Costume Caper

"It's not even Halloween. It's March. That's basically the opposite of Halloween."

"Well it's an anti-Halloween party then. It's the best time! Costumes are so cheap! Come on. Don't you love me?"

Mike watched his girlfriend bat her eyelashes and pout. He had already effectively given up the moment she asked, but stubbornness won out.

"Claire, you know I love you. More than anyone. But I don't even have a costume. Where will I find one in" - Mike checked his watch with elaborate verve - "six hours?"

"You know, I just so happened to be out shopping today."

Mike rolled his eyes theatrically. "Shocking. What did you get?"

"It's a superhero! Generic superhero. With a mask. No one will even know you're there! Except me. And Clara, of course." On cue, Mike's sister waved sarcastically from the sofa, barely looking up from her book.

Mike grumbled. He sighed. He shrugged. "Fine. Fine!"

Claire stepped in to give him a soft kiss. "I love you too. Thank you."

Mike softened. He knew Claire had him wrapped around her finger. "What are you wearing?"

"We're going as cat-women."

"Like, furries? And what do you mean we?"

"Bodysuits and masks and tails. Normal masks. Nothing too extreme. But very sexy." Mike gulped as she whispered this last into his ear.

"Sounds good. Um. Is it, uh, revealing?"

"What, don't think I have anything to show off?" Her indignant look left Mike scrambling for words.

"No! No. You have so many things. Uhm." He stared at her ample chest as she raised an eyebrow. Some time later, he noticed. "It's just..." Mike looked over her shoulder to Clara sitting on the sofa, still reading.

His sister looked up from her book. Expression flat, she raised a hand and curled it. "Meow."

Claire followed his gaze and giggled. "No! Well, yes, it's very revealing. But why was your first thought how your sister would look in it, you pervert?"

Mike was lost for words until he saw the laughter dancing in her eyes. "I definitely had two-" He leaned over to stare at her ass "or three thoughts before that."

"You better have." Claire leaned in for a gentle kiss with a touch of heat. "Come on. I want to model it for you."

She dragged Mike by the hand into her bedroom off the main area. He slumped onto the bed as she shimmied out of her trousers. Picking up a bag she walked into the bathroom, blowing him a kiss as she did.

Mike lay back on the bed. He wasn't sure why he disliked parties so much. All he knew was that Claire seemed to need the occasional wild night to unwind. He knew he shouldn't complain - after all, that was how he had met her. He couldn't quite remember how Clara had convinced him to come to their apartment-warming. Perhaps she had given him a long, unblinking stare until he had given in. He knew he should thank her, too - the last two years with Claire had been incredible, and he knew Clara had helped push them together. He did still worry about his sister hearing their sometimes loud nights together though.

His thoughts were interrupted by a long, shiny, black-clad leg slinking from the bathroom door. The rest of Claire followed. The suit was the barest nod to feline form - skin tight black material revealed every curve of her taut, fit frame. The neckline, plunging to her navel, barely holding in her breasts, had a furred ruff at the collar. A tail waved from behind, and a mask covered her face from her nose up, ending in a pair of pointed cat ears. The black mask blended into her dark hair and warm, dark eyes. The overall effect was a powerful predator slinking towards her prey. Mike was very much into it.

He rose to his feet to meet her. Claire pushed into him, face angled up to meet him. They didn't need words - their mouths met, hungry, devouring one another. Mike's hands moved from her side to her legs to her ass, gliding and stuttering over the gloss of her costume. One hand found her ass and squeezed, pushing her further into him. Claire angled herself to grind against his crotch, feeling his hardening cock press back against her, her hands on his chest, gripping him, pulling him against her and using the leverage to grind against him harder.

They moaned in to one another. Mike thrust against her, propelled by need. Claire broke the kiss, and spun away, giving him a the perfect view of her narrow waist and flared hips, the light streaming through the window reflecting and hugging her curves as he had a moment ago.

"So, you like it then?" Claire asked.

"It helps that the person in it is the hottest woman in the world."

"Flattery will get you everywhere. It has one killer feature you know."

"What is it?"

