It’s usually pretty hard to content note Halloween erotica. It’s fun to give myself the challenge of writing something dark and horror-focused at this time of year, and I like ’em gruesome. If you’re also into macabre sex stories you might enjoy the following, but if you don’t want to read about people fucking reanimated corpses, you should probably give it a miss. 

I wake up screaming. No idea why, but I wake up screaming. Just absolute, cold-blooded, throat-ripping screams. Christ. Fuck. I can’t understand it. It takes him a couple of minutes to calm me. Stroking me with gentle hands and crooning ‘ssssh’ into my ear.

I try to sit up. Can’t.

Try to move my hands. Can’t.

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As someone who has never fully exited her goth phase, I’m a big fan of Halloween erotica. You’ll find a tonne of spooky and supernatural guest content here on the site if you know where to look. From beasts that chase you semi-naked through the forest to demons that fuck you in hell. Creatures with tentacles, powerfully sexy ghosts, and even a lost ghost ship… Yeah. I fucking love this stuff. So this year when I did a shoutout for Halloween erotica, I was delighted when Ash (check out Ash’s website here and follow on Mastodon here!) got in touch with a kickass, atmospheric and beautifully horny twist on graveyard sex. Enjoy!

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You know those nights you have, in bed with someone new and exciting… those nights when you feel like you’re… hmm. Sorry, I’ll start again. So you know those nights at the start of a relationship, just after you realise how much you want this to be a relationship… those nights when you’re f… fuck. Hang on. Let me try a different tack.

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I think it was a Reddit comment, that’s where the hairband trick originally came from. A guy was replying to a question along the lines of ‘what’s the hottest thing your partner does that isn’t specifically a sex thing?’ and he started waxing lyrical about hairbands. Prior to sucking him off, he explained, she did this thing where she reached for a hairband (from her pocket, her wrist, a nearby table, wherever: those of us who tie our hair up generally have a few scattered around our homes, bags and person at all times) and looked him dead in the eye as she scraped her hair back into a ponytail. It was hot, he explained, because not only did it get him pulsing towards erection via the Pavlovian effect of telling him ‘you’re about to get your dick sucked’, it also symbolised that she was taking this really seriously. Hair tied back means business. It means ‘I want to really go to town on you.’

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In the moment I broke up with my ex – the moment itself, when I said the words, “I can’t do this any more, I’m so sorry” or whatever it was – I knew that at least one of my friends agreed it was the right decision. She’d sent me an email, the week before, which started with the sentence “I didn’t think you were ready to hear this last year, but now I feel like it’s time…” It was one of the best emails I have ever received. It was kind, caring and helpful. It did not trash my ex or instruct me to break up with him, it just reminded me of the conversations I’d had with her over the last few years, and what those conversations amounted to from her perspective. She held up a mirror to the picture I’d been painting in a way that made me see the image as clearly as she did. To this day, I am grateful to her for sending that email. Without it, my life would look very different today.

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