Bianca and I were dying to fuck. She had sucked my dick and made me come — though I always had to help a little with my own hand before I could come in her mouth. I had eaten her pussy and made her come, something no other lover, including her three female ones, had done for her — not with hands, mouth or cock.

Bianca fancied herself a slut, in intention if not in execution, and would have hopped into bed with me in an instant if there had been a bed available. But the reason we hadn’t fucked was threefold.

First, we lived with our parents. Each time we’d had oral sex, it had been in a frenzied hurry before the parents got home from work, before the sister came in from school — whatever. I had eaten her with her ass on the edge of her waterbed and the side of her parents’ hot tub; she had sucked my dick a dozen times and gotten me off half that many — but always in a frenzy. And Bianca refused to let my first experience of intercourse be had in a frenzy.

Second, the one time Bianca and I had managed to spend the night together — at the apartment of Tia, a mutual friend — she had been through a recent illness that prevented her from taking her birth control pills, so a rubberless fuck was out of the question. And Bianca hated rubbers with all her heart — and swore that my first time would not be with a condom, either.

Lastly, Bianca refused to fuck in a car — even though I had a ‘76 Dodge Cornet, a veritable Presidential Suite for furtive college sex. That was really the main reason we hadn’t gone “all the way,” a term Bianca repeatedly said she thought was bogus, because for her oral sex was going all the way, and she didn’t even really like intercourse all that much. Bianca was a small girl, maybe 110 pounds, and her boyfriends so far all had really big dicks. Intercourse invariably hurt for her. She said my dick seemed pretty average, but she still expected it to hurt like a motherfucker when she finally took it inside her. Nonetheless, she was dying to fuck me. The idea of popping my cherry was deliciously attractive to her.

The day it finally happened, I did my shift on our college radio station after school and went home. At six o’clock, I got a call from the ice cream shop where I was working — the manager had overscheduled, and they didn’t really need me to come in that evening. I wondered where everyone is — my sisters and mother weren’t home — and then I realized they were at a church class — the Catholic equivalent of night school — until nine.

I called Bianca right away. “Do you want to fuck?” I asked her. “Fuck yeah,” she replied, like it was a no-brainer. I hopped in the Cornet and raced over to Bianca’s place. She made some excuse to her parents about going to a movie or something, and met me out in front of the house. We rushed back to my house and were ready to strip naked by 7:00.

As we shed our clothes in my room, we kissed tenderly. Bianca stroked my cock, and I was hard almost instantly. When her skull-and-crossbones skirt, David Bowie T-shirt and tights were in a heap on the floor, I pushed her back onto the twin bed in my bedroom. She grasped the flimsy little brass headboard and spread her legs wide as I got onto my knees and began to eat her out. I had made her come a total of six times, in the past, three times with my mouth and three times with my fingers, but right now Bianca was too excited. She moaned softly as I licked my way up and down the lips of her pussy, teasing with my tongue-tip the entrance I was about to breach. I licked at her clit, feeling it harden slightly under my tongue’s strokes, but Bianca grasped my hair and pulled me up to kiss her. She licked her juices from my mouth and whispered “I can’t stand it any more. I want to fuck.”

I shed the rest of my clothes and climbed onto the bed with Bianca. She slid down and took my cock in her mouth, licking from balls to cockhead, stroking the spittle-slick shaft with her hand. She swallowed as much of me as she could, teased me into a froth, then scooted back up the bed and spread her legs as wide as they would go, opening up her pussy to me as she guided me on top of her.

I fit the head of my cock into Bianca’s notch, and she squirmed as I began to press it in. “Gentle,” she cooed into my ear, clutching me tight. “Gentle,” she sighed as I felt the entrance to her body around my cockhead. “Gentle,” she whimpered as I felt the opening of her pussy giving way. Then she gasped, “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” and told me to pull out.

Bianca was pale, her forehead slick with sweat, and not the good kind. “What’s wrong?” I asked her, and “Do you have any lube?” was the answer.

“Lube?” I asked, puzzled.

“You know, lubricant.”

“Like Vaseline or something?”

“No, not like Vaseline or something. KY Jelly?”

“What’s KY Jelly?”

“Just something slippery.”

“I can check,” I said.

“Do.”

