tagErotic HorrorEvil, Sexy Witch Tricks for a Treat

Evil, Sexy Witch Tricks for a Treat


Halloween night is not only for candy but also for sex.

George sat in a bar on Halloween night having a drink and minding his own business. He hated Halloween. Sipping a beer, he impatiently waited for the stroke of nine-o-clock, when all the trick or treaters went home for the night to examine and eat their collected cache of candy. Then, finally, he could return home, relax in the comfort of his easy chair, and watch a ballgame in peace without kids ringing his doorbell every five seconds. He just hoped they didn't egg his house, as they did last year, because he wasn't home to pass out candy.

In a fairly empty bar, with so many available barstools not taken, denoting her out of his peripheral vision, he watched a good looking woman enter the bar and saddled up to the stool beside him. It had been a while since he's had any female companionship, especially one so attractive, and the scent perfume summoned him, as if it was the irresistible music of a snake charmer. Hoping to pass the time with some innuendo filled and sexually suggestive conversation, until it was time for him to leave for home, he looked at her to see if she'd return his look and he looked away, when she didn't. Not wanting to stare and show his obvious interest, he didn't want to bother her, if she wasn't amenable to some conversation and flirting.

At first glance, she was good looking enough to warrant him taking his focus off the televised ballgame to pay more attention to her. A judgmental and purely arbitrary built-in sex meter that all guys are born with and that lowers in their selectiveness rating, as the sex meter needle climbs higher with each drink they consume. Since this was only his first drink, she was already an 8 on a scale of 10. No doubt, by his third drink, sounding all his horny alarms, she'd bury the needle and be off the meter.

In the dim light, he figured she could pass for thirty-something but, on second glance, he pegged her for forty-something. Still, a good looking broad, even though she was some fifteen years older than he was, he wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating crackers, that's for sure. Upon closer examination, casually glancing over at her, but without staring, she had a face and a body that reminded him of Ann Margaret, when she was younger, twenty-something. Back then, when she was popular with Bob Hope tours and Elvis, Ann Margret was his Dad's favorite female celebrity. Whenever she appeared on television, to the consternation of his mother, he was forced to watch her with his Dad always commenting on how gorgeous she was.

In his late twenties, George was always horny and, depending upon how much alcohol he consumed, was horny enough to do any woman eighteen to fifty. Definitely, without doubt, if given the chance, he'd do her. He's done worse. Now that he looked over at her again, he's never down better. After breaking up with his girlfriend last year, it had been a while since he had sex. Suddenly feeling lucky, with an eeriness in the Halloween evening air, maybe tonight was his lucky night. He never had sex on Halloween. Appropriately, trick or treat for him, if tonight was his lucky night.

Even though it was Halloween, the witches night out, George didn't know that she was a witch. How could he know she was a witch, even suspect that she was a witch? For sure, all the witches he's ever seen portrayed on TV and in the movies, that is, except for Elizabeth Montgomery and Nicole Kidman in Bewitched and again Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock in Practical Magic, as sisters, respectively as Gillian Owens and Sally Owens, look nothing like the evil witch in the Wizard of Oz and nothing like an Ann Margret look-a-like. There was just no way he'd remotely suspect this woman a witch.

She looked much like any other bored housewife or divorced, older woman, who hoped and wanted him to put the moves on her for a quick roll in the hay. Besides, there's no such a thing as witches, was there? He just thought that if he played his cards right, he may get lucky with an older woman, an understatement. Without doubt, she was there willing and ready to make all of his sexual dreams and desires come true. After not having sex in a while, not having a woman to take care of him in his sexual needs, he had a whole laundry list of dreams and desires he'd love to play out with someone as good looking as the woman sitting next to him at the bar.

With the spell she had already cast over him and in the way that she looked and acted, there was no way for him to know that Maureen, if that was even her real name, was in her eighties. In hindsight, everyone else in the bar saw her for what and who she was, a flat-chested, octogenarian, wrinkled, old woman. Only, unable to see the real her, whispering her words of her love curse and putting him under her spell, as soon as she walked in the bar, how was he to know that she was an eighty-something-year-old witch? Figuring, no doubt, that maybe she was his grandmother, everyone in the bar wondered why else would he be so intent on picking up this old hag of a woman and taking her home with him.

