5 comments/ 234073 views/ 19 favorites Pumpkin By: Megadyke She walked into the kitchen again. Pink little panties showing off a perfect ass and thin tan legs. Opening the fridge and bending over, I admired the view again while she wasn't looking. Since turning 18 she has become such a fucking tease. Every day it was something else with her, cuddling on the couch and resting her tits on my arm, asking me to rub her calves after a long day at dance class, leaving the door open while she showered. I felt my cock stirring in my pants thinking about those legs wrapped around my head. My tongue buried in her teenage cunt, as she had my hair in her hands.... "Daddy?" "Yes, Pumpkin?" The voice brought me out of my fantasy and back to the problem at hand. Now leaned on the counter with her tits pressed together straining the flimsy material of her T-shirt. "What's for dinner?" She asked as she swirled her hair around her finger. In my head I knew better, but I felt my self getting up off the couch and walking towards her. Telling myself that I was just going to teach her a lesson for flaunting herself in front of me. It was my duty as her father to show her what happens when you tease a man. I was in control and would stop before it went to far. Before she knew what was happening I grabbed her roughly and shoved her against the refrigerator door. Quickly gathering her small wrist in one of my hands, I stretched her arms above her head, effectively pinning her between me and the door. "You think its fun to tease your Daddy? You think its fun to strut around here showing off your ass like a fucking whore?" Pulling up her T-shirt releasing those beautiful tits, feeling them against my chest as I shoved my tongue in her mouth. I stepped back intending to stop there, but the sight of her with eyes downcast, a pink blush creeping onto her cheeks, and her body there for me. My cock was harder than I could ever remember, as I took my pants I felt it spring up hitting me in the stomach. Smashing back into her trapping my manhood between us. I started licking her lips. Grabbing onto a dark nipple, twisting and pulling it towards me, I heard the first little moan. "You want to suck Daddy's cock, Pumpkin? You want to show him what a slut you are?" I asked not caring about her answer, I moved my hand from her wrist to her hair. With a fistful of her golden locks I snapped her head back forcing her to look me in the eyes. "Daddy knows what you want, huh, and he's going to give it to you, Pumpkin." I took her hair and pushed her down to her knees. Her head between my hard dick and the refrigerator. Humping my hips, rubbing a smear of pre cum over her eyes and cheeks. I pulled back a little so I could grab my cock and started slapping it against her face. "What a fucking whore you are. Open your mouth for Daddy, stick out your tongue." As she did I started thumping my cock against it, watching her try to catch it in her slutty little mouth was almost enough to make me blow my load right there. Instead I slid it into that beautiful mouth. The warm velvet flickering over the underside of my cock was wonderful, she was a natural. I wanted to be nice, enjoy a leisurely blow job, but I caught that smug look in her eyes. She looked like a cat that had gotten the cream. Not like someone that was learning why she shouldn't prance around like a whore. "Stupid fucking cunt, you think this is a joke? Don't worry I know how to take that look off of your face." On that note I grabbed the back of her head and shoved my entire length down her throat. I felt her pull back, trying to escape the onset on her throat, her head whacked against the refrigerator. Laughing I told her there was nowhere to go. Now gagging on my cock, spit dripping down her chin coating my balls, she started to understand, And the silent tears started, I could feel her fear and her throat constricting my cock, milking it as she sniffled. I continued fucking her throat as savagely as I could. Bringing my dick to the tip of her lips before forcing it back down, letting her catch a breath than gagging her again. I could feel the cum rising in me. I let go of her hair and pulled my cock out of the warm confines of her mouth. Caught off balance she collapsed to the floor, those legs sprawled out across the tile, tits spilled out from under her shirt, her face covered in snot, spit and tears. I have never seen anything so sexy in my entire life. I stood over her rubbing my cock, telling her what a whore she is. Cum shot from me first landing on her cheek then a glob shot against the refrigerator dripping down the surface, before spurting the last drops onto her tits and shirt. I stood watching my cum drip down the door, thinking quick I grabbed her hair again pulling her to her knees. "Lick it off Pumpkin. Taste Daddy's cum." Watching her tongue dart out cleaning up my mess, I realized I had found the perfect little slut. Pumpkin Cream Pie It was a cool night in October; I was taking the garbage down to the road as I did every Wednesday night. My wife and I live out in the country on a gravel road and the only house nearby is an abandoned one at the bottom of my lane. It's about a quarter mile down to the road and sometimes I must admit a little scary. It was a cloudy evening so it was darker then usual; as I got near the bottom of the lane I thought I smelled something sweet. I didn't give it much thought since my wife wasn't home from work yet. I knew I wasn't baking anything and there wasn't another living soul for miles. I left the garbage can on the side of the road and headed back to the house. That's when I noticed the smell again, this time there was no mistaking what it was. It reminded me of my childhood, I would spend weekends with my aunt and every year around this time she would always make the most mouth watering pumpkin cream pie. I don't know what I enjoyed more eating that pie or watching her bake it. She had died in a car wreck when I was in college, it was a very bad time for me. She was always my favorite aunt, we had a lot of great times while I was growing up. I can still see her in her sun dress, it seemed two sizes to small on top making her large breasts seem even larger. It would taper down to her narrow waist and then bow out at her almost perfect hips. I was too young to really appreciate how great she looked; all I know is it made me feel tingly down in my private area. I would try to make small talk and seem interested in her baking so she would let me stay and watch. She always teased me that I would make someone a fine wife some day. I didn't mind as long as I got to watch her bend over showing her ample cleavage and round bottom. I was snapped out of this trip down memory lane by a loud thump, I recognized the sound but couldn't place it right away. I walked toward the abandoned house and as I got closer I noticed a light coming from one of the first floor rooms. I had done some exploring in the house so I was pretty sure the light was coming from what would have been the kitchen. The smell of pumpkin and spice got stronger as I got closer to the front door. I don't know what drove me to continue, I am not the brave type and to be honest I dread the weekly walk down to the road in the fall and winter when it's usually dark. I make myself do it though to try and get over my fears. I took the flashlight out of my pocket that I carry in case I see a deer or something. I pushed the front door open and looked inside; I could hear my heart pounding. As I made my way through the rubble and old furniture I heard the thump again and realized that it was the sound of an oven closing. I froze in my tracks, this was not smart, there could have been a bum staying in the house and he might not want any company. But I asked myself why a bum would be baking a pumpkin cream pie. So I turned off my flashlight and crept closer to the kitchen, what I saw was unbelievable. The kitchen was just the way I remembered my Aunt's, and standing at the stove with her back to me was my long lost Aunt. I cleared my throat to get her attention as she turned she said "I've been waiting for you to get home, what took you so long". I remember falling and hitting my head and when I awoke I was sitting at the table with a bag of ice on my head and my Aunt by my side. She looked just like I remember her from my childhood so I decided I must have fallen taking the thrash out and this must be a dream. She caressed my head and pulled me to her bosom and asked if I was alright. My face was pressed up against the boobs that I fantasized about through all of my teenage years. I felt that same tingle in my dick that I got the first time I noticed her as a woman. I told her I felt fine but I wasn't sure where I was or how I got there. She laughed and said you must have hit your head pretty hard when you fell out of the tree outback. I remembered climbing the tree behind her house, but that was thirty years ago. I could still smell the pie and asked if it was about ready to eat. She let go of me and went to check on it, as she bent down to open the oven I noticed her dress was shorter then I remembered it. It was so short that I was able to see the pretty satin panties she was wearing. I also noticed a little wet spot in the crotch. She turned around with the pie in her hands and said I could have a piece as soon as it cooled. She said the only problem was she didn't have any whipped cream and knew how much I liked her whipped cream. I said I could go up to my house and see if we had some. She said that wouldn't be necessary, I started to ask why but before I had the chance she came and kneeled in front of me. As she placed her hand in my lap she said, I think you have all the cream I need right here. I was as hard as I had ever been and as she unzipped my pants I thought I would cum right then and there. I was able to control myself as she pulled my pants and underwear off. Her breast were about to fall out of the top of her dress so I reached down and helped them the rest of the way out. They were much better in real life than they ever looked in my jerk off sessions, the nipples were hard and I just had to bend down and suck one into my mouth. She moaned softly and told me there would be plenty of time for that, but right now she needed to make some whipped cream. She licked the end of my dick savoring the pre cum that had been there. She reached behind her and grabbed a measuring cup and started to stroke me. She moved her hand up and down my cock methodically, I wanted her to move faster but she didn't. I was going nuts, I never experienced anything like this, and her grip was very tight, almost painful. She looked awesome , but at the same time she had a distant look in her eyes. Instead of stoking my cock it was like she was mixing ingredients. She held the cup close to the end of my cock and in a low sexy voice she said "cum for me now, Auntie needs some cream". With that I came harder than I ever did, and somehow she managed to catch every drop in the cup. When I was finished she held it up to the light and with a disappointed look on her face she said "that's not going to be enough" I was not fifteen years old any more and I told her that I didn't know when I would be "up" to supplying more cream for her pie. This was the first time the dream started to worry me, I mean if it was a dream then you would think I would be able to go as long and as many times as I wanted. But what if it wasn't a dream, no it had to be, there was no other explanation. My Aunt stood up and said she would just have to help me get back in the mood. With that she took her dress the rest of the way off, leaving her in her blue satin panties. She asked if I would like to take them off. I reached for her and she slapped my hands, not so fast mister, you can only use your teeth. I bent down and tried to grasp her panties with my teeth, it was not easy but I finally got them. I could feel my dick stirring as I got my first look at her pussy. She had trimmed it down to just a small patch above her clit. After I finished removing