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Subject: {ASSM} Halloween RP (7) Trick or Treat (mF) by Too Much Time
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Date: Wed, 27 Oct 2010 21:10:06 -0400
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Tis the season --- another story for Halloween.
Seems not to have been posted for a while.
I'm just a reposter.  This says in it "Feel free to reprint ---
- but please don't make any changes---- "

Everything below this line is exactly as posted long time ago.

From toomuchtime2002@hotmail.com Thu Mar 20 19:23:22 2003
Date: Thu, 21 Nov 2002 16:10:03 -0500
From: Too Much Time <toomuchtime2002@hotmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated, alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Subject: {ASSM} Trick or Treat (m F)

I've started work on Chapter 4 of Sammy's ongoing novel, but this idea
popped into my head a few weeks ago, and it just kept nagging at me until I
finally wrote it down.  Enjoy!!!
Add photos to your e-mail with MSN 8. Get 2 months FREE*.
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<1st attachment, "trickortreat.txt" begin>

The following is probably a work of FICTION.
It was sent back in time in a quantum bottle.
So who really knows for sure? ...
Feel free to reprint or take credit for it
(as if I could stop you), but please don't make
any changes, or I won't write anything new!
More of TooMuchTime's erotic writings can be found here ...
/~TooMuchTime/

TRICK OR TREAT

by TooMuchTime (TooMuchTime2002@hotmail.com)
Copyright(c) 2002, TooMuchTime.  All rights reserved.

 Henry felt like an idiot.  Here it was, Halloween.  All his friends were
out egging people's doors, throwing water balloons at cars, and just
generally causing trouble -- exactly what every 14 year-old boy SHOULD be
doing on this day in a small town ... exactly what he should be doing.
Instead, thanks to his mom, who had to work an extra shift tonight, he got
stuck walking his little sister Trish around for trick-or-treat.  It just
wasn't fair.  He loved his sister and all, and she wasn't nearly as much of
a pain in the ass as some 8 year-olds he knew, but still ... when was his
mother going to understand that he was growing up now, becoming a man, and
that he didn't want to be a babysitter any more?

 "Let's go down Dogwood Street," Trish said, tugging at his hand.  This
year, she was a white bunny rabbit.  The costume was store-bought, and Henry
himself had taken her to go buy it, at the local 5-and-10 shop.

 "Why Dogwood?"  he asked.

 "Because nobody's over there," she said.  "Maybe they have more candy."

 Henry didn't quite get the logic of this, but he agreed anyway.
"Whatever."  It seemed to him, if no other kids were on this street, it
probably meant there was no candy to be found.  But he didn't feel like
arguing with her.  They'd been out for about an hour now, her bag was
getting pretty full, and he could tell she was getting tired.  Soon, she'd
get cranky.   Dogwood Street would take them back to Canal Street, they
could make a right, and a few blocks later they could cut up Fairlawn Street
and head home.

 It turned out he was right.  There were no porch lights on at all on
Dogwood ... and therefore no candy.  By the time they reached the small,
quiet intersection with Canal, Henry was more convinced than ever that it
was time to just go home.  He noticed that his shoelace was untied, and told
Trish to stand still while he took care of it.  As he knelt down, he heard
some voices approaching out of the darkness down the street.  He recognized
them immediately.  It was Joe and Eddie and Russ, his friends, laughing it
up.  Shit, he thought.  The last thing he wanted was to put up with ribbing
from those guys right now.  He'd lied to them the day before, and told them
he was going to a party at his cool older cousin's house, two towns over,
where he'd probably be playing kissing games with older girls.  If they
found out what he was really doing, he'd never hear the end of it.  Bad
enough they always made fun of him for being the shortest one in the pack.

 Henry grabbed his little sister's hand and quickly ducked into the bushes
in front of a large house on the corner.

 "What are you do--"  Trish started, but he quickly clamped a hand over her
mouth.

 "Ssshhh," he whispered.  "Just be quiet for a few minutes."

