She shouldn’t have come out on the promenade deck alone. But the party in the cruise ship’s Spotlight Lounge had become so loud and boisterous—and the swirling crowd so suffocating—that Ellen had to get away. If anyone asked why’d she’d strayed, she’d just tell them that Little Bo Peep was looking for her sheep. That was the costume Stephanie had gotten for her, whereas Stephanie was decked out as a sexy Cleopatra.

Ellen half suspected that her friend and coworker at the Atlanta ad agency that picked the costumes on purpose. Stephanie was always trying to steal a march on Ellen. Ellen had made the mistake of saying she looked forward to this Caribbean Halloween-themed cruise as an opportunity to let loose, and she knew Stephanie didn’t want to be upstaged in that regard. She also had found that Stephanie had taken this as license to throw every half-way decent man she could find at Ellen—the ones that Stephanie didn’t want to use up first, of course.

As soon as she’d come out on deck, though, Ellen decided this had been a mistake. It was so dark out here and she’d felt as she walked toward the bow of the ship from the stern that she was being watched.

And now she thought she heard the scrapping of shoes on the deck behind her.

She turned. Yes, there was someone there. Tall and dark. Dressed in black. In fact all black. A black man. And one of some height and build.

Ellen’s throat constricted. She couldn’t help it. She’d moved to Atlanta from New Mexico. There hadn’t been hardly any blacks in Albuquerque. But there certainly were in Atlanta. And she didn’t live in the best of neighborhoods. She knew she shouldn’t be frightened in the presence of a person of color—a man, mainly; black women didn’t bother her. Black men frightened her—and something else, too, though. They intrigued her, in a sensual, “what if” way. But this only frightened her more.

She thought now that she recognized him from the costume party—as much as a stranger in a mask and costume could be considered “recognized.” And she had to admit that this was one reason she’d retreated from the party. He’d been tall—almost overpowering—and decked out all in black. A pirate, she thought. And it seemed like he’d been watching her and was moving ever closer to her as he moved around the party room floor in a seemingly random manner.

And there he was—out on the deck. Maybe following her. She quickened her steps and came around to plate glass doors of the casino at the stern of the boat—and ran right into a tall, masked man in a Harlequin costume.

“There you are, Ellen. I searched for you at the lounge but didn’t find you.”

It was Riyad—the intriguingly handsome Saudi businessmen who had been assigned to her dining table—the one that Stephanie had said, with some regret, had the hots for Ellen. The man who had kissed her hand as she sat at the table on the previous two evenings that the ship was steaming toward Puerto Rico—and then, just this afternoon, had leaned down and brushed her lips with his before he left the table—much to Stephanie’s obvious chagrin, with the whisper of just one word—”Later”—which seemed to be saying so much more than the one word. And that had seemed to be taking so much for granted. Riyad had already conveyed the impression that he prized himself highly and took what he took as if by some right of being Riyad.

“Riyad. I’m so glad—” She didn’t have a chance to tell him why she was glad to see him and he obviously jumped to his own conclusions on that. He took her in a strong embrace, pushed her into an alcove with a door in it that likely led to a service corridor, and mashed her lips with his, taking her breath away. She yielded to the kiss. And as she did so, his hands began to wander.

One was inside the low-necked bodice of her peasant costume, and she couldn’t hold back her moan of pleasure when his hand cupped her breasts, skin on skin, one after the other, and first his thumb, and then his lips, found her nipples.

His other hand was hiking up her short, full skirt and moving under the waistband of her panties. She jerked and let out a long groan when a finger snaked into her slit and found her clit. She might have tried to stop this then, to explain that she had just been retreating in fear from an unknown stranger—a foreboding black man. But wasn’t this what she’d come on this cruise for? What Stephanie had convinced her she needed to experience in her life? Riyad was tall, and dark, and handsome. A good conversationalist. Sexy as hell. And he probably owned an oil well or two or was a sheik. She’d wanted something sexy to remember this cruise by. Couldn’t get much more sexy than this.

But she didn’t want him to think she was easy. She laughed at that thought—almost hysterically; most probably genuinely on the edge of hysteria. The man had two fingers inside her now and she was flowing for him. They were way beyond him thinking she was easy.

Riyad gave a low, throaty laugh too, probably misinterpreting hers as encouraging wantonness.

“My cabin; come to my cabin with me.”

It wasn’t a question.

In his cabin—which proved to be a junior suite—Riyad pushed Ellen down to a seated position on the foot of the bed, and slowly stripped off his costume and everything else he was wearing. He was doing an exhibition for her—showing off what he had. And Ellen couldn’t complain about what he had. He was brown as a berry and tall and well-built. A beautiful man. And he was ready for her.

It was a little off-putting that he seemed so taken with himself, but Ellen gave the murmurs of approval that she thought was expected of her and rose to start to undress herself.

This wasn’t in Riyad’s plan, though, He pushed her back down on the foot of the bed and pulled down her bodice so that her breast spilled out. He cupped them in his hands and leaned down and took her lips with his again. After a lingering kiss, he moved in close to her, and she almost exclaimed in astonishment when he came in real close, still holding a breast in each hand, and then moved his erect penis to between the two breasts and started to stroke it up and down while his hands squeezed her breasts.

Ellen hadn’t gotten over the shock of this before his hands had gone to cupping her head and he was pressing the head of his phallus at her lips. She had never done this for a man before. But she felt trapped—and he was so beautiful. And she had come on this cruise for an adventure. She opened her lips to him and went completely docile, letting him show her what he wanted—and doing as much of it for him as she could manage.

It was almost with gratitude that after some minutes she let him turn her bent over the bed, left long enough to retrieve condoms and a tube of lubricant from somewhere, and tossed a string of the condoms—she could see the word Maxim on them, which caused her to groan at the memory of the size of him—on the bed beside her head as he opened one of the packets and prepared himself. His hands were cold and wet, as he pushed the back of her skirt over her shoulders; ripped away her lacy panties with a low, guttural laugh; and moved his staff into her slit. The width of him was almost overpowering, as was his impatience, but now that they were here, Ellen was determined to get all of the pleasure out of it that she could. This she had done before. Not often with a man this well endowed—not often at all, actually. But this was natural, and this was what she was hoping she would find on the cruise.

She murmured for him to go slowly, but he either didn’t hear her or he didn’t care. He was pistoning her deep and fast and muttering to her in a guttural Arabic that she didn’t really want to understand. There was no question that this was all about, all for, him. She should have guessed that this was the Arabic way.

She heard a card key scraping at the lock of the door to the corridor and she barely had time to turn her head toward the glass doors out onto the balcony. She had no idea who it might be—a room attendant or even an irate wife—but she didn’t want to see them before she had to, and preferably not at all.

“Fahd,” Riyad hissed in a growl. “I have mine already. You wanted the other. Don’t come back.”

Fahd, Ellen thought. The other young Arabic man at their dining table. Stephanie had flirted with him, although the two of them had speculated on whether Riyad and he were a pair. Stephanie had said they both were much to luscious not to be a gay pair. But she also said that she wouldn’t mind having a go at Fahd. Well, they might be a pair—might even be into each other—but they quite obviously weren’t limited to gay.

After the door closed, Ellen began to relax. She was taking him deep and waves of pleasure were rolling over her. Riyad obviously could feel her relax, as he raised his chest from her back, and moved out of his crouch without lessening the stroking. His hands were on her hips, but one moved around the curve of one of her buttocks and she tensed up at the feel of fingers at her bung hole.

“Oh, oh!” she gasped, her sphincter muscle closing down hard on the lubricated finger he was inserting into her.

“Relax; don’t fight it,” he hissed. “You’ll love it. You want me.”

He continued to stroke his staff deep inside her vagina as his fingers teased her other opening increasingly more slack and open to him. She moaned deeply, and he laughed.

“A little whore, aren’t you? A sweet whore.”

She wanted to object, but she was too taken with the mixture of pleasure and pain, of shock and fear—but also of, yes, wanting him.

She cried out as his cock came out of her cunt and moved to her other opening.

He commanded her to lay still, not to fight it—that it was what he wanted. What he knew she wanted too. She panted and groaned and writhed under him—he had leaned over her again and, now having establish purchase inside her ass channel, grasped her wrists to completely control her. Within moments, he was deep inside her. She stopped fighting him, tried to relax and will herself to open to him as much as possible, her groans turning to whimpers. She began to cry softly, her eyes focused on the berry brown of his strong hands clasping her white wrists.

Sensing her complete surrender, Riyad started moving his hips again—in, farther in, partial withdraw, in again. Ellen groaned at each invasion.

“There, I knew you wanted it, that you would love it. Tomorrow we move your things to this cabin.”

She should have fought this. But she didn’t. This was what she’d taken the cruise for. Yes, even for the exotic lovemaking—if it could be called any form of love.

He was withdrawing from the one channel and moving back to the other. She moaned deeply in welcome—loving it even more now that it had been lost to her for several minutes. God, the man had remarkable staying power. She had managed it. But who knew what she’d do when she returned to her own cabin.

In the morning, when Ellen returned to her cabin, there no longer was much of a question what she would do. A naked Fahd was on his back on one of the twin beds, smoking a cigarette and leering at Ellen while she moved around the cabin gathering her things. Stephanie, also naked, was straddling the Saudi’s hips and riding him in long, languid motions. Ellen had no idea if Stephanie looked at her while she was in the room; Ellen was too embarrassed to make eye contact.

Riyad was waiting just outside the door to the cabin to take her back to his stateroom—and to roughly fuck her again.

* * * *

“You will meet a tall, dark, stranger.”

“Naturally,” Ellen muttered under her breath.

“Already have, actually,” Stephanie, murmured.

“AND,” a thickly accented voice, showing edges of pique, overrode the murmurings, “and you will find he has been close to you already, in an earlier life, and will be closer yet in the next . . .”

“See, I told you. Riyad said he lived in Atlanta, same as us. Oil company work, of course.”

“Shush,” Ellen hissed. “Don’t feed her ideas.”

“And,” the accented voice continued, “he will dealing with a precious commodity that all want.”

“Oil, of course. I knew it. Riyad is your man.” Stephanie tried to keep the whisper so that only Ellen heard her distinctly.

They were in the back room of a cinderblock hovel in a back alley of Samana, Dominican Republic, where the Enchantment of the Sea was making a stop on their nine-day cruise of the Eastern Caribbean. Oddly enough, Riyad, who had been so possessively attentive to Ellen the last two days, hadn’t objected to Ellen taking an off-ship exploration of the small port of Samana while they were docked—and had said he had no interest in going with her. With Fahd, it had been more Stephanie keeping him in sexual bondage in what had been Ellen’s shared cabin. And Stephanie hadn’t even bothered to ask him what he felt about her leaving him for a bit.

It had also been Stephanie’s idea to visit the gnarled old fortune teller who someone who had taken this cruise before had recommended to her.

“So, you’re going to the Caribbean on a Halloween cruise,” the woman had said. “Would you like to meet a genuine witch? Someone who can not only foretell the future, but can create it as she wishes?”

Stephanie hadn’t been able to resist that opportunity.

“Precious commodity? Gold? He’ll have gold teeth?” Ellen said in a somewhat louder voice. Although she’d agreed to come here with Stephanie, she had been making fun of the venture since the moment they left the ship.

“Black, I see black . . . and murky,” the fortuneteller said in a strong voice that was laced with irritation.

“See, I told you. Oil,” Stephanie spoke up. “It’s Riyad. You can’t escape it.”

That was something that was nagging at Ellen’s mind, and it didn’t help a bit for Stephanie to mention it. Riyad was certainly taking care of her needs—but he was almost exhausting. And so possessive and bossy . . . and narcissistic. The feeling had never been lifted from Ellen that she was only there to serve him. She wasn’t all that comfortable with the thought of being with him in Atlanta when they returned—even though he was a hunk and probably wealthy beyond her wildest imagination.

“I sense skepticism, a narrow mind, doubt,” the fortuneteller was saying in a throaty voice. Her eyes were closed and she began to rock. The grip of her hands on Ellen’s from across a small, round table became a death grip. “There is disbelief afloat. You must be warned that your fate is out of your hands—that you may struggle against it, but if you try to avoid or reject it, it will haunt you until accept your fate.”

Ellen had had enough. The fortuneteller came out of her trance-like state, and Ellen withdrew her hands from the old woman’s clutches as quickly as she could and beat a hasty retreat.

The outing had been more disturbing than the needed change of pace that Stephanie had promised her.

When they returned to the ship, which was to depart port again while they were eating their dinner, Ellen acquired a strong suspicion on why Riyad had been so willing for her to go on an off-board excursion without him. There was a hint of perfume in the air in his suite that wasn’t any scent she would have worn.

She couldn’t pinpoint anything beyond a suspicion, however, as Riyad seemed quite pleased at her return and showed her just how happy he was to see her long and vigorously enough that they almost didn’t make their seating for dinner.

* * * *

Ellen couldn’t believe it—but then of course she could. They were reclining on the beach at Royal Caribbean’s own little Disneyesque adult playground enclave in Labadee, Haiti, where the Enchantment of the Sea had docked for a day of cruise passenger frolic so that they could say they’d been to Haiti—and hadn’t suffered for it.

The Saudi men hadn’t come off the ship again. Ellen wondered a bit whether the two were hiding from something, but she thought it was more likely that they were shopping for something. She didn’t mind, though; she’d begun to feel like a sex slave and completely devoid of privacy and breathing room.

If she was honest, she couldn’t say, however, that she had tired of what she got from Riyad—she couldn’t quite call it attention, because increasingly, if that was possible, Riyad’s attention was focused on Riyad. She either was becoming accustomed to or steeled against the rougher aspects of the pleasures he took. And he was giving her more than satisfaction in her sexual needs. It was the “more” that had her a little concerned.

Stephanie had not complained, either, about what she’d been getting from Fahd, although from what Ellen had observed, Stephanie was doing most of the driving there. Whatever Stephanie was getting couldn’t have exhausted her juices, though as she couldn’t talk about anything but men and their body parts and what they did with them since they’d left the ship.

When they’d laid out on the beach, the two of them had gone to man watching and comparing the various hunks out on the beach. There seemed to be far more Haitian men out on the beach looking after the passengers from the ship than there needed to be—and they all seemed to be real hunks. Some were wearing skimpy Speedos, but more were wearing the kind of silky baggy flowered jobs reaching their knees, the kind that were body clinging when wet and that drooped down at the waistline, showing the curve of the men’s belly muscles down into their crotches with a hint of pubic hair in an alluring way. Ellen had suggested that there were so many being employed because Royal Caribbean was boosting Haiti’s depressed economy. To this suggestion, however, Stephanie just snorted and said she thought it was because lonely single women always predominated on these cruises and Royal Caribbean was providing them candy at this stop so they’d book on future cruises.

And then she proceeded to prove her point.

“Let’s each pick out one, Ellen, and we’ll give them the eye and the cleavage. I’ll bet we’ll each have a nice, plump black cock inside us before sunset.”

“Stephanie!” Ellen exclaimed in shock and embarrassment. She glanced around quickly to see if anyone was close enough to them to have heard.

“Prove me wrong then. There, I’ll take that slim, smaller guy in the read hibiscus trunks that his slim hips can hardly keep up. He’s walking around strutting so arrogantly that I’m betting he has something special between his legs to compensate for his size.”

“Stephanie!” Ellen exclaimed again.

“Again, prove me wrong. You pick one out now. How about that big bruiser with the bodybuilder’s pecs over there. Jet black—both sensual and foreboding. The one who just came in on the surfboard and whose trunks are so plastered to his body that you can see every curve of him.”

Ellen almost involuntarily looked down to the line of the surf. She shuddered in immediate fear—but, as Stephanie said, there was something sensual behind the fear. He must have been well over six foot and he arguably had the best musculature of the men on the beach. He was a dark chocolate brown, nearly true black, and he had dreadlocks that came down to his shoulders. Stephanie was right. Ellen could clearly see the curve of what he had on under the silky yellow trunks he was wearing, and what she could discern made her draw her breath in. But at the same time, a chill of fear went up her spine. He was beautiful, yes, in a massive sort of way. But he was black—and not just dark-toned black; almost ebony black. Ellen couldn’t help it; his blackness alone brought back her fears of moving in her neighborhood back in Atlanta and pulled up in her memory her more recent experience of seemingly being pursued by the black pirate at the ship’s Halloween costume party. This one had the same build as the man she had retreated from on the ship.

“OK, you look hooked,” Stephanie said, as she rose off her towel and picked it and the loaded beach bag she’d brought up. “We’ll split up. That’ll make it easier. Bet I get fucked before you do.”

Note to the reader: As with most of my stories, this was written at the request of two real people, Mike and Melanie. This is their fantasy. Please leave a comment. I love to hear from readers and they would love to hear what you think. Thank you.

Follow up notes – This story received more comments than any story I have ever written. First, I have made a couple of editorial corrections (thanks to those that pointed them out). Second, as suggested, I have moved the story to the BDSM section, the second option was fetish. Third, Mike and Melanie are a happily married and very real couple. This is there fantasy as requested.

Mike walked in and placed the black shopping bag on the kitchen table.

“What’s this?” Melanie asked.

“Open it.” was all that Mike said, acting very nonchalant.

Mike and Melanie had plans to go to a Halloween party that night. Mike had been saying for a couple of weeks that he would take care of the costumes for both of them, but he would never tell Melanie what they were going as. She was very excited to finally see what she was going to wear, but also a little nervous. She felt like she was opening an official letter – this could be bad, or it could good.

The first thing that her hand grabbed down in the bag was a black leather collar. On it was the word, “slave”, written with rhinestones. The collar felt cold and smooth. It had a silver “D” ring, that was attached to a silver chain.

“Oh shit.” thought Melanie.

She continued to dig in the bag. She pulled out a black leather skirt. It was small enough that it seemed more likely to fit a teenager. Digging deeper she found a black leather vest, black stockings and black leather boots that had a 3-inch platform under the toe and a long, thin, tall heel.

Mike explained, “Halloween is the one night of the year when coy women can dress like a slut and no one gives them shit about it. I figured we would go as a Master & slave couple.”

Melanie held the collar in her hand and thought about it. Normally she would be a little stressed over this, but he was right about Halloween. “Ok. That sounds fun I guess.”

Mike could hardly contain his excitement. “Great, now go get dressed. I want to take some pictures of you in your outfit before we leave. I have a couple of ideas for tonight.”

Melanie did as her husband asked, and then came out of the bathroom. She felt almost nude in her outfit. There was no shirt to her costume. The only thing covering her breasts was the leather vest. She has firm tits, perfectly proportioned for her athletic body at a 34B. She was also wearing a thin, pink thong, almost visible underneath her skirt. She could feel a slight breeze against her pussy as she walked, through her sheer, thin panties. It made her feel very sensual.

Melanie is tall at 5’9″. She is in good shape, at about 135lbs. To Mike, she looked amazing, and his dick was growing hard just thinking about what he hoped would be a great night for both of them.

Mike smiled at how hot she looked. “Ok, lets take a few pics,” he said.

They spent the next 20 minutes taking pictures of Melanie in various sexual poses. Melanie was a good sport about it, and did whatever Mike wanted. After they were done, she put her panties back on and got ready to leave for the party.

While Melanie was touching up her make up in the bathroom, Mike hooked up his camera to his laptop and began the process of uploading the pics of Melanie. He then logged on to a porn website where amateur wives and couples post pictures of themselves. Mike selected and posted four pictures of her. The first was just a shot of her face, with her head turned looking up from her kneeling below the camera, with her mouth wide open and her tongue out as far as it could go. He tongue stretched like a hand reaching for something. Melanie has long, straight and blonde. Her face is heart shaped and pretty. She has blue eyes. But the sexiest thing about her is her lips. She has full, red lips that look like they were made to be wrapped around a man’s hard cock.

