


Mausoleum

by slyc_willie



Category: Group Sex
Published: 2009-10-24
Updated: 2009-10-24
Packaged: 2017-05-13 06:47:11
Chapters: 1
Publisher: literotica.com
Story URL: https://www.literotica.com/s/mausoleum
Author URL:
https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=748325&page=submissions
Summary: An unexpected menage at an annual Halloween concert.
Erotica Tags: Becky, Concert, Creampie, Halloween, Quarry, Snowballing, Steve,
Threesome, Vicki
Average Rating: 4.37






        Mausoleum


_(Author's note: The following tale is an official entry into the Literotica
2009 Halloween Story Contest. I hope you enjoy this bawdy tale of lust. Enjoy
the read, and Happy Halloween.)_  
  
* * * *  
  
"This is gonna be fucking awesome!" Derek declared, bouncing jubilantly in the
passenger seat of the vintage sedan. "I've wanted to go to Zombie Stomp for,
like, forever!"  
  
Steve rolled his eyes, but he had to admit he was excited as well. The
stresses of working forty hours a week on top of a full load of classes
demanded relief. Only two months into his senior year, and he was already
looking forward to winter break. But a Halloween weekend away from work and
school was the next best thing.  
  
"Gonna be some hot fucking chicks there, man," Derek continued, the gleam of
his ruddy cheeks showing even through the white vampire face makeup he wore.
He slapped Steve's shoulder. "Even _you_ could get laid."  
  
Steve scoffed. "Yeah, but I won't need to get a girl drunk, first," he said
meaningfully, indicating Derek's obvious pudginess. Even with the shimmering
red vest, his best friend's stomach was obvious.  
  
Derek grinned, running his hands up and down his thick body. "Hey, I ain't
fucking fat. I'm husky."  
  
Steve chuckled. "You know, for every fifty pounds of excess weight, you lose
an inch on your dick."  
  
Derek snorted. "I got inches to spare, man."  
  
"Uh huh. I've seen you in the showers after practice."  
  
"Dude! You been fucking checking me out? Don't tell me my best bro's a fag!"  
  
"You wish," Steve drawled.  
  
"Don't count on it, dude. I ain't jumping no fucking fence."  
  
Steve laughed, shifting in his seat. He had decided to go for a tribal savage
motif in his costume, which consisted of a makeshift loincloth draped with
leather tassels and feathers, similarly-decorated strap-up sandals and
abundant body paint. He maintained an impressive build, due to being a wide
receiver as opposed to Derek's role of linebacker, and hoped that would help
him attract female attention.  
  
He kept pace behind a long row of cars which, ostensibly, were headed to the
same destination. As far away from everything as the old quarry lay, it was
unlikely any of the cars were headed anywhere else. Indeed, as they
approached, the cars slowed almost to a crawl. Police cruisers were parked to
either side of the road, flanking a checkpoint. Steve and Derek both exchanged
slightly worried looks; while they had not been drinking, both young men
carried fair amounts of marijuana on them.  
  
"Dude, this is so fucking fascist," Derek commented.  
  
"Relax," Steve calmed. "They're probably just checking IDs. Look – you can see
the lights of the quarry."  
  
"You better be right, dude."  
  
Car after car inched forward, and as Steve edged the rebuilt Ford Galaxy
toward the checkpoint, he saw not a police officer, but a pudgy, bearded man
in a white T-short displaying the bloody Zombie Stomp logo. The cops stood off
to the side, sipping coffee and generally keeping to themselves. Apparently,
Steve figured, they were present due to past incidents of violence erupting at
the annual concert. Their visibility alone was a powerful deterrent.  
  
The rotund man in the T-shirt waved through the car ahead of them and
indicated for Steve to stop.  
  
"Twenty-one and over only, guys," he said, shining a flashlight upon the two
young men after Steve had rolled down the window. "I gotta check ID."  
  
"No problem," Steve answered, quickly producing his driver's license.
Begrudgingly, Derek did the same. The pudgy man checked them both, looking
closely at Derek's made up face. Satisfied the two men were of age, he stepped
back.  
  
"Enjoy the concert, guys."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Happy Halloween, fascist dude!" called Derek before a sharp slap from Steve
had him wincing and clutching his shoulder.  
  
"Asshole," muttered Steve.  
  
"What!" snapped Derek, massaging his arm.  
  
"Just don't get us thrown out."  
  
Derek said nothing, distracted instantly as Steve rolled the car into the
grassy field that served as the venue's parking lot. A bevy of scantily-clad
pirate wenches giggled as the car passed, making inaudible comments about
Derek's obvious gawking of them. One of them flashed the majority of her upper
thigh before they were out of view.  
  
"Dude!" Derek exclaimed. "Chick fucking wants me. I can tell."  
  
