Halloween
Trick or Treat Part I
Freya prepares for a Halloween party with some self-pleasure before her fuck-buddy Mike comes round
Don’t you love costumes? It doubles the fun to dress up as someone bad.
The month of October is drawing to a close, the nights and early mornings have become chilly and the daylight hours have got shorter. England’s adoption of the American Halloween traditions means kids’ costumes are for sale in shops alongside jumbo packs of wrapped sweets in case ‘trick or treaters’ come knocking at the door. Not where I live. My third floor flat is in the city, above shops and a fast-food place, but I’m still excited because I have a party to go to tonight.
There will be booze instead of candy but we’ll all wear horror inspired fancy dress. My imagination runs riot thinking of ‘tricks’ which might be played and the ‘treats’ which will be on offer. Mike’s escorting me — he’s my fuck-buddy, no strings attached, we’ll walk into the party together and home once it’s over — never cramping each other’s style!
I have selected tonight’s outfit with care: I’m dressing as Elle Driver, the deadly nurse from Kill Bill, complete with eye patch and fake syringe. I’ve bought a long blonde wig and added some fabulous white, high-heeled pvc boots which lace up to the knee. I will be wearing white stockings and all white lingerie. The short uniform will give lots of glimpses of my bare thighs. The white nurse’s dress, which fits snugly, has a front zip which can show more cleavage as the night grows wilder.
My preparations start with a relaxing bath — my iPod is docked to my speaker so that I can enjoy music (Black Cherry by Goldfrapp sets a sexy tone). There are candles arranged on the windowsill and shelf. With drops of perfumed essence in the water to moisturise and fragrance my skin. I’m obsessed with freesias and roses. Towels are warming on the radiator when I step out of my silky Chinese robe into the bath. Sinking into the heat of the water, I begin to relax, shrugging off cares and worries. I’m sipping a rum and coke, which I set carefully on the corner of the bath.
Drizzling soap onto a bath scrunchy I begin to rub it over my arms in circular motions, moving from my shoulders downwards. When I scrub around my breasts, my nipples rise to peaks, tingling with the abrasiveness of the nylon. I continue down my stomach, buttocks, thighs and finish around my feet.
I got my legs waxed yesterday, but my budget doesn’t stretch to waxing anything else, so I get out a new razor and shave my armpits smooth. I need to make my pussy completely hairless too, but I’ll see to that once I’m out of the bath. I turn on the hot tap with my toes and feel swirls of extra hot water curl around me. My breasts float and bob, rising to the surface with their own buoyancy, my nipples pucker in the cooler air.
Sipping my drink I let my head loll on the edge of the bath. As I’m wearing a wig tonight, I won’t have to fuss with my hair. I trail my fingers through the water, to cup my breasts, pinching one nipple at a time. A zap of desire rushes straight to my core, which begins to moisten. I tweak my nipples, stretching them til I squirm and press my thighs together. Teasing myself, I begin to imagine clandestine encounters at the party.
As I trail my finger down my belly the sensitive skin jumps, even at my own touch. Finally my exploring reaches the edge of my pussy, where the nub of my clit is peeking out, so I stroke my sensitive bud until it starts to swell. It’s easy to imagine the tip of my finger as the tongue of the elf I hooked up with last Halloween. He gave me oral so skilled, it made my head swim, his face paint also gave me green thighs and stocking tops, but it was worth it.
Today I will become that wicked nurse with murder on her mind, I’m convinced Elle would have her mound shaved. I trail my fingers around my labia, pinching and massaging, to increase the blood supply. When I venture between my inner lips, my fingers encounter my own moisture, slick and slippery, helping them glide deliciously through my most sensitive flesh.
The more I stroke my pussy, the more engorged and stiff my clit becomes. When its hood extends beyond my parted, outer lips, I focus my touches on and around its nub. I’ve instinctively spread my legs as wide apart as the bath allows, so they are tensed against the sides. My stomach also seems braced, arousal flexing my core muscles. One finger swirls langourously around my slit, occasionally dipping into my warm, slippery hole, before returning to tease the focal point in my pussy.
It becomes all consuming to please my demanding pearl, soon rubbing cannot remain gentle, but urgent. I see flashes of colour and sparks behind my eyes, which I’ve squeezed tight shut, while I’m pressing and throbbing, until my arousal tips over. With waves, pulses and aftershocks, my whole body flushes with orgasmic warmth, then twitches and spasms. Using my prune-like fingertips, I rinse away my juices. I can barely touch my sensitive clit now I’ve cum.
Another sip of my drink, then I use my arms to push up and out of the bath, my legs are almost too wobbly to support me. I wrap myself in a towel then place one foot on the side of the bath. With hair conditioner I lather my pubes, and carefully follow my curves: the crease of my thighs and my outer lips. My guarded razor shaves them smooth. I am delighted with the finished result. With a gentle touch, I dab a few drops of baby oil onto the area. It’s warming and it leaves a hint of a shine.
I moisturise with a body cream and use deodorant. I wrap myself in the silky robe, which skims the top of my thighs, before starting to apply foundation and make-up. I accentuate my eyes, although I’ll wear a patch over one. I want the real focus to be on my lips, which I paint pillar box red. Make-up done, I fasten my hair in a low ponytail. I’m alerted by my entry phone that someone’s at the door. It’s probably Mike. We greet each other via speaker, and I buzz him up. In the time it takes him to climb three flights of stairs I’ve straightened up my bathroom and blown out the candles.
Mike’s eyes drink me in when I open the door, the cool air of the lobby shrinks my nipples to hard points, which I can see he notices.
“O M G Freya! You look amazing - Is that what you’re wearing?”
“Don’t be crazy Mike!” I giggle as I pull him over the threshold, “I’m not even dressed yet.”
“Don’t bother,” he fondles my bare ass with one hand while hugging me close. “We’ll title this look: call girl in Bangkok!” he cups my breast to rub a chilly thumb over my already hard nipple. I bite my lip to stifle a moan.
“Want a drink?” I dance away from his wandering hands into the tiny kitchen, and pour some rum and coke into a glass.“What’s your costume - Elvis?” I call out.
He’s wearing very clingy black leather trousers and a matching shirt with the collar turned up, his usually messy dark hair is gelled and slicked into a quiff.
“I like it.” I nod appreciatively as he turns away and strikes a pose — his bum looks toned and firm in the tight material. When he looks over his shoulder and raises one eyebrow, my stomach does a flip.
“You’ve got the moves Mike!” I laugh. “Make yourself at home with the TV. I won’t take much longer.” Then I continue in a low, sultry voice, “there’s not a lot else to put on.”
Mike’s eyes pop, and he makes another grab for my bare behind, but I dodge out of reach, giggling and head to the bedroom where I’ve laid out my clothes.
More from Posy…
Another Tantalizing Tale for Halloween by Patricia Ray