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FAVORITE old skirt another crew was

"His Favorite Day" {Pendragon} (MF rom cons)



IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to

read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do

something else.

This material is Copyright, 2001, Uther Pendragon. All

rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading

and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long

as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous

permission.

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as

public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination

and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly

coincidental.

# # # #

His Favorite Day

by Uther Pendragon

anon584c@nyx.net

Halloween was his favorite day in the whole year.

The jack-o-lantern he'd carved grinned out the window. Its

reflection was the brightest light in the living room, and he'd

even put a low-watt bulb in the porch light.

He peeked around the door to count the ghosts or pirates climbing

up to their porch. He grabbed up two wrapped Reese's Peanut

Butter Cups apiece and knelt behind the door.

When the bell rang, he slid the door open wider and stuck out his

long arm. Waiting until he felt the edge of a bag under his

wrist, he dropped the candy. Then he repeated the process twice

more.

"Painting your arm was too much," she said. "And where is my

candy?" He always overbought for Halloween, but he was

thoughtful enough to buy her favorite. She was going to add five

pounds in the next three days.

"It's only food coloring. It will wash right off." He took one

wrapped cup from his stash and started to hand it to her. "I have

to drop it in a bag." He pulled her blouse out with his right

hand and dropped the candy from the dyed one. She saw right then

that she should change from her office clothes. She had her own

plans for this night. He would stay close to the door and answer

every ring of the doorbell. She didn't mind; it was a subtler

form of bondage.

By the time she was back dressed in one of his old shirts and an

old skirt, another crew was at the door. "It's green!" a voice

screamed from the porch. It sounded like a mother, rather than a

child. There were shrieks of laughter and then a clatter of

small shoes on the steps.

"See?" he asked. Somebody had noticed his green arm. He, she

knew, was sure that one response was worth the time, the effort,

the green-spotted towels. And that poor woman, expecting

something else, seeing the green arm extending towards her in the

near-dark.

He drew the shirt's neckline away from her body. "Don't want to

drop these on anything delicate," he said. His left hand touched

her breast before he dropped the candy. He brushed her nipple on

the way up.

"If any of that gets on my breast . . ." she threatened. Still,

the touch stiffened that nipple.

"It's only *food* coloring. I'll be glad to lick it off." He

pulled her into a kiss. They were so lost in each other that

neither heard the steps on the stairs. They jumped at the bell.

She pulled the shirt halfway out of the skirt band, reached in

and got the candy. She nibbled her Peanut Butter Cup while

planning her next move.

Several groups came one after the other. When she came back for

her next candy, he held her neckline with his right hand and

reached his green hand under her skirt to pull the hem of the

shirt down. He stroked her thighs and even the wet spot of her

panties. Only then did he place another piece of candy in her

shirt, stroking her breasts on the way in and on the way out.

Sounds on the porch proclaimed a large group. She left him,

dropping her newest treat on the kitchen table and her panties on

the chair. She headed out the back door. The cool air with a

threat of rain made her shiver, sneaking under her skirt and through

the shirt. The groups coming up the walk now were hurrying to

beat the rain. She gave way to the last arrivals, and soon was

alone on the porch. She rang the bell.

The green hand groped forwards, offering the candy. She lifted

her skirt and stepped over it. Instead of a bag, he felt flesh.

He moved his hand in the other direction and felt more flesh.

Raising his hand trapped it in the juncture of her thighs. He

dropped the candy and turned his hand upwards. He cupped her

dripping pussy, playing with the outer labia. "Mrs. Jones," he

called softly. "Or is it Mrs. Brown? I think you are missing

one piece of your costume."

Somebody turned in their gate, braving the rain that was

beginning to fall. She stepped back, squatted for the dropped

candy, and escaped around the house without looking at them.

Visibility was poor anyway.

"Well," he said after those visitors had scuttled away in the

now-heavy rain. "If you have a green cunt, it's your own fault."

"I don't know what you mean. Did I hear you out here talking to

Mrs. Jones? It violates the whole spirit of Halloween to

identify someone who is in costume."

"I should know your pussy, after all the time I spend playing

with it. Anyway, you got caught in the rain out there. Your

hair's wet."

"And whose else do you play with that you can make the

comparison?" she asked.

He held up another piece of candy in his right hand. "Come here

and get it." He kept hold of it while snaking his left arm under

her skirt. "Yep. That was you all right. How many of the

neighbors saw you?"

"Nobody. They may have seen you groping some woman on the front

porch, but that's another story."

"Think anybody else is coming?"

"No," she said. "It's a dreary rain. No thunder or lightning,

but much too hard to ignore. She moved away from him to turn off

the porch light. "Wash that arm before you come to bed."

While she listened to the water run in the sink, she wondered

why he didn't just take a shower. She was ready for him, after

the teasing and the groping. She couldn't believe that he wasn't

ready for her, as well.

When he flipped back the blankets from his side of the bed, he

was wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. Yanking the

knot loose, she reached for his cock.

She was already touching it when she saw that it was green.

The End

His Favorite Day

Uther Pendragon

2001/06/05

This story is written in deliberate imitation of Dulcinea,

a late, great, author on alt.sex.stories.d. For more about

this, see:

dulcinea.txt

Dulcinea Tribute

This story is indexed in the subdirectory:

wl.txt

Wedded Lust

The directory to all my stories can be found at:

index.txt