The second was a pic taken from behind, with her bending over a chair with her legs spread. This showed off her long, sexy legs and high heels. She took off her panties for this one, so you could see up her skirt, to her smooth pussy lips. The third was of Melanie laying on her back on their bed, with her legs spread and her knees pulled up. The last one was a close-up shot of her snatch. Her shaven cunt looked like an 18 year old’s. He then included a caption for the pictures, to go on the website.

“Whore loves to be cummed on. Use me. Please, Sir. Print out my pics and cum on me. Take a pic after you cum on my face and body and send back. Would also love to see your cock hanging in my face when you send me your tribute. Can’t wait to see what you send me!”

He looked at Melanie. She watched over his shoulder the whole time, in a slight state of shock. She looked him in the eye as he held his finger over the “enter” key. She nodded her approval and Mike pressed the button.

With that, he got up, he clipped the leash to the collar around Melanie’s neck, his slave-for-the-night, and led her to the car.

Mike and Melanie walked into the party as their friends stood there and stared. Mike had on a black pants and a black shirt, long sleeve and untucked, with a high collar. He wore black leather boots, but the most interesting part of his costume was what he held in his hand. He held a silver leash that connected to a collar around Melanie’s neck. He walked into the house, leading his possession by her chain. All of their friends just stared. The men looked at Melanie. Their eyes hungered for her body likes dogs watching a piece of meat fall from the table.

The expression on their faces asked the question, “What the hell are you two?”

“We are a Master and slave,” Mike explained.

“Yeah right,” Doug said. “That is a costume ONLY.”

Mike felt a little challenged by Doug’s statement. “No, Melanie agreed to be my slave for tonight. She will to do whatever I say.”

Doug looked right back at the two of them and called their bluff, “prove it”.

They had not been at the party even 60 seconds and yet someone wanted to test their boundaries. This is what Mike was hoping for. Mike thought for a moment. He was turned on by the idea of Melanie being his little sex slave for the night, and was hoping he would have fun later in the evening when they got back home. But he knew that Melanie could be shy sometimes so he didn’t want to push her too much. Then he had a compromising idea.

“Melanie, give your underwear to Doug.” He said in an even, strong tone.

Melanie looked at Mike. She hesitated. Without saying a word she began to walk toward the bathroom. Before she could take two steps, Mike jerked the chain around his pet’s neck. Her body snapped back. Melanie’s long legs kept walking away from underneath her and she almost fell.

Mike never moved. “Here,” he said. “Give your underwear to Doug, here.”

Melanie’s pulse raced. She was nervous, but submitted. She reached down to remove her panties. She kept her knees together as she inched her panties down her legs, trying not to bend over or show her twat. Slowly she was able to inch her panties down past her knees. They were finally around her ankles. She freed her panties from around her high heels, squatted down to pick them up and then handed them to Doug. When the rest of their friends saw Melanie’s pink thong, they hollowed and laughed and high-fived each other. The night was just getting started.

The party went on for a while. Melanie did a few jello shots, getting more and more relaxed as the night got later. They played some music and before too long, Melanie was dancing with several of the guys, and with her friend Amy. Then a slower, erotic song came on and Melanie found herself dancing with Lionel. Lionel is a sexy black man that Melanie has always been attracted. He is about 5’11″, think and muscular. Mike watched from across the living room as the two of them were grinding away. She looked so sexy and he could tell that Melanie was turned on by dancing with Lionel. Mike decided it was time to plays his cards and set in motion his plan for the evening. He downed his drink like it was a tequila shot, got up his courage, and crossed the room to confront them.

“Melanie, you are my slave tonight. I want to watch you get fucked Lionel”.

Mike almost laughed as he looked at the reaction on their faces. He couldn’t tell who was more excited, Lionel or Melanie. He also couldn’t tell who was more shocked.

Mike looked at Lionel and said, “Follow us and come fuck my wife.

Mike pulled Melanie by her chain and led her to a bedroom in the back. His brain was dizzy and swirling and not sure what to make of the whole situation. They went into the back bedroom. Mike turned on the light.

“Lay down on your back,” Mike said.

Melanie just stood there, looking at him. She was not sure if he was serious, if this was what he really wanted.

“Get on the bed you fucking whore,” Mike commanded. He was starting to enjoy the Master’s role.

Melanie obeyed and crawled the bed, like a cat in heat.

“That’s better. Now, lay on you back, hike your skirt up, spread your legs like the little whore you are, and let this man use your fuck hole to dump his cum.”

Melanie did as her husband and Master ordered. Melanie crawled onto the bed. She lie on her back and spread her legs, with her feet wide and up in the air. Melanie’s pussy was smooth and swollen. From the crease in her slit, creamy wetness could be seen seeping out of her. She was wet and ready. She lay there on her back, ready to be taken by Lionel. “Taken” may not be the right word. Certainly “fucked” would be a good description. But when you add in what Lionel’s cocks might do to her, ‘used’ would be a proper word as well.

Lionel quickly took off his clothes. His hard cock popped out, ready to go. He knelt on the bed between Melanie’s legs. He put the head of his dick at the opening of her cunt and rubbed it around a bit. Melanie closed her eyes, tilted her head back and to the side, and let out a sigh.

With a strong push, Lionel squeezed his cock inside Melanie’s pussy. He kept pushing into her, until his balls rested on her ass. Kneeling between her legs, he wrapped his big hands around her ankles, spreading her legs open wider and wider. His big black dick began fucking Melanie in a rhythm. Mike took a seat in a chair in the corner, to sit back and enjoy the show. He was watching his wife get fucked and it made his cock rock hard.

As Mike watched, Lionel began to give his wife the fucking that a good little slut needs. His body slapped against hers. His long fingers gripped her slutty ankles, just above her ‘come fuck me’ pumps. His body working into her fair skin was quite a contrast. He fucked Melanie hard. Her cunt stretched to accommodate his thick meat. He squeezed her ankles and fucked the shit out of her.

As Lionel drilled her, Mike taunted her. “Do you like that Melanie? Do you like getting fucked like the whore you are?”

“Oh yes. Fuck me. Fuck me with that big cock! Make me cum,” she begged.

Lionel stopped fucking her just long enough to pull his dick out. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back onto the bed. He was fucking her so hard she was moving. He was so strong, and she so light, that he threw her around like a rag doll. He spun her around so that her head hung off of the edge of the bed. Still laying on her back, Lionel stood over her and put his dick in her mouth. He began to fuck her face, while reaching down and fingering her wet pussy. She could taste her own juices on his dick and balls. She felt so nasty and so needed all at the same time. Melanie wanted to be used. She wanted to make this man cum. She wanted to put on a good show for Mike. It made her so horny to know that her husband was watching her.

“Oh yeah, suck my cock bitch,” Lionel said as he moved his dick in and out her mouth like a piston.

Melanie licked and sucked and choked and gagged. His fingers played with her clit and brought her so close to climax.

Lionel pulled his long, stiff cock out of Melanie’s throat and climbed back on the bed. He forced her legs open wide and dipped his spit-covered cock back in to her pink, hot hole.

Melanie clawed at the sheet on the bed, desperately trying to find something to hold on to. Her head banged against the headboard, as Lionel plowed deeper into her cunt. Her wet pussy stretched and clinched, all at the same time. She could feel him expanding inside her, approaching his climax. The sensation pushed her over the edge.

“Oh fuck me. Please fuck me! Fuck me harder!” she yelled. “Dump your load in me.”

“You fucking cunt, milk my balls dry with your tight little pussy!!” Lionel yelled.

Lionel began to cum inside of Mike’s wife. He pumped and pumped, thrusting his body between her legs and slapping against her. His cum shot deeper inside of her than she had ever felt. Hot cum filled her tight pussy, gushing out of her as he continued to fuck her and use her. His cock pumped cum and he emptied his balls deep inside of Melanie, Mike’s slave.

Lionel finally pulled his limp dick out of Melanie. Cum ran out of her crease and down her little ass. A wet spot of sperm and pussy juice showed on the sheet below her ass crack. Melanie lay there sweating and panting – and hungry for more.

Melanie looked at Mike. She had a lust in her eyes and simply said, “more”.

As Lionel got dressed and went back to join the party, Mike followed him out, leaving Melanie on the bed. He was incredibly turned on.

Mike walked out and saw Doug talking with some friends at the kitchen table. “Doug, come here please”.

Doug had noticed when Lionel, Mike and Melanie went in the back. He was curious and was more than willing to see what was going on. When they walked in the room, Doug was shocked. There lay Melanie, on her back, with her legs spread and cum running out of her fresh-fucked pussy. He could tell that the horny little wench had just been used.

Mike spoke to his wife in a commanding voice, “Melanie, you fucking slut. A big black dick just used you. Now I am going to give Doug here a fresh hole to fuck.”

With that Mike rolled Melanie over onto her stomach. Melanie did not struggle. She lay face down, with her sexy, firm ass facing up. Mike spread her legs just a little. At first she tried to resist him, so he smacked her on the ass a couple of times. She flinched at his correction, then understood and did not move. He reached over and pulled out a tube of lube he had brought with him for this specific purpose. He squirted some on his fingers and then rubbed it on her asshole. Melanie did not react, she just sighed at his touch. Doug could not believe this as he watched.

After he has lubed her up, he looked at Doug, “She is ready for you. Fuck this little whore up the ass.”

“Uh, are you sure, Mike?” Doug was a little nervous and wanted to be cool about it.

“Yup. She is my slave tonight. She will fuck and suck whoever and whenever I tell her.”

Doug could not believe his luck. Here was Melanie, laying face down on the bed. Her ass was prepped and ready, both Melanie and Mike were telling him to stick his dick in her tight bum. He had always thought that she was hot and had fantasized many times about fucking her. He didn’t waste any time. He quickly stripped, releasing his already hard cock.

Doug climbed onto the bed and knelt over Melanie. She till had her black vest on, and her skirt up around her waist. He grabbed her ass cheeks and pulled them apart to check her out. Her ass was as tight and closed as he has ever seen. Her asshole was glistening with lube. He stuck his finger in her pussy, and felt the hot cum in her. The thought of what a nasty fuck-whore she was gave him intense excitement. He then took his finger and rubbed the outside of her asshole. Melanie let out a moan at his touch.

As Mike watched Doug preparing his wife to get butt-fucked, he saw someone peeking through the door. He looked and saw Amy. Amy was Doug’s girlfriend. Mike had always thought that Amy was very sexy.

Melanie could not see Mike in the corner as she was faced down. Mike motioned to Amy to come into the room. She had been watching the whole time. She was completely turned on by what she saw. Her pussy was getting wet just watching what her boyfriend was about to do to her best friend. Doug’s was about to use Melanie’s ass for a cum dumpster.

Amy walked in and looked down at Mike. He took her hand and led her to kneel before him. The two to them were going to watch the show together.

Doug rubbed his finger around Melanie’s ass, preparing her for what was about to happen. He took his time with her, pushing a little more each time. Soon Doug’s finger was rimming the inside of her ass. Amy kept her eyes on Doug’s body, as he knelt by Mike. She knew what he was about to do to her best friend and she was incredibly turned on. Doug had fucked her in the as many times and she knew how great it was.

Once Doug felt that Melanie was ready for him, he leaned over her and rubbed the tip of his cock against her tight pink hole. He pushed. Melanie let out a gasp as if he were pushing the air out of her. His dick felt tight inside her butt, no doubt about that. She had always been afraid of get fucked the ass — afraid that it would hurt. Although it was tight, it was also the most intense pleasure she had ever felt. Through the fog of her pleasure, she found herself getting angry; frustrated that she had not submitted to this before and how she had deprived herself of such pleasure.

Thicker and thicker Doug’s cock went into Melanie’s ass, sliding farther down into her. He grabbed her ass check with one hand, holding his hard dick with the other, guiding himself into her. Soon she was impaled with his meat stuffed inside of her ass. She loved it. Melanie loved anal sex. She instantly knew that she loved getting fucked up the ass, and she knew this would happen again very soon.

Amy could not contain herself any more. She unzipped Mike’s pants and let his cock free. She kept her eyes on Doug and Melanie, as she took Mike’s cock in her hand. Amy licked the head of his penis. He was so turned on from what he had already seen his wife do that night, that pre-cum was oozing from the head of his cock. Amy licked it and pulled away, making a string of cum stretch from his dick to her tongue, like a spider spinning a web.

Mike looked down at Amy. “Suck it,” he commanded. “I am going to cum in your mouth,” Mike sort of breathed when he said it, like he could barely contain himself.

“Promise?” Amy asked, as she slobbered her spit up and down his shaft.

Mike could not take it anymore. He was so horny that he grew impatient. He grabbed a handful of Amy’s hair and forced her head down on his cock.

“Suck it!” he demanded.

Amy gladly and did as she was told. She took Doug’s cock all the way into her mouth, and down her throat. She pulled on him, going up, only to slide her lips back down his monster cock again. Down her throat he went as she worked her tongue and lips around his manhood. She gagged and choked a little on his meat. Her tongue licked the side of his cock, licking his veins, as she held him in her mouth. Meanwhile her fingers worked his balls, as they rose up and tightened at her touch.

Mike’s was so turned on and so conflicted. He wanted to watch Melanie getting fucked by Doug, but he also wanted to watch Amy sucking his dick. He looked over at the bed.

“Oh yes, please fuck me. Fuck me!” Melanie begged to Doug.

Melanie was laying flat on her stomach. Doug’s big dick in her ass made her pussy want to cum. It was an intense combination of pleasure and pain. He lay down on her, pinning her between him and the bed. She could not flinch or pull back from him. She was forced to take every inch of him in her ass.

Author’s note:

This story ended up being much longer than I intended. For those of you who like the quick thrill stories, feel free to skim the first two sections before getting to the juicy stuff in section three. For those you who like longer stories, I think you’ll find this very enjoyable.

New Friends

My name is Jamie Morgan. It was mid-January 2012, and I had just graduated college in December with a boring old accounting degree. After spending my college years attending a small school a few miles from my parent’s house I had a real urge to prove to myself that I could live own my and be a responsible adult. In order to do that, I decided to only seek out job interviews in places as far away from home as possible.

It turns out that in the technology age many employers are okay with giving interviews over the internet to qualified applicants who live far away. Because of this, I was able to have several interviews with the Human Resources departments of many accounting firms, any of which I would have taken. After two weeks of interviews I finally received three job offers from firms, each of which would take me far away from home.

It was up to me to choose which offer to accept. They all were located in lively and entertaining cities, so that was a toss-up. They all offered starting salaries of just over $38,000 per year, so there was no clear winner there either. The deciding factor came down to the HR reps who interviewed me. Two of the three had very generic and boring HR reps, however the HR rep from the firm in Seattle was not generic and boring.

She was gorgeous. I was surprised she offered me the job because of how nervous she made me in the interview. I couldn’t help but worry that she would notice how sweaty and uneasy she was making me. Her name was Sarah Wallace. She was a blue eyed blonde and would have easily been the hottest woman in my hometown. If there was a chance to catch a glimpse of that beauty on a regular basis, I had to take it.

Before I knew it I was saying good bye to my parents and leaving little Midland, Ohio and flying over 2000 miles to my new home in Seattle, Washington. I arrived at the airport on a Friday evening and was promptly greeted by Sarah Wallace, who was far more stunning in person. I had a hard time speaking to her, but eventually managed to introduced myself and follow her into a cab. She dropped me off at a hotel near the firm that would serve as my temporary living quarters until I found more suitable housing. Sarah also informed me that there would be a staff party tomorrow at the firm where I would get acquainted with my new workmates. After I was settle in, she headed home and said she’d see me tomorrow.

It didn’t take me long to realize that Saturday would be February, 10th and this was likely going to be a Valentine’s Day themed party. The thought of hooking up with Sarah at the party sent trills through my body. It was unlikely to happen because she surely would act professional at work function and more than likely a beauty like her would have some type of scumbag boyfriend. However, the improbability of it did not keep me from dreaming dirty thoughts about it.

I arrived at my new place of work ready to party wearing my best work suit. I had spent nearly all of my graduation money on that suit and just maybe it would come in handy in my new life. Not only did I want to look professional to my new bosses, but I really wanted to impress Sarah.

It was Sarah who greeted me at the door. She was wearing a strapless white dress with pink hearts that came midway down her thigh. The dress showed off just enough of her ample cleavage and sexy legs. She also wore a stunning smile that was accentuated by her perfectly done makeup. I would do anything this woman wanted. She introduced me to many of my new coworkers and my new bosses.

Everyone seemed nice enough, though many were surely your stereotypical boring accountants. There were a few attractive women in the crowd, but only two of the employees I saw could come close to Sarah’s beauty. But by coming close to her beauty they were also true beauties. It was becoming clear that tour with Sarah was nearing its end when she introduced me to one last person.

“Hey Pete,” Sarah said as we approached a rather good looking man who I assumed would be a fellow accountant. “Pete, this is Jamie Morgan, our newest accountant. Jamie, this is Peter Halpert. Well I’ve got to meet up with my boss, you two be friendly, alright,” said Sarah just before heading back to the main group of people.

Pete was appeared to be very athletic and handsome. I’d say he was about 6’1″ and probably weighed a muscular 190 pounds. I’m sure he had been an athlete before being an accountant. He had dark black hair and a neatly trimmed, but full beard. Compared to my slender 5’7″ frame, Pete was the picture of masculinity. Not to say that I was completely feminine. I’d always been told that I was pretty good looking and never had any trouble hooking up with girls throughout my college days. However, just by looking at Pete, I would guess that he was far more popular with the ladies than I had ever been and I could see that he would have much better odds at getting with Sarah. Yes, I believe they would make a sexy couple. Did I just refer to him as sexy? No, sure he’s handsome but she’s the one who would make that couple sexy.

“Sounds like she’s trying to set us up,” said Pete, shaking me out of my thoughts.

“Set us up? What? But, I’m not gay,” I replied, clearly missing something. “Are you gay?”

“No, HA. It was supposed to be a joke dude,” replied Pete laughingly. “That Sarah Wallace sure is a fine piece of woman, huh Jamie?”

“Yeah I noticed, she’s probably the hottest girl I’ve ever met. Pretty much the only reason I took this job was because she did my interview. Have you ever made a move at her Pete?”

“No. I’ve only been working here for a couple of weeks, and I usually like to ease my way in with ladies like her,” said Pete coyly. “I do plan on asking her out soon though.”

“Well good luck man, I don’t think I have a chance with her if you’re after her.”

“Hey don’t sell yourself short, anyone has a chance if they’re confident enough. So Jamie, what do you think of that chick over by the water cooler?” Pete pointed at a very attractive black girl with curly brown hair who was wearing a short and cute purple dress. “That’s Claire Thomas, the new front desk lady at the firm,” he said. “And I hear she’s into dudes and chicks.”

“She is sexy, and I have always had a thing for bi-girls, maybe she’ll be my fall back if you take Sarah out from under me,” I replied somewhat jokingly, but mostly seriously.

“For some reason I’ve never been into black girls. I mean I can tell she’s obviously very good looking, but for some reason she’s not my type,” said Pete. “I hope that doesn’t make me sound racist.”

“No dude, I don’t think that makes you seem racist,” I said. “I wouldn’t tell her that you don’t think she’s hot because she’s black or anything like that because I’m sure that would could across as racist. I just think that everyone has their own type. I had a friend in college who was only attracted to chicks from India and I don’t think that made him racist against all other races. And let me tell you, college was not fun for him because there were not many Indian girls to choose from at our school.”

“That’s pretty funny, Jamie. Say, what do you think of the hotel? I’ve been working here for two weeks now and I’m still living there. I can’t stand it.”

“It doesn’t seem too bad after one night, but I’m sure it will get old,” I said.

“Well I do have a nice townhouse in my sights,” said Pete. “You interested in being roommates?”

