Mom and the Halloween Party

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So, a couple of firsts for me – a Halloween story and a story that’s actually in time for the actual season it’s set in…lol. It was a hoot to write and I hope you enjoy it. As always, all characters are fictional and exist only within the confines of the story and in my imagination! I hope to hear back from you – feedback, both pro and con, are very helpful and appreciated! Enjoy!


“You’re coming to the Halloween Party, John?” Mom asked me, looking over her cup of coffee with skeptical eyes.

I nodded and said, “I can’t wait, Mom! Bethany said we could hook up there! It’s taken me five months to wear her down, but Bethany Rollins and I are finally gonna get our thang on!”

Mom laughed and tried not to choke after taking another sip of coffee. She set her cup down and reached across the kitchen table and took my hand in hers. As it always did, there was something akin to a minute electric shock as her skin touched mine and I felt something shiver deep within me, something I could feel down in my bones and between my legs as well…something I shouldn’t maybe be thinking about my own mom, but what are you gonna do?

“Well, I’m happy for you, Don Juan, but remember, Bethany is an older woman and things…well, things get strange at Davy Riggs’ parties.”

“Well, shit, Mom. I hope so. I’m nineteen. We like things strange at nineteen!”

Mom rolled her eyes as she stood up and moved her plate and coffee mug to the sink. As she moved around, getting ready to leave for work, I watched her with an appreciative eye. She was my mother, but as I’d told her, I was nineteen!

Mom, at age forty-three was a spectacular looking woman. Tall and slender, standing five-nine in her stocking feet with large breasts and a tight butt from many evenings of exercise bikes and yoga. Mom wore her bleached blonde hair short and reminded a lot of people of that gorgeous woman who’d played the hot, blonde Borg on that Star Trek show. Usually wearing business outfits and dresses that emphasized her long, toned legs and her thirty-eight D breasts, Mom drew more than her fair share of admirers…her son, chief among them.

My father had never married Mom, having slipped out of town two days after she told him I was pregnant. She’d been working for Davy Riggs even then as had my dad, but he couldn’t handle the “settling down and raising a family” scene and had split. Last we heard, he was an overweight surfer bum doing minimum wage at some pop stand on the Pacific coast.

Mom and I hadn’t really missed him and I was proud that she’d raised me all by herself. As a result, we were closer than most mother and sons and with Mom’s liberal ways, we were in a way, more intimate than most sons and mothers. I don’t mean we had sex (I wish), but we were very casual and frank with each other. Mom didn’t strut around naked, but wasn’t shy or modest either and since the day she’d set me down when I was eleven and did the “birds and bees” talk, the topic of sex wasn’t taboo.

Mom had never remarried, but she hadn’t taken a vow of chastity either. She’d had her share of lovers, a few who’d spent time with us, but mostly her love life had been conducted outside the house. Still, Mom never had tried to hide the fact when she was going out to hit the singles scene, often dressed in drop dead sexy outfits (skin tight jeans and tops, often with very revealing necklines or in slinky little black dresses), and would answer my non too innocent inquiries of “How was your night, Mom?” with a nasty smile and a dick hardening “Meow,” when she would return looking a little weary or disheveled.

Yes, Mom has been a common subject of my masturbatory fantasies, but more importantly, she was my ultimate confidant, often guiding my efforts to get better acquainted with the opposite sex — efforts that so far had produced my fair share of sweaty fumbling in the back seat of my car at the drive-in or behind my old high school or in some young lady’s dorm room.

I had higher hopes with Bethany Robbins — an older woman of twenty-three who worked at Riggs’ Publishing, where Mom and I both worked. One may or may not recognize the name Davy Riggs, but everyone has read some of his publications. You can find them all through the city, housed in garishly colored boxes stacked next to newspaper vending machines on street corners or in wire baskets at the exits of grocery stores.

Davy has built an empire out of various publications that cover local community news, entertainment news, classified papers and various publications of ill repute as well as his Free Press newspaper — “The Eye of the City,” that had won several awards over the years for honest reporting. All were free publications, his money made from the incredible amount of advertising that appears in each paper. Even in these days of the Internet, it’s amazing how people still love their rags that cover the local Women’s Gardening Club, this week’s garage sales, and the almost seemingly infinite number of escort services that operate canlı bahis in the city.

