Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzzzzzzzzzz…
Flinging the dishcloth into the soapy water filled sink, I grabbed the bowl of wrapped sweets off the kitchen table and stalked to the front door.
“I’ll get it!” I hollered, tacking on a few quieter grumbles at the end. “Someone has to, seeing as though one of you appears to be deaf and the other broken legged.”
I’d been in a rotten mood all day, and the incessant hammering on the front door and buzzing of the bell wasn’t making me feel much better. I’d never liked Halloween, but my dislike had turned to a passionate hate when we’d moved into number fifty Crow Street. My neighbours embraced everything about it, and everywhere you looked there was gurning pumpkins, cackling witches, and glow in the dark skeletons.
But I liked kids and wouldn’t dream of ruining their fun, so by the time I opened the front door, angry Iris was gone and in her place was fake oh I love this too Iris. The caller didn’t even have to speak before angry Iris was back in full force.
“Trick or treat!”
I just stared at the plastic pumpkin the idiot at my door held out. Joseph Walker was twenty bloody six and still acting like a child. If he had a condition that explained his behaviour I would have smiled and gave him a handful of sugary rubbish, but he didn’t. He was a welder by day, a volunteer at the local cat and dog shelter, and he worked at the soup kitchen twice a month too.
No there was nothing to excuse Joey’s behaviour at all, he was just a menace, plain and simple.
“You’re wasting your time, Mr Walker,” I said. My feathers were ruffled, and his ridiculously boyish grin confirmed that he was well aware of the fact.
Leaning against the door frame, he fluttered his lashes at me. “You know how this works, Mrs Day. Treat for me or trick for you.”
Yes, I did know how it worked. The little shit had covered my car in egg wash and pink feathers last year, and I’d sworn then and there that, if he tried anything like it again, I’d skin him alive.
But before I could even utter the word police, a clattering sound from behind me drew my attention. My daughter, Debbie, pushed past me, squaring her shoulders at the pest on the porch. Her costume reminded me very much of Alice from Alice in Wonderland, except her skin was a funny shade of grey and she was covered in fake blisters and sores.
“Don’t wait up, Mum,” she flung over her shoulder. “And don’t worry about this moron. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
She turned to blow me a kiss, and I saw why Joey had gone so quiet. My girl had inherited her bust from me. We were both D cups by the time we’d hit fifteen, and once we’d finished growing we’d both settled at a firm E. The difference between us was, I kept mine under wraps while Debbie preferred to have people to look at hers. I sighed, pleased her father was lost in his work. There was almost nipple on show, and Ken would lose his cool if he could see her.
Grabbing Joey by the ear, Debbie marched him down the garden path. I closed the door on her warnings and his defiant grumbles, dumping the sweet bowl on the hall table. The little pumpkin lights Debbie had strung around the door flickered out. She’d asked me to change the batteries if they went, but it wasn’t happening. As far as I was concerned, Halloween was over.
Ken was in the dining room, poring over a fishing magazine. I settled the chair opposite, cross legged, and picked up the local history book Debbie and all her friends had been obsessed with for the past year. I flicked through the pages, but I wasn’t really interested. My eyes were on my husband. He hadn’t even looked up from the picture of the silver and black reel he was considering buying.
My eyes flicked from him to the wall clock behind him and back. I sat there for almost fifteen minutes, and he didn’t say one word to me. It was always like this now, and had been since we moved into this damned house. His work came first, his hobby second, then Debbie and, if he had time, finally me. I wanted some attention, needed some in fact, and I was going to get some come hell or high water.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I raced to our bathroom, had the quickest shower ever, dried my bottle blonde hair until it bounced around my shoulders in pretty waves, and slipped into a peach chemise. A few squirts of what Ken used to call eau de irresistible, and I was bombing back down the stairs, slowing as I approached the dining room.
I did two laps of the table, trailing my fingers over the backs of chairs, flicking my hair to whaff the perfume every time I passed behind Ken, but his nose stayed firmly wedged in his fishing mag.
This time when I flopped into a chair and picked the history book up, I began to read. And I soon saw why the young ones had all been so into it. What a place Chillington had been back in the day. Sex, lies, and even murder, right here on Crow Street!
