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FAVORITE old skirt another crew was


"His Favorite Day" {Pendragon} (MF rom cons)

IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to
read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do
something else.

This material is Copyright, 2001, Uther Pendragon. All
rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading
and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long
as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly
# # # #
His Favorite Day
by Uther Pendragon
Halloween was his favorite day in the whole year.

The jack-o-lantern he'd carved grinned out the window. Its
reflection was the brightest light in the living room, and he'd
even put a low-watt bulb in the porch light.

He peeked around the door to count the ghosts or pirates climbing
up to their porch. He grabbed up two wrapped Reese's Peanut
Butter Cups apiece and knelt behind the door.

When the bell rang, he slid the door open wider and stuck out his
long arm. Waiting until he felt the edge of a bag under his
wrist, he dropped the candy. Then he repeated the process twice

"Painting your arm was too much," she said. "And where is my
candy?" He always overbought for Halloween, but he was
thoughtful enough to buy her favorite. She was going to add five
pounds in the next three days.

"It's only food coloring. It will wash right off." He took one
wrapped cup from his stash and started to hand it to her. "I have
to drop it in a bag." He pulled her blouse out with his right
hand and dropped the candy from the dyed one. She saw right then
that she should change from her office clothes. She had her own
plans for this night. He would stay close to the door and answer
every ring of the doorbell. She didn't mind; it was a subtler
form of bondage.

By the time she was back dressed in one of his old shirts and an
old skirt, another crew was at the door. "It's green!" a voice
screamed from the porch. It sounded like a mother, rather than a
child. There were shrieks of laughter and then a clatter of
small shoes on the steps.

"See?" he asked. Somebody had noticed his green arm. He, she
knew, was sure that one response was worth the time, the effort,
the green-spotted towels. And that poor woman, expecting
something else, seeing the green arm extending towards her in the

He drew the shirt's neckline away from her body. "Don't want to
drop these on anything delicate," he said. His left hand touched
her breast before he dropped the candy. He brushed her nipple on
the way up.

"If any of that gets on my breast . . ." she threatened. Still,
the touch stiffened that nipple.

"It's only *food* coloring. I'll be glad to lick it off." He
pulled her into a kiss. They were so lost in each other that
neither heard the steps on the stairs. They jumped at the bell.

She pulled the shirt halfway out of the skirt band, reached in
and got the candy. She nibbled her Peanut Butter Cup while
planning her next move.

Several groups came one after the other. When she came back for
her next candy, he held her neckline with his right hand and
reached his green hand under her skirt to pull the hem of the
shirt down. He stroked her thighs and even the wet spot of her
panties. Only then did he place another piece of candy in her
shirt, stroking her breasts on the way in and on the way out.

Sounds on the porch proclaimed a large group. She left him,
dropping her newest treat on the kitchen table and her panties on
the chair. She headed out the back door. The cool air with a
threat of rain made her shiver, sneaking under her skirt and through
the shirt. The groups coming up the walk now were hurrying to
beat the rain. She gave way to the last arrivals, and soon was
alone on the porch. She rang the bell.

The green hand groped forwards, offering the candy. She lifted
her skirt and stepped over it. Instead of a bag, he felt flesh.
He moved his hand in the other direction and felt more flesh.
Raising his hand trapped it in the juncture of her thighs. He
dropped the candy and turned his hand upwards. He cupped her
dripping pussy, playing with the outer labia. "Mrs. Jones," he
called softly. "Or is it Mrs. Brown? I think you are missing
one piece of your costume."

Somebody turned in their gate, braving the rain that was
beginning to fall. She stepped back, squatted for the dropped
candy, and escaped around the house without looking at them.
Visibility was poor anyway.

"Well," he said after those visitors had scuttled away in the
now-heavy rain. "If you have a green cunt, it's your own fault."

"I don't know what you mean. Did I hear you out here talking to
Mrs. Jones? It violates the whole spirit of Halloween to
identify someone who is in costume."

"I should know your pussy, after all the time I spend playing
with it. Anyway, you got caught in the rain out there. Your
hair's wet."

"And whose else do you play with that you can make the
comparison?" she asked.

He held up another piece of candy in his right hand. "Come here
and get it." He kept hold of it while snaking his left arm under
her skirt. "Yep. That was you all right. How many of the
neighbors saw you?"

"Nobody. They may have seen you groping some woman on the front
porch, but that's another story."

"Think anybody else is coming?"

"No," she said. "It's a dreary rain. No thunder or lightning,
but much too hard to ignore. She moved away from him to turn off
the porch light. "Wash that arm before you come to bed."

While she listened to the water run in the sink, she wondered
why he didn't just take a shower. She was ready for him, after
the teasing and the groping. She couldn't believe that he wasn't
ready for her, as well.

When he flipped back the blankets from his side of the bed, he
was wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. Yanking the
knot loose, she reached for his cock.

She was already touching it when she saw that it was green.
The End
His Favorite Day
Uther Pendragon

This story is written in deliberate imitation of Dulcinea,
a late, great, author on For more about
this, see:
Dulcinea Tribute
This story is indexed in the subdirectory:
Wedded Lust

The directory to all my stories can be found at:


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