Title: Executing a Witch
Celebs: Carrie Underwood
Codes: MF, cons, oral
Summary: Carrie Underwood and her husband go to a Halloween party
Disclaimer: The following is a fictional story featuring a real celeb and a fake man. Any similarities to reality or strictly coincidental.
If you have any questions, comments or other feedback to this or any of my other stories; feel free to contact me at – email@example.com or chat with me on YIM, I am almost always online. When it comes to request, I will take them if they interest me, I like the celeb (no Miley, no Ariana, no Scarlett, no Kardashian, no Upton) and the request is not too detailed (I don’t like planning out stories, I like to write as I go).
“Mike, honey, I think there was a mistake with this costume!” Carrie Underwood yelled from the bathroom to her husband.
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked walking in, wearing an executioner costume with a full-faced mask, his eyes and lips the only thing visible.
“I think it’s-OH SHIT!” she screamed, turning around to find her masked husband holding a fake axe over his shoulder. “Don’t scare me like that!”
Carrie, wearing only her flesh-colored panties, smacked Mike on the arm with a playful smile on her face. She picked up her costume and held it to her body.
“I asked for a regular witch costume, I’ll look like a hooker wearing this,” she said, trying to stretch the fabric.
“I don’t see a problem with it,” Mike laughed.
“Of course you don’t, my whole legs are showing and so are my boobs,” she said as she pulled it over her head. She adjusted the costume to her body, showing just how revealing it was. “Look, my butt is almost hanging out too! This thing is like three sizes too small!”
“I fail to see the problem with this, Carrie,” Mike said, grabbing his wife and pulling her against his body.
“You dirty man,” she happily said as she lifted up the mask and gave him a kiss. “I don’t want to show up to a mansion dressed like a two-cent whore?”
“Babe, you are worrying way too much, it’s Halloween. Women are allowed to dress a bit risqué for one night,” he told her as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Look, TMZ posted a picture of Taylor Swift’s costume.”
Carrie’s eyes grew as she saw the picture of Taylor Swift wearing essentially devil costume (which was really just a red string bikini and devil horns) into one of the fanciest clubs in Los Angeles.
“Wow, she is such a slut,” Carrie laughed. “I guess I can let my guard down for one night. Just don’t get used to seeing my dress like this…in public.” Carrie pulled Mike’s ear to her mouth.
The married couple kissed again before Mike noticed two pairs of witch boots resting on the toilet.
“Which boots should I wear?” Carrie asked. “Up to my knee or up my entire leg?”
“Well I do love seeing your legs, why not go with the full lengths,” he suggested.
“I don’t know why I asked,” Carrie sighed with a smile. “Now get out, let me take care of my business.”
“Can’t I watch you get dressed?” Mike asked.
“Not unless you want to watch me answer nature too,” Carrie told him, immediately scaring him out of the bathroom. “Can you grab my witch hat!?”
Ten minutes later, the short thirty-two year old emerged from the bathroom wearing the super-tight witch costume that just barely covered the curvature of her butt cheeks, her breasts trying their damnedest to pop out of the low cut top. The boots on her legs only allowed a small amount of skin to show. Included were a belt there simply for show, not needed to hold it in place, and sleeves hugged her arms tight while her hand gripped a cute little broom. The only part of her intended costume she received was the large witch hat. Dark purple and black makeup surrounded her happy eyes as she finished modeling her wears for the evening to her drooling husband.
“I think there’s more fabric in the hat than the dress,” Carrie said as she pulled her long blonde hair behind her ears.
“You look as beautiful as ever,” Mike said as he handed the list of emergency numbers to the babysitter.
Carrie ran over to her son and gave him a kiss on the forehead before escorting her executioner husband outside to the car. Mike held the door open for his wife as she climbed into the brand new Mustang they had purchased a month earlier. While driving, the hockey player, with his mask off and on his lap, could not stop looking over at his wife’s plunging cleavage. Carrie had to slap him to get his focus back on the road.
