Batwoman meets Catwoman Part One
- 3 years ago
- 114
- 0
Who Was That Masked Man (part 1) free porn video
“You are cordially invited?”
Terry looked from the card.
“What is this?” he demanded
Sandra, Sand or Sandy to her friends, shrugged.
“It’s an invitation,” She said. “To a Masquerade Ball.”
Terry laughed derisively, “A what?” he sneered.
Sandy turned back to the washing up and gulped silently. Why did it always have to be like this, why was Terry such an inverted snob.
“A dance,” she clarified. “Everyone wears masks and at midnight you all take them off and find out who you’ve been talking to all night. It’s quite fun actually.”
“Oh is it? Actually?” Terry stood up and crossing the small kitchen, pulled her around by her shoulder.
“Listen here woman.” he shouted. “You may have been in to all that sort of thing when you were a ‘Gel’ and all that bourgeois shit, but now you are my wife! So if you think I’m going to ponce about is some stupid French mask you’ve got another think coming my girl.”
To make the point the raised his arm to deliver a backhand slap glaring at her daring her to defy him. When he as met by only a steely glare, he hesitated a moment. Lately Sand had been acting strangely and he did not like it.
“Who sent it anyway?” he pressured. When she did not answer, he grabbed the gold-rimmed invitation from the table and waved it in her face.
“Who sent you this?”
“It’s from Marianne,” she replied.
“Marion? Who the Hell is Marion?” he yelled, scrunching the heavy paper in his hand.
“Marianne, not Marion,” she snapped.
He threw the invite in her face and screamed like a c***d having a tantrum “Don’t you correct me! I may not have gone to your hoity-toity girl’s school and have had all Daddy’s money falling out of my arse since day one, but I aren’t not stupid!”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, kneeling to pick up the card.
“Yeah? Sorry? So you should be, I was there when you needed me, me, not Daddy!” a nasty smirk crossed his mouth. “You need to remember that, me! When they threw you out, I took you in, and it was me who was willing to bring up your bastard brat...”
“Stop it!” she screamed. “Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t dare? Don’t I dare? Who, the hell, do you think you are talking to? Madame? Was it my fault the little snotty brat ...”
Faster than he, thought imaginable Sandy was on her feet, the bread knife in her hand and pressed up against his throat.
“Don’t you ever mention him again,” she snarled. “I will not tolerate hearing my c***d’s name on your coarse lips.”
His cruel eyes, met hers, mocking and vicious.
“What c***d?” he said. “It’s dead, Sand, dead as a door nail, because he was weak like you.”
For one moment, she felt the knife twitch in her hand, before thinking better of it and instead sending a right-cross straight in to his jaw. Her fist connected and the sharp crack sent terry backward across the table.
“You Bitch!” he bawled. “Now you’re really going to get it.”
However, the knife was already at his throat again.
“You lay one finger on me ever again, Terry Bradshaw, and I will wait till you are sleeping and I will cut off your balls and make you eat them!”
The prick of the point of the knife on his neck advised him to stay silent, he nodded mutely and she backed away, and left the kitchen.
Crossing the living room, she lifted her coat off the hook and unlocked the door.
“If you walk out now, you can never come back!” Terry bawled at her. “That’s it, we’re through.”
“We were finished years ago idiot, you’re a bitter nasty little man and I don’t need you.” She answered.
“Where will you go? You’ve got no one, you can’t go nowhere, you’re all alone and pathetic, no one likes you.”
She ignored the wheedling gripe and left, throwing the keys back through the door before heading down the street.
She was faintly aware that he was calling after her.
“And don’t come back!” and the sound of the door slamming.
Marianne Defoe had not expected visitors.
After the 10 year, school reunion a few weeks past she had kept her promise and sent an invitation to her Halloween Ball to Sand.
Poor Sand, she had looked so drawn, so worried, and frightened even.
“I heard rumours,” she had said. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
Sand had openly wept, it had all come out, the pregnancy, the still birth her estrangement from her family.
Sand’s mother had always been a bitch, and her father was just anything for a quiet life so long as he had his racing, brandy and a few good cigars.
