Masquerade
- 2 years ago
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Masquerade Pt. 03 free porn video
Saturday arrives, and my heart can’t stop beating to a faster than normal rhythm. The butterflies in my stomach indicate the level of excitement, anticipation and nervousness I feel since they flutter stronger and stronger as 5:30 p.m. approaches.
Tracy meets me at 9 a.m., and we commence our Saturday morning routine of yoga followed by coffee. I rush home to shower, get my hair and nails done, and Tracy comes over to help me get ready. Our conversation is heightened by my nerves, and she knows I’m more distracted than usual because of the possibilities the night will bring.
Finally, 5:30 rolls around. I take a deep breath, and teetering on my stilettos, I peek out the window. Sure enough, a shiny, sleek Rolls Royce Ghost waits outside my townhouse. Tracy helps me slip on my opera gloves, tucks my phone into my clutch, and reminds me again to text her if I feel uncomfortable at any time. I give her a hug, and we step outside, locking the door behind us.
The chauffeur rounds the vehicle and opens the back passenger door. ‘Miss,’ he says as he touches his cap.
‘Oh, he’s good,’ I think. I may look younger than my age, but it’s been a long time since I could believably be called a Miss. I wink, flash a big smile at Tracy, and get into the car. She watches us pull away as a mix of concern, excitement and I think a dash of jealousy plays across her face.
After about 30 minutes we arrive at a large mansion in the high-rent district of Denver. Lights softly line the walkway and steps to the front door, and I can see shapes moving behind the closed curtains. I quickly pull out my phone and am relieved to see I have strong cell coverage. I check my mask, hair and lipstick in my compact and step out of the opened door thanking the driver and offering a tip which he refuses. I make my way up the steps to the front door and with a bit of trepidation, open it and walk through.
Not surprisingly, the entryway is stunning. High ceilings, beautiful art and decor line the walls along with an extremely large floral arrangement on a table in the foyer. A greeter meets me as I walk in and takes me to a table where event staff are checking names. I give my name but apologize for not RSVPing. The planner smiles, finds my name on her iPad and hands me a long-stemmed red rose. ‘Welcome, Ms. Beauchamp. Enjoy the ball,’ she chirps in her effervescent voice.
The mansion is dazzling with lavish decor, expensive furniture, floral arrangements (some with cascading vines down the walls), lush velvet and sheer fabrics, intricate sconces holding flickering candles and beautiful chandeliers casting soft lighting throughout the various rooms. I feel like I’ve been transported back in time to an era when lavish balls for nobility were the norm.
People dressed elegantly in gorgeous ball gowns and tailored tuxedos mingle throughout the rooms leading off the foyer and hall. Their masks hide their faces, but I can see delight and mischief dancing in their eyes. Servers dressed in black pass hors d’oeuvres and glasses of wine and champagne. I take a glass of champagne from a passing tray and sip nervously. Obviously I don’t recognize anyone, but I don’t usually have trouble at social engagements and can hold my own at the ‘booze and schmooze’ events my company throws for clients and prospects. I walk up to a foursome chatting nearby when a lag in their conversation provides an opportunity.
We make polite small talk to start, and I quickly learn both men belong to this mysterious brotherhood, and the women are their wives. One, a statuesque blonde, I guess mid-30s, towers over me. I’m about 5’2′, and in heels, close to 5’7′. She must be at least 5’9′ without heels. She has a cool demeanor but isn’t unfriendly as she welcomes me and asks if this is my first event with the brotherhood. I smile as I answer and finish the glass of champagne. Almost immediately, a server appears to take my empty glass and offers me a new one which I accept. The first glass has made me a bit giddy, and I realize I should eat something. Bubbles typically go straight to my head, but I love the feeling, and the label being served is quite good. The other woman is older, maybe in her 50s, heavyset and very funny. Her reddish-brown hair is piled on her head in an elegant updo, and her neck, ears, hands and wrists drip with jewels. She’s holding a plate of hors d’oeuvres, and I ask her to point me in the direction of the food. She laughs, a great laugh, and says she’ll join me, she wants more. I’ve almost finished my second glass of champagne and am really feeling the effects. Before we can leave our group, a hand grips my elbow. Startled, I turn and am met with a broad chest in an impeccable tux. I slowly move my gaze up and am captivated by the most exquisite eyes I’ve ever seen accentuated by the black mask hiding his face.
He smiles confidently, and my heart skips a beat. I swallow the last of my champagne and place it on the tray of a server who’s once again magically appeared. ‘Would you like another?’ the server asks. I shake my head slowly, my gaze still captivated by those mesmerizing eyes.
The two men I’ve been conversing with straighten, it seems like a show of respect, so I wonder if this mystery man is an officer in this brotherhood. One of the husbands starts to say something, but mystery man gives him a look, and he stops talking. Mystery man glances to his side and motions me in that direction. I look at the people I’ve been chatting with and they don’t seem concerned. The robust redhead grins at me, and the blonde tosses her hair. I take their lack of concern to mean he’s at least somewhat trustworthy so I turn in the direction he motioned. He once again takes my elbow as he steers me out of the room.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask. He puts a finger to his lips and shakes his head. ‘You’re not going to tell me? Why should I let you take me?’ I ask and stop walking. He sighs, and it’s somehow familiar, but only my subconscious recognizes that. He puts his finger under my chin and raises my face so I’m once again looking in his eyes. He’s tall. Even in killer heels, the top of my head only reaches his shoulder. ‘I…’ I don’t finish my sentence before his lips are on mine, firm, insistent, breathtakingly good. Wow. My heart is pounding. I should be outraged. How dare he! But all my mind registers is his heat, his commanding presence, his intoxicating scent, his strong arms as my hands reach out and grab his biceps to steady myself. My lips part at my surprise, and he takes advantage, sliding his tongue along mine, biting my lower lip, kissing me madly, passionately. We’re in the middle of a hallway at a swanky masquerade ball acting like teenagers in a make-out session. I break away, trying to catch my breath. I’ve never been kissed like that. It was incredible. I can’t look at him. I know if I do I’ll melt into a puddle on the floor and ruin the carpeting.
Once again, he lifts my chin to meet his eyes. I see humor behind them and mischief and power and desire, and I’m lost. Dammit. How can I be lost to someone I don’t know? All I know, is I’d follow him anywhere right now, so when he grabs my elbow and leads the way, I go compliantly.
We walk down the hallway away from the noise of the party to a door at the end on the side. He opens it, and I see a staircase leading down. I look at him, questioning him with my eyes but he just nods his head and guides me to the stairs. My brain is screaming at me. ‘What are you doing? He could be a crazy psychopath? Why are you letting him take you downstairs? You don’t even know where you’re going.’ I tell myself to hush and trust for once. We’re at an elegant party. If there was danger, my spidey senses would be tingling, but that’s not the part of me that’s tingling. I’m not going to think, I’m going to feel. I know I’m under his spell, and I’m hoping he’s not nuts.
We descend the stairs, and the air gets colder, the light dim. I shiver. He takes his tux jacket off and wraps it around my should
ers. I smile, but I don’t know if he can see it. At the bottom of the stairs, candles flicker in sconces. The air is cool. We round a corner, and we’re in the largest and most beautiful wine cellar I’ve ever seen. There’s a large wooden table in the middle of the room, set for two with elegant place settings, several glasses in different sizes for different wine varietals. The champagne flutes have been filled as have the water glasses. I look around for servers or anyone else, but it’s just the two of us. He still hasn’t spoken a word.
I admire him in his black vest and white tuxedo shirt. I can tell he exercises and is in good shape but not bulky. Fit, athletic, broad chest, long torso, strong legs. He walks to the table to get the champagne glasses, and I sneak a glance at his ass. Holy hell. I swallow again. I love a nice ass on a man, and in those tuxedo pants I can tell his is spectacular. Pulling my leering gaze away I notice the artwork around the room and the many bottles of wines aging all around us. The room is circular and quite beautiful. It combines the modern and the traditional together effortlessly, and the outcome is breathtaking.
He hands me a glass, raises his in a silent toast, clinks with mine and takes a sip. I smile and sip, too. He takes my glass and sets them on the table then walks confidently back to me. He pulls me to him, leans down and kisses me again. I wrap my arms around his neck, and his coat falls from my shoulders. He grabs it in one hand while still kissing me and drapes it over the back of a chair. I’m lost in his kiss. He really is amazing, and I can feel wetness seeping through my panties from just his touch, his kiss. One hand is in my hair at the back of my neck, and the other is around my waist holding me tight against him. I can feel his arousal against my leg, and that turns me on even more. I move my hands down his back, feeling his muscles shift under his shirt and vest.
My heart is once again beating fast. His lips move from my mouth to my neck. His tongue caresses my neck, and he bites the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. My knees buckle, but he holds me up and kisses me deeply again. He walks me backwards to the other end of the table, and before I know it, he’s turned me around, my back to his front as he caresses my breasts over the satin of my dress. I moan and his lips find the back of my neck, pushing my hair out of the way. I bow my head to give him better access, and I’m once again completely lost in the sensations of his body pressed against mine. I can feel the hardness of his cock against my lower back, and I love that I’m turning him on as much as he is me.
He bends me over the table and caresses my ass. My arms are holding me up, palms flat on the table as I enjoy his touch, his lips on my neck as his body again presses against mine when he leans over me. ‘Do you want me to stop?’ He whispers in my ear, and I shake my head. He kisses my ear and bites my earlobe. He raises my dress above my hips and I instinctively part my legs, raise my ass and lower my chest to the table in silent invitation. I hear his zipper, and my heart threatens to escape my chest. New wetness seeps out of me in anticipation. I haven’t been taken, really taken by a man in a very long time, and I think he senses my hunger, my need for that type of man. He grabs the thin strap of my satin panties on either side of my hips, and with one motion, rips them from my body. A shiver of excitement runs through me at the violence and lust that one act conveys, and I go up on my toes, beckoning him to enter me.
I hear the rip of foil and a few seconds later feel him press against my opening. I know I’m really ready for him, and I push my hips back. He smacks my ass lightly, and I stop. I’ve never been spanked before, and the feeling is…arousing. It wasn’t a hard smack – more surprising and even more surprising that I liked it. He lines himself up again and slowly enters me, teasing me as I ache to be filled by him. He’s thick and hard as steel, and he feels better than I ever imagined as the walls of my pussy surround and pulse around him. It’s a tight fit, and it feels so good. I need him to move. I’m so turned on, and I need to be fucked, hard. I push back again, and he grabs my hips firmly in his large hands. My breathing is heavy, and I moan. He starts to thrust, and the feeling is unbelievable. Oh my god! I’m in ecstasy as he fucks me, his powerful legs against the backs of mine, his strong hands gripping my hips as he commands my body and our rhythm. I lose myself in the pleasure. I don’t know what I’m saying or the sounds I’m making, I just know how good it feels, how I don’t want it to stop, how I need this, how I need him.
His rhythm increases as he fucks me hard and deep, dominating me, and I love it. ‘Oh, god, yes,’ I moan as he takes me. I can feel my core tightening, and I know I’m close as he maneuvers and hits that spot inside me, the spot that no one else has found, and I know I’m close. ‘Fuck me,’ I breathe, and his pace increases. We’re both sweating and breathing hard, and I feel the heat and tingling on my legs, the indication that my orgasm is rushing full speed ahead, and I crave the release. He thrusts again and again, relentlessly, and I crash over him, my pussy contracting around him as the pleasure hits me like a tidal wave, and I scream. His grip on my hips tightens as he thrusts deep and finds his release. He folds over me as we attempt to catch our breath. His hands caress my shoulders, my arms as he kisses my neck and back. I’ve never been taken like that, and I know I want more of him. I don’t want him to stop fucking me. I can feel my body getting turned on again just from his proximity and his scent and his lips against my neck. Who is this man, and what has he done to me? I’m under his spell completely.
He stands up and smooths my dress back down then takes my hand and gently pulls me up to face him. He kisses my hand still in the glove then looks in my eyes. I’m a bit dazed, still in a euphoric haze. I can’t quite focus, but I smile, a little embarrassed but also giddy. He leans down, kisses my neck again, and I sigh contentedly. I can feel his smile against my neck, and he bites it playfully. I moan. ‘Wow,’ I breathe. ‘Stop that, or we’ll never leave here.’
‘Why would we want to?’ He asks in a whisper against my ear, and I shiver again but not from the cold.
He walks over to the other side of the table and indicates I should sit. A server appears out of thin air it seems and sets two Insalata Caprese in front of us. I sip from the champagne glass again and cut into the salad. I’m famished for some reason.
Dinner goes rather quickly as we engage in small talk. Truthfully, it’s a bit awkward as I seem to be doing most of the talking. He seems interested, but he’s rather quiet, and I wonder if it’s something I did or said or if now that we’ve already had sex he’s counting the minutes until dinner is over, and he can return to the party. But then why create this elaborate setup? We could have just had sex and returned to the throng never to see each other again. I run out of things to say and just sip the port that has been poured into the last glass.
