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Masks

By: draconus_infernus



I don't know why Dennis insisted on calling his little Halloween bash a "costume party." Every party he ever threw was clothing optional, and I knew this one would be no different. To be honest, I didn't really know what I was even doing there in the first place.

Angela, my girlfriend of three years, had just unceremoniously dumped me for my now former best friend Bruce, and I just knew they were both going to be there. Yeah, this was gonna be one shitty Halloween.

The upside to Dennis's parties, other than the rampant nudity, was the location. His place was out in the boonies, so we could have the music as loud as we want for as long as we want, and this Halloween would be no different. When I got there at 10:00 that night, things had been in full swing for hours.

"Good to see you, Max," Dennis said as he welcomed me. He was dressed as a masked bandit from the Old West. Me, I was dressed all in black and was wearing a bandana mask to hide my features. If anyone asked, I was a cat burglar. That was the theme of the night; clothing may be optional, but the masks had to stay on. I think it was a fetish of Dennis's wife.

"Thanks for having me," I said. I went for the kitchen and set down the case of beer I had brought with me.

Just then I felt someone grab my ass. "Hi, sexy." It was Carla, Dennis's wife. All she had on was a Mardi Gras mask.

"Naked already?" I asked in a tone of mock surprise. "Don't tell me I missed all the fun." Carla being naked was as much of a surprise as the sun rising every morning. And she had the body to pull it off! Long brown hair, blue eyes, and a really nice rack. She'd even shaved her pussy for the occasion.

"Clothes can be so confining," she said in a matter of fact tone. "One of these days I'll convince you to take it all off, Max."

"Not a chance," I replied. I'm not that comfortable in my own skin. I'm average height with an average build and an average sized cock. My whole countenance just screams "mediocrity."

What little bit of Carla's face I could see took on a concerned look. "Angela and Bruce are already here," she said. "Last I saw them they were in the hot tub getting, well, amorous."

"Translation, they're fucking already."

"Yeah. I just wanted to warn you." 

"Thanks, Carla." That was another thing about partying with Dennis and Carla; people who wound up naked also wound up fucking. In fact, it was encouraged. Something else I'd never done at one of their parties.

So I decided to ignore the back deck and the hot tub. Instead I went into the living room where a bunch of people in varying states of undress were watching some slasher flick with a blood soaked, half naked scream queen. That's when I saw a woman dressed as a masked Cleopatra. It was easy to tell that she didn't have a bra on under that white gown of hers; her nipples were standing at full attention.

"Excuse me," I said as I came up to her. "I'd like to get by." She was kind of blocking the path to the hallway, and I wanted to see what all else was going on.

"Oh sure," her familiar voice said. "Wait, Max? Is that you?"

"Uh, yeah."

"It's me! Alicia!"

One of Angela's friends. "Hey, Alicia," I said, trying to be nice. "I didn't recognize you with black hair." She was normally a blonde.

She played a little with her tresses. "I decided to try a new look," she said. "I thought that if the wig looked good, I might actually dye it at some point." She gave me a concerned look through her white domino mask. "You want to go somewhere to talk?"

"I'm fine."

She grabbed my hand and led me down the hall to one of the bedrooms. "No you're not. Come on."

As we were going down the hall, I caught a glimpse through the screen door of a small crowd gathered around the hot tub. My curiosity got the better of me and I went to take a look. There was my ex sitting on the edge of the tub, fondling her tits, as Bruce ate her out. Angela still wore her leopard print mask while her matching bikini was laying discarded by the tub. Her near screams of pleasure were like nails down a chalkboard for me.

"You okay?" Alicia asked.

"I could never make her do that."

"Come on," she said, taking my hand. "Let's go. I really don't want to see this any more than you do."

"What's the big deal?" I asked in a defeated tone. "It's just sex. People do it all the time."

Dennis and Carla had a huge house. I don't know what they needed all the extra space for, but they had a lot of it. There was a small orgy in the master bedroom, and couples going at it in two of the guest rooms. The doors were left open so people could watch. 

Finally we came to a free room and Alicia closed the door. "Now we can talk."

"Nothing to talk about." I was really regretting coming here. I took a seat on the bed and waited for Angela to speak her mind.

"I found out what she was doing just before you did," Alicia said. "And the only reason she said anything was because I was gonna make a play for Bruce. She'd been fucking him behind your back for months."

"Yeah, I figured." The couple in the next room was amping it up; the squeaking of the bed and the moans were gaining in intensity. It was making my dick hard, whether I wanted it to or not. I tried to adjust myself without Alicia noticing I was adjusting myself.

Alicia at down beside me and again took my hands. That didn't help my hard on any, especially when she leaned forward and I got a glimpse down her gown. Damn she had nice tits! I had to try my damnedest to keep eye contact with her. She caught me looking.

"You like what you see?" She scooted back and leaned forward even more, showing me more of her lovely cleavage.

"Yeah," I stammered.

Alicia took a look at the tent at my crotch. "He seems to like it." Her playful look again turned to concern. "You gonna be okay? I mean, I can't believe she cheated on a great guy like you."

"Nothing special about me," I said. I wanted to get back out to the party and watch that slasher flick. Maybe the gratuitous violence would help with my erection.

"It's Halloween," she said. "You wanna do something crazy?"

"You obviously have something in mind."

She stood up and let her gown slide off her tanned shoulders, revealing those tits I'd been admiring. They were more than a handful, and her pink nipples were just begging to be sucked. The dress slid lower, revealing a toned stomach, then a smooth, hairless mound, and finally her long legs. "Trick or treat."

"Uh, Alicia, I..."

She grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. "We both need this, Max," she said, the desire thick in her voice. She grabbed my crotch and squeezed my dick. "And to be honest, I've waned to fuck you for a long time. Again I say, trick or treat. You're the treat."

I surprised myself by kissing her hard. Her mouth immediately opened and allowed my tongue access. My hands roamed all over her back, and down to her nice firm ass. Her hands were working on my belt buckle. I pulled back just enough for her to loosen it, and then my pants themselves.

Alicia broke the kiss, and I went to take off my mask. She stopped me. "The masks stay on," she said. "It makes it more exciting. Besides, you can still go down on me with that on."

Alicia quickly ran for the door and opened it. "What are you doing?"

"Come on, Max, live a little!" She came back over to me and dropped to her knees. Alicia pulled my pants down and freed my stiff member. "Mmmmm very nice," she purred. "We shouldn't keep this hidden." With that she took my cock all the way into her mouth and massaged it with her tongue. It was all I could do to keep my knees from buckling.

I quickly shed my black turtle neck and looked down at Alicia. She was looking up at me as she sucked my cock, and gave me an approving look.

"'Bout time," I heard a familiar voice say. I looked at the doorway and saw Carla leaning against the door frame. "Move aside a little, honey," she said to Alicia. " I want to see what he's packing."

"It's not much," I said, more than a little self consciously. 

"I like it," Alicia said. "I can't wait to have it in my pussy."

"It is nice," Carla said, licking her lips. "Carry on, you two. I'll be right back."

I sat down on the full size bed and pulled off my pants and boots. Alicia climbed on top of me and kissed me passionately.

"We got more action in here," I heard a female voice say. I looked over and saw my ex standing there completely naked except for her mask.

"It's Angela," I whispered in Alicia's ear as I nibbled her earlobe. 

"Let's give her a show," Alicia said.

All pretense was gone. Alicia rolled on her back and I went right for those nipples, gently tugging on one with my teeth while I pinched the other.

"Lower," she moaned. "I want you lower."

"What do you want?" I teased. I was gonna make her beg for it.

"Eat my pussy. Please eat my pussy."

That was all the invitation I needed. I slid down between her legs and spread her smooth lips, taking in her musky essence. I gently probed her clit with my tongue, making her squirm. "Right there," she moaned. "Lick me right there."

I slowly and lightly traced her nub with the tip of my tongue. Alicia moved her hips, trying to get me to touch more of her. "Stop teasing," she whimpered.

I looked up at her and smirked. "Trick or treat?"

"Yes please."

I buried my face between her legs and sucked her clit into my mouth. She screamed in delight and surprise when I gently massaged her nub with my teeth. Then, just to drive her crazier, I slipped a finger into her tight tunnel.

"Fuck yes!" Alicia grabbed my head and held it against her pussy, riding me to an intense orgasm. "Yeeeeessssss!!!!!!!!" Alicia hit high note that could be heard through the whole house.

When I came up for air, Alicia was panting like she'd run a 10k marathon. I climbed on top of her and gently kissed her. She grabbed my face and forced her tongue down my throat. "Damn, baby! Where've you been all my life?"

"Around."

"You should come around more often."

I looked over at Angela and I saw her leaning up against the wall with her hand buried in her own pussy. "We're getting to her," I said.

"The let's keep it going." Alicia grabbed my cock and guided it towards her opening.

"I don't have a condom."

"I don't give a fuck. Besides, I was hoping you'd give me a pearl necklace I could wear tonight. I'm so done with the costume."

This was the most intense experience of my life. I'd never had sex in front of a live audience. I slid myself into Alicia's tight pussy and slowly moved my hips.

"That's nice," she sighed. She looked over at the doorway. "We have a nice little crowd."

I looked, too, and saw Angela furiously masturbating while she watched us fuck. That made me even harder. I started thrusting faster, plunging my cock into Alicia's tight hole.

"Yes," she mewed. "You're gonna make me cum again, baby." Her masked face wore an expression of pure bliss. "Faster," she panted. "I don't care it it's quick, I just want to cum again."

I sat up and took hold of Alicia's hips. I pulled her into me as I thrusted forward, making her yell out in delight.

"That's it," I heard Carla say. She was stroking Dennis's cock as they watched us. "Give it to her good."

"Gotta give the audience what they want," Alicia quipped. 

I leaned forward and started pumping into her like there was no tomorrow. She wrapped her legs around me and held on for dear life.

I thrusted into her like a piston, feeling the pressure building in my cock. "Fuck," I groaned. "I'm gonna cum soon."

"So am I," Alicia sighed. "Cum on me, Max! I wanna see it."

"Max?" Angela stopped playing with herself and looked up at us. 

"What the fuck are you doing, Max?"

"Having a good time," I replied. "If you don't like it, go away."

"Yeah, Angela," Alicia added. "You threw him aside, so let me enjoy him."

"Alicia? You fucking whore!"

"That's enough, Angie," Carla said. "If you don't want to watch, then don't watch. Those are the rules."

I wasn't paying attention to Angela's tantrum; all that mattered to me was the gorgeous lady I was fucking. Alicia held onto me tightly as her body erupted in an orgasmic fury. Her moan became a scream that filled the room.

That was all I could take. I pulled out, scrambled up to her chest, and let go. Three weeks worth of pent up tension blasted out of my cock and onto Alicia' waiting chest. The first little bit landed on her tits and neck, but then it really shot out, hitting her masked face and wig. "I hope this wasn't a rental," I groaned, enjoying the sensation of one of the most intense orgasms I'd ever had. I was surprised I could still sit upright.

"No," she said happily. "And even if it was I wouldn't care." She took my now spent cock in her mouth and cleaned it off.

"Nice performance," Carla said as she sauntered over to us. "See, Max, I told you you'd be naked eventually. And for the record, you look great without clothes on."

"You really do," Alicia agreed.

"So much so that Dennis and I were wondering if you two would be up for a foursome later tonight."

I looked down at Alicia's grinning face. "Trick or treat," she smiled.

This turned out to be the greatest Halloween ever. 

Masks



I'd never before thought of work as a source of potential fun. Come to that, I'd never thought of anything much as a source of potential fun because, despite what follows, I have always been painfully shy. Well, okay, not exactly shy but very, very reserved.

I am, or at least thought myself, an average kind of girl. People don't yell running from a glimpse of my face or use my photograph as a way of keeping their children away from the fire, but there again I never have guys swooning at my beauty or other women getting all hissy when I'm around their men because I'm perceived as a threat. I'm slender, athletic enough for a thirty year-old, fine-featured and would maybe, at a push, claim my long black hair as a plus point on the looks table. Other than that, though, I'm miss average, and not even my slightly unusual job -- a copywriter for websites -- moves me out of the 'middle of the road' category.

Usually I sit on front of a computer and pore over sheaths of notes from the owners of websites and come up with riveting copy for them. Things like 'this site offers a totally unique...', 'click here for a once in a lifetime...', 'the cheapest rates anywhere...' -- and a thousand other lies. But just occasionally, the owner of a site will invite me along to have a look around their premises (I can't even begin to count the number of kennels I've visited -- and no funny comments, thanks) or to attend an event that displays their services. It was one of these latter -- and very rare -- invitations that prompted the events of that wild night.