her panties I lifted my head up and started to lick her pussy, she spread her legs slightly but then closed them again. I was confused and filled with lust for her. She on the other hand had only one thing on her mind, "judging by the size of your cock you appear ready to supply some more cream. This time she had me get up on the table, as I lay back I felt something clamp around my wrists. She had cuffed me to the table; I thought to myself that Auntie was a little kinky; she then cuffed my ankles and got up on the table with me. She straddled my chest with her pussy just inches from my mouth. The sight was unbelievable, I wanted to reach up and grab her ass but of course I couldn't. I strained my neck to try and lick her pussy but it was just out of my reach. Just then I felt her start her slow agonizing stoke, it felt so good but at the same time I was going out of my head again. Faster I yelled, but her tempo didn't change, she was like a mixer set on low. She said she didn't want to spill a drop and this was the best way to accomplish that. Thankfully between the vision in front of me and her tight grip it wasn't long before I was shooting my wad into the measuring cup again. She milked me like a cow getting every last drop out. I was exhausted, and asked her if I had given enough yet. She looked at the cup and with another look of disdain she said I hadn't. I asked her to uncuff me, she said when she had enough cream for her pie I could get up. I was starting to get a little worried cause I could never remember a dream lasting this long or being this real. I was also feeling pain in my wrists and that didn't seem right either. She saw the look on my face and said "you don't still think this is a dream do you". I asked what else it could be, she just smiled and picked the measuring cup back up. I think one more time should do it with a little luck. I was spent and it was going to take more than luck to get me hard again. But Auntie wasn't worried, she took the cuffs off of my ankles one at a time and put them in a stirrup type contraption that brought my legs up above my head when she pulled a rope. This bought my ass straight up in the air with my dick pointed down at my face. It was a little painful but I forgot about that as soon as my Aunt started licking my ass hole. The feeling was unbelievable, I had seen this in videos but never experienced it myself. She didn't touch my dick at all but she caressed my balls and then licked them also. I couldn't believe I was getting hard for the third time in less than an hour. The pre cum was starting to flow and it dripped down on my mouth. Auntie noticed this and told me to lick it up, I hesitated but she insisted. It's not like you've never eaten it before, your uncle supplied the main ingredient in my whipped cream for years. I couldn't believe my ears, could she be telling the truth, wait this is a dream, none of this is happening. So I figured what the hell, I licked the slippery substance off my lips. It was a little salty but not too bad, Auntie smiled and took my cock in her hand and started jacking, this time she didn't take her time and I was a little concerned with what she had in mind. She reached behind her with her free hand and scooped up some of the pumpkin pie that had been cooling. She smeared it on my mouth and told me to eat it, it was warm and tasted just like I remember. She continued to jerk me off hard and I could feel my balls swell with my cum. When she slipped one of her fingers in my ass I knew it wouldn't be long. She started laughing and said "now that you've had your pie here comes your whipped cream" and with that I started coming and she made sure it all landed in and around my mouth. When I was through she grabbed some more pie and crammed it in her mouth. She then kissed me and licked the rest of my cum off my face. It was the most erotic moment of my life. My wife and I have had quite a few daring adventures so that was saying a lot. Her pumpkin pie always made me sleepy and even though I was still tied to the table I fell asleep. I awoke to the sound of my wife calling my name, her car was parked in the lane and I was sitting by the creek. I called to her and she came over to where I was sitting. She asked what I was doing, I said I wasn't sure. She said I was going to catch a cold and to get in the car. As I closed the door to her car she looked at me and said I smelled like pumpkin pie. Pumpkin Patch Snatch I didn't know if it was the unseasonal heat or the heavy work we'd done that day or Jake's scary stories or Miguel's empty bed that kept me awake in the dormitory that night, but I had nervous energy to spare. I would doze, but I'd wake up with a start and look over at Miguel's bed, the emptiness of it now explained, and then I'd check all of the other beds to see in guys were there. And sometimes they weren't, and then I'd speculate. Did they get up to piss or get a smoke or just stand outside the Quonset hut dormitory that was like an oven in the October North Carolina heat? Or were they hunting or being hunted. I had gravitated for the fall harvesting toward Lunsford Farm in Yanceyville, North Carolina, dead center in the east-west range of the state but just a few miles south of the Virginia border because of who I was and what I wanted and what Lunsford Farm tolerated. But it was because of what Lunsford Farm tolerated—encouraged even—that had me on edge and nervously watching the movements of those around me. And maybe, just maybe, it was my own need that kept me awake. Miguel had been a relief valve for me. He and Raul. It was that college student—Frank Lunsford's young man—who I'd really like to get to. But thus far I had stayed with the other migrant workers—mostly with those from the south of the border, like me. In scratching my itch, I'd had to waltz around the big, black Cuban, Duardo, who was fucking the same young Mexicans I was, but thus far we'd managed. There also was the American black, Rufe, a tall, gangly, rangy long-time worker here, who was only half here mentally, but whose snake-like dong went with his height and thinness and either was an object of fear or desire for those he sniffed after. Whether fear or desire depended on how masochistic the day worker poor-white-trash types were who came to work here straight out of high school because their prospects weren't any greater and because Lunsford Farm was a haven for young guys wanting to be dicked. Rufe stuck mostly with the white day worker twinks, like Matt and Shawn, because he had some sort of mad on about those of us coming up from south of the border for the farm work and, he said, taking work from real Americans. He'd go around muttering under his breath something about the only good "wetback" being a dead "wetback." He didn't say that right to my face or Duardo's, and he was respectful enough to us—because if he wasn't either one of us was quite capable of kicking his ass up between his ears—but he steered clear of the Mexican boy pussy and, despite being black himself, strictly stuck to white meat. That was fine with Duardo and me; it meant more spicy meat for us. But with Miguel gone now, Duardo and I had to sift in some white meat from time to time ourselves. We both had to have it nearly daily. It wasn't all that hard, though. Although the white-trash day workers weren't bunked here in our dormitory, they wanted it so bad that they often were here at night. Duardo usually kept to other Hispanics, but he was eying the young, white college student, Kyle, today, I had noticed. But Kyle was Frank Lunsford's. I didn't think either of us would get a piece of that plump, young tail. It was tantalizing, though—especially today, when we'd all been in the pumpkin patch pulling out pumpkins for the big sale at the farm's produce store out on highway 158. The apples, raspberries, tomatoes, and corn also needed to be harvested, but this was the big push weekend for those buying pumpkins for the Halloween season they marked here in the States. So we were all in the pumpkin patch, working double time. Even Lunsford's young man, Kyle, had been there—all of us stripped down to the waist, muscles straining, sweat pouring off our bodies in the unseasonable heat. It wasn't until today that I saw how tantalizingly arousing Kyle's body was. I could see that he had as much affect that way with Duardo as with me. Duardo moved around all day, eyes glued to Kyle, with a raging hard on—and Duardo's hard ons definitely were raging. The white boy, Kyle, could hardly miss Duardo's interest—or mine, for that matter. And he was being a little tease with us. Kyle usually worked in the produce store and only on weekends, as he was in school as some North Carolina university. I had no idea how cut and perfectly muscled his body was until today—and what sultry, sulky dark-haired, "come-and-get-me" luscious looks he had. He had bedroom eyes and thick lips that looked at a man in a knowing, interested way. I thought, but couldn't be totally sure, that he was doing this purposely to make men lust after him—which both Duardo and I, and even the overseer Jake, did that day—but I did know that Frank Lunsford was a lucky man to have Kyle in his bed, if only for the weekends. But it was more than the presence of Kyle in the pumpkin patch that set the tension of the day for the migrant workers. Miguel had been missing for two days. Jake, who slept in the dormitory with the migrant workers and who had worked at Lunsford Farm for a good many years, dismissed this as a concern for those two days, telling us that it was a normal occurrence for migrant workers to pick up stakes and just leave. I normally would have agreed with him, but today was payday for the past month's labor. No migrant worker I knew would take off two days before payday. And then, while we were out in the pumpkin patch, near the main house, a police cruiser had driven up, two officers went into the house, and, after a while, Mr. Lunsford came out of the house with them and left with them in the cruiser. Jake had gone up to the house to see what was what, and when he came back, he told us that the police had found a body in the woods nearby and wanted to take Mr. Lunsford off to discuss the matter. At dinner that night, eaten at picnic tables outside the dormitory building, and with several of the day workers hanging around for free food and maybe a roll in the hay later, Jake completely changed his tune. The body had been confirmed as that of Miguel. It had been found less than a mile away from the farm in woods that were part of a huge partial owned by a logging firm but nowhere near being ready to be logged again. Not only did Jake say it was Miguel, but he told us stories of other young migrant workers who had been found dead near here during previous harvest seasons. Duardo chimed in to confirm there had been two in the previous season when he'd worked here, and the other long-term worker, Rufe, nodded his head in agreement. Jake proceeded to tell us of the circumstances of the deaths and it wasn't pretty, involving slashing with a large-blade knife. He went on to spin a horror tale for us as he'd been doing almost nightly in the weeks coming up to Halloween. "Way back, nearly two hundred years ago," he said, "the farm house here was once the mansion house for a plantation that covered nearly this whole county. Some say I'm related to this here family, which would be something, wouldn't it?