This Halloween erotica story is a true one, featuring a slutty vampire, an ex-boyfriend, a potential new lover, and a bathroom window – not necessarily in that order.
Shall I get right to it? 😉
Slutty Vampire
Back when I shared a flat with Bestie (our first place as “grownups,”) we’d throw parties that folk talked about for weeks, months, and even years. They were infamous. No expense spared even when we couldn’t afford it. Every kind of booze, decoration, and snack imaginable. Fifty-plus people packed into a two-bedroom flat that barely contained the two of us that lived there.
Halloween was coming, and it fell on a weekend. Of course we were going to have a party. Of course we were going to go all-out.
We covered the white walls and ceilings with black garbage bags first, then added glow-in-the-dark silly spray, fake spiders, and faux cobwebs to complete the look. There were ice cubes in the shape of brains, vodka jelly in the shape of hands, and every Halloween treat we could find on the tiny table in the kitchen. The countertops were already packed to capacity with the many bottles of booze that had been left behind from previous BYOB bashes.
My costume of choice that year was slutty vampire – black cargo-style trousers tucked into black knee-high platform boots, plus a white shirt with black corset over the top.
My tits were, to put it bluntly, directly under my chin. I didn’t realise they could look so damn good. I decided to leave the white shirt out. Let’s put those tits to good work.
Guests started arriving, including the guy I’d planned to fuck that night. But then, someone else turned up… someone I hadn’t invited.
It was The Fireman.
We’d broken up at this point, but every now and then he’d give me a booty call on the way home from the club. That night, it seemed, was one of those nights.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him. “How did you get in?”
One of the party guests had opened the door and let him in. Awesome.
I tried to ignore him and continue with my night, which, at that moment, had turned into a bizarre and very drunken game of truth or dare. Plus, there was another man there that night, that I’d planned to invite into my bed. Let’s call him Chef.
“I’ll be in your bed in ten minutes,” Chef whispered to me, a little later on that night.
I grinned to myself and gulped down the last of my drink. Chef was the reason I’d opted to lose the white shirt and let my tits do the work that night.
As I placed my drink down and checked the time, someone tapped on my shoulder. It was Fireman.
“Hey, I’ve been waiting to talk to you,” he said.
“I’ll be with you in ten minutes,” I pointed to the bedroom. “Someone else wants to talk to me.”
He grabbed my hand. “Me first.”
I let Fireman lead me into the bathroom, then raised my eyebrows as he locked the door. “What are you doing?”
He threw a few drunken compliments my way, mostly about my tits, then whispered, “I really want to fuck you.”
Fuuuuuck.
The Fireman and I had the kind of sex that was worth losing jobs over, and we regularly (and repeatedly) did. He was incredibly well-endowed, so we couldn’t easily have penetrative sex… but we sure made up for it in other ways.
And now, I wanted to do those things instead of the Chef, who was waiting for me, naked, in my bed.
Fireman kissed me, and my cunt made every decision after that.
“Open the window,” he ordered, so I dutifully complied. “I want to fuck you out of it.”
Before I’d had a chance to think about what he’d said, he flipped me around and yanked down my trousers.
“Everyone can see us!” I protested.
It was pretty late at night, so there weren’t too many people on the streets – but still, what if someone saw us?
“Let them watch,” he barked back, slapping my ass hard.
I bent over, leaning on the windowsill, my head half-hanging out of the wide-open window. Who was I kidding? I wanted to fuck him. I always did. My protests were futile – not because of him: because of me.
He didn’t hesitate to shove his dick inside me, and I was wet enough to take it, almost completely. Not quite, but almost.
Then, he fucked me. Hard. Almost all the way in. Almost as hard as he really wanted to. Almost as hard as I really wanted him to. Almost caring that a handful of people might’ve seen us.
I was getting close, but I didn’t come before he exploded inside me.
“Pull your trousers up,” he said. “We’re going to mine.”
It might’ve been my Halloween party, but I walked out. No: I ran out. I didn’t even bother to say goodbye to my party guests, or put my boots back on; instead, I jogged barefoot down the road, his jizz running down my leg, hand-in-hand with The Fireman, giggling all the way.
When we got to his he fucked me again, and again, and again. I definitely came those times. Three, four, five, maybe even more, I’d started to lose count.
The next morning, definitely not sober, he fucked me one more time before I walked (swayed) the ten minutes home, with no shoes on, sore between the legs, dressed as a well-fucked slutty vampire.
What a fucking night.
More Halloween Erotica
Did you like this Halloween erotica story? I’ve got a few spicy stories just like Slutty Vampire, and I think you might enjoy those, too:
