Hazel's Horrific Halloween Humping

There are 5 key ingredients in a great Halloween story. I know, I Googled it. And there are 5 in this too. They are...

1. Mystery.

2. Surprise.

3. Fear.

4. Suspense.

5. A rather frightening main character.

Regular readers will know that I have no problems with number one. How many times have you seen the comment "It's a mystery that this writer keeps plodding on?" Or words to that effect. Or number two..."I'm surprised that this writer has come up with another." Or three...I fear that that this writer will come up with another." And four..."This writer hasn't come up with another yet. The suspense is killing me."

But given the strictures of the subject, where you require an erotic Halloween subject who's also rather frightening, a lead character is hard to pinpoint. I thought of Freddie Kruger initially, but is he credible as a porn star? I concluded that he could actually pull it off. However, further research revealed he's just an ordinary bloke called Elliott Spencer who had a migraine and took the acupuncture a bit too far.

Of course the answer was obvious. The witch from "She's still Snow White. Honest!" Frighteningly sexy and frighteningly frightening too. This story can be enjoyed as a stand alone. Though as it features a character from "She's still Snow White. Honest!" you might want to read that first. But if you see through this transparent and pathetic attempt at self-promotion, just carry on reading.

The action takes place some years after "She's still Snow White. Honest!" Sorry, I'll try to stop mentioning it. The main character, Snow White's wicked step mother-cum-wicked witch is still holed up in her gingerbread cottage. Actually, thinking about it, I realise that I may not have mentioned in "She's still Snow White. Honest!" that her cottage was made of gingerbread. Perhaps you could read it and let me know via the comments section. I'd appreciate it.

She got the idea after reading the Grimm's brother's "Hansel and Gretel." No need to read that. Suffice it to say that unlike that witch, this one is unbelievably glamorous. In fact, this is the only unbelievable part of the story. The rest is entirely plausible.

It's a few minutes to midnight on October 31st. And as we pick up the action the witch is lying open legged on her fairy-tale type queen-sized bed. Her flowing black robe is hitched up about her waist and she is being fucked ferociously. The air is blue as she bucks and screams unrestrainedly. (Crap! Just lost the NonConsent/Reluctance audience.) She was certain that absolutely nobody could hear her. No, her partner wasn't deaf. There was nobody there. She was being masturbated automatically by her knob-like wand. (Get in Toys and Masturbation fans!) As it pounded her, she watched herself writhe in ecstacy in her mirror. (Exhibitionist & Voyeur.) OK, that's it. I'll stop with this shameful effort to draw in a larger audience.

She came until she could cum no more, soaking her bedspread with love-juice before yelling

"Enough!"

An ingenious safety word that guaranteed she would not be fucked in perpetuity.

The wand floated towards her open mouth (She was still shouting) and shot a volley of simulated semen down her throat. At which point there was a loud knock on her door. In fact, two. She had built her cottage before the advent of the electric doorbell, so had two magnificent knockers. It's a long, tedious story, much like this one actually, which involves the local council refusing her the right to add a doorbell.

The witch had been voluntarily self-isolating for many years, so it was a long time since anyone had got hold of her knockers. Which was a shame because they were arguably the two finest in the kingdom. (In case you haven't read it, this debate is more or less the entire plot of "She's still Snow White. Honest!") Under normal conditions folk (This is a folk-tale) would have travelled far and wide to see them. But conditions were far from normal. She lived in a wet, densely overgrown, almost impenetrable area. Much like her cunt. The isolated witch was oblivious to fashion trends and it was an age since any man had penetrated the heavily wooded forest, let alone her hairy twat.

She hastily pulled her gown over her wet, densely overgrown, almost impenetrable area and raced to the door. She was excited. It had been so long since she'd enjoyed human company. Admittedly most humans she had encountered in the past had perished gruesomely almost instantly, but she was eager for a brief spell of intercourse. Social intercourse of course. I'm never coarse.

She almost pulled the door of its hinges which wasn't that difficult in view of the fact that they were made of gingerbread. There before her stood a powerfully built young man wearing a green tabard so short that she could easily make out the definition of his meat and two veg' through his brown tights.

"A double helping!"

Thought the witch who began to drool slightly onto her chin and ooze copiously from her lower lips.

He was so well endowed that she didn't immediately notice that he was wearing a mask as is the custom. Ironically, the witch was not aware that this was the custom due to her longstanding isolation and dreadful internet signal. So when her eyes were finally drawn from his bulge she exclaimed...

Wicked Witch: "Oh my goodness! Have you come here to relieve a helpless young woman of her worldly goods?"