Before I could answer we were interrupted by a commotion coming from the center of the party. Pete and I made our way through crowd in an attempt to get a better look. Sarah was standing in the middle trying to get everyone to calm down and back away as quickly as possible. It appeared that she was standing over someone who had a bit too much to drink, vomited on her feet, and then passed out right beside her feet. It also appeared that the party was over.

New Roommates

Just a week after moving to Seattle and beginning my new job, I moved in to the nicest townhouse I could afford. Pete and I decided to go through with being roommates so we had a much better setup than either of us would have been able to have rented alone. The house had a common area and kitchen on the second floor, my room was on the third floor, and Pete took the ground floor. I think he did this because he didn’t trust me to protect the house from invaders, but that left me with the better room. The common second floor had a beautiful balcony that had an amazing view of Lake Washington. It was nice being that close to the lake, though we didn’t exactly have waterfront access.

Being roommates with someone you only knew for a week was awkward at first, but luckily each floor had its own bathroom so we each had enough privacy. Things became much more comfortable when we settled into a routine. Pete did almost all the driving because I didn’t have a car. I did almost all the cooking. I was more than happy to do so since I had flirted with majoring in the culinary arts before settling on accounting.

Things at work were going fantastically for both of us and we were both quickly becoming well liked employees. However, the job itself is mostly just numbers, graphs, and tax figures so it’s not really exciting to talk about. But it paid pretty well for two guys fresh out of college and we we’re not shy about spending our money like dumb college kids.

Our first purchase was made after we discovered a mutual love for movies and video gaming. We put our money together and bought a 55″ Samsung HDTV that fit in nicely in our common living room. This came in handy during long movie and gaming marathons that took place in the early days of our living arrangement. Our second major purchase was made after we discovered a mutual love for baseball. My assumption of Pete being an athlete was correct as apparently he had played four years of Division II baseball in college. I was very impressed. We both agreed to buy Seattle Mariners season tickets because we figured that during the summer we’d be spending a lot of our time after work at the ballpark. For two guys who looked like an odd pairing, one very masculine and one more than slightly feminine, we had a great deal in common.

Neither one of us did much dating during March because we were too busy getting used to the new house, but it was getting clear that both of us needed some action soon. It was in the middle of April when Pete begged me to let him have my ticket for the Mariners game on the 21st because the White Sox were in town and he said the girl he was talking to was originally from Chicago. I agreed as I figured it would be good for at least one of us to get some. I found out later that the girl he took was Sarah Wallace. Pete had discovered that she was from Chicago and was a casual White Sox fan. I was disappointed at first, but I had to admit it was a very smooth move on his part. And it couldn’t have worked out any better for him because the game she went to just so happened to end up being a perfect game for White Sox starting pitcher Phil Humber. Pete was a lucky bastard. He and Sarah were officially boyfriend and girlfriend by morning.

I couldn’t have been more jealous during the first few weeks of their relationship, not only because she was my dream girl, but because they had sex all the time. She was pretty loud too. Pete must have been very skilled. I thought the townhouse was very spacious when we moved in, but I guess it takes hearing your roommate fuck his girlfriend a couple dozen times to make you realize it’s not as big as you thought. The worst part was that I now spent most of my nights alone instead of hanging with Pete in the common room.

It wasn’t until the middle of May that I stopped pitying myself and decided to get back in the game. It turned out to be pretty easy to hook up with women in the city when you had a stable job and the money to buy girls drinks at bars. So, many nights when Pete would stay in with Sarah I would borrow his car to head out on the town. I must have hooked up with as many girls that summer as I did during all four years of college, which was about nine or ten lucky ladies. None of them looked as good as Sarah, but there wasn’t much I could do about that.

Once I started having fun again, life in the house turned out to be more enjoyable than ever. However, now that Sarah was spending a lot of time at our place during the summer I realized I was glad that I never hooked up with her because our personalities just didn’t mesh. It turned out that she was a bit too much of a bitch quite simply. I was happy enough being with a different girl every other week and was glad I wasn’t the one tied down to her. Pete seemed to be happy enough being a one woman man, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he was a romantic or if he really liked being with Sarah. I hoped it was him being a romantic and that hadn’t completely fallen for that shrew. Maybe she was just a shrew to me because she could sense my jealousy when they first started dating.

As summer was nearing its end I could tell that Pete and I were becoming the best of friends. I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend I could talk to like Pete or one who could make me laugh like Pete. Any time we spent together was guaranteed to be a great time. Our firm had a company softball team that summer and Pete was the star. I may not have been a great athlete, being only a cross country runner in school, but Pete stuck up for me and made sure I had a spot the team. I was the right fielder, which in slowpitch softball is reserved for the worst player, but I at least was on the team. I greatly wished that he was single and that the two of us could go out on the town to pick up chicks together. But it was still a great time nonetheless.

It was mid-October when I decided I wanted to find a real girlfriend for a change. This was probably because Pete was spending more time with Sarah now that our summer activities had come to an end. I set my sights on Claire, the gorgeous African American front desk worker. She and I had been friendly since I started working there and had just ended things with her last girlfriend a few weeks prior. I wanted to think of something smooth to win her over like Pete did with Sarah. Halloween was coming up and I decided my plan would revolve around the firm’s Halloween party.

I decided I would to the party dressed as the hottest brunette I could possibly make myself because I knew that Claire had a thing for brunettes. I had my doubts I could pull this off because I had zero crossdressing experience, but I knew I would give it my full effort. And I figured that even if I couldn’t pass as a sexy brunette then at least Claire would see that I was an outgoing liberal guy and give me a chance anyway just for trying. It probably wasn’t as good a plan as Pete’s, but it was best I could think of. Pete only laughed and said good luck when I told him, but Sarah was surprisingly giddy about the idea and said she would do her best to transform me into a knockout.

A week before the party Sarah said that we would spend as much time as necessary to make me as feminine as possible. It turned out that Sarah and I could pretty much wear the same sizes since we were almost exactly the same height and had similar waists and leg measurements. She was a bit more well-endowed when it came to breasts though, being a large C cup. But she thought that with the right breasts forms, her bras would be perfect for my body type. She had me try on nearly every piece of clothing she owned including dresses, blouses, camisoles, tights, skirts, bras, regular panties, thongs, g-strings, bikinis, lingerie sets, garter sets, baby dolls, high heels, and the sexiest high heel boots. I couldn’t believe how much wearing these things turned me on, but I did my best to hide it because I didn’t want Sarah telling Pete. She spent most of her time teaching me how to do my own makeup and teaching how to act more feminine. Walking, sitting, and talking were the hard parts, but after a few hours each day I had it down pretty well. Pete had a good time watching all this. He always had a good laugh each time I walked by him in heels. All I could do was smile, flip him my middle finger and walk to another room.

New Lovers

The day of the party arrived and I couldn’t have been more excited. Sarah came over that afternoon to help me pick out my outfit and to make sure I did my makeup as well as possible. She also came over to coordinate costumes with Pete. She was going as probably the sexiest Catwoman you’d ever see and he was going as probably the hunkiest Batman you’d ever see.

My first step was to take a bubble bath and shave off every inch of my body except my hair of course. I wanted to be as feminine and realistic as possible for Claire. Sarah, or I should Catwoman, came in to help with my outfit. We decided to go for a more casual feminine look. This started with the sexiest black g-string that Sarah had. It barely covered my penis in the front and in the back looked so sexy stuck in between my ass cheeks. Next we picked a pair of skin tight blue jeans that hugged my hips perfectly and made my ass absolutely pop. Did I mention I was a cross country runner in college? It paid off. My ass and legs were easily as sexy as Sarah’s would have been in those jeans.

We then applied the breast forms with adhesive and covered them with a very sexy black lace bra that matched the black g-string. Then we picked out a very cute and sparkly light blue camisole top that slid on perfectly. Sarah decided not to take any chances and did my makeup for me, which I thought was unnecessary because I’d been practicing all week for this. But I couldn’t complain because I thought it was stunning. She kept the cover-up subtle but managed to make it look like I’d never once grown any facial hair. She applied a light touch of dark mascara and the hottest pink lipstick I could imagine. Next she added some acrylic nails to my fingers and painted my toenails hot pink, both of which couldn’t have been sexier. She fitted me with the perfect brunette wig that we picked out at the costume shop and added a cute matching heart earring and necklace set to complete the look. I then stepped into a pair of three inch black strappy heels that I could die for.

When we were finished Sarah I looked in the mirror and both were shocked. She then sprayed me with the most delicious perfume I had ever smelled. Sarah said that she would take me home herself if she was into girls, which made me laugh because I’m not a girl, right? I certainly looked the part, and was really starting to feel the part. I then took the black purse she gave me and filled it with the essentials for the night. These included my cell phone, wallet, keys, perfume, lipstick, mascara, and some condoms in case I got lucky with Claire that night.

Sarah stayed in my room to work on her outfit, which was a rental and was more worn-out then she expected, while I headed down to the kitchen to get a much needed nerve calming beer. As I came down the stairs I noticed Pete, or should I say unmasked Batman, was sitting on the living room couch watching a college football game. I decided to ask for his approval.

I walked as silently as I could on the carpet so he wouldn’t notice me. I stood right beside the TV and did sexiest pose I could think of. In my most sexy feminine voice I said, “Hey Peter, so am I a hottie?”

No answer. He just stared at me with a look that was hard to read, but he was definitely bewildered. The longer he looked at me the more I began to blush.

“Pete, I asked you a question. Am I at least passible?”

“Yes,” was all he said after another pause.

“Well you’re looking good, Batman. I bet you and Catwoman are going to have some crazy animal sex tonight,” I said as I headed to the fridge. “Hey Petey boy, want a beer?”

“No thanks,” he replied after yet another long pause.

“You answered too late anyway,” I said as I was already sitting down next to him on the couch in a ladylike pose.

I thought he was acting very strange. He’s never once been this distant with me since we started rooming together. As we continued to wait for Sarah, I noticed Pete shift away from me a bit on the couch and then put a pillow over his lap. I started to ask what was wrong, but before I could Sarah came down the stairs and Pete bounced up to meet her.

The three of us then headed over to the party together in Pete’s car. I couldn’t help but notice that Pete was staring at me in the back seat with his rear view mirror the whole ride over. What was wrong with him? Why was he being so weird? Was he mad at me for something?

As soon as we entered the party I sought out to find Claire as I wanted to get to her before either of us got too tipsy. I left my two superheroes to party by themselves and headed for the bar area where I hoped Claire would be. Sure enough there she was, dressed in a sexy angel outfit that included an extremely short white skirt, white stockings, and a pair of wings. I must say I was quite fond of this look.

I sat down right next to her and ordered a vodka and cranberry. Then I turned to her, smiled, and in my feminine voice said, “Hi my Angel.”

“Hi yourself,” she replied. “Do you even work here?”

“It’s me,” I said in my normal voice.

“Oh my god! Jamie? You look so sexy girl,” exclaimed Claire. “I never would have known it was you if you didn’t use your real voice.”

“Well I know how you like sexy brunettes, so I decided to be your sexy brunette for the night,” I said back in my feminine voice.

“Well it’s working girl. Stand up and let me get a look at you.”

I did exactly as she said, making sure to show off my perfect ass as much as possible. Then I grabbed her hand and led her to the dance floor. I was fairly confident in walking in my heels, but dancing was something different. Clearly this was something I should have practiced. However, it turned out to work out to my advantage because when Claire noticed me stumble she simply pulled me closer and helped me keep my balance by grinding all over me. I’m sure this sexy angel and sexy brunette combination was gaining a lot of the attention around the room, but I was too occupied to really notice as this was one of the sexiest experiences of my life, thus far. We were both really getting into it and started to make out a little bit.

I then noticed Sarah and Pete were dancing right beside us, and they were both looking so hot. Did I say both? I meant Sarah was looking so hot. In between songs I noticed Sarah whisper something into Claire’s ear. When the next song started they began dancing with each other, leaving Pete and I to stand there looking like fools. That’s when Pete pulled me close to him.

I figured what the hell and started grinding on him like I was with Claire. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, but didn’t think much of it as I’d been drinking too. After a few minutes, and I hated to admit this to myself, but I realized I was getting far more turned on dancing with Pete than I did with Claire. It must be because I was getting glances at Claire and Sarah dancing together, I thought. Yeah that was it. It couldn’t have had anything to do with Pete’s rock hard bulge that I had just felt rubbing against my waist.

Luckily I didn’t have to feel it for long as the song ended and the four of us headed back to the bar. I ordered drinks for Claire and myself as we sat down next to each other. My mind was not focused on her as I saw that Pete and Sarah seemed to be having a bit of a disagreement. Claire then pulled my faced back toward her and began kissing me again. I could tell she was really getting hot and ready. My plan had totally worked and I could bring her back to my place any time I wanted. I noticed that Pete and Sarah were gone from the bar, which meant I had to stall because dammit they were our ride home. I ordered another round and told Claire I was heading to the restroom.

When I reached the restrooms I couldn’t decide if should go into the men’s or the women’s. Not that it mattered because I only left to call Pete to make sure if I needed to find another ride. I got out my phone and called Pete’s number. As soon as I dialed I heard what I knew to be Pete’s ringtone coming from another room. I cautiously walked back to where I heard the sound because I figured I would probably run into Batman fucking Catwoman. But that wasn’t the case. All I saw was Pete sitting alone in the office break room. When I entered, his eyes shot up at me. We were ominously alone. That’s when he got up and began walking toward me.

“Where’s Sarah? I’m getting really close with Claire, so we should head back soon,” I said as he came even closer.

“She’s being a bitch about her costume tearing. And some other shit,” said Pete in a voice that was muffled by his mask. “She already left.”

“Oh well that’s too bad, okay then are you ready to take us ba-,” I was cut off.

I was cut off by Pete reaching out and pulling me close to him. I could really smell the booze on him now and was frightened for the first time ever while in his presence.

“Do you know how sexy you look? Much hotter than Claire or even Sarah tonight,” said Pete while tracing his hand down my back toward my ass.

“I guess Sarah did a good job,” I said breathless. I hate to admit, but I was not only frightened, I was becoming more aroused by the second. “But you’re really starting to scare me, what’s gotten in-,” he cut me off again.

This time I was cut off by him pressing his lips against mine. I tried to struggle away, but as one of his hands found my ass, the other found the back off my neck. I couldn’t go anywhere. And I couldn’t do anything except get more turned on. I opened up for him and let his tongue explore my mouth, and I soon was returning the favor. We continued to kiss for what seemed like an eternity as my hands began to rub up and down his muscular chest. His left hand stayed put on my ass and right hand found its way to my breasts. This was by far the hottest kiss I had ever experienced in my life, and it was with a man. It was with my best friend. What the hell were we doing? This was so wrong wasn’t it? I snapped out of the trance I was in.

I managed to pull my mouth away from his and screamed, “Pete let me go. It’s me Jamie! What the hell are we doing?”

“Just what feels right,” he said trying to pull me back.

“No it’s not right, leave me alone and go find Sarah!” I yelled as he finally let go of me.

“I don’t think I want Sarah any-,” this time I cut him off by slamming the break room door as I stormed out.

I had to get myself under control. I headed to the ladies room, where Pete wouldn’t dare go, and cleaned myself up. I took a little pee and then fixed my makeup as a wanted to look good for Claire. I guess we would have to find another ride. Pete had clearly lost it. Right? There was no way we should have been doing that, even though it felt amazing. Focus on Claire I thought. I headed back to the bar, but she was nowhere to be seen. I figured I would order another drink and look around for her. I sat patiently but still didn’t see her. Then I asked the bartender if he had seen the sexy angel recently. He said that she left with another brunette who was dressed in a dark angel costume. That must have been Melissa, her ex-girlfriend. Dammit. All of this was for nothing, thanks a lot Pete. I ordered another drink and tried my best to gather myself, my thoughts, and my emotions. Before I realized it I was pretty much the only person left at the party and it was well past 2 AM.

I decided that I should just go home and sleep this off, and maybe I would leave in the morning and never have to deal with Pete again. I thought about calling a cab, but I figured he’d probably just hit on me too and I didn’t want that. It wasn’t that long of a walk. Thirty minutes later I regretted that decision, but had finally made it home. The only problem was that I would have to walk through Pete’s floor to get my room. Fuck. He was definitely home because I passed his car in the driveway. Hopefully he had already passed out.

I turned my key and entered as quietly as possible so not to wake him up. Surely he’d be out by 3 AM. Not only was he up but he was sitting right on the stairs so I had to pass him. He could be such pain in the ass.

“I’m so sorry Jamie,” said Pete honestly. “I don’t know what came over me, it’s just that you look so beautiful and I was drunk. I know that’s not an excuse for how I acted, but I am truly sorry.”

I hadn’t expected such a heartfelt apology. He clearly had been here waiting for me and had sobered up quite a bit in the last hour. He stood up and slowly walked toward me, which made me unbelievably nervous.

He asked, “Is there any way you can forgive me?”

He was sincerely asking for my forgiveness. What would I be forgiving him for? As I thought about it, I realized all he really did was make the first move. It was clear that we both enjoyed it, why was it so wrong? He was my best friend. It was the hottest I’ve ever felt in my life. If that was wrong I guess I didn’t deserve to be right. The ball was in my court now. All I had to do was forgive him and I could go straight to bed and forget that anything ever happened. But I couldn’t do that, I had to be honest with him. I’d never lied to him before and there’s no reason I should start now.

“Kiss me again,” I said.

“What? Are you shh-,” I cut him off for the second time that night.

This time I cut him off by jumping into his arms and pressing my soft lips to his. My tongue shot into his mouth as his hands found their way back to my ass. We continued our lip-lock as he lifted me into his arms and carried me to his bedroom. I had never been hornier in my entire life, and I was never more certain I was doing the right thing. As soon as he sat me down, my hands immediately made their way down to Pete’s shorts. I guess he changed when he got back because the Batman costume was gone and he was only wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt; this only made my job easier. I pulled his shorts and his boxers down in one motion, revealing his rock hard cock that was at least nine inches.

“Oh baby, you’re so big,” I breathed as I began to kiss the tip.

Mine was a respectable six inches, but was nowhere near as thick as this monster. Sarah was a lucky girl, I thought. Oh wait, I guess I was the lucky girl now. I licked up and down all sides of the shaft while cupping his balls with my right hand. I looked up and made eye contact with Pete, and he was enjoying the action as much as I was. I shot him a dirty smile and proceeded to engulf my mouth around his beautiful cock. I tried by best to deep throat him, but only about six inches deep. Maybe with practice, I thought.

I slowly began to bob up and down on him, while licking the head in between bobs. I was careful to use my tongue to make sure teeth didn’t rub. This was the turning out to be best blowjob I’d ever experienced, and I was giving instead of receiving. It wasn’t long before I felt his cock throbbing. The tip was growing and pulsating and I was so ready to taste his manly juices.

“I’m cumming,” Pete moaned.

I refused to slow down even though I knew he was about to explode. Suddenly, spurt after spurt of his hot juices shot into the back of my mouth. I was never more pleased with any accomplishment in my life than making Peter Halpert’s cock explode in my mouth. I licked and cleaned his cock as best I could, and I was sure to savor every last drop.

Then Pete, who had already taken his shirt off, pulled me up to my feet. Our lips met again with the most passion yet, even though I still had his juices on my lips. In between our kisses, he lifted my blouse over my head and began to explore my bra covered breasts. I traced my acrylic nails across his muscular chest down toward his ripped abs. He was such a stud! He had me panting with each kiss as I was ready to do whatever he wanted. I turned around and pressed my ass against his cock, and then I bent down to undo my heels, teasing him the entire time. I faced him again, wrapped my hand around his reviving cock and stuck my tongue back into his mouth.

