It's the night of Halloween and we just cut the porch lights..

It's the night of Halloween and we just cut the porch lights off. My lips are parched from the lipstick and the faux fangs, so I prop myself up on the bathroom counter to start taking them out and off while you tend to the clutter around the house. We went minimal this year, so it doesn't take you long to dress down the window decor and bring the candy bowls into the kitchen. You're almost there, but my thighs have caught your attention as you walk by. Another warm Halloween means that I can comfortably wear something short, it wasn't necessarily intentional. Nonetheless, a warmth of its own draws you in. I can't hear you fill the frame of the door as I'm running water over and into my mouth. It's funny how all your other senses go stupid when you're overly thirsty, scared, or hungry. I didn't even notice the first one of your fingers graze over the topmost stitches of the thigh high socks I had on. You were calculating it all: the height of the counter, what kind of panties you think you saw me slip on in the morning, the durability of the fabric holding my breasts in place, and so on and so forth. It’s better that we went the simple route, considering all of the pieces in play. I would have gotten incredibly upset if I prepared some sort of extravagant ensemble just for you to tear it to pieces, or worse- get spit, bIood, and cum all over it. I can stitch any fabric, but how could I manage the embarrassment of lingering bodily fluids? Especially with cum as potent as yours. I can salt, soak, and scrub until my fingers bleed but everyone would still know what you’ve done to me. Yes, it’s for the best that I settled on looking like a casual, vampire school girl who has come over to relax after enduring the day’s studies. Still halfway in the doorway, one curious finger of yours turns to two. You’re no longer interested in the fabric of my accessories. You want to test the pulse of my pussy. Normally I would reward you for going for my thighs first, but it was already so late. If it were up to me, I would have been in bed and cockwarming you at least two hours ago. Two fingers turn to three, and I can feel the soft fabric of my panties being unsettled by your touch. The vibration of skin against cotton mixed with my natural throbbing made it feel as though a small capsule of turbulence was placed and released right between my lips. Just as the wetness began to slip from beneath me, I clenched my thighs closer together in an attempt to regain control.
"Has all the candy been put away?"
I didn’t even realize the words were coming out as I was thinking it. Now it’s my turn to start calculating- too many questions have frustrated you before.
I hear the candy bowl get put down and I’m suddenly aware of just how close to my body you are.
"You know I don’t like to go to bed with a messy house."
It’s getting harder to take deep breaths now. I’ve overstepped, and I’m cornered. I feel you behind me, and I hear your belt unraveling, loosening the grip your clothes have on your cock. The smell of the denim mixed with your heat and your skin hits me so hard that the room caves in around me for a moment.
"That’s not the mess you should be worrying about tonight."