Yes, that's right, this is yet another role play designed to help you and your partner through a lockdown! Our prospects are looking gloomy so I decided you would appreciate a new one. You will have noticed immediately that there is a masked man knocking. But fear not if you're in a lesbian or gay relationship. The witch can become a warlock or the knocker can be a masked woman. And just to get this straight, when I say "fear not," that's just a phrase I've used. There's plenty to fear in this story (See #3 above). And when I say "get this straight", that's just a phrase I've used too. I'm not suggesting that you can enjoy playing this if you're in a lesbian or gay relationship one moment and to play it straight the next.

Whatever way you play it, you're going to need a set. I'm going to come right out with this, but I think the chances of you living in a gingerbread house are slim. And as this is a great fantasy role play, it's worth building one. You will need the following ingredients:

•350g/12oz plain flour, plus extra for rolling out

•1 tsp bicarbonate of soda

•2 tsp ground ginger

•1 tsp ground cinnamon

•125g/4½oz butter

•175g/6oz light soft brown sugar

•1 free-range egg

•4 tbsp golden syrup

Exact figures will vary according to the size of house you wish to build, but you'll certainly be required to multiply the measures by several thousand. There shouldn't be a problem here as presumably most of you will have stockpiled baking products in case of lockdown. But before you start construction, remember to apply for planning permission. Losing your erection will prove disastrous in this role play. If planning permission isn't granted, bake a few delicious gingerbread men and place them in bowls strategically about your current home to set the mood.

Right, now you can get on with learning your script. If you remember, sometime ago the wicked witch was asking the stranger if he had come to relieve her of her earthly possessions. Though I may have used the words "worldly goods." It doesn't really matter, just carry on reading.

Masked man: "No."

Wicked Witch: "Oh my goodness! Then have you come here to relieve a helpless young woman of her virtue?"

Masked man: "No."

Wicked Witch: "Shame. So what have you actually come here for?"

Masked man: "Good evening fair lady. I'm merely a tired traveller in search of a place to lay my weary head."

Wicked Witch: "Good evening to you, young sir. My name is Hazel and you may spend the night in my humble abode if it pleases you."

Masked man: "Indeed it does for it looks absolutely delicious. I'm Woody by the way."

Witch Hazel: "Well Woody Bytheway, many thanks for your kind remarks. It is truly scrumptious being made entirely of cake."

Woody Bytheway: "And yet it still stands despite the morning's rains."

Witch Hazel: "It's built to survive the foulest of tempests. If you read the sign."

Woody Bytheway: "Alright. 'GINGERBREAD COTTAGE: Contains benzoic acid, hydroxybenzoate and derivatives, lactic acid, sodium benzoate, nitrate, propionic acid and sodium propionate, sulfur dioxide and sulfites, sorbic acid and sodium sorbate, ascorbic acid, sodium ascorbate, butylated hydroxytoluene, butylated hydroxyanisole, gallic acid and sodium, gallate, sulfur dioxide, and sulfites and tocopherols. May also contain nuts.' Yum yum."

Witch Hazel: "Just one question before you enter. You're out past the witching hour hiding your face. Who exactly do you think you are? The Masked Marauder, Batman?"

Woody Bytheway: "You mean the Caped Crusader, the figure from the hilarious and in my view grossly undermarked "I'm Fucking Batman!" (Also by this author!) He doesn't wear his mask over his nose and mouth. It's more a disguise, whereas I'm in full compliance with current anti-Covid legislation."

Witch Hazel: "Anti-Covid legislation? What's that?"

Masked man: "You don't know? It's the biggest news in the kingdom. An even bigger story than Queen White winning the 'Knockers Prize' for an historic 10th year bouncing."

Witch Hazel: "Fuck me!"

Woody Bytheway: "I beg your pardon?"

Witch Hazel: "I said tell me more about this anti-Covid legislation."

Woody Bytheway: "It's just the king's measures to eradicate the pandemic."

Witch Hazel: "Then you can lose the mask. I have immunity against all pandemics."

Woody Bytheway: "Thanks. I normally feel naked without it. But in your case I'm prepared to make an exception."

Witch Hazel: "Then you must come in. Welcome to me casa. Take a seat."

Woody Bytheway: "Most gracious. You have a beautiful home. And is that your pussy?"

Witch Hazel: "It is."

Woody Bytheway: "A magnificent specimen. You must be very proud of it."

Witch Hazel: "I am. Everybody who sees it admires it and asks to have a stroke."

Woody Bytheway: "I'm not surprised. Would you mind if I did too?"

Witch Hazel: "No, I love it when someone strokes my pussy."

