Installment #1: Pumpkin's Great Escape

Content Advisory: Includes graphic scenes we wish were happening to us, foul language, and raunchy humor: M/F and M/F/M

Welcome to the first installment of “Frisky Fairy Tails and Fables”--Where life in Pixie Falls is never boring.

The radio announcer’s voice filled the confines of the rescue vehicle.

“Breaking news—The Pixie Dust Processing Plant exploded earlier today, sending a cloud of Frisky Fairy Dust a thousand feet in the air. No fatalities have been reported, but the atmosphere at the explosion site is said to be agitated. Pixie Falls’ emergency teams ask citizens to keep clear of the neighborhood and give crews a chance to secure the area. A spokes-person from the plant advises people to “Stay inside until the dust settles.”

Sirens warned drivers to the side of the road, as Peter wove his way through the traffic, lights blazing.

“I’m sure she’s okay, man. The report said nobody was killed.”

Peter cut a glance to his partner, Jack, who tried his best to exude reassurance. “Thanks, I’m sure you’re right. What about Jill?”

“Naw, she took the day off. Said she’s gonna to stand over the plumber until he finishes installing the new hot tub. She refuses to let me lug water from the old well anymore.”

“A wife’s concern—must be nice.”

“Things still not good between you and Pumpkin?”

Peter shook his head. “Same ol’—same ol’. I ask but do not receive.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m a freakin’ paramedic. You’d think I could breathe some life back into our sex life.”

“You know the old saying, ‘You can’t lead a dead horse to water’.”

Peter arched an eyebrow. “I think it’s ‘lead a horse to water’.”

“Whatever, if the horse is dead you can’t lead it or make it drink, and you definitely shouldn’t bone it.” Jack paused. “Is your horse dead, Peter, cause I have pills for that?”

“My horse is just fine, a damn stallion as-a-matter-of-fact. It’s Pumpkin’s horse that’s destined for the glue factory. She’s always like—‘Not tonight, Peter, I’m too tired.’ Or—‘Geez Peter, don’t you think of anything else?’”

“How long has it been since you got any?”

“I vaguely remember a mercy fuck a few months ago.”

Jack let out a long whistle of pity. “Now that’s messed up.”

“Tell me about it.”

Dozens of flashing lights issued from what appeared to be every emergency vehicle in the county. Peter slowed the ambulance to a crawl as a cop in a respirator waved them forward. Weaving his way through the crush, he stopped the ambulance, and stared.

“What the f…?” His question hung in the air as he and Jack leaned forward in an effort to get a clearer view.

“Is that what I think it is?” Jack asked.

The scene before them looked like the aftermath of a battle. Bodies spread across the manicured lawn of the Pixie Processing Plant. Only the people weren’t dead—far from it. Bodies writhed and undulated in every sex act known to man.

“Whoa,” Jack whispered. “I think I’ve died and gone to Heaven.”

A loud rap on the window snapped Peter from his daze. With great effort, he pulled his gaze from the carnal battlefield and looked at the man on the other side of the window. Peter squinted, trying to identify the officer behind the mask. The man pointed to his respirator and back at Peter and Jack.

“I think he wants us to put our masks on.” Peter reached over the seat, retrieved two masks, and held one out to Jack.

Jack stared at the offered respirator. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“Take it unless you want to be trippin’ on Frisky Dust.” Peter shook the mask at his partner, but Jack didn’t take it.

Instead, he raised his eyebrows as if contemplating the possibility. “Well now, that is the dilemma. Can Jill really get mad if I succumbed to Frisky Dust in the line of duty and happened to bang a few willing victims while under the influence?”

Peter shoved the mask into Jack’s chest. “Put it on—that’s an order.”

They exited the ambulance with respirators securely in place. It took all of Peter’s willpower not to gawk at the mass orgy taking place on the lawn.

“Nice of you boys to join us.” Officer Sprat crossed his arms over his chest and stood wide-legged. Amusement danced in his eyes. “There aren’t any injuries so grab your oxygen and start clearing some heads.”

“Uh, how are we supposed to do that?” Peter asked.

Officer Sprat slapped him on the back. “That’s up to you Peter. You’re the paramedic, not me. But I sure look forward to watching you work.” He turned and walked away, his laughter billowing behind him.

“Finally, a crisis worthy of my skill,” Jack said.

With oxygen tanks at the ready, they moved into the mass of gyrating bodies. Tits and asses bobbed—bounced—and shimmied.

“One man should not have to resist this much temptation,” Jack mumbled.

Peter silently agreed. It had been so long since he’d had anything resembling sex and now—here he was—wading through a lake of lust. His cock tightened. He tried to ignore the swelling but when the moans of pleasure and grunting enveloped him, he almost shamed himself.

“Where do we start?” Jack said.

“Right here,” purred a voice below them.

Peter looked down and watched Little Bo Peep crawl toward them. Her exposed, pink nipples giving the name of Peep a whole new meaning.

“Hey Bo, lookin good,” Jack leered.

She rose up on her knees and cupped her breasts. “I’m feeling even better. Wanna find out?”