 To Trish's credit, she did as she was told.  Henry quickly noticed,
however, that the streetlight was shining directly on them, and that if his
friends passed by close enough, the bushes wouldn't provide much protection
at all from being seen.   Again, he grabbed his sister's hand and scurried
low with her across the small yard in front of the house, this time not
stopping until they'd reached the shadowed safety of a narrow alley between
the large house and the one next to it.  He let go of Trish's hand and
peeked around the wall to see what the guys were doing.  Thank god, he
thought.  As he watched, they passed the spot where he'd been tying his
shoe, laughing and talking about something, and continued on down Canal
Street.   When Henry couldn't hear their voices any more, he took a deep
breath.  That was too close, he thought.

 Before this surge of relief had time to settle in, though, he was presented
with a whole new dilemma.

 Without warning, there was a bright light in front of his eyes.  It took
them only a few seconds to adjust, but when they did, he realized that he
was standing directly in front of a window, and that somebody inside the
large house had just turned the light on in that room.  Shit, he thought
again.  Now he was going to get in trouble for lurking outside people's
windows.  His first instinct was to immediately grab Trish and run again,
but a voice inside his head told him to stay calm.  So he pushed his back
flat against the alley wall, kept very quiet, and waited.

 The bottom of the windowsill was about 3 feet off the ground, and fell just
about at chest height for Henry, who didn't take long to figure out that he
was looking at a bathroom.  It was twice the size of the one that he and his
mother and sister shared.  Along the wall that he had the best view of were
wall-to-wall mirrors, which extended from the ceiling down to the sink
level.  The fixtures on the sink itself, as well as everything in the
bathroom, were shiny and fancy.  Clearly, whoever lived here had a lot more
money than his family did.

 Henry didn't have much time to size the room up, though, because the person
who'd turned the light on was already walking through the door.  It was a
woman, about his mother's age, with shoulder-length black hair and very
striking features.  He guessed she must be Italian, because her complexion
was fairly dark and her nose, while almost too big, seemed to suit her face.
  It was framed nicely by wide brown eyes like a doe's.  As for her body,
well ... that caught his attention immediately.  All she wore was a short
pink bathrobe, cinched tightly around her thin waist.  Stopping at
half-thigh, it accentuated not only her toned legs and wide hips, but also
the noticeable swell of her chest.  This girl looked just as "stacked"  as
his friend Joe's mother and older sister, both of whom Henry had drooled
over countless times in the past.  He began to wonder if it was an Italian
thing, and if so, he might consider moving to Italy when he got older.

 Again, a surge of fear shot through him, and he considered running.  But by
now, his hormones were beginning to get the better of him.  He'd never seen
a naked woman in person before, and on the off chance that he might see one
now, he didn't see how he could pass up the chance.  So once again, he
decided to keep very quiet ... and wait.

 As he watched, the woman turned to face the mirror almost as soon as she
entered the room, sparing not even so much as a glance at the window.  She
turned the water on in the sink, then used a scrunchie to pull her hair back
as she presumably waited for it to get warm.  Testing the water again, she
reached down, splashed some on her face, then began to soap it up with
something she had in a jar -- probably Noxema or one of those other smelly
things his mom used.  He wasn't nearly as interested in this, though, as he
was with the fact that as she vigorously scrubbed her face, it set her boobs
to jiggling inside her robe, which was as beautiful a sight as he could
imagine ... and which set his manhood to rising inside his jeans.

 After a minute or so of this, the woman rinsed her face off, dried it, then
turned and walked to the shower on the other side of the bathroom, still
seemingly unaware of his presence outside the window.  At this point, Henry
could only see her reflection in the mirror ... but he could still see her.
  And when she reached in to turn the water on in the shower, it set his
heart to jack-hammering inside his chest.  Because if she was taking a
shower, it meant she had to take the robe off first, which meant that any
minute now ...

 But then everything suddenly changed.  The woman stopped, and looked over
her shoulder toward the still-open door with a look of consternation on her
face.  She reached back into the shower and turned it off, then -- much to
Henry's dismay -- left the bathroom, flipping the light off on the way out.
Shit, he thought again.  I just never get a break.

