This is my entry in the Halloween story contest, so please vote at the end of the story. As an incentive, I’ve included my personal recipe for fake blood!
“Oh FUCK, my sweet little Amy, what happened to your arm?!!” Josh screamed, as he picked up his girlfriend and prepared to rush her to the ER.
Amy was laughing so hard she couldn’t speak. Her best friend Kat cackled, “Josh! JOSH! It’s not real! It’s fake!”
Josh just looked confused and set Amy on her feet. She and Kat had just returned to his acreage in the country from a shopping trip in Kansas City. He examined what looked like a four-inch long, third-degree burn mark on her arm, with coagulating blood still drying around the edges.
Kat’s husband Marcus, who’d also been consumed with laughter, came to look at Amy’s “wound.” Amy poked at it and said, “See? Doesn’t hurt at all. Oh, but we found the sickest shit!”
Kat began to take items out of the bag she was holding and place them on the dining room table. “Remember, we told Carl that we would help him with makeup and fake blood for the Cyclone Halloween Party? Well, we found a little old costume rental shop in Kansas City where they sell all kinds of theatrical makeup and all these special effects products.”
Cyclone was a friendly little BDSM venue just outside Kansas City where, one night a month, you could wear an indecent costume, flog the hell out of someone in the playroom, and then have a nice relaxing drink with friends in the lounge. Kat and Marcus had met there five years ago, and they had introduced Amy to Josh (and the lifestyle) earlier in the year.
“Like this one,” Amy said, picking up a bottle that looked like a liquid foundation. “It’s called 3-D Gel, and that’s part of what Paul, the guy at the shop, used on my arm. It’s real thick and sticky, but when you warm it, it becomes liquid.”
Kat added, “It’s a liquid latex product. When you put it on skin, it dries slowly as it cools, so you can work it into any shape you want, like to make realistic wounds and holes on bodies. See where Amy’s looks like the edges of the burn?” she pointed out.
Kat had been a makeup maven since she and Amy were in high school. She had a large fishing tackle box to hold all her products. Carl, Cyclone’s manager, had seen her handiwork with some of their monthly themed costumes, and asked her to share her expertise.
“It’s not the right color for my skin,” observed Marcus, the olive-toned Greek god.
“But that’s part of the beauty of it!” Kat exclaimed. “When it’s dry you can put any color makeup over it. See where the burn on Amy’s arm looks red, and than changes into brown? That’s just basic cream makeup. Then you can add one of lots of different blood products to it, too.”
“Yeah,” Amy piped up. “They even have these wheels of different colors of makeup for specific effects. Like, this one is called the Burn Wheel, and there’s another that’s the Bruise Wheel. They even have a Zombie Wheel,” she added, picking up and showing the wheel-shaped collection of putrid colors.
Josh’s color was a little grey. “Eww! Those colors are gross. I’m almost afraid to ask, but how do you make somebody into a zombie?”
“I’ll show you,” Kat promised as she took the bottle to the kitchen. “You’re not supposed to put it in the microwave. Usually, you let the bottle heat in hot water. But I’ll just do a few seconds.”
She took the bottle out of the microwave and held its heat against Josh’s skin. “See? Of course, you can’t put it on the skin if it’s too hot, or you’ll get a real burn. Here, Marcus, give me your arm.”
He dutifully held it out to her, and she rubbed a small amount of the sticky liquid onto his skin. “Now as it dries, you can shape it into anything from warts to cuts, but you also can kinda pick at it so that it looks like the skin is rotting and falling off. Then you just add a little of this color, and there it is. Zombie skin.”
Marcus was sincerely impressed. “Now I want to be a zombie for Halloween,” he grinned.
“As long as your zombie dresses in your gold speedo and Mistress Katya’s collar, like you do every month,” Amy chuckled.
“Anyway,” Kat said to get them back on track. “Carl is calling the party ‘The Cyclone Torture Chamber,’ and he offered people or groups a chance to reserve space to stage a ‘scene’ that incorporates BDSM gear, but is bloody, freaky, or scary. It is, after all, a Halloween party,” she smiled. “So I promised to help with blood.”
