Cat's Halloween Adventure #1byCat_photobuff©
All of the characters in this story are at least 21 years of age or older. Enjoy . . .
* * * * *
"Here it is!"
I finally found my old Halloween costume, in a box in the attic marked 'Donations'. I'm not sure why it was in there, possibly to keep it hidden from visiting guests, especially the underage kind. It's a Catwoman outfit (go figure), one I had worn many years ago to an office costume party. At the time, I think I was pissed off at my husband for some stupid reason, and I wanted to get him back by wearing something wicked. This definitely qualified.
It's a one piece black body suit, with a plunging V in both the front and back. By plunging, I mean to the top of my ass crack in the back and to below my belly button in the front. The bottom half ends in a thong. Needless to say, underwear was out of the question, nor did I need pantyhose or stockings. My legs were still darkly tanned from the Florida sun, even in October, and were well-muscled from daily runs. Even my butt cheeks were well tanned. Since I always sunbathe topless or nude, there were no visible tan lines, anywhere, so even my extensive cleavage looked great.
To complete the outfit, I had knee-high black leather boots, black gloves, a mask that covered about half my face, and cat ears, of course. Management had rented a conference room at the local Marriott, and when I walked in the door, all the men seemed to stop in mid-sentence, collectively uttering a low "whoa". That alone satisfied my sick need for revenge. The women were shooting poisoned daggers of death from their eyes. It turned out to be a pretty wild night, and will make for a great story to tell.
In the meantime . . .
My husband and I were invited to a Halloween party at a neighbor's house. I've gotten pretty friendly with the local people, especially among the teens, taking them on hiking excursions in the mountains, attending high school football games and other school events. Our home has become an unofficial hangout, and the parents seem to be grateful to have their kids out of their hair for awhile. I even help out with the car-pooling and transportation to and from school functions, even though my husband and I have no children of our own.
This particular party we were to attend would be for the adults only and, as evil as I like to be sometimes, Catwoman would not be appropriate. The reason being the local folk are, for the most part, bible thumping Christians, and I suspected Catwoman would not be welcome. Wolfie was at the University of Tennessee Veterinary Medicine School in Knoxville all week, and he said he found something in a costume shop in town, and would bring it home this weekend. He's somewhat conservative, so I'm picturing Raggedy Ann and Andy.
I was close: Hansel and Gretel. When Wolfie tried his costume on, he reminded me of Chevy Chase in the movie European Vacation, when he did that Octoberfest scene. My husband looked like a 10 year old German boy from the 1700's with a bad case of gigantism. It was pretty comical, and I was not too concerned about other women hitting on him. Actually, I don't worry about that anyway, because he's so dense most of the time, he doesn't even know when women are hitting on him.
I suspect that, in general, men do not comprehend women's clothing sizes. Besides small, medium and large, we have numbers ranging from zero to 20, and even higher. Probably the only thing men do understand is bust size. If I tell a man I'm a 36D, he knows exactly what I'm talking about. If I tell him I wear a size 2, I might as well have spoken Martian, because he has no clue as to what that translates into. My husband is one of those men. I am 5'4" and 116 lbs, with a slim, athletic build. I can wear a size 0-2 dress and pants, or otherwise small bottoms and medium tops.
All my husband knows is I am small, so he buys small sizes for me, in everything. My costume was a small, which was fine, except for the top. It was a plain white peasant top, off the shoulder, intended to show a little cleavage. A bit risqué for a character from a kids' story, but it was from an adult costume store. The top was too small for my 36D's, and my titties were straining to burst forth from the lace up front. Boob flesh was flowing over the top, and there was massive cleavage showing. Because the front was held together with crisscrossing laces, I wouldn't be able to wear a bra. The skirt was short, as in mid thigh short, in a red and black plaid, all poofed out with built in layers of white lacy cotton. This outfit would not permit too much bending over at the waist; or the crossing of legs; or even sitting down for that matter.
At the last minute Wolfie had to go into the Park to help his ranger friend locate some lost hikers, but promised he'd return before we had to leave. I put my long blond hair in two pigtails hanging down on either side of my head, stuffed my braless boobs into the top of my costume, wrapped the little Catholic girl skirt around my waist, and finished with the cute white shoes and frilly socks. Instead of Gretel, I looked more like a child molester's favorite wet dream. Or better yet, a school girl fetish prostitute hired to tend bar at the local men's hunting lodge. Hans Christian Anderson must have rolled over in his grave.
