Halloween

I walked with her to the sliding door, a box of matches in my hand. She leaned against the side of the house and admired our work as I knelt down to light the jack o' lanterns that sat on the back deck. I lowered the flickering matches into the pumpkins one by one and watched them catch the wicks of the tiny tea candles inside. The flames grew and lit up the faces of the four pumpkins.

I was lowering my hand into the last one when I said, "You might have carved yours cleaner, but my pictures are better." I put out the last match and stood up next to her. She slid both arms around my waist and spoke into my ear.

"Maybe, but you looked perfectly fuckable while carving them, so you have me beat."

I smiled in surprise and turned to kiss her. Her arms resting on my waist were warm and the fall breeze that carried through the night air was cool. I reached behind me to open the door and we stepped back inside.

"You're making me like Halloween." I said to her as we cleaned up the mess we'd made with the pumpkins. "That's quite an accomplishment."

"I told you I could get you to love it. And I spared no expense." With the last sentence, she glanced up from the kitchen sink, where she was putting the carving knives in a bowl of soapy water to soak. "To be fair, you held up your end of the deal."

I just chuckled and nodded. I had worn a flannel shirt and brought a gallon of apple cider, just as she'd asked. I warmed some up in a saucepan, stirring it with a wooden spoon and enjoying the quietness of the house. It was usually quiet, sure, but the silence with someone else there was different--more relaxed, less lonely, and yet charged with energy...especially with Abby.

The cider began to steam. I poured it into two mugs and handed one to her. She took it and turned off the kitchen light. For a second, we stood and sipped, not touching, just admiring the four orange, glowing faces just outside the door.

"For a first-timer," she said, "you did just fine." My pumpkins had turned out mediocre compared to the masterpieces that took shape under her knives, but they were okay.

"Hey, I think you've said that to me before."

"Oh my god, shut up," she said, laughing, and pulled me into the living room. The TV sat blank, and our phones were stowed on the kitchen table, far out of reach. She settled herself onto the couch next to me and gestured to the dim, cozy room around us. She'd lit several candles and nestled them together on the end table, and the only other source of light was a table lamp casting a cozy glow on her face. I focused on her mouth. "Just as I promised. No screens, no distractions, just you, me, hot cider, and books." Behind her sat a copy of my favorite poems, and under that a few classic horrors. I leaned over her to pick up the poetry one. She slid a hand underneath my hair and pushed it back, running her fingers through the curls at the nape of my neck. I opened the book and settled my head in her lap.

"So, perfectly fuckable, you said?"

"Without a doubt." The smile that spread across her face was amazing and sexy. One of her hands was still in my hair and the other caressed my jawline. I tipped my head up to meet her fingertips. They grazed my neck and I melted a little more. Her fingertips came to rest at the corner of my mouth and I nudged them with my tongue, prompting her to slide her middle finger into my mouth. She took a deep breath and sighed as I passed my tongue over them, lingering on the taste of her skin. She took another sip from her mug as I released the grip my teeth had on her fingers. She licked her lips and set her cup on the end table with a small thud. "Read to me, gorgeous."

I opened to the most fitting poem, the one I knew she loved. I read as clearly as I could, my mind fogged with thoughts of her.

"O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall.

Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all.

The crows above the forest call,

To-morrow they may form and go.

O hushed October morning mild,

Begin the hours of this day slow."

The opening lines got me every time. I managed to get through the entire poem, surprisingly. Abby's fingertips never stopped wandering, and by the time I got the last line, my pauses had lengthened, and my voice had tapered to a whisper. I slowly closed the book and felt my eyelids droop as her thumb passed over my lips and her other hand combed through my hair. I dropped the book to the floor and turned my face toward her stomach.

"I could listen to you read all night." She said in a soft voice. Her fingers undid the top few buttons of my flannel shirt. That same loaded silence as before stretched between us. She undid the last button and rested her hand on my stomach, over my t-shirt.

"That's unfortunate," I responded, "I can think of a lot of things I could do to you all night, but reading isn't one of them." She smiled and I sat up to kiss her. Her perfect mouth was warm and inviting, as always. I slowly shifted until I was straddling her, and she scooted to one side to give me room. Her hands settled on my hips and she pulled away from the kiss for a moment.

