The Halloween Hoax

This was the time. Dammit, if it was the last thing I did I was going to get laid in the way I've wanted to. I'm Sophie. I'm 18 and a high school senior. Technically, I've had sex before. Three times, more if blowjobs count. The only fucking was with my brother's friend, three times. I stopped with him because It pissed me off when I found out that he considered it "pity fucking."

You see, I'm a tomboy. I like to wear baggy clothes. I don't wear makeup (mostly due to allergies to the products). I'm athletic, though I don't have bulky muscles. I'm a cross country runner and have done some gymnastics. I'd say my body is sexy. My ass is tight and round, my tits, though not large, stick out nicely. I have a thin waist.

Why so little "action" then? Part of it is socioeconomics. Most of the students at the school come from the elite side of society. Most of the kids come from the CEO's, CFO's, COO's...all the C's of the big businesses in our area. My family is not poor by any stretch. My mom is a teach and my dad is an accountant. However, the school is quite cliquey. There is definitely a hierarchy there. There are the jocks, which are mostly the white kids from the "C" group above. There are the cheerleader/student government/debate team/pre-college girls who specifically only date the jock group. Then there's splinter groups like the minorities, and people like me who have our own group of outsiders.

Mostly, it wasn't like the pretty people from above treated us like shit or bullied us. In a way, what they often did was worse. We were totally ignored. We'd rarely even get a "hey," if they bumped into us. We called ourselves the "invisibles." However, one particular girl WAS unnecessarily mean. Her name is Quinn. Again, it's not full "in your face" bullying but....well, I'll give you an example. Her boyfriend, Chad, whew, just saying his name makes me wet. But, like I said, their group rarely talks to us directly as if we're beneath them. Just having Chad's locker near mine keeps my anxiety and anticipation high. One day he actually saw me at my locker, smiled in that playboy cocky way of his and I swear I got weak in the knees.

He said, "hey, I heard you placed in Cross Country....."

I pretty much only focused on the "Cunt" sound in country before I was snapped back to reality. Quinn was right behind me. She gave him the look as if to say, "Why are you talking to....THAT?"

He just smirked, shrugged and walked away with a wink, which definitely made me have to remove my panties before class. Like I said, it's not her screaming "get away from that nobody," but it hurt just the same. There were just too many instances like that to name, but it happened to all of us invisibles.

Back to the point, it limited the dating pool, for me. The elites outnumbered the invisibles significantly. I have to admit something here. I really wasn't "Into" dating, or wanting to, however. Last thing I needed was some doting boyfriend jealously clinging to "his" property. Unfortunately (or not, depending on your outlook) I got my mother's sex drive. She's been...uh....how do I say it?....active, since my dad died when I was young. At first she called them "uncles" when they'd come over and spend the night. As I got older, she stopped bothering saying, "we all have needs, dear." Some of the "uncles" were totally hot, too. I have to admit I fantasized about some of them "sneaking" over to my room in the middle of the night. I had many furious masturbation sessions thinking about it.

So, I get horny. I don't mean horny like, "I need to rub one out and I'll be fine until tomorrow," horny. I mean full blown, mind overwhelmed, can't think of anything else, kind of horny. Oh, I try, though. I masturbate constantly. I've tried all the "tools," like dildos, cucumbers, carrots, vibrators (which I love but still lack that "something" that real live sex can give you).

It's not just the orgasm, for me. It's the whole thought of getting fucked, the build up, the sex, the whole guilt/shame/embarrassment/regret, thing that comes after and the constant thoughts about will we....again? Fuck, I needed to get laid again.

I had a plan. Devious and sneaky, it was. The thing about the pretty people is that they were partiers, HUGE partiers. Alcohol flowed at these parties, people made bad decisions, we heard about it all the time. So and so cheated on somebody, someone got slutty, someone got pregnant, the rumor mill always churned afterwards. Halloween parties were rumored to be legendary. Having money, they spared no expense with the setup and the costumes. I saw a lot of them, even though I was never invited, because they often showed up at school the day of the party in their outfits. It seems Halloween for girls means slutty. Slutty nurse, slutty maid, slutty marvel character. It's "insert slut here," to any outfit. They got around this issue at school by having their costumes in a PG-13 version for school (though I think they were more often R-rated), and an even racier one for the party. I knew I could adjust. I realized I could proverbially kill two birds with one stone here. Getting some long awaited good sex, and perhaps settling a score.

