Embril
Halloween gets my dick hard.
All those nubile human women prancing around in skimpy attire, swimming in spirits, and on the prowl for a good time. Easy pickings.
It's also the one day of the year I can walk the streets in my own skin. Humans have absolutely no fucking idea of the lengths I go to just to keep up appearances. Then again, why should they? They have no idea my kind even exists.
I’m a Drow. A Dark Elf. To most we're Celtic mythology. May as well be Leprechauns. Side note--those are real too. We're character sheets in a late night Dungeons and Dragons game played by incels and arm chair warriors. Just a toss of dice or click of a mouse. We're costumes at a renaissance festival.
At six foot six inches, I'm on the taller side for a human, but that's hardly my most shocking feature. My natural skin color is a deep, dark hue that sits somewhere between cobalt blue and charcoal. I have a long, silken mane of silver hair, pointed ears, and a set of perfect white fangs. Oh, and red eyes. So, yeah, I kind of stand out. Hence the perpetual glamour.
You might be wondering why the fuck I'm living in the human realm if it's such a giant pain in the dick. Rest assured, it's not by choice. You see, I'm no longer welcome in fairy.
They tend to frown upon it when the hired muscle attempts to abscond with, and forcefully mate, his charge. Especially if that charge is Princess Skaedaria Willowbark, next in line to the Elven throne.
In my defense, we were all alone when she had a rapid-onset heat cycle--we're talking absolutely zero warnings here--which triggered my rut. Sky was giving major fated mate vibes and I was in no state to resist the potent pull of her intoxicating royal pheromones. Also, she's hot as fuck. A total smoke show. I have trouble keeping it in my pants around her on a normal day. The second I sensed something was amiss, it was already way too late. All thoughts save finding a cozy, secluded nesting place to breed her until her fertile womb was swollen with my progeny fled.
All things considered, I guess I'm lucky they only banished me, instead of bashing in my skull. I most likely have the Queen to thank for that. I saved her life from an assassination attempt, which is how I got put on her daughter's detail in the first place.
There's nothing quite like rejection by, and subsequent separation from your fated mate to crater out an unfillable, cavernous void within your soul. But there was no way in Underworld that the King and Queen of Fae would ever let their only heir be mated to a lowly Drow. My people are considered the blue collar commoners of the Fae realm. I do my best to try and fill the void she left, which brings us back to Halloween.
Today, I get to walk the streets unglamoured, in my own blue skin, in search of tight wet, willing holes to fill. This is the best way I've found to temporarily alleviate the vast nothing eating away at me, ever since I was forcefully separated from my mate. Finding physical pleasure with human women is my only temporary reprieve. Naturally, I fuck a lot of women. I'm a bit of a whore that way. To put it in terms most humans will understand: if fucking is my sport then Halloween is like my Superbowl.
The high I get from winning at Halloween makes the ache of loneliness dissipate for weeks, maybe even a month if I really bank some deviant highlights for my spank reel.
I lost count of how many thirsty women I slipped my fat banger into last Halloween. Maybe thirteen? But hey, no one was hurt--any more than they wanted, everyone got exactly what they came for, and left with a smile on their face.
Speaking of smiles, it's high time I start handing out some new ones for the year. The sun has set over the downtown bar district and the freaks are out. Me included. The Halloween Costume Bar Crawl is legendary around these parts for anonymous encounters and debauchery on a Bacchanalian scale. The ladies are positively feral and I am totally here for it. Let the games begin.
I've set my thirst trap well. Working security all my life has kept me quite fit. I've got bulging biceps and abs for days, not to mention vampire good looks. My attire is a cross between bondage Viking and Conan the Barbarian. Lots of slutty flesh on full display. Subtlety has never been my strong suit. My style is caveman.
I scan the crowd in search of prey and clock a group of slutty college girls through a bar window. They're clearly on the prowl, having chosen the table by the front window as a means of putting themselves on display for passersby. The booth seats six, and is lit from above by the warm glow of a stained glass light fixture done in shades of sunset. The plate glass window reaches nearly to ground level so everything above and below the table is in full view from the street.
Their costumes are every bit as trashy as my own. Tits are spilling out everywhere, vast mountains of cleavage on display. Short skirts. Tight spandex. Mmmmmm.
There's a naughty librarian, a nasty nurse, a sexy maid, a Catwoman, a she-devil, and right next to the window a glittering fairy angel. I feel my dick twitch inside my codpiece as I ogle the pale expanse of her shapely legs, and the low cut shimmering green bodice of a dress that was clearly inspired by J-Lo.
This is the group I will infiltrate. I've found my first prey of the evening. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to work my way through all six in a matter of hours, saving the best for last, and then moving on.
I take another long look at my fairy girl. Eyes roving hungrily over every last, sparkling curve. Her wings are fucking atrocious. Both sides of the flimsy, wire-framed mesh are mashed together, off to one side, behind her back. I don't care how terrible her costume is, compared to the real thing, I still want to bend her over that booth table and make her make the “O” face on repeat. I want to hear her squeal for me while I stretch her on my big, blue cock. Speaking of which, I’m about to have a wardrobe malfunction in public if I don’t find a way to deflate this thing fast.
