Carving pumpkins got the best of us. Wet hands and the sweet, earthy smell in the air, the pads of our fingertips teasing out slippery pumpkin seeds. All I could do was walk away from my Jack-o-lantern and put my hands on her, trembling as they tugged down her jeans and pushed up her shirt to expose her to me. Lifting her hips onto the messy counter, her athletic legs opened for me, fingers in my hair, face wet, everythin...