tagErotic HorrorSarah's Visit

Sarah's Visit

bymicrowave oeuvren©

In days of old, as nighttime grew cold,
   approaching October’s ending
Back when a carriage was drawn with a horse
And nary a marriage knew respite, divorce–
So a bad choice at twenty meant lifelong remorse–
      A woman named Sarah lay dying...
When she was a bride, tall and wide-eyed,
   her beauty and innocence blending
A hopefulness mildly spread through the room
Her pretty eyes, childlike, stared at her groom,
Not ever imagining all of the gloom
      This man would bring, nor the sighing
   In the hell to which she was descending

In marriage, a fondness should grow with the bond
   between two enjoined as a couple
And Sarah was loyal to her new lover
But all this was spoiled when Sarah discovered
Her husband was prone to set eyes on some others
      And arrange frequent trysts, and dark meetings...
So Sarah stayed home in her prison alone
   as her heart grew more calloused, less supple
The first time he cheated a bitterness started,
But as he repeated, all kindness departed
Until she was left without joy, sadly martyred
      By her husband’s stray eyes, and his cheating
   And thus she resented her nuptials

Thus decades went on, all tenderness gone,
   ‘til a horrific end to the hurting–
While her husband slept with another man’s wife
That other man crept in the room with a knife
And thus ended Sarah’s long marital strife
      Her widowhood bringing a blessing–
No longer in mind and body confined
   to a liar so prone to deserting...
Yet as Sarah pondered the weighty, sad cost:
Her husband had wandered, but she bore the loss
Her once-vibrant body now aged and lost
      And Sarah was left second-guessing
   Of unfulfilled passion and flirting

She first took delight in that time of the night
   when candles were snuffed out and smoldered
When woman and man would slowly undress
When fingers had ran through her hair and caressed
Her shoulder and spine and her full nakedness
      And his tongue had deliciously tasted
Her ruby red lips, her navel, her hips,
   while fingernails dug in his shoulders
And when he was thrusting, her legs opened wide
She would be lusting for more from inside
But without the trusting, whatever he tried
      Brought bitterness–overtures wasted;
   The misanthrope slowly grew colder



Her husband now slain–she didn’t complain—
   but widowhood woke thoughts long-perished:
Nights when she savored the raw, musty taste,
Of sweet carnal-flavored kisses in haste,
And long, muffled moaning while pounding hearts raced–
      Yet all this too quickly diminished...
She wondered if now, though older, somehow...
   no, that would be far too garish
Though no longer tethered by his cheating ways
Her face had turned leathery, gone was the praise
Of her angelic, natural beauty, and days
      Of reckless lovemaking had finished–
   And gone was that quaking she cherished

With death at her door, she remembered once more
   those feelings of lust, almost lingering...
A couple of years of marital bliss–
Then decades of tears when things were amiss–
Then decrepit solitude, until... now this!
      A sad circumspectual musing
While dying away on the thirty-first day
   of October–what was death bringing?
Perhaps on the morrow her bitter-filled rue,
Her sadness, her sorrow, all mercifully through
And peace in the afterlife, long overdue
      Away from her husband’s abusing–
   And the pining for love that kept stinging

Then the Reaper of Doom entered the room;
   she looked at him, fully resigning:
Never did fear or reluctance show there,
Nor did a teardrop signify care,
Instead she was dignified, ready, prepared,
      Almost eager, she welcomed his visit...
Yet she lifted her hand with a halting command
   as he strode toward where she was reclining
One last request, she wanted to ask–
A final behest, a singular task–
A chance for a promise, before Death unmasked,
      And Death paused, and ask her, “What is it?”
   And Sara’s long-dimmed face grew shining

“Was it too much? To ask for the touch
   of a lover who stayed on the narrow?
Why was I made? To live through the pain
Of a lover who strayed, his fidelity feigned?
And him live so long that I’d never regain
      My youthful and unfulfilled vigor?
I knew no revenge, for another avenged
   the waywardness of my old barrow
Yet maybe you’d dare to grant me the chance
To answer a prayer for a faithful romance
Before she’s too feeble and old for a dance...
      Couldn’t my ghost pull the trigger?
   Now appease me, then come take my marrow.”



So Sarah, in fact, and Death, made a pact,
   that on this night she would be measured
Out singular powers–for justice–between
The six o’clock hour and midnight, to clean
One hundred times, for each Halloween
      The upcoming century offered...
This chance to give hope helped Sarah to cope,
   even helped Sarah to treasure
These moments that marked her life’s ending...
And so she embarked, descending
To the abyss, with deal pending...
      Thus Sarah took what Death had proffered,
   And died with a smile of pleasure.