 "Oh well," he muttered.  And in that moment of disappointment, Henry
suddenly remembered his sister.  It was probably just as well that things
hadn't gone any further than they did, considering that she was standing
right next to him.  He spoke quietly into the darkness.  "Ready to go,
shrimp?"  He reached his hand out, thinking he'd feel her head a foot away
from him.  But there was nothing there.  "Trish?"  No response.  He dared to
speak a little louder, he eyes trying to adjust to the darkness in the
alleyway.  "Trish, where are you?"  He made his way slowly and quietly up
the alleyway.  It was the only way she could have gone, because he'd have
noticed her walking past him back out into the yard.  "Dammit, Trish, quit
playing."

 By the time Henry reached the end of the alley, he realized what had
happened.  Peeking around the wall, he could see the woman ushering Trish
into the house through the back door.  He back-tracked along the wall to the
first window, which looked into the kitchen, and saw the woman squat down to
his sister's height and touch her face.  Apparently, Trish was crying.
Great, he thought.  I guess I won't be winning any brother of the year
awards this year.  Let's see what kind of a shit-fit mom has about this when
she finds out.

 There was only one thing to do.  Henry took a deep breath, then left the
alley, walked around to the door, and knocked.   The woman answered right
away, and as she pushed the storm door open, the first words out of her
mouth were, "You must be Brother Henry."

 He felt immediately guilty, and thought for sure that it must be showing on
his face.  It was one thing to peep on somebody through a window, and it was
another thing entirely to have to then talk to them face to face a few
minutes later.  "Yeah, I'm Henry," he said.

 "Come on inside," the woman said, smiling.  "She hasn't been here long."
She had a noticeable accent.  Maybe she was not only Italian, but actually
from Italy?

 Before he was even two steps in the door, Trish rushed up and hugged him.
"Where were you?"

 "I was right there ..."  For obvious reasons, he hesitated to say exactly
where he was, instead adding, "where we were."

 "No you weren't."  His sister's voice was getting angry now.

 The woman came to Henry's rescue, though.  She put her hand on Trish's
head.  "Now now," she said.  "Your brother is here now.  That is the
important thing, no?"  Trish shrugged, letting go of him, and gravitating
toward the obvious maternal comfort of the woman instead, who took advantage
of the moment to offer his sister some cookies.

 "Thanks," Henry said.  "But we should be getting home."  In the process of
making eye contact with the woman, his eyes panned up from Trish's face to
the woman's, and along the way, couldn't help but notice that her robe was
considerably looser than it had been in the bathroom.  Perhaps squatting
down had loosened it?  In any event, from this angle there was enough of a
gap between the folds to show off the side of one breast.  He only lingered
on the sight a moment, but thought for sure that she would notice.  Yet if
she did, she didn't seem to react in any way.

 Trish, meanwhile, had other priorities.  "Why can't I have cookies?"

 "Please," the woman said.  "I insist.  Someone with such a cute kitty cat
costume should have some cookies and milk."

 "Hey, I'm not a cat, I'm a rabbit!"  Trish yelled.

 "Oh, I am sorry," the woman said, giggling as she raised a hand to her
mouth.  "A bunny rabbit, of course!  Please excuse me.  I may as well almost
be blind without my glasses on."  Interesting, Henry thought.  No wonder she
hadn't noticed him standing outside the window, or copping a look at her
just now.  "So what does big brother say," she asked.  "Can the cute bunny
rabbit stay and have some cookies?"

 "Sure, why not?"  Henry said, his eyes this time focusing down directly at
her chest as he spoke.  When they returned to her face, it was clear that
she'd noticed nothing.  This is too cool, he thought.  He could pretty much
stare all he wanted, and she'd never realize.  Almost as good as being
invisible -- a fantasy he'd had more than once.

