Messy Halloween Mixup

“There’s Jenny, being a slut again,” my wife whispered as soon as we arrived at the Halloween party.

“Relax, Beverly, you don’t have to be so competitive with everyone.”

“I’m not being competitive. I’m just pointing out that our neighbor looks like an absolute tramp in that costume. You’re probably just turned on by it, perv.”

I wouldn’t admit it to Bev, but I was turned on. Jenny is a fit redhead with big boobs, and she was wearing a revealing schoolgirl costume. The Catholic kind: white thigh-highs with pink bows on top, a short plaid skirt, a white blouse unbuttoned to reveal the top of a lacy white bra. I wondered what kind of panties she was wearing. Probably lacy white to match the bra. What self-respecting schoolgirl would wear anything else? I made a note to keep an eye on Jenny, in case she bent over and I could sneak a peek. “You’re just jealous that her costume is more accurate than yours,” I couldn’t help but tease my wife.

“Are you serious? She probably just got hers from the store. I spent hours making my dress from scratch. And it took me forever to get my hair right. She just put hers in a bun, with a pencil stuck through it. I thought she was supposed to be a student, not a teacher. Don’t you think pigtails would have been the better choice for a schoolgirl costume?”

Classic Beverly. Always a type-A personality. She was so proud of her Marilyn Monroe costume. It looked just like the white dress from The Seven Year Itch. Even if you haven’t seen the movie, you probably know the dress. It’s the one in all the pictures getting blown up by a gust of air. Beverly had even used mascara to draw a mole on her cheek. And she had spent the whole morning curling her blonde hair. Personally, I thought her hair was just a little too long to pass for Marilyn Monroe’s, but there was no way I was going to risk her wrath by mentioning it.

“How’s it going?” Bill, the host of the party, stepped over to greet us. He was dressed in a referee’s uniform, with a whistle around his neck. We exchanged pleasantries and he summarized the room for us. “That football player is my lovely husband Mike, the vampires are the Dixons from down the block, those two robots are the Hendersons, that family of mummies is the Chungs, and of course that schoolgirl is your next-door neighbor Jenny. Hey, Jenny, where’s your husband?” I saw Bev roll her eyes at the prospect of having to interact with Jenny.

“Gary’s in the kitchen getting some drinks,” said Jenny. “Oh, there you are. Come and introduce yourself, honey–I mean, pard’ner.” Gary came out, wearing a cowboy hat, plaid shirt and jeans. When I saw that, my stomach dropped. I had also dressed as a cowboy, but been real casual with my costume and only worn a plaid shirt and jeans–no hat. Bev would be pissed that her rival’s husband had one-upped me. As Gary came over and we all made awkward small talk, I saw the grouchy mood in my wife’s eyes and reflected that my chances of scoring tonight with “Marilyn Monroe” were plummeting by the minute.

Gary is six inches taller than me and in much better shape. He always makes me feel somewhat inadequate as a man, and today was no exception. Jenny spent most of the conversation bragging about his many accomplishments, while Beverly glared at me with increasing disappointment, until we were mercifully interrupted by a loud whistle. “Who wants to play some party games?” Bill announced. “First up: Bobbing for apples. Everyone to the pool!”

We filed out to the backyard. It had been an unseasonably hot day, and there was still a pleasant warmth to the air as golden light from the setting sun filtered through the trees and onto the backyard pool. Floating in the pool were dozens of apples.

“The rules are simple. Hands behind your back, grab the apples with your mouth, the person with the most apples wins. Who’s up?”

“Oh, I’ll play!” said Jenny.

“Anyone else?” asked Bill. The rest of the crowd seemed reticent.

“I’ll play too,” Beverly declared. My wife was never one to shy away from competition.

“Oooh, a one-on-one showdown. I like it!” Bill said with glee. “Get into position, ladies.”

Bev and Jenny both leaned over the edge of the pool with their hands behind their backs. I stood back, admiring the view. (Update on Jenny’s panties: white cotton with lace trim).

The two women bobbed furiously. The water on the edge of the pool was churned into a foam. Two piles of apples accumulated by their sides.

“It looks like Jenny is in the lead,” Bill said. “She has 27 apples, and Beverly only has 25.”

“No!” My wife glanced frantically around her. The only apples left were a group of three, floating in the very middle of the pool. “Dibs!” she shouted and jumped into the pool. Before anyone could react, she had ferried the three apples to her pile. “There! 28 apples! I win!”

