“Watch out for the bat!”
I ducked just in time as a flying toy buzzed through the plastic hair on my Frankenstein’s monster mask and crashed into the wall. Immediately, two girls rushed to retrieve it. First to get there was a sensuous Black Cat. With her buxom build and auburn hair flowing down her black velvet back, I guessed that it was Kitty Rourke, the head cheerleader at Hooterville High and a notorious cocktease. She grabbed the toy and giggled, “Hey, this looks like a…” just then, a tall slender Wicked Witch snatched it from her hand. “…dildo,” She finished.
“And how would you know, Miss Priss?” scorned the witch, whose gravelly voice unmistakably revealed her to be Primrose Promise, nicknamed ‘Primly Promiscuous’ around campus.
Not that I had personal experience of Prom’s promiscuity. Technically, I was still a virgin. I hoped that this Halloween party might change that. Every year, the class president of the student body threw the official unofficial Halloween blow out. It was rumored to be the big opportunity for everyone who didn’t lose their virginity over summer break. Wally Walsh, this year’s president, had promised the best bash ever.
My costume disguised me totally. The boots added four inches to my height. The padded suit made me look solid, not skinny. The rubber mask muffled my normally squeaky voice down to a deep bass rumble. There was an added layer of irony. No one would recognize Frankenstein’s Monster as the nerd known since Frosh Week as ‘Frankie the Fart’. A few moments of flatulence and you are labeled for life. Or high school, which is the same thing in a small town.
Prim and Kitty (if I had guessed right) tussled over the toy bat. The motor buzzed loud enough to be heard over the music emitted by competing stereos on the deck and in an upper bedroom. The witch shoved the cat, pulling the toy free. Pussy clawed back. The witch cackled,. Pussy countered by raking her plastic nails down the witch’s black turtleneck, ripping the fabric. Prim shrieked Her ripe teen breast, unsupported by any bra, flopped free, exposed to the room.. She tossed the bat in the air then launched at the cat woman, one hand sliding between firm young thighs, the other around supple shoulders. In a single athletic swing, the witch tossed the Black Cat out, sending here flying through the sliding deck door, which fortunately was open.
The cat splashed into the hot tub. A drunken football player dressed as a drunken football player grabbed her by both tits and yelled, “Allrighty then. Catfight! Let’s get this party really started.” As he dunked his captive, a toga clad guy and a cowboy grabbed the witch from behind and tossed her into the tub. Water exploded all over the deck.
When the witch sputtered upright, her shirt was torn totally off. Two round tits with no evidence of tan lines were exposed to the crisp fall air. Watching her nipples stiffen, thinking about whether Prim’s excitement was caused by the cold, exhibitionism, or the thrill of touching the Black Cat, gave me a voyeuristic charge. I felt my trouser monster stiffen.
An irony that few of my classmates appreciated was that this Frankenstein’s Monster was equipped with a truly monstrous tool. Flaccid, it tended to hide in my dense pubic hair, so none of the boys likely noticed in the showers. Erect, it was a good ten inches, and a true fistful.
“A real mouthful,” Emmy Sue Harrison had said the summer before at Camp Compunerd, where she accomplished her goal of eating every adult staffer of either gender between her eighteenth birthday and the end-of-summer cookout. Rumour had it she blew a few dads on Parents Day too. Even my Mom was walking bowlegged for hours after she went leaf gathering with Emmy Sue.
The cookout was the last time I saw Emmy Sue, who was still in the Camp Director’s hut when my bus left. Perhaps I’d see her next summer. In the meanwhile, her magic mouth was in Pittsburgh, and my aching balls had only had self relief since. If anyone made ‘clanking iron’ jokes about Frankenstein’s Monster, that would because of the sound of my leaden balls dragging on the ground.
My arousal was interrupted as a dense rowdy crowd of beer swillers blocked my view of the festivities in the tub. I was able to see a witch’s hat sale over my head, followed by a hunk of black velvet wrapped around a lacy bra. “O-kay! Titty time,” Someone yelled. The crowd cheered.
Inside, I headed upstairs in search of a washroom. Half way up the stairs I stumbled across a disheveled Little Red Riding Hood blowing a well endowed Grim Reaper. On the landing, the Big Bad Wolf was tonguing the breasts of a harem girl, who was in turn blowing a guy in surgical scrubs. He completed the chain gang by performing orally on a voluptuous girl dressed in a pirate costume. “Ahoy, Frankie,” she said, “Want your timbers shivered?”
