Halloween Hot Trick

It seems like a lifetime since summer, thought Max, stroking his dark stubble, and stowing his golf clubs in the cupboard under the stairs, bemoaning the fact that now the clocks had gone back it was already dark by late afternoon. Still, at least he had managed to fit in two midweek games after work. Now though, the weather had turned unseasonably cold and there had even been a flurry of snow; actually, the weather was so weird it had featured on the front pages of the newspapers that morning.

His dark tan had faded along with the warmth of summer although his memories were sharp and clear. Max often fantasised about the impromptu encounter with young Lucia, whom he had met at the last house on his postal round, regretful that there had been no repeat performance. Max had thought it sensible to swap his shift soon after their open-air session. Not wishing to risk losing his job or chance upon any uncomfortable situations, certain, that her boyfriend, Ben, had been as good as his word regarding his plans for the girl.

Max regularly masturbated while picturing the events of that day, imagining luscious Lucia buggered by the boy, the old gardener watching or fucking her too. Max was pissed off that he had not been able to conjure a way of joining in the fun without the prospect of his fiancée Clare finding out.

The housekeeper girl had been remarkable, and the boy, Ben, a revelation too. Lucia had the tightest pussy he had ever fucked and her boyfriend had provided Max with the best blowjob and arse fuck that he would be likely to have.

Seemingly oblivious to Max's preoccupation, Clare was busily planning their wedding, their marriage having been set for the end of the year. They had some fantastic sessions when she stayed over, although, shamefully, he knew that his voracious appetite had been fired by remembrance of the wild arse fuck Ben had provided. Lately, Max had tried using a vibrator on himself, but it just wasn't the same. He sighed and went to the kitchen to make tea. The doorbell shrilled before the kettle boiled.

'Trick or treat?' demanded the witch standing in the darkness halfway along the front path.

Damn! He had forgotten Halloween and hadn't bought sweets.

'You look a bit too grown up for trick or treating,' he suggested, realising there was a buxom figure moving towards the light of the porch.

'Trick or treat?' the woman repeated her breath visible in the cold night air.

'Both then,' replied Max. Horrified and thrilled at the same time, and recognising Clare's voice and ample curves, hastily ushered the visitor inside.

***

Fucking hell! She looked stunning, in thigh-high, black patent boots with lethal looking silver heels. Wearing a short, black flared skirt, full net petticoats peeping from underneath, creating volume, causing the skirt to flare out prettily, a much shorter version of her waitress's uniform skirt, exposing stockings, displaying cute, frilly garters and suspenders. A very tight, low cut, black top had been revealed when she removed the long black, shiny coat, now draped over her arm. A pointy hat topped her tumbling, shiny, light brown hair, eyes painted and heavily accented with kohl, her lips shiny and cherry-red; she carried a small black rucksack. A heavy, sexy, oriental fragrance that he didn't recognise assailed his nostrils, filtering up to his brain, setting his nerves on fire.

'Come through,' said Max when he found his voice again. Leading her into the lounge and inviting her to sit, indicated the sofa, he was more than happy to go along with any little game she had in mind. She had certainly managed to surprise him so far; he couldn't help but wonder where this had come from.

Silently, she handed over her coat; she had not spoken since her opening gambit.

'I'll get straight to the point,' she said at last, 'I'd like to be spanked and fucked, and I think you're the man to do it, I've brought everything you'll need with me. It's all in the bag. Open it.'

Doing as she asked, leaning down, he opened the bag, taking out a bottle of red wine and a pair of dark green goblets.

'Open that first and pour us a drink,' she demanded.

Max struggled to hide his astonishment as he filled the glasses.

'Here's to a trick and a treat or two,' she toasted, swallowing a mouthful of wine. Max followed suit.

Placing his glass on the coffee table, he continued emptying the bag until he had laid everything out on the armchair beside the sofa. As he revealed each item, Clare described it, whilst sipping her wine. Telling him the reason she had bought it, clearly having spent a lot of money, taking care to select choice products designed for beginner games. He had not realised that she knew about his tendency to domination though naturally, she was aware of his penchant for girls far younger than him. After all, she fitted the bill herself.

Clare drained her glass, put it alongside his, and parting her legs, exposed the white, fleshy expanse of thigh between her stocking tops and thong. It was an alluring vision, causing Max's cock to harden in his trousers. Reaching up, she removed her hat, dropping it to the floor.

'I'd love to be spanked and fucked, I'd love to be licked and sucked,' she chanted. Weaving a spell, opening her legs wider.

Falling to his knees between her thighs, moving the scrap of lace covering her lush, fleshy pussy to one side, her sweet flesh perfectly shaven, just the way he liked it. He had drummed his preference into her almost from their first meeting, and before they had even started having sex. He much preferred a shaven pussy, although he had made exceptions in the past, he preferred his girlfriend to obey his wishes.

Dipping down, licking, nibbling, and nuzzling the delectable offering, delighted that she had already begun to squirm and sigh.

'Put me over your knees,' she begged, 'I'd like to be spanked and fucked, I'd love to be licked, I'd like to suck... And I want you to spank me,' her voice singsong, warming to her role-play, he knew that she was eager for him, he had tasted it, could see it, and hear it.

Moving to sit on the couch beside her, deciding that he rather liked this new, sassy version of Clare, Max pulled her across his lap, his trousers still zipped closed, his cock straining painfully against encasement. Ignoring the discomfort, he settled her down, lifting the fluid, satin fabric of her short skirt, and the stiffer, scratchy cloth of the starched petticoats, exposing her large, round bottom.

She looked perfect; her voluptuous cheeks split by the string of the thong snuggled deep in the crack of her arse, the ache in his balls intensified.

'That charming little scrap of fabric can remain in place for now,' he whispered, gently massaging the silky soft, curvaceous skin of her backside with his right hand, keeping her balanced across his knees with his left.

Experimentally, Max administered a mild, playful smack, not too hard; he was unsure if she would like it, in spite of everything she had said.

Clare squealed, the shrill sound piercing the air, followed swiftly by a long, low animal-like moan. Grinning, he smacked a little harder, causing the flesh of her ample arse to wobble and ripple while she yelped, squirmed, and sighed in his lap.

'How hard do you truly want this?' he felt obliged to ask, although he would have been willing to deliver a complete thrashing without her permission, he was so aroused by the weight and sight of her warm, plump, prone body arched across his lap.

Max checked his mounting lust, remembering her tender years and untried flesh, but the vision of her hair tumbling down towards the floor on one side of his feet, the toes of her shiny boots pressed into the floor on the other, were enough to drive any man crazy.

'Hard. Very hard. As hard as you want,' she replied, almost breathless.

'I might have to fuck you after this,' said Max.