 The woman poured a glass of milk, then brought it, a plate of cookies, and
Trish to the adjoining dining room.  Henry watched her all the while, and
quickly began to realize that she was even more attractive up close than
she'd seemed from outside the bathroom window.  Very pretty, and with a
seductive wiggle to her step.  The way her breasts shifted and settled
inside the thin robe with only the slightest motion was almost mesmerizing.
And the way her firm round ass looked through the robe when she bent over to
put everything on the table ... incredible.  Without his even realizing it,
a fresh new erection had cropped up in his pants, and he wished more than
anything that he could reach in and start jacking off right there on the
spot.  But of course this would be a bad idea.  There was no way she could
be THAT blind, was there?  Still, there was another option ...

 "Excuse me," he said to the woman, "but could I use your bathroom?"

 "Yes, certainly.  It's right down that hall.  I think the light is still
on."

 "Oh, I see it.  Thanks."  Henry made his way down the hall, and felt an odd
sense of deja vu as he stepped into the bathroom -- just as he'd watched the
woman do ten minutes ago -- and pushed the door shut behind him.  The door
was old and skewed, and didn't quite click in place or anything, but after
giving it the hardest push he could, it seemed to stay put.   He did,
however, make a point of quickly pulling down the shade, for obvious
reasons.  After this, he wasted no time.  Within seconds, his pants and
underwear were down around his ankles and he was sitting on the toilet seat,
his skinny legs spread at the knees, his eyes closed, a clear image of the
busty Italian woman in his mind, stroking himself for all he was worth.

 This went on for about ten minutes, until Henry could tell that he was just
on the verge of cumming.  He paused, opening his eyes to find the toilet
paper or tissues he'd need to use to catch the mess as he made it ... and
saw something that terrified him.  The door to the bathroom was open.  Wide
open.  And the woman was standing in it.  With glasses on.  Watching him,
with kind of an amused expression on her face.  "Having fun?" she asked.

 Henry's first impulse was to blurt out, "Oh, SHIT!"  which he did, and
struggled to reach down and pull his pants up as fast as possible.  But he
was in too much of a rush.  The maneuver was clumsy at best, and he only
succeeded in falling over onto the floor and nearly banging his head on the
sink on the way down.

 The woman's first reaction was to raise one hand to her face, shush him,
then take another step into the room and re-shut the door behind them.
"Quiet," she said.  "Your sister is asleep at the table.  You'll wake her."

 This, of course, immediately confused Henry.  What was she talking about?
How was the fact that his sister was asleep more important than the fact
that he'd just been caught masturbating in a stranger's house?  He brought
himself to a sitting position on the floor, and again started struggling
with his pants, trying to pull them up, his erection wagging around all the
while.  Again, he fell over.

 "Calm down," the woman said.  "You are going to hurt yourself.  Bang your
head or something."

 Almost frantic now, Henry tried again to sit up, his hand slipped on a
throw rug, and down he went once more.  Frustrated, he realized that he'd
begun to cry.  He felt embarassed, ashamed, guilty, and afraid, and didn't
know how to handle those emotions all at once.  Dammit no, he thought.
Don't cry, not now.  But the tears were already there.  He'd always been an
emotional child, prone to cry for no reason at all, and took some ribbing
for it when he was in grade school.  He thought he'd outgrown it.
Apparently he hadn't yet.

 "Oh, now now," the woman said.  "It's okay."  Her voice was suddenly very
close, and as Henry glanced up, he saw that she was squatting beside him.
Her hands found his shoulder and she helped him up to a sitting position,
propping his back against the wall.  Then, to continue the comedy of errors,
her foot slipped on the same rug that his hand had a few moments before, and
down she came as well ... right on top of him.  Instinctively, Henry threw
up his hands to break her fall -- one caught her arm, and the other caught
her stomach.  But something short, sweet, and amazing happened as well ...

 As the woman fell, her chest landed directly on Henry's face.  In fact, for
all of about ten seconds, as both of them readjusted their weight, her warm
breasts pressed and rolled against his face, the satin of her robe
whispering smoothly across his skin and the subtle smell of her perfume
filling his nose.  For Henry, it was perhaps the most profound experience
he'd ever had in his life.  What's more, several times her hip and leg
bumped his erection, which up till that moment had begun to flag a bit.
Now, however, it sprang to life again.

