A Halloween Exhibition

"Do you know how hard you have to bite to break one of those candies? There's no nibbling. You really have to chomp.” The brunette stroked a manicured hand along her sleek braid.
“Yeah, and you have to pull it up into your mouth, too, using your tongue. It can get kind of sticky, if you drool on the other candies on the string.” The blonde bounced on her toes, setting her curls alive.
The two women considered the box with avid gazes. The muscled male model was golden, bare and toned. Rows of strung pastel candies barely covered the essentials. There were serious logistical issues with a candy crotch-pouch. Their dazed eyes and slack lips testified to the fact that such concerns were not going to prevent a sale.
“He’ll never wear it.” The blonde sighed, shoulders drooping in her sundress.
In contrast, the brunette’s shoulders squared. “We’ll see.”
*
His short black hair glistened from a shower. Just knowing they’d been to the toy store put him by the front door, waiting. The blonde hadn’t made it past the stairs, the brunette had been against the bedroom door. Their shower was long and messy.
When they handed him the bag, they asked him to wait until they’d arranged themselves on the couch, the perfect audience.
He peeked inside. Then burst out laughing. “Thanks for the treat.”
“It’s ours, actually.” The brunette lazed, half-mast eyes gleaming, head propped on her friend’s flat tummy.
“To eat off you.” The blonde ran her fingers through the loose brown strands spread across her bare thighs.
Chuckling, he raised one brow. “Yeah, in your dreams.”
The brunette raised her brow right back. She pet the gold ring hanging from one nipple. “You lost the bet.”
All mirth disappeared. “This is not my Halloween costume.”
The blonde squirmed against the pillows. Breathily, she sighed, “Yeah. It is.”
He held it up. “This is a g-string!”
She nodded. “One size fits most. Don’t worry, it stretches.”
“I thought we were going as pirates.”
The brunette smiled sweetly. “Your pirate wears underwear. Ours don’t.”
*
The club was packed. The fairies were annoying. Their wings caught on everyone. The witches and vampires were boring, too similar to the usual Goths. Driving tribal music thrummed through the Victorian-themed room. Bloody red strobes lit up the intense purples of the room before vanishing to black. Sugar-scented fog rolled around the elegant bodies. In the darkest corner, a brooding raven-haired captain sat, an eye-patched blonde perched on one thigh.
They stared at the brunette writhing against the center pillar. Striped pants painted her round ass, tall leather boots brushed the juncture of her thighs, and a tapestry corset barely contained her full breasts, which she massaged openly as she swayed. The captain’s hand went under the blonde pirate’s tattered skirt. Her nipples were clear and sharp beneath the thin poet’s blouse.
He growled in her ear. “It chafes.” He slid one finger along her soft folds, petting with a maddening whisper.
“Awww. Poor pirate. Suck it up.” She spread her legs wider. The skirt barely covered her hips. In this stance, anyone could see the gleam of her bare skin, if not the details.
“No, you’re gonna suck it up.” Three fingers burned into her channel without mercy. They probed hard, then vanished with a flick to her clit. “Now.”
“Okay!” The blonde agreed, licking her lips. Her fingers polished over and over the hook braced against her thigh. His hand was beneath it, hidden by the leather base, but the metal was real, cold and hard.
“And it certainly doesn’t stretch enough for the cockstand I’ve had most of the night.”
The blonde’s breath snagged, not from the gentle petting she endured, but for catching the brunette’s glazed gaze. She was finally ready to join them, her body primed from dancing. Watching the lean woman drop to her knees, hands working her clit through her trousers, made the blonde arch her back even more deeply. Her blouse slid lower, only her swollen tips keeping the ruffled edge from sliding past the peak of her chest.
A painted zombie lurched by in time with the music, and then the brunette crawled toward them, weaving through the grinding crowd and swirling mist. Her long loose hair tumbled over her arms, the gleaming length cascading like a pelt.
He saw the brunette, too. His fingers entered her again, twisting, stinging with brutal, strong pumps, and her scent overrode their wine.
“Down on your knees. I want her mouth first.” He pinched her clit.
The blonde swirled off his lap to his feet in a practiced glide. Her fingers shook as she worked on the laces over his bulging groin. He eased his legs wider and leaned back in the velvet wing chair. The brunette’s warmth painted her back, and then she was next to her, pulling the laces free as the blonde loosened them.
Easing his leather pants open, they burst into gales of giggles to see his thick cock spearing through the candy rows.
“Get it off before someone sees.”
“Oh, we will.” The brunette kneaded his strong thigh. She leaned in and licked hard against the warm skin.
The blonde buried her face in his balls, lips and tongue working over the tasty sugar.
*
His hands held each head tightly to his groin. Their panting breath sped his heart to match, the pulsing in his dick a primal rhythm. His gaze scanned the club. Cinderella was watching. He stroked his hook across the brunette’s neck and watched the princess swallow. The brunette covered his tip. Thrusting on instinct, her fluttering tongue stung his swollen flesh as he jammed into her throat.
