Pozzed in a Haunted House

[Toon]

I grew up in the 1970's....when everything was fun and nothing was too serious. At least that's how it seemed at the time. I was living in a little nowhere town in a nowhere Midwestern state. It was the kind of place you'd drive through and not notice a single detail. But I loved it. My best friend Kenny and I lived only three houses away from each other and out parents were friends. We spent every spare second together - especially in the Summer. We'd walk all over town and tell each other outrageous lies and dirty words we'd heard. One of out favorite places to hang out was in a little park right behind this ancient old house that everyone our age absolutely knew was haunted. It was one of those Victorian three-story beasts surrounded by an iron fence and a completely overgrown yard. It had been empty since I can remember. It had probably once been painted white, but every trace of latex had long since weathered away, exposing old rotting wood. I swear, if you saw the Addams family on the front porch, you would not be shocked. 

Kenny and I used to get as close to that place as we could dare each other to, but we seldom got farther than the fence. A few years later we found ourselves in junior high with deeper voices, bigger frames and hints of facial hair. We barely got any braver, though. But somewhat. Some nights we'd share one of his dad's cigarettes and walk to that old house. I swear we once saw flashes of light - like camera flashes - through the top windows. We ran all the way home. A week or so later we ventured back after dark and one of us had the daring idea to go inside. !! We easily scaled the fence and found ourselves on the sidewalk leading to the front door. It felt terrifying but exhilarating. The second we set foot on the front porch, the structure made a creak that sent us scrambling away.

Who knows what happened, but Kenny and I drifted apart in high school. I was more into art, drama and debate while he gravitated toward the greasy, pot-smoking crowd. Things stayed that way for years until I graduated and went away to college in the mid-80's. During one of my regular phone calls home to ask for money, my mom told me that Kenny had a stroke and died. I didn't know quite what to feel except for a small sadness. We hadn't talked in forever and now I guess we never would.

I worked hard at school and came home that Summer with every intention of just sleeping late and eating my mom's pretty excellent cooking for three months. It was relaxing but also pretty boring. One late night I found myself going through my room and looking at old junk in my closet. I found so much stuff that reminded me of Kenny. So many things from my childhood were at last partially connected to my old pal in some way. I found myself staring out the window, wishing he were still nearby so we could go do something.

It was almost midnight when I crept downstairs and went to the kitchen. I planned on raiding the fridge for leftovers, but grabbed a few of Dad's beers instead. I then silently went out the back door. It was a nice, warm evening with a symphony of frogs and crickets singing in celebration. I walked down a few streets, brazenly downing my beers in public. Who cared? Everybody was asleep and the only law enforcement this county had was one fat-ass sheriff who was probably manning a speed trap miles  away on the highway.  I got lost in my thoughts as I waked. I was changing as time as going  by. I knew I liked guys more than girls. The more I would try to push those feelings down, the more they would sneak into my dreams. It was not a good time to think like that. A cancer had emerged and killed people who thought the way I was starting to think. I tossed my empty can and started drinking the next one when I realized I'd walked all the way to that same old house. Maybe my old pal Kenny had led me here. 

I climbed over the fence without even really worrying about it or feeling scared. I sat on the front steps and finished my last beer. After I heaved my empty can into corner of the meadow-like yard, I noticed that the night had grown strangely silent. No crickets. No frogs. Nothing. I just noticed it -- it didn't spook me or anything. I stood up, turned around and approached the front door. Well of course it was locked but I pushed anyway. And it opened as the ancient, rusted lock crumbled in on itself. I swear as I opened the door I swear I heard some scuffling from somewhere inside. Raccoons, probably. There was enough of the streetlight and the full moon coming through the ancient windows that I could kind of make out what I was seeing: A big, bare front room that smelled like old dust and mildew. No big deal.

And suddenly a small blue light went on about seven feet in front of me. What the?....

"Hey Trespasser -- got a smoke?", a voice said somewhere behind the blue light.

I pivoted on my heels and was heading for the door when the light got brighter. Yep. I was going to die now.

"Don't go nowheres, ShitHead! Got a cigarette or not?"

"No", was all I could manage in a voice that sounded like I was 10 years old all over again. I dared to turn around again.

in this brighter light, I could make out the cigarette-wanter. A hobo obviously. In his underwear, shirtless and barefoot. He was a giant beast of a bum, covered with dark body fur. He was really fat and had a full, unkempt beard. 