Ninety and nine years had gone by
   since Sarah had last lay there dying
But all that she gained, that night on her bed
Had multiplied pain, and anguish and dread,
As each year she searched for despair, but instead
      She only found couples in bliss
This year–her last chance!–to offer romance,
   and Sarah was panicked and trying
To find some sick cad who was having his fun,
Not caring how badly his wife might be stung–
But he would stop cheating once Sarah was done!
      Aye, one last long illicit kiss
   With Sarah immodestly spying...

Then Sarah’s heart leapt as she quietly crept
   through a house where a mother was weeping
And dutifully, cleverly wiping her eyes
So children could never suspect or realize
The hurt in her heart on this night of surprise;
      And she started her regal costuming...
Before, in an inn, with a buzz from his gin,
   her husband was lustily peeping
At a woman he liked, unbuttoning her shirt
She cooed as he hiked up her short denim skirt
They kissed drunken kisses–he fondled, she’d flirt,
      With no idea danger was looming
   As Sarah awoke from her sleeping

The cheated-on left, her heart now bereft,
   hoping to find consolation–
Out with her child collecting some sweets,
She beamed at his smile, he’d shout “Trick or Treat!”
Occasionally nibble on something to eat
      And she almost forgot her despair...
But at each new home, she felt more alone,
   her heart would fill with desolation:
For each time they knocked at somebody’s door
Meant further around the block than before
And closer to home, where her husband would snore
      Or worse, be awake, when they’d get there...
   And, if so, she’d crave isolation



Would she be sad? Or maybe be glad?
   If she knew that out among neighbors
A spiteful, sly ghost from a hundred years back
Was bent on a most horrific attack
With steely resolve and a heart colored black
      Underneath her cute masquerade
Yes, Sarah–dressed like a prostitute might,
   seductively offering favors
She stood coquettishly, sporting a grin
He looked at her fetishly, ushered her in
She lifted an eyebrow, as if daring to sin
      “Trick or treat,” she whispered, then made
   The start of a century’s labors.

His heart quickly raced in her sexy embrace,
   and she asked him, “Would you be willing?
I have enough candy, but still I’d like kisses
I’m feeling quite randy and you look delicious...”
Then flirtingly grabbing his scalp, almost vicious
      He couldn’t believe his good luck!
He’d already scored in the hotel before,
   and now this young nymph was just thrilling
She started to grind as she opened her mouth
Their tongues intertwined as her hands headed south
Then they went to the bedroom, bypassing the couch
      His blown away mind, thunderstruck...
   She, all too ready for killing.

And as things got hot, he simply forgot
   about his wife, guiltlessly petting:
She peeled a lacy bra off of her breast
Then in a racy move, straddled with zest
Doing a pantiless grind on his chest
      Her lust was not only for slaying...
Although Sarah hated this man, she gyrated,
   her sex somehow anxiously wetting
So long a time had passed since she knew
This lust in her mind–and her other parts, too–
She opted for pleasure before she was through.
      Just like a mantis, now praying
   She resolved to use him on the bedding

After disrobing while fingers were probing,
   she opted for more aggression
She started to tie him up to the bed
He never asked why, but relished instead
Her kinky demands, until her voice said,
      “What’s this ring on your hand? You’re immoral!”
She acted surprised (“I didn’t realize!”),
   then added, “I’ll teach you a lesson:
Married boys shouldn’t be cheating with me...”
Her ominous voice suggesting that she
Had something in mind while he couldn’t get free
      But she straddled his head for some oral
   And he gave a long licking session



Once he began, his velvet tongue ran
   and set her clitoris on fire
Only at first did she find it relaxing,
For then came a thirst for some hardy climaxing
Her long-unquenched lust unabashedly waxing
      And then pleasure, in waves and ripples...
Too many to count, before she’d dismount
   to copulate with this liar
Her pleasure-filled groans were intense and so hot
That, lost in her moaning, she almost forgot
The reason she came, but, alas, she did not
      But first she’d ride, pinching her nipples
   And try to get even higher

She would enjoy riding this toy,
   but not let him have satisfaction
Therefore she readied her fingernail claws
Dragging them steadily over his jaws
Down his throat, and his chest, failing to pause
      Before she scratched downward once more...
He writhed in pain, thus she attained
   the desired adverse reaction
Then, as he quivered in pain and in fright
She smiled and shivered ecstatic delight
And rode on in frenzy, on Halloween night;
      Aroused by the sight of his blood, she adored
   Him helplessly begging, in traction

