Functionally Disfunctional

In the morning

In the evening

She would be waiting

She would be on her knees

In a jiffy

Taking me in her mouth

Taking me with swirling tongue

Sucking lips

Slurping in between gagging reflexes

She sure knew how to suck my cock

But then her tight little cunt would call me

I know some women don’t like that word

I don’t care

She loved it

Demanded it

I obliged

I would talk about her cunt

How it felt to be in her cunt

How her cunt felt on my fingers

Her whispering cunt

Her tasty cunt

Her wet cunt

Her tight cunt

She would come on the spot

From me talking cunt

Then I would push into her cunt

With my stiff cock

Hard at the thought of her cunt

Harder than ever

Harder than Chinese Algebra

My cock splitting her cunt wide open

She would come again

And again

Fucking her between clenching orgasms

Could be challenging

Because she came a lot

Clenching orgasms

Shivering orgasms

Screaming orgasms

Oh how she came

Because her cunt was

soooooooooo

gooooooooooooooooooooooooood

I would come too

Und jetzt

On her knees between my legs

I’m in her mouth

Again she would suck me

Lick my balls

Her fingers would stroke

She wants me to come in her mouth

Insistent

Demanding

Begin the Beguine again

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Can’t Stop

I can’t stop me

I filled you

Spent you

Played inside you

Smear around

Spread you

Licked you

Take a deep breath

Can’t leave you alone

I play

You resonate

You moisten

I’m encouraged

Engorged

You’re flowing

Cock in hand

We play

Teasing

Splitting

A parting

A push

An entry

An engulfing

We fuck

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Happy Valentines Day Cupids and Cupidettes

Ribbons Buttons Bows and Cupid

 

Janine was more than a handful. Yet I never wasted a bit of her. That is the best description I can give of her breasts. Numbers are not for me. Janine was comfortably fluffy. A soft, well turned out sales rep at our company. Even at twenty four the office speculation was baby fat, well dressed, and well out of my league. Her perfect heart shaped behind often well camouflaged by the long boxy coat of her prim business suit. It was the height of fashion at the time. It also hide her remarkably thin waist that was belied by the generous cleavage above the blouses worn under said coat. But it was her power sell uniform. Her hair was black and pushed high in the air bringing her closer to god. Once achieving such lofty heights it cascaded with great dispatch to beyond her soft shoulders while making curtains for a face as pretty as could be on their way down. Fleshy dimpled cheeks surrounded a knowing smile that brought irresistible dimples to bear. A hint of freckles on her nose and cheeks showed the time spent on yachts and extended tropical vacations. The freckles were faded as Janine now cultivated her more porcelain skin hue. Now finally her years had grown into that luscious body. She also had the most active sex drive I had ever encountered in a woman of her age. Her libido would put the more mature ladies who lunch lasciviousness to shame. She was fearlessly impetuous, getting it whenever and wherever she wanted it and had the filthiest mouth under the right circumstances. She would gleefully describe what she wanted, or do a salacious play by play of what she was getting as well as what it was doing to her. Add in a generous helping of moans, grunts, demands, and commands through the pre, post, as well as all throughout coitus maximus, well you get the idea. With Janine it was maximus or bust. Usually both rolled up between long shapely legs. It was here my dirty talk during sex began.


Today was special. Did I mention I had spent more than I should have on a bauble I was presenting to Janine this Valentines Day. I was also about to spend more than I should for dinner tonight. Business was good and I was going to have my fantasy Valentine girl with me tonight, so I was all in.


I was waiting for her at the lounge across the street from the office. Since it was Valentines day it would be safe. Only I was foolish enough to meet a company amour so close to the company inkwell. But the holiday meant that people with real lives outside of work would be off to those lives early. That meant that only the forlorn solo Valentine cast offs would be at the lounge waiting to find out if they too would get lucky that night with another Cupidinesque reject. Lugete, o Veneres Cupidinesque. I could tell when Janine entered because all the male heads snapped in unison to the sound and direction of the front door and all eye remained there. She knew how to make an entrance as well as how to cross a room to maximum feminine effect.