I went into the bathroom and tore the place apart. There was nothing even remotely like KY Jelly — we were even out of Vaseline. Finally, in the bottom drawer, I found a huge bottle of almond oil that didn’t seem to have ever been opened.

“How’s this?” I asked when I got back to my bedroom.

“Well I only planned to fuck you once,” giggled Bianca. “But that’ll have to do. Give it to me.”

Bianca tipped the enormous bottle over her spread crotch and gasped as an unexpected deluge squirted out. Laughing, she rubbed it into her pussy, sliding a finger gently into the opening and rubbing the almond oil around the lips. “God, this smells terrible,” she said.

“I think it smells kind of good” was my answer.

“Good,” she said, “because you’re going to be sleeping in it.” Steady rivulets of almond oil dribbled down her cunt and onto the bed.

“Your turn,” Bianca said, taking my cock in her oil-slick hand and stroking it up and down, getting it slippery with almond oil. My cock was immediately hard again, and Bianca tugged at it, pulling me on top of her. I slipped between her splayed thighs and she guided my cockhead into her notch again. I began to push gently against the firm resistance I felt, and Bianca gasped — this time, rapturously — as my cockhead slid into her pussy.

“Slowly,” she said. “Slowly…”

I entered her slowly, feeling her oil-slicked pussy take hold of my cock. She was tight, all right — even though I had nothing to compare it to, it seemed amazing how tightly her slicked-up pussy was gripping my hard cock. All of my fuck-fantasies since I’d first started to masturbate didn’t involve a pussy as tight as this one — it was very different than I expected. “Take your time,” she whispered as I started to thrust. “This feels good… this feels so good…”

I fucked her like that, nice and slow, the scent of almond oil filling my nostrils, for what must have been 45 minutes, all the while letting one eye flicker over to the clock which told me when my sisters and mother would be home. I had played with myself for enough years to know I was going to come, and come hard, from fucking Bianca. So I took my time, enjoying the sensations — and when I finally began to thrust in earnest, Bianca gripped me tightly, wrapping her thighs around my waist and whispering “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” She begged me to come, and I did, my cock spasming and my orgasm exploding through my body, more intense than any other, as I came inside Bianca’s tightly-gripping cunt.

“That’s right… that’s right, baby… I love you…”

It would be 10 minutes before she would start giggling and say “You just lost your virginity, you just lost your virginity,” between titters and peals of hysterical laughter. Bianca had previously told me that everyone laughs when they lose their virginity. With my crazy girlfriend snickering like a madwoman, I couldn’t help but laugh — at her. So I guess, in my case, she was right.

Bianca and I would spend another year together before personal conflicts and my vanity drove us apart. She and I would always use a good water-based lube after that first time, and it always felt better than it had. But for years after — and to this day — the sickly smell of almond oil would always remind me of losing my virginity to Bianca in my bedroom on a creaking single bed. But now I buy my lube in smaller bottles.

The hotel where she and I had just attended a boring professional conference was 12 floors down and about a half a mile over; this parking garage was enormous. We had prayed to the Parking Goddess, and the bitch had ignored us. And so Mia had dropped me off in the hotel turnaround; I had gone in to register both of us while she parked the car.

Mia stopped, stretched languidly, her skirt tugging up over her garters. She arched her back, her small, perfect breasts eloquently distending her thin, almost see-through blouse until several of the buttons almost popped. The blouse pulled up over her belly, of which quite a bit was visible, seeing that the skirt hung low on her hips as well as making only the briefest of showings on her thighs.

She always dressed outrageously when she knew she had something boring to do. And the conference, on a software package so dull it made my eyes cross, had certainly been that. What’s more, though, Mia always gets horny when she gets bored.

Mia fixed me with that mischievous look that tells me things I might not want to know.

“Uh-oh,” I said.

Her arms snaked around me, and she pressed her lips to mine. Our tongues entwined as she pulled me hard against her — or, rather, pulled herself hard against me. I could feel her nipples, hard and horizontal through her thin blouse. If she’d been half a cup size larger she would never have been able to get away with going braless.

My arms went around her, my hands traveling to her ass and up under her skirt. She wasn’t wearing much under there, just her most concise thong. I recognized it with a touch — it was the black one with little red bows, a silk-screened image of two cherries and a girly pink script that said “Juicy.” Mia always wore it when she was planning on doing something really slutty. When I eased it aside and slid my hand under it, I found her wet.

