AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following is a work of erotic/horror with graphic adult language and explicit sexual situations. If you are under the age of eighteen LEAVE NOW! Ever hear a song from your past and it suddenly sparks a short in your head? Well I’ve been on a KISS overdose lately and thus this new tale.
The KISS song was blaring out of the car’s speakers making the windows of his Cutlass shake. The thump of the bass, the screaming guitars and the pounding drums was enough to make anyone stare at the 1973 cherry red Camaro. It was the summer of 1977. The night was hot, the illegally bought beer was cold and the future held boundless possibilities. Jake O’Donnell stopped in the middle of unbuttoning Roberta Evans’ four hook bra. He had been unsuccessfully trying to undo the miserable thing while his date giggled. The beginnings of the KISS tune broke his concentration and he growled something, feeling it bubble up from the back of his throat. He untangled himself from their hot, sweating position to swipe at the droplets of dense condensation and peek just over the bottom of the window. There, parked directly in the middle of the pack of vehicles was the Chevrolet muscle car. The other automobiles parked along Ridge Road were dark with varying degrees of steam frosting the windows. Jake noticed some of the other lovebirds were staring but quickly went back to their tussling activities making several of the cars rock from side to side. Glaring hatefully at the racket thundering in their midst Jake was furious for the unwanted interruption.
“Jesus Christ!” he swore, “that idiot is going to get us all caught.”
“Forget about it. The cops know about this place and what goes on here but they never show up,” Roberta Evans remarked. “Come back over here, don’t leave me hanging.”
“Jake if you really want a piece of me you’ll forget the bastard and get back over here or you can kiss us going to Prom goodbye.”
He grumbled under his breath. Roberta was hot, sexy and very willing but for some reason the noise from the red sportscar was killing any desire for love in him.
In fact now all I want to do is bash in somebody’s head, he thought unhappily.
“Jake?” his date said.
Her tone rose at the end of his name, a warning he had just seconds to return to the business at hand or go home with a killer case of blue-balls. It was an easy choice to make.
“All right, all right keep your shirt on,” he groused.
“Actually my shirt is off—and I’d like to keep it that way,” she laughed.
Twisting back to the snickering brunette he reached around to fumble at the chastity belt-like locks on her bra. She resumed kissing him deeply and groping at his crotch through his Levi jeans. He felt one snap of the brasserie come undone and felt a slight thrill of victory.
“One down, three more to go,” Roberta chuckled, breaking the kiss.
“Did you wear this thing to piss me off?” he asked.
“Ah come on Jake—aren’t you up for a challenge?”
“First you kept telling me no when I asked you for a date, then you agree and now you’re laying roadblocks in my path while taunting me in the back of my car.”
“I like it when guys are persistent. If they are turned off by a few rejections then I know they’re not serious. You, on the other hand didn’t let it slow you down.”
Snap number two surprising unclasped beneath his fingers and he watched her make an “O” shape with her glistening mouth. Horny thoughts returned when he momentarily pondered how it would be exactly her lips would look when she went down on him. He shivered with erotic anticipation.
Clasps three and four became more stubborn and soon he was sweating but not from the exercise he was hoping for. Meanwhile the KISS song ended outside and he sighed in relief allowing him to pop open the next impediment to her bountiful bosom.
“And he’s down to one now, ladies and gentlemen,” Roberta announced in a slightly mocking tone. “Can he do it? Will he make it? The suspense is killing me!”
Jake was about to respond with something angry and sure to end the night’s erotic festivities when that damned KISS song started back up. He swore the volume had been turned up.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed. “Not again and I hate that song!”
“Forget the music and get me naked. I’ve gotta be back before midnight or my folks will ground me forever,” she urged him.
Christine Sixteen has to be the worst song that could play at this moment. After she committed suicide last week I can’t stand it, he thought.
Roberta’s unexpected kiss and her hands stroking him through his pants obliterated the memory of the sophomore who killed herself. He returned to her bra and the last snap surrendered after a short, epic struggle and he watched with wonder and amazement when Roberta’s undergarment slid off her shoulders revealing her heavy, full breasts. Jake felt his mouth fall open. Her tits were capped with pert, pink nipples. Even with the poor lighting in the back of his Olds Cutlass he could see them perfectly. She had the chest of a Playboy centerfold.