“I know my boobs look good but I’d like to not die tonight, especially dressed like this,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Carrie happily watched out the window as they approached the mansion owned by her agent, already crawling with people both inside and out. The blonde let out a sigh of relief as she saw several women wearing significantly less of a costume than she herself was in.
Mike handed the keys of the car to the valet and put his mask on as they walked up the stairs. Carrie hugged her man’s arm as tight as possible while holding her little broom in the opposite hand. Instantly, she noticed the scores of both men and women staring at her chest as if they were on fire.
“I think you’re the star of the party,” Mike said. “And we technically aren’t even inside yet.”
“I feel like such a whore in this costume,” she whispered back.
“More than that girl?” Mike asked, pointing to a tall brunette woman wearing a cut-up plastic shopping bag for a top and a thong made out of sewn-together pot leaves.
“Yikes,” Carrie said, staring at the woman’s nipples in clear view behind the thin plastic. “I didn’t think areolas could be that big.”
The couple walked through the house, still receiving glares of intrigue from every person they passed. Eventually, they ran into the host of the party, who was dressed as Donald Trump.
“Hello Carrie, you sure look fantastic tonight,” he said, his eyes pointing where everyone else’s had.
“For a gay man, you sure seem to like my boobies,” Carrie said, lifting his head up to see her eye-to-eye.
“I’m still human,” he said. “Feel free to mingle around with anyone, I’m sure they will enjoy your presence.”
Mike and Carrie walked around the party, introducing themselves to the few that did not know them. Naturally, Carrie garnered more attention from the male attendees. Constantly, she had to direct the men’s eyes back to her face and away from her chest. Seeing her hulking athlete of a husband standing next to her led them to do as she asked.
After spending a while talking to people and sipping on vodka cranberry drinks, Carrie pulled her executioner husband aside and asked him to escort her to the bathroom. The couple made it upstairs through the glaring eyes of various costumed men and women.
“I am never letting you okay a costume like this again,” she whispered as they arrived at the door marked ‘ladies’.
“In public, okay,” he responded. “But keep that in the fantasy closet for the future.”
“Fine but the French maid outfit goes in the trash,” Carrie said as she rubbed her hands on his chest.
“Damn,” he groaned. “Fine, that stain won’t come out anyway.”
“That night I said ‘in my mouth’, the stain is your fault,” she said as she entered the washroom.
Carrie entered the bathroom and did her business while Mike headed down the hallway to talk with the group of men near the far bedroom. Once the singer was finished, she walked to the sink to wash her hands. She smiled and admired her chest in the mirror. Just as the faucet was turned off, the door to the bathroom opened and in walked a man in an executioner outfit.
“Mike, this is the ladies room,” she said as he approached her from behind and pinched at her ass. “Oh, someone’s frisky. You just can’t wait for tonight, huh?”
The executioner did not respond but instead slid both hands slowly up her waist, feeling every bit of muscle on the way up to her chest. Carrie closed her eyes and purred as she felt his hands, which she thought felt bigger than usual, give a firm squeeze to her new-mommy-boobs. He reached a hand down her cleavage and softly pulled her left one free. She opened her eyes and stared at the reflection as he took a nipple between two fingers and gave it a pinch.
“Oh,” she gasped while turning her head and pressing her cheek to his chin.
Carrie moaned as she felt him press his fit body against hers, his hard cock pushing between her firm cheeks. His hand slid back down the front of her costume and grabbed a handful of her other breast, pinching the nipple without pulling it free.
“Harder,” she whispered, encouraging him to squeeze her nipple harder.
The executioner removed his hands from her chest and slowly pushed her forward until her face was pressed to the mirror. As she looked down at her bare breast, she felt the bottom of her costume being pulled up. He grabbed the back of her panties and slowly slid them down her boots until they touched the tile floor below. He bent down and picked them up, resting them on the toilet before spreading her ass cheeks and admiring God’s work.