I was about to accept what I guessed was a crudely offered blowjob when I saw she had a studded tongue. This could only be Very Merry Mary Mularkey, the town tramp. Not knowing where that stud had been already, and not wanting to, I grunted and mimed my urgent need of a washroom.
Opening a door, I looked into a bedroom. Just inside, a naughty nun was on all floors being anally attacked by a gladiator as she ate a Swiss Miss’ pussy. The bed was a tangle of arms and legs. I guessed there were at least three gals and two guys mixed into the mess of tangled and torn costumes. No one even noticed me.
The next door was a bathroom, but using it to relieve myself was impossible. In the tub, a nurse was sandwiched between a priest and a cheerleader. My view of the nurse nibbling the pink nipples peeking out the torn letter sweater, and the long thin cock plugging her pussy was partially blocked. Mrs. Walsh, the mother of our class president, whose house this was, was bouncing against the sink, violently fucking one Little Pig as the other two mauled her heavy breasts. Her hands were tied to the sink pedestal, but the restraints were loose and she was vigourously pumping the piggies erect organs. She noticed me. “Frankie, if you can wait a sec, I’d love to see just how well tooled you are.”
I grunted, “Nature calls” and went looking for a place to lighten my bladder. Recalling the house party in American Pie 2, I spied the door to the balcony. Unlike that movie, my stream hit the bushes below, without anyone’s heads getting wet.
Standing in the shadows, I could see the cat fight had calmed down. It turned out the Black Cat was not Kitty Rourke as I had imagined, but was our biology and sex ed teacher, Ms. Grimm. She was engrossed in a contest with the witch, apparently scored by how many loads of fresh cum each swallowed. It seemed as if gobs of goo on their tits counted too. Several girls doubled as fluffers for the fresh cocks and kept the contestants’ chests clean by licking the cum deposits off their tits. Between the legs of the witch, who I confirmed, was Primly Promiscuous, an androgynous Mick Jagger clone crouched in the warm water, practicing his or her vocal skills on Prim’s clit. ‘Mick’ had two sticky fingers probing Prim’s anus, making her squirm. Ms. Grimm used this distraction of Prim to pull ahead in the race.
Aroused more than ever, but not caring to share such public goods, I went inside. Finding a back stairway, I avoided the sordid temptations I had already witnessed. I was massively confused. My cock just wanted a warm pussy, or even a wet mouth around it. It wasn’t as if I had shared my virginity in a tryst of true love, after all. Emmy Sue was a popular and busy gal just providing oral affection. While dressing up tonight, I had relieved my aching balls imagining a party full of orgies like I had just witnessed. In those fantasies, I became the star. Still, I hesitated. If not true love, at least Emmy Sue had made each orgasm seem special. She swallowed sperm sacramentally. Her joy at pursuing her goal anointed her ministry. The head counselor even nick named her “Our Missionary of the Mouth”.
No doubt the disguise afforded by the costumes enabled some of the women to break free of convention, just as it might enable me to be accepted without stigma. Whether or not I knew a playmate’s identity, I knew I had to share a sense of joy. I had refused to join the senior trip to the roadhouse during Frosh Week because prostitutes were no better than my own hand. So, not scoring tonight beat passionless fucking. A mechanically blowjob seemed pointless. Self relief could only be beat by sharing the excitement.
“Come on, Frankie, we’re bobbing for apples in the kitchen,” a sweet soprano voice called.
In a scene straight out of Linus and the Great Pumpkin, Wally Walsh, class president, was dressed as Snoopy. He dumped a bag of apples into a big peach basket. Water splashed out, spraying the flimsy costumes of a couple of flapper girls who looked a lot like the famously slutty Garrett sisters. From along the counter, a couple of guys whistled as the girls’ startled jumping made their skirts flip up.
Watching the twins bobbing, I quickly understood the attraction of the game. As they bent over the tub, from one side, watchers saw the full deal down their frilly tops. Those of us behind instantly noticed the absence of underwear. The Garrett girls might be identical twins, but they differed in at least two ways. The left one had a hairless pussy. The twin on the right still had a tuft of hair trimmed in a cute heart shape. Her thighs also were adorned with wet trails of cum running down them. The girl on the left had a swollen set of pink labia, but looked as fresh as the morning dew.
Without thinking, as if by remote control, I leaned closer. I don’t know why. Was I hoping to stick my nose into that rose, to smell if it was fresh?
