Jack O' Lanterns

Harold bent and tongued her anus for a moment. He wet two fingers in his mouth then fingered her ass for a moment. Satisfied, he lined his cock up with her winking anus and slowly pushed in.

"Ugh, aw God damn it," Deidre whined.

"Want me stop?" Harold asked.

"NO!" Deidre yelled.

It had hurt, a delicious pain, the first time Harold had fucked her ass. It hurt now; saliva wasn't really a sufficient lubricant. But as Harold pushed into her, Deidre felt a delicious warmth began welling up deep inside of her.

"Shit, I'm going come," Deidre whined. "Aw, Mother fucker!"

Harold held onto her hips as she bounced and thrashed on the counter. He used her momentum to push more of himself into her.

"God, aw, shit, I, here, aw Deidre..." Harold wheezed, and spurted a thick load into her bowels.

"Bathroom's got toilet paper?" Deidre asked after Harold pulled his cock out of her.

"Think so," Harold wheezed.

Deidre did not stop to put her shorts and panties on. She hoped none of the neighbors saw as she dashed through the living room to find the hall bathroom.

"They got any?" Harold asked a moment later.

"Uh huh, about gone, but they got, oh wait, there's another roll on the back here," Deidre called through the open door.

"Okay, we know the countertops are at the right height," Harold commented as Deidre again dashed through the living room.

"Yeah," Deidre giggled.

"Hello," Harold said as they stepped back onto the carport.

"Uh huh," an older man said, standing next to Harold's truck.

"I uh, I'm buying the place," Harold defended. "Was just showing my girlfriend."

"Are, huh?" the man asked, regarding them.

"Yes sir, talked to Ms. Carmen yesterday," Harold said.

"We'll see about that," the man said, hitting a button on his cell phone.

The man spoke into the phone. Then he ended the call.

"And your name is..." he asked Harold.

"Harold Doucet," Harold said. "And this is Deidre."

"Oh, okay, Harold Doucet. I'm Jim, Jim Breaux; live right across street," the man said, first smile crossing his face. "Knew the Heberts, hated seeing them go, but hey, huh?"

"What a big old butt hole," Deidre complained as they were driving back to the Whitehead house.

"Uh, no, no he's not," Harold said. "Sweetheart, he saw a strange truck at a house he knew was empty. He did the neighborly thing and came to check on it. That's the kind of neighbors you want. Ones that will check on your house when they think something's wrong."

Ten minutes late, Harold still came in and showed Maurice and Maria cell phone pictures of the house. Maria thought it was cute; Maurice saw a few areas that needed improvements.

"Got them down to seventy four? Not bad, young man, not bad," Maurice nodded.

Dr. Doucet did not respond to the series of photographs texted to his phone. He did have a small twinge of sadness; his oldest child most likely would not be returning to Colorado.

Steph did respond, telling Harold it was 'darling' and the perfect house for him.

The cell phone picture of Deidre Whitehead, standing in Harold's kitchen, a large pot of chicken and sausage gumbo on the stove also garnered no response from Dr. Doucet. He looked at the fat girl, with the unruly mop of brown and the large horn rimmed glasses and wrinkled his nose. The girl resembled a pig with glasses. He did give a little nod of approval at the size of the girl's chest, though.

Again, Steph declared that Deidre Whitehead looked adorable. And any girl that knew how to cook was definitely a keeper.

"What?" Harold said when Steph's text came through. "She doesn't know how cook. That's MY gumbo, Mrs. Doucet!"

"I helped," Deidre defended.

"Uh huh. Standing there, saying 'How long roux take to make? How long I got keep stirring this?' is a Bbiigg help, Deidre," Harold said and kissed her.

"Nuh uh, go away, butt hole," Deidre said, pushing him.

"Uh, speaking of butt holes," Harold said, reaching for her butt.

"Nuh uh! Leave that alone," Deidre giggled. "Baby, seriously. I got this stupid paper do and you still working on yours."

"Hmm? Finished. Handed it in yesterday," Harold said, again tasting the gumbo.

Thanksgiving was spent with Maurice and Maria Whitehead. Dr. Doucet was far too busy.

Christmas was spent with Maurice and Maria Whitehead. Dr. Doucet and Steph were in Switzerland, skiing.

April fifteenth, Maria Whitehead gave birth to Robert Martin Whitehead. Robert had been Maurice's older brother; cancer had taken him when Maurice was only nine years old.

April sixteenth, Deidre approached her father, Harold standing behind her, and confessed that she was pregnant.

"About two months, best we can guess," Harold said. "Sir? I'd like your permission marry her.

"I'm so sorry Daddy," Deidre burst into sobs, looking at the disappointed look on her father's face. "We was so careful. I don't know how this happened."

(A thin dribble of semen had oozed from Deidre's well fucked anus, dribbled down along her perineum, then dripped along her slick pussy lips. Harold did not see the dribble when he slid his condom covered cock into Deidre's willing pussy. Some sperm travelled deep into Deidre's pussy, hitching a ride on the latex rod as it drove into the wet, warm confines of Deidre's pussy. One sperm found Deidre's egg.)