—under other circumstances me owning this whole kit and caboodle rather than just herding you lot around for Frank Lunsford." After patting himself on his back with that claim, Jake continued. "Well, that didn't happen, because that there house over there was the scene of a mass murder of the entire family save my ancestor who was off studying. Some dozen darky slaves—young men all—rose up and slaughtered the family one night—close to Halloween, they say hereabouts—in their beds. Since then, legend has it that the house is haunted by the ghosts of the family, who won't rest until a dozen young men are sacrificed to make up for the slaves' crimes." "Sound to me like that's been happening around here," Duardo spoke up and said. We all were thinking of Miguel's death. I, for one, though, just thought Jake was trying to scare us. The younger, more impressionable workers—Raul, Shawn, Matt, and Francisco—drank Jake's stories in, eyes wide with fear and interest. "Yep," Jake answered. "Miguel this season, but there have been others before. All wetbacks, though, and we all know how flighty they can be and risk takers, anxious to get in with a dangerous crowd even though Mr. Lunsford provides them a place here, where they can get what they want without mixing with those rough homo bashers livin' hereabouts. Them wetbacks just want it rough and sometimes they sneak off from here and get it rougher than they were bargaining for." All the young dick takers sitting around the picnic tables were squirming, the Mexicans—Raul and Francisco—more than the rest. Well I guessed they should be concerned, I thought, as they were ripe young bottoms like Miguel had been and as had been all of the young migrant workers Jake had said had been used and murdered in previous seasons. I assumed that Jake was exaggerating both the body count and the circumstances of the deaths and the connection to all of this to the claims of haunting of the farm house because this was the Gringos' season for such stories. But I couldn't discount Raul's and Francisco's concerns. They were ripe young bottoms, used by Duardo and me just as Miguel had been. And, who knows, maybe they snuck out some nights to have it from strangers outside the farm family. And then later that evening, as the men, groaning from the strain of the work of the day, were trying to settle in their beds, events became more ominous. The different-pitched contest of the snoring of Jake and of Duardo woke me after it seemed I had just gotten to sleep, and I instinctively looked over to Miguel's bed, still in shock about why it was empty. It was still empty. But so was Raul's bed, beyond Miguel's. Raul hadn't left the dormitory yet, although he was stealthily moving toward the door. One of the day workers, the dirty-blond-headed scrawny boy pussy, Matt, was stretched out on Rufe's bed back in the corner of the dormitory. He was making purposely muffled moaning sounds as he grabbed the slats of the headboard and Rufe side-splitted him with the deep, snake-like exploration of that long shaft of his. I already was hard, and listening to them fuck and watching the undulations of Rufe's hips, knowing how deep inside Matt's channel he was plumbing, wasn't helping. I hadn't had a fuck since the day Miguel had disappeared. I assumed Raul, who wasn't in his bed, was going to the port-o-john to take a leak. If I followed him and waylaid him on the way back to the dormitory, I knew he'd let me fuck him on a picnic table. And my need was great, so I quietly left my bed and followed him out into the night. I saw him stride right past the outhouse, though. He had a flash light. And when I looked off toward the farmhouse, I saw another light moving away from the house and toward the pumpkin patch. All sorts of weird ideas floated through my brain, fueled by the ghost stories Jake had told at dinner. I didn't believe this had anything to do with a ghost, though. And I was right. The pumpkin patch was surrounded on two sides by a wooded area, and, once I ascertained that the two points of light were headed for and converging on the pumpkin patch, I skirted around to the wooded fringe of the patch and positioned myself to where I could see into that field. The moon was full, which made the outline of everything clear in an eerie sort of way. Wisps of ground fog were floating around near the surface of the earth and swirled around the pumpkins not quite yet ready to be harvested. I could think of no better setting for one of Jake's Halloween stories. At first I thought what I saw was a large dog—a wolf even—but my eyes adjusted fully to the dark and I realized that it was Frank Lunsford. For the first time it occurred to me how much like a hairy wolf the man was. Or one of the satyrs Jake told us about in his stories. Jake always included strange and rough gay sex in his stories—his favorites being werewolves or satyrs—because he liked to see us all get hard and start touching each other and leave the dinner tables in twos and threes, headed for the bushes. Lunsford was broad chested and narrow hipped and had a swarthy, fox-like countenance. It was only now, when I saw him naked, though, that I realized how dark and hairy his body was. He was already fucking Raul when I had taken up my position in the fringe of trees. He fucked Raul like a dog in the pumpkin patch, with Raul on all fours and Lunsford crouched over his back and hips, a hairy arm wrapped around the younger, smaller Mexican's belly, and a thick, curved dick—prominently displayed in the light of the full moon—pumping in and out of Raul's ass—a very sweet and accommodating ass channel, as I well knew. Lunsford was pulling the dick almost all the way out with each stroke and then cruelly thrusting up deep inside Raul's channel in slow, deliberate lunges. Raul cried out with each thrust and Lunsford huffed and puffed and snorted like the wild animal he was appearing to be. I couldn't help myself. I was only wearing sleeping shorts, and my hard shaft had pushed its way out of the open fly of that without my willing it. My hand went to my club, and I was pulling on my meat as I watched. It wasn't long, though, before heavy breathing from nearby made me turn my head in shock. There off to my left, also behind some trees on the verge of the pumpkin patch, was the sweet young Kyle. He was lying on his back in a mossy patch, naked, his legs bent and parted, and his hand encasing and stroking his dick. His bedroom eyes were on my, though. His smile was sensual, inviting. Entreating. Without a second thought, I was on him, my knees pressing in between his, one of my hands clamping over his mouth, the fingers of the other entering him, brutally. He was moaning and whimpering through my thick, muffling fingers of the one hand and moving his pelvis in rhythmic thrusts against the invading fingers of my other hand. I removed my fingers and thrust inside him, smothering his mouth tightly against his scream. He arched his back and counterthrust against my stroking club with his straining hips. When we had established a rhythm of the fuck, I felt the heels of his feet rubbing against the top curve of my buttocks. I released the hand covering his mouth and exchanged it with my own lips. He opened his mouth to me and sucked on my tongue as I thrust, again and again, deep inside him, releasing all of the sexual tension I'd built up in the last two days. There was no question that he wanted me and was going with the fuck. He broke away from the kiss and turned his head to the side, whispering, "Yes, yes" over and over again as I increased the pace of my pumping and worked hard to get as far up into him as I could, overwhelmed at my good fortune to have an angel under me, clutching my sides with his hands, rubbing my buttocks with the heels of his feet, and counterthrusting his hips up to meet my dives. With a jerk he came up my heaving belly. I felt my own jism bunching and rising, I held in a withdrawal, only the bulb of my cock inside his entrance, ready for the killing thrust. Beyond the trees, from the pumpkin patch, a primeval wolf-like howl went up. Lunsford had climaxed. Kyle dug his claws into my shoulder and cried out "Now, Now! Now, Javier!" I brutally dove down deep, releasing my load with a grunt. And then again . . . and again. I hadn't so much as taken the next breath when Kyle was pushing me off him, over on my side, scrambling up, and disappearing in the dark. I took a moment to catch my breath. When I raised myself up on my knees, I turned toward the opening through the trees to the pumpkin patch. Lunsford, loping along slowly, was already at the other end of the field, moving toward the dormitory. He had Raul slung at his side, draped over an enclosing arm, arms, legs, and head dangling at Lunsford's side. Their figures were caught squarely in the curve of the moon. I hadn't realized before, but part of the wolf-like aspect of Lunsford was that his arms were disproportionally long for his torso. When I crept back into the dormitory, Raul already was there, belly down on his cot, his arms dangling on either side of the bed. His eyes were, open and glazed. I had to look closely at him as I got back into my own bed to be sure that he was breathing. He was, although shallowly. The hint of a smile on his lips told me that he had enjoyed the encounter with his employer. I woke in the middle of the night to the sounds of heavy breathing and groaning. Duardo was doing the heavy breathing; Raul was doing the groaning. Raul hadn't changed position or expression, but now Duardo was stretched over and above the small Mexican's back, his fists stiff-armed into the mattress of the cot above Raul's head, his feet lifted on his toes, and his dick—the biggest and thickest of all the workers—pumping up and down between Raul's butt cheeks, as the big, black Cuban put on a pushup display. I looked around the dormitory, in the just-before-dawn hazy light, and saw that nearly all of the other men, including the overseer, Jake, had they eyes plastered to Duardo's morning calisthenics. I went to sleep with the thought that, with Miguel gone now, Raul would be taking the brunt of giving the men's men, like me and Duardo, their needed release. I hoped he was up to the challenge—or that someone else like him was hired to join the migrant workers soon. I was hard again just from watching Duardo fuck him; I planned to have my own session with Raul the next day. * * * * Raul didn't look too good the next morning. He hadn't changed position or expression. Still belly down on his cot with his arms dangling over the edges. He was breathing, though, and mouthing words. When I put my ear near his mouth, I found he was mumbling about glorious fucks, so I decided that he at least was happy. No pumpkin harvesting today, Saturday. We were going to be in the trees in the orchard, picking apples. Farmer Lunsford had decided he had enough pumpkins in the produce store for this weekend, so he was sending the migrant workers to the orchards. Kyle would be working in the produce store. I was finding I wanted to know where Kyle was all the time—and whether I could isolate him and fuck him again. He'd left me in a hurry the night before, but I had every reason to believe that he'd appreciated the service. We were ready to go and Raul was still in bed—or at least he was until Jake stood over him and barked, "Raul. Up. Mr. Lunsford wants to see you up at the house." With a groan, Raul rolled out of bed and stumbled off in Jake's wake. It was the last time I saw Raul. We were in the trees, picking apples, when I realized that not only hadn't Raul returned to the field, which didn't surprise me all that much; I assumed he was up at the house being humped again by Lunsford—but also that Duardo wasn't there anymore, down on the ground under the trees, taking filled bushel baskets that the rest of us were handing down. He was too big to go into the trees himself without breaking the branches. So, he and Jake were supposed to be on the ground, under the trees, Now neither one of them were down there. I figured that left me as the next one in line to call the shots, since Rufe was only half here mentally, so I told the rest to take turns trading off being in the trees and on the ground, and I took off, looking for Jake and Duardo. I found them both, over by the produce store—or rather behind it—but managed to maneuver to where I could see them. That took a bit of positioning, because Jake was positioned to see Duardo without being seen, just as I was doing. Jake was in the shadows of the building, behind some barrels, his dong out of his pants and in his hand. Duardo was leaning against the back of the produce sales building, his hips and legs