“We’re two floors down,” she said. “But this floor is much emptier.”

I pulled her skirt up and planted one hand on each of her perfect ass-cheeks, lifting her fully into the air. She’s just small enough that I can do that, but I didn’t want to take my chances, so I picked the nearest car, a little Japanese-made sports car. Brand new, from the lack of plates. I laid Mia down across the tiny trunk; it was just big enough for her to perch on. She stretched out, her legs pressing obediently together as I slipped my hand under the waist of her “Juicy” cherry-flavored thong and pulled it slowly down her thighs, over her knees, over her ankles, my eyes locked in hers the whole time. My two fingers went into her smoothly, and Mia squirmed, moaning, her thighs clamping shut around my hand. I discovered as my fingers slid into her that underwear doesn’t lie. Or, at least, this one didn’t, and it was as juicy as she was, soaked through. It had been a long conference, with Mia making semi-obscene doodles next to me on a hotel pad.

I tossed the thong onto the roof of the car.

“Don’t forget that,” she said. “It’s my favorite underwear.”

Mia spread her legs, her booted feet tucked onto the tiny bumpers of the sports car. I lunged forward, popping buttons on her blouse as I opened it. My mouth found her nipple and she moaned, running her fingers through my hair as I tongued her firm bud and licked my way down her belly.

She leaned back against the slanted window of the sports car, treating it like her personal chaise lounge. Her legs eased further apart as I brought my mouth between them, and when I breathed warmly on her cunt and looked up to lock her eyes, Mia appeared not to believe I was really doing this. For a moment, I was afraid she was going to tell me to stop.

So I fired a pre-emptive strike: I smiled at her.

“This was your idea, remember?” I said.

My mouth molded to her slit, my tongue licking hungrily from her moist entrance to the ringed firmness of her swollen clit. Mia slumped back against the sports car window, propping herself up on her elbows; I had to wrap my hands around her hips and push her hard against the trunk to keep her in place. She looked down at me hungrily, biting her lip to keep from moaning too loud, but as my tongue flickered down to her entrance again and let my fingers join my tongue, she couldn’t stop the uncontrolled gasp that shuddered through her, her whole body twisting as I slid two fingers into her.

“Fuck,” she moaned. “Right… there…”

I suckled on her clit, tonguing her rhythmically as I fucked her slowly with my hand, sliding my fingers deep. Her hands came to rest on my head, as if guiding me — but I didn’t need any guidance. I knew the taste of her cunt and the way she reacted better than I knew anything else in the world. And I had already decided that Mia was going to come.

She was pressed hard against the hood of the car, held down by the pressure of my left arm sprawled across her belly, my left hand squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples while I fucked her with my right. Mia began to tremble, her ass lifting off the trunk, her feet planted just firmly enough to support her as I rode her with my mouth, hand deep inside her, tongue working mercilessly. Her arms stretched over her head, searching for a handhold, wriggling helplessly as she floated in space. I could tell by the look on her face, by the way she pumped her hips against me, by the tension in her back, that she was going to come.

“Don’t… stop,” she gasped, and I didn’t.

When she came, her ass came down hard against the trunk of the sports car, making a hollow thump. Her arms came crashing against the sheet metal, her elbows hitting so hard I thought she’d hurt herself. Then her hips began to pump wildly, ass lifted high off the car as she fucked my face, but she couldn’t throw me; I kept tonguing her until she gave a huge groan of release and came down, again, the shocks of the sports car bouncing and protesting as the shrieking siren suddenly erupted from inside.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, sliding off the sports car. “We set off the alarm.”

She pulled down her skirt and held her blouse closed, and the two of us ran for the elevator. It was empty, and she buttoned up inside, giving me one last kiss.

“We left him my thong,” she pouted. “My favorite one.”

I shrugged. “An offering to the Parking Goddess.” I pressed the button for level 10.

And Erica has always been good at surprising me.

Maybe she knew I’d sneak a peek at her Christmas goodies. She and I had only been together for three months, but since she lived with four roommates — and spent most of her time at my considerably more spacious top-floor apartment — we’d decided to put our gifts for each other under the tree at my place.