“Congratulations to our very wet winner, Beverly!” Bill announced to a polite round of applause. “Why don’t you come up and take a bow?”

My wife lifted herself out of the pool and stood up. The crowd went silent as her entire body came into view. Her wet hair hung limply, and all of her makeup had washed off, but that was nothing compared to the rest of her costume. Her white dress was soaked and clung to every part of her body. The thin material had become transparent, and it was very clear that she was not wearing a bra. As a cool breeze blew through the yard, I saw my wife’s pink nipples stiffen and stick out even more. Below the waist, her modestly was protected only by a pair of panties. Lacy red panties, as everyone could see. I wondered if they even had red panties in the 1950s, but thought better of bringing it up to my wife.

Beverly was aware that she was exposing herself to everyone, but too proud to admit it. “What do I win?” she asked Bill with an air of forced nonchalance.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re soaking wet. Let’s get you inside and changed before we discuss your prize.”

***

“This is it? These are your spare clothes?” Beverly stood in Bill’s bedroom with her hands on her hips, while the muffled sounds of the party drifted from downstairs. “Don’t you have anything…normal?”

“Look, you’re so tall, that’s all we have that’s close to your size,” Bill replied. “And you’ll want to wear a costume to the party. Just put it on, and you can rejoin the fun.”

“Fine,” said Bev. “Can you all step out while I change? Even you, babe, this is embarrassing.”

We all stepped into the hall while Beverly got changed. After a while, the door cracked open. “Baby, do you want to see how I look?”

I went into the bedroom again and appraised my wife’s new costume. It was a schoolgirl outfit. The Japanese kind: a red kerchief tied in a sailor-style over a white blouse, a pleated blue skirt, and stockings (black, with three white stripes on top). The skirt was very short, and on Beverly’s tall frame it barely covered her ass. The tops of the stockings and even the straps from the garter belt holding them up were visible. True to her detailed-oriented personality, my wife had even put her hair up in pigtails. I guess there aren’t many tall, blonde women in Japanese schools, but Beverly was doing her best to get into character.

“Wow, you look great!” was all I could say. My wife still looked a bit nervous.

“My panties are still drying out. Do you think I’m OK going commando?” Beverly lifted up her skirt, displaying her pussy and natural blonde pubic hair.

“Just don’t stand over any subway grates,” I smiled, but Bev was not amused.

“That joke only makes sense for my old costume. Now I have to adopt a whole other persona. And I have that bitch Jenny to compete with.” My wife started down the stairs.

“It’s not a competition,” I called after her, but she didn’t respond.

I followed her down and we rejoined the party. Somehow, Jenny and my wife had tacitly decided to compete with each other. The two women dressed as schoolgirls were acting increasingly flirty in their efforts to outdo each other. Both were getting plenty of attention from the men (and some women). Jenny was more overt in her provocative behavior, bending over to give clear views up her skirt or down her blouse. Beverly had more of a sultry demeanor that relied less on her physical assets, but her costume didn’t leave much to the imagination anyway. As the evening went on, I became increasingly uncomfortable with how familiar my wife was getting with the men of the neighborhood. And I was even more uncomfortable with how much attention she was giving them, especially Gary. Despite my best efforts to cut in, my wife relentlessly flirted with him, laughing his jokes and smiling at almost everything she said. From the way she acted, a stranger might think Gary was her husband instead of me. I was relived when Bill blew his whistle and announced another game.

“It’s a scavenger hunt!” Bill declared. He held up a small orange plastic pumpkin, about the size of a tennis ball. “I’ve hidden 30 of these throughout the backyard and adjacent woods. The couple that returns with the most, wins!”

Once again, we made our way outside. It was night, but the warmth of the day lingered. The yard was illuminated by silvery moonlight, which dimmed from time to time as passing clouds gathered in the sky. Most of the couples just milled around, craning their necks to look for pumpkins here and there. Beverly and Jenny were much more serious, rifling through shrubs and lifting lawn furniture.

Beverly dashed over to me, with two pumpkins in her hands. “The yard is done,” my wife said. “We need to go to the forest. The north path is easiest to traverse, and there’s a clearing about a quarter mile out. Bill probably hid most of the pumpkins there. We’ll go down the path, you look for pumpkins on the left, and I’ll look out on the right. Then, we loot the clearing together.” Across the yard, I could see Jenny, three pumpkins in her arms, talking rapidly and gesticulating to Gary, probably giving a similar set of instructions to her husband. “Quick!” Bev almost shouted. “Before they beat us to it!”