Josh looked horrified. “You’re donating your blood?”
“No Josh,” Amy laughed, “we’re gonna make fake blood. Paul gave us a recipe.*” She showed him several small bottles filled with blood-colored liquid, and went on, “You can buy all different kinds in these little bottles, even one with a mint taste that you can use in your mouth. But they’re expensive, so it’s easier to make your own if you need lots of blood.”
“Do you need lots of blood?” Josh asked quietly, still not sure.
“Yes, because I told Carl I would offer the fake blood to anybody who needed it for a scene,” Kat explained. “And lots of people will need it for lots of different kinds of scenes. So we’re making it by the gallon.”
“You’re making blood in my clean kitchen?” Josh griped.
“Yes, sweetie,” Amy told him, “but this recipe has soap in it, so it’s supposed to wash right out. We might need one of your ratty old white socks to test it on,” she teased, sticking out her tongue.
Josh looked a little grey again, with all of the talk of dead skin and blood. He stammered, “I think I’ll just take the dogs outside,” as he ran out the back door.
%%%%%%
The Saturday night before Halloween, the group gathered at Josh’s house to set off together for the party. Kat had done an amazing job on Marcus’s zombie skin, but he couldn’t put clothes over it, so he was wrapped in a sheet against the late October cold.
“That is so cool!” Amy fussed over his grey rotting skin. “Kat, now when you flog him, you can actually flay the skin off his body.”
Josh looked sick again, then muttered, “Be right back,” and ran upstairs. He returned with an oversized long “duster” style coat that he sometimes wore this time of year when working outside.
“This should work,” he said, holding it out for Marcus. While Marcus had the body of a weightlifter, Josh was taller and well-built himself. “This should be loose enough not to tear off your…um…skin, and long enough to cover your legs.”
“Thanks, bud,” Marcus said, as Kat helped him into the coat. “But where’s your leather jacket?”
Amy had talked Josh into dressing as a leatherman, complete with leather assless chaps, a vest that exposed his muscled hairy chest, and a leather brimmed cap.
“Yeah, I guess I would be a little cold,” Josh admitted, then squealed, “OOOOH!” as Amy’s tiny hand slapped each perfectly-rounded cheek lovingly.
“And Kat,” Amy snickered, “a Kat-suit. How different!”
As a classic dominatrix, Kat wore a different skin-tight leather or PVC catsuit to most of the parties. Tonight’s was sparkling red, paired with glittery red platform boots and unzipped far enough to emphasize her humongous mahungas.
“Hey, I embellished it a little,” she faux-pouted, as she showed the devil’s tail with the pointy end and the glittery red horns mounted on a headband. “I didn’t want to wear anything that would get in the way. And you’re still not telling what you’re gonna wear?”
“Fuck no!” Amy laughed. She was currently dressed in just a sweater, jeans, and sneakers, and was carrying her old Central High School gym bag. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
%%%%%%
They arrived a couple hours early, and the exhibitionists–no, exhibitors–were just starting to set up. They watched briefly as people carried all sorts of paraphernalia into the playroom. The lights were not dimmed yet, but the room was decorated with orange and purple lights and glow-in-the-dark skeletons, punctuated with a few severed heads hanging from the high ceiling.
What became Club Cyclone each month was a nondescript rental building, owned by a charitable society and rented for this purpose only once a month. It had a well-lit lobby that continued as a hallway down to a small kitchen.
On the right was the large playroom, filled with equipment like St. Andrew’s crosses, spanking benches, and sturdy suspension structures that were available for anyone to use. (Of course, the equipment did not live at the building–the venue was also rented for things like wedding receptions!)
On the left side was a nice-sized lounge with a bar and cushy-comfy couches and chairs for seating. The group popped in to say “hi” to Chloe, the bartender.
Chloe’s costume was a radical change from her usual appearance. A willowy Black woman with close-cropped hair, she had found a giant Afro wig and a paisley polyester jumpsuit, complemented by small round purple-glass shades and platform shoes, for a seriously Foxy Brown look.