Everyone thinks that the internet is made up mostly of 'adult' sites, but that's really not true. When you add into that equation the fact that what adult sites there are tend not to rely heavily on colourful prose to advertise and promote their whores... sorry, wares, then it shouldn't surprise you to be told that I haven't many such clients on my books. The invite I received from this particular site was, therefore, a surprise -- and it was its rarity value that stopped me from throwing it straight into the bin. Even then it would have made a fairly swift journey to the shredder had it not been spotted by Maddy, my best friend and perennial advice guru.

"You should go to this one, Lily," she waved the card at me.

"Maddy! It's a fetish party for goodness sake! Hardly my scene."

"So? It will do you good to see how the other half -- the other ninety percent -- lives, and it can only be good for sourcing material for the site's next release."

"All well and true," I told her, "but you seem to be forgetting that I'm not exactly the fetish party type."

"Maybe you should try it, then," Maddy grinned, "Broaden your horizons."

"Just chuck it. There's no way I can ever get that broad. And what if there was someone there who recognised me? I'd never live it down."

"Quite apart from the fact that whoever might have recognised you would be even more ill at ease, it says here," Maddy went on, undeterred, "that it's a masked party. No one need ever know it was you there."

"They might still recognise me another way."

"So dress wild and different. No one who knows the prudish Lily would ever suspect it was her."

"I am not a prude, just-"

"Shy. Yeah, I've heard it all before...."

The debate raged on through the rest of the bottle of Merlot we were sharing, and right through the next bottle and a half as well. It also started its own little side-show debate in my own mind, and that particular discussion went on long after Maddy had tottered off to her taxi and I had climbed into my occasionally lonely bed. It was still rattling around the next day.

Maddy's comments about how anonymous I could remain behind a mask and in unusual attire kept plugging away at my shyness all day, and despite my best efforts, I was totally unable to come up with any arguments that would beat them. By the time bedtime came around again I was even starting to look for holes in the logistics...

And so it came to pass. After another few hundred internal debates, and another dozen conversations with Maddy, I finally made my decision to attend the party. The invite wanted replies from anyone choosing to turn up, but I wasn't going to risk any chance of being identified so chose to turn up out of the blue instead. The only other choice I had to make was what to wear, and that was a much harder one. Thanks to Maddy, though, I did at least have some assistance. And some suitable items, borrowed from her far less inhibited wardrobe than mine.

The debate on my attire was even longer than the one about whether I was going to attend, and it was the devil's own job to get Maddy to let me wear things that wouldn't get me arrested. Even then, the final choice left me feeling less than comfortable -- a micro min leather skirt over fishnet stockings and see-through knickers, and a silky blouse, half-unbuttoned, over... well, over me. If it hadn't been for the full-face, snug-fitting, silky 'diamond-eye' mask, I would never have been able to leave my apartment. Oh, and the full-length raincoat. And Maddy's words of encouragement. And five vodkas. And a lift from her.

The next test of my resolve (or possibly, stupidity) came when I finally entered the large house where the party was being held and I had to remove the raincoat. Given that I'd never as much as showed off too much leg in public before, revealing my outfit to the smiling host and his girlfriend (or wife, or extremely talented transvestite boyfriend) felt more like stripping on national television. 

But here's a confession for you. I had been resolutely pushing any thoughts about how things might actually feel to the back of my mind, and the unbuttoning of the raincoat acted like turning on a tap. Albeit slowly, the first tingles of excitement came trickling into my veins, and when the hosts just gave an admiring nod or three, I was surprised at the frisson of excitement that I felt.

Oh, and the mask? That suddenly became my security -- and my licence to enjoy myself.

Despite my new-found (albeit it masked) confidence, I grabbed a large drink from the bar, downed that, grabbed another, and then made my way into the main room where the noise was louder and punctuated by the comforting sound of laughter. 

I had imagined that there would be a hundred people in there -- and it certainly sounded loud enough -- but there was barely a third of that number, and the first thing that struck me was that, if anything, my oh so daring costume was really rather tame compared to most of the other outfits on display. The crowds' focus was firmly fixed on a male-female couple in all-leather gear currently giving an impromptu performance of Paradise by the Dashboard Light, complete with gesture and actions that Meatloaf and Ellen Foley probably wouldn't have considered in even their wildest fantasies. Quite apart from being a rather fun show, it also gave me the perfect opportunity to take up an inconspicuous position towards the back of the room.

Another thing I'd mostly blocked from my mind up until that point had been just what the heck would actually go on at this 'fetish party' -- and I'd left my possible reactions to such things as a completely grey area. Now, though, I was faced with the evidence, so to speak, and I was rather pleasantly surprised.

The atmosphere, while redolent with sexuality, was almost soothingly well-balanced. There was a calmness in the air that surprised and delighted me, and the absence of any sort of pressure allowed me to relax with my drink. 

Paradise soon finished and speakers around the room began to pulse with a gentle beat that soon had a lot of people up and dancing in that awkward early-party, booze-hasn't-quite-kicked-in-yet kind of way. I began to people watch, fascinated by all of the different shapes and sizes, and the levels -- or depths -- of daring that related to the costume choices. 

It was a few minutes later -- with me on my next drink and back in my cosy sideline position -- when I noticed a subtle change in the atmosphere. The leather-clad couple who had been singing when I first entered the room were now centre stage among the dancers and their movements suggested most strongly that they were thoroughly enjoying the attention they were getting -- and that they were giving each other. 

The guy was tall and clearly very fit, the girl shorter and as slender as me, and they both moved with a sinuous grace that would have been sensual whatever they were wearing. I found myself watching them very closely and was therefore one of the first to witness a subtle gesture that started my pulse quickening. The guy leaned forward and seemed to brush his hands lightly across the girl's bust, but when his hands dropped back to his sides, the top of the her leather vest now gaped. The girl raised her hands over her head and writhed like a snake, dipping and stretching, the leather tight over her breasts one moment and then gaping tantalisingly the next. I realised that those closer than me might even be able to catch a momentary glimpse of her nipples if they looked at just the right moment and- 

I gasped when the guy's right hand shot forward and popped another button on her top, the entire garment bursting open to her waist, her small, perfectly-formed breasts suddenly completely exposed to a crowd that hooted in delight. And she never so much as broke her rhythm.

I stared in fascinated arousal as she continued to writhe up and down and barely muttered a whimper when the guy's own top joined hers and they started to dance closer. When another couple joined them in the centre of the now-excited crowd, I had to stand on tiptoes to watch exactly what was going on -- and I gave another whimper as the newcomers stripped each other down to just panties and tight leather shorts. Both women's breasts were bared as they moved together and the guys' shorts were bulging in clear delight at the spectacle. 

I had never, ever seen anything so blatantly sexual -- or as arousing -- and my body reacted with a strength that took my breath away for a moment. But that was as nothing to how it reacted when the two guys started to caress their partners -- both of them.  

The hooting of the crowd had taken on a new, febrile edge and I tore my eyes away from the foursome in focus to look at the rapt stares and smiles of the spectators. Every single eye in the room was focused on the four stars of the show, and safe behind my mask I felt like I was a million miles away from the shy Lily who inhabited another world. I even allowed myself to acknowledge that I was more turned on than I could ever remember being -- and in public at that. And that's when I realised that, in many ways, I could have been on another planet rather than 'in public' -- no one would look at me when there was such a sexual show going on out there....

The daring display by those two women was having its effect on me, and coupled with the flood of arousal I was experiencing I started ti feel a need -- an absolute requirement -- for satisfaction. And as I let my free hand trail down to the hem of my skirt, I knew -- knew for certain -- that no one would so much as notice me even if I....

Without waiting for my shyness to kick in and ruin the moment I let my fingers snake up to the heat and wetness just an inch or two from the hem of the mini-skirt, and right there in the middle of that crowded room, I stroked myself.

I checked -- I'm Lily at heart, remember -- that no one noticed, and then stroked again, my attention now swinging back to the foursome. My timing was perfect and as my eyes focused on the first guy, his girl tugged his shorts down, freeing an impressive -- and extremely hard -- cock, right there in the middle of the room. When the girls then tore at each others knickers to leave themselves naked to everyone's eager gazes, my stroking took on a new fervour. Another check of the foursome revealed that they were all now naked and writhing together, and that blew my control circuits.

Without realising it, I had put my glass down and now had one hand inside my skimpy knickers, the other parting my loose blouse to grab at and fondle my breasts. Part of me realised what I was doing right there in the middle of the crowd -- and every part if me applauded myself. I need it, needed to do it, and when the realisation came over me that I was not going to be able to stop easily, I lost the last vestige of self-control. As the first guy's cock entered his woman's pussy just fifteen feet in front of me, I pressed my middle fingers between my swollen, sensitive labia and gasped in delight.

When the large hand closed over my left breast through the silk of my blouse I let out a whimper not a protest, and when it slid inside the fabric to cover my right breast, I just managed a muttered 'yes!', lost in pleasure.

Another hand snaked down to my skirt, pulling it up and over my hand playing at my soaked pussy and I gasped another 'yes', slipping my fingers from my centre and pushing the stranger's hand there in their place. 

My suddenly free hand found itself around the hot, hard length of a bare cock at my side and I glanced down to see the glistening head protruding from my eager hand. As the strangers' fingers entered me I started to move my hand up and down the length of his shaft, and glanced around us. We were far from alone in our wild behaviour, but right at that point I wanted to stand out, wanted everyone to see the beast within -- and I yanked open my blouse, popping buttons as I bared myself, and yelled my passion, inviting eager looks.

When the guy standing next to me and my unknown partner whooped with delight and stared directly into the diamond eyes of my mask, I felt the first tremors building within me -- and I welcomed them with an open heart and a desperate pussy. Spinning to face the stranger who's fingers probed and pleasured me, I managed to gasp 'now!' to him, dragging his engorged member towards the hot, wet centre of me.

He lifted me effortlessly, my legs spreading to his sides, my hips rising to locate the heat of the head of his cock against my dripping pussy. And there in the middle of the room, he entered me. As the people all around us switched their attention from the formerly leather-clad lovers to this suddenly horny woman, I rode this stranger's cock and showed as much as I could to all of them. When other hands reached out to touch my exposed breasts I pleaded for more. When my blouse and my skirt and my knickers were torn from me, my cries of delight spiralled higher and higher. And when the stranger inside me started to fill me with hit cum, I started to beg him to fuck me harder, to fill me, to let my pussy know who wanted it most. Words never used before, behaviours never considered, sensations never felt... I let go.

I was still going through the spasms of my monumental climax when I was lowered to the floor, and lay there spread-eagled as another guy, this one in nothing more than a bow tie under his mask, almost fell on top of me, pawing at my bared breasts. He didn't even get to enter me before he spurted a hot, wet trail of cum onto my belly, and he in turn was dragged away so that I found myself looking up into the eyes of the guy who had been singing when I first came into the room.

Without pausing, he thrust his cock inside me and I yelled in delight as another wave of climax stole over me before I started to buck and grind against another stranger. Words of desire and need tumbled from my mouth, begging him to "fuck me hard", to make it "two out of three ain't bad, to "fill me" and to "make me yours for this moment".

You know, I never did find my clothes again that night? And contrary to an immediate fear that enveloped me after I had finally finished climaxing, I was delighted with my own performance and the way it made me feel. Ah, the power! I might have been the target for every cock in that room, but it was my situation to control, and control it I did. Sure my tits were pawed at by a dozen guys or more -- but it was only allowed because I wanted it -- and sure my pussy was craved by as many cocks, but only the three that I chose got to fuck me. And yes, I did say 'only three' (the host deserved thanking -- and he has never found out to this day that it was me...) -- all my choices.

I never knew what it was like to walk so tall and for a few hours at least to be such an all-powerful slut of a woman -- but now I do, and I'm the only person in the whole wide world who knows what that -- and I -- feel like. 

Even Maddy doesn't know what I got up to that night (although she was surprised when I fucked one of her dinner guests in the summer house a few weeks ago), but she's wise enough to make no comment when another invite arrived last week and I put it under a magnet on my fridge door.

Oh -- and when I did the write-up, I gave the site five stars...



Masks



"Sorry, kiddo, but there's a 'no kids allowed' rule at this party," said my dad shaking his head, almost managing to look like he was truly upset on my behalf. "Not my rule, it's Jim and Gina's, it's an adults only kind of thing."

"I see," I replied, raising an eyebrow slightly and crossing my under over my breasts. "And the fact that I am 19 now means what, exactly? When do I get to lose this 'kid' status?"