With that, we all dashed towards the forest. The two women took the lead, while Gary and I just tried to keep up with our wives. Anyone at the party must have had quite a view, seeing two schoolgirls pursued by cowboys. Our feet squelched in the ground, which was soft and muddy from a heavy rain the previous day. Gary’s hat flew off his head, but he didn’t stop for it. As we ran up the trail, I saw Jenny veer to the side and grab a pumpkin from a tree branch. A bit later, Beverly did the same. The women were neck-and-neck with each other, and they both slowed as they went up a hill. Gary and I were closing the distance. We were almost caught up when a cloud went over the moon and the darkness became murky. I pressed forward and crested the hill, but then bumped into something solid and began to fall. I flailed and felt fabric in both my hands, but continued to tumble down the hill. The ground was even wetter and muddier here, and I couldn’t get any traction. I was rolling, slipping, until–SPLASH! I landed in a puddle.

The moon came out from behind the cloud, and I could see again. The puddle was actually a mud puddle. Beverly, Jenny, Gary and I were all together in it. Apparently, I had bumped into one of them on the top of the hill, and then managed to pull the other two down with us. We were all covered with mud from head to toe. Beverly and Jenny had practically been turned into brunettes by the mud covering their hair. Their costumes were almost completely saturated with muddy water and clung to their bodies. Sitting in the mud puddle, I could feel water soaking through my pants and briefs. Gary looked more like a clay statue than a human, and I knew I must look the same.

My wife stood up and tried to run, but Jenny grabbed one of her garter straps and pulled her back into the puddle. Then Jenny was on her feet and running off, her sodden skirt swishing heavily around her hips. Gary pushed himself off of me and went after her. “Hurry up!” said Beverly, as she regained her footing and rejoined the chase. I managed to stand, and I ran after them. I felt slower now. My pants were dripping wet and heavy with mud.

It took a few minutes to reach the clearing. By the time I got there, Jenny and Beverly had already looted the area for pumpkins. Across the clearing, Jenny approached her husband with an armful of pumpkins. Beverly did the same to me. The two women started counting. “…nine..ten..eleven!” Beverly shouted. “We have eleven pumpkins! Beat that, bitch!”

“We also have eleven!” Jenny retorted. They were both at a loss for words. A tie? Then, they both turned to look at the very center of the clearing. There, hidden in plain sight, was a single pumpkin. The tiebreaker. The two women rushed at each other. The ground in the clearing was muddy too, and they didn’t so much run as slide into each other. They began to wrestle with each other in the mud. At first, I thought Jenny had my wife pinned, but then Beverly ripped open her blouse. The distraction was enough for my wife to flip her over and get on top, but Jenny soon wriggled from her. The two women continued to grapple and roll on the muddy ground. The sky grew darker, and soon I couldn’t distinguish either woman. I stood there, transfixed by the jumble of muddy limbs writhing in front of me.

“Hey, I found two more pumpkins hidden in this tree!” Gary’s exclamation brought all of our eyes to him. Even in the gloom, the two orange pumpkins he held were visible. “We win!”

“Well done, baby.” Jenny separated herself from my wife and made her way to Gary. “You deserve a real treat. Why don’t we show the others how a champion makes love to a woman?”

“Right here?” said Gary.

“Yes, right here and right now,” his wife replied. “You know how worked up I get about a competition. And nothing turns me on more than winning. Let’s rub it in their faces.” Jenny sounded like a hornier version of my wife. Maybe the two women had more in common than they thought. Before Gary could reply, Jenny already had his fly unzipped and his cock in her hands. Even in the darkness, I could tell that Gary had a monster dong. I like to think that I’m average or better in the size department, but Gary was clearly on another level in terms of both length and girth. “Wow, I can see you’re turned on too,” Jenny said as she bent over. “Come on, baby, fuck me with that big tool of yours!”

“There’s no reason why they should have all the fun,” I said to my wife. “Let’s fuck too.” Beverly didn’t say a word, she just pulled her muddy panties to her ankles and bent over. I unbuckled my belt, letting my muddy jeans fall to the ground with a wet plop. I put my sodden briefs on top of them and then stepped over to my wife. I entered her and moaned with pleasure. Her pussy felt wetter and tighter than usual.