"Yeah, right," Steve commented, parking between a pair of large SUVs. He cut
the engine and palmed the keys with a grin. "You ready?"  
  
"Fuck yeah!"  
  
* * * *  
  
The broad expanse of the old limestone quarry was filled with a literal sea of
people more than twenty thousand strong. Four stages occupied each corner of
the venue, belting out rap, hip-hop, rock and metal. The air was heady and
thick with the aromas of sweat, cigarettes, pot and alcohol, kept potent by
the hazy cloud hovering between the towering walls of the quarry. While
Halloween came during the first chill of approaching winter, the mass of
bodies, glowing lights, and humming electronics increased the temperature
noticeably.  
  
"This place is fucking huge!" Derek proclaimed as he and Steve followed the
crowd through the gates. The broad path sloped down toward the quarry proper,
affording a brief overview of the entire venue. The four stages flashed with
various lights and the minimal sort of cheap props indicative of low-profile
bands. For, while Zombie Stomp was a much-lauded event, it was open only to
local bands. For many, it was the first stepping stone toward national and,
hopefully, world-wide exposure.  
  
"Look at this, Steve," Derek urged as he tapped the glossy program he had
picked up at the gate. "Slammin Sammy is gonna be on the metal stage at ten.
Bad ass. I saw those fuckers at the Naked Iguana couple months ago. They
fucking wail."  
  
"Hmm." Steve was not as interested in the various bands as he was in his
surroundings. Halloween brought out the slutty nature in every girl, he
noticed. Regardless of motif, the aim for feminine costumes seemed to be to
reveal as much bare skin as possible. Not that Steve was complaining.  
  
"Whoa! Dude!"  
  
Derek's exclamation recaptured Steve's attention. He looked first to his
friend, then to the pamphlet his best friend was reading.  
  
"Check this: 'Zombie Stomp was first envisioned to celebrate the anniversary
of the death of William Adler, madman and sociopath, who is believed to be
responsible for the deaths of over twenty people before he himself perished in
1899. A wealthy patriarch of the community, Adler's vicious and perverse
habits were never fully revealed until many years following his funeral. In
1944, with the passing of his daughters in a fire that destroyed the family
mansion, the real story began to emerge. A collection of letters and diaries
written by the daughters described instances of kidnapping, rape, sexual
perversity, and even incest.'" He lifted his head, giving his friend a knowing
look and crooked grin. "Dude screwed his own daughters. That's fucking sick."  
  
Steve wrinkled his nose. "And we're celebrating this guy?"  
  
Derek chuckled, picking up on the pamphlet where he had left off. "'Zombie
Stomp is a celebration of all things perverse and free. While unquestionably
an inglorious, unrepentant madman, William Adler nevertheless embodies the
spirit of hedonism and total loss of inhibitions. We, the organizers of Zombie
Stomp, like to think the spirit of William Adler looks down upon this festival
with approval from the Adler Family Mausoleum which can just be seen _above
the northern face of the quarry_.'" He finished with a grin, directing his
eyes toward the northern end of the quarry. But the darkness of night and the
haze in the air obscured the view.  
  
"Okay, before we get creeped out, I wanna get a beer and maybe find a couple
chicks to smoke a blunt with," Steve declared.  
  
"Sounds like a plan," Derek agreed, folding the program and stuffing it in his
back pocket. He shook out his black cape and leered at a pair of young women
passing by.  
  
"Alright," said Steve, clapping his hands together. "The mission is pussy.
Carnal knowledge, on the premises. Got it?"  
  
Derek looked around with a lecherous grin. "Not yet, but I guarantee I'm gonna
get it."  
  
Steve rolled his eyes, but he was already looking around for possible prey.
Confident that his mostly-revealed and very toned body would gain him abundant
attention, he was happy to find his confidence confirmed in the eyes of
speculative feminine onlookers. With a cocky smirk, he clapped his best friend
upon a meaty shoulder. "Then let's go get 'em, Crackula."  
  
"After you, Tribal Thunder."  
  
* * * *  
  
The music was infectious, as it often is in such a large venue. Even though
the majority of the music was not exactly what Steve would enjoy on a regular
basis, in the context of being surrounded by thousands of writhing, sweaty
bodies, with the aroma of a hundred different perfumes mingling with marijuana
and alcohol, Steve found himself enjoying the thunderous beats and
enthusiastic lyrics.  
  
_Like a freakin' orgy_, he thought, wandering in the periphery between the
rock and metal stages. Derek, he knew, was worming his way toward the metal
stage in anticipation of hearing Slammin Sammy. Steve didn't worry about being
split from his friend. They both had their cell phones, and had already agreed
to meet back at the car at two a.m., come what may.  
  
