Halloween Masque


We were laying there, surrounded by a mess of sheets that only a complete rebuild of the bed would fix. At the moment we were curled in each others arms admiring the sweaty looks of complete satiation, but the lethargy of that same satiation was lurking. I was looking forward to napping with her cuddled into my shoulder, but she wanted to talk. Well, I can do that too.

“Hmmm. That was nice,” she hummed into my chest. Her fingers were running through my hair and she’d poured her body into a shape that fitted nicely with my crude form. “Do you suppose we can do that again this evening?”

“I’ll have to check my appointment book,” I mumbled sleepily. “But baring any meetings with world leaders or captains of industry, I think I can work you in.”

“Tease. Don’t think that I couldn’t talk you into it any time, anywhere.”

“Yes dear,” was my noncommittal answer.

“You had better be paying attention,” she reproved me with a cliche, “because there will be a test on this.”

I opened one eye, and tried to assume a more energetic pose. “Okay, I’m awake now.”

“Good. We’ve been invited to a party.”

Now I opened both eyes, and unintentionally let a little annoyance creep into my voice. “You know I don’t care much for parties.”

“Oh, you’ll like this party,” she continued. “It’s a Halloween party, and it’s given by a friend of mine every year.”

“Like a costume party?” I asked, becoming somewhat interested.

“Actually it’s a Masquerade. She calls it the Masque de Corpus.” She grinned evilly. “The masquerade of the flesh.”

I know a little bit of the various languages based in latin and realized that she’d given this a trifle loose translation. “How appropriate for a Halloween party. Do all the guests arrive wearing toe tags?”

“What an interesting notion!” she exclaimed thoughtfully. “But no, that wouldn’t work well. The whole idea of a masquerade is to wear a mask. And this party is all a game, with rules.”

“Oh? I suppose that’s fair. What good is a game without rules for me to break?”

On hearing this she grabbed a rogue hair from my chest and pulled it out. “Do you want to know about this or not?”

“Ouch! Hey, don’t do that. Or at least pick the grey ones.” I was intentionally egging her on, knowing what it would probably lead to. This time she grabbed a handful and tugged ominously. “Okay, okay! Tell me about the masquerade, the game, and the rules. Please?”

“Now I’m not sure you’re interested. Oh well. I’ll tell you anyway.” Thankfully she released her hold on my hair and cuddled back into a comfortable position. “The rules are simple. Because this is Halloween your costume and mask have to be scary. No clowns or magic princesses or politicians.”

“I don’t know,” I interrupted, “Clowns and politicians scare me.”

“Well, now that you mention it, they scare me too,” she admitted. “But they aren’t very Halloweeny. Use your imagination. Then your costume has to have a mask that you can take off at midnight.”

“Why at midnight?”

“Because that’s the game!” she said brightly. “That’s the last rule: you have to arrive in costume and alone, and you can’t know what your partner is wearing. Then the trick is to mingle around and try to find your partner. Then at midnight you both take off your masks and see how good you were at figuring it out.”

“But what if I end up with someone else at midnight?” I had to ask. “That could be awkward.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind. It happens all the time. I know most of the people who will be there and the odds are you’ll end up with somebody interesting. I’ve been to this party four times now.” She looked at me almost pleadingly. “I really want to go. My last boyfriend was an old-stick-in-the-mud and wouldn’t go with me.”

I had a suspicion that there was more to this party than she was letting on, but in the six months we had been dating I had found her totally open and fun to be around. If she had been to this before then there could be no surprises for her, and because of her I was beginning to be more and more open to different ways of having fun. I was nervous about what could happen at this party and I had my suspicions about what was going to go on, but I was willing to give it a go.

She poked me in the ribs. “Hey, did you fall asleep again? You got awfully quiet.”

“Oh no. Just thinking about costume ideas,” I lied unconvincingly. “But I’m willing to go if you promise to be there and make sure I’ll have a good time.”

“If you go, and make an effort to meet people you’ll have a great time,” she said and smiled. “And I promise I’ll be there to keep you out of trouble.”

“Yes, but who’s going to keep you out of trouble?” I asked half in seriousness.

“I’ll tell you something,” she replied. “I absolutely won’t get into any more trouble than you will.”

