Debauchery Has a Past

"Now," He continued. "Enough about my beautiful wife unless it's to rub in the fact that she's not getting any of her husband's cock tonight and you are." My pussy was quaking with literal ache by this point, and would soon become painfully unbearable.

I placed my hands at the back of his head and pulled him close to me. When our mouths met, he shoved his tongue into mine forcefully. My hips bucked reflexively and I returned my tongue to him. As our mouths danced in lustful choreography, he began working on his belt and pants. He was able to move them past his groin without breaking the kiss, and he then began lifting my dress. He, like Mr. Sanders, had not been wearing any underwear. I wondered if they liked the feeling of the fabric rubbing against their swollen dicks. Or perhaps, underwear was too constricting.

Finally he broke away from me, and placed a hand against the small of my back to help lift me from the bed. From there, he assisted in peeling off my dress entirely. I wore no underwear whatsoever, and my skin prickled at my immediate exposure. He tossed the dress aside, and it landed on the small dresser in the corner of the room.

"Your breasts are exquisite." He eyed them hungrily. I lowered my lashes.

"They're fake." I suddenly felt bemused, knowing I could never stack up against his wife's beauty, especially if part of me was fake.

"So what?" He shrugged and bent down to one of them where he began suckling the nipple. I arched my back and panted, happily. "As long as you're happy, that's all that matters. It's your body, right?" He mumbled around me. I was beginning to understand why his wife had fallen in love with him. She was a lucky woman; except for the part where he was going to sleep with me, which in turn, made me the lucky woman.

After he thoroughly worked over each breast, he kissed my stomach all the way down to my sex. I waited to feel his tongue on my thighs, and nearly shot out of bed with blissful surprise as he began an aggressive attack on my clitorous. Most of the men I'd been with who actually took the time to romance a woman teased me before diving into the oral sex. They would caress my thighs and suck on my outer lips, but it was as if he knew I couldn't take anymore teasing, and I needed relief immediately.

"Ohhh," I groaned loudly, completely unafraid of anyone at the party hearing me all the way up here. "Oh, oh fuck!" I shut my eyes tightly, knowing I wouldn't last very long under his expert tongue which was now flicking me in a back and forth motion as his lips were wrapped around my clit, sucking it.

"I-- I" I was breathless now, which made it a little difficult to speak. "I don't even know your name." I finally managed. He chuckled.

"Call me Adrian." I barely heard his name, as he'd begun gently nibbling on my clit with his teeth, and his tongue repeatedly flicked me as he responded.

"W-well, Adrian, I'm afraid that... that I won't last much longer. I'm very close to c-cumming." I was fairly sure I heard him mumble 'good' around my vagina as he went on to suckle my clit so violently and desperately, that an orgasm immediately tore through me with a similar violence. He had to physically hold down my waist to keep me from flailing off of the bed.

"OH. OHHHH FUCK. AHHHH." I'd begun screaming, in the literal sense, as a pleasure that I'd never felt before enveloped me, momentarily stealing my sanity. I cried out as loud as I could, but the pleasure wouldn't stop. Wave after wave of intense orgasm crashed down in an almost cruel, unrelenting pattern, that I'd hoped would never end.

It seemed like minutes, even hours had passed before the final soft wave of ebbing ecstasy faded into nothingness. I gasped and looked up at him. Sometime, in all of the excitement, he'd become fully undressed.

"Wh-what are you? How was... was that even possible?" I stuttered, referring to the experience he'd just put me through.

"That was mostly you, actually. You'd built up your arousal all night. All I had to do was release it. Now, um, remember how you don't like to give favors?" I glanced at his cock, which was a sizable beast at probably nine inches in length and two to three in girth. It was red and twitching, patiently waiting for its own pleasure.

He smiled and gripped it in his hand, then led it toward my pussy.

"Wait, do you have a condom?" I might have been a tramp, but I wasn't a stupid one; at least, I wasn't up until Mr. Sanders.

"Don't worry," He winked. "I won't get you pregnant."

"What about diseases?" He laughed loudly.

"Just trust me." I knew I shouldn't. I knew that you should never trust anyone that says, "just trust me", but I wanted him badly, and was too wrapped up in my lust to care. Perhaps I was stupid after all.

He gently pushed the head of his penis against my opening, but had to apply more pressure to get it in. Finally the head popped through, eliciting a groan from him.

"You're tighter than I expected," He claimed through gritted teeth.

"I'll pretend I wasn't insulted by that." He laughed again. Keeping with his gentle pace, he slowly introduced most of himself to the inside of me. The last inch or two could not reach me, as my cervix only went up so far. His body began to bead with a sheen of sweat, not because of the temperature on this cold October night, but because of his resistance to tear into me. He was holding back the urge to fuck me violently, and was instead rocking his hips gently, back and forth.