He responded by lifting me up and placing me on my back. His hands pinned my arms down on his bed and he started kissing my neck. I was so turned on that I could barely breathe. Pete then shifted his focus to my feet. He kissed my toes for a few seconds before heading down to unbutton my jeans. I pushed my ass up in the air help him to pull off my jeans, leaving me in only my matching g-string and bra. I could tell this sight drove him wild as he dove down and kissed my inner thighs. He kissed and licked me down there for a while and then decided to slide off my g-string exposing my penis and my waiting hole. He started to make his way toward my penis, but I was not interested in that. I wanted to be all woman for him and if he was going to give me head, he would be eating out my boy pussy.

I pushed his head back down between my ass cheeks and he quickly got the message. I had never had anything in my ass before, but now his tongue was certainly welcome. He licked around the entrance for a while which had me purring. Then he drove his tongue as deep into me as possible. He then inserted a first finger deep into me and then a second, no doubt hoping to prepare for what was to come. From the girly juices I noticed oozing out of my penis, I believed I was ready for it. I reached for my purse, which had conveniently fallen on the bed beside me, and pulled out a condom. I had planned to use these with Claire, but I thought things had worked out for the better. I would let him take me bareback, but with all the sex he’d been having with Sarah I figured it was best to err on the side of caution. I reached up to hand the condom to Pete, but he only met me with a devilish grin and did not take it.

“No offense baby, but those are a bit small for me,” he said as he reached for his night stand drawer.

“None taken, but you better be gentle with that monster,” I said as I saw him pull out a magnum condom and a bottle of lube.

“I promise to be gentle, at first,” he replied with another devilish grin.

As a watched him apply the condom to his massive cock, I had the sudden realization that I was about to be fucked. And I loved it. He then applied some lube to his penis and then some more to my begging boy pussy.

“You ready?”

“Yes Pete. Never been more ready for anything,” I replied as I was certain I had never wanted anything more than I wanted his cock inside me at that very moment.

He pulled my legs up to rest on top of his shoulders in order to give himself better access to me. Then he placed the tip of his cock at my entrance and slowly started to push his way in. He got about a finger length deep when I felt a sharp pain shoot through my body. But I knew I could take it, and I had to take it because we both needed it. I couldn’t help but gasp when I realized he was finally balls deep into me. Thankfully, Pete seemed to know what he was doing as he kept himself deep inside me to allow my body to adjust to his size. With his cock still buried deep in me our lips met in another embrace. I dug my nails deep into Pete’s back as he slowly began to pump. His pace was powerful, but also slow and gentle. The sight of my penis flopping back and forth with each thrust drove me wild.

“I love you Jamie,” whispered Pete while continuing his slow and steady pace.

“I love you too,” I purred before pulling his lips to mine for a loving kiss. “But Pete, you better FUCK. ME. HARDER!”

And that’s exactly what he did. His pace rapidly quickened as his thrusts into me became stronger and stronger. He began nibbling on my earlobes as my nails started scratching hard into his ass cheeks. Before I knew it, I was moaning louder than I ever imagined I could. Pete’s grunts made me even hotter. His bed was slamming against the wall in rhythm with his strokes. The sound of our pleasure, and his balls slapping against my ass cheeks, filled the room. We probably woke the neighbors, but definitely didn’t care. The smell of our sex in the air was intoxicating. I was in heaven. And I was coming closer and closer to my imminent climax.

“Ohhh fuck, fuck, fuck,” I cried as my penis oozed a full load of my feminine juices. It was the most intense orgasm I ever had.

My orgasm must have set Pete off because he then started fucking me harder than at any point before. His grunts became louder and louder as my moans turned into more of a feminine squealing. He had to be getting close to his own orgasm. Sure he was a stud, but there’s no way anyone could last much longer. He thrusted hard into me one last time as our lips met once again. His cock then exploded inside my tight hole. I could feel his juices filling me up and dripping out. The condom must have broken at some point, but I no longer cared.

His cock remained semi-erect inside of me as we continued to make out for the next several minutes. Then exhaustion hit us both. Pete finally pulled out of my ass and removed the condom. Then he collapsed down beside me and I cuddled up to him and fell asleep with my head resting on his shoulder.

New Beginnings

The next morning I awoke in what seemed to be my rightful place; cuddled up next to Peter Halpert. I couldn’t help but smile as I looked up into his eyes. He was already awake and seemed as if he’d been watching me for a while.

“Hey beautiful,” he said. “How are you doing this morning?”

“Never better,” I replied with the biggest smile on my face. “What about you?”

“I have no doubts that this is where I’m meant to be,” he said. “In bed with you.”

“What about Sarah?”

“What about her? She doesn’t interest me anymore,” he replied honestly, with an answer that made me very happy.

“Why did she really leave the party last night?”

“Well her costume really did tear, but she was really pissed about something else,” he said while looking at me very seriously. “She said she caught me getting turned on by you when we were dancing. Her plan was to tease me by dancing with Claire, but she said that I didn’t notice her at all because I was ‘entranced’ by you. Then she stormed off after saying that I should ‘go fuck Jamie’ if I was so turned on by you. After all that I decided to go to a quiet area to think for a while, but then you walked in.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well I knew it couldn’t have just been the costume thing. But I’m glad she said something to you. I mean it obviously worked out for us.”

He just smiled.

“I do kind of feel bad for her though. After all, she was the one who he lent me her clothes and makeup and taught me how to be feminine. She couldn’t have known that I’d end up stealing her man by the end of the night,” I said with a sexy grin.

“Yeah. It could be rough facing her at work after all this,” he said. “But she’s smart and beautiful. And she thinks way too highly of herself for this to keep her down for a while. She’d probably take credit for setting us up.”

“I imagine she would,” I replied just before kissing my new man.

“Let’s go make some breakfast,” said Pete jumping out bed with his hand out for me to follow.

Before leaving his room I noticed a pair of Sarah’s skimpy boy shorts lying on the floor of Pete’s room. I figured she wouldn’t need those anymore as I pulled them up on my way to the kitchen. Pete and I didn’t stop smiling for a second, or say a single word, as we devoured our breakfast of pancakes and eggs. I guess a late night filled with the best sex you’ve ever had really makes you hungry.

Author’s note: This story is a sequel to Summer Rules, which appeared in the Summer Loving Contest.


“Well, one good thing. We don’t need costumes.” Jan certainly had not bothered to dress up for Claude’s Halloween party. Old jeans, big flannel shirt, her long dark hair hanging out from a little knit cap, she looked every bit the hippie college girl. Even so, one or two people recognized her, then Tom. There was no mistaking her face. Vampire chic, they were calling it, that long nose, the dark, deep set eyes, the look of a little girl totally devoid of innocence. Famous, they were famous now. As if they weren’t recognizable enough, Jan had plunked herself down right next to one of the perfume posters. Not that there was any escaping them. Everywhere he went, he was staring at Jan’s naked body, his naked body wrapped behind her, that blank look of bliss on both their faces. There were little whispers around the subway car. Two guys were staring at them with a mix of lust and envy. Lust for Jan, envy for Tom? Or was it the other way around?

“We should have taken a cab,” Tom fretted.

“Depends on the cabbie.”

“There’s that.” He glanced at his watch — a Rolex now, a gift from Claude. He didn’t even want to guess how much it might be worth. “We’re going to be late.”

“We’ve got a buffer. Party doesn’t start till ten. Yvette wants to get us in costume.”

“I thought we were just going to be naked.” Tom blurted it a bit too loudly, and Jan gave him a little kick.

“She’s going to prep us just like for a shoot,” she whispered. “We need to look good. Claude has some important clients coming to this party.”

“We’re going to be, like, living sculpture?” Tom tried to imagine himself holding a pose while the guests wandered around inspecting him. Worse still, touching him.

“A little more than that. These are very important clients.”

“Shit.” He got up off the bench. He hung on the railing above her, staring down at her. “It’s not summer any more.” It was, in fact, the end of October. “I thought we were a couple again. Just a couple.”

He didn’t like the way she was blushing.

“Tom.” She got up to whisper into his ear. The touch of her breath made everything tingle. “Tom, you haven’t been working since school started. I have.”

“Working as what?”

“A model,” she snapped, too loudly, right into that tingling ear.

“Just a model?”

“Doing what a model needs to do. The things you were doing before school started. And don’t tell me you weren’t having fun.”

“So at this party, we’re supposed to be doing what models need to do?” Tom tried to sound irritated. He was irritated. He’d been faithful to her for the last six weeks. Maybe it was even seven by now.


“Only maybe?”

“Claude said that we should be ready to make ourselves available.”

“That sounds like more than a maybe.”

“You’re mad at me?”

“You should have told me.”

“I’m telling you now.”

“Isn’t it a little late?”

“Tom. Dear.” She leaned in to give him the tingly ear again. “I need to go to this party. Claude is gambling a lot on this perfume thing. He needs backers. He needs …”

“Claude has a cash flow problem? Too many ads, not enough sales?”

“He’ll be fine after Christmas. All he needs is a little slack, a little goodwill.”

“He told you this?”

“Yvette told me this. Yvette understands how to run a business. Claude has his head up his ass.”

“When it isn’t up yours.”

The slap came so unexpectedly it nearly knocked him over. There was a murmur from the other passengers. “Careful,” he muttered. He rubbed his jaw to see if it was swelling. “Don’t damage the merchandise.”

“Sorry.” She didn’t sound very sorry. Then, she actually began to cry.

“Jan, you don’t have to do this.”

“Yes I do.” She paused. “I want to do it. ” She leaned in again to do the tingly whisper. “Don’t you want it? Don’t you want everyone in the room to want to fuck you? Don’t you want to spend the whole night fucking?”

“Being fucked.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t like that. I spend a lot of time up your ass.” That was true. Jan had her own version now of Mr. Pinky. Maggie had given it to her as a going away present before she went back to college. “Don’t tell me you don’t wish it was a real cock.”

Her whisper had grown to a shout as the subway had squealed around a turn. But everything had gone silent abruptly. Everyone had heard the end of what she had been saying. Thankfully, it was time to get off. The two guys who had been closest to them got off behind them, trailing them. For a moment Tom thought there might be trouble. But they got out into the street and lost themselves in a crowd of costumed revelers.

“Why is he having the party down here?” Tom had been down to Claude’s loft a couple of times. It was barren compared to the apartment.

“He’s got it decorated. A haunted house or something. Yvette wouldn’t let me see it. She said it was going to be a surprise.”

Even without Halloween decorations the loft was creepy enough. It still screamed sweatshop. Claude had done nothing to soften its industrial drabness. They went into an elevator car big enough to hold a tank, a relic from the nineteenth century, probably still the original equipment. It groaned its way up to the top floor.

“Next time,” Tom grumbled, “we take the steps.”

“You ever see the stairway? There are people on that stairway.”


“Yep. And worse. Personally, I’ll take my chances with the elevator.”

“You’re late!” Yvette was shouting at them through the grille even before it opened to release them. “Come on, hurry up, we have to get you set up before the guests arrive.

“Set up?”

” Hurry, get your clothes off,” Yvette was ignoring Jan’s question. “Where did you get those shoes? No, don’t tell me.” She was staring contemptuously at Tom’s loafers.

“Tom McAnn. Set up?”

“You will greet our guests with a living tableau of the perfume ad. An exact replica. Assuming,” she gave a flick at the flaccidity Tom had revealed by stripping off his chinos, “that you are capable.”

“You want us to sit there with my dick up her ass?”

“Yes, just the way we did the shoot. God, what is all this hair?” She was staring at Tom’s legs. “And what is that?” She pointed to a purple spot just below his right knee.

“It’s a bruise. I got kicked.”

“Soccer season,” Jan amplified.

“Well, we’ll see what we can do. Come, hurry, hurry. Have you purged your bowels?”

“Maybe.” Tom was feeling nervous, and feeling nervous made him queasy. “Jan …” He trailed off. No point in complaining.

“Well, take care of it while I do Jan.” She had ushered them into an area that had been screened off and set up as a bathroom. She was gesturing towards the toilet, then to Jan. “Come here dear. Bend over.” She had something in her hand that buzzed, that she was shoving up Jan’s butt. At first Tom thought it was a vibrator. Then he realized it was a little electric razor. “You look fine otherwise. As for your boyfriend …”

She came over and knelt in front of the toilet, grabbing Tom’s right ankle. “Are you making any progress?”

“It’s a little distracting.”

“Tom, dearest, we do not have time to go away and let you meditate. You have until I finish this other leg. Then you are going to wipe yourself and flush the toilet and you will turn around so I can shave your butt.”

He closed his eyes. He tried to ignore the buzzing. He was used to clearing himself out for anal sex. Jan didn’t like getting shit on Mr. Pinky. There was no sink in her room in the dorm. If it got dirty, he had to lick it off, that was the threat, and once he and actually done it, right in front her. He tried to imagine he was in the bathroom in her suite, getting ready for Mr. Pinky time. Funny. How often had been crouched on Jan’s bed with Mr. Pinky up his ass, fantasizing about a night like this? Be careful what you wish for.

“Get yourself cleaned up.” Yvette’s mocking drawl broke his reverie. “I guess,” she gave a disdainful sniff, “you will be ready now.”

There wasn’t a proper shower, just an ancient free standing bath tub with clawed feet. Tom’s grandparents had a tub like that. There was a little shower head on a handle to rinse off with after the bath. They made do with that. One advantage of it, it could work as a bidet.

“Your arms,” Yvette snapped, “your armpits.” She trapped him once again to rid him of the offending hair. She ran the shaver over his face, too, even though it was perfectly smooth. “It will have to do.”

She knelt down and took his flaccid cock into her mouth, half his freshly shaved balls also. She stuck a finger up his freshly cleaned out asshole.


“You need to be able to penetrate Miss Happening here, and you don’t seem to be up to it. Apparently she is not providing you with sufficient inspiration.”

“We fuck all the time,” Jan snapped, but actually it wasn’t true. After a full day of school, after soccer practice, his tongue for her, Mr. Pinky for him, was more reliable. Half the time they did try to fuck, it wound up that way in the end anyway.

“Do I need to get Claude?” Yvette’s ministrations were not doing much.

“Claude is not big enough,” Tom sneered. He was rewarded with another slap, to his balls this time. That was enough to get his interest.

“Oh.” Ivette released him again to inspect progress. She gave him another three slaps and he was ready.

“No hash?” Tom asked hopefully.

“My friend, I am quite sorry. We are trying to prepare a party for two dozen guests. We did not have time to set up a hookah just for you. Perhaps, later.”

“Two dozen?” That was from Jan, and it was delivered with a little gasp.

“Do not worry, my dear. Half of them are women. Others are only interested in boys. Some may even have a shred of decency in them, although I would be surprised.”

“Tom, believe me, I didn’t realize. I thought maybe a half dozen, maybe a few more …”

“You never asked.” Yvette was staring at her. “I would not lie to you.”

“Tom.” Jan was staring at him in alarm, thinking he would shrivel at the news. But it was having just the opposite effect. He was rigid, trembling, and the tip of his penis was starting to ooze a little.

“Tom, my dear, you are a little whore.” Yvette ran her finger over the tip, tasted it. She made a face. “Asparagus. Why would you eat that on a night like this?”

“It’s my fault,” Jan said. “I cooked us dinner.”

“How domestic of you. Come.” There was a small table, almost like an altar, covered with black cloth, set up in the main room. “You will arrange yourselves here. Hurry. The elevator is coming up already.”

“It’s too small.” Tom sat on the top. His knees were dangling over one edge, his butt over the other.

“Make it work!” Yvette snapped. “Act like a professional!”

“Professional what?” Tom retorted. But he pulled up his legs, almost into swami position. He pushed his butt back a little more. Jan backed to the edge of the table, and he lifted her up and impaled her on his erection. There was no problem getting past her asshole — in fact, considerably less than there had been. Tom wondered just what she had been fucking. Someone or something the size of a small horse had been going up her butt. It was no wonder she only wanted his tongue these days. She wiggled into position, then tensed up so that she was gripping him, but not too tightly.

“When the fuck did you learn to do that?” He aimed his whisper to give her the tingly ear. He was rewarded with a little spasm.

“I’ve been practicing with Mr. Pinky.” She said it with as much innocence as she could muster, sitting naked with cock up her ass. It was possible, it was even somewhat credible, but he didn’t believe her.

“Ah, magnifique!” The guests had arrived. Apparently word had gone out to be on time, because there must have been more than a dozen of them surging out of the elevator. Despite what Yvette had said, there were only two or three of them dressed as women, and those might have been guys in drag. “Looks like a long night for you,” Tom whispered.

“For me?” Jan somehow managed to give a little shrug. “Want to make a bet on that? I’ll bet you that all the straight guys are here with their wives.”

The guests had surged in and stopped, about ten feet away. Tom and Jan had positioned themselves so that the first view of them was the same the camera had given on the perfume poster. That meant that Jan’s breasts, such as they were, were covered by Tom’s hands. Maybe Tom’s balls weren’t quite as well hidden. There had been a touch of airbrush magic there. The crowd stopped, they spread out little, perhaps, but they would not move closer.

“Please,” Yvette said, “don’t be shy.” She was kissing each of them, and complimenting them on their costumes. Claude was out there kissing away also. Well, Tom thought, French guys kissed each other, but those kisses seemed somehow more intimate. Strange, he probably had encountered some of them before, during the summer. He had probably had their cocks at either end of his digestive system and that didn’t bother him. But kissing, that he could not, would not do.

Despite Yvette’s assurances, the guests were still keeping their distance. They were edging closer, but no one dared to be the first. “Don’t be shy,” Jan said, and there was a little gasp.

“What are you, crazy?” Tom hissed.

“It’s going to happen, sooner or later. Do you want to be sitting here all night?”

“Why not?” Well, actually, his butt was going to sleep because the table was so hard, and Jan was too bony, digging into his thighs. And, despite all his preparations, he needed to pee.

It had seemed that there was an invisible fence, a force field right out of Star Trek, protecting them from the guests. Perhaps it was the coyness of the pose, the beauty of the posers, or their youth. Perhaps none of the guests wanted to be the first. But after Jan’s invitation, it was clear that there was nothing to prevent the guests from walking right up to the table. There was nothing to prevent them, it appeared, from moving away Tom’s hand and running a finger over her nipples, or from moving her hands away to expose her lower lips. Or, to run another finger back between those lips to verify how Tom’s flesh was intersecting hers.

“Come on Larry, get out of the way.” It was a burly black man dressed up as Superman doing the probing. A rather chubby black Wonder Woman was pulling him away. “Let everyone else get a look.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve stared at that poster, just wanting to do that? Man, oh man, that makes my day.”

“Later,” Claude said, “you will be able to inspect them to your heart’s content.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Wonder Woman grumbled.

Something was rubbing along the base of Tom’s spine. A thumb, he told himself, but it felt too big and soft. He risked a glance behind him. Rob Roy was standing there, in a kilt and a white dress shirt with the bottom of the sleeves ripped off, opened wide to reveal too much hairy chest. Apparently Rob Roy had gone commando. . Now that ‘thumb’ was trying to work its way into the gap Tom between his butt and the table. It was just reaching the edge of his asshole, just rubbing enough that the tip was starting to work its way into the outer ring.

“What’s happening?” Jan whispered. Tom was twitching inside her at each poke into his butt, and she was starting to twitch a little in response. Spiderman had come up to the front of them. At least, it was a guy dressed in Spiderman pajamas, and a dime store mask. Not a very fancy costume for such a high class party, Tom thought, but it was effective. The pajamas were very tight, and the guy was really built, with bulging thighs, huge shoulders and biceps. The pajamas had an open fly, no button or zipper, and there was an impressive erection sticking straight out through that opening, cloaked in a bright blue condom to match the rest of the costume. Jan was looking at it with some apprehension. She’d never had a cloaked penis in her mouth. What would happen if the condom came off inside her throat? She’d choke to death. But it was rubbing between her breasts, or what passed for them. What was that called, an eighty one? Something her very busty older sister had scoffed that she would never be able to pull off.