 "I am sorry," the woman said, finally getting her bearings and taking a
seat on the floor, sitting Indian-style in front of him.  "I can be so goffa
sometimes."

 "So what?"

 "Goffa ... uh, clumsy?"  It must have been an Italian word.

 "Oh.  It's okay," Henry said, still crying a bit, trying to pull his legs
up to hide his aroused member.  But by now, his pants and shorts were so
tangled around his ankles that he couldn't even manage this much.  His hard
cock stood up straight and tall -- well, as tall as it got anyway -- and was
as obvious as a giant fly in a small bowl of soup.  "I should be the one
saying I'm sorry."

 The woman looked more amused than ever.  "It's okay," she said, reaching
out to put a warm, well-manicured hand on his knee.  Her nails were painted
a bright red, and this seemed to arouse him all the more for some reason.
"You are just doing what boys your age do.  There is no reason to be sad
about it."

 "I know, but ... in your bathroom.  That was wrong."

 "Why?"  she said, looking almost insulted.  "Is my bathroom not good enough
for you to pleasure yourself in?"

 Henry didn't know how to respond to this.  "I ... no.  I mean, yes.  Of
course it is.  Obviously."

 "Well then," she smiled.  "What is wrong with it then?"

 "Nothing, I guess.  If ... it's not wrong to you.  I guess."

 "It is most certainly not wrong to me.  But may I ask why you chose my
bathroom?"

 Uh oh, Henry thought.  This could get tricky.  "I ... um.  I don't know.  I
was just in the mood?"

 "Just regular teenage boyness?"  she asked, gesturing to his exposed
erection.

 "Yeah.  Something like that."

 "There was nothing specific to make it happen?"

 "Well ... I don't know."

 "You don't know?  Or do not want to say?"

 "I ... both I guess."  Henry couldn't make up his mind if he was really
enjoying this conversation or if he wanted to run screaming into the night.
A bit of both maybe.  He'd never had a conversation this frank about
horniness with anybody, much less an attractive woman who was twice his age.

 "Why, what are you afraid to say?"  she asked, again looking almost
insulted.

 "You know.  Just ... private things.  Embarrassing things."

 "What, you can sit here letting me see your splendida erezione, but you
can't tell me what made it that way?"

 "Splendido what?"

 She giggled at bit at this, then pointed slyly at his lap.  "Your beautiful
hardness."

 Did she just say beautiful?  He blushed instantly.  She was probably just
being polite.  Still, she was right, of course.  What was there to hide at
this point, really, considering what she'd seen already?  Still, he wasn't
sure ...

 "Please," she said, leaning forward, offering a clear glimpse of her ample
cleavage, whether she meant to or not.  "There are no secrets here.  Tell
Mama Gina all about it."  But as Henry stared down into her robe, into the
valley between her magnificent breasts, she apparently figured it out for
herself.  "Oh, I see.  Is that what this is all about?"

 Henry shook himself out of his drooling reverie.  "What?  Sorry.  I didn't
mean to --"

 "Did not mean to what?  Stare at my tettas?"  Henry didn't need a
translation for that one.  It sounded close enough to the word he and his
friends used.  She smiled devilishly.  "Oh, I think you did mean to."

 "I--"

 "In fact, I think maybe you were staring at them in the kitchen, when I
didn't have my glasses on yet.  Weren't you?"

 Henry nodded.

 "And I think maybe you liked Mama Gina's tettas so much that you had to
come in here and pleasure yourself.  Am I right?"

 Again, Henry nodded.  "Yes," he said, his voice cracking.

 "Well well," she said.  "Arrapato E onesto."  This time, Henry just looked
confused, and waited for the translation.  "You are both a horny AND honest
boy."

 "I try to be," Henry replied.  "Um ... honest I mean."

