Halloween 2015

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Mar 14, 2023 // By:analsex // No Comment

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Halloween 2015. I’m guessing it’ll go down in my memory banks as the best one ever. It’ll certainly be hard to top, that’s for sure. It’s a pretty good story if you’ve got a few minutes. I’ll try and keep it short and sweet so you can get on with your day.


A friend of mine asked me if I wanted to go out Halloween night. There’s a live music club that has a costume contest every year. He always goes and has a good time, but I hate dressing up in costumes so I hadn’t gone with him the last few years.

“You gotta go man, it’s really hot these days,” he pleaded. “The girls are unbelievable.”

“Sure, prey on the fact that I haven’t got any in a while,” I said. “All right, I guess I’ll go. I’m not dressing fancy though. I’ll look through my dad’s old clothes and see what I can come up with.”

I went over to my mom’s place a few days later. She had boxes and old trunks full of clothes that used to belong to my dad.

“Why do you keep all this stuff Mom?” I asked, shaking my head at the jumbled mess of boxes in her cellar.

“For this Pitchy,” she said. “I knew you’d need it.”

My name’s Pete, but my mom and my sister call me Pitchy. I guess when I was just learning to talk I was obsessed with baseball, and pitch was the only word I said for like six months.

“How about this honey,” my mom said, holding up an old grey blazer.

“I was hoping for something with a little more zing,” I said. I kept rummaging.

“This is zingy,” she said, pulling out a green and white pinstriped suit jacket, styled sort of like a tuxedo. “It was your Great Grandpa Willard’s. Your father insisted on keeping it for some reason.”

“Because its Awesome! That’s perfect mom! Is the rest of it there?”

She lifted a shirt, pants and a bowler hat out of the box and I just about flipped.

“He performed in Vaudeville you know,” she said. “Some kind of a song and dance man I think. It looks like it might fit you. All the men in the family were built just like you.”

She winked when she said that last part, but the last thing I wanted to do was ask her what she meant.

“This is perfect,” I said, holding the various pieces up against me. “Do you mind if I have it dry-cleaned?”

“Of course not honey, it’s yours to do what you want with,” she said. “Be careful though, that kind of clothing was a . . . how do you say it . . . a chick magnet in its day.”


Dry-cleaned and pressed, the suit looked ridiculous on me. The good kind of ridiculous. It fit me like a glove and was unbelievably cool. I found the perfect bow tie at a vintage clothing store, and bought a shiny pair of shoes that looked the part. Halloween night I felt stylish and not the least bit costumed, even though I was.

“Were the fuck did you get that?” my friend Marcus asked when he saw me walk into the bar.

“Great Grandpa Willard man,” I said. “He must have been a cool son-of-a-bitch is all I can say. He was a song and dance man.”

I did a few steps, tapping the smooth soles of my shiny shoes, and there was rhythm there that I didn’t even know I had.

“Sweet!” a hot looking girl in a sexy librarian costume said as she walked by.

“Oh, you’re gettin’ lucky tonight dude,” Marcus said. “Why didn’t you find me a magic suit?”

The music started at the far end of the room. The band members were all dressed in various costumes, and ninety-percent of the crowd was too. It really was quite a party.

“Dude,” Marcus said with a nudge. He was looking at two girls who just walked in off the street, a female Dracula and the Bride of Frankenstein.

We watched them walk by and Dracula Girl showed me her pointy teeth and made a hissing noise. The bride just giggled. Dracula Girl had a wig of jet-black hair that was clumpy and twisted into snake-like tentacles. White makeup on her face transitioned into a darker airbrushed painting on her neck and ample cleavage that made her look like she had been skinned and all that was left was muscle and bone. It was freaky looking. The rest of her was covered up with a cape that she held closed from the inside, her arms not visible at all. It was about the length of a short dress, showing off fishnet stockings over more freaky looking makeup and body paint, and high, black, stiletto healed shoes. Even without being able to see her torso she was super hot.

Frankenstein’s bride had the usual tall black and white beehive hairdo and white makeup, but below that was a ripped and torn ‘dress’ made out of a few scraps of black cloth and a couple inches of thread. You could call it ‘minimal,’ but ‘barely there’ was more like it. The two of them were quickly swallowed up in the crowd.

“Didn’t I tell you the girls were unbelievable?” Marcus said.

