Monday, August 02, 2004

Little Porn Teen Sex story

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Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Second Best
Part: 074
Universe: Second Best
Summary: A fulllength novel that follows several young couples and their
families through the period immediately preceding their Senior Prom.
Keywords: nosex

Keywords for full story: Fsolo, Ffinc, MF Ffm MF mf oral anal bd D/s Mg
inc Fminc mm mmf rom MFreluc

Chapter 74
Other closings

It was after 10:00 p.m. when Mandi and Rick finally surrendered the
telephone. They'd been at it since Rick called at about 8:00, while Mandi
was still laughing from the razzing that she and her mother had heaped on
Denise over Eddie. Relating the sexual escapades of others only intensified
their craving for each other's company. Finally, Rick made Mandi promise
that they would spend several hours together AT LEAST on Tuesday, totally
forgetting that the evening apart had been his idea.

No sooner had the phone settled in the cradle than it began to ring.
Mandi recovered it. "Giannelli residence..."

"Jeezus!" erupted a deep voice from the earpiece, "I been tryin' to
get through for two solid hours! WhatintheHell's goin' on over there?"

Mandi and Denise both stifled chuckles. "Momma! It's for you!"

Helen, already in bed, picked up the bedside extension. "Hello?"

"You're sure a hard woman to get ahold of! I been at it for two solid
hours!"

Helen snickered, "I have two teenage daughters, and one telephone
line. Only recently has this become an issue..."

"Well, it is now! How in the Hell does a man get a date with you,
anyway?" Big Al was still ranting.

"He asks politely," was the cool response.

"Oh." Al got the hint, and simmered down, "Look, I, uh, I want to
bring you over to my place tomorrow night. I'll knock something out for
dinner won't be good, but you'll survive it and..."

Helen smiled. "You sound about twelve years old. Am I staying the
night?"

"I, uh, Yes. That is, if you want..."

Helen smiled into the receiver. "I'm working until 5:00, and I start
at 9:00 on Wednesday. Do you want to pick me up at McGinty's?"

"Yeah! Sure!" Al pumped his fist, and mouthed 'Yes!'

"Okay. Anything else?" Helen asked. By now she was pretty sure Al
wasn't prone to long, romantic telephone conversations.

Al looked over at Bobby, who was leaning against the door jam,
grinning, turned his back to him and murmured, "Love ya, Baby," into the
phone.

Helen freaked. "You WHAT?! Al, you didn't have to say that..."

"I didn't?" Al stuck his foot in it in the classic male manner.
'Huh?' would have been a better answer, but he was still processing the
surprising content of her answer, so the repeater came on.

"No, you didn't. And you shouldn't not just because you think I
want to hear it! That's just wrong! It's lying! It cheapens things and
assumes I'm stupid and can be duped! If you think..." Helen was busy
working up a full head of steam.

Al took in the first couple of sentences of this tirade, got the gist,
and made the lightning calculation that to let her finish was to lose a
girlfriend. "HEY!!! SHADDUP!!" Into the resulting near silence (he
detected a sniffle) he continued, "I SAID it because I MEANT it. I was a
little furtive 'cause Bobby's standin' here critiquing my end of the call
and the little bastard embarrassed me, but I meant what I said!"

"Yeah, sure. We've known each other what a week?" Another
sniffle.

"Been a helluva week. Think about it. What d'ya think, I'm made of
stone?" Al demanded.

"Nooo." Doubt had crept in.

"How long do ya figure it takes to fall in love with the perfect woman
months?"

"Pppp..." Helen couldn't get it out. "Perfect wo?"

"For me, yes!" Pause. "You all better now?"

"Uh huh..." Shocky was more like it. Helen was having trouble holding
up the phone.

"Good. I'll pick you up tomorrow night. Love ya, Baby!" Click.

Helen continued to hold the phone to her ear for a moment while she
tried to recover her composure. That's how she heard the peals of girlish
laughter before the downstairs extension finally cradled. The girls had
been listening in! Their arrival, moments later, was heralded by the
thunder of feet pounding up the staircase.

The girls burst into the room, grinning. Denise licked her finger and
pressed it to her ass cheek, making a hissing noise, "Momma's still got it!
I know smitten when I hear it and Big Al's been poleaxed!"

"What? You think he's serious?" Helen burst out.

"Deadly," Mandi replied. "Mark my words: In six weeks or less, you
two will be trying to figure out how to get all of us under one roof! When
you do, don't worry about me I'm spoken for!"

Helen grimaced at the first remark, but the second was the one she
addressed. "Like that, huh?"

"Yeah." Mandi was sober. "A day without Rick is a lot worse than a
day without sunshine. And he just spent two hours telling me that he feels
the same way."

"Is there going to be a wedding soon?"

Mandi shrugged. "I won't press him I told him early on that I was
his without it. But I think so. I'm ready to move in with him now!"

"Do you think that's smart, Dear? I like Rick, but..." Helen tried
to inject some skepticism in her daughter.

"It's too late to close the barn door, Momma. The horse my heart
is already gone! If Rick breaks it, well, it's his to break. But I don't
see that happening in the near term, and no one can predict the future."

"You two aren't ready to go out on your own And Rick doesn't have
his own place, anyway!" Helen cautioned.

"True, but things are pretty free and easy at the Nellis' these days.
And I'm not the only piece of female chattel there or even the most
abused!" Mandi replied.

"Huh?" said Denise.

Mandi grinned. "Next time you go to see Dina, check out her mom!
You'll be able to see all, since all she's allowed to wear at home is a
slave collar!"

"Holy shit! When did THAT happen?" Denise was vocal, but both of the
women were incredulous.

"Yesterday morning. I was there at the table when Rick's momma
announced that she was no longer a free woman buck naked, kneeling at his
dad's feet! Very sexy!"

"Wow! I gotta talk to Dina! I gotta see this!" Denise was beside
herself with excitement.

"I don't understand, Dear. Why would she do that? Does Mr. Nellis
have some hold on her?"

"It's complicated, Momma, but they discovered recently that she's
actually happier this way. She was coping, but wasn't happy with the way
things were and she was really hung up. Quite by accident, they
discovered that things went better in bed and out when she had no
control over them. Momma, she begged him and he was reluctant, despite
the fact that he's very good at being a master!"