Her hips would thrust to satiate lust,
   but the man felt an awkward sensation:
He thought he’d at least get off by the ride
But, strangely, this beast, all pleasure denied!
As if some of the nerves in his brain had been fried
      Leaving him feeling castrated
And as she rode boldly a nightmare unfolded,
   giving him further frustration
No longer in raging, nubile disguise–
She’s rapidly aging in front of his eyes!
Hair quickly thinning, and wrinkly thighs
      But still she rode on, jubilated
   And moaned with anticipation

The man lay in terror, sick by his error,
   watching this demoness shudder!
Now getting close to her final orgasm
Her hands on his throat, him choking in spasm
Then pleasure-filled screams of an eerie phantasm...
      But ere she left him, she had called,
“Can I explain? All of the pain,
   you gave to your child’s mother:
What were you thinking? Did you not care?
Was not an inkling of loyalty there?
She deserves more than your piggish despair!”
      And as the temptress dissolved,
   His life ebbed away with a sputter



As he lost his life, his much-troubled wife
   was at one last place, somewhat weary
A cordial, polite man answered the bell
His smile was bright, he was handsome as well
“Such a contrast,” she sadly thought to herself,
      Remembering home–her cruel, thoughtless spouse:
Her spouse, so revolting, that prior to bolting
   she struck up a talk, just to tarry:
His manner was kind; he had gentleness, grace,
He nurtured her mind in so many ways,
Brought feelings not felt since her younger days...
      As she and her son returned to their house
   She thought, “What a shame who I married...”

At home, in the gloom, she peered in the room,
   and there saw her husband napping
“Maybe he’ll sleep through the night,” she said,
“I don’t want that creep with me in a bed.”
So she quietly readied a cot instead
      Then dreamed of the man who’d been talking...
She dreamt she returned in a dress that burned:
   shimmering, silky skirt flapping
He let her come in, but his motives stayed pure
She had to begin to seductively lure
And still he was shy, reluctant, unsure
      So she guided his mouth up her stockings–
   But woke up when he started lapping

And there, in the dark, bathed in sweat, pounding heart,
   she got up to drink; she’d been panting
Returning to bed, she peeked through his door
Tilted her head, expecting a snore
Or breathing at least... but she waited... some more...
      And still she did not hear him breathing
But she was so tired, thus she retired,
   tiptoeing, lest he start ranting
She shrugged off his stillness, there on her cot
“Maybe some illness,” she sleepily thought
Then hoped she’d continue the dream she had wrought
      And soon, she was happily sleeping
   ‘Til morning light fell on her, slanting

November’s first morn was already born
   before she had realization
That he was dead, and Sarah had reaped
(The coroner simply said, “Died in his sleep;”
His insurer then laid her a nest egg to keep)
      And the pain from his cheating eroded
And once that was gone, it didn’t take long
   before she had invitation:
A chance to dine with the kindly man
Then after some time, a romance began
Their subsequent project? Wedding plans
      As a passionate love exploded
   And attraction gave way to elation



And when they were wed, the two went to bed,
   where she, overwhelmed by caresses
How did this man so make her swoon
With passionate hands on their honeymoon?
(She couldn’t believe she could climax so soon)
      And yet she had more, then another...
The tension was growing, the oil was flowing,
   he lapped up her honey-sweet messes
He gently fondled twixt teeth and tongue
Her body responded with moans from her lungs
But she wanted more, the more that she sung
      And he, an obliging lover
   Gave more and more, almost endless

His rhythm was steady, once she was ready,
   until she became satiated:
His hardness, her wetness–exquisitely sealed,
Her body’s needs met, enmeshing with zeal,
Then, regaining senses, she started to feel
      His body begin its ascending...
His breathing grew faster, until–at last!—
   the time she anticipated:
His whole body trilling, in a high span
One with her, filling her, draining the man–
Until he was calm, and they gently held hands–
      This rite of love quietly ending,
   Their marriage now consummated

And night after night, ‘neath the starlight,
   their honeymoon never ended
Two naked bodies together stayed warm,
Or sometimes a naughty fantasy formed
That never stayed long in the fantasy realm
      And no evening ever was wasted...
And early each morning new smiles were born,
   and the joy they had–unpretended!
The reason their sex became so ensnaring?
A deep respect added to trust they were sharing:
Tenderly listening, always caring,
      Until they’d be craving a taste of
   The loyal mate they had befriended

There was still laughter decades after;
   their love life never grew starker:
One warm autumn day that came to pass
The two lovers lay in secluded grass
The virile lad on top of his lass
      Til both had their fill, they made love...
With panting subsiding they both were realizing
   their headboard: a granite grave marker!
The sunshine and breeze, the warmth in the air,
The bright autumn trees with their foliage fare,
Who could have blamed them for lingering there?
      At a tombstone that read: In Memory Of
   Sarah Isobel Barker

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