Her hair bounced with each high heeled step and her chin was reduced under her full red lipped smile. Since it was cold her winter wrap did the best it could to conceal the curves it encased, but her shape beneath was undeniable.  When she sidled up to the stool next to me and steadied herself with a hand on my thigh all the men knew I was the lugubrious lottery winner for the night. She opened the coat a few buttons to make herself comfortable. Her endowment demanded this while her ego enjoyed the hungry eyes of the men pleading for just one more button. I knew I would be begging later. My eyes feasted as her ample bosom forced themselves through the leeway made by the opened coat buttons and I caught a brief glimpse of a valentine red brassiere peeking through tasteful strained black blouse with shimmering white buttons. She ordered a glass of Pinot Grigio as did I. Tonight was not a night for medieval power drinking. I wanted all senses as unclouded as possible to enjoy the cornucopia Janine’s buttons were now bridling.


As a gentleman I offered to help her off with her coat while we imbibed, but she said she was still chilled from the outside and the warmth felt good. She punctuated that with another brief caress of the inside of my thigh. Cupid was drawing back his bow early and Janine was plucking at my quiver.


We finished and bundled up and headed out into the frigid February air. There was a light snow falling and the city rush hour traffic was finishing up. There were many couples out on Michigan Avenue and we strolled to our dining destination. I noticed Janine sneak a peek through the jeweler’s window where she had stopped many nights before to admire the glittery glamour pieces in their velvety boxes. I was relieved that she did not stop for a closer examination. Good thing. I felt the presence of the gift box from the Valentines bauble Janine had admired through the window many times before. Our steamy breath trailed us and mingled in secret behind our backs as we walked on.


At our destination the staff were a flutter serving the couples that had chosen to grace this establishment with their presence. This place was definitely as out of my league as Janine was, but I was dressed in my best and with her on my arm no one paid me no never mind. The staff was upon her, offering the removal of her coat long before they had a clue of the treasure beneath.  They removed her wrap slowly and I enjoyed the spectacle revealing the Venus I had delivered to dress up their place on this eve. They even grudgingly offered to take my coat as well. I gave it up and we were seated.


She was in her element now. Candle light, fine linen, glistening crystal, and the finest of china. Still she out shone them all. Violins and clinking of utensils mingled effortless as did Janine in this environment.


Up until then I had never been convinced about oysters being an aphrodisiac. But as I watched those fleshy morsels slip between her red lips I felt my fleshy morsel rise to the situation. Janine’s salad became a bedding of moss to place her round and plush rump upon for a feast, Each sip from her water goblet refreshed and invigorated me with thoughts of diving into her moist and special places. The precision and delicacy of her hands bringing sustenance to her full red lips only sustained my passion more.  Before desert when she cuddled next to me in our booth and slipped her hand being my tie, loosening a button to slip her hand in to rub my broad and hairy chest. I never wore a t- shirt when going out with Janine. The way she would purr as she ran her hand across the hair on my chest was compensation enough for any momentary winter chill.


She must have felt the jewelry box in my suit jacket but made no remark. She was not a woman accustomed to waiting. She knew how to receive what she wanted. She always did. Her polished red nail began to circle my nipple with just enough pressure, while I suspect her other fingers were fondling the box. She leaned in close and brushed her lips along my ear lobe.


“We must stop at the office on our way out.” she breathed seductively in my ear.


The prospect of a romp in my edit suite with this goddess put me right over the top. I pulled out the gift and said , “For you my Valentine.”


Pure poetry, right?


She practically squealed with delight as she removed the wrapping followed by a reverent hush.


“Oh I must have it on me now.” She exhaled and turned her back to me in the booth and lifted her flowing black hair to reveal her perfect porcelain neck. I proudly adorned said perfection with a deep red velvet choker with a dangling ruby. She was now a complete rhapsody in black and red with a crescendo of ribboned ruby above heaving bosom.


