HALLOWEEN NIGHTS

The Halloween party was in full swing when Sarah arrived. She was late; deliberately so. She wanted to tease James; worry him, just a little. Make him think he’d been stood up. She had felt sure that he would already be here. But she couldn’t see him in the crowed club. So many people, dancing, laughing, shouting, close in to one another, to make themselves heard over the loud music. She noticed several zombies in the crowd, and two or three Draculas. One guy had made a supreme effort and was turned out as a convincing Michael Jackson in ‘Thriller’. There were the usual witches and wizards; French maids and gypsies. Characters from Frankenstein and the Adams Family and a hell of a lot of noisy improvisation.

A fog machine pumped out puffs of smoke into the darkness. Black fabric decorated with shimmering, silver spiders’ webs, covered the walls. Bright orange Jack o’Lanterns stood on every available surface. Nooks and crannies were lit with flickering, coloured lights; red, blue, green, gold. A black, Siamese cat, with eyes like green gemstones sat aloof on the bar. The pounding music held no distraction for him.

She loved Halloween. Better than Christmas, or Easter or even her birthday. The festival was just starting to take off in this country and she missed the joyous, hectic way it was celebrated in the States; in San Francisco. Most of the parties she’d been to there, had degenerated into frenetic orgies by the end of the evening. She wondered how this party would turn out, with the restrained Brits.

The door swung closed behind her. She drew herself up into her fashion model pose, one graceful hand on her hip, one knee slightly bent, holding the position a few seconds longer than necessary. Sure enough, heads turned to look at her, as she knew they would. She dazzled her sensational smile at them, and made eye contact as she swerved her practiced, brilliant gaze over the crowd. The attention turned her on; it would be an interesting night.

She looked stunning. She’s made a real effort with her ‘bad fairy’ costume. She was wearing over the elbow, black lace gloves. She’d laced herself in to a tight leather corset, that pushed her large breasts up, and out. Small black wings were sewn into the back. A black garter belt clipped onto her stockings. She fluffed out her tiny black netting skirt, and shook her long blonde waves. Nonchalantly, she adjusted the netting veil that hung seductively over her darkened eyes. Her pale skin glowed with a powdered, pearly luminescence. She didn’t need a looking glass, to know she looked perfect, as she strode confidently in her killer heels and black fishnets into the throng.

Count Dracula halted her, sliding in behind her, slipping his white hands, with bloodied fingernails beneath her arms, cupping her breasts. His thumbs brushed her nipples, through the soft leather corset. She laughed delightedly, feeling a frisson of sexual excitement and leaned into him, feeling his hot breath on her neck. She was tempted to snuggle up to the Count, but she’d finally caught sight of James, in his ‘Phantom of the Opera,’ costume. The white mask covering half of his face.

She frowned, perplexed. She knew he’d seen her, but he turned away, back to the bar. She wanted his attention and disengaging herself from the Count, she slipped up to him. Her arms slid around his waist. The music got louder and she felt, rather than heard, him chuckle, as he pushed her hands down, letting her feel his erection.

She giggled. She and James hadn’t had sex yet. They’d been quite restrained, knowing that when it did happen, it would be explosive. They’d talked about it a lot and she’d confessed her secret to him. That she loved doing wicked things in public. Was he going to grant her wish tonight?

She stroked his erection through his black denims and tugged at the zip. She wanted his cock. She could feel her breasts tingling. Her nipples were always the first part of her body to be aroused, and they’d already had the attentions of Count Dracula. Her womb muscles contracted with need. Her arousal surged through her. She felt warm cunt juices gushing, trickling over her inner thighs. She excitedly pulled his hard cock from his pants. She wanted to see it.

She stroked it, coiling her fingers around its girth. She ran her thumb over the bulbous head, smearing his pre-come. She pumped his cock slowly; she wanted to taste him. The music thumped, people danced and screamed and shrieked with nervous laughter, as a faux flash of lightening and claps of thunder echoed around the club. Sarah licked her lips in anticipation.

