Pete's a good natured guy. He understands having a little fun, hanging out and just being yourself. And he loves kids. He loves reading to them and helping them with their school work and building stuff. He used to do all that with his kids until Maddy, his wife, divorced his ass and took the kids.
Still he likes to be a fun guy so when Halloween rolls around he puts out some fake tombstones, hangs a few skeletons and plays creepy music from his porch speakers. Since he lives on a farm and the nearest neighbor is two thousand yards away and most parents take their kids into town for Trunk or Treat for safety he doesn't expect many visitors. He doesn't mind though because the lights and sound keep the teenagers from coming round to egg the house or some other nuisance.
A big bowl of candy sits within easy reach as he watches his horror film of choice. This year he is doing the double feature of An American Werewolf in London (the original) followed by Lon Chaney, Jr. in Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein. He'll eat most of the candy on his own.
Not ten minutes into the first movie the doorbell rings. At forty-seven Pete has seen a few kids come by so he doesn't think anything's unusual about getting visitors. It's just during the last five or so years there's been fewer and fewer. They do come early though so they should all be done by time his movie gets to the first attack scene. If he even gets another visitor.
At the door two small imps stare up at him from the porch. They chorus, "Trick or Treat!"
"Ooh, I'm scared," Pete shakes his rugged suntanned body for effect because he knows the kids like that. The two hold open grubby bags waiting for the goodies. Pete thinks the costumes are getting better every year. He can hardly tell that they're wearing masks and their parents must have set them up with some electronic voice modulator to get that weird tunnel effect. Odd, usually the parents are right at the edge of his yard but he doesn't see them anywhere.
Two chocolate bars into the bags and back to the film. Pete stops closing the door when instead of a thank you they say, "Stay in side for the rest of the night," in unison.
Pete looks at them quizzically as they leave without another word. They sure are fast he thinks as they vanish when they get to the end of his walk. Not a bad idea though he thinks to himself. He walks back in and then returns with a stool and the bowl of candy and a sign. With a marker he writes, Take One-Happy Halloween, on the front. Not a bad idea after all he thinks as he grabs a piece of candy and heads back to his movie.
Ten minutes later the doo bell rings. Pete ignores it figuring that they did it from habit and once they read the sign they'll take all the goodies and go. The doorbell rings again. Ok, he thinks, the kids really want to say I told you so. The sun had dipped past the horizon a few minutes ago so he turned on the light as he makes his way to the door.
The bell rings for a third time. "Beware for whom the bell tolls," he jokes to himself.
Pete pops the door open suddenly bent over making the goofiest face right at child height. "What the hell, give'em a little thrill," he thinks. And he finds himself staring right at the navel of a woman. Pete jumps up taking in the whole picture. The woman, girl, couldn't be more than twenty with dingy blond hair, pale blue eyes and a What-the-fuck sneer. "I beg your pardon," he stammers.
"Whatever." Taking in the whole picture he sees that she is dressed, if you could call it that, in red and white stripped knee-high socks, Daisy Dukes and a plaid shirt tied below her breasts open all the way. His cock stirs in his pants as his eyes linger a little longer on her cleavage than is strictly polite.
Behind her with one foot on the porch stands a guy not much older than her. At first Pete didn't notice him until he spoke. "Can we come in and use the phone?" The boy's hair is artificially black, mussed and greasy looking. He has a James Dean look; leather jacket over white tee, jeans and boots. Pete doesn't like him instantly.
Normally Pete is the model of hospitality, but on Halloween he knows there are crazies out so he is a little more cautious. "What's the trouble," he asks as he sizes up the two looking for danger, not seeing it to his misfortune.
"We're headed to a party and my car broke down over there," he waves generally off to the left.
"Yeah, sure, use mine," and he hands his cell to the kid without crossing the threshold. The girl licks her lips.
They stand looking at each other while her boyfriend makes the call. Pete couldn't help but be uncomfortable as the girl undisguisedly checked him out. It's like being licked as her eyes travel up his powerful arms, across his broad muscular chest before lingering on his crotch.