I place my napkin on the table beside my plate, and he rises and puts his jacket back on. I stand as well, my legs a bit shaky and put my gloves back on. He rounds the table, holds out his arm, and I place my hand in the crook of his elbow. I look up at him. He smiles that confident smile, and I smile back feeling a little relieved. He leans down and touches his lips to mine, not chaste but not the passionate kisses of an hour earlier. We climb the staircase, and I realize the wine has definitely gotten to me. The dinner portions were small which I prefer, but each of the five courses was paired with wine, and in my nervousness, I drank all of the wine but didn’t eat much of the food. I’m able to walk, thankfully, and I’m not slurring my words, but I’m feeling that happy, giddy feeling all over that comes from enjoying good wine
(and great sex).
We return to the hallway, and the party is in full swing. Much to my surprise, in the room nearest the entrance to the cellar, couples are in various stages of undress (masks still on) and imbibing in the many pleasures of the evening. I don’t feel so out of place anymore, and I giggle. My mystery man smiles again, this one full of mischief in his eyes, and my belly flips.
We walk back down to the end of the hall and into the room where he first took my elbow. This room seems to be reserved for those not engaging in debauchery. Several clusters of revelers are conversing, and I hear laughter echo throughout the room. He bends to me again, touches his lips against my neck and once again whispers in my ear. I smile. He starts to walk away, but I grab his hand, pull him to me, and kiss him hard on the mouth. He’s surprised but gives in to the kiss, and once again, we’re lost in our embrace. He pulls away, looks in my eyes, smiles that smile that melts me and walks away.
Dazed again, I sit on the couch behind me and relive the past hour or so in my mind. It feels like a dream. I shake myself out of it and decide to head home. The wine and my mystery man have muddled my mind, and I need to hydrate and go to sleep.
I realize I’m not sure how I’m getting home. I didn’t get a card from the driver to call him so I figure I’ll either get a taxi or call Tracy. I make a stop in the most elegant bathroom I’ve ever seen, contemplate a soak in the deep, claw-footed tub, laugh, shake my head and make my way out of the magnificent mansion.
The Rolls is parked out front, and when the driver sees me, he gets out and opens the back door for me. I climb in, pull in my dress, and he shuts the door. I take my mask off, lean back against the seat and am asleep in less than five minutes.
When we arrive at my house, I’m awoken by the driver who has carried me from the car to my front door. I get my key from my purse, once again offer him a tip which he refuses and open my door. He sees me safely inside then leaves. I text Tracy telling her I’m home and will talk to her tomorrow. I drink a large glass of water, take two Advil, brush my teeth, strip and fall into bed, once again sound asleep in less than five minutes.
The next day, Tracy is knocking on my door at 10 a.m. She’s brought breakfast, and I tell her about the night, the dresses, the tuxes, the champagne, the debauchery and of course, my mystery man. ‘Shit!’ I suddenly say. ‘My mask!’
‘What did you do with it?’ Tracy asks.
‘I left it in the car last night. Dammit. I have no way of knowing the car company or how to get it back.’ I’m immediately saddened by this thought. That mask was beautiful and full of many wonderful memories of the incredible night. ‘I guess I’ll email the woman on the invitation to see if she knows. I really hope it’s not lost to me.’
Monday morning I’m only a few minutes late to work. Not my usual late but not early either. I’m still alternately dreamy from the magical evening and depressed about losing the mask. I hope to hear back from Alicia at the Brotherhood today with positive news on how I can get it back.
When I arrive at my office, there’s once again a lovely box on my desk tied with green and black ribbon. I open the box and it contains my mask! I’m elated as I pull it out of the box and delicately caress it. It’s so beautiful. There’s a white card in the box with elegant script, ‘Didn’t want you to forget me.’ I know there’s no name, so I don’t even turn it over. Instead, I place the mask to my face and reach for the mirror in my desk. It really is a beautiful mask.
I hear a knock at my door and look up. Mark is standing there grinning at me. I pull the mask away from my eyes and ask, ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ He replies. ‘Nice mask, that’s all. How was your evening? Glad to see you here and not on a news report.’
Dottie
- 19.05.2021
- 12
- 0