The first beer down and a second half-finished, Steve found a spot near a bank
of port-a-potties, away from the chaotic crush of revelers. He was glad he had
included the small leather pouch as part of his costume; it was useful in
carrying his ID, money, and the little plastic bag containing three rolled
joints. Having seen numerous others openly smoking spliffs and bowls without
fear of arrest, and with just enough alcohol in his system to make him
reckless, he took one of the carefully-rolled cigarettes out, tweaking the
ends before tucking it between his lips. He lit it, puffed a few times to pull
the flame in, then inhaled deeply.  
  
Holding the bittersweet essence in his lungs for a few seconds, Steve exhaled
slowly, smiling at the rich aroma of Hawaiian-grown weed. The smile lingered
as he surveyed his surroundings like a conquering soldier. Women glanced his
way, some giving appraising looks, others rolling their eyes or giggling in
veiled embarrassment.  
  
Then, as if materializing like a vampire from a cloying mist, she was there in
the crowd, striding meaningfully toward him. Clad in a snug black dress with
the neckline plunging to her navel, she was an alluring blonde, hair swept
back and free, smooth, pale skin glistening with the sheen of the night. While
slightly-built and possessing narrow measurements, Steve was instantly
attracted to the almost feral, wanton look in her glittering green eyes.  
  
"Give a girl a toke?" she asked boldly, keeping her shoulders back to
accentuate the near-nudity of her chest.  
  
Steve smiled in his best "suave" way. He was always a little intimidated by
girls who were more forward than he, but the alluring charms of the blonde
beauty before him made him make the extra effort to match her cool approach.  
  
He held the joint between thumb and forefinger, letting his eyes wander down
the girl's lithe body. "Only if you tell me your name," he answered, returning
his gaze to her eyes. He felt a stirring in his gut, traveling swiftly down to
his groin, upon noting the light array of freckles across her cheeks and nose.
Freckles had always been a weakness to Steve; they evoked impressions of
hometown life and demure innocence. But it was already apparent that the
blonde before him was neither small town nor innocent.  
  
The corner of her mouth curled. "Vicki," she responded with a lick of her
soft, kissable lips.  
  
Without bothering to hide his admiration for the girl, Steve handed the joint
over. She puckered her lips before pulling on the illicit cigarette, eyes
closing while she inhaled. She held it for several seconds after passing the
joint back, then slowly let the smoke filter out, trailing up like the thick
grey fingers of a skeleton over her face. She smiled upon Steve.  
  
"How about me?" asked another voice, bidding Steve to divert his attention
from the blonde and look to his right. A sultry redhead smiled back, clad in a
dress to match the blonde's. Her freckles were even more pronounced and
abundant.  
  
_Two girls? _thought Steve with a brief moment of anxiety.  
  
"It's okay," Vicki said. "This is Becky. We share everything."  
  
He glanced back to her with an obvious expression of interest. "_Everything_?"  
  
"Yes," confirmed the luscious redhead, gaining Steve's attention once more.
She framed the joint in Steve hands with slender fingers and took it away,
locking his gaze as she drew upon it with as much suggestive sexiness as the
blonde. "Everything."  
  
He smiled through both excitement and anxiety. "I like the sound of that."  
  
Becky emitted a deep, throaty chuckle. "I bet you do."  
  
"What's your name?" asked Vicki, sliding just a little closer.  
  
"Steve."  
  
"Good name," replied the blonde. "It means 'crown.'"  
  
He chuckled. "I doubt I'm gonna be a king any time soon."  
  
"Maybe not," remarked Becky as she took another hit, then passed it to Vicki.
"But I think you just might deserve royal treatment."  
  
Steve's smile grew even more. "I always enjoy being pampered," he declared,
then gave both young women a meaningful look. "But I also like giving as much
as I get."  
  
The blonde and redhead exchanged sly smiles and nodded to one another, making
a voiceless agreement. Finally, Vicki gave the joint back to Steve and curled
her arm around his. "Come on. Love Puddle is gonna hit the stage in a few
minutes. You like them?"  
  
Steve shrugged. "Sure," he said, accepting Becky's hand in his. _I'll go
anywhere you honeys want . . . ._  
  
* * * *  
  
He had to admit, for an unsigned band, Love Puddle was pretty good. Their
music reminded Steve of old Smashing Pumpkins tunes he had heard often as a
young boy. The four members of the band all wore plain, cyan-colored doctors'
scrubs and had their faces made up to depict bloodstained mouths and sunken,
zombie-like eyes.  
  
The pair of beauties flanking him made Steve's ego soar, especially once he
noticed the appraising looks men gave them. A few ventured to flirt with the
winsome blonde and redhead, but they responded with cold, curt replies,
clinging to Steve like devoted slaves to a master.  
  