Mom worked her way up from being a secretary twenty-two years ago to today being in charge of the advertising department, the name of Chelsea Hall being well respected throughout the business. My hopeful love, Bethany worked in layout and while I studied towards a journalism degree at City College, I worked as an office gopher and delivery man. Three days a week, I’m out in the wee hours of the morning filling those ugly boxes with Davy’s various publications. The rest of the time, I’m doing whatever scut work needs to be done and learning the various operations of the business, which is how I met Bethany.

Bethany is a short, zaftig dynamo of sexy woman, with long brown hair, lovely green eyes and a figure that as Mom puts it, is all “tits and ass.” We seemed to have hit it off since I first got hired about seven months ago. We’ve had coffee a few times, did a movie or two and even made out one night back at the end of September. She’s been involved with a guy and has been in the process of breaking up and well…I’m not sure its love, but it’s definitely lust with a whole lot of like mixed in!

I was thinking of Bethany while appreciating Mom’s slightly swaying butt, currently covered by a short and tight black skirt, not noticing Mom’s question until she snapped her fingers and said, “Hey, horndog…eyes up here.”

I felt myself blushing as I raised my eyes to meet Mom’s amused gaze. “I’m sorry, Mom, what did you ask me?”

I asked if you knew what you’re wearing to the party?”

I shrugged and said, “Not sure…thinking about either a gladiator or maybe something from Star Wars.”

Mom rolled her eyes again. “You and Star Wars — well, you better get on it — the party’s a week away and the pickings at the stores gets pretty slim, pretty quick this time of year.” Mom picked up her purse and slinging it over her shoulder, said, “Don’t be late to classes, honey.”

She blew me a kiss and headed for the door, but paused as she opened it and looked back at me. “Are you sure you want to come to Davy’s Halloween party? You’re awfully young to be attending.”

I puffed up my chest and pretended to be offended. “Young? Why, I’m almost twenty years old!”

Mom smirked and replied, “Like I said…young!”

She started to turn away but stopped when I called after her. “Hey, Mom — what are you wearing to the party?”

My mother grinned sneakily and said, “Well, if I told you, it would ruin the surprise.”

I licked my lips and said teasingly, “Well, you know, its like you said, Davy’s parties get kinda…weird. Don’t want to mistake you for someone else…accidents happen you know.”

Mom stood stock still while she stared at me — an odd and piercing expression of her face as if she was considering the implications of my statement. Finally, she gave me a devastating smile and said in a slightly husky voice, “In your dreams, son.”


Over the next few days I considered what Mom had meant about Davy Riggs’ parties being kind of weird. Davy was considered a bit of a hedonist, never having quite abandoned the nineteen sixties of his youth. Back in the eighties, he had bought a rundown old mansion that had reputedly been built by a gangster back in Prohibition days. It was a huge, rambling structure — with a massive basement that had been used to brew bootleg beer and with many, many bedrooms.

Mom had over the years, painted a pretty lurid picture of his parties, especially at Halloween and Christmas. Lots of booze, lots of pot and lots of letting loose of one’s inhibitions or “swinging” as Mom put it. Having sex in shadowy corners and in the many convenient bedrooms wasn’t frowned upon, but rather enthusiastically encouraged. I couldn’t wait! My favorite jerking off fantasy for the last week had been me balling Bethany while a crowd of people cheered us on. Sometimes, the cheers were led by my sexy Mom and I have to admit, I cum all the harder when Mom’s part of the fantasy.

I wished I had taken her warnings about a costume more seriously. After learning from Bethany that she planned to come as Wonder Woman, I scoured the better shops for a Superman or Batman outfit, but they were cleaned out. I’d have settled for Captain America or Spiderman, but struck out on those as well. They did have a Wolverine outfit left, but it just looked stupid. They were out of my fall back ideas as well — not a Darth Vader to be seen and I just flat out refused to be Boba Fett. At that point, my options seemed pretty limited and in the end, I walked out of the store, feeling somewhat chagrined for settling for a cowboy/gunslinger outfit, but looking kind of like the Lone Ranger was still a lot better than Boba Fett!


I stepped out of my car and looked up at Davy Riggs’ home with a sense of awe. Loud music made the old early twentieth century mansion almost seem to throb with energy. Costumed revelers were dancing and moving across the bahis siteleri large front yard. I tugged on my tight fitting leather pants, adjusted my gun belt and made sure that my holster was tied down against my thigh, the weight of the prop Colt 45 feeling oddly reassuring. I slipped my black mask on and adjusted my ten gallon Stetson hat and strutted up the steps towards the huge and open front doors, feeling my face burn a little as semi drunk people called out “Hi Yo Silver, Lone Ranger,” or “Howdy John Wayne” or “Where the hell is Tonto, Kemo Sabe?”