I examined the way she phrased that and I wasn’t totally reassured. “Okay. Now I just have one question: What costume should I wear?”

She giggled izmir escort against my shoulder. “Now now, that’s against the rules. I’m sure you’ll think of something, but just wait until you see mine!”

“Will it cover up this?” I asked cupping her buttock with a free hand.

She giggled again, and moved my other hand to her breast. “It’ll cover this too, but if you’re really good you’ll be able to figure out who I am without seeing anything irrelevant like these.”

“I’m not sure I’m that good.” I said as I slipped my opposite hand down her ass and between her legs. “Maybe I’ll need to do a thorough inspection to be sure I have the right pussy.”

“You do that,” she said quietly, “and I think you had better practice a little right now so you don’t make any mistakes.”

I’ve had plenty of practice, but what the hell. Practice makes perfect.


Over the next couple of weeks I tried to worm more information out of her, but she flatly refused to budge on any details. She wouldn’t give me any idea of what costume she would wear, or what I should wear. I had set an arbitrary deadline as to when I needed to have my costume figured out and that date was getting nervously closer by the day.

Finally, and at almost the last minute, I was clobbered by inspiration. A university friend of mine had collected a number of classical greek theater masks, one of which was Oedipus. Although the argument could be made that Oedipus was more a tragic figure than a scary one, I thought that any man who had gouged out his own eyes could be frightening enough with a little imagination. I found a reasonable facsimile of a greek toga at the university costume shop to compliment the mask. It would have to do.

The day of the party Faye gave me a little card with the address to the party on the back. “Just go here and knock on the front door. Give them this card and someone will let you in and get you started. I’m going to go over to a friends house and get ready. She’ll drive me over and I’ll meet you there.” She grinned at me, and her nipples stuck out happy and hard. “That is, if you can figure out who I am.”

“So that’s it. No help at all for poor old me.”

“I gave you the address,” she replied. “That’s all you’re going to get.” I gave her my best lost puppy-dog look. She rolled her eyes at me, and finally said, “Okay, THIS is all you’re going to get. If you come up to me and strike up a conversation, I’ll answer any question you ask completely truthfully, unless you ask my name or anything else about my identity. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough. Although, if you come up to me and do the same thing, I reserve the right to lie through my teeth.” I was feeling a little bit persnickety.

“By which I will know you in an instant,” she laughed. “Have fun, and I’ll see you there.

And she was gone.

In all honesty I was getting into the spirit of the thing, though I was still apprehensive. I got out the toga and put it on, admiring the fact that it fit perfectly and even seemed flattering on me. It was long, and nearly swept the floor even on my frame. It had come with a fairly complicated pair of lace up sandals that fit me tolerably well, but it had no undergarments.

‘Fuck it,’ I thought. ‘I’m not wearing any.’ There was always the chance that I could get lucky in a back room and this was just the kind of thing to set Faye off. Then again, knowing Faye it might not be a back room. Fully dressed I quite looked the part of a Greek patriarch. I picked up the mask and regarded myself.

It was a stylized beaten copper thing, showing a bearded man’s face in an expression of complete anguish and no eyes. The eye sockets were deep set and had small holes behind them for the wearer to see out of, and more holes to breath and speak in the area of the nose and mouth. To hold it in place the artist had attached what amounted to a hair net to make it very secure. It was even comfortable.

But it still wasn’t very scary. I had purchased a bottle of fake blood which, if tasted, was faintly sweet and very realistic. Dribbling a little into both eye sockets and letting it flow out and down the cheeks did the trick, as I had hoped it would. I guessed I was ready.

I glanced at the clock and realized my dawdling over the costume had eaten up most of the afternoon. It was time to go.

Following the address to a fairly affluent part of town I arrived fashionably late by about ten minutes. The house I had found was in excellent repair, and seemed to have been built in the late forties. There was a lot of parking available, and by the way the cars were parked most of the people here were familiar with the place. As I parked I estimated by the number of cars that between twenty and thirty people had arrived already.

Adjusting my mask I headed up towards the door. I almost hesitated before knocking, but managed to dig up a little courage and rapped sharply.

