Kellys Project

Kelly's Plan. (c) Alex de Kok, 2003

The doorbell startled him. Only Kelly was due, and he'd left the door ajar for her. A bit late for the kids doing Trick-or-Treat - in any case, they'd called hours ago. He threw the door open and stopped dead, dumbfounded. "Kelly?"

"Ssh! No names. Trick or treat," the witch said, in a husky, sexy tone. The figure before him was dressed all in black, or at least as far as he could see, for she was wearing a full cape, apparently with sleeves for he could see her hands, the nails blood-red, a mask which covered her upper face and a pointed witch's hat that disappeared above the door frame.

Stan stared at the apparition, whose encarmined lips curved in a sensuous half-smile. Her tongue came out and licked along her lips. "Trick or treat?" she husked again.

Stan shook himself mentally. Wow! This was Kelly, surely? Aloud he said. "I'm sorry, there are no treats left. I gave them all to the children earlier."

"Oh, dear," said the witch with treacly sarcastic sympathy, "that

was

naughty." She pouted. "It will have to be trick then, won't it." She put one hand square in his chest and pushed, her other hand holding the pointed hat steady as she ducked under the door frame. Inside she glanced around, then pointed. "In there." Behind her the door slammed as she heeled it shut.

'In there' was the living room which was exactly where Stan had expected Kelly to be joining him, and where the brandy waited. The witch pointed to the couch. "Sit," she ordered.

Stan sat and the witch put her high-heeled-shoe-clad foot on the couch next to him. The opening in the cape fell back and Stan was mesmerised to see the sheen of a black stocking revealed, a vision enhanced by the glimpse of white thigh that accompanied it. The witch bent sideways and lifted one of the brandy snifters, swirling the amber liquid and raising it to her nose.

"Aah, yes," she hissed and took a sip. She looked down at him. "Strip."

"Wha - " he began, but she put her red-taloned finger to his lips.

"Strip."

Hoping suddenly, Stan reached to his belt and unfastened it, then unzipped his trouser fly and opened it, pushing his trousers down, kicking his shoes off, pulling his shirt over his head, careless of the flying buttons, and tugging off his socks. He reached out but the witch pushed him back onto the couch.

"Sit

still

," she commanded. She stepped back, took another sip of the brandy and put the glass down, then discarded her pointed hat beside the couch. She put both hands to the fastening of her cape. "You may look, but you must not touch me with your hands," she whispered.

Stan's cock, which had been steadily getting harder, suddenly got harder still as the witch opened the cape and let it fall to the floor behind her. The witch's breasts were supported, and barely covered, with a wisp of a black lace bra. Her hips supported a similar wisp of almost-panties, fastened at the side with lace ties. Sheer black stockings were held up by black garters. Stan's cock got even harder.

The witch moved towards him in a sensually slow undulation. She moved so that the cleft between her breasts was inches from his mouth. He began to reach for her but she hissed at him.

"No hands," she said and he realised that the bra too was fastened with ties. The witch moved closer and he raised his mouth so that he could take one of the ties between his teeth. He pulled steadily backwards and the bra fell open. The witch stepped back and shrugged the wisp of lace off. Kelly's breasts were as gorgeous as Stan had imagined them, full and round, goose-bumped areolae supporting engorged nipples which stood up firmly. She cupped one breast in both hands and offered it to him.

His lips closed eagerly around the offering and Kelly hissed her breath in as he let his teeth lightly clench her nipple. "Don't dare," she warned him. His teeth eased and he licked her nipple, then sucked on it. Kelly breathed in hard through her mouth, then reluctantly pulled her nipple from his questing mouth, turning slightly to offer him the other one, feeling the evening air cool on her breast where his saliva had dampened her.

Stan's tongue was busy and Kelly pulled at her other nipple as he sucked on her, feeling that old, familiar tension building in her. She needed more and suddenly she stepped back, her nipple popping audibly from his mouth. Kelly kicked off her shoes and stepped up onto the couch, astride Stan's thighs, her lace encased crotch bare inches from his mouth. He could smell her, the rich, warm, complicated smell of a woman in need.

She swung her hips and the tie at the side of her almost-panties came to his mouth. He looked up at her and she nodded, smiling as his teeth took the tie between them, holding herself steady as he pulled backwards, loosening the tie. Kelly swung her hips the other way and in moments the other tie was loosened. Kelly straightened, so that the low front of the panties, hanging loose now, was near his mouth.

"Pull them off with your teeth," she whispered, "slowly."

Stan leaned forward, his head against her belly and briefly she clasped him to her as he struggled to take the material between his teeth. Managing to grip the material, he leaned back and she moaned deep in her throat as the soaking material was dragged across her pussy lips. As the flimsy garment broke free from the cling of her wetness, Stan dropped it from his mouth and leaned forwards again.

"Yes," she hissed, "eat me!" She moved her feet further apart on the couch, bringing her soaking pussy closer to his mouth.

Stan's tongue came out and he lapped at her. Kelly groaned - a guttural sound, almost a purr, but far too deep for any cat - then hissed in a breath as Stan's tongue flicked over her clitoris, super-sensitive now with the excitement she was feeling, with the desire that was welling in her. She gasped again as Stan's tongue swept up her slit, flicking over her clitoris, so sensitive now that the touch of his tongue was almost unbearable. When he pointed his tongue, stiffening it and probing into her depths Kelly felt the old familiar wave beginning to crash over her.

"You're gonna make me come! Oh shit, I'm so close, baby, lick me, suck me, let me feel your tongue, harder, harder, oh my God! Oh shit, shit, shi - " A tight scream came from between Kelly's clenched teeth and she pushed her mound hard against Stan's face, the muscles in her belly contracting, rippling, as her orgasm overtook her. She clasped Stan's face against herself until he pulled away, gasping for breath.

"Hell, Kelly, you nearly smothered me," he managed to gasp as he breathed deeply.

Kelly giggled, near hysteria from her excitement, her legs like jelly. Awkwardly she got down from the couch and stood before Stan, breathing heavily, her chest flushed, nipples still erect, trying to ease the trembling in her legs. Gradually she stilled, and began to gather her scattered clothing.

"Hey, what are you doing, sweetheart? What about me?"

"No treat, remember? This was 'trick'," Kelly said, a feral smile twisting her face. "Tonight I'm bad. Hallowe'en, remember?" Kelly glanced at the clock on the wall behind Stan's head. Three minutes to midnight. She smiled slowly. "But it's All Saints Day tomorrow, and tomorrow I'll be good." She smiled again, a smile of pure promise. "Tomorrow I'll be

very

good."

"If that was the trick," Stan said, idly caressing his still hard - very hard - cock, "what would the treat have been?"

"I would have made sure you came."

Stan laughed. He gestured to her witch's outfit, to Kelly herself, naked except for her mask and stockings, a sheen of sweat on her body, her eyes flicking to the clock again. One minute to twelve.

"What was all this about?"

"Remember yesterday? When we passed the cinema? When I laughed and wouldn't tell you why?"

"Y-e-s," Stan said slowly.

"Did you notice what was showing?"

Stan thought for a moment, then a growing realisation spread across his face. "You don't mean . .?"

Kelly grinned. "Yes. That was when I got the idea for this. You have just been enjoying the Bare Witch Project!"