I consoled myself that I didn’t look any sillier than anyone else as a scantily clad Betty Boop bounced off me, being pursued by a maniacally laughing Robin Hood, as I entered the mansion. Inside things looked like an insane asylum with characters out of history danced frenetically with movie icons, comic book heroes and fairy tale characters. Marijuana smoke hung over the room, its sweet scent contributing to the surreal quality of the place. Standing on a stage was our benefactor, Davy Riggs, singing off key with the band as they covered old “Eagles'” tunes. That he was in a Bugs Bunny outfit seemed to make perfect sense as he crooned, “Life in the Fast Lane.” His short height of maybe five foot, three inches and his Beatle mop top gray hair somehow actually helped improve his costume.

A rough looking bartender dressed as Raggedy Ann asked me my pleasure and then proceeded to hand me a large plastic cup when I told him I wanted a beer. I tried to identify people I knew, but between the fever dream atmosphere and their outfits, it was mostly impossible. I looked for Bethany, knowing she was supposed to be dressed as Wonder Woman, but saw no sign of her.

I thought I recognized one of Mom’s coworkers as Davy and his band broke into a slower number. She was wearing Princess Leia’s bikini outfit and was doing a slow, dirty dance with another woman with long and straight black hair, wearing some sort of Egyptian Cleopatra headdress and a gold gown that was nearly sheer and clung to her body like a second skin. I felt my cock twitch in response to her long, lovely body that was nearly nude under that shimmering, transparent gold cloth and the very sapphic performance they were putting on as the Egyptian goddess ran her hands upwards to cup Princess Leia’s tits. The golden facemask that covered most of her face just added to her exoticness.

I soon became aware that people were losing their inhibitions all around me. As I wandered about, I saw couples and sometimes groups in corners or on broad couches, making out, undoing clothing, breasts and cocks and pussies displayed openly as they were groped or stroked. In one corner, Marie Antoinette was going down on Richard Nixon who was flashing his victory sign at everyone who was passing by and ogling the French monarch’s blowjob.

I began asking people if they had seen Bethany or Wonder Woman. Most shook their heads or offered me a toke on a joint or another beer. One middle aged woman smoking a cigar and dressed as J. Edgar Hoover snorted and yanked open her suit jacket to flash me with the biggest tits I’d ever seen in my life — huge, hanging udders with nipples the size of my thumb. “I betcha these are a wonder, Kemo Sabe!” she hooted before a laughing George Washington buried his face between her massive breasts.

Finally, as I was asking my second Marilyn Monroe about Brittany, she giggled and said, “Yeah, she’s a cutie. Now where did I see her?” Marilyn spun around, scanning the room, her movement causing her famous white dress to rise up, revealing to me and everyone around us that she wasn’t wearing panties and that she had the hairiest pussy I’d ever seen. “Oh! There she is, cowboy!” Marilyn squealed, drawing my attention away from her brownish-red muff.

I followed her pointing finger and my heart and cock jumped with joy as I spotted Brittany, looking sexy and voluptuous in a Wonder Woman outfit climbing the broad staircase that centered the large room. She was bracketed by a man and a woman dressed like those grim farmers from that painting, American Gothic.” I yelled, “Hey, Bethany,” but over the din of the party, she never heard me.

As she disappeared into the crowd upstairs, I began pushing my way through the horde of partygoers towards the stairs. By the time I made the top of the stairs, Bethany was nowhere to be seen. The crowd thinned out as I walked down a hallway lined with doors. Stragglers lingered here and there, but none of them were Bethany. I followed the corridor as it made a right turn and then another and then another and then another until I found myself back by the staircase.

I sighed as I looked down at the mass of costumed folks below me partying. I didn’t see Bethany anywhere and I decided to peek in some of the rooms, now feeling a sense of unease deep inside me. As I retraced my steps, I asked those hanging out in the hallway if they’d seen Wonder Woman. Most shook their heads no, but a woman dressed up as Sarah Palin and bahis şirketleri sitting on the lap of a large, muscular African American man wearing a diaper, nodded and pointed on down the hall, gasping as her friend’s hand wriggled underneath her short skirt, “Oh yeah — check out that last door on the left ‘fore ya turn the corner, betcha find her there.”

