Halloween.

Devil’s Night.

Or, as one of my friends likes to call it, National Dress Like A Slut Day.

It’s true. There is more skin on display on Halloween than on any other day of the year. There is no other day that we allow young girls to go out looking like street hookers. And there is no other day that we allow older girls to show up for work in whatever they like, no matter what the office dress code says, no matter how much leg or boob or ass they’re showing.

Not that I am complaining, mind you. I have no objection whatsoever to seeing girls and women showing more skin than usual. Especially after what happened this Halloween. But I guess I’d better start at the beginning of the story.

Halloween was a school night. I was at the house, handing out treats to the kids, while my wife was out taking our daughter door-to-door.

My little girl is in Junior Kindergarten, and since I work from home, I am able to take her to school each morning and pick her up each afternoon. That gives me the chance to chat a bit every day to the other parents as they are dropping off and picking their kids up. And since I am one of the few daddies with a flexible job, that means I spend lots of time surrounded by mummies. And several of those mummies are what you might call yummy mummies.

There is one mummy in particular who always catches my eye. She’s young - no more than 27 or 28, I’d say - and she’s got the softest, silkiest head of red hair I have ever seen. She’s short, not much over 5 foot, with a nice but small chest and legs to die for. And I see her legs, often, because she tends to be either in skin tight jeans or short skirts - either tight ones that cling to her ass or pleated ones that billow and show off her legs. She’s also the only parent I’ve ever seen show up to get her kid at school in a little black dress. I don’t know her name, but I’ve drooled over her - I mean, I’ve talked to her - a few times. Just casual stuff - weather and school and kids. Nothing heavy. I know she has a son named Justin in the same class as my daughter is, and a daughter who is a couple of years older.

So, like I said, it’s Halloween night, and I am handing out candy. Ghosts and zombies, a bloodied bride, a slew of princesses, too many Elsa’s to count, a few ninjas, and so on. Even a school girl or two, with their already short plaid uniform skirt hiked up far higher than it should be.

And then, coming down the sidewalk, I saw the best sight of the evening: two kids in adorable sheep costumes, with their mother right behind them, dressed as Little Bo Peep. As they got closer, I realized that it was her. She had her gorgeous red hair in pigtails, tied with big white ribbons, and huge freckles dabbed all over her face. She was in a blue and white checked dress, tight at the waist, with a plunging neckline that showed a ton of cleavage. She was wearing these white cowboy boots, and there was about a mile of leg above them before the hem of her skirt, which was so short I was actually surprised not to see any curly red hairs poking out underneath it. In her right hand she was carrying a huge shepherd’s crook, which was a good foot taller than she was.

Her kids came up to the door, and greeted me in the usual way. “Trick or treat,” they shouted. I was tempted to ask for a trick, but couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. So I gave them each a handful of candy, and they turned and went down my front steps again, wagging their tails behind them (as the story goes).

Without thinking, I called out to the mother, “Hey, great costumes! And I am so glad that Little Bo Peep has found her sheep at last! She really deserves a treat for finding them!”

And she turned, and looked me straight in the eye, and she said, “The kind of treat Little Bo Peep wants isn’t the kind you’re handing out tonight.” And then she twirled back the other way, so fast that her skirt flew up and showed the little frilly white panties she was wearing. And as she herded her sheep to the neighbour’s house, I am sure that I saw an extra wiggle in those hips.

I kept handing out treats for the rest of the evening, and that night, as I climbed into bed beside my already-snoring wife, it was Little Bo Peep that I thought of.

The next morning, as usual, there we were in the Kindergarten yard. Tired parents and overtired kids. Several of us, including myself and Little Bo Peep - who was now wearing skintight jeans and a sweatshirt - were holding cups of coffee. We stood around and compared notes on how many kids had come to our houses and how late our own kids had been up, and the short- and long-term effects of too much sugar on 4 and 5 year olds. As the bell rang, and the kids ran to get into line, I noticed Little Bo Peep beside me. She held out her hand.

“I don’t think we’ve ever formally met,” she laughed. “I’m Kerry.”

I took her hand.

“Will.”

Somehow, we ended up walking down the sidewalk towards my place together. This surprised me, because I thought she usually walked in the other direction. But I didn’t ask her where she was going. When we got to my house, I said I’d see her at hometime, and headed for the door. But she stopped me, and, looking embarrassed, said she’d had too much coffee to drink and had to pee. Could she use my bathroom, please, before she went off to run the errands she had to do?

