It was that time of year again, Halloween. Normally, my wife, Harriett, and I would get an invitation to the subdivision's annual Halloween Party with its mandatory costume policy. Harriett did not like attending this party so she would send a polite "We can't make it" reply to the rotating host and hostess. In the past she'd been fed up with the unofficial competition among the wives as to whom was richer, doing more civic good deeds, those kinds of measurements, because she always ended up on the short end of the stick. Not my stick, which was plenty long. This year was different. Harriett was doing well in her new job, exceeding sales' quotas, which I couldn't believe, and she wanted to brag. No better place than the annual Halloween Party, where she could gush about her success once and splatter all of the neighbors with the news. Which meant that I'd be dressing up as well. The idea of being in the same room with the parents of young women with whom I'd had sex was bad enough, but I'd conquered some of the wives as well. Nope, I shouldn't go to this party in order to avoid a scene.

A few days before the event, for which I still had not procured a costume, we got a strange phone call. He was a cousin, I guess. That's how he referred to himself - "Cousin" Zeke. Who names a kid Zeke, anyway? The name had never been popular, at least in our subdivision. It was unclear just how he was related and it was my side of the family. It must have been through remarriage after divorce, or some estranged aunt's or uncle's kid. But that's what a cousin is after all, so never mind. Anyway it wasn't his mom or dad that called us. He called, introducing himself and asking if he could "bunk down at our place" - his exact words - while he was in town for a job interview. Since Harriett took the call, "we" accepted his request. I would have asked, "Now, how are related again?" and not given up until I had a reasonable answer. Maybe family is more important to Harriett than to me.

A couple of hours later, there was a knock at the door. A strapping young man dressed like a farm hick in overalls and a red plaid shirt stood on our doorstep. All he needed was a corncob pipe or a grass stem in his mouth to complete the picture. He must not have been too poor, because as the taxi pulled away from the curb, I saw airline baggage tags on his suitcase and we're not all that close to the airport. He could have afforded a room at Motel Six, I was sure of it, but Harriett had offered.

Speaking of Harriett, she was at home for a change, struggling over a workload that seemed to be increasing at an exponential rate. She was getting new clients weekly, which meant even more travel. Her boss, who might still be Rianne, told her to take some time before the end of year rush to close deals and exceed the revenue forecast.

Zeke was about an inch taller than my six feet, strong arms and square jaw. Overall, not bad looking. If Annie had been home from school, she would have taken him upstairs in a flash and given him a citified fucking. Fortunately, she was still at school, anticipating a visit home over Thanksgiving the following month.

Zeke had a good physique, probably from the farm work, although I was making assumptions about him from his clothing and speech style. Since most of what I got were one word answers, it was clear Zeke wasn't much of a conversationalist.

"I need exercise" was the longest sentence he'd said to me, so we went to the community health center on a one-day resident pass. We played some basketball, where I got picked last - again - just like high school. His eye hand coordination was quite good, and he knew how and where to play good defense. His team beat ours, on a last second shot that he made. I was simultaneously humiliated and proud.

Zeke wanted to cool off in the pool. 'Like the quarry back home.' By that, he meant to exercise some more, doing laps. There were two lifeguards on duty, one on each side of the pool. A pale young man who didn't seem to have enough body fat to float watched the far side. On the other, a well-developed college coed with blond ponytail and a very tight red one-piece suit maintained her vigil. She wore wraparound sunglasses indoors no less. I couldn't be sure, but I thought she was scoping us out when we entered the pool area from the locker room.

I stayed in the middle of the pool, facing the swim lanes, keeping the water above my waist. Young women in bathing suits always cause an involuntary reaction in me.

Every time Zeke swam past her tower, she'd blow her whistle and interrupt him in mid stroke. He'd stop, shout up at her while treading water and then swim on. Until the next lap, when it would happen again. Finally, he pulled himself out at the edge and approached the tower. She climbed down but not before pausing on the ladder to adjust the crotch of her suit. Shit. He must have gotten an up-close look at her pussy the way she dragged the material away from her pubic area. Face to face they argued. She punctuated her points by tapping her bright red fingernail onto his chest. Two points, her hard nipples, stayed hidden behind the swimsuit. Then she put her full hand palm on Zeke's chest. That was no rebuke. That was a come on.