She put a hand in the centre of his chest and pushed him back onto the bed. Mike raised his head just enough to see her hand working the central zipper, sliding it down impossibly far. Her dark landing strip came into view, stark against her pale skin, and somehow she kept going. The zipper ended just under the tail at the back. Mike licked his lips, for now consuming her with his eyes. Claire slunk onto the bed. The tension gone from the sides of the costume, her breasts spilled out, swaying with every prowl, dusky pink nipples standing proud. She drew level with his face, and didn't slow. Mike almost caught a nipple in his mouth, but her chest drew up and away from him as her hips drew forward. In a moment, he was staring into the centre of her; her glistening wet slit inches from his mouth. He pushed his tongue out, aching for her.

Claire pulled away, practically leaping to the side.

"So you like it then?" she said, staring at the huge bulge in his trousers.

"Of course I do! Aren't we going to -"

"Oh we don't have time for that, I have to get ready!"

"It's six hours away!"

"Are you questioning my routine?" her husky voice teased him gently.

Mike sighed. He couldn't argue with the results, whatever magic she worked over the next hours would take her from beautiful to outright stunning. "I'll leave you to it."

"Mike?"

"Yes my love?"

"No jerking off when I go to get ready. It's a big old house we're going to tonight. I'll need my superhero to protect me while we explore."

Mike could feel himself twitch at her words. He was sure he was leaking a pre-cum puddle into his underwear. "Of course. I'll just. Uhm." Thoughts of doing anything other than taking his girlfriend then and there had left him - she still hadn't zipped up, and a single nipple peeked coyly from her catsuit.

"Go talk to Clara! She could use the company."

"Sure, sounds good."

Mike waddled out to the main room, leaving Claire to get ready. He adjusted himself while still behind Clara - they were both adults, but he didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

He sat on the couch next to her. "Have fun?" She said, wryly, glancing at his poorly-hidden erection.

Mike stared back at her, unable to think of a response. Eventually, he decided on the trivial. "The costume is pretty cool, yeah."

"It would be nicer if you would do this for Claire without having to be bribed by sex you know."

"She didn't have to bribe me! You know I'll do anything she asks. I just have to put up a little fight. She has to think I have some backbone, at least."

"How's that gaslighting going?"

Mike stared at her, matching her blank stare with his own. Eventually a dry smile crept across both their faces. "Fuck you Clara."

"Fuck me? Did she leave you that wound up? You really are sick."

Mike found himself endlessly irritated by how much better at teasing Clara was. Mostly because she seemed capable of dealing with anything. He was five years older, just enough that they hadn't really been close until her late teens. Their father's death when Mike was ten had driven a wedge between them. Their mother's death when Claire was nineteen had brought them closer again. In the decade or so since then she had found the most perfectly economical way to fluster him. Even seeing one another much more regularly since he'd met Claire hadn't left him better armed; if anything, he felt more self-conscious that she heard him and her best friend going at it most nights. He needed to bring out the big guns.

"Says the one wearing that cat outfit. Are you going to leave it unzipped all the way tonight? Maybe finally find a man that can put up with you?"

As the words left his lips he wished he could call them back. He didn't know why Clara was single - she was pretty, he could see it objectively. In fact, more than one person had told him that Claire and Clara looked like sisters, or twins. He couldn't see it, but if Claire was beautiful, as he knew she was, Clara must be too - though he couldn't see past her being his sister.

Clara's mouth narrowed to a near invisible line, and her usually cold, dark eyes lit up with fury. She slammed her fist into his thigh.

"Ow, ow, I'm sorry, ow, I didn't mean it," Mike protested.

"You're sorry all right, a sorry sack of shit!"

"I know, that was too far." Mike knew he had hit too close to home.

Clara's last boyfriend, Larry, had been a nice guy. They had been together for six years. When they broke up, Mike happened to run into him one day getting a coffee. He couldn't help but ask, why had Larry left her? Larry could barely explain it himself.

"There's a hole in her, somewhere," Larry had said. "There's something she wants, or needs, and I could feel I couldn't give it to her. Have you ever felt like that? Like you weren't enough for someone. I'm not just talking high standards here - I mean that every day I felt like she could see more and more of me and it didn't line up with what she wanted."

That was five years ago. The thought had played in Mike's mind since. At some point, Clara decided whatever she saw in the men around her wasn't enough - she treated them badly, and they left.