"Hmmph," Helen replied, "Not for me. Does he beat her?"

"Ummm, yes, I'm pretty sure he does. But I also know that he doesn't
get off on it. It's just that he periodically has to reinforce his
dominance. Mostly, he uses mind games humiliation and such. Like the
nudity at home."

"That shouldn't be too bad I could handle that!" Denise announced.

"When guests arrive?" was the smiling rejoinder. "You want to stand
around naked while the plumber fixes the sink?"

"Oh!"

"Like I said, not for me!" Helen announced.

Mandi grinned. "Momma, may I remind you that you have been
spectacularly, publicly naked in front of most of my friends THIS WEEK! And
the way you wear that house coat..."

"Okay, okay! Judge not... What EXACTLY does this have to do with you
and Rick?"

"Simply that I could move into Rick's room with him and no one would
turn a hair. Merry and I get along fine we're sisters in bondage! Rick's
dad can afford it, and I don't see him complaining as long as I don't act
like a houseguest..."

"Which you wouldn't." Helen put in.

"I'm certain that Rick's college plans are achievable he's smart!
and I'll go, too. We talked about it. No kids until after. So it's just
me..."

"And that's a help, not a burden," Helen asserted, "Your sister, on
the other hand, would be likely to find her hands full!"

"Good God! Bobby McCormick, all the time!" Denise roared, laughing.

Helen laughed, "Well, it's YOUR scenario. It hasn't happened yet..."

"Would it be so bad?" Denise asked, smiling.

"Mmmm. Not for me..." Helen's expression became momentarily dreamy,
"But we've both been around the block. He'll wake up and I'm not going to
dream my way to a fall. You two get out of here so I can sleep. I've got
day shift tomorrow."


On the other end of the phone line, Bobby shot his father an
appraising glance as he hung up. "Laying it on a little thick, Dad? Helen's
a helluva woman, but..."

"But what?" Big Al frowned.

"Tellin' her you love her? You've known her what a week?" Bobby
was skeptical.

"All I know is that I haven't been this happy since some time before
your mother died. Helen makes me happy just being in the room with her.
When she's holding down the other side of the bed, well..."

"Well, take it easy. You've both been out of circulation for a while.
Helen's sweet, but you two could learn to hate each other, quick!" Bobby
warned.

"I'll think about it. YOU think about THIS: I'm gonna start
agitating for her to move in. Can you handle that?" Al fixed Bobby with a
basilisk stare.

Bobby held his ground. "Because Helen gave me Sex 101? No problem.
I've got Dina, anyway. What about you? I have no plans to poach, but Dina
told me to hold my options open..."

"That girl's a real wild hair. You're gonna have your hands full.
You ever think she said that because she wants a piece of ME?" Big Al
laughed.

Bobby didn't turn a hair. "Absolutely. I know how her mind works.
She got a look at you the other day, and I could smell the neurons firing.
Things could get real interesting around here..."

Al sobered rapidly. "You're shitting me, right?" Bobby's look said
'No'. "Okay, how's this? No active poaching?"

"No problem. But I gotta tell you, if Dina's made up her mind, you
might as well whip it out and hand it to her, 'cause you'll find yourself
boxed anyway, in short order! You ever seen her at work?"

"No, but it can't be THAT bad..."

Bobby smiled like a shark. "Remind me to give you the details of our
current scam... Let me give you a quick example: Dina discovered her
mother wasn't doing her wifely duty by her old man a week ago Sunday.
Today, Dina's mom is her dad's sex slave!"

"Bullshit!" Big Al was aghast.

"Dad, I was THERE, yesterday, when she knelt down, buck naked, and
offered herself!" Bobby declared.

"Sheeit!" Al whistled. "Okay, I'm duly warned. Back to Helen. I
plan to do my best to see to it that she's a permanent occupant in my bed.
Marriage is a distinct possibility. Can you hang?"

"Yeah, Dad, no problem. If she makes you happy, I certainly have no
objection."

"Great. Let's hit the sack. I'm bushed."

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Saturday, July 31, 2004

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Friday, July 30, 2004

Little Porn Teen Sex story

Original Post Mon, 5 Feb 2001

Disclaimer

This is piece of fiction. Any imagined resemblance to
people living or deceased is either the result of dementia
on the reader's part or that the reader is, in fact, a
character of this story. It is assumed that readers of
this story have the permission of the state, mom, dad, and
pastor and are able to tell the difference between real and
makebelieve. Furthermore, the writer is fully aware that
he is bound for hell, but welcomes both praise or/and well
thought out, humourous insults on his writing skill. Note:
he already knows he cannot spell 'warth shet'.

The events and descriptions of this story are the sole
property of Kenny N Gamera and should not be recorded,
reposted, or profited from in anyway without express written
permission of the person hiding behind that pen name.
Reposting and free archiving will be tolerated given the
writer's name and address remains attached. Archiving by
Deja.Com and / is assumed and encouraged.

Thank You and Good Day,
Kenny N Gamera
turtlemeat69

Authors/Gamera

One Morning at 214 Clitlick Street
by
Kenny N Gamera

After the appropriate sound of a ringing doorbell, a rather
matronly looking woman entered a rather matronly looking
foyer. The foyer looked matronly by having walls covered in
a print wallpaper with columns of cute, farmyard geese. Thin
stripes coloured like slightly tarnished copper separated
each column from the other. Here and there, a knick knack
shelf with a ceramic figure of another goose would assist
the single framed mirror with three 'never to be used so
don't even try' coat rungs, in breaking the monotony of the
walls.

The woman wore a print dress several decades out of style
and a simple white apron she used to wipe her hands. The
door rang a second time as she reached at. She soon after
open the door to a short man with a overly thick mustache
with streaks of gray. He looked over his round wire framed
glasses, the type once called Granny glasses before John
Lennon began to wear them.

The woman looked at the man for a moment before realizing
that he was waiting for her.

"Good afternoon, sir?"

"Right. Good day, mum," said the man with a snap to the
brim of his hat. He glanced down to the clipboard he
carried. "Is this twosixteen Clitlick Street?"

"No. This is twofourteen Clitlick Street."