Zeke marched back to our plastic chairs, shaking his head.

"Looks like she's interested in you," I said.

"Me? Nope. Just wanted to scold me for stuff I wasn't doin'."

Despite his disagreement, he had tented swim trunks. So did I. Zeke had no clue how women can be devious. "So, did you get her number?"

"What number?"

I shook my head. "Let's go," I said.

In the changing room, Zeke turned his back on the crowd of folks stripping off wet suits. Facing the lockers, he worked his trunks down. That's when I learned that Zeke and I were definitely related, based on our similar physiology. His cock was as big as mine. Maybe the head was even a bit larger. He seemed a bit anxious that I saw his partial erection, even though he stared at mine in return.

In the car on the way back to the house, we had a shorthand version of a conversation about women. "Why'd she keep whistling to me for made-up stuff?" he asked.

"She probably thought that you're attractive."

"Nope, that ain't it."

"Listen, you're not a movie star, but you're in good shape. Muscles, no flab." I slapped at my stomach, not so much. "And it looked like you thought she was attractive."

"Nope."

"Don't give me that. I saw you got excited."

"A little." Zeke blushed.

"Don't be ashamed. Beautiful women can do that to a guy. It's natural."

I didn't ask the virgin question. The answer was obvious. "Do you want to go back to the pool again? I'm sure she'd talk to you. Maybe even agree to go out with you."

Zeke almost climbed though the door, the way he slid away. "Nope. Nope."

So we skipped the recreation facility the next day, instead cruising a near-by indoor mall. At least we'd get some nominal exercise, walking around. Zeke marveled at the size of the indoor facility. "Dang, this is huge. It'd hold the whole downtown back home."

Prices must have been out of his range, because we were window shoppers only, not even stopping for a souvenir. At the food court, I treated us to ice cream. I paid for Zeke's first, and he wandered over to the railing, taking in the marvels of modern construction. And who was there, licking at her cone with a long talented tongue: the lifeguard, in a sweater and jeans. The sweater gave only hints about her bust, sizable but not too big for her job. The jeans were tight, caressing her every curve. As soon as she saw Zeke, she approached him, smiling. Zeke swayed nervously, hands behind his back, including the one that held his cone. The pair had a chat at the railing, his hands immobile, the ice cream melting. Her hand touched his upper arm, followed by that patented palm on chest maneuver she'd previously demonstrated. After a while, she took his hand, the clean one, and led him over to me. Zeke licked furiously at the messy one.

She dropped Zeke's hand and extended her arm. "Hi, I'm Paige. Zeke doesn't seem to know your phone number."

He had it when he'd called from the airport. Obviously he was shy, but this was ridiculous. She wanted his number? Where have all of the gender standards gone? I jotted our home phone on one of my business cards.

"Thanks." She paused to read it. "Harvey." To Zeke, she said, "I'll call you, okay?"

Zeke's head bobbed slowly.

We both watched her ample ass sway as she left us with cones continuing to melt.

I grabbed several napkins from the dispenser and handed them to Zeke. "If she calls, you'll go out with her, right?"

"Nope."

Hell, if she asked me out, I'd go. Oh yeah, I'm married, and Harriett is home.

When we got back from the mall, Harriett gleefully and sternly reminded me about the costume party. She was gleeful because for the first time, she could brag to all of her friends how successful she'd become. The stern part was that she had to drag me along, and warned against any misbehavior on my part. I wasn't thrilled with the idea in the first place, and constrained behavior would make a bad time even worse.

"I've already rented my costume," she said.

I offered to make myself a costume to save some money, but Harriett insisted we look good, not makeshift. "And, of course, Zeke can come with us." So I'd have to get two costumes. I thought about having Zeke wear the clothes he arrived in, but that would set him up for ridicule he didn't deserve. So, I went to the costume shop with a budget specified by Harriett for two men's costumes. The only large costumes they had left were Death, long black robes with hoods and grizzly facemasks. We'd be completely covered.