My dad smiled at me. He was a tall, broad, good looking guy. Perhaps there was a bit too much grey in his hair, perhaps he didn't exactly sport the Adonis body type, but when he smiled it lit up his whole face, the whole room, and it made you feel wanted and loved. As he got older he developed a few more lines around his big brown eyes, but these were just the well-worn grooves made from flashing his trademark easy goofy grin at everyone and everything. Everyone loved my dad, and so did I, even though it was not exactly cool for a 19 year old girl to still love her father. He was just such a big, kind teddy bear who always made me feel the most important person in the world.

"When you turn 60, have grand-kids, use a walker to move around and put your teeth in the glass next to your bed. Then maybe, and I mean MAYBE, I may just stop thinking of you as my little girl in pink dresses and pigtails. Besides, this is just going to be a stuffy group of stuffy old people talking about stuffy old people stuff. Hell, I probably wouldn't go, if your mom wasn't insisting."

Across the room, my mom snorted. "Dear, it's been all you've been talking about for weeks. These are mostly your friends, so please don't make me the ogre in your little fantasies, please." My mom was completely the opposite of my dad. We got on by mostly avoiding each other. While I have inherited my dad's quick sense of humour and optimistic view on life, I inherited my looks from my mom. We had similar black, thick hair, although I usually cut mine short compared to her long glossy mane, framing our heart-shaped, pale, flawless faces. Our eyes were both hazel, with mine perhaps having a few more flecks of green in them. Our bodies too were very similar, taking from all the women from her side of the family being busty with wide hips, with a thin waist. My breasts were a little larger than hers, reaching more towards the D-cup, while hers is upper-C. While we look the same, she has a cold, clinical take on the world. She usually only smiles when she is going in for the kill, about to make the killer point in an argument, or needing to put on a happy calming face to lull you into a false sense of security. No surprise that she's a lawyer and a pretty ruthless one by all accounts. She treats my dad like a big child, and I think he likes someone who can bring a little order to his otherwise chaotic life.

My dad reacted to his wife's accusation by looking overly hurt. "My dear lady, you wound me with your libellous comments! I am sure that it was you that insisted on going to this party, not poor defenceless self!"

Mom sniffed and looked back to the papers she had been reading. "It's only libel if it is written. It was more like slander. Never mind, we'll just stay at home then, if the thought of attending offends you too much."

"Now, now, let's not be too hasty," said my dad, raising his hands defensively. "We've already bought our costumes, and it would be a shame to waste them. Especially yours!" He stepped in and kissed her on the head, then looked up at me waggling his eyebrows. I wondered what costume she was going to wear, to cause this reaction? Mom just muttered, "M'hmm," and kept reading.

"Nice try dad, but you have been raving over this party for weeks now. It is certainly going to be your scene, so don't you try to hide behind mom."

"Et tu, Brute?" said dad, with a grin. "Anyways, we will have some dinner there, so feel free to fix yourself whatever. We won't need a lift, we'll walk home when we are done, as it's only a few blocks. Don't stay up late, otherwise you might see your mother a little worse for wear due to..." He made a drinking motion with one hand.

"Out," said mom, pointing to the door. I need to go over this work for Monday, and if I'm to go to this party tonight I will need to work now in some peace and quiet. Out!"

"C'mon, kiddo. We know when we're not wanted. Let's eat some ice cream for lunch."

"And no ice cream!" shot mom from the room as we left. We grinned to each other and headed out. My dad was a dork, but he was my dork.

The afternoon wore on, and drifted slowly into evening. We even managed to sneak some ice cream when mom was still working. Dad finally ducked off to the bedroom to change into his costume. Mom kept at her work, occasionally rubbing at her temples.

"You okay, mom? You look tired."

"I am tired. This whole case is a legal bird's nest, all mixed up all over the place. It falls smack-bang between a few different laws, without actually hitting any directly. It's going to be a tough fight. And it is giving me a pretty bad headache."

"You are still going to the party, though, right? I mean, it would kill dad if you couldn't go."

"Yes, yes, I'll still go to his silly party."

Dad chose that moment to come in, dressed in his costume. He was a jester, all black-and white with bells on his hat, pom-poms down his front and a sad-face mask covering his face. The costume looked detailed, and quite fantastic.

"Nice, dad! Although why did you go with a sad face? I thought a happy face would be your thing."

"Indeed it would," he said, removing his mask, putting it in a hidden pocket, then pulling out another to take its place. This one had a broad grin on it.

"Nice! So you can swap them all night and keep people guessing!"

"That's the plan!" I just knew his real face was grinning widely under the mask's frozen smile as he postured grandly.

"Well, I am going to be a little longer here, so we may end up a bit late. I should be about an hour," said my mom. Dad took off his mask, his face stony as he replaced the sad-face. "Don't you look at me like that," mom shot at the mask, "I said I would be there and I will. Why don't you head over there early and get things started, I'll be in later."

Dad whipped off his mask, he was grinning again, and kissed mom on the cheek. "Okay, if that's what you want. I'll see you soon there, okay?" And with that he cavorted madly out of the house. I couldn't believe he was walking to the party like that.

I went into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich for an early dinner. I couldn't be bothered making a complex meal for just myself. I ate, cleared up, and then went in to remind mom about the party and ask if she was hungry. She wasn't behind her desk, the papers were scattered across its surface in piles that probably meant something to mom. The phone rang, and I answered it.

"Hi, kiddo, it's the courtly jester himself here. Has your mom left yet?"

"I don't think so; I think she's just getting dressed." I walked down the hall and nudged open her bedroom door. Mom was sprawled out on the bed, still dressed, one arm draped over her eyes. "Uh, hang on, dad." I stepped up to her lightly, covering the mouthpiece of the phone to make sure dad couldn't hear, and I nudged mom, shaking her slightly, calling out to her. There was no response. And then I saw the bottle of pills beside the bed. It was open, the protective cotton wool out, and a mostly drunk glass of water was next to it. Mom was floating on the Valium clouds, again. There was no way that she'd be able to wake up enough to go to the party now. Hell, she probably wouldn't wake up if someone was chopping off her leg with a blunt saw. Dad was going to be disappointed as hell, he was really looking forward to mom and him going to this do together, and now she was going to break his heart. And typically she left me to break the news. "Uh, dad?" I bit my lip, wondering what to say.

"Yeah, kiddo, still here. Is the lovely lass I married going to be here soon? The party is really livening up, I would love her here warming my side!"

I glanced around the room, not knowing where to begin. Then my eyes alighted onto mom's costume. It was black, and shiny, and by the looks of the mask on the hook above it, it was a Catwoman's outfit. I suddenly had an inspiration.

"Sure dad, she's just getting dressed now. She should be ready pretty soon I think, and then I'll hustle her over straight away!"

"Thanks, kiddo. Remember, no wild parties for you tonight! Maybe a semi-wild one would be okay, though... but remember to keep at least one piece of clothing on at all times." And with that he was gone. 

So tonight, I was going to go in two costumes. The first would be as Catwoman, and the second as mom! I bit my lip. I could do this. I would just pretend to be her, right up until midnight, when we threw off our masks, wouldn't dad be surprised! I could do it!

I ran my fingers along the costume. There didn't seem to be enough to cover all of me... ah well. I would find out soon. I took the clothes to my room, as I felt weird undressing in front of my unconscious mom. I stripped off, and pulled on the costume. There was a top that left a good deal of my stomach exposed, and a pair of pants that clung to me like a second skin. It was tight, and it was sexy, although I could easily see my bra and panty-line through the tight, black shiny material. I sighed, took off the costume, then my underwear, and replaced the costume. The top was so tight that you could easily see the outlines of my nipples through the material. It was meant for my mom's slightly smaller chest. I hoped no one would notice them being slightly larger than those designed to be contained within these black, tight confines. The pants meant you could easily see the lines of my ass, and unfortunately you could see a slight uneven bump where my pubic hairs were. I have no idea how mom planned to combat this, probably with a thong I assumed. I briefly considered going through her underwear draw to see, but the thought of wearing mom's thong was too icky, so rejected the idea. I almost gave up then and there, but the thought of my dad disappointed by mom after I told him everything would be fine flashed through my mind. 

Then I had an idea. A naughty idea, which I had to carry out quickly, before I lost my nerve. I stripped off again, and ducked into the bathroom. I grabbed a pair of scissors, took a deep breath, then went to town on my admittedly bushy pubic region. When I had felled the forest into mere stubble, I grabbed my shaving cream and razor I had just used on my legs this morning, and rubbed the cream over the stiff stubble in. It felt nice as my fingers brushed over my mound, I hadn't been touched there for about 6 months by anyone else, not since my last boyfriend, whom I lost my virginity to, dumped me for being too demanding. Most of that was to do with sex -- he couldn't keep up with me. I must admit I had become a bit of an animal for a while there, jumping him at every opportunity. He became stressed at having to perform so often and ran off to find someone with a normal sexual appetite. Since then I just hadn't found anyone else.

I snapped myself out of my thoughts, and began to run the razor over my mound in short, even strokes. It was hard to see down there, over my boobs, and I had to flatten them with the other hand, one leg bent awkwardly as I tried to see what I was doing. Soon I was hair-free, for the first time since puberty. I ran my hand over my smooth skin, and shuddered at the feeling. I now knew why some women do this, the sensitivity was amazing. If I had more time I would have tried it out with my buzzing pink friend resting in the draw by my bed, but dad was waiting. I pulled on the costume and stared at myself in the mirror. I knew guys stared at my body, most of them were none too subtle about it, but in this expertly crafted costume accentuated all of my already curvaceous body in a way that made me shiver. Could I pass for mom, though? 

The answer was no because of my damned hair. Mom had long black hair, and mine was short. The mask would cover most of it, but the lack of hair peeking out the bottom would be suspicious. I bit my lip and thought, finally having a stroke of genius. A couple of years ago my mom burned her hair, leaning over a birthday cake, blowing out the candles. It was pretty bad; while she wasn't hurt her hair was a mess. Now, mom was too vain to have it cut really short, so for a month or so she wore a wig, until it had grown back enough to be shown in public again. The wig was expensive, matched her current hair perfectly, and was now lying forgotten in her closet. I ran in, grabbed it, checked that mom was still dead to the world, then paused, noticing a pair of thigh-high black shoes in the corner, with some killer heels. Obviously this was part of the costume, as was the riding crop, and gloves with sharp-looking talons lying next to them. I had never thought of mom dressing this risqué before! I grabbed them and dashed back to my room, pulling them on, praying they would fit. And fit they did, like they were made for me. I took a few trial steps around the room, these heels were a little higher than I was used to but I could handle them.

I caught a look at myself in the mirror and saw a sexy strange woman there who I didn't recognise. The heels made her look tall, her ass stick out, her boobs lift up. The mask hid most of her head, except for her chin and lips. She was shiny, sexy, and all but nude. Just wearing this costume made me feel like sex on legs, and I began to feel the familiar tingle of my horniness begin to switch on. I tried to dismiss it, as I was just going to see dad and his cronies at a party, but I looked and felt amazing. I ran the riding crop along my ass and thigh, relishing the naughty look of it all. I quickly touched up the costume by applying some red lipstick, and some dark eyeliner and I was ready to go. To the party. Three blocks away. 

Was I really going to walk to the party dressed like this, looking almost naked? Hell, was I ready to walk around a party looking like this, leaving nothing to the imagination of the dirty old men there? Why the hell did I think I could do this?

The phone rang again, startling me. I pounced on it, fumbled it and answered it, a little flustered and feeling slightly shameful at what I was answering it in, for some stupid reason.

It was dad again. "Just after an update about your mom. Still coming?"

I took a breath. I pictured dad devastated by mom not turning up, then pictured him delighted at the joke I would pull on him when I removed my mask at the stroke of midnight. I could do it, for him. After all, he has done so much for me in the past.

"Sure dad, she took ages getting ready. You know her. She just left, and should be there soon."

"Excellent! I haven't seen her in her costume yet, and I can't wait to see it! Rrrrrrowl!"

"Dad. Your daughter here. Gross." If only he knew, I thought, arms covering my chest protectively.

"Anywho, catch you on the flipside!"

"Night dad." Well, there was no getting out of it now! I strutted over to the booze cupboard, and poured myself three shots of vodka, shooting them one after the other. If I was going to do this, I needed some liquid courage. I walked to the door. I gripped the handle. I took a deep breath. I grabbed mom's handbag to hold my keys, lipstick and wallet. I opened the door and stepped out into the world looking like sex on legs. I waited a couple of minutes to make sure there would be no screams or accusations of indecency, but there was nothing but the evening birds, preparing to sleep. I could do this!

I walked partway down the road, stopped, rushed back and grabbed the riding crop. So much for a dramatic exit!