Mike reached out his arms, beckoning for a hug.

Clara socked him in the gut.

"Apology accepted."

Mike felt like his breathing returned to normal a few minutes later. Feeling brave, he decided to ask the question. Again. "So, are you seeing anyone?"

The flat gaze pinned him to his seat again. "No. But..."

"That 'but' is a lot more than I've heard in the last few years."

"A friend of mine is seeing this guy-"

"You dog."

"It's not like that. She is with this guy, and she wants me to. Uh. Be with him." Clara's face blazed red.

"You mean your friend wants you to have a threesome? This is a little too much, I think."

"Then why did you ask? Anyway it's not like that, it's, we both know him and it might be safe- UGH, this is why I hate talking to you. Why are you like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like you don't really want to know even after you ask! I just want a safe way to get out there without someone turning out to be a creep or a freak or a surprise one-night fling, okay?"

"Of course it's okay. I just want to make sure you're not going to get hurt. I do love my sister after all."

Clara sighed. "Sorry. I'm a little tense."

"Sounds like you should call this guy sooner rather than later huh?"

Her look pulled a sound from Mike that he could only describe as a "nervous giggle".

"Seriously", he said. "If you're safe, have fun. It's been a while. I just hope you can find someone you know, longer term."

Clara sat in silence for a moment, and slumped into him. His arms went around her instinctively, holding her close.

After a moment, she picked herself back up, cheeks red. "Anyway, I should get ready. The party is in just over five hours!"

"Of course. Hardly any time at all. I'll leave you to it."

Mike was left to himself. He spent the next four hours making light snacks for Clara and Claire (snatched from behind mostly-closed doors), reading, playing video games, and eventually, spending twenty minutes to get ready.

He sat on the couch in his garish blue-and-yellow outfit, goggles pulled up, trying to make sure his dick was only semi-visible through the fabric rather than on total display. He wasn't quite convinced when, at last, Claire and his sister finally emerged. For the first time, he understood what his friends had teased him about. He couldn't tell which was which. Both sported the same outfit, same dark hair, dark eyes, same body shapes, and with the heels they'd chosen, identical heights. The masks covered enough of their faces that he couldn't help but stare in amazement at the similarity of their lips and chins.

"Uhm, wow." He kept his gaze carefully between them. When one struck a sexy pose, his first feeling was a wave of relief and moved close to her. "You look amazing."

"I knew you were a pervert." Clara's high voice stopped Mike dead in his tracks. A wry grin spread across her face. He couldn't be mad.

"Ha. Yes. Very good."

Claire pushed herself close to Mike. "She does look good though. But keep those eyes on me, mister."

"You got it." Mike gave Claire a kiss, and the three of them set off for the party.

* * * * *

As they pulled up, Mike thought the house would be better described as a mansion. There had to be dozens of rooms.

"Whose house is this again?"

"Sarah's dad's place."

"Of course. Who is Sarah?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "She's a friend from school! We used to do this all the time, her dad would go out of town, we'd have a party, she'd get grounded. It's just like old times." She beamed at Mike even as he shook his head.

He could feel the beat of the music even from outside. Clearly they had a formidable sound system. The door was unlocked, and costumed bodies thronged inside. Claire took him by the hand, and he almost lost Clara, before grabbing her wrist and dragging her along. Quickly, they found a kitchen and poured drinks. Mike took two, quickly, to get over how self-conscious he felt in his costume. He didn't need to - everyone here was fully committed. He later found out that Sarah had turned away a few who dared turn up in normal human clothing.

Claire and Clara quickly fell into chatting (screaming) to their friends. Mike, too, screamed at others over the pounding music. Football, video games, crypto. He could feel his will to live slipping. Claire came to his rescue, dragging him to the dance floor, and soon they pressed against one another in the mass of people.

Claire's dancing quickly turned into grinding against him. There was an energy in the air, something about the masquerade that lowered inhibition more than just the flowing alcohol. The sense that anything was permissible; that taking off the mask would absolve all sins.

This is what Mike told himself as his hard cock poked obscenely into his costume, jutting hard into Claire's pussy as she tried to fuck him through what he hoped and prayed was no more than three layers of clothing. They had never done anything like this in public, but a glance around showed him they weren't alone. A man to his right had his hand in the harem pants of a genie, working feverishly. A woman to his left was on her knees in front of a man, fully clothed, her face pressed into his crotch. Everyone was technically decent; everyone was dashing into obscenity.