“Hey babe,” I said, kicking Ken’s leg under the table. “Did you know that our house used to be owned by Lucretia Cleveland? She hid her fancy man here.”
“That’s nice dear.”
“Ooh, there’s a picture of him! His name was Marco Raveno and he was a beauty.”
“Good for her, honey.”
I raised my eyes. He wasn’t listening to me at all. Sighing, I studied my husband carefully, remembering how he’d been when I’d met him. I’d been still in my early twenties, and he was nearing thirty, and I’d been smitten from the very first time I saw him.
It was his eyes that had reeled me in. A sharp, glacial blue and brilliantly intelligent, it had felt like he could have looked through me if he’d wanted to. But he hadn’t. He’d looked at me and into me, had made me feel completely naked even though I was wearing my furry winter coat. God, his smile was infectious back then, and he could weave potent sexual spells over me using nothing more than his voice.
Ken had a lovely voice. Low, always hushed, but with an irresistible air of sensuality that wrapped around me like warm silk. The way he repeated my name after I’d first told it to him had felt familiar, and hearing him grind it out, right into my ear, during orgasm…Christ, it was almost enough to make me come. Even when I thought I was spent it only took him a few well-chosen words to get me pawing at his cock and stuffing it back into me.
But now? The well-chosen words were gone. All that was left was talk of his job, or his games of golf with Paul Ferrell, or his fishing with Barry Robinson.
Eyes back on the book on the table, I ran my finger over the picture of Marco Raveno. He was a truly beautiful creature. As his exotic sounding name suggested, he was dark haired and sultry looking with a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. His eyes were hooded, and even though the picture was black and white, I could see they would have been the darkest shade of brown I’d ever be likely to see.
But looking closer, I could also see his irises had lighter flecks in them too. I imagined them to be golden, and that they’d spark whenever something caught his interest. I’d bet they’d glitter with amusement too, and more than likely darken to black when he was aroused.
And his smile? It wasn’t charming and infectious like Ken’s was. It was insolent and cock sure, one of those smiles you found on those guys you knew would take what they wanted from you then leave you cold. A bad boy smile, and as sexy as hell.
Something tugged low down in my belly. I was looking at this gorgeous, long dead man, and my body was waking. Flicking my eyes to Ken’s face, I stretched out my leg, watching him as I stroked my bare toes over the arch of his bare foot.
“Coming to bed?” I asked.
I noticed my voice was huskier than usual, but Ken didn’t. He just pushed up from the table, gathering up his magazines and newspapers. “No, I’m gonna have to get on with ordering this stuff. We’ll have an early night on…” he pursed his lips, dropping an eyebrow and nodding in time to his thoughts. “Monday. We’ll have an early night on Monday, and boy, are you gonna get it.”
A kiss on top of my head and he was gone.
It took me almost five minutes to find the energy to drag myself to bed. Once I was beneath the covers I lay there in the dark, thinking quietly. It had been nearly five weeks since Ken and I had last had sex. It had been great sex. It always was, I had no complaints about how he performed, but I had huge complaints about how rarely we did it these days.
Thoughts of how it used to be lured me to that place between sleeping and waking. The wonderful place where everything inside of me feels relaxed and everything outside of me feels far away, muted, remote. So when I felt that first slow, intoxicating kiss I smiled, pleased that Ken had had a change of heart
His hand passed over my face, pressing against the lids of my eyes for a few seconds in what I guessed was a command to keep them closed. He kept it there, still kissing me, coaxing my mouth open with his tongue. There was a taste I couldn’t place. Definitely alcohol, but not the usual malt whiskey he usually drank. This was a little sweeter, yet bitter. Aniseed! That’s what I was tasting.
Ken shifted his weight on top of me, letting me feel him. So heavy, and so warm. His lips moved to my jaw, kissing all the way to my earlobe, which he sucked into his mouth and bit. His breath was hot on my throat, and I let go of a soft moan.
Now he was kissing my shoulder, my collar bone. I loved the way his soft lips felt on my skin. Each little kiss brought him closer to my chemise, and I arched my back when he ran his tongue along the lacy edge. I wanted his mouth to go there, wanted him to suck my nipples. I wanted him to want it so badly he was willing to get a mouth full of fibres rather than waste the two seconds it took to pull my negligee down to expose them.