“Woo-hoo!” Josh exclaimed.
“Hi, y’all,” Chloe called from behind the bar. “Come try these shots.” She was making blood-colored shots as the featured cocktail, and had simply mixed vodka with grenadine.
“Hmm…” Kat began. “They’re a little too vivid red. Here, try a little black cherry Kool-Aid to give them that perfect blood color. Might need to add something a little sweet, though,” she finished, handing Chloe the packets of powder.
“Well, there are my helpers,” Carl said as he walked into the lounge. He hugged Amy and Kat and shook hands with the men.
Carl was a bit of an enigma. He was a middle-aged, vanilla-looking man who drove a van to pick up worshippers for his church on Sunday mornings after spending Saturday evening in “Kink World.” He was appropriately dressed as Ted Lasso.
“What’s this, Amy? No costume?” he asked.
She just grinned and said, “I’m just off to change now,” as she slipped out of the room.
“I know Kat is gonna set up blood all over my kitchen,” Carl nodded to her as she left to start bringing in gallon jugs. “How ’bout you boys help me in here?”
Marcus and Josh joined him in putting heavy plastic tablecloths over the luscious smooth cranberry-colored upholstery on the cushy-comfy couches and chairs. “Don’t wanna get blood or makeup on them,” he stated. “They’re a lot harder to clean than the carpet. And it gives the place that good old abandoned house look.”
His phone jingled with some familiar hymn and he stopped to answer. “Oh, hi Greg! Sure, Kat has lots of blood. You want the vein, artery, coagulated, or minty-in-your-mouth kind?”
Kat was busily unloading the gallons of blood and preparing to funnel them into small bottles to use at each exhibit. She had also brought the raw ingredients* in case she had to make more, as well as the smaller bottles of specific types of blood. She had promised to make cuts and wounds on anyone needing them.
She had a special surprise for the other floggers, as well as whippers and cutters. The biggest find she and Amy had discovered at the costume shop in KC was a powder that could be brushed onto “victims” that was only slightly pinkish on skin (not enough to be noticed in dim lighting.) It would then turn to “blood” when touched with something wet, so that knife players could “cut” into people with (wet) fake knives and make them bleed.
Or if someone wanted to flog their partner and make them bleed, they could dust the powder on their back, then have an inconspicuous tray of water into which they could dip just the tips of the flogger before each stroke, and each stroke would make more blood show up on the poor slave’s back.
Paul, the guy at the counter in the theatrical supply store, had told them that many churches used the product for their Good Friday/Easter Passion Plays, to make the whipping of Jesus more realistic.
She was just finishing filling the small bottles when Amy popped in and said, “Ta-da!”
It wasn’t often Amy could surprise Kat, but Kat was speechless. When she found her voice she said, “That’s pretty exposed, even for you.”
“Ain’t it great?” Amy beamed. “Bernie the Rope Master did it for me.” Amy’s kink was exhibitionism. Her monthly costumes kept pushing the envelope of how much skin she could get away with showing.
Kat was still shaking her head in surprise as she took Amy’s hand and pulled her out of the kitchen. “Let’s go show the guys.”
Josh was so stunned he had to sit down on the cushy-comfy couch he was covering. Marcus wasn’t sure he should even look. Carl decided he shouldn’t.
Everyone knew that Bernie was the most talented rope rigger in the place. His handiwork was exquisite. And under it was nothing but Amy’s 5 foot tall lean muscular frame.
Kat was still shaking her head. Carl had run off to his office. Marcus was looking at her gingerly. Josh finally broke out of his trance and breathed, “My sweet little Amy, that is………. incredible.” He pulled her closer and began to run his hands over her rope covered body.
Bernie had created a bodysuit of purple rope that was twisted and tied into a spider web of artistic knots from her neck to right between her legs. The net-like design left an infinite number of spaces between the ropes, spaces filled with nothing but Amy. Kat noticed that she was slightly dancing back and forth, from foot to foot.
