She stroked her costumed tail across my nose.

Her purr fueled my desire.

Her eyes told me to follow.

In the dark of the costume party glowed an inflatable pumpkin.

It was there she stretched and preened.

It was here that she rejoiced in her feral nature.

Her need to be bred under the full harvest moon.

Her hindquarters raised, moving the tail from side to side.

Her polyestrous in full bloom.

My sword unfurled, seeking a warm and moist sheath.

To the howl of the full moon, we became one.