I clicked my way along the footpath, my heels loud on the concrete. My wig itched slightly, and my mask felt odd covering my head, but that was not the worst of it. Every step had the skin-tight pants sliding back and forth over my unprotected pussy, which felt strange and wrong now that it was freshly shaved. At first it was uncomfortable, but soon, with the liquor beginning to course through my head, it began to feel nice. Really nice. A car honked going past, and a couple of young guys waved enthusiastically, flipping me the thumbs up. I just smiled and kept walking. I felt sexy, and soon I began to also feel aroused. When I got to this party I decided I should probably spend most of it sitting down, so I wouldn't ruin the material between the legs with the moisture I could already feel building within me. I felt my skin prickling with goosebumps under the thin material, for more reasons than the cold air on this autumn day. 

Finally I made my way to the house, a couple of sad balloons handing out the front as a form of invitation to come inside. I sighed, hoping tonight wouldn't be boring. I walked up to the door, and opened it, and was immediately awash with a party in full swing. The music was pumping, although it was a little out-dated, and the lights were dimmed. People were crowded in, drinking, dancing, chatting, moving as a mass of kaleidoscopic bodies. There were even a couple of people on the couch making out, not what I expected from a parents' party at all! The air was abuzz with laughter and merrymaking, the party had a great feel to it, not unlike those thrown by people my own age. I ducked between animals, princesses, pirates and ghosts, all in varying quality of costume. I had to admit, some of them looked great, showing off some older bodies that had held up pretty well. I saw some sexy nurses, a muscular Tarzan, a dominatrix in a top-hat. I was getting some pretty damn appreciative glances, but at least I didn't feel too over-dressed.

My alcohol-fuelled buzz was in full-flight now, and it gave me to the confidence to walk about looking sexy and confident. I remembered that I was supposed to be mom, so I strode about like I owned the place, and damn anyone who got in my way. I exchanged simple pleasantries, I wasn't sure who most people were in their masks, but I talked, keeping it brief as I stalked from room to room, past fancifully dressed bodies, enquiring about the jester. I felt a few people rub up against me, and I felt more than one hand brush over my tight ass, and I suspect that at least one of those times it was a woman. Soon I was directed to the kitchen, which was slightly better lit. I was met by the scene of my father, the jester, making punch while regaling a rapt audience about an accident he had last winter, slipping on ice outside our house. He had made a complete fool of himself and was rushed to the hospital with a bruised coccyx, but he was such the master storyteller that everyone was laughing along with him, rather than at him. 

Finally his eyes settled on me. He made a show of slowly looking me up and down, his eyes glittering, behind the sad face mask. He ducked into the pantry, fumbled about, then leapt out, hands out in a 'ta-da' kinda way, his mask now the smiling one. People clapped, and so did I, although lightly (I was meant to be my mother). He danced his way over to me and hugged me. 

"I thought you weren't going to make it!" he said. 

"I said I would, didn't I?" I replied, keeping my voice deliberately husky. Hopefully he would think I was trying to keep in character. 

"Indeed you did!" he said, hugging me again, his hand for one awkward moment squeezing my ass. "So let the party begin!"

There were cheers and raised glasses. My dad realised I hadn't got one, so he scrambled to grab me a glass of champagne. Now, normally I don't drink champagne as it goes straight to my head, and I get a bit silly. But I was supposed to be mom, and she drinks champagne. I began sipping it, and found that I quite enjoyed it. For some reason it was soon empty, and was somehow refilled again. I hung on dad's arm, pretending to be his wife. We chatted, joked and had a great time with the people around us. Dad occasionally shot me looks, which I took to be questioning under his mask whenever I was acting too nice. At one stage he pulled me into the corner and pushed his mask against my ear, saying over the music, "What's gotten into you? You really seem to be letting yourself go! I like it."




Masks



"What can I say?" I replied, thinking desperately of something that I could say. "I guess you were right, this is a fantastic party, and I am with a fantastic guy!" I could tell by the way his jawline lifted behind the mask he had his usual goofy grin. He glanced about, and then leant in. I thought he was going to whisper something else, but he lifted the mask, and kissed me on the lips. I was a little shocked, but the alcohol blunted any objections I could have. A small rebellious part of my brain, the part that had become increasingly aroused during the night, pointed out that a guy was kissing me, pressing against me. I shut that thought down as dad broke the kiss and leaned back, re-adjusting the mask back on his face. 

He said, "Thanks for making the effort, dear," the danced a little jig and whirled me onto the dance floor. I danced with him, in a wild fashion, really letting myself go. There were more champagne glasses, sometimes full, sometimes empty, although I never really remembered drinking any. I danced with dad, I danced with other guys, other girls. I flirted like crazy, playing the sex-vixen to the hilt, not caring that I was still meant to be playing my mom. Whoever chose the music chose it so it was lively and pumping, and soon I was exhausted. I left the dance floor, saw my dad dancing with what looked like an extremely overweight chorus-girl, having the time of his life, so I ducked out the back door, to get some air.

There were a group of people outside, sitting in a circle around an open fire in a pit. They were smoking and drinking. A couple of them had taken their masks off. This was the cruise-y part of the party, I decided. I sat down, and joined in the conversation, enjoying the mellow chats. There was an odd scent in the air, and I realised what it was when someone handed me a joint. Now, I have tried marijuana before, but it felt weird having it handed to you by a guy who must have been 50 in most of a gorilla suit. Still, my night had been all about taking risks, so I brought it gingerly to my lips, and inhaled deeply. I held it in as long as I could, then coughed loudly, to a couple of chuckles around the fire. I passed on the joint, and settled back as the fuzz began to wash over me. My body started to feel heavy while it was moving, though light when it was still. My eyelids felt rough, like there was not enough moisture on my eyeballs, and my tongue felt big in my mouth. I could feel where the costume rubbed against my nipples and my crotch, and the sensations set my skin on fire. I briefly considered going to the toilets to masturbate, but rejected the idea, but only because I felt so damn comfortable in this deck chair. When I got home, I was going to wear out some batteries in my little friend, I could tell you. I took off my boots as my feet hurt from walking and dancing in the high heels, and placed them down next to my chair. A woman dressed like a Valkyrie rubbed my feet, throwing me some knowing looks. It felt wonderful.

Soon I felt ravenous, so I left the group, and entered the house again, leaving my boots and riding crop behind. I wolfed down some snack ravenously, and chatted to the people I found in the kitchen. Suddenly dad was there, and I kissed him briefly on the lips, flinging my arms around his neck and giggling about it. He just stood there, head on the side, His face was hidden by the maniacal grin of the mask still. I preferred my dad's smile, I thought, and reached up to draw my thumb along the line of this false grin, nowhere near as sincere as dads', as my fingers brushed his jawline. He took hold of my hand and pressed it against the mask, where his lips would be, and I just stared at the mask, marvelling at the details, almost picturing it moving in my drugged state. He glanced about the room, and then began to drag me unresistingly along, still holding my hand, out into the corridor. I grabbed a glass of champagne along the way. I marvelled at the fact it had a strawberry in it, as red as my lips, before drinking it. I briefly wondered whose it was. I left he glass on a hall table as I chewed the sweet yet sour strawberry.

He pushed opened a door, I presume to a bedroom, but was met with the sounds of groans, moans and of skin slapping against skin. He shut the door quickly, glanced back at me, and dragged me further down the corridor. There were people having sex in there, I suddenly realised. I lustfully wanted to go back and see for myself, but dad was leading me into another room, shutting the door behind us. 

I could see in the dim light of the moon peeking through the open curtains that there were coat-racks installed on the back of the door, overflowing with coats, and there were a couple of clean desks with computers, and files. A study I guess, currently being used as a coat-room. Dad pressed me against the soft layer of coats on the back of the door and ran his hands along my face. He tore off his mask and dropped it to the floor. I couldn't see his face properly in the dark room as it was silhouetted against the windows, and I briefly wondered what his expression was. I reached up and stroked his cheek at the thought. He pressed his whole body against mine and began to kiss me passionately. 'I am pretending to be mom!' the booze and the drugs helped me to think. 'So I had better do it right!' I reached around him and returned the kiss. My mouth opened and his tongue entered mine, and I groaned into his mouth. I couldn't remember how long I had been waiting to have another guy pressed against me. I forgot who this one was in the fog that clouded my thought, and one of my legs wrapped around behind him, drawing him closer to me. His hands explored my hips, my sides, reaching up and grasping my breasts. It felt great, and I broke the kiss to groan and take some deeper breaths. I muffled a giggle as I hoped dad did not feel that my boobs were bigger than mom's.

Dad's hands continued to explore my body over the tight material. One part of my brain kept telling me I was pretending that I was mom, so it was okay, and another, disjoint part just registered that someone was touching me, and it felt damn good. His hands slid up my thighs, and up over my pants tracing over my naked ribs. It tickled, but felt nice too. His hands paused there, and then they lowered, his thumbs hooking into my tight pants, and slid them down past my knees, him going down into a squat to full them further.

I froze.

He slid them down and off of my feet, lifting one foot at a time by holding my ankles. I was now naked from the waist down in front of my dad. Even in my drug and alcohol-fuelled haze I realised that this was going a bit too far. I needed to stop this now, before it got further out of hand. I opened my mouth to do just that, but snapped it shut with a yelp as I felt my dad's lips press over my over-sensitive shaved pussy. It had been aroused by the feel of the material, the feeling of sexiness in the air, and it was all too much. At once I had a mini-orgasm, my whole body trembling as I felt electricity jolt through my body. My mouth stretched wide, but no sound came out. My hands flailed uselessly in the air above his head, his mouth and tongue still working on me. The feeling of a mouth on my shaved pussy lips was too much to bear, and it was so wrong that it was my dad making me feel like this that I finally managed to take hold of his head and pull it upwards, away from my aching sex.

Dad pulled up, pressing himself against me again, leaving my pussy bare and cool, and kissed me hungrily on the lips. I let him kiss me, breathing hard, trying to compose myself. He broke the kiss and I just settled back against the soft embrace of the coats, eyes closed, trying to get my brain back on track so I could decide what to do about this situation. My nipples were like diamonds against the slick material, a brush of my hand confirmed that they were overly sensitive, causing me to shiver. My pussy was soaking and throbbing. I wasn't sure if it had forgiven me yet from stopping those wonderful sensations. I was afraid to touch it, as I had never felt this aroused before in my life.

Finally dad broke my thoughts by kissing me again. I had almost forgotten he was still here; I was so lost in my thoughts. One hand squeezed my breast, flicking the nipple, making me gasp into his mouth. His hands dropped to my waist, and just held me lightly. He started to lower himself again, and I gripped his waist tightly, pulling him to me to stop him from going all the way down again, but he only lowered himself a short amount before pausing, and that is when I felt it. I felt the tip of something hard press against my pussy entrance. It was my dad's cock. He was about to have sex with me. My eyes sprang open, and I let out a little yelp of warning, but around the kiss it must have sounded more like a moan of pleasure.

The hard cock pressed up, splitting my pussy lips, the head of his cock pushing slowly inside of me. I was stunned, unable to move, to fight back, to stop him. All I could do was lay back against the coats on the door as my father began to move my hips back and forth, at each thrust delving slightly deeper into my wet opening. I had been turned on so much tonight that my body offered him little resistance, and soon I felt quite full. But then I realised that dad still hadn't bottomed out yet, and he was still pushing further and further in. The one guy I had slept with before hadn't had that much between his legs, and I had to break the kiss my father was still planting on me to gasp and my eyes to bulge as he finally bottomed out in me, deeper than I had ever felt before. I was so full, and my pussy walls involuntarily squeezed him. I was panicking slightly, and marvelling how great a big, long cock felt to be stretching me wide.

We stayed like this for what seemed like an age, but must have only been a minute. The part of me that was screaming that this was my dad was beginning to become lost within the cyclone of thought rushing through my brain, and the part that was responding sexually to the enormous rod buried inside of me was getting louder. My dad pulled back, his cock sliding out of me, and I felt the head passing out of my slit, and I let out a moan, partially from disappointment. But this was only so he could drive back inside of me again, and I had to bite his shoulder to prevent myself from crying out. He began to start a rhythm going, driving into me. This was no gentle lovemaking, this was raw fucking at its most primal. I felt my dad's hot breath on my neck as he rammed into me over and over, and I found myself responding to his thrusts. My hips betrayed me, pushing back onto him to meet his thrusts, to feel him deeper, so much deeper within my body. One of my legs curled around him, pulling his ass closer to me. My other foot was on tip-toe to allow him easier access as he was taller than me. He was still wearing most of his costume, he had just unzipped down the front and the pompoms tickled my stomach and the bells jingled at each thrust. My hands pressed him into me, one hand entwined in his hair, the other on his ass as he thrust, thrust, thrust like a machine into my hot centre. His hands reached down and grabbed me, lifting me, pressing me into the coats, both my legs now gripping him, and I gasped as this position helped him drive deeper into me.

