Masks

Masks Masks

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Eighteen year old Zoe has clothed sex with a complete masked stranger at a Venetian masquerade ball on Valentine's Day

Summary

Eighteen year old Zoe has clothed sex with a complete masked stranger at a Venetian masquerade ball on Valentine's Day

Content

Submitted: February 11, 2017

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Content

Submitted: February 11, 2017

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There is an affinity between the moment when a naked young woman stands ready to slip into her lingerie in front of a full length mirror on the cusp of getting really dressed to the nines that imitates the kinship that exists between natural unadorned cock meeting preened primped pussy; skin touching skin, like silk and lace embracing the female form. Zoe had pampered her love nest tonight. It was trimmed and scented. Gorgeously spruced like the quality natural powder brush she was currently using to apply the finishing touches to her face. There was always a chance of meeting a hot Italian youth or a foreigner like herself at this Valentine Days Masquerade Ball as part of the Carnival of Venice.

Her dad was a guilt trip and this was her reward for excellent college results. Yes it coincided with one of his business trips and finalising a big deal. However, Zoe didn’t care. It was Venice, it was Carnival and her dad would be too busy greasing palms to think about where a boy’s finger might be lubricating his daughter.  Her divorced father still gave her back that innocent virginal look every time he caught up with her. It didn’t matter that she was now eighteen and unknown to him Zoe had three cocks in her private girly memory bank. ‘Daddy’s Girls’ remain long in the memory vault of father’s minds as sexually innocent.

Zoe’s bra was deliciously naughty. It was push up, bright red, silky and lacey. Her suspender belt a new wardrobe highlight was mischievous perfection as she snapped her stockings into place; catching a glimpse of her crumpled lips and hood between her thighs deliberately in the mirror. No panties tonight under her very expensive free flowing gown.

The gown itself was suitably over the top but wouldn’t be out of place. They had difficult to acquire tickets for a classy restricted venue and Zoe twirled taking in the strapless corseted top of her scarlet evening dress. She did the femwaist swivel and swirls of satin and pleats of fabric moved with her lithe shape all the way down to her new but covered matching heels. My did she feel good and she was sure the evening would only get better. Her mask was in her hand and off she went carefully down the stairs. Ready for the world to publicly notice her and hopefully privately fuck her.

The moonlight caught patches of silvery appliqué subtlety placed on the dress to define nubile bosom and waist; not ostentatious, because the star of the show was Zoe, as she took a womanly modest step into the motor launch and her small group including her dad wended their way through the canals of other cheaper party action to their dazzling venue. Her father though was already on his mobile scarcely noticing his stunning daughter. Probably lucky he didn’t or he would have taken her home and locked her up. She was sizzling hot. He wasn’t even giving his partner for the night the attention she deserved. A refined but cool business woman was Zoe’s summation, when she had first met Gabriella, just the other day, despite her red hair.  Well the auburn socialite’s sister Alessandria was also well dressed but was actually physically quite plain. Zoe wouldn’t brook middle aged competition tonight; surely Venice and Valentine’s Day evening were poised to only grant youth’s sensual wishes.

Zoe radiated vigour. Zoe exuded excitement and had complete freshness and the bloom of looking absolutely divine in her ball gown and mask. Her mask was a full face fitting creation. Half red and half white with stylised raised gold swirls; hiding our girl as she entered the venue. Masks concealing faces. Clothes covering private sexual parts. Nothing however; ever hides accentuated stunning femininity.

Christ, to stand out amongst this dazzling crowd, to display prettiness and maybe that special guy will look, glance, then linger, then gaze and then their eyes meet and they would rush hand in hand to the topiaried garden and make fierce passionate love, well Zoe’s mind was getting ahead of the whole evening. The party she was with were only off the launch and making their way through the manicured garden to the venue’s formal entrance.

“Your card please,” brought her back into reality.

Zoe parted with her invitation card. The ballroom was huge and glittering. It was crowded with elegant refined masked women and a parade of distinguished similarly suited masked men. It was arousing for youth.

Shit, thought Zoe, ‘I should have worn panties. She could feel the moisture lurking in her seeking a seeping escape. All these hunks on parade and anything male looked okay in this setting. The masks reducing all men to basic maleness. Zoe desired male, was craving male. A masked fantasy male.

