Halloween is my favorite holiday! I hope you enjoy this little dark tale! Great Pumpkin indeed, Charlie…
by Angela Caperton
Out in the middle of Elder’s pumpkin patch, Gracie knew that coming out here with Jack had been the right move. She’d hardly known him a week and already she’d kissed him open-mouthed and let him touch her tits. She really wanted to fuck Jack before Susie or any of the others got to him first, and right here was her opportunity to brand him hers.
The crisp air laced her skin with her jeans barely on and his fingers in her pussy. She held onto his cock, fingers teasing and made him ask to put it in her.
The dirt clods crumbled under her butt as he drove into her, just as rough and strong as she knew he’d be, cock, lips, and fingers expert, fast the first time and real slow the second. Out here in the country, she let herself scream when she came.
A full moon lit them where they lay naked among the pumpkins, her hand resting on the warm ripples of his abs.
“You know what I heard one time about this pumpkin field?” he asked her.
“Well I heard that a few years back some of them boys from over in Blackwater would come out here to have some fun.”
Blackwater was a notorious den of degeneracy and yet they always fielded the best football team in the county. “What kind of fun?”
“Well, some say Elder’s pumpkins are the fullest ones grown anywhere ‘round here, full and firm. Them Blackwater boys thought they’d be wicked and picked a young one. They warmed it up a little, then they cut a hole in it and took turns fucking it.”
“I heard of boys fucking watermelons,” she agreed.
“These pumpkins are supposed to be even better. But that ain’t the story. What happened a year later, when the field was full again, and them boys came back is the interesting part. Seems like they had messed around with the wrong pumpkin and, I don’t know, offended some kind of pumpkin spirit.”
She giggled. “Just like Charlie Brown?” Not far away, something rustled among the vines and she stopped laughing. That Great Pumpkin would be some pretty scary shit if it was real. She moved closer to Jack and listened.
“When they came back, something was waiting for them, something big and fast and strong and, one-by-one it knocked all three of them boys down and cornholed them, and they never come back after that. They say it’s still out here in this field on fall nights when the pumpkins are ripe and ready for picking.”
Silly, she thought, but there were sounds in the field around them, shuffling and rustling and something that might’ve been footsteps. The moon passed abruptly behind a cloud and darkness fell like a gunny sack over her head.
“You know what else I heard?” Jack asked her.
She could hardly speak, her throat dry as the dirt in the field. His rippled abs felt hard and cold under her fingers, like the waxy, pimply skin of a sun-ripe pumpkin.
She dreaded the moment when the moon would reappear.
“I heard it likes girls even more than it liked them Blackwater boys.”
© 2010 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.