Marcus is a single guy. One of those ‘players’ who can get a girl interested with one little smile. I’ve always been his wing man, but not because I’m ugly or anything. I’m better looking than he is, but I’m shy. It’s been my curse since puberty. Personality gets you fucked, not the glory izle looks. If I can get a girl to talk to me for like a month, so I can get used to the situation, we might get somewhere. But a quick pick-up in a bar? Forget about it. It never happens to me.

We stood near the door sipping on our beers, watching more girls arrive. Tons of sexy nurses, sexy librarians, and sexy police officers. It was easy to see who put effort into their costumes and who didn’t. A peasant girl with dirty skin came in all alone. She had the most amazing body, barely covered by a thin burlap dress that she must have made. Her friends ran over and collected her before Marcus had a chance to move in.

An auto mechanic with skin-tight coveralls open to her bellybutton, a backwards cap on her head, and fake grease on her hands and face made quite an impression on me.

“She’s into you man,” Marcus said after she passed. “That crazy fuckin’ suit’s gonna get you laid.”

“Pitchy!” my sister Beth’s distinct voice called out from the throbbing crowd. She emerged from the masses and walked closer. “What are you doing here? I thought you hated these kinda things.”

“Whaddaya think?” I said, spinning around with my arms out to show off my suit. “Great Grandpa Willard.”

“That’s so awesome!” she said, fingering the fabric. “Was it in mom’s basement?”

“Yup,” I said. “And I can dance in it. It’s the weirdest thing.”

“You gotta enter the contest,” she said. “It’s weird for me to say you look hot, but trust me, all the girls’ll vote for you.”

“I told him he’s gettin’ lucky tonight,” Marcus said. “You should see the looks he’s gettin’ from some of them. So Beth, you wanna take my temperature?”

He bent over and stuck out his ass. He was dressed as Sherlock Holmes and Beth was one of the dozens of sexy nurses. She one-upped most of them though—she was more of an operating room nurse, with thin scrubs that were way to tight, and apparently nothing on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere near that Marcus,” she said to him as she looked at his ass.

“Bummer,” he said with a smile. “Maybe I can take yours later?”

Marcus had been flirting with Beth unrelentingly for ten years or more, with no success.

Beth went of in search of friends, her barely clad ass wiggling as she walked away.

“Damn!” Marcus said. “You better brace yourself buddy. I’m gonna have that one of these days.”

“To much information my friend,” I said, trying unsuccessfully to look away from my sister’s ass.

Marcus and I made our way to the dance floor, and the band was rockin’ hard. It was a throbbing mass of strangely dressed humanity, and before long we were both dancing with any girls that were open to us. My mom was right, the funky old suit really did seem to be a chick magnet, and it brought huge smiles to the girl’s faces.

I caught sight of the auto mechanic girl and danced my way towards her. She had a loose, liquid dancing style that was beguiling to say the least. Her tight coveralls were zipped up just barely enough to keep her tits inside, but a lot of her moves opened things up and there was a steady stream of quick glimpses of her bare, handful-sized natural beauties. It was more than enough to get me hard, and Grandpa Willard’s pants, which were very thin wool and a bit tight on me, didn’t do much to conceal the hard-on hanging down my leg.

She traded hats with me as we danced and Marcus showed up with four tequila shots in little plastic cups. Her friend didn’t want one so Marcus gave me two. It was the beginning of one of the most intoxicated nights of my life.

Marcus was unsatisfied with the way things were going with the mechanic’s friend, so he danced himself away from us, disappearing into the happy crowd. Right about the time the tequila’s extra courage hit me, a big, muscle bound guy in a soccer uniform showed up. It was pretty obvious he and mechanic girl had something goin’ on, so I switched hats with her when he wasn’t looking and danced away. I blew her a kiss as I left, which I’ve never done before. It felt right, like something Willard probably would have done.

My sister was in the middle of everything, as she usually was, and I bumped right into her.

“Easy Pitchy!” she said loudly over the music. “You drunk already? This is my friend Sandy. We work together.” The band was loud, and I could barely hear her. I turned to see who she was gesturing at and it was Dracula Girl. “Her friend Trish painted her,” Beth yelled.

I was guessing Trish was Frankenstein’s bride, who was dancing with them.

“Get her drunk enough and she might show you the rest,” Beth yelled with a smile.

I wasn’t quite sure what she meant—was she talking about what was under Dracula’s cape? Or maybe the tiny bit of flesh that wasn’t already visible under the small scraps of cloth on her friend Trish’s body? One thing was becoming clear though—the way things were going it looked like I was gonna have a hard-on the whole night.