"Very good, mum. That's the address I'm looking for." To
man glanced again to his clipboard. "And are you Mrs. Mabel
Swampwater of twofourteen Clitlick Street?"

"Yes, I'm Mrs. Swampwater."

"Right, mum. I have a gang rape for you." The delivery man
pointed at his clipboard with a ball point pen. "Could you
sign here, mum?"

"I didn't order a gang rape," said the bewildered Mrs.
Swampwater.

"I'd think not, mum," answered the delivery man. With the
ease of a well practiced delivery man, he flipped through
the sheets of his clipboard. "Says here that your husband
ordered it for you, mum.

"Could you sign here, please mum?" He repeated as he
offered the clipboard and pen back to Mrs. Swampwater.

She held her palm to her breast. "My husband?"

"Yes." He flipped back through his sheets. "All it says
under reason is `tuna casserole.' Could you sign here,
please?"

"But I don't want a gang rape," Mrs. Swampwater burst out at
last in frustration.

"I wouldn't think so, mum. Wouldn't be a proper gang rape
if you had wanted it now would it? It would be more of a
gang bang. And your husband specifically ordered and paid
for a gang rape.

"Sign here, please."

"But..." interjected Mrs. Swampwater.

"Mrs. Swampwater," interrupted the delivery man in a stern
voice, quite unlike the polite, indulgent delivery man voice
he had used to that point. "I still have another gang rape,
two homicidal maniacs, and a rabid dog to deliver this
afternoon. I would like a chance to get home and watch
telly tonight."

"Telly?" Sputtered the confused woman.

"Yes. There's a Kojak festival tonight." He handed her the
clipboard and returned to the polite, indulgent delivery man
voice. "Sign here, please mum."

As Mrs. Swampwater signed, the delivery man waved in two men
carrying video equipment. They squeezed past both of the
people in the doorway. Each gave the harried haus frau a
tip of the hat and a very cheerful "good day."

"Who are they and why do they have cameras," queried Mrs.
Swampwater as she returned the clipboard.

"Oh mum. They are the video set up team."

"Video setup?"

"Yes, mum." The delivery man flipped through some more
sheets and handed the clipboard back to the woman. "If you
could initial here, mum. Yes, video, mum. A man would
hardly pay could money to see his wife gang raped and not
expect to actually see his wife gang raped, now would he,
mum. Initial here if you would, please."

Mrs. Swampwater initialed the sheet. After returning the
clipboard, she watched as the delivery man went through a
few more pages.

"Hmmm?" Said the delivery man. "I see that he didn't take
the maim and disfigure option." He looked up at the woman
before him. "Not that he would really need to.

"And if you will initial next to the mixed race baby option,
mum, I will leave you to your gang rape."

"Mixed race baby?"

"Yes, our mixed race baby option is quite popular. We will
return until one of our specially trained black rapists
impregnate you with a little half black babe of your very own.
Initial here, please mum."

Stunned, Mrs. Swampwater placed her initials at the
indicated spot. The delivery man then called to the video
setup team that it was time to leave for the next delivery.
Mrs. Swampwater...

We interrupt this gang rape with a message from our sponsor,
Sadisco.

Hello, we at Sadisco are proud to now offer to our loyal
customers a new service. Yes, you can now give that special
lady in your life what every woman dreams of, her very own
gang rape (we didn't say they were good dreams). We offer a
number of options for every occasion. Whether bikers or
dykes, we have all your gang rape needs covered. And for
the limited introductory period of this service, we will
include at no additional charge a rabid dog (Mexican
hairless no longer available, sorry).

Yes, Sadisco, we bring bad things to life.

Offer void in Alabama, Alaska, Alberta,...well, really, all
of the states and provinces, and damn near all of the
commonwealth. Use of this product may result in jailtime
and severe loss of freedom.

...Mrs. Swampwater ran streaking through her living room,
attempting to keep the various pieces of overturned
furniture between her and the five large, strong, young men
with whom the delivery man had left her. Only the video
equipment had remained undamaged during the period of intense
activity since the arrival of the rapists. As she ran, a
motion detector and motor kept the camera on her and the
various rapists.

"Help!" shouted Mrs. Swampwater.

"Oh, we will, lady," answered one of the rapists, an
enormous black man, "Just stay still and we will help you
reach the heights of..."

"Can't Amal," interjected a large, Italian looking stud,
"She doesn't get the 'humiliation of enjoying it' package.
Her cheapass husband didn't pay for it."

"That dick!"

"Please, don't do this to me," pleaded Mrs. Swampwater.

"Sorry, ma'am." answered Amal. "We have a job to do here
and we really got to get started. We are supposed to be
done before your husband gets home."

Sensing that there was more to this young man than rape, she
cried, "Why are you doing this?"

"Well, I am paying my why through college as is Pat and
Carl...," the appropriate rapists bowed there heads, "Al is
paying off student loans while he is taking his bar
exam...," the second of the black rapists shyly raised his
hand, then Amal points at the Italian, "...and Don is an
opera singer.

"Now, if you will just quit running...

<You've got mail>

Susan J Mothra <cacoonmakersol.con>
To: Kenny N Gamera <turtlemeat69>
Re: {} One Morning at 214 Clitlick Street
Sunday, February 04, 2001 13:41 AM

Not so dear Mr. Gamera,

There is nothing funny about gang rape, though the bits
about the delivery agent did cause a giggle or two. But in
any case, stop this at once.

Yours not so truly,

Susan Mothra

the Gangrap'r <gangraprwebvd.con>
To: Susan J Mothra <cacoonmakersol.con>
Re: {} One Morning at 214 Clitlick Street
Sunday, February 04, 2001 13:41 AM

Yo, Mothra,

I was at a gang rape recently and I laughed my arse off.
Would do it again, too. In fact, if you want, bitch, you
could be guest...

Wait! What's that? Why's the house shaking? Oh my God,
NOOOO!

The late Gangap'r

Susan J Mothra <cacoonmakersol.con>
To: Kenny N Gamera <turtlemeat69>
Re: Gangrap'r
Sunday, February 04, 2001 13:41 AM

Burp!