If it wasn't for Halloween night with people thinking she was in costume, no doubt, she attracted little attention other than a few looks, stares, and comments. She was frightful. She was scary. She was everyone's perception of what a witch would look like, if there was such a thing as witches.

Reminiscent of the movie Shallow Hal, where Jack Black, playing Hal, is hypnotized into believing that Gwyneth Paltrow, playing 300 pound Rosemary, is not only much thinner than she is but also hot. Much in the same way of Shallow Hal, this witch cast a spell over George to make him believe that she was much younger than she was, and George thought she was a real beauty. After the affair was over and done with, along with the spell, seeing her for who she truly was, he'd forever shuddered to think that he had sex with an eighty-year-old woman. Gross, that is, unless you're an eighty-year-old man. Then, there's congratulations in order for not only getting it up but also for making it through without falling asleep.

After having sex with her, trying his best to forget her, every time he now thinks of Maureen, he thinks of that bathtub scene with Jack Nicholson being kissed by the ghost of the old, naked woman in The Shining. After they had sex and she revealed herself to him, now that he knew that Maureen was a witch, now that he knew she was eighty-something-years-old, instead of thirty-something-years-old or even forty-something-years-old, the best sex he ever had was ruined by that image of the old woman with all the moles on her back in The Shining. He still has nightmares. After this Halloween sexual affair with a witch, he's going to need therapy. Only, thinking that he was drunk, no one would believe him that a witch put a spell on him to make him have sex with her.

"Hi," she said, when he looked over at her longer and for the third time without saying anything.

"Hi," he said suddenly feeling his eyes bulging out of his head and not believing he hadn't noticed this about her before.

When he turned to take a closer look at her, he couldn't help but notice, an understatement, that her big breasts overwhelmed her bra. As if they were a hot lava flow pouring out of a volcano that covered a bulbous mountainous range, he couldn't believe his eyes. Her mostly unbuttoned blouse barely covered her enormous boobs. He felt his eyes pop out of his head and smoke come out of his ears, as if he was Stanley Ipkiss, played by Jim Carrey in The Mask, when he first saw, Tina Carlyle played by Cameron Diaz.

As if his eyes were tiny binocular camera lenses, they captured and recorded the sexy image of her ample breasts to use later, when he'd surely be masturbating over her and her rack, that is, if he struck out with her and nothing more happened than the sexy exchange that he'd hope they'd have now. He couldn't remember the last time he saw a woman blessed with such a wonderful rack, who wasn't dancing around a pole with dollar bills tucked around her waist. Hoping to spend some quality time with her enormous tits and with her, of course, he gave his best effort to bed her. Only, unbeknownst to him, already the lucky or unlucky man chosen, depending upon which viewpoint his or hers, she was the one who was intent on bedding him.

Even though she was older, a forty-something-year-old woman that looked like a thirty-something-year-old woman, never expecting that someone who looked as good as she did would be interested in someone like him, a man so young, so vulnerable, so naive, and so horny. At first, he wasn't looking at her to pick her up, but just to have some sexy conversation and flirting fun. Now, that he noticed her huge breasts, he was looking at her because she was so damn beautiful and sexy and he was so damn lonely and horny. His cock pulsated by the mere sexy sight of her abundant breasts and by the imagined thought of having sex with her, while touching, feeling, caressing, and sucking her big, round, firm, tits.

Seriously, how could he not look at her? As if she were two giant breasts and she was, he was totally enamored by the sexy sight of her. How could he not be taken by her and by her nearly totally exposed breasts? Especially in the way that she was dressed or undressed, she reminded him of a better looking Elvira but, instead of flowing, long, black hair, she had long, flaming red hair, piercing blue eyes, and full ruby red lips that wanted to make him kiss her.

Only, it wasn't her hair, nor her eyes, nor her lips that first caught his attention. What captured his lustful focus was her massive breasts. With her half unbuttoned blouse, she displayed her deep, cavernous cleavage that curved as round and as high, as if she had two of Jennifer Lopez's ass cheeks stuffed in her bra.