Being the fat girl, Deidre's pregnancy was not apparent as she walked the halls of Cabrini Catholic High School. At her graduation she did sport a little more paunch as she sauntered across the stage. She received her diploma and thanked Father Brighton, then returned to her seat.

At the one and only after-graduation party she and Harold attended, Deidre proudly showed her two carat engagement ring to Megan and Pat. Then she squealed when Pat likewise showed her own, significantly smaller engagement ring. Megan smiled proudly as Pat and Deidre hugged.

Deidre's due date was November ninth. But at one thirty in the afternoon, October thirty first, Harold was at his desk when Whitney, the reception of PC Nation Data Center buzzed him.

"Sir? Your wife on line three," Whitney said.

"Trick or treat," Harold smiled into the phone.

"Baby, I, Harold, I need you," Deidre gasped. "I don't know what's wrong, but..."

Harold ran through the lobby, yelling to Whitney that he needed to go home immediately. Whitney called Richard Gerrard, the managing director of the office and informed him of Harold's emergency.

"Thank you, Whitney," Richard said. "Please keep me posted."

"No prob... You're welcome, Mr. Gerrard," Whitney said.

Harold screeched to a stop and jumped out of the truck. He came into the house through the kitchen, calling for Deidre.

"Living room," Deidre sobbed, relieved that her husband was finally here.

He looked at the beautiful young girl. Nearly nine months pregnant, her belly was huge. Her hips had widened wonderfully. Her ample buttocks were even larger, beckoned to him with every step she took.

But Harold saw only Deidre's terrified face when he knelt down next to her. She wrapped her cubby arms around his neck and sobbed. She was in pain, the pain was in her tummy. Horrible spasms would shoot through her, taking her breath away. Then, moments later the pain would subside and she would be fine. Shaken, but fine.

"And now it's happening almost every three, four minutes," Deidre sobbed. "Oh God! Oh God, it's happening again! Baby, do something!"

Harold scooped Deidre into his arms and carried her, blanket and billows and all to the kitchen door.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jim Breaux demanded, walking up their driveway.

"Don't know," Harold screamed, running to the truck. "We're going to St. Elizabeth's."

"Go on. I'll lock up here," Jim said calmly. "Remember, name it after me, hear?"

"But I'm not due until..." Deidre said.

"Uh huh, tell that to Little Jimmy, huh?" Jim chuckled and walked through their open door.

While Harold raced for St. Elizabeth's Trauma Center, Jim made sure no appliances were left on, there was nothing in the oven, nothing cooking on their stove. He checked the gas heaters, made sure they were all in the 'Off' position, then walked back to the kitchen door. His last act, before leaving the house was to steal a beer from the Doucet refrigerator. He then locked the door behind him and walked back down the driveway.

"What was wrong?" Lilly, Jim's wife asked. "And where you get that beer?"

"Think baby's 'bout come and you don't worry where I got this beer, you get your own," Jim said and took a gulp of the beer.

"James Robert Breaux, you stole you a beer?" Lilly laughed and grabbed the can from his hand. "Ought be 'shamed yeah."

"Uh huh, but I ain't," Jim smiled. "Now you give that back."

Husband and wife drank the can, passing it back and forth. They sat on their couch and talked about the seven times they had to make the trip to the hospital to have their six girls and one boy.

""And man! Had go us all way Lafayette!" Lilly remembered. "Wasn't no St. Elizabeth's right there neither. Need go get us another one, huh?"

Jim walked across the street, up the driveway and slid up the glass panel in the kitchen door. This time, he made sure to grab two cans of beer.

Deidre Doucet was admitted to St. Elizabeth's Trauma Center's Maternity Ward. Harold let go of her hand, kissed her sweating forehead, then called his father in law and mother in law. He called and left a message on his father's cell phone and called and spoke with his ex-step-mother, Steph and let his father's ex-wife know they were at the hospital.

Then Harold scrubbed up. When he came back into the room, Deidre burst into tears of relief.

"Baby, Baby, it's going be all right," Harold soothed.

"I don't make it? I die? Harold, I ain't never been so happy when I met you," Deidre confessed.

"And meeting you was best thing ever happened to me too," Harold said, taking the soft cloth the nurse held out to him. "But Baby, you going be fine."

Harold gently sponged his wife's forehead. She peered through her large glasses at him, then gasped and groaned as another contraction started.

Maureen Kimberly Doucet was born at five forty one, Halloween Night, just as the sun was disappearing behind the fringe of trees. A burst of deep orange heralded her appearance into the world.

She was named Maureen after Maurice, her maternal grandfather, and Kimberly, after Harold's mother, who did not live to see Harold's marriage, or the birth of her granddaughter.

THE END

**Author's Note: This is an entry for the Halloween Contest 2018.

I write these stories for my pleasure. I post them here for your enjoyment. I thank you sincerely for reading my stories.

I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that take the time to rate my stories.

Have a terrific day. And Happy Halloween! Halloween is one of my favorite times of year.