Costume Shop Ch. 05: Angie About Town

As the Carmichael women were awakening to new sexualities, new states of being, and new powers, Viv's influence wasn't limited to their household. Costumes had been sold to other residents of the town. Several, in fact, to young people planning on attending the Sacred Heart Dance at the local Lutheran Church.

One of them had been sold to Angela Barton. Angela, more usually known as Angie, was an oddity in Southport. On the one hand, she represented the sort of thing that a conservative Southern town would normally hate: A sex positive, kink positive, body positive young woman who wasn't shy about her larger than average sexual appetite. Angie was openly polyamorous. She encouraged her peers to explore their sexuality and be honest about their desires.

The thing that kept her from being a pariah was the same thing that made her different: her honesty. She never hid who or what she was, and when approached, was open with anyone. Insults never phased her. Instead, she would spend time getting the angry individuals to open up. More often than not, such interactions lead to better feelings all around.

Of course, when she'd purchased the 'Sexy Witch' costume, Angie had only had gentle prankishness in mind. Pastor Meadows didn't demonize Halloween the way some men of the cloth did. He frowned on traditional witch or devil costumes, however. Angie merely meant to tweak the nose of the clergy as a bit of fun. Little did she know exactly what that costume was intended for...

---

I smoothed my newly purchased costume out on my bed. I loved the feel of the fabric under my fingers. It wasn't quite like silk, but it wasn't cotton or polyester either. I wasn't sure what it was made of, and there were no tags to offer any clues. Must've been hand made by the sweet woman who owned the store.

'Sexy Witch' was exactly right for this outfit. It included the required pointy black hat, but from there, it was actually different from what you'd normally expect. The first piece was, essentially, a black sheathe dress. It hugged my body perfectly, molding itself to my curves like it never wanted to let go.

Then there was a robe that went over the dress, belting loosely at the waist. It had the sort of flared sleeves you expected from this sort of costume. It flowed and swirled when the wearer turned, looking super cool.

I knew Pastor Meadows would probably 'tsk' and look annoyed when I showed up in this. That was sort of the point. We'd had a debate recently, and he'd refused to budge on the point of contention. I didn't want to set his house on fire or anything, but a little snub wouldn't kill him.

My mind drifted back to the costume store, where I'd tried the outfit on. As I thought about it, I found that the memories were a little hazy. That was weird. It had been less than an hour ago. I focused a bit harder, struggling to recall exactly what had happened...

---

The woman behind the counter is super cute. I haven't had a girlfriend in a while. She'd probably be a great kisser. She smiles as I walk up to the counter. Damn, that's a killer smile.

"Can I help you?

Damn, that voice. It's like melted dark chocolate. I could listen to that voice read a phone book and get turned on by it. I shook myself out of my aroused little fugue, smiling back at her.

"I'm looking for a costume for the church dance this weekend."

"Of course, dear. You aren't the first. Just look around and let me know if you need any help."

I turn, heading through the racks of costumes. I can't keep standing there looking at her. I'll grab her face and kiss her if I do. Those lips are just too yummy.

So many costumes. I'll never be able to decide. And what is with the music playing over the store's speakers? Nickelback doesn't seem like the sort of thing the cougar behind the counter would be into. Must be Pandora or something.

Still, Shakin' Hands isn't the worst song in their catalog. And...Hey, there's a black costume. Can that be...It totally is! A witch costume. The words 'The Naughty Wicked Witch of the West' echo through my mind. That doesn't sound too bad, actually. I don't mind being naughty, after all.

In the dressing room now. Clothes coming off is the most natural thing in the world. I prefer being naked. Tried being a nudist at home. Parents lasted a few hours before calling a halt. I respected their objections. Still naked always in my bedroom, behind closed doors.

Mmmmmm...This fabric is perfect against my skin. Fuck the bra, the girls can breathe for a bit and feel this heaven. Hey, this thing would work as a little black dress all by itself. Bonus!

Robe on now. Just as perfect against my arms and shoulder. Damn, I look so fucking hot in this. Turn around and wiggle my ass at the mirror. That never fails to stiffen any cocks in my vicinity. I love stiff cocks. They're the best when they're inside me.

Song is still playing. Damn, it feels like those words are the only ones Chad is singing.