"Comfy?"

"More than that." My lips touched the spot underneath her ear, and she let out a sigh. The room was quiet enough that I could hear every tiny noise--her fingers rubbing flannel as she gripped my waist, my own quickened breaths, and the tiny noises our mouths made as I sucked her lower lip. She let the smallest moan as I began to suck where her shoulder curved into her neck.

"I could let you do that all night," he whispered, her hands running all over my torso under my t-shirt. Her fingertips dragged down my spine and I trembled. I sucked her neck harder, and her nails dug into my back. As I moved to bite her shoulder, I felt her undo the clasp of my bra.

"I feel the same way," I murmured into her neck. "Your hands feel so good." I took her hand in mind and brought it to my mouth. I wrapped my tongue around her fingers and watched her eyes fall closed.

"How do your fingers always end up here?" I asked, grinning. They glistened in the candlelight and the image brought a whole new wave of thoughts to my head.

"It's where they belong," she responded, and paused to pull her own shirt over her head. I momentarily admired her flawless skin. I couldn't wait to mark it up. "Here..." her voice trailed off and she pushed the flannel shirt off my shoulders. Her eyes flitted over me as she pulled off my bra and dropped it on the floor behind me. Slowly and carefully, she pulled the flannel back on and I shrugged, settling it back on my shoulders.

"You like the flannel?" I was simultaneously amused and turned on.

"Yes, I like the flannel quite a bit, actually." I smiled and took hold of her hand, pulling it back up to meet my mouth. I opened my mouth and invited her fingers back in. I circled my tongue around her fingertips and sucked, relishing how her eyelids drooped and her lips parted. I felt tipsy, though I'd had nothing to drink, as if my brain had slowed and the world consisted only of her and the feelings of her hips underneath me and her fingers slowly sliding deeper into my mouth. I was fine with it.

I moved her hand from my mouth to my neck and went back to turning her collarbones purple. her hands wandered at first, skipping over my nipples and raising goosebumps. I bit down and she moaned, breathless. As if prompted by my bite, she pinched my nipple and I grinned. Fuck, I loved that feeling. She paused to bring her other hand around and then pinched again. I stopped sucking her neck and suddenly stood up, a little shaky on my feet. She stared as I quickly unzipped my jeans, pulled them off, and settled back on top of her.

"You don't understand..." she said as he fingered the waistband of my underwear, "how fucking sexy you are."

I could only shake my head. "Not compared to you." Before I could pull her mouth to mine, she lowered her face to my breasts, and I lost all capability to form coherent thoughts for the few minutes that followed. As I braced my hands against the back of the couch and sighed, her tongue swirled around my nipples and pulled them between her teeth. One of her hands still rested on the small of my back, while the other squeezed and pinched, drawing whimpers from me. She bit, sucked, and pinched until I felt sure I was soaking her lap. I gazed down, running one hand through her hair. Sure enough, I could feel something wet between my legs as I desperately tried to grind into her thigh. She looked up at me.

"I have an idea, if you're open to it," she said, running a finger between my breasts and letting it come to rest at my waistband.

"Of course," I responded, still flustered and wondering how dark my hickeys would be in the morning.

"Do you want to sit on my face?"

That got my attention. I flicked my eyebrows and let a beat of silence go by before I answered. "I mean, I want to, but you don't have to..."

"Do you hear yourself?" She smiled and the sight of it only made me wetter. "It would be a cold day in hell when I don't want to watch you on top of me, my tongue inside you." She ran her fingernails down my spine, and I shivered again. "Watch you wiggle as I tease you until you're dripping onto my face, aching for my fingers and then--"

"Yes, yes, please," I interrupted, and we locked eyes. "Jesus Christ, yes please."

She didn't say anything in response, but only began to get up and gently rolled me off of her. She pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and spread it on the floor as I watched, perched on the edge of the couch. I raised an eyebrow as she came back over to where I sat. I stopped her and looked up at her face. My own was level with her waist. I made eye contact with her, planted a few kisses on her stomach, and unzipped her jeans.