“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”
“They’re beautiful,” he gasped.
“Why thank you sir.”
“If you have to ask then I’m going to stuff them back in my bra. Dammit Jake I want this to be a night I’ll remember. Stop asking and start doing!”
Leaning forward he took both of her breasts in his trembling hands. Roberta’s skin was soft, warm and amazing. He watched with growing interest as her nipples became erect upon the peak of her tits. Suddenly her smart mouth was silent. She didn’t speak while he gently fondled and explored her exposed chest. She groaned slightly when he ran his thumb over the peak of her right breast. The sights of those pert nubs made him want to suck, nip and bite them. He pushed her back and planted his lips over one of her nipples. The flesh was tender yet firm from her excitement.
“Oh yes,” Roberta moaned.
He continued to falsely nurse at her chest and it made her ass squirm beneath his pressing weight. Jake felt her grab him by the hair and pull his head down against her. Squeezing her left tit and licking her right he listened as his date became further aroused.
“Oh yeah… suck my titties,” she cooed.
There was a hot, uncomfortable feeling emulating from the juncture of his pant legs. He could feel the pulse of his rapid heartbeat in the trapped tightness of his cock. He felt Roberta’s hand slither between their bodies and flutter helplessly against the harsh denim. Jake twisted his hips slightly and she brazenly grabbed his cock. He groaned into her tit.
“Ooh you’re so hard,” she commented, “I wanna see it.”
She pushed him off her and he reluctantly permitted it. Roberta ran her hand down his naked chest and giggled girlishly when he flinched from her tickling touch. His laughter ceased when her hand fell upon his belt bucket.
“Open sesame,” she joked.
The tug and sudden loosening of the leather strap around his waist made him realize this was all going to happen.
Tonight I’m gonna get laid, he thought excitedly. I’m going to fuck Roberta Evans right here in my car… I can’t believe it. The head cheerleader of the school is going to let me between her legs.
She grunted as she yanked down his resistant zipper. The heat of his crotch was unexpectedly cooled by her actions and his body broke out in shortly lived goose bumps. He let out a loud groan when she snagged a handful of his stiff, hungry organ.
“Oh Jake,” Roberta snickered, “you’re packing quite a bit there.”
“Think so, huh?” he said.
“You’re bigger than my ex-boyfriend… damn if I knew this about you I wouldn’t have put up such a struggle.”
His response was blown apart when she yanked down his underwear and fondled his hard, erect meat. The softness of her palm and fingers running up and down his length made him silently worry he was going to shoot his load too quickly from the excitement. He started to think of math problems to stave off any embarrassing and premature ending when she leaned down. Algebra problems were no match for what happened next. Her mouth enveloped his cock in a warm, suddenly and mind-blowing grip of soft lips and a darting wet tongue.
“Oh. My. God,” he gasped.
She bobbed her head up and down while he tried to roll with her oral punches. He felt his balls rise up like painful knots against the base of his cock. Her firm grip slid up with her lips and down as well. A hot pressure built up just behind his swelling nuts and threatened to erupt unexpectedly. Without warning his manhood was cold and held still by its base. He looked down to see she had stopped and was watching the twitching, purpled head of his shaft.
“Too much?” she asked.
Jake couldn’t think let alone answer her.
“Do me for awhile,” Roberta suggested. “I want you to last as long as possible.”
She moved away and pulled off her skintight Jordache Jeans. Beneath the expensive denim was absolutely, positively nothing.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed.
“I hate underwear,” she giggled. “It makes unsightly panty lines plus I like the freedom. Something tells me you do too.”
He could barely see the wet patch of curly dark hair framing her naked pussy. There was a glistening of dew-like moisture around the pink edges of her slit which made his mouth water. She spread her legs further apart beckoning him to take a better gander at her no longer hidden treasure trove. His breath caught in his throat and he began to sweat much more profusely.
“Like what you’re seeing?” she coyly husked out.