"Ohhh Adrian," I moaned. There was something about his touch that felt so good. Everywhere his cock touched the inside of me felt electrified. "Ohh, fuck me, please. Fuck me hard." He glanced up from my breasts, his eyes meeting mine. In that moment, I gave him silent permission to let himself have me. His smile spread widely, and he appeared almost devilish, and deliciously evil.

He pulled himself almost all of the way out of my vagina, leaving in only the tip, then rammed himself back into me. I gasped, surprised by the ferocity, but the pain was minimal. Seeing him in such an animalistic state, and remembering that it was me he was so enamored with in this moment and not his wife, increased my arousal so much so that I welcomed the bite of rough sex.

His hips thrust back and forth relentlessly, as if he was desperate to coax an orgasm out of his dick. He grunted loudly with each thrust. My back was arched as I felt the beginnings of another orgasm bubble in my pussy.

"OH. Fuck! You are so fucking tight, Araya." He grunted loudly and gripped my waist tightly. I was simply a vessel for him now, with which he used to make himself feel good. Though I was so turned on again that this fact only excited me more.

"H-harder," I whispered, mostly unable to speak in my euphoria. "B-be rough." He growled, unable to restrain himself anymore, and plowed into me with all of his strength. His cock was being forcefully and violently shoved all the way into me now, banging into my cervix with every thrust, but it no longer hurt. I was too close to climax to feel any pain. The bed banged loudly against the wall as he ravaged my body.

"OH FUCK. FUUUCK!" He paused momentarily, and I felt a large heavy load burst into me. He placed his palm on my clit, and pressed down aggressively, forcing an orgasm out of me. I began to scream with him, and our cries became a harmonious sound of adulterous pleasure. Our bodies were spasming against one another as the electric pleasure coursed through us. Thunder roared outside, masking our last final scream, but we felt the ecstasy that came with it all the same.

Finally, after a few minutes of laying together and simply trying to catch our breath, he stood and began to dress.

"Well, I suppose I should go find my wife." He winked at me and I giggled.

"And I suppose I should go to the party before anyone misses me." I stood and also dressed and was about to walk out of the doorway, when I paused.

"I've never seen you at these parties before, Adrian. Where are you from?" He smiled and stretched out his arms.

"I told you. I'm from here." I smiled. Okay, he wanted his privacy. I could respect that.

***********

A few hours of polite mingling passed. There were stories recounted of last Halloween, and of the holidays after. The Falmer family told about last Christmas when their grandparents came to town, and how Grandma Judy, sampled one too many glasses of egg-nog. I laughed along with other party goers, and all of the wives seemed to relax a bit when they saw that I was going to leave alone their marriages. I'd been more than completely satiated. Part of me wondered if maybe I should hang up the hat, so to speak, with adultery. I could see myself perfectly happy being tied to Adrian, and only Adrian, if he weren't already spoken for. The thought made me believe that perhaps I could be suited for a committed relationship, so long as I found the right person.

An hour or so after the party ended and I was about to leave, Mrs. Crowley took me by the arm.

"Thank you dear, for helping to clean up. Even though you offer to do it every year, it still warms my heart." I smiled. They refused to have servants and maid service, so I felt bad leaving a little old couple to clean such a big house-- especially when I liked to dirty it up in my own ways.

"Of course, Mrs. Crowley. It's a Halloween tradition, to me." She chuckled merrily and began to walk away when I thought of something.

"Mrs. Crowley, please wait a moment." She turned back to me.

"What is it, dear?"

"The new guest tonight, Adrian, where is he from? I've never seen him here before." Her brows furrowed and she pondered a moment.

"There... there was no new guest tonight. I sent out the same invitations to the same people that I've been sending them to for the past twenty years." A cold sweat began to break out on the nape of my neck.

"B-but there was a man, a man named Adrian that I... um, spoke with." Even after such satisfying orgasms, my vagina began to tingle at the mention of his name. She laughed loudly, still a bit drunk from her many glasses of punch.

"Honey, there was no Adrian here tonight. There's not been an Adrian here for the past one-hundred and five years." My eyes bulged.

"That's... that's a very specific expression."

"It's not an expression, dear. There used to be an Adrian that lived his. Adrian Beauregard and his wife Priscilla Beauregard. They both died around 1910 or so, in this very house!" I suddenly felt very faint, but had the resolve to ask one last question.

"H-how did they die?"

"Murder-suicide. The wife killed him, then herself. Apparently she caught him cheating on her."