After a horrid week and more of flu, two weeks with no fun and not even enough energy to write a word of blog, I finally went out on Saturday, and a late night with too much Baccardi and lots of lovely finger-happy men seems to have fixed me perfectly. Or maybe it was the wizard fuck at ten o’clock, or the devilish one at the witching hour?
I’m going to keep it brief though, cos I promised to write shorter blogs more often.
Halloween party then, in a big hotel just outside town (quite posh, I always think) so we treated ourselves to a room and got changed when we arrived. Rog was a wizard Merlin, long black robes, pointy hat, nice straight wand with a star on the end and a Merlin mask, with hook nose and a straggly white beard.
I was a witch. Green body paint (Rog did most of it, took ages because we discovered that it rubs off quite easily when wet), topped off with glitter, a black pointed hat with a horrid stiff black wig built in, and a witchy mask with warts and a pointy nose. My long black robe wasn’t really long at all, apart from a few strands, and was mostly made from ripped-up net curtains dyed black and kind of stitched together here and there. I was quite pleased with it (because I made it myself) and Rog said it made dancing fun to watch.
Because what do witches wear under their robes? Same as Wizards, Rog said. Nothing, in other words. Not a problem in a floor-length robe made out of a black sheet for him, but a lot more interesting in a floaty mid-thigh bunch of see-through strips of net (it was meant to be lace obviously, but the curtains were loads cheaper.)
You know I always like to start an evening with my knickers on, partly for visibility reasons and also because it’s a rude thing when a strange man takes them off, but white knickers under this floaty thing were visible 100 miles away, black ones completely spoilt the effect and the fun, and wearing no knickers gave me an immediate hot wet sensation, so I thought why not? It makes a change. It wasn’t immediately obvious I had none on unless I wanted it to be, but if you watched carefully you could see the little Brazilian triangle quite clearly, and of course it was easy to show it off deliberately when I sat down. And when I was dancing, I couldn’t keep it hidden if I tried. Perfect. I was red-hot wet just walking down the corridor to the lift, and I swear there was a dribble trickling down my thigh when we walked through hotel reception and into the Royal Suite.
There were already about ten Merlins in there, all bought their masks and robes in the same shop, I bet, and I remember thinking this could make for an interesting night. There were dozens of witches as well, but none of them were half naked, only me. Which could also make for an interesting night, I thought.
Rog decided it would be fun for me to be groped by all the Merlins, and I couldn’t disagree, so I had a good try, but it was quite confusing. Some were tall and some shorter, of course, and I think I got round them all, but it might just have been the same three or four over and over again. Rog says I should have checked their hands, and if they were green it would have been my body paint rubbing off and I’d already been there, but I didn’t think of it at the time, and he didn’t till he was in the gents and there was another Merlin there trying to wash the green off his hands before he went back to his wife.
The other Merlin smiled at Roger’s green hands and said you too?, and Rog laughed and said yes, me too, and they had quite a nice chat about how naughty the half-naked witch was, and how hot and wet she was, which Rog really enjoyed because the guy didn’t realise he was my husband. I can’t believe she just sat there showing me her pussy, he said, and the other Merlin said never mind that, I can’t believe she didn’t stop us doing this, and waggled his green fingers at Rog.
It’s true, I had been showing my pussy around, and encouraging the various Merlins to see what it felt like. No point going out with no knickers unless you’re going to let people see, is there? Showing myself naked like that is a very wetting feeling, so I wanted their hands between my legs quite badly, and I was happy to grab them by the wrist and shove them between my thighs if they didn’t get the idea quick enough. No surprise that I was ready to do something about it quite early, then. I’d been finger-fucked to screaming point but not quite made to cum, and I’d handled a few wands myself, and made some impressive tents in the long black wizard robes. In fact it was very exciting, dancing close in public like that, me being almost naked and the men basically naked under what was nothing more substantial than a black sheet. I could feel their cocks wobbling around when they danced and then getting harder and lifting up as we got closer together. It would have been knicker-wetting if I’d been wearing any, but as it was I just made snail-trails on the front of a few Wizard thighs.