Still, despite the strange and sudden devotion of the two women, Steve was
still startled when the blonde, Vicki, slid her hand up the inside of Steve's
thigh to cup the weight of his cock and balls through the loincloth. He gave
her a wondering, aroused look, which she returned with a sly smile.  
  
And there, in apparent obliviousness of the people surrounding them, she
slipped around before Steve and lowered herself to a squat, legs splayed
widely. Smiling upon the growing bulge hidden behind a single layer of cloth,
she peeled the waistband down, fully exposing Steve's hardening dick to both
the revelers around them and Vicki's appraising gaze.  
  
_This is nuts_, thought Steve, glancing around. But it seemed no one caught on
to what the slender blonde was doing, at least not right away, save Becky, who
only grinned and winked.  
  
The warm firmness of Vicki's tongue brought his attention back to the eager
blonde. She smiled up around an open mouth as she licked and lapped along the
length of his engorged shaft, making it glisten. But the smile faded after
several seconds, replaced by an expression of wanton desire as she spread her
lips around Steve's cock and slid them all the way down the shaft.  
  
Steve groaned, staring down in stupefaction as Vicki's lips caressed the base
of his cock, her nose brushing the soft dark hair of his lower abdomen, her
chin pressed against his balls. He felt her jaw moving, tongue massaging, and
the fluttering of her throat around the head of his sensitive phallus. He
swayed slightly, more light-headed than if he had guzzled a case of beer, and
touched her head.  
  
Lost to sexual delirium, Steve noticed a few interested eyes watching what
Vicki was doing. A man clad in a pirate's costume gave a thumb's-up. A girl
looking like a slutty Alice in Wonderland stared with astonished eyes, her
mouth hanging open.  
  
A hand touched his chin, gently urging Steve to look to Becky. She smiled
sultrily and offered her lips for a taste. Steve moaned into her mouth as they
kissed, and all the while, Vicki's mouth never let go of his cock.  
  
Finally, the blonde slid her talented mouth from Steve's cock and rose. Giving
him an impish look, she tucked his still-engorged penis back into the
loincloth.  
  
"Come on," whispered Becky in his ear, her voice just audible above the
musical din.  
  
He frowned. "Where?"  
  
"Some place we can be alone," answered Vicki, taking his hand.  
  
* * * *  
  
With the absence of pounding music and the crunch of human bodies, Steve's
senses gradually adjusted to normal levels as he followed Vicki and Becky
along the rear of the quarry, behind the stages and various band vehicles, to
an old iron gate the blocked the way out. There was the faintest of paths
beyond the gate, which was otherwise overgrown with thick vegetation.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
The girls paused, exchanging a glance, before Vicki turned back and pressed
herself against Steve's body. "How kinky are you?"  
  
Steve searched her face, alcohol and marijuana making him both bold and
relaxed. "I'm willing to give just about anything a shot."  
  
She slid a bare thigh around his, then directed one of his hands between her
thighs. Steve's libido surged as he felt slick, pliable flesh and just the
faintest trace of hair. "I'd like you to give this a shot," she purred, then
kissed him fiercely.  
  
"Come on, hurry!" Becky urged, standing beside a now-open iron gate. Without
further thought, Steve followed the winsome redhead through the gate, towing
Vicki behind.  
  
The narrow trail lead upward, following the craggy face of the cliff that was
the other side of the quarry's northern wall. Away from the heat of humanity
and electronics, Steve shivered at the drop in temperature and the buffeting
winds. Only the promise of enjoying the delights of two sexy, willing women
allowed him to endure the cold. He only hoped they were going somewhere
enclosed. The fear of "shrinkage" became suddenly and embarrassingly real.  
  
Becky climbed with the agility of a cat, almost effortlessly following the
tiny winding trail up inclines of almost forty-five degrees in places. Steve
stumbled behind, figuring his two imminent lovers were gymnasts. They
certainly seemed to possess the bodies of athletes. With the wind whipping at
her clothes, and Steve's vantage point of behind and below, he was treated to
several inspiring glimpses of Becky's naked rear and the plump, shadowy sex
just beneath.  
  
The climb was thankfully brief, resulting in the three of them standing above
the massive concert below. The contrast of raucous revelry below on one side
and calm, windswept hill on the other was startling.  
  
"Here we are, baby," Becky cooed, gesturing with her arm toward a structure a
little further along the crest. Surrounded by thick vegetation and standing
beneath the heavy boughs of a broad-limbed elm was a weathered stone edifice
that looked like a small cathedral. Simple columns flanked a heavy, eroded
door composed of iron and stone, beneath a large, engraved panel that read,
"Adler."  
  
