(The following story is a work of fiction and any reference to any individual, living or dead, is coincidental. This work also contains material of a sexually explicit nature and is not intended for readers under the age of eighteen or where such literature is forbidden under law.
Criticism is solicited and appreciated, but only if you've voted.)
copyright 2002
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I stood on the balcony overlooking the party, still flushed and breathless from the powerful climax I'd had moments earlier, while the masked man stepped back into the shadows and disappeared. He'd warned me not to look back, murmuring behind my ear, while his fingers still moved and stirred in me. I bit my lip, feeling those fingers slide out, drawing my wetness across my thigh. He'd spoken to me then, and though I hadn't seen his face and didn't know his name, I knew I had to find him again. Obediently, I waited, trying to calm my ragged breath, until he was gone, then touched myself as he had done. My hand pressed and rolled over my mound, fingers dipping lower, and I was shocked to find how much honey I had given him. Embarassed, I slipped off my panties to sop up my juices, and then realized that the scent of my come would waft up like perfume from the warmth of my body. Nothing to do but fold the little black things up and leave them on the balcony. I would have to go back down to the party without them.
I stood against the rail again, remembering the pressure of his body against my back and ass, the strange excitement of being made to come by a stranger, in a place where I could have been seen by everyone. Small thrills shot through me again. Despite the body-shaking climax I'd just had, I felt oddly unsatisfied. I wanted more. Looking down at the dancing couples in masks and costumes, I searched the room for him, expecting to see a man just entering the room, a man wearing a dark shirt, and me on his hands. No, I realized, he won't make it that easy. He wants me to find him, and perhaps to find something else too.
Smoothing my black party dress down over my tingling thighs and adjusting my small black velvet mask, I made my way down the stairs and back to the big room below, where the party was in full swing. Pausing at the door, I looked around at the men, standing and laughing with each other, eyeing the women. I stood up straighter and lifted my head, and saw several men look me up and down appreciatively. Was he one of them? I walked towards and slowly through a cluster of men, and looked at their hands, judged their height, trying to imagine how each one would feel behind me, pinning me to the rail and taking me there. Color rose to my cheeks and I suddenly became terribly aware of my sex scent as I passed close to each of them. They must have been able to smell me too, because I saw their eyes glitter, and they smiled at me as if they knew I had just come.
Trembling, I slipped past them and deeper into the crowd, heading for the champagne table. People were standing close together there, and as I made my way through them, I had to slide my body across their backs, turn and graze my breasts across other women as I passed. The women in their wild and daring costumes, all dressed to show their best assets, smiled knowingly at me, and I felt soft hands touching and stroking me as I moved by. I felt feverish, the hands and music and dancing lights making me feel as if I were in a long, erotic dream. I reached out for a glass of champagne and then took a step back to lean against a cool marble pillar. Instead, a hard, warm, masculine chest met my back and a strong arm went around me. I jumped and quickly tried to turn, but he held me firmly.
"No, wait a moment," he said behind my ear, and it shot through me, down to my clit. "There, they went past. You can turn around now, it's safe." I turned, and looked into brown eyes behind a lion mask. "Didn't want you to spill your wine," he said, and grinned down at me. No, it wasn't him, I thought. Not him. He wanted to talk, to keep me there, but I thanked him and melted back into the crowd. I felt the heat and flesh of every body I brushed as I passed, and though I'm usually careful to keep from touching strangers, I felt as if everything were different tonight. I began to enjoy the accidental caresses of hips to my burning ass, the elbows brushing the sides of my hot breasts, and I lifted my champagne glass higher, as if I were trying not to spill it, though secretly it was to make my body more available to the hands and bodies sliding past me. It felt like an ocean of life and sensation, and I began to feel drunk with it. My mask made me feel safer, somehow, and I began to sway with the music, feeling my dress brush across the naked flesh underneath. As I moved, the fabric swished at the curly, damp hair between my thighs, and I felt a delicious freedom in knowing I could lift the hem and show myself. I laughed deep in my throat and smiled, my first real smile of the night, and felt my clit start to swell past the tender lips. Someone began to dance with me, sensing my arousal, and I remembered where I was. Shocked at my own behavior, I pulled away and summoned my dignity back. I walked as rigidly as I could manage toward the dark hallways, intending to find my coat and leave, flee this dangerous side of myself.