My given name is Nicolas but everyone calls me Nick. You may recognize me from other Lush Stories hits like Routine Adjustment and Never Get Caught. Yeah, I’m the handsome fellow that gave his favorite niece a ride on the Tube Train and dropped her off in O Town.
My niece, Lydia, is a fine young thing with heavenly curves in all the right places. From her plush rib cushions to her plump little puff pillow, she has the goods to make any man’s doodle dandy stand at attention. Did I mention Lydia has long natural red hair and freckles all over her 18-year-old body?
Well, now you know. And before you judge this particular horny uncle and label me some kind of pervert, consider that I’m just a regular guy like you. Sure, I’m above average in looks, in good shape for a man in his 40s, and I sport a head full of blonde hair, but I work hard, pay the bills, and enjoy watching my favorite TV shows when the workday is done.
My fallopian fiddler is above average in size and thickness too, but instead of hating on me, let me tell you a Halloween story you’ll never forget.
Every year, my wife’s cousin Pete throws a Halloween costume party. Now, normally, I would rather get sodomized by an angry ghost than go to Pete’s gathering of aging ghouls. In fact, my plan was to enjoy having the house to myself so I could crack open a beer, lay back on my Lay-Z-Boy recliner, and watch the Creature Feature Marathon on Hulu.
My wife, Margaret, ruined my plans when she randomly mentioned that Lydia was going to be at the party. This created quite a dilemma because Margaret would get suspicious if I suddenly decided to attend Pete’s shindig.
The next day, I told my wife that I found some cockroaches under the sink in the bathroom.
“We’re going to have to fumigate the whole house,” I said. “And soon.”
Right on cue, Margaret said, “I have an idea. Why don’t you come with me to Pete’s Halloween Party? This year’s theme is House of Horrors.”
“Every visit with your family is a house of horrors.”
“Goddamnit, Nick, why don’t we make a night of it. We can get a hotel room while we set off the bug bomb, and have a little fun after the party role-playing in our costumes.”
“Ho-lee shit, Margaret, now I am scared.”
Long story short - Margaret took the bait. Hook, line, and sinker.
I give my wife a hard time, but I do love her, even if my kipper ripper occasionally gets caught in another woman’s penis fly trap. Margaret’s had a few of her own affairs over the years but I’m not the type of guy that believes in double standards. After all, she’s an attractive woman, even if the sight of her feet could make Freddy Krueger think he’s having a nightmare. And if I’m being honest, I’ve actually fantasized about watching my wife with another man, even if it’s something I’ve never said out loud.
We checked into a hotel a few miles from Pete’s house near Fort Meyers in Florida. Margaret and I dressed up as Gomez and Morticia from the Adams Family, which I always thought was a helluva lot better than the Munsters.
In her long black dress, Margaret’s twin peaks were on full display. To my surprise, Lucky Chucky started growing in my slacks. And it wasn’t even our date night!
Margaret caught me staring at her hotcakes and said, “Why Nick, do you like my dress?”
“I like what’s in it. Maybe later Dr. Cyclops can poke his head in between your meat curtains.”
Margaret kissed me on the cheek and said, “Aw, Nick, I love it when you romance me with sweet talk. I have something for you.”
My wife reached into her purse and pulled out a little blue pill.
“Here take this.”
“What the hell, Margaret? I’ve never had any trouble raising little Elvis from the dead!”
“No shit, Nick, I just thought it would be fun to try it out.”
I know how stubborn my wife can be so I took the pill and choked it down.
We arrived at the party around nine. Pete is a contractor and he has a big two-story house on four acres of land. The guests were gathered in a large open field behind the house, which was decorated with orange string lights and Halloween decorations.
Just as I was grabbing a cold Miller Light out of a large cooler, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see my sister-in-law Claudine, dressed up in a skeleton jumpsuit that was two sizes too small.
Before she could speak, I said, “Holy Jesus stigmata, I’ve never seen a skeleton that needed to go on a diet.”
“Fuck you, Nick! You ruined my childhood Gomez fantasy with that ridiculous costume.”
“It’s probably for the best, Claudine. Even the undead would rather die twice than experience the terrors of your slimy snail tracker.”
“Whatever, Nick!”
As she walked away, Claudine flipped me off.
How could something as perfect as Lydia have come from something so foul?
Pete was the next person to appear. He was wearing a Superman costume.
“Holy hell, Nick, I never thought I’d see you here. And in costume no less. Did hell freeze over or something?”
I cracked open my can of beer. “Hey, Pete. Hell is still doing fine. I know because Margaret’s sister Claudine is still alive so she hasn’t had a chance to ruin it yet.”
Margaret smacked me on the arm and interrupted, “Our house is being fumigated for bugs and I actually managed to get Nick to do something fun for a change.”