<More Mail>

Mabel Swampwater <owwiesol.con>
To: Sadisco Marketing Department <Marketingsadisco.con>
Re: Dailarape
Sunday, February 04, 2001 13:41 AM

Dear Sadisco,

I was so pleased with the gang rape that my husband got me,
I ordered one for that bitch Mrs. Spermbreath across the
street.

Mrs. Mabel Swampwater

Mrs. Gangrap'r <nowbikerwhoreyeehaw.con>
To: Mabel Swampwater <owwiesol.con >
Re: Dailarape
Sunday, February 04, 2001 13:41 AM

Bitch? Who you calling bitch, `ho!

Widow Gangrap'r
Formlery Mrs. Martha Spermbreath

...Mrs. Swampwater stood in the corner holding off her
attackers with a broom. The huge tear down the front of her
dress exposed the vast white wasteland that was her plain
playtexstyle bra. She fidgeted and fought against the
distraction of her wet panties, which were unsurprisingly
soaked from when she had slipped in the toppled aquarium.
The big rapist lunged at her and grapped hold of the broom
with his large hand. The very big rapist then lunged out at
her while the extremely big rapist started laughing at her
troubles.

Don attacked her at her right flank as she used her left hand
slap at her one attacker and struggled with the right to pull
the broom from the other. He wrapped his meaty arm around her
waist and pulled her to him. She tried in vain to wiggle from
his grasp.

"You asshole!" she shouted at his face after he had forced her
around to look at him.

The swarthy Italian looked deep into her eyes and answered
the insult, "of course, I'm an asshole; I am a tenor." Then
he brought his mouth against hers in a forced...

The writer (i.e., me) is interrupted as he (i.e.. I) writes
by a knock at the door. We (i.e. you and I) now join this
interruption already in progress.

I go to the door cautiously as cats number one and two go
running to the closet. The extra cat sits in the hall
pointed at the closet but watching the door in the off
chance that she won't hide. I check the peephole.

I see no nude babes, no beer, no pork rinds. I only see a
delivery man with a clipboard waiting in front of the door. I
open it slowly after releasing the security chain. While the
extra cat chooses this moment to hid, he looks at me with an
expectant face covered by an overly thick mustache and John
Lennon glasses.

"Can I help you?"

"Right. Good day, sir," says the man with a snap to the
brim of his hat. He glances down to the clipboard he
carries. "Is this seven thirtyfive Hardwood Street
apartment twentythree eleven?"

"No. This is five thirtyseven Hardwood Street apartment
eleven twentythree."

"Very good, sir. That's the address I'm looking for." To
man glanced again to his clipboard. "And are you Mr. Kenny
N Gamera of five thirtyseven Hardwood Street apartment
eleven twentythree?"

"Yes, I'm Mr. Gamera."

"Right, sir. I have a gang rape for you." The delivery man
pointed at his clipboard with a ball point pen. "Could you
sign here, sir?"

"I didn't order a gang rape," I say.

"I'd think not, sir," answers the delivery man. With the
ease of a well practiced delivery man, he flips through the
sheets of his clipboard. "Says here that a Mr. Slot ordered
it for you, sir.

"Could you sign here, please sir?" He repeats as he offers
the clipboard and pen back to me.

I hold my palm to my breast. "Mr. Slot?"

"Yes." He flips back through his sheets. "All it says
under reason is `silly bastard.' Could you sign here,
please?"

"But I don't want a gang rape," I burst out at last in
frustration.

"I wouldn't think so, sir. Wouldn't be a proper gang rape
if you had wanted it now would it? It would be more of a
gang bang. And Mr. Slot specifically ordered and paid for a
gang rape.

"Sign here, please."

"But..." I interject.

"Mr. Gamera," interrupts the delivery man in a stern voice,
quite unlike the polite, indulgent delivery man voice he had
used to that point. "I still have two homicidal maniacs to
deliver this afternoon. I would like a chance to get home
and watch telly tonight."

"Telly?" I sputter.

"Yes. There's a Kojak festival tonight." He hands me the
clipboard and returns to the polite, indulgent delivery man
voice. "Sign here, please sir."

As I sign, the delivery man waves in two men carrying video
equipment. They squeeze past both of the people in the
doorway. Each give me a tip of the hat and a very cheerful
"good day."

"Who are they and why do they have cameras," I queried as I
return the clipboard.

"Oh sir. They are the internet video set up team."

"Video setup?"

"Yes, sir." The delivery man flips through some more sheets
and hands the clipboard back to me. "If you could initial
here, sir. Yes, video, sir. A man would hardly pay could
money to see you gang raped and not expect to actually see
you gang raped, now would he, sir. Initial here if you
would, please."

I place my initials at the indicated spot. The delivery
man and the video setup team leave for the next delivery.
As they exit, Hecate, KatieMcN, and AleciaD walk into my
apartment dressed to dominate. I begin to compose a thank
you note to Mr. Slot as the women begin to inspect my room.

The delivery man tips his hat to all three and says, "I just
leave the rabid dog chained to the railing of the stairs. If
you could just let it in when you are done?"

"Certainly," answers Hecate.

"Uh, hello ladies," I say after the door closes, "How are the
three of you?"

Hecate looks at me. "There are four of us, Kenny."

Feeling a bit like Florida, I take a recount and answer,
"Well, I see you and Katie and Lexi, but who is the..."

"Slottie sent over another friend, Kenny," adds Hecate.
"I'm sure you remember her from his story the `Prisoner?'"

"You don't mean...?"

"Yes," she pulls a huge dildo from behind her back. "Say
hello to Big Bertha, Kenny."

"Nooooooo!"

Katie and Hecate advance on me each grabbing a flailing arm
and lead me to the futon. I feel myself being pushed down as
Hecate says, "Lexi, hit the send button."



Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.

send stories to
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Wednesday, July 28, 2004

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Sunday, July 25, 2004

Little Porn Teen Sex story

Saucy Wench #3 : Trick or Treat (M/F, F/F, halloween masquerade)[1/1]

Trick or Treat (A Saucy Wench Adventure, #3)
1997, by WenchSaucyaol

We knew we had found the right house when we saw all the cars
parked along the street. We had to park a few houses away and walk
back. There was a line of glowing candles in orange paper bags
with jack o' lanterns printed on them leading up the driveway of the
very large house.
The yard was full of cardboard tombstones. A scarecrow
on the porch was sitting in a chair, stuffed full of leaves,
from the look of it. One of those Halloween tapes, with screams and
creaks and whatnot, played from an enormous carved pumpkin.
My friend Brandi was dressed as a witch. Long black gown,
that came down to her ankles. Black heels, that made her look
a lot taller than her 5 foot 5 inch height. A black pointed witch
hat, that didn't hide her gorgeous long red hair, which went down to
the small of her back. Her face was painted a Wicked Witch of the West
green. And still managed to look pretty. Her eyes were a much
prettier green. She's got a petite but shapely figure, with fairly
large breasts for her size. What wasn't immediately obvious was that
she wasn't wearing anything but a black bra and black panties beneath
that gown.
I was her witch's Familiar...a black cat. Puss in boots.
I wore a tight black leotard...black boots. A long black tail
attached to my ass. Little cat ears in my hair. My face
was painted blackface (Black cat black, not an Al Jolson impression!).
Cat whiskers completed the picture. I didn't have anything on
beneath the leotard except a black pair of hose. I'm about Brandi's
height, slim and petite, a pretty good figure, even if my breasts are a
tad on the small size. But I more than make up for it with my pretty
face and sparkling personality...and most of all, my modesty! I've
got brown eyes and brown hair, a few inches down my shoulders.
We stood on the porch. "Remember our dare!" said Brandi.
"A contest." I said. "Whoever can be the naughtiest."
We rang the doorbell. I expected it might be like something
out of THE ADDAMS FAMILY. No, just a doorbell.
"Welcome, ladies." said the scarecrow behind us.
I jumped, and Brandi gave a little shriek. "What a hot little witch
you are. And you, my dear, are a ravishing little pussy."
We turned. Now I could see the tall drink glass
next to the chair. The scarecrow grinned.
The door opened. Strains of THE MONSTER MASH blared within.
A couple greeted us. A hockey masked Jason, and a blonde woman dressed
as a female pirate.
"Trick or treat!" we chimed. We were whisked inside.
I wondered if Scarecrow had overheard us (and understood).
In the kitchen were snacks and a big bowl of Halloween
punch, with a skull dipper. We were each quickly given a plastic cup
of punch. And it had a little punch to it, too.
In the living room was dancing. In the family room other
people in costumes sat on sofas and chairs. A large screen TV
was showing AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON.
Out on the deck people were smoking. There was something
very funny about these people in costumes and masks, puffing away.
We continued our tour of the grounds. Signs pointed to the garage,
MAD SCIENTIST'S LAB. Another pointed to the basement,
DUNGEON AND CHAMBER.
The lab had a picnic table with a Frankenstein monster
under a sheet on a slab. Christmas lights were cleverly
combined with some boxes and dials and things to give the
impression of apparatus. A blow up doll of a woman was
tied to a loose door, resting at an angle against the wall.
A metal colander fitted on her head, and battery
cables led to a similar cap on Frankenstein. Apparently
some sort of brain transfer was in progress here.
As the norm with blow up dolls of women, her face had
a surprised look on her face, accented by the perfect round
"O" of her open mouth.
There was a bucket on the floor. People were playing
bobbing for apples. The participant had his hands
tied behind him with a cloth. Hmmm, that had possibilities.
The stairway down to the basement dungeon was filled with
cobwebs. A Strobe light flashed. Paper sheets had been
made to look like stone walls. A skeleton was chained to
the wall. A female mannequin was tied upside down, hanging
by her feet.
An assortment of other mannequins, male and female, were arranged
in various predicaments, one in a noose off the ground, one on a
table with a blade pendulum above it, which wasn't swinging at the
moment. I gave it a shove to start it going again. Nobody else
was down here at present. In terms of Halloween atmosphere, this
party was dripping with it. I glanced at my watch. 9:30.
We returned upstairs, and hung out on the dance floor for awhile.
I got a lot of appreciative looks from guys, and more than a few
come-ons, usually with a pun about pussy or my tail. Eventually
Brandi and I split up, with a secret grin at each other.
------------------------------
10 O'CLOCK, BATHROOM BREAK
(OR, PUTTING THE LID DOWN FOR LOVE)
I'd been dancing awhile, and working up a sweat, before I found
what I wanted. A woman in a devil's costume had been dancing
alongside. She'd been making eyes at me, and I was pretty sure she
wasn't just being friendly. I said "follow me" and went off to
to the kitchen to get another cup of punch. We chatted a bit,
and she started talking about how hot I looked. She wasn't too
bad herself, just a tad plump, but with a lovely face. We were
in the dark hall now, by ourselves. A stairway led upstairs.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the stairs. "The
devil made me do it" I teased. We looked around, found the
furthest bedroom from the stairs. Went into the bathroom,
and shut the door and locked it. Left the light out, but
one of those nightlights that detects when it's dark provided
a dim illumination. In fairly short order we were stripping
down. She put the lid down on the toilet seat and sat me
down on it. Then kneeling, she pushed my legs wide apart and
started licking me down there. I reached down and felt her
big breasts, now free of the costume, as I stared down at the top of
her head. Her tongue was like velvet, and it didn't take me long
to come. I sat up, pushed her down onto the oval rug, and
returned the favor. We lay side by side, in a 69 position,
although now I was the only one eating. She played with my
pussy with her fingers, then stroked my ass, my back, my breasts,
my tummy. After she came, we lay side by side on the rug.
snuggling close. At one point, the doorknob rattled. We froze,
and it was not repeated. We sat up and held each other for
a few minutes, taking turns sucking each other's breasts.
Which was nice, but the mood had been broken by that doorknob
rattle; we felt exposed and vulnerable to discovery. We dressed