“Well—since you’re offering.” Jack’s hand inched forward, but Peter pushed it away.

“Are you crazy? Don’t you know who she’s dating?” Jack shrugged and shook his head. “Wolfgang Von Pelt.”

“That crazy, shape-shifting florist?”

“The same and if he catches your scent on Bo’s peep, you’re a dead man.”

“Damn.” Jack jumped back and out of Bo’s reach. “Well, if you’ve got this under control—I’m gonna go help…” He scanned the crowd. “Red. She looks like she could use of a breath of fresh air.” Not waiting for an answer, Jack bolted, leaving Peter to deal with the randy shepherdess.

 “Peter,” she cooed. “I seemed to have lost my staff.” Bo walked her fingers up his calf to the inside of his thigh.

The closer her digits traveled to his package, the more it swelled. “Uh, sorry to hear that, Bo.”

A dainty pout formed on her lips. “Can I use yours?” Her hand swept up and rubbed his erection. “Oh, it’s so much bigger than mine.”

Words stuck in Peter’s throat as she fondled and stroked Little Peter to life. Damn, it had been too long. Big Peter had meant to refuse Bo the use of his staff. He’d meant to apply the oxygen mask to her. Yet, as her nibble fingers caressed and teased him, all rational thought bled from his mind.

With aching slowness, Bo reached up and popped the button of his pants. The zipper crept down a little on its own as his cock pushed against its confines. Bo pinched the little brass tab and tugged, unzipping him and setting his cock free. Holding his breath, he watched as Bo’s blond head move toward his erection, and when she wrapped her hand and lips around him his knees nearly buckled. To hell with Von Pelt. He wasn’t so tough.

Warm, moist, soft lips pulled at the tip of his staff. Sucking—yes—glorious sucking. Peter buried his hands in her hair and thrust into her mouth. Fuck, it felt too good. He opened his eyes and stared at the hundreds of bouncing tits, thrusting cocks, and pumping pussies. Yeah, it had been too long.

His gaze scanned the crowd. Fiery auburn curls drew his attention and he stopped thrusting. He’d recognize those locks anywhere.

“Pumpkin.” The name was a mere whisper.

Shit, he’d forgotten about her. With inhuman strength, he broke Bo’s vacuum seal around his dick and shoved the stiff rod back in his pants.

“Sorry Bo.” He batted her searching hands away from his crotch and covered her protest with the oxygen mask. “Breath deep and everything will be fine.”

His eyes remained riveted on the scene fifty yards away. Was that his Pumpkin? It had to be, but nothing else about the woman seemed familiar. She looked so uninhibited—so wild—so willing.

Pumpkin leaned against a tree with Georgie Porgie and Hansel draped around her. Where had her damn blouse gone? Peter’s eyes rounded as Georgie cupped her breast and brought his lips to her large dusky nipple, suckling until she moaned.

“Hey, you loose-lipped gigilo, get away from her!” But Georgie and Pumpkin ignored him.

Peter gaped as the Hansel knelt at Pumpkin’s feet and ran his hand up her thighs to lift her tattered skirt.

“No, no, don’t lift that,” he shouted. “Keep your filthy candy-filching hands off her.”

Then she did it. Lifting her foot, Pumpkin wrapped her long, slender leg around Hansel’s shoulder and pulled him to her, burying his face in her pussy.

“Oh no you didn’t.” Peter dropped the oxygen tank and took off across the lawn.

He knew the second Pumpkin saw and recognized him. A lascivious smile spread across her ripe peach mouth. She ran her hand over the top of her licker’s head and grabbed a handful of hair. Arching, she pressed into him. Her tits bounced as she gyrated against her lover’s mouth.

Peter stopped and pulled off his mask. Mesmerized by the ecstasy on his wife’s face, he stood like an idiot in the eye of a sexual hurricane. He’d never seen Pumpkin look so involved—so sexy. She rocked against the stranger, faster and faster. Peter’s cock swelled and strained against his pants. She bucked and the stranger drank her in. Pumpkin cried out and held the man to her, convulsing and shivering as she rode the pleasure train.

“Son-of-a…” Peter should be riding that train, not some stranger. She was his wife, damn it, dust or no dust. “Pumpkin!”

She looked up and smiled again. Peter closed the distance between them, pinning her with his stare as she unwound her leg and pushed her skirt down. But before he got too close, Pumpkin spun and ran into the Enchanted Forest, the echoes of her girlish giggles the only evidence she had ever been there.

“Now that was fucked up,” Jack said from beside him.

“You got that right.” Peter looked at his partner. “I gotta go after her. You got this under control?”

“Yeah, it’s cool. Go get your lady.”

Peter nodded and sprinted into the Enchanted Forest. Before this day was over, he’d capture his wife and show her the right way to eat a Pumpkin.

*****

Return for Part #2 of Pumpkin’s Great Escape on January 12, 2011. What will Peter do when he encounters the Old Woman Who Lives in a Shoe?

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Boone Brux

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Copyright © 2010 Boone Brux

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.