There’s an innate creativity in nubile woman at a mixed social venue.  The need to flounce, to preen and to twirl in gowns; to feel fabric, to watch fabric as dresses define and enhance shapes on other women and self. The room was a swirl of bodices and prominent bosoms and hips. Also plenty of shapely male butts and fulsome hard chests and hidden cock packages. Zoe was excited.

Beauty is feminine by definition and feminine when beautified is asking for it. Yes to be taken consensually. Zoe’s A Game was on. She looked fabulous. She felt wonderful. Her sweet tender coochie was currently moist magnificence unrevealed.

Some young guys in the room might wonder about her unseen nether featurette mostly as a blur of fur. Old letches would visualise incorrectly their preferred labia, thin or pouty; only Zoe in the immediate instance knew her own pampered , moisturised, scented secreting secret zone waiting to lure a guy in a way clothes try to imitate or mimic but never can.

Her second glass of complimentary champagne was making her slightly tipsy. Zoe slowed herself with two delicious plump strawberries and tried to take in everything, until her focus caught a full faced antique style white, aged gold and Nero black mask. A nearby guy was watching her eat a strawberry. Her sexual bravado of her villa bedroom dissipated. Suddenly she was youthful flushed red and she knew it. She wanted to flirt back but she was pretending to look elsewhere. Then she glanced up and a gold and black mask holding staring blue eyes wasn’t looking at anything else in the room. The butterflies were flapping in her.

However; Gabriella had her arm and they were seated at a table for twelve. The chandeliers dimmed as the room was illuminated only by candlelight. Followed by elegant quartet music from one corner until prodigiously talented masked mixed sex entertainers started cavorting exotically and sensually in a rhythmic entrancing welcoming dance. 

Zoe wanted to feel their enthusiasm for the evening.  They had the sensual moves. Zoe wanted to feel their movement. It was however a foot massaging her calf that made her look across her table. The black and gold mask was frozen, hiding manly features, but the body opposite was the only logical pleasure source as revealed by the sparkling happy sexy eyes looking directly at her, awaiting her response.

Zoe gave a gasp of surprise as a big toe found her aroused seeping slit. She couldn’t see his face, couldn’t see his foot but hell she could feel the delight, feel the sweet sensation and feel all the growing pleasure. The rubbing, the slight digging and the friction of meeting flesh.

Alessandria; seated next to Zoe inquired:  “Sweetie, you’re flushed, whatever is the matter?”

Zoe took a quivering sip of water and claimed it was the chilli in the entrée, too hot.

Something was searing alright. It was her pussy, which was in a new excited uncharted pleasure zone. How could the masked man eat while rubbing into her pussy? Zoe didn’t know. She did however, want to suck on his cock right here and now. She craved crawling under the table and just doing it. The sweet lass realised the feeling was mutual as the masked male ran his tongue over his lips. Zoe wanted that tongue flicking her clit.

All she could do was play with her food discreetly, pushing it around her plate because her concentration zone was way south not anywhere near her mouth; though her lips wanted cock: both sets of lips.

Main course became a blur of rising sensations. The foot would retreat. The loss of touch near unbearable for her aroused slit. Then stroke and poke would restart, when least expected. As her yearning rose Zoe pressed her thighs together around the probing toe and foot. Then her shoe was off and her stocking toes were massaging a stiff unseen trouser rod. It throbbed under her push and kneading. She felt its power surging. A pecker craving release and searching for pussy.

Zoe made the key move before dessert arrived. She stood up not knowing where she was going. She headed through one of the multiple french doors leading onto an expansive balcony with a classical balustrade. She didn’t have to turn her head because she believed she was being followed. She was living a fantasy. The auto eroticized beauty turned in the dark: a fair way along the balcony. There was no one there. No one was following. No one was coming.

” Oh” sighed out slowly, by the frustrated nubile.

She felt cheated and denied by a foot fetish fixated deviant. A lech that was probably older than her dad. Oh well, she thought, let’s find someone my age. She was young and still hopeful because midnight was still three hours away.

Zoe wandered down the steps in to garden, very determined to re-enter composed and unruffled.