Witch Hazel: "Bad grief Woody! What are you playing at?"

Woody Bytheway: "I'm stroking your pussy. It's really sensual. Some people don't like hairy pussys these days, but for me, I say there's nothing like the feeling you get when you stroke one."

Witch Hazel: "I meant that you could stroke my cat you fool!"

Woody Bytheway: "No way! I'm sorry! But it was an honest mistake. When you sat down, your gown rode up so high that I could see everything."

Witch Hazel: "As you say, an honest mistake then. But you can stop now."

Woody Bytheway: "OK."

Witch Hazel: "And Woody..."

Woody Bytheway: "Yes."

Witch Hazel: "I'd appreciate it if you removed your finger."

Woody Bytheway: "Of course.

Witch Hazel: "Thankyou. Now tell me more about this pandemic."

Woody Bytheway: "There's not a lot to tell really. No-one seems to have a firm grasp on it yet."

Witch Hazel: "Unlike you on my cunt just then."

Woody Bytheway: "Yes, and let me say, you're very like the proverbial pilot's daughter."

Witch Hazel: "The proverbial pilot's daughter?"

Woody Bytheway: "She keep's her cock-pit clean too."

Witch Hazel: "Hilarious!"

Woody Bytheway: "Yes. I got it from the short comic story 'Pilot Makes Penelope Pitstop.' But I don't think the gag's original considering the standard of the rest of the material."

Witch Hazel: "Perhaps you could show it to me so I can decide myself."

Woody Bytheway: "Of course. Can I log in?"

Witch Hazel: "Log in? Are you being rude again?"

Woody Bytheway: "No, I need a signal first."

Witch Hazel: "That's better. Very gentlemanly. Like if I was to run my tongue along my upper lip or part my legs and guide your finger back in?"

Woody Bytheway: "No. I need a signal for the internet and a password from you so I can log in and show you the short comic story 'Pilot Makes Penelope Pitstop.' You'll laugh your socks off."

Witch Hazel: "I very much doubt it. I don't have any signal. Or socks."

Woody Bytheway: "Really? How do you cope?"

Witch Hazel: "Very well really. The cottage keeps the heat in surprisingly well considering it's made of gingerbread, and besides, I prefer wearing stockings anyway. I was the first witch to use them. Long before Elvira, so-called Mistress of the Dark. I found they went with the heels so much better than socks."

Woody Bytheway: "I wasn't asking about your socks life. I meant how do you pass the time without the internet?"

Witch Hazel: "Well, during the long, lonely nights I spend a lot of time stroking my pussy."

Woody Bytheway: "As in your cat?"

Witch Hazel: "Don't be ridiculous. I stroke myself until I start to get damp, then rub my little clitty before getting down to serious business with my broomstick."

Woody Bytheway: "Yes, your place is spotless. That beautifully bristled broom in the corner obviously gets through a tremendous amount of work."

Witch Hazel: "You'd be amazed at how much it gets through."

Woody Bytheway: "But I'm sorry for babbling on. You're obviously in mourning. I don't notice a man about the house. Was it your husband?"

Witch Hazel: "No sir. It just so happens that I habitually wear this colour. My husband divorced me. "

Woody Bytheway: "Your husband divorced you? I don't believe it! You're the most glamorous woman I've ever met."

Witch Hazel: "Well it's true."

Woody Bytheway: "But on what possible grounds?"

Witch Hazel: "His brief cited 'Unreasonable Behaviour' in the papers."

Woody Bytheway: "No way! A woman as beautiful as you could never behave unreasonably."

Witch Hazel: "I was the victim of a cruel and unjust legal system."

Woody Bytheway: "But your support of the All Blacks must bring you some consolation. I've detected a kiwi twang in your accent."

Witch Hazel: "No, I've never even been to New Zealand. Let me give you another clue. What do you make of this hat?"

Woody Bytheway: "I'd suggest it has the perfect shape and dimensions to fit a standard size five rugby ball inside. Presumably you get in a few pre-match passes in the car park and then stow the ball in your hat for safe-keeping during the match."

Witch Hazel: "Enough of the rugby. If I told you I was good at spelling what would you say?"

Woody Bytheway: "I'd say that if that's the case why do you have that giant dictionary over there?"

Witch Hazel: "It's not a dictionary; it's the 'Witch Report. A Guide to Advanced Spellology.' A very fine reference book."

Woody Bytheway: "And your job is to look after it for a witch? I'd be careful about that if I were you."

Witch Hazel: "I'm not looking after it for anybody. I actually am a witch."