It was starting to rub upward again, and she began to panic. It wasn’t that she was squeamish. She’d teased Tom that he’d have to clean off Mr. Pinky, and one time he had actually done it. He’d turned around while she was still wearing it and stuck it in his mouth, almost casually, to her astonishment. Had he been doing that furtively, on his own? Then, the next time his cock had come out of her butt, he’d dared her to do the same thing, and it had been — interesting. More interesting than she had cared to admit. But this blue abomination did not smell interesting. It smelled medicinal, industrial. It smelled like it had been lubricated with WD40. She was starting to gag. Mercifully, it retreated. Down her belly it rubbed. There was a little bit of condom hanging on beyond the tip, and it felt really, really creepy, but she tried to keep her composure. Tom was moving up and down inside her in rhythm to Rob Roy’s humping, and she tried to concentrate on that. Finally the blue clad prick worked its way down to her groin, and that was a lot more interesting. But she was a little too far back on the table, far enough so that the tip of that penis could only reach the crease between her lips.

“Tom,” she whispered, “help me!” He could have shifted forward, so Spiderman could fuck her properly. That probably was the help she was looking for. Instead, he shifted back.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jan yelped. He had almost gone over backwards. He had almost slid out of Jan. It was only Robbie’s belly against his back that saved him. There was a grunt of satisfaction from behind him as the ‘thumb’ wiggled its way deeper into him. It wasn’t nearly as thick as Mr. Pinky. Not as long, either, although maybe it was just the angle that was bad.

Spiderman was not about to be denied so easily. He wedged his impressive thighs against the table, and pushed The table top was not made for that kind of punishment. It snapped, and the blue super prick vanished between Jan’s pussy lips. That only impaled Tom more deeply onto Rob Roy, who suddenly was bearing most of the weight of the other three. The back legs of the table were supporting the rest, but not for long. They collapsed, and it was only Robbie’s grip on what remained of the table top that was keeping them all from tumbling to the floor.

For some reason, the Scottish hero was in a bit of a hurry now. Two more grunts, two more pushes, and Tom’s asshole was very wet. He could feel himself dribbling on the floor. That had been enough to make him come, almost absentmindedly, inside Jan. At least he hoped that was what had happened and it hadn’t been his urge to pee getting the better of him. She was too slippery now, and he was shriveling. She squirmed in irritation, and that only made things worse. Then she got distracted as Robbie Boy pushed his end of the table up and Spiderman went down on his back with her on top of him. She started to bob up and down with too much enthusiasm for Tom’s taste. It was interesting, even arousing, to watch his girl friend fuck, but she could have cut the screams out a bit. That arching back, the look of rapture, the shudders — she certainly was putting on a good show. She never came like that for him. Usually she just got very quiet, and he could feel her tense up. Then he’d keep doing whatever he was doing until she gave a little sigh and said that was enough. But if this was an act, it was a very convincing one. He was getting jealous.

Finally, she more or less collapsed on the spidey stomach, and those huge orange biceps lifted her off. Tom had the chivalry to catch her. Spiderman stood up. He was limp now, still wearing the condom with a huge white blob hanging down in the tip of it, and he didn’t even have the decency to tuck the disgusting mess back inside the pajamas. He was walking around letting it all dangle like a trophy.

“Would you like some champagne?” One of Claude’s other models was walking around with a tray of fluted glasses. She was dressed, if you could call it that, as cat woman — a cap with little ears on her head, whiskers glued to her cheeks, her arms and legs covered in gloves and stockings that looked like orange fur. Her torso was completely bare. She had a little cat tail sprouting out her butt. On the other side a little cat face had been painted around her pussy.

Tom reached for a glass, but Yvette intercepted him. “Time to go. The natives are getting restless.”

“Getting restless?” Jan muttered. “I’d hate to see what they’re like when they get rowdy.”

“Oh, you will my dear, you will. But not out here. We worked too hard to get everything set up to let it go to waste.”

“Set up? Where?”

She didn’t answer. She just dragged them off the table and into the next room. Well, it wasn’t a room exactly. It was an area that had been separated by heavy black curtains that went all the way up to the loft ceiling. Inside it was dark, so dark it took a few minutes before Tom’s eyes adjusted.

“What the fuck?”

The room was dominated by two huge spider webs, made of thick rope, each centered about ten feet off the ground. The floor beneath them was covered with thick pads.

“You two will be hanging in the webs — the poor trapped flies. Naked, of course, spread eagled and helpless. The spiders will crawl up and … well, you can guess the rest.”

“We’re going to be tied up?” Jan was trying to break the grip Yvette had on her arm. “No one said anything about being tied up.”

“I explained it to you,” Yvette sighed. “You just were not paying attention.”

“You told me about the web. You never said anything about being tied up.”

“You agreed to let yourself be used in any way our guests desired. Not in so many words, but you knew why you were coming here, did you not? What did you tell your boyfriend?”

“She told me we were going to get fucked a lot. She didn’t way anything about being tied up.”

“Well, there is no way you would hold your grip all evening. I will secure you so that most of your weight is supported with your thighs. You will really be quite comfortable.”

“But our wrists and ankles will be fastened to the web?”

“Of course. Your vulnerability is the prize. But to attain it the spiders must climb up to you. It should be a fascinating experience.”

“Fascinating,” Jan muttered. “No way in hell.” But Tom was already climbing into position.

“You see,” Yvette was saying, “there is something almost like a strap on harness attached to the center of the web. Slip your legs into it. See how that supports you?” She climbed up in front of him. There were soft straps already in place to secure his wrists and ankles. “See now, isn’t that comfy?”

“I cannot believe that I am doing this,” Jan grumbled. She climbed up and put herself into the harness on the other web. They were so close together that Yvette could swing over to her to fasten her in.

“Think of it as an amusement park ride, my dear. Like going on a roller coaster. Just relax and enjoy it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Your boyfriend seems be looking forward to it.” Yvette reached over and tried to pull Tom’s web closer, but it was too heavy to budge much. He strained forward as far as he could, but the tip of his erection was still about a foot short of its target. Yvette leaned out from Jan’s web to give it a little kiss. Then she clambered down beneath Jan to give a little lick between those spread eagled legs.

“Merde!” Yvette was wiping her face off. Jan had peed on it.

“I’m sorry, it just happened. I’m scared,” Jan whimpered.

“Scared? I’ll show you scared, you little bitch.” Yvette dropped to the mats and went over the edge of the room. She returned with a long metal rod. “Do you know what this is?”

“A cattle prod?” Tom said.

“It is the spider’s sting,” Yvette said. “Do you have any idea what this will feel like, against that cunt you have made so conveniently wet?” She zapped Jan’s left foot to unleash a shattering scream. “We will have a little contest. The one who fucks you in the most creative way will have the honor of wielding the spider’s sting.”

“You’re kidding,” Tom ventured. “Aren’t you?” Just the fact that she was walking around with a cattle prod, that he was tied up watching her walk around with a cattle prod, was bad enough.

“Am I?”

She lifted it up and stuck it under his balls. She pulled the trigger, but the voltage setting was very low, no more than a pleasant tingling. Despite that, he let out a blood curdling scream. Yvette was so startled she dropped the cattle prod. And Jan … he had literally scared the shit out of poor Jan, not that there was that much left after she had been swabbed out by him.

“Merde! Fusking asshole!” Yvette’s comments seemed merely descriptive. She went running out of the room cursing, leaving them hanging, so to speak. A couple minutes later the model dressed up as a cat came in, with a mop and pail. She cleaned the floor, then stuck the mop up to swab out between Jan’s legs. Then she went over and retrieved the cattle prod.

“Fucking bitch!” she snarled. “I was going to be the next big thing. Now all I’m good for is to clean up your shit! Bitch!” She stuck the prod up where she had just swabbed. “Shit! How does the fucking thing work?”

“Pull the trigger,” Tom suggested. That was enough to provoke a scream of outrage from his beloved. That was followed by a gasp of relief. The prod was still on low voltage. Then Jan had the presence of mind to scream in agony.

“Yeah bitch! Take that!”

“Lucy!” It was Yvette. “Later.”

Some of the guests had ventured into the spider den. Yvette whispered instructions and they stripped off at least the lower half of their costumes. A couple of them removed their masks. Tom found himself wondering what it would be like the next time he saw them. Then his view was obscured as one of them clambered up and stuck a cock into his mouth. After that, about all he saw was one hairy belly after another, bearing a cock that had often just come out of some other orifice. How often had he fantasized about being fucked at both ends of his digestive system, of being helpless as his flesh was plundered? He was not resisting, not in the slightest. He was opening his throat and bowels as wide as possible. He wanted more, he wanted bigger cocks, deeper penetration, harder thrusts. His bowels were on fire. He was trembling, shuddering. His whole body was tingling. It seemed like he would come forever. Then someone took his cock into their mouth, and he exploded. That ruined it for a while. The pounding continued, but he wasn’t really feeling it. He needed a break, and he wasn’t about to get it.

For a moment, no one was covering his face, and he could see what was happening to Jan. Actually, he couldn’t really see her. There was one guy up around her face, with his legs scrunched up to make room for another guy who was trying to fuck her. The lower guy’s face kept bumping in to the first guy’s balls. There was a third guy behind her. It seemed like all three had been at it for quite a while. They were pumping away with more determination than desire. As he was watching, the three of them, on some sort of signal, started to clamber around to rotate positions, and he got a good look at his beloved. She was glistening with sweat and semen. The one on the way up to her face paused to lick her groin, and she rewarded him with a very noisy climax. “Fuck me,” she was sobbing, “don’t stop.” The one who had been fucking her was behind her now, and she gave a little gasp of satisfaction as he slid into her bowels.

The sight was enough to restore Tom’s erection. Of course, he was still being fucked. That had been so constant that he was more or less taking it for granted. It was going to feel strange not to have a cock wedged in his flesh. But now, watching Jan, he was once again noticing how good it felt each time that cock slid into him, how impatient he was for the next thrust, how he was wishing that whoever it was behind him could get just a little deeper, be just a little faster, a little harder. “Fuck me!” He was actually saying it out loud. “Fuck my fucking asshole!”

“Fucking whore,” a voice growled behind him. “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you, you fucking whore!” And he was battered for about thirty seconds, and it was glorious, but it stopped after one long plunge. There was a breeze on his back. He was left hanging.

“Oh, honey, it looks like you have a problem.” Wonder Woman was staring up at him. “Momma’s got the cure for you.” She started to clamber up the ropes to reach him. The web was heaving with each of her moves. Somewhere nearby there was shrill, high pitched laughter. Jan wasn’t busy at the moment. She was watching him. She was laughing at him.

Some of guys had been pretty flabby, although mostly the flabby ones had been interested in Jan. That hadn’t bothered him. Even if it had, it would have not made much difference. They were fucking him, not the other way around. But how was he supposed to keep up his interest when this huge, well, fairly large, black tit was being shoved into his mouth?

“Come on, boy. Momma is here to help you.” She was grinding away with her pelvis. She could not spare a hand to guide him in, but somehow he thought that the flesh around his prick changed character, from sweaty flab to hot slick cunt, too loose for him to get much sensation. “Oh, boy, that makes Momma feel good. Hey boy, don’t punk out on me now. Hey, Larry honey, come give me some help here.”

“You want me to fuck your butt?”

“Ho, honey, I want you to fuck his butt. Perk him back up again.”

“I ain’t fucking no boy’s butt.”

“Honey, everybody’s been fucking that butt. Don’t tell me you haven’t been watchin’.”

“Watchin’ is different than doin’.” But Superman was climbing up the web behind him. Superman was rubbing a large, limp prick against his ass. The soft tip was rubbing against the anal ring, and Tom was so loose by now that it was just sliding right in, even though it was still not hard. Then all of a sudden it was hard, and he was being fucked once more.

Just the rubbing had been enough to restore Tom’s erection, at least he thought so. It was hard to know exactly what was going on inside the soft vastness of the Wonder Woman cunt. She was pressing in and out, hopefully feeling more than he was, totally out of rhythm with Superman. The jerky motion was making Tom queasy. God only knew what had been forced down his throat — semen, his own shit, maybe some of Jan’s. Maybe even some urine. It was all churning in his stomach. He was going to lose it. He was going to puke all over Wonder Woman. Just as he was sure he was about to vomit, the lights came on.

“Refreshment time! We have some very interesting refreshments.” It was Claude, not Yvette, making the announcement. He gave and exaggerated snort to emphasize just what the refreshments would be. “You know,” he added, “things go better with coke!” At that, everyone left the room. Everyone, that is, except for Tom and Jan. No one had bothered to let them down.

After a few minutes, maybe it was only half a minute but it seemed like forever, the model dressed up as cat woman came in to see them.

“Lucy,” Jan ventured. “Get us down.”

“Bullshit. No one said anything about letting you down. They’re just getting ready for the next round.” Lucy was over in the corner looking for something. She gave a grunt of satisfaction as she retrieved the cattle prod. “I just came in to get first dibs. We have a little unfinished business, anyway.”

“What next round?” Jan asked.

“Why, the spider sting.” Lucy turned on the cattle prod. It was making a nasty buzz. She touched a finger to the tip and winced. “We’ve got three more of these. They’re drawing straws right now to see who gets to be first. But it’s going to be me. I’m going to shove this right up your puny little cunt and keep it going until the battery dies.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jan ventured.

“You don’t think so?” Lucy reached up to poke the rod into Jan’s groin. “Guess what?”

Jan’s answer was a scream. It appeared that Lucy had figured out how to adjust the voltage.

After about ten seconds, Lucy did stop. So did Jan’s screams. But now there was a rhythmic chanting coming from the room beyond. “Spiders! Spiders! Sting! Sting! Sting!” The guests were working themselves into a frenzy.

“Sting!” Lucy shrieked, and the started to zap Jan again. But Tom came crashing down on top of her, knocking her unconscious. He had found that he was so slick with sweat that his hands came right out of the restraints. He had freed himself while Lucy was distracted with Jan.

“We have to get out of here,” he stated the obvious while he was freeing his beloved.

“Just a moment.” Jan paused, astride her fallen erstwhile friend, and let loose a cascade of urine.

Tom pulled her away. “That was uncalled for.”

“She wasn’t zapping your asshole. Bitch.” She tried to give a kick and almost slipped on the puddle she had left on the floor.

The chanting had stopped. Somehow, that was even more frightening. The curtains that shielded them started to stir. “Run!” Tom grabbed her and pulled her into a closet at the other end of the room. The door slammed shut behind them. It was awfully drafty for a closet, and there was some lighting.

“Tom! You idiot!”

They were in the stairwell. Naked. The door had locked behind them.

“Our clothes,” Jan moaned. “My purse. Your wallet. What the fuck are we going to do now?”

It was chilly in the stairwell. There was a broken window letting in the late October, by now early November, breeze. She sat down on the landing, shivering, and began to cry.

“We could go down, the steps, go out on the street, and get ourselves arrested,” Tom said. “They’d probably have a blanket and maybe even some hot coffee.”

“We’d never make it. This is a hangout for junkies.”

“It is?”

“Claude likes it that way. He tolerates them and they supply him.”


“Pimps too,” she added.

“Other than Claude?”

“Very funny.”

“Quiet,” he hissed. “We’ve got company.” But it was too late. Someone was coming up the steps. They could have retreated, up to the roof, but what was the point? It didn’t seem like their situation could get more hopeless. But a very large black guy was coming up the steps so see what the commotion was. He let out a low whistle.

“Man oh man. Only in New York!” He climbed up so that his head was even with the landing — at a level, that is, with their naked butts. Jan pulled her legs up and together, but that didn’t really hide much of anything. She was still dripping from both orifices. Tom was in about the same pose, just as uncomfortably aware of how wet his asshole was. “Man! You two look like you’ve been fucked six ways to Sunday.”

“We need help,” Jan said. “Please?”

“Please?” That provoked a bitter laugh. “That don’t cut it, girlie. Say, ain’t you the perfume bitch?” Jan nodded. “Man, you don’t smell like no perfume now.” He gave a little sniff. “Jewish pussy. Well, little Jewish pussy, what are you going to trade for my help. And don’t say your pussy, cause I don’t like little Jewish girls. I like women with some meat on their bones.”

“Wonder Woman,” Tom muttered.

“Yeah, Wonder Woman’s okay. She’s got a hard ass, but otherwise she’s all right.”

“Not the real one.” Tom stopped. How could a comic book character be real? “The one in there.” He gestured at the door.

“Oh no. I saw her going up. That’s a little too much meat. So tell me boy, what you got for me?”

“My watch?” By some miracle, it was still on his wrist.

“What would I want with a fake Rolex?”

“It’s not a fake,” Tom snapped. But now he wasn’t sure.

“Since we’re going to get acquainted, let me introduce myself. My name is Clyde.” Clyde unzipped his fly. “And this is Rodney. But I just call him Rod, for short. Get it? Rod?”

“Nice to meet you, Rodney,” Jan said. Rodney was almost a foot long, and very thick. Jan, even after an hour or so of non stop rape, seemed to be finding Rodney very interesting.

“Back off, bitch. I told you, Rodney ain’t got a taste for skinny little Jewish girls.” That pretty much limited the possibilities. Tom was staring at Rodney now with a mix of fear and anticipation. It was half again as long as Mr. Pinky, and a lot thicker. He turned around to kneel over the top step. The stair treads were hard and cold on his knees.

“Yes sir, Rodney’s got a hankerin’ for little white boys. Never had me one of them. Whaddya think, white boy? Can you take me all the way?” Loose as Tom was, he was still straining to stretch around Rodney’s thick bunt tip. It had been a long time since the sphincter muscles had screamed in protest, but they were complaining now.

“Easy, boy.” Clyde was stroking his back. “Don’t tear nothin’. Think about how nice it’s going to feel. Oh yeah.” Rodney slid in a little over half way, then stopped. Tom could work Mr. Pinky on into his gut, but this was a lot thicker. He gasped as he felt it push its way through the valves. And it kept going. He felt like it was going to be sticking out of his throat. It was, at least, pressing up between his lungs. Clyde pulled himself almost all the way back out, then all the way back in again, then he started to fuck, not as hard as Jan fucked sometimes, but there was so much flesh in motion that it was overwhelming. Tom had been completely drained. He couldn’t manage more than tiny little spurts of semen, but those were coming out at each thrust. He was coming harder than he had ever come before, and Clyde just kept going, in a slow, steady, almost gentle rhythm. The two of them seemed to be in no hurry, but Jan was getting really cold. She started to cry again.

“What’s the matter, little girl? We taking too long for you?” Clyde pulled all the way out. “You want to hurry things up?” He pulled her face to Rodney. Rodney was so thick she could barely get her mouth around it. Rodney was stained with Tom’s bowels, perhaps with Tom’s blood. But she was desperate. She let Rodney fill her mouth. She opened her throat. Rodney erupted, gagging her.

“Oh, man, oh man, you two ever want some action, you just give old Clyde a call.” He handed Tom a business card, but of course Tom had no place to put it. “I can hook you into some real,” that was accompanied with a sneer at Tom’s watch, “money.”

“You’re a pimp?” Jan said. The fact that Rodney was wearing a purple knit coat and leather pants seemed to have made no impression on her. It was, after all, Halloween. “I mean, you’re a real pimp?”

“As real as they come, baby. What about you?”

“What about me?” Jan seemed baffled. “I’m a student. I’m a model.”

“You’re a not quite,” Clyde said. “But you got talent, baby. You too, boy. There ain’t many can take Mr. Rodney like that and act like they enjoy it.”

“He wasn’t acting,” Jan interrupted.

“All the better. You want real work, you want to go beyond just semi-pro — I’m your man. Now, a deal is a deal. You took care of Mr. Rodney. Mr. Clyde is going to take care of you.” He went across the landing to the door back into Claude’s loft.

“It’s locked,” Tom pointed out.

“No problem.” Claude took a knife, a switchblade, out of a pocket and pushed the blade through. He was humming something. Tom recognized the tune.

“I am, you back door man. I am, you back door man. The men don’t know me, but the little girls know who I am.”

