Red Callum, Sweet Cate

Info
A night in the crypt? What could possibly go wrong?
1.5k words
4.73
23.3k
11
Share this

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

This is my entry for the 2014 Halloween contest. Consider it an Erotic Horror piece, with all that implies. Thanks to my guest reader KingsWoman for donating her sexy tones to this piece—do go check out her stories!



"Don't go into the crypt," folk said,
"For it's home to ghosts and the restless dead.
And those who go down to the crypt"—so they say—
"Will never return to the warm light of day."


But Red Callum was bold and he wasn't afraid
On his mind was the way of a man and a maid

Now he was a wild one, as yet still unwed
But that hadn't stopped him from filling his bed

He'd started with Sue (they all did, down that way)
She'd batted her eyes and she'd led him astray

Then he'd moved on to Amy, the butcher's young wife
(And hid from her husband, in fear of his life)

After that he met Megan, who taught him some tricks
How to tease and to tempt, where to touch, what to lick

He'd good looks, a nice voice, he knew how to impress
And he'd learned how to talk a wench out of her dress

By his twenty-first year he'd lost count of his score
Yet Red Callum was eager to try many more

The more that he lay with, the more his fame grew
Women queued just to see if the rumours were true

He'd had widows and virgins, brunettes, reds, and blondes
In bedrooms and churches, in haystacks and ponds

On his birthday he'd bedded three sisters at once
And for Christmas he'd screwed a whole convent of nuns

He was starting to think that he'd soon settle down
For he'd very near done every woman in town

But Red Callum's fool pride wouldn't let him forget
There was just one last lady he hadn't had yet

For Miss Catherine Morton had standards, she said—
"You really think I would take you to my bed?

"I've consulted my friends, and they say you're well hung
And you know how to do what you ought with your tongue

"I suppose that's enough, for the yokels 'round here
But my virtue, Red Callum, is rather more dear."

He wooed her with flowers, he wooed her with song.
She laughed in his face and said, "Go, run along."

'Till at last he plain begged her, "Cate, what must I do
For the pleasure of spending my passion with you?"

"About time that you asked! For I have to admit
I could fancy you, if you'd just grow up a bit!

"What I want is a man, one with courage and pluck,
Who'll meet danger head-on—that's the kind I might fuck.

"Here's my test: if you'll spend this next All Hallows' Night
Alone in the crypt, then I'll try you. All right?"

"Is that all?" Callum said. "If I stay there, inside,
All alone for the night—then you'll give me a ride?

"Sure, I'll do it... though, seeing that's not 'till next week,
Could I get an advance?" But she scoffed at his cheek.

So he waited the week out, set off for the tomb
As the daylight gave way to the Halloween gloom

Through the cemetery gate, past sad statues of stone
To the place at the back where the crypt stood alone.

No-one knew whose it was—it was centuries old
The name long since eroded by weather and mould

As he stood at the door, Red felt twinges of doubt
But the thought of sweet Cate stopped him chickening out

So he levered it open, a cold scraping sound
Then he jammed it ajar and walked deep underground

Down the stairs, deeper down, to the chamber below
Where dozens of coffins lay row upon row

He inspected the room in the flickering light,
And then unpacked his things to bed down for the night

He'd brought matches, a sandwich, some beer, and a lamp
And two blankets to keep out the chill and the damp

So he finished his supper, then laid himself down
He had almost dozed off when he heard a soft sound

Was it mice? Was it spiders? Quite probably so.
But it's easy for fear to take hold, down below

Callum couldn't find sleep with such thoughts in his head
So imagined himself in sweet Catherine's bed

He pictured her naked, her legs open wide
Her hips arching, eager to draw him inside

He spat in his hand and he reached for his shaft
And that's when, behind him, Miss Catherine laughed.

"I didn't quite trust you to honour our bet
So I hid here myself, thought I'd watch a while yet

"But I'm cold. You look warm—shall we call the bet done?
For I'm sure now you're manly enough for some fun."

She crawled in beside him, she blew out the light
And plunged the whole room into fathomless night.

Her lips kissed his shoulder, her hand stroked his chest
He wriggled around and took hold of her breast

She said, "Easy now, lover! Let me take the lead!
Just lie on your back, let me find what I need."

He lay back and he smiled, as her fingers moved down
To the prick that had plumbed every lady in town

They stroked it and tugged it, caressed it and squeezed
Brought him near to the edge, 'till he whispered, "Cate, please!

"Let me spend deep inside, Cate, I need you tonight!"
Her grip on him tightened. She said, "Well, alright!"