It had been so long, so very long since a cock had been buried inside of me, and even then it hadn't felt this wonderful. I felt my orgasm build, starting from my very centre where our bodies connected, sending tendrils along my nerve endings until it reached every inch of my body. I tensed, feeling myself pausing on the brink for what seemed like an eternity, until the dam burst and I convulsed in my dad's arms, squeezing him to me as I cried out in pleasure. My whole body shook, and dad continued to slide in and out of me, as my wet orgasm flowed down his cock. I finally came down from the heights of pleasure leaving me drained and hanging boneless in my dad's arms. Now holding a dead weight, my dad lowered me until I could stand again, but only just as I was still shaky, and slid smoothly out of me, causing me to gasp and grip his shoulder. I reached up to kiss him gently, to thank him, but he just took my wrist and led me deeper into the room. I stumbled after him numbly, not really comprehending anything that was happening to me.

But dad had other plans and he pushed me face-first over a desk, so my ass hung up in the air. He moved in behind me, and I groaned and gripped the edge of the desk hard as his cock found my entrance once again and pushed deep inside of me. This position caused him to hit a different spot inside of me, and I started making incoherent noises as his hips slapped my ass over and over again, driving into me like a man possessed. It felt wonderful, and I no longer cared who this man was, as long as he didn't stop slamming his wonderful cock into me. 

He reached a large hand up my front, and lifted me up onto my hands, causing me to gasp as it changed the position he was reaching inside of me. His hand squeezed my breast, sliding down to grip the front of the shiny material, lifting it up and exposing my large chest to the cool air, my nipples already hard. He squeezed my bare breasts, pulling at my nipples, causing me to press my breasts harder into his hands. He was so big, so strong I was at his mercy as he drove into me with a reckless abandon, causing my eyes to roll up into my head due to the feelings of pleasure assaulting me. 

Dad's rhythm changed, and his breathing became shorter. He was going to cum in me. Thank god I was still on the pill, because I suddenly wanted, no, I NEEDED him to cream inside of me more than anything in the world. I was letting out little animal grunts and cries, impaling myself over and over onto him. Meeting each of his thrusts inside of me, squeezing his cock with my internal muscles.

Suddenly he slammed into me harder and deeper than he had before, and I cried out as he pressed into me as if he was trying to force his whole body inside of me, his hands squeezed my breasts almost painfully, and I felt him begin to spew his hot seed deep within me. This was too much for me, and I came for the second time that night, collapsing on the desk, crying out loudly onto its surface, feet lifting from the floor as my legs curled, not caring who heard me, not caring about anything except the fire that burned over every inch of me. 

Finally the sensations faded and we were left gasping in the cold light of reality. I was crushed against a desk by my father, who was still buried cock-deep inside of me as our mixed juices leaked sluggishly down my leg. We began to regain our composure, and found that we could once again move. Dad slid out of me, causing us both to gasp as it stimulated our over-sensitive sexes, and I was left with a void deep inside of me. My pussy tingled, and my muscles ached as I slowly let my stiff fingers release the edge of the desk. It took me a while before I could muster the energy to try to stand up again, my legs; hell, my whole body were incredibly shaky. I groaned as I forced my abused body up, thankful that I wasn't still wearing my boots, as I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to manage those heels right now.

Dad handed me some tissues he had found, and I thankfully took them and began cleaning myself up. I was struck by the unreality of it all, I was here dressed as Catwoman, cleaning my father's spunk from between my legs. I shivered, and smiled slightly to myself, feeling strangely content. My dad kissed me, and murmured into my ear, "Damn, you've never been this hot before! Thank you. Clean yourself up, and then join me out there, okay? I love you." He kissed me once more then ducked out. I tossed the tissues into the bin, moving slowly, still not quite trusting my body. I groped around and finally found my pants buried amongst the coats that had fallen from their hooks in our screwing. I pulled them on, my brain burning as it began to run through a number of things. 

What if mom finds out? Hell, what if dad finds out? What if dad wants to talk to mom about this tomorrow? Could I get the suit clean enough for mom by tomorrow? I needed to strip mom off, she had fallen asleep in her clothes, and it wouldn't make sense for her to return home and re-dress before going to bed.

And what the hell was I going to do at midnight, when we all took off our masks?



Masks



Thank you to findingmyvoice for her thoughtful feedback and assistance. 




"Hey Cynthia, is Jason home yet?"

"No, he's not. Come on in."

I tossed myself down on the couch and stretched out. Cynthia was wearing jean shorts that left her long legs completely uncovered. The white tank top accentuated her slimness and allowed a tantalizing hint of cleavage. I smiled and had to keep myself from humming as I watched her move around the house. The scenery at Jason's place was rarely disappointing. I had to tug the crotch of my jeans to a more comfortable position after she bent over to pick something up. Her ass was just fantastic. It stood out nicely without being overly large.

Cynthia emerged from the kitchen with a class of wine in one hand and a bottle of ginger ale in the other. She tossed the bottle at me as she sat on the opposing couch.

"Scott, We need to talk," she said.

"OK, Cynthia," I said as I slowly opened the bottle. I didn't want to get sprayed.

"Don't be so familiar. Call me Mrs. Gray. You need to stop coming over just to see me."

"Huh?" I asked as air hissed out from underneath the cap. 

Cynthia took a sip of wine. "We both know Jason won't be home for at least half an hour." She leaned forward and I had to work to keep my eyes from slipping below her face.

"I don't like being ogled in my own home. Especially by a boy."

"I'll be nineteen in eleven months."

She rolled her eyes. "In the future, if you show up when Jason's not around, I'm not going to let you in."

My heart was pounding and I felt my face heat up. "Jason is my best friend. You're going to drive us apart because you think I look at you too much?"

"Stop whining Scott."

Anger and embarrassment swirled around in my stomach. I resented her statement about me not being a man, even though I knew it was true.

"I understand," I said as grabbed my bag and headed to the door. My first instinct was to run but I didn't want to display that level of distress. I kept my head down and walked as fast as I could without looking like I was running away. Once Jason's house was out of view, I slowed down and replayed the conversation in my mind. A rumble of thunder snapped me back to reality. Dark clouds swirled ominously overhead. Halfway home the rain started. In no time I was soaked to the bone. It was a fitting addition to my day. 

My wet shirt made a slapping sound as it hit the floor. I flopped onto my bed, the box spring protested loudly. The long walk and downpour had cooled my frustration some. A touch of embarrassment still gnawed at me. Showing my face at Jason's was going to be painfully awkward for the foreseeable future. 

Watching Cynthia in her short shorts and small summer dresses had always been more rewarding than looking at pictures of women online simply because she was real. Plus, she always smelled fantastic and watching her long, glossy hair swing about as she moved was almost hypnotizing. The afternoon stretched slowly into evening as my agitation prevented me from losing myself in any activity. 

I was still a bit unsettled the next day. Jim flagged me down as I entered work.

"Hey, the boss wants to talk to you," he said

My heart sank. Apparently, it was going to be one of those weeks. I knocked on my boss' open door. Despite being on the phone, he gestured for me to enter.

I slipped into a free chair, as quietly as possible, and busied myself by looking at the photos of landscapes decorating the walls. Minutes passed as my boss continued to talk. From time to time he waved a hand or slapped his desk. I did my best not to listen the content of the conversation. Nervousness overwhelmed me. The click of the handset setting down pulled my attention to the desk. Grant grabbed a folder from a tray, pulled it in front of him, and flipped it open.

"Is the date of birth in your file correct?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. What's it say?"

He rattled off the date.

"Yeah, that's correct."

"Ah, so you're eighteen."

I was a little thrown off by the subject of the conversation. "Is there a problem?"

"Nah, I was thinking about asking you to pick up a package for a client but it involves booze, so that would be unwise. I'll have to ask one of the other guys."

"Ah, OK," I said and leaned back in the chair as the nervousness evaporated.

"Scott, you've been doing good work here and you really helped me out with Mr. Takeda."

I shrugged. "It wasn't that big a deal really. I just entertained his daughter for a while."

Grant smiled and gave a good-natured laugh. "Well, it was a big deal. He asks about you every time we talk. Hell, he's joked about hiring you away from me."

It was my turn to smile. "It turned out to be fun. She's a nice kid. I still exchange postcards with her."

"Well, you helped me and the company out in a big way, so I wanted to do something to return the favor," he said as he slid a manila envelope across his desk.

I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. It held my attention so closely I was surprised when Grant draped a garment bag over the edge of the desk. I looked at him questioningly.

"It's part of the gift"

I opened my mouth but Grant waved a hand.

"Just shut up and let me do something nice for you. Now, there are instructions in there," he said as he pointed at the envelope, "You need to follow them or there will trouble for the both of us."

My head jerked back at the statement. His last sentence had sounded ominous and I wasn't at all a fan of that. 

"I can trust you, can't I Scott?"

"Of course, Sir."

In the comfort of my room, I bent the tines upward and opened the envelope. Inside was a very ornate invitation written in calligraphy on what felt like expensive paper. I thought those kinds of things only existed in movies. Accompanying the invitation were two pages held together by a metal clip in the upper left corner. My eyes roamed over the list of instructions and guidelines. I had hoped they would shed some light on my boss' gift, instead my confusion only grew as I read them.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. What on earth had Grant gotten me into? I unzipped the garment bag. Inside, was a grey suit, dress shirt, and tie. I laid the suit out on my bed and ran my fingers over the material. I was soft, smooth, and gave me the impression it was expensive. I dug around in my closet to find shoes and a matching belt. As I set the scuffed up pair next to the suit it became apparent I would need to go shopping.

Days ticked by quickly. The sting of my confrontation with Cynthia had faded some. Jason and I met once at a neutral location, so I could avoid running into her. My mother was paranoid about visitors, so that prevented me from having him over.

After a week, my curiosity finally got the best of me. I asked Grant what the invitation was for. He smiled, shook his head, and walked away. I racked my brain but couldn't figure a way to coax the information from him. Two days of fruitless scheming made me resign myself to the inevitable. With a red marker I circled and the date on my calendar and waited.

My chest felt tight and it took me three attempts to properly execute a full Windsor knot. I took the time to put a proper part in my hair instead of wearing it swept up in the center. If my clothes were going to be somewhat adult, then I figured my hair should be as well. The suit called for sophistication, so I dug around in my drawers until I found the watch my grandmother had given me. It was expensive so I only wore it on special occasions. My mother would have never let me hear the end of it if I lost or damaged the thing. I wetted a finger with cologne and ran it behind my ears. When I looked in my bathroom mirror, I had to blink a couple times. The image presented in no way reflected the real me. Oddly enough, I kind of liked it.

I craned my neck to look out the windshield as I parked my car. The building's exterior was plain. Based on the fancy invitation I had half expected a shimmering structure of glass and steel with swans swimming around in fountains. Lighting was conspicuously absent in the parking lot area. The large man standing impassively next to the door lifted his sunglasses to scrutinize my invitation. He grunted his acceptance and opened the door.

A pretty woman in a close fitting Chinese-style dress intercepted me shortly after I entered. She ushered me down a narrow hallway and into a side room. Several masks were held up in front of my face.

"You're a young one," she said.

Not knowing how to respond I simply shrugged. She alternated between holding up two masks in front of my face. After several turns of evaluation, she handed one to me.

"This one suits your face better. I'll tie it for you."

I turned it over in my hand. It wasn't the flimsy plastic fare I was used to. The mask felt solid and kind of heavy. It closely matched the color of my suit. Two old fashioned six-point diamonds in silver decorated the side of the mask. Black lines rimmed the eye holes. I held it against my face as the woman gathered the silk ties on each side and knotted them together behind my head. She held up a small hand mirror. The mask covered my face from mid forehead to the top or my upper lip. 

"Thank you," I said.

She smiled and tilted her head to the side. "You have no idea what you're in for, do you?"

I frowned in confusion. She turned me by the shoulders and slapped my backside.

"Go get'em."

The narrow hallway led to an open area, where men and women, who were also wearing masks, idly chatted, nibbled on hors d'oeuvres, and nursed drinks. I made my way to the bar and ordered a ginger ale. The bartender chuckled at my order. My chest was still tight and my stomach was unsettled. The last thing I wanted to do was get buzzed and make a stupid mistake. Grant had always been fair to me, so I didn't want to let him down.