She sank to the floor kneeling at James’ feet. She painted her lips with the tip of his cock, smearing it with her bright red lipstick. She took him in her mouth, relishing it, swirling her tongue around its thickness. He tasted savoury; salty. She inhaled his male scent. His fingers cupped her head as he rammed into her throat; his pelvis thrusting as he fucked her face. She swallowed and gagged, she hadn’t been ready for such a rough invasion, but she breathed her way through it. Sarah prided herself on her skills at sucking cock and she swallowed him whole. She glanced up. The white mask covered half of his face, but she saw one side of his mouth curve in a grin. She would have grinned back, it seemed only polite, but her mouth was stuffed with cock. She was aware of people pointing and laughing, but that just added to the excitement; the thrill of the moment, as she performed. Her fuck juices surged again. She needed to come.

When he jetted into her throat, she swallowed every drop of his seed down into her belly. She never wasted spunk. It was nectar to her. She licked the remaining few drops from his softening cock and ran her tongue over her lips. She struggled to her feet and looked around her. A few of the female partygoers turned from her in disgust. But her lewd display had obviously sparked something off. She could see Frankenstein, fucking a delicate fairy, doggie style over the other side of the club. A witch performed cunnilingus on Cinderella. A gipsy dragged an elf into one of the alcoves. A zombie, with a bloodied face, waved a fairy godmother’s panties over his head. A high court judge, fingered a French maid, while another, on her knees, sucked his cock.

Sarah turned from James, she wanted to find the bathrooms, to adjust her make up, but he held onto her, trapping her between his hard body and the bar; he kissed her, pushing his tongue into her mouth, tasting his cock.

“Your turn,” he whispered in her ear.

She looked at him, quizzically.

He slipped his hands into her arm pits and lifted her high in the air. She looked down at him, laughing, as he placed her on a small table, steadying her as she tottered on her high heels. She realised that the music had been turned down low. She looked around; the whole room was watching her. She loved it; she threw her head back, shaking her long, tumbling curls, laughing.

“Come on,” he said. “Show the nice ladies and gentleman what you can do.”

The music changed to a classic striptease; she started to dance.

Someone cheered as she wriggled enticingly to the rhythm. She slowly pulled open the top laces of her corset and her large breasts all but burst out. Then her gloves came off slowly, finger by finger. She threw, first one then the other into the crowd. The zombies and vampires around her shouted out and whistled. She unclipped the tiny net skirt and then lace by lace, very slowly, always keeping the rhythm of the dance, she unfastened the laces on her corset, throwing it to the floor. She shook out her breasts, caressed them and held them out to her audience. They banged on the table wanting more. Feet stamped and there was cheering. A fat zombie got close and opened his mouth, waggling his tongue. She hung her breasts over his face and let him suckle her. A vampire joined him and sucked and bit on the other nipple.

Sarah felt glorious. She raised her arms above her head, and danced. She grinned down at James. He laughed his approval. He hooked his fingers through the laces of her thong panties and pulled them down over her hips. She stepped daintily out of them, squealing with delight. She was completely naked, except for the garter belt, her stockings, heels and the little net veil.

She finished her dance in a frenzy; pelvic thrusts, gyrating to the stripper music. James shoved three fingers into her dripping cunt, as she danced, rubbing his thumb on her clit. She came in seconds, but she wanted more.

James helped her down from the table, holding her close and shoved his fingers in her mouth, making her lick them clean. She bent over the table, her arse in the air. She looked around at him. She felt wild; beyond control.

“Come on,” she shouted. “If you can’t, someone else will.”

But James already had his cock out; his jeans pulled down over his ass. He didn’t want her from behind, he turned her to face him, lifting her high. She wrapped her legs around him, opening up her cunt. She shrieked in triumph as he slowly, lowered her wide hole onto his cock, filling her completely.

Laughing, they rutted. So did everyone else in the room. The sensory overload was contagious. The atmosphere was filled with the pungent odour of sex juices.

Sarah could feel her orgasm approaching and she opened her eyes wide, screaming as she came; James took longer, then he grunted, spurting his spunk into her.

Her eyes were fixed on the entrance. Fixed on the late comer. Just before he put on his ‘Phantom of the Opera’ mask, she saw his face. His dark eyes met hers, and registered knowing. She saw the high cheekbones; recognised the shadowed, craggy jaw.

It was James. Her James. The James she was supposed to meet here. Then who…?