it’s fall in new england..one of those still warm nights, but with that chill bite to the breeze that is forcibly rustling through the night sky and stirring what leaves remain on the trees, as well as the ones blowing through the streets. the air is an electric current, and everyone’s blood is singing with the need to plug into that socket and taste directly from the source, to be electrified and alive. it’s a night for wolves to howl at a full moon, and it is halloween.
there is a party going on in the center of the big old cemetery, where all of the old gothic mausoleums protect the long dead remains of old money. it is away from prying eyes and police enforcement.
i am not dressed sexily. i am dressed for anonymity, in a white sheet – the most clichéd of all halloween costumes, save perhaps for a witch or a vampire. but, as a ghost, i can wander through the drunken cemetary crashers and observe without molestation. no one wants to talk to the big white sheet, they’re too busy doing body shots off of scantily clad elviras who are draped over tombstones.
i spot you – finally – propped contrastingly against the white marble pillar of an exceptionally large mausoleum, dressed all in black…a grim reaper’s cape actually…another cliché, one which you wear to perfection, along with that darkly brooding look on your handsome, chiseled face. a look that says unequivocally that despite the fact that you came out and dressed up, you’d rather be anywhere else and want to be left alone.
too bad. i came here for one reason. you.
i float over to you, carried on the current in the air. i mean to plug into the source tonight. for me, that source is you. you will make me the most alive i’ve ever been. i need your juice.
as i silently make my way to you, from behind, i lean in close to your ear and whisper. ‘boo.’
you are not frightened in the least, your body registered no reaction whatsoever – no tensing surprise – except for the slight grin that lifts one corner of your mouth (the corner i can see) before settling back into that foreboding scowl. i swear you felt my approach, sensed my current before i even came close, maybe were even aware of my presence the entire time.
‘nice digs,’ you mock out of the side of your mouth, not even bothering to look over at me.
‘this old rag?’ i say, twirling to wind up in front of you and giving a cheeky curtsey. ‘if you like this, you should see what’s underneath.’
he looked at me then, a direct, bold gaze, and i winked back and gave a saucy grin…the effect of the grin may have been lost though, since it was covered by the sheet; only my eyes were visible.
‘and let’s say i take you up on that offer?’
‘come with me,’ i said offering my hand, but the way i said it made it sound like, ‘cum with me,’ like i was offering something much more than my hand – which i was.
he trailed behind me, hand in mine, as i led him away from the rest of the crashers, and into a more secluded, darker part of the cemetery. i dropped his hand then continued walking a few more paces before turning around. he made as if to stalk towards me, so he could rip the sheet off of my body, but i held out a hand in a stopping motion.
he quirked an eyebrow, but stayed put.
i bent, grabbing the hem of my costume, slowly sliding it up my legs to uncover black ankle boots, black thigh-high hose attached to garters…then i heard his swift intake of breath as he noticed the huge, glittering blood-red cock harnessed to my body. i finished pulling the sheet over my head, unveiling a black and red corset, tightly laced, and breasts practically spilling over the low, lacy top edging.
he growled at me in the universal ‘i want to fuck you until you can’t walk straight for a week then keep fucking you’ sound, and i don’t even think he was aware that he was walking predatorily towards me until i told him in a commanding tone to ‘stop.’
he shook his head in a slightly confused manner and followed my direction.
‘have you ever been fucked in the ass before?’ i asked.
one terse shake of his head ‘no’ was all the response i received, but his eyes were deep, dark pools of lust, and i was betting he was rock hard under that cape… i’d know soon enough.
‘tonight’s your lucky night,’ i told him, grinning wickedly. ‘take your clothes off – every last stitch – and go drape yourself over that stone bench,’ i demanded pointing to it. ‘oh…and give me a show,’ i said, gifting him with another of my saucy winks.
he gave me a look that said he was a bit out of his comfort zone… he was used to being the one always in charge… but i could see the second that he gave into his lust and his desire to find out where this crazy night would take him. and once his decision was made, he committed everything to playing the role i set out for him.
to be continued…
© 2015 Kat Crimson