jutting out from the wall, a look of sheer pleasure on his face, and his hands cupping Kyle's head. Kyle was kneeling in front of him, a hand wrapped around the base of Duardo' dick, and his mouth, jaw unhinged, working hard to get all of Duardo's shaft inside his mouth cavity. That wasn't going to be possible, but I had to admit that the young white guy was giving it a good try. Pumpkin Patch Snatch As both Jake and I watched, Kyle gave a low, guttural laugh, and suddenly stood, slapped Duardo's dick with this fingers, pulled away from him, and started to stride off. Duardo was too quick for him, though. He launched his large, supple, powerful body off the wall, lunged at Kyle, and caught him in his arms. He pulled Kyle into his body, turned him to the wall, and slammed his back against that. With one hand, he stripped down Kyle's shorts and briefs while holding the young man against the wall with the other. Kyle was laughing—just like this was what he wanted. So, I didn't move to do anything. Jake was too engrossed in the entertainment to do anything but stroke his cock. It wasn't long before Duardo's cock was inside Kyle's channel, Kyle's knees were hooked on Duardo's hips, and the big, black Cuban was pushing Kyle's back up and down the wall with the strength of his dick. Just when I thought Kyle was lost to the big black, though, I saw the young man's hands go to the Cuban's neck and his fingers apply pressure to strategic points of Duardo's throat, causing the Cuban's eyes to roll up into his head and his body to slowly sink to the ground. With a laugh, Kyle pulled up his shorts and walked slowly around the side of the building toward the front. I looked over to where Jake had been hiding, but he was gone. The big black isn't going to like this, I thought. There wasn't a bit of humor in the man. He was at least twice as big as Kyle and built like a brick wall. I feared that he'd beat the young man senseless the next time they met. I couldn't have been more wrong about that, though. When I woke in the middle of the night on Saturday, I found the dormitory nearly empty. Not only hadn't Raul come back from the farm house that day, but now Duardo was missing too. So was Rufe. But that wasn't a big surprise. Since he concentrated on the white boy local workers, he often was roaming away from the farm at night. Jake was on his back on this bed, mouth open, snoring up a storm. I rose from my bed and went to the door of the dormitory. Off across the field, beyond the pumpkin patch, I saw the glimmer of a light. There also, though, was an apparition in white. One of Jake's ghosts, I wondered. It was only a week from Halloween, well into the time period that Jake had told the men that the murdered plantation family rose from their graves and roamed the property, looking for the murderers who had fled the plantation and never been caught. Then I saw another light, moving from a closer location toward an intersection with the ghostly visage. I waited for a few minutes after both lights faded into the trees beyond the pumpkin patch, and then I moved toward where they intersected. Kyle, naked, was spread-eagled, his wrists tied to the branch crotches of two trees that stretched his body out. Duardo, also naked, was crouched, facing Kyle, his hands fisting Kyle's ankles and raising and spreading wide Kyle's legs. Duardo already had his dick inside Kyle and was pumping him. Kyle's head was flopped back, his face facing the full moon. He was crying out, "Yes, yes, Duardo. Harder. Deeper." At his feet was the white sheeting he'd covered himself with to pad out to the grove to meet Duardo. He obviously was getting the punishment he wanted from Duardo, so I turned and walked away. What a crazy kid, I thought. What a tease. I couldn't wait for my next chance at him. But the next morning, in spite of Sunday supposedly being the migrant workers' rest day, I was told that I was needed to sell pumpkins and other harvested items at the produce store because Kyle apparently had gone back to college early. That didn't worry me until I saw the police cruiser drive up to the front the farmhouse. Then it worried the hell out of me. Had Kyle suffered the same fate as Miguel had? And where was Raul? It was Raul. The police had come because of Raul. His body had been found in the woods at the edge of the farm. Once again, Frank Lunsford was being placed in a police cruiser and driven away. * * * * I fretted through the week about Kyle. I asked Jake about him—I could not have gone to Frank Lunsford himself, who had been returned by police car some four hours after having been taken away on Sunday. Jake insisted the Kyle was back at his college and would appear again on the coming Friday evening. The next Saturday was Halloween. That afternoon would be a major sales day at the produce building. Kyle would surely be returning at the weekend to help with that. On Wednesday a new worker appeared. His name was Hosea, and, like Raul and Miguel, he was young, good-looking, small of stature, and accommodating, ready to lie down and open his legs on request. Duardo fucked him, standing over the jackknifed figure of the Mexican and pile driving down into him, on Wednesday afternoon between two rows of tomato plants while the rest of us split our time between picking tomatoes and watching the action. Jake made clear that he had been hired to keep the tops among us happy and productive in the waning days of the harvest. Another hand wouldn't have been hired otherwise. As an aside Jake had said Frank Lunsford wanted another like Raul and Miguel here as well for something planned on Halloween. I almost thought of warning Hosea of that, but I didn't. Jake said my turn with the little piece would be Thursday. Indeed, on Thursday afternoon, it was so hot out that we went back to the dormitory at the height of the day for a siesta—and Hosea rode my dick cowboy style while I lay on my back and the others watched. He seemed to be well versed in the extra services he rendered. I still wondered if anyone told him what had been the fate of some of those who had preceded him. I didn't see it as my duty to tell him, however. On Friday afternoon, my concerns for Kyle were relieved. I was in the field of raspberry bushes when I looked up and there he was, smiling at me—and looking oh so sexy. "Miss me?" he asked. "I was worried about you," I answered. "You heard about Raul?" "Sure, I heard about Raul. That's so touching that you worried about me. Jake said you asked for me every half hour or so." "Yes, I did," I answered. "You take too many chances, I think." "Like this? Here, now. With you?" he asked as he stripped off his shorts, briefs, and T. "Oh, god," I whispered, feeling myself go hard at the beauty of his body. "Lay on your back," he commanded. I did so, and he pulled my shorts off my legs. I wasn't wearing a shirt. "Oh, god; oh, god," I whimpered with a groan, as he took my shaft in his mouth, gripped my balls in his hand, and tugged on them while he sucked. "I hear the new punch rode you cowboy style yesterday," he said when he had come up for air. And when I could do no more than groan at the way he was rolling my balls in his hand, he continued. "I wonder if you think he can do that better than I can." He straddled my hips, facing me, and moved his channel down my shaft. I was breathing heavily and moaning as he raised and lowered himself on the shaft. "You do it," he whispered, and as he lowered his face to mine for a kiss, I gripped his waist on both sides and raised and lowered him on the hard, throbbing dick. "Oh shit, oh fuck," I murmured as he turned around on the dick, gripped the knees of my bent and raised legs and pumped himself vigorously on the shaft until I shot off my load—and then relaxed, prone, with a sigh. Turning on the still-hard cock, he lowered his torso on mine, his cheek against a breast, and played with one of my nipples with his hand. "Was I as good as the new guy?" He asked. "Frank bought him from a male whore house. He apparently is meant for Frank's Halloween ritual." Ritual? I asked myself. Too shocked by the possibilities to say anything out loud—especially as Kyle was talking about it so casually. "Why do you ask? Are you jealous?" I asked. "I don't like the competition, no. First Miguel and Raul this year—and now this professional male whore." Shock again. A new possibility was entering my mind. What could Kyle's jealousy have led him to do? Was he involved in the deaths of Miguel and Raul? And what was this ritual he spoke of? He was just a little bit crazy. I couldn't discount any erratic behavior on his part. * * * * I found out about the ritual the next night, Saturday, Halloween night. It started after we were all supposed to have retired for the night. My bed was located so that, when I was turned toward the entry door, open because of the unseasonable heat, I could see out over the field—the pumpkin patch. I was only half awake when the dancing of the flames caught my attention. A bonfire was blazing just beyond the pumpkin patch. I sat up in my bed. The new man, Hosea, who had been sleeping in Miguel's bed when he was sleeping in the dormitory at all, was gone. So were Duardo and Jake. Rufe wasn't there either. I got out of bed and padded over to the door. I could see figures—covered in white—supposedly the ghosts of Jake's stories?—moving around the bonfire. Of course I went to investigate. As I crept through the pumpkin patch, crawling so that I would not be detected, I soon discerned that there were four figures moving around the bonfire in a slow dance. They were covered in white cloaks—their heads hooded as well. Next to the fire stocks had been set up—a platform with a low wall of wood at one end, with a hole for the head and smaller ones set off to the side for the wrists. The stocks were occupied—by the new worker, Hosea. Another one of the young migrant workers, the thin young redhead day worker named Shawn was lying on his side, naked, wrists and ankles bound just inside the circle of fire. His mouth was encumbered by a ball gag. As I watched, one of the figures tossed off his cloak. The wolf-like Frank Lunsford was accounted for. He loped over to the edge of the circle, pulled Shawn up on his hands and knees, crouched over the young man's hips, mounted him, and began fucking him like a dog. This must have been some sort of signal, because now the cloak came off Duardo, who saddled up behind the pilloried Hosea, grabbed the young man's hips with his hands, and thrust inside him. A third figure, not removing the cloak, moved to in front of Hosea, parted his robe to reveal a plump, hard cock, and presented it to Hosea for servicing with his mouth. Hosea complied, willingly, it seemed, although something about his expression gave me the impression he had been drugged. Looking over at Shawn, I saw that he had the same drugged expression on his face. Chills ran down my spine. This were two willing bottoms. What might be in store for them that had meant that they should be drugged to take it? The fourth figure was crouching at the edge of the circle of light, watching the ritualistic fucking. But not for long. Duardo pulled out Hosea's ass, only to be supplanted by the still-cloaked figure whose cock Hosea had been sucking. Duardo walked over to the fourth figure and pulled Kyle's cloak off him. Duardo pulled a naked Kyle up off the ground and slid the young man's belly up his black, powerfully built torso until he could position the bulb of his cock at Kyle's asshole. He then lowered Kyle on the shaft, while Kyle wrapped his legs around Duardo's waist and his arms around Duardo's neck. The big Cuban proceeded to walk around the circle of light, bouncing Kyle up and down on his cock. Kyle was groaning, but not objecting. When Duardo was finished with Kyle, he let the young man slide down his legs and into a heap on the ground. By then Frank had moved to behind Hosea and was fucking him, and Duardo went over and took a crack as the trembling and moaning Shawn. Sometime while I was watching these two with their changing conquests