Expectations

She sat there for a long moment, and then sort of shook her head. "I don't know what to say about this one. I look like a bird that landed on the high voltage line! Anything sleeker?"

"Yes," he said as he unfastened the mask, "it did seem a bit overpowering once you had it on. Now this one is a simpler design, with just the front decorated. It's also less likely to leave feathers behind if you're on your back, hmm?"

She shot me a glance that told me he was pushing the familiarity.

He slipped an owl design (feathers in an outward pointing circle around the eyes) over her head. The stretch nylon of the back was printed to be opaque and mimic smooth feathers. He made a couple adjustments as it was initially too tight across her upper lip and cheeks. He fussed with it a few moments while Jennifer appraised herself in the mirror.

"Isn't the owl a predator? That's not very neutral," Jennifer commented.

"Ah, but in our culture it is an icon of reserved wisdom! 'Whoo!'" he cooed.

"Actually, love," I interjected, "the naked body will create a certain appearance of submissiveness. This mask might create the right touch to balance that. And, besides, you make a dandy predator when you're with me!" I had leaned over her shoulder, and got an elbow in my ribs for the remark.

Jennifer looked around. "Are there any private fitting rooms?" She asked. The proprietor pointed to the corner, and looked quizzically at me as she headed over. I shrugged. A minute later she returned, refastening the last of her shirt buttons.

"OK," she said slowly as she sat back down and worked it to figure out how to take it off, "what else?"

"Well," the proprietor said as he slowly opened and looked at each of the other boxes, laying some open on the table for us to inspect, "those are the only full head masks I have, and I'm not seeing anything I think would be worth the effort of converting it. Do you see anything here that catches your fancy?"

He was right. Nothing jumped out. Jennifer looked at me and cocked an eye. I decided it was worth trying the fetish shop first. "Would you please set that aside for us?" I asked. "We'll be back before closing time to claim it unless we find something else."

He looked mildly disappointed. "Of course. It will be at the front register. What name would you like to claim it by?" I gave him mine.

The fetish shop was a bust. Jennifer looked around a bit horrified when we first went in; it looked a bit like a medieval torture setup. "We're just here for a mask." I reminded her. The proprietor was a bit too jaded to really want to help. It took Jennifer a while to get through to him what she wanted, and when she finally did he just shook his head.

"Lady, everything I have in the way of masks comes from the S&M themes - dominatrix or submissive. The dominatrix masks will not cover the mouth, and usually not the whole head. The submissive masks, usually leather, are more what you are asking for, in that they cover the whole head and really obliterate the identity of the wearer. But they have small breathing holes so that the dominator can cut off air, and large zippers over the mouth so the dominator controls when the submissive can speak or drink or suck cock. Some even have zippers over the eyes to let the dominator control when you can see. It's not real neutral! I'll get you one if you want to see it. I'll need to measure your skull."

Jennifer thought for a moment. "I think you may be right sir. Thanks for your time and advice." She smiled and turned to go.

"Anytime," he replied in an almost bored tone.

Jennifer gave a shudder once she was outside. "Let's get that owl mask, and then a drink! Just talking to him made me feel dirty!"

We got the mask, and a long black cloak for her to wear to and from the party, and then got that drink at a reasonably respectable corner bar. I drove her back to her car. She asked me to hold her new possessions for her.

-----------------

Three weeks later was the big night. The party wouldn't start till ten at the earliest, but she insisted on coming over straight from work. I took her to an Italian restaurant so we could "carb load" for the evening marathon. She thought that was very funny, but ate like she believed it.

Back at my place she shed and hung her clothes. "I have a favor to ask. I want you to trim my bush for me, like this." Her bush was naturally somewhat of a diamond shape, about as wide as high, and coming an inch or two up her belly. She used her finger to trace straight horizontal and vertical lines, and it wasn't until she did it a second time that I got she wanted me to turn the diamond into a down pointing arrow.

"What, you think no one will be able to find your sex on their own? Or won't know why you're there?" I laughed as I went to the bathroom to get the scissors and shaving supplies.

"No, but I'm really sort of scraggly around the edges, and I can't figure out what else to do with it. Besides, I thought it would work for this party to do the arrow."