“Ahh, he gave you a ‘Happy Knot,'” her best friend smirked, noticing the rope that ran tightly between the lips of her pussy.
Josh was brushing his hands over her little grapefruits, his thumb caressing the exposed nipples. She gave a little gasp and he just smiled.
She whispered to him, “Yeah, before the night is over, I’m sure you’ll have to take me back to the dark after-care area and fuck me.”
His smile widened.
%%%%%%
Kat had a box full of little bottles of blood to distribute to anyone who needed it. She also had some scary makeup, and the bottle of 3-D gel floating is a big coffee mug of hot water. The other three decided to accompany her as she made her rounds to the various exhibits, checking on their needs.
Just inside the door was the needle-play area where their friend Anthony plied his craft. It appeared that things had been set up, but Anthony was nowhere to be seen. They decided to check in with him later.
There was a wonderful display of a coven of robed and hooded warlocks sacrificing a virgin. They had a backdrop painted like a ceremonial medieval dungeon, and very impressive looking robes. They had real-looking ancient wall sconces with fake fire coming up from the electric lights. Josh wondered briefly if they actually did this ritual regularly.
Amy was particularly impressed with their “sacrificial altar,” which was a regular massage table with an extraordinary cloth laid over it, embroidered with the same runes as the warlocks’ robes. Their virgin would be restrained at the four points of the table by each wrist and each thigh. Josh was becoming convinced that they really did do this once a month at a Masonic hall or a church basement or an accounting office.
They would need the “bleeding powder,” because they planned to carve their runes on their victim’s body. Their virgin was a cute little strawberry blonde whom Kat happened to know, and knew was certainly NOT a virgin.
They also needed some of the fresh blood to be put on the woman’s crotch and spotted on the table below, to prove she had been a virgin. They decided to slide her forward, like on a gynecologist’s table and secure her with wide straps by each thigh so that her legs would be spread wide open and hanging down bent at the knee, with her ankles chained to the feet of the table at the bottom.
Each monk would get a turn to pretend fuck her, and they shunned the inconvenience of climbing up on the table. Since they would use a dildo on a stick hidden in each monk’s robe for his turn, they wanted fresh blood to add for each monk.
There was a Dr. Frankenstein, but it was a woman, with a female creature. She had a backdrop painted to approximate the doctor’s lab, and a slab where her naked creature would be restrained. She planned to use a violet wand for electricity to bring her creature to life. The doctor asked if Kat had time to make some raised flesh for the stitches around the creature’s neck. They then realized that if she had fake raised flesh, it could actually be sewed through. Kat directed her to Anthony the Needle Guy, who she knew would have a large needle and coarse thread.
Josh’s eyes popped a little at one attractive woman restraining another. Stupid, juvenile girl-on-girl fetish, Amy thought with a laugh. Maybe someday I should have Kat restrain me, but then he’d probably cum in his jeans. Amy jerked his hand and they moved on.
The most complicated set-up fascinated them all, and would need a fair amount of drippable blood. This was a man, with another man suspended by his feet (using suspension boots and the dome-shaped metal suspension frame) hanging with his head about a foot above the floor, where they had a somewhat battered old copper bowl, into which the victim’s blood would be dripping from his slit throat. The torturer asked Kat for help with faking the slit.
The suspended victim would then have in his hands (tied behind him), a little bulb-type squirter attached to a pale but opaque hose that would run down the back of his body and end just by the edge of the slit on his throat. The bulb would be filled with blood so that the victim could control the drip. The torturer also asked for Kat’s help making a sticky blood without soap that he could paint around the rim of the bowl to appear to be drinking the blood from it. They were practicing with lightly colored water to make sure they were getting it right.
One man was a Victorian vampire with a fabulous black cloak lined in red satin. He had amazingly real looking fangs and was biting his victim’s neck and sucking her blood, so he needed the minty-in-your-mouth blood, and maybe even blood capsules he could bite in his mouth to make more blood drip from the victim. Nice look, Marcus thought. I love the traditional long frilly white nightgown.