It was the same sweet voice which had lured me to the kitchen. I obeyed. The flying dildo/bat buzzed just over my head. I glanced left to locate the speaker. I spotted a literal wall flower- hiding in a corner was a tall slim lass dressed as Ellie Mae Clampett from the Beverly Hillbillies, complete with ludicrous blonde wool wig and sock stuffed bosom. I was about to speak when the flying toy struck me in the right ear. The rubber mask softened the blow, but it still stung. Ellie Mae rushed over to see if I was all right, to the amusement of the onlookers. One teased “to hell with him, make sure the dildo works!”
Another shouted, “I think the nurse is still upstairs in the tub. Maybe she’ll lick it better!”
Ellie Mae got some ice out of the beer tub, but I refused to remove my mask. She pressed the ice against my ear. I could smell her sweet breath, but had no idea who she was. Her cotton stuffed boob warmed my cheek.
The onlookers were distracted as the Garrett girls bobbed up with apples, their blouses soaked through with water. ‘Snoopy’ nuzzled their chests, and then rewarded them with a sloppy ‘dog tonguing’ on their cheeks as his hands found the ass of each twin. They giggled through the groping, and then were whisked away by an Arab Sultan, a railway conductor and a ghost.
“More bobbing sluts. We need more sluts,” Snoopy lead a rousing drunken horny chorus.
His command was obeyed by the gladiator I had seen earlier, and an army chaplain, who escorted in the naughty nun from upstairs and Pocahontas. The nun immediately dunked in the apple tub, hoisting her habit to display a rosy rump. The Indian Princess was passed around the room, getting drunkenly mauled by a dozen manly boys, and a few randy girls. She took it good naturedly, even when she was bent across the counter. She immediately swallowed a goblin’s rigid cock while a Rapunzel ripped the potato sack Indian costume off and then attacked the upraised cherry coloured nipples like Rapunzel had not eaten for a week. Other guys crowded around, waiting their turn as the Princess started to pull a train.
This, combined with the Garrett girls show, revved my cock beyond semi tumescence to full mahogany. Ellie Mae snuggled closer. Her hand began stroking my cock through the monster suit as we watched the apple bobbing. My hand took on a life of its own, rolling around her slender waist, exploring the space between her rolled and tied shirt and the cutoff jeans. The soft young tummy was all real. My thumb teased her navel. My fingers fumbled with the button on her waistband.
‘Bill Clinton’ approached the naughty nun from behind as ‘Snoopy’ teased her by steering each apple away from her mouth. Bill ran a cigar along the nun’s moist nether lips. With his other hand, he unzipped his pants. Ellie gasped as Bill’s huge tool flopped out, not quite fully erect. Her hand stroked the front of my pants more aggressively.
Bill used his cigar as a dildo, fucking the nun deeply, first with slow strokes, and then increasing the tempo. Her head kept bobbing for the fruit, which Snoopy kept shifting out of her range. Just as she came up grinning with a ripe red apple, Bill replaced the cigar with his cock, entering her with a single thrust. She gasped, dropping her treasure. Snoopy chuckled and unleashed his own cock, stuffing it into her hungry mouth. The nun was pretty drunk, and she had trouble coordinating licking Snoopy’s meat with the thumping Bill was giving her from behind. She kept falling face first into the tub. Ellie Mae started giggling at the sight of the drenched nun.
I spied the dildo bat on the floor beside Ellie Mae, still humming. Slipping my hand out of her pants while her attention was riveted on the threesome straddling the tub, I grabbed the toy and ran it up her thigh. She squirmed and purred softly.
“That’s wonderful, Frankie,” she whispered, “but I think we best not be here if Hillary Rodham shows up. I heard the Walshes have a big Cee-ment pond out back, hidden behind yonder trees. What say we go check it out? Y’all up fer a lil skinny dippin?”
Suddenly I realized this wanton creature might be mine. If I got her stripped of her disguise, she could not deny her actions Monday at school. If Emmy Sue’s praises of my shaft were any hint, I would either have a new girl friend, or at least rumours about me in the girl’s locker room. A ‘can’t lose’ situation.
Ellie Mae took me by the hand and led me out, down the garden path and through a screen of cedars. In the darkness, I could just see the shape of a diving board, and some lounge chairs. The pool was unlit. The scent of chlorine mixed with Ellie Mae’s perfume.
We were not alone. Quiet voices stirred the night air. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I made out a couple making out on a lounger. The woman’s costume was in tatters, but might have begun the night as Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty. She was deeply kissing a French Musketeer. Her tiny hand made his pulsing cock look gigantic. As we watched, he kissed down her throat to nuzzle the valley of her ample bosom. After a few moments of suckling her left nipple, he stood beside the chair. The girl understood what was expected. In one gulp, his sword was swallowed. Despite the darkness, the thick knob of his cock was easily visible stretching her cheek. She shifted slightly and there was an audible gulp as the shaft slid with polished ease into her open throat. Her hand milked the Musketeer’s balls. Ellie Mae snuggled under my arm, reaching around my padded waist to tease my cock, searching for the zipper.
