Yea I Guess I Am

Moonlight filters through the overhanging branches dappling the van with a patchwork of nightmarish shapes and shadows. Somewhere in the dense forest, an owl hoots.

Sandy flicks on the dome light. "According to the map, we're still on the right road. It doesn't show any turn-offs."

Marty, his eyes glued to the road, muttered, "If we don't find it soon, I'm going to say the hell-with-it."

"You can't do that. I spent too much time and money on my costume. I want to win the $500 first prize."

"And pigs want to whistle," Marty murmured under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing," Marty said. He wasn't in favor of going to the party in the first place, and only agreed due to Sandy's constant whining and carrying on. He's getting damn tired of hearing, "You never want to do anything fun." Tonight's a good example. Attending the party sounded like a good idea when they received the invitation, but that was before Marty learned he had a major presentation the following morning. Shit! The party doesn't start until 11, which means I wouldn't get home until 4 am if I'm lucky. Another time Sandy's desires came before his.

"I'll give it one more mile then, I'm turning around," Marty said.

The mile came and went. Marty is turning around when Sandy screamed, "Stop!"

Marty jams on the brakes. "What?" he yelled, swiveling his head.

"Over there, through those trees. I see a faint glow."

"Fuck!"

"Don't be that way. It's going to be fun."

"Yeah, right." Marty heads the van in the direction of the lights, and ten minutes later, they see the Jack-O-Lanterns. There must be a thousand, spaced evenly along a crumbling, rock wall surrounding an old, decrepit cemetery. A primeval church, adjoining the graveyard, has suffered a similar fate. Gargoyle carved jack-o-lanterns glow eerily from openings once reserved for stained-glass windows.

Marty drives past the church and turns into a weed chocked parking lot jammed with cars.

Sandy stares wide-eyed. "Holy shit! There must be as many cars as pumpkins."

"Maybe a few less, but not many," Marty said as he squeezes into a space between a massive 4-wheel pick-up and a Volkswagen bug. There's barely enough room to open the doors. Sandy, wearing a black bodysuit, jumps out and opens the tailgate. When she leans in for the rest of her costume, Marty sees the bodysuit has an opening between her thighs. He moves closer, slides his fingers through Sandy's red curly hair into her wetness.

"Stop that!" Sandy said and bats his hand away.

"I didn't know bodysuits had cut-outs like that?"

"Most don't, but I wanted to be ready. Do you like it?"

Marty, wearing white, exterminator overalls, rubs his hard cock against Sandy's leg. "What do you think?"

"I think we're going to have a lot of fun. Do you have the donation?"

"Right here." Marty pats his pants pocket.

Sandy sits on the back bumper and inspects the rest of her costume. There are two plastic panels. One, for her front, the other for her back. The back panel features the body of a female black widow spider.

The front panel has a bright red hourglass and cut-outs for her 36C breasts. Sandy slides the panels over her head and adjusts the straps. The front panel covers the area from her chin to the top of her pussy.

Sandy opens what looks like a small hat box and takes out the rest of her costume. A black skull cap with bulging eyes and two curved fangs. She pulls the cap over her head and adjusts the fangs, so they lay next to her mouth. Long, black lashes and blood-red lipstick complete the look.

Sandy ignores the strange sensation coursing through her body, attributing it to pre-party jitters.

Sandy props herself in the van's cargo area, lean's back, and spreads her legs, revealing red pubic hair shaved in the shape of an hourglass. "Well, what do you think? Scary enough to win first prize?"

"I don't know about the judges, but your pussy scares the shit out of me. I'd be afraid once I got in, I'd never get out."

Sandy hops from the van and adjusts her mask. Marty doesn't notice she's moving toward him as he leans into the SUV and pulls out a metal cylinder imprinted with a skull and crossbones and the words: Kills Black Widow Spiders. A short hose and strap are attached. Marty slips the strap over his shoulder.

Sandy stops. Her eyes grow wide when she reads the canister. She steps back, turns, and quickly heads for the church. "Let's see if the party is what we're expecting?"

