Written for a friend from another site. I hope you enjoy it as much as she does.
The Mistress-of-the-Dark costume fit me almost perfectly. Sure, the skirt was too long and it was very tight across my ass but that's how Elvira usually wears them. Being a bit long for my 5'4" height just meant the side slits went higher—almost all the way to my hips. The v-necked dress was also too small to contain more than half my 34DDDs but, when coupled with a décolletage that extended almost to my waist, it really showed off my tits. Perfect! I knew I'd have all the guys at the party creaming their Levis.
The outfit came with a jet-black wig made from human hair instead of syntho-hair, like most rentals. I was having a tough time believing that such a deliciously slutty costume was still available on Halloween day, but I didn't question my luck. I simply whipped out my plastic and rented it before some desperate shopper snatched it right off me.
"If you can spare two or three hours, our tailor can make on-site alterations to better accommodate your...um, ample bosom," the sales clerk offered. "He's very busy, what with it being Halloween and all, but I could ask him to rush."
"I really can't afford to wait," I deadpanned. Inwardly, I was cracking up. You see, I had just assumed that a man who works in a costume shop would be gay but the way his eyes locked onto my triple-Ds and the way his cock was straining against his gabardine slacks disproved that theory. Or maybe he was changing religion, as it were, just for me. "I'm running a bit late already," I fibbed, "so I think I'll save time and just wear it instead of changing."
In truth, I still had almost three hours before my friend's Halloween party. I giggled when I thought how amazed she'd be that I could put together such a great look after only one day's notice of her party. Although we've been best friends since grade school, there has always been an element of competition between us. I'm almost certain that she harbors a ton of jealousy because she's much less generously endowed than I am and less attractive to men. I'll even bet that she intentionally delayed telling me about her party in hope I'd show up in some lame, leftover costume that would make me look like a Disneyland reject.
Well, nice try, Caroline, but I'm about to show you how hot the macabre can be with the right body.
Several times as I drove home, I saw a car behind me that looked familiar. It was the same make and color as my daddy's car, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it was tailing me. When I thought about it, however, I told myself I was being ridiculous. Daddy would still be at work, for one thing. And the world is full of silver Audis for another. Every time the car turned whenever I did, I reminded myself how many like it there must be in Seattle and that it was it was probably pure coincidence that its owner was going my way.
Suddenly it hit me what was causing my paranoia. I hadn't seen my daddy in more than a week and I'd gotten so excited about Caroline's exotic, erotic Halloween bash that I hadn't even thought about him. That's really unusual for me. Normally, I think about Daddy
a lot
. We were so close when I was a little girl. I practically lived on his lap, and he never refused to play games with me or read me fairy tales, no matter how tired he was. I was the dictionary definition of daddy's girl.
All of that changed quickly when I was about 11 or 12. He became much more distant, and I didn't know why. I do know that I was confused at first. Very confused and very hurt because I thought Daddy didn't love me any more. I was miserable for weeks, but one day I caught him by surprise and jumped onto his lap. He pushed me away hard and fast, but not before I felt a huge cock stiffen beneath me and felt its heart pour through my thin cotton panties. At last, I had a
why
. His gruffness and his seemingly uncaring attitude still hurt me, but at least I knew I hadn't done anything terrible to make him hate me. I had just started growing up and Daddy was fighting a hellish battle against his desire to fuck his own daughter.
His aloofness got even worse about the time I broke through the C-cup barrier in eighth grade. By the time D-cups were getting tight on me, he was working 16-hours days and barely speaking to me on his rare days off unless there were lots of other people in the room. Now and then I would catch him watching me, his eyes burning with intensity, but he would look away quickly when he realized I'd seen him.
Knowing that I was turning Daddy on and that he was resisting a desire to fuck my brains out helped me to deal with the huge difference in the way he treated me, but it simultaneously creeped me out, mainly because I wanted him every bit as me wanted me. I knew that every one would think it was very wrong for me to have such feelings about my father, although I couldn't understand why it would be wrong. In my mind I was ashamed but between my legs, it felt so good.
And then the erotic dreams began.
I had hundreds of dreams over the years, starting just three or four nights after I first realized how much Daddy wanted me. The dream sex was very different on individual nights but the details were otherwise always the same. I would be snug in my own bed, sound asleep, and Daddy would sneak into my room He'd clamp his hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming before I was fully awake. I'd be so happy that Daddy wanted to cuddle with me again, but I'd belatedly realize that he was naked and sporting a hard-on the size of a salami.
Sometimes Daddy would fuck me long and hard, and then pull out at the last moment to give me a facial or come on my tits. In my dreams, he'd be so excited that he would come by the pint, drenching me and my bed with his semen. Other times, he would roll me over and fuck my ass until he shot his load deep inside me. He always seemed to know when I was having my period, and then he would titty-fuck me until we came in unison. Sometimes, he would simply want me to suck his cock. Remembering those dreams, I began giving practice blowjobs to bananas, honing my skills just in case my dreams ever became a reality.
Regardless of what kind of sex Daddy and I had in my dreams, they always ended the same way. I would come so hard that my orgasm would jolt me out of my slumber and I'd find myself bathed in sweat ...but all alone.
At first, my excitement was matched only by my guilt. I was convinced that wanting sex with my own father made me the biggest slut on earth. But I love my Daddy so much, and I wanted with all my heart to make him happy. More selfishly, I also knew that Daddycock would make me very happy.
Happily, I soon began to realize that sex occurring only in my sleeping mind hurt no one, since I alone knew about it. I began to crave those dreams and I reveled in the wonderful nights they visited me. On nights when no dreams came, I would settle for masturbation in the small hours of the morning, always fantasizing about Daddy but always knowing that real sex with Daddy would bring me joy far beyond anything my fingers could provide.
Waves of these old memories flooded over me as I drove home from the costume shop, and my left hand almost involuntarily slipped under the thigh-high slit of my skirt as I drove with my right hand. I was putting on quite a show for other drivers, a fact I realized when I realized that cars in adjacent lanes were narrowly escaping accidents because their drivers were fixated on me instead of the freeway. Exhibitionism wasn't my goal, but neither did it deter me. All that mattered to me was release from the intense horniness my reminiscences had caused. But that release refused to come. My fingers merely got me hotter and hotter and hotter.
I turned onto my home street at last, left the car sitting in the street and ran—not walked—into my house. Taking a few seconds to strip off my Elvira costume would have been the wise thing to do, of course, but I was too far gone to be intelligent. I didn't even take time to retrieve my vibe... I jumped onto my bed, hiked up my skirt, and began to finger-fuck myself as hard and as fast as I could.
For how long, I don't know. I was lost inside my own passion so thoroughly that time ceased to exist. It could have been thirty seconds. It could have been five minutes. All I know for certain is that I suddenly heard Daddy's voice, harsher and more furious than I've ever heard it before. My eyes flicked open and he stood before me. In my frenzy, I had forgotten to lock my front door and he must have walked in and followed my moans to the bedroom.