"Oh, it will work!" I assured her. "Now, put this towel on the bed and lie down for me."

I worked very carefully and precisely, and managed to only give her a minor nick. I checked my work with my lips to make sure I left no stubble behind. This got her very aroused, but I refused to give her any relief. "Save it, love! With any luck you'll need it later!" She groused, but good naturedly.

She lay on the bed watching me get ready. I had picked an old English Falstaff costume, with a full fake beard and a walking stick. I told her the stick was "... so I can beat the vultures off your body, if necessary!"

"Don't jump in too quickly!" Was her response. It took her two minutes to be ready, a record for any woman I'd ever known. Of course, she wasn't really wearing anything, not even lipstick. We took a cab downtown.

She clung tightly to my arm as I presented our fancy "invitation" at the door. Inside, about half the people that would eventually show up were milling around and chatting like any normal party. One or two couples were trying to get things started. The room was large, and over-decorated in what I assume was meant to be a Baroque style. There were lots of columns and mirrors. Around the edge of the room, between the free-standing columns, were tables: bars for drinks, tables of finger food, and tables with free-standing wash bowls, washcloths, and condoms. Each table was attended by a formally attired helper, and as I surveyed the staffing, I began to understand the price I had paid for the tickets. Inside the ring of tables were overstuffed chaise lounges and other soft pieces of furniture. The carpet was very deep and remarkably soft, the center of the room open. A four piece band played soft jazz from one corner of the room.

I suggested a drink, and some mingling before she checked her robe. She nodded, still taking it all in.

After a drink, and watching the increasingly frequent explicit exploits of our companions, she signaled she was ready to take wing. I escorted her to the coat check, took her robe, gave her a kiss, and checked the robe while she wandered off. For the rest of the evening, I kept an eye on her to ensure she was ok, but did not approach or interfere in any way. Besides I was keeping reasonably busy.

My costume allowed me lots of leeway to just walk up and fondle any woman in sight. Playful grab-ass, I thought of it, though I was as likely to grab a breast. One couple turned on me offended, but then cracked up when they saw my costume. She grabbed my crotch in payback.

Wouldn't you know it, but one of the first ladies to decide to take me on was wearing an equally old English milk-maid outfit, with lots of petticoats and complete with a little wooden bucket and long blonde braids. Our two costumes just begged to be united, so off we went. The puckered elastic top of her blouse pulled down over her ample breasts easily. My pants had an oversized flap in front, so undoing two buttons left me ready. She wasn't wearing, uh, bloomers. We played with each other until she couldn't stand it any more. I tossed her petticoats up over her belly, and took her, holding her ankles high in the air and wide apart. She squealed delightedly, and in a few moments was cresting hard. It was crazy-erotic enough that, combined with anticipation, I was just about at the point of inevitability myself when she came down from her crest.

She suddenly held up her hands and begged me not to cum inside her. "Please, pull out! I beg of you, sir!" I was surprised enough I just did what she said. She sat up enough to grab my cock, rip the condom off, and start stroking me. She was skilled enough I didn't think to object. Damned if she didn't pick up her milk pail and "milk" me into it! To my disbelieving stare, she smiled innocently and said that she had to get a full pail of "milk" before she could go home tonight. I would have thought an over-full pussy would be more fun, but to each their own. She skipped off happily.

I noticed Jennifer moving through the crowd slowly, stopping to touch or be touched. She circled one man, who returned the favor. She took his hand and placed it on her breast. About that time I got distracted again.

Later Jennifer was laid out on a chaise lounge with one man beneath her and one on top.

I was amused to find that the costumes I really responded to were of the feline category. An attractive woman in a cat-suit is always a rush, for me, now that I think of it. The first one I ran into was playing the domestic cat: licking, rubbing up against others, etc. Her costume left breasts and pussy uncovered, of course, and consisted mostly of large holes over hips, belly, back. She didn't need to take anything off to be available and cuddly.

