Halloween
Trick or Treat Part II
Mike helps Freya reach her Halloween costume, but is unable to resist her allure in that sexy outfit
The first item of my fancy-dress outfit is a suspender belt, white and silky. Next white, sheer stockings. The trick is to roll them down with your fingers, put your toes inside and then smooth them up your foot and leg. I fasten them one at a time to the suspenders at the front and the side, it can be a little fiddly. The bra is see through, it’s sheer fabric has butterflies over the cups which do little to conceal my nipples or disguise when they harden to a point.
Even though I’m wearing white, I’m a bad girl tonight.
Final item of underwear is panties. To match the bra, they’re made of see-through fabric with the butterfly design at the sides. Nothing to disguise the shadow between my butt cheeks or the cleft of my freshly shaven pussy. Before I put on the dress to become nurse Elle from Kill Bill, I need the white boots I bought on E-bay. They are on top of my cupboard, in a cardboard box. I stand in front of my open wardrobe and reach up, but even on tip-toes the box is out of reach. But I hear Mike leaving the bathroom, so I call out.
“Mike, can you help me a minute?”
As he stands in the doorway, I turn back to my wardrobe, reaching up to demonstrate my difficulty.
“What seems to the the trouble, li’l darlin?” Getting into character, Mike’s Elvis voice drips charm like sweet molasses.
“I need that box up there please,” I point.
He comes up behind me, his bare hands resting on the skin at my waist. “Now you just hold your pretty horses,” he nuzzles my neck so that the rumble of his voice makes me ticklish; the vibration travels down to my backside, which feels good.
“You’re kinda like a damsel in distress, young Missy. We don’t want to rush into anything.”
Mike is stroking up and down my ribs now. His hands travel to my shoulders and along my arms, which are still raised, until he presses my hands against the top shelf, guiding me to grip the edge of it.
“Hold on there li’l lady, let a fella assess the situation.”
While his accent makes me want to burst out laughing, everything he is doing with his magic fingers has me tingling. He’s stroking up and down my body, his touch feather light. Hands run past my panties, trailing around the bare section of thigh above my stocking top, caressing down my legs, made milky white by the nylon stockings. He massages my feet one by one, rubbing under the arch, which is deliciously soothing. He deliberately re-positions each foot, spaced quite wide apart. When his hands resume their slow ascent, I hold my breath.
Mike’s touch is tantalisingly light as it skims over and around my inner thighs, travelling away from my yearning pussy, he’s touching and appreciating the suspenders and teasing me by slipping his fingers around the edge of my panties. He’s kneeling behind me now. I guess he’s drinking in the provocative, slightly helpless, tableau in which he has me posed. As if my hands are tied above my head, my body is stretched out for him to admire, with nowhere to hide and no way to resist. At his mercy, I feel like a doll, which is emphasised by the dainty lingerie I’m wearing.
“Well look-y here,” he continues in his fake Southern drawl, “I have found myself a Georgia peach!”
He cups, fondles and strokes my pert behind, sometimes pinching, sometimes smoothing, always exploring. I’m yearning for those questing fingers to creep under the elastic edges of my panties … aaaah like that! They begin caressing my pussy lips, before dipping inside where again, I’m drenched with lust.
My sigh is almost a groan when Mike’s face nuzzles my buttock but suddenly his teeth sink into the flesh. The shock and delight at his bite makes my pussy respond, clenching around the fingers buried deep inside me. I’m climbing towards my second orgasm of the evening. Desire heats me from the inside so I arch back to grind my rear into his face. My grip on the top of the wardrobe tightens while I’m sure my juices drip down his hand.
Mike tugs my panties down to my knees, where they remain, stretched taut between my spread legs. His fingers probe and maul me in the most delicious way; his thumb rubs my straining clit while he invades both my holes with as many fingers as he wants, as often as he wants.
I am his sex toy, brought out to play, and if he wants to make me cum he can (and he will!)
“O sir, please,” I groan, hoping to sound seductive rather than in distress, “have mercy.”
I moan with desire when he reaches a hand up to pull at my pony tail, dragging my head back and stretching my throat. He slaps me hard on the buttocks, four times and I gasp, yet the sting on my flesh is thrilling. Mike licks and laps at my arse from behind, the tip of his tongue penetrating a little way in and I welcome that invasion. The passion within is a torment and his tongue and fingers send fiery darts of lust from my pussy to my molten core.
