I love the “slutty pumpkin” episodes of How I Met Your Mother, so last Halloween I created my own slutty-pumpkin costume.

I embellished a cropped, low-cut tank and skimpy miniskirt, then paired them with a garter belt and stockings. Plus fuck-me pumps, of course. I don’t usually wear provocative clothing and felt a little nervous about it, so I added a small mask that covered the top of my face. I shook off my jitters and walked into my friend’s party like a diva.

I grabbed a cocktail from the bar and started to mingle, but very quickly I found myself dealing with a lot more male attention than I’m used to. In fact, I almost laughed when a super-hot guy I’d seen several times at the coffee shop where I work started hitting on me hard. I’d been lusting after him for weeks, but he’d never given me a second glance before. The fact that my normal look did nothing for him made me feel no guilt about picking him for a quick pump and dump.

We talked for a bit, and it became obvious in no time that Phil was not the brightest bulb in the box. Good thing I was only interested in his body! I slid my hand down his leg and then up to his crotch. To my surprise, his cock was already hard. I wanted to excite him even more, so I rubbed his hard-on, feeling myself getting excited as well. My pussy was dripping, and I really wanted his dick inside me.

We ducked into one of the bed-rooms and locked the door, then I undressed him, pulling off the scrubs and mask that made up his kinda lame doctor costume. His physique did not disappoint. He had broad shoulders, gorgeous pecs and abs, and thighs made for hard pumping below an impressive and still-erect dick.

I got even wetter thinking about sucking on it and making him lose control. Deciding I wasn’t going to let him know who I was at all, I kept on my mask and costume and took him deep into my mouth. After I pulled back, I began sucking on him in earnest, hoping he’d come in my mouth.

He stopped me after only a few minutes and started to take off my top. I told him I had to do it so I could get my mask back in place, and that the garter belt, stockings, shoes, and mask had to stay on. He laughed a little, then said as long as he could “get to the goods” he didn’t care what I wore. I reached under my skirt, untied the sides of my panties, lay back on the bed, and told him the goods were ready and waiting.

Phil spread my legs, leaned in, took my clit in his mouth, and began sucking and licking. He put two fingers into my pussy and fingered me at the same time that he ate me, and when he hit my G spot, I went through the roof.

After that explosive climax, I begged, “Fuck me! I want you to fuck me!”

He put on a condom faster than I’d ever seen, grabbed my hips, and thrust his cock into me, sliding in easily because I was so wet. Then he fucked me hard. I reached between us to play with my clit as he drilled me, until I couldn’t hold back any longer. I moaned, “I’m coming!”

Phil kept pumping until he came, groaning loudly as his dick pulsed jets of jizz into the rubber. While he was in the bathroom getting rid of the condom, I put on my top, fixed my mask again, and pulled down my skirt. I left him with just my first name. I felt him watching me for the rest of the party and wondered if he would ever figure out that I was the barista.

That question was answered the next time I went to work. He’d come into the coffee shop and left a note asking me to meet him for a drink that Friday night. It said I should wear my garter belt and stockings, but leave the mask at home.

— S.G., New Mexico

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From the October 2015 issue of Penthouse magazine.

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