At the door appeared one of alsancak escort the most indecently dressed women I have ever seen, taking into account that not one square inch of her skin could be seen. Ostensibly it was a leopard costume composed almost entirely of spandex. The leopard-spot material was most interesting in that the black spots were opaque, but the cream color was translucent. One nipple was apparent, and the tightness of the material made it clear that she not only had no panties, she also had been shaved to within and inch of her life.

On her hands she wore what amounted to gloves with claws attached. The claws were soaked in something resembling the fake blood dripping from my eye sockets. On her head was a mask that covered everything except her mouth, which was graced with a set of fangs that also were stained red. I didn’t know how the tail was attached, but I resolved to find out over the course of the evening.

This incredible costume confirmed my suspicions about this party. Things were going to happen.

“OOOH!” she squealed when she opened the door. “What a great mask! Have you got your ticket?”

I gave her the card with the address on the back. “Do you mean this?”

“Of course,” she said, taking my arm and pulling me inside. “This must be your first time then. I’m here to show you around and answer questions.”

Once we were inside the foyer she looked me up and down with a critical eye. “Because nobody is supposed to know who anybody else is we all have to pick a name for the evening. You’re Oedipus, of course.” She touched herself provocatively on the left breast, indicating herself. “And I’m Sunday. Welcome to the Masque de Corpus!”

“Thank you,” I replied. “Let me tell you that your costume is quite fetching. Are you the hostess?”

“Maybe,” she said evasively, “but probably not. It wouldn’t be any fun if it was the hostess who answered the door, because everybody would know at least who SHE was.”

She directed me into a room that was much larger than I expected in a house of this vintage. It was scattered with couches, chairs, small tables of obscene finger foods and drinks, and a fascinating variety of costumed people. Some were highly erotic, some were not. “So instead,” she continued, “all of us regulars draw secret lots to see who will work the door each year. We do somewhat the same thing with other necessary tasks.”

My eyes were wandering over her lovely form, only partly concealed by her costume. “Yeah, this costume has been a big hit this year,” she sparkled. “You’ll probably notice that there aren’t any other female cats of any kind in here. After the first couple of years we found that about half of the women would come as some kind of cat, so we made that part of the lottery as well. One woman is chosen each year to be the cat, and she can design her own costume. So you really like it?”

Like it? I wanted to rip it off of her with my teeth. “I think I’m impressed as much with what’s inside it as the costume itself. They’re both splendid.”

“Oh, you’re sweet. You don’t suppose we’re partners?” She asked breathily.

Sunday was a good three inches short of Faye’s long form, but I wasn’t ready to rebuff this delightful creature. “I really can’t say yet. It would be too much good fortune to have happened this quickly, I think.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said with a pout. “I have to get back to the door anyway. Why don’t you mingle about? I’m sure you’ll find someone to talk to.” With that she turned and started to slink back towards the foyer.

But before she had taken a full step she stopped and turned. Then she astonished me by pulling my mask up just enough to expose my mouth and kissed me. As kisses go I would rate it an eleven. Or possibly a twelve. On a scale of one to six.

She wrapped her arms around me and squished her lovely breasts tantalizingly into my chest and lightly brushed her lips against mine before planting a wet and sensuously tender smack dead on the middle. I had opened my mouth to protest only to find the tasty morsel of her tongue enter my mouth and playfully stoke mine for hours.

After ten seconds or so she pulled away and smiled, pulling my mask back down but not breaking the clinch. “I just had to check,” she said breathlessly. “If you can’t figure out your partner by ten, come find me.” She smiled and gradually moved back, dragging one of my hands up to caress her breast before turning and walking away. I just sat there breathlessly and watched her lovely ass wiggle across the room and out the archway.

“Well, that’s one down and only nineteen or so to go!” commented a beefy man standing next to me. He was dressed rather conservatively as a lion, with a large clay mask and what looked like coffee colored pajamas with a tail sewn into them. In his hand he held a good representation of a martini, sans olive. “Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Leo.”

He offered his hand, which buca escort had false nails glued onto it that were dripping red and filed to points. I took it and was rewarded with a firm but not powerful handshake. “Oedipus,” I answered.

“How appropriate for this party,” he answered. “I’m sure it will draw the more maternal of our fairer guests to you.” With that we both chuckled.

“Are there really twenty women I need to interview tonight?” I asked.