The afternoon I most caddishly revealed Erica’s gifts, she was stretching herself into unlikely postures at her yoga class, dreaming of how I was gently prying the tape from the big box, delicately peeling back its shimmering silver paper.

And staring with mixed horror and excitement at a box stuffed with gifts that would make the Marquis de Sade blush. And maybe even giggle.

Ball GagFirst there was the ball gag, improbably large for Erica’s small, pert mouth. It had a red ball and black leather straps that formed a harness, presumably meant to go around the head. The dog collar might have been intended merely as a post-punk fashion statement if it weren’t for the shimmering silver chain with its clip and black handle, without a doubt meant to serve as a leash. Then there were the wrist and ankle cuffs, black leather and padded with sheepskin, clipped with metal carabiners to nylon-webbed straps.

I felt my cock hardening as I ran my fingers over the glistening black leather of Erica’s gifts. We’d joked and teased about bondage, but never tried it — yet. Our three months together had been filled with frenzied sex, but the erotic charge we felt for each other was such that we’d rarely had time for experimentation. We were too busy fucking.

Now, though, I knew Erica was presenting me just such an invitation. I imagined her as my prisoner, cuffed, gagged and stuffed full of dildo, my paddle leaving her gorgeous ass a bright-red, rosy hue. Just the thought of it was enough to make me touch my cock. I stroked myself to orgasm right there under the Christmas tree, with the vivid image of a decked-out Erica as my prisoner blazing in my head. I had to jerk off again just to get my hands steady enough to carefully rewrap the present so my naughty Santa wouldn’t know I had betrayed her confidence.

#

Despite two orgasms, I was still horny as hell when Erica dropped by after yoga. I seized her the second she arrived, pressed my lips to hers while I wrestled her out of her leotard. Her body writhed against mine as I turned her around and pressed her against the door, then entered her from behind, still standing. The whole time I was picturing how she’d look in those delightful Christmas gifts. She came before I did and wondered, later, at my sudden and uncontrollable passion.

“I guess I just missed you,” I said guiltily.

#

Star SpankerThe few weeks until Christmas flew by in a flurry of frenzied sex punctuated by the occasional gift-buying. I was hotter for Erica than I’d ever been, knowing what a kinky, naughty secret she held. She thrived on the “secret” of her presents, and begged me to guess at the contents of the silver-wrapped box. I played my part as best I could, wondering out loud if she’d bought me that down comforter I’d liked or a new leather jacket.

She seemed gleeful each time I guessed wrong. “I think you’re going to love it,” she would say, then look worried. “I think.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” I would say, trying hard not to be too obvious. “Is it a new set of curtains for the living room?”

“For God’s sake,” she said once. “How boring do you think I am?”

“Not very boring at all,” I said with a smirk.

#

We decided to save our presents for each other until after the Christmas Eve trips to visit our nearby families were completed, until after we’d made the rounds of our friends’ houses on Christmas Day with bottles of wine and gingerbread cookies. We came home on Christmas with Erica positively bouncing.

“I get to open my present first,” she said. “After you open yours, we’re not going to do anything except play with it. All right?”

“Awwww,” I whined, just to be annoying. “Can’t I open mine first? We’ll want to play with yours, too.”

I finally gave in, and Erica cheerfully shook the heavy box that held her laptop computer. When she opened it, she sat there staring at it in horror.

“Jesus Christ, it’s too expensive,” she said.

“It’s the thought that counts,” I answered blithely. “Besides, you can get into cybercrime to help get me out of the poorhouse. Now can I open my present?”

She put her arms around me and kissed me. “All right,” she said. “But I’m not 100% sure you’re going to like it.”

“Oh,” I chortled. “I’m quite sure I will.”

Her eyes narrowed in a moment of suspicion, but then she smiled broadly. “Open it!”

Bonds Have More Fun KitIt felt strangely deconstructive unwrapping a present I’d wrapped in the style of Erica’s wrapping, pretending to struggle with the little strips of tape and the big red bow. When I opened the box and feigned astonishment, I was only partly acting — because I could hardly believe I’d made it to Christmas without spilling the beans. And I was so fucking turned on knowing that Erica, at her request, was about to become my prisoner.

I held up the harness in shock and dangled the leash and the collar in front of her.