As I suspected would happen, Wolfie called and said he was running late, and suggested I go to the party alone and he'd catch up later. Yeah right! The story of our lives. Well, I intended to have some fun; Wolfie was on his own. Now I was sorry I didn't go as Catwoman, but it was too late to change.
I had to stop and get gas at the local market. As I removed the gas cap, I lost my grip and it fell to the ground, rolling under the car. Just freakin great, I thought. I got down on my hands and knees, being careful not to mess up my costume. The stupid thing was barely out of my reach. All of a sudden, I heard a voice behind me.
"Uh, hi Miss Cat, can I help there?"
It was my neighbor's son, the one I run with on weekends. He and his girlfriend were staring at me, probably wondering why I'm on the ground, my white panty covered ass up in the air.
"Oh hi Jeremy, hi Chrissy. I dropped the gas cap and now I can't reach it. Could you get it for me?"
"Uh, sure thing."
Jeremy dropped to the ground and reached under my Jeep, snatching the cap with ease. When I stood up Chrissy was staring at my chest, and using hand signals, pointed to my blouse. A couple of the laces had come undone, and one of my nipples had popped out. I quickly pulled on the material, but my boobs were too big for the top, and I was unable to completely conceal the areola. Jeremy stood up with the gas cap and while handing it to me, he stared with that look of a pending seizure, until Chrissy punched him in the arm.
"OWW!! What'd you do that for?"
Chrissy stared at him, but didn't respond.
So I said, "Thanks Jeremy. I guess you guys are wondering why I'm dressed like this four days before Halloween huh? Well I'm on my way to a party; Mr. Wolff is supposed to meet me there later."
"Oh hey, that's great. My mom said I could have a party, but not at our house. She said to get one of my friends to have it at their house, and she'd supply the food. She said I would have to find some adult chaperones too. Chrissy might be able to talk her parents into it, but she's not sure."
"Why don't you have it at my house? Mr. Wolff and I would love to host it, and we can be your chaperones. Ask your parents if it's okay with them. Halloween night would be perfect for us."
"That's great! I'll let you know tomorrow. Uh, a couple of the guys on the Cross Country team want to know if they can run with us on weekends. They said they could use the practice and heard you were a good trainer."
"Of course they can! I'd be happy to help them with their running. Okay see you tomorrow. Thanks again for your help."
Jeremy and Chrissy left, and I was on my way again. Before I drove off, I managed to re-do the laces on my blouse so that my entire nipple was covered again. The amount of cleavage still showing was rather obscene, but there was nothing else I could do.
I had never been to this particular house before, and I was following the directions Wolfie had left for me. When I turned into the driveway, the house must have been another quarter of a mile off the road, and I was beginning to think I had the wrong address. But then I saw several cars parked in front of the house and I could hear music and voices coming from inside. The house was pretty spooky looking, which made it the perfect place for a Halloween party. It looked like the haunted mansion at Disneyworld, complete with a family graveyard right on the property. Standing at the front door, I was about to knock, when I noticed the brass door knockers shaped like lions heads. Immediately I thought of Gene Wilder in the movie, Young Frankenstein, when he's standing at the front of Dr. Frankenstein's house looking at a similar door and exclaims, "Nice knockers", to which his female co-star Terry Garr responds, "Thank you." What a hoot!
After knocking, a man in a butler costume opened the door and requested I follow him. I thought to myself, wow, they went all out for authenticity. He led me into a large room and instructed me to sit, which I did. There was no one else in the room and very little furniture, except for an odd looking contraption that reminded me of a huge wagon wheel with no spokes. It was attached to a stand at two pivot points on either side, and was apparently meant to rotate from vertical to horizontal positions. There were two foot pads on the lower half, resembling the stirrups on a horse saddle, spread fairly far apart and a sort of handlebar attached at the top. I didn't see what purpose it served.
The butler left, and I was alone in the room. On a small table in front of me was a dish filled with what looked like chocolate truffles. Being a chocoholic, I couldn't resist. I took one and bit into it, tasting a delicious almond liquor filling. I stopped after the third one, and sat back in the chair. Within a few minutes, I started to feel sleepy, and unable to control myself, allowed my eyes to close, falling into unconsciousness.