“Beautiful ruffles and shiny satiny creases,” said a deep voice behind her: as a hand went up her dress from the back. Her clit tingled with a thrilling quivering rapid pulsating tremulous fulfilling shudder. Her hard little pink pea was wavering into self and then held collated sensation at the tip of her bud without anyone touching it. A finger was probing her arsehole and a strong hand was exploring her shapely youthful buttocks.

Zoe moaned with a keen sighing naturally wholesome pleasure of self as she turned slightly to take in the black and gold mask. It was the moment when any male would have done but this was the anticipated one and the sensation built beyond any pitiful attempted mental constructs of the moment she had fantasised about while aroused by a toe at the dinner table.

One digit dug deeply into her butthole. Her arse had never had a finger in it before. Suddenly she wanted cock there too; though anal sex had never crossed her mind before; yet this night required it already. The other hand had unzipped her strapless corset styled top and her lacey red bra was all that remained between his fingers and her nipples. Her teats were so hard pushing into the fabric and demanding release, craving touch by both hand and tongue.

Zoe’s breasts were faultlessly exposed under the clear lighted heavens in the garden. Then her pair was given star treatment. They had celebrity status. The mask lifted to allow his tongue space to work nipple magic. The stranger was deft, he had sensual finesse and his aptitude was above the boyish groping efforts she had previously experienced. This man had the forte; the knowledge of giving all, embracing breasts in scoops; focussing on the whole creamy girly white puffy tissue with massaging, circling, pushing up and out and then flicking over the nipples with the most erotic of teases. The adoration continued with sucking and nibbling; drawing her two cherry drops out and up with his lips. Her nipples fully covered with his mouth and then his finale; a sweeping, both decisive and longingly with his tongue and finishing with finger daubing. He was pushing in and out her pink teats and tweaking her hardened rigid nipples out between the tips of his fingers.

“Oh My God,” she exclaimed in sheer delight because her breasts had never received such treatment; even under her own randy ministrations.

He was seeking her tongue through mask to mask. It was strange. Here was a stranger; yet Zoe required more of this extraordinary situation. He was perfect because with the mask he remained her fantasy man. One his hands kept her breasts attentive to sensation while his other hand raised her dress and made fuller contact with her sodden saturated slit. Her personal jewel beyond price was his for the taking.

The brunette’s leg was over his shoulder as he knelt down between her thighs. Her dress was partially up and the crinkled rumpled folds splayed everywhere. The dress was not designed for this. However; her trimmed private grotto was designed for the workout it was now receiving.  Zoe who was basically standing in a manicured topiary garden with only a few solar night lights was having her private crumpled winglets pulled out from her body by the strangers pursed lips; his upper face still masked but moisture greeted moisture. His salvia, her cunny juices. Pussy sensitivity embraced tongue sensitivity. Her need succumbing to his need.

Zoe couldn’t see a thing below because he was under her dress; but she could feel everything. Her pussy pleasure was amplified and magnified between her legs and in her head. It was awesome as his tongue swooped, swaggered and skimmed over and between her fulsome flimsy friendly lips. His coochie coup de grace was to draw out with his close lips subtly and gently the skin cowl where her lower lips joined her clit hood. It delivered the perfect pleasure pricks through her entire body. Zoe came as she deserved to cum; as a woman: fully, intensely and unashamedly loudly. A sole high guttural “Ohh.”

The Venetian stranger eased her to her knees. Her dress now creased deeply and her mask too slightly more raised to allow her willing mouth to take cock deep. His silky sac hanging through his zip. His gorgeous pecker raised and ready, greeted her ravenousness self indulgent mouth greedily taking head under a mask. The illusion was all; the fantasy still in play and Zoe was working it to the best of her unskilled ability. She was gaggy, excited, a bit wild and teethy but boy she was so frickin enthusiastic.

She was eased up by the experienced hands above her into a kneeling doggy position. Her copious satin scarlet folds pushed up her back, above her exposed arse cheeks framed by her Valentine gift to herself, her suspender belt. But the brunette tressed lass got the true Lovers Day present: the moment of penetration was heaven sent and cloud nine received. Total hardness filling moist pliant wetness. Her pussy instinctively embraced cock. So accepting. So approving and oh so appreciative.