Steve suddenly blanched, feeling more sober than if he had never touched a
drop of beer. He suddenly cursed Derek for having read him the history of the
sociopath for whom Zombie Stomp had been held. "You . . . wanna go in there,"
he said hesitantly.  
  
"It'll be cool," Vicki whispered in his ear before giving the lobe a quick,
teasing lick. "The three of us, naked together, getting down and dirty."  

"It's a mausoleum," Steve pointed out.  
  
"So?" quipped Becky, hands on her hips. "You afraid the dead guy's gonna come
to life?"  
  
Steve abruptly chuckled. "No. Guess not."  
  
The redhead smiled catilly, then casually pulled her dress over her head.
Illuminated by the glow of light from the concert, the pale skin of her naked
body took on an almost ghostly sheen. Ripe breasts pushed upward toward the
midnight sky, capped with thick cherry nipples that puckered in the chill. The
nest of orange-hued hair between her thighs looked like fire above what Steve
was certain was an appropriately volcanic sex. "So," she said. "Let's go."  
  
Trepidation vanished from the young man's mind, especially upon looking to
Vicki, finding her equally nude, trailing the dark dress behind her. While not
as pale as Becky, she was equally alluring with her long, free-flowing hair
and sparsely-furred Venus mound. With sultry smiles, the girls turned and let
their swaying hips and gently-bouncing cheeks entice Steve into following.  
  
Metal grated and stone ground with a faint shower of pulverized dust, but the
door to the mausoleum opened, allowing the girls entry. Steve felt a chill
trickling down his spine just as he braved the doorway, making him pause. But
the flare of matches within, slicing through the darkness, helped assuage his
nervousness.  
  
He stepped into the amber-illumined sanctuary as the naked girls applied fire
to numerous candles set around the interior. The chamber was just spacious
enough in which to move around, dominated by a massive stone sarcophagus, a
rectangle of darkly-stained stone the size of a dining room table meant for
eight. The walls to either side glistened with humidity-glossed stone, their
features lost in flickering shadow.  
  
Steve wrinkled his nose at the dank aroma of the tomb, but the morbidity of
his surroundings was more than tempered by the pair of nubile, nude
seductresses which faced him. Leaning against the edge of the sarcophagus,
they gave him hungry looks.  
  
"Ready for us, stud?" asked Becky. Beside her, Vicki curled her tongue across
smooth, even teeth. Her eyes were fixated upon the young man's groin.  
  
Steve's chest swelled. He hooked his thumbs in the elastic band of the only
garment keeping him modest and let it fall around his ankles. His cock sprang
out, swelling in thickness. "What do you think?" he asked in return.  
  
Becky grinned. Vicki heaved a wanton breath. "I think I'm hungry," the blonde
growled, aggressively stepping forward. She cupped her hands to either side of
Steve's face and pulled him into a desperate kiss, urging him further into the
mausoleum. He stumbled, trying to maintain both the kiss and his footing, and
found himself being turned about. He grunted slightly as he was pushed against
the nearly frigid stone of the sarcophagus.  
  
"Up," Becky commanded simply, eyes mirroring the flickering candle flames.
Steve winced at the cold, but did not hesitate to scramble atop the cold slab
of stone. Becky crawled up with him as Vicki pushed his thighs apart and
resumed what she had begun at the concert. Steve sighed in pleasure, ignoring
the chill of the stone beneath him as Vicki engulfed his cock to the root once
more. But now, an extra dimension of stark sexuality was added as Becky
straddled his face in a squat, the fleshy pink lips of her pussy splaying
wide.  
  
"Eat me," she whispered heatedly, then uttered a guttural groan as Steve
eagerly complied. The taste of her, he found, was both bitter and sweet, more
toward the latter end of the scale than the former. She was fresh, clean,
surprisingly so given the events of the night. Steve moaned into her slick
genitals, licking and sucking voraciously as Vicki mimicked his enthusiasm
upon his cock.  
  
Becky grinned, watching the blonde as she bobbed her head up and down
thoroughly swallowing Steve's cock on each plunge. Unable to resist, she
lowered herself to a sixty-nine atop the young man, rolling her hips over his
face as she licked a random trail down his lower abdomen.  
  
"You want a taste?" Vicki asked, releasing Steve's penis and stroking the
slick length with her hand.  
  
Becky licked her lips. "Of course." She stared into the blonde's green eyes as
the cock the other girl tilted toward her face slid into her mouth. They
locked their eyes for a few moments as Becky suckled the throbbing column of
flesh, tasting the essence seeping from the pliable flesh. The man beneath her
shuddered, then groaned when Vicki added to the sensations by laving his
swollen balls with her tongue and lips.  
  