Dinner complete we returned to our office. Her bags, of which she always had plenty after a rough day out shopping, I mean selling, needed to come to my place this evening. When we arrived the alarm was set, which was good because it meant for once no one was working late. Rare indeed. Extremely good because I needed Janine now. As our footsteps echoed through the wood floored glass block walled hallway we noticed the President’s office door was open. It was usually locked. Janine took my hand and led me in.


“I must have you in me now.”  She obviously had read me like a Penthouse Forum.


It was a large opulent office indeed. The corner office where one would squirm when unexpectedly called on the carpet by the boss. Also where good things, like bonuses, well dones,  and promotions were delivered. Tonight was going to be a very extra special deluxe good thing. The large windows were not quite street level, but not high enough to be obscured from the late night pedestrians. Good thing I was planning on only partial disrobement of Janine as I took her on the large wooden Presidential desk. She seductively leaned back on her arms offering me a full frontal panorama of her full shelf rack barely contained under blouse and jacket. Much more pronounced with the arch of her back over the bossmans desk. The ruby rested smugly where I wanted to go.


“You never take me dancing anymore.” Janine pouted to keep her demanding pampered persona in play.


As I eased her tight black skirt up and under her bouncy bouncy rump I looked deep into her dark brown eyes and rasped, “Right now my tongue needs to slow dance with your clit.” My arms gently swept away any desk objects that would impede the reclining Janine.


Buy the time my tongue had traversed the inside of her thigh my nose could tell that her sweet pink pussy was ready for that slow dance too. No time for the red panty removal drill that I had rehearsed in my mind all through dinner. The wet fabric easily stretched to the side and my tongue traced the delicate lips while demurring to part that dewy furrow until I had traced the edges like a panther circling it’s prey. When a guttural, “Are you going to make me beg for a lickin’” issued from Janine’s dreamy upper lips I knew it was time. When my tongue dove in up from taint, parting her cunt with a long languid swipe and resting curled on her clit her gasp must have been heard all down the Avenue. I gave her Cupid’s quiver a tongue strumming and slurp slapping until her scissoring thighs told me a lofty passion pinnacle had been achieved on the first flight of my Cupidesque ministrations for the evening.


I rose up slowly from between Janine’s thighs and was was satisfied with my handy work. What  greeted my eyes was a now a disheveled Janine not the buttoned down sales rep of daylight. Her hands had not been idle while my tongue had been a worshiping. Her jacket was splayed open, her fingers had roughly pulled blouse buttons loose, and miraculously, despite the heft of her breasts had raised the startling red brassiere up and over her heavenly tits and had worked her now prominent nipples up to give my tongue a standing ovation. The ruby looked less smug resting up under her chin now. I pounced on my dark haired, big titted Cupids rumpus room wreck and greedily kissed and sucked red lips, brown nipples, and abundant perspiration glistening boobs which were now topped with a deep red velvet trinket resting nicely between them. Venus had been ravished yet again.


Janine said those magic words. “Fuck me in the ass my big arrowed cherub.”


I bent her over that big wooden desk and helped steady her on quivering and soon to be bowed knees. Her coat and blouse fell as a shawl up and around her shoulders. Her breasts swelled out on either side of her pressed hard to the wood. She was the avatar of a desk bound office angel. Rather than remove, I took the scissors from off the desk top and cut the remaining soaked and stretched fabric that kept me from the sweet dual offerings of that heart shaped sacrifice that was now deliciously bent over the black walnut desk. I began to lube my arrow with long deep strokes into her very wet, hot, and ready cunt. She was aflame. She quickly came again with a flourish and she cried.


“Take my ass now daddy!”


My cock was shimmering, slick, and stiff. Slippery enough to begin the final foray between Janine’s cherubic ass cheeks. I slowly breached her rosebud hole. It gave minor resistance then submitted nicely as her ass swallowed my dick with the pressure and sturdy grip that only a butt fuck can deliver. The cut red panties and the shape of her waist and flanks framed her white buttocks in a heart shaped vignette. My thick stiff arrow began to pierce that heart shaped visage deep and fiercely. Banging this gorgeous fleshy daughter of desire over the rich mans desk.