Their set included a small bed for the sleeping victim and a real working curtained window the vampire could climb through to suck some more at timed intervals. As a last thought, he asked Kat if she could make the classic fang marks on the victim’s neck.
There was a woman in full dominatrix dress with a man in the stereotyped “gimp” outfit, with his bare torso and full-head leather hood, who was chained to the St. Andrew’s Cross. She wanted the bleeding powder for bloody flogging and slitting him from throat to crotch, and maybe some drippable blood just for emphasis. She and Kat debated briefly if they should use the 3-D gel to make old welts on his back, or whether his domme should give him real welts before the party started.
Someone was even using Amy’s fun-size cross. (Josh had been obsessed with her from the moment he saw her, and had built a 2/3 scale of the big wooden X just perfect for her tiny body.)
The man was dressed as Van Helsing, and had a small woman vampire strapped to the cross in a beautiful bright red velvet Gothic gown. Her scene partner wanted dripping blood to come out of her around the stake he was pounding into her heart. Well, specifically, the deep cleavage between her ample tits. They were all pleased that her dress was just light enough in color to show the blood. She also had real-looking fangs, and wanted minty mouth blood to put on them.
They finally found their friend Anthony the Needle Guy coming in, leading a person under a sheet. “Hey, Anthony, whatcha got there?” Amy asked.
“Sure you want to see?” he asked, teasing.
“Ah, what the fuck. Let us see,” Kat yelled.
Anthony got one of his set-up crew to help him carefully lift the sheet.
“Whoa!” yelled Marcus in surprise.
“Awesome!” yelled Amy.
“Gross!” yelled Kat.
Josh just ran out of the room with his hand over his mouth.
Amy moved in to get a closer look. Kat had thought she was the Queen of Liquid Latex, but Anthony had definitely stolen her thorny crown. His model/victim was covered in a two inch layer of very good skin-colored latex, including a full mask over her face. (Well, with holes for nose and mouth anyway.) The closed eyelids were also latex.
And after she was covered in latex, Anthony had covered her in needles. Different sizes. Everywhere. In the face–in the eyes. Her tits and twat were covered just like everything else. All in all, there was a needle about every two-three inches.
“This is my model, Elena,” Anthony said. The gang greeted her, but she just waved.
“Do I even want to know how long this took?” Amy asked.
Elena just shook her head no.
“I sure hope he’s paying you enough,” Kat said to the woman.
“I do pay her well, but she actually enjoys this,” Anthony explained.
“So, c’mon, spill,” Amy squealed. “We want details.”
“Well, it took us almost half an hour to get her into the suit,” he began.
“I hear ya,” Kat commiserated.
“I’ve had two or three people helping me since 3 p.m. yesterday. We did her front by about ten last night, so she could sleep on her back. Then we started again about 10 this morning doing the back,” he said.
Amy looked at Elena and said, “I apologize for talking to Anthony instead of you. You just don’t look like you could talk easily. So does she have to stand all day? Wouldn’t it be really ugly if she fell?”
They all heard Elena scream behind the mask.
“Don’t anybody worry,” Anthony assured them. “I’ve taken plenty of precautions. If you look behind her carefully, you’ll see the clear plexiglass stand. I’m afraid it looks like she’s a mannequin I have mounted here, but I’ve worked the needles very carefully around the stand so she can lean back on it, and also here on the sides, so she can rest her arms. I’m working on finding a way to rig a harness that will hold her weight up, but it’s hard to figure out how to make it invisible.”
“Well, that is amazing,” Kat smiled. “Do you want any blood, or is this a bloodless display?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll take one of your little bottles if you have one to spare. I could put on a few little dribbles with a tiny paintbrush,” Anthony concluded.
“You are truly an artist with the needles,” Marcus said, shaking his hand.
“Sorry, but I need to go,” Kat said. “I have to hand out some more blood and make a few slit throats. Oh, Anthony, there’s a Dr. Frankenstein over there” (she pointed) “who will need help with some stitches after I put the fake raised skin around her creature’s neck.”
“No problem,” he said. “Always happy to help.”
