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Masquerade
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
== Masquerade ==
She is sitting at the vanity, adding the final touches to her makeup.
Slowly, she strokes on the mascara, her eyes half-lidded for cosmetic
ease. Then her lithe arm poises, elbow bent, hand above her brow, and
she catches her own gaze in the mirror. Emerald green eyes gaze sultrily
back, lashes fanning temptingly over them, half revealing, half conceal-
ing, half offering, half denying. Teasing.
Her red lips curve in a knowing smile, as she lowers her arm and replaces
the brush into its tube. A low purr of pleasure ripples from her throat
as she raises her hands to brush back thick black hair from her shoulders,
her head tilting back slightly to shake out the long, luxurious tresses.
With a whisper she rises from her seat, and prowls around the room
collecting her costume from closet, drawer, and box. Piece by piece she
dons a new idenity, assumes a new form. And when she has finished she
stands before her mirror again, assessing her transformation.
From neck to ankle, a black bodysuit hugs her form like a second skin,
clinging faithfully to her lean, strong figure. Neither voluptuous nor
bony, she possesses nevertheless a feline sinuousness, an animal grace
which captures the eye and evokes primitive longings in the eye of the
beholder.
She beholds herself now, and from her image in the mirror, can feel the
backlash of that latent, savage sensuality. Her heart beats a little
faster, her breath becomes more shallow, and deep within her she feels
a stirring, an awakening of her own primal passions.
On the outskirts of her awareness, she takes in the accoutrements of her
costume: the flat, black velvet slippers encasing her feet, the black
headband with black silk ears crowning her head, and the long, furry tail,
attatched to the small of her back and dropping between the twin swells
of her buttocks to brush the floor. Her costume is complete. It is time.
For a moment longer she lingers in front of the mirror, gazing at herself,
and swaying slightly with the heady potion of her sexuality as it washes
through her like a kind of power. Slowly, she begins touching herself, her
fingers skimming lightly over the curves of her body. Arms at her sides,
she slides her hands up the strong length of her thighs, over the flatness
of her belly, under and over the swell of her breasts.
Each inch of flesh which passes under her hands seems to ignite with a
peculiar kind of fire, burning low but insistently just underneath her
skin.
Her ritual is complete. Now, armed with her fire and her power, she departs
for the masque.
* * *
She circles the crowded room warily, her shadowed figure flirting with
the perimeter of the social venue. Those she passes notice her peripherally,
intrigued by the enigma which she represents, but sensing her self-contain-
ment. She is not here to socialize.
She is looking for someone. Her emerald eyes scan the vista of faces, some
unadorned, some under one fantastic guise or another, but none resembles
the feral persona she seeks, the fierce sensuality which answers hers.
Then, suddenly, he is there, lurking on the other side of the throng of
people. She watches him from her vantage, her eyes following his movements
precisely. He is garbed as a wolf, a cloak of bristly grey hair molded to
his powerful body, and a fierce lupine mask upon his face.
She sees him search the crowd for someone, and knows that it
is her. Even from afar, she can feel his power, his virile sensuality,
and within her body her own fire leaps in response.
Just then, his gaze captures hers and she is discovered. Her pulse races
as his gaze moves over her body with heated intent, measuring her, testing
her, and dressing her in an invisible cloak of his power. She knows she
has been claimed, and knows her fate, and feels an answering rush of
animal desire well within her. It builds to a crescendo and bursts from
her, lashing across the crowded room at her mysterious watcher. With
her eyes she strips him bare of all but his masculine essence, and lays
upon him a mantle of her own strength.
Wordlessly, they approach each other, blithely ignoring the throngs which
part on either side of each of them to allow passage, and the whispers
of wonder which follow in their wake. Eyes only on each other, they meet
in the center of the room, their forces merging to become one, sheathing
them both in a tangible aura of potent sensuality. Within it, they touch,
hands lacing together as a physical echo of joining past and future.
Together, they wind their way from the room, pass through a bay of doors
into the garden sanctuary. A full and vibrant moon casts a silver spell
over the grounds, like a web of wonder, and everything within her
luminescence quivers silently but full of life. Under her watchful eye
they enter a sculpted portcullis of verdant greenery, and unerringly seek
the center of the maze. A low marble bench, bathed in cool moonlight,
awaits them, like the altar of some ethereal shrine. Before it they
finally pause, and turn to regard each other once more.
