Erotica Readers & Writers Association
Home | Erotic Books | Authors Resources | Inside The Erotic Mind | Erotica Gallery
Adult Movies | Sex Toys | Erotic Music | Email Discussion List | Links

Story Gallery | Treasure Chest

Erotic Fiction
Queer Fiction
Kinky Erotica
The Softer Side

The Best of 2014

by Big Ed Magusson

The Girl With Kisses...
by C. Sanchez-Garcia

Soul Naked
by C. Sanchez-Garcia

Carnival Ride
by Daddy X

by Robert Buckley

by Robert Buckley

Power and Glory
by Rose B. Thorny


By Alan
Other News

By Alice Gray
Slick 50
The Fourth Veda
Stolen Hour

By Amanda Earl
Daddy Complex
The Graffiti Artist
Sex With An Old Woman
The Vampire Responds
The Afternoon Circle Jerk Society
Beating the Gothic Out of Her
Real Irish
Mercy and the Man. . .
The Revenant
The Vessel

By Ann Regentin
What Never Dies

By Arthur Chappell
Tedia, Goddess of Boredom
The Too Beautiful Boy

By Big Ed Magusson
The Fix
Like a Brother
Old Dogs

By Brady Sutton
Girls for Leash
The Peculiar Case of...

By C. Sanchez-Garcia
An Early Winter Train
The Doll
The Lady and The Unicorn
Riding the Dog

By Cervo
An Evening At...
Readiness Is All
Chinchilla Lace
Fridays At The Benoit
Cruising On A Sea...
Bitsy Takes a Test
Touring Persephone
Are You Kidding?
Quigley’s Harvest
Mr. Merridawn's Hum
Angels’ Spawn

By Cherry Black
Mrs. Priestly
Face Down
Just A Simple Black Dress

By Chris Bridges
The Whitechapel...
Passing Notes

By Daddy X
Nikki Didn't Like It
A Woman in My Position
Never For Punishment

By Dominic Santi
Kiss of Peace

By G. E. Russell
Judgement Day
First Love, Last Romance
Snow White
This Desolate Eden
The Glass Cage
You Like It Like That...

By Helen E. H. Madden
When The Angels Fall
Husbands and Wives
The Fifth Horseman
The Monster Beneath...
Neighbor of the Beast
Over the Rainbow
Going Viral
Virtual Love

By Helena Settimana
Highway 69
The Space Between

By Huck Pilgrim
Goodbye Roger
He Sends His Regrets
A Small Favor

By J.T. Benjamin
The Question
Thornburg Sex Survey
Alternating Weekend
Secret Lives and Lusts
What are Friends For
Olivia's Ulterior Motive
Advice From Miss Millicent
The Baby Doll
The Journals of Chastity
Use Me
Zachary's Perfect Date

By Jill
Sheila Discusses ...
It's About Sex
A House On Fire?
Maureen and Sheila...

By john e
I Wish My Dick...
johnny's jackoff journal
Saturday Morning
Ava's Honey

By Julius
In Praise of Pussy
Tight, Tighter, Tightest
You Rang Madam?
The Newcomer

By Juniper Maclay
Lunch Break
The Scientist
Public Transportation

By Keziah Hill
Laying Down the Law
Strawberry Flavoured Joy
The Second Coming
Dutch Masters

By L.A. Smith
Missionary Position
Both Hands

By Lara Nickles

By Lilie Berlin
Naughty Little Girl
Color Less Ordinary

By Mike Kimera
Soft Option
At the Adult Bookstore
Playing With Barney
Deserving Ruth
Till Death Do Us Part
Happy Anniversary
Mating Calls
It May Not be Art...
Living With It...
The Last Taboo
Fucking Ugly
Paying For It
Sex with Owen
Ask Alice
The Sisters
Bar Snack

By Nan Andrews
At Rest
Spirit Guides

By Nick Nicholson
The Room
Grigore & Tatiana
Land of Smiles
The Uniform

By Nikki Isaak
A Rathskeller Jar
The Dread That Stained Kalos

The Dread That Stained Kalos
by Nikki Isaak © 2008


The Dread That Stained KalosIt was Halloween—or Samhain, as the pagans called it—the night when the veil between the physical and the metaphysical was immaterial, allowing the filth of the spirit realm to permeate the physical, if only briefly.