I’m the helpless passenger and Mike’s in the driving seat. I want to submit to his wicked ways (the more wicked the better).
“Please don’t ravish me!”
Mike knows I mean the opposite of course, we’ve played sex games before and have a safe word. Breathless with mounting desire, my legs nearly buckle, so I am close to hanging from the shelf. Mike switches my position, turning me one-eighty so that he can access me from the front. His one hand is tight against my dripping pussy, with three fingers plunging in and out. He presses his nose against my smooth mound so he can lick and suck at my clit, almost giving my tiny nub a ‘blow job’ which has me panting. I’m so close to cumming.
“O Fuck me, pleeeease!” I whine, wanting to be filled with his cock while I cum. I’m on the edge of something major and I want to ride him hard.
Mike doesn’t need telling twice, he unbuttons his flies so his thick member springs free, pre-cum smeared around its bulbous tip. I think I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Mike’s commando, so without delay he shoves his leather trousers round his ankles, grips my waist and hips then buries himself in my sodden cunt, up to the hilt.
Damn that feels good — we are a perfect fit. His thick cock stretches me and I savour the dimensions of his rock hard cock as he slams into me hard, before pulling back slowly, almost letting its tip escape from my greedy lips.
“More!” I cry. As I bear down on his delicious prick my pussy walls begin to pulse and I’m in the grip of wave after wave of warm, orgasmic pulses.
Mike continues to thrust in and out hard, while I cling to him and cum, moaning and clutching at his broad shoulders. As I quieten he pulls out and bends me forward, moving me so that I can brace myself against the wardrobe door. Mike delivers two hard slaps, one to each cheek of my arse before spreading them apart to access my pussy from behind. With slick ease he slides into my heat and wetness, to recommence pumping, using me like the sex doll that I have become.
He grunts and slaps as he shafts me, and I’m delighted with his rough treatment. I know my rear might look pink and spanked at the party but in the moment I don’t care.
Mike picks the pace and I follow, pushing back to meet his thrusts, enjoying the slam of his dick. He’s so deep inside me that his rough balls are slapping against the tender globes of my arse. My nipples are within Mike’s reach and he pinches them. With each thrust he gives his hips a semi-circular wiggle, and soon there’s a tingle building. As Mike cums, pumping his load into my pussy, I join him with a milder, after-shock orgasm.
We both sag,breathless, Mike resting his weight on my back for a few moments while I’m glad to lean on the wardrobe door. Then we both begin to giggle at our combined wickedness.
“I need to go to the bathroom to clean up,” I smile, “could you reach the box down for me while I’m gone?”
I step out of my knickers, using a flannel and warm water to clean up, washing away the sticky juices of both Mike’s and my climax. Checking in the mirror, I look flushed under my make-up and my lips seem a little swollen. As my hair will be hidden under the wig, and we have time to cool down in the evening air, the damage isn’t too great. When I return to my room I notice Mike’s hair is no longer in its slick pompadour, so I point out gel and spray in the bathroom, leaving him to clean up and get back into character.
I slide the knickers on and zip up the dress, but I know my pussy lips are swollen, because they chafe as I walk. Mike returns to my room —offering to help lace up my white boots so I stand still while he kneels at my feet, criss-crossing the laces around 2 rows of hooks. Then surveys me once they are fastened.
“I’m all shook up!” he says with Elvis’ signature curl to his upper lip. He reverently runs his hands up from the kinky boots to my nylon-clad thighs — the suspenders now peeking at the hem of my dress.
“Look what you’ve done to me!” I mock pout.
I lift the hem of my stiff white uniform to display the engorged lips of my pussy, visible through the gauzy fabric of my white panties. Mike reaches up to press his lips to my mound. He breathes in deeply where our musks have combined, then blows on my still- tingling clit.
“Look what’s happenin’ to me, lil’ mama,” he smirks. Pointing to the crotch of his shiny leather pants, the outline of his semi-hardened cock is visible against the black material.
“It’s good to be bad!” we say in unison, sharing a high-five. It should be a great Halloween Party.
More from Posy…