So we cuddled and then shifted to a rear entry position, the misnamed, in this case, "doggy" style. Later she was astride me. I had given her one orgasm, but she was starting to look at me funny. I explained that, by choice, I was avoiding ejaculation because then I could do this again right away instead of having to sit out a while, and she relaxed. After a few more moments of grinding against me, her eyes were glazing over, so I gave her a few hard thrusts and pushed her over the top again. She smiled her thanks, then lifted, slid her body down my legs, and licked my cock clean, like a cat. That was nice.

Jennifer seemed to be stuck on the chaise, now with several men in attendance, but at least was never alone.

A couple distractions later, and another cat came along. This one was all in shiny black leather. I pointed my walking stick at her, and she started stalking me. We circled each other slowly, both licking our lips, and I could feel my response swelling. The tension built as we stalked each other until she suddenly caught me and knocked me over onto an overstuffed chair that I hadn't even noticed. She ripped my pants, or at least the loosely held flap, down and claimed her prize. My brains fell out on the floor.

She was very good, both in terms of oral sex and her cat imitations. You would have thought she had a catnip mouse instead of my prized manhood in her mouth. It felt wonderful, but was a fearful performance to watch. We continued wrestling for control, as well, raising the tension even higher. When I suddenly realized I was about to lose control, I grabbed her head and pulled her up my body. She came willingly enough, but it was obvious that I would have to pin her down, literally, to get the much desired penetration. I caught her legs and flipped us, and dove my painfully erect cock deep into her body.

She let out the growl of a cat in heat, and continued wrestling for control with me. I was working up quite a sweat both containing her and pumping my manhood into her. She arched in orgasm, again loudly growling her passion, then relented enough to flip herself into the ever popular doggie, or kitty, position.

The moment was perfect: the view of her ripe ass, the smell of her hot sex, the feel of my cock repeatedly pushing her flesh aside, her claws raking my balls with each thrust, and finally the fire of my cum racing through my loins and cock.

By the time I was spent, I was bent double, holding onto the arms of the chair to maintain balance, my forehead in the middle of her back. I was still hard inside her, but had not the energy to move any more. So she started moving. At first her hips moved in a circle around my impaled member, but she built up both amplitude and speed until she was wantonly and randomly rubbing her pussy and ass against my pubic area. She started growling again. I held myself against the onslaught as firmly as I could until she again arched up in loud and long release.

She collapsed on the front of the chair, with me on top of her. After a moment, I was able to slip off to one side, and she turned to face me and smiled. We actually chatted and laughed. It was very nice. After a while she stood and stretched, just like a cat after a nap, all long and sleek. She looked in Jennifer's direction. "Your date?" She asked.

"More her protector, or safety valve. Why?" I replied, surprised.

"Oh, you've just been keeping a reasonably close watch on her. She's nice?"

"I think so. You may have to find out for yourself," I replied.

"I just may do that." My black cat-lady slunk off in Jennifer's general direction. I found that I was pretty well sated by now and losing interest in anything more than constantly fondling anything female within reach. I watched as the cat-lady slowly circled Jennifer and her one lover of the moment. No sooner was he done than the cat lady literally chased him away. She took Jennifer's hand, and led her to the "freshening-up" and food tables. I gathered they took their time, but eventually Jennifer was back on a chaise, the cat-lady straddling her face and simultaneously eating Jennifer's pussy. The bend in the chaise and their own positions left a lot of room between their bodies for hands to roam, and even from the distance I could see Jennifer's and the cat-lady's bodies bucking and twisting.

The Milk Maid wandered by, much the worse for wear by now, and with her pail still mostly empty, from what I could see. It can take a long time to fill a pail, one tablespoon-full at a time.

A Victorian Queen, in a regal dress with just a few straps for a front and looking like the Queen of Hearts from a porn 'Alice in Wonderland' decided she wanted to "eat a peasant". While I had no objection, and it felt good, it was also starting to seem more silly than erotic. In the background, I could just hear Jennifer and "my" cat lady.

Shortly after, the cat-lady lead Jennifer across the floor in my direction. When they reached me, the cat-lady nodded to me and held Jennifer's hand out, and then turned and left without a word when I took it.

The bottom half of Jennifer's mask was a tangled mess of wet feathers.