“Mmmm…honey, fuck me deeper,” my wife purred. I leaned over her and squeezed her boobs through her blouse and bra. They felt bigger and perkier than usual. I ran my hands all over her body. It was like the exhibitionism of the situation heightened everything. Covered in mud and fucking in sight of another couple, every alluring aspect of my wife’s body was enhanced. My wife’s waist seemed narrower, her ass firmer, than I expected. Her thrusts onto my cock were more enthusiastic than ever before. I wanted to take my time enjoying it, and tried desperately to delay cumming. Across the cleaning, I saw Gary manhandling Jenny’s tits and heard Jenny moaning gutterally. He was bringing her to climax just through penetration. My wife was nowhere close to orgasm. She always needs her clit stroked to cum. I reached down to her pubic region, but she swatted my hand away. “No, honey, just fuck me. Fuck me, harder, honey. Fuck me deeper!”

I tried my best, thrusting away at her. She just kept begging me for more. She was insatiable! Suddenly, the moon came out from behind the clouds, and the clearing was illuminated by a bright, white light. Across from us, I saw Gary thrusting away at Jenny. She was in the throes of another orgasm, one so powerful it seemed to trigger spasms throughout her entire body. She was almost screaming with pleasure. Her head lolled about and her pigtails swung wildly.

Pigtails? I thought my wife had pigtails, and…

In the new light, I could see that the hair in those pigtails, below the coating of mud, seemed blonde-ish. And when I looked at the bun on the head of the woman I was fucking, the few strands poking out from under the mud were unmistakably red. It all came together: I was fucking Gary’s wife–and Gary was fucking my wife!

Beverly’s eyes were closed in ecstasy, but Gary’s were wide open. He looked at me, and in that moment we both knew what was happening. He smirked, then grabbed Beverly’s pigtails and pulled her further onto his cock. Beverly cried out in a combination of pain and pleasure. My head began to spin. Getting in Jenny’s pussy was thrilling, but part of me was even more thrilled by the sight of my wife, covered in mud, having her pussy stretched by Gary’s huge cock as he made her cum like I never could. I felt a tingling over my entire body and emptied my balls into Jenny. I fell back, my wilting cock slipping out of her muddy pussy, and sat on the ground. Jenny sat too, facing away from me, and put her hand between her legs, trying to service herself after my disappointing performance. We were both captivated by the show Gary and my wife were putting on.

Covered in mud, Gary was unrecognizable. With his long phallus pumping in and out of my wife, he looked more like a statue of a fertility god come to life. I wondered if Jenny even knew it was her husband fucking Beverly. For her part, Beverly was having the ride of her life. She could barely utter a coherent word, but manager to exclaim between pants “Give it to me…pump me full…of your…baby batter!” With that, Gary fulfilled her request and filled her unprotected womb. I could tell from the way he started grunting and the way my wife’s moans became deeper and longer that he was cumming, and after pumping my wife for what seemed like an eternity, he pulled out and let one final jet of cum arc over her back and land in her hair. I heard Jenny moan in front of me. Watching Gary’s performance had finally pushed her to climax. It was like Gary made both women cum simultaneously, when I had failed to please even one. My wife collapsed, exhausted, to the ground. Like the curtain closing on a stage, a cloud passed in front of the moon and we were thrown into darkness once more.

For a minute, there was only the sound of breathing. Then, a thunderclap. Loud. Close.

“We better get out of here!” A woman’s voice, but I couldn’t tell if it was Jenny or Beverly. I could barely even make out the silhouettes of the others. I felt heavy raindrops on my head as we went up the trail. Bill’s house was a point of warm light far off in the distance, and I used it to orient myself. Then the rain was pouring, and we were running. The path had turned into a watery quagmire along its entire length. In the darkness, it was hard to tell where the boundaries of the trail were, and we kept drifting into the forest. A branch caught my sleeve, and I pulled it free. I saw someone fall in front of me, tripped over them, and then felt someone else trip over me. I got up and kept on going.

We arrived at Bill’s house, chests heaving for breath. The rain had washed us off, but we had also fallen in the muddy path, so our clothes were only marginally cleaner than before, but our faces and hair were now recognizable. Gary appeared to be in the best shape of us. His clothes were dirty and ripped in a few places, but otherwise fine. Jenny had apparently gotten snagged by branches multiple times. The lower part of her blouse had been torn away, exposing her midriff, and after being ripped open by Beverly, only one button was left on the top. The result was that the remnants of her blouse barely covered her bra. There was a long tear up the back of her skirt, which gave an intermittent view of her mud-stained panties. Her once-white stockings were now completely brown with mud.