“Miss Evie, she got a real hankerin’ for Mr. Rodney.” Claude interrupted his humming as the door swung open. “But she don’t like me comin’ up the front way. Scares off the customers.”

The stepped into the spider room. It was brightly lit now, and filled with consternation.

“Clyde.” Claude greeted him with some bewilderment. “I told you, I’ll have the rest of the money for you by tomorrow evening … oh. You’ve found them. You’ve brought them back. Thank goodness. The guests were very disappointed …”

I watch them scurry in the approaching twilight; lively as a herd bent on an evening drink with the stink of nervousness in the updraft, teasing them softly with faint whiffs of danger as the night begins to drain the power of day. Observing from my balcony high above them, they do not see me watching through bored eyes, tired eyes, eyes that have seen too much and yet not enough. Eyes that once held the gift of innocence and youth but gave it away for a moment of revenge, eyes that no longer cry over the silly haunting of a love that never really was or mourn the loss of the soul they once framed.

I am my own creation, that is to say, I am what I created. Jealousy is the bamboo of the emotional world, growing in leaps and bounds overnight, twisting and turning itself into a tangle of half-lied truths and honest lies. A wall of ill-content and self-induced delusions with no beginning and no end: only a blinding structure of martyred torture no war machine could ever destroy. Innocence has no place here.

I never expected my torturous cry to be answered that soft rainy day nor did I thank the one who delivered me from my madness. I had no right. I freely traded one gift for another: my eternal soul for eternal hunger. A fair exchange in the eyes of the Gods to be sure. I only saw Her for once brief second, green eyes iced over with hate and loathing for all of those who had caused Her beloved Zeus to stray. I lived a lifetime in that second, I swear, and when I felt Her sympathy for my pain I latched on tight, answering Her question even as I felt my soul escape my eyes, shattering the window of innocence. The world spun around me, cloaking me in a fog of righteousness as I began to morph within Her cocoon. The pulse of change raged through my body, turning me from a creature of light into a demon of the night. I remember I began to laugh with the joy of power, the glee of revenge dripping from my lips and running down my chin. I felt… alive.

I came to myself within the light of false dawn, cold and naked and of all things, blessedly alone in a small hidden wood. The beauty of the coming morn was lost upon me, and I remember pondering it when I heard the screams. I had barely managed to get back to my room in my father’s house when my mother began to beat upon my door. I drew on a robe as she came in, bearing a horrible expression. My betrothed had been found dead with another girl. I ran out of the house with a thousand alibis building in my mind. I need not have worried; Hera provided me with one. She had sent the sounds of a broken heart to my mother’s ears and she swore I had been in my bed crying all night. I was safe.

I never grew old. I realized it soon after my sisters married and began spitting out more soldiers and obedient wives for Greece. In the dark of night I fled on the wings of fright, fearful my secret would be discovered. I ran away from the shell of a girl that died along with her first love. A newly embittered woman entered the hall of Hera’s temple. A new recruit for Her cause: revenge upon Her husband’s greatest creation, humans.

Over the centuries I learned much at Her feet and through my own ventures. Humans are cattle, nothing more, an endless crop of fodder to dine on at my leisure or pleasure depending on my nightly mood. Mother always said never play with my food but she never said anything about toying with them. They are such frail weak creatures, humans, you’d think Zeus would have prepared them better against creatures like me.

The scent of evening grows stronger as Apollo beds his chariot for the night. He has only seen the after effects of my feedings, burning the scars of my sins upon my immortal flesh with his judgmental rays. Alas, his jeers at dawn no longer sear me; the scars have grown too thick even for him. He moved on to better victims long ago; ’tis Morpheous who taunts me now; my only witness to my crimes of nourishment. He offered to make me Queen of his realm once upon a time but he soon learned never try to cage one of Hera’s chosen ones. Now, he too bears a scar as pretty as mine.

I lick my lips with remembrance and realize I can still taste my dinner. I stumbled across him in a shady club in lower Manhattan. Dark eyes and darker curls with a touch of cool olive to intensify his effects on females, his body betrayed him for what he really was: food. I smiled expectantly as he gave his speech. I made small sounds of eagerness, a long practiced habit. He looked at me with decided eyes that spoke of a one-night stand. I looked back with eyes that answered with challenge. He was up for it… for a while anyway.

The motel was clean at least but not that it mattered. What we did was far from clean. Simple foreplay quickly turned to sweat and saliva. His, mine and ours. I’ve always found it gives me a better appetite, an edge to my hunger and lust. At last we lay naked, with him on top. He pulled my hands over my head and bound them with his tie. Then he decided to turn ugly. I hate when they do that.

‘My lil ho think she’s all that in her leather dress and high boots?’ SLAP

‘My lil ho think she’s gonna run the show?’ SLAP

‘Do you think you’re better than me, bitch?’ SLAP

‘How ’bout I fuck that sweet lil ass for you, cunt? Huh?’ SLAP SLAP

The look of shock on his face when I pushed him easily off me was priceless, but the look of horror that followed when I ripped my wrists apart turned me on… badly.

I remember looking down at him a few minutes later, lying there properly trussed up like an Italian Thanksgiving offering. I watched as he struggled in fear and indignation. I smiled and felt the change begin, laughing inside as I listened to his childish bleats thru his filthy sock held in his mouth by his own belt. One should never underestimate a girl who carries rope in her purse. I believe he began to cry then.

I ran my face across his chest and nuzzled his neck, feeling damn near intoxicated from the smell. No cologne invented can compare to the scent of fear. The aroma can almost get me off … but not quite. It takes a little more than that.

My tongue tasted his salt and dew, making me shiver with anticipation. As many times as I have performed this nightly ritual, I still hold it sacred. I rubbed my body all over his, moaning softly against him. My teeth found his nipple as my hot wet pussy found his thigh and I began to work both in unison, making both damp with my fluids.

His protests began to ebb as his body reacted against his will. His cock came alive with its own will, standing hard against my stomach. I giggled and bend my head down, licking the head and shaft, feeling my food shiver with need. I worked my mouth up and down, moaning louder as he grew within my hot orifice. Sliding off of his thigh, my nails found his sack and began to fondle, then scratch softly… then dig in. He bucked and screamed thru his homemade ball gag, and I giggled harder around his shaft. Pain is such an aphrodisiac.

I slipped up above him and slipped his cock inside my waiting pussy, groaning at the feel of it. I had to admit he was a decent chose for a meal. Nine inches of beef begging to be eaten and my cunt gobbled him up eagerly. I rode him hard and fast, feeling him thrash and buck under me. I stopped as I felt him suddenly throb and grow hard; I wasn’t ready to feed just yet. I pulled off of him and heard him groan in agony. Looking into his eyes, I saw he badly needed to cum and was suffering for it. Good.

‘Are you having a good time, my pet?’ SCRATCH

‘Are you enjoying yourself, my pet?’ SCRATCH

‘Do you need to cum, bitch? SCRATCH

‘Are you ready to die, my love?’ SCRATCH

He lay whimpering helplessly as the blood trickled down his chest and on to the sheets. In another life he would need many stitches, but not in this one. I drew a finger across his wounds and dabbed a drop of blood on the end of his nose. For a moment I smiled from a memory of my childhood and then grew cold. Marcus had once looked like that on a cold day, nose and cheeks red from running a foot race. My only love…


I grabbed his half hardened cock and jerked it roughly, feeling it spring back to full life in my hand. I suckled it hard and brutal, hearing my poor pet moan and cry out in pain and pleasure. I reached down and picked up my purse, removing an ivory dildo. I pressed it against his ass and pushed. It resisted for a moment and then went in halfway. I had to hold on tight as he jerked up from the pain. He tried to get away but was held tight by the ropes. I pulled it out and pushed again… and again.

Despite his objections, his cock told a different story. He was so hard that I could feel the veins against my tongue. I stopped sucking and leaned up to his face.

‘Do you like it in the ass, my pet?’

He cried openly now, hot tears running down the sides of his head, dampening his curls flat against his ears. I brushed them off gently and kissed his forehead.

‘Soon, my pet, very soon.’

I moved back down and began to fuck him in earnest, shoving that huge cock over and over into his virgin ass, watching as his cock strained to bursting, licking the dribble of cum off the head. I positioned myself between his legs and began to rub my soaked clit as I gave him head and fuck him raw.

He began to moan, and then yell through the belt ensemble, almost screaming. Red smears had begun to appear on the ivory, ripping him from the inside. I deep throated his cock and felt my incisors begin to grow and rub against the shaft.

Almost… almost…

He bucked up suddenly, his cock turning to rock as I opened my mouth wider. I felt his sperm hit my teeth as I bit down through the base of his cock. I swallowed as he came in a screaming orgasm. I moaned as my own began and I shoved 3 fingers deep inside my vagina. I swallowed more as I shoved the dildo all the way up his ass through his prostate, feeling it rip and tear. He bucked harder and screamed over and over. I swallowed and kept swallowing, feeling the sperm turn into blood. I swallowed and fed, feeling his life force enter me, nourish me, sustain me. I was dizzy but still I fed and kept cumming, rocking on my fingers like a desperate lover.

As he weakened, so did I, but not from loss of life but rather loss of momentum. As he quieted, I could tell he was almost as drained as I felt. I pulled my fangs out and slowly crawled up his now still body. Removing the belt, I touched his cheek tenderly as he tried to mouth something.

‘Shhh… Do you want to go to Heaven, my pet?’

I kissed him gently once… then covered his mouth with mine and began to inhale. It was coming, I could smell it. Roses.

The soul. That tiny small thing that separates us from the lower branches of the animal kingdom. The only thing Zeus ever did right by humans. He created them from clay and left them naked and alone to fend for themselves with no protection from the elements, the animals or disease. Only with help from some various deities who took pity did they manage to survive. But the soul, that is a remarkable thing. The soul is the basis for inspiration, for courage, for compassion and for all other emotions humans have. I sold mine for love, and so I have become what I gave up: I am a soul eater.

I feel it enter me, touch me inside, fill me with light and wonder and goodness. I consume it as it consumes me… and then it is gone.

I used to feel rage afterwards, to feel that kind of thing for only a moment and have it taken away seemed highly unfair but as time went by and I saw what humans have become, perhaps its just as well I don’t have one anymore. Maybe in some strange way I am doing humans a favor. I don’t know anymore. I don’t care anymore. But it does dull the emptiness for a short time.

I live to hunt and I hunt to live. The irony of it all is that I am what I eat: I am a soul eater. A succubus. I am a creature of the night. The night is mine and perhaps one evening you will meet a quiet blonde goddess in a leather dress and high boots. Do you want to go to Heaven?

The house was decorated for the holiday. A bowl full of chocolate and other tooth decaying goodies had been placed on a table near the door and Seanna, dressed casually, tried to regain the thrill of a Halloween tradition as she set the phone down.

Her thoughts slipped willingly back to Jefferson and his apologetic tone. Every time he baled he sounded sincere and every time she accepted his excuses, she sounded convincing. The proper “it’s okay”, “goodbye” and “I love you” had been spoken by each of them, yet it was the sound of feminine laughter that still hummed in her ear.

Idly she played with her wedding band and matching engagement ring. He’d placed it on her five years ago, pledging his love as she had hers. Yet, for the past several weeks, if not months he had been coming home late, spending his weekends at the office, and excusing himself from family events. At first she had thought nothing of it, in truth indulging in her freedom by starting dinner late, waiting until the last minute to clean the house, or fold his laundry. Seanna had even made a few lunch dates with her old college friends — friendships that had become stagnant after her wedding.

As time passed though she began to feel him pulling away and so she went back to her old routine of being what she felt was the ideal woman. She catered to his needs when he was home, made sure his favorite foods were piping hot when he came through the door — even if he was running late — and pleased him sexually whenever he put the moves on her.

However, the late night meetings and excuses still came and doubt began to settle even deeper into her mind. Now the sound of another woman giggling on the other end of the phone confirmed her suspicions. The clock down the hall chimed the hour, bringing her out of her self-induced sanctuary of denial. In a somewhat numbed state she moved over to the door, and turned off the porch light, a signal to the costumed residents of Charlotte, that the household would not be participating in trick-or-treating.

“Two can play at this game,” she muttered to herself before snatching her keys from the hook by the door and making her way toward the garage.

“Evenin’ Missus Coughlin.”

Seanna turned, searched in the direction of the voice and spied her neighbor Chad. “Hi,” she said, with a quick wave before resuming her destination.

Chad watched her leave admiring the sway of her hips and the curling locks of red hair that caressed her shoulders before cascading down her back. He had always enjoyed watching her walk away, though having her walk toward him was also worthy of admiration. Today though, as delicious as she was to look at, it had not taken a rocket scientist to see the anger in her eyes and the determination in her stride.

He wondered if she had finally come to terms with Jefferson’s infidelity and was on her way to her husband’s office to confront him. What would she say if she knew that most everyone in Charlotte knew of her husband’s indiscretions? The only reason Seanna hadn’t known when she hooked up with the playboy was because she hadn’t grown up in the area. She was a young girl from Indiana, who had been relatively sheltered — having been home schooled and policed by her parents on how long she was allowed to be on a computer.

The sound of the car pulling out of the garage made him turn back toward the Coughlin home. He watched her pull away, again catching her gaze and giving her a customary wave with a tilt of his head. The look on her face spoke volumes and he hoped that whatever she was up to would end the way she wanted it to.

Jefferson watched as Kara slipped her panties down her hips, thighs and calves before stepping free of them. Her fingertips slowly traveled up the length of her smooth legs, pausing at her sex and then sliding over her belly. She winked at him before moving her hands up to her breasts, cupping them and offering them to him.

He chuckled, pushed his chair away from his desk and waited for her to come to him. Slowly she closed the distance between them; her tongue darted out, moistening her lips while her fingers toyed with her nipples.

“You’re practically drippin’,” Jefferson said when she reached his side. With his thumb he caressed the slick folds of her sex, parting the lips and exposing the tender flesh covered in juice. He pushed one digit into her hole and twisted it back and forth, until she was whimpering and moaning. His gaze shifted from her sex to her breasts. The tips were hard, ridged and desperately in need of attention.

With his free hand he pushed her back toward his desk. He continued to fuck her with slow deliberation while she settled herself on its cool polished surface. Her breasts bounced, but he caught the right nipple easily between his lips. A groan of pleasure spilled from her lips, landed in his ears and made his cock jerk with anticipation.

The first come of the night was always quick to arrive, so when Jefferson unloaded into his newest acquisition he didn’t mind. She didn’t either, since her hips were more than willing to continue pumping away. Her pussy muscles constricted around his softening tool, keeping him locked within her soft depths and soon, like clockwork, he was back to driving into her.

His mind however had chosen a different path to follow. The feeling of the woman beneath him still brought him pleasure, but the sound of her laughter echoing around the room still weighed heavily on his mind. He wondered if Seanna had heard it and if so what would she think. Would she assume it was just one of the business partners? Or a client? Or would she put the pieces together and finally see what a low-life skunk he truly was?

He didn’t want the latter thing to happen. He knew he’d gotten sloppy in regards to hiding his affairs, but beyond dinner being slightly late some nights, nothing in Seanna’s routine had actually changed. She still gave him what he wanted in bed as well as out of it. Surely if she knew of his appetite for adulterous affairs she would have confronted him. Then again, maybe not, after all that’s why he chose her. She had grown up secluded, dependent on her family and now dependent on him. That and the challenge of womanizing had grown boring. A wife at home made it more thrilling.

The sound of Kara climaxing made him smirk, brought him back to the task at hand and soon he too was grunting in appreciation for her efforts. His cock slipped easily from her warm, slick channel; the sucking sound brought on a feeling of satisfaction. He looked down and grinned at the hot cum that oozed from the woman’s sex and dripped from his cock.

Kara slipped from the desk and settled on the floor. She devoured his shaft, sucking, licking, and swallowing the proof of their mating. His fingers tangled in her hair, pushed her down further and allowed her the privilege of washing him. As she gazed up into his eyes, he wondered again about Seanna; perhaps it was time to reevaluate her position in his life.

She drove for an hour, her thoughts slamming back and forth against her temples. The laughter in her head was a constant source of pain. Seanna looked out her window and saw the familiar building where her husband worked. She pulled into the parking lot and shut down the engine. Another hour passed, her imagining the worst and hoping for the best, not once had her eyes left the doors to the building. For her reward she watched Jefferson and a woman emerge.

The lighting of the parking lot was dim, and Seanna had purposely parked her car in a corner. She’d seen her husband’s vehicle, several yards away and felt confident that he would not notice her. As he walked the woman to her car, Seanna looked around curious if anyone else was watching him. Did the woman have a boyfriend or a husband? Would they confront the couple? Or would she be the one to do it?

Jefferson’s hand slipped down to the woman’s ass; he gave it a squeeze before opening her door and helping her inside.

“Ever the gentleman,” Seanna whispered. The snide remark sounded foreign to her. She hated the feeling of disgust that rolled through her chest and settled in her stomach. Jefferson hurried over to his car and once it was back on the road, Seanna joined him. In her mind she thought out what she would say when they both arrived home. She would demand an explanation, order him to admit to his infidelity and then she would force him to change.

The turn signal on his car told her that her husband wasn’t quite ready to return to his loving wife. She chose to follow him, curiosity and betrayal still feeding her. He pulled up to the curb and parked his car in front of a bar. Neon lights reflected down on the waxed surface of the Mercedes, invading the interior, much like they did Seanna’s when she pulled up and parked a few spaces behind him. She marveled at how casual he was. Not once did he look around or question that he was being watched by someone — let alone his wife. It told her what she already knew, Jefferson was good at this and had been for some time.

Chad looked up from the corner booth, where he, his sister and her husband sat enjoying the last few swallows of their beers and bites of their bar food dinner. His brow furrowed when Jefferson caught his gaze. The two men nodded a silent greeting. It wasn’t a surprise to see Jefferson at the bar, after all it was where a lot of business men liked to unwind. Jefferson was a regular as was Chad.

“Isn’t that your neighbor?” his sister asked.

“Yeah, surprised you remember him.”

Micheal, his brother-in-law, chuckled. “Of course she remembers him. He ogles her every time we visit and he happens to be outside.”

“Really?” Chad asked; the furrow in his brow deepened.

“It’s not a big deal. He’s never done anything to me,” Melanie confided, “besides if he did Micheal would step in.”

“Damn right, I would,” he turned and looked at Jefferson, who was taking a seat at the bar next to an attractive woman. “I never really believed you when he said he was a womanizer, guess he is though.”

“His poor wife — Seanna, right?” Melanie asked.

Chad shook his head. “Yeah, she hasn’t a clue.”

“How long have they been married?” his sister inquired.

“Five years, I think.”

The three of them continued to gossip amongst themselves. Chad’s thoughts floated back and forth between the conversation he was having with his sibling and her husband, and the way the young woman hung on Jefferson’s every word.

Seanna had sat in her car for ten minutes before taking a moment to pull her eyes from the bar’s entrance. She took note of the neighborhood. It wasn’t overly impressive, but well lit and it was obvious as the night continued on, the bar was popular. Her gaze shifted to the shops across the street. The cafe and bakery were closed, as were the small specialty stores that catered to specific styles of dress. One window was brilliantly decorated with various mannequins dressed in both scary and seductive Halloween attire.

A sense of melancholy rolled over her as she thought of the young kids who were missing out on the chocolate she’d selected for their night of trick-or-treating. Her lips fell in a soft pout as she imagined the kids walking past her home, and wondering why Missus Coughlin wasn’t there with her king size candy bars and silliness. After all she had decorated her house to the nines, yet she wasn’t there.

The sight of a couple walking out of the bar made her heart still. She looked hard at the man and women, then sighed with relief that it was not Jefferson and some stranger he’d picked up. Her stomach tightened as she thought over the past few weeks. Was the woman from work just one of many? With dread and apprehension guiding her Seanna left her car and headed toward the bar.