and cleaned up. I cautiously opened the door. The room was dark.
I could hear sounds of passion coming from the bed. A
couple, male and female, were having sex on the bed! I motioned
for her to be silent and we snuck out. I crawled on all fours
as quietly as I could to keep from being discovered. She followed
suit. The girl on the bed was quite a moaner. It didn't sound like
Brandi, but I risked a glance to make sure. No, blonde hair,
definitely not her. We made the doorway in safety. They had
locked it. But I turned the knob and caught the button as it
released to avoid the loud click. We slipped out. For a second,
I had an evil thought of leaving the door unlocked, so that somebody
else might stumble in on them. But in the end I pushed the button
and closed the door. Halfway down the stairs, my new friend
realized she'd left her pitchfork in the bathroom. Too late now!
I wondered if they'd find it... and I also wondered if they were
the ones who'd tried to open the bathroom door earlier. If so,
they'd know somebody had snuck out during their lovemaking.
Feeling deliciously naughty, I parted company with Devil Woman,
giving her a goodbye kiss on the stairs.
------------------------------
10:30PM, LOVE IN A DARK CREVICE
(OR, THAT'S NOT MY BELLY BUTTON...AND DON'T STOP!)
I went down into the basement. A game was just starting.
close to a dozen people were gathered in a circle. I sat down
next to a Robin Hood. I exchanged a glance with him, and gave him my
best come-hither look. The lights were turned off. We sat huddled
in a circle. The vague shadows of the skeleton and mannequins were
eerie. They began playing that child's Halloween game, where they
start passing around stuff. "The witch is dead, this is her head."
Probably an extra mannequin's head. "The witch came to harm,
this is her arm." And so forth, with increasingly goopy items,
grapes for eyes, spaghetti for...whatever interior icky thing.
As I passed the item to Robin Hood, I let my fingers linger in his
grip. And squeezed. He soon got the message. I reached down
and cupped the tight crotch of his tights. Things were going hard for
him. His hand groped me in the dark, cupped my pussy through the
leotard, then felt at my breasts (he missed the first time, almost
poked me in the eye). I took his hand and pulled him out of the
circle. We stood up and walked deeper into the Stygian blackness.
Went through a side door deeper into the catacombs. There was a sheet
up to block this area, but we ducked behind it. Now we were in an
area filled with boxes. We found a recessed spot and knelt down.
Soon his lips were all over my face, nibbling my ears (my REAL ears,
not the cat ears!), and my neck. We groped in the dark,
fumbling, knocking heads at one point, and had to stifle giggles,
didn't want to disturb those in the next room.
He was reaching down the neckline of my leotard, past my breasts,
down my tummy, all the way down to my cunny. "Wait a second", I said,
I didn't want him to stretch out the material. I removed my
clothes, and he was doing the same. Soon we were both naked, he
sitting Indian style, me sitting in his lap, legs wrapped around him.
His cock stood up straight and proud, pinned between our tummies.
His hands gripped me firm at my waist and lifted me, and I arched my
back and threw back my head as he mouthed my breasts. After awhile, he
had me lay flat on my back pushed his head down between my legs and
started to eat. Where the devil woman had so recently dined. Twice
in an hour, wow! After a bit of this, he was ready to go, and so was I.
I got a condom from my boot (hey, some desperadoes carry
a derringer there, whatever you need to be prepared), and slipped
it on him. I had to use his cigarette lighter for a second to
make sure things were on right. I'm sure we made an interesting
picture there in the flickering flame light, Robin Hood with his
tights down and a hard on, petite little ol' me nude, my nipples hard
as pencil erasers, my shaved cunt moist, my face blackened and
with whiskers spirit gummed on, my cat ears in disarray. We were far
enough back that I don't think anyone could see the lighter. They
were telling ghost stories out in the main room. I leaned back on the
cold floor, and found an old blanket. Used that for a pillow and a bit
of a ground covering. Wrapped us both up in it. Spread my legs
wide, he knelt between them. I was quite damp, and he was
soon pumping away in the dark. I clenched my lips to keep from crying
out, didn't want to alert the next room. We rode each other in
frenzied silence, a few grunts and gasps here and there, and the steady
wet friction sound of a cock sawing in and out of a tight sopping
pussy. Which sounded very loud in my ears, but I don't think could
carry too far. He tensed, and came, and I slammed my mouth to his to
stifle any outburst. I didn't come outright, but from the
two oral encounters I'd had, and his enthusiastic screwing,
I was in a warm glow. With a few clumsy endearments, he got dressed
and stumbled off. The ghost stories were continuing in the dark
in the next room. I lay back on the blanket, nude and feeling lewd
and exposed in the cool darkness, playing lazily with my breasts.
After a few minutes' rest I had my breath back and my heartbeat had
stopped its hummingbird racing. And, in my content glow there in the
darkness, one of those weird, niggling thoughts came in, as they
sometimes do. It was probably the spooky atmosphere. And that
Witch's game. I started thinking about a rather horrifying Ray
Bradbury story, where that game is being played at a Halloween party,
and when they turn on the lights, they find a grisly surprise... it's not
a game. Silly, I know, but I started getting a little paranoid,
wondering about Brandi. I mean, she was The Witch. I mean,
I knew those items passed around were just grapes, spaghetti, etc.
but I was somehow on edge. Maybe because I got worked up but didn't
come during that little encounter. Anyway, I started having this
overpowering urge to check on Brandi, make sure she was OK. Wholly
irrational, but, when you're in a dark basement hearing scary stories
at a Halloween party, there it is. As the saying goes, I don't
believe in ghosts, but I don't cut through the graveyard alone at 3am.
Anyway, soon it was completely ridiculous, I was near panicking.
Maybe the audaciousness of what I was doing at this party was catching
up with me. Anyway, I quickly dressed. I had to fumble for my
cat ears and my boots. My whiskers seemed intact. I wish I had
a light to make sure everything was on straight. Oh well. As
I started to roll up the blanket, my hand encountered the sticky used
condom. With a mischievous smirk, I put it inside the blanket,
wiped my hand dry on the blanket, rolled it up into a ball and
threw it back where I found it. I stole out. The current ghost
story was THE HOOK. The storyteller had a flashlight on her face,
looking eerie. All eyes were fixed on her. I darted around the