I had some advantages. I was in theater. I had access to costumes, wigs, and I knew just the right people to help. Rodney, a gay guy and one of my good friends in the "invisibles" was a costume and makeup wizard. He was absolutely giddy about my plan. Another great fortune was that there were two days between the Friday "school showing" of costumes, to Sunday night, the actual date of Halloween. Rodney had some time to work his magic. I had an insider in the elites. James, one of the few to ever talk to people within our group who only wanted a favor after. Finally, I also had access to mom's vast array of slutty makeup and lingerie of all sorts. Don't get me wrong, although mom's a slut I admire her. Why the hell do men who bang tons of women get high fives and are lauded by society but women who enjoy sex get slut shamed? It wasn't going to happen on my watch, hell with them. My generation is going to turn that tide. But for now, let's refocus back on me getting some, in a big way.

Friday came and I had several scouts from my invisible group taking pictures of possible "victims" and their outfits. Excited, Rodney and I pored over the pictures and shared out thoughts about who I could copy and how to pull off the, "slut sting" as we called it. We narrowed it down to two girls. Shannon, the school president, little miss perfect, and Quinn, the mouthiest, most privileged girl in school, who I also had just a little bit more animosity towards. She was a cheerleader, of course

Quinn's hair didn't matter, because she had a wig for her outfit, which I could easily match. It had to be right in order to pull it off. I wasn't trying to destroy anyone or make any kind of revenge tour, other than getting some satisfaction at their expense. Mostly, I was looking to get laid and get some of what the privileged get and...maybe just strike a blow for the invisibles for once.

Shannon's costume was of Marie Antionette. She had the hoop style dress that stuck out in a circle all around her. Her makeup made her pasty white, apparently historical. She had a gruesome red (blood) line around her neck where she had been guillotine'd. Oh, more accurately it should be appropriately described as "slutty dead Marie Antoinette," of course. The top part of the dress plunged down significantly and under the dress Shannon was rumored to not be wearing underwear for "easy access" (gotta love my spies in the ladies room). Rodney said he had just the dress, from a vast warehouse sized costume storage (like I said, rich kids, gotta love it). He said he'd tailor it to match Shannon's. The other reason to pick Shannon was obvious. She was my height (short), had a very similar build, our tits are about the same size and, as a bonus, we're both short hair blondes. I wouldn't need a wig for this one.

Quinn's outfit was a lot harder to pull off and would send me scrambling. She was Helen Parr, Elastigirl from the Incredibles. She had on a skin tight red spandex outfit, no doubt from one of the upper scale online sex shops. We had no match for it in "the warehouse" and honestly I'd have chosen to drop it except for Rodney's insistence on it due to his many negative interactions with Quinn, who was clearly homophobic. I had the brown hair wig I got from the supply room. Thank goodness for Amazon and overnight delivery. I got the costume early Sunday afternoon and Rodney scrambled to "adapt" it to match Quinn's "slutty" variety, where it was cut more at the cleavage and exposed the waist (not Pixar accurate, by the way!). It was basically skin tight spandex, when stretched was basically almost see-thru on top. Knowing Quinn, and what she liked to wear (or not) she'd have no bra on, exposing her perky little nips to the world. My own nipples hardened at that thought that soon they'd be pretty much on display, too.

This was going to be like a choreographed sex play with "actors" (Me, my insider, the victim actresses and their significant others, and stage hands (Rodney and his helper Jimmy, who I believe are "into" each other in more ways than one). That was the plan, anyway. Making it all happen and sticking to a script would be nearly impossible. I'd need to learn and adapt quickly.

One final note on the party, which worked to my advantage. The elites loved their masks, not for COVID, the decorative ones. Everyone wore one so that people could admire the costumes, try to guess who was who, and in the end determine a winner and have the big "reveal" at the end. Obviously, most people would be able to guess rather soon. I knew I'd have to work quickly after arriving to achieve my goal, good, hard sex, hopefully.

My mind and heart were racing, getting ready for the party. Everything was awhirl, including my pussy, already starting to wetten from anticipation. Rodney and Jimmy were at my house helping me with the costumes. There was a flurry of activity, it was our version of a Slutty Cinderella and they were the mice.

