THE MONTH OF TRICKS AND TREATS part 4 of 7

THE MONTH OF TRICKS AND TREATS part 4 of 7

"Going femme is so opposite your hunk ness," Sally said, her fingers trailing along my arm, making my hairs stand on end. Hunky? Me?

Not really, but if Sally thought so, fine. Still, I seemed to have been backed into a corner. Especially since Sally's fingers traced the line of my arm to my hand, caressed my palm, and then lifted my fingers to her lips. She took each digit into her mouth individually, rolling her tongue around the flesh, teasing them. The scratchiness of the fake moustache was odd at first, but once she closed her lips around each finger, the sensation was incredible, like being inside a whirlpool. I imagined her doing the same to my cock.

Sally may have sensed that I was even more excited than earlier, or else she just had good eyes focused on my crotch. "I guess that you're still glad to see me," she observed. "Don't worry, Tim, I won't think that you're queer or anything if you dress as my lady friend. In fact, maybe you'll find wearing panties just as exciting as I'm finding boy's briefs."

She giggled again. "Thank goodness for little brothers. I never would have fit my dad’s."

Another hug followed, complete with a kiss that included even more tongue. I could taste the sweet booze breath. I was conflicted. As much as I wanted Sally, I was afraid she might hate me if I took advantage of her drunkenness. Plus, the situation was just plain weird. Yet every additional twisted image stiffened my cock more.

"Want to see?" she asked, snapping me out of my introspection.

"Huh?" I muttered, but my chin was nodding yes.

This was all the encouragement Sally needed. I had seen her panties a few times when she bent over to pick up books or such, but then I had always turned away, embarrassed to be peeping at my chum.

This time, it was all erotically charged. I had never been to a real strip bar, but I had seen strip teases in movies, and Sally reminded me of an old time, stripper, with lots of tease. She began by swaying her hips, shimmying at the knees. She tossed her head back, closing her eyes as her hands slowly undid the buttons of the heavy man's coat.

Starting from the bottom, saving the revelation of her chest for last. With each movement of her hands, her body shook more forcefully, finally seeming to thrust towards me.

The unbuttoning took quite a while because Sally began tracing her fingertips across her groin, and then her belly as it was revealed, each circular motion more daring than the last, teasing at the belt, then undoing a button, and then brushing the zipper of her pants, and then another button, and so on.

When my own fingers started caressing my bulge, Sally, as if clairvoyant, snapped her head forward, looked at me and said, "Save that for me."

I could not believe my ears. She wanted my cock, and maybe my cum. I was quivering as I watched the rest of her show.

She finally undid the final coat button, brushing the heavy fabric aside. Underneath however, her tits were still masked by a waistcoat over a white man's dress shirt and tie. She did not remove them, since it was the boyish underwear, she planned to show me. Instead,

she prolonged the tease by miming undoing each button on the waistcoat from top to bottom. This served to draw my eyes down from her hidden treasure chest to her swinging hips.

Dancing to her own internal music, Sally swung around as her palms cupped her buttocks, and bent over so far that she was smiling up at me upside down between her legs. With a quick spank on her own bottom, though, she reminded me where my eyes belonged. As she spun back to face me, springing up right with the grace you might expect from a cheerleader, not the library nerd which Sally really was, somehow, she undid her belt buckle. One second it was taut against her cute pouchy waist, the next, the buckle was dangling loose, as she reached towards the sky. Again, the motion drew my eyes up, allowing me to drink in her heaving beasts pressing through the waistcoat, but then settling on the shiny brass at her groin.

As she ran her hands down her sides to her hips, Sally spoke again.

"Poor Timmy, you don't know where to look. Is it a strange feeling, being so turned on by someone with a moustache? Are you wondering whether the bristles will tickle your dick?"

Sally must be drunker than I thought. This was not how best friends acted. We had never teased about blow jobs. Unlike a lot of girls, Sally had never passed them out to gain social standing. Suddenly my heart leapt into my throat again. What if Sally had been blowing Chad or the other guys at her new school, in order to belong?

She read my mind. "I bet Chad would like a moustache tickling his balls. That guy talks about blowjobs so much that you just know that he's not getting any. Unless he's giving them."

I was still puzzled. "So, are you dressed this way to try to turn Chad on if he's sort of gay?"

"No silly, I want to turn you on. I'm dressed this way to see if you are a little gay."

As my jaw dropped to the floor, Sally quickly unzipped her trousers and dropped them to the floor. Underneath, she wore a plain white pair of jockey shorts. She laughed heartily. "So, Timmy, are you queer, or do you like to eat pussy?" Sally challenged me her eyes again closed as she focused on her self-help.

"I never have," I stammered.

"No time to start like now," she answered. She opened her eyes, locking her stare on me. "I dare you. I'm so wet," she moaned, her arm flexing. I stood there, still in shock.

"Don't worry, I think my little brother is too young to be jerking off yet, so there likely aren't any of his cum-stains on here, if you want to eat me.

“Any cum-stains are mine.”

Her hand dove under the elastic waistband. I could guess from the curve of her wrist that she had immediately buried at least one finger in her pussy.

All our lives that had been our code, a silent pact. Whenever either of us was too cowardly to do what we had to do, the other would make it a taunt, and the challenge was always accepted.

My jaw must have dropped open. "That's it, open wider," she teased, running her hands along the top edge of the waistcoat, caressing the upper slopes of her otherwise buried breasts, and then down again, fingertips brushing her hip bones, tracing the lines inwards to the top of the underwear.

I still stood frozen while Sally dug fresh juices from her pussy and raised her fingers to her own protruding tongue. She dramatically licked her lips and then rolled the nails along her little pink tongue.
"Now your pants," she continued, not taking her hand from her mouth.

"You do it," I said, a bit shocked by my own nerve. I stood there frozen, almost unable to breathe.

"You pansy," Sally growled in her mannish voice, rushing at me in a couple of quick steps. She didn't just close the gap. She kept walking, her shoulders slamming up against me and her energy pushed me hard into the wall.

Sally's whiskers rubbed my cheek as her hands struggled with my belt. The roughness was disconcerting, and for a moment, my hands went automatically to her shoulders to try to push her back, but Sally pinned me tight with her knee. Soon, the unfamiliar feeling warmed my flesh, and suddenly I was aware that each hair was sending electric currents directly to my nipples and groin as they rubbed along my skin. I relaxed and struggled just enough to encourage Sally to continue. I felt my, pants fall to the floor as she stepped back.

"Now we're even." I said.

"Not quite," Sally replied. "You haven't reached inside your underwear. Though you ought to be wearing panties."

My right hand seemed to move with a mind of its own, accepting Sally's dare. My fingers dove quickly past the waistband of my briefs, which was already, stretched open by the cockhead trying to burst free.

"Imagine it is silk lace, not plain cotton and slide your hand up and down that fat pulsing shaft," Sally instructed, her eyes locked onto my groin.

I did as I was, told trying my best to forget she was watching and simply do the familiar motions. Staring at her fingerfucking herself with one hand while tweaking her own nipples under her shirt with the other made concentration difficult. A corner of my brain still was free for rational thought, realizing how unlike the normal Sally this was. The unusual clothing seemed, to make her into a bolder person.

"Try to keep the fat knob at the top inside your shorts. It keeps peeking out at me," she scolded, "if you had silk on, you would want that smoothness against the flesh there. Is that part extra sensitive?"

A lump caught in my throat. Unable to speak I just nodded.

"I think I'd like to feel it if you are man enough to eat me first. I might even kiss it if you don't mind the moustache."

To be continued