A loud crack sounded.
He jumped. “Damn! Watch your teeth.”
Both women moaned, their heads rubbing and bobbing. Little demons. But they were skilled and never nipped him once as they devoured their treat.
Warm breath poured over him, along with saliva and the occasional sharp shard of broken candy. The sweet scent of their feast called to him. Hot lips sucked the side of his cock. A flicking tongue poked at one sac. The candy beads between his cheeks rubbed as they tugged at the web of elastic. His gut wound tighter, not that he had any intention of allowing the building power free. They’d all wait until later, until it hurt, until the need took everything away.
In the mean time, he planned. Let’s see how they liked it when he turned the tables on them. He foresaw two sets of candy bikinis in his bed, soon.
The blonde managed to clear enough candy to pull one sac into her mouth, rolling it gently in her wet heat. He growled, circling her throat with one hand, lifting her to her feet before him. She wavered but he steadied her, drawing her into his lap. He sat her back against his front, her knees hooked over his, spread thighs framing his cock. She waved to Cinderella, who fled.
He set his chin on her shoulder and looked down. The brunette met his gaze and accepted his unspoken order. No dainty princesses here.
*
She was dying, but she wouldn’t touch herself. It was part of his rules. Only he touched them, only he let them touch each other, when he pleased. Tonight, he pleased. She couldn’t believe he’d worn it. Then immediately felt guilty for doubting his honor.
If anyone looked past the strobe lights, they’d notice him tweaking the blonde’s nipples through her shirt. The feather on her tricorn hat bobbed in time with his hand ramming up beneath her skirt.
He paused, lifting her huge breasts. His black gaze held flames.
The brunette rose from her musky sweet treat and sucked one nipple, too light, barely painting it through the thin fabric. The blonde wailed. He dropped the blonde’s breasts.
One hand cupped her chin. He held the hook to her lips. She licked it, stroking the cool, sleek metal. The last of her scarlet lipstick smeared the edge. He grinned a pirate’s smile, baring his teeth.
“You’ve been so good tonight. Such a biddable wench.”
A gush of wetness, thick enough to match the splayed blonde’s, drenched her thighs. He wanted her to be bad. He counted on her to be bad, because the blonde always did what she was told. How lucky for her. She so loved being naughty.
Holding his gaze, she lowered herself to his cock draped in the mangled strings and last few nubs of candy. Opening her mouth wide, she swallowed his entire length smoothly down her throat.
His eyes closed momentarily, his hand grinding against the blonde’s stretched hole. She shrieked. Her small hands landed on the brunette’s head, as much encouragement as she’d give.
The brunette worked his iron erection with every muscle in her mouth, her tongue strong, her suction steady but light. His thighs shook. She reached behind his balls and rubbed. His hand slapped wetly against the blonde, inches from her face. Stroking up his length with gripping lips, she nipped his head then plunged to his root.
He glared down at her. “Don’t.”
She closed her throat, swallowing, lips sliding, rolling his balls. Her body tightened, skin flashing, blood like lava. They came together, silent, shaking. His taste was the perfect vintage. Tortured pirate, well-lashed.
The blonde’s blouse gave up the ghost, sagging under one heaving, trembling breast.
His fingers worked her gently now, but his furious gaze burned. “Mutiny. Now you won’t come until well past midnight, after I’ve had you on the rack.”
She tongued up a candy and crunched it off for dessert. “I thought I was walking the plank.”
His lips compressed, but he lost the battle and laughed.
*
“Trick or treat?”
He tightened his arms around the brunette he danced with while Peter Murphy crooned. “I think I’ve had both tonight.”
She rubbed her pelvis against his, well on her way to getting him hard again. He didn’t mind, knowing her clit was swollen and ripe, growing more demanding with every delayed beat.
The curves of his blonde pirate pressed against his bare back. Her arms circled his waist, nails rasping his abs.
“Answer me.” Her lips were lush, a rosy pink he preferred to her costume paint because he’d made them raw. “Trick or treat?”
He considered the woman plastered to his front. “See, I’ve got this problem with greed. I won’t choose. I like them both.”
Tipping her head, she smiled slyly.
The blonde’s busy fingers squirmed between them, creeping up to his nipple. She pinched it, leaving a sizzling burst, then twisted to tweak the brunette’s before retreating to cup his ass.
He sighed. “See, this is the problem with disobedience. It spreads like a disease.”
The blonde giggled, chest jiggling behind him. “Pirates have a hard time with authority.”
He blew softly into the brunette’s ear. “And you?” His voice was low. This was their last dance, and then they were going home. Sex oozed out of every syllable when he’d prefer to sound cold. He couldn’t help it. “Trick or treat?”
The brunette bit her lip, scraping her corset along his hard chest. She nodded. “You’re right. Both have benefits.”

The End