 "Well, I believe that honesty should be rewarded," she said, still smiling,
and reached down to the sash on her robe.  Slowly, teasingly, she untied it.
  "Do you agree?"  she asked.

 "Y-yes.  Definitely."  Henry hoped he wasn't dreaming.

 The woman ran a fingernail up and down the hem of the robe, teasing it open
just a little.  "Are you ready for your reward then, young Henry?"

 "Oh yes."

 She glanced down at his now throbbing erection.  "Yes.  I think you are."
With this, she spread the robe open and pushed it aside.  Her now-revealed
tits bobbled slightly.  They were perfect.  As huge if not huger than Henry
had expected, bigger than the biggest grapefruit he'd ever seen, round and
firm, the nipples dark and wide and erect and curving outward slightly.  If
only she really was his "Mama", he didn't think he would ever have stopped
breast-feeding.

 At this point, Henry didn't quite know what to do.  He stared, of course,
his mouth partly open.  More than any other time in his life, he wanted to
jerk off.  But for all of her sexual teasing, he wasn't sure whether she'd
get mad about it him doing that in front of her or not.  All he knew was
that he was about to explode.

 "So, Henry.  Tell me.  Are they everything you dreamed they would be?"  she
asked.

 "Oh yes," he said.  "And more.  Holy shit, more.  They're beautiful!"

 She smiled.  "It makes Mama Gina very happy to hear you say that."  With
this, she pushed the robe off entirely, over her shoulders and down her
back, uncrossing her legs and standing all in the same motion.  The robe
fell to the floor around her feet -- which he saw now had toenails painted
the same bright red as her fingernails -- and Henry was greeted to a
worm's-eye view of her black bush looming above him.

 He'd seen pictures of several women's pussies in dirty magazines before, of
course, but all of them, it seemed, had been either trimmed to almost
nothing or shaved entirely.  Hers, however, was lush and dark and hairy,
almost the size and shape of some of the smaller bikini bottoms he'd seen
girls wear at the beach.  Unlike the women in the magazine, hers added a bit
of mystery to the sight.  He couldn't help but wonder what it would feel
like to run his fingers through that bush ... or even his face.  What would
it smell like?

 Henry let his hungry eyes trail upward, where they fixated once again on
her amazing breasts, which from this angle jutted out even more seductively
from her body, swaying slightly as she moved her weight from one foot to the
other.  She reached her arms down to him.  "Stand up, please."  He did as
she said, taking her hands and allowing her to pull him up.  Once they were
both standing, facing each other, the height difference between them became
even more noticeable than it had been in the kitchen.  She stood almost a
foot taller than him ... which put her tits directly in his face once again.
  "Now give Mama Gina a big hug," she said, and Henry almost fainted on the
spot.

 Again, though, he did as he was told.  He reached his arms around her as
she did the same, and as they hugged, her huge wonderful bare tits pressed
into his face.  The nubs of her hard nipples kissed his cheeks.  "Such a
good boy you are," she said, reaching her hand up to the back of his head,
running her long red nails through his hair as she rocked her body a bit,
until one of her nipples landed squarely in front of his mouth.  "Mama Gina
loves her bamabino so much."  Hearing this, remembering what he'd thought
about before -- breastfeeding -- he couldn't resist any longer.  Carefully,
he opened his lips, and let her nipple enter his mouth.  Then he waited to
see what she would do.

 "Oh, the baby is hungry, is he?"  Instead of getting angry or pushing him
away, she gripped his head and pulled it even closer.  He took this as his
cue to take even more of her nipple, her sweet soft tit into his mouth and
begin suckling it, licking it, kissing it.  This is it, he thought.  This is
heaven.  I don't remember when I died, but I must have.

 Meanwhile, his throbbing cock, which had been poking straight out in the
air between her long legs, now brushed against the inside of her warm thigh,
sending a jolt of electricity through his body.  He wanted, needed to touch
it -- to stroke it --  so badly.  So as he hungrily suckled her tits, he
slowly reached down to do just that.

