Nicola

Good morning tubby!" Nicola Jensen hugged her father's back warmly.

George grunted, and crunched some crispy bacon. Nicola slid her hands under his pyjama top and rubbed his hairy belly vigorously. She giggled into his freshly washed neck, breathing in the spicy cologne.

"I'll have to make an appointment with Weight Watchers soon!" George Jensen growled at his daughter, taking her arms from his stomach and made to bite her slim fingers.

Nicola squealed and easily avoided his chomping teeth. She skipped over to the pantry for her breakfast of fruit and cereal. She liked to think that her daddy was watching her athletic body as she busied herself with her preparations, but George had returned to his morning paper.

The sun was shining and the birds were singing and the kitchen smelled of warm bread and her daddy's delicious Saturday morning fry-up. Nicola smiled happily as she sat opposite her father. She watched him turn the pages, reading the world news and occasionally clicking his tongue.

How things had changed since her mother had run off with one of daddy's workers, she thought. A year ago there would have been bickering about money and chores and a bitter 'bored-living-with-a-boring-husband' tirade. But she had disappeared one weekend with a carpenter and was apparently living happily 'somewhere in the North'. Well good luck to her. Since the divorce papers had been finalised her daddy had lightened up and delegated jobs at his contracting business, and through both luck and good management the new arrangements had been financially very successful.

Her father had joined the Country-Golf Club and made some valuable contacts which had led to new ventures and he'd made lots of new friends too. They were mostly charming, confident, attractive people, not the snobs she had feared. They were surprisingly relaxed and cheerful and adventurous. They had made George very welcome and he was often invited out, and he even had some wonderful dinner parties at their own place.

It was thanks to this new circle of friends that Nicola had met Donna. She was the daughter of Mr and Mrs Townsend. He was the city's foremost property developer and a philanthropist of some renown. and Mrs Townsend was independently wealthy with her own legal firm, the president of the Country-Golf Club, and an important patron of the arts.

Donna had been a god-send for Nicola. She was vivacious and cheeky and adventuresome. She was just two months older than Nicola's twenty-two years, but she seemed to her to be marvellously mature and sophisticated.

Donna had introduced her to night clubs and pot and taken her on some thrilling rafting trips and had introduced her to exciting people her own age. Mostly, Nicola was grateful for Donna's fantastic parties. Her own meagre group of lacklustre friends and acquaintances from college had drifted away since Nicola had completed her accountancy degree. They were pleasant enough, but one-dimensional and lacked wit and grace.

Donna's parties were another world to her. They were held in tastefully ornate surroundings, with exotic foods and quality recreational drugs -which were always used in moderation and with care. And then there was the fantastically raunchy sex. Nicola had been sexually active since middle-school, but it wasn't until she met Donna that she was freed of clumsy fumbling and beery breath and premature ejaculations.

Donna's parties were like ballroom dances. She carefully choreographed the music and the food and the decor. The participants played clever word games and dressed elegantly and knew the rules. Last week, Donna had turned off the lights and projected the filthiest pornographic films across the dinner table while they discussed art and politics and gossiped. There was a marvellous tension as people deliberately refrained from crudities and chose their words carefully and developed intricate arguments while being variously coloured by heaving bodies and sweat and obscenely large cocks and oozing cunts. Every now and then, the stress was relieved with raucous laughter when someone was suddenly 'covered' in cum, or their heads 'disappeared' into a thrusting bum or such like.

Nicola had been introduced to threesomes and lesbianism and toys and role-playing and light BDSM by Donna. Her life had been tremendously enriched by the experience. But tonight was going to be something quite different! Donna's mother had invited them both to a special adult's fancy-dress party. Nicola knew her friend's parents were "adventuresome" as well, and apparently their parties were secretive and only 'certain people' were allowed to join their circle.

"A penny for your thoughts"

"What?"

"You were a million miles away," smiled her father, "Where were you?"

"Oh I was just thinking about how much has changed since mother left."

"Oh"

"For the better, daddy," beamed Nicola. "My job is great, we've made lots of new friends, you are even more gorgeous than ever, the sun seems to shine all the time, we've finally finished painting and furnishing of our big, beautiful home. Everything is just wonderful."

"Apart from my belly you mean," grumbled George.

"Oh daddy you know I was teasing you! And I happen to know there have been lots of ladies at the Club who think you're just the sexiest thing alive."

George blushed and grinned, "Little girl, you talk such nonsense."

