Stuart Ste. Croix - Sexersize

“There’s too many people in here,” she said.

“What?” he asked, trying to talk over the music, but she didn’t seem to hear. The living room was packed, and Matt figured that the number of bodies would have absorbed a bit of the booming bass coming from the stereo, but all it did was make the conversation louder. He looked over and saw the glass of the large bay window vibrating. He thought about turning it down a bit, but the stereo was on the other side of the room, and Matt didn’t like the idea of wading his way through all the costumed freaks to get to it.

He was sure that he didn’t know half of these people, though it was tough to say, because the only light in the room was coming from candle-lit pumpkins. That and because of the masks and wigs and heavy makeup. All the costumes were pretty standard. There were a few zombies and vampires, a couple hookers and some nuns. He noticed one kid on the far side of the room dressed as the devil. He was painted blood red and had long black horns, a set of webbed wings. There was one couple dressed as a priest and an altar boy. Melisa had seen them earlier that night and got pissed. It had been her costume idea, but Matt wouldn’t go along with it. He thought it was in bad taste.

He saw them now, a few feet over, making out in the doorway that led into the kitchen. He turned back to Melisa, who was also watching them. She leaned in and pointed. “That should have been us.”

“No,” Matt said, “there’s only one priest allowed per party. Besides, you make such a damn fine Robin.”

“Thanks,” she said, adjusting her mask. Her eyes moved back to the couple near the kitchen, but Matt continued to look at her. She really did make a good Robin and he was surprised at how cute she looked in the costume. This had been his choice, he felt it was a little more toned down than some of the ideas she had come up with.

“I know Greg said he was inviting a lot of people, but this is ridiculous.” She didn’t respond and he started to search the crowd for Greg. He hadn’t seen him since they got there an hour or so before. There was a decent size crowd then, but it seemed like every five minutes the door was opening and a whole new flood of people came in. It wouldn’t have been so bad if some of the groups went into the other rooms, but besides the few people carving pumpkins in the kitchen, the majority of the party lingered in the living room.

“I can’t think with all this noise,” Melisa said and grabbed Matt’s hand, pulling him towards the stairs.

“Where are we goin?”

“Some place quiet. I need a break or I think my head’ll explode.”

Matt knew what she meant. It was something they did every year and had become a sort of tradition, although they usually waited until later in the night. They weaved their way through the crowd, knocking into elbows and shoulders, spilling beers. When they reached the stairs, Matt felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Greg, half drunk and in drag. There was an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips and Matt wondered if he had forgotten to light it or if it was part of the costume.

“Hey there Batman,” he said, flicking one of the bat ears.

“Greg, where the hell have you been?” Matt held onto the banister and felt it wobble back and forth. It, like most things in the house, was liable to fall apart at any given moment.

“I’ve been entertaining my guests,” he said, gesturing to the crowd behind him. “So tell me Mr. Batman, you gunna arrest us for doin’ anything illegal here tonight?” He rocked back and forth, as if his legs were made of rubber. “Cause I don’t want any trouble or nothin’.”

Matt reached into his makeshift utility belt and pulled out a poorly wrapped joint. “Happy Halloween.” Greg snatched it from his hand.

“Fuck yeah, I knew you were good for something.” He began to back away but tripped and fell. He would have hit to the floor if it weren’t for the kid standing behind him. Greg knocked into him and the kid lost his balance, spilling his drink on his shirt.

“Watch it you dumb bitch,” the kid said. He was dressed as a cowboy, a flannel shirt and new straw hat. He turned to Greg, ready for a fight.

“Who the fuck are you?” Greg asked, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth and replacing it with the joint. Someone whispered into the cowboy’s ear and his eyes went wide.

“Oh, shit. Shit man, I’m sorry.”

Melisa pulled Matt up the stairs. “Come on, before someone else sees us.”

When they reached the top, Matt turned to walk towards the bedroom, but Melisa shook her head. It was bright on the second floor, especially compared to the low lighting downstairs. They stood there for a moment, looking at each other. Matt’s eyes moved up her body, starting at her nyloned legs and up past her taped down chest.

“In here,” she said, leading him into the bathroom. She turned on the light and closed the door, pushing in the lock on the doorknob. It smelled bad, a mixture of shit and stagnant water. The floor was caked with dirt and hair, and the light was low, making the room look smoky, grainy, like a cheap print of an old movie. Matt could feel the music from downstairs vibrating through the floor, moving into his feet and up his body. He watched as Melisa pulled a towel from the rack and laid it down on the loose tiles.

“In here?” he asked, as she began to slide out of her green bikini bottoms.

“Sure. It’s sort of like the Batcave, don’t you think?” She giggled and got down on her hands and knees, turning back to look at him. He stared at her eyes behind the black mask. “Come on baby, we don’t have all night.”

Matt pulled off his blue shorts and underwear, but kept the utility belt on, let it hang around his naked waist. He was about to remove his mask, but she shook her head. “Leave it on.” He hesitated for a minute, looked over at the grimy sink. There were patches of dark brown stains and soap scum covered the faucet. “Come on,” she said.

He dropped down behind her and put a hand on her lower back. She reached up and grabbed his cock. He flinched, forgetting that she was wearing green velvet gloves. They were soft, but her grip as hard and rough. She positioned herself and backed up. Matt held her around the waist and pushed. He moved in quickly, going as far into as her could. When she tried to move forward, he held her in place, pressing hard against her. She moaned and gripped the towel; her head fell to the floor.

Matt looked down as he slowly pulled out. The hard floor against his knees sent a shot of pain through his legs. He began to move faster, in quick deep thrust. Her hair started to fall out of the ponytail and she brushed it out of her face, breathing heavily and bracing herself against the side of the tub. Matt tried to turn her over, but she shrugged him away.

“Stop,” she said, twisting around to face him.

“What?” Matt sat down. He stretched out his legs and rubbed his knees.

“You’re supposed to be Batman.”

“Yeah?”

“And I’m supposed to be Robin.”

“OK?” He could hear the faucet dripping behind him, the voices of people talking at the bottom of the stairs. There was a loud crash, followed by a wave of laughter.

“So fuck me like I’m Robin,” she said, turning over again.

Matt looked around the bathroom. “What am I supposed to use?” He scanned the counter for lotion, but all he could see was a worn out toothbrush, a roll of toilet paper and a crusty razor.

“I dunno, find something. Don’t you have anything in that belt of yours?”

He walked to the mirror that hung above the sink. It was covered with splatters of dried toothpaste and fingerprints. He opened it and rummaged through, picked up the shaving lotion and thought about it for a minute before putting it back. Under the sink, next to the cleaning products, there was a small bottle of hand cream. He took it out and showed it to her. “Think this’ll work?”

She nodded without looking up and Matt squirted a blob of it into his palm and began to rub it on. It sent chills up his back and across his nuts. He was losing his erection so he continued to rub as he moved toward to her. She lifted her ass up high. It was a struggle at first and felt as though his cock was about to bend in half, but when he was finally in he moved gently.

“Faster,” she said, and reached back, grabbing his thighs.

As he picked up speed she let out a low groan. All he could smell was the damp towel hanging over the side of the tub. It was like mildew and he began to gag, moving faster.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” she screamed.

“Say it like Robin,” he said, swallowing hard and trying not concentrate on the towel or the pain in his knees.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, Batman.”

As she said it, he gave one final thrust and came. The force of his body against hers was harder than she had expected and her head smashed against the side of the tub. Matt let out a deep sigh and sat back as she rubbed the top of her head.