Halloween. Lights down. Every hallway a crush of plastic masks and cheap polyester. Nobody used names. Nobody took anything off above the neck.
The house was packed.
Halloween. Lights down. Every hallway a crush of plastic masks and cheap polyester. Nobody used names. Nobody took anything off above the neck. $name1 had come as a witch again — short black dress, hat, striped socks, glasses on underneath because $name1 couldn’t see without them and didn’t care if it ruined the look. No knickers. $name1 never bothered when the dress was this short.
$name1 drank in the kitchen with her arse against a counter someone had covered in fake cobweb. Men in masks kept looking at $name1’s tits where the dress cut them. $name1 let them look. $name1 opened another bottle with her teeth and watched a man in full mummy wrap fight his way through the doorway. White bandage from head to boot. Eyeholes. A mouth slit. The costume was tight across his chest and tighter at his hips. $name1 looked at that and didn’t look away.
He came to the counter.
He didn’t speak. $name1 didn’t ask him to. $name1 put $name1’s drink down, took him by the bandage at his waist, and walked him out of the kitchen into the utility room off the side — coats, a washing machine, a lock that worked. $name1 shut the door. The music dropped to a thud through the plaster.
$name1 got on her knees on the linoleum.
$name1 found the gap in the wrapping by feel. He was already hard. Thick. Heavy. The bandages sat around the base of him like a frame. $name1 took him into her mouth and sucked him properly — wet, greedy, glasses bumping the costume, spit darkening the white cloth. $name1 tried to take more than $name1 could and gagged, pulled off, stroked him with both hands, and went down again until her eyes watered. He put a bandaged hand in $name1’s hair and fucked $name1’s mouth in short strokes. $name1 let him. $name1 looked up at the eyeholes the whole time.
$name1 stood, turned, hiked the witch dress up over $name1’s hips, and put $name1’s hands on the washing machine. Then $name1 changed her mind, boosted herself up onto it, and opened her thighs. The machine was cold under $name1’s arse. $name1 pulled him in by the bandages.
He pushed into $name1 in one thrust.
$name1 was wet from the sucking and from the hour of being looked at, and he sank in deep. $name1’s mouth opened. The hat hit the cupboard door and fell off. He started fucking $name1 on the machine, bandaged hips slapping $name1’s open thighs, the wrap coming loose at his waist with every stroke. It was messy and anonymous and exactly what the masks were for. He hooked $name1’s striped knees over his arms and drove into $name1 harder. The washing machine knocked the wall. $name1 came on him with a broken sound, clenching, glasses slipping down $name1’s nose. He didn’t stop. He fucked $name1 through it, wetter now, the linoleum ticking under his boots.
$name1 pulled him out, dropped back to her knees, and sucked her own taste off him, sloppy, the bandages wet with spit and $name1. Then $name1 got back on the machine, lay back against the cupboards, and spread $name1’s legs wide so he could see what he was about to fill. He pushed back into $name1 and went at her in deep, grinding missionary, one bandaged forearm beside $name1’s head. $name1 came again, louder, a hand over $name1’s own mouth so the hallway wouldn’t get the whole of it. He slammed in, shuddered, and finished inside $name1 in long pulses, pumping her full while the costume unravelled down one arm.
He pulled out.
$name1 stayed on the washing machine with her thighs open, witch dress around $name1’s waist, his cum already running out of $name1 onto the white enamel and down toward the drum. The mummy stood there breathing through the mouth slit, wrap ruined, cock still wet. He didn’t take the mask off. $name1 didn’t ask him to. $name1 sat in the drip of him, striped socks hanging, glasses crooked, and listened to the party going on like nothing in the utility room had happened.