I said sure, and led her in, and pointed up the stairs. “First door on the left,” I indicated, and she smiled gratefully, and climbed up, carrying her oversize purse in her hands. I have often wondered what women carry around with them that they need a bag that big. I heard the bathroom door close, and for the first time ever, I wished I had installed a spycam in that bathroom. What I wouldn’t have given to see that little fox pull her jeans down, and her panties if she was even wearing them - I hadn’t seen any VPL under those jeans - and take a piss in my toilet. But, sadly, the only spycam I have is in my imagination, so that was the only place I would see that scene. I didn’t want her to think I was standing there listening for the sound of her peeing, so I went into the kitchen and started to tidy up the breakfast dishes.

She was up there longer than I expected, and I was just starting to get a bit uneasy when I heard the bathroom door open again, followed by footsteps on the stairs. I moved back to the hallway, and then froze when I saw her.

She’d changed back into the costume from last night.

The whole damn thing.

Pigtails, ribbons, freckles, dress, and boots.

The only difference from the night before was that she didn’t have her shepherd’s crook with her. I guess it would have been too hard to carry it to school drop-off without everyone seeing it and wondering what was going on.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs, unable to move. She came down to the bottom step, then leaned over to me and whispered, “You said I deserved a treat for finding my sheep. So can I have my treat now?”

And then she kissed me. God. She could kiss. Just when I thought I might actually pass out, she slipped her tongue gently into my mouth. I’ve been kissed before, lots of times. And I thought they were pretty good kisses, too, some of them. But none of them had been like that. Her arms were around my back, and my arms were around her, and slowly, seemingly of their own accord, my hands began to roam lower and lower, over that blue and white dress, down to that tiny skirt.

And just as my hand began to cup that luscious ass that I had been ogling in the schoolyard for so long, she pulled away. “Could we move somewhere else?”

“Sure. Why don’t you lead us back upstairs?”

And, yeah. That ass looked especially awesome from three steps behind and below.

I guided her into my bedroom, and she stood in front of the bed, looking kind of nervous. “You said last night that I deserved a treat,” she repeated.

“Yes,” I agreed. “I did say that, and you do deserve one. You were a good girl to find those sheep again. But,” I smiled - after all, in for a penny, in for a pound - “you were a bad girl to lose them in the first place. Don’t you think you deserve to be punished for that, before you get rewarded for finding them?”

The room was plenty warm, but I am sure she shivered when she heard me say that.

“You’re right,” she replied, after a moment’s hesitation. “I was never punished for losing the sheep. You should take care of that. Then you can reward me for finding them again.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I think shepherd girls who lose their sheep should be spanked,” I said. “Come over here and lie down across my lap.”

She hesitated for a minute, again. I began to wonder if I’d gone too far. But then she moved over to where I was sitting, and draped herself across my lap. Her skirt rode up just a bit, and I think she expected me to lift it the rest of the way up. But I left it where it was. I let my right hand run gently over her cheeks, enjoying the way they felt. I’d stared at them for two months - now I had them where I could touch them.

Then I raised my hand and brought it back down on her butt. Not too hard, but not too gentle either. She jumped a bit, and before she could get ready I smacked her again. And again. And again.

Ten times I brought my hand down on her skirt-covered ass, switching back and forth between the two globes of her ass. Then I paused.

She started to get up, but I put my hand on her back, and signalled that I was done. I slowly raised the hem of her skirt, pulling it up till it lay flipped over her back, with her frilly white panties exposed. Then I started again. Ten more times, I let my hand fall on her ass, five on each cheek.

Then I took hold of the sides of her panties. She read my intentions, and lifted her hips slightly. I slid her panties down her thighs, and she let her weight fall back onto my lap again. Her legs were tightly pushed together, but I could see wisps of red hair peeking out between them. Her ass was just a bit red, and I knew it would be redder in a moment.

Ten more strokes of my hand, and she was starting to squirm. Her butt had turned a lovely warm shade. And I could smell her arousal. I squeezed her ass cheeks, and ran my hand along her perfect thighs.

“Are you ready for your treat, now?”

“God, yes,” she moaned.

I slipped a finger between her thighs, and felt the wetness of her slit.

“Stand up, then.”

She stood, her panties still around her ankles. I knelt and helped her out of them, then pushed her onto the bed on her back. She spread her legs, and I am sure she expected me to drop my pants and mount her immediately. But I was fairly sure I’d never have this minx in my bed again, and I was going to make the most of this opportunity. So instead of stripping, I knelt between her legs and lowered my mouth to that red-haired pussy. She moaned. I ran my tongue up her slit, then pulled her labia apart with my fingers and lapped up the juice that was already leaking from her sopping cunt. She tasted amazing. Clean, fresh, just a bit sweet. I licked up that nectar like I was dying of thirst, and then moved my tongue up to focus on her clit while I slid a single finger inside her hole.