Claire turned towards him, kissing him long, hard, and deep. He reached up to cup a breast, and he felt rather than heard her moan into his mouth. She pulled back, and yelled something at him.

"What?"

"Hm m uhmm!"

"Meet you upstairs? Where are you going?"

"Pm! Tm mmmmm!"

Mike hoped he'd understood her right. He went to get another drink, before making his way upstairs a few minutes later. He tried a few doors. Most were locked. One was memorably unlocked, and he tried and failed not to stare at the sights within until someone threw a ridiculous feathered headdress at him. He closed the door and turned around to find his cat-like lover close to him. She pushed in for a searing kiss. She paused, then quickly withdrew, half-dragging him to a room that was effectively a storage cupboard. A rich person's storage cupboard - low light, but plenty of room and a half-covered window.

The door closed behind them, and Mike heard her lock it. Light streamed in through a narrow slit between the blinds and the window frame, revealing her in moonlit half-glimpses.

She pressed against him, hard, pushing him against the walls, tearing at his clothing. He tore back, unzipping her as far as he could. She took over, unzipping herself the rest of the way, as his hands sought the warm softness of her breasts. Her nipples hard against his palm, she moaned into his mouth, still tearing at the pants of his silly costume. He gave in, and pulled his pants to his ankles himself. She sank with them, instantly licking at the head of his cock, sucking him, lapping at the river of pre-cum. She sucked him deep, soaking his length, and stood for another searing kiss.

Mike kissed her back, hard, his hand sliding down over smooth, unbroken skin until he landed at her soft, wet slit. He slid his fingers along her, coating them in her, and slid one, then another inside. She felt tight, and he worked her until she was panting into his mouth. He pulled his hand free, and reached down to grab her legs, lifting her onto a low cabinet. She leaned back, hands above her head, perfect framed in a beam of moonlight.

Mike soaked in the sight of her, the warmth of her dark eyes, her smooth, shaved mound, her mouth half-open and panting in need. He leaned over to kiss her, angled his hard cock just so, and slid inside. The sound she made was somewhere between a moan and a yelp, then a purr as he seated himself fully within her. The teasing earlier had taken its toll; he was harder than he could remember. Or maybe it was the outfits.

She worked her hips back against him, soft wet moans breaking against his lips; he slid into her slowly, their hips crashing together over and over. He ground himself against her, bottoming out, before driving himself in, and out. Her moans increased in pitch, and intensity. She practically screamed into his ear when she came, and she clamped down on him like a hot vice. He was barely able to ease his way out. He pulled away slightly, eager to drink in the sight of her again.

He looked at his hard cock sliding back into her. He saw her shaved pussy. Unbidden the memory came to him, asking Claire to shave all the way, just to see. She refused; she had tried it before and it was too uncomfortable, the landing strip left just enough coverage. He looked at her again. Was that a new, tiny mole next to her breast?

He felt short of breath. This wasn't Claire.

The woman beneath him wrapped her legs tightly around him, pulling him back in, fucking her hips against his. His mind raced, slowly after a few drinks, but he wasn't drunk. There was only one person it could be. Only one person knew it was him in this costume, and only two were dressed in the cat outfit.

He was fucking Clara. He was fucking his sister.

She reached out to pull him in for a long, deep kiss. He found himself returning it. He needed to stall for time. Was it a mistake? Could she know? He needed to be totally sure. He pulled back, and brushed at the mole. It came away; a small fragment of the cheap black costume. It must be Claire then. Maybe she wanted to indulge him by shaving bare. He stared at her smooth mound.

He thrust back inside her. But wasn't she tighter than normal? He thrust again. It had to be Claire. Why would Clara try to fuck him? No. That was wrong. Why would Clara fuck him, was the question. Why would his sister be moaning on his cock, clearly about to cum again. It couldn't be her.

Could it?

The thought sent him into a dizzying spiral. His lover came, hard, on his cock. He kept thrusting. He leaned in to kiss her, searching for any hint that this wasn't Claire. If there's even a chance, he thought. I should stop.

He kept thrusting.