“Trick or treat!” they said, and stood back, giggling.
He gazed at them. “You’re too old to be doing trick or treat,” he told them.
“We’re not. We’re little witches,” they protested. “Don’t you like our costumes?”
They pirouetted in front of the doorway, showing off their fishnet-stockinged legs, the
very short skirts that completely failed to hide the tops of the stockings, the suspender
or more than about half an inch of their thighs, and their low-cut black, shiny tops that
exposed most of the flesh of their substantial cleavages.
“Very nice,” he admitted, without sounding particular happy about it. “But all three of
you are still far too old for trick or treat.”
“Just give us a treat,” said one, sidling up to him and bending forward to expose even
more flesh.
He sighed. “All right. Wait a minute.”
The large box of sweets he kept to give to all the children who knocked on his door on
Halloween was on the sideboard in the living room. He went to fetch it.
“Hey!”
With the box in his hand, he had just turned back to the front door. Two of the young
women were right in front of him, and the third was just closing the door.
“What do you think you’re doing? Here, have a sweet and get on your way!”
The first witch peered into the box. “Not much I like in there,” she said. “Would you
like to see some real magic?”
“Not particularly,” he muttered.
She ignored his comment. “I can make things larger,” she declared. “I just put my hand
on your trousers, like this, and…”
“What!”
“See? It worked straight away. Now, give us a treat!”
“He doesn’t seem very enthusiastic,” said the second witch. “I think he needs a lesson
in how to treat witches properly.”
“Look,” he said, trying very hard to remain calm, “You’re very beautiful girls. Would
you like a drink or something?”
They shook their heads. “We can get our own drinks, thank you,” they chorused. “We’re
witches tonight, and we want a mortal man to play with.”
“We should have brought the broomsticks,” said the third witch. “He needs a good
beating.”
“Off with his clothes?” asked the second witch.
“I think so,” agreed the first.
For some reason, he did not resist them too vigorously as they removed his clothes. In
no more than two minutes, he was completely naked and on his back on the floor. The first
witch grasped his erection in her hand while the second witch pressed her lips against his
and pushed her tongue into his mouth.
“Magic,” said the third witch. “I knew it would be.” She sat down heavily on his chest.
“What shall we do next?”
“Show him your knickers,” suggested the second witch, withdrawing her tongue from his
mouth and turning her head to look at the third witch.
“I think he can see them.” She raised the front of her skimpy skirt and looked down.
“Show him closer.”
“Oh. Like this?” She slid forward, and pressed the front of her crotch against his
face.
The second witch nodded.
“I think he likes that,” said the first witch, her hand still wrapped around his
erection. “He keeps twitching.”
“I like it,” said the third witch. “I don’t really care whether he likes it.”
“You’re a slut,” the first witch told her. “You like anything, as long as there’s some
part of a man at the end of it.”
“Not at all,” said the third witch indignantly. “I like the way my panties try to bury
his face. It’s like they’re eating him up. That’s why I wore the soft, silky ones.”
“He’s still twitching,” the first witch announced.
“Perhaps he thinks you’re going to rape him,” suggested the second witch. “Are you?”
“Maybe,” replied the first witch thoughtfully. “Do you think I should?”
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