Dracula the heartthrob tv changed he didnt izle Girl was even more intriguing on the dance floor, because her arms still weren’t visible. They seemed to be holding the cape shut from the inside, concealing a surprise of some sort—probably ‘the rest’ that Beth was talking about. She’d undoubtedly unveil it for the contest, if she was into that. Why else would she be hiding it? Whatever the reason, it made her a slightly odd sight on the dance floor, but who needs arms when you’ve got fishnet clad legs like hers perched atop spiky heals?

Marcus found us with five tequila shots somehow clutched in his hand. We all downed them, Sandy with a small hand emerging from her cleavage area. Marcus tried a grinding dirty dance with my sister Beth, but she shook her head with a big smile and rotated him towards Trish. The look on his face was priceless as he danced his body up against her mostly flesh costume.

“Have fun Pitchy,” Beth said with a wink as she moved off through the crowd to talk to someone else.

As Marcus and I danced with Trish and Sandy it became pretty obvious Trish was completely naked under her little homemade costume. The scraps of fabric had gaps between them, like a patchwork quilt with flesh making up half the pattern, and when it moved on her shimmying body there wasn’t a stitch of underwear to be seen through the gaps. She was commando under there, and considering the tentative nature of the tiny threads holding it all together, she was a very brave girl indeed. I was beginning to better understand Marcus’s appreciation of Halloween parties.

Sandy and I developed a nice connection, our eyes often locked together as we danced. Her smiles were almost as intoxicating as the tequila. Trish and Marcus were getting on nicely too, and we danced together for forty-five minutes or more, Marcus keeping us lubricated with three or four bar runs for shots. I lost count after a while.

“You gonna let me see your costume?” I said loudly in Sandy’s ear.

She looked over her shoulder, gauging the depth of the crowd, and gestured with her head for me to follow her. As we were making our way out of the dancing frenzy, I realized those were the first words I had spoken to her, and she hadn’t said a single word to me. Maybe she was shy too.

She went to a back corner of the club, where some tables and chairs were stacked up to make room on the the dance floor. She positioned herself so her back was to everybody else, and opened her cape.

When it was open, with her hands holding up the corners, it was the shape of wings. That was cool, but I only thought about it for a split second because she was completely naked underneath. Well, not completely—she had a black garter belt holding up her black fishnets. The rest of her was an incredible airbrushed painting of muscles, bones and veins, like she had been completely skinned. It was amazing. Her body was amazing too, and my cock sprang to life.

“God it feels good to stretch out my arms!” she said, her head thrown back and her eyes closed. “I don’t know why I didn’t put a closure on this thing.”

“Stay just like that as long as you want,” I smirked. “I’ll let you know if somebody comes.”

She looked at me and smirked. “If somebody comes?” she said. “Interesting choice of words.”

She looked down at the obvious bulge in my pants, and her smirk turned to something more wicked.

“Wanna fuck?” she said, looking up at me with bedroom eyes.

“Your place or mine?” I said with a smile.

She shook her head. “Here,” she said as she dropped her arms.

She walked behind the stack of chairs in the dark corner and I followed her. The cape slipped off her shoulders and she draped it over a chair.

“You’re crazy!” I said as I gazed at her standing there in all her naked glory with hundreds of people just thirty feet away

She smiled and twirled around, showing me the beautiful body painting that covered every inch of her.

“You brave enough to get naked?” she said. She could tell from the look of terror on my face that I wasn’t, and she giggled. “We gotta at least take this thing out.” She rubbed her hand over the thin wool on my crotch and moaned as she kissed me. “Try not to touch the paint in the front. I wanna enter the contest.”

“You’re gonna show everybody that?” I said. “You really are crazy.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was gonna,” she giggled, “but the tequila changed my mind.”

She squatted in front of me and unfastened the old buttons on Grandpa Willard’s pants. I had a strange sense of deja vu when I thought about him in all those old Vaudeville theaters he worked in. Did he ever get a blowjob in a dark corner I wondered? I bet he did.

Sandy reached in, pulled my hard cock out of the tight opening, and I was suddenly in her warm mouth.

“Oh fuck Sandy!” I said, looking down at her painted naked body.

I looked up and watched the dancing the last hour izle throng through gaps in the stacks of chairs.

“This is so hot!” Sandy said when she saw me watching everybody.