Kat gave everyone towels to keep spilled blood off the floor, or to clean up their victim for the next performance, and then was off to start her work. The others continued to look at the displays that did not require extra flesh and blood.
Josh’s attention was drawn to a guy with two little fillies in full pony gear, making a circle around the room, then trotting out into the hallway and re-entering by the door further back. They were completely outfitted in nothing but leather body harnesses and real horse hair butt-plug tails.
The two women had large feather plumes on top of their heads attached to full-face harnesses, complete with blinders and bits between their teeth attached to reins their trainer was holding as he smacked them each with a riding crop to make them trot faster. Amy felt really sorry for them having to wear those gawdawful hard and painful to walk in pony boots.
Off in a dark corner, they discovered a mocha-skinned woman dressed as a Voodoo witch, complete with headwrap. Her victim was a young Latino whom she had bound securely to the whipping post. She had a miniature witch’s broom, about the size of a whisk broom, which she was using to alternately tickle and torment him.
Marcus, being a sensible zombie, dropped to his knees at her feet and said, “Mistress, I am here for you to command as you wish.”
The woman laughed, a good witch cackle, as she took his hand and helped him up. “You are a good boy,” she smiled. “Mama will call you if she needs you.”
The boys wandered off to the lounge, while Amy went to see if she could help Kat distribute blood. She knew she wasn’t talented enough to create slit throats, but maybe she could help Dr. Frankenstein with her sewing.
%%%%%%
Kat had finished her work, and the party had begun, so she and Amy were part of the crowd enjoying the scenes everyone had put together.
“You notice something weird?” Amy asked.
“Something weird at this party?” Kat laughed. “Surely not!”
“Yeah, listen–you can hear people screaming and moaning.”
“That is weird here.”
Usually, it was a matter of pride for a slave or sub to hold still and not make any noise while being flogged, paddled, etc. But most of tonight’s scenarios weren’t typical BDSM situations. So the victims could struggle and scream.
The female vampire being staked on Amy’s fun-size cross was fighting for her life, and was screaming bloody murder, because, well, it was.
The other vampire’s victim’s screams were muffled. He was holding her tightly from behind with one arm, as the other held a hand over her mouth as he turned her head to better suck blood from her neck.
Some just made pitiful moaning sounds, like the virgin being fucked and carved up by the monks. Frankenstein’s creature issued forth a long, loud roar each time she was reanimated with the purple zap of the violet wand. Of course, the “gimp” being flogged by the Dominatrix had the perfunctory ball gag, and was making muffled growling sounds. And Anthony’s “pin up” girl was squealing any time someone tried to touch her.
They came upon Carl in the hallway, and he shielded his eyes from looking at Amy’s perfectly roped perfect little body. She wanted to ask him how the party was going, but took pity upon him and just waved as he scurried away from them.
“Amy, can I borrow you for a few minutes?” Bernie asked. “I want to show off my work to the guys.”
“Sure!” Amy chirped, as she left with him and Kat went looking for Marcus.
Before she knew it, he had picked her up and placed her on a 3 foot high pedestal, and she was surrounded by men, and a few women, who were Cyclone’s rope riggers.
Amy enjoyed turning this way and that, though she knew her audience was more interested in Bernie’s rope work than her body. Still, being stared at always gave her a little twinge in her pussy. That, combined with the “Happy Knot” still pulling in her most sensitive spot whenever she moved, was getting her horny. She hoped she didn’t get Bernie’s nice purple rope all wet.
“Yeah, I had to use purple,” she heard him say, “since her skin is so pale white rope wouldn’t have showed as well.”
A man reached for her waist and turned her body around, while she held in a gasp. Then he was running a finger up and down the design on her back, from the top of her spine to just above her ass crack. Again she reminded herself that they were just checking out the intricate knotwork, but she did enjoy the touch.
Someone turned her again, and several of them were touching the knots and designs around her breasts and belly. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, she thought.
Then Bernie belatedly asked, “Oh, you don’t mind us touching you like this, do you?”