Of course, Sand had rushed away quickly. That brute of a husband didn’t even know she was there, but they had exchanged addresses, phone numbers and the like.
It was so hard to remember that bright eyed, beauty from the form, best friends and in the dorm rooms even more to each other, but it was so good to see her again.
Therefore, the rapping on the door was totally unexpected, as was Sand falling in to her arms weeping when she opened it.
“I’ve left him,” she cried.
“Good.” was all Marianne had to say and held her close until the tears subsided.
A few hours later, they sat catching up and drinking tea.
It seemed as if the years between had never happened, they fell back in to conversation and familiarity.
“He was right of course, I do have no where to go. I have the clothes I’m standing up in and a few quid in my purse. That’s it.” Sand said.
“Don’t worry about all that,” Marianne laughed. “You’ll stay here for the time being until we can arrange something and get you a few more …Quid was it? Good Lord you are so funny.”
They giggled together.
“Anyway you must stay for the party, it will be such fun.” She said.
Sandy blushed, “I’m so sorry I have nothing to wear.”
Marianne laughed again, and then her eyes glittered wickedly.
“Darling,” she said gleefully. “What a totally marvellous idea.”
“I don’t understand,” whispered Sand.
So it was that when the guests arrived for the Halloween Masquerade, they were shown to a side room. There Marianne standing on a raised platform addressed the assembled guests.
“Friends,” she called, “some of you may be wondering why we are not going straight in to the party?”
There a few assenting grunts and mumbles about the crowd.
“Well it is because tonight, as you know is a masked ball,” She reached behind her and picked up a large beaked peacock mask, and placed it over her head, covering eyes, nose and hair.
“Have you each collected a mask on the way in?”
Again mumbles of yes and of course.
“For heaven sake Mari darling,” called some one. “What is all this about?”
“What indeed,” she replied. “Well I’ll tell you shall I?”
“Yes,” called out almost every one.
“Tonight is a very special masked ball indeed, for you see though everyone must wear a mask, the rest of the night and you attire will be spent like this!”
So saying she shrugged off her startling blue silk gown from her shoulders, leaving her standing naked before them all, but for stockings, garter belt and heels.
“I say,” called out one voice, over several gasps.
“OH what FUN,” called out a more feminine voice.
“I’m game,” shouted another.
With a flurry of rustles, and flops clothes began to hit the floor.
“Leave your unwanteds in here,” Marianne called and then join me in the ballroom.
With which she flounced away.
In the main ball room a small orchestra sat obscured only by their instruments and nought else, waiters in collars and ties but other wise naked, carried out trays of drinks and assorted canapés, as did waitresses in only pinafores and caps.
The whole of the room soon filled with the guests, some a little nervous, others more enthusiastic.
Apparently and judging by numbers few had decided not to join the fun and the only thing bothering one or two was where about to put their cigarette and cigar cases.
Ranging from eighteen-year-old debutantes to venerable old dowagers, the eclectic mix began to dance and feast, laugh and giggle.
Sandy wearing the mask of a mermaid, complete with a built in long wig of blond locks that flowed over her breasts stood nervously by the buffet table.
Marianne strutted over to her, proud as the peacock as which she was disguised.
“What do you think darling, didn’t I say it was a marvellous idea?” she declared.
“I have never seen so many willies all at one in my life,” Sandy tittered.
“A veritable smorgasbord,” her friend replied playfully pinching Sands buttock cheek.
“Have you seen General Sir Edward’s dick? For a gentleman of advanced years, he is certainly wasting no time.”
Indeed the old man was sporting a large erection, the first in the room, and his wife was paying him more attention than she had in many a year, especially in light of the admiring glances the good knight was attracting from many younger ladies.
“Come along let’s mingle.” Marianne put her arm around the waist of her friend and led her in to the heady mix of fleshly odours, expensive perfumes and the already rampant cloud of pheromones indicative of sexual excitement.
The orchestra sprang in to life and began filling the whole room with lascivious erotic themes and the dancing began.
Marianne soon became engaged in chatting with one guest or another and Sandy felt
Terry looked from the card.