A few more licks around the edge of the fabric and he’d be tugging at it, though, making the straps cut into my shoulders to save himself from getting ‘fuzzy mouth’. One lick passed, then another, and to my surprise, he moved lower, pulling my left nipple – silk and all – right into his mouth. His other hand wrapped around my other breast and kneaded, each bite of his teeth accompanied by a sharp pinch.
Oh God, I loved this. I could hear him breathing, could hear in the roughness of each ragged exhalation how much he wanted this. His hands were running down my sides now, then he was kissing me again, dragging his nails up my arms, sinking clawed fingers to the roots of my hair. My head snapped back when he pulled, my nipples became harder as their saliva drenched silk covering cooled in the absence of his mouth.
Then he was wrapping his strong arm around my shoulders and sitting me up. I smiled and opened my eyes, wanting to see warmth of excitement in the cold blue of his. My smile faded slowly, confusion taking over every thought. I tilted my head and looked down. Teeth marks on the rounds of my breasts, two dark coral patches with darker centres on my chemise, right over my nipples…my skin was still tingling, my vagina throbbing, a small wet patch on my chemise showing where I’d ground my pussy against Ken’s bulky thigh.
But I couldn’t see Ken. I was alone.
If it weren’t for the wet patches on my night dress I’d have sworn I’d dreamt it. Reading about a notorious ladies man who made love for a living was enough to get any girl’s imagination going, never mind getting to see how gorgeous he’d been in those grainy old pictures. I’d been wishing for a guy like Marco Raveno to come along and seduce me, and I wish I could chalk this up to my mind giving me what I wanted. But how to explain the wet patches? It must have been Ken, it couldn’t have been anyone else.
A hand over my mouth stopped me from calling out to him. I could feel it. Soft skin, long fingers, strong yet gentle grip. But I couldn’t see who it belonged to, because there was nobody there.
The feeling of something cool skimming the curve of my ear then the quietest sound, just loud enough for me to hear, made me shudder. “Shh.”
Fingers on my collarbone again, a nail scratching. My heart rattled against my ribs as I tried to tell myself I couldn’t feel fingers slipping beneath my shoulder straps, that I couldn’t see them lifting, slipping down my arms, taking the rest of the chemise with them until I was naked from the waist up.
I whimpered. The hands that were cupping my cheeks were hot and dry, the lips that were pressing against mine hot and wet. Something flashed, just at the edge of my vision. It had looked like a shoulder, firm, square and muscled. Then a shock of dark hair flopping over a pale forehead, the curve of a nose, and finally one hooded eye.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, letting myself be pushed back into the pillows.
I’d been right. Those lighter flecks in Marco Raveno’s eyes were golden.
All too soon, the fleeting glimpse he’d given me was over. There was nothing but sensation now. My belly flexed and shifted beneath my ghostly lover’s lips. I loved hearing him breathing, and the quiet sounds he made were achingly hot. He kept going lower, and I knew that, soon his mouth would find my clitoris.
But after licking slow strokes up and down my outer labia, he moved to my thighs, biting his way down my legs until he reached my feet. Nothing could have stopped me giggling when I watched my own leg rise into the air with no effort on my part. Nothing could have stopped me stiffening and cringing when wet lips wrapped around my big toe. I wanted to scream, to tell my imaginary lover to get the fuck off my feet, but then he started to suck.
Slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed until he was giving my toe as much attention as I gave Ken’s cock whenever I sucked it. I closed my eyes, feeling each pull of suction make my pussy throb. I was getting wetter by the second.
Once he’d sucked each toe on each foot, I was squirming. My legs were stinging from all of his scratching, and I could feel my butt squishing in my self-made wet spots.
“Oh please,” I gasped. He was kissing his way back up my legs.
“What do you want me to do, lovely Iris?” Marco whispered back.
The sound of his voice made me cry out, but his hand covered my mouth again before the sound made it past my lips. I could see two gold flecked eyes staring at me from an invisible face.
“Quietly, my love.”
His voice! He sounded local, but I detected a hint of an almost conquered accent. The timbre had that sexy depth to it that was like a finger stroking my most sensitive spots from the inside, and every word was purposefully slow yet unintentionally seductive.
“Tell me what you want me to do next, Iris.” He spoke as if he knew didn’t need to seduce me, that the battle was already won, but every word had pulled me further in until I was helpless to resist.