Kyle had picked himself up and left the circle. I probably wouldn't have notice that anything was wrong if I hadn't seen the fourth, still-cloaked figure walking deliberated out of the circle as well—with a long-bladed knife in his hand. I looked at both Frank Lunsford and Duardo and saw that they didn't seem to notice that two of their ranks had left. The sight of the knife sent off fireworks in my brain and a chill up my spine. I had asked around about the deaths of Miguel and Raul. Both men had been fucked, but what had killed them was multiple slashes of a long-bladed knife. Instinctively, I frog-marched my way to the edge of the pumpkin patch and went after the cloaked figure with the knife. * * * * "How did you know it was Jake who had murdered those young men, Javier?" Kyle asked. We were laying, limbs entwined, fresh from sex, on Kyle's bed in the farmhouse. "I didn't," I answered. "Not until I saw him with that knife—and even then I couldn't be sure it was Jake. He was still covered with the cloak. I should have considered in from that ghost story he told his. In hindsight, it was clear that he saw himself as responsible to fulfill the legend of who he believed was his family—to off a dozen young men to appease the ghosts of his past. I'll admit that I thought at one time that it was Rufe. I'd been suspicious of him all along, knowing what he felt about Hispanic workers coming in the States to work. But, really, I mostly thought that the murderer was your lover, Frank." "Frank? Frank's not my lover. He's my uncle. We both like sex—but not with each other. I just work for him on and off to help with my college expenses. What made you think he killed those men?" "You mean other than how kinky he is and how much he looks like a wolf?" "Yes, besides that," Kyle answered, with a low laugh, obviously conceding both points. "He hired those men—and said it was natural that they had disappeared; that they had just drifted on—and the police kept coming to pick him up for questioning." Kyle laughed again. "He left the hiring to Jake, and it was Jake who was saying they probably just drifted on." I let that sink in. I, of course, hadn't heard Frank Lunsford say any of that himself. I'd relied on Jake's word. Mistake. I had reached Jake on Halloween night before Jake had reached Kyle. When Kyle saw me struggling with Jake and that Jake had a nasty knife, he came back to help me. But he wasn't much help. He'd been drugged. Jake was drugged up too, or he surely wouldn't have been so bold as to try to make Kyle his next victim and to snatch him from the pumpkin patch right under the noses of Lunsford and Duardo. I had wanted Kyle to put Jake to sleep using the throat pressure points as he done with Duardo, but he couldn't manage it. I had to club the man senseless with a heavy branch. I still hadn't accounted fully for my belief Lunsford was the murderer. I'd even considered Duardo and Rufe and, for a few brief moments, Kyle himself. "But the police cars showing up?" I asked. "Frank isn't just a farmer—and a man willing to hire men who fucked men because he fucks men himself—he's also the county coroner. He reported those men missing promptly. And when their bodies were found, the police came and got him to examine the bodies. I don't think he ever was under suspicion as the murderer, although the police around here certainly don't like his willingness to let our kind work here." "Oh." I chomped on that a bit as Kyle's hand moved back to my dick and he started to bring it to life once again. "So, Frank's not your lover. He doesn't have any sexual hold over you?" "You should know by now that I fuck whoever I want, Javier. And right now I want you to fuck me again." I complied—but on my terms. If the little piece was going to sleep around and tease his fuck partners, when he was with me I was going to be in charge as strongly as I'd seen Duardo handle him once he'd manhandled him. We struggled a bit on the bed, with him trying to maintain control, but when I'd gotten his wrists tied off on the rungs of the brass headboard with the leather ties Frank had used on Shawn and had him on his belly, and had mounted and skewered him and begun to pump, he settled down with a moan and a laugh and gave me a first-class ride. Yes he was just a little bit crazy. But a little bit crazy turned me on. Pumpkin Pie Passion Pumpkin Pie Passion As if in answer to my silent question, he deepened the kiss. His tongue slowly traced my lower lip, before tugging it gently with his teeth, sucking on it. I whimpered, my hands bracing against his chest, as he leaned against me. I could feel his arousal against my leg. My bracing turned into gripping and then ripping, as I tore his shirt up and over his arms. I had to see him. I had to touch him. He felt the same. His fingers slowly unzipped my hoodie, pushing the sweatshirt off my shoulders, groaning with appreciation. I wore nothing beneath. He drank in the sight of my bare breasts. His hungry gaze held mine as he filled his hands with them, rubbing his thumbs over the rosy tips of my nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. I arched my back in response. He knelt on the floor in front of the couch, reaching up to the waistband of my soft pants. He looked to me, before yanking them swiftly off . I sat forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his body, rubbing my soft breasts against the dusting of dark hair on his chest, enjoying the contrast. My lips traveled along his neck to claim his ear. I trailed my fingertips along his abdomen, reaching for the button of his jeans. He took my hands in his and shook his head, playfully. "Not yet." He said, as he pressed me back into the couch. He lifted my bottom and pulled me to the edge of it. I looked down at him. He pulled my legs up to rest on his shoulders and peeled off my orange Halloween socks, dotted with black kitties. He adjusted himself and grinned. His long-ish hair tickled my inner thighs as he leaned forward, pressing his nose against my wet panties. I had thought the panties and socks were cute when I purchased them, along with a black satin bra to match: but now I just felt slightly silly. He raised his eyebrow, brought me down to his level and purred seductively in my ear, causing my pussy to weep. "I have the bra to match, at home." I offered. He pushed me back against the couch cushions, placing his hands on my thighs. "Maybe you can wear it the next time we meet on a dark and spooky night." I giggled and relaxed. He breathed in deeply, and I could tell he was enjoying my womanly scent. "My God, you even smell like pumpkin - here." He stated in wonder, sliding his finger up along my panty-clad slit, teasing me. The hum of his voice against my sensitive lips was doing wicked things to my body. I gulped, feeling my body's reaction. "P-pumpkin b-body wash." I managed to squeak out, as his finger slid between the elastic to slip in and find me hot and dripping. His nose replaced his finger, rubbing against my sensitive nub. His tongue licked a trail, causing the panties to become even wetter. He stopped and looked up at me. "We should get you out of these wet clothes. I don't want you to catch a chill." He said, pointedly. I laughed and pushed his head back down. My shallow breaths urging him on, as he quickly did away with my panties. He admired the trim triangle of red in front of him a moment and then leaned his face down to lick just above the object of his fascination. He slid his finger into my pussy, wiggling to and fro. His tongue found my clit and lapped at it. I continued to watch him. He must have sensed my eyes because he looked up, pulling his finger out of me. I stared at him like he had lost his mind. He reached behind him to the coffee table and brought the bowl of whipped cream within view. "No pumpkin pie is complete without the cream." He stated, scooping up a healthy dollop onto his finger. I sat up. "Gavin, if you just get back to the licking, soon you will have all the cream you need." I said, saucily. I surprised myself with the boldness and wanton tone in my own voice. "I promise." I vowed softly. He looked from the whipped cream to my creamy thighs and dropped the bowl onto the floor, shrugging. "But, if you want a double dollop, by all means." I giggled. He shook his head. "Give me some cream." He coaxed my legs back apart and pushed two fingers into my dripping slit, his mouth sucking on my clit, licking up the creamy juices starting to flow. He reached up with his other hand to play and tug at my nipples. I threw my legs back up over his shoulders and grabbed handfuls of his hair, dragging his face into me. He darted his tongue in and out, mimicking what I was hoping his cock would do. I squeezed my thighs, as he picked up speed, returning his attention to my aching clitoris. My purple vibrator at home was nothing compared to this! My God, the man was an artist when it came to oral technique. Bless him! I threw my head back, moaning. I dropped my hands off his head and reached up to cup my breasts, squeezing and pinching the nipples hard. He looked up and grinned, knowingly. He was pleased with what he saw. I squeezed my eyes shut and cried out, as I felt the tension building and the need for release upon me. He teased me with his tongue: fluttering, flicking, lapping, licking, swirling, all the while his fingers were buried deep, urging me to come as I rode his tongue and fingers. "I'm gonna come!" I panted. His fingers remained inside, tormenting me, but his face came up. His lips captured mine, kissing them. His tongue darted in and claimed mine, sucking on it. My body trembled, and I pushed his face away from me. He took the hint and put his face back down between my thighs, giving my inner thigh a kiss, and stroking it with his cheek. I clenched my muscles and let go, delivering the cream I promised, all over myself and on his face. He eagerly cleaned me up with his tongue, lapping up what I had to offer. I slid to the floor, in a puddle of heightened senses. He laughed softly and followed me down, pulling me into his arms and rolling us over the floor. We lay on the Persian rug in front of the fire. "Mmm." I purred and stretched my body against his. "You're incredible at that." I gushed with feminine admiration, and just a tad bit of adoration. I curled into him and he wound his arms around me, resting his chin on my head. "Happy to please." He responded. "Autumn." God, I loved the sound of my name on his lips. "Hm?" I tilted my head up to him. "I've seen you before." He said quite softly. I blinked at him, not sure if I had heard him correctly. "In a vision." He went on to explain. "I knew you were coming to me." A knot in my stomach formed. "I um, I had a dream about you too." Why was I telling him this? Because he told me and it's only fair. He nodded. "I wish we had more time." He murmured into my hair. "I'm not going anywhere; at least, not until morning. I doubt I could even find my way home in the dark, if I tried." I looked into his troubled eyes. "That is." I hesitated. "If you want me." "I want you." Thank god, goddess, (singular, plural), the universe; whoever was listening, that I was on the pill: was my last coherent thought as his hands unbuttoned his pants and slid them and his boxers down his hips releasing his hard cock to my view. I gulped. It was perfect, just like the rest of him. Perfect size, perfect girth, and oh so hard! I reached my hands down and took a hold of him, sliding my hand up and down the silky length. My thumb rubbed against the sensitive head and his eyes closed. I smiled. I had him. My other hand cupped his balls, giving them a playful squeeze. "Ungh." I heard him say. "Yes, quite well hung." I giggled, teasingly. He was not huge and that suited me just fine. "Are you trying to drive me crazy?" He groaned, as I slid my hand up and down his shaft, alternating speed, intensity, and pressure. I squirmed my way down and gave his cock a little peck, before traveling with lips and tongue, back up to his chest, stopping to swirl my tongue around his nipples. I