"Do you believe in ghosts?" It was not the sort of question my wife normally asked. I'm the romantic type. She's a numbers person, a bean counter.
"I don't know. Why do you ask?"
"Well, we're hiking up to a ghost town, aren't we?"
"It's not that sort of ghost town"
"It was a thriving village once." A voice broke in behind us. One of the guys walking along with us had overheard our conversation. "All this area was full of iron mines, and smelters. The trees were all cut down to provide fuel. It an industrial waste land."
"Until they found better resources further west," I added, "better iron ore, and coal. And, of course, there was Harriman."
"Harriman?" The guy didn't know that part. "Like the park?"
"Exactly. You never heard the story?"
"God!" My wife groaned. "If hear this one more time, I am going to scream."
"All right then," I sighed. "Some other time."
"Well," she seemed pacified, "it's nice that the trees grew back." We were walking under huge oaks, surprisingly, still with their leaves so late in October. Although they had faded to a dark red, almost brown, they were glowing vividly in the setting sun.
"Have you noticed something?" I whispered to her.
"We're like, the only couple."
"That's not true. I see a few other couples."
"Yeah, a couple of girls, a couple of guys. We're like, the only boy and girl couple."
"Yeah, well, Amy and her guy used to do this all the time. They just go up the cemetery and drink cocoa and hot apple cider, and read spooky stories. Then, maybe, on the way back, they go skinny dipping. You'll like that part, right? Other than that, it's a family thing. People bring their children."
"I don't see any children," I whispered. "I don't even see anyone who's interested in making babies."
"Stop that!" she hissed. "Someone will overhear us! You don't want to embarrass them. I'm always very nice to gay people, even when I don't know for sure if they're gay."
I was trying to decipher that one when someone shouted "Wait!" That stopped us all. "We're far enough down the trail now! It's time to reveal our costumes!"
There was a general stir, as everyone stripped off a coat, or sweat suit, and rearranged what was underneath. Everyone else, that is. We had our costumes in a bag, all we needed to do was to slip them on over our clothes. The typical Pizza Pie and Cheeseburger that had gotten us through many a Halloween party -- simple little tunics that would just go over a coat of need be, a mask, and a wig. It would only take a couple of seconds to don them. But we were too stunned by what was going on around us. All of a sudden, this did not look like a family outing.
"Oh. My. God." My wife was looking around, dazed. "Let's get out of here!" But she made no move to actually retreat.
"Just act like you belong," I whispered, "just act casual." That was easy to say, harder to do. My dick was practically ripping out of my pants at the flashes of bare flesh all around me.
"That's quite an outfit," I said, trying to fit in, as a man came prancing past us. He was wearing ballet slippers, pink silk stockings that came up just above his knees, a pink ballet sweater, and a tutu that was sticking straight out, revealing quite clearly that there was nothing underneath it. He was sticking out just a straight as the tutu. My wife was staring at the swollen head of his prick with horrid fascination. Well, maybe I was, too.
"Yes," the guy giggled, "I'm the Throat Fairy."
"Isn't that the Tooth Fairy?" my wife had to ask.
"Only if you like it that way," he tittered. A few of his friends came up along side us.
"Let me guess," I said, looking at one with a purplish dress and a crown, "you're a queen."
"Oh, you are so right!"
"And you," my wife peered curiously at someone who wearing a vest made out of little sticks, "you're a tree?"
"No, silly, a faggot!"
"And you? " I looked at a large woman wearing nothing, it seemed, except a lot of brown paint or mud, with a couple of patches of moss near, but not exactly covering, her nipples and groin. There was what seemed like a deliberate gap, to highlight the cleft of her vagina.
"I'm a dyke, of course" she growled.
"And you?" My wife looked at her companion, in a little blue sailor suit.
"I'm the Little Dutch Boy," she said brightly. Well, the shirt was open enough to show that certainly wasn't quite true. One little breast had already escaped completely, and the other was on its way. "I get to stick my finger in the dyke!" And she did just that, very casually, sliding most of her hand in where the moss was parted. "See? This is our full costume, but it's not easy hiking this way. Actually, I prefer my tongue."
"Later," the Dyke growled. "You already licked off the moss once, and we don't have any more."
"Oh, my God!" My wife was staring at a figure that had to be on stilts. It was wearing huge leather pants, and a red velvet jacket that was padded out and tucked over its head. "It's a giant pimp! With no head!"