“You know,” I whispered.
Marco chuckled quietly, biting my thigh when I lifted my groin toward his face.
“You’re right, I do know. But I want to hear you say it. I want to hear those filthy words come from your beautiful mouth. Tell me.”
I was hopeless at this. Ken had asked me to talk dirty to him dozens of times over the years, but the most I’d ever managed to blurt out was fuck me, baby. So I was shocked by my own lack of inhibition when I said, “I want you to go down on me. I want you to suck my clit and fuck my pussy with your tongue.”
And that’s exactly what he did. He pulled me closer, higher, letting me see his face for the first few seconds, holding my gaze as he opened his mouth and licked me like I was an ice cream. He was so fucking good! No matter how wildly I writhed around the bed, his tongue never left my clit. Pressing one hand into my belly and the other into the small of my back, he rolled with me, lifted with me, pursued me relentlessly with his expert mouth.
The first orgasm came from nowhere, making me pull him closer by his hair with one hand while simultaneously shoving him away with the other. My heels dug into his shoulders, my spine arched so severely I thought it might snap, and I flipped over, keening into Ken’s pillow. It was strange, smelling my husband while another man dragged orgasm after orgasm out of me with his mouth, but I felt no guilt. Marco wasn’t really here, after all.
I was on my back again, watching my chemise float down my legs and flutter to the bed. My knees were being pushed apart, the mattress visibly dipping beneath an invisible weight. Wild thoughts about having an invisible cock inside of me fucked with my mind, but I embraced the thought. I wanted it, needed it, and if he was willing to give it to me I’d take every inch.
But it wasn’t a cock that penetrated me. It was a pair of fingers. I saw them circling my clit before moving down a couple of inches and literally disappearing. Would he find my g-spot? Ken didn’t think I had one, but I knew I did. My first boyfriend had found it with his cock the very first time we had sex, and the only prayer I’d ever sent up to heaven was that Ken would find it one day. He’d touched it a few times, but he hadn’t ever had the patience to stroke it long enough to make me come.
Marco had gone in fingers pointing down. The sensation of having him massage the wall between my pussy and my butt was delicious, and when he turned his hand around? “It’s right there,” he murmured. “How has he been unable to find that?”
He wasn’t talking to me, but he was talking and that’s all that mattered. His silence was unnerving, it made me feel like I was crazy. He probably knew that, too, and was just talking out loud to reassure me.
After just a minute or two of getting to know the spot, something seemed to snap in Marco. His fingers didn’t thrust much, but they rubbed that spot at lightning speed. Loud sloshing filled the silence of the room, and without warning he pulled his fingers out, giving all of his attention to my clit. The release of built up pressure in a wave of heat followed, and I saw something that made me think I really was nuts after all.
Clear fluid was spraying from me, but it looked like it was splattering against a window. I could see it stop, watched it run down nothing. Marco appeared for a second, and I realised he’d been the window. I’d squirted all over his perfectly defined abs.
My yelp made Marco laugh again. His kissable lips were back on my pussy, and his fingers were still grinding away at my g-spot. I thrashed around the bed, holding on to his hair, pulling my labia out of the way so there was no obstruction between that master of a tongue and my throbbing, swollen clit. The fingers on his free hand were biting into my breast, and I was coming again, spraying his face into the bargain.
I was so caught up in what was happening between my legs I failed to notice that Ken stood frozen in the doorway. I only realised he was there because he’d moaned as I cried out that I was coming.
Marco slowed his fingers, and I knew he was waiting to see what happened next.
Ken was watching me intently, the old fire burning hot in his eyes. A quick glance down told me he was turned on, and when he said “Iris,” I knew I had him.
All it took from me was a nod. He peeled off his clothes and scrambled onto the bed. Luckily his eyes were fixed on mine, because he wouldn’t have been smiling so broadly if he knew it was Marco who had pushed him on to his back. I doubt he’d be happy to know that it was Marco who lifted me onto his body, or that it was Marco who held his cock so I could sink my pussy onto it.
I loved riding Ken this way. I loved leaning forward, feeling my full weight behind my breasts as he cupped them, using them to hold me up. His cock had a curve just before the tip, so this was the best chance I had of having him stroke my sweetest spot. It hadn’t ever worked…until now.