“What is this?” he demanded
Sandra, Sand or Sandy to her friends, shrugged.
“It’s an invitation,” She said. “To a Masquerade Ball.”
Terry laughed derisively, “A what?” he sneered.
Sandy turned back to the washing up and gulped silently. Why did it always have to be like this, why was Terry such an inverted snob.
“A dance,” she clarified. “Everyone wears masks and at midnight you all take them off and find out who you’ve been talking to all night. It’s quite fun actually.”
“Oh is it? Actually?” Terry stood up and crossing the small kitchen, pulled her around by her shoulder.
“Listen here woman.” he shouted. “You may have been in to all that sort of thing when you were a ‘Gel’ and all that bourgeois shit, but now you are my wife! So if you think I’m going to ponce about is some stupid French mask you’ve got another think coming my girl.”
To make the point the raised his arm to deliver a backhand slap glaring at her daring her to defy him. When he as met by only a steely glare, he hesitated a moment. Lately Sand had been acting strangely and he did not like it.
“Who sent it anyway?” he pressured. When she did not answer, he grabbed the gold-rimmed invitation from the table and waved it in her face.
“Who sent you this?”
“It’s from Marianne,” she replied.
“Marion? Who the Hell is Marion?” he yelled, scrunching the heavy paper in his hand.
“Marianne, not Marion,” she snapped.
He threw the invite in her face and screamed like a c***d having a tantrum “Don’t you correct me! I may not have gone to your hoity-toity girl’s school and have had all Daddy’s money falling out of my arse since day one, but I aren’t not stupid!”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, kneeling to pick up the card.
“Yeah? Sorry? So you should be, I was there when you needed me, me, not Daddy!” a nasty smirk crossed his mouth. “You need to remember that, me! When they threw you out, I took you in, and it was me who was willing to bring up your bastard brat...”
“Stop it!” she screamed. “Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t dare? Don’t I dare? Who, the hell, do you think you are talking to? Madame? Was it my fault the little snotty brat ...”
Faster than he, thought imaginable Sandy was on her feet, the bread knife in her hand and pressed up against his throat.
“Don’t you ever mention him again,” she snarled. “I will not tolerate hearing my c***d’s name on your coarse lips.”
His cruel eyes, met hers, mocking and vicious.
“What c***d?” he said. “It’s dead, Sand, dead as a door nail, because he was weak like you.”
For one moment, she felt the knife twitch in her hand, before thinking better of it and instead sending a right-cross straight in to his jaw. Her fist connected and the sharp crack sent terry backward across the table.
“You Bitch!” he bawled. “Now you’re really going to get it.”
However, the knife was already at his throat again.
“You lay one finger on me ever again, Terry Bradshaw, and I will wait till you are sleeping and I will cut off your balls and make you eat them!”
The prick of the point of the knife on his neck advised him to stay silent, he nodded mutely and she backed away, and left the kitchen.
Crossing the living room, she lifted her coat off the hook and unlocked the door.
“If you walk out now, you can never come back!” Terry bawled at her. “That’s it, we’re through.”
“We were finished years ago idiot, you’re a bitter nasty little man and I don’t need you.” She answered.
“Where will you go? You’ve got no one, you can’t go nowhere, you’re all alone and pathetic, no one likes you.”
She ignored the wheedling gripe and left, throwing the keys back through the door before heading down the street.
She was faintly aware that he was calling after her.
“And don’t come back!” and the sound of the door slamming.
Marianne Defoe had not expected visitors.
After the 10 year, school reunion a few weeks past she had kept her promise and sent an invitation to her Halloween Ball to Sand.
Poor Sand, she had looked so drawn, so worried, and frightened even.
“I heard rumours,” she had said. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
Sand had openly wept, it had all come out, the pregnancy, the still birth her estrangement from her family.
Sand’s mother had always been a bitch, and her father was just anything for a quiet life so long as he had his racing, brandy and a few good cigars.
Of course, Sand had rushed away quickly. That brute of a husband didn’t even know she was there, but they had exchanged addresses, phone numbers and the like.