And down the insides of mine to be honest. I was dripping freely, and the tops of my legs were wet, and it was time to get serious.
And at just the right moment (he knows me too well, I think) Rog led me across the room and I found myself watching a guy in a skeleton outfit. It was a black Lycra body-stocking with all the bones painted on in luminous paint. Straight away I knew why Rog had led me there and why he wore it. He was gym-toned, big shoulders, nice pecs or whatever they are, an excellent six-pack clearly visible under the stretchy Lycra, and a whopping great cock also clearly visible. I took one look, and thought, he’ll do.
He had followed the skeleton outfit idea to the limit, because he was obviously wearing nothing under it. I asked him why he hadn’t got a luminous bone here, and brushed it gently with my fingertips so he knew what I meant. He jumped when I touched him, and his cock started growing, a visible swelling, which started me dribbling as well.
It’s not got a bone in it, he said. Yet, said I smiling, and stroked it again. He smiled and looked at Rog, a bit puzzled. When we go upstairs, I said, he comes too, but we all keep our masks on, and I gently grazed the end of his cock with my fingernails. It took him half a second to reach a decision, and just said okay, make it quick, before my wife comes back from the Ladies.
We were in the lift in seconds, and upstairs in our room in less than a minute, and his cock was in my mouth before Rog had shut the door behind us. I just dropped to my knees in front of him, pulled his tights down and watched it bounce upright, lolling around in front of me. I grabbed it with one hand and fed it into my mouth, cupping his balls with the other hand, tasting it hot and salty, tickling the hole with my tongue as I let his foreskin ripple between my lips. It was luscious, and I could have sucked him for hours, but he was in a hurry to get back to his wife and I was in a hurry to get his cock in my pussy. I wanted him inside me very urgently, and I rose up and lay back on the bed, pulling him by the root of his cock, opening my legs wide and using the fingers of my free hand to spread myself open. I was so wet I knew it would go in with no trouble, but I wanted him to see how much I wanted him, to see how ready I was and to see what he was getting. Come on then, I said, come on.
The skeleton looked a bit stupid with his black tights rolled down his thighs, but with nine inches of solid cock sticking up like a tree-trunk, I wasn’t laughing. He let me pull him closer and closer, until I’d pressed him between my wet lips, and felt the head of it push me open and plop inside.
My first strange cock in weeks felt very very good, and just that nerve-jingling moment when the tip of it spread me open was enough to make me start cumming, and he waited patiently for me to finish before he started giving me the rest of it, and I felt the length of him slither through my fingers as he leaned forwards and eased himself in.
It felt even better when all of it was in, I have to say, because there was lots of it and there was just more and more thickness pushing higher and higher till I thought it was going to come out of my mouth. Rog says I shouted oh my God at the top of my voice when we finally got bone on bone and it was all there, and then shouted a lot more when he started fucking.
It’s not the moment when a cock touches you high inside that makes it feel big. In some positions Rog can do that very easily, and as you know he’s Mr Average. But on your back, missionary, when it’s touching you right up inside, and the thickness of it is spreading you wide open, when you can feel the weight of it in your pussy, and he’s grinding his pubic bone against yours – that’s a big one, that’s when you feel really very comfortably full up with cock. I do, anyway.
He didn’t mess about with it, just fucked me hard and fast from the off, which was just what I wanted and needed. I was aching for a big cock fuck and it was heavenly getting it so hard and fast, and wearing the masks meant I didn’t have to talk, I could just concentrate on the feelings as his thickness and length slammed into me again and again and again.
It was very strange being shagged by a skeleton, and maybe he thought it was odd doing an ugly witch. But I found it dead horny, a faceless stranger pinning me to the bed with his huge cock, fucking like animals.
I know I’d had a few drinks, which always makes me horny and wet and makes me cum easily too, but even so this was something special. The long gap since the last time, plus the sheer size of the thing and the energy he put into fucking me very hard for quite a long time all helped, and I couldn’t stop cumming, over and over again, each one starting again as soon as the last one was over.
