seen anything like it before. She was already
naked - OK, she must have had mico-mini pasties and a
red G-string, but that had to have been painted on
because you couldn't see anything holding it in place.
Maybe it was one of those that actually stuck inside her
like a cork. I didn't care. All I cared about was that
there was nothing that blocked the view of her luscious
ass.
Her entire body was painted - or dyed - red and she was
wet and slick and shiny under the lights. She swung
around those poles like she was Tarzan swinging from
tree to tree. She was all over that stage. And I swear
that she was looking right at me all the time that she
was dancing. She even came over directly in front of me
and faced away from me and slid her hands all the way
down her legs until she was holding her ankles and
smiling at me upside down from between her legs.
Then she winked at me. No, not with the eyes on her
face, with her back-door eye. She clenched her muscles
or something and her puckered little back-hole closed
just like an eye winking at me. She laughed as I dropped
my drink onto the table. I couldn't take my eyes off of
her. I was rock hard like I haven't been in a long time.
While she was dancing, the other girls, and a few who
hadn't been dancing earlier, started walking among the
tables and sitting down with guys who were alone or in
pairs. I knew the routine. They would offer you private
dances or after-hours special shows, which is just code
words for some paid pussy action. Shit, if I'm going to
buy it, I can get better for less elsewhere, and I don't
have to buy them a tremendously overpriced bottle of
"Champaign."
I heard the chair next to mine move and saw movement out
of the corner of my eye. I turned, ready to tell
whichever two-bit hooker they had sicced on me that I
wasn't that desperate, and found myself looking straight
into the eyes of a man. It was the club manager, or at
least he was the one who seemed to have been giving the
orders to the girls and the rest of the staff.
"I have a note from Diabla," he said quietly and pressed
a piece of paper in my hands.
When I opened it, it read, "What would you do for a
chance to fuck me in the ass? Would you be willing to
fuck me on stage in front of a crowd? If so, come to the
second door on the building next door at 2:00 am for the
special after hours show."
I looked back up on stage. Diabla was now rubbing her
ass against one of the poles that was directly in front
of me. The red globes of her ass slid up and down on
either side of the golden bronze of the pole as she
moved. She leaned down and to one side as she continued
her movement against the pole and again looked me
directly in the eyes.
Then she slid down so that she was on all fours with the
pole still firmly wedged between her ass cheeks and
rubbed her ass up and down against the pole like it was
fucking her. I heard her cry out, "Oh, oh, oh, ooooooh,
Pete, you feel so good in my ass!"
That got my attention. I looked around, but no one else
seemed to hear what she was saying.
"Pete.... Pete.... I need you in my ass!"
They had to have heard that! Maybe everyone else was
just too busy with the girls at their own tables to hear
or notice, but I noticed.
Needless to say, when the club closed, I walked out into
the parking lot, but didn't go back to my car. Instead,
I walked along the front of the building toward a
separate building that was right alongside the club.
From the highway they may even look like one building,
but they were separated by several inches. I chuckled to
myself. Separate building means that the entertainment
and the hours are not controlled by the liquor license.
I had seen this setup before. This could be very
interesting.
I went inside. If the club itself were a dive, this was
a submarine. It was dark and filthy with a small round
stage in the center that had old wooden tables and
chairs surrounding it. The only light in the place was
on the stage. A few feet back into the darkness and
anything could - and probably would be happening.
The bouncer / money taker at the door waved me in with
"She's waiting for you. Go through that door on the
left."
Staring into the darkness, I could just barely see the
outline of door created by light from a room beyond. I
went through the door. Diabla wasn't there, but Mike,
the club manager was. "Strip," he said brusquely, and
then added, "just put your clothes on the table and
stand against the rig."
There was a large circular platform behind him. On the
platform was a sturdy-looking upright beam with an
equally study cross beam on the top. It was a just a
little taller than I was. There were leather wrist cuffs
attached to the upper beam. I went and stood against the
beam.
"Facing out, Dumbo. Or are you planning on screwing that
post?"
I turned around and Mike lifted my hands above my head
and secured them with the cuffs. He then started rubbing
me down with oil - all over. It felt like baby oil, but
there must have been something else in it because it
smelled more like a perfume, sort of like lilacs, and it
was slicker than any baby oil that I have ever used.