Looking as if they were knobs on a radio that he suddenly wanted to tune and to turn up the volume, the impression of her big nipples that pushed against the thin material of her blouse made his mouth automatically take the shape of a goldfish at meal time. Much like a vast mountain range, her cleavage ran so long and so deep that he suspected, if he put his mouth up to her boobs and said, "Hello," there'd be an echo.

"Buy me a drink?"

Much like in that movie, Love Potion No. 9, when Sandra Bullock, after drinking her invented concoction, whispers her words in the ears of unsuspecting men to make them want her, the witch's voice ran through his head like honey.

"Sure," he said snapping his fingers. "Bartender. Another round, please," he said putting twenty dollars on the bar followed by another twenty and another later.

He was a little nervous. Always the aggressor, he never had a woman hit on him before. He had hadn't been with an older woman, that is, since he was with Mrs. Cheryl Landers, ten years ago, when he did yard work for her. He was just a kid, then, barely 18-years-old. She was a real cougar that one, forty-something-years-old. She couldn't wait to get him naked and get his cock in her hand, in her pussy, and in her mouth.

As wild as a mountain lion on steroids, never has he had animal sex like that before or since. She took all the skin off his back and his ass with her long, fingernails, but he didn't care, that is, until later than night home alone, when he was sore, red, and swollen. Ah, but the memory of her was well worth whatever pain he had to temporarily endure.

Cheryl rode him as if she had just been let out of jail after serving a long stretch. She was a real slut that one. Never has he had his cock fucked and sucked as much. A woman on fire with passion and lust for his young, hot, hard body, his cock was red raw and sore, after she was done with him. Then, when one of his friends caught her husband hiding in the closet, after he sneezed, a regular Mrs. Robinson, he discovered later that they seduced and videotaped all the young guys in the neighborhood.

"What's your name?"

She made eye contact with him and turning to face him, she crossed her legs wide and high enough, and slow and long enough, to let him know, even in a dimly lit bar, that she wasn't wearing panties. Oh, boy, tonight was the night. She gave him a good, long look that let him not only know that she was interested in him but also this was his lucky night. Buckle up, because he was in for a wild ride.

"George. And you?"

He imagined her name being something sexy and something worthy of, at least, four syllables, Veronica, Gabriella, Elizabeth, or Angelica. Yeah, she looked as beautiful as any angel he imagined.


"Hi Maureen, pleased to meet you," he said shaking her hand. No doubt, with the red hair and the Irish first name, she was from the Emerald Island.

He had to look longer to see if she was wearing a bra. With her big nipples pushing against the material of her half opened blouse, he didn't think she was. Yet, much like the high breasts of the young, virgin, black women that Hemingway described walking on the beach in Africa with lions, how could her boobs stay so proudly displayed like that? The breasts of women her age, even younger, sag much more than that.

They must be fake, he thought. They must be silicon, no doubt. A very skilled plastic surgeon must have carefully crafted her those amazing breasts. Then, he thought, maybe she's a stripper or an ex-stripper. With those breasts, she could have posed for Playboy. Maybe she had. Maybe she's an ex-Playboy Playmate stripper. Wow! He always wanted to bed a Playboy Playmate stripper, as much as he wanted to have hot sex with a professional football cheerleader, while she was wearing her abbreviated costume and waving her pom poms and enlivening him with a cheer, when in bed with her. Double wow!

His mind filled with fantasy sex, he's never had sex with a stripper, ex or otherwise, or a Playboy model, or a football cheerleader before. He never even had a lap dance from a stripper but, after watching her playing him, sitting there so sexy and pretending that she wasn't showing all that she was showing, after she crossed her legs so slow, so seductively, and so revealingly, he wanted a lap dance now from her.

After a few drinks and a conversation filled with laughter and sex charged innuendoes, he invited her back to his place and she readily accepted his invitation. Once there in his apartment, they continued their game of teasing.

"I don't normally do this, allow someone to pick me up in a bar, especially man so young but, since this is Halloween, I thought I'd give you a treat, instead of a trick," she said with a sexy smile that gave him an excited image of what was to come.

Because it was Halloween, he thought she was speaking rhetorically and making use of an appropriate metaphor befitting of the holiday. He thought she meant giving him a treat, instead of a trick figuratively and not literally.