sheet, trying not to make it ripple, then made for the stairs,
I think unseen.
------------------------------
11:00 O'CLOCK, BRANDI GETS WET
(OR, BOFFING FOR APPLES IN BONDAGE)
I wandered into the garage/lab. To my relief, there was Brandi.
There were maybe a half dozen people in here, about half of them women.
They were playing bobbing for apples. Brandi was up, her witch hat
over on the floor. A cloth tied her hands together behind her back.
She stuck her head in the wide bucket, and came up sputtering and
laughing, her green face makeup running a little bit, much to the
hilarity of the others there. People were cheering her on. She looked
like she was having fun, and there was a mildly kinky bondage element
here, but still, I was a little surprised, pretty tame stuff. I
thought Brandi would be a little more adventurous. Maybe she wasn't up
to the challenge. I wandered out again.
------------------------------
11:30PM, HOW ABOUT A LITTLE FIRE, SCARECROW?
(OR, SUCKING THE STRAW)
I pushed my way through the crowd, got another cup of punch.
Someone pressed up behind me. I turned. It was the scarecrow,
the one who had surprised us on the porch. "Hi there." he said.
"How about a little fire, scarecrow?" I quipped.
He grinned back. "Isn't your friend supposed to say that?
I was just about to leave the party. I thought you might want to
walk me to my car." He looked me in the eye. Almost a challenge, or
a dare. "OK." I said. He turned to go...I sauntered after him,
strutting my stuff. My little cat tail swished after the
movements of my ass. There was a whistle from someone in the
kitchen (or was it a cat call?).
Outside in the cool air, we walked down the driveway, to
the street. His car was about a half dozen cars away. The
road dipped down to a ravine, and there were dark trees all around.
No house immediately nearby. "You lied to me." I said.
"That's not a car, it's a pickup truck." "Climb in" he said,
"I want to talk with you." He seemed very sure of himself.
I climbed in to the driver's side and slid across. He followed
and shut the door. The interior lights went out. He put his
key in the ignition, and turned it enough so that he could turn
on the radio. "How about a goodnight kiss?" he said.
I slid across the seat and wrapped myself around him.
"Is that all you want?" I breathed into a French kiss. His
tongue darted back at mine for a minute. He looked straight at me.
"No, I'd like you to suck my cock good." he said. I was a little
taken aback. Usually guys aren't quite so...well, cocksure.
They test the waters first. But, I decided to surprise him.
"Lean back", I said, as I slid down onto the seat. I unbuttoned
his pants (button fly). His cock was already rock hard. I drew
it out and started licking it. Fairly long and thick. Musky
smell, but not unbearably so. As I moved up and down, I noticed
a dark patch on his balls. It was discolored from his skin,
and oddly, almost seemed to glow in the dim light from the dashboard
lights. "Wait a minute", I said, withdrawing my mouth. I reached
beside the steering wheel and snapped on the overhead light. I
wanted a closer look at this dick; he had something strange here,
and I wasn't putting that in my mouth until I saw what it was.
It was a smear of green phosphorescent makeup!
Looked like Brandi had been having a more interesting evening than I'd
given her credit for! "I have the oddest feeling you're seeing
another girl" I said, "That little witch!"
He grinned. "She certainly gives great head." He cocked
his head at me. "I asked her about you. She said you were ALMOST as
good." A challenge. I knew he was playing around, but he grinned
like he was in the catbird seat. I dived back down to my meal,
with renewed enthusiasm. Gripped the shaft with fingertips of both
hands, playing him like a flute, put his bulb in my mouth and sucked
and tongued greedily. Of course, what I hadn't taken into account
was that Brandi had worked him not more than an hour ago. He was
stone hard for a second go, but he could also keep from coming for
a lot longer this time around. I must have spent close to 25
minutes giving my full effort. My mouth was getting tired, and
he had a smirk that was both in ecstasy and a bit knowing. He
had me right where he wanted me, and he knew he could go for a
duration. So he just sat back and enjoyed it.
At last, I felt him tensing, and knew he was about to shoot
his load. He didn't give any verbal warning though. He must have
figured, any friend of Brandi's....he pulsed, and I felt a hot jet
spurt into my mouth. Thick and salty. His cock spasmed a
half dozen more times, slower and less surge each time. He made
little inarticulate groans like he was in pain. His hands clenched
on my back, but he was gentleman enough not to grip my hair or hold
my head down. I dutifully gulped it all down. I continued
holding him in my mouth as he softened. I pressed my forehead
against his genitals. Maybe I'd leave some black makeup to go with
the green. I withdrew and got my punch cup from the floor,
downed it to get the taste out of my mouth. He leaned up against
me for awhile, fondling me through my leotard, hands between my
legs, then reaching down my neckline to play with my tits... he
gently squeezed breast and nipple...
"You and your friend made this a better party then I ever
thought possible." he said. "Damn! You two are GORGEOUS!"
I grinned slyly and did my best Dorothy impression. "I think
I'll miss you most of all, Scarecrow! Come along, Toto!" I
climbed over him and out of the truck. He waved goodbye,
and watched my black silhouette head back to the house. I
was almost back to the house before he turned on the ignition
and headlights. Two blowjobs in one evening may have left
him in a daze. I hoped he drove safely...and wondered how long it
would be before he remembered his pants weren't fastened up.
Hopefully before that stop at the convenience store... Then I told
myself that was a silly thought, a guy dressed as a scarecrow was
probably going straight home...
I got back in just as the grandfather clock was striking
midnight. The dance floor was in a frenzy. "Unmask, unmask!"
someone cried, grabbing me and drawing me close to him. I
kissed him on the cheek (and wouldn't he be surprised if he knew where
my lips had just been) and writhed away, towards the kitchen to get a
refill. Of Punch, I mean. I stopped in the bathroom to check my
black cat makeup, and make sure my ears were on straight.
------------------------------
12:00 O'CLOCK, ONE HOT LITTLE WITCH
(OR, IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR, SHE CRIED MORE, MORE, MORE)
I wandered around looking for Brandi. The last place I'd seen
her was in the garage. Naturally, that was the last place I looked.
A Bobba Fett grabbed my arm, stopped me at the door. "Private party,
ma'am." I sidled up to him and put my mouth near his ear. "I'll make
it worth your while, Bounty Hunter." I pressed up against him, then
pushed past. Into an interesting little tableaux there in the Mad
