Early in the beginning of the evening, Ryan and I get ready to greet the little kiddies at the door. As usual, we have several "scary" things set up for the kids, and a couple of tricks. We used to have Halloween parties every year, before we had kids, but we hadn't dressed up in years.
But this year, Ryan said we should dress up. However, the costume he had in mind was not just for the kids. For me, he has a long, black, "Elvira" dress that he'd picked up at a second-hand shop. It covers everything, from the neck down to the floor, with long sleeves. The sleeves have extra, tattered-looking material at the end that hung down. It was rather tight, but it looked pretty good on me.
Under that, though, he wants me to wear a leather and chain thong that he bought recently, and a nipple chain with cord loops at each end of a light chain. The chain keeps my nipples erect all night, and in the black dress, they are quite prominent. To finish the costume, he hands me a small, black mask that covers my eyes.
For himself, he has assembled a Zorro-like costume. Black leather pants, a black silk, long-sleeved shirt, a black hat and a black mask. He is very handsome, in that devilish, bad-boy way that I love.
I should mention that our house is very old, it was built 100 years ago, and it sits way back from the street, so it must be very intimidating for the little bitty kids to climb the long flight of steps to our front door. It's rather spooky looking, since the style is so grand yet so old-fashioned.
*****
The Trick-or-Treaters come and go for a couple of hours. Then, about ten o'clock, they stop, except for two groups of High School kids out roaming around and snagging free candy. As usual for the Pacific Northwest, it is a little rainy this evening, so the little kids have all retreated to their warm, dry homes to examine and sort their loot.
Ryan strikes a match and lights a few orange and black candles that I've set out for the occasion. He turns out the outside and inside lights, signaling that we're done with the kiddy part of the night. He invites me to sit next to him on the couch, and plants a long, slow, deep, wet, passionate kiss on my lips.
"Now it's our time," Ryan says. "Would you like a refreshing beverage?"
"Of course!" I answer. "Two olives, please!"
Ryan goes into the kitchen and makes a couple of Vodka Martinis, my favorite. When he comes back, he sits next to me, occasionally teasing my nipples a little through the fabric of the dress.
Our kids have gone upstairs to get ready for bed, but are sugar-buzzing, unable to get to sleep until late, probably about eleven o'clock when they are finally quiet.
We have been watching some TV, and chatting as we drink a couple more rounds of drinks. One of his arms is around me, and drops down around my waist, pulling me closer and tighter against him. The other reaches for my breast, and he starts to seriously tease my abused nipple. This gives me that familiar, wet and tingly sensation between my legs, as I think about the pleasure that awaits me. As he continues the long, slow kissing, he reaches to my other nipple and teases that until it, too, is very hard.
I have been running my hand between his legs, up and down, feeling his bulge get larger every time my hand reaches the top. After a couple of minutes of kissing and fondling, Ryan pulls me toward him and pushes my arms behind my back. I'm not sure what he has in mind, but he makes it clear when he takes the dangly parts of my sleeves and ties my arms behind me with them.