“You are one naughty fucking Santa,” I said, starting to play the role. “You are a very, very, very bad Santa.”

“Do you like it?” she asked sheepishly.

“I love it,” I said. “This is such an incredible fucking turn-on. I’ve fantasized about this for as long as I can remember. I can’t believe you bought all this stuff.”

“But you like it?”

“Oh yes,” I said. “I like it.”

She nuzzled her face into my neck and whispered, “Want to play?”

“Absolutely,” I told her.

“I’ve got another part of your present,” she said. “I’m going to go change into it.”

“Excellent,” I told her. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

Erica disappeared into the bathroom while I went to the bedroom and slipped out of my warm Christmas clothes. I turned down the lights, laid the naughty gifts out on the bed and laid down alongside them, as if in invitation. My cock was already hard anticipating the submission of my little slave.

Erica came out of the bathroom wearing the hottest piece of lingerie I’d ever seen on a woman. She wore a black push-up bra, accenting her small breasts, and a black garter belt with fishnet stockings, the black lace panties on over the garters. The sporty type, Erica usually favored relatively utilitarian cotton-spandex panties and sports bras. Seeing her decked out like the sluttiest femme in creation turned me on even more.

“Do you like it?” she asked nervously.

I climbed to my knees on the bed, naked, my cock standing almost painfully hard. “Get over here,” I told her.

She came for me, climbing onto the bed and pushing me onto my back. She kissed me hard, then trailed her tongue down my neck and nibbled my ear. Her hand disappeared into her lace thong and came back slick with her juices. She slid her fingers between my parted lips.

“See how fucking wet you make me?” she whimpered, pushing her fingers deep into my mouth. I nodded, sucking eagerly at her juices. Her voice tightened. “I’m going to make you pay for that.”

“Um… okay,” I said, confused.

“I’m going to make you pay for that, you little bitch.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, you want to play hard to get?” she growled.

“Um,” I said.

Mistress Manual”Go on,” she said, and her hand left my mouth only to return a moment later with the ball gag. “Play hard to get all you want. Mistress Erica’s in charge tonight, slave, and you don’t get to say no. Understand?”

Her finger was pointed right at the tip of my nose. My eyes felt like they were swimming uncontrollably in my head as I tried instinctively to focus on it. Finally, I looked up at her eyes, which were cold with fury. Her beautiful face held an expression I’d never seen before.

She grabbed my hair and slapped my face.

“Get it?” she snarled.

It wasn’t even a tap, so light I could barely feel it, but it made the point and established the role. All my images of Erica bound like a submissive tart were swirled together in a mëlange of shock and dismay — even as my cock throbbed harder than ever between my legs.

She slapped me again, barely a touch, just a whisper that told me she was in charge.

“Get it?”

“No,” I sneered, looking at her with mock disgust. “I don’t get it at all.”

So she slapped me again, this time harder, hard enough that I could feel it, hard enough that my cheek warmed under the blow and sent a cascading flood of excitement down to my cock.

“I’ll shut up that smart mouth,” she said. “Then you won’t mouth off any more.”

Breathing hard from the light touch of her slap, I nodded. “Yes, Mistress. You’ll have to gag me to keep me from mouthing off.”

She laughed. “Oh, you’ll mouth off later,” she said. “You felt how wet I am.” Then she popped the ball gag into my mouth and quickly and expertly cinched the black leather straps around my head. It took her all of 15 seconds. What felt like another 10 seconds was spent locking the dog collar around my neck and attaching the leash. Just how good was she at this, anyway?

I had propped myself up on my elbows during our saucy little exchange, and now Erica grabbed the metal ring at the top of the head harness and pushed me down flat onto the bed, curling the chain leash in her hand and holding my face absolutely still. My mouth spread wide around the ball gag, and just as an experiment, I tried to talk.

“Slaves are meant to be seen and not heard,” said Erica. “Except when I slap you. Then you can whimper.”

Whipsmart”Yes, Mistress,” I tried to stay, but it came out as a strangled yelp, which only seemed to turn her on more. She grabbed the leather restraints and quickly cinched them around my wrists, expertly threading the nylon webbing through the headboard. Then she climbed off the bed and gave my ankles the same treatment. The rough way she grabbed my legs to position them just so made my cock surge against my belly.