As I nibbled on crackers and cheese with soft jazz lilting in the background the room gradually filled with people. The men were impeccably dressed in suites or tuxedoes while the women wore several different styles of dresses. Each woman was stunning. I did my best not to stare. A woman in a red dress repeatedly drew my attention. A slit up the side of her dress exposed her long legs. She appeared to glide around the room, comfortable with her beauty, almost celebrating it.

As my eyes roamed across the room, I accidently made eye contact with a short woman in a slinky black dress. She smiled, plucked a glass of wine from the bar, and made her way over to me. Her mask was a sea foam green and curved downwards over cheeks.

"You're new?" she asked.

I nodded. "Is it that obvious?"

She smiled. The shape of her mask emphasized her full lips. They were a touch pouty without being overbearing. 

"No. I'm a regular. Even with the masks you get to know heights and builds." Her lips curled at the edges. "And I would have remembered that cute butt of yours."

At a loss for words, I took a sip from my glass.

"Would you like some advice?"

I nodded. "Yes, please."

Her smile became toothy. "I like you. Follow the rules, they keep us all safe, and allow this to happen. Relax, enjoy yourself, and savor it like tonight is your last on Earth."

She drained her glass, patted me on the cheek, and moved away. I watched her hips sway as she departed. Her words ignited my curiosity. What had Grant gotten me into? I was leaning against the wall near the far corner of the room when a man settled in against the wall next to me. He was broad shouldered with a touch of grey along his temples and wrinkles at the corner of his eyes were visible through the holes of his mask.

"The scenery is impressive isn't it?" he asked.

I nodded. "It's hard not to stare. I think I could stand here and watch for the rest of my life and be content."

The man laughed and patted me on the shoulder. He held his glass up to his lips and appeared to blink in confusion when he found it empty. "If you'll excuse me I'd like another drink before the fun begins," he said as he walked towards the bar. 

A short time later, a slim man in a tuxedo appeared and approached the center of the room. His mask was black with gold accents and resembled a jackal. He rang a small brass bell with his left hand. A woman with grey feathers around the edge of her mask and a long, curved bill set two bowls on a table in front of him. One was lacquered blue with silver scrollwork around the middle and form into a line. The other was red with two thin bands of grey near the top and bottom 

"Ladies and Gentlemen the time has come. Gentlemen if you would? Please form up," the jackal-faced man said.

The men in the room drew envelopes from the blue bowl. I was not sure what was going on, so I followed suit. After the last man drew his envelope, the men on each side of me opened theirs and retrieved the item inside. I opened mine and found a grey key-card. A static sticker with the number thirty-eight, in black blocky numbers was stuck to it. I mimicked the other men and held my card up in front of me. 

The women walked past one at a time. My heart was pounding and my mouth was dry. A woman in a grey silk dress with roses on the cheeks of her mask stopped in front of me, ran her fingers through my hair, and rested them at the side of my neck. I swear she was feeling my pulse. The gesture struck me as oddly seductive. Her eyes twinkled at me before she moved on. Several women fiddled with my tie and ran their hands over my chest. A couple of women, including the short one in the black dress, stepped in close and cupped my backside. I was feeling a little light-headed by the time the last woman, wearing a dark blue dress with matching flowers on her mask, stopped in front of me, smoothed my lapels and fingered the buttons on my shirt before sliding a hand down to grab my crotch. I was so surprised I almost jumped out of my skin.  

The man wearing the jackal mask rang the bell again. "Ladies, if you would be so kind."

The women lined up and drew small, red envelopes from the similarly colored bowl. Once the container was empty, the man behind the jackal mask rang his bell once more. Each woman tore open her envelope and withdrew a tile. My nervousness grew. I shifted my weight from foot to foot to prevent myself from locking my knees and passing out by accident. One by one, the women began to take positions standing opposite of a man. The woman in the black dress stepped in front of me.

"Ah, too bad," she said as she held up a tile with the number forty on it and patted my cheek. "Maybe next time."

Bit by bit the women paired off. I was beginning to think my number had been excluded when the woman in the grey dress stood in front of me and held up a tile with thirty-eight printed on it. 

"Looks like you're mine," she said.

It felt like a bolt of electricity raced through me. I knew that voice. It was Cynthia Grey's. She grabbed my tie just below the knot and pulled me into motion. We left the others behind and stepped into a hallway lined with doors. I was slowly overcoming the initial shock but still felt confused and very lost. I watched Cynthia's hips swing side to side in the tight dress, as she walked. When she stopped, I almost ran into her. She plucked my key card from my hand and slipped it into the door's lock. When the light flashed green, she pushed the handle down, and pulled me inside.

It was a modestly appointed room dominated by a large bed. The carpet and artwork on the plain walls appeared to be of higher quality than an average hotel. Absent were the usual trappings of a television, window to the outside, or alarm clock. In fact, there was nothing in the room to indicate the time. A slight sent of potpourri hung in the air. My mind raced. The combination of my cologne, hair, and mask might prevent Cynthia from recognizing me, but the moment I spoke I she would know. 

The large bed hinted at the purpose of the room and there was no way in hell I was going to jeopardize that possibility. Cynthia kept a firm grip on my tie, stepped in close, and kissed me. Her full lips were soft as they pressed against mine. The kiss, the feel of her body against mine, and the scent of her perfume set my heart racing. It was a little awkward with the masks but not enough to detract from the experience. When the kiss finally broke, I had lost all concept of time. My frantic, confused mind latched onto one concept: this was a fantasy come true and there was no way in hell I was going to miss out. I also found it a little creepy that my boss was involved in an anonymous sex club. 

She pushed away and moved further into the room. I leaned against the wall and made a spinning gesture with my finger. Cynthia gave a playful smile, used both her hands to hold her hair up, and made a slow turn. The soft light from the lamps emphasized her curves. My mouth felt dry and my heart hammered in my chest. In front of me was a woman with years of experience beyond my current level of understanding. I was totally out of my depth. Before I could stop myself, I gave a low, appreciative whistle.

"I'm glad you approve," she said. There was a tone of pride in her voice. 

A small tablet sat on a nearby end table. I scooped it up and after a few taps on the screen music filled the room. It took a few tries until I found something with the desired tempo. I pulled a chair directly in front of Cynthia and sat down.

A corner of her mouth curled upwards. "Oh, we're going to do this are we?"

Her body swayed to the music. Each movement was graceful and fluid. If I'd been asked to dance for a woman's enjoyment I had no doubt my performance would have been stilted and awkward. Her hips rocked and swung side to side. The undulating movements ran the length of her body as she extended her arms above her head.

After the first several minutes, she closed her eyes. Her movements became more exaggerated. I was sure she had lost herself in a fantasy of her own. Her hair tossed back and forth, as she moved her head. She turned to the side, offering an enticing profile, and then pivoted on a foot to place her back to me.

The affect of her movements was almost hypnotic. A different part of her body held my attention for moments at a time. Even the movement of her arms and hands was captivating. A hand craned behind her shoulders, found the zipper for the dress, and tugged downwards. She looked at me over her shoulder and smiled playfully. I swallowed. It felt as if my blood was on fire. With enticing slowness, the grey silk slipped free from each shoulder. 

Cynthia turned to the side as the dress moved lower. A lacy bra cup, the same color as the dress, came into view. Too quickly for my taste, she turned her back to me. I gave a growl of frustration and slapped the armrest of the chair. 

She pushed her bottom lip forward in a mock pout. "Men are so impatient."

Cynthia turned to face me, a knowing smile on her lips. The dress moved lower resting on her hips. I found myself unsure where to look as her body moved in concert with the music. Focusing on her breasts while she was looking at me, felt oddly rude. I decided to keep my eyes on hers. Even though I was sure it was a goofy one, I couldn't keep the smile off my face.

Despite the playful mood of the room, the eye contact seemed to create a connection between the two of us. Her smile gained a touch of warmth and her movements became more enthusiastic. Cynthia turned, slipped her thumbs into her dress and pushed it down over his hips. Her panties were simply bits of string that hugged her hips and disappeared between the cheeks of her ass. 

I reached out and touched her. My fingers traced over the two dimples at her lower back. Her skin was warm and firm against the palm of my hand. Cynthia slapped my hand out of the way, planted herself on my lap, arched back against me, and moaned breathily into my ear. Her hips wagged back and forth grinding against me. She pushed herself out of the chair, caught the pool of grey silk on the toe of her shoe, and kicked it towards me. I snagged the dress out of the air. 




Masks



"Hang that up so it doesn't wrinkle," she ordered.

I held the offered dress out at arm's length and dropped it to the floor. I figured it was best to not act like my normal self, plus it was kind of fun to see if I could push her buttons. Cynthia raised an eyebrow but didn't stop moving. With both hands, I pushed myself out of the chair and gave her shoulders a gentle shove. Cynthia made a girly squeak as she tumbled onto the bed. My fingers brushed against her sides before they found the waistband of her panties. She wiggled her hips as I slid them down her long legs. As I cast the tiny garment aside, her knees came together.

"We know each other don't we?" she asked.

Fear trailed down my spine like icy fingers. I nodded. For a moment, I thought I was going to be sick.

"I figured that's why you weren't talking." She untied her mask and tossed it off the bed. "Whew, it can get hot under there and they get in the way. OK, your turn."

I shook my head. A beautiful woman was naked on a bed right in front of me. I wasn't going to sabotage the situation. My breath caught in my throat as Cynthia cocked her head to side. Silence stretched as my heart hammered against my ribs. A wicked smile appeared on her face.

"A bit of mystery might be fun." She squirmed. "I have to admit it's hot to think that a man in my life will have fucked me and I'll have no clue. He would smile behind my back remembering the look on my face when he fucked me. All the while, I'd be completely oblivious. Any man I pass on the street could be you." A shiver ran through her body.

I hooked my arms under her knees and pulled her to the edge of her bed. She gave a little squeak at the sudden movement. Her knees fell to the side as I knelt by the bed. I paused a moment to absorb the situation. In front of me was the pussy of my best friend's mother.  

My fingers traced the inside of her thighs. The folds of her pussy felt like velvet. I spent about a minute simply sweeping my fingers across them, captivated by the feeling against my fingertips. Cynthia giggled and closed her knees stirring me from my distraction. I lacked practical experience with oral sex. Quite honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. 

Whenever Cynthia made noise or her fingers tightened in my hair, I took that as a good sign and repeated the action. After some exploring, I located her clitoris. I focused on it and the area immediately surrounding it. With my eyes closed, I lost myself in the act. Eventually my tongue and jaw began to tire. Cynthia gasped, pulled me against her, and shuddered. When she finally let go, I sat back on my heels enjoying the rapturous look on her face. 

Cynthia raked her fingers through her hair. "OK. You need to get naked. Now."

I wanted to chuckle as I stood up and slid my jacket off my shoulders. Cynthia pushed herself off the bed and in a few quick movements, shed her bra. 

She batted my hands away from my tie. "Let me," she said.

Her hands actually tugged the knot tighter against my throat before easing it back and untying it. She placed her palms against my chest and slid them down over my stomach and around onto my back. With a sharp tug, she pulled my shirt free of my pants. Her lips found mine as she undid the first button of my shirt. After the second, she lightly kissed my chest. The kisses traveled farther down, as each button was unfastened. Her teeth nipped at my nipples as she pulled the garment off my shoulders and down my arms. When my shirt restrained my arms behind my back, she kissed me hard on the mouth while she held the shirt in place. Her eyes stayed on mine as her fingers worked on my belt. Cynthia smiled as she gave a hard yank to free the belt buckle prong. She dangled the belt from her finger and let it drop over her shoulder onto the floor. 

Her hands ran over my chest. For the first time in my life, I was grateful I didn't have any tattoos or piercings. I'd been in Jason's back yard pool a couple of times but I was pretty sure Cynthia hadn't paid close attention to be able to identify me without something noticeably screaming 'Hi, I'm Scott!'

"You're young," she said as she ran her hands over my bare chest.

I shrugged.

"That's good. I have nothing against older men, more experience and all, but younger ones are always so eager to please."

Her fingers traced over the bruise on my right side. A mischievous smile flashed across her face an instant before her fingers pressed against my injury. I winced but was able to keep myself from flinching.

The pretense of removing my pants was more an extended exercise in teasing. Repeatedly, her hand "slipped" off my zipper only to slowly run a palm over my hardening dick. I was hard enough I couldn't even flex. When she lazily pulled down my zipper to only pull it closed again, I tried to intervene. She brushed my hands away.

"OK. OK. I get it."

In a few short moments, I was naked. Cynthia gave the head of my cock a light kiss as it emerged from my underwear. While I unlaced a shoe her fingers tugged at a ribbon of my mask. I grabbed her wrist.