Mike was rubbing me all over my body, and I mean ALL
over. As his hands passed between my ass cheeks, I was
starting to feel like this was a really bad idea. But
Mike was all business and as soon as he had me oiled up,
he got off the platform and started pushing it into the
darkness. Evidently there was another, larger door
somewhere because soon I was out front in the darkness
just behind the stage. I could see everything that was
happening on stage, but I couldn't be seen.
Mike walked onto the stage and started introducing the
girls. There was a rinky-dink piano played by a grizzled
old black man who looked like he had been playing in
whore house parlors most of his life. He was belting out
some of the really old bump-and-grind music and the
girls were taking it off to the hoots and cat calls from
the darkness.
Unlike the show in the club, however, they didn't stop
at the G and paste. They kept going until they were
totally naked, and followed that up with some real heavy
lean back on your hands and thrust it at the crowd stuff
that was supposed to get the men all turned on. That
doesn't do all that much for me because, like I said,
for me they are facing the wrong way. After they
finished their set, they would pick up their outfits,
throw them off stage somewhere, and go walking out naked
into the darkness to the men at the tables.
After a while, a set of twins came on stage and
undressed each other as they danced. Then they lay down
on the stage and began pouring baby oil all over each
other's bodies and rubbing each other down. It looked
like they were really getting into it and both were
starting to pant and moan when Mike interrupted with a
curt, "Save it for the paying customers, ladies," and
both scampered off into the darkness. Their moans
resumed a few moments later, so they must have found
ready and willing paying partners at the tables.
That's when Mike introduced Diabla. "Gentlemen, I know
what you have come here to see. There is only one Diabla
and there is no other show in town or in the world like
hers."
I could feel the platform beneath me starting to move
and soon I was standing in the center of the light, held
in place by the beams to which my hands were secured.
I didn't recognize the tune the piano was plinking out,
but Diabla came dancing into the lights bouncing and
swaying in time to its rhythm. She was even more
fabulous up close. This close I could tell that her skin
must have been dyed red because everything was red, even
her eyelids and the inside of her ears. She danced
around me sliding against me in time to the music. From
the smell, I could tell that she was oiled up with the
same oil that was covering me.
She slid and slithered against me, rubbing my ever
hardening prick with her ass. She was grinding herself
into me like some vertical lap dance, catching my prick
with her ass cheeks and squeezing it as she moved up or
down or pulling it forward as she leaned away from me.
It was almost too much to endure. I don't know why I
hadn't shot off already.
Maybe there was something in the oil that was slowing me
down. By the time the second song finished, I was almost
out of my head and bucking and thrashing trying to get
inside of her. I would almost drive little Pete home,
but she would dance away at the just last moment.
Finally the music changed to something slow and she
rubbed against me very slowly, and then leaned over, and
in one swift move impaled herself on my prick. Now she
was sliding me in and out of her as she swayed with the
music. She was starting to clench my prick with her
winking asshole each time she moved slightly away from
me.
I was nearly going insane with the sensations. Then she,
and the music, started to speed up. She had her hands on
the floor now and was thrusting back against me in beat
with the music. She started to sing, or to wail, in tune
with the music, faster and faster and faster until
suddenly she slammed herself against me with one hard,
final thrust and screamed out in passion and lust. As
she slammed against me the lights went out, both
literally and figuratively.
I saw the lights go out on the stage, and I must have
passed out. When I came to, I was home. I must have been
out for at least 16 hours because it was after supper
and once again dark outside. I didn't know what I was
going to tell them at work when I went in the next day.
I am supposed to call in if I am going to miss work.
I should have just gone back to bed and slept it off -
whatever it was, but I couldn't get her out of my mind.
Whenever I closed my eyes, even just for a second, I
could see that red ass and that winking asshole swaying
before my eyes. I had to go back and see if it had been
real or just a dream or hallucination caused by some bad
booze.
When I got to the club, it was just like I remembered
it. Mike was taking the money at the door and some
scrawny chick was dancing on the stage. I bought the two
drink minimum and a plump waitress in an outfit that was
supposed to look somewhat like a "French maid" plopped
them on the table in front of me. I nursed them along
and fended off the half-naked whores who thought I
looked lonely until I finally heard Mike say,
"Gentlemen, I know what you have come here to see. There
is only one Diabla and there is no other show in town or
in the world like hers."
She leapt onto the stage with all the sensuality and
fury that she had the previous night. With the red dye,
it was really hard to tell if she was truly naked or had
red pasties and whatever the cover was over her pubic
area. Just like the night before, she seemed to be
looking directly at me. Just like the night before she
showed me everything and winked at me with her tiny red
rosebud. Just like the night before I was hard enough to
tear through my jeans. And just like the night before,
Mike was suddenly there next to me with a note.