Erica circled the bed once like a beast surveying her domain, a cruel little smile on her face. She hooked her thumbs in her little black lace thong and pulled it down her thighs, revealing a freshly-shaved pussy, yet another something I wasn’t expecting. Stepping out of her thong, she pushed it into my face, smearing the crotch — soaked with her juices even though she’d barely worn it at all — over my face. I took a deep breath of her scent and felt my cock respond with a fresh pulse of excitement.

Then Erica descended on me hungrily, pouncing on the bed, one hand grabbing the ring of the head harness and the other curving around my hard cock.

“My slave knows what his Mistress wants,” she growled. “Stay hard long enough and maybe I’ll let you eat me out.” She threw one lithe leg over my hip and stretched on top of me, guiding my cock between her spread legs. Her cunt was molten, slicker and wetter than I’d ever felt it, as she sank down on my cock. A shudder went through me as she pushed herself onto me and sat up, towering over me and looking absolutely delectable as she began to grind slowly back and forth.

She reached down dug her nails into my chest; my back arched as she left long, angry furrows down my bare chest. My hips lifted off the bed and drove my cock deeper into her; she pushed down against me and wriggled back and forth, stroking the head of my cock against her G-spot. She laid down on top of me as she began to pump her hips up and down. She seized the ring of my head harness with one hand, wrapped my leash around her the other and growled into my ear.

“You like that, slave? You like servicing your Mistress with that big, hard cock?”

I nodded fervently, feeling the pressure against my head as she held me still both at the top of my head and at my collar. Her eyes closed as she began to moan.

“Right… there…” she sighed. “Don’t move, slave. Hold absolutely still.”

She began to fuck me hungrily, and I had to fight to obey her command. I wanted to fuck her hard, but I didn’t dare — even after weeks of relatively vanilla sex, I knew from experience that Erica came faster when she could do the fucking. I struggled to hold still as she pumped her cunt down onto my cock, her moans growing in volume as she got closer. I also had to fight not to come — I didn’t want to give up my hard cock just yet. I wanted to please her, and I knew my Mistress would come several times before she was satisfied.

“Right… fucking… there…” she groaned, and came, her body shuddering against mine as she drove herself down onto my cock. I could feel her pussy clenching around my shaft as her orgasm overtook her. She only stopped for a moment, though, as the shivers of her completion went through her. Then she was on me again, fucking me harder than ever and sitting bolt upright, her yoga-trained thighs lifting her wholly off of my cock and then ramming her down hard onto me again.

I wanted to tell her I was going to come, that I couldn’t hold off any longer — but all I could do was whimper deep inside the gag. I was an instant away from letting go before Erica shuddered again and, still gripping the leash, drew her nails down my chest again, this time breaking the skin. The pain brought me back into my body and away from my orgasm as she came for the second time. I held myself still, desperately trying not to come as I looked up at her and felt my arousal throbbing powerfully through my whole body.

“That’s a good cock, slave,” she told me. “You’ve earned your reward.”

Her thighs shaking a little, Erica drew herself off of me and quickly unbuckled the harness that held the ball gag in my mouth. I took a deep breath as she pulled the ball free and forced the harness up over my forehead. She passed the leash into her other hand and turned around on top of me, spreading her legs and settling her pussy down onto my face.

Sensuous Magic”Show your Mistress how much you appreciate her using your cock,” she snarled, her voice sounding more forceful than ever. My tongue settled onto her clit and began to seethe against it; she rode my face upright as she ground her hips back and forth. “Taste your fucking cock,” she growled, and her voice descended into whimpers as I serviced her pussy, licking all the way from her entrance to her clit and back again, then suckling gently on her clit. I could taste an unfamiliar musk mixed with that of her pussy. She reached down and grabbed my cock around the base, behind my balls, and squeezed — just firmly enough to make me squirm.

“Harder,” she ordered. “Suck my clit harder and I’ll let you come when I do.”

She began to stroke my cock as I obeyed; she knew I was as close as she was. As I worked her clit faster, she slumped forward onto me, tugging on the leash even as she guided my cock between her lips. She began to suck me fiercely, matching every stroke of my tongue on her clit. My hips rose to meet her, and I knew I was going to come in her mouth.