"I'm the Headless Whores-Man!"
"And I'm the Whore!" A girl was walking along beside him, wearing nothing but a sheer nightgown that barely covered her waist. A plastic jack-o-lantern, face turned inward, was all that obscured her groin. "What are you two going to be?"
I was getting nervous. Somehow, Pizza Pie and Cheeseburger just were not going to cut it. Then it dawned on me -- what is the easiest outfit of all -- the Emperor's New Clothes -- and we could make it work, so easily. "We're going to be Adam and Eve."
"What?" my wife gasped.
"Adam and Eve," I repeated. "It's a pretty simple costume." I pulled off my shirt, and put it in the bag that held Pizza Pie and Cheeseburger. I pulled down my pants and underwear to my ankles, but they wouldn't go over my shoes. I had to bend down to untie them, and that provoked an appreciative whistle from the Throat Fairy.
"Just what, the fuck, do you think you are doing?" my wife whispered
"We're going to be Adam and Eve," I said. I was afraid to look up at her.
"No," she replied. "We're going to be Adam and leave." I managed to grab an ankle as she stormed off, and it actually tripped her. I crawled over next to her, still with the pants around my ankles.
"Come on, baby, be a sport."
"A sport, a sport!" She sat up to help me get my shoes off. "Look, dear heart, I know you like to run around naked at the drop of a hat, but if you think for one minute ..."
"Everyone else is naked."
"Not completely naked."
"There are some vines over there. You can wrap them around yourself."
"It's probably poison ivy." She sat there for a few minutes, with a dangerous look in her eyes. She had already opened her flannel shirt a bit, and that gave me a glimmer of hope.
"Come on dear, wouldn't you be more comfortable without all those clothes on?"
"Yeah, I'm dying in this shirt." She took it off and put it in the bag. I heard another whistle, a higher pitched one.
"You want me to take off my shorts? In front of everyone?"
"No one will mind," I said.
"You're an idiot." But, the idea seemed to intrigue her. "I'm keeping on my underwear," she said, as she pulled the shorts down over her shoes.
"You have really beautiful breasts." The Little Dutch Girl was staring at her with obvious admiration.
I pulled down her bra to expose them a little more. Somehow, I must have tugged too hard, because they came spilling out. There was an audible gasp of appreciation at that, and my wife blushed a little. She thought about it for a moment, she nearly tugged the bra back up to hide them again, but in the end she took it off.
"That is absolutely it," she said. "I can't believe I did that much."
"Topless is perfectly legal in this state," the Dyke said. "I go around without a shirt on all the time. It's our constitutional right to bare our boobs."
"Here," the Whore said, "if it will make you feel better." She pulled down the straps of her little nightgown so that her nipples were exposed. "You know though, those panties are really glumphy."
Now, if I had said that, all I would have to show for it would be slap. But it was different, coming from another woman. My wife was almost apologetic. "Well, I wasn't expecting anyone to be looking at them. Oh, stop that!" I was starting to roll down the elastic waist band. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Just giving you a temporary thong." I folded in the fabric in on either side to give her the flimsiest of g-strings.
"Where, the hell, did you learn to do that? No, I'm not going to ask. Are you satisfied now?"
"Not quite. Turn around." I rolled the back of her panties up so that all the fabric was hidden between her cheeks. "That's good now."
"Oh," she grumbled, "that's no good. It's just going to chafe." And she took the panties off, and put them in the bag. "Okay," she said, "are you satisfied? How about this?" She sat there for moment with her knees spread wide, fully exposed, so that everyone who cared to could get a nice look. "Satisfied now?"
"You have a really pretty pussy," the Little Dutch Girl said, "all of you is really pretty. You make a beautiful Eve."
For a moment, my wife just locked eyes with the other girl. She seemed to forget everything. She even rubbed her groin absentmindedly, and I was sure that I was seeing it start to glisten. Then, abruptly, she scrambled to her feet. "Was that enough? Was that fucking enough?"
"I'm sorry," I said.
"No you're not. You're not a bit sorry."
"Are you mad at me?"
"Why would I be mad at you? Just because you stripped me naked in public? Just because you love to show me off like a little trophy -- here she is, look at what I get to fuck, aren't you jealous? Why would I let a little thing like that bother me? What makes you think I have any interest in parading around naked in front of a lot of strangers?"