When I awoke, I was disoriented. I tried to rub my eyes, but discovered I couldn't move my arms; or my legs for that matter. Not being prone to panic attacks, I calmly assessed my situation. The chocolates must have contained a strong sedative. My hands were firmly lashed over my head to the handlebar attached to the big wheel. My feet were secured in the stirrups, causing my legs to be spread as far apart as possible. In fact, any further, and I'd split like a turkey wishbone. Now what kind of trouble have I gotten myself into? Wolfie would definitely not let me live this one down.
The next thing I noticed was about a dozen people in the room, mostly men, although there were a few women. They were all dressed in formal wear, the men in tuxedos, the women in long black dresses. It finally dawned on me I was probably not at the right party; I must have gotten the directions wrong. A simple explanation to the host or hostess would clear things up and I'd be on my way.
Just then a man walked up to me and said, "Well, well, another little girl wants some candy for Halloween. Would you like something sweet young lady?"
"Not right now. By the way I'm actually 40-something years old. Listen, could you get the owner of the house for me? There's a bit of a misunderstanding, I'm at the wrong party."
Ignoring me, the man said, "Or perhaps you have something sweet for me? Let's see what you've got here."
He then proceeded to flip the wheel 180 degrees, so I was now upside down. With my skirt now hanging down over my waist, my bare? crotch and butt were fully exposed. I was pretty sure I had left home wearing underwear, so I was wondering how I lost my panties. The man then began to lick my cleanly shaven pussy, darting his tongue in and around the folds, sucking them into his mouth. Thank god I had douched before getting dressed this evening.
"Umm, that feels pretty good, but I really do need to speak to the host. I'm supposed to be at the McCoy residence. I'm . . . mmmmmm . . . going to a . . . ohhh yeaahh . . . costume party. Could you . . . oohh fuuuck meeee! . . . get the home owner for me?"
Still ignoring me, the man looked up for a moment, his mouth covered in Cat cream, and signaled to a woman standing close by.
"Heather dear, could you come over here for a moment? This little girl talks too much, would you help keep her quiet for a bit? It's rather distracting while I'm eating. Thanks so much."
My admirer then tilted the wheel slightly, raising my head a few feet from the floor, so that I was looking at the ceiling. He then returned to his meal, munching on my cunt with even more vigor than before. Heather walked over and stood by my head, lifted the bottom of her dress up and over her waist, revealing a very pretty pussy with just a thin landing strip of pubic hair. She must have lost her panties too! What a weird coincidence. Heather stepped over my head and lowered her crotch to my face, her vagina resting gently on my mouth. She then began to rock slowly back and forth across my lips, her own pussy moist with her secretions.
I couldn't talk now anyway so I figured, what the hell, and stuck my tongue up into Heather's hole, swirling all around her clit. She responded by rocking faster across my face, so I left my tongue sticking out, flattened against her sex. Why should I do all the work? She's doing just fine fucking herself on my mouth and tongue. Besides, I was concentrating on Mr. Cunnilingus, who's skill was about to reap its reward. I felt my orgasm building, and when I came, I gushed Cat juice into Mr. C's mouth. I probably would have heard him slurping it up, if not for Heather's rather firm thighs keeping my ears warm.
As I licked and sucked and moaned into her cunt, Heather climaxed just moments after me, and now it was my turn to slurp. She was one juicy lady, and at first I thought she was peeing in my mouth; but no, it was all Heather lubricant. She must have douched before the party too, because she tasted like wildflower honey. I concluded Heather and I must shop at the same women's boutique.
Heather stepped back over my head and, lowering her face to mine, kissed me full on the lips, her tongue snaking around inside my mouth. When she finally pried herself from me, she looked deep into my eyes and smiled. Mr. C. finished his meal, cleaning Miss Kitty until she was spotless. I would have thanked him but I was on the verge of another orgasm, and when he left, I began to whimper.
Regaining my senses, I again pleaded with the other partygoers to bring the host to me at once. A nice young man about 21 years of age came over and smiled.
"Well hello there, you sweet young thing. Did you say you wanted more candy? How about a nice lollipop to suck on? Here's one I think you'll like, now open wide."