"What you're expecting," Marty mutters as he grabs his hat, face mask, and protective glasses before he pulls down the hatch. Sandy's half-way to the church, so she doesn't hear.

A man dressed like an undertaker, black suit and tie, black vest with a starched white shirt, stands next to the church's massive, wooden doors. "Welcome, swingers. Great costumes. Do you have your invitation?"

Marty hands the man their invitation. Sandi thanks him for the compliment.

"Go right in," the undertaker said as he opens the doors. "Enjoy the party and don't forget to leave your donation in the casket."

Sandy and Marty walk into muted darkness. The only light comes from flickering candles inside two rows of macabre faced Jack-O-Lanterns leading from the church doors to a casket sitting on a stand at the front of the church. Giant cobwebs, reflecting the orange-red light, hang from the ceiling.

A clone of the man standing by the doors stands next to the casket. Marty drops their $150 donation onto the white silk lining and waits while the clone attaches red, plastic bands around Sandi and his wrists.

"The party's through there," the clone said without expression and points to a door on the sidewall.

The door opens onto the graveyard. Swingers, clothed and unclothed in costumes of every imaginable description, are at play. Game booths, like those found in carnivals, have been set up at random intervals around the graveyard.

"Wow!" Sandy mutters. "I wasn't expecting this."

Marty wasn't either. "Fuck!" He sees tomorrow's presentation going up in smoke.

"That's what we're here for," Sandy said as she looks around for a likely candidate. She spots an alien with long spidery fingers and an abnormally large cock standing a short distance away. He's talking to a young woman dressed as Little Bo Beep. Five small blow-up sheep mingle around her feet.

Sandy walks past the alien, feinting non-interest, and stops when she reaches the ring toss booth. Three costumed men, with different size cocks (all hard), lie in three wooden coffins.

"Try your luck?"

Sandy looks up and sees a giant cock, complete with balls, standing on the other side of a four-foot-high divider.

"How much?" Sandy said. "I don't have any money."

"It's free, paid by part of your donation."

Sandy stares at the three cocks. "How do I win?"

"Two ways. Ring all three cocks or toss three rings over one cock."

Sandy glances back at the alien. He's still talking to Bo Peep, but he's looking at her.

"Sounds easy enough. What do I win?"

"The cock, or cocks if you ring all three." The giant cock sets three rings on the counter. "Want to try?"

"Sure." Sandy picks up a ring, throws it, and watches it settle over the medium size, 8" cock. The second ring drops over the 6" small cock.

"Why not let me throw the last ring?" The alien is standing next to her.

"What happens if you miss?"

"You get a consolation prize."

"Which is?"

"This!" The alien flops his cock on the counter.

Sandy's eyes go wide. It's close to being twice as big as the large Ring Toss cock. She hands the last ring to the alien. "Have at it."

Without looking, the alien flings the ring. It hovers over the large cock, then darts away.

"Aww, too bad," said the giant cock.

"It's okay," Sandy said and reaches for the alien's cock. "Let's see if we can find a place where we can put this to good use."

They pass a 'Paint the Puss' booth where female swingers can have designs painted on their pussies by other swingers, and a 'Dunk the Puss' booth. A swinger's version of the carnival booth where a pretty-young woman sits on a chair over a tub of water. When a player hits the bullseye with a thrown baseball, the woman drops into the water. The difference being there's no chair and no tub of water. There is, however, a bullseye and a naked woman suspended over a man with a rigid cock.

"That looks interesting," the alien said as they walk by the booth. "I think I'll see if I can take that guy's place when we're through."

Neither booth interests Sandy, so they keep walking.

"How about over there?" Sandy points to a section of the stone wall where the stones are piled higher. A smiling Jack-O-Lantern, with a sputtering candle, sits on the highest rock.

"Come on, I'll race you," the alien said. He reaches the wall first and leaps over.