It was so hard to remember that bright eyed, beauty from the form, best friends and in the dorm rooms even more to each other, but it was so good to see her again.
Therefore, the rapping on the door was totally unexpected, as was Sand falling in to her arms weeping when she opened it.
“I’ve left him,” she cried.
“Good.” was all Marianne had to say and held her close until the tears subsided.
A few hours later, they sat catching up and drinking tea.
It seemed as if the years between had never happened, they fell back in to conversation and familiarity.
“He was right of course, I do have no where to go. I have the clothes I’m standing up in and a few quid in my purse. That’s it.” Sand said.
“Don’t worry about all that,” Marianne laughed. “You’ll stay here for the time being until we can arrange something and get you a few more …Quid was it? Good Lord you are so funny.”
They giggled together.
“Anyway you must stay for the party, it will be such fun.” She said.
Sandy blushed, “I’m so sorry I have nothing to wear.”
Marianne laughed again, and then her eyes glittered wickedly.
“Darling,” she said gleefully. “What a totally marvellous idea.”
“I don’t understand,” whispered Sand.
So it was that when the guests arrived for the Halloween Masquerade, they were shown to a side room. There Marianne standing on a raised platform addressed the assembled guests.
“Friends,” she called, “some of you may be wondering why we are not going straight in to the party?”
There a few assenting grunts and mumbles about the crowd.
“Well it is because tonight, as you know is a masked ball,” She reached behind her and picked up a large beaked peacock mask, and placed it over her head, covering eyes, nose and hair.
“Have you each collected a mask on the way in?”
Again mumbles of yes and of course.
“For heaven sake Mari darling,” called some one. “What is all this about?”
“What indeed,” she replied. “Well I’ll tell you shall I?”
“Yes,” called out almost every one.
“Tonight is a very special masked ball indeed, for you see though everyone must wear a mask, the rest of the night and you attire will be spent like this!”
So saying she shrugged off her startling blue silk gown from her shoulders, leaving her standing naked before them all, but for stockings, garter belt and heels.
“I say,” called out one voice, over several gasps.
“OH what FUN,” called out a more feminine voice.
“I’m game,” shouted another.
With a flurry of rustles, and flops clothes began to hit the floor.
“Leave your unwanteds in here,” Marianne called and then join me in the ballroom.
With which she flounced away.
In the main ball room a small orchestra sat obscured only by their instruments and nought else, waiters in collars and ties but other wise naked, carried out trays of drinks and assorted canapés, as did waitresses in only pinafores and caps.
The whole of the room soon filled with the guests, some a little nervous, others more enthusiastic.
Apparently and judging by numbers few had decided not to join the fun and the only thing bothering one or two was where about to put their cigarette and cigar cases.
Ranging from eighteen-year-old debutantes to venerable old dowagers, the eclectic mix began to dance and feast, laugh and giggle.
Sandy wearing the mask of a mermaid, complete with a built in long wig of blond locks that flowed over her breasts stood nervously by the buffet table.
Marianne strutted over to her, proud as the peacock as which she was disguised.
“What do you think darling, didn’t I say it was a marvellous idea?” she declared.
“I have never seen so many willies all at one in my life,” Sandy tittered.
“A veritable smorgasbord,” her friend replied playfully pinching Sands buttock cheek.
“Have you seen General Sir Edward’s dick? For a gentleman of advanced years, he is certainly wasting no time.”
Indeed the old man was sporting a large erection, the first in the room, and his wife was paying him more attention than she had in many a year, especially in light of the admiring glances the good knight was attracting from many younger ladies.
“Come along let’s mingle.” Marianne put her arm around the waist of her friend and led her in to the heady mix of fleshly odours, expensive perfumes and the already rampant cloud of pheromones indicative of sexual excitement.
The orchestra sprang in to life and began filling the whole room with lascivious erotic themes and the dancing began.
Marianne soon became engaged in chatting with one guest or another and Sandy felt
Fay
- 11.12.2020
- 27
- 0
Batwoman meets Catwoman Part One
- 3 years ago
- 114
- 0
Catwoman and Batman The Wager
- 3 years ago
- 88
- 0