Rog says he was in me for about 15 minutes and he counted me cumming 6 times, but there could have been more. I can remember one that started when I was on my knees, and I reached back and held him, feeling my wetness all over his cock, making it slippery in my hand, finding more from where it was dribbling out of me and massaging his cock with my wetness every time it came out in the open, the foreskin rippling in my fingers, and I swear I could feel it going into me, pulling back over the head of it, bunching up and making a hard ring that I could feel as it went in and slid all the way up inside. Wow!.
I would have cum at least once more but when it was his turn to cum, and the strokes were harder and faster and his cock was swelling up ready to burst inside me with all that lovely hot spunk, and I’d stopped telling him to fuck me, fuck me harder, fuck me silly , and so on, and started shouting don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, which I do a lot when I want to feel a man cumming inside me, and just as I got to the yes, yes, yes, cum now, cum now, he suddenly pulled it out and finished himself with one hand, spraying long thick jets of cum all over my tummy, my screwed-up witch costume, my mask, the pillow, and the bedside table. The hotel phone was splattered with spunk, I noticed after he’d left and gone back to his wife and I was still whimpering and moaning with disappointment, my pussy burning and twitching with need.
I got a grip, and cleaned myself off as best I could, and we went back downstairs, but there were some sticky clumps in my wig that didn’t really wash off, and some splatters on the net curtains. They were so ragged now that I should really have put some knickers on, but I was a bit drunk and extremely horny, really quite dangerously needy, so I didn’t bother. The skeleton had left me on the up-slope, and I needed more cock, and quickly.
I went straight back to the dancefloor, found a chair and made a point of showing my now rather shiny and swollen pussy to assorted ghosts and wizards, and finally found myself being stared down at by the Devil himself, complete with three-pronged fork, a red mask with two horns and a black Lycra body suit with a horn of its own.
I decided it was fate, two body suits in one day, and asked him if he wanted to take me to hell and back. Hubby will hold your fork, I said, and perhaps it was the anonymous mask that made him brave, because he said yes at once. Actually, what he said was that hubby was welcome to the fork as long as he could fork me, or words to that effect, though it was loud, and his voice was muffled by the mask.
I’d noticed right away that his cock wasn’t as huge as the Skeleton’s, but no-one with a small cock shows it off in a skin-tight suit, so it was a decent enough size and already getting bigger. I’m not sure if that was anticipation, me stroking it lightly every so often just to keep his attention, or the fact that I was pulling the net curtains higher and higher, and spreading my legs wider and wider, so that the occasional glimpses of pussy were now a first-class view of just how wet and ready I was.
I’m rubbish at guessing cock sizes, but Rog said the Skeleton must have been a good nine inches and winner by a short head, which makes the Devil about eight. I’ll take his word for it. All I can say for definite is that it fitted very well in the space provided, and I was soon cumming loudly, and we were still up against the wall in the room, not even got as far as the bed. He just pushed me against the wall as soon as we were in the room, whipped it out and stuck it in, almost like rape, as if he was afraid I’d change my mind.
Not a chance when it felt all hard and lovely inside me.
And the more he did it, the lovelier it got.
After he’d made me cum like that, back against the wall, knees all wobbly and legs collapsing, he picked me up with his cock still rock hard inside me, sat me on the dressing-table and did it again. It took a little longer, because I was settling down now, but when I looked over at the mirror and saw myself sat there with my legs apart and the Devil himself fucking me really very firmly, I just had to cum.
When it was over, he carried me to the bed and fucked me in all the positions either of us could think of, and any time I was near to cumming I just looked in the mirror and saw myself with the Devil’s cock in my pussy and that was me screaming and shouting while my pussy gripped and squeezed and my hips pummelled up and down.
The really good ones were watching his face moving up and down above me, and I just thought I’m being fucked by Satan, taken by the Devil, and it feels fantastic, and off I went into another world, quite literally.
He came twice, the old Devil, the second time not as big and noisy as the first, nor so copious, but he was gentleman enough to cum inside me where I needed it both times, and of course the lovely hot gushing inside helped me to cum as well, as it always does.