Sandy, down on her six legs and two arms, crawls methodically toward the wall. She climbs the stones, moves out along a thick branch embedded in the wall, and peers down. The alien is directly below her. He's sprawled on his back with both hands around his erect cock.

Sandy emits a silken thread from her abdomen, attaches it to the branch, and begins climbing down. She hovers over the alien's imposing cock. Teasing it, before continuing her descent. The alien thrusts his hips up, attempting to impale the red hourglass between Sandy's thighs. But Sandy's too quick. She pulls herself up the sticky thread and hangs there, staring down at the pleading alien. Sandy wants him as much as he wants her, but she enjoys teasing her prey.

"Ask me nicely," she said.

"Fuck you bitch! You should be pleading for me to fuck you." The alien's attempting to rise when Sandy lands on his chest. She sinks her fangs into his neck and his cock into her pussy. She tightens and relaxes her pelvic muscles sending waves of pleasure coursing through the alien's cock while her mouth sucks out the aliens liquefying body fluids. It's over in a matter of minutes. The alien lies inert, encased in a silk cocoon. Sandy stands, and with the aliens cum dripping from her pussy she climbs atop the wall. Cold tendrils of fog follow, obscuring the alien's body. She sees things she hadn't noticed before. Like the cracked and crumbling headstones. Some half-buried in the damp ground. Many with the dates and occupants' names worn off. Those with the dates still visible reach back to the 1850s. All are overgrown with weeds. A decaying wooden coffin, recently unearthed, lays next to an open grave. Inside the casket, a vampire bat, its wings battering against the chill night air, is vigorously fucking Little Red Riding Hood.

"Make an interesting couple, don't they?"

Sandy looks to her right. A man, wearing a realistic wolf mask and grey business suit, a sexy combination, is standing beside her.

"If you're into necrophilia."

"Great, come back," the wolf said. "I found it impossible to resist your costume. Black Widow spiders always fascinated me. Something about eating their mate after fucking them. You're not like that, are you?

Sandy's eyes light up. "You'll have to fuck me to find out."

"Fair enough," the wolf said. "I know just the place." He takes Sandy's hand and leads her to a dark corner where the church and graveyard meet.

"Will this do?" the wolf said.

Sandy looks around. She hears the cries and screams coming from the front of the graveyard, but here, it's quiet as a tomb.

"Perfect," Sandy said as she drops down onto her six legs and two hands.

The wolf is hurriedly unbuttoning his pants.

Sandy pushes his hands away. "Let me do that." She undoes the last two buttons, and the wolf's cock springs free. It's not as big as the alien's, but it'll do. The wolf moans in pleasure as Sandy runs her tongue along the thick shaft and lets the head slip into her mouth. His precum tastes like pink clover honey. The wolf's moans turn to shrieks of pain when Sandy's fangs lance into his cock. He grabs her head as he tries to rip it off his cock, but Sandi's fangs hold tight. The wolf drops to his knees. It's almost over.

Sandy's fangs release the wolf's cock. She backs away from the corpse on thin pointed legs and considers the wolf's question. "Yea, I guess I am like that," she mutters. A satisfied smile parts her sexy, red lips. She doesn't have time to encase the wolf in a silken shroud because she hears Marty calling. She stands up and hurries back to the party.

"Oh, there you are? Marty said. "I've been looking all over for you. They're getting ready to judge the costumes."

Sandy follows Marty to the wooden coffin. It's surrounded by grinning Jack-O-Lanterns and costumed swinger's who aren't fucking. The undertaker stands to one side. The six costumed contestants stand on the other.

"Are there any more contestants?" the undertaker shouts.

"Yes," Cindi yells as she crawls toward the contestants.

The undertaker waves his hand at the audience. "The winner will be decided by your applause."

The first contestant, dressed as a biker chick with leather chaps, motorcycle boots, and black vest hiding droopy tits, steps into the coffin. She receives a smattering of polite applause, most from her boyfriend and biker friends.

Little Bo Peep and her sheep are next. She steps into the coffin making sure the audience can see she's naked under her short blue and white checkered skirt.