I exploded moments before Erica did; her lips clamped tight halfway down my shaft and she took every drop of my come. My cock muffled the cries of her third orgasm, but I could still hear them and, even more so, could feel the vibrations of them coursing through my body. As she finished coming, she lifted herself off of my face and then pushed down again, the momentary break intensifying her orgasm. She sucked my cock dry as I increased my pressure on her clit, and when she finished swallowing everything she slid off of me and turned, laying fully on my body. She pressed her lips to mine and the unexpected taste of my own come did nothing but make me descend further into my role as her slave. Her tongue slid sticky into my mouth and I opened wide for it, my cock still spasming from my intense orgasm.

Finally spent, my Mistress laid on top of me and gently rattled my chain. When she finally reached up and unclipped the webbing that held my wrists to the bed, I put my arms around her and held her close.

“So, slave,” she sighed. “Were you surprised?”

“Oh yes,” I said sheepishly. “It’s exactly what I deserved.”

She gripped my leash and smiled.

“You’ve got that right, slave. That’ll teach you to peek.”

My face reddened and my Mistress nuzzled her face against my ear.

“So I was right,” she said. “You did peek. You’re a naughty little slave, you know.”

“Oh yes,” I said. “I most certainly am.”

Only problem is, I have no idea who you are.

There are two rules at this costume party: Everyone has to be in costume, and every costume must have a mask. I opted to portray a cheesy Zorro-type bandit, all but swordless, the mask barely covering my eyes; if you know me, you can recognize me. But you, in your long black witchy dress with its twin thigh-high slits showing off the full length of your slender legs — you’ve gone for the full-face mask, in a shimmering porcelain texture, featureless, creepy and alluring. The dress is cut low on top and fits you so closely I can see every contour of your breasts. If I can’t recognize your face, I wish I recognized them.

But your legs are just as sexy, and you seem to know exactly what they’re doing to me. As you chat with friends, you turn toward me, subtly at first and then more blatantly, seemingly emboldened by the shameless way I stare at you from across the room. I don’t know the people you’re chatting with — at least, I don’t think so, though the full-face masks make it a little hard to tell. I desperately try to figure out if I know you, with only the shape of you and the movements of your body to go on. I don’t have much luck. But I decide that if I don’t know you, I need to.

Suddenly, you place a hand on your friend’s shoulder, make some excuse — have to powder your mask? — and start toward the stairs. That would be the end of it; I’m getting bored with wanting you from afar, and contemplating making a run for my car. That would be the end of it, except that you stop at the foot of the stairs, and turn. You turn toward me, and even with your smooth white mask hiding those eyes I can tell you’re looking at me. You fix me with your hollow eyes and, one hand on the railing of the spiral staircase, and you run one hand down over your hip, setting your opened skirt swaying, bending forward slightly so that even from across the room I can see the outline of a thong under your skirt as the fabric tightens across your rounded ass.

That’s all it takes. I’m hard under my pegged Zorro pants, my chest heaving under the black shirt. As you disappear up the spiral staircase, I jump off the couch, not even noticing until I’m halfway across the room that my plastic sword has slipped from my belt. It’s sticking rakishly out of the couch cushions. I leave it and take the stairs two at a time.

It’s dark upstairs. There’s a line for the bathroom, all women, policewomen and witches and sexy orange pumpkins chatting as they wait their turn. You’re not in the line. There’s one door half-open to the side of the staircase. Beyond, it’s dark.

Glancing at a suspicious-looking lady cop, I step boldly into the foreign room.

It’s a tiny guest bedroom. There’s a candle flickering on the sill of a tiny window, and you’re stretched out on the bed, the high slits in your skirt swept aside to reveal your long legs. I close the door behind me and breathe hard for a moment, my cock throbbing in my pants. Now I have to figure out what to do — ravish you without a word, or reach for the mask? Half of me wants to turn and run. That’s when you sit up on the edge of the bed, and wrap your arms around me. Not around my shoulders, or my upper back. Around my waist. You pull me to you, witchy and enigmatic, your mouth closing on my belt buckle without even the politeness of an offered kiss.

My cheap Zorro belt is open in an instant. Your hands come around my front and you unzip my pants. My mouth is open in shock; I can’t believe this is happening. My cock comes out, so hard it’s hurting, and you tip up your mask just enough to reveal your perfect red mouth. I struggle to see if it’s familiar, but I only see it for an instant. After that, it’s around my cock, and my head is thrown back as I moan.