He was going for a third when his mask came off, and as he spurted into me I had the biggest orgasm of the night. It’s never happened before, but I suppose it had to, sooner or later. All the nights in bars and clubs with my pussy on show, behaving like an out-of-control hooker, and I’ve never met anyone I know, or been embarrassed at being seen like that by the next-door neighbour or hubby’s pals from work.
But I’d just been fucked silly for the past hour by someone I knew (without either of us realising it, obviously) and now I was cumming like a sex-mad rabbit as someone I suddenly recognised delivered the last few strokes and sprayed his spunk into me and I was locked onto him, arms round his neck, legs wrapped round his body, lifting myself up and pushing him deeper, opening myself to his cum, screaming with pleasure and delight as he added to what was already there in three or four short, sharp bursts that I can still feel if I sit still and concentrate.
When it was over, I calmed down, and didn’t even pause to savour that lovely feeling when a cock goes soft inside you, shrinking into a sea of cum and pussy juice. I didn’t suck him clean and dry, which I also love to do while I’m still throbbing from those madcap cum strokes at the end. I just bundled him out of the room as fast as I could, not least because I didn’t want to speak or do anything that would give the game away, but mostly because I didn’t want him to recognise me – he could easily spot something in the room, clothing, personal possessions, that might give it all away. Thank God I’d decided that witches don’t wear any jewellery!
Rog realised something was up, of course, and cleverly said nothing till he was gone and then just raised an eyebrow. He looks like Roger Moore when he does that, by the way, and it usually makes me all wet and giddy, but not tonight. He’s from the school, I told him, and he said, oh my God, not... and I said no, don’t be silly.
I told him weeks ago about the new head, and that all the mothers waiting at the school gates have got the hots for him. He’s fit, tanned, gorgeously handsome, and very young for a headmaster, I always thought.
No wonder that every afternoon at 3.30 there are 40 pairs of wet knickers waiting to catch a glimpse of him, every one of us affected in the same way, not a dry gusset for a hundred yards.
As Roger realised quite quickly for someone who had drunk that much G&T, the man revealed when the mask came off was obviously not him. The deputy head is much older, nearing 60 and constantly on about early retirement, and how tired and worn out he is. You could have fooled me. He’s pig ugly too, I have to say, with big nose, big ears and teeth a size too large for his face. I’m not kidding if I say he looked better in the mask, but he had a very nice hard cock and must have been taking drugs to fuck for a solid hour and cum three times. At his age. Disgraceful.
My pussy was still swollen and twitching with the feel of his cock in me as Rog and I talked it through, and maybe I was kidding myself but I thought I could feel his cum leaking from me as we went over and over what we’d said downstairs and up here in the room (mostly oh God and fuck me, on my part) and eventually we decided he hadn’t a clue who I was, and as we talked it got less and less scary and more and more horny, and pretty soon I was kneeling on the bed while Rog fucked me frantically, making me cum as soon as he put it in, and then going like a steam train while I tried to remember as much as I could about the way he’d felt inside and Rog tried to decide if his spunk felt any different to anyone else now that he knew who it belonged to. No, basically, which I think was a disappointment for Rog.
I put off writing about all this because I wanted to see what it would be like on Monday afternoon, talking to him, me knowing what he looked like with is veiny cock in my mouth and pussy, and him totally unaware that his cum was still leaking into my knickers as we spoke about the weather, but I didn’t see him. He was there today though, and it was a really weird feeling watching him do all the normal after-school things but knowing what he looked like with no pants, and what his cock felt like inside me. I was very wet very quickly, and I like to think that some of that was at least partly the last drops of his spunk dribbling out of me. He was still ugly though, and in a way that made it even more arousing, and as I remembered the way I’d pulled him into me as soon as I knew who he was, fucking him in a frenzy of wanting my legs as wide apart as possible, his cock as high inside as it could be when he spunked in me, and I believe I was blushing as my pussy swelled open and the wetness just gushed into my knickers. As soon as we got home I had to run to the bathroom and make myself cum with a flurry of fingers dancing over my clit and plunging deep inside, and remembering it all for this means I’m going to have to go and do it again now, right away..