The stale air was filled with the wet, carnal sounds of sucking licking,
moaning and sighing. Steve began jabbing his hips upward, driving his cock to
the hilt in Becky's mouth as his own efforts upon her swollen labia faltered.
The redhead popped her mouth off the straining phallus, and Vicki was quick to
grab it, squeezing the base.  
  
"Uh-uh," Becky teased, moving off of Steve's body. The panting young man
groaned in mild frustration.  
  
"I was gonna come," he gasped.  
  
"And you will," Vicki declared, lifting herself onto the sarcophagus and
straddling his hips. The slippery, heated lips of her pussy caressed the head
of Steve's cock. "Inside me."  
  
He groaned again, but this time with a smile as the blonde impaled herself
upon him. Her eyes fluttered in ecstasy as every inch was pulled within her
rippling tunnel. She smiled upon Steve with adoration, reading the sublime
pleasure in his face while undulating back and forth. Her gaze switched to
Becky, who was also smiling, and the redhead leaned toward the blonde for a
deep, sensual kiss.  
  
"Oh, man," moaned Steve, pushing up inside Vicki.  
  
"You like that?" Becky asked after breaking the kiss. "You like when I kiss
her?"  
  
"Fuck, yes."  
  
Her eyes flashed devilishly. "How about if I suck her nipples?" she asked,
then lowered her head, brushing back brilliant red hair so Steve could get a
perfect view of her tongue curling around the nipple of Vicki's left breast.
She puckered her lips around it, sucking it into her mouth, making the blonde
gasp in delight.  
  
"Goddamn, that's hot," declared Steve in a breathless voice.  
  
"Does that turn you on, baby?" cooed Vicki, grinding back and forth, mashing
her needy clit against the young man's lower abdomen. Her face glowed with
brilliant rouge, signalling the onset of an orgasm. "You gonna come?" she
panted.  
  
Steve winced, squeezing Vicki's hip in one hand and gripping one of Becky's
firm cheeks with the other. His hips punched up off the now sweat-slicked
sarcophagus repeatedly, hammering his cock deep within the writhing blonde.
"Fuck!"  
  
"Do it, baby!" Vicki cried hoarsely, even as she shuddered through an orgasm
which had her gasping, almost choking for breath. Her body bucked, back
arching deeply. A hand came up to hold Becky's head close to her breast, the
redhead sucking ardently all the while.  
  
Steve and Vicki cried out simultaneously as their bodies were wracked with
intense pleasure. He could feel every pulse of his penis, wrapped snugly in
the grasping, gripping funnel of Vicki's pussy, as every surge and spurt of
semen gushed from deep within his body to fill hers. Steve's entire groin
burned with the intense sensations, which proved almost painful as Vicki
continued to ride the wave of her own release.  
  
"S-s-stop," Steve begged, pushing his hand down firmly on Vicki's thigh in an
effort to make her cease her motions. Finally, the blonde stopped moving, her
face slack and eyes closed as she relished the afterglow.  
  
Beside them both, Becky chuckled. She leaned down to kiss Steve, slipping her
tongue around the edges of his mouth. "We're not done yet, baby," she
whispered in a way that was both sweetly promising and darkly foreboding. But
Steve was all but incoherent, head spinning, body tingling.  
  
He barely registered what was going on as Vicki eased off his semi-erect cock,
leaving it cool in the algid air. But his attention was diverted back to his
momentarily-spent penis as both girls affectionately licked, lapped and sucked
his fluid-smeared member, murmuring and giggling all the while. He stared at
their cream-slicked tongues, their blissful faces, their enticing eyes when
they kissed, sharing the flavor of his seed. Never had Steve seen anything so
incredibly erotic.  
  
With a naughty look, Vicki climbed atop the sarcophagus even as Becky bade the
young man to slip off. The blonde lay back on the carved stone slab, legs
splayed widely open. Her swollen sex glistened with a mixture of sexual fluid.
Thick white semen oozed from her puffy slit.  
  
"My turn, Steve," Becky said, bending over the sarcophagus, bringing her face
close to Vicki's seeping pussy while spreading her legs and pushing her hips
up in invitation. Steve needed no further hints to know what the redhead
wanted.  
  
His cock, having shrunken somewhat after his first orgasm, was quickly revived
by the sight of such an enticing target. Wispy, fiery curls of soft pubic hair
peaked from between her taut legs. Steve found the sight erotic, more so than
if the cute redhead had shaved away her somewhat unique sexual beauty. Taking
his cock in hand, he stepped close to the girl, rubbing the already wet head
of his dick between Becky's sweet, sugary lips. The redhead groaned as she was
penetrated, but did not stop in her ardent licking and sucking of Vicki's
vagina.  
  
Although he could not directly see what was happening, the mere idea that a
wanton redhead as beautiful as Becky would so eagerly lap up the oozing cum
from her friend's recently-fucked pussy had his libido spiking dramatically.
The effect was heightened when Becky lifted her head and glanced back to Steve
as she bucked against his pounding thrusts.  
  