'The Naughty Wicked Witch of the West'...

'The Naughty Wicked Witch of the West'...

'The Naughty Wicked Witch of the West'...

Heeeeeey...Are my titties a bit bigger? The dress feels tighter. Mmmmm...Must just be hugging me right. Damn, I look sexy. But the lights in here are weird. They're making my skin look...

Lean forward. Stare at myself in the mirror. Damn, not the lights. My skin is totally turning green. I look like Idina Menzel. Except hotter. That bitch wishes she had tits as good as mine. And daaaaaamn, my titties are bigger. My Cs are nothing to sneeze at, but these puppies have to be DDs at least. Wonder what they feel like....

HOLY FUCK!

Fuck....fuck fuck fuck...I just...I just came...from touching...Try that again....

FUCK FUCK FUCK!

Titgasms! I'm having fucking titgasms! Fuck yes! But pussy needs attention too. Good thing this chair is comfy. Flop down, spread legs, mmmmm, those slits in the dress are perfect for this....and YESSSSSSS. Fuck I'm wet. Cumming already....Should I worry about screaming?

Been a while. I'm all sweaty. And I feel gooooood. Dressing room smells like sex. My sex. Fuck, I smell yummy. Lick my fingers clean. Okay. Did I stain the dress? Nope, managed to avoid splatters. Groovy. Get redressed...

Fuck, my titties are still bigger. This bra won't fit now. Fuck it. Who cares? Let the cute cougar get an eyefull.

Walking to the counter. The cougar is grinning at me. She totally knows what I was doing in that dressing room. She doesn't seem to mind at all. That's a good thing, because I sure as hell wouldn't apologize. There are studies, you know. Masturbation is good for the body and the mind. Granted, most of those studies involved people doing that in private, not in public dressing rooms, but who gives a fuck?

The cougar grins at me as she rings up my costume. She doesn't even ask when she tucks my bra into the box with the costume. She winks at me as she wraps a bow around the box

"Have fun, little witch. I'm sure you'll be a hit at the dance"

---

For a moment, I had a clear memory of what had happened. I noticed that my breasts were enormous, two cup sizes bigger at least. I felt mildly mortified that I'd jilled off in public. Then the shock faded, the clear memory of the events in the shop going hazy again.

My hands were still stroking the costume. What would it hurt, to try it on again? Nothing at all. Besides, if I was going to be using the dress as a little black dress, I needed to be sure it'd work with my strapless bra.

I slipped my clothes off, mildly surprised to find I wasn't wearing a bra. That wasn't like me at all. Then I found my bra on the bed next to the costume. Had I taken it off when I got home, then put back on my top? That didn't make any sense. But then I was slipping into the dress, and it was hard to focus on anything but how fucking good the fabric felt against my skin. I cooed in delight.

I slid the robe on, belting it in place. Finally, I put on my witch's hat and stood before my full-length mirror. Damn, I was sexy. I was walking, talking sex appeal. I just had to show this off to Benton, my current primary. I reached out to grab my cell phone from my dresser and froze.

My skin was a bright, almost glowing green. What the hell? I spun to the mirror, and I was green all over. My breathing tripled in speed, and I reached up, intending to tear the costume off. Then, it was like there was a ghostly voice in the room with me. I shivered as the words it sang pounded into me.

'The Naughty Wicked Witch of the West'...

'The Naughty Wicked Witch of the West'...

'The Naughty Wicked Witch of the West'...

I groaned, my body suddenly burning. It was like I hadn't had sex in months. I'd just fucked Benton last night. His long, veiny cock always felt so good inside me. Given that we were both clean and fluid bonded, I got to feel every ridge and bump. Thank god for birth control.

"Mmmmmm....Benton...Need me some of that..."

My voice was a husky purr. I was getting turned on just listening to myself. I reached for my phone again, a soft, satisfied moan coming from my lips as I pressed Benton's speed dial number.

"Ang? What's up?"

"Hey baby. My parents are down in Oak Island with my grandmother til at least 8. Come over here and fuck me stupid."

There was a pause on Benton's end. While we'd occasionally talk dirty to each other, it was rarely so raw. I didn't care. I knew what I wanted, and I wasn't kidding around.

"You okay, Ang?"

"I'd be better with your perfect cock inside me. Why are you making me wait, lover?"