Chuck hated Halloween. It led children and fools to dabble in the occult, and deny the faith and exclusivity that Christ demanded and deserved. How anyone could fail to see that was beyond Chuck’s ken.

Chuck got up. The fall leaves, yellowing and bronzed, crackled beneath his dirty work boots as he passed Jack Kalos’ tomb. Kalos’ tomb, fashioned by his business partner, Russell Musides, dominated the graveyard with its size and its mischievous seraphim. A tree—shaped like a gnarled, shrieking man, if one looked at it the right way—had imbedded itself into the tomb, actually lifting a portion of it an inch out of the earth.

For years, many townspeople, noting the tree’s strange formation, had believed that it was Kalos’ restless spirit (the Greek-born sculptor and town founder had died of a mysterious illness) crying out for his death to be avenged. They avoided it whenever possible.

Musides, who’d died three years after Kalos, never said one way or the other what he believed about the curious tree. He did, however, declare Kalos’ birthday (February fourth) a town holiday, a decision that the townspeople whole-heartedly embraced. Kalos had been an energetic and popular man.

The grave digger thought the town looked strange tonight. All the lights were off, and there was a bonfire in the town square. In spite of his solitary nature, Chuck was curious. In all of his thirty-four years, he’d never seen a bonfire—let alone a Halloween bonfire—in Kalos. It was worth investigating.

Chuck knew that most, if not all, of the townspeople considered him “simple” because of his profession, and the fact that he rarely spoke to anyone. He didn’t even speak to Rainbow Jones, the flirtatious twenty-six year old who checked all his library books out to him. For Jones, it was pro forma teasing; she flirted with all the men, he guessed.

The books he checked out dealt with religion or its lack. The Bertrand Russells, Friedrich Nietsches and Helen Ellerbes, with their logic, superhuman philosophies and political histories, were mistaken in their cold assertations. God existed, whether they chose to acknowledge Him or not. To Chuck’s knowledge, two of them already had acknowledged God—in the afterlife.

Chuck was near his shack now, the shedding pines and elms casting weird shadows all about him. Rather than be frightened by this, Chuck was comforted. Nothing would happen to him while he was in this place. Besides, God was watching over him.

Jingling his keys, he unlocked the driver’s side door of his lemon yellow Pinto. When he’d bought it seven years back, Martin, his boss had warned him it was a death trap: “You so much as tap them, they blow up. Don’t you read the news?” No, he didn’t, Chuck had replied, thinking: I don’t need any newspaper to tell me the world’s going to hell in a hand-basket.

The sputtering Pinto entered the downtown area five minutes later. What Chuck saw made him stomp on his brakes in shock. The car immediately screeched to a halt, the smell of burnt rubber heavy in the air.

The town square was a nightmare.

A huge bonfire had been built in the emptied fountain where the statue of Jack Kalos stood. Flames licked and blackened the base of the statue while an orgy took place around it.

It looked as if the entirety of Kalos’ adult population—approximately four hundred people—were a part of it. Chuck’s heart pounded wildly as he viewed this, simultaneously wanting to throw up and do violence to those who would dare flaunt the rules of God and society in such an unconscionable manner.

He turned off the Pinto and got out.

"What are you doing?” he screamed at the copulating people, who ignored him as they bucked, bit and rode each other’s flesh in various states of undress, their mad frenzied gasps and cries mingling with the heavy smoke emanating from the bonfire.