"I am not a little girl, and besides I hear everything daddy," giggled Nicola, and counted off her fingers, "That nice big-boobed secretary, and Evelyn Morrison and Margaret Sale, and whatsername - Mrs Ryan's daughter, and Mrs Ryan herself!" she laughed delightfully. "And I am sure there have been others too!"

Poor George Jensen was beetroot-red. Not only because it was all true - his sex life was better than it had ever been, but also because he just wasn't prepared for this kind of conversation with his daughter.

"Silliness. All rumours and silliness," he hurrumphed, and rustled the newspaper to cover the unconvincing lie.

Nicola got up from the table and kissed him on the forehead, "Well, I think it's marvellous daddy."

She busied herself with dishes and cleaned the table. "Oh, I'll be staying out late tonight, there's a party on somewhere. I'll make up something for you and put in the fridge." She tried to sound at ease and off-handed, but already her tummy was knotted with excitement.

"Don't worry darling," said George, "There's some kind of dinner-dance or something at the Club tonight. I'll grab a bite to eat there."

"You look fabulous!" cried Donna, "Absolutely fantastic!"

"And my god! Look at you!"

And they both roared with laughter.

"Mademoiselle Pompadour!"

"Mademoiselle Lash!"

The rushed at each other to admire their costumes, turning each other around and cooing and chuckling and squealing like school girls.

"I'd never recognise you!" gushed Donna.

"Well, especially after I put my mask on."

"No, no. Entirely unnecessary. You're just not Nicola any more! Oh I just adore the beauty spots!"

Donna walked around Nicola. She had spent a small fortune to dress as an 18th century French courtesan. Her sumptuous gown fell in layers around generous hips, the satin sheen catching the light. She had a ridiculously large silver-white wig piled over her normally rich red hair. It matched her heavy pale makeup. She had stuck an alluring beauty spot on her left cheek and in keeping with her fashion, the gown was extremely low-cut, showing off her deep cleavage to the best advantage. There was another naughty beauty spot on the curve of her breast. Only her face had the makeup, the bright white paste and her brilliant red lipstick and dark mascara were a stunning contrast to the natural beauty of her lightly tanned chest.

"Are you sure I don't need a mask? Didn't your mother insist....?" asked Nicola.

"Oh the masks all come off at midnight anyway, don't worry about her. Honestly - you are completely unrecognisable........but I need one!" grinned Donna.

She was dressed in shining black leathers, bristling with silver studs. Her arms were wrapped in gauntlets, matching her knee-length boots. Her leather skirt barely covered her crotch or her small breasts. Her naturally dark hair was tied tightly in a bun.

"Oh Donna. That is just sooo sexy"

They fussed with the dresses and adjusted Nicola's jewellery and tightened Donna's skirt to better set off her waist.

"I was going to take the whip," said Donna, "But it will just be a bother. Can you help me with the mask sweetie?"

Nicola looped the straps of the cats-eyes mask around Donna's head and tied them lightly. They both made sure it wouldn't come loose, before standing together in front of the full-length mirror.

"I don't care if I say so myself, Donna Townsend," said Nicola, "We are two very sexy young women!"

"I do declare Nicola Jensen, you are absolutely right," grinned Donna.

"Well, do we know where we're going?"

The venue had been kept a closely guarded secret. All over the city people in various degrees of undress and others with extraordinary costumes were waiting by their phones.

"Yes! Mummy rang an hour ago. Come on, let's go and fuck ourselves silly!" she laughed cheekily.

The huge house in Alexandra Heights was brilliantly lit by floodlights on the outside. The house was a beacon for miles around. Inside, the spacious rooms were arranged with subtly coloured lighting, and soft oriental music filled the air. Ottoman sofas and thick carpets and pungent incense lent an ambience of decadence. Ample food, lavished with sauces and intoxicating smells were set aside in each room. Marijuana smoke wafted from special burners. Conspicuously, divans and richly embroidered mattresses were in each room. Even in the main lounge there was a huge, ostentatious bed.

Nicola and Donna clung to each other as they moved through the milling crowd. The guests had taken enormous care with their costumes. Almost everyone had some kind of mask. It was impossible to tell who was who. It's true, there were several leather-girls and courtesans, which disappointed them, but loosely wrapped togas were much more common.