He took a sip of his martini and pondered. “This your first time, eh? I thought so. Rumor has it that there are twenty couples this year. Although Alice has been know to start false rumors.”

“Who’s Alice?”

“You don’t even know that much? Well, I suppose I could tell you but you don’t want to spend your time talking to ME.” He set his drink down and made a megaphone with his hands. “Hey Ruby!” he hollered over the murmur of the crowd.

Across the room a figure in red turned from the dinosaur she was speaking with and made her way in a sexy stroll to where we stood. ” ‘Gotta fellow here you need to meet.” Leo said, and wandered away to pinch the ass of a witch. The ass wiggled, and so did the witch.

The woman in front of me was pleasingly plump and delightfully curvaceous. Her costume was an atypical red devil that quite deviously (devilishly?) complimented a waterfall of red hair spilling out a hole in the back of her mask. The mask itself was tight to her head and sported a pair of curved horns. The rest of her body was preternaturally covered by tight red satin except for a pair of knee high black leather boots and elbow length black opera gloves. Her perfume smelled of sulfur.

“Oedipus!” she made the word a welcome through blood red lips, the only part of her face not covered. “So good to meet you.” She winked at me through a lattice of lace.

“An honor, my lady,” I answered and took her hand, touching it to my mask’s mouth briefly. “I would have guessed ‘Lila’, but ‘Ruby’?”

She laughed sensuously, making her flesh dance under the tight fabric. “That was my plan early in the evening, but I arrived late and there already was a Lila. Sunday dubbed me Ruby, for obvious reasons.”

“Indeed,” I replied as she took my arm and guided me to a couch. “She’s a woman of exceptional taste.”

I sat heavily down near the middle of the small couch, somewhat appropriately called a loveseat. Little Ruby surprised me then by slipping an arm around my neck and sliding down to lay horizontally on the loveseat with her legs crossed over my lap. “She is. I infer from that comment that you’ve tasted her?”

I had placed one arm around her shoulders, supporting her, and the other I placed casually on her thigh. I’m certain she couldn’t tell, but I felt my eyebrow raise at the frankness of her question. “Not as deeply as I would have liked,” I replied self-consciously. It seemed the appropriate answer and it was obvious that such things were common at this party. It was obvious what was going to happen later, so I resolved to accept the spirit of the thing.

“I’m sure you’ll get your chance before too long. If I’m not mistaken, almost everybody is here.” She cuddled up closer to me, pressing a large, well formed tit between us. “In the meantime, would you care to judge my taste?”

With that she uncrossed her legs and separated her thighs slightly to show that my hand was enticingly close to a convenient slit in her costume. It began in unknown territory beneath her and was unzipped upwards to just above her delightful clitoris, showing a hint of red hair. Her full lips were slightly moist and a bright rose in color. “Go ahead,” she purred against my ear, “taste me.”

Her firm bottom was up against my thigh, and her legs were concealing what may have been the most sudden erection I had ever had. There is some doubt in my mind that I could have refused her if I wanted to. I certainly didn’t want to! My hand was close enough that a slow slide to her dew covered pussy only took seconds. I rubbed them up and down, briefly pausing on her clitoris. Sliding a finger up inside her was a simple matter due to the excess honey she was providing. I reveled in her moan against my ear.

In a moment I removed my finger and slipped it up under my mask to suck like a perfect lollypop. Ruby crossed her legs again, squeezing her thighs in a gesture that implied impatience. “So what’s the verdict?” she breathed in my ear.

“An excellent vintage, to be savored and broken out for very special occasions,” was my honest answer. She tasted good!

“Mmmm Hmmm,” she replied, reaching down to stroke my penis through the toga. “So, how’s your mother?”

Surprised by this, I let out a guffaw. “She’s here somewhere, I’m sure. She’s not too possessive, so you needn’t worry.” Then I remembered the reason we had been introduced, or one of them. “Leo there suggested I ask you about Alice. Is she our hostess?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “So you’re new this year and don’t know her. I wouldn’t have guessed.” She never stopped stroking me gently, but she did wiggle around a bit to make herself more comfortable. The position she had originally taken was more provocative than practical. I settled in with her head near my ear and my hands on her body in scandalous places to have our conversation.

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