Her black hair flowed over the blue desk ink blotter. As her cheeks brushed against the blotter I could see residue of her makeup rubbing off on it as well as stains of her saliva as she drooled and grunted her approval.


“One more please daddy.”

Thrust


“One more please daddy”

Thrust


This would issue from her sweet foul mouth with each foray into her heart shaped gift of buggery to me. I burst my hot flowing desire into her tight white butt with a yowl that would make any mythological cherub blush and collapsed over my soft and panting raven haired wench on that plush black walnut desk.


Now I know I have already offered that Janine was out of my league,  but did I neglected to mention Janine was my bosses daughter.


Happy Valentines all of you cupids and cupidettes out there.


P.S.

1. Debbie Do

1 Prologue

 

Debbie was my go to girl at the office. When I needed a session booked, she was the one who could do it. Even better, she would lean over at her desk revealing cleavage that went all the way from Chicago to Cleveland, She was that special kind of woman. Five foot two, with 38DD breasts always barely restrained in a low cut fashion. My eyes always wavered between her large brown eyes and incredible tits. Debbie knew it. She kept her black hair cropped short so as to never obstruct the view with distracting tresses that would thwart admiration of her magnificent breasts. When she would rise to walk to a file cabinet her tiny ass was often sheathed in fabric that would reveal panties lines if worn. Often they were not. This was in the pre-thong days. She was the best. Debbie could get me booked where others would fear to tread.

 

One Friday night after work the whole crew retired across the street to our favorite watering hole. I could only have a few because I still had a cut to do and clients were coming in first thing Monday. I didn’t want to work over the weekend so I left early. I tossed my credit card to Dave the bartender and said “My treat.” and went back to the office to do the rough cut on my KEM.

 

I had spent an hour or two and had the rough cut knocked. I was doing the last playback when I saw Debbie standing in the doorway. She held two cocktails in her hands. “Finished yet?” she asked in her low and soothing voice.

 

Debbie was wearing a sheer orange dress that accented her olive skin impeccably. The plunging V of her neck line barely constrained her overflowing breasts. I wanted to dive into that cleavage. The way the fabric flowed and simultaneously clung about her body was a sight to behold. As she poured into the room and handed me one of the cocktails I didn’t care what was in it. I wanted to be in her. I noted that she had closed the suite door and locked it so I was already plotting, but mindful because we were colleagues.

 

“Show me what you did.” she asked. So I lined up the pix and track and hit the right button and the rough cut played.

 

After the grease pencil fade out Debbie said, “Let me see it again.”  

 

I obliged. As all good editors do, I watched Debbie’s face, not the screen to gauge her reaction. It doesn’t really matter what people say, it is the way they react that counts.

 

I turned and hit the stop button at the end of the spot. When I rotated my chair back to Debbie I asked, “Well?”

 

Debbie had moved close behind my chair and when I turned I was eye to orange silk covered tits. As I tilted my head up to peer past those unbelievable boobs I saw her short cropped black mane and soft brown eyes smiling down at me.

 

“I think the clients will love it. That reminds me.”  She tossed the credit card and the signed bar tab in my lap.

 

“Oh, thanks.” I said and put the receipt and card on my desk.

 

“Now I have something else for you.” I heard her say.

 

When I turned back she began to peel the orange fabric off her shoulders. The dress fell to the floor unveiling Debbie before me in white bra and panties. The contrast between her dark olive skin and the white fabric of her undergarments drew my hand like a magnet. But Debbie slapped my hand away and she said “Uh uh, my treat now.”

 

 

There was nothing for me to do but admire the full figured woman in front of me. Such a compact yet voluptuous womanly figure deserved adoration. The short cropped hair framed a strong jaw line, soft delicate shoulders that supported her full and astoundingly firm white clad breasts that lead down to a flat tummy resulting in pristine white panties. The legs were sturdy and shapely. Compact femininity at its best.