Even the estimable Reverend Wilson was taking part in this debauch, giving oral pleasure to two men, Trey Fitzpatrick, the town mechanic, and Rob Turnbull, co-owner of Turnbull’s Bar. Behind Wilson, Turnbull’s bosomy wife, Olivia, was plunging a crucifix-handled phallus into his butt.

Their eyes were as bright and wide as a full moon. They snarled like beasts and rose towards him.

As Chuck stumbled away, he realized that all activity around him had surceased. They were all staring at him, hundreds of glowing, profligate eyes spearing him with their merciless, collective gaze.

He ran for the church, two blocks away. The church had always afforded him comfort and protection before; surely, nothing evil could harm him there.

He heard their footsteps, some naked and slapping, others hard and solid, as he ran through the lightly-misted streets. The growls and high-pitched cries of his pursuers complemented their footfalls.

Questions competed with his fear. What had made the townspeople go bad? And where were their children? As far as he’d seen, no children had been present at that abominable gathering—did that mean they were sleeping? Were they dead? Horrified at the latter possibility, he diverted his thoughts. There was a phone in the church; he could call the authorities and wait for them to arrive

The church, a small stone building with bemused angels over the main entrance (a Jack Kalos trademark) and a crucifix steeple rising high above the mist, lay ahead.

Reverend Wilson, who had quarters in the back of the church, usually left the doors open for anyone who needed shelter or guidance—a trusting soul was he, much more trusting than Chuck, who locked up everything.

The solid oak doors were locked. No way he’d be able to kick them open.

Chuck looked back. They were almost upon him.

Breathing hard, Chuck ran to the side of the church and leapt through one of its first-story windows. A shower of glass rained down on him, leaving minor cuts on his hands, head and face.

Ignoring his blood and stinging pain, he dragged a pew towards the broken window. A wiry man of no small strength, it tested, but did not break him. He was attempting to lift the edge of the second pew onto the armrest of the first pew when the sound of a key being turned echoed throughout the moon-drenched building.

Before he could do anything, they swarmed through the doors, Reverend Wilson in the lead. Dropping the pew, Chuck tried to fend them off, but it was no use.

Their hands clutched, scraped and stripped him as they carried him towards the altar. A closed book, reeking of a sickly sweetness, lay upon it. When the lights came on, Chuck’s eyes widened: it was made from charred human skin.

The cursed thing pulsed—literally pulsed—with iniquity. From whence it had come, he did not know; but he guessed it had started this lascivious insanity.

"He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not—” Mark 16:16, one of the first verses Mama taught him, profluent on his lips in times of trouble, was doing nothing to still his rising terror.

Chuck’s captors half-sang, half-susurrated a foreign psalmody that made his head spin. His eyes burned when Rainbow, the coquette from the library, opened the book. An invisible fire, contained in the exotic legends scarring the pages, shot through him; he jerked wildly for a few seconds as his eyes rolled and closed. He went still.

They set him on the ground and resumed their copulations in the cleared-away church, thrusting, biting, lapping, gouging skin and cloth, staining the carpet with fluids, inguinal and red.

Chuck’s moon-bright eyes opened a minute later, his cock hard as the church walls. He immediately grabbed Rainbow away from Barbara Fitzpatrick and slipped inside her semen-dripping sex, digging his nails viciously into her snowy thighs. Her candied walls clenched and expanded around him, her unappeasable mouth dominating his virgin kisses.

© 2008 Nikki Isaak. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Authors live for feedback!
If you enjoyed this story, please send comments to
Nikki Isaak


  E-mail this page

Search ERWA Website:

Copyright 1996 and on, Erotica Readers Association, Inc.
All Rights Reserved World Wide. Reproduction in whole or in part in any form or
medium without express written permission is prohibited.