He opened his mouth to answer when he realized it was suddenly quiet. No KISS song, no nocturnal insect sounds could be heard just their heated breathing. She began to slowly caress herself. He felt his cock twitch as it if sensed her vulnerability like some heat-seeking moisture missile.
“Well?” she demanded softly. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”
The car door opened up without warning and the dome light exploded in a bright, brief illumination before sending sparks downward. Jake flinched. His head, shoulders and chest were rapidly reporting in screaming voices he was suffering tiny dots of burning pain. There was a horrible, wet thunking sound which wrenched his attention from the hot points of searing agony on his naked skin.
“Urggh,” Roberta wetly gurgled.
Jake looked at her and felt his eyes bulge out of his sockets. Roberta’s face was awash with thick, scarlet liquid which ran from her now soaked bangs and dripped off her quivering chin and into her deep cleavage. Her brown hair was parted by the hard metal edge of a shovel which jutted out like the brim of some grotesque hat. Her eyes rolled back until only the whites showed and her body fell half in, half out of the car. Her corpse’s weight tugged the impromptu blade out of her skull with a metallic rasping sound. Her feet beat for a few horrible seconds on the side of his Cutlass. Then all was still and quiet once more.
“W-what the fuck!” he shouted.
Gone was any trace of his lust only to be replaced with gut watering, near bladder emptying fears. The icy grip totally encompassed his body.
Roberta’s lifeless body spilled out onto the grass alongside of his Cutlass.
A small figure knelt beside the dead cheerleader and dipped a red nailed finger into the gory gap in the corpse’s skull. The dripping digit was raised and disappeared into the deep cowl of the hood covering the killer’s head. Whoever it was wore a cloak as dark as the night and hid their face. Despite being utterly stunned by the sudden death of his playmate even Jake could tell the hand belonged to a female of the species.
“She wasn’t worthy of you,” a girl’s voice came out of nowhere.
“W-who are you?” he asked.
She doffed her hood and he felt his mouth drop open in shock.
I-it can’t be! She was found dead a week ago!
“I’m hurt you don’t remember me, Jake,” Christine pouted falsely. “You think I died or something. Did you forget me so soon?”
“You did die! I went to your funeral—the whole school did!” he replied.
“It can’t be you… this is impossible.”
His memories and guilt welled up inside of his mind. Christine Goodall, sixteen years old and desperately in love with him had committed suicide by opening her wrists with her dad’s razor blades while taking a bath. Christine Goodall, the girl he’d turned down for Prom because she was too young and way to willing for someone her age. Christine Goodall who was five feet, three inches tall and slightly overweight with baby fat not yet melted off her small frame by the onset of puberty. Christine Goodall, had apparently risen from the grave.
But it’s her! I’d know that face anywhere because she haunts my dreams. It’s my fault she killed herself, he thought in thunderous tones in his mind.
“My master saved me,” Christine spoke softly. “I was lying there in the tub bleeding to death. I slit my wrists all because you wouldn’t return my love. But he came to me and promised me power, wealth and eternal life if I gave up my soul. I had only one addition to his bargain the ability to return to you and make you see how much I love you. To make you totally and utterly mine!”
Jake began to crawl across the long backseat. His hands reached behind him instinctively to fumble with the door handle. The sixteen year old dead girl began climbing into the car, her hot red eyes fixated on his terrified stare.
“You can’t run from me any longer Jake,” she warned him. “It’s destiny—fate, if you will. I even got you the Camaro you were always talking about it’s right over there as red as blood, the blood I split just for you.”
He watched her lips part and saw the fangs of her canines come into view. A gaunt and hungry look colored her features while he snatched in trembling futility at the only way out.
“You will be mine. Now and forever!” she growled.
She lunged across the seat. He thrust out his hands to try to prevent her fully expected attack but she shoved them away. Like a jungle cat she pounced on Jake. Despite his being a foot taller and sixty pounds heavier Christine overwhelmed him as easily she would a newborn babe. Hot pain erupted on his throat as she bit down. He felt his blood spurting out of the wounds but never touching any other part of his skin. As his strength faded his ears could only hear her slurping and the restarting of the KISS song—Christine Sixteen.