Her Nero masked Casanova had his hands on her hips setting the tempo of his thrusting. Next his hands were on her breasts massaging them in tandem, getting her upper body to join her lower body feast.  And expertly his finger found her crinkled tight anus and gently prodded there as well.

He then let Zoe work her young body backwards and forwards off his cock. Instructing her to begin with. This was something she had never done before. It was a night of continual firsts. The joint frantic forthright flow of energy was hers to generate. The mutual friction was hers to create. The stark combined grunting grinding of the immediate pleasurable instance was produced by her pussy.

The masked stranger then spawned their pleasure in multiple ways. Pleasure  was escalating for two in his peckers technique and his command of mounting additional sensation for two. He took control of the thrusting. He manipulated the depth by angling deeply into her. His fingers placed additional pressure on her pubic bone to drive her wild with femdelight. Zoe’s sexual expressiveness was unleashed as she was comprehensively dogged. She was expressive of self loudly. A mask couldn’t hide her rising delight which was expressed clearly as:

“Oh…God…Oh God…Oh My”

Her body was jammed tight with explosive aggregate sexual urgency. She had sudden renewed climax delight. Her first second orgasm in the same encounter. A soaring delight, a widening whole body bliss. Zoe thought she knew her own pleasure heights but she was reaching for elevated release here in the garden with the masked stranger. And under the star filled night, her known sexual pinnacle was surpassed. As it surged, she wondered how it was possible for her body to contain a super orgasm. It was slowly constructed, then amped up; perched for a long time on the brink and then allowed to coarse broad like a storm laden river delta ; uncontrolled; uncontained and unrestrained.

His technique, the phantasmagorical atmosphere of the masks and the Valentine’s Day ball induced an amazing body response in Zoe. The Nero masked Don Juan was her paramour of new desires and her cavalier of urgent pussy greed, the outdoor risqué illicit, the sex rush and the searing, blistering, swelling pleasure gift centred on her throbbing clitoris.

However; he had even more for her. The brunette was still in a tingly double orgasm state and yet his deft finger went work in her private puckered starfish.  He made her pliable tightness give enough to take his rod deep into her arse crack.  Zoe felt the novel sensation. Her coochie had a pleasure rival. God, cock in her butthole felt naughtily good. She was youthfully flexibly tight and his wickedly active schlong in her back passage way shouldn’t have fitted so well and felt so wonderful. Yet it did. Her arsehole was consumed in monumental self centred bliss. Her butthole was so receptive and so adaptable to thick cock and really appreciated the growing malleable tensile sensations. Zoe wanted the pleasure to last and last.

The stranger in the end was a man, no god, and shot his load from his thick love barrel into her arse deposit slot just as her vaginal climax finally ebbed away. Only to be replaced by her quivering spasming anal muscles enjoying cock jolting in her arse deep and fat and filling.

A shared moment of complete liberated human sexual expression made easier by masks: had come to its inevitable human conclusion. The pair exhausted, lay on the manicured grass for a while. Just star gazing till they heard dance music inside. It was time to return to normal civilised party proceedings; whatever normal is? Sex in a garden with a stranger, on Valentine’s Day? Normal?

He helped her up. The perfect gentleman. He kissed her hand and bade her a wonderful evening and a life full of pleasure pursuits. He kept his mask in place as did Zoe. He smoothed her dress moving around her. Then was gone.

The fantasy for both was forever complete.Their masks were still in place as they mingled anew. But Zoe searched him out, wanted his face now, but instead took in several Nero masks and tuxs like her mystery man scattered around the ballroom and quite a few masks the same or very similar to hers and even two dresses by the same up market designer. And the entire scene was a repeated facial screen hiding longings like clothes shielding the world from rampant desires. But Zoe and the stranger had been brave enough to pursue and seek the skin. The beautiful skin beneath their clothes while allowing the masquerade to create a lived fantasy: forever the unknown opportunistic sexual partner that would linger longingly and activate new encounters in social situations in the near and far future.  Memory stashing this Valentine’s Day garden encounter deep, but not too deep, the night was still young.

 


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