There was a voluptuous woman in a schoolgirl's uniform, a cowboy whose chaps were cut to display his naked and proudly well-endowed groin, several women were bare-breasted babylonian priestesses or minoan princesses. There was a professor in an academic gown, but utterly naked underneath. There were several attractive women dressed as whores. One tall, darkly handsome man was just wearing a nappy and a big-breasted nurse was letting him suckle her.

In one room a famous porn star with a freakish 12" cock was surrounded by gorgeously dressed women, many of the stroking his snake-like member like a pet. It was partially engorged, but he looked relaxed and confident. Elsewhere, there were policemen, firemen, soldiers, sailors and pilots all looking splendidly handsome and dashing. There was a wide variety of ages, but most guests were healthily slim and well proportioned and middle-aged. There seemed to be a generous number of girls in their twenties, like Donna and Nicola. Shockingly, an old man dressed as a minister of religion walked by hand-in-hand with a naked wide-eyed girl, no more than fourteen.

The girls leapt on some drinks carried by a body-builder Nubian waiter who was wearing only a loin-cloth, his skin was oiled and glistening. They gulped them down, and found some more.

They were becoming drugged by the hypnotic music and marijuana smoke and the warm comforting lighting. The nudged each other and pointed and gaped at the costumes and at people they thought they recognised They gasped at the slow sensual build-up of raw sexuality as the evening developed. More and more people were fondling each other, and the naked men's cocks fattened. Both of them could smell the sex. Couples were pairing off, complete strangers to each other, attracted by the fantasy or the costume or the serendipity of meeting each other.

Still arm-in-arm they wandered from one room to another. From out of the gloom, a tall muscular middle-aged man stood in front of Donna and gently took her into his arms and kissed her softly and at length, then left her and moved on. A beautiful full-breasted woman took Nicola's hand and placed it on her breast and smiled as she automatically squeezed and felt her hardening nipple. Donna pulled her away, smiling. "That's my cousin," she whispered, and pulled a face.

Amazingly, Mrs Townsend was the only person not in costume. She was elegantly and conservatively dressed in an evening gown. Nicola watched her playing the gracious host, calling for drinks where necessary, praising costumes, offering tasty morsels of food, and greeting late guests with a dazzling smile. Nicola got the impression that Mrs Townsend was able to see through everyone's disguise. Sometimes she even overheard her address people by name.

Nicola finished another drink, squeezed Donna's hand reassuringly and went to the bar. An outrageously gay bartender was chatting to a small group, and broke away when he saw her coming.

"Oui, jolie mademoiselle?" he asked. His accent was perfect.

"Umm...I'm not sure...something sweet I think."

"Try a daiquiri," said a burly middle-aged man standing next to her. He was dressed as a medieval executioner, a kind of black hood covered half his face. Soft brown eyes twinkled through eyeholes. His mouth looked gentle. Studded leather straps were slung across his shoulders and wide chest. His belly was large and hairy, but fitted his muscular frame well. His bare legs were partly covered by soft suede calf-length boots. He was wearing a leather loincloth below which hung an impressively fat sausage of a cock.

"Merci", replied Nicola, adopting the barman's French accent. "M'sieur is so very kind".

"Entirely my pleasure, mademoiselle" he said, his gaze lingering on Nicola's ample breast, taking in the sexy beauty spot, and reluctantly returned to his group.

When Nicola went to find Donna, she wasn't where she had left her. She had two daiquiris in her hands. As she attempted to pass through the crowd, she spilled a little. She drank one and put down the empty glass. She was feeling ever so slightly drunk.

She was aware of the delicious warmth of the bodies around her, and musty smell of their sweat. She moved slowly, enjoying the accidental touches of flesh upon flesh. The sensuous sounds and humid atmosphere and the beautiful half-naked bodies were having their effect on her. Most of the people were taller than she was, and she could not see Donna anywhere, so she just stood in amongst a group, most of whom had their backs to her. She sipped her sweet drink. The kind stranger had chosen well.

In front of her a woman dressed as Marilyn Monroe had the top of her glittering silver dress pulled down to her waist, and an unusually tall man dressed as Zorro was pawing her pointed, perfectly formed tits. It was such an overwhelmingly sexual, nasty scene, Nicola's heart skipped a beat. Marilyn's pale full breasts and her soft pink nipples were suddenly the most beautiful things Nicola had seen.