She went back to her sucking, her hands stroking the length she couldn’t fit in her mouth.

“God I’m so wet. Fuck me,” she said as she rose up and bent over, clutching at one of the chair stacks to steady herself. “Watch the paint,” she reminded me.

I pressed into her wetness with a loud groan, and I could hear her loud, sighing exhale over the band’s thunderous roar. My first few thrusts felt incredible.

“Oh fuck!” she said breathlessly. “Yeah, that’s fuckin’ it! Keep that!”

I was thrusting long and steady, and I held the rhythm just like Sandy wanted it. All I had to do to keep from cumming was to look out at the dance floor. The thought of getting caught was enough to keep my mind unfocused and I was able to fuck like a porn star, minute after glorious minute.

“Oh my God!” Sandy said.

She was looking back at me with a look of astonished wonder on her face, like something truly marvelous was happening inside her. I kept up the exact same rhythm, relentlessly driving her higher. I suddenly realized my hands were on her hips, but I needed some control of her body and I didn’t think that part of her painting mattered that much.

I quickly broke into a sweat. Those old wool suits were not built for comfort, and the hat I was wearing was probably wool too. My hands were sweaty and Sandy’s body paint liquefied under my touch. I’m sure she was perspiring too, just from the excitement and the intensity of the situation, and it was softening everything up.

When she got close to cumming her hands climbed up the ladder-like stack of chairs, bringing her sexy arched back within easier reach, and as her body broke into a spastic, trembling orgasm, instincts overruled common sense and my hands slid up her sides and around her orgasming body to her tits. Spectacular slippery handfuls filled my squeezing palms, and she grunted a deep guttural groan as my thrusts went into overdrive and I came hard inside her. I shouldn’t have, but there was no stopping it.

The band had stopped but the place was still loud with chatter so I don’t think anyone heard us. Sandy looked back at me again with another look of astonished wonder, and my hard cock throbbed deep inside her.

“Come on up on stage if you want to be in the contest everybody,” an announcer’s voice said.

“Fuck!” Sandy said as my cock slipped out of her. “Hurry up! You better be up there with me!”

She grabbed her cape, swung it around her and was gone, back into the happy crowd.

I tucked my still fat cock into my tight pants as best I could, wiped the sweat off my face and followed her towards the steps on the side of the stage. All the blood flow from the sex had amplified the effect of the tequila and I was feeling no pain, that’s for sure.

The announcer guy lined up the girls on one side of the stage and the guys on the other. I was still flying from the incredible sex, and swaying from the alcohol. He had the contestants step forward one at a time and used the audience’s applause to gauge the finalists.

I could only smile and shake my head at Sandy’s bravery when she stepped forward and opened her cape. She looked straight ahead at the ceiling off in the distance to muster her courage, and the crowd went nuts, as I knew they would.

“Whoa!” the announcer said. “There’s a new idea! Sa-sa-sa-sexxxyyy!”

She was an easy finalist and it was pretty obvious she was gonna win the whole thing. I wish I could have seen her in all her glory, but I was behind her.

The announcer worked his way down the line and finally got to me.

“Well this is an interesting one,” he said. “I saw this guy earlier, Awesome suit man. I don’t remember the paint though. Wait a minute!”

He took my hand and I stumbled after him, my tequila addled brain somehow allowing me to stay upright. He walked me over to Sandy, and she looked more and more horrified as we approached.

“I think you got some ‘splainin’ to do sweetheart,” he said over the microphone to her. “Open up one more time. We need to check somethin’ out.”

“Oh what the hell,” I heard her say under her breath, and she opened up her cape.

It was my first look at the front of her since we’d fucked. The body paint was all smeared on her sides, and the were big, gooey hand prints on her tits where most of the paint was worn away. Her cleanly shaved pussy was mostly bare too, and my cum had oozed out of it and was dripping down the inside of her thigh.

“Fuckin A!” Sandy said quietly as she looked down at herself, her inebriated brain working in slow motion.

My own drunk brain slowly put two and two together and I looked at my hands, which were covered with paint. I looked down at my suit and there was a big area on the front of my pants with all the paint that used to be on Sandy’s ass. The sides of my suit jacket’s sleeves were all paint as well, and I learned later that when I’d wiped the sweat from my face I smeared paint all over it. I looked quite the sight.

As all this was registering in my mind the crowd was going wild, cheering and laughing at the announcer’s comments, none of which I heard. My mind was a blur. What I did hear was a familiar voice.

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