Chin and lips glossy, smeared with mingled semen and vaginal fluid, Becky gave
Steve a dreamy-eyed look. "Make me come," she demanded, before noisily
returning to her cunnilingual feast. Vicki gasped and sighed repeatedly,
pressing a hand against the back of Becky's head, urging the redhead to devour
her. She stared at Steve's face, offering an expression of pure, unadulterated
desire.  
  
Soon, both women were groaning and shaking, all but thrashing in the throes of
orgasm. The small room was filled with their cries of passion, whereas Steve
just kept pumping away, spurred on by the uninhibited antics of his lovers.  
  
"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna come," he announced, feeling his cock swelling within
Becky's caressing tunnel.  
  
"Give it to us!" cried Vicki, pushing Becky back. Both girls quickly fell to
their knees on the grimy stone floor, staring up at Steve as he stroked his
tensing cock. The held their mouths open, tongues outstretched.  
  
Steve trembled at the kinky, erotic sight. This was the sort of thing he had
only seen in porn, but now, inexplicably, a pair of hot, uninhibited women
were wantonly awaiting the taste of his orgasm. With such stimulation, it took
only a few more firm, squeezing strokes of his cock before he erupted.  
  
Jet after jet of potent seed lanced from the slit at the tip of his cock,
spattering onto proffered tongues, succulent lips, and fine, unblemished
cheeks. The girls both giggled and cooed at the weight and aroma of semen
which decorated their faces. Steve squeezed out the last few bits onto the
tips of both Becky's and Vicki's tongues, then let them pass his cock back and
forth, suckling, licking and kissing it. He swayed on his feet, stumbling back
against a cold, grimy wall.  
  
The girls both looked to him with shiny, glossy chins and lips. Dollops of
thick white cream clung to their cheeks. They regarded him with the cool
sexiness of black widows.  
  
"Are you all done?" Becky asked with an exaggerated pout.  
  
Steve snorted with laughter. "Maybe for now," he said. "But if you wanna give
me some time . . . ."  
  
The two young vixens kissed, mouths pressed passionately together. Vicki broke
the kiss quickly, however. "I wish we had more to give," she said with
indifferent wistfulness. "But it's past time for us."  
  
Steve grimaced, but nonetheless nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I figured," he
said. "Just a one-time thing, right?"  
  
Vicki and Becky shared another quick look. It was the redhead who spoke first,
returning her attention to Steve. "Guess you have us both all figured out,"
she said.  
  
Steve shrugged. "I didn't fall of the truck yesterday, you know."  
  
Becky leveled her gaze upon the young man with an unmistakably predatory
expression. "Can you guess what's going to happen now?"  
  
A chill stabbed through Steve's chest as the two women rose, facing him. Their
faces seemed to darken, while their eyes took on an inhuman, unearthly glow. A
stray gust wound its way through the body-heated confines of the mausoleum.
The candle flames flickered wildly, making the shadows dance across the walls.
And for a brief, stupefying moment, that same chaotically dancing luminescence
revealed plaques on the walls to either side of the large central sarcophagus.
Set above upright crypts, the plaques were embossed with the names of those
who had entombed within several decades before.  
  
_Rebeca Adler_, Steve read in anxious wonder, before his eyes darted swiftly
to the other. _Victoria Adler. William Adler's daughters._  
  
_Oh, shit . . . ._ his gaze returned to the two young women, who had taken
positions beneath the engraved placards which, presumably, bore their names.  
  
Intimidated by the now feral faces the girls wore, Steve stooped quickly,
gathering up his loincloth. He rose slowly, backing toward the door. "Um . . .
it, uh, was a lot of fun, ladies, but I gotta get going--"  
  
"You're not going anywhere," Vicki breathed threateningly.  
  
"Daddy needs you," added Becky.  
  
Steve blinked, feeling the abrupt dryness of his mouth. "'D-daddy?'"  
  
"Of course," replied the redhead with a broad grin, revealing a pair of
extended fangs. "That's really what this was all about."  
  
Vicki chuckled, taking a single step closer to their unnerved lover. "And you
thought this was all about getting off, didn't you?"  
  
"Uh . . . pretty much," Steve answered, nearly reaching the mausoleum's door.
The air was chillier.  
  
"Sorry to, uh, burst your bubble, Stevie," Becky chided, snapping her hands
out, finger extended and sprouting long, blade-like nails. "But like my sister
said, you aren't going anywhere."  
  
Steve swallowed thickly, fear fully taking root within his brain. As Vicki
sported her own clawed hands and both women advanced, he turned with a
stumble, hoping to race out of the decrepit old structure and leave all this
madness behind.  
  