I hurried on down the hallway and came to a stop before the door. I wasn’t sure about the proper etiquette, but considering the open sexual behavior of folks I’d already seen, I wasn’t sure that there was any. With a trembling hand, I gently opened the door up and then moaned, although whether in frustration or arousal, I wasn’t sure.

The room was dimly lit, but not so poorly that I couldn’t see what was going on in there. Bethany was on her hands and knees, her star spangled trunks twisted around one ankle and her large tits spilling out over her golden breastplate. Behind her was the skinny grim faced man from American Gothic, only his face was conveying great pleasure — I suddenly recognized him as Ed, the head mechanic for the company’s truck fleet. He had his pants off and was thrusting what appeared to be a slender, but long cock in and out of Bethany’s surprisingly hairy pussy while she licked the cunt of the woman from American Gothic, her severe black dress undone and spread wide to reveal the thin body of a mature woman with firm, apple size breasts.

Bethany’s head was bobbing up and down as she lapped at the woman’s wet and glistening cunt and the room was filled by the ecstatic sighs of the woman and the muffled groans of the girl I had hoped to make groan myself. I felt a pang of great disappointment as I watched someone else fuck the latest girl of my dreams. I felt more than a pang of arousal as I watched the latest girl of my dreams fuck and lick others with abandoned.

I knew that I probably shouldn’t stand there like a pervert and watch others happily fucking and it occurred to me that maybe I should leave — maybe go back downstairs and get shitfaced or maybe just go home in defeat, but I stood there with a massive erection in my tight leather pants, unable to not watch someone else fuck the girl I had hoped to fuck.

I’m not sure how long I actually stood there, lost in my own little voyeuristic world when I suddenly felt a soft body press into my back and in my ear came a leering whisper, “Now that’s a sexy bunch of fuckers.”

I started to turn and found myself looking into a golden face mask, bright blue eyes peering at me. It was the woman in the Ancient Egyptian outfit. I shivered as I felt my arm brush against her body, rubbing against her soft, full breast, a hard nipple almost snagging against my shirt sleeve.

As I moved, she slid an arm around my waist and snuggled up and in a whisper that dripped sex, she purred, “I’m Cleopatra, but you can call me Cleo. What’s your name, stud?” Along with the sexy tone of her voice, I caught the strong aroma of bourbon.

It took a moment for my brain to catch up with my mouth, but finally when I moved my lips, sound began to emerge and I managed to stammer, “Um…I…um, John — my name is John.”

Cleo’s lips curved into a slight smile and as she trailed a hand up my arm and stroked my cheek. “Well, Cowboy John, I know it’s a lot of fun watching people fuck,” she said softly. Grinding her body against mine, her pelvis rubbing against my erection, “I can tell you like it, but…” She tugged my hat playfully and then ran her fingers down my chest, nails slowly clawing at my shirt. “But, it’s a lot more fun being one of the ones who are actually fucking!”

She leaned into me, her breasts spreading out against my chest as she stood up on tip toe and whispered in my ear, “Are you interested, cowboy?” Her tongue flicked out and licked the shell of my ear. Cleo eased herself down and slid a hand down from my chest to palm my crotch. “How about it, John?” she said so softly, I could barely hear her. “It’s Halloween after all. I can be your trick or I can be your treat. You want to fuck me, stud?”

She stepped back and turned and walked away slowly, strutting sexily towards the corner, her long, lithe body wrapped tightly in shimmering gold silk that was so sheer she might have well as been nude.. Her slender legs emerged from beneath her gown, made even shapelier by the four inch high heels that ended in straps around her trim ankles. She turned and looked over her shoulder at me, her long, black hair swirling as she did and then crooked a finger at me to follow.

As she disappeared around the corner, I began to follow, not sparing Bethany and her friends a single backwards glance. Around the corner, I found Cleo standing in a doorway, posing provocatively, twisting her body to emphasize one full breast tight against the fabric of her gown, swollen nipple threatening to burst free. She smiled again and stepped into my arms as I approached.

She lifted her head slightly and pressed her lips against mine. My heart began to pound wildly as I felt a tangible shock course though my body, my cock throbbing with excitement as her tongue slipped into my mouth. Our tongues dueled as she steered us into the empty room and kicked the door shut.

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