Carrie spread her legs for him, bending over the sink as much as she could and feeling her nipple dip into the pool of water still left over in the small sink. The executioner’s rough hands reached under, past her ass and directly to her swampy slit. She let out a sigh as his fingers tickled at her lips.
“Oh Mike,” she moaned.
Two of the executioner’s fingers slid past her lips and penetrated her cunt. Carrie took a deep breath as both fingers went as far inside of her as possible. His thumb brushed against her clit, making her body to jump a bit. Looking in the mirror, she focused on his eyes, seeing the intense look of focus in them. It was a look she had never seen in her husband before.
Carrie felt her warm, panting breath on the mirror against her face as the executioner slammed his digits in and out as hard as he possibly could. She could feel her own hot juices beginning to dribble down her thigh and into her long boots. She remained bent over for nearly three minutes of nothing but forceful finger fucking. Half way through, she began to kiss her reflection in the mirror, fueling the executioner to increase the motion. Just as she was about to cum, she felt her hat being ripped from her head and her long blonde hair balled up in his fist. He tugged her head back just as her body exploded with a flood of orgasmic juice, coating his hand and her thighs.
“F-f-f-f-f-fuck,” she moaned as her knees buckled, causing her to have grasp the sink to avoid hitting the ground. “Shit!”
The executioner pulled his fingers from her cunt and shoved them in her open mouth. Her lips closed around them while she sucked them clean, enjoying the taste of her own natural work. He hooked his fingers in her cheek, pulling the head back to stare into her eyes. She looked back at him with a combination of innocence and pleasure glancing back at him.
The executioner pulled his fingers from her mouth and took a step back. Slowly, Carrie pushed herself off of the sink and turned towards him. Keeping her eyes on his, she squatted down and tugged his pants down. She smiled as his seven inch member sprung free. As she stared at his cock, the smile slowly began to fade away. She looked back up at him with a concerned look on her face. She grabbed onto his cock and gave it one slow stroke.
“You aren’t my husband,” she said, her heart beating out of her chest.
The executioner looked down at her, his heart also beating as fast as possible. He knew he was caught and feared what she would do. She continued to stare at him as her jaw slowly lowered, her tongue poked out and her face moved forward until the head of his cock disappeared from his sight.
“I guess you don’t care, you dirty witch” the deep-voiced man said.
Carrie shrugged her shoulders before closing her eyes and giving him a slow, calm blowjob. She moved her hands on the sides of his thighs, lightly gripping them to keep her balance. With each forward move of her head, her hands slid down, taking his pants with them. Every few seconds, she would open her eyes and stare up at him with her sexy brown eyes, her mouth curling in a small smile each time before closing and enjoying the taste of cock on her tongue.
The executioner lightly patted her head before a deep groan exited his voice box. He thrusted forward, slapping his balls against her chin, something the horny cheating star did not mind. She started laughing, having to pull his cock from her mouth. She held on to his member as she gathered her herself before running her wet tongue roughly against the underside of him. She moaned as her tongue trickled down to his scrotum. Pressing her lips around his left testicle, she sucked in and swirled it around while squeezing his shaft.
After alternating his balls in her mouth, Carrie stared up into his eyes while her wrist slowly slid up and down his wet willy. He grabbed her hand and assisted for a few seconds before taking a step back.
“Over the sink, witch,” he directed.
“Yes sir,” she perkily said, standing up, turning around and pressing her hands to the mirror.
She arched her back and presented her cunt to the stranger.
“Is the witch ready for her execution?” he asked as the head of his cock bumped against her soppy pussy.
“Oh no, please don’t hurt me Mr. Executioner,” she sarcastically said. “I’m a good witch, not a bad one.”
“That’s a shame,” he said as he thrusted forward, inserting all seven inches inside of her like it was nothing. “I like a bad witch.”
“Maybe you can make me a bad witch?” she asked with a wink, kissing her reflection once more.