 

“Well this is a treat.” I stammered. “Thank you.”

 

“Oh no, thank you.” Debbie said reaching  for my zipper while dropping to her knees. As she pulled it down she deftly undid the buckle on my belt with her other hand. With one stealthy movement my hips went up, my pants were pulled down, and she was running her tongue up the length of my cock which was already hard and reaching to the sky. The only hitch was at the knee where she had to work the jeans over my prosthetic leg. She knew of it and it didn’t phase her as she looked at the knob on the tip of my shaft as it bobbed in the air before her shimmering brown eyes. She reached up with both hands and  ran her fingers from base to just below the tip. Being a petite woman, except for those magnificent tits, her small hands made my average sized shaft seem longer and thicker to my visual delight. Of course when her hands reached the knob all bets were off. The head of my cock resembled a tennis ball in her small hands.

Debbie rose up on her knees just high enough to maneuver her mouth over the top of my cock and ever so slowly let her lips part as she slowly slid my dick into her mouth and as far down her throat as it would go in that position. I felt her tongue work teasingly side to side almost reaching my balls till I felt her throat open a bit with a reflexive gag.

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Debbie raised her head slowly leaving a stream saliva along the shaft as her tongue slid up the length to the tip releasing the now shimmering orb. She looked up at me with watering eyes. She swirled her tongue around the large knob and murmured, “I have heard about this,” as if speaking to a microphone, then wrapped her lips around the engorged head and sucked on it like a Tootsie Pop.

 

She paused just long enough to look at me and say, “I guess I have my work cut out for me.”

 

Debbie then proceeded to fuck me with her mouth as I have never been skull fucked before.  She was slurping, humming, and making quite a spectacle as her short black hair began to glisten with perspiration. She worked me mercilessly with lips, tongue and hands till I could contain myself no more.

 

As I spurted wildly in her throat she slowly raised her head gliding her lips tightly along my ejaculating length. When her mouth freed me she gave a last flick of her tongue to gather a bit of semen from the tip. She looked at me with her deep brown eyes while using her pinkie to pull the last bit of come from her lips to her mouth and said, “Now you owe me one.”

Thanksgiving

Rene and I spent a great holiday weekend together. I could tell she was burned out from University. I hope after this weekend she is not burned out from me, We were at each other like the two healthy nineteen year old animals we are. For a change Rene was as hungry as I. I liked it. That pursued damsel giving in to her boyfriend’s base desires can get old.


From the time we woke up en-wrapped in each other Friday morning until this Sunday afternoon it seemed if we weren’t fucking, we were either eating or bathing in my homes claw-foot tub. OK, we had fucked in that tub a lot before this. Who ever placed that tub in the center of that tiny bathroom was a genius. It became a prop as all the scant furnishings in my coach house abode had for this holiday weekends grunting, groaning, moaning fuckfest.


The only break was Fred’s annual Holiday party on Saturday night.  He has thrown one for years. His house was always the one with the scantest adult supervision and the tradition continues. Time was  Rene and I would have stayed overnight after party to make use of the upstairs spare bedroom. But now that I have my own crash pad we left that to be used by others this year.


With all the old friends and flames of mine at this party it was a test of my new found vow of fidelity. I must admit some women of my past, fact and fantasy, life might have crossed my mind as Rene serviced me upon return to the coach house that night. But the view of her long blond hair as it fell across my stomach as Rene took me into her soft wet mouth would banish all but adoration for Rene and Rene alone. Not to mention the sight of how intently she studied my dick with large blue eyes as she slowly stroked it and brought me to full attention. That was as alluring as any old phantasms that flounced in my head. Visions of girls I had lusted after previously. Some which had even satiated that lust. Far to few in reality.


Looking back at the party now I have to shake my head in wonder. Not only did the usual suspects, from Helen’s friend Eileen to Fred’s younger sister Judy seem to be drawn to rubbing against me like cats in heat whenever Rene was otherwise occupied. Each young woman was generously blessed with large breasts and seemed to want to make the point that Rene was not. Where were such attentions when I went stag to these occasions? Even Helen was more touchy feely with me than ever, until she remembered herself with the aid of my fidelity to my best and oldest friend Fred. All this in spite of the chemical enhancements available at this party. I have done alright with women in the past, but on this night there were open invitations from places where doors had always been shuttered tight before.