Without thinking she put down her glass and pressed herself against the woman's back, kissing her skin softly with little pecks. Zorro smiled his encouragement. Nicola reached under the blonde's arms and grasped her perfect tits gently, the pawing Zorro removed his own hands to watch. Marilyn leant back onto Nicola, grateful for her gentleness. Zorro took the opportunity to undo his fly and take out his cock. Marilyn reached down and grasped him firmly, slowly masturbating her partner. Nicola moved around to her side and took her face into her hands and kissed her languidly, tasting her lipstick, flicking her tongue into her soft, yielding mouth. Marilyn sighed and fell back into Zorro's arms. Nicola moved on. Her senses were alight with passion and anticipation.

"Are you enjoying yourself Nicola?" asked Mrs Townsend quietly.

"Oh, Mrs Townsend, you know who I am!" pouted Nicola.

Mrs Townsend smiled, "It's a knack I have."

"It's just...so...so...wonderful, Mrs Townsend! So many sexy, beautiful people!"

"Well you go ahead and play darling. I see someone I need to greet. I believe it's the Major-General....Oh, Nicola, don't leave till I introduce you to a very special man. It means ...it means a lot to me. Very sexy. Alright, sweetheart?"

"Okay, Mrs Townsend!" said Nicola cheerfully.

Everywhere now, couples and threesomes and groups were openly sexual. Polite conversation and given away to quietly spoken urgings and encouragement. In the main room there was a murmuring of quiet laughter and whispers. The men who were clever enough to wear loose costumes had their cocks out, some still flaccid, most in various stages of engorgement, several were rampant. Women had their hands under their dresses or in the cloaks, feeling themselves. Many were stroking and fondling their partners, cupping ball sacs, fondling breasts, licking the lips of men and women alike. Nicola's knees were weak watching the sensuality surrounding her. She moved hesitantly into the next room.

As if she had passed through a gate into another level, in this room the people had given themselves over completely and abandoned any pretence of restraint. Few people were completely dressed, many were quite naked. Some had pieces of clothing wrapped around them as if they had hurriedly stripped to get at each other. Two women were on the knees laving the monstrous cock of the porn star, their eyes bright with lust. Everywhere couples were fucking. Some urgently, close to coming, others slowly, some brutally. A man was tied to a bed, his arse being stuffed with a cucumber by a young girl who was grinning lasciviously and masturbating herself. A stunningly beautiful woman was on all fours being fucked in the arse while she sucked a cock greedily. Nicola noted that they had all obediently kept their masks on.

As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she realised that in every corner there were heaving, groaning, mumbling bodies. With a frisson of excitement she saw Donna underneath a huge man, his wide muscular back rippling with effort. Donna was completely covered by this monstrous man. He made no effort to support his body, all his weight was on her slight frame. Nicola was at first fearful, but realised that her friend's legs were tightly wrapped around his buttocks, her fingernails scratching welts into his skin.

Nicola watched, fascinated, by his massive cock as it plunged in and out of Donna, greased and shimmering. It was all too much for Nicola, she collapsed into the velvet cushions of an armchair and hitched up her dress. She was not wearing panties and her white silk stockings framed her cunt perfectly. Her fingers played ecstatically with her labia and her clit, her hips began to thrust automatically onto her probing fingers.

"Ah! There you are darling."

Blearily, Nicola looked up. It was Mrs Townsend and her friendly smile. Perversely, Nicola did not even stop masturbating herself, such was her urgency for an orgasm.

"I can see you need some help. Now...who do we have ...? Of course! The special man I wanted you to meet." She smiled.

She held out her hand for Nicola to take, "Come on sweetheart, come with me."

Dreamlike, Nicola took her hand and they went to walk out of the room. Mrs Townsend stopped and looked into the corner where her daughter was now on all fours, being fucked from behind by the huge man. Her mouth was gaping in a silent scream as she fucked back hard against his sliding cock. Mrs Townsend grinned widely and tugged Nicola's hand. "Come this way dear, I am sure I saw him over there."

The next room was similar to the one she had just left. A young woman was sitting on the divan, her legs drawn up against her chest, exposing her cunt to an bald, elderly gentleman who was lapping at her juices, his cock was surprisingly hard and swayed with his exertions. A generously proportioned lady with a soft maternal face was clutching a young boy to her large bosoms, cooing to him as he sucked hard on her nipples. Beneath the boy, and between his legs was a strong black man sucking the boy's cock and fingering his anus. Near the door two masked women were kissing passionately, they had smeared each other's bodies with oil and foodstuffs and wine and were sliding up and down, their arms, and legs and knees intertwined. Nicola was trembling with excitement and frustration.