His foot slipped.  
  
He gasped in startled panic.  
  
The girls leapt, snarling and screeching like harpies.  
  
Steve's cries of anguish, pain and shock lasted only a few moments, confined
within the mausoleum's interior and nullified from the outside world by the
now howling wind outside.  
  
* * * *  
  
Derek huffed in disgust, perched atop the hood of Steve's car, staring at the
glowing screen of the cell-phone in his hand. He had sent more than half a
dozen text messages to Steve in the previous few hours, and had called thrice.
But his best friend had yet to respond, and the sun was just beginning to cast
its gentle and normally sublime glow across the land.  
  
The massive lot upon which the concert's revelers parked their vehicles lay
largely empty, leaving only a few vehicles. Most of them contained partiers
who had wisely chosen to sleep off their inebriation in the back seats.  
  
Derek had no need of sleep to counter the effects of alcohol; he had become
tiredly and rudely sober after the concert was over and the beer vendors had
all packed up. More than that, Derek had failed in his quest for carnal
knowledge. The closest he had come was a brief make out and grope session with
an obviously drunk young woman, which left him supremely frustrated.  
  
Midway through composing yet another lengthy and angry text message to Steve,
he was interrupted by the same pudgy, shaggy-haired man who had checked their
IDs at the venue's entrance.  
  
"Yo, dude," the man called, crossing the parking lot toward the row of
vehicles in the employee-only section. "You waiting on somebody?"  
  
Derek glanced up, perturbed. His white face paint had begun to dry and crack,
and his eyes were red from the consumption of beer and pot. "Yeah. My supposed
best fucking friend. It's like he fucking vanished off the damn planet."  
  
The concert employee looked wary. "Hope he wasn't hit by the Zombie Stomp
curse."  
  
Derek frowned. "The what?"  
  
"Did you get one of the programs at the front?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Then it's all in there."  
  
Derek begrudgingly reached to his back pocket, taking out the folded-over,
wrinkled program. "What the fuck you talking about?"  
  
The other man's face was drawn and somber. "Just read it," he said. "It'll
tell you all about it. To be honest, I just wanna get the fuck outta here." To
punctuate his words, he strode toward a relatively late-modeled sedan and
jerked open the door. Derek watched him drive away, once more noticing a pale
face upon the man. He then looked down at the tri-folded glossy pamphlet he
held.  
  
He read through the majority of it quickly, remembering the story as he had
relayed to Steve. Then he flipped the program over, finding more of the story.  
  
_'It's a morbid fact that, every year at Zombie Stomp, someone goes missing.
We call it the Zombie Stomp Curse. Maybe it's real, maybe it isn't. But since
no bodies are ever found, it's probably just and urban legend. Still, be
careful and don't walk the concert grounds alone.'_  
  
Derek frowned, enduring a quick shock of anxiety which coursed through him.
_No way. Couldn't happen. It's bullshit, just stuff they made up to get some
exposure._  
  
_ Yeah, that's it._  
  
He crumpled up the pamphlet and tossed it to the ground. He wondered how long
he was willing to wait before reaching under the frame of the car for the
spare key and heading home.  
  
_I'll give him another hour._  
  
* * * *  
  
Standing unabashedly naked atop the apex of the quarry's northern wall,
Victoria and Rebeca Adler held hands as they gazed upon the remnants of the
annual party below. Neither evidenced any discomfort at the chill wind
whirling around them.  
  
"He was a good one," Vicki said with a small smile.  
  
"A very good one," Becky agreed, absently lifting a hand to lick away the
streak of blood upon it.  
  
"Do you think it will finally be enough to awaken Daddy?"  
  
Becky breathed in deeply, buoyant breasts rising, then falling. "We can only
hope," she said morosely, then cast a sidelong glance to her sister. "Because
I really don't want to spend another sixty-five years like this. I mean,
coming alive for only one day out of the year is really rather annoying. We
barely have time to get caught up with what's new anymore."  
  
Vicki nodded in assent, narrowing her eyes against the growing radiance of the
sun on the horizon. "We had best be inside," she said, taking a step back and
tugging gently on Rebeca's hand. But the redhead did not budge.  
  
"Rebeca," Vicki voiced firmly.  
  
The other woman nodded curtly, then allowed herself to be directed back to the
mausoleum. She gave her sister a sheepish smile.  
  
"Sorry," she said. "But sometimes, I wish I could watch the sunrise."  
  
Vicki passed an affectionate, caressing hand down the redhead's face as the
pair moved toward the open door of the crypt. "Soon, dear sister," she said
prophetically. "Soon."  
  
_-finis-_  
  
_(Thanks for reading. Please don't forget to vote, and feel free to leave a
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