 "No no no," she said, slapping his hand lightly a split-second before it
made contact.  "That's Mama Gina's job."

 Henry's first instinct was to be frustrated.  Until he realized what she
was saying.  "Your job?"

 "My job, yes," she said, smiling.  Then, without any warning, she took him
by the shoulders and gently pushed him against the wall.  With her chest
still in his face, one tit still glistening from his saliva, she reached
down and gently ran her fingernail along the underside of his throbbing
member.  Again, Henry felt something like electricity pass through him.  It
was the first time anybody other than himself or a doctor had touched his
cock.  Next thing he knew, she was gripping it lightly, barely touching it
with the skin of her fingers ... a teasing, tickling sensation that made him
stand on tippy toes.  "Does that feel good?" she asked.

 "Y-y-yes."

 "Good."

 She teased his shaft a few more times like this, nearly driving him insane,
then stopped, and began to shrink.  Well, not shrink actually, but get
shorter.  She was lowering herself down, getting to her knees.  Oh my god,
Henry thought.  She can't be ... is she?  A moment later, there she was, on
her knees, peering up at him, her tits at the level of his cock.
Considering this, it didn't seem likely that she'd be able to put him in her
mouth.  Not unless he grew some in the next few minutes or unless she had a
spine made of rubber.

 But this quickly became a moot point.  Because the next thing she did
happened so quickly that it seemed she might have had it in mind all along.
Putting a hand under each tit, she leaned in closer to him and wrapped the
beautiful globes around his erection like a bun around a hotdog, then shook
them playfully up and down.  The sight of it, the thought of it, the feel of
it drove Henry instantly insane.  It was something he had fantasized about a
thousand times in the past.

 Finally, the electricity that had been building up could no longer be
contained.  He was overexcited to the point of no return.  As his balls
began to contract, Gina seemed to sense what was about to happen.  She
pulled herself back a bit, then brought one hand up to grasp his cock.
Expertly, she stroked it, milked it.  Almost immediately, it exploded, the
first blast of semen shooting out so fast and hard it nearly made a
splattering sound as it struck her just beneath the chin.  "Oh yes," she
said, grinning widly.  "Show Mama how much you love her."  And so he did.

 Henry's body sang with a humming kind of pleasure as wave after wave of cum
jetted out of him, urged on by this beautiful woman's hand.  Warm, thick
strings of it painted her tits and neck -- over and over -- more of it than
he even realized he had to offer.  It seemed as if he must have shot out a
gallon already by the time the orgasm subsided.  And even then, as the cum
dwindled to a trickle, his cock continued to spasm quietly.  Using his own
cum as a lubricant, the woman continued to stroke, more gently now,
concentrating mostly on the tip, the most sensitive area.  As sensitive as
it was now, the sensation was overly intense, and sent a shudder through his
body that culminated in making him laugh.  Finally, he couldn't take it any
more.  "N-n-no more," he sputtered.  "Please.  It's too much."

 And so the woman stopped, then stood, smiling widely like the cat who's
just eaten the canary.  Henry could see his dripping seed spread out all
over her chest and neck, and thought he may never glimpse a more beautiful
sight.  He wondered what would happen now.  The possibilities were endless.

 Just then, a small voice came from down the hall.  "Henry?"  His heart sank
as he realize it was his little sister.  "Where are you?"

 As his eyes met "Mama Gina's", she seemed to anticipate the question on his
mind.  Shrugging, the woman said, "I guess she woke up.  Perhaps you should
let her know you are here."

 Henry nodded, trying not to let his disappointment show through too much.
He started toward the door, then realized that his pants were still down
around his ankles and pulled them up and buttoned them.  Once at the door,
he paused to turn back and gaze with longing at the tall, dark-skinned,
buxom beauty he was leaving behind.  As if to tease him once more, she ran
two fingers up along one of her tits, scooped up a fair amount of his
still-dripping cum, then licked and sucked the fingers clean.  Then she
winked at him, and shooed him away.  "Your sister is waiting."