Likewise he checked her out from the candy red painted lips to the china white skin over her flat stomach and the nearly bony hips. He saw now that her breasts had only at first appeared large due to her thinness. In truth they were firm round globes, youthful and bouncy. "Ya live here alone?"
"I have a family," he stammers. Looking at her feels like falling in a dream and her eyes makes his balance disappear. He puts a hand on the door frame to steady himself. "I farm,' he says for no reason.
"A farmer? So, you till the earth. I bet you do a lot of plowing," she purrs.
Her voice is like sweet molasses with bourbon. When she looks back to his crotch he realizes that his dick is fully erect and making a tent of his jeans.
Just then the boy comes back and hands him back the phone, "All set." Seeing what's happening he goes on, "We got twenty minutes, for a hundred dollars you can get your nuts off in her, any hole."
Pete staggers like he's been hit. "What did you say?"
Enunciating every word, "You can fuck her for a hundred bucks," mocks the kid.
"You mean...," Pete stammers.
"That's right, Dude, she's my ho...," he begins.
"And he's my pimp," she concludes.
They all stare at each other. Suddenly, "Naw, man, this is just our costumes for the party. Had you going, didn't I," he laughs good naturedly. "Cynth, I believe he was thinking about it. How'd you like to do the old guy?"
"He's good looking with lots of muscles. I bet he's got a big cock," observes Cynthia. She nonchalantly reaches out and rubs the front of Pete's jeans. "HMMm, yes, I'd do him."
"Too bad we gotta go. Catch you later," the kid smiles as they turn to go. Almost Pete calls them back, but he sees them both hesitate as the thought crosses his mind and then he closes the door. The two were just playing with him he figures as he heads back to his movie.
Half an hour later Pete has the light out and his jeans open as he pumps his eight and a half inch dick; the movie forgotten. He's visualizing splitting Cynth's beaver while she rubs those pretty titties in his face. A crash on the porch and frantic banging on the door nearly cause him to jump out of his skin. He scrambles to tuck his aching cock back into his pants as he stumbles and falls on his way to the door.
A woman's cries for help echo in the dark. Pete snatches up his pistol from the hall table as he reaches for the door. He snatches the door open. Three things happen at once; Pete's pants fall to the floor around his ankles, a woman falls against his legs and his cock sticking out of his briefs slaps her in the face. Pete stares down at the raven-tressed woman at his feet holding a pistol in one hand and the door knob in the other.
She looks up to him past the dark red knob of his crown pleadingly. "Pete, help me. He's trying to kill me," she begs.
It is the face of his beautiful ex-wife Maddy he looks down at. She looks just the way he always thinks of her even down to the same clothes she was wearing in the picture on his phone. Only now those clothes are torn. The white blouse is soiled and rent down the front revealing her shear bra clad breast. The large dark areola is clearly visible through the material.
Pete recovers his wits and lifts her from the floor. With a last look around he closes the door. Was that the Imps standing at the end of his walk? Looking again he sees nothing so he finishes closing the door.
"I'm sorry about this," indicating his exposed cock and state of undress. "Let me cover up and you can tell me what happened. Who's trying to kill you?"
"Don't worry about that. I'm safe here with you. And don't bother; I've seen all of you before." Maddy still looks as young and pretty as the day they got engaged. Eyes as green as winter rye, fine delicate features and a body a super model would kill for. Her 38D's still show no signs of sagging. "Just hold me, please."
Gently he wipes away her tears with his thumb before enfolding her in his strong arms. Maddy melts into his embrace as her hand falls to his lap and his uncovered cock. Pete starts at the contact and flushes involuntarily.
Maddy asks, "Were you jacking off before I got here?" Pete mumbles as his flush deepens. "It doesn't look like you finished. Let me help, it's the least I can do," she offers as she wraps her delicate fingers around his growing eight inches. Dumbstruck, Pete watches as his ex-wife slowly strokes his dick.
They sit in silence both focused on his lap. He reaches full erection quickly as she teases his circumcised crown. She wraps her fingers around the base of his thick shaft, "I know something that will feel a lot better," and she puts her head in his lap swallowing nearly half his length at once in her warm wet mouth. Pete throws his head back and sighs.