The executioner pulled his hips back and slammed forward again, pushing Carrie harder into the condensated mirror. She was purring like a kitten with occasional squeals of joy interjected as his veiny shaft rubbed along her slick, sensitive vaginal walls. She swore she could feel each and every throbbing vein slide against her despite how much faster he was going.
The executioner laid a stiff smack to her right butt cheek before viciously molesting it. He looked down and saw her bunched up panties resting on the toilet. He grabbed them, rolled them in a ball and reached forward, shoving it in her mouth. She chewed down on it and growled like a wild animal while he fucked her like one. She watched herself in the mirror, trying to hold her head back from smashing into it, and growled to herself, trying not laugh.
Carrie tried to match the rhythm of his fucking but was not positioned well, almost falling off as she tried. Instead, she pushed herself up until her torso was near-vertical. She looked over her shoulder and closed her eyes, silently asking for a kiss. The man gave her a long kiss on the lips, sticking his tongue into her mouth and licking the underwear. She tried to slither her tongue out but could only gently tickle his. He broke the kiss from her lips to her neck, kissing down to her back until he met the back of her costume. He took the fabric between his teeth and gently tugged at it, making similar animalistic noise as her, while his cock continued to probe her in and out.
The executioner pulled his face away from her, grabbed onto both shoulders and took slow, hard forward thrusts. He loved the feeling of his balls slapping forward onto her clit, feeling her get slicker by the second. Carrie’s grunts and screams were muffled by the panties in her mouth but were still loud enough for him to feel satisfaction in his performance. His ego was stroked further as he felt the muscles in her cunt contract around him.
Once again, Carrie’s knees buckled and her body would have fallen to the ground if not for her lover holding her in place. She bit down on the panties as hard as possible, tears carrying her mascara down her cheek, along the thin layer of sweat that already coated her skin from the intensity of her anonymous intercourse. As soon as she started to come down from her high, the executioner pulled his cock out of her.
“On your knees, witch,” he said between breaths.
Carrie followed the instructions as she dropped to her knees. The executioner reached into her mouth and pulled the wet ball of cotton. He shook it out of a ball and looked at them before looking at her. He pulled the panties over her head, covering her eyes and nose but leaving her mouth free. He could already see her sweaty eyeshadow seeping through as she laughed like a schoolgirl.
The executioner violently stroked his manhood, pointing his head between her eyes. She could not see as his thick cum shot out and landed across the panties. She stuck her tongue out as the second shot covered her upper lip, dripping into her mouth. The rest of his cum plastered her damp underwear while she slowly and sensually licked her lip clean.
“Mm, mm, mmm,” she happily hummed as his salty seed trickled down her throat while more sprayed onto her panty-covered face.
Once the executioner was finished, Carrie lifted the panties form over her right eye and looked directly at his cock. She licked her lips before cleaning the source of her sweet treat. She wrapped her lips around it and sucked any remaining seed from him for nearly a minute before standing up. With the panties still over her face, she kissed the executioner on the lips before he started to pull his pants up.
Carrie pulled the underwear off of her head and pulled them up her legs, not cleaning an ounce of shadow, saliva, or semen from them. She jumped and cooed as she felt his warm cum just one layer away from her still-throbbing clitoris. She tucked her breast back in her costume and turned her attention to the mirror, attempting to make herself presentable once again. The executioner gave her a slap on her ass before ducking out of the room.
The blonde fixed her hair, dabbed away her running makeup and adjusted her costume before putting her hat back on. She left the bathroom after nearly fifteen minutes inside. When she stepped out, she looked around and saw a redheaded woman wearing a skimpy bikini exiting the men’s room, quickly followed by her husband, who was adjusting his belt. Their eyes met and they looked at each other with satisfaction.
“See, I told you an open marriage could be fun,” the worn out witch told the real executioner.
The couple interlocked their arms and walked back to the main party, the memories of their sexual adventures stirring in their mind, sure to fuel and intense session of marital bliss once back home.