Hallowpeen

by Holly Wilde

My cheeks redden even deeper as I pull my stare from his uncircumcised seedhole.

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.”

I need to figure out exactly what being here means for me, and it’s clear their only plan is to fill me like a glass of pumpkin juice.

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.