This time, when I opened the note, it read, "What would
you do for a chance to fuck me in the ass? Would you be
willing to let someone spank your ass on stage while you
pound mine? If so, come to the second door on the
building next door at 2:00 am for the special after
hours show."
I should have gotten up and run out of there. I really
should have. But I didn't. I waited for the club to
close and walked over the building next door and through
the almost hidden door to the back stage. Mike was again
back there and again he told me to strip. I did and
walked over to the platform. The platform was the same,
but the restraint beams were different. Instead of a
tall T there was just a single beam on the floor of the
platform near the outer edge.
I stood there while he oiled me up and then he said,
"Kneel on the platform, ankles in the stocks." I did as
he indicated and he locked my ankles in place. He then
put leather cuffs on my wrists and connected them to
thin cables that seemed to go into the floor on the
other side of the platform. He did something on the edge
of the platform and the cables tightened slightly so
that my arms were pulled forward and lifted slightly
from my sides. Then he rolled the platform out into the
darkness behind the stage.
The show was identical to the previous night, even to
Mike telling the twins to save it for the paying
customers. And then it was show time. I was rolled out
into the light and Diabla began her dance. It was the
same music, but the dance was different because I was
now lower on the stage. She spent a lot more time on all
fours rubbing and squeezing. Finally she snuggled up
against me and held still with my prick centered just
between her ass cheeks, little Pete was nestled right up
against her winking eye. She moved her ass in little
circles tantalizing the tip of my penis and driving me
higher and higher and higher.
Suddenly the cables snapped tight - very tight, and my
arms were pulled harshly forward and my body was pulled
tightly over hers. She gasped in pain and passion as I
slammed fully into her. I tried to pull back so that I
could begin to thrust into her, but she moved with me so
that I was frustrated by the lack of movement.
Then it hit. Mike was standing behind us with a large,
thick, black leather paddle. He was swinging it for all
he was worth into my ass. It hurt like hell, but at the
same time it drove me into Diabla for a few seconds as I
compressed her ass cheeks against my front. Again she
clamped down on me with that winking asshole as I moved
back out, but no sooner had we returned to our normal
position than Mike slammed into my ass again with the
paddle driving me back deep inside Diabla.
I am not into pain, or at least I didn't think I was,
but I was beyond caring about the difference between
pain and pleasure. I was close to climax and so was she.
The music changed once again and Mike kept up with the
increased tempo driving both of us higher and higher
until Diabla screamed out her wailing shriek of absolute
passion just as I came deep within her, and the lights
went out.
Sixteen hours later I again woke up at home. My ass was
sore. My head hurt. I had probably lost my job, but I
didn't care. All I could think of was that slick red ass
rubbing against me. I drove back down to the club.
Mike at the door... two drink minimum... slutty waitress
dropping the drinks of the table... it was all the same,
but I didn't care. If all that was the same, then Diabla
would be the same and I would once again get to see her
luscious, fabulous ass shining and glistening and
winking at me, and get to fuck that ass in the after-
hours show.
This time, the note read, "What would you do for a
chance to fuck me in the ass? Would you be willing to
let someone fuck you in the ass on stage while you fuck
me? If so, come to the second door on the building next
door at 2:00 am for the special after hours show."
I went. I shouldn't have - I know I shouldn't have, but
I went. The platform setup was the same as the night
before. The dance was the same, except this time Mike
was not swinging a paddle. Mike was oiled up and naked
behind me when Diabla pressed herself against me and
lined me up with her winking ass. I felt him lean over
me like I was leaning over Diabla, and when the cables
went tight and pulled me into her, he followed and with
a powerful thrust drove himself inside of me.
It hurt. God, it hurt, but at the same time, it was the
most pleasure I had ever felt in my life. Diabla was
milking my prick with her winking asshole and her
powerful dancer's muscles. Mike was forcing me deeper
inside of her as he forced himself deeper inside of me.
I just let myself go and allowed Mike to ram me into
Diabla as he rammed himself into me and pull me back
from Diabla as he pulled back from me.
It was a strange dance of three partners with Mike
leading and keeping time. I could feel myself reaching
that point of no return and I could hear Diabla
beginning to wail and whine when suddenly Mike pushed
himself into me in one final thrust with such force that
Diabla collapsed beneath me. I fell forward onto her and
he fell forward onto me and we lay on the platform with
me sandwiched between the red of her body and the black
of his, just as the lights went out.