"Time to go?" I asked. Jennifer nodded. The clock in the coat-check room said half-past two, so it had been a full evening. In the taxi, she took off the mask, looked at it and laughed heartily. She leaned against me, slid her hand into my pants, but when I asked her how it went, she just pressed a finger to her lips. I had to wake her when we got to my apartment.

------------------

I woke to the smell of fresh coffee and an empty bed. The clock said nine-thirty. Jennifer was sitting in the kitchen in her normal at-my-home outfit of skin, contemplating the inside of a coffee mug. Her hair was a riotous mess, but even that looked sexy.

I kissed her on the top of her head. "Mornin', beautiful!"

"Mmm ... good morning, yourself, stud! Sleep well?"

"Like a well-fucked log."

"No shit! I'm surprised I'm not sore. Maybe I have achieved full slut-hood?"

"Naw, but we can keep working on it."

She stuck her tongue out at me. I poured myself a mug of black succor and joined her at the table.

After a bit, with some of the cobwebs clearing away, I asked again how it went.

"Are you talking about the sex?"

"Actually, I'm more interested in the identity and expectations thing, since that was your motivation."

"Yeah, that went real well!"

"Good. Costumes can add extra expectations, so your choice turned out to be a good one? And the sex was OK?"

"Holy shit!" Her head dropped to her arm on the table. After a moment she looked up, but still had a bit of a distant look in her eyes. "The evening was in-fucking-cred-i-ble! Seriously. I learned a few things about myself, too. Yeah, I am happy with my costume choice. Before I go on, though, I need to say thank you, thank you, thank you! It was an experience I will never forget. Wow!"

I nodded acknowledgment with a big leer.

"However, I don't think I want to do it again. Not right away. That's the first thing I learned. Even with four cocks and eight hands all over and in me, your one cock, two hands, and one mouth are better. The other was just too much. I actually think I ran out of erogenous zones!"

I chuckled. "But you did have some unique and enjoyable experiences, right?"

"Oh yes."

"Tell me, in detail. I love stories, especially when they are sexy and true."

She took a deep breath, and glared at me from under her eyebrows. "Oh, ok. I owe you that much." She smirked at me, "uh, three acts, I guess. In the first act, call it the first hour, I wandered the floor, touching, caressing, enjoying short bursts of oral or intercourse and then moving on. I really felt anonymous and strangely powerful. As you had suggested, I never said anything, just let my body and hands talk. I was really aroused and enjoying myself.

"Did you see that one really tall black man? Oiled body, tiny gold-lamé speedo and sandals?" I nodded. "God, he was gorgeous, muscled and taut all over. I just had to get into his very full Speedo, and when I did ... Let's just say that his tool was large, even for his height. Wow! I can't really deep throat, as you know, but I could barely take a third of him in my mouth. I did my best and got him hard. Then he bent down, lifted me into the air by my ass and settled me down on his cock. I put him in his place, and wrapped myself around him as he penetrated right past my cervix. He kept lifting me and thrusting into me, slowly and sensuously. God, he was hot and good! And he stretched me like never before.

"I exploded almost immediately, but he kept pushing me through a couple more explosions before setting me back down on my feet. I could hardly stand, much less walk. Damn!"

She went silent for a bit. "I had to go get an energy drink after that. Then I resumed moving around, molesting every guy that looked remotely interesting. I never thought to molest any of the women, and really wish now that I had. Anyway, after a few minutes I found myself sort of trapped between two guys, twins apparently, dressed in tiny togas and not much else. Mediterranean mythology seemed to be a frequent theme last night."

"I saw them. I would guess they were the Gemini twins," I said.

"Yeah, well, I didn't have much of a chance to contemplate the subtleties of their identities, because one had his hand on my snatch and the other had his hand on my ass. Actually, one had a couple fingers in my snatch and the other was working a finger into my ass. For a couple moments we just stood in the middle of the floor while the two of them finger fucked me, one in each hole.

"Talk about a short circuit! When my legs gave out, they kindly held me up and carried me to one of the chaise lounges. The one impaled my pussy and lay back with me on top of him, facing him, and my legs held wide apart. The other lubed my asshole, and proceeded to bury his cock all the way in. Then they started fucking me in earnest. So the second thing I learned is I like a double-fuck, or whatever it's called."