Hallowpeen

by Holly Wilde

To the monster fuckers who make every season spooky season. And to Kaysie, hope you enjoy this sweet treat!

If I were in charge of story time, everyone would be sharing adventures with masked men who give out hand necklaces and call you Princess.

“The Hallowpeen comes and jacks you off at night, refusing to leave until your peen is as hollow as his soul, muahahaha,” Chris carries on in a deep and menacing tone.

His engorged gourdhood’s orange surface is slicked with froth, like a whipped topping on a pumpkin spice latte. Inch by inch, I stare in awe at his immeasurable length that dangles in front of me. The fluted base curves away from his body, jutting out like a butternut squash. Under a layer of pumpkin foreskin I can see the tip of the stem wanting to poke out.

I’m acutely aware of how close three veggiehoods are to my body.

Despite the arousal gnawing at me, I know I have to stay strong and find a way out of this bizarre world. But, I’m currently in a Hallowpeen sandwich, all I can think about is how close their pumpkins are to my pie.

“Just because my guts have been ripped out doesn’t mean I can’t rearrange yours.”

But all I want to do is get back in the middle of their pumpkin patch and have them plow my field deep into the night.

“Let’s take her inside and show our new guest how we peen in Peentown.”

The juice from the berry squirts in my mouth as I bite down, the sensual experience of eating while being eaten makes me wonder why I’ve never lived this deliciously before.

Arms looped around me like a seatbelt, he tenderly leans down and stares into my eyes with the intensity of a passionate lover who’s been waiting on their soulmate to return from a long trip abroad.

“Hey, Jax. I don’t mean to interrupt the trick-or-treater-pumpkin-eater experience, but I think our girl is ready.”

But never have I ever drooled at the thought of deepthroating a twelve incher.

“It looks like you’re ready for a taste, your mouth’s watering for some dick almost as much as your sopping cunt.” he roars.

My only answer to him is the wet smacking of my lips as I suction around his butternut balls.

I’ve always been a coffee girl, but being tea-bagged like this is more electrifying...

But what I found instead was the chance to have the ultimate pumpkin spice experience, three horny and attentive men of legend who only want me. If I never go home, I think I’ll be just fine.

“Don’t stop telling me what you need, Pumpkin. You ask for it so well.” “Please,” I continue to beg, “Claim me like a ghost takes hold of a haunted house.” “That’s it, that’s my girl.” He strokes himself, priming his gourded goodness for me to take.

Perched over Jax's pumpkin pleasure pole, my pussy drips, coating the tip like butter so my body can be stuffed like a turkey.

of nutmeg and cinnamon mixed with toasted pumpkin, pours from his cock as I’m filled with his pumpkin seed. Literally, I realize. As I drink down every drop, I notice that his cum is made of pumpkin seeds the size of mini chocolate chips. They are easy to swallow down by the mouthful, thanks to the pool of spiced milk, like a pumpkin latte, that they swim in.