Woody Bytheway: "I don't think so. You're so gorgeous whereas witches are wizened and cronish with hooked noses and warts. And since the classic 1939 production of 'The Wizard of Oz', they've been green."

Witch Hazel: "As influential as the classic 1939 production of 'The Wizard of Oz' was, it's pure fantasy. The Wicked Witch of the West was played by ex-Boston kindergarten teacher, Margaret Hamilton."

Woody Bytheway: "So you're a good witch like Glinda?"

Witch Hazel: "Also fictional, but I would say I'm currently in a transitional phase between good and evil."

Woody Bytheway: "Hardly in keeping with the standard concept of witch polarity."

Witch Hazel: "I'm becoming very tempted to turn you into a handsome toad."

Woody Bytheway: "You mean an ugly toad."

Witch Hazel: "No, a handsome one. A few years ago it would have been an ugly toad, in a few months perhaps an ugly prince, and possibly next year if my rehabilitation progresses as planned, a handsome one."

Woody Bytheway: "Then I'll come back next year."

Witch Hazel: "Not so fast Mr Bytheway."

Woody Bytheway: "My names not actually Bytheway by the way, its Woody the Woodcutter."

Witch Hazel: "Then perhaps it would be more apposite if I turned you into a woodpecker."

(Can you see where this is leading? I'm ashamed to press on, but I just can't resist.)

Woody the Woodcutter: "No please fair witch, I don't want a wooden pecker, I'm more than happy with the one I've got."

Witch Hazel: "I actually didn't mean I'd turn your pecker into wood, just that I'd turn you into a member of the Picidae family. But tell me more about this appendage of yours that you're so proud of. How does it compare to this?"

Woody the Woodcutter: "Ah, an early and rather sticky looking version of the 'Orgasm 9.' You're a very naughty witch aren't you?"

Witch Hazel: "Far from it. This is in fact my magic wand."

Woody the Woodcutter: "If you say so."

Witch Hazel: "I do say so. Obviously I can't gad around town all black gowned, pointy hatted and wanded up. There are some rather strict laws about that sort of thing."

Woody the Woodcutter: "I'd say there must be some rather strict laws about waving around an 'Orgasm 9' in public too."

Witch Hazel: "I don't wave it about indiscriminately. I produce it inconspicuously and only when absolutely necessary."

Woody the Woodcutter: "And I only produce my magic wand when absolutely necessary too."

Witch Hazel: "And when you say 'Magic wand' of course you mean..."

Woody the Woodcutter: "It's an allegorical term for my penis, implying that I can do magical things with it."

Witch Hazel: "Good. As you're a language scholar you'll have heard the phrase 'Use it or lose it."

Woody the Woodcutter: "I have indeed and to tell the truth I'm relieved that you said that because I'm busting to use the lavatory."

Witch Hazel: "That wasn't what I had in mind, but being in my transitory phase I'm going to allow you to drain a vein. The toilet's on your left."

At this point I must mention that this is your script. Ad lib as much as you like. If you enjoy a golden shower, now's your chance. But I need to warn you. "Urine can spread disease, including bacterial, fungal, and viral infections."

(Obviously if you don't enjoy a golden shower and have no downstairs lavatory don't say "the toilet's on your left." You'll agree this has the foundation of a top class fantasy, but do you really want to spend the post--coital period cleaning up? You may have an enchanted broomstick in this story, but there's no magic mop.)

Woody the Woodcutter: "Look, I really won't be able to go with you standing behind me like that."

Witch Hazel: "Alright, I'll leave, but don't try any funny business. This isn't the clown role play you know."

(I've no idea how she knows about the clown role play. I haven't finished writing it yet.)

Woody the Woodcutter: "I do, though if I remember rightly there wasn't much to laugh about in that one either."

(That's true. After he said that I had a look at the notes and they're scarily unfunny. If I get time I'll rewrite it as a Halloween fantasy.)

Witch Hazel: "True enough. Now don't forget to wash your hands afterwards."

Woody the Woodcutter: "I always wash my hands for 20 seconds after handling my private parts."

Witch Hazel: "That's good to hear. So many men pay scant regard to matters of manual hygiene. But just out of interest, how many seconds per inch would that be?"

Woody the Woodcutter: "You really are off the grid Hazel. Under the new guidelines everyone has to wash their hands for 20 seconds."

Witch Hazel: "Whether they've handled your private parts or not?"

Woody the Woodcutter: "Even people who have never handled my private parts have to wash their hands for 20 seconds. Now if you'd be so good..."

Stage Direction: The wicked witch turns away and Woody the Woodcutter takes a piss.