Knowing me, you might expect that I'd use being in costume as an opportunity to have sex with someone other than Harriett. There was that potential upside. Hell, given my sexual nature, it was almost a sure thing. But under those circumstances, such a result would have been a really bad idea. Which is why I came up with a really great scheme. Zeke and I would pretend to get sick, me with laryngitis and him with a high fever. Then he'd use one of the Death costumes and pretend to be me. He'd only have to keep quiet and let Harriett prattle on. As an ill Zeke, I'd stay home and avoid the party altogether.

"Won't she know it's me?" Zeke asked when I filled him in on my plan.

"Nope." Shit, I sounded like him. "Just stay with her and keep your mouth shut. She'll make excuses for you. When you get back, head straight up for the guest room and we'll swap clothes. Okay?"

He nodded in agreement, having no idea what torture awaited him. Me, I looked forward to a quiet evening, or maybe some online porn.

On the night of the event, I told Harriett in a whisper that Zeke's temperature was much worse, and he needed bed rest. My voice was no better, but that I would tough it out so she'd have an escort. She was both pleased with my offer of sacrifice and concerned about Zeke's condition. She agreed that we'd go and leave him at home to recuperate. Upstairs, I dressed Zeke in a Death costume, reminded him to keep his mouth shut, and sent him downstairs, pretending to be me. Then I settled back to read an erotic online novel about two strangers who meet at a luxury resort and eventually fuck each other's brains out.

In the middle of the chapter where things got hot, when the woman forgets her key and asks to call the front desk from the guy's room, our phone rang. I picked it up, and suddenly remembered I was supposed to be at the party. I tried to disguise my voice as Jake's but the "hello" came out badly, so I fell back into my pretend laryngitis.

The voice was immediately familiar. "Hi, it's Paige, from the pool and the mall. What's wrong with your voice?"

The image of her in a red one-piece swimsuit overwhelmed the one of her in sweater and jeans. "Laryngitis."

"Oh, that's too bad. Are you sick? I mean, is it contagious?"

"No." That was the truth.

"Good. I just got a last minute invite to a costume party in the city and I need a date. Will you come with me?"

Seeing her at the pool, I almost came. The opportunity to see Paige again, probably in some sexy costume, overrode my clear thinking. "Sure thing." Jake's language. Then it hit me: I'd need to get back before Harriett and Zeke so we could switch. Maybe I'd get lucky and Harriett would talk non-stop for a few hours about her sales successes. And, if I kept my mask on, maybe I'd get lucky with Paige.

"I looked up your address." She read it to me. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

I put on the second Death costume and waited for Paige to arrive. When I opened the door, she was dressed as a nurse: white boxy hat, tight white dress, white stockings, flat white shoes and a stethoscope around her neck. Either she was a nurse or she'd accidentally planned this costume in advance.

She had no idea I was under the black hooded robe with the facemask hiding my true identity. I'd gone without underwear, planning ahead for something sexual. The flowing garment couldn't hide my erection, which poked at the front. "Oh, poor baby! Nurse Paige is here to make you feel all better." She reached for the mask but I intercepted her hands. "Shy, huh?" She noticed my erection. "I know how to make you feel better."

"The party?" I croaked.

Her face tinted pink. "I lied. There's no party." She closed the gap and pressed her hand against my chest. "Except the one we're going to have here. Is anybody else home?"

I shook my head.

"Good. She tried again to remove my mask. I took her wrist, gently, to prevent it. "All right, you can keep the mask on. But you have an incredible body. And there's one part I want to get to know much better." She snaked her hand down to my crotch. She startled me at her first touch of more than a handful of cock. "Oh God. You're not so shy after all." She unbuttoned her dress, pulling it open. She'd skipped a bra, her full round tits self-supporting. Her nipples were hard and pink. I pressed my hands on her breasts and tweaked her nipples with my fingers. "Take me to your bedroom."