Wicked Temptation

The dim glow of the jack-o'-lanterns on the porch cast long, flickering shadows across the living room floor, their orange light barely cutting through the heavy, musky scent of candle wax and something far more intoxicating—her. The air was thick, almost suffocating, charged with the kind of electricity that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Then came the knock. Not a polite tap, but three slow, deliberate raps, like the prelude to a promise.

He opened the door, and there she stood—his neighbour, though neighbour felt like too tame a word for the vision before him. The black dress she wore wasn’t just clingy; it was painted onto her, a second skin that hugged every curve, every dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, the generous roundness of her breasts pressing against the fabric like they were begging to be freed. The slit up her thigh revealed a stretch of smooth, golden skin, the muscle there flexing slightly as she shifted her weight onto one high heel, her glossy red lips parting in a slow, knowing smile. Her dark eyeliner winged out like the marks of a predator, and her eyes—fuck, her eyes—burned with something raw, something hungry.

“Happy Halloween,” she murmured, her voice a low purr, the kind that slithered down his spine and pooled heat in his gut. She didn’t wait for an invitation. One manicured hand pressed against his chest, not pushing, just claiming, as she stepped inside, the scent of her perfume—something dark and floral, like jasmine drowned in sin—filling his lungs. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound final, inevitable.

He should’ve said something. Should’ve asked what she was doing here, why she’d never so much as glanced his way before tonight. But the words died in his throat as she closed the distance between them, her body pressing flush against his, the heat of her radiating through the thin fabric of his shirt. Her breasts crushed into him, soft and heavy, the peaks of her nipples already hard, already aching. He could feel them through the dress, through his clothes, like two brandings against his chest.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” she whispered, her breath hot against the shell of his ear, her lips brushing the lobe just enough to make him shudder. Her hand slid down, down, her fingers tracing the growing outline of his cock through his pants, slow and deliberate, like she was memorizing the shape of him. “About you.” Her thumb pressed against the head, just enough pressure to make him groan, his hips jerking involuntarily toward her touch. She chuckled, low and dark, the sound vibrating against his skin. “Mmm. Someone’s hungry.”

Before he could react, she sank to her knees in front of him, the movement fluid, practiced. The dress rode up her thighs, the fabric straining over her ass as she settled between his legs, her hands sliding up to grip his hips, her nails digging in just enough to sting. She looked up at him through thick lashes, her lips parting, tongue flicking out to wet them, the red gloss catching the dim light like fresh blood. Then she was pulling at his belt, his zipper, the sound of metal teeth parting obscenely loud in the quiet room.

His cock sprang free, already thick, already weeping, the tip glistening under her hungry gaze. She didn’t tease. Didn’t play. One hand wrapped around the base, her fingers not quite meeting, and then her mouth was on him, her lips stretching wide as she took him to the root in one smooth motion. His head snapped back, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as her throat fluttered around the head, her tongue swirling, milking. Her other hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently, then squeezing just enough to make his knees lock.

“Fuck—” His fingers tangled in her hair, not guiding, just holding on, his hips twitching as she pulled back, her lips dragging along his shaft with a wet, obscene pop, before plunging down again. Her nose pressed into the coarse hair at the base of his cock, her breath hot against his skin, her throat working around him like she was starving. The sounds she made—sloppy, desperate sucks, the wet squelch of her mouth, the way her moans vibrated around his dick—were enough to make his vision blur.

“Stand up.”

The command came out rough, strained, his voice barely recognizable. She obeyed instantly, rising to her feet with a grace that belied the filth of what she’d just done, her lips swollen, her chin glistening. The dress had ridden up, the hem now hitched around her waist, and there was nothing underneath—no panties, no barriers, just the slick, bare lips of her pussy, already glistening, already begging. The scent of her hit him like a punch to the gut—musky, sweet, intoxicating.

He spun her around, pressing her front against the wall, her palms flattening against the cool surface as he crowded behind her. His cock, slick from her mouth, nestled between the cheeks of her ass, the heat of her skin searing him. One hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back just enough to expose the long line of her throat, the other sliding down the dip of her spine, over the flare of her hip, before slipping between her legs.

She was dripping. His fingers slid through her folds with ease, her wetness coating him, her clit already swollen, already throbbing under his touch. He circled it, slow at first, then faster, his fingers working in tight, demanding circles as she moaned, her back arching, her ass grinding back against him.

“Please—” The word was a whine, a beg, her voice breaking. “Fuck me. Now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His cock ached, his balls drawn up tight, the need to be inside her a physical pain. He gripped her hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, and lined himself up, the head of his cock notching against her entrance. She was so wet he slid in with barely any resistance, her walls clamping around him like a vice, hot and tight and perfect. She gasped, her nails scraping against the wall, her body trembling as he bottomed out, his hips flush against her ass, his cock buried to the hilt.

“Fuck, you’re tight—” He groaned, his forehead dropping to the back of her shoulder, his breath coming in ragged bursts. Then he pulled back, almost all the way out, before slamming back in, the sound of flesh meeting flesh a sharp slap in the quiet room.

“Yes—harder—” She pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, her body moving with a desperation that matched his own. Her pussy clenched around him, her inner walls fluttering, her moans turning to broken, breathless cries. “Don’t stop—don’t stop—”

He didn’t. Couldn’t. His hands gripped her hips, his fingers bruising, as he pounded into her, each thrust deeper, rougher, the wet squelch of her pussy taking him filling the air. The wall shook with the force of it, her tits bouncing with every snap of his hips, her nipples dragging against the cool surface. He could feel her getting closer, her body tightening, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Come on, baby,” he growled, his lips against her ear, his hand snaking around to find her clit again, rubbing in tight, punishing circles. “Come on my cock.”

That did it. Her back bowed, her head snapping back against his shoulder as a scream tore from her throat, her pussy convulsing around him, her walls milking him so hard his vision whited out. He groaned, his own release barreling through him, his balls drawing up tight before he came, his cum shooting deep inside her in thick, hot pulses, filling her, marking her.

They collapsed against the wall, his chest heaving, his cock still twitching inside her as the last of his orgasm wrung out of him. She was boneless, her body pressed against his, her breath coming in ragged little pants.

“That,” he managed, his voice rough, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “was one hell of a treat.”

She turned her head, her lips curling into a smirk, her eyes dark with promise. “Oh, darling,” she purred, her hand sliding down to cup his spent cock, her fingers tracing the vein along the underside. “This is just the beginning.”

And then she squeezed. Not hard. Not yet. But enough to make him ache. Enough to make him wonder what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.

Happy Halloween my Sexies! 🍑🦇