I thought of how she had kept her legs spread for the Little Dutch Girl, but didn't dare to mention it. "We don't have to do this," I tried to be as gentle as possible.
"Oh yes we do. Every one of your strange fucking fantasies, we have to do it. If we don't, I'll never hear the end of it. Besides, they've already seen my cunt now. What's the difference?"
"No one complained."
"Yeah," she sighed, "I guess that's true."
"It's not all the different. We've done nude beaches before. Even that one nude hike."
"Because you wanted to. It's always what you want to do. You keep forcing me into these situations. No matter how many times I tell you I have absolutely no interest, we always seem to wind up, oh just by accident, of course."
"I'm sorry," I repeated, without too much conviction. "Look, it was your idea to come on this hike. We brought along our costumes, we were planning to wear them."
"Oh, no, oh no. You had this in the back of your evil little mind right from the get go. You had this planned all along. You didn't hesitate. Damn you, you didn't even bother to ask me what I thought about it -- just -- we're Adam and fucking Eve. God, I hate you!"
"I'm sorry," I repeated, and it was almost beginning to be true.
"No you aren't. You want to show me off naked in public, you probably want to fuck me in public, in front of people, so they can see how great you are, no, it's worse, you want to watch someone else fuck me. That's what you want. Isn't it? Isn't it?"
"It's not sexual," I said, "nudism isn't sexual, it's just, I don't know, natural. It's people being natural together."
"Oh yeah? Oh yeah? And just what the fuck is that, Mr. Natural?" She slapped my erection, hard enough to make it bob. "You are such a fucking embarrassment. Remember that time we got hooted off that beach, because you couldn't keep it down?"
"I'm okay," I said, "when I'm not with you."
"Bullshit. Are you going to walk around all night, sticking out like that? You're disgusting."
"You didn't seem to mind the Throat Fairy."
"At least he had on a tutu."
"Maybe you could help?"
"In your dreams, in your fucking, no, your non-fucking dreams. Come on, let's go." The rest of the group had melted away once we started arguing, and they were starting to resume the journey into the woods.
"Of course not. I'm not going back to the lodge like this." And she walked off down the trail. Now, even though I run, I'm a very slow walker, much slower than she is under the best of circumstances. And she was really moving. I could barely keep up with her.
"You just have to understand, this time," she grumbled, "this fucking time you are going to have to face the fucking consequences."
"What do you mean?"
"You want to dangle me in front of all these people? What makes you think I'm going to behave myself?"
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is, if they get frisky, I'm not going to stop them. And you're not, either."
"What? I'm going to let them fuck you? I'm just going to watch them fuck you?"
"Isn't that what you want? Isn't that really what you fucking want?"
"Look, I don't want to force you into something."
"Oh no, you lure me out in the woods under false pretences, you pull my clothes off of me in front of everyone else, but you would never, never force me."
"I'm sorry," I said again.
"Don't bother to be sorry. It's getting old. Now we're going to play by my rules, understand?"
"My rules. You are going to agree to play my rules, or it is just over."
"What are your rules?"
"You have to agree first. Then I'll tell you."
"Okay, anything within reason."
"No." She stopped, she thrust a hand under my balls, digging in her nails. "Anything. Or you're singing counter-tenor from now on."
"All right. Rule number one. I can do anything I want to, with anyone I want to, and you are not going to ignore me, you are not going to just shrug it off, you are going to observe as closely as you can. But you are not going to stop me. Understand?"
"What if you're in trouble?"
"I will yell help, and a dozen guys will rescue me. Don't worry about it. Rule number two. Any of those fairies want to fuck your ass, you're going to let them. Same if they want blow jobs.
"You are fucking crazy," I tried to pull her to a stop. "Come on, let's put on our clothes and go back home."
"No," she said. "If you back out now, it is over. One more thing. Rule number three."
"You don't get to stick that eager little cock of yours into anything. Not a mouth, not a cunt, not an asshole, not even your own hand. Your balls," she grabbed them hard, "your asshole," she jabbed a finger at my anus, "they're okay, but not your cock."
"Those are the rules. Tonight's rules. I am sick and tired of being bullied into playing out your fantasies. It's about time I ..."
"Nothing. Come on."
