Cara knows exactly how he feels. She’s been putting on a show for most of the night, too. Laughing, cheering and leering. Like she loves every lurid, sex soaked moment. However, nothing could be further from the truth.
The white veil on her head and the big “L” plate pinned to her back, announces to all she’s a bride-to-be, and the bevy of beauties around her are her hen-party. As she watches them bob to the music, she thinks they resemble a flock of cackling chickens and a genuine grin comes to her glossed lips.
The buff dancer on the stage ends his act and is met with both rapturous applause and howls of protest in equal measure.
How can a room full of rational women can turn so feral?
It’s enough to send any sane person sprinting back to the peace and solitude of their hotel room, the comfort of a fluffy robe and a packet of Advil. But tonight, she is not allowed to be a sane person. Oh no, tonight is one of her final as a single woman, and she is meant to be cutting loose and enjoying her freedom.
Her younger sister and maid of honor, Laurie, has been responsible for arranging today. Dear, saccharine sweet Laurie, who has taken to her hen-party responsibilities with zeal and came up with the most badass plan she could think of. And that was the real problem – Laurie was about as badass as Smurfette.
Laurie’s grand strategy involved a morning of shopping, followed by an afternoon in the hotel day-spa. Rubbed, scrubbed, primped and preened, the gaggle of girls then bypassed dinner in favor of drinking their way through a cocktail list of sexual connotations.
Not even multiple glasses of Sex on the Beach, Screaming Orgasms and Quick Fucks were enough to dull the edges of what was turning into a painful spectacle. These supposed raunchy specimens of masculinity were doing absolutely nothing for her. Cara’s thoughts drifted to her fiancé Mike and as if on cue her pussy clenched. Never had one man excited, thrilled and satisfied her all in one perfectly crafted package. He understood she liked to walk on the wild side—worked hard both in and out of the bedroom to not just fuck her senseless physically, but he kept the deep dark recesses of her mind stimulated as well. Nothing was taboo, nothing out of bounds…
Another cold glass of luminous liquor presses into her hands and she looks into Laurie’s green eyes.
“Isn’t this great! Are you having a good time?” Laurie glances at her expectantly, biting her bottom lip, waiting for a reply.
“The best time, Hon. Thank you.” Cara does her utmost to look thrilled to bits. Laurie grins at her and turns, passing a drink to someone else.
Cara loved her sister and knew Laurie had done everything within her power to make tonight special for her. She did not want to hurt her feelings and that necessitated the big act. She was close with Laurie, but not close enough to tell her what turned her on and rocked her boat. Little Miss Sunshine would eclipse if she knew Cara liked things a little darker, a little edgier…
A voice booms through the speakers, jolting her back to reality.
“Ladies, please take your seats for a one time performance only. Give it up and make some noise for…” The voice pauses for effect, “…The Master of the Whip!”
“Check this one out Cara – he’s hot,” Laurie twinkles at her. Cara forces a smile at her well meaning sibling, and turns her head to the stage.
Under a single spotlight, a tall man wearing a black Zorro mask, cape and trousers, stands centre stage. His cape drapes forward around his shoulders, covering his body and his gaze is leveled at the floor, hiding his features from the crowd.
The horny harridans at the front jump to their feet, whooping and waving banknotes to poke into his thong, or more like under his thong. Cara snorts at the utter desperation these women exude. Have they no shame?
The performer’s gloved hand reaches under the cape and from its satiny depths he pulls a whip. Lifting his arm high, he brings it down hard. The sharp crack rips through the club. The tail snaking perilously close to the gaggle of desperados at the front, forcing them reluctantly back into their seats. The whip, cracks again and again, until every voice in the room is quiet and the silence screams.
Cara sucks in a quick breath, puts one hand on her chest and leans forward on her seat. Anticipation builds and bubbles inside her. She’s always been a sucker for a man in a mask and the tall lean guy on stage is more to her liking than the ripped gym-bunnies who came before him. The gentle refrain of a mariachi’s guitar floats out into the club via the P.A. system. With a flick of a whip and a twirl of his cape the masked man begins to move with the music. As the melody, swirls around the club, he turns about the stage, commanding the open-mouthed gaze of every woman in the room.
As the music rises and falls, Cara stares entranced. Gulping air, when she realizes she has been holding her breath. His dancing with the whip a hypnotic show. The gentle picked notes of the twelve-string guitar, flow through the air like tendrils of spider thread, weaving a spell of entrapment.
Holy crap, he’s gorgeous.
She straightens up in her chair so she can get a better view of him. As if he can hear her thoughts, he pivots on his heels, tosses the whip high into the air, catching it in one hand. Lifting the other arm up in line with his shoulder he extends a long finger and points – at her.
No, no, no! Cara’s head swivels, looking wildly behind her, in the vain hope he means someone else. All her friends have scuttled sideways, eager to leave her isolated. Zorro turns his hand over and now crooks his pointer finger, beckoning her toward the stage. The tempo of the tune changes, speeding up.
“Go, Cara! Go, Cara!” She hears Laurie’s high-pitched squeal over the swelling music. Multiple hands are on her back, propelling her forward. Staring into the dark eyes of the stranger, shrouded by the mask, she puts one foot in front of another and walks through the catcalls of the audience, all the way to the front of the room. Without pre-amble, the masked man grabs her hand and pulls her on stage.
He turns her to face the crowd and comes up hard behind her, wrapping one strong arm around her waist, holding her in place as he slowly brings the handle of the whip down, between the valley of her breasts. Despite herself, Cara feels her arousal growing and prays the audience cannot see the peaking of her nipples. She can feel the body heat of the dancer as he clutches her to his lithe frame.