There was another silence, but I knew what it meant. Benton might be a great guy, respectful, polite, kind, the perfect boyfriend, really...But he was also an 18-year-old boy. A hot bitch was telling him to come fuck her. He wasn't about to fight.

"On my way, baby."

The next ten minutes were agonizing. Part of me wanted to touch myself, but I wanted my costume to be perfect when Benton got here. I wanted him to get a full load of his Naughty Wicked Witch of the West before he fucked the shit out of me.

When Benton walked into my room, I was leaning at the edge of my bed. I'd crossed my legs demurely, thrust my chest out, and cocked my head just so. I looked like a Halloween pinup, and I knew how fucking hot I was. I wiggled my shoulders, making my tits bobble up and down invitingly.

Benton froze in the door for a minute. He stared. He was clearly taken aback. I licked my lips.

"Do you like my Halloween costume?"

"Did you...How long did it take to put on all that green makeup?"

"It's not makeup, silly. It's my skin when I'm wearing my costume."

"Ang...What? That doesn't make any sense."

I huffed out an annoyed sigh. Why was he making this so difficult? A sex bomb was waiting for him to push his plunger into her, and he was just standing there, looking confused. Fine, I could handle taking control.

I stood, walking over to the door. Before he could protest or try to stop me, I wrapped my arms around his neck and went up on tiptoe. I'm tall for a girl, almost 5'7, but Benton is a damn giant at 6'3. I managed, though. My tongue was down his throat and one of my hands found his cock. It seemed like sparks leapt between us when I touched him. Benton tensed for a minute, then melted into the kiss.

I arched, growling in delight when his hands found my titties. They felt fucking incredible, and I came as he mauled them. When my brain came back from a happy white place, I broke the kiss off, sinking to my knees. Couldn't have him titgasming me into stupidity just yet. I pulled open the button and dropped the zipper on Benton's pants, groaning in delight. He'd gone commando, the naughty boy

His cock, eight inches of thick, wonderful man meat, sprang free. Before it had a chance to bob up and down even once, I swallowed it. Normally, I had to be careful with blowjobs. Even after dozens or hundreds of them, I still had yet to conquer my gag reflex. This time, though, Benton slipped down my throat like he belonged there. I moaned in surprised enjoyment and started sliding up and down.

Benton groaned. Normally, when I blew him, he stood or sat passively. He let me have control. For some reason, today, he took total control of the oral sex. He knocked my hat off, burying his hands in my hair. At some point between calling him and him arriving, I must've put my hair up in pigtails. I didn't remember doing it, but the way he grabbed them and used them as leverage while fucking my face left little doubt they were there.

Normally, our sessions were fairly predictable, at least in the broad strokes. We'd start with some cuddling, move on to making out and groping, exchange oral pleasure, and then fuck for a bit. Positions and who got what when were fluid, but we generally built things up. Benton was the type who could last forever but paid for it by having a longer than average refractory period. I didn't mind, because he mostly spent those periods eating me. He wasn't the type who cared about licking me even after cumming inside me. He was surprisingly progressive that way.

Today, though...Today, Benton fucked my throat roughly, no finesse, no affection. And I felt the throbbing that always signaled an impending climax after only a few minutes. I redoubled my efforts, grunting and gasping around his cock. Was it thicker than usual? It was hard to tell, but I wouldn't be surprised. After all, I was one hot piece of ass, especially with the sexy green skin.

When he came, Benton poured ropes of hot, thick cum down my throat. I swallowed as much as I could, but there was so goddamn much. Way more than normal. I giggled thickly and popped off his cock, letting him paint my face and the upper swells of my tits. I basked in the hot liquid, enjoying the feel. Normally, I didn't mind getting a cum shot on the tits or my back. I generally tried to avoid the face. Today, I didn't mind at all. I just rubbed it into the upper swells of my expanded titties and licked it from around my lips.

Benton shocked me by not going soft. After an orgasm that good, he should've been deflating. Instead, his hard on was still raging and ready. He stared down at me, eyes wild. Was he longer? Now that I could get a good look at him, he seemed to be bigger than I remembered. I barely had time to process the thought before my lover jerked my up by my pigtails. He spun me around, slapping my ass hard. I giggled. Fuck, that felt good.