Laughter coming from inside, mingled with the scent of smoke and alcohol made her stop short. This place wasn’t her, it was far removed from the Indiana farm girl that she was. Her lower lip trembled; she pulled it between her teeth and tugged on the tender flesh. Once again her gaze was drawn to the mannequins in the store window. She licked her lips, soothing the skin and headed across the street.

A small bell rang when she opened the door and stepped inside.

“We’re just about to close,” a voice called from the back.

Seanna glanced at her watch, frowned at the hour and sighed.

“I said about to close, not closed. Whattcha need?”

Looking up Seanna saw a clerk walking toward her. The name tag identified the employee as Natalie; she was short, spiked hair and had a piercing in her nose that sparkled when the light hit it. Seanna felt uneasy in the woman’s presence.

“I’m not sure,” Seanna admitted. “I’m supposed to go to a party and well — it’s a costume party. I don’t want anyone to recognize me, but…”

“You still want to look hot, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your party — you want to look good right? Not recognizable, but still pleasing to the eye. I don’t see you as the zombie or vampire type, more like Little Red Riding Hood or Dorothy.”

Seanna’s lips rose in a crooked smile. “Yeah, definitely not a blood and gore type of girl. Can you help?” she looked back toward the bar, noting Jefferson’s car still parked in its light. “I don’t have a lot of time,” she admitted.

“Sure, let me close up though, so we’re not interrupted.”

Jefferson nuzzled the woman’s cheek and topped off her drink from the bottle he had purchased from the bar. She giggled, tilted her head and offered him her neck. He licked the beating pulse that was shadowed by the light. His gaze occasionally shifted to Chad and Chad’s companions, but not once did he fear his neighbor’s judgmental gaze. An understanding among men had been established a long time ago — back in the cave man days. What the wife doesn’t know, doesn’t hurt her.

The hardness of his cock told him that he and the exquisite beauty beside him would need to find a corner soon. He needed the release her willing sex offered and she had made it obvious to him that she didn’t mind doing it in the dimly lit hallway, or the back seat of his car. They were both adults and both knew what this night was all about.

“Fuck damn, I want those boots.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes at the words that had suddenly come from the woman’s mouth. He turned to look, feigning interest in what had distracted his temporary partner. His eyes took note of the thigh high boots and the fishnet stockings that hugged a pair of cream-colored thighs. A short leather skirt that flared out hung low on the hips of a woman dressed in a tight white tank top. Her hair was woven into a thick braid; streaks of gold, blue, and purple tangled with the red locks. For a brief moment he thought of Seanna and how red her hair was.

“Hey don’t forget about me.”

He turned his attention away from the newcomer, and forced his eyes to drag their way down to his newest acquisitions chest. Her breasts were plump, ready for the picking and would wrap easily around his swollen cock. He wondered what the other woman’s hair would look like knotted around his hand while her head bobbed up and down on his shaft. Again he glanced away from the sure thing sitting beside him.

Chad coughed, choking on his beer as Seanna walked into the bar. He waved off the concern in his sister’s eyes, and took another drink, hoping the alcohol would clear his vision. His neighbor took a seat at the bar and bit down on her lower lip. Immediately Chad glanced at Jefferson. He was busy dividing his attention to the woman on his lap and the behind figure of his wife. Yet, Jefferson made no move to confront his better half.

The bartender didn’t have a chance to approach Seanna before a man at the bar was ordering a drink for her. Chad watched, curiosity so clearly written on his face that he felt Melanie press into him. “Who is she?” she asked.

“My neighbor’s wife,” Chad admitted.

Immediately both Melanie and Micheal turned their gaze upon the braided redhead. “Holy fuck,” they both whispered simultaneously. Like clockwork, their eyes shifted back to Jefferson, then to Seanna and back again. Eventually Melanie and Micheal leaned back in their seats and shook their heads.

“She’s playin’ the field too,” Melanie said in a condescending voice.

Chad frowned. “I don’t think so,” he answered, remembering the determination in her stance when she left earlier in the evening. “I think she’s followed him out here, dressed up to catch him in the act.”

“Really?” Melanie asked.

He nodded his head, but said nothing more, choosing instead to keep a watchful eye on the decked out redhead.

Seanna thanked the bartender for the drink that the stranger had bought for her. She kept her gaze fixated on it, the man next to her and the reflection of her spouse in the mirror across from her seat. He was teasing a woman, making her blush, giggle, and shift in her seat. Seanna wondered what he was whispering in her ear and if the woman cared that Jefferson was married or not.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

She pulled her eyes back toward the stranger’s. “Sorry, just distracted,” she admitted. Her eyes traveled slowly over the man before widening when Chad caught her gaze.

“What?” the stranger asked, turning away from Seanna hoping to see what had caught her off guard.

“Um, nothing. I just thought…,” her words died as Chad rose from the booth and made his way toward her.

She said nothing as he touched the other man on the shoulder. “Thanks for buyin’ my girl a drink. How much do I owe you?”

The stranger did little to mask his frustration. “Nothin’,” he said, before grabbing his beer and walking away. Chad took a seat next to Seanna. “Keep looking straight ahead,” he told her, “unless you want him to see you.”

She did as he suggested; trembling hands clutched her drink. A tear trickled down her face, leaving a small flaw in her make-up.

“What are you doing here?” Chad asked. Her gaze shifted over to him. Slanted eyes told him how audacious she found his question. “How long have you known?” he asked.

She glanced at her watch. “A confirmed notion — about an hour or so,” she answered.

“Why the get up?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t think he’d recognize me and well… .”

“The costume is your shield against this life,” he said interrupting her words.

Seanna shook her head yes.

He chuckled softly. “You know I was kiddin’ about ‘this life’ — it’s just a bar.”

This time Seanna chose to laugh. “I’ve never been in a bar,” she admitted. “Mom and Dad didn’t go into town much, and most of my teenage years were spent learning the gospel and how to properly keep a house.”

“Wow,” Chad admitted. “I knew you were shy and reserved, but I thought it was just your personality. I didn’t know you were sheltered from reality.”

She sipped her drink. “I’m not anymore, not after marrying Jefferson and especially not after tonight.”

Chad sighed. “What are you going to do?”

Her shoulders sank down and her lip shook. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Let me take you home.”

Seanna shook her head and felt his hand on her shoulder. A gentle squeeze and a whispered “be right back” barely registered. Jefferson was standing up, the woman anchored to his side and walking past her. Their eyes met for a moment, but he seemed oblivious to the fact his wife was gazing back at him. A lump formed in her throat as he winked at her reflection before continuing on his walk toward the rear of the bar.

Chad let his neighbor pass, refusing to interrupt Jefferson and the woman. He would dwell on the reasons why later. Right now, he wanted to get Seanna away from the prying eyes that were looking to score with the leather clad redhead.

“We’ll take your car,” he said. “My brother-in-law and sis will bring mine back when they’re ready.”

Annie had a problem.

“What’s your sign?”

Her mouth practically dropped at the question. It had to be the lamest line she had heard all night. Next to her at the bar, typing away on her phone, Breanne audibly scoffed, rolling her eyes and not even turning to look at the man who had dared to open with such a cliché.

But it was almost midnight on Saturday the 24th. The bar would be closing soon, and Annie just could not leave without finding someone to take to this year’s Halloween Party. The pickings would be even slimmer tomorrow night, and she’d have no opportunity to go out hunting for a date the rest of the week. It was finally her turn, and she was absolutely not going to let it be ruined just because that stot of a boy she’d been putting the moves on for months decided to find someone else a week before the biggest event of the semester. Quickly tossing her dark red satiny hair off of her face, and holding back her frustrated sigh, Annie put on her best sorority smile and turned to see her next prospect.

“I’m a Sagittarius!” She practically shouted, putting as much fake cheer in her voice as she could muster after this disappointing night, clasping her hands in front of her to give an air of gleefulness. It made her feel pretty silly, but it was the only way she could respond to a line like that without sounding incredibly patronizing. The man stood there, a bit taken aback by her bright demeanor. Maybe even he knew what a terrible line that was, standing there in his loose-hanging, pale blue collared shirt. At least he seemed close to her age, unlike some of the men who had walked up to her earlier in the night. And where had she seen him before? That tightly cropped, feathery brown hair sparked something in her that was at once recognizable and a little upsetting.

“And what’s yours?” she offered. If he wasn’t going to get things moving, she would. He was kind of cute, at least.

“Well…I’m a Libra, that makes us totally compatible!”

Annie had seen this coming from miles away, but was still disappointed. “Really?” she asked, cocking her head, her false smile dropping for a second. “Oh what a charming coincidence!”

She clearly hadn’t pulled that line off well, as his face quickly turned to nervousness. “No no, really I can prove it!” The man said, fumbling to the pocket of his light blue jeans. He pulled out a black leather flip wallet with a symbol embossed on the front. Annie recognized it as her school’s crest. This guy might not be such a bad choice after all. Her shoulder length hair fell in front of her face again as she leaned forward to stare at the ID he pulled out.

“See here, it was just last week, October seventee-” He stopped. She was staring at his ID a lot more intently than he had expected. Her eyes had shot open and that smile from a few seconds ago was bursting back out.

Annie couldn’t help the smile that came across her face. This. Would. Be. Perfect!

“Timothy…Ryan? From Poe Circle? Tim! Oh, Tim Ryan!” She practically leapt at him. He leaned back a bit, caught off guard by her sudden friendliness. He hadn’t been expecting to have this beautiful girl in his arms so quickly, especially after the laughter at his table when his roommate had dared him to open with “What’s your sign?” He thought he could just make out the incredulous shouts from his friends over the din of the bar.

“It’s me! Annabel Whelan! Annie! From Rosemary Lane?” She practically squealed, pulling him out of his daze as she let go of him. He had a searching look in his eyes, as if he’d just been called on without having done the reading. Perfect.

“Oh….oh! Annie! Yeah! I haven’t seen you since…since…”

“Since my family moved to the other side of the state when we were in middle school? That’s me!” Per-fect! Annie punched him on the shoulder with a grin, surprisingly hard for how her arms looked under that black blouse. He couldn’t help thinking how athletic she must be.

“Oh, I’ve certainly missed you! Look Breanne,” she said, turning quickly to her friend at the bar. “It’s Tim Ryan, from my neighborhood growing up!” Breanne turned to look at the boy, gave a curt, unimpressed nod, and went right back to her phone. “Gosh Tim, what brings you here?”

“I just transferred here this semester actually! They have a much better Pre-Med Biology program than the-”

“Bi-ol-o-gy huh?” Annie asked, pronouncing each syllable smoothly as she circled around behind him. He started to turn around to follow her but was stopped by her arms on his shoulders and her breasts pushed against his back. She had certainly filled out since middle school. Looked like he had lucked out on this dare! “I’m a neuropsych major,” she said, “I bet we have LOTS to talk about…” she trailed off, caressing his collar as she spoke. Then suddenly she spun him around, “Are you free next weekend? My sorority is having the biggest Halloween bash around and I could use a date.”

“Oh- I uh-” Tim stuttered a bit, momentarily flustered. Was she coming on too strong?

Over Annie’s shoulder Tim could see his friends back at the table watching. Well, he didn’t really have any plans for next weekend, did he? He was probably just going to sit in watching horror movies with his roommate like they’d spent half the month on already.

“-I think I’m up for that, Annie! ” he finally pulled himself out of that nosedive of a response, “Where’s your sorority at…?”

“Oh you’re the best!” Annie shouted, pulling him close again. She was not letting him get away. “I’m one of the fiery Phi Rho Mu,” accenting the the last syllable with a kissing motion.

“If you haven’t seen our house, it’ll be the one with the wall of pumpkins and giant bonfire. If they try to stop you at the door just tell them you’re there for me…” Annie said, pausing surreptitiously, “…the party is invite only.” She turned him around again, clasping his hands in hers.

“I appreciate the invite then,” Tim offered, pulling a grin to his face.

“I am so glad I ran into an old familiar face. My last guy was all set- ” she was cut short by Breanne clearing her throat loudly. Breanne had good ears.

“It’s midnight Annie. I think it’s time we left,” she said sharply, standing up and turning to the door.

“Aha…I guess I’ll see you Friday then,” Annie said, not looking over to Breanne yet, “we can catch up more at the party.” She leaned in quickly, and touched her lips to his. For someone caught so off-guard, Tim responded quite well to Annie’s taste. He didn’t push back aggressively, or try to slip his tongue in her, he just let their lips melt together briefly. She was eager to see how he would respond to more intimate treatment.

Seconds later Annie had turned, grabbed her purse off the bar, and practically skipped out the door. This night had worked out better than she had imagined.

Tim was feeling much the same, but a lot more confused. He did his best to compose himself, a little mystified by what had just occurred. He vaguely remembered an auburn-haired girl who had lived on another street in his neighborhood, but it had been at least eight years since he’d seen hide or hair of her. If he played his cards right he got the impression he’d be seeing a lot more than that next weekend, as this girl was clearly not one to waste time. Annie certainly had a clearer recollection of him than he did her, though what he’d done to deserve such an aggressively positive reaction he couldn’t guess. Making his way back to his table with an unanticipated smile, and taste, on his lips, Tim was greeted with a chorus of incredulity.

“She confuse you with her boyfriend?” “How much did you tell her you were worth?” “You slip something in her drink while we weren’t looking?” “Nah, I bet these two set that up beforehand, she’s probably one of Neil’s exes!”

“Alright guys, that’s enough,” Tim’s roommate Neil cut them off. He was always good at corralling people. “Give Runt a break, this is a big occasion- his first catch on a new campus! Let’s raise some glasses!” A resounding clink and some further laughter at Tim’s expense. The way their encounter had gone it felt more like he was the catch.

Runt was a nickname that had followed Tim much of his life; ever since a substitute teacher in middle school had misread “Ryan, T.” The name had caught on quickly among his peers, and had become firmly attached by the time he had met Neil in high school.

“Sorry to interrupt, Tim.”

Tim jerked his head back to find Annie behind him, leaning over his left side, close enough to leave her dark red hair falling over his shoulder. Her piercing green eyes quickly had the attention of everyone at the table. She turned to Tim as soon as it was silent.

“I forgot to mention — be sure to wear a costume to the party.” Her eyes quickly darted around the table as she moved in closer to Tim’s ear and said more softly, “The theme is — The Animal Inside.”

Closer still, he could feel her breath warm on his ear, and her hand gently squeezing his right shoulder. She whispered now, but still loud enough that everyone at the table could hear. “Make sure it’s something easy to take off.”

And with that Annie stood up, turned around, and sauntered out the door. Half the table wasn’t sure what to think, and the other half couldn’t contain their laughter at seeing Tim’s reaction.

Annie didn’t need to see it though. Things were back in her favor for the big day. She knew Runt would be the perfect choice.


Annie sat at her desk, reading over the book she had been given. It was late on Tuesday night, and there were still so many things she had to do to finish preparing for this Friday. The whole house had been a flurry of activity all month, and Annie had to have a hand in every part of it. Right now though, what she most needed was to memorize her speech and the rules that went with it. There weren’t too many that she didn’t already know, but every part was very specific, and if she got even word wrong…

“…through our coming trials and prevent that which would lead us astray. We ask you-”

Knock knock.

Annie was interrupted as, not waiting for a response, Breanne flung the door open.

“Good to see you’re practicing, Annie,” she stopped to pull the edge of her black dress off of the floor, covered in saw dust, discarded streamers, and pumpkin juice like so much of the house was this time of year. Since mid-October though, whenever Breanne was in the house she would wear thick, flowing black dresses, with dark hairpieces, as if she were in mourning. She never explained why, but no one there was going to question her. Annie used the break to stand up and face her, leaving the book on the desk. Annie felt much of her confidence waiver when Breanne was around. Even though they were close in age, talking to Breanne gave her the same feeling of worry as being called to a Professor’s office the day after an exam.

“Oh yes, nothing to worry about with-” Breanne stared at her disparagingly and stepped behind her. Breanne’s dark hair shined in the lamplight from the desk as she circled around Annie.

“Oh but honey, I think there’s something wrong here,” Breanne started, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You aren’t going to be wearing this, are you?”

Annie was a little worried. She was dressed casually, in a tight, dark grey sweater and jeans, her hair tied back in a ponytail. She knew Breanne preferred things more formal, but all Annie was doing was memorizing her lines. This wasn’t anything like the real thing. It couldn’t be, really. Breanne came back around in front of Annie, with her back to the open doorway.

“Well, no, I’m not going to be wearing this, of course not.” Annie said, trying to laugh.

“And what are you going to be wearing?” Breanne said, lowering her head, the dark half veil pinned to her even darker hair slowly falling over her eyes.

“You saw the costume I picked out, Breanne. You know it will be appropriate for the event.”

“Well of course it will, Annabel.” Full names were never a good sign. “But that isn’t what I asked. I don’t need to remind you how important this is. I’m sure your sisters have told you. I’m sure your parents have told you, seeing as they were there the last time someone made a mistake. Now,” Breanne’s eyes gleamed in the light from the lamp, as her shadow seemed to stretch in the harsher light from the hallway. “When you recite those words, what are you going to be wearing?”

“I’m…” Annie knew what Breanne was looking for, but was afraid of where this was going. “…Nothing. I’m going to be wearing nothing.”

“Then why, darling,” Breanne said, taking a menacing step towards her, “are you rehearsing in anything less?!” With that she lifted Annie’s sweater up and over her head, so forcefully it nearly tore. Annie gave only token resistance, but was quick to cover her chest. She was already mostly covered by the green camisole holding in her otherwise prominent bust, but she expected that would be next to go. She saw Heather, whose room was next door to hers, poke her head in, alerted by the shouting.

“Could we at least close the door first, Breanne?” pleaded Annie. Her request was met with a grin.

“The door is not going to be closed on Friday, is it? Don’t try to back out of this now,” and her voice dropped to a whisper “if you aren’t ready yet, we will make sure you are.”

Breanne turned to the open doorway. “Heather, would you come in here?”

“Yes Ms. Doyle?”

“Oh just call me Breanne, dear. Annabel needs your assistance practicing for her big day.”

“Oh of course, Breanne.” Heather said cheerfully. Heather was the girl after whom Annie had modeled her chipper response to Runt, only Heather usually meant it. She had tanned skin, messy, short bleach-blonde hair, and a small (‘but fun!’ she would exclaim) chest. “Anything I can do to help out!”

“I just need you to stand there and watch her study. We don’t want Annabel getting stage fright when the moment arrives, do we? And make sure the door stays open.” Breanne turned back to lay her full gaze on Annie. “Now, do you need help with the rest of it?”

Annie shook her head ruefully and slipped out of her jeans. Annie was in remarkably athletic shape and her similarly casual black boy shorts did little to hide her toned legs. It used to be difficult to keep the boys away.

With a glance at the impatient Breanne and the inappropriately chipper Heather, Annie knew she wouldn’t be getting out of this. She decided it would be best to get it over with now. Without another word, she removed her top and let her 34D breasts hang freely.

Breanne let out a slight smile at the sight of the bright red vertical barbell piercings through Annabel’s nipples. They served as an important reminder of her position. Heather smiled for a different reason. Annie mistook Breanne’s expression as a sign she could stop taking her clothes her off and lifted the book back off the desk.

“Heather, it looks like Annie needs more help,” said Breanne, turning to the door just to see another woman passing by. “Oh Gwendolyn! You have perfect timing! Come in here and hold the Book for her.”

Gwen stepped into the room and walked over to Annie nonchalantly, giving her a lightly sympathetic look. Gwen was taller than anyone else in the sorority, with luscious legs and long, dark hair. She was a senior, and it had been her turn last year, so she knew better than anyone else in the room what Annie was going through. Gwen took the book from a clearly embarrassed Annie as Heather cheerfully tugged her underwear off. Annie went to cover herself but was stopped by another glare from Breanne.