sucked on his earlobe and breathed hot breath into his ear, causing him to shiver slightly. "Is it working?" I asked, huskily, scraping my teeth against his nipple, happy to see it pebble up. I trailed my bare foot up his leg, pausing to push his pants the rest of the way off with it. He kicked the pants off. I resumed moving my foot up, inching closer to his erection. His eyes widened as he stared down to watch what I was doing. I saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed. My foot teased him, circling around his inner thigh, before reaching its destination. I lightly stroked his hardness with my barefoot. After several minutes of teasing, I placed my foot on his abdomen and pushed hard, until he lay on his back. "Now, you are just killing me." He complained. "But, you'll die a happy man, right?" I asked him with a determined look in my eye as I crawled on top of him. His cock lay rigid against his stomach. I sat on his legs, lifted my bottom up, and slid my wetness along his hardness, enjoying the feel against my clit. "Autumn." His voice warned. "Hum?" I asked, closing my eyes and wiggling my way up and down his length. "I can't take much more of this teasing." His strained voice grumbled. "Oh." I pouted, stilling my movements. "What do you want to do? Want me to stop?" I asked innocently. "She asks me if I want her to stop." He shook his head, a pained look on his face as I kissed his stomach and trailed my hands downward. He reached up, intending to lift me off of him. But, I wouldn't have any of it. It had been way too long since I'd had a man inside me and I was hungry! I tightened my thighs around his legs and slid myself up, reaching for his cock. "Autumn, wait." He mumbled, as my slickness slid onto his hardness. He groaned and I let out a sigh of pure pleasure. "You fill me perfectly." I told him, as I began to slowly undulate around him, my body pulsating. He lay there a moment, looking up into my eyes, not reacting. "Gavin, touch me." I pleaded with him. He frowned in consternation. "If I touch you - I won't let you go. If I touch you - I will plunge into you and take. If I touch you - I will lose myself. If I touch you - I won't have the discipline to pull out." He said the last, wincing. I bubbled over with laughter, unable to help myself. "You won't have the discipline? Oh." Understanding dawned upon me. "Is that what this is about?" He had a stern look on his face and his jaw clenched, not finding the situation as funny as I did. "Gavin, I'm on the pill." I reassured him, stroking his chest. But instead of the ease of worry I expected to see, he was wearing a look of shock. "What's wrong?" I stilled my movements and traced his jawline, trying to get it to relax. "Autumn, are you one of those girls who partakes in free love?" At that bizarre question, I flung myself forward and giggled into his chest. But he gripped my shoulders. I lifted my head up so that I was looking at him. He was not amused. "There seems to be a miscommunication going on right now." I said, catching my breath and regaining my composure. "I'm sorry Gavin. I didn't meant to hurt your feelings." I tilted my head to the side, trying to think my words through carefully, before saying them. "It's just that "free love," is a bit of an outdated term to use, nowadays." I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable under his intense gaze. Was there judgment there? "And just so we are straight, I do not practice free love."Why did I feel the need to further explain myself? "I have been on the pill since I was a teenager, due to female problems." He visibly relaxed. I would have questioned him further and dug deeper into this odd conversation; except he had just shifted his body, stroked my back, and pulled me down onto him. He held me there as he thrust up into me. Understandably, all thought swiftly fled my head. I leaned over him, stretching myself up and over, offering him a mouthful of my breasts. He squeezed them together and sucked on both of my nipples at the same time. I clenched my muscles around him, grinding my pussy into him, my breath coming in short, quick bursts. His grunts encouraged me. I sat up straight, twisting my arms and reaching back to steady myself; my hands on his knees. I rode him hard, sweat beginning to bead up on my skin. The crackling of the fire contrasted with the slick, slapping sound of our love-making. His finger reached down to stroke my clit while his other hand continued to play with my breast. Another orgasm was building within me. "You're a wild little thing, aren't you? I love how excited I make you." I answered him with a sultry little smile, throwing my head back, as I basked in the power of my feminine wiles. He groaned, as I almost slid off of him. He dug his hands into my thighs to keep me in place. I slowed the pace down, whimpering. My body was trembling and I was vibrating in slow circles around him. He abruptly sat up against the couch, and I almost fell. "Don't stop." I whispered in his ear. He grabbed my ass to steady me and stood up. Man, he was strong! I'm not heavy, but that was some feat of strength, rising from the position we were in. I locked my legs around him, and he started walking. "Gavin?" A question in my eye. He shook his head and I pouted and squirmed against him. He strode, with one longing glance at the Persian rug and fire place, through the living room and pushed open a half closed door. He flicked the light switch on. The bulb popped and shattered. He cursed, stumbling around in the dark. "Sorry, I don't want to drop you." He said, but I was giggling. You'd think he were drunk! "I just need to find." He was mumbling. "I don't mind the dark." I whispered in his ear seductively, feeling him shiver a little. "Especially on Halloween." "What about a candle?" He questioned, hesitating. I yelped as I felt my skin come in contact with a hard, cool surface. Where had he put me? I wondered, starting to feel tingly at thought of the possibilities. He leaned over me and started rummaging through a drawer. He found what he was looking for, struck a match and lit the candle. The glow of the candle afforded me a look at my surroundings. I was perched on the edge of a retro wooden dresser. The dresser had brass drawer pulls and a chip on the surface of one of the drawers. The wall behind the dresser was dark paneling. I looked over my shoulder into the round mirror and gasped at the eroticism of the sight before me. He was still buried deep within me. My face was flushed. My hair looked gilded in the candlelight, and I had a smoldering look in my eye. Who was that temptress? Was that me!? He met my gaze in the mirror, a slightly predatory smile on his face. He licked his lips slowly and dipped his head down to run them along my collarbone, up my neck, to my ear. His hair swept against me. Goosebumps prickled my flesh, as I wound my fingers in his long, dark hair. "This was not my intention." He tried to tell me, pointing to the dresser. I swung my head forward and pinned him with my likewise, hungry gaze. "I don't care." I hissed in his ear. "Make me come, now." I clenched around him, making sure he understood. He thrust up into me and I screamed out, as I shuddered and waves of pleasure rippled through me, my orgasm rocking me. Oh My God! Did I seriously just have sex on top of his dresser? Yes, yes I did. It was mind blowing! I slumped forward and he pulled me gently off the dresser into his arms. By the light of the candle, he made his way to the bed. It was a four poster and the bedspread was bold orange and green. He sure had interesting taste. I thought to myself. He gingerly set me down and pulled out of me. "Are you OK?" He questioned, smoothing back my hair. I nodded my head, my body sprawled out on his bed. He climbed up next to me and took me in his arms, entwining his legs with mine. He was still hard and I wondered how that was possible. But, then I remembered he never allowed himself his own release, so concerned was he with mine. I turned to him. "Make love to me." I whispered softly. He quirked his eyebrow, before looking down at his quivering cock. "It's OK, Autumn. I wanted to make you feel good." "Gavin, don't ever question if you can satisfy a woman. You have thoroughly pleasured me, in ways and locations I have never experienced before." I blushed and smiled at him shyly. My words stroked his ego and he reveled in his masculinity: as was his due. He rubbed his arms up and down my back. I shifted to lie on my back and parted my thighs. "Please?" Needing no more urging, he rested his weight on top of me and gently slid himself into me, indulging us both. He held me close. He was slow, gentle, and considerate, taking my mind and body to new heights. I wrapped my legs around him, and he rocked within me, building up momentum. I whispered in his ear how amazing and beautiful he made me feel. "I think I've found my muse." He murmured, as he slid in and out of me, tortuously slow. He pushed into me as far as he could go and suddenly stilled, clenching his eyes closed, screaming my name and coming inside of me. His whole body trembled. He rested his head between my breasts and took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. I held him in my arms and kissed the top of his head. He lifted his face up and looked at me with light in his eyes, as he rolled off of me. "You're glowing." He remarked, as his fingers whispered across my skin and I sighed contentedly. I blinked up at the popcorn ceiling, at a loss for words, losing myself in his tender caresses. He kissed my forehead, my cheek, the side of my mouth. Then surprised me, as he ever-so-gently brushed his lips against each eyelid. I whimpered and curled into him, seeking his body's heat, exhausted but utterly satiated. "Sleep." He murmured, closing his eyes and tucking my head beneath his chin. I closed mine too, my heart fluttering. *** I yawned and stretched, shivering. My teeth chattered and I looked over, hoping Gavin was still deep in dreams. For some reason, I wanted to watch him sleep. But only a warm spot remained where he had lain, holding me in his arms. I sighed and stood up, intent on seeking him out and maybe repeating last night's love-making session. But, when I walked out to the living room, the whole place looked different. There were dusty white sheets covering the furniture. The fireplace was cold. The flue was shut, with no sign that a fire had ever been burning in it the night before. I rubbed my arms, my stomach doing flip-flops. Puzzled, I walked back into the bedroom to find nothing but a beat up old wooden dresser and a worn quilt on the floor, where the four poster bed had sat. The four poster bed that I had made incredible love with a passionate man had disappeared. The house smelled musty and there were cobwebs in nearly every corner. On top of the dresser was an old photo frame. I picked it up, fear coiling in my belly. Piercing green eyes stared at me. I dropped the picture frame, cried out in panic, and ran for the door. "What the fuck is going on?" I asked in desperation. "This can't be good." I stated, as I swung open the door. It creaked eerily on rusty hinges. I fled down the stairs and collided with a woman with graying hair and green eyes. She stared at me in surprise, looking behind me at the open door. There was a red rose in her hand. I could tell she was not nearly as old as she appeared. There were lines of sadness in her face. "What are you doing here?" Her gravelly voice asked. It was apparent that she was or had been a very heavy cigarette smoker. "This is private property! Leave right this minute or I will call the police." She threatened and swung her cane at me. I held my hands up. "I don't know what I am doing here. I'm sorry. God, my head hurts." My head swam and I held it, blinking back tears. "Where am I?" I asked, disoriented and scared. "This place has been abandoned for years, girl. Don't tell me you don't know that, as you did just come out that very door." She pointed behind me. I glanced back and then turned forward, ignoring