Fortunately, it was already fairly dark. The moon was up, but it was half full at best. The leaves that covered the trail were shimmering silver, and the trees were giant, gray goblins. We were walking in the midst of the crowd by now, but no one seemed to be paying particular attention to our costume, or lack of it. That is, until the Throat Fairy casually ran his hand along my buttocks.
"Did that bother you?" he asked.
"Oh, he likes it up the ass," my wife replied. "Don't you, dear? Why don't you bend over and take it like a man?"
"Oh no," the fairy simpered. I could feel the tutu scraping over my cheeks, then something soft and cold touching my anus. But it backed away. "Mustn't jump the gun! Not until we get to the cemetery!"
"What?" I straightened up again. Actually I was disappointed. I had been wondering what it would feel like to have a real dick up my ass.
"We do it to honor the dead. Maybe, to give them a bit of amusement. Sometimes, the ghosts join right in."
"What bullshit," my wife grumbled.
"Well, in any case, here we are."
"What the fuck?" My wife was wide-eyed with astonishment. The cemetery had been, well, decorated for the occasion. The gravestones were swathed with foam, the tree limbs were festooned with crepe paper streamers, and perched on them were mechanical ghosts and jack-o-lanterns and black cats and spiders that all bobbed up and down on invisible strings and moaned and hissed and screeched at random intervals. "Isn't this, like, desecration?"
"Oh, we'll clean it up," the Dyke assured her. "We do this every year. There's never been a problem." There was a fire, right in the middle of graves, and everyone squatted down around it. I pulled our shirts out of the bag so that we didn't have to sit bare assed on the bare ground. There had been a hint of chill in the air, but it was warm enough now, almost too warm, sitting naked next to the flames. My wife had her knees pulled up, her legs wide open, so close that it seemed the fire was licking her with pale, golden tongues. Everyone, it seemed, was staring at her in fascination, and she felt it, she was basking in it. It was completely silent now, except for the little noises of the mechanical toys. No one was talking. Everything was focused, it seemed, on the flickering shadows between my wife's thighs.
"Well," I asked, trying to lighten the mood, "isn't it time for the scary stories?"
"Scary stories?" The Dyke gave me a blank look.
"That's what our friends said. You came up and sat around and drank hot chocolate and apple cider and told scary stories."
"We have the drinks," the Whore said. "Here, have some of the hot chocolate. Watch out, it may taste a little funny. It's the Alice B. Toklas recipe. You know, like the brownies? But scary stories? We gave up on that a few years ago. Now we just do scary things."
"That sounds like more fun," my wife said. It was surprising, almost, that she could still talk. It seemed that she had gone into a trance, staring at the flames. "I would love to be where that pumpkin is."
"Be my guest." The Whore untied the string that secured the jack-o-lantern, and pulled off the nightie for good measure, so that she was completely naked. She walked over to where my wife was sitting. My wife grabbed her by the buttocks and pulled her closer, then started to plunge a tongue into her with frantic eagerness.
"Whoa!" The Whore backed off a little, "take it easy. We have plenty of time. You ever lick a pussy before?" It was too dark to see my wife blush, but I could sense her discomfort. "Think about what you like," the Whore said, "and do that to me. That's right, put your tongue just at the base of my clit, no, don't flick it like that, you actually like that? I think it tickles. Oh yeah, fuck me with your tongue like that, that's good, oh lips on the clit, that's a nice touch, does your boyfriend do that for you? You're a lucky girl. Stick a finger up my asshole. Yeah, that's it, wiggle it a little."
I was tempted to offer to give her a comparison, when I felt a hand on my dick. I had been so intent on watching my wife that I had not noticed the Throat Fairy sneaking up on me.
"Sorry," I said, "it's against the rules."
"My lady's rules for the evening. Nothing touches my dick tonight."
"Well," the Throat Fairy said, "we have our rules also. You have to put this on." He had been attempting to slide bright orange condom over my erection. "See," he pointed to his own, already clad in black and purple stripes. "Special for Halloween!"
"Damn!" I could not hide my disappointment.
"What's the matter?"
"I really wanted to know what it was like to feel a dick come inside me," I blurted out.
"Well, we all would, wouldn't we? But it's just too risky. You'll just have to settle for .. wait. You've never had a dick up your ass?"
"Not a real one."
"A virgin! A virgin! Everyone, he's a virgin! At least, a technical virgin. What about your girlfriend?"