She shrugged. "You can't blame a girl for trying." 

I used the toe of my lose shoe to pry the other off while I maintained my hold on her wrist.

"Hey, there's no reason to get mad."

I sifted through my clothes until I found my tie. It would most likely be left with permanent wrinkles, but it was a risk I was willing to take, so I wound it around her captured wrist.

"Oh," she said and offered no resistance as I gathered in her other wrist and bound the two together. 

I had fantasized about Cynthia several times, but my imagination paled in comparison to the beauty in front of me. With a finger I hooked my tie and pulled her hands down in front of her. I kissed her behind the ear and gently nibbled down her neck until it curved into her shoulder. Then I repeated the process on the other side. I lifted my arm and pulled on the tie until her hands were extended behind her head. My free hand trailed down from the hollow of her neck to circle each breast with my fingertips. The darker areas around her nipples were softer than the surrounding skin. I leaned down and nipped at her nipples with my teeth. She shivered each time.

"Enough teasing," she growled. 

I crawled onto the bed. Cynthia followed a tad awkwardly, inching forward on her knees. While in a seated position I helped her to straddle my lap. She lined me up and pressed downwards. Cynthia had to back off and try again before I slid inside her. A groan escaped her lips and her eyes rolled back in her head.

She leaned forward and pressed me down against the bed. With me all the way inside her, she moved her hips in small, tight circles. Her eyes squeezed shut, her forehead wrinkled, and her mouth dropped open. The look on her face was a combination of vulnerability and ecstasy. It was fiercely hot. When I moved my hips I received a corrective shake of her head, so I relaxed and let her continue to grind her hips against me while holding her stiff upper body at different angles. Her breasts captivated me as they bounced and swayed with each of her movements. Her nails raked my chest as she pushed down, backed off, and pushed down again.  

Eventually the time came when I wanted to take a more active role. I tapped Cynthia on the hip and she pulled away. With my hands, I rolled her onto her knees and elbows. I took a moment to absorb the view in front of me. The expanse of smooth, curving skin was fantastic. I especially enjoyed the tan lines. The contrast in color accentuated the shape of her ass. I put a hand on her right cheek and squeezed gently. My fingers made slight dimples in the flawless skin. The combination of soft and smooth was deeply exciting. Cynthia wagged her hips. I patted her backside and moved between her legs.

Her head shot up and her body stiffened as I pushed into her. I savored the sensations that the long, slow strokes caused. Cynthia gave a little grunt each time I bottomed out. I'm not sure exactly why I did it, but I reached down, took a hold of Cynthia's hair, and tugged. She grunted as her head was pulled backwards but she didn't protest. The idea of holding her in that position was appealing but I had no desire to actually hurt her. I figured when I crossed that line she would object, until that time I was going to have fun and maybe push her boundaries a little.

My left hand crashed down on her ass cheek. She grunted. My hand came down again and again. The Cynthia who didn't want me in her home was wearing my hand print on her ass.

"Yes," she hissed.

I switched which hand held her hair and used my other hand to slap her other ass cheek. The limit of my endurance was quickly approaching. Before that happened, I wanted to try another position. 

With my hand on the small of her back, I pulled out. Cynthia groaned and pushed back against me. She missed recapturing my cock and bumped up against my abdomen. In her exuberance, she almost pushed me over backwards. I tapped her on the shoulder and motioned for her to lie flat on her stomach. With my knees on each side of her legs, I waddled forward. Her legs were straight and still together when I lined myself up and pushed into her. Cynthia gasped, she grabbed hold of the sheets and her back arched. With my left hand I pushed down on her shoulder blade and with my right I snagged the tie around her wrists and held her arms down. Cynthia moaned encouragement as I stroked down into her over and over again. After several minutes, I reached my limit. I pushed in as deep as I could and embraced my orgasm.

I rolled off her, turned her over, and kissed her. With a sigh, I collapsed onto my back.

"Gotta pee," announced Cynthia as she hopped off the bed, grabbed her clutch, and pranced into the bathroom.

"What the hell have I done," I mumbled to myself. I had just fucked a woman who had told me to leave her alone only a few weeks earlier. Not only that, but I had been rough with her and she seemed to enjoy it. I'm not sure if I would be able to look at her ever again without blushing. Hell, how was I going to look Jason in the eye? Tonight's actions could easily be considered a betrayal of our friendship. 

I took the opportunity to lift my mask and wipe the sweat off my face. Cynthia had been right. The masks become uncomfortable as the night went on. A short while later, Cynthia emerged from the bathroom. She had touched up her makeup. Her lips were a glistening red. She grabbed two bottles of water from the small refrigerator and tossed one at me. I plucked it out of the air and nodded my thanks. The cold water felt fantastic on my tongue

She hopped onto the bed. "Ready to go again?" she asked.

I took a deep breath and shook my head.

"Let me see if I can help you with that," she said as she slid a hand down my stomach. 

Two weeks passed. Several times the events of that night replayed themselves in my dreams. I was helping rearrange the warehouse when Grant called me into his office.

"Hey Scott, take a seat."

I plopped down into a chair facing his desk. "What's up?"

"Your partner from the party has been making discreet inquires about you." He must have read the confusion on my face. "The invitations are not anonymous. The organizers know who receives them and, also keeps track of who ends up with who. It helps to minimize any potential problems. Is there anything I should know about?"

A ball of worry formed in my stomach. "No, I followed the rules."

Grant nodded. "OK, good. Now that you've had a few weeks to process it what do you think?"

I raised my eyebrows and blew out a breath. "It was fantastic. I'm still at a loss for words. Hell, Grant, it still haunts my dreams."

He smiled broadly and laughed. "Don't worry. I understand."

I mulled over the decision for several days. Even after deciding on a course of action I debated with myself for several more days. It took me two days and visits to several stores before I found what I was looking for; an ankle bracelet comprised of two silver chains knotted together at regular intervals. I carefully wrapped my gift and neatly printed on the accompanying card, "Wear this if you'd like another night together." I looked over everything several times to ensure nothing could tip off my identity before dropping the package into the mail.

"Hey, Scott," Jason said as he greeted me at the door. "Ready to go wreck some people?"

I held up the pizza and sodas. "You bet I am."

As I followed him to his room, we passed Cynthia who was seated on the couch. She was absorbed in a book. Her legs were crossed and she was bouncing her top foot up and down. I caught a flash of silver as her pant leg rode up. She was wearing the anklet. I smiled as I followed Jason up the stairs. The months ahead were going to be fun.



Masks & Shadows



"You are cordially invited to the 87th Masquerade." The gold script on the parchment went on to list time, date and place. But it was the word "masquerade" that she dwelt on. Angela had loved the costumes at Halloween as a child, and the few costume parties she had gone to at college had been tremendous fun. Masquerade just made it sound so much more elegant and mysterious. She circled the calendar and began making plans to attend.

Angela poured over various magazines and catalogs looking for an idea. Anything from movies she discounted quickly as common. And the normal belly dancer, genie, pirate wench or she-devil fell away for the same reason. This was a once in a lifetime and she'd be damned if she blew it on showing up with someone else in the same outfit. Then she thought about her friend Thomas. He worked in the theater department at the college for their props and costumes...He'd be perfect for designing something unique and original.

"It has to be amazing...fantastic! I want your best work ever!" His back was turned to her and her pleadings. Hunched over the desk, the tall man was working rather than listening. "C'mon Thomas...there has to be some way to get you to do this. Please...?"

"Angela...I told you...I don't have the time. The costumes have to be ready by opening night, and I only have half of them done. I'm sorry, but I just can't." He turned just long enough to express sincere regret tehn went back to his task.

A wicked smile came across her face, and she tossed the flowing blonde hair over her left shoulder. "I'll tell you what, make you a deal...if you can make me an absolutely stunning costume, I'll grant you one wish...anything your heart desires." Her accent on anything made him sit up and take notice. There was no mistaking the tone and the implication. When he spun around, her posture and smile confirmed it.

Thomas stood and reached out to shake her hand "Deal. Be at my place tonight at 10:00"

***

She had spent the afternoon wondering; what he could do what wish he would ask for, how the people at the masquerade would respond. By the time it was 10:00 she was racked with anticipation. The knock on Thomas's door was fast and short. She fidgeted while it took him a moment to answer. Angela burst in and looked around to see what he had so far. "Ok...so what have you got so far?"

"Hang on there, darlin..." His southern drawl a sharp contrast to her excited hurried state. "Let me get the sketch first, and if you like it we can start tonight." He picked up the sketchpad from the kitchen table and motioned for her to sit on the couch. "It's a little out there, but I doubt anyone else would be wearing it." He flipped the pages to the sketch.

The image on the page was mesmerizing. It looked like a Japanese geisha, but with breast not often found on Asian women and the skin looked metallic rather then flesh. Glowing red lines went up her legs and trimmed the short wrap around kimono that barely covered the ass. The make up was silver rather than white, although the cheeks were still rose and heavy black eyeliner accentuated the oriental slant of the eyes. Thin deep crimson lips matched the silk of the robe and seem to be the focus of the drawing.

"Thomas...that is amazing! And you say we can start tonight?!?" Angela was clutching the pad absorbing every nuance of the sketch.

"Well, the body suit yeah...I've got the stuff here. I can do the robe in no time, and we can do the makeup just before you go."

"Lets get started then...what do I need to do?" She held the pad so that the light hit it better, and traced the outline with her finger.

"Strip".

His simple command snapped her back to reality. "Tom...sweety...the wish comes later... "

"This isn't part of the wish, Angela, this is costume design. That metal skin has to be skin. If you want it right, it starts with a body suit, now strip." She looked around his studio apartment and saw that there was no bedroom or privacy in which to change into the spandex. Casting a glance at him, she knew that his wish was going to have her naked eventually...might as well reward his genius a little early.

She pulled the T-shirt over her head, letting her 34C breasts bob in the bra, nearly bouncing free. Kicking off her shoes, she undid her pants and let them fall to the floor by the footwear. With one arm covering herself, she let the bra strap slip off, and shimmied out of the lacy cloth. She held it up on display and let it drop, then lowered her panties to her ankles, lifting them as well and casting them aside with a flourish.

"Good thing you're already shaved down there, that was going to be the next part of all this. And by the way...nice tan." He was trying to sound blasé, but Angela could tell by the large rise in his jeans that he was looking with more than professional eyes. She grinned a wicked grin at the thought of what his wish would be, and the probability that the bulge under his fly was not just misplaced socks.

Thomas tossed her the bodysuit, which she slid into. It was nude and sheer, and clung to her tightly. She slid it over her legs and was in the process of pulling it up when Thomas mentioned "And be sure to lift your breasts when you pull the suit up. It will help create lift without the bra." With an exaggerated motion she finished getting into the suit, and then turned for Thomas to evaluate.

"Oh yeah, that will be great. Now stand with your feet about shoulder width apart...I'll need to paint the latex on." He was mixing the fluid in a can as he approached. "And I should tell you, this will tickle. Try to hold as still as possible. And then should be dry within ten minutes or so." The first few brushstrokes did tickle as he dabbed it on her shoulders. It tickled more as the brush traveled long slick paths down her back. All in all she did hold still clinching her fists to hold back the wiggles. IT was when he was painting her ass that the tickles turned more erotic and she bit her bottom lip, hoping to not get too aroused.

"Ok, now the front" His voice was slightly distant, as if he was talking to himself, or perhaps he was teasing her with the anticipation. He moved around in front of her and spread the first few dabs across the top of her chest. She began breathing harder as he traced the outlines of her breasts, working outward in toward the now too sensitive and aching nipples. The latex glossed over them, but she could feel the hairs in the brush as they surrounded and covered each tuft of flesh. She closed her eyes to concentrate and fight back the orgasm she knew was coming.

Angela listened for Thomas's breath as he knelt down. He was painting down to her navel and across her hips. She could barely pick up the gulps as he made his way to the center. Dabbing more latex on to the brush, he went over the mound and in between her legs. The gasp she was holding back escaped, and she shivered slightly beneath his touch. Surprisingly, Thomas didn't say anything, but he did stop painting for just a moment. She looked down just to see him peering up. The tension of the moment hung as their eyes met. Then Thomas broke his gaze and went back to painting.

In minutes Angela was cover from neck to ankle, and wrist to wrist in bright shining metallic skin. "Tom...please tell me you have a full length mirror somewhere..."

"Yeah, hang on, your not quite dry yet, so I'll bring it over."