Sixteen hours later I awoke at home again. What in the
hell was going on? How could this be happening? I should
call the police, or maybe a doctor, but what would I
tell them? Who would believe this? I didn't know what to
do. The one thing that I knew that I should NOT do was
to go back to the club, but that's what I did.
Everything was the same - exactly the same, except this
time the note read, "What would you do for a chance to
fuck me in the ass? Would you be willing to give me your
soul? If so, come to the second door on the building
next door at 2:00 am for the special after hours show."
That's when I got up and left. I went out to my car and
should have gone tearing ass away from that place with
the tires screaming and my foot to the floor. That's
what I should have done, but instead I am sitting here
writing this note to you, W, so that someone will know
what happened to me if I am never seen again. I should
go home. I should go to the hospital. I should go to the
police. I should go anywhere but to that after-hours
show, but after I drop this note off at your house, I am
going back to Diabla.
***
That's where Pete's note ended. I didn't know what he
had gotten himself into, but this didn't sound good at
all. I headed down to the end of Adams street where he
had said the club was located. His car was sitting in
the parking lot along with a couple of police cars and a
fire truck.
I pulled up next to Pete's car and walked out by the
river where the firemen were spraying down something
sitting on the gravel near the river. I walked up the
officer who seemed to be in charge and said, "That's my
friend, Pete's car. He left me a note saying he might be
in trouble. Is everything OK?"
"Not if that's your friend, Pete," replied the officer,
as he pointed to what I could now recognize as a very,
very badly burned body. It wasn't much more than ashes
and a few bones.
"They say it happens every twenty years," he continued,
"but I really didn't believe it. I should have had an
officer stationed here, but I thought the video
surveillance would be enough. I checked the recording.
It shows everything. He got out of his car, went over
there and took off all his clothes. He just stood there
for a long time looking at something that only he could
see, then he walked over to where he is now and
started.... he started...."
The officer was obviously struggling for words to
describe what he had seen. Finally he just blurted out,
"He started fucking the air. Damnedest thing you ever
saw. I could swear something was pulling on his prick,
but there was nothing there.
"Whatever it was, he was really into it, but just as he
shot his load, he put his head back and screamed and
burst into flames. It was like one of those military
magnesium flares. It flared out the camera it was so
bright. And then he was gone. It was all over in a just
few seconds. There's nothing left but a little bone and
ash. I have no idea how in the hell I am going to write
this up."
I had a lot of questions, but I asked the most obvious
one first, "Every twenty years since when?"
The officer smiled. It was more of a grimace than a
smile. He shook his head in that way that someone does
when they know you aren't going to believe what they are
telling you and began to explain, "Back during
prohibition - the roaring 20's - there was this strip
club speakeasy that operated in a couple of the
warehouses along the river front. It was evidently a
pretty wild place. I guess if you are already breaking
federal laws about alcohol, what difference does a
little nudity and on-stage sex make? Anyway, one
Halloween night they evidently got some new act from
somewhere. They called her 'il Diabla.'
They must have thought that meant "She Devil." Anyway
she was all painted red and oiled up with something and
was banging guys on stage when something went wrong and
they both burst into flames. According to the report,
just as they reached, "that magic moment," she screamed
and he screamed and 'boom.' It was probably one of the
stage lights blowing out and showering them with sparks
or something. They must have been using some kind of
really flammable oil because they and everything around
them burned to ashes in just minutes and both warehouses
burned to the ground. Luckily, everybody else got out."
He then pointed to the ground where the firemen were
still aiming a light misting spray. "In the '40's one
Halloween night, they found a crispy critter right there
where your friend is laying. Same thing in '60's, the
'80's, and so forth..., every twenty years - always on
Halloween. My predecessor left a file in the desk with a
note to make sure I check out this area at Halloween
this year. Wish to hell I could figure out what is
really going on here."
"I think I can shed some light on this, officer."
"What have you got?"
"I have to show you," I replied and he and I went back
to my place. We walked into the kitchen together. I
turned on the light and pointed to the kitchen table
where I had left Pete's note. There was nothing there
but a thin, square, pile of ashes.
"What in the hell does this mean," barked the officer.
I shook my head and answered, "I guess it means that you
better leave a note telling them to station an officer
down there on Halloween in twenty years." He looked at
me with his eyes wide as I added, "but I don't think it
is going to do them any good."
END OF STORY
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 79