Scientist's lab. Brandi was no longer bobbing for apples, but she
was still on her knees, bobbing. She was facing away from me, down on
all fours, still with heels on. Her pointed hat was still on the
floor. Her black gown was now bunched up around her shoulders, exposing
a lot of pale flesh there in the dimly, weirdly lit garage. She still
had on her black bra and panties, but not, I suspected, for long. A
Klingon knelt beside her, and one hand was buried in her panties. His
other hand was beneath her, seemingly working on a breast. She was
facing a cowboy, who was sitting in a lawn chair, and from his
positioning, she must have been admiring his belt buckle. Her head was
in his lap, and his hands were playing in her red hair. A man in a
three piece suit stood a few feet away, arms folded, watching. Not
sure what he was supposed to be. Maybe a lawyer for Halloween. He
turned to look at me. I put my finger to my lips and grinned. Then
faded back silently. Brandi appeared to be in good hands. As I
turned, I noticed the Klingon peeling off her panties. Her shapely
exposed ass pointed towards the house. Her face being otherwise
occupied, she didn't turn to look back at what was going on behind her.
------------------------------
12:30am, I SHED MY CLOTHING IN THE SHED
(OR, SOME SORT OF TIM ALLEN FANTASY)
Leaving the garage, I asked Bobba Fett if he wanted to come outside
with me and watch me smoke. His impassive mask considered me a
minute, then he said, "Wait here." and darted into the garage. The
changing of the guard, I suspect. A minute later, he was back,
and propelled me through the kitchen out onto the deck. The smokers
had all gone in. I wandered deeper into the yard, flung my head back,
admiring the stars, and finally found a garden shed. We slipped in.
Inside, it was like an aisle of Home Depot. A weed whacker
hung from the wall. A big riding mower was parked there. All
sorts of other tools were about the place.
He started to remove his helmet. "No, Bobba. Leave your mask
on." He paused a minute, obviously stymied, since what he had in mind
probably involved his mouth running over me. Instead, he started
groping me hard. I ran my hands over his outfit. After a few minutes
of this, I slipped out of my boots and leotard. Bare naked in my
black hose, it was a little chilly out here. I got my last condom out.
Then climbed up onto the mower and bent over the seat. He climbed
onto the blade shield and in short order had his pants down and
the condom on, and was doing me doggy style. Both hands reached
around and each mauled a small breast. He squeezed my nipples hard,
in time with his thrusts. He rode me hard. The helmet bumped
my head a few times. I pushed back, but my little ass was pinned to
the seat with each thrust. I came shortly. He followed almost
immediately.
He started to take off his helmet. I stopped him.
"What's your name?" I asked. "John." he replied.
"Thanks, John, dear." I said, as I climbed off the tractor.
------------------------------
1:00 O'CLOCK, MOUTH TO MOUTH
(OR, DOLL GETS A TASTE)
I came back inside. I was a little sore, both between my legs and
my breasts... they felt tender, bruised. He'd been a little rough,
squeezing my breasts hard, tweaking and twisting my nipples, as he
jackhammered me with his dick. Still, it had been good. The party was
starting to wind down. Brandi was sitting on a sofa in the TV room.
The vampire movie NEAR DARK was playing. She was back in her witch
outfit, looking a little disheveled under her pointed hat. And,
though you couldn't tell it from her green face, from her neck to her
cleavage, she looked a little flushed. Two guys sat on either side of
her on the couch, obviously trying to win her favor. Other guys in
the room were observing her closely. Guys talk, you hear things. But
several swiveled to scope me out. Under my black face makeup, I felt
a little blush. Brandi leaned close to whisper in my ear. "Go look in
the blow-up dummy's mouth." I sauntered off, got another cup of
punch in the kitchen (I'd set mine down somewhere, I knew not where).
The mad scientist's lab was now deserted, but for Frank on the slab,
and the blow up doll on the leaning door. I went up and stuck a
finger in her mouth. Something sticky in there. I held up my finger
and sniffed, then tasted delicately with the tip of my tongue, the way
Kojak would test a little plastic bag of white powder he found on a
suspect. Yep, it was cum. Brandi must have French kissed the blow
up doll after her little garage jam and spit the fruits of her efforts
into the mouth. I guess a brain wasn't the only thing transferred
during this mad scientist's experiment. The doll still had that
perpetual surprised look. O!
I turned to go, and there was a figure standing there at the
entrance back to the house. I gave a start. For a second there,
it was a scary deja vu, and I realized I was thinking back to that
scene in SCREAM where the girl in the garage encounters the figure in
the Death outfit. But no, this was just a guy in a Mime outfit,
face painted white.
He stopped, gave that inquisitive Mime look. Hands flat out
tracing circles in the air. He did the guy in the box. He did the
walls closing in. He did pulling the rope. He did walking against
the wind. He pointed at me, and mimed me being bent over the slab. He
mimed doing me doggy style. Then he mimed me having my legs spread,
and him diving down to eat between them. Then he mimed me on my
knees, mouth open, him rocking his hips towards me. Doubtless that
bulge in his pantaloons would be straight out and aiming for the
bulls-eye. I wondered if a Mime would make any noise when he came.
I snuggled up close and kissed him. "Dear", I said. "I am
worn out tonight. But look me up at the Christmas party!"
I walked out of the garage. He was kind of cute, but Mimes
still annoy me. Kind of creepy. It'd be like having sex with a
clown. Scary!
------------------------------
1:30AM, THE RIDE HOME
(OR, TWO PAINTED GIRLS BY THE DASHBOARD LIGHTS)
The kicker, of course, was that we weren't even invited to that
party. I'd gotten a flyer invitation, delivered to the wrong mailbox.
Three apartment buildings over. I knew it was a rich neighborhood,
and I convinced Brandi we should go crash the party. I Xeroxed the
invite, then left the original on the doorstep of the correct address.
We giggled and told each other our adventures all the way home.
My car, but Brandi drove, because she'd had far less Halloween Punch
than I did. We didn't get stopped by the cops. We didn't hook up
with some truckers or a motorcycle gang or have car trouble. And we
didn't get back to Brandi's and spend until sunrise making frenzied love.
No, we scrubbed off makeup, took showers (not together, sorry!),
brushed our teeth, she went to bed, and I crashed on her sofa wrapped
in a big thick warm blanket and nothing else. I was asleep in about
ten seconds. But I bet we both slept with big, satisfied smiles on our
faces.

The End

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