“Now Annabel, be sure to practice properly for the rest of the week.” Breanne said, turning to leave. She made sure to leave the door open.

Gwen sighed. “Don’t worry Ann, they did this to me too. It’s all for the best.”

Annie nodded, but glared at Heather, who hadn’t moved from her position kneeling next to her. Heather quickly stood up, the ever-present grin not moving from her face.

“Just start from the top Ann, you have a few days to memorize the whole thing.”

Ann nodded sheepishly. “I, Annabel Whelan, do request an audience…”


Thursday evening, Tim and Neil had dashed down to the local Halloween shop for some cheap costumes.

“Something about animals?” Tim responded to Neil.

“Right! And what kind of animal do you want her to think you are?” Neil asked as they looked through a bin of costumes. “You want it to be an animal that makes her want you. A gorilla? A fox? An elephant? These are all dumb.” He concluded, tossing them aside as he pawed through the lot.

Tim nodded dimly. He’d been the kid who went with the same plastic-fanged, black-caped vampire costume every year. Less effort, same candy, right?

“I don’t think anyone’s gonna pay that much attention to it, it’s just a party.”

“Nah, listen Tim- you said she’s Phi Rho yeah? They take this seriously. Who knows why she invited you,” Tim was asking himself this after some of the things Neil had told him already. “but even if she doesn’t, you can bet the chicks hosting will. Wait ’til you see the pumpkins they put out front. Whoever runs that place, they mean business.”

Tim shrugged again and looked at the wall. He was in a rush to get out of here and get to dinner.

“You want something fierce man, something powerful. Girls dig that.” Neil paused while scanning over the costumes on the wall. “Something that says, ‘I am going to devour you, and you’re going to like it.’”

“Something like..this?” Tim picked a costume off the wall.

“Haha! Classic, yeah. Get that one.”

A werewolf costume, in five pieces. Fingerless gloves, boot covers, shorts, a vest, all covered in short, gray fake fur on the outside, black, stretchy, cheap fabric lining, and held on with velcro. The costume probably wouldn’t last two days from the looks of it, but at least it would be easy to get off. The top piece modeled the top of a wolf’s head, worn like a hat and trailing down to his shoulders like a hide rug.

Tim headed for the register while Neil examined some costumes for the separate party he would be going to. He was already having second thoughts, but he knew he’d never hear the end of it if he let a girl so enamored with him get away.


The Phi Rho Mu house was big. Like many of the houses at the school, it had been bought from an old, established family that had moved away decades ago. As such it was in the forest that bordered the northern side of the campus, largely obscured by oak trees. Three floors, with the third floor windows jutting out of the steep, tiled roof. The roof was painted black, so black it could barely be seen at night. The building itself was made of limestone, from its arched double doorway to its Victorian Gothic chimneys, and nominally painted a dull white.

Tonight though, the whole building was orange, because it was surrounded by pumpkins.

Big, small, thin, wide, tall, short, every kind of pumpkin and every kind of expression, they sat in a huge ring, thirty feet out from the main entrance and all the way around the building. Every pumpkin faced inward, shining its grin, or smirk, or bared teeth on the house, bathing it in the orange glow of over a hundred candles. The exterior of the house had no other decorations.

The scent of heated pumpkin had filled the air long before he came in sight of the building. Tim now understood what Neil had meant about how seriously Phi Rho took this holiday. For the second time that week, Tim considered turning around. He was especially concerned at seeing that all of the windows in the imposing building were dark. The only light around was the great orange ring, a small, untended bonfire not ten feet from the short steps leading up to the door, and the dim lights of the other houses, many yards through the forest.

Tim carefully stepped over the pumpkin ring, feeling a sharp chill as he did so. It felt like someone was watching him, but a quick glance around and the only eyes he met belonged to pumpkins. He tried not to get too close to the fire in his fur-covered costume and pumped up the steps. Even near the fire it was a cold night, and Tim was glad he’d decided to wear a thick turtleneck under the furry vest instead of Neil’s suggestion of going in “nothin’ but fur and skin like a wolfman!” He found the shorts too tight to wear anything else under without danger of tearing them off.

There was still no sign of anyone else. He decided if no one answered his knock in a few minutes he’d just leave. This was getting weird.

Tim heard the fire snap loudly and turned around, hoping someone had touched it. All he saw was dozens of pumpkins staring at him intently.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Tim spun back around to see a very upset woman, in a pointy black hat and sleeveless black dress, standing between him and the still closed door. She wore boots with short heels and pointed toes. Coming out of the boots were orange and black thigh-high tights that stopped an half an inch short of the hem of her dress, giving a peek at her thighs. Orange and black striped arm warmers, matching the tights, completed the look.

Tim recognized her as Annie’s dismissive friend from the bar. How did she get there without opening the door or coming up the stairs?

“Who told you you could wear that? I don’t recognize you from KNG! Who invited you?” She shouted, shaking a finger at him menacingly.

“Woah look I’m sorry! Annie told me I was supposed to wear an animal costume so I-”

“Annie invited you? Annabel Whelan? You’re… Tim? You’re Tim, aren’t you?” She calmed down quickly, a look of surprise on her face.

“Yeah! Tim Ryan. Weren’t you at the bar? Sorry I didn’t catch your name.” He held out his hand to shake hers, smiling. What was so wrong with his wolf costume? Did he hear the theme wrong? Her outfit clearly screamed witch and not animal.

“You’re Tim Ryan. The one Annie invited. And you’re dressed as…as a…” It was like she couldn’t bring herself to say it, so Tim tried to help her finish.

“A wolf?”

Breanne burst out laughing. She laughed more than she had in years. She kept laughing for several minutes while Tim stood there dumbfounded. She almost wanted to reach out and hug him, she was so overcome by the absurdity.

“Is…is something wrong with my costume?” Tim asked. He really couldn’t tell what had just happened, but between the menacing pumpkins and the possibly menacing laughter at his expense he had just about had it.

“No….haha, no, it’s just…hehee, it’s sooo perfect, is what it is…hooohoo…” Breanne finally managed to settle herself and turned to open the door. “Come inside then, Tim Ryan, I’m sure Annabel can’t wait to see you!”

As she turned around, Tim saw a dark shimmering tail hanging from the back of Breanne’s dress. He realized he hadn’t noticed the pair of furry, pointed ears sticking out of the brim of her hat. She wasn’t dressed as a witch, but as a witch’s black cat familiar.

With one last glance back at the eager pumpkins surrounding him, Tim stepped into the house.


Tim was relieved to find the reason for the darkened windows was that the party was happening in the basement. There were two stairways leading to it; the one Breanne lead him down right next to the door, and one from the kitchen on the back side of the building. Food and drinks were brought down that stairway, and that side of the basement was clearly used for food storage for much of the year. He would’ve seen the lights in the kitchen had he approached from the other direction.

The basement was unfinished, with a stone floor and exposed pipes, but had sections that were clearly rooms, even if the walls between them had a few gaps. The main section, which had at least forty people in various costumes — mostly animals, but some in white sheets as ghosts, some in black hooded robes, a few people just in their underwear — took up more than half the total space of the basement. The ceiling was no more than nine feet high. An alcove at one end had speakers playing Thriller, and near it a table of punch bowls and assorted chips on a dark tablecloth. Coolers of beers and kegs dotted the floor, interspersed with already lively beer pong planks. It looked like a pretty normal college party, despite the strange scene outside. Tim finally relaxed. This was starting to look like it might be an enjoyable evening.

In that thought he heard the girl in the witch’s cat costume — she still hadn’t mentioned her name — call out to Annie, who ran over to him with a tipsy grin and a red solo cup in each hand. And for a moment his thoughts stopped and the rest of the party disappeared.

Her dark red hair, wavy and thick, cascaded over her uncovered pale shoulders, contrasting with the pink ribbon choker on her neck. A small silver bell dangled off of it, bobbing slightly as she came up to him smiling, too quiet to be heard over the music from the speakers. Her arms were bare, and her hands had thin white fingerless wool gloves, trimmed with pink and a little ribbon on each in the center of the wrist. They matched perfectly with the white socks she wore to just above the knee, similarly with a small pink bow on each leg. They left a pleasant stretch of the milky white skin of her athletic thighs exposed, as her legs were otherwise uncovered.

Covering the rest of her was a tight beige bodysuit, with short, dense, curly cream-colored fur trim around the legs and all along the top. Her breasts were on a slightly rigid demi cup shelf, and it was clear that was all the support they had- if it weren’t for the thicker fur trimming in the bust area the top edge of her nipples would be visible. At her left collarbone, drawn in black marker and ringed in red, was a small black circle with the letter ‘W’ in it. Topping her costume was a small pair of folded, cottony white ears on a pink headband, poking out of that gorgeous red hair.

The laughter at his wolf costume made sense now, as he clearly couldn’t have chosen a better match.

Annie made for the sexiest sheep he’d ever seen, and as Neil had recommended earlier, he was more than ready to devour her.

The rest of the world came back into focus as Annie shouted over the music. “I’m so glad you made it Tim! This night is gonna rock!” Annie handed both cups to him before turning back towards the table for more.

He saw the fur — wool – covered much of the back of the sheep costume, including a strap that connected up to the choker for support. The wool went down her back and formed a semicircular edge just above her delicious looking rear end, where a beige tear-shaped plush tail sat. She looked over her shoulder and caught him eyeing her ass with a smirk. She gave it two shakes and winked before turning back to the punch bowl.

And he thought these shorts were tight before. He reconsidered his decision to not wear anything under them to prevent them coming off, since at this rate his cock was in danger of doing that on its own.

Annie came back from the table, handed the new drink to her friend the cat-witch, and took one of the two she’d handed Tim. As she did so she whispered, in that half-whisper, half-shout that anyone who has been to a loud party is well-acquainted with, “I love your costume! I guess the Big Bad Wolf is here to eat me up…”

Tim laughed and nodded in response. Annie turned and shouted, “See Breanne?” That was her name. “I knew he’d be perfect for this party.” Breanne laughed again, but only a little this time.

The next few hours passed in a haze of conversation and alcohol. Breanne quickly disappeared into the crowd, and Tim didn’t mind terribly. She clearly didn’t like him all that much, but there were plenty of other people in this basement. They played beer pong with a tiger and a cardboard-covered grey ‘snake’ and lost handily, Annie handing him the drinks each time the surprisingly accurate tiger scored. The speakers played the usual mix of Gaga, Rihanna, Jackson, and standard Halloween party fare. They talked about classes in their subject and realized they were in two of the same but at opposing times. Tim was already looking forward to scheduling a study session for the next exam. They hung out in a side room that had a strobe light and dark electronic playing, mostly laughing at the unusual sights the flashing light showed them in. At one point she faced away from him, but only to lean her body up against his. He felt her hair on his face, her back against his chest, and a resurgence of tension in his shorts as she started grinding her appetizing back end against his shaft. They weren’t the only ones in the room who had chosen to stand a little closer together. She turned her head back and flicked out her tongue to his chin.

“What’s a matter boy? Get a feel for the territory before you go hunting.” Tim needed no more encouragement, reaching his paw-gloved hands around her waist and pulling her just a little closer as he moved his hips in time with hers. He could feel the heat radiating between her legs, the tightness of the fabric in her costume and his as his hard lance took up the small amount of stretch her bodysuit had left between her firm cheeks. She gave a low moan as he pressed against her, just audible over the thumping bass. His hands wandered further up and lightly caressed her breasts, feeling the slightly stiffened tips of her nipples just under the trim. He felt something small, hard, and round alongside them.

Annie’s heavy-lidded eyes shot open and she stopped moving. The dancing had felt better than she expected, so much better that she hadn’t wanted to stop. But Tim’s – Runt’s — touch on those metallic bars embedded in her areolas reminded her of what the plan was tonight, and she knew she dare not give in just yet. Besides, there would be plenty of time to enjoy it later.

Annie almost jumped out of Tim’s arms and tried to regain her composure. She couldn’t help diving in to kiss him, grabbing him by the back of his wolf hat and pulling his mouth into hers. This was different from their earlier kiss at the bar- hungrier, fiercer. He gave back just as smoothly as before, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back against him. She slid a hand in between them as she pulled her lips away,

“Mmm…looks like the big bad wolf is ready to feast…” she tapped the partially-opened velcro at his waist, missing the head of his dick only by coincidence, “but this little lamb isn’t ready to be sheared just yet.”

She grinned, twirled out of his grip, and ran off into the main room. Tim, wondering not for the first time that night what he’d done to get the hottest woman at the party so into him, hurriedly fixed his shorts and ran after her.

As the night wore on he saw people leaving up the stairs, but several times large groups of people arrived to refill the room. At least Tim felt it had happened that way. He could’ve sworn there were mostly animal costumes when he arrived, but increasingly it was people in black or white robes that had been only a few, or plenty of people barely wearing anything at all. If you compared to them even Annie was starting to look overdressed by eleven, and Tim was fully, if a little strangely, dressed by any standard. The room was certainly as full as when he got there hours ago. Likely several of them had just found the animal attire too hot for the crowded basement, and opted to go without. Luckily for Tim his cheap costume provided barely any insulation.

As he stood next to Annie in a circle of what seemed like the last group of animals in the room, listening to a story from the tiger about a summer hiking trip, he realized abruptly that the music had stopped.

“What! Time! Is! It!” came an excited shout from somewhere across the room.

From all over the room came a chorus of responses, but the loudest, from a dozen people easily, was “WITCHING HOUR!”

The music started back up again, this time louder, deeper, and more aggressively, to a chorus of hoots and hollers as drinks were thrown in the air. It was the music that had been playing in the strobe light room all night, but now on the real speakers it was nearly shaking the floor. Tim laughed a little nervously, and several people in the circle of animals turned to dance with the rest of the crowd.

Annie turned to him with a smile. “It’s midnight! That means it’s officially Halloween!” Her smile turned mischievous. “Want to head upstairs and…celebrate?” And the way she said celebrate, that look in her eyes, he knew it was time to satisfy the craving she’d been teasing him after all night, all week even. She grabbed his arm and led him up the front stairway.

Surprisingly, it was still dark in the rest of the house. Apparently anyone who had joined the party had just come straight in the front. He’d expected Annie had meant they would go up to her room, but she pulled him down a hallway. She opened the third door they came to and urged him in first while she glanced around to see if anyone else was around.

The room had a window that faced out the back of the house, and for the first time in hours he saw the pumpkins. Not a single one that saw into this window had gone out. The small room was almost entirely taken up by a king sized bed, though the fabric was indiscernible in the dim light. This was especially as what he could see was that the bed, the floor, and the handful of other surfaces in room were covered in discarded costumes. He even recognized a few from earlier in the night. He heard the door close behind him and a scrape on the floor. Annie reached out from behind him and put her hands over his eyes.

“No peeking, Mr. Wolf. Close your eyes, and while you’re at it why don’t you take those scary paws off for me…?” He did both, and felt Annie’s hands pull his wolf-head hat off and then make for the velcro at his vest. He smiled and stretched his arms back while she pulled it off. He started to turn around to embrace her, but she gently pushed him back to facing away.

“Uh uh uh, let’s get you all ready first, ” she said, pulling his shirt up and over his head.

“Oh I have been ready all night.” Annie laughed at this, but it was an eager, excited chuckle completely unlike Breanne’s earlier laughter, the kind of laugh that always heralds a pleasurable time in a nearby bed. He continued to face away from her and heard a zipper that he guessed was the one on the side of her chest. He heard another scrape on the floor. He felt the floor throbbing from the intense music below, and felt himself starting to throb as well.

Then Tim felt that now familiar fur trim tickle his bare back as Annie leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Trick or Treat?”

It was Tim’s turn to chuckle excitedly. “Oh I think I could go for a treat right now.”

He felt Annie pull away slightly, a much shorter scrape, and then WHAM!

A massive pain in his head knocked him to the floor and nearly spun him around. He could feel something warm and wet on his scalp. What had just happened?! He couldn’t gather his thoughts enough to even think about it. The door opened again, and now there was a light on in the hallway. In it he saw the silhouette of Annie, still in full costume, gripping a sledge hammer that rested on the hardwood floor.

“Sorry Runt, but there’s a few more tricks to go.” She turned and shouted something down the hall, but he couldn’t make it out as his consciousness faded.


Tim woke up groggily, feeling the pain in his head ignite. He jerked in response — or tried to, but found his arms and legs held in place. He tried to focus enough to take stock of his situation.

He lay on cold stone, short chains holding his limbs at corners of a slab raised a few inches off of the ground. He was still wearing the fur shorts of his costume, but nothing else. There was a light smell of blood, probably his. He could feel it caked lightly on the right side of his head, just above his ear. He tried to look around, but could only tilt his head slightly without painful shocks racing through it. What he did see terrified him.

He was inside a ring of pumpkins, probably ten feet in diameter. Outside the ring stood many people – some in black robes, some in their underwear, some in white sheets. And one, just one, in a tiger costume.

The room didn’t look to extend much beyond the rings of people and pumpkins. It was lit by torches high on the walls, and was circular with a domed ceiling. Other than the slab he was on, the whole floor was dirt, the walls were dirt, the ceiling was dirt. He didn’t see a door, but wasn’t in a position to look that hard.

He heard a loud thwap as wood hit stone and jerked his head so fast at the sound that he instead distracted by another painful throbbing. Apparently there was at least one other person still in costume. Standing next to his chained-to-a-slab-body was Breanne.

“About time you woke up,” she snapped. She jabbed a syringe into his chain-stretched inner right elbow. He couldn’t help shouting as his pain momentarily increased. “You certainly have a concussion, but you won’t have to worry about it much longer.”

Breanne turned towards his feet, and pointed the wooden rod she held at the crowd.

“It’s time to begin!”

Breanne walked towards the crowd, and it parted to make way as she crossed the ring of pumpkins. Into the gap, with a blonde girl on her left and a tall brunette on her right, sauntered Annabel Whelan.

She had removed the stockings, the gloves, and the headband, but still wore the centerpiece of her sheep costume. The bell had been torn off of the choker. The marker had been hastily rubbed off. She stood barefoot on the packed earth floor with a determined look on her face. She stepped gingerly over the ring of pumpkins, and her two-woman entourage didn’t follow. The brunette handed her a large sack full of irregularly shaped objects, careful not to cross the line herself. Annie gave a quick smile and then turned back to the task at hand. She dropped the sack next to the stone slab and stood over Tim.

“Hello Runt.”

She leaned over him and grabbed his face, pressing his cheeks in before he could form a response. She didn’t need to say anything more though. Hearing that name from her mouth finally reminded him who she was.

Annie had been a frequent target of bullying in middle school. Several of these bullies were Tim’s friends. He had usually stayed out of it, sometimes even feeling sorry for the girl. Then people started calling him ‘Runt’. One day Annie did too.

From that day on he had joined in the bullying. Annie’s family had indeed moved away in middle school, after the day she came home with a torn dress and a broken arm. He remembered now the things the things they had done to her that day.

And then Tim realized that the Annabel Whelan standing before him now, who he had partied and flirted with and fantasized over all night, remembered too. She had remembered all along. She had been thinking of that day all night. She had been thinking of that day all week. When she had turned to Breanne at the bar and said “from my neighborhood growing up,” she had been thinking about it then.

Annabel Whelan, Tim realized, did not like him.

The situation he found himself in made a little more sense. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe even to apologize, but was met with a slap across the face.

“If you know what’s good for you,” Annie whispered harshly, “you’ll keep your fucking mouth shut.” She stood up and looked to Breanne, standing at the edge of the ring. A smile, menacing and hungry, crept along Breanne’s face as she nodded slowly.

Annie glanced around the crowd and raised her arms, exclaiming “Welcome, all assembled…to tonight’s feature presentation…” A few titters from the crowd of faceless robes. Tim was disturbed by what was going on, but found the pain in his head had lessened considerably. What had she injected him with?

August 2018
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