The sex party invite said a pumpkin must be part of your attire.
Mine nestles on my head, my mask. My wife’s painted on her bare bottom.
I am looking for her.
In front of me, an orgy of naked bodies, probing, moaning; copulating.
My wife’s long pink hair in the middle, her painted pumpkin winking at me; inviting me in.
I grab her hips, my cock erect; it slides through the grease paint.
I slip into her pumpkin pie.
Then I noticed her mask had slipped.
Eek’ it’s not my wife; it’s my sister!
