Walls Of Trust Ch 1

Chapter 1: Masked Ball

(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 saw her leave the ballroom and walk up the stairs. Shapely, wearing a black dress of what seemed to be 60's style. She had medium length hair and a black mask, large enough to hide her facial features, small enough to suggest familiarity. Her medium length heels helped to accentuate her well-turned calves and ankles.

I waited a minute or two and followed her. I saw her enter the room with a balcony over looking the ballroom and the dancers it contained as I neared the top of the stairs. I hesitated and waited, wanting her to become comfortable with the sensation that she was alone to observe the revelers dancing below.

As she was standing at the center of the balcony I had to walk down the side of the hallway, slowly and silently. Not wanting her to have an inkling that she'd been followed. Staying in the shadows, my dark nondescript costume worked to my advantage. No cologne, and a generic breath mint to disguise my breath, easily washed away with a glass of wine. All that and the dark mask I wore helped me to truly feel the anonymity that I required for this venture. While we had met before, I was sure that I hadn't made an impression on her, at least not enough for her to remember me. I don't think that may man had. She was always sensual, but aloof, haughty. She seemed to intimidate the men around her. It was time to see If my guess's about her were correct.

When I reached the French doors opening to the balcony, I could no longer hide my presence from her and stepped boldly through the doorway, then to the side. Standing with my back to the door that was closed I knew that if she were to turn around, all she would see was my silhouette, diffused by the lights of the hallway. A dark figure, no more than that. She didn't turn, but I could sense that she felt my presence. An awareness of her slightly tensing, a change in the tension of the moment. But she didn't turn, she merely continued to watch the dancers below. The balustrade was high, pressing into her midriff halfway between her breasts and hips as she leaned over to watch.

I paused for a few moments to allow the tension that we both felt rise. Somehow knowing that the timing was correct, I walked towards her, slowly. I wanted her to know of my approach, so I made no attempt to hide my movements or the sound of my shoes on the marble floor. I wanted to give her every opportunity to turn and leave if that was her desire. Her last chance to escape what was about to happen.

I walked to her and pinned her against the railing with my body. I leaned my chest into her, forcing her to bend further over the railing, my head against hers, my lips to her left ear. My groin against her hips, hands on, and over, the balustrade so that she couldn't escape. She tensed but made no sound, nor made an attempt to escape me.

I whispered to her "Do you know why I'm here?"

In a small and whispered voice she said "No."

I brought my left arm across her and cupped her right breast with my hand. Gently caressing it through her dress. She made a small sound in her throat and slightly pushed her hips against my groin and said "Stop, please stop."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because they'll see," she replied in a small voice.

"Yes, yes they will if they look up," I told her.

I continued to caress her and asked her, "Do you really want me to stop? Is that what you truly desire?"

She whispered "No."

I continued to caress her breast and lowered my right hand to the hem of her dress and lifted it slowly, running my hand along the outside of her thigh as I did so. As my hand crept up her thigh, I moved my hand across the top of her thigh and around to her inner thigh. And up until my hand was flat against the top of her mound.

She made a small sound in her throat and said, "No, please, no."

Again I asked her, " Why?"

She once again said, "Because they'll see."

"You don't want them to see," I stated to her and before she could respond I said "But the thought that they might see excites you, doesn't it?"

She shook her head 'yes' in response, a few short nods the I felt on my lips and cheek. As I continued to rub her mound, she adjusted to me by taking a wider stance, spreading her legs. I rubbed lower against her, cupping her sex and feeling the heat radiating from her and the moisture beginning to soak through the panties she was wearing. I cupped her tightly, forcing her back into me, forcing her to feel my growing arousal. Then I stopped rubbing, forcing her to decide. Either move into my groin, exciting me more, or into my hand to excite herself more. She solved the problem in a clever manner, rotating her hips in a small circular motion, achieving both goals.

Her panties were becoming very wet, loosening the material and allowing me to push them to the side and put my hand on her naked sex and further exposing her to the crowd below were they to look. As her hips continued to rotate, I used my forefinger to tease her lip open, a little at a time, the lubrication of her passion easing the way for my finger until I could easily slide my finger from the opening of her vagina to her clitoris. As I continued to rub my finger up and down, I asked her, "Do you want me finger inside you?" Again a small sound escaped her throat and she nodded her head in the affirmative.

I slid my forefinger into her releasing more of her liquid passion onto my hand and slowly worked my finger inside her. More small sounds escaped her throat, closed mouthed, as if trying to choke back the sounds of her rising passion. I added my index finger to her, and felt her respond to my touch. As I worked my finger in her I would occasionally remove my fingers and bring her juices to her clit and spread those sultry liquids around, bringing stronger responses from her. I dipped my finger in again and again and then removed my hand entirely. She made a pleading sound. I brought my fingers to her lips and said, "Taste, taste yourself.." I but gently touched her lips and she drew my fingers into her mouth, washing my fingers with her tongue. I slowly withdrew my finger from her mouth and put my hand back on her, in her.

Her excitement was apparent now. Her hips were moving more insistently, lips of her vagina swollen and distended, and her clitoris fully extended from it's sheath. I began to rub her clit with the thumb of the hand that was working inside her. Fast penetration of my fingers, slow withdrawal. Fast in, slow out, fast in, slow out. Timing the thrusts of my fingers to the movements of her hips. I spoke into her ear, "You want to cum now, don't you?"

A small "Yessssssss," escaped her lips.

"You want to scream when you cum, don't you?"

"Yesssss"

"But you can't, can you?"

"No," she whimpered.

"Why? Because they'll hear you?" I asked. She gave a small nod yes.

"And if they hear you, they'll look. And if they look, they'll see you"

"Yessssssssss," she hissed.

"But you want them to be able to see, don't you?"

And another "Yessssssss," escaped her lips.

I began to work her strongly, increasing the friction and the tempo. I could feel her knees begin to give way, her using the railing and my pressure against her for support. She brought her right hand to her mouth and shoved the web of her thumb into her mouth as small sounds of passions highest moment sounded deep in her throat. Her contractions around my fingers were enormous, and a flood of liquid escaped with each pulsing of her vagina.

As her moment began to pass, I stopped stimulating her clitoris knowing that it would be tender. I continued to move my fingers in her very slowly as the residual pulsing of her inner core continued.

I felt her regain her feet, and then she asked , "Who are you?"

And I replied, "I'm the man you'll never see, but never forget. Your dream, your reality. I'm the enigma of your very soul."

"I'm leaving you now. Don't turn, don't look If you want to find me, you will know how, but you must find me soon or I will be gone forever."

I removed my hands from her and quietly slipped out off the room, down the hallway and stairs to join the crowd.

Would she try to find me? Would she reason how to find me? Would she realize that the only evidence I left, or took with me was slowly drying on my right hand? Would she know that in order to find me, she would first have to find herself?