The audience is more receptive, and she receives a louder round of applause.

The other four contestants, a Texas cowgirl, a cheerleader, a cat (wearing a similar mask as the wolf's), and a Dominatrix, holding a cat-o-nine tail's, receive equal applause. Cindi, down on all six legs and hands, climbs menacingly over the side of the coffin and stands up. The swinger's go crazy.

"Well, I guess there's no doubt about the winner," the undertaker said, as he raises Sandi's black-clad arm. "And here's your prize, a check for $500."

Sandy, not having pockets, hands the check to Marty. "Don't lose it."

Marty slides the check into his pocket. "Are you ready to go?"

"I want to stay a little while longer? "The undertaker promised me a special treat if I won."

Marty sighs. "Okay, but only a half-hour. I've got that presentation this morning."

Sandy kisses Marty tenderly on the lips. "I love you," she said before leaving to find the undertaker. The fast-rising ground fog is making it hard to discern faces and costumes. She trips over a couple fucking by a gravestone. "Sorry," she said and continues searching. She's about to give up when the clone approaches her.

"Are you looking for the undertaker?"

"Yes."

"He's in the church. He said you could find him there."

Sandy opens the side door. It's darker than she remembers. Most of the candles have gone out. "Undertaker, are you here?" Sandi shouts.

"In the sanctuary."

Sandy finds the undertaken naked and tied down on a make-shift altar surrounded by dozens of grinning Jack-O-Lanterns.

"What took you so long?"

Sandy, down in her spider stance, is crawling methodically toward the altar. "Nobody knew where you went."

"Well, you're here now. That's all that matters. I've wanted you ever since

I saw you."

"That's nice," Sandy said. She's almost to the altar.

"Did you feel the same about me?"

"Don't talk, just enjoy." Sandy climbs the side of the altar and hovers over the undertaker. His body has taken on an eerie orange glow from the pumpkins.

Sandy climbs over the side of the coffin. She feels the undertaker shiver when one of her thin pointed legs brushes over his cock.

"Please, oh please, let me cum," the undertaker moans and struggles with the ropes, twisting from side to side.

Sandy climbs onto the undertaker's stomach and chest and pays no attention to his pleas. Her fangs are inches from his neck. She ignores his cock. It's too small to do her much good.

"Please, oh please, make me cum," the undertaker moans.

Sandy pays no attention. She's listening to the screams coming from the graveyard as her fangs sink deep into the undertaker's neck. He cums at the same instant.

Sandy sucks up the liquefying fluids, climbs off the body, and begins encasing it a silk cocoon. She pushes the cocoon behind the altar, wipes the blood from her fangs, and walks upright out the door. Swinger's are racing in every direction. Some are crying, but most are shouting.

Sandy grabs the arm of an overweight devil as he's racing past and shouts, "What happened?"

The devil, panting heavily, stops briefly. "Robert's been killed."

Was he the alien, or the wolf? Sandy wonders.

Sandy releases the devil's arm, and he races off.

"Where's the undertaker?" someone yells.

Another voice, "Did anyone call 911?" Ten answers, confirming they had.

Sandy sees Marty standing by the coffin. He's turned ghost white. "Did-did-did you hear? Someone named Robert is dead."

"I heard," Sandy said. "Maybe we better go. You'll never make your presentation once the police get here."

"You-you're right, but..."

Sandy grabs Marty's arm. "Come on. If we leave now, no one will miss us."

When they reach the parking lot, Sandi pulls off the Black Widow costume along with the fanged headpiece and throws them in the van's storage compartment.

"Hurry up," Marty yells, "The police will be here any minute."

Sandy clamors onto the passenger seat and slams the door.

"Some party, huh?" Marty said as he wheels out of the lot and steps on the gas.

When Sandy doesn't reply, Marty looks over.

Sandy's eyes are closed, and she's shaking her head from side to side as if she's coming out of a trance.

"What's wrong, babe?"

"Why are the police coming to a Swinger's Halloween Party?"