Silently they reach out to each other, to touch each other's reality
and know it as their own. She slides her hands over her wolf's muscular
chest, and he tests the curves of her hips. She feels the strength of
his arms, and he strokes the feline leanness of her thighs. For many
moments they come to know one another, as the moon creeps imperceptibly
across the black velvet sky. Then, when they have finished exploring
each other to the touch, he gathers her into his arms and presses his
lips to hers, and they know each other to the soul.
The kiss is long and deep, and binds them irrevocably, connecting at
last a circuit long incomplete, and their individual powers, already
tested against each other and found equally formidable, merge at last
and flow as one, in a continuous circuit between their two bodies. As
the joining completes itself, they begin to pulse to a mutual inner
rhythm, a throb of sexuality which grows in intensity and increasingly
demands their attention. One aspect of their communion remains unfulfilled,
and they break the kiss at last and face each other, waiting, with
intent burning in their eyes.
At last he commands her, and she straddles the narrow expanse of the
altar, bending to brace her hands on either side. Then with a low moan of
anticipation, she arches her back in a feline stretch, thrusting out
her buttocks, and her sex, for his attentions. Silently, he maneuvers
behind her, and without seeing him, she can feel the strength of his
thighs as he fits himself against her. The coarse hair covering his
thighs rasps softly against the taut sheath of her costume, and through
it she can feel the bulge of his manhood nudge promisingly against the
crease of her buttocks.
With undeniable strength he holds her, pressing his hardness against
her heat, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, they rock against each other
in a primal tease of passions. Their excitement mounts as still they
wait for something...
And then something happens. In the hushed silence of the garden, the moon
shimmers subtly, and the air quivers tangibly, and there can be felt a
subtle *shift* in the reality which cloaks the lovers. Suddenly, there is
no obstacle to their union, no artifact of clothing or costume to impede
their ultimate joining. And with a lupine growl, he thrusts himself
powerfully into her moist sheath.
She responds with a feline sound of pleasure as she takes his powerful and
massive member into her. She stretches, and she purrs, as she accepts his
pulsing staff of life, rigid with his blood, into her own sultry
resevoir. Slowly he begins to ride her, his cock like a sculptor's blade,
slicing into her, carving a receptacle unique to itself and no other.
Each penetration claiming more of herself for him. She revels in the
fullness within her, and breathlessly throws her head back to laugh with
abandon.
He growls his agreement, and quickens his pace, his hard shaft driving
into her willing flesh. The still, magical night air echoes with the
sounds of their mutual pleasure, accompanied by the hushed mingling of
their transformed pelts, his coarse and grey, hers sleek and black.
His hands stroke her body wantonly, the coarse pads of his hands testing the
sleek length of her, smoothing her rich black fur over her graceful back
and shoulders. He bends his head and nuzzles her warm, soft neck with his
cold, wet nose, and nips the tender feline flesh with lethal canines.
Their passion escalates, until the slow, symbolic joining becomes a
frenzied, animal rutting, a mating of primal lusts. Two lean bodies writhe
wildly, two free spirits soar with ecstasy, and everything that is natural
and mysterious watches and takes note of this celebration of earthly
pleasures. They slowly climb the peak to their mutual consummation, their
bodies crash together again and again to an irresistable, primitive beat.
His powerful thrusts are fueled by her sensual undulations, and with a mad
surge of desire, they push each other ever higher, testing each others'
capacity for pure, base pleasure.
Until finally, their combined sexual tension reaches the breaking point,
and with a wild, final burst of energy, he rams himself into her, clutching
her tightly with sharp claws as he spills his seed into the hot, receptive
body which convulses with the contractions of her own release. As they
climax together, they both throw back their heads and proclaim their
exultation to the world, his a strident, plaintive howl of pleasure, hers
a harsh squeal.
And as their cries echo across the dark, mysterious night, the moon shimmers
yet again, and the air contracts as reality *shifts* once more. The lovers'
strident cries break in mid-echo, becoming those of a more human timbre,
one masculine, one feminine.
Some time later, they rouse themselves to find the moon already fled
behind a dark, covetous horizon. A gentle breeze brushes through the
sheltered glade, breathing life into the spent couple. Slowly they stand,
langorously they adjust their rumpled clothing. Standing close, he reaches
to adjust the silk ears upon her head, allowing a hand to linger briefly
upon her luxuriant hair. She stands on tiptoe to kiss him fleetingly on
the lips before settling the wolf's head upon his shoulders.
Then together they leave the garden sanctuary and return to the
masquerade, where they join the other revelers and dance until the dawn.
THE END!
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