 The next time he saw Gina, it was in the kitchen again, when she emerged
from the bathroom dressed in the robe to say goodbye to he and his sister.
After some prodding, a sleepy Trish thanked her for the cookies, and Henry
thanked her for finding his sister.

 "It is nothing, really," the woman said, a bit slyly.  "Any time."  As she
said this last bit, she made full and deliberate eye contact with Henry.
"Any time at all," she said again, then winked.

 Encouraged by this, Henry felt his erection begin to rise, and decided that
now was as good as any time to make his escape, fairly certain that she'd
just invited him back for another round of fun whenever he wanted.  He and
his sister said their final goodbyes, and as they disappeared into the
night, Henry could feel an extra spring in his step.


 * * *


 The next day, after school, Henry made a point of ditching his friends when
they all got off the bus.  They were going downtown to buy some comic books,
but he claimed to have to do some yard work for his mom.  They hounded him
for being a momma's boy, but let him go, and once he knew they couldn't see
where he was going, he cut down Dogwood Street, just as he had the night
before.  But when he got there, he was instantly confused.

 He knew where the house was.  Or rather, he knew where it was supposed to
be.  But it wasn't.  Which is to say, there was nothing on the piece of
property but a wide lawn of green grass.  Henry spun around a few times to
get his bearings.  Maybe he was wrong?  But the more he looked around, the
more sure he became that he was looking in the right spot.  But ... how was
that possible?

 He spotted a middle-aged man raking leaves on the other side of the bushes
he and his sister had ducked through the night before, and started down the
sidewalk toward him.  "Excuse me," he said.

 "Yes?"  The man lowered his rake to his side.

 "Um ... this might sound like a stupid question.  But didn't there used to
be a house here?"

 The man looked over his shoulder at his own house.  "There still is.  Right
there."

 "No, I mean ... where this yard is.  Another house, right next to yours."

 "Next to mine?"  He shook his head.  "Nope.  Well ... not for a long time
anyway."

 "What do you mean?"

 "Well, there used to be a house on this lot.  A big one.  But that was a
long time ago.  Before you were ever born.  It burned down to the ground
back in the forties.  The whole family died, I think.  My father bought up
the lot for almost nothing, and it's been the way you see it ever since."

 "Oh," Henry said, a persistent chill running up and down his spine.

 "It was a shame too," the old man went on.  "They were nice people as I
remember.  I was only a boy at the time.  Italian or Greek, I think they
were.  They had money for some reason, when nobody else did.  My friends and
I always got the impression it was dirty money.  Like maybe they were the
children of gangsters or something."

 "Oh," Henry said again.  "Um ... what do you remember about the people who
lived here?"

 "Well, I don't remember much about the father.  He got sent off to Japan
during The War and never came back.  The mother, though, she was hard to
forget.  Very beautiful.  Dark hair, tall, dark skin."  A wistful expression
passed over the man's face.  "She was ... quite a woman.  And nobody's
victim either.  Even with a dead husband and all that money, she always
helped out where she could.  She babysat half the kids in the neighborhood
at one point."

 "Do you ... happen to remember what her name was by any chance?"

 "Her name?"  The man scratched the back of his sweaty neck.  "Hm.  Not sure
I do."

 "Was it Gina maybe?"  Henry asked.

 "You know, that sounds right.  She babysat us a few times, and I can
remember now, she used to make us all call her Mama Gina."  The man
chuckled.  "Yeah, that was it.  Mama Gina."  He sighed.  "Quite a woman, she
was."

 "Well ... thank you," Henry said, and started to walk away, his mind
buzzing.

 "Hey, how did you know what her name was?" the man asked.

 "I ... um ... somebody just told me a story about her once."

 The man nodded.  "I'd love to hear that story someday.  She was--"

 "I know," Henry said.  "She was quite a woman."

 Boy, did he know.  He wasn't sure how exactly it was possible that he
should know ... but he did.

 Just like he knew that the phrase "Trick or Treat" would never have the
same meaning again.



 FINI
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