The doorbell rang and he glanced at the clock. He didn't get many 'trick-or-treaters', and it seemed awfully late.
"Trick or treat," the couple said.
If they were teenagers, they wouldn't be for much longer. The guy was dressed as The Tic, and the girl wore the hottest pirate outfit Phil had ever seen.
"Great outfits," he laughed. "Here you go. Hold up, have a couple more."
"Thanks," they said, grinning at their loot.
Phil always bought the big theater sized candies, and he'd just given them enough to make a meal. The guy headed back for the street, but the girl paused and looked back over her shoulder.
She answered his questioning gaze by looking down at her own backside, and giving him a hell of a show when he looked down.
Phil clutched his chest in a mock heart attack and leaned heavily on the door jab for support as he smiled his appreciation for the show. The guy squeezed her delightful bottom with a leer and a wink before they jumped into the Beamer idling at the curb. They all waved at each other as the small car burned rubber and whipped into the Harris place down at the end of the block.
Grinning like an idiot, he kept the picture of her ass cheeks hanging out of the pirate shorts firmly in his mind as he closed the door. Every jiggle and wiggle was burned into his brain.
He reached blindly for the candy bowl as he headed back to his computer, and wound up knocking the whole thing over before retrieving a Snickers Bar.
The obnoxious screech of his computer connecting to the Internet had just ended when the doorbell rang again.
"Oh hell," he said, looking at the empty bowl. The half eaten Snickers in his left hand wasn't any help.
"Trick or treat," a girl's voice said as the doorbell rang again.
"Hold on," he said.
Nothing! There wasn't a cotton pickin' thing in the whole joint he could give to a trick-or-treater.
"Damn, I'm completely out," he said as he opened the door.
No one was there.
"Hello?"
Strange. No one could get out of sight that quickly, and there was nowhere to hide in his front yard. He stepped out and looked again. This was very strange indeed.
He turned off the light, locked the door, and went back to his computer.
"Get Huge"; "Add 3 To 4 Inches"; "Women Agree, Bigger is Better"
"Select All"; "Delete"; "Are You Sure?" Hell, yes!
Phil knew that he'd never win a John Holmes 'hung-alike' contest, but sixteen e-mails a day offering to solve this problem were starting to annoy him.
"Too bad they're all scams," he said, waiting for the 'Dump Trash' icon, "Having a big dick would be great."
"This is your lucky day."
Phil nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Who? What? How did you get in here?"
She was black. Not the chocolate shades we think of as black, but the totally alien black of a moonless, starless night. Her blackness made her seem like a hole in reality. She walked right up to him, and his eyes kept sliding off her blackness.
"Aren't you going to ask why you're so lucky?"
The strong smell of something like cinnamon was making him itch, especially around his groin. The smell was giving him an erection where her body couldn't. She was naked, standing inches in front of him, yet he couldn't see nipple or breast in the uniform blackness.
"Why am I so lucky? No, wait! What are you?"
"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," she said, and leaned against him.
She was hot, too hot, feverishly hot. No human could survive running that kind of temperature.
"You're some kind of demon. Satan or something."
"Close enough," she said, and plastered her mouth on his.
He checked her tongue when it shot into his mouth. It was long, longer than normal, but not inhumanly long. It wasn't forked either.
"Thanks, I needed that," she said.
Phil blinked. She was white now. . Not the pink and cream shades we think of as white, but the totally alien white of paint. Her whiteness made her seem like a tear in reality.
"Could you stop doing that?" He blinked again, rubbed his eyes, and tried to see her breasts in the uniform whiteness.
"Better yet," she said, holding her arm across his, "I'll pick the color you love best."
Her arm rapidly darkened and shifted, until it matched his arm perfectly. He looked up and could see her in all her naked glory. His dick throbbed in his pants.
"You like?" she said, turning around.
Turning around was not a simple thing the way she did it. She undulated so his eyes were dragged down to her thighs, twisted and writhed until his eyes were locked on her turning hips, flexed her back so he slid up her spine and started falling into the soft hairs at the nape of her neck, then dipped and wiggled so her ass became the center of his universe.
By the time she was facing him, he was shell-shocked.
"Yes," he croaked on the third try. "This is my lucky day."
She pursed her lips in what looked like a pout, and sidled up next to him.
"I guess you know that I lied about that part, don't you?" she said.
"About being lucky?"
"Yeah," she said, patting his ass, "Basically, you're fucked."
"Is this one of those things where if I make the wrong choice I go to hell?"
"Nope. You're fucked no matter what you do."
"What if I just decide to walk out of here and let you play with yourself?"
They were brave words, considering that his prick was about to tear through his pants.
"Then I'd have to make myself so sexy that you couldn't," she said with a happy little gurgle.
He'd never had his ticker checked, but he was sure that if she didn't have her charms on full blast now, his heart wouldn't take it when she did.
"I don't suppose you mean intercourse when you say I'm fucked, do you?"
"Intercourse," she said, rolling her shoulders. "My, aren't we proper? Yeah, I'm going to intercourse your brains out."
"And then you'll take my soul?"
"I don't know much about souls. Let's just say I'll eat you. That should be close enough."
"You're not talking fellatio, are you?" His dick should have been wilting in fear, but it was eagerly throbbing.
"Fellatio?" she said.
She squatted down, had his dick out in a flash, and her burning hot mouth closed over it. She slurped and moaned for a moment, then stood back up again.
"You mean like that?" she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Yes." His voice was a hoarse rasp.
"Naw, that's not what I'm talking about," she said.
"I thought self preservation was stronger than the sex drive," Phil said. "How come I don't give a shit that you're going to kill me, and all I want to do is fuck you?"
"Life's a bitch, ain't it?" she said.