So as I positioned myself behind Rene’s deliciously upraised heart shaped rump for a final multi-angled ravishing of the day; her only comment was, “So are you going to fuck me into oblivious slumbers yet again tonight.”


“I shall do my best sweet Rene.” I said with firm resolve and impaled her again and again upon my rigid staff until that post coitus black curtain fell.

 

 

Samhain Rustling

It was then I began hearing sounds from the attic. JoJo was still working the floor with some help from Little Red Riding Hood. Little Bo Peep was shepherding some of the stray lost sheep out the door.

Finally Brunhilda took charge of those that did not succumb to subtlety and the party was cleared.

The soul cakes and colcannon had been devoured and only a few crumbs of the barmbrack were left on the plates.  These were not typical here in America on Halloween and I really enjoyed the touch of the Celtic Samhain JoJo had brought to the evening. She never failed to surprise me with her tricks and her treats.

Still I heard noises from her attic. I knew there was an attic, but in spite of the time spent in her home I’d be damned if I could even tell you how to get up there. But clearly there was someone up there. Or something!

Deciding to make myself useful I began tidying up party central. JoJo approached and took my hand and said, “Remember I told you there would be more rules.”

More Rules:

  • No cleaning.
  • No touching yourself.

Well alright then I thought to myself.  While I was still in hand she led me along with LIttle Red Riding Hood and Brunhilda in tow to the rear of the house and through a door I had never before noticed. It was such a small and inclined stairway I feared for Brunhilda’s ascent. But she gracefully climbed the stairway with ease me being urged up the disorienting stairway with JoJo before me and Little Red Riding Hood behind.

It was an attic alright, but spotless. The raw wooden floors had been scrubbed and the bare rafters were immaculate. There were beautiful weaved tapestries between each raft placed with a precise symmetry. The fabric made what could be a stark skeleton of a peaked roof  feel warm and very inviting.

A single bare bulb hung in the middle of the space. Rather than being harsh it radiated a diffuse and pleasing light. But what it hovered above grabbed my attention most of all. There on a platform, resting upon what appeared to be a feathery mattress, in the literal spotlight epicenter of this otherwise shadowy attic was the glistening black machine from JoJo’s closet. On the other side of the platform sat a chair. Well, also being on another platform it might best be described as a throne. For effect there was a  hanging behind this throne, but in the shadows I could not decipher the pattern upon this tapestry.

If I had felt disoriented coming up the staircase to this next level, my head was swimming with questions, curiosity, uneasiness, and excitement. Like little fish these impressions were swimming around my head and then scattered as the predatory lust fish swam to the surface of my consciousness.

Here I was the only man with three women, Little Bo Peep, LIttle Red Riding Hood, and Brunhilda, all dressed in provocative Halloween’s slutty slant costume regalia. I only knew for sure the identity one of these women. JoJo. As alluring as her already compromised attire was, the fierce rams head mask gave an edge to this developing late night tableo.

Well, make that four women as the Leather Nun appeared out from the attic shadows pushing a cart filled with colorful bottles of lube and phalluses of  sizes and shapes to strike any ladies fancy, adorned with various strategic placed nubbins and protrusions designed and designated for her pleasure. The predatory lust fish was skittish and looking for a dark place to hide for a moment.

But Bo Peep and Little Red took my hand and led me to the chair rather than the mechanized feather bed so little lust fish began to peek out even if still intimidated by the out manning display of phallI on the Leather Nuns cart.

 

Gathering Samhain

JoJo and I have been dating since April. April 1st to be exact. She had given up on relationships. So had I. Over the months I learned she had a special machine tucked away in the back of her closet. I was fascinated by it, but discreet when the topic arose. It rarely if ever did, other than her insinuation she was enjoying her new found toy of late. I will say I am one grateful and lucky toy. But still….