My real plan was to target Quinn, for obvious reasons. Chad was ....a dream, if could be anyone, I wanted it to be him. But, I brought both outfits, just in case. One of the problems with Quinn was that she and Chad rarely left each other's sides. We called them "Quad" for Quinn and Chad. It was like they were attached at the hip. Unless conditions were right I'd have to "settle" for Shannon's boyfriend Randy, who was also a cutie, but not in Chad's neighborhood of hotness.

James met me at the gate. Since the party was of the "chosen ones," you didn't just walk in, they actually had security in the form of a hired guard/bouncer type. He told me that Quinn, as is her custom, had a big expensive dinner at the finest restaurant before the party. He'd done some research and scouting on Shannon, though. It seems it was a better opportunity for me. Slightly disheartened, I went back to the car and donned the Marie Antoinette costume, with Rodney and James' help. James smiled when he saw me in my disguise, including the face mask.

"God, that's perfect!" he said admiringly. "Oh, just one thing," he grinned. He pulled the top of the dress down and peeked in. "Yep, thought so. Lose the bra, Shannon isn't wearing one and uh....her nipples are quite evident."

I slid the top down enough for him to unclasp the bra from the back before sliding it back up over my tits, but not before he got a good look at what I had up there. I just smiled, "he deserves it," I smiled to myself. He helped me through the gate, which wasn't easy with the stupid "hoop" part of the dress, which is basically a network of wiring, like a bird cage. He flipped up the back part of the dress and chuckled, "I doubt she's wearing panties, either."

I smacked his arm. "That'll come soon enough," I thought to myself, if it all worked out.

He spirited me around the side of the huge house. It seemed like a castle to me, compared to our little suburban ranch. He told me to wait while he checked out the scene. Obviously we didn't want the two Marie's to bump into each other or show up in the same place. I stood outside stewing in my own fear and lust. I couldn't believe my boldness, that I was willing to do all....THIS. My pussy bade me on, though. It had had enough of waiting for it. I struggled to rid myself of the panties, not easy with the boxy dress. They wouldn't be needed later. Luckily, Rodney had at least "wired" it with more flexible wiring than the old style. . James returned and gestured me to come in.

"She's out back talking to her group, Randy is inside. He's dressed in Star Trek gear. I'll keep a lookout, go! Do your thing, make it as quick as you can. I don't know how they'd react knowing you crashed the party!"

I nodded. I tried not to think about that. Knowing them, they'd probably have me arrested, at least just so they could embarrass me by having me hauled down to the police station. I'd chosen to let the party get going before I'd arrived to allow for some alcohol to flow to loosen up my victim, Randy. I knew he liked his beer. I saw him standing in a group of guys. He had on that Mandalorian gear from that one show. He had the huge mask covering his whole head. His hands were empty. I strode up confidently and handed him a beer. Yes, a word of warning here, there's underage drinking, they have rich parents who indulge them however they want, sue them, not me.

"Hey sweetie," I said in the best monotonous, nasally voice I could to match hers. I barged up as if I belonged. I handed him a beer.

"Uh, thanks," he said in a husky voice. I figured he was trying to impress his friends by acting all cool and aloof in front of his "chick."

There was a moment of silence which I knew I had to fill before anyone started asking questions.

"I always keep a man happy," I said with purposeful innuendo. I wanted to get the ball rolling before Shannon, or anyone else, busted my cover.

The other guys left us to "converse."

"Well, okay then, wow," the Mandalorian chuckled. "You just might get yourself in trouble...."

"Maybe I'm looking for a little trouble," I giggled, but in the most drab, uninteresting way I could to stay in character.

"Seriously though, I've been drinking a bit, I may not have the best judgment," he playfully warned.

"Perfect, who needs good judgment, it's a party!" I said as seductively as I could while still maintaining her blasé personality.

I leaned in and kissed his neck, which was the only part showing under the bulky mask.

"Oh my," he said again, in a low, manly groan. "Shannon, stop!"

"What if I don't want to stop?" I said as I pressed my chest into him.

"You know what you are doing?"

"God, I hope so," I giggled.

"Are you serious?" he asked again.

"I am, I've been thinking about this all day," I said, grabbing his crotch and rubbing it.

"Shannon! Shit," he stammered. "If you want this...."

"Oh, I've wanted this for a long time now," I purred.

