Spookiest Halloween Ever

Mb, anal, oral, cbt, tort, nc, inc
Kent the Writer (Dirk Carlor)
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I am so fucking horny each time I hear the doorbell, I have to do everything in my power not to let my cock pop right out from under my ripped up jeans. It is not just all the adorable little boys that are showing up at my house to collect candy, it is that I knew, at any minute, it would be my son, and he would be coming back with a lot more than sweets.

Around midnight, I start getting worried, though. I have run out of candy, and I knew my boy should be back by now. What is going on with him? What are the guys doing? I have been nervous all night as it is the first time I have sent my son out on his own to fulfill his Halloween duties.
I get up and pace a bit while trying to figure out if I should head out to start searching for my kid. Then I caught a look at myself in the mirror and knew that it is a bad idea. I am all bloody and pale, and my muscles are bulging out of my ripped shirt and torn up jeans. I can see my big calf muscles showing, and my biceps are looking mighty fine.
I am dressed as a zombie, you see, so I am pretty scary looking. Of course, I can be intimidating without my makeup and costume—I am a big man—but this is definitely a serious costume for me. I am not going out in public like this, and I am feeling too tired and lazy to wash off the makeup, so I decide I will just have to wait it out until the kid came back.
Finally, at around two am the doorbell rings. I knew it could not be any other kids since it is so late. I rush forward and rip open the door. I cannot wait to see what costume my son ended up in tonight, but to my surprise, there is no costume. There is barely a kid there. It is more of some sort of shivering animal. My son is completely naked, fetal on the doorstep, shivering (from the cold? or something else!) and beside him lies the big pillowcase that I had sent him out with to collect candy. It looks quite full.
“Oh, my god,” I shout as I quickly scoop the boy up and bring him inside, quickly checking to make sure the neighbors do not see him, “what the fuck happened to you?”
It is a rhetorical question since I know the kid is in no shape to answer. He looks like he has had a rough night, which is not surprising, but maybe a little rougher than I have anticipated. I guess that is what happens when kids are not supervised.
Okay, so shoot me, maybe I should have checked the kid out more thoroughly, but I am anxious to get to his bag downstairs that I sort of just throw him on his bed and give him a quick look-over. A few bumps and bruises, a little blood, his tiny body looks exhausted and paler than usual, and his dirty blonde, curly hair is matting to his head in some places with god knows what. I would soon find out.
“You’ll sleep it off,” I say to the kid.
I pat his head a bit while trying not to get too much of the goop in his hair on my hand. Then I switch off the light and head down the stairs. Yeah, I know, I sound like I am a bad dad, but I have more important matters to attend to.
These matters are downstairs in the pillowcase my kid brought home. I open it up, and inside I see what I have hoped so much would be there: three videotapes, marked with numbers one to three, but then, as I dug a bit deeper into the bag, I noticed something else—a fourth video.
“What the fuck?” I say out loud.
Why the fuck is there a fourth video in my son’s candy sack? I only picked out three guys. I push away that thought and allow myself to revel in what is before me. Just the site of these videotapes makes me drop my pants and whip out my poor, pent-up monster cock. I take it out and go to town on it with two fists, enjoying the feeling of my calloused hands on my eight-inch tool. Yes, folks, I have a thick eight-inch cock, and I use it on my son. So sue me.
I stand there jerking my dick, covering it in some zombie paint, as I rifle through the rest of his pillowcase. Mostly, it is just candy—looks like the kid had managed to visit a few houses that were not “haunted” along his route. Speaking of which, the little map I had drawn up for him on a piece of orange construction paper was still in there. I used a black crayon so that if anyone found it, they would think he had drawn it himself unless they turned it over and looked at the back, where I had written out (also in black crayon) the instructions for my son:
1.  Follow this map EXACTLY.
2.  Visit any house you like along the way that looks like it’s giving out candy.
3.  You MUST visit each of the three houses with an X before I let you back in the house. Those are extra fun HAUNTED HOUSES.
4.  You must videotape your approach to the house, and then give the camera over to the man who answers the door.
5.  You must get one piece of candy from each of the HAUNTED HOUSES. DO NOT LEAVE UNTIL THEY’VE GIVEN YOU THE CANDY.
6.  Do not eat any candy until you get home and I say you can unless one of the monsters you meet at the HAUNTED HOUSES tells you to.
7.  Be safe. Look both ways before you cross the street.
8.  Remember to say THANK YOU when you get your candy.
Happy Halloween – Daddy

Reading over the note gives me an odd feeling. My brain is telling me that what I had done was awful—to send a kid his age out on his own on Halloween night knowing that he was going to end up in considerable trouble with some scary strangers. After all, I barely knew anything about any of these strangers that I was sending him to since I had met them online. I checked out their houses from my car, but I didn’t want to meet any of them. Why? I don’t know. Call me a bad dad, but something about not knowing exactly what kind of danger I putting my offspring into had made my cock throb harder than it ever had before.
Knowing that I had just essentially thrown him to the wolves on the scariest night of the year threatens to make me cum before I even pop in the first video, but I know I have to wait. I want to save my load for after I watch for when I am going to have some quality time with my kid.
I dig through the rest of the candy in his bag, but it is just sweets for the little guy. No sign of the three costumes we picked out together a month ago. I had sent him out in his three favorite little getups and given the men at the Haunted Houses a heads up about what he would be wearing so they could plan accordingly. Another pang of guilt ran through me, and once again it makes my drooling cock bounce and throb in my fist. I had let my boy get so worked up about those costumes. I had encouraged his excitement because I had enjoyed his happy face as he ran through the aisle of the costume shop while he tried to decide which three were his absolute favorite.
I should clarify—I had enjoyed the smile on his face knowing that the three costumes he picked would be adding to what would happen to him on Halloween. The three costumes that got his little heart racing and caused big, toothy smile would be part of the torment that my boy would suffer on All Hallows’ Eve.
However, the costumes are completely missing, which is mystifying to me. What possibly could have happened to my son that would make his costumes not worth returning to his dear old dad? I shudder at the thought, and my cock flings a glob of pre-cum against my thigh.
Enough pondering—it is time to watch the videos. I am so excited I cannot wait, and even though it is close to two thirty in the morning, I am planning to watch them all while my baby slut upstairs takes a much-needed rest. I pop the first cassette tape in and plop down on the couch, enjoying the feeling of my big, low-hanging nuts bouncing on the sofa as I wait for the video to queue up.