"Why the blanket?" I stared up at her and tugged her jeans down, tracing my nails over the skin of her thighs.

"When I'm done, and you're too fucked up to walk, we can wash the blanket instead of washing my floor."

The sentence made me chuckle. "Come on, I don't think I'll make that much of a mess." Then again, the very idea of it was adding to the wetness between my legs. "But I invite you to prove me wrong." I finished tugging her jeans down her legs and she stepped out of them. She grabbed my hand and pulled me down onto the floor next to her.

"I think I will prove you wrong," she whispered, her hand creeping up my inner thigh. It passed over my soaked underwear and lingered there. I sighed. "In fact, I don't even think it'll be that hard."

I playfully shoved her away and she lay down, her perfect body inviting my tongue to touch every curve, it seemed. I tugged my underwear off and straddled her. Abby's hands--it always comes back to them--wrapped around my thighs and unabashedly pulled me up to meet her mouth. I, in my infinite wisdom, became a stuttering mess.

"Just tell me where you want me to sit," I muttered, scooting up until I thought I was in the right place.

"You tell me where you want to sit," she instructed, and I laughed lightly. I tried to relax and sat down lower on her open mouth.

"Oh my fucking god..." I said, leaning forward, looking for something to brace my hands on. She licked slowly, never moving from one place to the other too quickly, and gripped her nails into my thighs. Her tongue was almost as warm and wet as I was, and when it dove inside of me everything else in the world left my mind. I could think only of her blue eyes looking up at me, her tongue swirling inside me, and her hands gripping my thighs. Anything else was too much. I arched my back and moaned, unable to move for fear of losing the wonderful feeling. I simply sat, lips parted and whispering every once in a while, as she sucked and licked and nibbled.

She did prove me wrong, that is, the blanket was an excellent idea. My body shook with orgasm twice, and the few minutes in between were filled with anything but rest. Her mouth never got tired, it seemed, and at one point, as I was staring at her and rocking my hips ever so slowly, she abruptly sat up and pushed me onto my back. I lay completely vulnerable in front of her, dripping wet and breathing heavily. I could feel the blush in my cheeks and my pulse in my ears. Her chin glistened as she lowered her face to my breasts, pulling one into her mouth as her fingertips wandered to my mouth. I pulled them in eagerly, sucking them to the knuckle. She stopped and stared as I thoroughly wet her index and middle finger.

"You seem to have lost your shame," she whispered, smiling a little, as she lowered her glistening fingers, letting them drag over my stomach.

"I tend to do that around the second orgasm."

Her fingers slid into me and that was the last sentence I formed for what felt like an hour. Her mouth and hands worked together and it took everything in me to not scream. Her fingers curled inside of me as her mouth sucked, and in a few minutes my inner thighs were red with the beginnings of fresh hickeys. She pulled her fingers out of me until only her fingertips touched, then teased my entrance as I looked at her and gasped for breath. I lay back, both hands buried in her hair, and rode her face. One second her fingers were inside me, the next it was her tongue, the next I was coming in her mouth and moaning. her name escaped my throat again and again. Finally, she stopped. With the back of her hand, she wiped her chin and then lay down next to me, propped on an elbow.

"Fuck, Abby," was all I could think to say, chuckling as I said it. "Holy Christ."

"I was hoping for a reaction along those lines." She smiled, and I couldn't take my eyes off her face as a wet finger trailed up between my breasts and finally stopped under my chin. I kissed her as slowly as I could, so I had a chance to catch my breath. She moved so she hovered over me, and I pulled her hips down so she could sit. Her skin against mine was hot and sweet-smelling. I sat up as she straddled me. I caught her smiling.

"What?" I asked, grinning.

"You're just so fucking perfect."

I shook my head and lowered my mouth to her breasts. The noises she made as I pulled her nipples between my teeth were like heaven, and she gripped my head in her hands as I sucked the skin under her breasts. I did return the favor, and we fell asleep on the blanket, naked limbs tangled together.