"Fuck it, okay, follow me," he said unnecessarily as he pulled me along by the arm.

He basically pulled me down the hallway, stopping to open a few doors on the way. Bathroom, nope. Closet, too small. Laundry room, bingo! It was almost pitch black in there, which was probably good to not alert anyone to our presence.

He kissed me deeply. I was surprised at how good he was. I responded in kind.

"Wow baby," he groaned, "I had no idea you were such a sex fiend."

I laughed to myself. She must reject him all the time. She sounded like a cold fish. He should enjoy this, then.

"You've just got me so worked up, stud," I whispered, grabbing the crotch of his outfit again. It was stirring.

I could feel his hardness already. "Fuck, I need this so badly," I whined to myself. He could've been the size of a hotdog, I wouldn't have cared. But, I could feel he had quite a bit more than that. My pussy quivered at that thought.

"Do you....want to blow me?" He asked, wondering about the rules of engagement. "I won't cum in your mouth, honest."

I nearly laughed, which might've busted me, I have a very distinctive laugh. How men put up with a girl who won't let them cum in their mouths is beyond me. I mean, don't they enjoy getting a guy's face wet with their pussy? How is that any different? Oh well, that wasn't what I came for.

I said, "no baby, I'm really horny, I WANT it," I purred in his ear softly.

I bent over the washing machine. I offered myself up to him. Rodney had built the dress for this. I reached around and unsnapped it at the back. It opened the back of the dress and recoiled a bit, almost like an accordion or window blinds. It was just enough for him to have access.

"Oh my god, baby," he panted. "I can't believe this. All this time I tried my best not to ogle you and get caught. I didn't think you were "that type."

"Jesus, what a prude she is," I thought. "I guess that's what you get for only dating prissy stuck up snobs."

I bent over invitingly, my elbows flat on the washer. I wiggled my butt for him. Luckily in the darkness, with only the hall light shining under the door, any differences in our asses would be moot. I felt him behind me. I felt his head poking at my cheeks. I felt it at the entrance to my ass. I giggled softly.

"Not there baby, not yet," I moaned.

"Sorry," he stammered nervously.

"Right....here," I sighed as I guided it with my hand into my wetness.

"Fuuuuuck," he moaned as he entered me. "You are so fucking hot and wet right now, we don't even need the lube!"

I smiled at that. "Stupid frigid bitch," I thought before lust took over my brain.

"Oh....god," I moaned. He was bigger than my brother's friend. I'd only taken anything that size in a dildo, and working at my own pace. It wasn't like he was huge, he wasn't. He was just big, to me. It felt great, though, even though it was a little painful at first. I felt just like I should, like a dirty slut being penetrated by a nice cock.

He was beside himself. I could tell by his reactions to the way I moved back into him and pulled his hips into mine with my hands that this was NOT his usual experience.

"Oh god, baby, oh god, that feels so....fucking good," he groaned, his hands on my hips, guiding himself in and out of me.

It felt so good I must've rolled my eyes back in my head as he bottomed out each time.

"I....can't....believe....how....wet....you are," he grunted.

"Fuck," I thought, "he's going to cum already!"

He did. He blasted my insides with it all he was so overwhelmed. My overheated pussy had just started that familiar hum, leading to orgasm. "Fuck," I thought dejectedly. Still, I smiled to myself that I got used like I wanted, just like a slut

As expected, guys aren't in any mindset to stick around and talk about "feelings" afterwards and sure enough, he pretty much zipped up, said an appreciative "thanks!" and went back to the party.

I stumbled out the side door, my pussy dripping cum through my panties. Luckily, I'd thought ahead enough to bring a spare pair. I ran into James.

"What the hell?" he asked. "I thought you were going to go right for Randy? I waited around for only a minute and there he was walking outside. I spent the last 20 minutes trying to get him to go back inside for you!"

"What?" I asked with shock. "I was just fucking him in the laundry room!"

Suddenly James lip curled up in a sly smile. "Wait....did you.....go for the Star Trek guy?"

"Of course, dummy! He's that Mandalorian guy with the big helmet."

He slapped his forehead. "D'oh! You don't know the difference between Star Trek and Star Wars, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mandalorian is from the Star WARS world. Spock, the Vulcan, the outfit Randy is wearing, is Star TREK. Oh god, you fucked....."