By Oxartes
Maybe You Can Go...
I Am Not A Scorpion
Babylon Nights
Eat Your Veggies
What Would Aristippus Think
The Vow Part I
Fiend in Need Part II
Androids Behaving Badly
Innocent Flower
Eclipse Sex

By Raziel Moore
Invisible Lines (Novella)

By Remittance Girl
The Central Registry
The River Mother
Things Bettter Left Unsaid
The Baptism
The Other Side
I Waited for You...
Pleasure's Apprentice
Fixed in Amber

By Riccardo Berra
Ligne Claire
The Girl with Two Lovers

By Richard V Raiment 
Ghosts of Christmas Past
Recalled to Life

By Robert Buckley
Absentee Ballots
Making Her Late For...
Brotherhood Of The ...
Convenience Store
Head Games
Practicing Lovecraft
Coins For The Ferryman
Seeing Is Believing
The Mission
A Weekend in Queens..
The Exchange
Close to Hand
Excess Of Light
They Need Me
Bench Mates
Pre Need
Cthulhu's Toad
The Dog Park
Smells Like Money
Extraordinary Graces
What Now?
You Get What You Pay For
The Angel of Loneliness
The Great Sin
Mere Moments
An Unconventional Friendship
Adam and Eve on a Raft
Dead Man's Switch
Does Immortality come with a Pension?
Embraceable Ewe
A Fragile Desire
Surviving Winter
You're the Only One

By Robert GSK
Still Life

By Rose B. Thorny
The Thing Under the...
Only When It Rains

By Savannah
Naked Ambition
The Principal of the Thing

By Sidney Durham
Junk Yard Goddess
I'm Only Shaving!
Santa, Baby!
Sometimes I Can ...
Speaking of Escher
The Road Not Taken

By Tulsa Brown
Flesh On A Woman
Half Moon Girl
Debt of Honor

By Valentine Bonnaire
American Daddy-O
Bukowski Girls
Bing Cherry Silk
Colony, Collapsed
Have a Nice Day
l'heure bleue
Once Upon A Time . . .
Red Suede
Yellow, like the daffodils

By William Dean
Stranger in the Bonfire
Great Notion
Kiss Me And Then...
Switch Back
A Hand in the Bush
Buy Me Something
Forest for the Trees
Swap Meet
Burning Man
Port Said
Twisted Faith
Political Asylum

Screen Play
by A.F. Waddell

A Filing Fling
by Addison Long

Ménage A Cart
by Adhara Law

Elevator Shaft
by Alana James

Torn in Two
by Alicia Night Orchid

by Angela Caperton

The Lady-killer
by BJ Franklin

by B.K. Bilicki

The Vacation
by Beth Vox

You Belong to Me
by C. Sanchez-Garcia

Frostbite the Ice Pimp
by Chuck Lovepoe

The Accidental Fetish
by Corvidae

So Much in Common
by Daphne Dubonet

The Hand & I.
by EllaRegina

Safari Tuesday
by G. Gregory

The Puss Hater
by Inna Spice

One for the Road
by J. Corvo

Full Serviced
by J.D. Coltrane

Naked Over New York
by J.Z. Sharpe

The Chocolate Wife
by James Robert Sands

Once Shy
by Jamie Smithe

by Jean Roberta

Caitlin Comes Clean
by Jerry Rightson

Something To Make...
by Jim Parr

Melanie and Jay Go...
by jtallen

Peeping George
by Jude Mason

It's Lovely. It's Horrible.
by Kathleen Bradean

The Temp
by Kaye Heche

A Husband's Lesson
by Kim Bax

Better Than a Blow...
by Lauren Mills

Page 12 - No. F
by LilyOrchid

In The Name Of...
by Michael Michele

The Classics
by Nettie Kestler

The Wounded Healer
by Nicholas M.

by Nick Santa Rosa

The Cabin
by P. E. Brink

Post Mortem
by Riccardo Berra

Newly Reformed Woman...
by Seneca Mayfair

by Sybil Rush

by Teresa Lamai

Alter Christus
by Teresa Wymore

Shadows of De La Rosa
by Tori Diaz