the run-down, abandoned house. "No one has been in that house in decades. How did you get in?" She questioned. I sidestepped, keeping the cane within my sight. Pumpkin Pie Passion "I was invited." I said quietly, confused. "By whom?" Her voice raised to a higher pitch. "I don't like liars or thieves. There is nothing in that house of value." Then she lowered her voice, "Except one thing. I came here for that one thing." "The owner invited me. Tall, dark, handsome, green eyes." "Bullocks!" She growled at me, hobbling past me and into the house. I stood at the doorway, poised to flee, but wanting answers. She found the picture frame on the ground. Thankfully, it had not broken when I dropped it. She used her sleeve to dust it off and stared lovingly at the picture. I had walked in after her and stood at her shoulder, peering over. "Do you know him?" I asked in barely a whisper. "Of course I know him. Don't be ridiculous. He is my twin brother Gavin." Hearing the name, all my fears seemed to have been confirmed. At my gasp, the woman turned around and pinned me with her green gaze. "What?" "How long ago?" "You get to be my age, time slips away. He died on this very night, 35 years ago. I come here every Samhain and leave him a rose, hoping he will make an appearance. But it has not yet happened." She said sadly. "What's your name?" Her voice dripped with suspicion and disdain. "Autumn." Her eyes grew wide. "May I ask how he died?" "In a fire on this very night. Funny, this house smells of pumpkins. Gavin used to make the best pumpkin pie ever." She smiled briefly at the memory. Tears were welling up in her eyes. "I know." I murmured under my breath. The woman gaped at me. "You have seen him." Not a question. "You are the Autumn he has been waiting for. You have to be." She started rambling on about some story or some vision he had the night before he died. She stopped talking, considered it, then handed the rose and the picture frame to me. "Keep them." Her fingers bit into my wrist. "Why?" "It's what he would want." She said mysteriously, a beautiful smile on her face. She let go of my arm and walked out the door without another word. I stood in the foyer, watching her leave, not having the energy to stop her. I sat on the first step of the large staircase that stood behind me. The frame had cracked when I dropped it, although the glass was still intact. I lifted the picture out and turned it over. On the back, the words "To Autumn, my pumpkin pie." were scrawled on it. "Passion." I whispered, turning the picture over and stroking the handsome face. I stood up, ready to leave this eerie place, but I heard footsteps and shrugged off the chill that overtook my body. I refused to acknowledge any presence, living or dead. A shadow fell over me and I feared to look up. Enough bizarre things had happened this night. I was still trying to process the possibility that I had just made love to a ghost. Gran, what more could you have in store for me? I asked my grandmother's spirit. For I knew my grandmother certainly had a hand in this. Why wasn't my loved one walking around in the flesh, on this night of spirits? I sighed heavily, hoping whoever was in front of me would get bored with my disinterest and walk away. "Ahem." A deep voice spoke. I slowly looked up and took a step back, tripping up the stairs and falling hard. A hand reached out to steady me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." My hand flew to my heart; it was still beating, right? I gulped mouthfuls of air. The man's green eyes stared into mine. "Miss, you look like you've seen a ghost." He said softly, taking in my pale pallor and wide eyes. The dark raven wing hair was much shorter, but there was no doubt of the resemblance. "Who are you?" I asked with difficulty. "I'm Ewan. This is my family's home. I have come to claim it. Might I ask why you are here, Miss?" "Autumn." I stated flustered, taking the proffered hand. He lifted me to my feet and steadied me. "Your family?" "Yes. This was my mother's brother's home." He said quietly, his eyes held sadness in them. "It isn't much." He said, looking around surveying his surroundings. "It still smells a bit like smoke. But, I think a fresh coat of paint and all new furniture will fix that." He ran his hand along the wall. "This retro paneling will have to be the first thing to go." He scrunched up his face in distaste. He dropped a paper bag onto, what I could only imagine was a coffee table, beneath the white sheet. "Smoke?" I stammered. Hadn't the old woman said something about Gavin dying in a fire? "From the fire." He supplied, giving me a quizzical look. I nodded my head, dumbly. "Do you know anything about my family? Everyone in this town thinks they know the truth." He said bitterly. "It is the reason I left. The curse." He scoffed. "I am new." I felt ridiculous, answering in one word sentences. "You look like you need to sit down." So saying, he walked over to one of the sheet covered couches and swept the cover off of it. I recognized the mossy-green leather couch from last night. It had several burn marks in it and I wondered about it. Trembling, I sat down. He sat next to me, his knee touching mine. "I don't bite." He promised. I nodded again. "I wonder if I could have this couch reupholstered. It seems a shame that such a comfortable piece of furniture should be tossed just because of some ash and soot." He was lost in thought, and I blushed as memories arose to the surface. He stared at me, then shook his head, as if to clear it. "Strange." "Anyway, my mother and uncle lived here. They were not only twins, they were best friends. The tragedy happened the night that I was born. Father had rushed mom to the hospital. She was in labor and the contractions were coming upon her fast. Uncle Gavin wasn't the most together man, I am told. He was baking a pumpkin pie to take to the hospital. It was my Mom's favorite and his specialty." He paused to look over at the paper bag on the table. "My father called Uncle Gavin to ask him to bring Mom's stuff. They were going to keep her, because I was coming quickly. Uncle Gavin was so excited and nervous for Mom that he packed her stuff up and headed out the door. Half way across the yard, he remembered her pie. He ran back into the house to retrieve it, but a fire had started in the kitchen." He took a deep breath. "He never made it out." "That's awful." I said. "It was. It was decided that no one would tell Mom, until after I was safely delivered. But, with her twin connection, she already knew. She screamed her agony of child birth pain and sorrow at the top of her lungs and out I came." His eyes were downcast, as he spoke. "My mother never came to terms with her brother's death. She always told me I reminded her of him. Having never met him, I couldn't say if that is true or not." "I think I just met your Mom, right before you came here." I interrupted him. "She reamed me a new one for trespassing and then had a strange reaction when I told her my name was Autumn." He stared at me, anger in his eyes. "My mother died tonight." His whispered voice fierce and full of emotion. "What?" I gaped at him. "I just came for the hospital. My mother died at midnight, on the dot, just as her brother did all those years ago." He brooded silently for a few minutes. He noticed the picture frame in my hand and took it from me, turning it over. "This is my Uncle. Why do you have it?" He had the same accusing voice and stare that his mother had. "You won't believe me." I said weakly. My head was spinning, and I felt sick to my stomach. "Why?" He demanded. His brow furrowed and his eyes darkened. "Your mother gave it to me. I'm telling you, just before you came into the house, I had a conversation with a woman claiming her brother died here. She was very angry with me and said she came to this house every year to leave a rose, hoping her brother would have finally come for her. She was beautiful, with lovely silver hair and rosy cheeks, green eyes like yours. Anyway, she told me she came for this picture. But, when she heard my name, she told me she knew of my heritage and gave the picture back to me. I turned it over and read the inscription." Ewan flipped the frame over and read the same inscription I had. "To Autumn, my pumpkin pie." "So?" Clearly, he wasn't impressed. He ran his hand wearily through his black hair. I pointed to the name and then myself. "That's me." "Impossible. You wouldn't have been born yet." He argued. "There is more to tell you. I'm tired though. I have had a very long, eventful night." I tried to beg out. But he was having none of it. He leaned forward and sniffed me. "You smell like pumpkin." He stated flatly. This was getting more and more bizarre. The wind kicked up outside and a door upstairs slammed shut. We both stared at each other. I hugged my arms to keep the chill away and to protect myself. "What the hell?" He growled. Then the door blew open, slamming against the wall. A figure stood in the doorway. It was slight of height and a bit hunched over. Recognizing the posture, I ran to the figure. "Gran!" I cried, throwing my arms around my dear grandmother. She smiled softly at me and held me a moment before looking upon the man. "Gavin." Her gentle voice spoke. "Ewan." He corrected. "Same difference." Grandmother grinned. "You have been given another chance. You should use this chance wisely." We stared at her stunned. "You have learned to be less careless with your possessions, your time, and your heart." "I'm so confused! Please, someone give me an answer." Grandmother patted my hand. "Dear Autumn. Up until your fated meeting, this man had never allowed another soul into his life, aside from his twin sister. He was forgetful and withdrawn. He died before love could touch his life. But when he died, his sister made a vow and a promise: that should he be spared, she would reform him and bring him out of his shell. Her prayers were answered. On the night of her brother's death, her own child was born. Gavin was allowed to return to this earth, in the body of the baby: a second chance, a new start, a new life. Viviane kept her promise. She raised her son to the light. She raised him to be a good man, a kind man, a gentle man, a strong man, a loving man." She dropped her voice to a whisper only I could hear. "She raised him to be your match in every way." We both listened. "I can't accept this." I shook my head, even at my own grandmother. "Are you telling me that I time traveled? And that Ewan is actually Gavin, reincarnated?" "Something like that, dear-heart. I have told you time and time again that you would one day have to face and honor your heritage. That time has come. It is Samhain. The veil is thin. You slipped through the veil and landed 35 years in the past. Can you not accept that this man who stands before you, is the same man who made love to you a few hours before? Albeit in a different body." She winked. I blushed three shades of red, when Ewan looked over at me. What must he be thinking of all of this? He lifted a few strands of red hair off my shoulder. I felt dizzy at the contact. His eyes closed and he seemed no longer with me. Then he reopened them and stared at me. "You." One word. Realization apparently had dawned upon him. "My dream girl. I have dreamed of you ever since I was a teenager. I never saw your face. All I was allowed to see was your hair and you smelled of pumpkin pie." He stroked my cheek, a tingling of energy and recognition hit me. "I remember. Oh God. Where are these memories coming from? I have never met you in my life. Pumpkin pie, whipped cream, your sweet voice. Your soft lips. Autumn." Ewan staggered forward, as though something had pushed him. He whipped a white sheet off a dusty old mirror that was hanging in the foyer. He stood in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection. He blinked in shock. Staring back him was himself, only not. The man and his reflection could have been twins. The only real difference was the hue of green in their eyes and the length and texture of their hair. The