In the next second, I was propelled forward, landing on the edge of my bed with a surprised shriek. I wasn't upset, though. I didn't mind a bit of rough play, and Benton normally wouldn't give it to me. That's why I had other lovers. I didn't want to push my primary into things he didn't want or enjoy. But now...Fuck me, he was jerking me around, positioning me to take me from behind. He hiked my dress up roughly, smacking my ass again.

As I knelt there, juices drooling from my labia, I absently noted that that smack on the ass felt odd. In the next second, Benton seemed to confirm that something was off.

"Fuck...You haven't been dieting, have you? Your ass is bigger. Fuck me, I always wanted it nice and round like this. I love fucking you, baby, but now your ass is just fucking perfect."

As I tried to process just what he was saying, my mind suddenly went away. Benton entered me from behind with total presumption. It didn't hurt, though. I was fucking soaked, and my pussy seemed desperate to devour every inch of him. I screamed in delight as he bottomed out.

The next two hours are a blur in my memory. I can recall flashes of fucking in every position possible. I remember being pumped full of cum repeatedly. Benton never seemed to go soft. Occasionally, he'd pull out of my pussy or ass or mouth and spend some time eating my pussy or ass. He didn't care at all about the seeming gallons of his cum that were oozing out of my holes.

The strangest part of the whole thing was my costume. No matter how hard we fucked, how much sweat flew, how many times Benton painted my face and body while roaring his way through a new orgasm, how much I squirted (because I was definitely squirting like crazy, which was new), my costume always seemed to be clean. The black material never showed a single stain. It was almost like it was drinking all of our fluids down.

Eventually, Benton collapsed on the bed, panting and pale.

"N...No more...Fuck Ang...That was...That was...I can't...Fuck."

I grinned at him, kissing him tenderly. I smoothed my costume out, enjoying the feel of it against my skin. It felt fucking amazing, even better than it had when I first pulled it on. I checked the clock on my bedside table. 2:30. Damnit. I had hours left before my parents would be home, I was still horny as hell, and my favorite stallion was spent.

Benton got himself together and left a few minutes later. He promised to call me later to check in. As he dressed, I couldn't help noticing he was definitely bigger and thicker than before. Easily eleven inches long now. While he'd always been thick, the monster now swinging between his legs made his old cock seem thin and sad by comparison.

After Benton was gone, I sat on my bed, casually toying with my pussy. I was still burning with a need to get fucked. I grabbed my phone with the hand not teasing my labia. Five minutes later, I tossed the phone away in frustration. A series of calls and texts had revealed that, of the three people in question, none of my lovers were available. How the fuck could a girl who was sleeping with four different guys find herself with a shortage of cock?

I stomped a foot in annoyance, feeling a glob of combine semen and grool drip out from between my legs. As I looked up, intending to vent my rage verbally, I stopped. Through the window, I could see into my neighbor's house. And what I saw had me grinning in delight.

Pete Niesmith had lived next door since we were in diapers. We'd actually been born less than twelve hours apart, me in the early evening of one day, him in the early morning of the next. We'd been casual acquaintances our whole lives. Despite parental attempts to make us friends, we never really clicked.

I had nothing against Pete. While he was an avowed nerd, he wasn't the sort who got annoying or problematic. He just preferred to sit by himself and read a book or play a game. While I enjoyed reading myself, it wasn't exactly the sort of activity you could easily share with other people. We got along, but it wasn't like we made plans together regularly.

Right now, though, Pete was sitting in his room, eyes locked on his computer. He was playing a game I didn't recognize. Taking two steps forward, I saw that only his car was in the driveway. Hmmmm...His parents were gone too. Hopefully they were gone for a while.

A moment later, I was standing on the Niesmith's front porch, ringing the doorbell. I heard the creak of the second floor, and then the stairs. A shouted 'Coming!' drifted through the door. Seconds later, Pete pulled the door open. He was talking before he even got it all the way open.

"Do I need to sign anyth...Holy shit, Angie, what the hell!?"

I knew what I looked like. My hair was a mess, my face sweat streaked, my calves showing obviously off-white fluid dripping. My costume was still immaculate, though. I didn't know how, but I liked the fact. I grinned at Pete, who was taller than me, though not quite as much as Benton.