I'm just about to make my way to the entrance when she looks out the window, eyes finding mine immediately--as if drawn by the intensity of my lascivious scrutiny. I watch her breath catch and her impressive bosom swell as her mouth goes round with a shocked gasp.
I take it as a compliment. I tend to have that kind of effect on women when I level them with the full heat of my lustful red gaze. She can't help but perform a slow, heated scan of my form, from my feet all the way back up to my face--where she finds me smiling wickedly, right at her, and showing a massive amount of fang.
I'm coming for you fairy princess, I think at her. I watch as an embarrassed, heated flush suffuses her cheeks and travels downwards. She looks away, as if unable to hold my gaze any longer.
My dick hardens even further. She's already submitting to me and we haven't even exchanged a single word. Yet. But that's all about to change.
I don't head straight over to their group, once inside. I'm not one to act desperate. I don't need. I let my outfit--and my attributes--do the work for me. Bitches come to me. Not the other way around.
They're subtle about it, but I know the game. When I walked up to this bar, it was a sea of backs. I had to make an opening to order my drink and shout over shoulders to be heard. All of a sudden, I'm swimming in exposed flesh. There are women 'ordering drinks' all around me.
Accidentally brushing their breasts against my bicep as they squeeze by to get to the bar, or press their entire bodies against mine with a coy look and a fake apology. One grabs my external oblique, right were my love handle would be if I had an ounce of spare flesh. For balance, I'm sure.
When I look down, I notice it's the she-devil from the window. Here's my in.
"So sorry," she apologizes with mock innocence. "I was just trying to squeeze by you on my way to the bar and I lost my footing." My grin expands with the obvious lie, but she's really trying to sell it when she looks down and says, "these damn boots." It's a classic move, but I don't mind. I do as the pretty lady wishes and I follow her gaze all the way down from the thigh gap at the apex of her barely clad legs, past the tops of her thigh-high red patent leather boots, to the 4 inch spikes that still put her only at collar level with me.
"Why don't I help you out and buy you a drink?" I ask. "What's your poison?"
She giggles and pretends I'm witty before replying, "Sex in the bathroom."
"Is that a real drink? Or a proposition?"
"You tell me, handsome."
That didn't take long at all.
I slip my big hand over hers and pull her gently through the crowd and into an empty bathroom.
"Do you have a condom," she asks. Straight to business then. She has no way of knowing that I can't pass or contract diseases. Pregnancy is another matter, but I'll bet my left nut she's got that covered. Let's see how malleable she is and how bad she wants this D.
"Sorry babe. This is a dangerous ride. No protection or you don't hop on," I say, tilting the corners of my mouth down in a sexy pout. "I promise I'm clean. I get tested regularly." Lie. "I'll pull out." Maybe. I coax. "Unless you want to drop to your knees and suck my dick?" I arch one arrogant eyebrow in challenge, crowding her into the tiled wall. I dip my head down to the hollow of her neck and place a hot, wet kiss there, right where all women are sensitive, and I feel a shudder pass through her as her hands latch onto my abs. "Or we could just sixty-nine." I whisper.
"Why don't you eat me?" She demands. I don't mind letting her think she's in charge. For now.
"What the hell," I say, hoisting her up with ease, until her legs are draped over my shoulders and her wet thong is eyeing me in the face. "I'm in a giving mood."
I slide the barely-there lace of her panties off to the side, exposing her bald slit and dive right in, licking a path straight up the middle and then latching directly onto her clit, like a lamprey eel. Her body jolts with pleasure and her muscles go rigid. She's already cumming all over my face. She's so wound up I'm surprised she didn't jump at the chance to ride my dick, even without the condom. I bet she'll give it up later.
"That was fast," I grin up at her from between her slick thighs. "But I think I can give you a few more before we head back out there." Her only response is to whimper and grip my hair, pulling me back in. Greedy little slut.
I release the buckle on my codpiece and let my hard dick spring free. I picture plowing into her fairy friend as I eat her through a few more orgasms while pulling my meat. She's convulsing on my tongue when I paint the tile with my sticky load, while thoughts of breeding that tight fairy cunt finally take me over the edge.
I buckle myself back up--she doesn't even get a change to see what she missed out on--before letting her down on shaky legs. I wipe my face with the back of my hand, while she grabs a wad of paper towels to deal with the mess I made between her thighs. She's drooling like a leaky faucet. I made her cum four times in less than twenty minutes. She's drunk on the pleasure I gave her and primed to give me whatever I want.
"Why don't you take me back to your table?" I ask. Adding a sexy smirk and a saucy wink for good measure. "Maybe we'll be able to rustle up some Magnum's from somewhere, a bit later," I casually toss in a reference to my above average cock size to help seal the deal. Truthfully, I'd need a Mega Big Body to encase this beast, but it's a moot point. I don't plan on wearing any condoms tonight. Or ever. I wasn't lying when I told her this is a dangerous ride.
She smiles back and says, "you're on, big boy," giving me a wink of her own. And just like that, I'm in.
