I've no idea if this story is true; it was relayed to me from a fellow I knew once. He had travelled with a carnival for a while; they had all the usual stuff, an air-rifle shooting range, thrill rides, candy-floss and also a haunted house which he worked in many times.

In the middle of the house was a partitioned space, between the walls; it was supposed to be used in emergencies to evacuate people in case of fire or something and also housed some of the light projectors and sound gear. In one darkened passageway of the house there was a pair of half-height swing doors, like the ones you see in saloons in the cowboy movies; but smaller. As someone pushed the swing doors open it triggered a switch for a figurine arm to swing out from the wall wielding an axe or skull, I can't remember which, about six feet in front of the person, frightening the bejeesus out of the punter, hopefully, and would then retract as the doors closed. The figurine was lit with two lights, one blue and another red projected from the partitioned space through a hole in the wall opposite; it seems my friend would sometimes (often) swing the lower light away and put his arm through the wall and just kinda dangle it there at midriff level to listen to the reaction as people brushed past, for kicks. He wore a long latex sleeved glove, he brought them from farm supplies, so those who encountered it, he says, were never sure if it was a prop, or not.

Thing is, he could tell by the squeals who was about to come through the narrow space by the figurine and, if female, he would lower his hand to about crotch height, again, for kicks. He loved it, he said, as some would let out a squeal on encountering his little surprise touch of their thighs and recoil before pushing forward, somewhat slowly, again to go past. Thing is, he swears; some really took their time brushing past his arm, many would turn slightly sideways to go past and he would glide his hand across and under their bums and some would stop, yep stop, momentarily with his hand on their ass, as if they were enjoying the grope, while others, according to him, would turn the other way; towards his arm, presenting their pussy towards the outreaching obstacle, and would do the same thing, pause with his hand between their legs.

He claims that many times he would just raise his fingers gently up they paused, pressing against the strangers vagina, to many a teenage giggle or squeal, (teenagers made up most of the paying customers) but again; his words, not mine, some would even rock against his pressing index finger he says, massaging their c**ts against his touch in the darkness and noise of the haunted house. He says he could sometimes feel vaginal lips parting under his gentle pressure, which, I suppose he may have been able to do if the girls were wearing short dresses and he pressed directly against their panties.

His best day, apparently, was the day a pair of brunettes came through; mother and daughter. He recognised the mother's accent, he had served her earlier at the candy machine before starting work at the haunted house and had glimpsed at the girl's budding breasts, obvious beneath her tee-shirt. Both had the same outfit; tee's and mini's. He heard the mother's voice, telling her daughter to step carefully in the darkness, and heard the delighted screams as the figurine surprised them. My friend straightened his arm and was rewarded with the feel of the girl's young breasts encountering his hand, she shrieked and stepped back, he kept his arm at the same height as she tentatively pushed forward again giggling, turning towards him and slowly, very slowly, letting his hand traverse her firm little boobs.

Mum was next, my friend knew, the girl telling her mother "There's a trick that's going to play on you", he lowered his hand and, sure enough, the older brunette pulled back at first, giggling, she turned sideways, pushed forward and stopped with his hand adjacent her c**t as he extended his finger to pressure her private place, this time, my friend said, his finger actually entered mother's vagina. No mistake he said, "I was wearing gloves, but definitely felt my finger enter her, no underwear obviously, and I wasn't sure what to do; she wasn't sure either, it must have only been a few seconds but felt like a very long time before she pushed forward, then back again, rocking her c**t on finger as if she was wishing it deeper inside her. I felt her lips, I felt the heat" he said, before she drew back, turned and pushed past, and continuing on with her daughter, exploring the rest of the house. My friend pulled his arm from the opening, replaced the light and just sat down on his haunches supremely aroused by his little encounter.

I don't know whether my friend was telling the truth, but he seemed very believable. Is it possible that there are women, girls, who may allow them-selves to be groped like that, and to enjoy it? Would they allow a stranger, albeit an unseen and untouchable one, to penetrate them? Was there something about the surroundings; the fun, the frights, the lights, the anonymity of noise and darkness that released the moistened and ravishing nymph in women, raising their vaginal temperature to anything-goes level?

Recollected by: Bill