The camera flash in the mirror was almost blinding, and she spent a few seconds blinking before turning the camera to check the picture. Pouting again, she deleted it. It still wasn’t right.
With a long sigh, she turned and walked back into her bedroom, reaching behind her to unclasp the electric blue bra she was wearing, and then letting it fall to the ground. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her g-string, she pulled them down her thighs, and casually kicked them away as she started to rifle through her closet.
Nothing seemed quite right for the picture, but just as she sat down on her bed in despair, she noticed the Halloween costume she had bought a few days before. Perfect, she thought with a smirk.
She started to get dressed, although every second she did, she was thinking of other things. As she slipped into the plasticy dress and reached behind her for the zip, she thought of him unzipping it again and letting the costume fall to the floor, leaving her naked and dripping. Then, as she smoothed down the hem on her thighs, she realized that he could just push the dress up and fuck her, still dressed.
She checked the cleavage, and her tits seemed to be almost struggling to pop out - she was sure he would pull at the lapels, giving it a helping hand, so he could suck her nipples, or slide his cock between the soft, fleshy mountains of her tits.
As she slowly put on the white fishnet tights that went with the outfit, she thought of how warm and how good he felt when she wrapped her thighs around his waist or his head. When she slipped on the white boots, she thought about how much he liked her wearing boots when he took her to bed, how much more passionate, how much harder he would fuck her when she wore boots to bed.
She put the little headpiece onto her head, and thought about how he liked to grab fistfuls of her hair as he fucked her, using that hair to pull her back onto his cock as he pounded her. She shivered a little, feeling a few drops of wetness on her thighs.
She thought about it all. How his body felt on top of her, how his face looked, how he smelt. She thought of how amazing it felt to have his cock pushing deep inside her, prying her open, throbbing deep inside her pussy: then, with a final grunt, his cock would swell, and he would pump his hot, sticky load into her belly.
She bent down quickly, and grabbed the thong she had taken off a minute before. Balling it up in her hand, she pushed it under her dress and rubbed it against her lips, making sure it was nice and wet. Then, grabbing the stethoscope, she moved back towards the bathroom mirror to take the teasing picture for him.
The perfect, slutty little nurse. The head nurse, she thought, grinning at her own private joke.
She suddenly had a second thought, and went back into her room to grab a lipstick, writing a quick message on the mirror. Then, she raised her camera-phone, and clicked.
The blinding flash, then a few buttons, and sent.
She didn’t put a message in. The photo said it all.
His little whore, all dressed up as a slutty nurse; her full tits, straining at the wipe-clean costume and showing as much cleavage as she could; the little pouting lips, that clearly wanted to be wrapped around a cock; one leg raised slightly, pulling the hem of her skirt upwards, exposing a little more of her fishnet-clad thighs; the tight, knee high boots; the stethoscope and Red Cross headband, just to show that she was really meant to be a nurse, and not just a slut who loved his cock; and the thong, with a prominent wet patch, dangling from between her lips, to prove that however she dressed, she really was a slut who loved his cock.
And across the mirror, scrawled in the same red lipstick she was wearing, the same red lipstick she had smeared on his shaft more than once, a simple question.
“Trick or Treat?”