Lollipop guy proceeded to unzip his pants and out popped a large erect penis. He didn't have any underwear on either! Was there a new city ordinance I hadn't heard about? No more underwear allowed after dark or something? Good thing I was in compliance after all. The wheel was flipped over again, only this time I was looking at the floor in a horizontal position.
"No, no, you don't understand. I'm not a little girl and I'm not supposed to be here. Please put your thingy away and call the man of the house for me. I'm really not . . . mmmpphhff . . . uurrrghhh . . . MMMPPFFHHH!!!"
Standing at my head, Mr. L. straddled my outstretched arms and shoved his rather prodigious pecker into my mouth and was pumping away. He had a larger than average member and I had to take a quick breath each time the head came out of my throat. That didn't leave any room for chit chat, so I began sucking hard, hoping to get him to ejaculate quickly. Then maybe I could get him to listen to my story. Unfortunately Mr. L. had pretty good stamina. He grabbed my pigtails and was using them to hold my head in position, like he was holding the reins of a horse, keeping my nose buried in his pubic hair. He was happily whistling a familiar tune, the theme from Gunsmoke or Bonanza, or one of those old TV westerns. Half his cock went down my throat on each in thrust, but I wasn't going to let him hear me choke! No sir, I could take it; better men than him have tried and failed.
Things were going smoothly until I felt someone fondling my ass. I couldn't turn around to see, my face firmly impaled on Mr. L's prick, but I felt something poking at the entrance to my womanhood. Another unknown guest had decided I needed a lollipop inside my vagina and, wasting no time, inserted it to the hilt. This guy felt way bigger than Mr. L, and I was stretched to the max. I couldn't yell out of course, not with a fat blowpop in my mouth.
"Why didn't you tell me we had a new girl here? She's adorable, and such a cute schoolgirl uniform she's wearing. She's as tight as a virgin, but of course she must be, eh? I'm so glad I was the first one in, although I'm afraid I've spoiled her for the rest of you. She'll be quite stretched out by the time I'm done fucking her. Ah well, you'll have to be content with her little brown hole I guess. That'll be the only tight thing left after we're finished here."
"URRGGHH!!! . . . MMMPPPFFFHH!!!"
Had I been able to speak, I would have said, "Hey!!! Wait a minute!!! What's all this talk about brown holes?" But my mouth was still stuffed with lollicock. And now my twat was filled with man candy too. I was getting hammered at both ends and, much to my chagrin, I had another orgasm. Mr. L must have known something was up, because all of a sudden he dumped a load of sperm down my throat, his cock jumping and twitching. I swallowed every drop, because my mother taught me never to waste anything. He extracted his prick from my mouth, after finally letting go of my pigtails.
My other assailant was still buried balls deep in Miss Kitty, but not for long. He too dumped a load of jizz, only this time my pussy was filled to overflowing. When he was finished, he took his slimy dick out and sawed it back and forth along my ass before withdrawing completely. Mr. Big Dick came around to the front and took Mr. L's place.
"Damn I love these young, nubile girls. It's best to train them early, give them a good boffing at a young age, so they'll be primed and ready when its time to find a husband. Open up the little pudenda, make it more accessible for the rest of mankind. There's no such thing as too young, I say! You've been a good girl, how about cleaning me up now? There's a good girl; don't forget the balls."
Still unable to speak, with a creamy coated scrotum being held right under my nose, I again had no choice but to comply. Mr. BD held my head up using my pigtails, allowing me to tongue bathe his ball sack all nice and squeaky clean. While I was licking and polishing the now softening cock, another set of hands was exploring my butt cheeks. Sheesh!!! How was I supposed to get hold of the master of the house if everyone keeps molesting me?
"Hello Travis! This little lady's cunny is probably wide enough to drive a truck through right now, why don't you take a trip down the Hershey highway? I lubed it up a bit when I was back there before, why don't you dig some of my cream out of her puss and use that to make her good and slick. That's it, use four fingers, they'll fit that little cavern."
Following Mr. BD's instructions, Travis shoved four fingers into Miss Kitty and dug around like he was looking for clams, scooping out what must have been a handful of cum. He massaged it into my ass, and then holding my butt hole open with his thumb and index finger, shoved a good quantity of the stuff directly into my rectum. Travis then replaced his fingers with his cock, first placing the head against my puckered entrance, and then in one swift motion pushed the entire shaft up into my colon. It hurt and felt good at the same time. No pain, no gain my dad always said.