"Yer the trespasser here -- I already been livin' here for three whole days and three whole nights".

Well, I guess I was guilty then. But really? What could he do? Call the cops? I mustered the ability to say "Sorry, man. I was just checking things out. I'll just go now. Take care". I turned to leave.

Suddenly there was an inhumanly-big arm around my neck. "You done busted my door, Trespasser. You gonna pay to fix it?"

He wasn't actually choking me, but I was still finding it hard to breathe. I felt the rancid air in his lungs wash over the top of my head. He sniffed.  "You been drinkin', little man?" 

'J-just a few beers", I answered.

'Shit. I ain't had me beer in months. I thought I'd done been cured of wanting it while I was in prison out in Colorado. But I still want one almost every goddamned day".

He spun me around to face him. I looked up and saw that we wasn't ugly at all. Maybe a little dirty with some serious bad body odor, but this fat giant was not without appeal. Maybe the blue light from his little lantern was making me see things. He was Bluto from the "Popeye" cartoons.

"Come here and have a seat", he instructed as he drug me over to a pile of old blankets, ancient coats and a few dirty throw pillows. He plopped me down on my ass and then settled his bulk right next to me. He was still in his underwear and I could make out an arching hard-on pushing the fly to its limits. 

For a reason only the primal part of my brain knows, I reached over to touch the bulge. I wanted to see it uncovered. I wanted to see it really, really badly. 

"No no no", he said, "that fucker between my legs is poisonous as a rattlesnake now. You can keep going but it ain't going to end well for you. I ended up catchin' some lethal shit in a prison in California".

I wasn't thinking of his words, I yanked down his filthy underwear and gazed in awe at the giant, magnificent piece of uncut meat now bobbing in the blue light. It didn't look diseased in the least. I bent down and took the big cock head in my mouth. THIS. This is what I'd secretly wanted for over a year now. i tasted every flavor and wasn't turned-off by any of them. I could do this for hours. But Bluto had other ideas as he pulled my head off his dick.

"Uh oh, You went and done it now. Get ready."

Huh?

"It'll be easier if you kneel down on all fours -- like this". He flipped me over and I was suddenly posed like the Sphinx staring straight down at a granny-ish throw pillow with a toy poodle stitched on the front. I stayed like that for a few seconds while he adjusted himself right behind me. His big ol' gut was resting on my lower spine. Sex? Gay Man Sex was happening? Now? Really?

All doubts were remove as I felt that big  penis explored my ass crack. "I can try and pull out in time, but I ain't promisin' nothin".

That made no sense to me. I mean, what? Then the tip of his dick poked into my bare hole and it felt like fire. SHIT!!! I was trying to form a protest, but his giant hand reached around and closed over my mouth. I distantly thought of the sheriff and semi-wished he'd come in here with his gun drawn and then help me escape. That didn't happen as this man kept pushing deeper inside of me. And then deeper despite the screams I was issuing through those fat fingers over my lips. A pause. He was all the way in and moaning with pleasure that I sure wasn't feeling. It starting hurting a little less with each thrust. And just when I was able to catch my breath, he stopped. Long pause as he groaned and then yelled "Oh Fucking YEAH!!". It was over? He collapsed on top of me and stayed there while my thoughts went everywhere and nowhere. And I could go nowhere with his mass still on top of me. But then he climbed off and sat against a wall as I put my clothes back on. My ribs ached and my ass was still burning. And leaking. My neck and shoulders were sore as well. 

I guess the batteries in his lantern were starting to die, because the blue light was dimming and flickering a bit. I wished I had some cash to give him because he needed so much. But I didn't have anything so I headed for the door.

"Hold up", he called after me. "Yer probably going to get sick with the flu n a week or two. Take aspirin and drink water and you'll feel better soon."

"OK. Gotta go. Take care".

i wished my house was closer because it was hard to walk with the pain that ran all through me. I wished Kenny was walking with me with a cigarette we could share. 

I wished many things on that painful walk, but none of those wishes came true.

[lynn1964]

So fuck ing HOTTTTTT!

Damn Toon, I can see AND feel "Bluto" right off the page!!!