She had a full regalia costume Halloween Party for the past couple years. October was here and she would parse out her holiday party rules to me.

Rules:

    • Costumes had to include at least a mask of some sort.
    • Real identities cannot be revealed through out the party.
    • Don’t ask Don’t tell.
    • More rules would follow

The first part of the evening was hors d’oeuvres and cocktails while candy and treats were handed out to the Trick or Treaters. All the little ghouls and goblins were treated well. Some of the party attendees did not answer the door because their costume selection was to risque for this sleepy suburban cul-de-sac community.

Through the evening the party goers would come and go. Some were clearly in for the duration, others recycled and refreshed, would go on with their Halloween revelries elsewhere. Some of her neighbors I recognized, costume and all. Others I did not.

JoJo made about as lascivious a Little Bo Peep imaginable. Her lithe body belied her status as GrandMaMa. The skimpy costume was just the wrong side of decency. But the rams head mask complete with horns that she wore above the sexy Bo Peep branding gave me the shivers. No cute cuddly lambs head for JoJo.

I was intrigued by a diminutive little red riding hood who would occasionally speak in an odd sort of affected Cardiff, Welsh, Scottish accent. Clearly an artifice for the occasion. Childlike in size the voice was that of a woman nonetheless. I found myself watching her move about the room in flowing scarlet robes and a black veil under her riding hood had efficiently obscured her features.

A cameo appearance was made by Peggy,  JoJo’s next door neighbor, sufficiently liquored up early and often while dressed in the Naughty School Girl Uniform. Disheveled enough from the boozing to make it less sexy and more victim of a misspent youth in appearance. No attempt was made by Peggy to obscure her identity because, well, that’s Peggy.

Then there was the other person with the genuine Cardiff accent. The leather nun costume was formidable.  Voice did not betray gender. The habit had the addition of black leather mask making the striking visage intimidating. The nun emanated command from the corner with the stance of a sentinel assumed. I could not tell if it was to be near the mulled wine or perhaps to remind those to practice restraint from consuming too much mulled wine. But the nun was a presence with a capital P.

There were early Trick or Treaters. The young ones that would look amazed when all they had to say were three magic words and then candy would appear in their sacks. Children bringing their parents around begrudging because they knew they were old enough to go on their own, but the parents disagreed. Then came the teens, Brooding, still young enough to want the candy, but really out to just roam the streets with impunity and scare up just enough trouble to be dangerous. To others and themselves.

Since I had followed JoJo’s strong suggestion that I dress as Gladiator, she tells me I favor Russell Crowe from time to time, I was excused from door duty.  Even with mask in place and loins girded it still was not a PG costume. If I had known I would have spent more time at the gym and less at Slammies were JoJo is the bar wench. Oops. Don’t tell her I wrote that.

Although the party had healthy circulation and turn over I noticed  Little Red Riding Hood and The Leather Nun were in for the duration. It was toward the end of the evening when Brunhilde made a grand entrance.

Every bit the grand operatic legend. From her prodigious size to her bawdy and booming voice. She took up the room. Unabashedly revealing costume worn well and to great effect, Viking horns with obscuring face guard she was ready for battle. Where the Leather Nun was tall, Brunhilde was wide and massive.  Folds of flowing flesh that moved about the room with grace as she embraced those she knew as well as those to whom she had just been introduced with equal joy. Clearly comfortable in herself and the space she owned.

Peggy clearly was enjoying her wine, and apparently my costume was having an effect upon her.  As next door neighbor our interactions had always been cordial, but between the mulled wine, the vodka tonics, her day drinking ways, and my costume she seemed to be sending more than her usual attentions my way.  JoJo noticed too. But her rams head mask did not allow me any sort of read on her feeling about this attention. But slutty school girl signals Peggy was sending were not lost on anyone in the room. Luckily her husband came to collect her after doing his kiddie trick or treat duty and all was well in the neighborhood again as the party cleared.