longer haired version, Gavin, had love in his eyes. Ewan turned to me and came forward to kiss my forehead. "Thank you." "For what?" I gave him a blank stare. His solemn face broke into a huge grin and the man I had spent such memorable moments with kissed my lips. "An eternity of Autumn, no more." He whispered mysteriously. His image faded away, leaving me standing before a stranger -- a stranger - who had a rather determined look in his eye. "I have to touch you." And Ewan did. We sunk to the leather couch, and I touched him in turn. So familiar to me, and yet so new. He knew how to touch me; he retained Gavin's memories of our time together. "You are wild like the wind blowing through the trembling leaves." He whispered in my ear, before kissing me. He reached down to my feet, giving me a teasing smile when he saw the orange Halloween socks, with the black kitties. I grinned back at him, wiggling my toes. He reached over to the white sheeted coffee table and pulled the paper bag over. I tried to peek, curiosity getting the best of me. But he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me back down. He removed an aluminum pan from the bag and plucked a fork off the top, opening the lid. "Pumpkin pie?" He waggled his eyebrows, in that familiar way. "Passion." I breathed, no longer feeling weird, no longer questioning. I knew we had been given a gift. A strange, rare, beautiful gift. END ~~~~~~ Pumpkin's View When school started three months ago I had to start staying at daddy's house during the week. Since my mom and him divorced almost 8 years ago my brother and I usually just spent every other weekend with him and two weeks in the summer. That was the agreement at least until I was accepted at a prestigious prep school that was much closer to his house than my moms. At first it was a bit awkward with just me and Daddy there, I always had my brother to act as a buffer between us. There was many silences over the dinner table as we just tried to find something to say to each other, idle chat about school and work only went so far. On top of that things that were always acceptable at moms, suddenly caused very uncomfortable moments. Walking to my room in a little towel or blow drying my hair in my bra and panties cause Daddy to give me a disapproving scowl as he turned away. At first, I just chalked it up to his fatherly instinct, not wanting his little girl not to grow up. Then one day while cleaning the bathroom I noticed something tucked into the pipe under the sink. Pulling it out I was a bit shocked at the title of this secret treasure "BARELY LEGAL, TEEN SLUTS DO IT ALL".... A porno mag, rolled up and hidden right under my own nose!!! At first I was put off at what Daddy was looking at, but flipping through looking at these depraved girls in unimaginable positions I was getting turned on. Sitting down on the cold tile, floor my hands found there way into my pink terry cloth shorts and onto my clit. With my back pressed against the door, rubbing faster I could hardly contain my moans, and even though my Daddy wasn't home I didn't want him sneaking in and hearing me get off. I came to a story about two teenage lesbians working at a carnival going down on each other, in a tea cup on the Ferris wheel. At the same time my mind wondered if Daddy had gotten off to the same story. That brought on another orgasm almost instantly, the thought of my daddy stroking his cock to these teenage sluts sprawled out and covered in cum just did something to me. My senses were on overdrive, my cunt was constantly wet over the next few days. Every time I masturbated, every time I was cumming I thought of Daddy. I began to notice thing I hadn't before, stifled moans and heavy breathing, heard through my thin bedroom wall that backed the bathroom while Daddy showered. I moved my bed to that wall and began rubbing my clit nightly, while my ear was pressed against the wall listening to my Daddy jerk off. I would time it so we could cum together, thinking of him spraying his seed, wishing it was all over me. I began to see my daddy in a different light. Instead of a father figure and a reluctant guardian, I began to see him as a man. I started paying more attention to him I didn't mean to but it had happened I couldn't take it back. I found myself flirting with him unintentionally, sitting next to him on the couch instead of across the room, cuddling up under his arm. I began rolling my little plaid skirt a bit before walking in the door, showing off my legs and even flashing my ass a few times, reaching up to grab something off of a shelf or bending over to pick something up. Even leaving the door open while I showered to "Let the steam out" But all I ever got from Daddy was the scowl as he walked away. I started wondering what was wrong with me, why he didn't want me. Looking at myself in the mirror I couldn't see why he didn't want me. I had nice tits, a flat tummy and long gangly legs that guys go ga-ga over. I started to get jealous of the girls I knew he thought about with his cock and his hand. I wanted it to be me!! Not some slut that he didn't even know. Just some flat fantasy, I wanted him to have me. That's when I realized what I was missing, the slutty-ness. Daddy wants a slut and I had to convince him that I was the girl for him.... I started being even more overt than I already was. Anytime I was in his house I didn't have a bra on, I let my perky C-cups lead the way. I shaved off all my pubic hair I was so proud to have gotten just a few years before, because that's how the girls in his dirty magazine had theirs. I started asking Daddy to touch me in a mostly innocent way, rub my calves or back, claiming a long day. Pushing my breast against him in a big bear hugs, dragging my hard nipples across his chest. Anything I could think of to get him thinking of me in "that way". But nothing seemed to be working. I had just about given up when out of nowhere Daddy grabbed me in the kitchen forcing his cock down my throat, finishing by shooting his load all over my face and making me lick the rest off the floor and the refrigerator. Then he left me there with my panties soaked, wishing he had finished what he had started. But as I heard Daddy's truck pulling out of the drive-way. I knew I had fucked up. He had all but ran away from me. I should of just dropped it, not have teased like I did. Crying I went to my room and eventually fell asleep. I woke up in the middle of the night to the garage door opening, still groggy the days events returned to me slowly. As I listen to him stumble up the stairs and hoped he would come to my room. But the click of his bedroom door closing felt like it sealed me fate. Tears sprang to my eyes again, spilling onto my pillow. After about an hour my sobs subsided and I needed to know where I stood with Daddy. Creeping down the hall to his room I could hear his snores from inside, opening the door I whispered "Daddy?" Nothing...Again I whispered a little louder "Daddy?" Nothing. Standing there in my baby doll T-shirt and white cotton panties I suddenly felt unsure of myself. Then Daddy stirred looking at me with bloodshot eyes, he had been drinking. "Pumpkin???" He asked kind of confused, "Is that you?" "Yea, Daddy its me" Daddy sat up rubbing his eyes, "What do you need, Pumpkin?" Nervous I didn't know what to say, I wanted to scream "I want YOU!!! I want you to finish what you started!!! I want to be your little slut!!!" But I couldn't say anything, just stand there hoping he would understand what I wanted. I was so scared that earlier was just a fluke, a moment of his weakness, not that he really wanted me. But Daddy understood. Smelling of whisky, he stood up and walked behind me sinking his hands in my hair. Tugging my head back I could feel his breath in my ear. "You dirty fucking whore" His tongue flicked out wetting my ear, "I thought I fucked up, little did I know my little slut wants it too..." His other hand was up the front of my shirt twisting my nipples til it hurt. It was a hurt that went strait to to my pussy causing it to twitch and leak. I could feel it wetting the tops of my thighs. He continued to roughly pull on my tits causing me to squirm all while whispering in my ear... "My little Pumpkin, the cum slut? You like that? Daddy's cum slut..." His hand drifting over my stomach, dipping into my panties. "A wet cunt for Daddy? You want this cock?" "Umm...Ahhh" All I could do was moan as Daddy stuffed his fingers coated in pussy juices down my throat. "Did I stutter? Stupid bitch! Answer the fucking question." I was spun around faster than I thought was possible and there was a quick sting on my cheek and a ringing in my ear. Daddy had slapped me. Hard. It took a moment to register what had happen, but I knew I wanted more. I felt another blow land on the other side of my face and another one before Daddy grabbed my chin pulling my face up to look him in the eyes. "Yes Daddy" I stammered "I want it" "My baby's a pain slut too? I see it in your eyes, whore. Put your hands on the bed, ass in the air, Pumpkin." Daddy didn't even take my panties off rubbing my ass through them, I suddenly felt a rapid set of sharp slaps from his hand. It was never ending, and when I felt like I just couldn't take anymore it stopped. I didn't move, scared he would see my tears and be disappointed. I heard his boxers falling down his legs, Daddy stepped up behind me and his cock was rubbing against my sore cotton covered ass. I could feel the pre-cum leaving trails on my ass and thighs. Then a cool gust of air as Daddy lifted my warm wet panties off of my cunt, pushing them to the side but not removing them. Exposing my clean shaven and puffy lips to his prick, which he began running through the wetness teasing my clit with his cock head. "Look at you Pumpkin, spread and ready for Daddy's cock. What a beautiful fucking slut you are." I could feel him at my entrance and began pushing back against him, feeling him sinking into me I came for the first time that night. Screaming for Daddy to go faster and not to stop. My muscles clenching around him, milking his cock and dripping my girl cum down my leg. Feeling his hands in my hair again pulling me back towards him, he began whispering again " You are mine. This is my cunt, to do what I want with and when I want it. Do you understand that Pumpkin?" "Yes Daddy" It comes out in a breathless moan, no longer as timid, I am Daddy's now. Daddy's pulls his prick from me leaving me gaping and flips me around onto my back on his bed. He crawls up kneeling around my neck. "Stick out your tongue bitch" I can taste me on him, our flavors mixing as he rubs his cock over my lips smearing spit, cunt juice and pre-cum from my chin to my eyebrows. I can feel him throbbing and growing even larger as Daddy puts his cock head in my mouth, and pulls it back out causing more spit to drip out of the sides of my mouth and an obscene popping sound each time he breaks the suction. "Whore...Cunt...Sucking your Daddy's cock...So fucking sexy..." I could hear him mumbling obscenities under his breath. I had another orgasm with my fingers burried deep in my pussy, watching Daddy stroke that purple-red cock close up. I felt my hips bucking towards him, there was no words I just looked him in the eyes with my mouth around the tip of his manhood, and came harder than I ever had. Then with almost an animalistic groan I felt Daddy cock start to spurt in my mouth before he pulled out finishing dumping his seed all over my up turned nose and some even shot into my blonde hair. Rubbing his cum around with his still hard cock until my face was evenly coated, then sticking it back in my mouth to clean. "Keep the cum on your face and come to bed,Pumpkin" Daddy said almost collapsing onto the bed. As soon as I curled up under his arm I could hear Daddy start to snore. I fell asleep happy knowing I was becoming Daddy's perfect slut.... ------------------------------------ As always everyone is over 18. The feedback is always welcome, to everyone who read the first one I hope you enjoy this too :)