"I like treats, so much better than tricks," he said, playing along with her game of suggestive innuendoes. "What do you have in mind, Maureen?"

She walked up to him and parting his lips with her tongue, she gave him a kiss that blanked his mind, curled his toes, and stiffened his cock. Unable to control himself any longer, he reached his hand to the front of her to feel her massive breasts with his horny palm, before wrapping his arm around her slim waistline. Then, moving his hand down along her backside, she allowed his hand to wander and to feel her firm, round ass. She had the body of a much younger woman. He had been with women in their twenties that didn't have as good of a body as she obviously had. The mere touch of her electrified him with a sexual lust he's never felt for any woman before.

Then, when she reached her hand forward and pulled down his zipper, he knew this Halloween would be a holiday night he'd remember forever. She kissed him deeper and more passionately with a French kiss that aroused him in the way he's never been aroused before, while reaching her hand inside his pants. With deft fingers, she felt him through his underwear, before pulling his underwear down enough to pull out his cock.

"Is this what you want?" She looked up at him, while fondling the head of his big prick with her hand and her fingertips. Slowly and methodically, she stroked him.

"Oh, yes, Maureen," he said.

"Do you like it when I stroke your prick?" She looked down at his growing erection, before looking up to smile her sexy smile at him, while making eye contact.

"Oh, yeah, baby," he said. "I love feeling my cock in your hand. I love it when you stare at my cock. This is a my kind of treat."

"Tell me, is this what you like?" Still looking up at him, she fell to her knees.

"Yes, that is what I like, baby," he said quivering with anticipation with his answer. "I love feeling your hand all over my cock. I love looking at you with my big prick in your little hand."

She fell to her knees. Now, eye level with his cock, she stared at his engorged prick.

"Would you like me to blow you?"

She stroked him, while looking up at him. He loved the dirty conversation.

"I would love for you to blow me, Maureen," he said staring down at her with lustful desire.

Better than pillow talk, she excited him with her words, as much as her actions.

"Would you like me to take your big, hard prick in my mouth and suck you?"

"Yes! Yes! Oh, God, yes, I'd love for you to take my big, hard prick in your mouth and suck me."

She was so sexy. She was such a tease. Hoping he'd get all the answers right and win the grand prize of a blowjob, he loved playing her sexy question and answer game.

Then, she did it. She leaned her head forward and took his cock in her mouth. She was blowing him. She was sucking him. Never in his life had he received such a blowjob from such an amazing woman.

"Damn, suck it, Maureen. Suck my cock, baby," he said. "Oh, yeah, sexy Mamma, suck it. Suck my big prick. Blow me," he said putting a hand to the back of her pretty head and humping and fucking her mouth.

"Calm down. Calm down. Take it easy, George," she said removing his cock from her mouth and giving him a wicked laugh, before taking his cock in her mouth again. "I need to get more comfortable," she said removing his cock from her mouth again to speak.

"Yeah, sure, would you like a pillow for your knees," he said giving her a little chuckle.

She stood and unbuttoned her blouse and removed it. With her enormous breasts exposed, she stood before him staring at him, while still holding onto his cock and stroking him.

"Do you like my tits," she said looking down at her breasts and cupping them in her hands, before looking up at him.

She lifted one breast to her mouth and sucked her nipple. Then, she lifted her other breast and sucked that nipple. Now, that her nipples were wet, she let go of her cock to finger her nipples, before pulling them out and turning and twisting them.

"Are you kidding me. I love your tits. Never have I seen tits, as big. Your tits are amazing. They are so round, so firm, and so symmetrical," he said staring at them. "You're nipples are huge. I can't wait to suck your big, hard nipples and caress your enormous breasts."

"Then, why are you waiting? Suck them," she said.

"Oh, my God," he said leaning down to take one of her nipples in his mouth, before taking the other. Back and forth he went, sucking one nipple, while fingering the other nipple and caressing her other breast.

Her breasts were the best and the biggest breasts he's ever seen in his life. So big, so round, and so symmetrical, if she had a breast job, then her plastic surgeon was an artist. He loved touching them, feeling them, caressing them, and sucking them. Without doubt, they felt real and natural to him. Got milk? If she was lactating, she'd have gallons. He'd have to milk her, as he would a cow. Moo.

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