"Hurry up or you'll be late, daddy."
Why do I let my daughter get me into these things? I didn't want to play the Easter Bunny, on the Sunday of the big game. I wanted to be sitting on the sofa, feet up, popcorn and munchies at the ready with my favorite beverage, cold, on the table. Instead, I'd be sweltering inside of an old smelly flea-bitten rabbit suit, passed down from volunteer to volunteer never getting cleaned or deodorized in the process.
I drove to Hayes Park, parked, and carried the suit inside a large plain bag, made out of an old sheet a decade old. My daughter ran off to partake of the festivities, which were mostly helping little kids find candy that had been strewn all over the park earlier in the day.
"Oh, Mr. Marcus, so good of you to volunteer," greeted Mrs. Blanton, organizer of the event and mother of Marci, one of my daughter's close friends. Her curly hair was a bad shade of orange. "You can dress over in Mr. Bunny's Hutch."
She pointed to a small building over on the side of the clearing where the kids were searching for goodies. I noticing that there were several Bunny helpers, also in costume. They were all females, wearing very short skirts that stuck out almost horizontally from their waists, form fit colored bustiers that stopped short of the neck, and perky ears mounted on headbands.
I entered Bunny's Hutch. On the advice of a previous stuckee who thanked me for getting him out of this gig, I took off everything except t-shirt and jockey shorts, since it got very warm inside the suit. The only ventilation came from some screened areas on the oversized rabbit head, the same ones used for seeing. I put my clothes to one side and exited the small building, bending over so I wouldn't rip the ears off my costume head.
"Oh, Mr. Easter Bunny, are you ready? Here is your basket of goodies. Make sure you circulate. I'll ask one of the helpers to lead you around. You probably can't see very well from inside there, now can you?"
I grunted a "No."
"Marci, oh Marci." One of the young ladies joined us. "This is my daughter Marci. Would you please escort Mr. Easter Bunny around and make sure that every child gets some goodies? Thank you dear."
All I could see out of my ventilation holes was Marci's chest, swaying back and forth behind the plastic covering.
"Come on, Mr. Bunny, let me take the lead."
"Heck of a way to spend the day, huh?"
"Yeah, especially if you're birthday."
I remembered my encounter with Breann and swallowed hard. That wouldn't happen this time, I promised myself, despite the memories of Breann that caused a tingling between my legs.
Marci would lead me over to a group of kids who would ignore me but attack the basket of candy on my arm. Every once in a while, Marci would bend over to hand out candy to the little ones, and I'd get a great look at her panties behind sticking out from her petticoat and skirt. I was getting aroused from these sneak peaks. The heat building up inside the suit didn't help things any.
"Can I take a break? It's awfully hot in here," I whispered to Marci.
"Oh, sure. You're Annie's dad, right?"
I nodded and almost fell over from the whiplash.
"You can take five in the Bunny Hutch."
Marci led me over to the building. I almost forgot to duck and nearly ripped the ears off the headpiece. There was a small folding chair, so I sat down and took a load off. The suit was heavier than I thought. The zipper on the front of the suit was installed backwards. It started at the crotch and ended at the neck. To ventilate, I unzipped from the bottom up to my lower chest. I took off the head, stood up and looked out the window. Marci was still passing out candy, bending over frequently to greet the kids at their own level. She was a natural red-head, with curls just like her mother. I watched her legs and exposed ass, unconsciously rubbing myself through my jockeys. There was a fantasy brewing, and I couldn't help it. I pulled my erection from my underwear, sat back down, closed my eyes, and pictured Marci's scantily clad ass waving back and forth in front of me.
"Are you almost - oh my! Mr. Marcus!"
I had a visitor. Marci, in the flesh. She stared at my erection.
"You're as big as Breann said, maybe bigger."
Bree tattled? Damn, how many of Annie's friends had she told? "I'm sorry, Marci, I'll just put it back -"
"Not so fast." She came closer. "What got you so horny, Mr. Marcus? Tell the truth." Marci stood with her hands on her hips, legs slightly spread.
"Uh, well, you see, that costume you're wearing, it's kind of -"
Marci grinned. "You mean I got you that excited? Oh wow! Can I touch it?"
"Gee, I don't know if that's such a good -"
Marci was on her knees in front of me in a flash, her hands all over my stiffening erection, rubbing up and down eagerly. I had a great view of the tops of her breasts, nipples just hidden.
"I haven't gotten my goodies today," Marci said, and took the head of my dick in her mouth.
I groaned and slid down in the chair. Her tongue was touching all of the sensitive spots. "Ooh, Marci, do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"
"Sure I do. We learned it in school. Listen, Mr. Marcus, I've never had sex before and I don't really want to fuck, at least with that. Could you, you know, use your finger?"
What harm could my finger do? This was an educational opportunity for the young lady. A birthday present, even. Bree had gotten so much more. Marci turned her back to me, pulled her panties to one side, and positioned herself for an assault from the rear. I reached in between her smooth, firm thighs and played with her cunt lips, using her natural lubrication as I moved my finger up and back, in and out. Marci was rocking on my finger, taking it deeper by her movements.
.... There is more of this story ...