Marco gripped my hips and lifted, pushing me down at the top. Ken’s cock slid right over my g-spot, making me yowl. I fucked that man like he was going out of fashion, listening to his grunts and growls, to the sound of my pussy juice being forced from my body. Every now and then, Marco slapped my ass, making me holler a garbled mash-up of both men’s names.
I slowed down. Ken’s lips were just as wet and pouty as Marco’s, so kissing him was a delight. He knew just how to suck my nipples too, and he did because my chemise was gone.
Something happened then that I probably should have stopped. Marco parted my ass cheeks, and without giving me a second to think about it, pushed his thick cock into my ass. I couldn’t say whether I moaned or screamed, but whatever it was they must have liked it, because they both started to fuck me at the same time.
“Oh my God,” Ken gasped. “Your pussy feels so tight, baby! So fucking tight.”
“Your cunt isn’t half as tight as your ass, baby,” Marco whispered into my ear. “I’m going to fuck it good and proper.”
He wound a hand in my hair, arching me right back, and pounded my ass. Shrieks and screeches exploded from my mouth. Ken lost it then. He fucked just as hard as Marco, almost like he could feel his rhythm and wanted to keep up. He kept reaching out to me, squeezing my breasts until I sobbed, caressing my face one second and slapping it the next. God only knew what state I’d be in tomorrow, but I didn’t care. I was coming, my muscles gripping both cocks just in case they dared try to withdraw.
On and on it went, Ken calling me his whore, his slut, his dirty little bitch, while Marco called me his love, his precious, his beautiful little flower. He was holding me up now. I could hardly move, could hardly tell them when I was coming, never mind that I’d had enough. But they knew.
“We’re going to fill you up,” Marco murmured. “We’re going to fill your ass and your cunt with cum, and when we’re finished you’re going to make him do something new.”
Both of them cried out, stilling together, pumping my throbbing holes full of cum. Ken tried to draw me in, but Marco had other ideas. He pulled me away, shoving me down on the bed. His knees were either side of my head, and though I couldn’t see it, I knew his anus was hovering right above my nose.
“Lick her out,” he said.
I froze, watching Ken, waiting for him to lose his shit. But to my utter shock, he got to his knees, crawled to the bottom of the bed and descended, mouth wide open, on my sticky, cum filled pussy.
Marco brushed the tip of his cock over my lips. I opened for him, taking his still hard length into my mouth. He fucked my throat slowly, rolling my nipples in his fingers as my husband greedily sucked his and another man’s cum from my body. I didn’t even complain when he started tonguing my ass, I just lay there and enjoyed the ride.
As soon as Marco started to come, my body stiffened, exploding into an orgasm of its own. He laughed breathlessly saying, “You won’t stop until I do, lovely Iris, and I don’t actually have to stop if I don’t want to.”
He wasn’t kidding. His cock poured so much cum down my throat my belly started to churn, and for each throb I felt on my tongue, my pussy pulsed one out in reply. Ken must have been thinking he was Jesus by this point. He was moaning and groaning, fucking the bunched up quilt until I could tell by the sounds he was making that he was coming too.
The next thing I knew I was on my side, sandwiched between both men. Ken’s cock was still twitching on my leg, and he was silently sucking my left nipple. He was falling asleep, God love him. Marco’s cock was still ramrod straight, and pushing back into my ass.
I probably should have stopped him from stroking Ken’s cock to life again, but I didn’t. I just let him fuck me while he wanked my husband. “I wonder what he’d do if you slipped your dick into his ass while he fucked me,” I giggled.
“That will happen before the clock strikes twelve, but not until he asks me for it,” Marco whispered back. “He will ask for my cock in his ass and in his mouth and he will love it. As soon as he utters my name I’ll let you both see all of me, too. I hope you’re not too tired, Iris. It’s not even ten yet, so we still have a long way to go before I’m sated.”
I was fucking exhausted, but I wouldn’t sleep. I understood that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I wasn’t going to miss a second of it. Ken was awake now, and something told me he was going to stay that way from now on. My opinion of Halloween had definitely altered. Next year I would embrace it. Next year even Joey Walker would find the Day house open and ready to celebrate.
Click here to read the next installment of my Halloween Town Tales.