Her eyes flare as the unmistakable bulge of an erection grinds into the curves of her ass. Zorro’s masked head comes down to her ear, and over the music and the cheering women, she hears him say,
“Cara it’s me, Mike. Don’t freak out. Let’s have some fun.”
Mike? My Mike? The man I am going to marry, Mike?
She whips around to stare up at the now familiar face. He puckers his lips to blow her kiss and she’s sure he just winked at her from behind his mask.
Cara has so many questions flying through her head. The cocktails, crowds and her own libido have pretty much scrambled what is left of her common sense and all she can do is goggle at him like a stunned mullet.
He puts his hands on her shoulders and pushes down, forcing her to her knees in front of him. She is at direct eye-level with his bulging crotch. His hands slip under the cape to his waist, and with a quick flick of his wrists, he rips the Velcro tabs on the side of his trousers and pulls them off and up above his head. The audience goes wild, screaming their delight.
All Cara can see is the erection in front of her, now only covered by the briefest of underwear. She realizes with a small smile, that this is her Mike. Her fiancée. That means this is her cock and she’s not being unfaithful if she has some fun with it. She wonders what it would be like to actually suck him in front of all these people. Her clit tingles in anticipation and she feels a rush of liquid between her thighs.
As if reading her thoughts, Mike grabs the sides of her head and steps forward. He starts thrusting at her face but not actually connecting with her. The shrieking of the crowd gets even louder. With her back to the audience, she senses his imitating fellatio must look pretty authentic. She decides to make it more authentic by grabbing his hips, and rubbing her face all over his groin. Suddenly everything is dark. He’s pulled the edges of his cape over her head, so the audience cannot actually see what is happening underneath. As quick as a wink, she releases the thick length from his underwear and slips the heated tip of him past her lips.
The crowd gets more and more raucous imagining what is going on under the cape. Swirling her tongue over the blunt head of his shaft she tastes the saltiness of his seed, starting to ooze. Before she can really get to work on him, his hands move from gripping the side of her head and he flicks his underwear up, swiping her lips as he re-covers his straining manhood.
He pulls her up from under the cape and spins her now to face the audience. Blinded by the bright lights she grabs at him to steady herself and with deft movements he bends her at the waist and guides her toward the floor. Positioning her on her hands and knees, the wood of the stage feels rough against her palms. She blinks rapidly, trying to bring the world back into focus.
A brush of skin reveals he’s on his knees behind her. Feeling the bump of his crotch against her ass, she grinds back up against him, trying to find some sort of relief for the dull ache radiating from her clit, down her thighs and up into her belly.
His thighs press hot up against hers. She feels the pulsing of his cock against her core as he pulls his pelvis back and forth, slamming against her, again and again. The crowd howl their approval and the stomping of their feet vibrates through the floor, jarring her wrists and knees. Her short dress rucks up and there is nothing but the thin layer of their respective undergarments keeping their genitals apart. A slight breeze wafts over her and she feels the fall and drape of the cape as it cascades over her back, shielding her rear end from the eyes of the crowd.
Cara’s breath explodes from her chest. She cannot believe how turned on she is and despite the people, the noise and the bright lights, there’s nothing she wants more than the feel of Mike’s cock plunging deep inside her.
Under the cape, hidden from view, Mike rips away the fragile barrier of her panties pulls aside his own underwear and buries his prick to the hilt. Her pussy contracts as he pulls back and slams himself into her again. Every ridge of his length drags sensations from her most sensitive flesh while he retreats and returns, pushing her closer and closer to release.
The audience screams. The music throbs. The sound rises in crescendo, higher and higher. Sweat drips from her brow and Cara’s arms shake with the effort of holding herself up. With one final soul-touching thrust, Mike slams his pelvis against hers and the crest is upon her. Starting at her centre and pulsing out in bigger and bigger surges, until she cannot hold back her own primal cry of release.
Her gaze softens as she tries to get her ragged breathing under control. As the music ends, Mike pulls away, drags her underwear and dress back into place, and sweeps her up and into his arms. The rowdy crowd screams on.
Dazed, she can see her sister jumping up and down like a lunatic, grinning and shrieking. Just before the lights go down, Mike pulls her off the stage and into a dressing room. He leans back on the closed door and scoops her into his arms. The noise of the crowd is muffled and all she can hear is the banging of her pulse. Her head is mashed against his chest and his heart is beating a tattoo every bit as crazy as hers. Taking a deep breath, she looks up into the masked eyes of her own private Zorro.
“Since when do you dance?” She pauses momentarily and frowns, looking him straight in the eye, “Or wield a whip, or half-fuck strange women on stage?”
“Fully fuck and you’re not strange,” he replies in a sotto voice.
“Ha, bloody, ha – wise ass,” she bites back at him. “You know what I mean.”
“It was all Laurie’s idea,” he said.
“What?”
“As soon as you made her maid of honor, she came and asked me what I thought you would like.” He smirks.
“And this was the plan you two came up with?” Incredulity makes Cara’s jaw gape.
“Yeah, and this was tame considering some of the ideas she had,” Mike snorted.
Cara sinks deeper into Mike’s embrace, the satin of the cape sliding against her cheek. She cannot stifle the giggle that bubbles up as she thinks of her sister. Her dear, saccharine sweet, maid of honor sister.
In a post-orgasmic haze, Cara idly thinks maybe Smurfette is a little more badass than anyone ever gives her credit for.
***
If you missed any of our previous posts and would like to catch up, you can purchase Everything Erotic Volume I, Everything Erotic Volume II, Everything Erotic Volume III and Everything Erotic Volume IV anthologies as ebooks for only $2.99 each! Want it in print? Everything Erotic Volumes I-III is now available in paperback for $12.95.
Copyright © 2011 Greta Goddard
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.
Wow! Hot!!!! Where do I find a Mike?
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