“Hey, guys, enjoying the show?” D’Artagnan asked. “Want to join in? Her pussy is ripe for licking. Sorry, but someone came in it already. Prince Charming, or the Hairy Godfather, I think.”
“No thanks,” Ellie Mae answered, and led me down past the lounger.
A splash caught our attention. Someone must have moved the apple bobbing to the pool. Half a dozen women and as many guys, in various states of costume, were jumping into the water, trying to grab apples in their teeth. In the shallow end, I saw guys who wore the remnants of Prince Charming and Godmother outfits taking turns licking the pussy of the Walsh’s 50 year old neighbour, Mrs. Wurst. This was a woman whose lawn I had cut for five years. Many a day as a youth, I had fantasized about her bountiful breasts, but she had always seemed very proper. There was no nude sunbathing, nor thong bikinis. She was a Sunday School teacher. Now I saw that her pussy hair was in a heart shape and she had “Bikers do it best” tattooed next to a rose on her left tit. The right one was tattooed “Apply Lips Here” with a lips logo and an arrow pointing at her nipple.
As we circled the pool, taking in the show, we heard Mrs. Wurst beg for a hard cock to suck. Out of the shadows came the one kid at school nerdy than me, Harvey Plotz. Harvey had arrived at the party only because he was delivering pizzas, Halloween or not.
Next day at school Harvey told me it had been his last and biggest order of the night. Someone had paid over the phone by credit card, so he had no need to return to the store. Mrs. Walsh had come to the door still naked, cum trails running down her thighs and lipstick smeared around her mouth. She had taken the pizzas and told him to wait for a tip. His cock had no doubt stiffened as he watched her Thighmaster sculpted ass walk away. While Harvey waited, the Swiss Miss rushed up, perhaps not realizing in her booze and hormone altered state that it wasn’t a guy dressed in a pizza delivery costume. She squeezed Harvey’s whiskerless cheeks in her cum coated hands and planted a wide open mouth kiss on him.
“Fresh meat, girls,” she yelled.
Harvey explained that the Swiss Miss, Lil Red Riding Hood and the cheerleader grabbed him and hauled him onto a couch in the corner, where they proceeded to tear his uniform off. Swiss Miss fellated him, sucking his already rising cock deep into her throat in one breath, then releasing it so she and Red could lave it with their tongues. The cheerleader pushed him into a lying position and lowered her pleated skirt over his face. Since she had already lost her panties, he got a face full of fresh pussy. Apparently the shower scene had not included a cock for her, and she had not even cum. Harvey reported that she was turned on (from having her tits licked well, I knew) that she almost instantly flooded his face with a torrential gush of her juices. Meanwhile, Swiss Miss grasped his cock- not that it needed help standing up- as Red climbed aboard, facing the cheer babe. Swiss Miss licked away at the junction of red’s labia with his shaft as the two riders kissed and toyed with each other. Harvey only caught brief glimpses of this through the pleats of the cheerleader skirt. The various actions all built Harvey up to new heights, and after several minutes, his cum exploded into Red’s womb. Red continued riding him as he stayed rigid, while Swiss Miss licked whatever leaked out. Red and the cheerleader then tumbled off to the floor. Swiss Miss, seeing Harvey was still erect, leapt aboard. Her orgasm came in waves, Harvey recalled, milking the second load out of his cock. She lay exhausted across his body while the other two girls were joined by Mrs. Walsh in cleaning stray cum- Harvey’s and the girls’ – off of him.
Mrs. Walsh had then suggested he head out to the pool to ‘get another tip’.
“I was shocked how randy Mrs. Walsh seemed,” I told Harvey.
“Dude, you know those Friday night bridge parties she hosts when her hubby is out golfing? She always makes me her last order.”
“But, uh, my Mom plays in those games…”
“Yup, and Mrs. Wurst. They vary the fourth.”
“You mean my Mom….and you?” If I hadn’t seen Mrs. Wurst swallow his sausage at the party, I would have known it was all fiction. That, plus Edna Walsh’s naked glory in the washroom, gave Harvey’s story credibility. But- my mother? She was a second grade teacher. Never dressed sexy. Wore only sensible briefs. Come to think of it, she had smiled for many a mile after her hike with Emmy Sue. Hmmmm….