“Who are you?” I gasp, and you rightly ignore me, your mouth occupied with working up and down on my shaft. Your tongue presses my glans, swirling, your mouth settling hungrily on my cock until the head nuzzles the entrance to your throat. Your fingers, with their long black witchy nails, tickle my balls. Your other hand slides up my belly to my chest, and finds one nipple. You pinch it gently, teasing as your head bobs up and down on my cock.

My hands softly rest on your mask, now tipped halfway up to the top of your head. If you only looked up, I could see your lower face. But you don’t look up; you’re quite occupied with my cock, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Your hot mouth is working wonders on me; I feel like I’m going to come already, like I’m going to explode in your mouth. But you’ve got other ideas.

Panting, you ease your mouth off my cock, leaving trails of ruined pink lipstick down the shaft and a strand of thick spittle glistening in the candlelight. As you look up, you tug down your mask so again your face is obscured. Then you lean back, pressing your thighs together as you wriggle up onto the bed.

I’m on you in an instant, instinctively trying to kiss you and finding only smooth plastic. Instead I pull open the front of your dress and find you’re not wearing a bra over your ample curves. My mouth molds to your nipple and you arch your back and moan as I tongue it. Then I’m moving fast down your body, down to my knees, pulling you just over the edge of the bed so I can lift your legs and slide my hands under your dress. I pull your thong down your long, gorgeous legs, and I feel and smell the musk of your cunt soaking it. I sweep the ineffectual strands of your slit-opened dress out of the way, and as you spread your legs wide I bury my face between them.

Your moan comes even louder than mine, as my tongue finds your clit and recognizes your taste. That makes me lick you deeper, suckling on your clit, slipping my tongue down between your lips to feel your cunt flowing uncontrollably into my mouth. You’re strong, tangy, overpowering. I drink deeper and work my way back up to your clit, making you gasp as I remember just how to focus on your clit. You shout “Jesus!” so loud the ghosts and French maids in the hallway must be able to hear you. But I don’t stop, and you just lift your ass off the bed and grab my head, pushing me hard between your legs. I tongue harder, hungry, and you come, thrashing and writhing on the bed until your dress is halfway off, your body undulating crazily as you beg me to fuck you.

You’re still coming, your body jerking with the last spasms of your climax, as I mount you and enter you with a cock still slick from spit and lipstick. From the instant my cock slides into you, I know it’s you, and the tightness embracing me makes me press deeper into you, until I feel your cervix nuzzling against my bare cock, just the way you like it. You grind up against me, your hands going around me and easing down my pants to grip my ass. You pull me deeper into you and arch your back as you come again, that familiar second orgasm, stronger than the first, following quickly on penetration.

Your muscles lose control and you pull me onto you so hard I have to struggle even to be able to keep fucking you. But I do, and as I fuck you harder you shudder and rock back and forth, lifting your hips to meet my thrusts. Your whisper tickles my ear: “Come inside me. Come for me, baby.” I fuck you until I let go, gasping into the thick curtain of your hair, your mask ripped free and long forgotten as I press my mouth to yours, our tongues meeting, you sucking my pleasure out of me as surely as if your mouth was on my cock. As I finish, you caress my head, slip off my mask, kiss me again. I roll to the side and you cuddle up against me, holding me tight, my soft cock sliding out of you and leaving a glistening string of come as you ease away from me.

You kiss me one last time and dance away from me, your witchy fingers finding your mask and neatly placing it on your face. You get off the bed and look back at me, your eyes once again hollow behind the mask, your fear evident even in the shadows. You’ve done a risky thing, seducing me like this, and now I can tell you’re about to flee. I reach out for you, taking your arm, but you slip out of my grasp and step away. You blow me a kiss, straighten your dress, and vanish into the flickering candlelight, leaving your panties behind.

The door closes loudly behind you, and I look at it as if I can see through it, see you receding into the hallway and down the spiral stairs. Clutching my mask in my hand, I get off the bed, zip up my pants, and follow you.

You’re waiting at the bottom of the spiral stairs, looking back at me, mask in your hand. I take mine off, too, as I come toward you and we head toward the door.