Yes, you’re driving me fucking crazy! she thought. But she only cleared her throat and stammered, “N-n-o, it’s fine.”
Bernie had the floor now, and was giving a talk about how he decided which designs to use, where to put them, how much of her body he wanted to cover. What he didn’t realize, but Amy certainly did, was that he was absentmindedly tugging at the rope that ran between her legs. She just bit the inside of her cheek and tried to persevere.
Finally, they were done and he was lifting her down. “Thanks again, Amy, for allowing me to show off my work,” Bernie said earnestly.
“Oh thank you for doing it for me,” she said with a fake smile, as she ran off to find Josh.
She saw him staring at Dr. Frankenstein and her creature. The woman was strapped down to the table with wide straps across her body and arms just below her breasts, and her thighs just below her pussy. The good doctor was zapping her briefly with the violet wand on her nipples, her shoulders, and the bottoms of her feet. She was now squealing with each zap. Then Frankenstein waved the wand over her pubis, not touching, but making the hair stand up on the skin.
Josh gasped. Amy smiled at his rapt attention, and her smile widened when she saw the very obvious bulge in his leathers. She simply said, “It’s time,” as she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the very dark back corner of the room.
Their lusty minds working in tandem, he lifted her and she wrapped her strong legs around his slender waist. She threaded her fingers together behind his head and started to nibble his neck.
Now that he was holding her, he could take much longer strides, and they soon reached the back wall of the room. All of the excitement of the party was yards away by now. They could hear the faint sounds, but looked around to make sure they were alone.
Then he pushed her back against the wall and started kissing her desperately. She flexed her legs and rubbed herself against him. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he swiped his fingers between her legs to make sure she was wet enough.
“Oh, fuck Josh,” she groaned. “Fuck me! Now!”
He carefully moved the rope from between her lips and began stroking the area with his fingers as she bucked against him, crying out. His erection was painful, and he quickly freed it from the tiny G-string pouch it was in. Then he lined up his pulsing cock and drove straight into her.
“Ahhh!” she cried, not remembering language. She continued to use her strong legs to pull him deeper.
Josh was beginning to growl, his breath tickling her ear and making her even more exited. They were pounding each other now, skin slapping skin as they both moaned.
Realizing that she was holding him tightly around the neck and the waist, he slid his hands below her butt cheeks and began squeezing them hard. This gave him a better angle to drive even deeper into her center.
“Oh shit, I’m gonna come!” he growled.
“Yes! Yes!” she howled. He could tell she was close, because her keening cry was rising in pitch.
“AMEEEEE!” he whispered roughly into her ear.
This pushed her over the edge, and her pussy began to squeeze him tight, pulling out his climax. He drove hard as far as he could go and just held himself there. He enjoyed her squeezing as she enjoyed his pulsing.
Both breathing heavily, he dropped to his knees on the pillows just below them. Then he stretched out with her on top of him, his still pulsing cock still seated deep inside her.
He awoke to someone gently prodding his foot, and heard Marcus’s voice. “Hey, it looks like you two missed most of the fun.”
“Yeah, Carl’s getting ready to lock up,” Kat said wearily.
Amy’s eyes were still closed as she turned her head in the direction of the voices and breathed, “Oh, hell no! We had the best kinda fun.”
Thanks for reading my entry in the Halloween story contest, and don’t forget to vote!
*NOTE: This is my personal recipe for blood. I know it washes out because I had it splattered all over a white nightgown, and it washed out without a spot! But wash it IMMEDIATELY!
The basic recipe is black cherry Kool-Aid powder and orange dish soap–doesn’t have to be anti-bacterial, but most orange ones are. The amounts of ingredients are trial and error.
Optional:
You can add water, clear corn syrup, and/or regular brown pancake syrup, until it’s the consistency you want. A little chocolate syrup, or more black cherry, can be used to adjust the color. Remember, it’s got dish soap in it. It’s NOT FOR DRINKING. (If you do want blood you can drink, I recommend buying the mint-flavored kind at a theatrical supply store, but you can make your own by replacing the soap with syrup of whatever color and consistency works.)