Her hand guided his to the heat of her cunt
He fondled—he fingered—she made a soft grunt

Then she settled astride him, pushed down with a pop.
He thrust deep inside. She said, "Don't you dare stop!"

They gyrated together in feverish lust
As the coffins around them lay silent in dust

'Till he whispered, "I'm coming!" Her quim held him tight
As he spurted his seed in the glimmerless night.

She gasped, "That was fantastic! Let's try it again—
If you think your endurance can handle the strain?"

He said, "Certainly, darling, I'm ready for more,
But I'm getting a chill from this cold marble floor."

Her hands stroked his face, and her lips touched his cock
As the bell in the church-tower struck twelve o'clock

Her teeth nipped at his chest. Callum chuckled, and said,
"Aren't you nervous here, Cate? Let's go find a real bed."

"Oh, there's nothing for me to be scared of, my dear
It's my family, the Mortons, who lie buried here."

Cate's tongue flicked his ear and her lips squeezed his rod
And that's when Red realised that something was odd

Her voice came from behind him, "And why should we go?
When you're here in my home, in my bed down below?"

Up above, the wind rose, and Red heard metal clang
The crypt door blew wide open—then closed with a BANG.

Callum groped for his matches, he struck up a light
Then he shrieked as he witnessed a terrible sight

A vision of horror near curdled his heart
For Miss Catherine Morton had come quite apart.

Her body—well, some of it—lay on the ground
But several pieces were roaming around

One eye had come loose from its home in her face
It had rolled down her body, and popped into place

In a gap in one breast where her nipple had been
It winked at him now, with an air quite obscene

A hand climbed his leg, like some five-legged bug
And her tongue floated freely, a hovering slug

Her lips were red leeches, attached to his prick
The way that they writhed made him noisily sick

And beneath her pink skin, things were wriggling about—
But that's all that he saw, ere the match flickered out.

Catherine laughed—her hair bound him—her lips smacked and sucked
"I did promise I'd fuck you. Now, my darling? You're fucked."

He felt himself enter her—where, he knew not—
But he heard Catherine groan, "Yes, my love, that's the spot.

"You've quite opened me up. Now you'll open for me,
For your flesh is the lock and my bones are the key."

She undressed him of skin, she undressed him of meat—
"Oh, you're just what I need, to make me complete!

"Fill me up!" her lungs wheezed, "Fuck me hard, give me more!"
As their entrails entwined on the cold marble floor

"No, don't stop, my dear Callum! What's wrong? Are you tired?"
But his struggles had ceased. The poor lad had expired.

Silence settled again. Then she playfully said,
"Now at last I can see why they called the lad 'Red'."

"Don't go into the crypt," folk said,
"For it's home to ghosts and the restless dead."
But Red Callum went down to the crypt—so they say—
And he never returned to the warm light of day.


THE END

Author's note: This one's a bit more visceral than my usual style, but after the year I've had, I was in the mood for something gruesome. If you enjoyed this story, please vote below!

If you want to be notified when I have new stories up, you can click on my name below to view my profile and then use the Contact tab to send me your email address.

--:--
--:--
1.0
Bramblethorn
Please rate this
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
14 Comments
AnonymousAnonymous4 months ago

Callum nor Cate,

Sadly, neither "the great"

A tale of woe, mayhaps spun from a foe,

Of LOVE, and instead, an agent of hate.

For history and victory, too true, are one,

But the truth, so rarely provided by those that "won",

Forsooth, indeed, 'tmight be,

The "pure of the marsh" is the most untrustworthy.

Uncomprehending and jealous, however poetic....

May still inevitably rhyme with the above.

Because rumors are tumors,

And light need not guide by force,

But likely, I take an unrelated course.

My thinking of what this poetry states,

Is so far from what Frosts Roads,

And the significance of the less traveled, of fates.

For within this travel, always, an abode,

Awaits.

stickygirlstickygirl12 months ago

Oh, this was a joy. What a gem - thank you!

djripdjripabout 1 year ago

This was great! Loved it

AnonymousAnonymousover 1 year ago

Playfully grotesque. I loved it!

JuanaSalsaJuanaSalsaabout 2 years ago

This is great! Hilarious and gruesome and fun. The text alone is fantastic, and made me have to dig out head phones to listen to the audio. I'm so glad I did. What a great reading!

Show More
Share this

Similar Stories

Macallan Promises Molly can control time, not the desire for her own sister.in Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Check "Yes" or "No" Two teachers get caught passing notes.in Romance
Aiding and Abetting The good guys don't always finish last.in Romance
Goin' Fishin' A little romance about rediscovering love.in Romance
Mixed Tag Team Wrestling Match Tag Team Wrestling - couple vs. two sisters.in Fetish
More Stories