*Forgive me. This story isn't exactly story-shaped.
ONE
The Witch-
It was Halloween, and Paula decided to stroll next door to her neighbor's house. Before coming over, however, she picked up a tube of two-dollar matte black from the corner store. Something that would match her flimsy witch's costume. She reached into her purse and pulled out the tube of cheap black lipstick. Generally speaking, she was attracted to quality makeup. Still, Mr Latimer had been kind to her, and she wanted to repay his kindness by leaving him with something, or lots of somethings to remember this evening.
She wouldn't kiss him on the lips, not yet. Instead, she kissed each of his cheeks. She kissed behind his ears and down his neck. Paula kissed his adam's apple and felt Mr Latimer shudder when she licked his chin. He tried to kiss her then, but she pulled away and gave him a teasing 'nuh-uh'.
She unbuttoned his shirt and thought that Mr Latimer was in pretty decent shape for a man his age. She kissed just below his collarbone, and once on each peck. She trailed kisses down his stomach until she was kneeling in front of him, working his slacks open.
The Adulteress-
As she came out of the hotel bathroom, Mrs. Latimer absently planted her heel down on a used condom. She lifted her foot to study it with an odd mixture of amusement and disgust, like she'd stepped in a wad of gum barefoot. How many condoms had they gone through? How many did they have left? She hoped at least one more, but before Mrs. Latimer could ask, her lover crept up behind her.
She felt his hand on her hip before it slid down and grabbed her ass. She didn't know why he was obsessed with her ass. It wasn't the plump peach or bubble butt like a lot of the younger women had, but she liked that he liked it. Mrs Latimer looked over her shoulder to tell him so, only to find that he was wearing that flimsy mask, from the slasher flick.
What was the movie again? Was it Slash, or Stab? She couldn't remember. He'd worn it off and on all day at the office, and everyone thought it was a riot, but here in their hotel, she found it...Strange. Even though it was Halloween, the strangeness of this almost choked the mood right out of her. Almost. A moment later and Mrs Latimer felt his hardness brush up against her thigh. She decided that maybe she could work around the mask.
Even after three years, their sordid little affair was still more or less exciting, Although lately, Mrs. Latimer felt increasingly more like a tool than a partner. In the past three months, she can count on one hand how many times he'd gotten her off. Though he always got off, always.
"You're already hard again?" She asks as if his rigid cock wasn't resting between the curves of her ass cheeks. He was ready for another round, and so was she, but upon further inspection, Mrs. Latimer decided that the mask was really killing the mood. It was kind of amusing the first time, tolerable the second, but now it was creeping her out.
She'd agreed to the usual hotel after telling herself that it would be better than handing candy to little snot-nosed kids with her husband. This was better than coming home and playing the part of a wife, a role Mrs. Latimer was certain she'd outgrown a couple of years into their marriage when the novelty wore off.
Her husband wasn't a fool. He'd sensed something in her change, a shift perhaps, or maybe her pulling away. Mrs. Latimer thought that maybe he suspected a little more than he'd let on; that maybe her late nights at the office were a little more intimate than professional. When she'd finally come home she'd find him waiting for her with a weary look. He'd try to smile, but it was too forced, too melancholy, and after six months or so he gave it up.
What she couldn't figure out was why he never spoke up. There were never any heated confrontations. Where there should've been angry questions about how late she was coming home, and her tidy work clothes being obviously disheveled, there was only his silence, as if he couldn't be bothered to ask.
That burned Mrs. Latimer. Maybe if he'd cared enough, he could have put a stop to all of this. Maybe if she felt desired enough she wouldn't have to stray outside of their marital circle. All of this was really his fault, or so she liked to believe.
TWO
The Witch-
She worked his slacks down his thighs, then when they sagged at his ankles, Mr Latimer stepped out of them. Paula continued to deface him, planting a smeared kiss above the trim of his pubic hair. There was this rich and warm sandalwood scent that roused her. She basked in it before peering up at him with a dark mischievous smile.
His erection bobbed in front of her for a moment, and Paula kissed the tip. She gave him three charcoal kisses which spanned his length before pausing to tongue his balls. Again, Mr Latimer made a satisfied noise in the back of his throat, which pleased the little witch.
She applied more lipstick, then beckoned to him to spread his legs. When he did, Paula kissed the inside of each thigh. She kissed down to his knees. When she was satisfied with each of the marks she'd left, she turned him around and kissed each of Mr Latimer's cheeks but planted an extra laugh smooch on his right one, which made him laugh.
The Adulteress-
Before her anger carried her away from the here and now, Mrs. Latimer closed the door on the thoughts of her meek and uninteresting marriage. She tried to work around the pale mask, focusing more on her lover's twitching cock.
"Does your wife's pussy feel this good, Mr. Ghostface?"
She didn't wait for an answer. Instead, Mrs. Latimer bent over the shabby hotel bed and spread her ass in an invitation. She watched him stroke his cock, with a smile, happy not to look at that stupid mask. They have been fucking and drinking for the past two hours, and she's happy he's still in the game. God bless the pharmaceuticals that produce that little blue pill. God bless hotels on the edge of town, and God bless cheap red wine.
She closed her eyes in anticipation. A moment later she felt her lover push into her. Yet, even after two generous glasses of wine, Mrs. Latimer wasn't so tipsy that she didn't realize he felt different.
"Oh god," She exclaimed.
"What's wrong, honey?" he'd asked, and she heard the menace in his voice. It was unmistakable. The bastard knew exactly what was wrong.
"You..." She struggled with the words, trying to tamp down on the surprise and magnificent feeling of a raw cock. "Y-You don't have a condom on, do you?" She peered over her shoulder and watched the Ghostface shake his masked head.
"Of course not," he chuckled, low and mischievous. "It's your reward for being my good little victim."
Mrs. Latimer opened her mouth to scold him, but realized that a scolding with a cock deep inside of her wasn't going to have the scathing punch she wanted. Her voice escaped her in a short choppy cacophony, betraying her, and Mrs. Latimer surrendered herself to the feeling, lowering her head, arching her back, and pushing back against him.