The image staring back at her was glorious. It was as if she had been covered in silver, and polished to a shine. The latex had even formed around her erect nipples, preserving the points for the life of the suit. She turned and looked at her back, round firm cheeks, the curve as they flow into the top of the thigh. She thoroughly enjoyed the look, desperate to see what the final costume would be. "Thomas...can you go ahead and do the make up for me tonight too? Just so I can see..."

"Yeah sure...I did want to add the lights on your legs tonight too...we can do it all but the robe...That will take some time. But we can do the rest." He seemed to be getting into it more now. He practically ran to get his make up kit and started rummaging through it rather hurriedly.

"Ok...first the face, and I think I have a wig her for you too." He took a deep breath to slow his hands before applying the grease paint to her face. Time vanished as the two of them began to see the creation they had hoped for come together. With the final tug of the false hair, the initial transformation was done. Angela looked at herself in the mirror as Thomas was attaching the neon trim to her legs. The woman in the mirror was nothing like her at all. The eyes, the jet black hair, the fiery red lips...and the silver skin...how she loved the silver skin. She was beginning to see the attraction men had to the robots and androids in all those space shows.

"Now for the hard part... The power supply for the lights." Angela had gotten so lost in the idea of becoming a robot that she hadn't noticed Thomas finishing the lights. She looked to see bright red streams glowing along the sides up to her hips. The wires continued around her hips to a small rectangluar box that he was holding at the small of her back.

"Is that thing going to be back there the whole time?" Angela had decided that if she was going to be a robot geisha, it was going to be damned authentic. "Won't it give away the illusion?"

"What would you rather I do, shove it up your pussy?"

She grinned lustily at him. "Yes...oh yes...that would be perfect."

Blinking at the surprise outburst of wantonness, he stammered "Oo...okay...umm ok...I can do that...But let me but it in a case that will be more comfortable up there than this box, and won't short out if you get wet."

"Oh Thomas...I owe you for this...this is truly incredible." She hugged him tightly and then remembered about the latex not being quite dry and let go quickly. "Sorry, I hope it didn't..."

"No problem" he said, blushing furiously. "Just glad you like it."

Angela spent the week researching geishas; the customs, the ceremonies, protocols, everything. She knew she wouldn't be able to master the life of a geisha in such a short time, but she wanted to do more than just play dress up. When the day of the masquerade arrived, she could hardly wait for Thomas to show up. The knock on the door sent her racing to answer it.

"Thomas? Am I glad to see you!" She nearly pulled him off his feet draggin him through the doorway.

"I'll say...You're naked and answering the door. I bet pizza delivery guys love you."

"Screw you...I just want to get ready now. I want to practice wearing the full costume, everything." She bounced like a little girl at Christmas, which Thomas watched in obvious enjoyment. "C'mon you pervert, stop ogling and dress me already."

"Hang on, before you put the suit on, I want to make sure I got your power pack right. I made a few adjustments." He lifted a dildo out of the box that had two small wires running out of the base. "Here, slip this in."

Angela looked at it before trying to put it in. About 8 inches long, and what looked like 3 inches thick, smooth and slick, but she wen to her bedroom to get some lube just in case. She poured the clear gel on the plastic, and then slowly pushed it deeply inside her. It took a second to walk properly, the device rubbing her clit with every step. She mumbled to herself that it was going to be an interesting day and made her way back to Thomas and the costume. "It's a little big, but not too bad. Now lets get everything else together." 

Thomas connected the wires from the dildo to the leads on the suit and she pulled the silver skin over her once again. She loved the tight feeling it had and the way it accentuated every curve she had. Thomas once again applied the makeup and affixed the wig, taking her away from herself and into the geisha-bot. He then held up the kimono that he had created to go with it. The red matched her lipstick and the lights on her legs, but all over it was gold inlaid designs. The sleeves flared at her wrist and the hem was only a few inches away from her cheeks, and had a small slit to her hip that further displayed the edging curve of her backside. When she slipped it on, it felt as if thousands of years of tradition and history of the past collided with the potential and possibilities of thousands of years into the future. And the explosion of their mixture was bound within one woman...her. 

Angela took a moment, with eyes closed to slip the last step into the geisha she wanted to be...Yume Onna...the dream woman. When she opened them, she looked again at the mirror, and saw the person she was to be for the night; a woman of beauty, entertainment, music and song. A woman that any man would kill to have her by his side. She pulled on the thin silver gloves Thomas had given her and then turned completely, to examine all facets of her new being in the mirror.

She took a few practice steps, to measure her gait. Between the device deep within her and the high heel ankle boots, she wanted to be able to flow in her walking, not merely stride. She watched and noticed that her legs seemed to be fanning out from her hips. "Thomas? What is this? Why are my legs like this?" 

Thomas was startled by the different voice that spoke, but dismissed it. "Its from the lights. I added a piece called a phase shift that makes it look like it trails as it moves...I figured it would give you a better sci-fi look."

"Its wonderful...Thank you again." She bowed her head in a slight nod. Suddenly there was a honk out front. Turning to look she saw the limo she had hired to take her to the masquerade. "Wish me luck." She told Thomas as they left her place. 

"Luck love and lollipops" he called over his shoulder.

She sat demurely in the back of the long black car as it slithered through the city streets. Past the city limits and outs toward the edges they went, passenger and driver in silence. The driver cared little for the conversation, and the woman in back waiting to be addressed before speaking. After a 30-minute drive they arrived at the large mansion which hosted the ball.

Yume-Onna bowed to get out of the car and made her way to the entrance. She pulled the invitation from her sleeve and presented it to the doorman. With a nod he ushered her through, and she walked into the large foyer that teamed with life of all kinds of reverie and fantasy. The crowd had its fair share of large flowing capes, harem dancers, gorillas, beaded gowns in feathered masks...she was definitely standing out form the crowd. Head after head turned to gaze as she entered and moved about the rooms. She had brought an unparalleled beauty to the function...as a geisha is supposed to.

The initial survey of the various rooms had been completed and she now went in search of the refreshments. A young woman in a French maid outfit was carrying a tray of glasses, and Yume-Onna helped herself to one. As she sipped, she nearly spilled the drink as the device in her pussy began vibrating. It was mild, but it was definitely moving. She clamped her muscles around it and held her knees together. It soon passed and she sat down to catch her breath. It took a moment of asking but she found a phone in an empty room and called Thomas.

"What the hell did you do the power supply?!?" The was purely Angela's as she heard him answer.

"I told you I made some adjustments..."

"I wish you had told me about them...I nearly spilled my drink when the damn thing went off."

"Ok then..I'll tell you now it is variable speed. And that first jolt you felt was number 2...it goes all the way to 10."

"You're here?!? Where are you, you bastard?"

C'mon Angela, you didn't think I would do all of this for just one wish...I had to work a little mischief in there somehow..." She could hear him grinning on the other side. 

"So I'm subject to your whims through out the night...fine. But if that thing falls out, I'm leaving it where it falls."She was aroused at the fact that she now under a control of sorts, and the idea of keeping the geisha composure even with buzz in her box made her a little horny.

"No worries there. The suit will keep it snug inside of you, and should even be tight enough to keep your juices from flowing to far down our legs. You'll have quite the release when you get home tonight though."

"Too bad you won't live to see it. If I find you here, you are so dead." 

"You love it and you know it Angela. Now enjoy the party. See you around." Just before he hung up, she felt the box double its vibrations and then stop again. 

"Bastard..." she hung up and went back out into the party. She was horny...between the geisha within her, and the electronics inside her, and the anonymity of her disguise, she felt like wrapping men around her fingers and making them melt in her hands.

Each drink was a careful sip ...anticipating more surprises through out the night. They were infrequent...here and there for no more than a second or two. As she was talking to a pirate about the latest movie in the theaters it hit what she guessed was a six. She looked around to see if she could find Thomas in the crowd. And then she saw the man that made her forget her revenge.

He was a samurai. Full armor and a sword at his hip, and he wore a leather mask in the grotesque face she had seen in so many of the books. What fascinated her was that he was all in black, not even shades of dark grays...all black. She excused herself from the pirate and went towards him, Yume-Onna coming more to the surface and Angela hiding behind her.

Once in front of him, she bowed low, in a gesture of deep respect and honor. The samurai nodded his head and she rose to look at his face again. Without speaking a word, he reached out for her hand and lead her away from the crowd. She followed quickly and had to hurry to keep up with his pace. They went out a back door and into a secluded hallway, still darkened as no guest had made their way there yet. The sky over head let the moon light through, its light streaming through the clouds to make deep shadows and pale lights on the walls and floor. Here he stopped and brought her around to face him again.

In the darkness with this stranger, her passions rose to new heights, and she could feel the desire building within her. If only there were some way to get Thomas to turn on the damn device when she needed it. The samurai then placed his gloved hands on her shoulders and began to direct her down to her knees. The concentrations of the neon rope on her legs as she knelt cast a red tint to the carpet, and offered a small attempt at lighting the darkness where they stood.

He then let her go, and placed his hands on his codpiece. He opened it and freed the large erect penis that it had held. Just then the vibrator went off at a level she could hope was ten. She bent forward and took the shaft in her mouth greedily, feasting on the lust before her to satiate her own hunger. Swirling her tongue over the tip, she caressed him with her lips. Then licking from base to tip, she lavished her attention on the sword of the warrior. Light kisses covered his skin, the pale Caucasian skin a contrast in the black costume in the dark shadows. It was all she could see, and all she wanted to see. Her world was nothing more than the flesh before her and her own body responding to the stimulation hard at work.

She could feel him beginning to tense, his explosion on the edge. Opening her mouth wide, she lowered her lips around his cock, easing it further into her mouth, until she had him completely within her. First a few short strokes, then she began sliding from base to tip. As she found her rhythm, the vibrator increased again. Pausing to moan, she sucked hard on the flesh, wanting to ride her own orgasm and pass it through into him. As the first clear drops form, her breathing becomes quicker and deeper. He cums, releasing it all into her mouth, and she tries to hold it in, swallowing so that she can open her mouth and pant out her own release.




Masks & Shadows



At last she is able to lift off of him and she cries out in ecstasy, a soft voice from her soul that lets the energy from within her pour out in the power of her moans. She closes her eyes and tilts her back, gasping for air to cry out again. She lets it go with a long slow word of unspeakable bliss and then sighs as it subsides and washes away.

When she opened her eyes, the samurai was gone. She was left alone on the shadows of the abandoned hallway. The power pack had gone still and she could hear the wind brushing the trees against the roof. The only light to guide her back to the party being the faint moon and the red glow of her legs, she inched back to the door and made her way through the throng to the front door. The limo driver saw her leave and made his way to the entrance to pick her up.

The ride home was very different from the ride there. She had at very straight and poised, now she allowed herself to lay her head on the seat as she thought about the night. For a few moments she laid on her back, looking up through the roof at the moon that was the only witness to her performance. Yume-Onna was fading away as if she was never there in the first place. Angela pulled the wig off of her head and shook out the blonde tendrils to be free. The only time the driver spoke was when they arrived at her place, he asked if she was alright. She left the car without answering.

She went to her bedroom and looked at herself once more in the mirror. The eyes, the skin...the things that were not her. She had given a voice to a side of herself that she had barely recognized before. Beneath the exterior she presented to the world and even deeper than the passionate lover she showed to her partners, there was a being of intense beauty and sexuality...Yume-Onna. And while letting this being to be free for even an evening was liberating, it had a fear...the fear of losing all control, of giving the beauty to those who see only the sexuality and care nothing for the woman who is at the center of it all. 

She peeled the suit off and wiped away the make up. She showered for a long time in the hot cleansing flow that brought her back to balance. And then on her sheets, bathed in moonlight, she placed her fingers to the places she enjoyed to have touched; her face, her ears, her breast, clitoris, vagina, lips all of her indulgences being the pleasure she could give herself...no toys, no plastic, herself and only herself.

The next morning she slept late, and she let herself ease into the day. Somewhere in the afternoon she gathered all the pieces of the costume together and headed over to Thomas's studio. She knocked on the door, and waited for him to answer. She was about to leave when he finally opened the door. Entering without waiting for the invitation she dropped the box on his table, and went over to plop onto his couch. "Thomas...do you think we have parts of ourselves that we keep hidden?"

He brought her over a cup of coffee and sat on the chair across from her. "I do...don't ask me to explain it but I do."

Just as Angela was about to recount the evening, she noticed the mask on his table; the same black leather grotesque mask that the samurai wore last night. "Thomas, what is this?"

"That? That's some cheesy mask that Mike wants me to duplicate for his kabuki theater project. He brought it over last night when we watched the movies...Why?"

"Oh nothing...just reminded me of a person I know." She sipped her coffee and thought about a geisha from the future and how to get to know her better.