Pete laughed, “Well, make yourselves at home. I really have to pee so I’m heading to the bathroom faster than a speeding bullet.”
HO-LEE Shit, I thought to myself. Fucking superman humor.
Margaret headed over to the wine bar, where Pete’s wife Chelsea was dressed as Tinkerbell, which was funny because I’d never seen a 250-pound Tinkerbell that looked like she could play linebacker for the '85 Chicago Bears.
Scanning out over the crowd, I couldn’t tell one person from another, much less figure out if Lydia had arrived. Next to the food table, The Cat in the Hat was talking to a Zombie that looked like my mother-in-law when she yells at the Cracker Barrel waitress for forgetting her side of gravy. Nearby, a sexy Little Red Riding Hood was getting attention from a tall cowboy, and the Big Bad Wolf looked none too pleased about their flirting.
Then something strange happened. For no reason whatsoever, my cock got harder than being forced to watch rap performers during the Super Bowl Halftime show. Then I remembered the blue pill that Margaret gave me and it suddenly made sense.
Motivated to find Lydia so I could give Mr. Willy a much-needed ride in the squish mitten, I made my way out into the crowd. Barely three steps from the deck, Wednesday Addams appeared out of nowhere.
“Hi, daddy,” she said, staring up at me with big brown eyes.
HO-LEE shit!
The girl was barely five feet tall and all of ninety pounds soaking wet. Her long black hair was braided into two pigtails and she was wearing the entire Wednesday getup including black thigh-high stockings and a miniskirt, revealing the succulent bare flesh of her young thighs.
With no idea who this girl was, I simply responded, “Hey there, doll. Nice outfit.”
Velma from Scooby Doo sidled up beside Wednesday and said, “Yeah, Mr. Addams, I can tell you like it.” It was Lydia, and she was staring at the bulge in my pants.
My eighteen-year-old niece was the sluttiest Velma I’d ever seen, including the broads in the lesbian pornos I jerk off to when Margaret is at work. Her freckled milk fountains were practically falling out of her low-cut orange blouse. Lydia was also wearing thigh-high stockings and a mini-skirt, both red. I suddenly had a hankering for a Scooby snack.
Lydia continued, “Uncle Nick, this is my roommate, Milly.”
Again, Milly said, “Hi Daddy,” staring seductively up into my eyes.
“We’re staying at the guest house,” Lydia said, putting her arm around Milly’s tiny waist. “Why don’t you meet us there in ten minutes? We can help you with that little problem of yours. Come in the back door.”
I did that last Christmas.
Milly curtsied and said, “See you in a jiffy, daddy.”
It was shaping up to be the best Halloween since Brooke Adams showed her titties in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. My dick was so hard I was afraid it would burst through my slacks like the Hawaiin Punch guy trying to get a sugar fix.
Oh Yeah!
Ten minutes later, I was sneaking around the back of the guest house, which was right next door to Pete’s home. Before I could knock, the door opened and Lydia pulled me inside. Petite little Milly was sitting on the bed.
Lydia’s big nipples were poking through the material of her Velma shirt. “I hope you don’t mind, Uncle Nick, but I told Milly all about you. She promises not to tell if you fuck her as good as you fuck me.”
Milly spread her legs. She wasn’t wearing panties and her whisker biscuit was clean-shaven.
Lydia took me by the hand and guided me over the bed, positioning me between Milly’s legs. Then she knelt down, unzipped my pants, and pulled out my poon prod, which was so hard I could have used it to hammer dull nails into The Mummy’s coffin.
Milly's eyes widened and she said, “On no, daddy, is it going to hurt?”
“For a minute, little girl. Then it’s gonna feel real good.”
Lydia gripped my pleasure pistol at the base, her hand unable to get all the way around my shaft. She grinned and looked over at Milly, “See? I told you it was huge.” Then she gently pushed me forward until my cock touched Milly’s plump butter boat.
Milly’s labia defied her tiny frame. They were gloriously thick and long, covered with wrinkles and creases that promised a ride more luxurious than a ‘69 Caddilac outfitted with leather bucket seats. Lydia rubbed my cock-head up and down along Milly’s velvety crease. The folds of her young labia seemed to slowly wrap around my skin bus, covering my purple fireman’s helmet with thick milky frosting.
As the head of Gomez’s gash mallet penetrated Wednesday’s sin flower, Lydia giggled, looked up at me, and said, “Uncle Nick, is Milly’s pussy tighter than mine?”
HO-LEE fuck!
It wasn’t tighter but it was lush and succulent. As I thrust my entire seven inches into Milly’s milky coochie pop, it felt like my cock died and went to hymen-hammer heaven.
